Chapter 59

"Plenty of Irish pubs, sure someone in one of them will have a pull to Birmingham," Danny told him, scratching his bald head.

"Most of the paint shop at the BSA's Irish so they'll know there's been a robbery."

"And when I find them?"

"IRA proper – not just paddy's whose hearts tug when they hear a song about their homeland," Tommy reinforced, "And don't specify anything – hint that if they're interested in buying they should get in touch with me."

Danny nodded his understanding and Tommy pulled out his pocket watch, glanced at it and tucked it away.

"Good to see you Danny, I'll get a tobacco delivery set up for the pubs and I'll get a message to the man who's after the handguns."

"Good to see you too Tommy," Danny replied, picking up his beer.

By the time he had put the glass down, Tommy was out the door of the pub in Camden and crossing the street to where the car waited for him. Rosie and Lily would also, if they were on time, be getting into their hotel provided car from their morning in Harrods and they'd have a late lunch back at the hotel before making their way to the train. Rosie was wearing her day dress again because of it, and he had a suspicion she was secretly becoming quite comfortable in it, though she made a show of huffing about it when she had appeared in it, saying she was only wearing it because she had to for the hotel lunch.

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"Did you get the dress that's none of my business then?" Tommy asked when he returned to find the Jackson sisters in the lobby, Lily clutching her bear and her penguin from the zoo and Rosie flicking through a newspaper.

The redhead shot him a dirty look over the top of the broadsheet before nodding.

"How does it look?"

She raised an eyebrow and said dryly, "Hopefully fluster inducing, but time will tell."

"As long as it's you in it," he replied, smirking slightly, "And did you get all your bloody presents?"

"Yes – and we got Katie a doll in a little rocking Moses basket," she said, glancing to an enormous package that was wrapped up in green paper and with a bow on the top, "And god knows how we're getting it on the train, someone had to help us out of Harrods with it."

"We'll manage," he said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, before turning his attention to the younger sister, "What about you? Did you get anything else?"

"No, I want a Moses basket for my dolls but Rosie says I have to wait for my birthday before I get anything else," Lily told him slightly dejectedly.

"And you share your pram with Katie so I'm sure she'll let you have a shot at her basket," Rosie interjected.

"I'm sure she will," Tommy nodded, "God knows how George'll feel about having a doll in a basket moved into their room."

"That arrangement can't go on much longer," the redhead said shaking her head slightly, "Can't have them sharing a room once they're past a certain age."

He wondered inwardly what the certain age was meant to be – and whether she realised that the baths that Katie was forced into by Polly weren't taken with the same privacy measures that she diligently put in place around her own baths.

Outwardly, he shrugged and appeased her, "Suppose George will need to go in with Jack and Alfie once him and Katie are too old to be sharing, but better two in a room than three in a room for now."

"We got cars for George and Jack and a train for Alfie," Lily told him, "And sweets and a pair of gloves for Aunt Polly and sweets and a bow tie for Arthur and sweets and socks for John."

"Everyone's teeth'll be falling out with all these sweets," he replied, ruffling her hair.

"Can we give out the presents tonight?"

"We can give Finn his tonight, but everyone else will be in bed by the time we get back," Rosie said – quite sure of herself.

It was another way in which she hadn't got the measure of John's brood yet. He was quite sure they'd arrive home to find all the kids still up.

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He was right, after they had unpacked Finn's jigsaw and car and put them on the kitchen table in the Harrods bag for him to come home to, Tommy headed along the back to collect Finn from John's. Lily and Rosie stayed at number six – Lily was sleepy but determined to see Finn's reaction to his presents and Rosie was busying herself making a pot of tea for them, obviously expecting Tommy to return with Finn in a few minutes.

The kerfuffle in John's kitchen was going to take more than a few minutes to extract his youngest brother from though, that was for sure.

"No, that's not right – that's a left after we go through there," Isaiah was saying to Finn, who scrubbed at something on the table.

The heads of John's three boys, Isaiah and Finn were bent close together around the table and whatever it was that was on it – some sort of map from the sounds of it – and Katie was trying to push herself in as close as they were. None of them even noticed as he opened and closed the back door and watched them for a few moments in silence.

"Let me see, George!" Katie grumbled as the pencil marked something else at Isaiah's command, shoving at him to better get her head in between his and Finn's.

She'd picked a silly spot to try and push in – she'd have had far better luck trying to get in between the twins or even Isaiah. Her older brother put his hand on her forehead and shoved her back, a hard enough shove that the chair she was kneeling up on swung back and crashed into the floor, and her with it.

"Hey!" she started to protest, springing back up and looking angry, but Tommy made his presence known by grabbing his oldest nephew's arm, yanking him off of his own seat and smacking him repeatedly on his backside.

"You don't shove your sister like that," Tommy growled as his right hand went to work, "Honest to fucking god, why can't the lot of you just be good to one another? I've just come back my fucking holiday and the first thing I need to do is set you straight on how to treat Katie."

It didn't escape his notice that, as he admonished George, whatever they had been working on was whipped off the table and out of sight. Up Isaiah's shirt, from the looks of it.

"And what are you lot up to?" he demanded, surveying the rest of the group and stilling his hand, though not letting go of his hold on George's arm.

"They've got secret plans," Arthur's voice came into the room with a slur and a snigger before his older brother's physical presence did - unsteadily.

Arthur was drunk. Properly drunk. He was glad Lily had stayed at home.

"Yeah, we're not allowed to know," John announced, following Arthur through.

John was drunk too - but not more so than usual. Not slurring his words and walking unsteadily.

"What happened to your face?" Tommy asked Finn, his eyes resting on his youngest brother's cheek, which was bruised and showed a cut that looked reasonably fresh.

"Faces," he corrected himself as he surveyed Isaiah's and looked down at George's too.

Isaiah was cut and George was sporting a black eye.

"We're learning how to ride Finn's bike Mr Shelby," Isaiah told him, not quite meeting his eye.

"Yeah, fell off it," Finn added, definitely looking at the table and not so much not meeting his eye as not even looking in his direction as he spoke.

"That's their story an' they're fookin' stickin' to it!" Arthur bellowed, then giggled like a school girl.

He raised an eyebrow at John, who shrugged.

So, no one believed the bike story. But no one was bothering to do the questioning to find out the truth.

"Right, so, three bruised faces and something that was a left instead of a right. I'll fucking find out what you're up to and there'll be bruised arses all round if I don't like it," he told them brusquely, releasing his grip on George, who hurriedly sat his own arse back down and out of the line of fire, "And I'm only not sticking soap in your mouths right now because I'm still feeling relaxed after my holiday."

"His holiday," Arthur said, nudging John in the ribs.

John snorted, "Relaxing holiday. Wonder how Lily amused herself."

The two of them dissolved into laughter.

"Shouldn't you lot be in bed?" Rosie's voice interrupted as she appeared in the back door, casting a hard eye over the motley crew sat around John's kitchen table.

Arthur and John did their best to stop laughing and look like a drunk man's interpretation of sober, though Tommy noticed Arthur's eyes widen as he took in the sight of Rosie in a dress and John's eyebrows shooting upwards at the same vision.

"We don't have a bed time," Katie told her boldly, the flash of a challenge in her eye.

"Don't you speak to Rosie in that tone of voice," he said warningly.

"Aye Katie, that's Tommy's missus," Arthur snorted, his - admittedly never quite achieved in the first place - composure slipping, "We've all to do what she says, so if she says bed you'd best get there."

"I see you're drunk," Rosie said, raising an eyebrow.

"Now don't you be telling me off," Arthur said, attempting to wag a finger and stumbling into the door frame, "Yer supposed to be relaxed after yer holiday."

"I'm plenty relaxed Arthur," she replied, clearly amused, "But I still reckon the place for being drunk is at the pub and not around kids."

Arthur nodded, "Right – pub! John – pub! Rosie says pub!"

His older brother disappeared back into the front room, still unsteady, and they heard the front door open and close.

She glanced questioningly to him, asking if this was cause for worry or not, then quickly smoothed her expression away to look back at the table, "I mean it – it's late – bed! Or there'll be no presents tomorrow. Oh! That reminds me – happy birthday Katie," she laid a hand on his niece's head, "I'm sorry we were away over it – but I thought maybe on Sunday we could have a birthday tea for you? I'll make a cake and Lily can give you our present? What do you think?"

Katie looked up at her with wide eyes, "A birthday tea? For me?"

"Well it was your birthday."

There was silence for a few moments as Katie chewed her lip and then eventually nodded without actually saying anything else to Rosie. She made to go up the stairs, though stopped and put her arms around John's waist before she did and saying, "Goodnight Daddy."

John, clearly somewhat bewildered, patted her head in response.

"That kid never goes to bed when I tell her," he said, watching the foot of the stairs where she had disappeared – as if expecting her to come back and announce she wasn't going after all, that she'd been pretending.

"You two as well," Tommy growled at the twins, "Bed. Now."

He had a good mind as to what John needed to do to make sure his kids knew disobeying their father wasn't an option they could decide to take just because they didn't want to go to bed, but he wasn't going to criticise his brother in front of them.

"Do we have to?" Jack grumbled.

Tommy yanked him off the seat and smacked him before answering, "You can go yourselves or I can march you up there and smack you every step of the way from here to there – and don't think I won't."

They scurried off behind Katie, though with Jack – the more outspoken of the two - glowering over his shoulders at him once they were safely out of his reach.

Arthur, clearly having realised John wasn't following him, came back in, practically slamming the front door off its hinges from the sound of it.

"Can you two come over every night?" John asked, his toothpick falling to the floor as his mouth gaped, "Usually I'm running up and down the street trying to get them in before I run out of bloody energy and just give up."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, "What would our mum have done if we didn't go to bed when we were meant to?"

"Gave us a count of three and if we were still there at the three she'd grab us and smack us up to bed," John grinned at the memory of what had gone down plenty of times when they had been growing up at number six.

Tommy snorted, "You got a count of three – me and Arthur got grabbed and skelped off with no further fucking warning if we didn't just get when we were told."

John shook his head, "I got the worst of it – she practised on you two so she was a fucking expert by the time I came along."

Tommy vehemently disagreed that John had got 'the worst of it' – he was sure it was him.

"Nope!" Arthur shouted, his voice once again entering the room before he did, "I got the wors' o' it! She was jus' learnin' with me how much of a hidin' to give – had it all reigned in by the time you two came along!"

"Arthur, stop shouting," Rosie said, amusement clear on her face as his brother's body followed his voice into the room, "And I'll ask Charlie who got it the worst and I'll get the truth from him."

"And he'll tell you it was me," Tommy quipped, rolling his eyes.

"Probably well deserved if it was," she replied, her smile widening slightly before she turned to the remaining three children, "You get on home," she told Isaiah, before turning her eye on George, "And you get off to bed too."

"What presents?" George demanded.

"Lily got everyone London presents," Tommy told him.

"But you won't be getting them if you don't get off to bed at a decent time," Rosie added.

George looked to Finn and Isaiah before trying to argue, "But I'm older than them and they only just went to bed."

"They should have been gone at least an hour ago – more – it's quarter to ten," Rosie replied briskly, "And you should have gone before now truth be told."

"But-" his newphew started to say.

"George," Tommy said, keeping his voice cool and his eyebrow raised, "Bed. Now."

His nephew went, not looking too happy about it but not prepared to go another round with his right hand. He was reminded of what Lily had told him earlier about his 'pouty face' making people obey him and had to hide his smile, keeping his face its usual neutral. If it helped him get the kids to do as they were told he'd fight every smile that threatened to cross his face.

"See you tomorrow," Isaiah muttered to Finn, before adding, "Goodnight Mr Shelbys, Miss Rosie."

The boy had manners, Tommy'd give him that. Or indeed, he'd give his father that.

"Right – you – home," Tommy said to Finn once the door had shut behind Isaiah, "Come on."

"Goodnight Arthur, try not to get into too much trouble, eh?" Rosie said with a grin.

"I don't have trouble! Trouble has Arthur Shelby!" was the nonsensical reply.

"Night Rosie girl!" John said brightly.

"See you Sunday," she replied, turning and heading out the door, him and Finn following.

"I was wondering what was taking so long for you to get back – should have known, it is a Friday night after all," she remarked to Tommy, then asked Finn, "Did you have a good time staying with George for the week?"

Finn nodded.

"Good time riding that new bike I got you?" Tommy asked with a raised eyebrow.

Finn looked at the ground and nodded again. The boy really was a rubbish liar – he suspected it had taken Isaiah and George to even come up with the bloody bike story to cover up whatever they'd been up to in the first place.

"Get into any trouble while we were away?" Rosie asked jokingly.

"John doesn't give anyone into trouble," Finn told her.

Tommy snorted. That, he was sure, was the truth.

When they arrived back at number six, Lily was soundly asleep across two of the kitchen chairs, her head resting on her arms, looking like an angel.

"She was so excited to give you your presents, she wanted to stay up," Rosie said, "I suppose I should wake her – she'll be upset otherwise."

"What are they?" Finn asked, peering at the green bag.

"You'll know when you open them – which you can do tomorrow and let Lily sleep. I'm sure another night of sleep will help heal your face a little more before the baby has to look at it," Tommy told him, nodding his head in the direction of the stairs.

Finn looked at the ground and went, knowing that Tommy knew he was lying about the cut on his face and probably figuring he'd best just behave himself.

"Alright, c'mere you," he said to the sleeping child, slipping his hands under her body and lifting her up, one hand under her knees, the other crooked round to support her head.

She didn't wake as he began to move up the stairs with her, or as he laid her in the bed and Rosie slipped off her shoes.

He was pleasantly surprised when Rosie slid her hand into his after she turned down the light and followed him back down the stairs, curling up with him on the sofa. They sat together for a while, her head on his shoulder, his hand alternatively resting on her waist then travelling upwards to run itself through her hair.

"So, did you have a good week?" he asked.

She turned her face up to him and smiled, her eyes slightly bleary, as though she'd dozed off on him.

"Yes, but I still prefer being on this sofa with you than being in fancy places."

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

"Good thing is you don't have you choose – you can have both."

"I know, I'm lucky," she replied softly, then brought her lips to his.

Her hands went to the back of his head and he had to control himself not to moan into her mouth as she dug her fingers in that spot behind his ear and she made matters worse by swinging her leg over him, straddling him as he sat under her on the sofa, her teeth tugging on his bottom lip. He felt himself swell as he cupped her head with one hand and her arse with the other and wondered if she could feel it too – or if she'd even know what she was feeling if she did.

He trailed kisses along her jawline and down her neck and she groaned slightly and tilted her head to offer him better access, pushing her body against his as she did so. He kissed right down the neckline of the dress, marvelling at the smoothness of the creamy skin that she rarely exposed, satisfied pleasure spreading through him when she moaned aloud and tightened her grip on the back of his head, as though to keep his face where it was. He'd have stayed there quite happily, resting his lips on the swell of her breast. As he made his way back up, paying all the same places on the opposite side the same attention so that they wouldn't feel left out, he noticed the outline of her hard nipples pushing through the silk of the dress and he wanted to flick at them with his thumb, but he wouldn't permit himself.

Instead he finished the circuit and sighed against her lips, kissing them one last time before sitting back and resting both his hands on her sweet little face.

"I suppose you couldn't do that in a restaurant," she murmured, her breath catching slightly.

Her eyes still looked bleary, though he suspected it was less to do with doziness now.

"Probably not," he agreed, though what he wanted to tell her was that there were coat check rooms for a reason, and he wanted to slide his hand up her thigh as he did so until he found her arse so he could squeeze it.

But he didn't.

He stroked her face for a while before saying, "Well, I suppose you should probably get to bed too – you have work in the morning."

"I suppose so," she nodded, though she made no movement.

They looked at one another for a few beats, and Tommy reckoned if she stayed splayed on his lap, looking at him like that for a minute more then he'd damn it all and take her on the spot.

So he dropped his hands from her face, reached round to smack her arse and said, "Come on then – I don't want to have to put you over my knee for having a tantrum when you're overtired in the morning."

"You always want to put me over your knee," she grumbled, finally shifting herself and standing up.

He stood too and flicked an eyebrow, "Arse like that deserves to be paid attention to. Now, you little wench – bed. Or I'll smack you every step of the way between here and your bedroom."

She rolled her eyes at him but moved through to the kitchen and rummaged through the bags that they'd left there, finding her toothbrush and disappearing out the back door.

He took a swig of the cold tea she'd made before he'd left to go get Finn, hoping it might cool him off. It didn't.

Neither did it help when she returned and picked up her pyjamas before looking him dead in the eye and saying, "So, Tommy, this baby you've promised me?"

"What about it?" he asked, staying completely still and fighting the urge to fidget.

"How long do I need to wait?"

"Until it's safe. Until this chief inspector has gone and that woman is gone and I've bought a house with hot running water for you to have baths in."

"Can we compromise somewhere between the inspector and the barmaid being gone but not waiting for this nonsense big house you've got it into your head that I want?"

"I'll think on it," he told her.

"I sit the exam on Thursday," she reminded him, "Then I'm out of school forever. I start my actual life on Thursday afternoon."

"Your actual life, eh?"

"Yes. And I don't want to spend it waiting Tom," she told him, that steel core of hers showing itself as she tilted her chin up and told him quite plainly, "I know I said I didn't want to tell anyone anything until I'd finished school. But I'm nearly finished now. And I'll wait until this chief inspector has left and the barmaid has gone – but I chose you Thomas Shelby. And I knew who you were when I did. There's always going to be something going on in your life – I know that, and I still want my life and yours to be intertwined. But I don't want to be standing in this kitchen when I'm forty and be listening to you tell me we can be together properly once you've dealt with whatever new version of this chief inspector that'll have raised its head in your life by then. I want you properly Tommy. Fully."

Her eyes burned with the surety of herself, of her desires and he wanted to spread her legs and fill her with himself, to offer himself – fully – to her.

"Alright," he nodded instead, crossing the floor to stand in front of her, "I promise you, Rosalie Jackson, if you stand by me and wait for me until this is done, I'll go into facing whatever new thing raises its head as married man – does that suit you?"

She smirked up at him, "I think I'd find that satisfactory, Mr Shelby."

"Good," he told her – then kissed her again before breaking off and sending her off to bed with a slap to her beautiful arse.

As soon as he heard her bedroom door close he went to the outhouse to finish off what her pushing herself to him as he'd kissed her had started. She wanted him – fully. She'd moaned when he'd kissed her. She'd pulled his head to her breasts as he'd kissed them. He shot his load easily, quickly.

As soon as this chief inspector was gone, as soon as the barmaid was gone, he'd ask her to be his wife. And she'd accept and they'd get married and he'd be able to sink himself into her as often as he pleased with no worries. He imagined they would both find it quite satisfactory.

As always, thank you so much for reading along and reviewing!

Originally posted this about an hour ago and it never seemed to go live so hopefully second time lucky?! Apologies if you got the email about the new chapter and then it wasn't there, I don't know what happened #technicalerror