Chapter 64
"Didn't even fucking notice she had different shoes on," John was saying, almost moaning, in the kitchen – the sound of his brother's voice carrying through the door to the darkened shop, to the stairs Tommy had stopped on.
"Honestly John I wouldn't worry about that – Lily could come down here in her underwear, tell Tommy and Finn it's her latest outfit and they'd tell her it was lovely and let her out in it. Men aren't inclined to know these things – and, hell, I probably wouldn't have noticed if someone had swapped Lily's shoes for her without telling me."
"You reckon?" his brother replied, his voice smaller than Tommy ever remembered it being.
"I reckon."
"I just don't fucking know Rosie girl. It's not just Katie. They all need a fucking mother. I can't fucking control them, they speak to me how they like and do what they like and it's fucking easier after a day of grafting to just let them be. And then I think I see Martha's face frowning at me and shaking her head and telling me to do better – so I try and then their fucking faces break my heart and I can't fucking stand that so I just leave."
"I know, John, I know," Rosie soothed.
He fancied he could see his brother put his head in his arms and Rosie lay her hand on him in that calming way she did to him and Lily. He didn't rightly understand it but having someone's hand, there and firm, laid on your head was just… it was just a nice feeling.
"And they just played their game on the fucking wall," John howled suddenly.
"John – all kids write and draw on walls, on anywhere they shouldn't. Lily drew all over the walls in our old house, that's where she got the idea they wouldn't get any cake – cause I didn't give her any for a week after it. And Jack and Alfie's was just chalk – it wiped off. Was there scrubbing for ages at Lily's pencils being dug into the wall paper."
"Lily's a good kid."
"Aye she is, I got lucky with her."
"My kids aren't bad-" John started to say, his voice trembling as if it was an effort to choke out the words - but Rosie cut across him, sharply.
"Of course they're not – they're boisterous, but they're not bad. Honestly John, I'm glad Katie's rubbed off on Lily a bit – she answers back sometimes, and she never used to speak much at all, never mind answer back. Only spoke to me pretty much and I was working most of the time. I was fucking terrified she'd never learn to handle herself, but I couldn't risk trying to change her too much either in case she did speak to the wrong fucking people and the parish got wind of her and me living alone."
John was quiet for a minute then said, his voice steadier but even quieter, "But Lily was never going to go bad cause she always had you and you're good at what you do. My kids have a fucking bad father."
"John! You're not a bad father! You do need to tell them how you feel a bit more; Christ I could see it all over Katie that day after the climbing incident. Kids just need you to hold them and reassure them, eh?"
"Aye," Tommy said, pulling the door open and figuring he better own up to his own part in it.
John whipped his head around as Tommy came in and shut the door.
"Had it out with your Katie on Saturday about how she reckoned everyone liked Lily better than they did her, made me feel like a rat bastard."
He watched John relax as he admitted his own short comings and figured if he was in for a penny he may as well be in for a pound – so he sat on the other side of Rosie and filled John in, wholly, about the Ada and Freddie situation.
"Fucking pregnant?" John asked, amazed.
Tommy nodded.
"You never gave me much of a hard time for getting Martha pregnant when she was fifteen y'know," John pointed out, "Just said I had to marry her as soon as she were sixteen."
"It's worse for the girl."
"Aye, that's true," John nodded, "So what's the plan Tommy?"
"Ada needs my permission to marry Freddie – she'll come back here, and I'll talk sense into her then she'll stay here, and I'll raise the kid and she can get on with her life."
"That kid be sharing you too?" John asked Rosie.
Her eyes pierced him, and he knew she had a million thoughts in her head – he waited for her to speak up, to complete his humiliation by showing his brother that she didn't approve of his way of handling his fuck up.
But she simply said, "Well, nothing to do but wait and then see what Thomas thinks is the best thing to do once he's got Ada back, eh?"
He blinked, slowly and she gave a fraction of a nod – almost imperceptible. She knew he appreciated her show of deference.
"Meantime though brother, we need to stop some tongues moving until this is all back in our control," Tommy said, finding new gusto as he launched into his plans for Evans and the tobacco shop.
"Just me an' you?" John asked pointedly.
"With Arthur the way he is just now," Tommy replied, "He's best left. We can handle Evans."
John nodded, then sighed and ran a hand through the top of his hair before saying, "Flanders reds are in full swing, eh?"
Tommy nodded in return.
"Flanders reds?" Rosie asked.
"That's what we call him on the way up – when he gets angry at everything and drinks until he's sick. Then on the way back down the Flander's blues kick in. He drinks until he's sick and he's sad. There's no talking to the reds but the blues can be spoken to - and then it passes and he's back to normal."
She flicked her eyebrows.
"I'd better get along, inspect my own fuckin' walls for chalk," John said, standing up.
Tommy stood, came round the table and clapped a hand on his shoulder, the only way he could bring himself to try and show his support to his younger brother.
John gave a forced grin and said, "Aye, well, I'll feel better after I do some damage, eh?"
Tommy nodded and watched John go, then put his hands on Rosie's shoulders. She looked up and him and he bent to kiss her, moving a hand to run through her hair and she twisted in the seat, rising up to meet him, to deepen the kiss.
"Where would I fucking be without you, eh?" he murmured to her once they broke apart, stroking his knuckles across her cheek.
"Where would we all be without you?" she asked him softly in return.
He sat back down with a thud, and she scraped her own chair over, closer to him.
"Two of my brothers are a fucking mess," he said, "And my fifteen year old sister is pregnant with the child of my childhood best friend who I don't speak to anymore because he's a fucking communist and that attracts attention – and the only way I could bring anything to this fucking family was by building an illegal business and I couldn't afford any extra attention. Finn's about the only one I have in hand – whatever's goin' on with his maps and his cut cheek not fucking withstanding."
"Does it give you hope to imagine what they'd all be like left to their own devices?"
"No," he sighed.
"Well then," she replied, raising an eyebrow, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself."
He snorted, then asked, "Is that all you're going to say to me if Lily turns up pregnant at fifteen and I haven't done anything to prevent it?"
"Thomas," she said, standing up and moving to sit in his lap, her hand curling round his neck, "If Lily ends up fifteen and pregnant it'll be on me to have done something to prevent it too, not just on you. And if she does end up pregnant then we'll cope with it, eh?"
"Will we?"
"Well, you said we'd help each other with life and business and fucking everything, didn't you?"
He ran a hand through her tangled hair and nodded, "I did."
"And I'm hoping given she's six just now that by the time she's fifteen, that inspector and that barmaid have cleared out and you'll have made good on those promises to me about facing your next dangers as a married man."
"You'll be Mrs Thomas Shelby," he told her, a smile at the sound of it flickering around the corners of his mouth even in his mood, his arms squeezing her waist.
"I'll be Mrs Thomas Shelby," she repeated, a smile flickering about her own mouth too, "I'll be your wife and we'll handle it, just like we'll handle everything in our family together, alright?"
He nodded and she kissed him, sliding around on his lap so her breasts were pressed against his chest.
"My wife," he grunted, kissing her neck, the thought of it making him feel giddy, "You'll be my fucking wife."
It sent a charge through him to say it aloud and he stood up and put her on the table, her legs opening automatically for him to stand between, his hands in the back of her hair, on her neck, down her back, on her hips as he kissed her and kissed her, deeply, desperately. And she pushed herself against him, grinding on him, her own hands exploring his head and neck and back, slipping under his waistcoat, tugging his shirt out so she could feel his skin, her nails in his back.
"My wife," he growled again.
"Yes Tommy, I'll be your wife, I'll be a good wife," she breathed back to him, her hands sliding further up his back, her nails in his shoulder blades.
"You'll be a good wife because you're my good girl, aren't you?" he returned, biting her neck.
She cried out and thrust against him, her legs gripping like a vice around his waist, leaning back and pulling him forward with her, against her.
"Yes sir, I'll be your good girl," she told him, right in his ear, her breath hot.
She was clamped to him, but he splayed one hand on her back, pushing her even further against him and slid one down under her arse, squeezing it as he began to thrust back against her, too desperate to feel ridiculous about the fact he was acting like a fucking teenager, dry humping her while they were both fully clothed.
"You'll be such a good girl for me," he muttered into her neck, his head buried there, his eyes screwed shut as his body moved, his instinct and hers taking over – all good sense out the window.
"Yes," she gasped, stretching her neck back for him, offering him more.
"My girl, my good girl," he repeated, thrusting on every word.
"Yes Tommy, all yours, I'm all yours, I'm your good girl," she replied, her rubbing against him getting more frantic, her nails going deeper.
If they kept going like this, he was going to fucking shoot his load in his fucking trousers. And, if he wasn't very much mistaken, she was going to cum in hers to. He moved the hand that was under her to her own waist and yanked her shirt out, slipping his hand under it, up to her breast, squeezing it, kneading it, his thumbs flicking over her hard nipple like he'd wanted to so many times through the softness of her bra. She groaned and tipped her head back, pushing her breast further into his eager hand – so he threaded his fingers under the material, feeling the bare skin, feeling the smooth skin of her breasts give way to the texture of her nipples, circling his fingers around, exploring every millimetre of it. Her entire fucking body called to him and he wanted his hands on every inch of it as much as her moaning and gasping made him think it wanted his hands it too…
And then Finn's footsteps thundered on the stairs and she shot bolt upright as he stood back, their hands wrenched out of the areas they'd been exploring, both of them red and short of breath and flustered. Her hand went to her hair, running through it and making it more haphazard than usual.
"I've picked twenty-six things," Finn announced, pushing the door open and dumping a box on the table – absolutely oblivious to what he had just interrupted, "Can we please make it three roast potatoes?"
Well, it was probably just as fucking well, Tommy thought as the blood went away from his ears, though it stayed very much present in his trousers. Fuck, he'd been on the verge of undressing her to take her on the table. What the fuck was he playing at – talking about how he'd let Ada down in one breath then nearly taking her in the next?
He tried not to let his disgust with himself show as he stepped towards the box and rummaged through it.
Some clothes at the bottom and some farm animal figures that he'd played with himself, along with the toy fencing for creating the fields.
"We counting every bit of this fence as one thing to make these twenty-six things, Finn?" he asked, his voice still raspy.
If Finn noticed his voice he didn't mention it, just nodded.
Tommy made a great show of counting the bits of fence, focussing on the numbers giving his brain some welcome relief.
"So - eighteen bits of fence, a pig, a cow and two chickens and I take it that's four bits of clothing?"
Finn nodded again.
Tommy fished out the ripped shirt and held it out to Rosie, not able to meet her eye, "Can you mend this, so we can give in to the reform?"
She took it and held it up, examining the rip, "Suppose so."
Her voice was certainly smoother than his, as if she was completely unflustered.
"Thanks Rosie," Finn grinned then looked over to the clock, "You said dinner was at six."
Tommy glanced to the clock - it was just gone six.
"Put that box in your room and see if you can add to it before Thursday," Tommy told him, "Then go wash your bloody hands – they'll be thick with dust if you've trudged those animals up from somewhere."
He watched Finn go then went outside to breathe and run cold water over his own face and hands – and the back of his neck too, waiting for it to take effect and bring his temperature back down. It helped, a little.
Rosie had the chicken and leek pie out of the oven and on the side when he went back in and was dishing roast potatoes and vegetables onto plates, her eyes moving between the clock and the task at hand.
He was trying to figure out what to say to her when the back door opened, and Lily came in.
"What time did I tell you to be back here for?" Rosie rounded on the child at once.
Lily's fingers went to her mouth and she said, through them, "Six o'clock."
"Uhuh, and what time is it?" Rosie asked, pointing at the clock.
There was a pause in which Lily looked between the clock and her sister before venturing, "Half past five."
Rosie frowned, "How'd you figure that out?"
"Cause the hands at five," Lily replied, one hand leaving her mouth to point, "And the other ones at the bottom so that's half."
Rosie sighed and picked the child up, taking her over to the clock and beginning the process of reminding her that the small hand was the hour and the big hand was the minutes.
"But hours are bigger than minutes," was Lily's argument.
"But there are more minutes in the day than there are hours," Rosie countered, "So the minute hand is longer because of all the minutes adding up to more than all the hours. So what time is it?"
"Five past six."
"Good, now show me where the hands would be at six o'clock?"
He watched the lesson take place – a repeat of the earlier one in the day – then Rosie put the child down and went back to the plates, not noticing herself as a mischievous little smile went across the bab's face. He started, wondering if he had misread it, then she caught his eye and the smile froze a little – the quite unmistakable look of a child realising they might have just been caught. He frowned, trying to get his head around whether Lily had just outright lied to get herself out of trouble.
Finn came back down and went out the back to wash, prompting Rosie to glance at the child and say, "Lily you go wash your hands too."
He held the door open for her and she scuttled under his arm, still looking warily at him, so he stood in that position and held it for them to come back in.
"Lily," he said, making his voice stern once he'd closed it behind them.
She blinked over at him from the place at the table that she'd run to on her return.
"In future you ask adults the time if you don't know it for definite, alright? Because I'll smack your backside for you if you're late again, whether it was an accident or not, you understand?"
She nodded, relief in her eyes that he wasn't going to push her on this occasion. Well, she was a good kid, as John had said, for the most part. He figured the warning would suffice.
Rosie frowned at him, then turned to Lily and said, "Put that pinafore on before you eat as well," nodding at the thing hanging on the back of the cupboard door, "Don't want your dinner all down you or Tommy'll have to take you to the wash house, isn't that right?"
He took his own seat as she began setting plates, loaded with pie and potatoes (Finn was delighted to be given six) and green beans and carrots in front of each of them.
"Thanks love," he said as she put his to him, earning himself a smile in return.
The awkwardness was gone, though he wondered how her body felt at that moment.
"That's right," he nodded to Lily, picking up on Rosie's last words to the child, "I'll take you to the wash house and dump you and your dress into the water."
She giggled as she pulled the thing over her dress, telling him, "But you don't go to the wash house Tommy."
"Yes, why is that Tommy?" Rosie said, putting a jug of lemonade down in the middle of the table, flicking her eyebrows at him, "I did hear you got barred?"
He recounted the tale from earlier to Finn and Lily and they both laughed at him, though Lily did then add, "That wasn't very fair though."
"No, it wasn't," he agreed, "But I probably did something else that week – maybe told my mum a lie about something or the like – that I got away with, so it probably evened out."
She squirmed a little. She had definitely fibbed to get out of trouble. He was really quite taken aback, it wasn't like her to be so calculated.
"Tell us another one about when you were a boy Tommy," Finn pushed.
Tommy put a roast potato in his mouth and sat back, chewing it and thinking. It did always seem to fascinate kids, to hear stories about when the adults around them were their age and what they got up to. He'd been the same, asking his mum and his grandad for their stories – sometimes asking for the same story every day until they got fed up telling it and sent him on his way telling him, "Give us peace Tom and go an' play."
"Alright," he said, coming up with one, "When I was about fifteen, I was best friends with a boy called Freddie. Arthur would have been about eighteen, going to the pub and not hanging about with us anymore so it were me and Freddie who went everywhere and did everything together. There was a girl who lived a few doors down from Freddie, Olivia, everyone called her Liv. She was older than us, older than Arthur too, must have been about twenty. We were besotted with her, followed her around asking her if we could carry her shopping for her – sometimes even carried her basket to the wash house for her."
"Worth risking the ire of the man in charge?" Rosie smirked.
"Aye, Liv was worth the risk, in my book anyway," he said, clicking his tongue, "Anyway, she cottoned on fairly quick and she'd play us against each other – tell each of us it was her favourite thing when we carried her stuff. Even got us doing errands for her and her mum, running notes along to her gran and her mum's friends when we should've been doing other stuff. Caught myself plenty of trouble from Uncle Charlie and Aunt Polly's husband when I wasn't doing the jobs they wanted me to do for them 'cause I was running about doing things for Liv. Arthur got mad anol, cause they kept pulling him in to pick up the slack and it was eating into his pub time. But Liv's smile kept me going. Always been a sucker for a sweet smile."
Rosie rolled her eyes as he grinned at her.
"So, what happened?" Finn pushed.
"Well it went on for the best part of a year and the errands were getting more and more – loads of messages getting sent back and forth and me and Freddie running them for her, fighting about who got the take them. Along comes June and she needs some strong men to help her with some furniture she's moving, so me and Freddie take the chance to flex our muscles and cart furniture from Watery Lane over to Stanmore Grove – and that's some trek when you're moving chairs and chests and a bed and a dressing table. We were at it all bloody day and when I got back mum had been looking for me to do something for her and she'd not been able to find me, so I got bloody leathered for my good deed. I was taller than mum by then, but I was exhausted after being at it for hours and she had anger like a thousand burning suns in her – she must have been pregnant with you at this point, though I don't remember her showing," he told Finn, "So it was probably your fault that she was all worked up."
Finn grinned at the idea that he'd somehow got Tommy into trouble.
"Anyway she's chasing me round the shop, whacking at me with her wooden spoon until I trip over my own feet and fall into one of the bloody desks cause I'm so damn tired and she puts her hand in my back and keeps me there till she's done – all the while lecturing me about how I've let down my own family and I've been letting them down for ages by not doing my work just so I can help someone set up their new family. Well, I was tired and sore as it was from the furniture carry on and she's lighting my arse up so what she was saying wasn't really penetrating enough for me to make much sense of it at the time. Was quite convinced the sore backside was worth it for Liv to have given me the look of gratitude she did," he sat back and chewed on another forkful of pie, smirking at Rosie who was listening to him with an unamused eyebrow raise.
He took his time pouring himself some lemonade, swirling it in the glass and sipping it like it was some exceptionally expensive whisky and he was some cavalry officer who could pretend to appreciate 'notes' in it before he continued, "Wasn't till after, when I went up to bed and our Ada crawls in to my room and asks if I'm getting to go to the wedding and if so will I take her – I mean she was only about three so she probably didn't say it as eloquently as that but that was the jist of it – that I realised something might be up. Turns out, the next bloody day was Liv's wedding day and over the last six months or so me and Freddie had run all her wedding planning messages about for her, delivered the invitations, carried the catering and then helped her set up her new house for her and her husband to go home to. And somehow everyone on Watery Lane knew about it except us. The moral of the story, Finn, is that you check a woman's ring finger before you decide if she's worth running yourself ragged for."
"That's a horrible moral! Don't you listen to him Finn!" Rosie shouted, "Just cause you two were a pair of absolute twats!"
"Excuse me," Tommy replied, rolling his eyes, "We were lovesick kids – she was the one making fools of us."
"Doesn't sound like you needed any help in that department," Rosie shot back, "And good for bloody her anyway. I've got a lot of time for any woman who can play Thomas Shelby."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Finn went back out after dinner and Lily sat drawing at the table while Rosie tidied up, babbling away to them both as she sketched, then followed them into the front room with her papers and pencils when they went through, meaning Tommy didn't find himself alone again until Rosie was putting the child to bed.
Alone, he stood in the kitchen looking at the table – the table on which he'd been close to losing control of himself and taking her, before she'd served them dinner on it as if nothing had happened. He was still angry with himself for what he'd done. Hadn't he promised himself that he wasn't going to be like Freddie – that he wasn't going to ruin her life? Sure, he was going to put a baby – and preferably more than one – in her… one day. One day. But that was one day, that wasn't right now.
And right now his sister was off in some communist safe house with Freddie, growing by the day and probably damp and cold and sore with no comforts around her whilst her husband tried to organise his political rallies and avoid the police.
He was scared for Ada, that was the thing. For all he'd been angry with her - for all he was still, if he was honest, a bit angry with her about it – and for all he was sure she was going to hate him for keeping her home when he did… He wanted her to be as safe and well as she could. Bringing a baby into the world alone ruined lives – even that bloody barmaid had gone along with him on that one. Even if Freddie was there for Ada now, what did that mean for the future? If he was arrested – or even hanged – Ada would be left with the child. It might not be what she thought she wanted, but it was better his way. She'd come home, and the child would be absorbed into the family – just like Finn and Lily. She wouldn't be alone. She wouldn't carry all the responsibility – and she could, for the most part, get on with her life.
He just needed her to come knocking for his permission to marry Freddie, that was all he was waiting on.
And as for Rosie… Rosie was already a mother, that was true. She'd handle the responsibility of a child better than Ada would. But Rosie deserved a break, deserved to get on with her life the way he wanted Ada to get on with her life. And hell, Rosie had more plans – more wants – for that life than Ada did. She wanted to help women and children. She wanted to contribute something to the betterment of women in poverty. (And that would be Ada if she continued down her bloody path unimpeded any further.) He didn't know how she did that, but he'd help her find out. And then he'd help her do it.
But whilst he didn't know how she did it, he did know him putting a child in her now would stop her doing it. He wanted to marry her, for her to be his wife – his stomach fluttered again at the thought of it – for her to be the mother to his children. But he wanted her to achieve her own dreams too. So his would have to wait. He'd have to exercise more restraint.
And if he couldn't manage that, he'd have to be more distant with her.
He was on the stairs then, his mind made up, ready to shout through to let her know when she came out of the room she shared with Lily and met him on them.
"Taking too long?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking.
"No – I was just coming to let you know I'm going out," he replied.
The corners of her mouth dipped a little, but the rest of her face froze into the impassive place it usually did, "Alright. Anywhere important?"
"The Garrison," he replied, then, making an effort to smirk casually, he added, "Keep my territory marked."
She nodded, not smirking back.
"Gives you extra time to study in peace and quiet, eh?"
She nodded, "Yeah. 'Spose so."
"Alright," he nodded, "I'll be late back so I'll see you tomorrow."
"Alright."
He came up another step to kiss her forehead and then, taking the step back, reached up to chuck her under the chin and say, "Hey, you're not upset about me going out for one night are you, eh?"
She forced a smile and shook her head, "No. It's fine. And, like you say, means I can study a bit longer."
"Big exam on Thursday."
"Big exam on Thursday," she repeated with a nod.
"I'm taking you for dinner," he said suddenly, making his mind up about it on the spot, "Thursday night – to celebrate. We'll go to the reform after the exam with Finn and Lily, drop the things off, come back here and Pol can stay in with the kids and you an' me'll go out – give you a chance to wear your dress again, eh?"
She smiled more naturally at that, "Alright. Sounds good Tom – though I'd have thought that dress I wore to the theatre was a bit much for around here."
"Probably is – but you could wear the day dress."
"I was going to wear that anyway on Thursday – wear it to sit the exam in."
"Not a bit much to sit the exam in?"
"Becker's sitting the exam."
"Oh?"
"Well – you said to him at Ada's birthday that getting your nose broken by a woman probably hurt the same as getting it broken by a man, but it was just a bit more shameful."
He nodded.
"Well, I figure maybe getting your nose – or potentially your jaw – broken by a woman in fancy dress might be even worse."
He blinked at her words, then gave a bark of a laugh. Fuck, he loved the mad woman.
He came up the stair again to kiss her – on the mouth this time, before standing back and saying, "Alright you – just keep yourself safe, eh?"
She grinned properly at him and nodded, "I do my best."
"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," he said, still shaking his head and grinning back at her.
"See you tomorrow."
Thought we'd just do another bonus chapter this week.
Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate it! As a UK native I don't celebrate it, but I'm very thankful this year for all of you who have read along with this story and who have messaged me, reviewed it, followed it or favourited it. Every time I get an email or notification to do with this story it just makes my day and I hugely appreciate it!
I got an ask on my tumblr about do I envision anyone playing Rosie and I do very much see Clara Bow in my head when I envision her (particularly in the pictures I linked in the answer - see here: post/635698117413584896/is-there-anyone-you-envision-to-play-rosie ) in case anyone else is wondering the same thing - but I'd love to know if any of you picture anyone else in your head when you read her? I was really struggling to think of a more modern counterpoint!