Just want to quickly trigger warning this chapter again for the same as Chapter 63 - child abuse implied, not shown or graphically depicted, but implied as having happened. Also implied racism, again in keeping with canon events from the show.

Chapter 65

He went to the Garrison again on Wednesday night, his idea being to give Rosie peace the night before her exam to cram in whatever she wanted to. She didn't seem nervous, to be fair, and he didn't reckon she had much to be nervous about – but putting some space between them wouldn't do any harm and, if it stopped him losing control and doing something he'd regret, he figured it might actually do some good.

On Monday night Grace had been working, he'd exchanged a few words with her, reminded her of the upcoming races, paid her her three pounds for her attendance – she'd demanded it in advance, so she could buy the dress - and then retired into the snug.

Tonight though, Harry was behind the bar and he started when he saw Tommy approaching, glanced at the man he was serving and then purposefully slid down the bar to where they wouldn't be overheard.

"Mr Shelby, the barman from The Black Lion was here, looking for you."

"Whisky, Harry," Tommy replied, raising an eyebrow.

Harry fetched a bottle and a glass, along with producing an envelope from his pocket, sliding the three across the bar.

"He said to give you that."

Tommy put some coins down and tucked the envelope into his inside pocket.

"Did he say anything else?"

"Just asked if you were here – I said no, and he said to give you that when you were here – he knew you drank here."

Tommy nodded, "Is it from the barman?"

Harry blinked, "I didn't get that impression, no."

He didn't answer, poured himself a glass and turned to observe the pub – letting himself be observed at the same time as he tossed the drink back. Then, sure there was no one of interest, he picked up the bottle and went into the snug, pulled the door firmly over behind him and opened the envelope. There was no mention of Danny, but he presumed Danny had done what he had asked – because two Irish men wanted to meet at The Garrison on Tuesday afternoon. To discuss business. He tucked it back into his pocket and downed his whisky. He'd send his reply to accept their proposed meeting tomorrow whilst Rosie was sitting her exam.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

At 2pm the next day the reply was sent, and he was standing across from the upper school gates watching as the group who had sat the exam came out of the school doors for what would be the last time for most of them. She was walking with some of the lads she had hung about with during her time at the school. He didn't notice the Becker one with them, and he didn't notice any blood on her dress.

She saw him, nodded and said something to the boys she was with, shaking her head in response to something one of them said and then left them to walk to him. He watched them watch her walk away, wondering if she'd have been with one of them by now if he hadn't come along. He didn't think so.

"So – that you forever then?" he greeted her.

"That's me forever. I could have got back myself you know."

"I know. When do you get your results?"

"August."

He nodded and began walking back in the direction of Watery Lane, "And does your real life start now or in August?"

"Suppose that depends," she replied, falling into step beside him.

"On what?"

"On whether what I'm going to do with my life relies on those results or not."

He nodded, "That's fair. Well, you're doing the ledgers and getting paid – you can take the summer to wait for the results then we'll make some decisions."

"Tom?"

"What?"

"I thought you wanted me to work for you?"

"You do work for me – you do the ledgers."

"Yeah but – like – properly. Full time. Once I finished school. That was what you said."

"Do you want to work for me full time?"

She shrugged.

"I'd have thought by now you might have sussed out that my you working for me line was a cover up for wanting to bloody help you."

"Not a cover for you wanting to kiss me?"

"No," he frowned, "I told you that – I didn't ask you to come for that. I asked you to come because I wanted to help you."

She nodded and didn't answer, keeping her eyes on the road ahead of them.

"I'll admit that my interest in wanting to help you might have come from the fact I wanted to kiss you," he offered, getting the sense she wasn't pleased with his answer, "But if we'd never kissed and I'd done you and Lily some good I'd have been content."

She smiled properly at him then, that pretty smile that made his heart flutter.

"Did you give your boy a bloody nose then?" he asked, smiling back at her.

"I did."

"Not a spot of blood on you, well done."

"He had to sit the exam with bog roll up his nose."

Tommy snorted, "Got it done as soon as you went through the gate, eh? Didn't wait for after?"

"Oh, he asked for it – said my dress was obviously the result of being the Shelby whore."

"Speaking of," he said, keeping the anger that arose suddenly in check, "Anything said about Ada?"

She shook her head, "Ada wouldn't have sat the exam today, she'd have done it at Christmas. She's not sixteen till November."

He nodded.

"I know the tobacco shop's still standing."

"Not for long."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After they'd gone back to the house and picked up the box from Finn's room – he hadn't added to it as far as Tommy could see – and the jigsaw and bear that Lily had chosen at the zoo, they retraced their steps, picking up Lily at the junior school and Finn at the senior before making their way to the black railings of the reformatory.

Prior to Rosalie Jackson's entrance to his life, Tommy hadn't given the place much thought other than as being a place of punishment. There were supposed to be different places, for orphans and offenders. Orphans, kids whose parents weren't fit to take care of them – like Polly had been deemed when her kids were taken – kids who didn't commit crimes but who were associated with criminals - they were supposed to go to what were called Industrial Schools. Where they were supposed to learn trades to help them get on in life. Kids who committed crimes and were too young to go to jail were supposed to get sent to a Reformatory School, to straighten them out. The thing was, there was no difference in Small Heath.

The name on the iron gates was simply St Mary's Institute. And St Mary's Institute was a large sprawling building, in theory made up of a girls' reform and a girls' industrial, run by the nuns and, on the other side of the main building, a boy's reform and a boy's industrial, run by the holy fathers.

Tommy knew from Arthur's fortnight that the boys and girls were split – and that was about the end of the split. Once you were in, you were in. He didn't know enough about it to know if it was because it was Catholic run or not. And he didn't know if, in theory, the days were easier because of it – they woke up early and prayed for an hour, had breakfast, had lessons, prayed again, had a half hour walk outdoors, prayed, had lunch, prayed, had more lessons, prayed, had some free time then prayed, had dinner and prayed, prayed and prayed until they went to bed. Unless they were called in for 'punishment' or 'guidance', in which case they got out of prayers to go see one of the fathers in a one to one setting. Tommy's stomach curled at the thought of it and he found himself gripping Finn's shoulder more tightly than was perhaps necessary.

He noticed the tension in Rosie's body too as they stood at the gates, waiting for someone to come and open them. He could see her jaw straining and her fingers twitching slightly where she'd lain them on Lily's shoulders. He reckoned, if she'd been a different person, she'd have been shaking all over. He hadn't considered what coming this close to this building would mean to her – and he was glad he hadn't let her come alone.

A nun appeared eventually and looked them up and down before directing her eyes to him and asking, "Can I help you?"

"We're here to donate a few things for the kids," Tommy replied, not smiling.

She raised an eyebrow, still not opening the gate, "Our donations usually come through the parish council or the church."

"We wanted to ensure they went to where we wanted them to," he replied.

"It's most unusual."

"Well we can take them back if they're not wanted," he challenged her.

"Are we not allowed to give them the things?" Lily asked Rosie, blinking up at her sister.

The nun's eyes went sharply to Lily and Rosie glanced at him before she spoke up, saying, "Look – we're trying to teach them about being grateful for what they have and about how they should consider those less fortunate in life. We don't need to come in, but can we at least give these things to you to pass on?"

The nun moved her eyes to Rosie and narrowed them, staring at her as if she'd spoken a different language, then repeated, "It's most unusual, Mrs…"

"Shelby," Tommy spoke up for her, "The Shelby family."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lily looking up at Rosie again and the older sister put her hand over the younger's mouth, preventing her from commenting.

"I'll have to go ask about this Mr Shelby," the nun huffed, then turned on her heel and walked away – her robes flapping behind her.

"You thought I was like a bat in my coat – fuck d'you call that?" he muttered, nodding at the retreating figure.

She didn't answer, and he laid the hand that he didn't have on Finn on her waist, squeezing it.

"She wasn't very nice," Lily observed, then, slightly crossly, "And you put your hand on my mouth."

"I'm sorry sweetheart," Rosie said, crouching down to hug the child, "I just didn't want you to say anything to contradict Tommy."

"What's that mean?"

"Disagree with. Whatever we say when we're here Lily, you need to accept it, alright? Even if it maybe isn't quite the truth, alright?"

Lily gave her a slightly confused look but nodded.

"Alright," Rosie nodded and kissed Lily's head before standing back up, stepping slightly further towards him as she did, pulling Lily along with her so they were a solid unit of four.

He put his arm back where it had been on her waist and kissed her own head, wanting to offer her the same reassurance she had just given the child.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, Lily and Finn looking around them – relaxed and untroubled other than thinking that the nun 'wasn't very nice' – Tommy and Rosie tense and stiff, each holding one of the younger ones, neither of them willing to let go.

The main door swung open again and another billowing figure in black came towards them – but this time it was a man.

"Hello," the man smiled at them as he approached, his eyes moving between them all, his voice sounding like he'd never been more delighted to greet anyone in his life, "I hear I have the Shelby family here with some donations?"

Lily and Finn nodded, and the man busied himself unlocking the gates and swinging them open.

"I'm Father Hughes," he told them, sticking his hand out to each of them in turn with a smile Tommy didn't quite trust.

The name rang no bells with him – he'd ask Arthur, once his episode of the Flanders had passed. He noticed Rosie didn't return the man's smile either when he took her hand.

"I see you wear no wedding ring Mrs Shelby," the priest commented, glancing at the hand she had on Lily's shoulder, the smile never faltering.

"It's being cleaned, my aunt was doing all the jewellery today," she lied instantly.

He wondered if she had thought about it when they had been waiting. He hadn't. He hadn't had to – men didn't tend to wear wedding rings. He would though. When it came to it. He'd declare to the entire bloody world that he was hers as much as she was his.

"Come in," Father Hughes urged them, standing back and sweeping his hand wide for them to walk by – closing the gates and locking them over once they had done so.

He saw Rosie's jaw clench at the sound.

"Follow me," the priest instructed, dodging in front of them and leading them towards the main entrance – a set of double doors, a large cross above them, the black handles on them the same iron as the gates. It was like a castle, a fortress. Designed to be impenetrable to outsiders. Designed to keep its own secrets. And yet here they were.

Behind the outer doors there was another set of locked double doors, these ones less ostentatious in themselves but flanked by a statue of Mary on either side – one of her standing alone, one of her holding the baby Jesus in her arms.

"Should we kneel like at church?" Lily whispered up to Rosie.

"You all attend church?" the priest asked – Tommy noticed his eyes on him.

"Every Sunday," Rosie answered.

"Why didn't you leave your donations at the church?" the priest asked, conversationally, holding the second set of doors open for them, waving them into a hallway.

"We wanted the children to know where this place was – what it was. To know about the good work that goes on in here," Rosie replied.

Tommy gathered, from her tone, that she had heard all about what went on in this building.

"We don't look for praise Mrs Shelby," the priest replied, his tone oily enough to hide whether he'd taken her words as they were or whether he'd read into the subtext of them, "But it is appreciated when people want to bring up their children to the church's teachings. That is, to be charitable."

Rosie didn't answer.

"Now, this is the main building – it doesn't do to keep the boys and girls together when they're in big groups like they are here – it brings the devil out in them," the priest told them, ruffling Finn's hair in an overfamiliar way and winking at him, "So on one side myself and the other holy fathers run the St Mary's boys' institutes and on the other side the nuns run the St Mary's girls' institutes. Would you like to meet some of the children?"

"I don't think-" Rosie began, but the priest had turned to Lily as he'd asked the question – and she had nodded.

He was the type of personality, the priest, who could appeal to children – and to people who wanted to believe in what they saw on the outside. His words were good, his tone was smarmy. He was a priest, if that counted for something in a person's books. But Tommy didn't like him. Not a single bit. And he didn't reckon Rosie did either.

He ignored them to speak to Lily and Finn, asking them what the donations were and then they were all being led then off down more corridors, through more locked doors and suddenly into a room of young girls – more or less all lower school age or even younger and two stern looking nuns at the far end overseeing the room.

"After they finish lessons the girls come in here to play, so this is where your bear and jigsaw will go," the priest told Lily.

Tommy didn't reckon he'd ever seen so many miserable looking children – and if this was them supposedly at play god knew what they were like the rest of the time. There was something grey about them all – like the sombre mood of a church service had coloured them all in, removing all traces of life or joy from them.

"Girls!" Father Hughes shouted brightly, clapping his hands as if to get their attention.

It was unnecessary, from the minute they'd walked in the room had gone still and silent, they'd all been looking at him anyway.

"This is the Shelby family and their little girl Lily has brought you all some presents from her trip to London, wasn't that nice?"

There was no response from any of the children, and Rosie's hand gripped Lily's tightly. The silence seemed to be unnerving the child, who pressed herself in to her sister, stepping behind her legs as if to hide herself from the room. He was reminded of Lily when he'd first met her, when she'd been shy and unwilling to let go of him to meet Ada or Finn, when she'd hid behind his legs. He hadn't seen that side of her for a while – it was easy to forget that it existed. Maybe being around Katie had done her more good than he had credited his niece with.

"Wasn't that nice of her girls?" the priest prompted, repeating himself – this time to elicit a murmur from around the room.

"She wanted to come and meet some of you," he continued.

It was like they were back at the zoo. Like they'd been let into the enclosures again. He was like the keeper who'd asked Lily if she wanted to parade up and down with the penguins – except those penguins had wanted to parade. These children were staring at them like they were the oddity – and Tommy supposed they were. Even Finn seemed to be taking a step away from them, as if he wanted to press himself into him the way Lily was doing to Rosie.

"Now I know we've got a Lily of our own in here, where are you Lily?" the priest sang, his eyes sweeping the room.

A squeak came from the back of the room and few of the girls stood aside to reveal the source of it – a child perhaps a year or two older than their Lily. She slowly raised her hand, her eyes locked with the priests – terror in her dark face. Tommy got the distinct impression that anytime attention was drawn to this child – the single dark skinned child amongst them – that it didn't go well for her.

"Lily – this is Lily," Father Hughes said, beaming from ear to ear.

Their Lily looked up at Rosie then nodded a silent hello at the other girl and put her bag on the floor, taking the bear out of it and holding it out, her other hand still tightly wound around her sister's.

Rosie's eyebrows twitched as a gasp rippled around the room and some of the other girls looked to the nuns, as if wanting to see their reactions to this, but she smoothed them back almost as soon as they moved – her face impenetrable and blank as she looked around.

The other Lily looked to the nuns too, looked to them, to Father Hughes, to Lily and back to the nuns – as if waiting for instructions, or for someone to speak on her behalf.

"Come on Lily," Father Hughes told her, waving for her to approach them, "Lily's giving you the bear."

The child inched forward, visibly shaking, her eyes darting all around the room, as if she was expecting someone or something to pounce on her – though no one moved. It seemed to take an eternity for her to reach them, where upon she squeaked again as she held out her trembling hands to take the bear.

"Hi Lily," Rosie said, crouching down, not letting go of her sister's hand as she did so, but holding out her other hand, "I'm Rosie – it's nice to meet you."

The girl looked at the proffered hand, up to Father Hughes, over to the nuns and back again, shaking her head slightly and backing away.

Rosie dropped her hand instantly, "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to scare you."

The girl squeaked and shook her head again, gripping the bear tightly. He noticed the bruises on her legs. Wondered if they thought it wouldn't be noticed on her skin colour. There had been a time, during the war, when a bunch of men had set about Jeremiah one night. They'd been thick too, thinking dark skin wouldn't show. It had shown. And Jeremiah had done more than squeak. And they'd done more than squeak in the end too. Him and Freddie had seen to that.

"I hope you like the bear – Lily's bear is her favourite," she told her, before turning to her sister and prompting her, "Isn't it sweetheart?"

Lily nodded.

The other girl didn't say anything.

"Do you have any friends who might help you with a jigsaw?" Rosie asked gently.

The girl stared at her with large dark eyes and shook her head.

"Well, I'm sure you're clever enough to do it on your own," the redhead told her, nudging Lily to take the jigsaw out.

Lily did so, then put it down on the floor and pushed it towards the other Lily, who clutched the bear and made no effort to pick it up.

"We'll leave you to play Lily," Rosie said, standing up, squeezing her sister's hand, "But it was nice to meet you. Maybe we'll see you again, eh?"

The girl didn't answer.

"Aren't you going to say thank you Lily?" Father Hughes asked, something unpleasant in his tone, his smile in place.

"Thank you," the girl whispered, her voice shaking.

"You're very, very welcome Lily," Rosie told her.

He could tell she wanted to say more to the child – but she didn't. They left then, the room still silent as they did so, Rosie's eyes over her shoulder, looking at the girl with the bear, at the nuns glaring at her, taking it all in.

"Shall we go to the boy's side now with your things Finn?" Father Hughes suggested.

Finn shook his head, "Can you just give them the stuff?"

"Are you sure?" the priest asked, his brows knitting together in confusion – as if not understanding why it wouldn't be an enticing prospect to go gawk at more reform kids.

Finn nodded and as soon as they were in the hallway with the double doors he put the box of stuff on the ground and went to them, pushing them – finding them locked – and standing back, watching as Father Hughes pulled the key from his collection and began the process of freeing them.

"You mentioned you might come see Lily again Mrs Shelby," he said as he opened the second, heavier set of doors – the ones that opened to the fresh air.

Rosie blinked slowly at him then nodded, curtly.

"You're very welcome to come of course Mrs Shelby – though we would prefer if you called ahead to let us know to expect you."

"So you can prepare her?" Rosie said, her voice sharp.

She'd seen the bruises too.

"You're very young to be married with children Mrs Shelby," the priest replied.

They all knew what wasn't being said.

"Finn is my brother," Tommy told him, his own voice carrying a threat.

"I'd guessed that – though you two," the priest said, indicating Lily and Rosie, "Share the same mouth."

"Lily is my wife's sister," Tommy told him, "And we're both their legal guardians."

"Is that right Mr Shelby?" Father Hughes replied, a slight flicker happening to one eyebrow.

"Yes."

"You're Thomas Shelby?"

"Yes."

"See, I must have missed it – I thought only John Shelby had been married. Well, we look forward to seeing you again," the priest replied, opening the gates for them and closing them noisily behind them.

Rosie stood and watched him as he turned and flapped back up to the doors, her hand on Lily's shoulder.

"You alright?" Tommy murmured to her.

She waited until the door had closed behind the priest then met his eye and gave a quick nod before she crouched down and hugged Lily, telling her, "I'm so proud of you – you did a lovely thing to think of those children when we were away, and that little girl is going to love that bear." She drew back and kissed Lily's head, then reached out to squeeze Finn's hand, telling him, "You too. Giving them your clothes and your toys. That was really good of you."

He chewed his lip and nodded, kicking the ground a bit.

She squeezed his hand again before dropping it and saying, "How about we go to Harrisons? Get some sweets?"

The two kids whooped at that and turned to run off in the direction of the sweet shop before Rosie had even stood properly back up, their minds already moving on from the rooms they had just been in and the children they had just seen.

"Don't get out of my sight or there'll be no bloody sweets," Tommy called after them.

"He singled that kid out because he knows she wants to stay unnoticed," Rosie said, not looking at him.

"She's different."

She nodded, "And she's being punished for it."

They walked in silence after Finn and Lily before she burst out, "I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do with my life – but I want to help kids like that. Like all of them, don't get me wrong, they all looked fucking miserable, but what in holy fuck are you supposed to do when you're a kid and the ones supposed to be looking after you are the ones doing that shit to you?"

"I don't fucking know," he replied with a sigh.

"She was terrified, Thomas."

He nodded, "I know. I saw."

"Lily was quiet – still is, by most standards – but not like that. Never like that."

He wondered if she'd been quiet like that as a child. He figured she had been.

"And if I go back – if I try and do anything – he's going to try and take Lily," she said, her voice hard, "He knows we're not her legal guardians. He knows we're not married. If I go back there, he's going to try and come for her."

"Try."

"I'll cut his throat myself before he gets a hand on her," Rosie replied, that steel in her voice that made sure he knew she was telling the truth.

"He won't even get close."

She nodded, "I know. I told you – I trust you."

He glanced around, making sure no one was looking at them before he pulled her to him and kissed her hard, telling her, "You have nothing to worry about – you hear me?"

"I know Tommy," she said quietly, kissing him back, her hands going to his neck, "I know. I'm yours. You'll protect us."

"Yeah," he replied, running his hand through her hair, "You're mine."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It seemed rather ironic later that he was meant to be protecting her, when in fact he thought he might need to be protected from her. Their dinner had been a success and they'd come home to find Finn and Lily both already in bed.

"Thanks Pol," Rosie said, hugging his aunt as she was taking her leave.

"You're welcome pet," Polly replied, kissing her cheek, "You deserved a nice night after all your hard work."

He knew Rosie wanted to ask about Ada, but she glanced at him and didn't, saying, "Well thanks again – I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll make her a ginger cake to say thanks for tonight," Rosie said once his aunt had gone.

"She used to watch them all all the time, she'll go from here down to John's now – make sure they're all in."

"Just because that's what she does it doesn't make it right," Rosie replied, slightly snippily.

He smacked her arse playfully, "Don't you be taking that tone with me tonight, eh? I didn't take you out for dinner so I could get a mouthful of your sauce when he came home."

"And here I thought you liked having a reason to threaten to put me over your knee Mr Shelby," she replied coyly, winding her arms around his neck.

He kissed her and squeezed her backside, "It is a beautiful arse you've got on you."

"So you keep saying," she said, kissing him.

He groped her arse a little more, pulling a little moan from her that seemed to reverberate through their joined mouths from her throat right to his cock, bringing it to attention. His hands slid down with purpose and lifted her, her legs spreading on demand and locking around his waist, her own core right at his hard on. He took them to the couch and sat down, trailing kisses across her jaw, down her neck, across the areas of her chest that were exposed by the dress. Remembering how her breasts had felt in his bare hand in the kitchen, he drew his fingers over them, coaxing the nipples to harden and poke through the material and she pushed her breasts into his hands, wriggling as she straddled him, nudging at his cock as she did so.

He wasn't sure if she knew what she was feeling or not when she was on top of him like this, but he knew she was feeling plenty.

She kissed him, her hands in those places on the back of his head and behind his ears that made him feel strangely exposed and he melted under her as she shifted them around slightly and pushed him down, so that he ended up lying under her on the small sofa. His hands circled her and pulled her close to him, then one wandered to her bent knee at his waist and trailed up the back of her thigh, pulling at the fabric of her dress. She wasn't wearing stockings and as his hand went higher, squeezing at the soft skin on her inner thigh, she gave another groan into his mouth, grinding herself down on top of him.

He was pinned under her and he wasn't unhappy about it. His hand met the fabric of her knickers and he brushed his palm over her arse, digging his fingers in, squeezing and kneading, more groans coming from her.

She was murmuring his name, breathily, heavily, like they were close to actually doing it – and holy fuck he was close to actually doing it. She was moving on top of him in that same instinctual way, rubbing herself up and down, her mouth on his, her nipples hard against his shirt.

"Rosie," he muttered, trying to come to his senses, "Rosie – stop it. We need to stop it."

"It feels good though Tommy," she replied, kissing his neck.

"I know my love, I know," he sighed, moving a hand to the back of her head to hold her still, "But we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not right."

"It's not right?"

"No, it's not."

She sat up, still on top of him and surveyed his face, "What's not right about it?"

"It's not the plan, sweetheart, not right now anyway."

"Whose plan Tommy – yours or mine?"

"Ours," he told her sternly, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't recall being consulted," she said, arching an eyebrow right back at him.

"Rosie – I'm trying to do right by you," he said, pulling himself up, his irritation coming into his voice.

She pushed herself to her feet and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"I'm going to do right by you," he amended, "And that means marrying you and having children and a nice house – not fucking you on the sofa."

Her face had gone blank again. Fuck he hated that blank face.

"Alright Tommy," she said, quietly.

He stood up and ran a hand over her hair. She didn't stop him, but she didn't lean into it either, as she would normally have done.

"I can't lose control with you – I can't risk that," he explained, trying to soften his tone slightly.

She nodded and repeated, "Alright."

"We're going to do this right, eh?"

"Sure thing Tommy," she replied, her gaze going to the ground.

"Good girl."

"No," she said, raising her eyes to him, shaking her head, frowning.

"No what?"

"No – you don't get to say that to me if we're going to act like good Catholics."

"What – good girl?"

"Yes. Don't say it – it – it does things to me when you call me that Tommy. Makes me all… I don't know…"

So. That turned her on, to be his good girl. That suited him just fine.

"Yeah," he said, "I understand. When you call me sir – or Mr Shelby – it does the same for me."

She twisted her fingers and nodded, flushing, then added, "And no Mrs Shelbys either."

"Deal."

"Alright, deal," she replied, "But I'm going to go to bed now. I'll see you in the morning."

He was disappointed, and he couldn't pretend otherwise – but he understood.

"Alright, can I get a kiss goodnight before you go?"

"Nope."

"Well that's a bit rude, given I just took you for dinner – maybe you do need to go over my knee."

"There'll be none of that either Thomas," she said instantly, her spine straightening, "No saying… that phrase about your knee, no smacking my arse, no threatening me, none of those stern looks. It's makes me all… fluttery. And it's not fair."

"I can't help my face," he replied, rolling his eyes and hiding his glee that she'd just basically admitted that him simply threatening her with a spanking got her going. Specifically that phrase as she'd called it about going over his knee. All useful information.

"Well you'll just need to try."

"You're very demanding as far as women go you know."

"Yes. I am. And you're quite demanding yourself on the day to day Tommy – and this list of my demands is because of one of your own bloody plan to do things right as you put it. So you've made your own rod and hell bloody mend you."

His entire instinct was to grab her and turn her saucy little arse over his damn knee – but he did want to do right by her. So he didn't.

Instead he simply said, "Alright then. Well, I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."

"Sleep bloody well he says! In-fucking-deed! Sleep no fucking more as far as I'm con-fucking-cerned," she grumbled, rolling her eyes as she headed out of the living room and out of sight, then, safely out of sight, she shouted back at him, "Just so you know Thomas Shelby, I'm going to consult Polly on some of that witchcraft of hers and see if I can get you cursed with a permanent itch somewhere until you've made this bloody right – as you put it."

He didn't give her the satisfaction of answering and listened with a slight frown as she stamped her way up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door – probably waking Lily in the process.

There'd be no need for curses because he had a permanent itch as far as she was concerned – in his right hand that would only be scratched by colliding with her arse.