Chapter 68

Tommy was wakened the next morning from one of the best night's sleep he'd had in a while by the redhead hopping around the room wearing his shirt and yanking at the bloody girdle.

"What in holy fuck?" he muttered.

His voice was groggy, but the rest of him wasn't – the sight of her in his shirt, only a few buttons done and her chest filling it in rather a different way from his, had made sure of that.

"I need to fucking pee," she told him, wrestling with the unyielding fabric.

He snorted – her hair was wilder than usual and her face was flushed. He assumed, with satisfaction, that none of the boys who'd been at The Garrison with her the night before would ever have seen her as discomposed as she was now.

"It's not fucking funny, Thomas," she hissed, "Get up and fucking help me – you got a knife?"

"Aye," he nodded with a raised eyebrow, "And on that fucking note – where was yours last night? Wandering around Small Heath in that dress last night without a fucking weapon – I thought you were supposed to be smart?"

"Tommy!" she whined, "Hurry up unless you fancy me peeing on your floor! And I wasn't alone last night, nothing was going to happen."

"That's the kind of thought process that gets people killed," he told her sternly, fishing a knife out from a drawer and coming to kneel in front of her, smacking the back of her leg and telling her, "Hold still."

He slid the knife in at the gap between her knees and began to cut – the fabric was thick, sawing through it was arduous and he reckoned there'd be less stab wounds in Small Heath if men commandeered the stuff to make tops from. But men wouldn't choose discomfort.

"Hurry up!" she whined, shimmying a little on the spot.

It was quite adorable, in its way, but he shot her a glowering look up and stopped cutting.

"Stay fucking still or I'll cut you instead."

"I'm trying! I need to fucking pee."

"Well that'll fucking teach you not to wear shit like this won't it?"

"You taught me not to wear shit like this last night – I didn't need a fucking follow up this morning," she grumbled.

Then their eyes met and their glowers fell away, smiles playing on both of their lips at the memory of the night before.

"Good girl," he said with a nod, resuming the cutting, "And what other very important thing did you learn last night?"

"That your theatre was right – if you show up with another man – or men – in tow you'll make the one you want jealous enough that they'll declare their hand," she replied with a smirk.

He stopped cutting again and smacked her, "Is that where you got your bloody idea from?"

"Uhuh."

"Last time I take you to the theatre," he grumbled, going back to the task.

Her thighs were coming into view.

"What did you learn last night Tom?"

"That you're a silly little girl at times who'll need to be put over my knee as often as possible."

She snorted, "A silly little girl that you love."

"A silly little girl that I love," he confirmed, nodding, "Though I prefer when she's not being an idiot wandering around in as stupid dress attracting all sorts of attention in places like Small Heath."

"And who loves you," she said, a softness coming into her voice, her hand going to his hair – ignoring his scolding.

"Who loves me," he repeated, a softness in his too.

"Who also really needs to pee if you could hurry it up," she added, her voice bringing that edge back to it.

He shook his head, rolled his eyes and finally tore through the last of the thing, letting it fall to the ground. She made to move but he wrapped his hands around her thighs.

"Tom!" she said, pushing at his head, half giggling, "I do need to pee, I'm not being funny!"

"Alright, alright," he replied, nodding, "Just let me…" He let his voice break off and pressed a kiss to the tops of each of her thighs and then finally on her mound, feeling the softness of the hair and the heat of her through her knickers – which were silk, as far as he could tell. And as plain and simple and unfussy as he figures they would be. But beautiful in it, beautiful in the fabric and the deep champagne colour of them against the white of her skin.

She sucked in her breath and her eyelids had gone heavy when he sat back on his heels and looked up at her – then he smacked her arse and stood up.

"Off you go pee then!"

She blinked and went from the room, moving quickly. He went to the door and watched her run across the hall to her own room and emerge in in a minute, his shirt and her knickers swapped for her pyjamas and a coat, socks pulled onto her feet and boots in her hand.

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head, turning back into his room. It was then that he realised the time.

Shit.

He was late.

His movements taking on the speed hers had, he pulled a suit out the wardrobe and dressed hastily, yanking the fabric of his sleeves through the garters, his fingers fumbling in his haste to do his buttons.

"You and Rosie just, ah, sleep in of the same morning by chance did you Tommy, eh?" John greeted him with a grin when he reached the bottom of the stairs, cigarette lit and composure back in place.

"Been up for hours John – already been out and taken care of a few things," he lied, "What have you achieved?"

John rolled his eyes, "I've achieved not going up the stairs to knock on her door and demand my breakfast."

Tommy didn't say anything – John knew full well what he was saying was that he'd achieved not going up the stairs to knock on any doors and interrupt what John definitely thought they'd spent their morning doing.

He walked through to the kitchen, where Rosie was standing, still in her pyjamas, frying bacon.

"Morning," she said over her shoulder in greeting, hearing him coming in and closing the door.

"Morning," he nodded back.

Polly slurped loudly on her tea.

"Got something to say, Pol?" he asked, letting his annoyance come into his tone.

He was glad for last night. He was. But he was still annoyed at his aunt for conspiring in on the stupid bloody plan with Rosie.

"Just that I thought it was the schools that had broken up for summer holidays yesterday, not the betting shop."

"Betting shop's open and running."

"Mhmm," she replied, eyeing him beadily.

He clicked his tongue and went to where Rosie was stood manning the pan, "You go get dressed, I'll do this."

"Don't be stupid."

He smacked her, "I've had enough of you calling me stupid recently – next time you do it'll be the last thing you ever say, you understand?"

She snorted, entirely nonplussed, "Oh the great Tommy Shelby cuts out the tongues of young women these days does he?"

He smacked her again and snatched the tongs, "Go - before I decide to do something about you."

"Hear that Polly?" Rosie said, sliding under his arm, smirking at him, "He's going to do something about me."

"So he says," Pol replied, then asked, "And did you do something about him last night?"

He whacked the tongs pointedly off the pan, making a loud bang.

"I'll take that as a yes," Polly said, "Well done love."

He turned his glare on them.

"Thanks for taking Lily – was she good?" Rosie asked his aunt, the two women ignoring his displeasure.

"An angel – set her up with some paints and she had a great time painting you in that dress. Then she painted you and Tommy and her and Finn, then after that she painted some flowers. They're in my front room – you'll need to go have a look, she's really quite good."

"She is isn't she? I always thought so but you don't know really, do you – when they're yours? Cause you sort of think everything they do is great. But I do think she's quite good at drawing and painting, for her age."

"Aye she's good," Polly nodded, "Arthur was always quite good too. I couldn't draw – used to drive me mad when we were kids and Arthur could make these drawings of horses that looked real and I'd be sat next to him with something that was basically two circles with four lines for legs."

"Aye I can't draw either," Rosie said, shaking her head, then finally acknowledged him – only to reprimand, "Thomas! For goodness sake – don't say you're going to do something if you're not, you've got to flip the bacon or it'll burn. Poor John's starving."

"Well John can starve," he declared, rolling his eyes, "And I'll fucking flip you if there's anymore lip from you this morning my little loli phabai."

She gave him one of those brilliant smiles then and he smiled back before he could help himself, still smiling as she pushed her way through the doors, disappearing into the shop.

"Enjoy last night?" Polly asked him when the doors shut.

He flipped the bacon and ignored her for a few minutes, before biting out, "Enjoy sending her out in that dress in Small Heath with no weapon?"

"She has you, she doesn't need a weapon."

He clicked his tongue, "I can't be everywhere at once Pol – and I didn't know she was running about like that before she got to The Garrison, anything could have happened."

"Are you going to get round to admitting you love that girl any time soon?"

"Pol," he replied, "What is it makes you think I love her?"

"I don't think, I know."

"How?"

"Cause I'm Polly Grey," she answered smugly.

He turned the pan off and started shoving the bacon onto bread – if John wanted it buttered he'd need to do it himself. Then he figured he'd butter his own and went to get it, busying himself with scrapping it across, ignoring his aunt until she finally gave in.

"Why you asking?"

"Cause she didn't seem to fucking know."

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

Later that day they were in the kitchen again, this time with an empty shop – and no fucking Polly sitting being all-knowing and infuriatingly smug.

"So, Charlie knows," Rosie said, kissing him as she sat in his lap, "And Polly knows, more or less."

"I think John suspects," he told her, kissing her back.

"I think everyone suspects."

"True."

"It's kind of fun, in a way, having a secret."

He snorted, "I'm glad you think so."

"Don't you?"

He sighed and ran a hand through her hair, "No. I want to tell the entire world that you're mine and they can all keep their hands and eyes off you unless they want to lose them."

She snorted, "I did look after myself for a long time before you came along you know."

"I know," he nodded, trailing his fingers down her back to rest on her waist, his other hand around her arse, holding her leg, "But now you're mine to look after, my love."

"I like the sound of that," she said, smiling and kissing him again, her hands settling behind his ears, then, "But you know I can look after myself, yes?"

"I know you can," he agreed, rolling his eyes, "But I love you and you're mine – so it will be my very great pleasure to look after you, alright?"

She smiled and nodded, pressing her lips back to his, kissing his cheek and then murmuring, "Yes sir," in his ear.

He tightened where his hand lay around her thigh.

"If you don't like it – just tell them Thomas? And tell them not to tell anyone."

He sighed, "I wish it worked like that sweetheart."

"It doesn't?"

"If you're a Shelby – or associated with one – things have a way of getting around, whether you want them to or not. Grace said she'd heard Ada got married when I went to The Garrison last night."

"How'd she know?"

"I don't know. She says Freddie's friends were in The Garrison toasting his marriage. More likely Freddie's being watched and the police know he's got married and it's made its way to her that way. If it reached her as she said, chances are it's made it to the police anyway."

"Do Arthur and John know yet?"

He shook his head, "Nope. Or not from me, at any rate."

"And what're you going to do if they go to The Garrison and Grace says to them that she's heard?"

"I don't know. Still figuring that out."

"You told me."

"Of course I did."

"I love you Thomas," she said, kissing him.

"And I love you," he replied when they broke apart.

"Tommy…"

"Hmm?"

"What if you're doing all this keeping this secret and complicating it and Grace isn't who you think she is?"

"I'm sure she is."

"But it's just instinct? What if it's off?"

"I didn't tell you," he realised aloud, smirking slightly, "Cause you were having a tantrum."

"You didn't tell me what?" she pouted.

"Now no pouting," he tutted, "Unless you want a spanking before dinner?"

She pouted even more and he pulled her hip up, rolling her on his lap so he could swat at her backside.

"And here I thought you liked being a good girl for me," he mocked gently as he swatted her, landing kisses lightly on her face.

"I do," she replied, her breath hot in his ear, "But I like a little bit of a smacked arse too."

"A little bit of a smacked arse, eh?"

"Mhmm."

He released her hip and let her shift back to sitting properly.

"You know there's such a thing as a good girl spanking," he told her, lifting his hand to run his thumb across her lips.

"Oh really?"

"Uhuh."

"How do I get one of those?"

"Ask for it."

She snorted – and he frowned.

"Rosie."

"What?"

"You're going to need to communicate with me you know, when we do this. I'm not a mind reader. You need to tell me what you want – tell me what feels good."

She bit her lip.

He sighed inwardly, keeping his outside still. She wasn't very good at being forthcoming, that was the truth. For all she could take care of herself on the street and for all he'd heard her happily talk back to grown men in the shop, he didn't reckon that communicating her needs, sexually or otherwise, was ever going to be her strong point. No, he probably had a few more nights like last night coming his way he reckoned, more stunts to make him react either when she wasn't getting her way or when she wasn't able to tell him what she needed from him – and when he didn't know.

Like how he didn't know she hadn't realised he loved her. He'd thought it was obvious.

"When are we going to do it Thomas?" she asked, a note of bravado in her voice, which he guessed covered less than she thought it did.

He kissed her forehead, "We'll start tonight. Once Lily and Finn are asleep."

"Tonight?" she repeated, excitement and nervousness flitting across her face.

He nodded, "If that's alright with you?"

She nodded in return.

"Good."

"Good."

There was a moment of silence before she squirmed a little and reminded him, "You were going to tell me something – about Grace. Something you didn't tell me."

"Aye," he nodded, reminded, "You know the day I had the meeting with the Irish?"

"The day you gave Grace another two pound ten shillings," she nodded.

"Aye - that bloody day," he confirmed.

He told her about Moss moaning about the new Chief Inspector giving a glowing report to his female operative, who had reported in about IRA men gathering in The Black Swan just after his meeting – with two men he'd told her drank at The Black Swan.

"Female operative?"

"Exactly. Who reported in about IRA men who drink at The Black Swan and were looking to buy guns."

"Fuck's sake," she muttered.

"You surprised?"

"That you were right? No. I was hoping you wouldn't be, but I'm not surprised that you were."

He pushed her off his lap as a ball slammed against the window.

"Oi!" he shouted, throwing the back door open, glaring at the kids assembled there, "You've been fucking told – kick your balls out the fucking front, there's not fucking space back here! Don't think I won't leather every single one of you. And you," he growled, his eyes falling on Finn, "Get in, your dinner's nearly ready."

He slammed the door shut behind Finn, grabbed the back of the boy's collar and smacked him around the kitchen, "You have been told. No kicking balls out the back. If you smash a bloody window I will tan your hide like it's never been tanned in its life, you understand?"

"Aye! Tommy I understand! Let us go!" the boy shrieked, trying to wriggle out of his grasp and cover his backside.

He smacked the backs of Finn's legs a few times, getting the bare skin between the socks and the shorts, hoping to make his point, then let go.

Finn dodged behind the table, standing by the chair Rosie was sitting on, glowering as much as he dared in Tommy's direction.

"What's for dinner?"

"Something called lasagne," Rosie answered, "And honest to god Finn, it might kill us all. I'm not convinced food should be put together in so many layers. Could be an absolute disaster. It's from that book Tommy got me."

Finn wrinkled his nose.

"You'll eat it," Tommy told him, raising an eyebrow.

"What, even if it's going to kill me?" Finn retorted, rolling his eyes.

"Yup."

"Rosie – he's trying to actually off me."

"Oh don't you worry Finn, me and Lily won't let him."

"Getting your protection from women, never heard the like of it," Tommy said, rolling his own eyes, "Set the table for dinner."

"Speaking of Lily," Rosie said, her eyes glancing to the clock, "She should be back. Know where she went Finn?"

"She should be out the front," Tommy answered for his brother, "After you two came back from the shops that's where she told me she'd be playing."

Rosie got up and wandered through the front room, opening the front door and stepping out, her head swivelling – just as the back door opened and Lily came flying through it, her eyes going to the clock then going worriedly around to his.

"Tommy – Tommy I'm only late cause John made me go back for the plate!" she said, holding a plate out to him.

"The plate?" he asked, taking it from her, eyebrow raised.

"From Katie's cake. I was coming in and he came to the door and shouted on me to come to his and get the plate for Rosie!"

It ran a vague bell and Tommy put the plate on the table before crouching down and beckoning Lily to him. She chewed her lip and dragged her feet.

"Don't make me come get you," he told her, frowning.

Her glacial pace picked up – by the slightest amount.

When she eventually reached him he put his hands on her waist and spun her – pointing up at the clock and asking, "What time does that say?"

"Quarter past six."

"And what time were you due back here for?"

"Six o'clock," she replied miserably.

"So it took fifteen minutes for John to find a plate did it?"

"Yes! He shouted on me then had to go look for it – go and ask him!" she replied, her voice whining.

He believed her then – the 'go and ask him' when offered as a line of defence was generally a sign that the truth was being told.

He spun her around to look her in the eye then and went on, "Alright, I believe you. So since you're telling me the truth Lily why don't you tell me another truth, eh?"

She nodded uncertainly.

"You were worried coming in here late because you remembered what I said about smacking your backside for you if you were late again, weren't you?"

She nodded, her eyes starting to mist over with tears, her gaze going to the floor.

"No, no, eyes on me," he directed, putting a hand under her chin and forcing it up gently, "So you remember the last day you were late?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good – now you knew the time on that clock perfectly well when I asked you there. And I think you knew the time on the clock the last time too and just pretended not to so you wouldn't get into trouble with Rosie. Am I right?"

The tears spilled over and she shifted about on the spot, not able to move off of it because of the hand he still had on her waist, holding her to it, the other one still on her chin.

"Lily – tell me the truth," he ordered, keeping his voice quiet and calm.

She shut her eyes and rolled her lips shut as if to keep her words in.

"Open your eyes – look at me," he directed.

She did as she was told, "Good girl. Now, you're my best girl Lily, you know that, right? Same way Finn is my best boy."

He took his eyes off the child in front of him for a moment, glancing to where Finn was loitering by the table, making sure his brother had heard him, feeling Lily nod her chin into his hand.

"Good – so I expect the truth from you both at all times, alright? You lie to me – you'll make things worse, alright?"

She nodded again.

"Good – so be my best girl and tell me the truth, did you lie to your sister about not being able to tell the time to get out of trouble?"

The final tiny little nod came.

"I thought so. Now, you're going to get that lie washed out of your mouth and then I don't ever want any others in it, you understand me?"

She cried in response and he felt like a bit of an arsehole as he stood up and went to the basin, picking up the bar of soap and going to the back door, holding it open.

"Out you go, come on, let's get this done with."

He didn't wash her mouth out properly at all, simply ran the soap under the water and lathered it up, made her lick it then let her rinse a few seconds later. But she was upset enough that he figured it would work.

"What's going on here then?" Rosie called out as she stood at the back door, watching as Lily spit on the ground.

"Lily told you a lie, so she's having her mouth washed out with soap," he replied.

"Told me a lie? Lily – did you fib to me? What did you fib about?"

"You want to tell her what you lied about?" he said, giving the child a light smack to get her moving back towards the house.

Lily didn't move and just shook her head.

"Lily – you've had your punishment, it's alright, you won't be in more trouble. That's how it works, eh? You pay the price, we move on."

He picked her up when she still didn't move and carried her back inside, plonking her down on a chair at the table and filling Rosie in.

"It's rubbish getting your mouth washed out," Finn said sympathetically, sliding into the chair next to Lily and squeezing her hand, "Aunt Polly does it if you swear too much."

"Should be getting done if you swear at all, you're too young," Tommy commented, sliding into his usual chair, smiling to himself at the two of them sat there thinking themselves a pair of hard done by little toerags.

Rosie pulled the lasagne out of the oven and started dishing it onto plates, looking at it with distrust.

"I will however," she said as she placed the first serving down in front of him, "Allow swearing if this turns out to be as awful as I think it might be."

Just making it on time for a Sunday update!

What rubbish news for those of us in the UK yesterday - my heart is absolutely going out to all of you who had made plans and thought you were getting home for Christmas only to have it ripped away at the last minute.

As always, thank you so much to all of you for your messages and reviews, it's absolutely what's kept me going through this horrible time to have this little project and the little community I feel I've got of people that I talk to on here/tumblr now - I honestly think I'd have gone completely mad without you all!

ICYMI: Not essential reading but I have started another little story on my profile which was requested by a reader and it's a flashback to what Tommy refers to as that time last summer when Ada ran off to the pictures for the day because she knew she was in trouble. It's from Ada's POV and I've really enjoyed writing it - it also gives more insight into Ada's mind/what Polly tells Tommy about Ada that he doesn't notice himself. It's only going to have one more chapter I think so it's not another mammoth thing like this is turning into (turning into - lol, let's be real, turned into a long time ago and we just accept it for what it is now!) but it's there if you fancy it!

Stay safe and I hope those of you who celebrate Christmas manage to still have a good one xxx