Chapter 70

"Right, now we crack in the eggs, no – one at a time – look, why don't you do one each, eh? Here, now, crack them on the edge of the bowl and add the inside in but try not to get any of the shell into the mix, alright? No one wants to be hurting their teeth on crunchy shell when they're expecting to eat cake."

Tommy pushed open the door to survey the scene in the kitchen, amused. Katie and Lily were standing around a chair with a large bowl on it, Rosie crouched in between them. His niece and Lily held an egg each, Lily's pinafore around her and a dish towel pinned over Katie's dress, each of them trying to convince the other to take the shot of cracking first.

"Fine! I'll go first!" Katie huffed, and banged the egg on the edge of the bowl, opening it over the top and watching the yolk and white splogde down, eyeing the egg as if daring it to even think about discarding some of the shell with its innards.

"What's going on here then?" he asked, a smile playing around his lips as his niece glared down into the pot before nodding and smiling victoriously, obviously having not dropped any shell.

"Well done," Rosie said, patting the girl's head, and standing up at the sight of him.

"We're baking cakes Tommy," Lily told him, still clutching her own egg.

"That right?" he said, coming over to look down into the bowl himself, laying a hand on Lily's head as he did so, then freezing it in shock as he realised the difference to the Lily standing by the bowl now in comparison with the Lily who had helped stir cake mix in the same bowl, on the same chair the infamous day that Ada had forgotten to give him Rosie's message.

She was taller. Not, granted, much taller. And not enough to make her tall by any standards – he still didn't reckon she'd manage to reach the sink herself and if the bowl had been on the table she'd have been struggling to see into it. But she was taller. He hadn't noticed it happen, but it had happened. She was growing on him, and his heart gave a pang. He wished he could freeze her as she was, stop her getting any older. Same as he'd wished with Ada.

"Uhuh," Lily nodded, "Fairy cakes."

"Fairy cakes?" he asked, threading his other hand onto Rosie's waist and squeezing it.

"Uhuh."

"And what are fairy cakes when they're at home – you taking them out to the woods for the fairies?"

Lily wrinkled her nose at him, giving him that look that he knew meant she thought he'd said something stupid. He raised an eyebrow and tried to keep his face impassive. The truth was, the look made him want to laugh – but he was wary of indulging it. For all she was a generally happy and content child, Rosie had allowed her to become accustomed to answering back and giving her opinions on adult's opinions in a way that didn't sit entirely right with him, and he reckoned what could be a look that amused him when she gave it to him for suggesting fairy cakes were made for fairies could morph into a look of disdain on more important things later down the line.

"They're little cakes Uncle Tommy," Katie told him, pulling his eyes to her, "So that everyone gets their own one and we can decorate them all differently."

"So they're fairy cakes because they're fairy sized, eh?"

Katie nodded.

"Am I getting one?"

"Yee-aahhhh!" Lily drawled, again using that tone that indicated she thought what he'd asked was an obvious question – and that she thought he was daft for asking.

"Enough of that tone from you my little love, or you'll be getting a smack, you hear?" he told her, raising an eyebrow, "I've told you enough times."

She looked down at the bowl and pouted, abashed. He ruffled her hair in offer of reassurance and she smiled up at him.

"I'm decorating your cake," she told him.

"Is that right?"

"Uhuh, I'm doing yours and Arthur's and Finn's and Katie's doing John's and George's and Jack's and Alfie's."

It was almost strange to hear her list Jack's and Alfie's as two separate peoples cakes, he was so used to them being a pair. He hoped as well, that Arthur would appear at some point that day and, in a version of himself that was close enough to the usual that Lily and the rest of the kids wouldn't know the difference. Tommy hadn't seen him yet this morning – but he had far more important things to do than baby his older brother through. John had gone to the rounds of the shops they offered protection to himself that morning. It was supposed to be Arthur's job to go with him. Since his older brother was, in theory, supposed to be their leader. Not that Arthur could have led a one man marching band.

"What about your own?" he grinned, "And Rosie's? And Aunt Polly's?"

"We'll do our own," Katie answered, "And I suppose you can do Rosie's Lily, since I'm doing four and you're only doing three. Whoever is done first can do Aunt Polly's."

She supposed. He exchanged a smile with Rosie.

"Thought since it was the summer holidays I could get these two involved," she told him.

"Good idea – keeps them out of mischief," Tommy replied, feeling strangely proud of his little trio of bakers as his eyes roamed over them all.

"We should make Isaiah one," Katie pronounced.

"There'll be enough for Isaiah to have one," Rosie nodded, "This mix will make fourteen or so."

"I claim the spares then," Tommy said, kissing her cheek, then addressed the group, "Well ladies, I need to go see a man about a suit, so I'll leave to you to your baking and hope to enjoy the fruits of your labour on return, eh?"

They giggled at him as he ruffled each of the little one's hairs and kissed Rosie a final time before he headed out.

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

"Please gentlemen, no fighting in here," Mr Zhang pleaded as Tommy turned to greet Kimber at the Chinese laundry.

"It's alright," Tommy told him, whilst looking at Kimber, "I've come as a friend."

The Chinese man gave a half bow and disappeared, clearly not wanting to be caught in the middle of even a friendly confrontation between them. He supposed he could hardly blame him.

"You're collecting your suit for Cheltenham, it's very nice," he commented.

"How the bloody hell do you know?" Kimber asked, obviously taken aback to have come to collect the suit and found Tommy waiting for him.

The truth was, Tommy had taken a gamble. He knew Kimber used the Chinese laundry, same as he did. He knew with Cheltenham being a few days away that the man would have had a new suit made and he was presuming he'd come in person to collect it and check the fit. Tommy's plan had merely been to hang around the laundry every day this week until he saw Kimber.

"I know a lot of things Mr Kimber," he settled for saying, "And as I told you before, I know the Lee brothers. And I know they're going to be at the Cheltenham races as well."

"Yes," Kimber replied, "Well they're gonna lose a lot of money on fast women and slow nags."

He wondered if Kimber believed himself.

"No," Tommy shook his head, correcting the man, "They're planning on showing up in numbers and robbing your bookies. Running chalk and rafflers."

Kimber scoffed and demanded, "You think I can't handle the Lees?"

There was that fragile ego again.

"Just a word of warning, from a friend – that's all," Tommy told him, then turned to go, adding casually, "See you at Cheltenham."

He knew he was right. He had his plan in place for the races. He'd prove he was right. He just had to be careful that Kimber's ego didn't crack like the egg Katie had broken so easily.

"I'll wave at you from my box," Kimber replied, using the opportunity to throw his weight around – to show Tommy he had a box, had better than he did.

Pathetic. Tommy kept walking.

"If you are coming to the races," Kimber shouted at his back, "Bring that pretty barmaid of yours."

Tommy turned, remaining casual and hiding his smile, "Already invited."

The noise of the machines, of the Chinese workers talking to one another and the number of bodies pushing around him seemed to continue even once Tommy was out of the laundry, with men shoving by him in the streets, running in the opposite direction and the sounds of whistles blowing. He wondered if there would ever be a day when the sound of a whistle blowing didn't make him feel dead inside.

"Tommy!" someone shouted – and he almost didn't hear them over the men, his eyes on them as they went, wondering if they were blowing the whistles or being blown at.

"Oi, Tommy!" the voice came again.

It was John.

"What the hell's been happening?" he asked, falling into step beside his brother.

"The police have just raided a rally at the factory," John told him.

Communists then. The whistles had been blowing at them.

"You thinkin' Freddie Thorne's back?" John asked.

He hadn't updated John on the situation since they'd gone to deal with Evans. John didn't know about the marriage… Still, if Arthur was going to be out of commission he'd need John to lead at Cheltenham and maybe now wasn't the time. John and Ada had a bond that was different to the one he and Ada had. Or had had. He was more like Ada's father than her brother, whereas John – John had the luxury of being her big brother. John wouldn't be angry with her for the danger she put herself in by being with Freddie – or perhaps he would be, but it wouldn't come with the side of guilt that he felt for having allowed it to happen. But he imagined John would be upset at not being at Ada's wedding.

"I know he is," was how Tommy settled for answering, "And he's with Ada. How hard can it be to find the only girl in Birmingham with four inch heels, eh?"

Those stupid shoes Rosie had bought her for Christmas last year. The shoes she'd paraded up and down in, barely able to walk properly and yet determined to wear them. Polly, Katie, Lily and Rosie gathered around her telling her how good they looked whilst him, John, Arthur and Charlie had sat around having a good laugh at her. At his silly little sister in her silly shoes. God, he missed her. He even missed her cheek and answering back.

"She's with the commies," John said, disgusted at the people their sister had ditched them for, "They have little rat holes all over the city."

"I just wanna know where she is," Tommy replied, trying to keep the note of desperation from his voice.

He wanted to know where she was. He wanted to know how she was. He wanted to bring her home and put a lock on her door to stop her ever leaving again. And he wanted to shoot Freddie Thorne in the head for taking advantage of her.

"Tommy you'd best have a word with Arthur as well," John said, dropping his voice and slowing his pace.

"What's wrong with bloody Arthur?" he demanded.

As if he didn't have enough to deal with – enough to do trying to look after Lily and Finn, trying to fix this mess with Ada, trying to deal with Kimber and the Lees.

"He's got the Flander's Blues again," John told him, looking uneasy.

Tommy sighed, turned on his heel and made his way in the opposite direction – to the church. It was Polly's influence, she'd told Arthur to go speak to God the first time he'd had his episode and now his brother's come downs were spent there, desperately hoping for some kind of divine intervention that Tommy knew was never going to come.

He could only really be glad that they were onto the blues part of Arthur's turn. It meant the end was coming.

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

"People keep asking me questions that I don't know the answer to," Arthur told him, his voice deadpan when Tommy sat down next to him in the pew.

His brother was kneeling – in what probably had been prayer before he had arrived. Prayer with a bottle next to him, an empty bottle Tommy had moved. He didn't answer Arthur – waited for his brother to elaborate.

"Is it true your Ada got married?" Arthur said, quoting one of the questions.

Tommy sighed. So, his failure was out the bag entirely.

"I say 'I don't know'," Arthur continued, "'Where's she living now?' 'I dunno.'"

Anger reared in Tommy. Perhaps, just perhaps, if Arthur had stepped up at the fucking time, had taken the role he should have taken as the eldest and had taken a fucking interest in raising Ada and Finn – then he'd know himself where Ada was currently living. Or, fuck that, if Arthur had even been present, mentally, for the past while, instead of on his fucking self-indulgent spiral, he might have noticed Ada's lack of presence. But had he? No. He hadn't fucking noticed to ask, because he was so wrapped up in himself. It was always Tommy's job, to sort everyone, wasn't it? Always on him to know what was going on, to keep everyone in line and under control and Arthur just got to go drink and spiral.

"'Arthur, who killed the Paddy from the Black Swan?' I go, 'What Paddy?' They say, 'Is it you Peaky Blinders who stole the guns from the BSA?'"

Arthur paused, looking at him. Tommy kept his eyes forward, calming himself. There was no point in being angry with Arthur. Arthur couldn't help himself. Arthur was to be pitied, if anything.

"What guns Tommy?"

He turned and tried to speak softly, "Arthur, after your beating I thought you needed a break-"

"What bloody guns Tommy?" Arthur shouted, cutting him off.

He could hear the desperation in his brother's tone. He wondered how long people had been asking him questions for. What stage of his spirals he'd been at when they'd come.

He laid a hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to calm him, "Arthur, I was gonna tell you."

Arthur shook him off and angrily mocked, "You were gonna tell me."

"Arthur!" Tommy hissed, grabbing at his brother even as Arthur tried to push him off, yanking his wrists together in one hand, wrapping his own over his brother's like he was a child, speaking to him in a quiet voice, "Arthur listen to me. You've had a hard time these past few years, God knows you have. You deserve some rest. We had some luck. Some bloody luck. It fell off a wagon into our laps. And all you need to know is – it's us that has the machine guns now and it's them that's in the mud, alright?"

The words seemed to calm Arthur a little – Tommy watched as his brother's brow became less furrowed. But his eyes still had that sadness, that slight desperation, in them. Arthur knew. Arthur knew he wasn't leading anything or running anything. He'd admitted it at Christmas – even more or less said he was happy about it, though Tom had known at the time that sentence had only come out because he was drunk. He supposed Arthur had had the life he'd planned for himself snatched – first by war, then, upon returning, by him. By Tommy. By him taking over the business the way he had done.

What was it Rosie had said, when he'd spoken to her after Arthur and Polly had missed Katie's birthday tea because he was spiralling?

Arthur sits in that office doing nothing all day as far as I can see – you bring the business in, John runs the odds and the men, I do the ledgers, Polly does the accounts and the payroll - Arthur's just there to be a presence. Then he goes home to that house alone. Only other thing he can do is drink, so that's hardly a surprise is it? Get him a focus Tommy.

He'd argued against her, He needs a bloody rest. You remember his face from that beating – the day we were meant to go for dinner, you and me? For your birthday? He deserves a rest for taking that. And I'm trying to keep him away from that business – haven't told him about the guns and it's better for us all if we keep it that way.

Well give him something to do Tommy – people need something to do or they end up in their heads and this is obviously where that gets him when it happens. You asked me to help you with life and business and everything – so there's my advice.

Her advice had always steered him right so far, when he'd taken it.

He'd taken the life Arthur had seen as his. Had left him with nothing. He had to do as she'd said – he had to give him something, to give him a focus. Had to give him something like the life he'd wanted for himself in the first place.

"Come on. I have a surprise for you," he told his brother, standing up.

Arthur looked up at him – wide eyed and bewildered, just like a child.

"Come on," Tommy repeated and started walking – presuming that Arthur, like a child, would follow.

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

"You bought The Garrison?" Rosie said, slightly amazed, when he told her once they got back to Watery Lane, the two of them standing in the shut up shop.

"Was your idea," he told her.

"Don't you start putting words in my mouth Thomas Shelby, I never said any such thing."

"I know, my little loli phabai, but you did say to give him a focus."

She snorted, "So you bought your brother who has a problem with abusing alcohol a pub?"

"Means he's pouring it instead of drinking it."

She rolled her eyes, "Plus it does no harm to have a legal business, eh?"

She was far too clever.

He inclined his head, "That may be a factor."

She shook her head and smiled at him, "I've said it before and I'll say it again – you're ridiculous, Mr Shelby."

"What's ridiculous about killing two birds with one stone – I get a legal business to pass the money from the shop through, Arthur gets a focus?"

"It's just – I mean, who the fuck just buys a pub? Out of nowhere?" she asked, pulling a face at him.

He smacked her, smiling and wagged a finger at her, "Language now Miss Jackson."

"Oh don't you start pretending you care about my language – like it's anything but a nice excuse for you to touch my arse," she replied, rolling her eyes.

He laughed and she rolled her eyes a final time before saying, "Come on, Katie and Lily are waiting through there to see if everyone likes their cakes."

When they pushed through the green doors, he was almost jealous to see Lily settled on Arthur's lap – and surprised to see Katie sitting on John's. He glanced at Rosie and saw her watching his niece and brother, smiling to herself.

"Right, which one's mine?" he asked, clearing his throat and stepping forward to the table, taking a seat and leaving Rosie standing by the door.

Lily pointed at one – with blue icing and a messy 'T' that looked a bit more like a cross on it. He pulled it towards him and bit in.

"It's good," he confirmed, realising she was watching him from her spot on his brother's lap, waiting for his opinion.

He was rewarded with a warm, wide smile.

"Where are the boys? They're missing out?" he asked.

John snorted, "Out the back cleaning up the evidence."

"Evidence of what?"

"Of whatever they've been up to."

Tommy stood, leaving the cake on the table and went to the back door, looking out to see Finn, Isaiah and George and the twins, along with some other boys, washing themselves from the pump. Highly irregular.

"Finn," he shouted, gaining his brother's attention, "In you come, Lily and Katie have made cakes. You too George – Jack – Alfie. Isaiah, there's one for you if you want it."

The lot of them abandoned their ablution, coming into the small kitchen. Tommy sat back down and Finn stood near him, Polly pushing the cake with an 'F' on it towards him, Alfie climbing up on her as she did so. Just as Finn was about to eat, Tommy threw an arm around him and pulled him onto his lap.

Finn looked up at him, slightly stunned.

"Oh everyone else has a kid on their knee, I'm feeling left out. Play along and pretend to be mine, eh?" Tommy told him, taking a bite of cake.

Finn made a show of rolling his eyes, but stayed where he was and reached for his assigned cupcake.

"So," Tommy asked, once he'd finished his bite, "What you lot been up to that you're washing off?"

Finn shrugged and the others avoided his eye.

"Fighting, from the looks of it," Polly said, examining Jack's face from where he'd come to rest standing next to her and his twin.

"Fighting eh? Who with."

"Paddys," Finn muttered.

Tommy saw Isaiah throw him a look.

"What?" Finn demanded, "They came here, we never broke any rules – never left the lane, honest Tommy, we didn't! They came here and we have to defend it, isn't that right?"

He felt Polly's eyes on him. He had told her, after they came back from London, that he needed all Shelby's out of Sparkbrook. But he supposed…

"Well, if they came here you can do what you need to do – but don't you be going there or I'll leather you all, you got it?" he proclaimed, eyeing each of them in turn, including Isaiah in his round.

Rosie scoffed, "Fighting? Actual fighting and that's all you've got to say about it?"

"They're not lying to me about falling off a bike," he shrugged, "And boys will be boys, Rosie. They're going to fight. If they're not going where they shouldn't be I don't mind them standing up for themselves."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head - though she was clearly the only person present with any issues with the fighting itself having happened.

Arthur grinned up at her, "Stop fussing - this lot'll need to be able to fight once they're grown up Peaky Blinders."

"Yeah, we'll be Peaky Boys," George told her.

She opened her mouth to reply but was cut across by Katie, who wasn't paying any attention to the conversation, asking, "Where's Ada? I made her a cake."

His heart stopped for a minute as he looked at his niece – and felt the eyes of the adults gathered on him. He supposed they all knew now.

He cleared him throat before he spoke, "Some of you know Ada was staying with Aunt Polly because she was sick," he began, and they nodded, "Ada is going to have a baby. A new Shelby."

"A baby!" Lily breathed, excited at the prospect.

"Can I play with it?" Katie demanded.

"Could it go in the moses basket we got Katie?"

"Can we dress it up?"

"Can we kick it down the lane in a shoebox like we did with Jack and Alfie?"

"No," Polly broke over them all, "No, you can't and it can't. Ada and the baby are going... They're going away. To America."

Finn turned to gape at him, as if to see if this was a joke. He kept his own face impassive. Polly hadn't told him anything about fucking America, she'd simply said she'd deal with it – she'd get them to leave town and it would be peaceful. Not fucking transatlantic. He looked to Rosie, standing at the back, near the doors of the shop and to see she looked shocked – and sickened. He figured Polly hadn't told her either then.

"The baby's father isn't…" he trailed off, trying to think how to phrase it so the kids would understand, "Isn't safe here. He can't stay."

"Ada's husband," Polly added, as if to clarify it.

"Ada got married?" Katie asked, surprised – not remotely upset as far as he could see, not like Rosie had been, but surprised.

"How did Ada find anyone to marry her?" George wondered aloud.

"Oi!" Rosie surprised him by shouting, "You watch your mouth. Ada had men round the block wanting to marry her."

"Really?" George asked, eyes wide.

"Really," Rosie nodded.

"And she picked Freddie Thorne," John muttered, rolling his eyes – then he added, "And don't be getting any ideas Katie."

"Any ideas about what?"

"About running away and getting married," Arthur chimed in, unhelpfully – given Tommy hadn't mentioned anything about Ada doing any of it without express permission. Specifically not to give any of them any ideas.

"I don't want to get married," Katie replied, screwing up her face.

"Good girl, you stay and look after your old dad, eh?" John grinned, hugging her tightly around her waist.

There had been a time Ada would have sat on his lap and proclaimed she wasn't going to marry anyone so she could stay with him forever. It hadn't lasted. He had the same urge as he had done a few hours before, when he'd realised Lily was getting taller – that desperate urge to be able to freeze everything and everyone as they were. To stop any of them growing up.

Thank you so much for reading along and for your comments and messages, I know I say it every time but it honestly means the world to me when I see my inbox has notifications.

On a serious note I do want some honest feed back - do you guys, who are 70 chapters deep into this work, feel it's appropriate trigger warning-ed?

I received a comment over on AO3 this week that I do feel in many ways was unfair in terms of what it laid at my door - but the writer felt I should be labelling this story as containing "abuse of teenage girls and domestic violence."

It's my honest, hand-to-god belief that I have marked this work appropriately. I'm not saying that means I'm right in thinking so, hence asking here for your opinions, but it is my way of saying I haven't been writing this and shadily thinking it requires more than it has in terms of warnings.

To recap, the main description of this story reads 'This will contain spanking as a disciplinary method of kids/teens as well as a slow burn romance with slight D/s vibes between Tommy Shelby and an OC.' and the opening chapter's author's note at the start, with regards to the parts that include trigger warnings, reads 'Firstly, as stated in the description, this story will contain spanking as a disciplinary method, I'm not necessarily saying that by writing it I would condone it in real life in a non-consensual context but this is a work of fiction and if it's not your cup of tea, there are plenty of other works of fiction to be explored' And 'Lastly, this is a Peaky Blinders fic so general warning for mental health issues, PTSD, mental abuse, physical abuse and light substance abuse. I will try to TW at the top of chapters that specifically deal with these issues when they come up, but please do be aware this is very much set within the canon of the show.'

As per my notes on Interrupting Tommy's Working Day (which I finished yesterday so it's available to read via my profile page if you're interested!):

I 100% believe in canon both in terms of the time (1919 onwards in the show) and the characters that all the Shelby's would have been spanked and would have utilised it for their own kids. We hear Thomas reference a time his mother beat him 'with a fucking frying pan' in the show - which suggests that even if that was a particularly hard beating (he seems to be telling the story quite good naturedly though, rather than as if he'd traumatised by it) that being physically disciplined was standard. When their father reappears in season 1 his assessment of Thomas is 'The boy needs a good hiding if you ask me', which again suggests there's been plenty of 'good hidings' in the past in the family.

I honestly think if this show had been filmed in even as late as the early 00s, we'd have probably seen young Finn, Charlie or even Karl being smacked on screen at some point. It felt out of character to me in season 5 when Tommy let Charlie talk back to him whilst he was finding out about the crash and shouting about how no one listens to him. Does that mean I wanted to see him beat the kid into submission? No. It doesn't.

To me, as I'd hope you would be able to tell from the way I write spankings - arguably moreso from TRRH which is from Tommy's point of view than this - the fictional (key word being fictional!) spankings I like to read and write are ones that come from a place of love, of genuine belief that it's the right thing to do to get the receiver back on the right track. If anyone's ever read Outlander there's a line where Claire references Jamie's explaining of belting her with something along the lines of him telling her 'I gave you justice as I was taught it and I gave you mercy so far as I could.' I write Tommy as a parent with the idea in my head that he was spanked plenty himself growing up, that he thinks it's the right thing to do and that he actually makes a huge effort to be far more controlled and fair with it than his father was to him.

Whether my execution of what's in my head is successful or not is entirely up for debate - I am not always the most graceful receiver of constructive criticism but I am trying to be better at welcoming it into my life and growing from it. I can't please everyone - no one can - and I am well aware that there will be people who just don't like my style, pacing etc. That's fine and people are entitled to think the work isn't good or that it has short-comings. I don't mean I have to revel in it if someone thinks its 'dirt', but they're entitled to think that.

However, I am writing this whilst feeling really quite upset about a comment I received this week telling me that Tommy is abusive towards Ada. It was never my intention to portray him as being knowingly abusive and I, hand on heart, did/do believe I have trigger warning-ed my work appropriately. I respect trigger warnings and their need for being present, and I fully appreciate that in 2021 non-consensual spanking would of course be seen as abuse, however I do feel on my part I've very clearly marked it as containing spanking/parental spanking of a child and that that covers what is depicted in the contents of my work.

Anyway, to basically reiterate the last part of that AN - whilst a lot of the comment in question that has triggered me asking this seemed sensationalist, extreme and unjust, which makes me inclined to disregard the thoughts of the writer (you're more than welcome to go read the comments in full, they've been left on Chapter 8 and Chapter 16 of the work, which is uploaded under the same name on AO3 and I have given my reply on the comment for Chapter 16) I do take trigger warnings seriously and I respect their need for existing - which is why I want wider feedback to ask if anyone else feels that I should be marking this work as containing abuse and domestic violence?

As I've said, I totally appreciate that non-consensual spanking is abuse, but in terms of what this works contains I have marked it as including spanking as a non consensual discipline method and, to me (and I fully appreciate this is my personal take, which is not necessarily right, so once again, that's why I'm asking this!) that's a much more explicit description of the contents of this work and what they might contain that would be triggering than me labelling it as containing 'abuse' which is a far wider reaching word, with scope for a large range of triggers within it.

To me, seeing abuse or domestic violence mentioned in trigger warnings immediately would make me think the work contained scenes depicting rape/being beaten bloody/broken bones etc. I am not into that (no judgement for people who are, at all, I'm not kink shaming here either!) so I would never write it and if I'm honest I'd be concerned that adding that would give the wrong impression to the reader about what they're letting themselves in for with this story. However, I'm super aware that that's my personal interpretation.

So - all my explaining aside - do you readers, who are so deep into this story, feel there's been anything at any point that you didn't feel you were appropriately warned was coming up? Please be honest, I'm really, genuinely looking to know if I've upset any (rational) readers and if there's anything that an informed reader (such as one like yourselves, you are so deep into this!) would feel should be added to my introduction more explicitly. I've been in knots for the last few days thinking that I might have unknowingly triggered something for someone and I'd far rather know so I can at least fix it now than go forward still thinking all is well and that I've just had one hysterical commentator.

Again, so much love to you all for your comments and messages, particularly this week I've been incredibly grateful to receive them.