Chapter 72

Tommy wasn't sure if he underestimated her, or if she overestimated him – or indeed, perhaps both – but after he had blurted out the details of what Moss had told him and then had gone on to tell her that, since he had failed Ada and was likely to fail her and Lily he wouldn't blame her if she left, she had simply told him, "Thomas Shelby – I love you, but you're a god damn idiot if you think I'm going anywhere."

Then she had sat up beside him on the sofa, taken his head on her lap and sat with him, stroking his hair, until he had drifted off like a child, waking a few hours later with a start and shaking in her arms as he thought of Ada, of Freddie, of America, of potentially never seeing her again, of whether she would ever realise he had done the right thing if he did turn Freddie over…

"Are you cold?" Rosie murmured down, her hand threading through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

He clenched his muscles to still himself, having not realised she was awake herself, shook his head and swung his legs down, sitting up, "No. You shouldn't have let me sleep on you like that. Go to bed."

"I don't want to leave you alone Tommy," she said quietly.

He drew her to him and kissed her head, needing to feel less protected and more like the protector he wanted to be, needing to feel her smallness against him, needing to feel – to feel needed.

"Don't fret yourself and get up to bed," he told her, trying not to sound too rough, but determined it wasn't going to be up for debate.

He needed to feel in charge of himself – of his place in the world – again.

She sighed against him, tilted her head up to draw his lips to hers then stood and tugged him after her, "Alright, but you're going to bed too."

He let her pull him to his feet and through the house, climbing the stairs behind her, but stopped when he realised she was pulling him past his own bedroom, to the one she shared with Lily.

"Rosie, there's not space for me," he murmured, keeping his voice quiet, not wanting to wake Lily or Finn.

"Tommy – please? I won't settle if I think you're not alright," she told him.

He couldn't see her face properly in the dark, and he wasn't entirely sure if she was telling the truth or if she was getting him to do what she wanted him to do by framing it as though he was doing it as a favour to her – the exact same bloody tactic he had used to frame his asking Finn to clear his room out.

He sighed, ran the hand she wasn't holding through his hair then fell back into step, allowing her to lead him to the room that had once been John's.

Lily was snuggled right in against the wall, clutching one bear to her chest, her face pressed against the belly of the other, and, despite what he'd said, there was more than enough space for the three of them – and the two bears. He took off his outer layers and climbed in beside her in his undershirt and trousers – she was wearing her pyjamas, had been wearing them when he'd arrived home hours before. He pressed against her, enjoying the way his body tucked around hers, his arm going over her waist. A glance as his watch as he'd discarded his waistcoat had told him it was nearly four in the morning. They'd have to be up soon. He kissed her head and hugged her tight, feeling that at least for an hour or so, he could let her anchor him, like she always did.

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

Ada was a baby again. Crawling to him, their mother watching and trying not to look too amused as her teenage son stopped in his tracks to let the toddler play her game, to let her think she was sneaking up on him. She grabbed his trouser leg and he gave a pretend start, making her giggle and tug, so he pretended her tug was too much for him to resist and fell elegantly to the ground beside her. The child stood on fat, wobbly legs and clapped in delight as he reached out to her, almost falling in her eagerness to take the few steps into his arms.

He caught her though. He always caught her. She'd never once fallen when he was around. Sure, she'd fallen in general. When Arthur and John weren't bothering to look at her when they were left in charge - or when Polly and his mother were too busy talking to each other to notice the child. But he never let her fall.

He moved his hands from where they'd caught her on her little round stomach up to under her arms, picking her up and pulling her to him, smiling at her in spite of the fact he was a teenager and not supposed to give a shit about babies. He hadn't cared when John was born really. Or when any of the neighbours or whatever had had babies. But Ada was different. Ada was his. Had been from the minute she'd entered the world.

She put her arms around him, cooing and gurgling at him as she was still wont to do, but then – something was wrong. Her arms were growing longer. She was becoming heavier. Too heavy. Too big. She was crushing him. He was winded. What was she doing?

Stop, he tried to say, but she'd winded him too much to manage to speak.

Ada stop it – Ada! – Ada! – he kept choking as he tried, unable to speak because she was growing, crushing him, she was becoming bigger than him and he was trying to roll her off him but he couldn't, she wouldn't let go and he didn't want her to let go but she was killing him.

He tried to thrash but found he couldn't move at all - and with a panicked cry he woke, finding Ada hadn't grown at all. Finding she was on top of him as peaceful and small as she had always been. And then realising, of course, that it wasn't Ada, it was Lily.

He let his head thump back down and wrapped an arm around the child. He had fallen asleep on his side, an arm around Rosie – he had woken flat on his back, his left arm under her and her head on his shoulder, her leg thrown over his own and, at some point during the few hours, Lily had crawled from her place in at the wall to lying on his chest, her face planted into him.

Except now her face was moving – looking up at him, blinking blearily. He had woken her.

"Back to sleep bab," he murmured, stroking her head with his free hand, "Didn't mean to wake you."

She smiled at him – still half asleep anyway and put her face back into his chest and went back to sleep almost instantly – but not without murmuring something that, he would swear on his mother's grave, sounded like "My Daddy."

He took a deep breath, finding that, despite his dream, he could breathe easily even with her on top, wondering if he had heard her right. He felt warm suddenly, in a way that had nothing and yet everything to do from the heat coming from her little body curled on top of his.

Rosie murmured something in her own sleep and nestled in against him and he pulled her in even more tightly, one arm around her and one on Lily's head. Holding his second chance. Holding the chance he had been given not to fuck up. But holding too, a reminder of what he'd had with his first chance, holding a reminder of what he had lost.

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

He didn't sleep again, the sun had been up when he'd woken from the dream – rising early as it did in the summer months – and he'd watched the room get brighter, finally moving from beneath the sleeping child and, only pausing to kiss the heads of both sleepers he was leaving in the bed, slipping from the room to go downstairs, wash, dress and start his day.

As it was an early morning messenger did little to settle him.

Tommy. The Cut. You know where. 10.30. Freddie.

He did know where. The place they'd always gone, where they'd jumped in and swam across. He supposed it was obvious now who had told Ada about it.

"Where you off to?" Rosie had asked him as he passed through the kitchen.

She was sitting at the table, the recipe book he had bought her at Christmas open, a pen and paper in front of her, planning their meals and writing her shopping list. Taking care of them all like she always did.

"To see Freddie."

"Oh?"

"He asked me," Tommy said, holding out the note to her.

She glanced at it, then back to him, "And what do you plan to say when you see him?"

"Depends what he says to me."

She blinked slowly at him, considered then said, "I suppose you'll speak about Ada?"

"I suppose we will."

"Is she going to be there, do you think?"

"You've read the note, you know as much as I do. Ada knows where I am though, it's me who doesn't know where she is. If Ada wanted to see me she could see me without Freddie arranging it."

"Thomas – do you realise the irony in Ada's husband and brother getting together to discuss her without her actually being present?"

"Rosalie – she could be present anytime she chose. She's staying away," he growled, warning her with his tone.

"Tommy," she sighed, softening his name, "I know you're hurt. Believe me, I see that you're hurt. And I've said less about this than I've had a mind to because of it."

He raised an eyebrow at her and lit a cigarette, waiting for her to say whatever it was she hadn't been saying before now.

"Is it your heart that's hurting Tommy, or your pride?" she asked eventually, having met his eyes as he smoked in silence for a minute.

He exhaled and narrowed his eyes.

"I love you, Tommy, I do – and I believe you think, that you believe, you've failed her like you said last night," she rushed, seeing his face, "I believe you believe that her obeying you completely and without question would be best for her because you believe you know what's best for her. But she's a woman Tommy, not a child," her voice got stronger, more determined as she got into her stride of saying what she had to say – saying something he figured she might have been wanting to say for a while, something she'd been keeping in for fear of upsetting him, "You need to let her make her own choices – and if it's your heart that's hurting from losing her, showing her you're ready to respect her decisions would go a long way towards getting her back. Her – with Freddie, with the baby. If they're going to go to America like Polly said, then as far as the inspector is concerned you've run him out of town like you promised. But don't let them go with this between you Tommy. I imagine her heart – and her pride – are hurting too. You and Ada are as similar and stupid and stubborn as each other. If you show her you're ready to accept that she's not a child, that she's not yours to control or command anymore, she'll take the chance to make it right with you Tommy, I know she will. She loves you too much not to."

He smoked the rest of the cigarette without saying anything, turning all her words over. She sat in silence, her eyes trained on him as he finished the cigarette and stubbed it out.

He walked out without answering her.

"Thomas!" she snapped at him, just as he reached the front door.

He turned, still saying nothing, to look at her, outlined in the opposite doorframe, glaring at him.

"I asked you to make this right with Ada – and you told me you were trying. You came to me last night and told me about how you'd thought you'd failed her by letting this happen. Told me you wouldn't blame me if I took Lily and left – I told you you were an idiot if you thought I was going anywhere because of that, and I stand by that. Because I love you. And because I think I've actually got a better grasp on how much more this had to do with Ada than it did you, for all the bloody credit you men will insist on giving yourselves. But when I will take Lily and leave is if I start thinking you're a liar."

She gave him a hard look, then turned and shut the kitchen door.

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

"What exactly is it that you want Freddie?" Tommy asked his old friend calmly as he sat in the spot by the cut, Freddie holding a gun at his head.

He didn't reckon Freddie would shoot him.

"I came to tell you," Freddie said, throwing something down next to where Tommy sat, "That's not gonna work, Tommy."

He looked down. A thick wad of money – and two tickets for the Cunard ship to New York. For Mr Freddie Thorne and Mrs Ada Thorne. Tommy's heart hammered wildly as he looked at the name. She was Ada Shelby. She was Ada. Fucking. Shelby.

"Polly came round," Freddie continued, "She gave me that."

Tommy tossed his cigarette into the cut. And then reached for the discarded money and tickets, using all of his control to make it seem nonchalant as he tucked them into his pocket, rather than snatching them, getting up and running, taking the tickets and burning them, getting rid of Ada's chance to go to America. Instead of throwing his arms around Freddie in sheer joy from knowing Ada wouldn't be going to where he would likely never see her again.

He kept his face blank and his voice bank as he said, "Well Polly must have had a rush of blood. Or port wine. Your honesty is appreciated," he told Freddie then, desperate to get the damn tickets away and destroyed, he nodded at the gun and went to stand saying, "Now, if you're not gonna use that thing-"

"I'm not finished!" Freddie shouted, keeping the gun trained on him as he moved, "Sit down."

Tommy looked down at his former friend and raised an eyebrow in reply to the order.

"Sit down!" Freddie repeated, "Sit!"

Tommy gave him a disgusted look. He could kick Freddie into The Cut and walk away now. Hell, he could shoot him if he fancied.

If you show her you're ready to accept that she's not a child, that she's not yours to control or command anymore, she'll take the chance to make it right with you Tommy, I know she will. She loves you too much not to.

Rosie's words rang in his ears.

But Rosie had it all wrong. That was the problem. Ada was a child. Making this right with Ada, like he'd promised her he was trying to do – it wasn't about accepting that Ada wanted Freddie, it was about bringing Ada home. About making Ada's life right, or as right as it could be now. It was about making her realise that, regardless of what the ridiculous piece of paper that was now safely in his pocket said, she was not Mrs Ada Thorne, she was Ada Shelby. She belonged at home, with him.

It'd be bloody simpler if he just shot Freddie, that was the truth of it.

And the other truth of it, the uncomfortable truth of it, was that Tommy didn't think he had it in him.

"Talk to me about the guns," Freddie said, once Tommy had sat back in the place he'd just stood from, still pointing the gun at him.

So that was why Freddie wanted to speak to him. That was why Freddie wouldn't leave. He'd known it, that day in The Garrison, when Freddie had come to him and mentioned the robbery, that it had been a declaration of interest. But back then, Freddie hadn't had the details. He'd just known it was a robbery of national significance. Now, he knew it was guns. Now he fancied himself becoming someone by being the person to bring those guns to his fucking comrades in aid of their cause.

His blood boiled. His baby sister had been taken advantage of by this man. Had been manipulated by him and it was all for his fucking cause. Fucking Rosie standing in the house thinking she knew more about it than he did, thinking Ada had chosen this. Ada had been manipulated – and Rosie just didn't know enough to see it.

He half thought about snatching his hat off his head and using the hidden razor blades to blind the other man. If he moved quickly enough he could do it. But… He had thought initially that Freddie wouldn't shoot him, but he wondered now whether that was the truth.

He wasn't sure he could shoot Freddie, not unless it came to it that that was the only way to bring Ada home – to make her safe. And if they moved on Ada, like Moss had said they would, he'd hunt Freddie down and hand him in without a second thought or a care for what would happen to him. But for all he wanted Ada home – Ada was a child. Their marriage hadn't been approved by him and he was her guardian. Their marriage wasn't legal and all he had to do was get her home, prove that and then stop Freddie from getting anywhere near her. Or the bloody baby.

But whether Freddie could shoot him was another matter. Freddie acted first and thought second. He was sure Freddie would regret it if he ever shot him, but perhaps… Perhaps he wasn't as safe from the loaded weapon as he thought.

"Do you remember we used to jump in here and see who could across the fastest?" Tommy asked, figuring if Freddie had chosen this place – and figuring if he had told Ada about their old times swimming across The Cut – that the memories were there for him, figuring it might make him less inclined to use the weapon.

"I'm here to talk business, Tommy," Freddie said, raising his voice over his.

Obviously Freddie didn't want to reminisce. It was going to make holding that gun to Tommy's head harder for him.

"Do you reckon we could still do it?" Tommy asked, keeping his voice casual and calm.

He watched Freddie waver, look for a split second to the water – probably picturing them as boys, remembering when they used to impress girls by doing it – and he took the opportunity to stand and kick Freddie's gun from his hand, sending it flying. Not as far as he'd have liked to, Freddie was able to reach it to snatch it up and point it back at him, but by the time he had done so, Tommy had brought out his own loaded pistol and cocked it, pointing it at Freddie's face.

"You loaded Ada with your bastard because she's a Shelby," he told Freddie, letting him know he knew exactly what he was about, man to man, Rosie's notions of Ada being a woman and making her own decisions tossed aside, the ugly truth being spoken bluntly between them, "You thought it'd mean you'd be somebody. I won't let you fuck up my sister's life for your cause."

"My God," Freddie replied, doing a pretty good impression of looking taken aback – looking surprised, even dropping his gun, "You actually believe that."

Tommy wasn't going to let himself be drawn in though. He kept his own cocked gun pointed at Freddie. He knew the truth.

"I love her Tommy," Freddie told him, and a roaring started in his ears.

It took all his self-control to stand still, to keep the gun lifted, not to toss it aside and throw himself down on Freddie, to beat him like they used to the other kids when they were little. He didn't fucking want to shoot Freddie, he wanted the satisfaction of punching his stupid fucking face, of hearing his bones break beneath his fists.

Freddie was still talking and Tommy tried to focus, to hear the words, "She loves me the same."

"I love him," Ada had said of Freddie, that night of the bloody Communist Manifesto incident.

"You might think you love him Ada, but you don't," he'd told her, "I promise you one day you will love someone, properly, who will love you back and it'll all be for the right reasons – but Freddie isn't that person."

It was one thing for his sister to claim she was in love – just like he'd said, she probably thought she was. It was another to hear Freddie lie about it to his face – and to lie about it to say it included his sister.

Freddie had got to his feet, was staring at him, "Do you even know the word?"

Did Tommy even know the word? What in fuck did Freddie think Tommy was even doing standing here, coming at his beck and call if not for his love of Ada?

He thought of Rosie. Of how he loved her. Anger coursed through him that Freddie could be trying to deceive Ada into believing that what the two of them had was as special as what he and Rosie felt for one another.

He put his gun away, walked up to Freddie's face and told him, plainly, "This marriage will not stand."

It wouldn't. As soon as he had that certificate he would prove it had been done with a false birth date by his sister's name. Or he would prove, if they had got someone else to sign their permission to it, that that hadn't been him. Hadn't been her legal guardian. Either way, it was a sham and it didn't count. And he would prove it. And he would bring Ada home.

Thank you, as always, for your lovely messages and reviews - they always push me to write! Hope you're all doing well and coping alright with whatever the lockdown situation is near you. At least this week finally brought the end of Donald Trump's presidency - I feel like a weight has lifted, even though the lockdowns continue here in the UK!

Speaking of the UK - someone asked in their review for my last chapter where I'm based and I honestly forget that you guys don't all know everything about me. I actually live just outside of Birmingham and funnily enough that's the only reason I even watched Peaky Blinders in the first place. I don't watch a lot of TV overall, I'm much more of a reader or a film watcher as I'm a huge commitment-phobe and TV shows demand a lot of time. I watched Season 1 when it launched on the BBC here - like actual week in between episodes watched - purely because it was a show that was set in Birmingham. Needless to say I fell in love. Though I am very glad it's on Netflix and I can binge seasons these days rather than having to wait between episodes!

Also - we've passed 400,00 words with this story, which literally blows my mind. I know I say it all the time but I never envisioned it being this long when I planned it out and started it. I do sometimes try and condense the plot from the show a little and spend more time on the scenes with my OCs because I figure most of you who read have seen the show and know what's going on, but as always I am aware some of you don't so please do let me know at any point if there are things you aren't following and need me to expand on. I kind of see the plot as being where I can start saving words so I'm not boring people and sum things up in a few sentences but I want to make sure it still makes sense!

Thanks for reading :)