Chapter Text
You’re a mess of emotions the first time you meet Linda, nervous but also excited too. When Arthur told you he wanted you to meet her first, you felt special. Affirming that while what you and Arthur have may not be traditional, it’s still real. And the light Linda has brought to his eyes, giving him everything you couldn’t, it made you love her already. It felt like getting to meet a new member of the family. But all those silly little notations were just that - notions, and easily dashed once you found yourself seated across from Linda in her tiny flat.
Only then did you realize you weren’t meeting your new family, you were meeting your replacement. A woman you got the sense was twice the one you are, because there’s still days you feel like a child. But you know how important she is to Arthur, so you try to make the best of it and make a good impression. Only the more you want to impress her, the more you worry you won’t say the right thing or act the right way. Your nerves only heightening when you remember Arthur said she’s a pious woman, because if there’s anything you’re not, it’s that.
Sitting across from her is intimidating. Her home is immaculate. Everything in its place, clean and tidy. With the good Lord’s book on the coffee table between you and a cross hanging center piece on the wall beside the King’s portrait. There’s a presence to Linda, a look in her eyes, in the way she looks at you. It’s full of the kind of quiet unspoken judgement that makes you feel like your eight all over again and about to be punished. But the way she gazes at Arthur is softer, sweeter, so you try and hold onto that as her eyes continue to scan between you and Arthur, as the two of you sit awkwardly on her couch.
“Arthur explained the unfortunate circumstance surrounding your marriage… Why it had to be done.” She explains over tea and biscuits, her tone neutral, but her eyes suspended, awaiting your confirmation. You can hear it, the words she doesn’t say. She wants to hear it from you, that it’s just an arrangement and an unconsummated one at that. You can feel her uncertainty from just a few feet away. But it’s her choice of words that unnerve you. The unfortunate circumstance…
Your heart beginning to pound harder as you stare at her blankly for a moment, your mind racing. Has Arthur told her why you had to marry? The thought alone leaves the sting of betrayal shooting through your heart as you suddenly turn to Arthur beside you in disbelief. How he could tell her something he swore to never reveal. A secret that isn’t his to share.
“Yes,” Arthur pipes up quickly as he meets your eyes and reads the question forming in your gaze.
“I hope you don’ mind, I told her about your mum’s passing an’ how you were going to be sent to one of those children homes. It was the only way to keep ya.” Arthur clarifies, taking your hand from where it rests on the couch to give it a squeeze. The look in his eyes reassuring you, he’d never betray you that way. Not even with Linda.
You nod as relief washes over you he hasn’t spilt your darkest secret to a woman you even didn’t know. Relieved that even though he might be smitten, he hasn’t betrayed you. That he’s still the man you know and love. You hold Arthur’s gaze and smile at him warmly before turning back to Linda.
“Arthur’s a good man. He saved me.” You tell her, squeezing his hand in return. Arthur may not be the most formidable, the most cunning Shelby, but he makes you feel the safest. He made you feel safe when nothing in this world felt safe. Stood by you long after anyone else would have left. And loved you even when you felt unlovable. He feels like home. Even now. Even after Linda. And judging by her next comment she must sense it too.
“You’re more beautiful than Arthur described.” Linda speaks up and you feel Arthur grow uneasy by her comment as he quickly pulls his hand from yours.
You don’t know what to say to that. Unsure if it’s a compliment or a test. You don’t know what the proper line of response is for a statement such as this. Especially from a woman you’re quite certain is more beautiful than you could ever be. But you think she needs to hear why you and Arthur never became.
“Tommy thinks so too. He’s quite taken with our Vera.” Arthur pipes up abruptly, awkwardly as he reaches over to take Linda’s hand. You watch the exchange and suddenly feel out of place. Arthur’s choice of words only further confusing you as your gaze shoots back to him.
“You an’ Tommy are quite close then?” Linda asks, probing, but you never look her way. Your eyes locked on Arthur as he slowly turns back to you. You can see in his gaze, he needs you to ease Linda’s fears and for him, you’d do almost anything.
Your gaze drops to your wringing hands as they sit uneasy in your lap, nodding slowly.
“Yes, we’re close.” You say. For Arthur, you do it for Arthur.
“He likes it when I climb in his bed at night.” You answer numbly, absently mindedly, losing grip on your attempts to be pleasing as your words slip out low like a whisper, your heart growing heavy in your chest.
“I beg your pardon?” Linda glances over at Arthur, suddenly confused by the boldness of your statement.
Arthur turns to you, gripping your hand tightly, stirring you from your thoughts. You gaze rises to meet his and instantly you can see the concern growing heavy in his eyes.
“Our Vera has nightmares from time to time. An’ sometimes they make her wander.” He tries his best to explain what anyone else would find utterly inexcusable, without giving away your secrets, because he can see in your eyes this is already taxing you.
Your belly tightens as your heart grows heavy. It feels like losing your mum and Da all over again. Looking at Arthur you can practically feel him slipping away. And you want to be happy for him, but in this moment all you can feel is a deep unbidding sense of loss.
“You have to excuse me, I’m suddenly not feeling well.” You abruptly say. Pulling from Arthur’s eyes as you rise from the couch and force a smile at Linda.
“It was lovely meeting you, but I really must be going.” You say politely with what’s left of your manners, trying to appear cordial for Arthurs sake before you move quickly for the door with unease.
As soon as your outside, you fill your lungs with the smoggy factory air, trying to catch your breath. But then you feel Arthur hot on your heels and you start to move. You don’t know why you evade him, but you feel you must, storming quickly down the lane. You hear him hollering your name at your back as you go.
“Tommy’s waiting for me. I have to go. Enjoy your time with Linda.” You yell, hiding the tears that burn and fill at the edges of your eyes. Never turning back, never slowing your pace, disappearing as quickly as you can down the lane, leaving Arthur to his happiness before he can leave you behind…
Having finally gotten the children down to bed, having wrangled and fought, bribed and begged until all of them finally fell asleep, you collapse against the old sticky couch beside John. Your head lulling back against the top edge as you sigh heavily in relief.
Katie was the hardest. She’s always the hardest. Middle child, youngest girl, and at six years old, she’s old enough to remember Martha, but still too young to understand why she died. Her crying spelling and bed wetting often make her the most challenging of the bunch at times, but having not been much older than she is when you Da died, you sympathize with her pain. Snuggling her close after the others have gone to bed. Singing and rocking to her slowly until she settles in and drifts off.
You don’t know how John does it on his own. John doesn’t either. So you try to help out as best you can; you, Polly, and Ada. The Shelby women doing fucking women’s work.
John sparks a cigarette beside you, taking a pull from it before passing it to you like a gift of gratitude for helping him with the kids. You know he’s grateful and you’re happy to help. John’s good to you and it’s never a hardship to return the favor. They run him ragged. He can’t keep a handle on them. He had too many, too young, and your heart pains for him, none of them have been the same since Martha died.
“Thank you, handsome.” You say, flashing him a wide sparkling grin as you draw the cigarette up to your lips before taking a long pull, nursing the exhaustion hitting you hard and fast after the fight you were just put through.
John’s eyes glance your way, and you can’t help but notice how beautiful his eyes are. All blue and open, but not closed off to the world like Tommy’s.
“You flirt with all the boys like that, ey?” John teases you, opening his arm to you from his spot on the old tattered couch, more covered in stains than upholstery.
Your gaze turns his way too, your eyes filling with a playfulness only John can seem to spark inside you. Arthur too on an occasion, but John with just the snap of his fingers. You bite at your bottom lip, and scoot into his side, feeling his arm settle across your shoulders. From this close he smells like ale and those cigars he likes to puff on. His distinctive scent reminds you of the way whiskey tastes, like men, as you lean in a little closer into him, feeling your thighs brush.
“Only the ones I like.” You say, nudging his ribs with your elbow in jest.
Your gaze drifts out across his sitting room cluttered with plates and cups, shoes and shirts, the kind of mess only a small herd of motherless children could make. But you see none of it really. Your mind is slowly drifting miles away as the weight of your day settles in around you.
“Arthur’s moved on.” You finally say aloud, your words low like a whispered secret and heavy on your heart. Making it real in a way only thinking on it never did.
John pinches at your side, making you squirm a little against him. “Nah, he adores you.” He reassures as if you’re just an overly concerned wife, whipping up tales outta nothing.
You turn to look at him, pulling back the cigarette from your lip. “Can you keep a secret John,” You ask, waiting for his head to slowly nod before you continue.
“He met someone, Arthur I mean. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. But that’s the end of it. I won’ be a Shelby anymore.” You confess on a heavy breath and a shrug, because lately it feels like a storm is coming at you and you’re powerless to stop it, but you trust John, he’s your friend.
But even knowing you’re not alone with this secret anymore, you still feel like a drink could help to swallow it down as you lean forward and grab the open bottle of whiskey on the coffee table before taking a long swig. You let the warm liquor burn down your throat before you place it back down, drowning your sorrows.
“You could marry me, love.” John suggests easily enough with a shrug of his own. Wide grin spreading across his face as you glance back at him. His soft blue eyes all lit up with that trademark John Shelby charm.
“Me, you, and the kids, ey?” You clarify, leaning back against the couch and the crook of John’s arm as you mull over the ridiculous notion. You - the girl who never wants kids raising a house full of them.
“Yeah, An’ I’ll load you up with a few more.” He laughs.
“Quite the gentleman… Means you’d have to kiss me though.” You remind him, raising your eyebrow in challenge. Daring him to worm his way out of this one.
John gazes at you for a long minute before he lets his thumb and forefinger pinch at your chin.
“Already have…” He reminds you. “An’ I’ve had worse.”
That look in his eyes, so fuckin cheeky and full of himself. You could smack it right off him, but instead it sends a spill of laughter falling from your lips, echoed quickly by his own. Your voices fill the room with life and slowly lightens the heaviness of your words as it dies down.
You glance over at him beside you, offering him a small smile of thanks for making you laugh, when you feel his hand suddenly find your face again. And you wonder if the heaviness on your heart is breaking through to your eyes.
“Listen ‘ere, you’ll always be a Shelby, ey. You’re just like us.” John tells you like it’s a promise as his thumb gently strokes at your cheek with care.
His words melt and reassure the most aching parts of your soul and you didn’t realize how much you needed to hear that until he said it. The comfort it brings draws you to him, as you lean in and brush the tip of your nose against him with thanks. There’s a look in John’s eyes as you slowly pull back, his brow arched in question, but it’s the connection you feel to him and the tug in your belly that has you leaning in, parting your lips to pull at his bottom one.
It could have lasted a second, a minute, you’re not sure as your fingers slide along his jaw. You only notice his lips feel soft and warm before John’s pushing you back.
“Ah, fuck off.” He laughs at you teasingly, the sound of it making a smile break out wide across your face.
“Thanks John.” You tell him, before rising from the couch to leave, sending him one more smile of gratitude.
“You’re dangerous Vera.” John calls at your back as you move for the door.
“And you love it,” You tease him, glancing over your shoulder one last time before you slip out the open door.
It felt like times past. Before Arthur found a woman. Before Tommy became your partner in crime. Just three brothers sharing a bottle of whiskey over a card game in the snug at the Garrison. John and Arthur laughing on about some old times, cracking jokes at one another expense like brothers do as Tommy watches on, pulling away at yet another cigarette, trying to hide the smirk edging at his mouth.
You sit beside him on the bench seat, but not close. Fixed on the beauty of Arthur’s face when he laughs. The way his eyes crinkle and light up. The sound of his laugh as it bellows loudly, before he drowns it with another drink. You feel a part of it. A part of them. Like you belong. Like a Shelby. You missed the simplicity of this. The simple joy of it. When you were just Arthur’s tag along, his Little Lady. Before everything got complicated.
Tommy offers you a cigarette as the boys carry and you gladly except. Leaning toward him as he sparks a match and covers the flame, bringing it to you. You smile watching as Arthur retells another story. His voice loud and boisterous, pointing his finger as he calls each brother out of their folly.
Hanging on his every word, it’s only the feel of a hand on your leg beneath the table that stirs your attention. Turning to Tommy beside you on the wooden bench, you see the bottle raised in his hand.
“Another?” He asks, cigarette hanging from his lip.
You smile at him and nod, sliding your near empty glass across the table. Tommy tops it off with the beautiful amber colored liquor that leaves your insides feeling warm, but as you draw the full glass back, you feel his hand pull away from your leg, and you find yourself reaching for him almost immediately.
Running your fingertips along the back of his hand, you feel Tommy’s gaze fall back on you. You’ve never see the ocean, not in person anyway, but you imagine it’s as blue and expansive as the depths of Tommy’s eyes when he stares at you. He doesn’t say a word as you touch him, but you feel him turn his hand over beneath yours, opening his palm to you.
You run your fingers along the length of his palm, feeling his thick callused skin as Tommy turns back to his brother, pulling away at his cigarette. You take a drag of your own, as you trace your fingertips along the lines of his hand, feeling his thumb faintly caress along the seam of yours in return. It’s a gentle whisper of a touch that sends your insides buzzing. You’d swear Tommy doesn’t feel you at all. Not a glimmer of indication on his face as he watches his brothers carry on from across the table. But then he steals another glance out of the corner of his steely gaze as if he wants you to know… He feels you.
You feel yourself growing flush under his piercing gaze, getting lost in the side glances you can steal, until the sound of a gunshot rips you from your reverie. You jump with a start at the sound of it and instantly feel Tommy grip your hand tightly, his eyes suddenly fully on you.
“It’s a’rigtht.” He reassures, before letting go of your hand as his gaze turns to his brothers. You watch the three of them share a knowing glance as a voice carries from the next room over, slipping past the thin walls that make up this snug as someone demands to see a Shelby.
All three brothers rise from the table in unison and move for the door. Your heart keeps racing as you follow them, getting in line behind Arthur before he turns back to you.
“You stay in ‘ere, now.” He instructs, his words without question as he runs his thumb across your cheek sweetly.
You stand in the doorway of the snug as they file out – Tommy, Arthur, and John. Waiting like you were told as Tommy orders everyone else out of the pub. An order no one seems to need to hear twice as they all scurry and flee in every direction. You hear someone whisper the name Kimber and instantly you understand why everyone is dashing in fear. You don’t know much about Mr. Kimber, but you know enough to know the power he wields and how badly Tommy wants to take it.
But curiosity gets the best of you on more than one occasion, this being no exception. You tell yourself it’s because you’re a part of this family and you want to be a part of the business too, but perhaps it’s just your inquisitive nature. Either way, you find yourself creeping to the door, spying as the brother’s take a seat at the front table. Seated across from a man you assume must be Kimber. A man of influence and power. You only need to see the respect Tommy’s showing him to know that. And as Harry brings over a bottle and glasses, you find yourself moving to give him a hand.
The startled look that washes over Tommy’s face as you appear only lasts a second before it’s covered up with the cool indifference he lives by these days.
“You, go home.” Tommy orders when you’ve barely reached the table. An air of indifference on his breath, the command simple, but affirmative.
“Tommy, I can-“ You barely start before you’re abruptly cut off.
“Vera!” Arthur hollers at you from the table. Sending your startled eyes shooting to him as your heart jumps in your chest. He’s never hollered at you. Not once. Not even the time you accidentally stained his favorite suit. Or nearly burnt the house down trying to make dinner. Never, and the sound of it instantly garners your attention.
He looks you dead in the eye, not an ounce of question in his stern gaze.
“Go home.” He tells you unequivocally.
You’ve never been given orders like that from Arthur before, but you recognize that’s what they are instantly. And the longer you look in his eyes the more you can see it’s only out of concern. Having you here scares him. Not with men like Kimber around. So you turn to go. Not wanting to upset him further.
“I never approved of women drinkin’ in pubs, distastefully really, but when they look like that…” You hear Kimber say at your back. His words send you glancing over your shoulder for one last look. His eyes are waiting, watching your every move. And suddenly you remember what Tommy said – If you could control it, men wouldn’t stand a chance. Meeting his gaze fearlessly, you let a small smile slowly curl across your mouth and spark in your eyes, as if he were the most handsome man you’d ever seen and you simple couldn’t resist. The kind of smile you’ve seen catch a man’s eye more than once. And Kimber isn’t immune either it would appear as you watch him smirk back at you before Arthur’s voice fills the room.
“That’s my wife you’re talkin’ about.” You hear him growl, disgusted by the insinuation of Kimber’s comment. Arthur’s words send jolt you back to the moment and send your face quickly turning away before anyone notices as you sneak out toward the back.
“An how did some little didicoy like you land a woman that looks like that?” Kimber mocks.
“You said you wanted men called Shelby. Well ya got three of ‘em.” Tommy interjects, redirecting the conversation before the whole situation erupts and men start drawing arms the way he knows they so easily can over a woman. But Tommy saw you. Saw what you did. He’s pretty sure no one else did, but he didn’t miss it. And suddenly he’s second guessing ever revealing such a power truth to you. Never imagining you’d have the confidence to start with the big fish.
Arthur storms through the front door of their residence on Watery lane like a damn bursting from its brink. He’s loud and fired up, easily swallowing up the space he fills.
“You an’ your fuckin plans, Tommy! Brought Kimber to our fuckin pub and now he wants our fuckin girl!” He hollers loudly. Tommy’s hot on his heels though far more composed, and John just a step behind, holding quiet, but the way he chews on the pick between his teeth reveals something is pressing at him just as much.
“What’s all this about?” Polly inquires impatiently at the scene before her as the boys come storming into her house. Coming in from the front room, unable to ignore Arthur’s ruckus any more than anyone else can.
“Tommy got his attention alright. Kimber showed up at the Garrison tonight. Took one look at our Vera and now he wants to see her again at Cheltenham.” Arthur continues, fire still burning wildly from his belly as he lays the blame for this mess squarely at the doorstep of Tommy and his ambition.
“I’ll handle it, Arthur.” Tommy tells him, calm and collected as if nothing touches him. Not even his brother’s wife being called upon like a whore.
Polly’s eyes suddenly grow wide as they scan from Tommy to Arthur and back again.
“Holly hell.” She breathes out wearily. Upstanding the ramifications of a man as powerful as Kimber insisting upon the time of a girl as powerless as Vera. Especially when Tommy’s so dead set of making a move for Kimber’s races.
“I like the races.” You pipe up, appearing in the doorway behind Pol after all the commotion drew your attention as well. But as all eyes fall squarely upon you, you suddenly wonder if you should have just said nothing.
Arthur nearly chokes on a laugh as he turns to his brother.
“Ya hear that, Tommy? She likes he races. That’s just fuckin great, eh Tom.” Arthur barks, unable to control his own anger as he moves to you, looking his sweet girl straight in the eye as his heart breaks with the thought of what Kimber could do to you.
“No. No bloody way.” He tells you, pointing his finger squarely in your face as if to make a point before he’s had absolutely enough of this and storms out the house.
John moves to you next, looking you square in the. “We’re not gonna let ‘im lay a hand on ya. He’ll have to go through me first.” John promises you. Something fierce and protective in his baby blue eyes as he rubs at your arm before taking off after Arthur.
Letting out a long sigh, Polly turns to spot Finn standing in the midst of it all and moves to shoo him onto other more appropriate things to put his mind to. As the family slowly disperses, all going their separate ways. Some more distracted then others by this new wrinkle in Tommy’s ever-expanding hunger to drum up new business. It’s then, as the room begins to move again that you feel Tommy’s presence at your back. Feel him lean into you, his warm breath fluttering against the back of our neck, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Follow me.” He tells me, his voice low and gravely, and there isn’t an ounce of question on his breath.
He pulls away just as quickly and as you turn around to face him, his gaze is awaiting yours. Meeting you dead on as he stares back at you completely expressionless, before he turns for the stairs and you know he expects you to follow.
So follow you do, it’s only halfway up that you glance back down and spot Polly standing by the green double door of the betting shop. Her lips pursed in a thin line, a word of warning in her eyes as you ascend the stairs alone with Tommy, up to the bedrooms that are currently unoccupied. Her disapproval feels heavy on your chest, but your feet keep moving as you turn and follow the back of Tommy’s gray suit jacket.
You’re barely in his bedroom and the door shut before Tommy turns on you. The expressionless look written on his face downstairs now gone, replaced with a blinding fury that narrows in his eyes as Tommy backs you against the wall.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” He demands, his jaw tightly clenched, finger pointed sharply at your face.
“I don’t-“ You try, but he swiftly cuts you off.
“I saw you…” He sneers with a lack of patience.
Staring into Tommy’s eyes, he’s so bloody close you can hardly breathe, but you’re not backing down either. Even caught red handed.
“Well It worked, didn’t it?” You shrug.
An edgy mocking laugh huffs off Tommy’s chest as he takes a step back from you with your unapologetic acknowledgement.
“Oh it worked alright. You got his attention. Now he wants you at the fuckin races, Vera.” Tommy tells you with a shake of his head. Pulling the case from his pocket with quick agitated fingers, plucking a cigarette and pinching it between the press of his lips.
“You told me it could be useful. If I could control it. That men wouldn’t stand a chance.” You counter, trying to show him you weren’t playing silly little games. You could be useful. You could help him take down Kimber. You had a place in this business and you wanted the same dreams of expansion he did.
Taking a quick pull, Tommy plucks the cigarette from his lips and is back in your personal space in a heartbeat.
“Ya, an’ ya know what men like Kimber are gonna demand? What it takes to break them?” He argues with you, his eyes blazing fury down upon you like the barrel of a gun. As if you were naïve and he had caught you playing with a fire that would only leave you burned.
“I can do it, Tommy. I can get him right where we want him and then we take everything.” You press, looking him square in the eyes, moving into his space this time. You’re not a fool. You know what men like Kimber want. You understand sacrifices must be made in dirty business. Lines must be crossed, and you think you’ve found yours. You don’t relish the idea, but you know in your heart you’re capable of it and you want to be taken seriously.
“You ever been with a man, Vera?” Tommy pushes right back at you. His piercing eyes searching yours as if to say he knows of things that are never spoke in this house. Things about you and Arthur that counter this little notion you have about what you’re capable of.
“Cuz I’ve never heard you an’ Arthur, an’ these walls are pretty fuckin thin. But not once in all these years.” Tommy throws in your face.
He never judged what seems like an odd clause in his brother’s marriage. The fact that he married a girl of fifteen was bizarre enough. Everyone understood Arthur had done you a kindness, but Tommy knows that’s all it was. He’s shared a room with Arthur half his life, the other half they were side by side. He knows what it sounds like. Knows the creaks of the bed. The way the frame rattles against the floorboards, squeaking from its rusty hinges. And the distinct sound his brother can’t seem to not make when the deed is done. But he’s never heard any of that with you.
“I have.” You throw back boldly. Not intimidated by the weight Tommy’s throwing around, as if his evidence about your marriage somehow proves something about you.
Tommy stops. His eyes narrowing, searching yours as he takes a long pull from his smoke and Polly’s words come back to haunt him.
“You ever been with a man by your choosing?” He asks you with a deathly calm, as if his question isn’t a nail in a coffin.
And there it is. The truth right in your face. It’s always been there, always present, but rarely right beside you. It sucks the air right out of your lungs as it comes alive inside you. And suddenly the wind is ripped from your sails as you idyll out on vast empty seas.
You open your mouth to speak, to answer him, but you falter as the words don’t want to come out. You don’t want to say it, speak of it, hear the sound of it rolling off your tongue as if the words alone are powerful enough to make it ever more real inside you once again. But your silence is deafening, and Tommy hears it loud and clear.
“Fuckin Hell,” Tommy responses, a heavy breath huffing off his chest as he takes a step back from you and scrubs his hand over his face with the news.
“I can do it, Tommy.” You say stubbornly, shutting the door on your past hard and fast before the strangling grip of it can fully reach your heart.
“No.” Tommy says, shaking his head, his gaze anywhere but you, as he pulls away at his cigarette more methodically than ever, lost in his thoughts.
You step in front of him, forcing him to look at you. “We have him where we want him. We can take everything.” You insist, trying to convince him to believe in you.
Tommy stops and looks at you. Really looks at you. His eyes digging tunnels deep under your skin with the weight of his stare before you feel him run the back of his knuckles against the apple of your cheek. Dragging his thumb along the edge of your face in what you swear is the tenderest touch he’s ever given you.
“No” He says simply, his voice low and deep, but final. Before he slips past you and moves out the door.
Trotting down the stairs, his steps are as agitated as he feels. He shouldn’t be surprised by this news and in a way he’s not, but what surprise him is the anger the feels around it. Tommy reaches the base of steps and snatches up his cap. He’s heading out of the front of the betting shop when Polly steps through the green doors and halts his escape.
“Thomas,” She calls, waiting for him to turn back before she continues.
“You’ll get Kimber off her, right? She isn’t to be part of this deal.” She asks pointedly, wanting assurances. Her raven eyes full of determination, fiercely protective over a girl she loves like a daughter.
Tommy nods, his jaw as sharp as a razors edge as he pulls his cap on, and down low over his eyes.
“I said I’d handle it.” He answers defensively, suddenly angry with himself for ever putting the idea in your head. Polly was right, he’s in over his head with you. Stepping for the door, Tommy has a second thought of it at the last minute. The heat bubbling in his blood, scratching at the edge of his mind sends him turning back to her.
“Tell me you and Arthur took care of the man who did it.” He states, his voice edging with an anger he’s still trying to keep a handle on, still trying to wrap his mind around what he thinks of this turn of events, as his gaze awaits confirmation from Pol, as if he expects her to just know what he’s talking about.
“What man? Kimber?” Polly asks, not following, because despite Tommy’s assumptions, she can’t read minds. Not all the time anyway and his least of all these days it would seem.
“The Bastard-” Tommy erupts, the anger reeling inside him suddenly spurting free before he realizes the attention he’s drawing to himself in the betting shop and quickly lowers his voice, taking a step closer to her for discretion. “-The bastard that did that to her.”
Polly eyes Tommy carefully as she nods slowly to herself with understanding. The pieces aligning in her mind before she finally speaks with a tone far more collected than his. “So she finally told you…”
Tommy is having none of Pol’s calm sensible demeanor on this matter. He’s composed, but just barely contained. He needs assurance this matter has already been dealt with. That someone doesn’t hurt this family like that and think they can get away with it. As he tries to convince himself it’s not because of you. He couldn’t possibly be more angry because it happened to you. This is about family.
“Tell me he’s in The Cut.” Tommy demands, jaw tight and flexing, gaze unyielding like steel.
Polly holds her nephews eyes for a moment, unintimidated by the strife inside him before she slowly shakes her head.
“It’s a delicate matter, Thomas. Striking out would have drawn unwanted attention to us. Left us vulnerable to attack. We got her out. That’s what matters.” She explains rationally, because it’s clear Tommy’s wound too tightly to see reason and Vera hasn’t told him everything.
Tommy can’t believe what he’s hearing and from a woman as fiercely protective of her own as he knows Pol is. A huff lifts off his chest as his head slowly shakes in disbelief.
“No man is out of our reach in Small Heath.” He tells her, looking her dead in the eye without blinking.
“I want his fuckin name.” Tommy orders before he storms out and Polly knows that’s the man that was born out the trenches, born out of the tunnels, born out of putting men down like lame dogs without a second thought. That was the Tommy France gave them. A man capable of absolutely anything, heartless brutality most of all.