"Would you like some toast, Charlie?"
Charlie had woken up not long after Florence climbed off Bonnie's lap, her little brother waddling into the kitchen and climbing onto a chair of his own, eyeing his sister down with eyes that practically screamed with hunger. When Bonnie asked the golden question, Charlie's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.
"D'you have jam?"
Bonnie contemplated, peering into his open cabinet. "Peach or strawberry?"
"Mm," Charlie hummed, eyes narrowed as he thought about each choice thoroughly. "Peach!"
Bonnie gave him a dazzling grin, pulling a jar of peach jam spread out of the cabinet, placing it down in front of Charlie. "You're in luck, sir," Bonnie said, placing a bag of bread down as well as a knife. "Only the finest peach jam in the country, made fresh from my sisters."
Florence watched from afar, holding her mug of tea in her hands, smiling softly as Charlie's eyes lit up. Bonnie picked up the knife and cut off a chunk of bread, spreading jam across the piece and passing it off to Charlie, who took an eager bite.
"Good?" Bonnie asked, Charlie nodding with his mouth full. "Good. Tell me if you want more, okay?"
After ensuring Charlie was satisfied, Bonnie turned to Florence, an arm winding around her middle as he pulled her close, lips touching the crown of her head in a moment that was oddly intimate.
"You hungry?" Bonnie asked, pulling away and looking down at her. "I'm really not kidding when I say the peach jam is super."
Florence shook her head politely, taking a warm sip of her peppermint tea, leaning into Bonnie's side. "I'm okay," she assured, watching Charlie eat. "My stomach's in knots; I'm just a bit nervous, is all."
Bonnie was shaking his head before Florence could even finish her sentence. "There's no need to be nervous, alright?" He took her hands in his, pressing kisses to her knuckles. "Me and dad have been doing this since I was old enough to hold a gun. We'll be okay."
Florence frowned, wrapping her arms around Bonnie's middle and squeezing tight, her lips pressed into his shoulder. Carefully, as though she were fine China being handled, Bonnie hugged her back, her head tucking perfectly under his chin.
"I get worried when I don't know things," Florence admitted quietly, voice muffled by Bonnie's shirt. "Which is quite frequently, as nobody ever tells me anything. This is how I am, and I'm sorry for it."
Bonnie only squeezed back tighter. "You never have to apologize when you're with me," he promised, strong hands rubbing down her back. "Not for things like this. I'm not worried about these things, because they're second nature to me. They get easier with time, dove. I swear it."
Soon enough, four o'clock came around like the frosty embrace of winter on the last fall day. Charlie was sitting on the ground, reading one of Bonnie's old children's storybooks in Welsh and trying to sound out the words. Florence and Bonnie were seated on the ground next to the telephone, backs against the wall as they watched the grandfather clock across from them.
Bonnie had his guns ready in the other room. Aberama was on his way with a caravan with two or three armed men. Florence was trying her hardest to keep from puking with anticipation.
"Give me your hand, dove." Florence didn't hesitate to place her hand in Bonnie's, fingers immediately intertwining, palms slanting together. "When I'm gone, you lock the doors. Take Charlie and stay in my room, okay? Your dad said you had a loaded pistol on you?"
Florence blushed. "I may or may not have given it to Michael without letting him know."
Bonnie laughed, pulling her hand to his lap and giving it a squeeze. "The drawer of the bedside table, the handgun is loaded. It jumps on the hammer, so be careful with it, okay?"
Florence could only nod, her eyes falling shut as the long hand on the clock stroked twelve, the hands shifting to four o'clock. Bonnie squeezed her hand before hoisting himself up, dialling the phone.
"Small Heath, 1-3-3." Florence waited with baited breaths. "Hello, Mr. Strong."
Bonnie was quiet for a long minute as Charlie relayed whatever information he had over. And then he hung up, and was quiet for a total of thirty seconds before cursing under his breath. But Florence had heard it perfectly.
"What's wrong?" Bonnie didn't answer her as he offered her his hand, tugging her up to her feet and ushering her into his bedroom, a hand on the small of her back. "Wait, Charlie."
Disappearing, Bonnie returned in seconds, carrying a sleeping Charlie in his arms. Placing him gingerly on the bed, Bonnie turned back to Florence and cupped her face in his hands.
"Italians heading south." He spoke quickly and concisely, Florence's eyes following his lips carefully. "Two black Rolls Royce. Your uncle Arthur was being ambushed; they were prepared, so no one got hurt, but no casualties were inflicted."
"What?" Florence questioned brokenly, her heart cracking at the prospect of losing another uncle. "He's okay?"
"He's fine," Bonnie assured, hands dropping from Florence's face to run through his hair in frustration. "It's just going to be a lot more work for us if there's more men than dad was expecting."
Florence's hands smoothed over his chest, her eyes fluttering shut as she took a deep inhale. When she opened her eyes, she was peering up sternly into Bonnie's. Her hands curled into his shirt, gripping tight.
"And you'll come home, yeah?" She asked quietly, shuffling closer to him 'til he wrapped his arms around her once again. "Without a fucking scratch. Otherwise, I'm waging war on the entire Italian population."
Bonnie could only give her a sweet smile as someone—presumably Aberama—honked the horn from outside. "Yeah," he said quietly, taking Florence's chin in his hand. "I'll come home."
And then he leaned down, pressing a little kiss to her lips and sparing Charlie once last look before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him. Florence waited to hear the front door lock before she sagged against the doorframe, burying her face in her hands. How she had managed to fall for a Peaky Blinder was a mystery to her.
Florence caught herself in the thought, correcting herself. Perhaps she fell for Bonnie before he was a Blinder, and she just didn't realize it 'til now. That would make sense, she thought. Polly had said before that Florence was as blind to the matters of the heart as she was gifted with beauty. But as she stood there, trying to figure out where she had decided that she had fancied Bonnie, Florence realized that she couldn't. Perhaps it was when she first laid eyes on him, seated upon his horse with a dead man's body draped behind him.
Charlie stirred, making Florence glance over at him. He sat up, eyes still sleepy from his nap, his hair in disarray, lips pouted. The two siblings stared at each other for a moment before Charlie spoke.
"Is there any more peach jam?"
