𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 ; tommy shelby

11 - 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥

11.

The crisp morning breeze whistled pas Thomas' ears as he sat with his eyes closed out by the table in the garden. Johnny Dogs sat across from him smoking a cigarette and drinking in the country air.

Three months had passed, and Tommy was back at home in his mansion. His head still ached regularly, but he'd stopped taking the morphine and was better for it. The hallucinations were fucking with his head to an almost maddening degree, so he had to stop.

A blank postcard had arrived from Paris a week ago, with nothing but his address and a lipstick kiss imprinted by a perfectly shaped pair of lips he knew all too well. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about Emma since that day she'd visited him and he'd mistaken her for Grace. She'd been on his mind like a disease, not to mention the cold weight of her pocket watch that was always on his person as a reminder of their conversation when he was hallucinating.

It was hard to explain how he felt about Emma. Something about her was magnetic, and being around her was intriguing, confusing and exciting. Anyone would say he was just trying to substitute for Grace, but he wasn't. In truth, the more time he spent with Emma, the more he realised how different she was from her sister. The only real things they had in common were their looks.

There was something so addictive about her challenging tone, and the way she always wanted to play games with him that made him feel alive. Despite her madness, Emma was the first person to break through the numbness after Grace had died.

"Mr Shelby, your brothers are here." The voice of Mary, the housekeeper called out behind him. She walked briskly across the grounds to the table where he and Johnny Dogs were sat smoking cigarettes. "And there's someone who described himself as the wandering Jew."

Alfie.

Tommy sat up, stubbing out his cigarette and groaning softly at the dull pain in his head. "Will you take the Jewish gentleman to the drawing room?" He coughed. "Take my brothers to the kitchen and give them tea and rum."

"Yes, sir," Mary said obediently, heading back to the house.

Now it was time to tell his brothers about the plan he'd spent most of his time in hospital formulating. The plan regarding the Russians.

               The three Shelby brothers stepped out of Tommy's car. Thomas reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips.

"Alright, boys, just remember they're fucking insane, and dangerous," he said, lighting the cigarette as he levelled his eyes with the mansion before him. "And drunk on stuff we've never even heard of and there worse than us for spirits and ghosts. Today, they're gonna test us."

"Fuck them," John said.

Tommy walked down through the lined up Cossacks, meeting the eyes of Tatiana Petrova, who stood at the end. Her smile was sly, and her ears and neck were adorned with decadent diamond jewellery.

"Mr Shelby, welcome," she said in her strong accent. "How's my car?"

"I think I'm in love with it," Tommy said, his hands in his pockets.

"And I yours," she responded. "So we should keep what we love, yes?"

Tommy's fingers brushed against Emma's silver pocket watch in his pocket. He had begun to love it's weight by his side every day in a way too. The way it clinked against his cigarette case, the two metals clashing against one another in harmony.

               The Petrova's parties were scenes of indecency and debauchery, women lying around in next to nothing, drinking Vodka and dancing or lounging about in on the furniture. Tommy and Alfie had just finished surveying the diamonds in the basement and he was sat with his eyes closed on one of the velvet sofas in the corner of the room. He felt a weight on the cushion beside him as Tatiana sat down.

"My aunt only employs the best whores," she said coyly. "It seems that your brothers are getting on well."

Tommy opened his eyes and took a drag from his cigarette, scanning the room for John and Arthur. Arthur was being led out of the room by a maid, and John sat in the corner kissing some blonde girl who sat on his lap, her long legs crossed over. He could only see the back of her head, her long, thick blonde waves that were so unlike the styles many women sported. It was familiar somehow.

The woman broke away from his brother, and turned her head, suddenly facing him. Tommy blinked, feeling like he was hallucinating. It was Emma. She smiled that same, challenging smile, like she knew exactly what she was doing, and met his eye. What was she doing here?

"She is beautiful, no?" Tatiana said. "She isn't a whore, actually, just one of the maids. She started working here today."

"What's her name?" He asked.

"Alice, or Charlotte or something," Tatiana said, sounding bored.

Tommy kept his eyes fixed on Emma, who flopped down onto the sofa next to John, lighting a cigarette. She kept her eyes locked with his as John kissed her bare neck. Tommy felt a pang in his heart. Jealousy. And he could tell that was exactly what she wanted him to feel. He wanted to kill him, or her.

How did she even know he'd be here?

Tatiana pulled him towards her by his cheek, ripping his gaze away from Emma for a moment, but he pulled back. A smile grew on Emma's lips. She wanted him to lash out or something, to lose it. But he stayed still. He wouldn't rise to her taunts.

Thomas pulled Tatiana into a kiss and took a drag of his own cigarette, knocking back the last of his whiskey.

"Let's fuck," he whispered.

"Here?" She asked nonchalantly.

"Somewhere darker."

Tatiana stood up, taking his hand and pulling him up with her. She led him out by a side door, and he met Emma's eyes on the way out. The challenging smile had vanished from her face, and there was a different look in her eyes that he couldn't quite put his finger on.