Marguerite - A Thomas Shelby story

Chapter 24 - Late Night

The car stopped, Marguerite woke. It was around midnight. 

Her eyes still hazy, she wondered why nobody was moving. They had arrived at the house, but rather than climbing out, they all stayed still, gazing ahead curiously. Sliding herself upwards, she was able to get a good look at the two men illuminated by the car headlights. 

Thomas Shelby and Frank Parsons stood talking to each other.

"Oh no..." she whispered, making herself small in the back of the car.

"You know this man?" said Arthur, coughing. 

"My teacher..."

"Bit young for a teacher. You sweet on him?"

Marguerite blushed but said nothing. He should not be involved in this. What was he doing here?

Eventually, she had no choice but to follow the others out of the car. Upon seeing the young woman, Frank's face illuminated with joy and relief. He ran to her, clasping her palms, his soft chestnut hair flying into her face, and looked her in the eyes.

The others watched perplexed at their conversation;

"Marguerite! You've been gone for more than two days... What are you doing here?" He sounded out of breath, but even so, hearing his voice was comforting for the young woman. He really did care for her. 

"I could ask you the same," she answered sheepishly, glancing at her sister who seemed amused. 

"You disappeared, so I went to your Father looking for answers. He seemed unbothered, even vague... Something didn't feel right, so I went knocking on doors around Birmingham. Eventually someone at the Grandison pub-"

"Garrison," interrupted Thomas coldly. 

"...Garrison pub, gave me a name: Thomas Shelby." 

Frank gestured politely to Tommy, who in turn strode towards them. Without even glancing at Marguerite to acknowledge her presence, he fixed an empty gaze on Frank Parsons.

"Whoever sent you to me, did it as a joke, Mr Parsons." His voice was chilling, emotionless. "They expected me to send you back in a body bag." 

"Tommy!" shouted Ada in protest, who was now leaning on the doorframe, clutching her cold frame for she was wearing only a nightgown. "Fucking rude," she then muttered. 

"However," continued Thomas, pretending having not heard his sister, "Any friend of Marguerite is as friend of ours. On condition that you do not utter a word about the Shelby family. I want the name of the man who gave you our address, then you are free to leave." His gaze briefly lingered on Frank and Marguerite's intertwined fingers. His voice softened slightly. "Rest assured that Miss Collins is in safe hands." 

Frank, who was overwhelmed and tired, looked at Marguerite, who nodded reassuringly. She brought her lips to his ear and whispered;

"They are like a family to me. Olivia, the woman standing over there, she's my sister. I know you are worried about my involvement with them. I promise, I wanted to tell you, but I was scared you wouldn't understand."

"Marguerite..."

"There are things in my past that resurfaced, things about my Mother, the reasons why she left. I will tell you everything. Everything. I promise. But I need you to trust me, please. And say nothing to my Father."

She stroked his cheek and let her lips graze his tenderly. His eyes glistening a light gold in the colour of the car headlight, his chestnut hair sparkled blonde. His lips were full and pink, his jawline sharp and face youthful. She had missed him. His warmth.