The Gypsy Beauty

A Thousand Guineas On A Horse?

Johns POV

Tommy had called a family meeting, interrupting Polly's holiday and I had been tasked to fetch her while everyone else waited around. I swing the door open and Polly walks in as I follow behind her. "This better be good to interrupt my holiday." She grumbles.

"Where's the boy?" Arthur asks. "In the back room. I only brought him because afterwards we're going to the museum." Polly replies and I see Letty hiding her smirk. "He wanted to come in and say hello." I tell them. "Shut up, John." Polly scolds me. "There's nothing of interest to Michael in this room. Tommy, get on with it."

I move over to stand beside Letty and wrap my arm around her waist. She cuddles into my side, crossing her arms over her chest. "Hi, beautiful." I whisper in her ear. "Hi, handsome." She says back, pecking my cheek. "I missed you." I tell her and she smiles. "I missed you too." She says and I grin.

"Right, last night, one of our men had his throat cut in Winston Green. This morning, I had a telegram saying it was Sabini who ordered it." Tommy speaks dryly, eyeing the room around us. "And it says here Thomas Shelby is next." Arthur says ripping the telegram to shreds.

"If our men think we can not look after them in prison, they'll not work for us. Sabini knows that, so we need to get the Green sorted out. Scudboat, you and one of the boys break a couple of windows, get yourselves arrested. And if our coppers get you in the Green, you can find the bastards that did it." Tommy orders. "Instead of breaking windows, can we pinch a car?" Scudboat asks making Letty let out a small chuckle along with the rest of us. "Everyone else is getting a car and I'm still on a donkey."

"Alright, just get yourselves fucking arrested." Tommy spat, an unamused expression on his face. "It doesn't matter how. And before you laugh, a boy is dead. He was just a kid. We'll start a fund for his family, Pol." Tommy suggests and Polly nods. "Agreed." She says before she throws her hands up on agitation. "So, is that it? Can I go now?" She asks. "Well, as company treasurer, I need your permission to spend a thousand guineas." Tommy replies. "On what?" Polly questions, looking at Tommy in shock.

"On a horse." Tommy replies simply. "A thousand guineas on a horse?" Poly elaborates, her brown eyes widened in disbelief. "That's right." Tommy nods. Polly begins to pace around the room, clearly busy in her thoughts. "When was this decided?" She asks. "You were busy with Michael." Tommy replies bluntly. "Oh my god." Polly spat. "So in the absence of common sense, you boys have had an idea?"

"Polly, there's a thoroughbred quarter Arab filly up for auction at the Doncaster Blood Stock." Tommy informs her. "What do we want with a thousand guineas horse?" Polly asks in clear disbelief. "When we make our move on Sabini's racing pitches, any men we get into the betting enclosure will be lifted by Sabini's police. A good racehorse is a passport to the owners enclosure." Tommy explains. "We'll be there with all the toffs. The coppers won't know where to look." Arthur says.

"The Epsom Derby, Pol. We'll be drinking with the fucking king." I blurt with a happy smile in my face. "The derby? Did he say the derby?" Polly exclaims looking around. Everyone turns to glare at me as I look away in embarrassment. "You dipshit." Letty says shaking her head. Tommy clears his throat. "That's right. For the last ten years, Sabini's made it his race. If we're going to take him down, might as well make it there, as a symbol." He says.

"Did you come up with this idea in a pub by any chance?" Polly asks. "Pol, a good racehorse is an investment. Like property. We need to diversify the portfolio." Tommy says. "So when is this sale?" Polly inquires. "Tomorrow." Letty tells her. "Excuse me?" Polly grumbles. "Tommy's had a death threat, so we'll have to go with him for protection." Arthur explains.

"So you're going to close up shop, go out on a piss-up, blow a thousand guineas on a horse that's not even whole Arab?" Polly spat in annoyance, making the plan seem stupid. "Quarter Arab is better. Quarter Arab, it means-" Curly begins. "Curly, shut up." Polly demands before her eyes land on Michael and she glares accusingly at me. "I thought I told you to lock that door." She says as Michael takes a few steps further into the room and shrugs.

"He did. I used the key on the nail. Look, I've been listening in and I want to go with them." Michael tells her. "You see?" Polly exclaims, glaring over at Tommy. "I love horses. I could even help." Michael begs, an innocent smile on his face. "Over my dead body." Polly retorts, crossing her arms. "It'll be alright, mum. I've been to loads of horse auctions it's my uncle. They're very respectable. People bring their butlers." Michaels tries again.

"Yeah, and their posh wives." Arthur chuckles. "And their mistresses." Me and Letty say in unison as we grin and I nudge Michael in the ribs. "Let him go, Polly. We'll go there, buy a horse, and come back." Arthur says, finishing his drink. "I'll drop him back at the house in Sutton before it gets dark." I purpose. "No. Fucking no." Polly spat.

"Oh come on, Pol. It's just a horse auction. I'm going and you know I won't let anything happen to him." Letty tells her. "You, shut up. You're just as bad as them." Polly turns to glare at her. "Polly, it's just horses." Letty exclaims. "Look, I said no!" Polly shouts and Letty rolls her eyes.

"Polly, grow the fuck up. Seriously, I'm tired of this 'I'm mother of the year' bullshit. None of our hands are clean, including yours. It's a tiny fucking horse auction. Do you trust us so fucking little?" Letty exclaims as the room goes quiet as it grows tense. No one is used to Letty and Polly arguing, they argue about everyone else but never with each other.

"Why the fuck should I trust you?" Polly questions and Letty scoffs. "Because you know damn well that I'd die for anyone of you and that includes Michael. Come on, Polly, you practically raised me." Letty says. "Yeah, I did. But not for you to turn out like this." Polly spat.

"For fucks sake, Pol. He's seventeen. You're not his legal guardian. His foster mum finds out you've taken him, you could go to fucking jail and they might never let you see him again. There's three weeks until he turns eighteen, twenty-one days. Is it worth the risk?" Letty asks before she shrugs out of my hold and walk out of the house, leaving us all standing in silence as Polly takes in her words.