VICES AND VIRTUES | Thomas Shelby

TWENTY SIX

"I thought she lost the baby," Tommy replied.

"He was put up for adoption, my grandparents lied," Florence told him, "Which isn't important right now, I need to know who Luca Changretta is and whether he'd harm my children."

"You had more children?" Tommy replied.

"Polly really doesn't tell you anything, does she?" Florence sighed as she took a seat opposite Tommy's desk, "We have a son, his name is Oliver, he's three."

"I won't let Changretta lay a hand on you or your children," Tommy assured her, knowing that there was far more than just a vendetta behind Changretta sending a black hand to Florence.

"Why would he send my daughter a black hand?" Florence asked firmly.

"This is Luca Changretta and the Sicilian fucking mafia, I don't know how his twisted mind works," Tommy sighed, "But what this does mean is that the whole family needs to return to Small Heath, we're not safe unless we're all together."

"You don't think Elijah will have a few questions when I tell him that we're moving back to my childhood home?" Florence scoffed.

"I don't really give a fuck what your husband says, we're all at risk if we aren't together," Tommy warned her, "And somehow the Changrettas know more about us than they should, if they know that Daisy is a Shelby, that's just the tip of the iceberg."

"Well then," Florence sighed, leaning towards the desk and pouring herself a glass of whiskey, "You better tell me what I've missed while I've been away."

"I thought that Polly writes to you," Tommy muttered, sitting in his seat at the desk, holding out a cigarette to which she shook her head.

"I've given them up. Polly does write, but I want to hear it from you," Florence remarked, taking a swig of whiskey, "We could start with how four of your family ended up with nooses around their necks?"

"I made a deal," Tommy muttered, "They were meant to be pardoned before they were due to be hanged."

"But you must realise what that did to them, up there," Florence sighed, tapping the side of her head.

"They're fine," Tommy replied, even though they both knew he was lying to himself, "Even if only one of them is talking to me."

"Polly had a lot of colourful words to say about that in her letters," Florence smirked, "She told me you found Michael, she also told me that he works for you."

"Is there anything else she told you that I should know about?" Tommy scoffed, intrigued by just how much the woman who sat across from him had changed.

"She told me about Grace," Florence muttered, "I might not have had much time for her, especially after what she did to the both of us, but I'd never wish that on anyone. I would've come back for the funeral."

"So why didn't you?" Tommy replied.

"I didn't think that you'd want me there, you didn't need that while you grieved." Florence told him, having never spoken about it to anyone.

"But it could've eased my pain, seeing you, seeing Daisy," Tommy sighed, wondering what his little girl might look like.

"Why did you marry her, if you couldn't marry me?" Florence asked the question had been on her mind since the day she burnt the wedding invite.

"I've spent the last two years asking myself the same question," Tommy answered, "In the end I only proved the point I made when I didn't marry you."

"And you forgave her?" Florence muttered, noticing an absence behind his eyes that had never been there before.