VICES AND VIRTUES | Thomas Shelby

TWENTY SIX

"I did."

"I suppose love will do that to you." Florence sighed, reminded of how hard she had found it to hate Tommy for her mother's death, any resentment that lingered within in the years that followed was reserved just for Grace.

"I still think about that day, and what happened to your mother," Tommy replied, keeping his eyes on Florence, "I've never forgiven myself for that day."

"I have." Florence whispered.

"You have?"

"I see you when I look at Daisy," Florence let the words slip carelessly, not stopping to think about how it might sound in an attempt to divert from the previous topic of conversation, "She smiles the way you did, it's quite hard not to forgive a man who you see everyday in your daughter's eyes."

"Will you bring the children back to Watery Lane?" Tommy asked, wondering whether he'd have the chance to meet his daughter again.

"I don't think I've got a choice," Florence sighed, "We're much safer when we're all together, aren't we?"

"We are," Tommy nodded in agreement, "So tell me, how's life in London, the only thing Polly ever told me is that you opened a club."

"You know how the club's going, you put peaky boys on my security team," Florence smirked, watching shock cover Tommy's face.

"How did you know?" Tommy asked.

"The haircuts are a bit of a giveaway," Florence sighed, "They're also the only ones who don't give me grief for being a female business owner."

"I hear business is booming," Tommy replied. He might have known that the club was doing well, but he didn't know the true extent of Florence's business endeavours, she had been incredibly meticulous with carefully choosing who she trusted with such information.

"We're comfortable," Florence replied as someone knocked gently against the door.

"Come in," Tommy called out.

Florence looked over her shoulder to see Tommy's housekeeper, Frances, who's face suggested that she was nervous as she approached Tommy's desk, "I'm really sorry to bother you again sir, but Chef insists on knowing what time the guests will arrive."

"Frances," Tommy sighed, "For the last time, it's Johnny Dogs, they're gypsies, they camp down by the river, when they're ready they'll walk up, alright?"

"He says it's about preparation, sir," Frances replied, seeming anxious.

"What is?" Tommy asked.

"He's asked specifically, will they arrive before the King's speech or after?" Frances told him.

"You said he was new, this chef, when did he join us?" Tommy replied, with the kind of look that Florence knew he was beginning to anticipate trouble.

"October." Frances answered.

"October," Tommy muttered, "And he's foreign?"

"He's Italian, sir," Frances replied and Florence watched as the cogs slowly began to turn inside Tommy's mind, "He's the best chef we've ever had in the house, no shouting or swearing or blaspheming."

"Do we have his references?" Tommy asked.

"Yes," Frances nodded, "The only problem has been his assistant."

"What assistant?" Tommy replied.

"He bought an assistant with him," Frances explained, "He calls him his sous chef."

"Are they still working, Frances?" Tommy asked.

"They'll be there till midnight, sir," Frances nodded.