VICES AND VIRTUES | Thomas Shelby

TWENTY SEVEN

"Florence, with me," Tommy replied softly, gently placing his hand on her back, guiding her out of the room, looking over his shoulder at Polly, "I'll get soldiers, I'll be back, I'll be back."

"Tommy," Florence's voice wobbled as he guided her down the corridor, "What is she talking about?"

"It's not my place, Florence," Tommy replied calmly.

"My mother is dead, she isn't here to stop you, so do the honest thing and tell me the fucking truth," Florence snapped.

"He's your father, Florence," Tommy muttered, "Luca Changretta is your father."

Florence couldn't quite believe Tommy's words, she knew that there was a reason her mother kept his identity a secret, but she never knew it would come back to haunt her this way. The man she was half of had sent his own granddaughter a black hand, a threat, and for what? He wouldn't harm his own blood, would he?

"How long have you known?" Florence asked.

"We'll talk later, alright?" Tommy assured her, wrapping his arms around her, she immediately felt comforted by his touch, it was so familiar, he felt like home, "I've got to find John and Arthur."

"Okay," Florence nodded as she stepped back from his embrace, trying to remain composed, not quite sure of what John's fate had been.

She watched as Tommy hurried away down the corridor, resting her back against the cool tiled wall. Her life had been fine for the past six years, she was content enough, and all of a sudden a stranger who was in fact her father had torn it all to pieces.

Someone who she shared blood with had placed a vendetta on the family that she still cared deeply for. Perhaps she could stop it now, if she had been sent that letter, it meant that Luca Changretta must've known who she was.

Once she had composed herself she made her way down the same corridor as Tommy, worried for John's sake. She needed to be sure that he was alright, that her father hadn't taken John's life.

She turned a corner to see John's wife, Esme hunched over on a bench, her body trembling as she sobbed.

"Esme?" Florence whispered as she sat beside, resting her hand on Esme's.

"He's gone," Esme looked up at her, tears streaming down her face, "Those Italian bastards killed my John."

"Oh, Esme," Florence sighed, wrapping her arms around the girl as she did what she could to suppress the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. Everyone needed her to be strong, Esme needed her to be strong, Tommy needed her too, as much as they both hated to admit it.

"He's in there, they're in there too," Esme told her, pointing at the sign for the mortuary, "Saying their goodbyes."

"Why are you out here?" Florence asked, confused as to why she wasn't beside her husband.

"They wanted to say goodbye on their own," Esme told her, resentment lingering in her voice, "But I'm sick of waiting."

Esme pulled herself out of Florence's embrace, pushing through the double doors that led into the mortuary. Florence quickly stood up and followed after her, fearing the trouble that was likely to unfold.

"You're cursed!" Esme shouted as she ran towards Tommy, "I curse you again! And again! And again!"

She tried to throw her fists at him but Tommy didn't let her, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest as he whispered, "Come here, come on."

Florence let her eyes linger on John's lifeless body, it destroyed her to see him like that. The John she knew was full of life and charisma, he had so much left to give the world. He was better than all of it, and he had been happy, so happy with Esme.