Your Crucible | Peaky Blinders

Chapter Thirty-Six ~ The Trophy Wives

"Yes, that's right," said Lottie dully.

"Where was it you'd gone?"

"I'd toured Europe and America. My aunt, she wanted to see the world before she passed. It was her last wish. I had to do my duty." Lies were easy to Lottie, always had been, but especially so when she didn't care. She sighed. "How's your husband?"

"Don't mention him please," Alice scoffed. "He's as dull as a brick and as slimy as a toad." She lit her cigarette. "But we don't spend much time together. We don't even live together most times."

Lottie looked at her. "By the sounds of it, that seems like the perfect arrangement."

"Unfortunately, the children ended up with me. I've had four kids and I hate them all," she droned. "The sooner they go to boarding school the better."

"I love my boy," said Lottie warmly. She froze. Fuck. She wasn't meant to talk about Freddie.

"You have a child?" Alice asked, her eyes widening.

Lottie looked down at her belly. "No, I... I'm going to have one. I'm sure it'll be a boy."

"I'd say congratulations," she smirked, "if I thought children were a blessing."

"Thank you," Lottie chuckled in response.

"We're trophy wives you and I," Alice said after a pause, puffing out cigarette smoke.

"Trophy wives," Lottie repeated, finishing her own. "Yeah... I'm a fucking trophy wife."

"I've got nothing of my own and so I can't leave him," she went on. "He's a right bastard and he's shit in bed. I hate him and love another. And yet, I must stay."

Lottie leaned forward. "Tell me his name and I'll have him killed."

The woman barked a laugh. "In your condition? I'd be impressed."

"Condition?" James appeared In the doorway.

Lottie looked over her shoulder. "James," she breathed.

"Your wife's pregnant," said Alice, looking between them, as if it were obvious. "Oh! Was it meant to be a surprise? I'm so sorry."

Lottie plastered a smile to her lips. "It's alright."

Alice stood. "I'll leave you to it. I'm sorry," she said again with an embarrassed smile.

When she had disappeared back inside James crossed his arms. "You're pregnant," he said coldly.

Lottie nodded.

"How far?"

"Five months," she said. "I'm beginning to show."

He cleared his throat. "We should go back inside," he said, offering his hand without looking at her. Sighing quietly, she took it and he led her back in.

Inside the large hall, guests were dancing to the band, or rather orchestra. Lottie knew she shouldn't have been surprised with all the splendour. James held her arm tightly as he led her to their table. Before they could sit, a man walked over, a pleasant smile on his face, hidden by his moustache. "Ah, Mosley," said James. He turned to Lottie. "Mosley, this is my wife, Lotitia. Lotitia, this is Oswald Mosley."