The Queen Of Birmingham

6.

6. jessica
'it's this virtue that makes you not like a saint but a mutual friend of loneliness tonight'
~

Tommy entered the Garrison that night with an extra spring in his step. That day, he had gifted the pub to his older brother, opening new doors for both the family and the business.

However, this joy wouldn't last long. Walking into the back room, he saw Polly, Arthur and John all sat around with somber looks on their faces.

"Who died?" Tommy half joked, sitting down next to Arthur.

"John has something he'd like to tell us." Arthur told him.

"John?" Tommy turned to him.

"Right so you know what it's been like since Martha died."

"God takes the best first." Polly interrupted, placing her hands over her nephew's.

"Truth is, my kids have been running bloody rings around me, running bare foot with the dogs until all hours."

"Pol, give him ten bob for some new shoes, is that it John?" Tommy was getting mad that his drinking was being prevented.

"Tommy, we'd be better to do this without you." Polly fired back before turning to John. "Now what's your point?"

"What the kids need is a mother. So I've bought a ring and I've decided I'm going to propose."

"Does this poor girl know you're going to marry her?" Arthur laughed.

"That's why I wanted you here, Tom. I want to ask Iviana." Tommy clenched both his fists and his jaw at the suggestion. "I just think her coming back now was fate and it would settle the competition between our businesses."

"You men amaze me." Polly spoke up, evidently angry. "You rarely see a successful woman and when you do you try belittle her to a housewife?"

"It's not that, Pol. I've always been fond of her really and-"

"No." Tommy silenced the room. "You lay your dirty little hands on her and I'll cut you, I don't care if you're meant to be my fucking family."

With that, Tommy stormed out of the Garrison. Without realising it, he found himself walking in the direction of where Arthur had told him Ivy was staying. As soon as he'd found out she was here, he appointed soldiers to watch the house at all times.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had knocked on the door. With no explanation to why he was here, he stood in silence when Ivy opened the door, looking extremely confused.

"Tom?"

"Can I come in?" She moved aside, allowing him to enter the dark house.

Tommy knew the man who lived here well and his house was certainly a reflection of him. Nevertheless, Ivy had managed to make it her own, adding elements to make herself feel more at home.

He entered the living room, immediately taken back by the warmth of the fire. He removed his coat, placing it over the back of the sofa and then sitting with his back up against it. Ivy had rushed over to the corner to pour them both a glass of whiskey. Tommy watched her as she approached him slowly, handing him the glass. Their fingers brushed slightly, the first skin to skin contact they had had since before the war.

Sat angling her body to face the man, she observed how he had changed in the time which had passed. His face was now littered with small imperfections, wrinkles and scars from the war. His hands looked rough and uninviting, matching the expression he constantly held on his face. Long gone were the icy blue pools in his eyes, they had been replaced with a thick fog clouding his vision of the world. A fog the war had put there and no one would ever be able to take away.

"What can I do for you Mr Shelby?" Ivy broke the silence, keeping her gaze fixed on Tommy while his never tore away from the fire.

"You can tell me the plan for the races."

"That I can do but I don't believe it's the reason you're here."

"Believe whatever you want." He swallowed his whiskey in one, pushing himself off the sofa and into the corner to refill his glass. When he returned, he sat far closer to Ivy than they had been originally. This was him attempting to be subtle but Ivy saw right through him as always, a smile playing on her lips. She drank her whiskey down in one and placed the glass on the table in front of her.

"Since when can you drink whiskey?" He teased.

"Whiskey kept me from going insane during the war."

"It was something else which kept me going. Only difference is I had to give mine up when I came back." He looked at her with the same stern expression on his face, only now it made Ivy feel guilty. Tommy turned his body towards her, placing his arm over the back of the chair behind Ivy's head. Her eyes were fixed on him while his were constantly shifting. He began playing with the ends of her hair which his hands could just about reach almost without realising he was doing so.

Moving closer to her, Ivy could feel his hot breath on her face. His arm had now stretched around her shoulders and his hand had shifted so it was now stroking patterns into the skin of her bare arm. Ivy felt as though she was drunk on him, craving more. Bowing his head so that it was inches away from hers, he ruined it, whispering "why did you leave?"

After that, she shot up from her place on the sofa. He didn't change his position, remaining exactly the same so that she could slip back into his grip if she wished. But she didn't.

"I'll grab you a blanket." She told him before leaving the room. Once away from each other, they both had time to reflect on what had just happened. Ivy almost felt ashamed, as if she shouldn't be returning to him after she had left him. Tommy didn't care about honour or shame, he just wanted her, badly and in every way.

Ivy returned with a blanket as promised and didn't make eye contact with the man the entire time. Tommy thought it was best not to question her sudden change in behaviour and so he slept on the sofa that night while Ivy lay awake in the room above, unable to get the man out of her head.