"Never thought my high fucking heels from Paris would ever be stepping through the horse shit of Small Heath again."
Florence clutched her scarf closer to her as a small gust of wind blew. It was cold and miserable in Small Heath, the mud wet under her feet from the rain from the night before. Polly had given Florence back her lighter after returning from the hospital, and she was itching for a cigarette. For once, she hoped that her father wouldn't be paying her too much attention tonight.
"Temporary," Ada said, though it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself. She looped her arm through Florence's, huddling close as she too shivered against the cold. "This is only temporary, Polly."
"Yeah," Lizzie muttered sarcastically, discarding her cigarette in the mud. Florence watched the action with a look of longing. "'Til Hell freezes over."
As Florence entered the yard, it was like her eyes had magnets attached behind them, zeroing in on their attraction: him. He was sitting at the end of the table with his father and his men, laughing about something or the other while they drank and ate. He didn't touch his cup, Florence noticed, his skin staying pale while the men around him flushed with the drink.
"I need to speak with you."
Florence turned to see her father, cigarette between his lips, flask in his hand. This was the version of him that Florence saw the most; the hardened mask, the businessman, the no-nonsense, do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do father.
She followed him a few ways away, taking a seat on a spare tractor tire while her father stood in front of her, clearly contemplating his next words. His shoulders looked drawn up and tense, brows lifted and forehead wrinkled with stress. Florence frowned.
"That's a pretty dress," he managed finally, and Florence looked down at what she was wearing. A simple black dress that Ada had gotten for her the day previous. She crossed her ankles, unsure of what to do with the compliment. "Listen to me, Florence. Carefully."
Florence bit on the inside of her cheek. "Okay."
"The last thing I'll ever do is put you in danger," Tommy said, not meeting her eyes. He spoke as if he was speaking to one of his colleagues, or his enemies, or anybody else besides his daughter. "You're the first and last love of my life, Florence. My pride and my joy; you know that."
Florence managed to nod. "Yes, dad."
"Good," he said, eyes finally sliding down to meet hers. He lifted his cigarette to his mouth, cheeks hallowing as he pulled, deep and long. "I expect no more questions, then. And no more conferring with your aunt Polly. I know what I'm doing, Florence. Remember that."
And with that, Thomas Shelby stalked off. Florence watched him walk away, a little bit stunned. It's not that she was expecting an apology, per se, but she feels as though she should have gotten one anyway. Instead, she got told off.
Standing up from the tire, Florence made her way to the end of the table, where Lizzie and Ada were seated, chatting over two cigarette's that were nearly down to the lipstick-stained butts. Ada tugged her niece into a chair between them, and Lizzie made sure the coast was clear before handing her a cigarette of her own.
"My dad is a fucking nuisance," Florence said finally, making Lizzie laugh as she lit their cigarettes. "Fully just sat me down, spoke a bunch of words, basically told me to fuck off, and then left. Not even an apology; can you believe it?"
"Yes," Ada and Lizzie said in unison, sending each other a small side-eyed glance before erupting into giggles. "I'm sorry, Flo. Getting an apology from your father is like pulling teeth; take it from me, darling."
