𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐃𝐄 ♚ 𝙩. 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙮

xxx - 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘸

"It's hard to get a bloody word in edgeways with you, Tommy." Aunt Pol snorted sarcastically as she made a point of Tommy's lack of vocalisation on the matter, her brunette hair rolled into neat curls that framed her face.

"it's 'cause he knows what's right for me and Scarlett, Aunt Pol." Arthur responded firmly, taking Scarlett's hand as the former gossipy, outspoken and bubbly American remained a shell of her past self, nude coloured lips pressed tightly shut – dark eyes looking tired and a general sullen look about her.

"Of course." Polly replied, a sickly-sweet smile on her face that flew straight over Arthur's head.

With that, everyone assumed the end of the meeting – and began to clear of the large dining room, once again filling it with the sense of general emptiness it carried each and every day. Yet, staying firmly plated within his seat – Thomas Shelby stayed. His eyes once again boring straight into the table top, as if he might burn holes in it for the fixation of his glance.

One body ceased to move, and without even having to lift his eyes he knew who had remained.

"You've not been the same since that girl took off." Aunt Pol announced, her voice a lot softer than before. She was looking at the fragile Tommy, the one that came back from war, dare she say – a worser version? The man looked as if he'd seen a thousand more casualties in this one ounce of heartbreak than all the bodies he'd seen at war.

Tommy swallowed hard. He still had not told anyone the reason why Verity had left him – he had been too disgusted with himself to even dream of telling anyone else. But he had to, otherwise it would just keep eating at him.

He drew in a much needed breathe, his throat tight and a pain in his chest like he had been starved of oxygen.

"I did horrible things to her, Pol." Tommy sighed, his eyes once again not moving. "I ruined her life so I could have what I want."

Instead of silence, a sense of shame or disgust – Polly started to chuckle quietly. Something that both surprised and obviously, immensely irritated the Blinder, who had now finally looked up at his relative with some darkness to his glance.

"Tommy love," she smiled in light amusement, "How's that different to anyone else we've had to walk through to get to our success?" she remarked, and her complete lack of understanding on just how much Verity meant to Tommy, made him distance himself from her words.

He drew in another pained breath, reaching for the pack of cigarettes tucked, as they always were – inside his jacket pocket.

"She was different." Tommy said after a moments pause, sparking up the cigarette with a flash of orange flame, "She was more than a singer." He couldn't bring himself to be so emotional and unguarded of his true feelings. He couldn't blubber to his Aunt like a child with a grazed knee. He just hoped she would gather that true meaning of Verity. She wasn't just the mistress, the pretty face about the house who was a quick shag – he had loved her in the way he had loved his Grace. Verity was his redemption.

A heaviness fell into the dining room, the same heaviness Tommy encountered every day he had to walk about his home. It was as if the house itself knew there was something missing, the way it had felt for a long time after Grace had first died. It's very walls and floors had become accustomed to the light footsteps and gentle humming of Verity Grant – and they too seemed to ache over her absence much like their master.

"We all make mistakes, love." Aunt Pol then said, her warm brown eyes falling to Tommy with a level of compassion, standing from her seat as she smoothed her hands down her smart black belted dress.

"It's how we learn to deal with them that makes us stronger." She then added, turning on her heels – hoping leaving Tommy with that statement might give him some food for thought.