𝕋he pub was crowded when Tommy saw Andrew Fairfax. He was a very tall man, and as he took off his hat, his blond hair sparkled with golden highlights. Until a couple of days ago, Tommy had no idea what the man Olivia loved before him looked like.
Andrew Fairfax was his same age and had also been in France. Condecorated with several medals, he had made a place for himself in London's high society, although he was originally from Whitechapel, just like Olivia, and a friend of her brothers.
The man looked around and Tommy did not do anything to attract his attention, but waited to be find. As Fairfax approached the table, Tommy noticed the look of displeasure on his face. It was obvious that he didn't want to be there, but he had no choice but to attend; after all, a Member of Parliament from his party wanted to talk to him.
"Mr. Shelby", Faifax greeted him.
"Mr. Fairfax". Tommy shook the hand of the man who had made his Olivia suffer so much. He couldn't help but feel the burning bile in his throat. "Take a seat, please".
"I don't know why we met at a pub when we could have met at your office in Westminster". He had just arrived and was already complaining. Ada was right: that guy was a wretch.
"Do you like the Palace of Westminster, Mr. Fairfax?", Tommy asked sarcastically. "Would you like to be a member of parliament?", he attacked.
"Who wouldn't like it?" Fairfax responded to his attack with a haughty smile.
"I know the walls of Westminster seem quite thick but don't trust it, you can easily hear through them".
"I assume, then, that is why we're metting here", he said. "It's sad that two party colleagues cannot get together to discuss politics in the most democratic place in the Kingdom".
Tommy studied that man for a couple of seconds with narrowed eyes. He could not understand how that bastard had managed to make Olivia fall in love to a point where she had abandoned all traces of dignity. Fairfax was his most exaggerated opposite, not only physically, but also in personality: he seemed to be a disgusting sycophantic, a rat hungry for power and visibility, and had more similarities with Mosley than with him.
"I must confess I lied to you, Mr. Fairfax", Tommy said, witnessing the man raise an eyebrow. "We are not going to talk about politics".
"And what are we going to talk about?" Fairfax looked more offended than surprised. Apparently he considered it disrespectful for someone to waste his precious fucking time.
"We're goint to talk about Olivia".
At the sound of the name, Andrew Fairfax blanched and that was enough to make Tommy's blood boil. The bastard tried to hide it as soon as he was aware that his reaction had been very noticeable and called the waiter with his hand. Then cleared his throat.
"What Olivia are you talking about?"
Tommy's heart clamored to put a clean punch in the face of that idiot, but his brain reminded him that avenging Olivia was more important. The fact that Fairfax was playing fool, pretending that he did not know the woman to whom he had caused so much suffering, caused Tommy to look for a cigarette, exasperated, praying that the nicotine would manage to tame the violence that wanted to sprout from his chest.
"Olivia Westerling, Mr. Fairfax", Tommy forced himself to remind him with neck muscles tense, and lit the cigarette.
Before Fairfax could say anything, the waiter approached the table, much to his luck.
"A Martini, please", Fairfax asked, settling in his chair. "What do you drink, Mr. Shelby?"
"A whiskey", Tommy said, still staring at that piece of shit with a tie. "Natural and Irish. Did you know that Martini is a women's drink?" Tommy took the opportunity to attack him as he watched the waiter leave.
"I know", Fairfax agreed. "Olivia really likes Martini".
That wretch knew how to return the attack too well and Tommy could not help but smile at the pathetic situation. He was in a London pub measuring his cock with a stranger and deep down he knew he was doing it because he hated that man.
It was true that Andrew Fairfax had shown he knew how to be a jerk, but beyond that, Tommy was bothered by his simple existence. The fact that Olivia had loved another man before him made him sick, as stupid and irrational as it sounded. And that this man had taken her for the first time and then abandoned her only increased his hate.
"Yes, she liked Martini with lemon", Tommy added, remembering the time Olivia had gotten drunk at the Garrison.
"With plenty of lemon", Fairfax said. "How is she?", he wanted to know.
"She's dead".
Silence sliced through the air as if it were the sharpest of swords. For a second, it seemed as if that table, occupied by two men, had been stopped in time and the only thing capable of reducing the shock the news had caused was the bustle in the pub. Around them, people drank, laughed and chatted; It was a typical London Friday afternoon. In front of him, Tommy had a man whose eyes had filled with tears.
"How...?"
"The fascists", Tommy advanced his reply. "Oswald Mosley, to be more exact".
He saw Fairfax's lips contract and it seemed as if he was suddenly struggling to control a fit of rage. Tommy shook his head: the reactions of that guy seemed extremely false.
"Where was it?"
"Birmingham".
"I didn't know Olivia was living in Birmingham". Fairfax looked confused. "It is quite far from London. What was she doing there?"
"She was living with my sister".
Tommy watched Fairfax babble disoriented. At that moment, the waiter brought the drinks and placed the whiskey glass in front of him and the martini glass in front of Fairfax. The latter did not even notice the presence of the man standing next to him.
"Thank you", Tommy thanked the waiter.
"Your sister? Who is your sister?" Fairfax was still searching for answers that would lessen his confusion.
"Ada Thorne, née Shelby", Tommy explained, sipping his whiskey. Hearing Ada's name, Fairfax seemed to understand a thing or two.
"I met Ada", Fairfax said, and Tommy could tell by the look on his face that they hadn't gotten along very well. "I didn't know her last name was Shelby".
"My sister tries hard to keep her last name hidden", Tommy explained, and the statement sounded strange to Fairfax. That amused him. Londoners had no idea what it meant to be a Shelby. "We're gypsies", he said, unable to hide his mocking tone.
Andrew Fairfax raised the martini glass to his lips and the taste of the drink made him smile wistfully.
"I loved Olivia, Mr. Shelby", the son of a bitch confessed, as if he were talking to a friend.
"For what I know is that she loved you", Tommy snapped. "But it's not clear to me how you could have loved her when you cheated on her and left her for another woman".
Tommy's gaze drifted to Fairfax's right hand and glimpsed the gold wedding ring. He clenched his fists as he imagined that such an ring might have signified Fairfax's marriage to Olivia and thanked, with some remorse, that it was actually due to the advantageous union Fairfax had made with the daughter of a Lord.
"How do you know all that?", Fairfax asked, almost offended. "My private life doesn't have to circulate within the party. Or was she the one who told you?"
"People are always surprised at my ability to inquire into their lives", Tommy said, remembering the time Olivia had been upset with him for the same reason, "but let me tell you that I only do it when it comes to someone that interests me".
"And why the hell do you interest about me?" Now, the bastard with pretentions of a Lord was playing at being a humble nobody, unworthy of his attention.
"Because I think you can help me avenge Olivia."
"Avenge?" Fairfax swallowed heavily. "I understand that your sister is devastated but ..."
"I'm not talking about my sister, Mr. Fairfax", Tommy interrupted. "The devasted one is me".
Andrew Fairfax took a couple of seconds to analyze his words. First, looked at Tommy, hoping he would add more details to the statement. Then he averted his eyes and fixed them on his Martini, as if the drink were going to provide answers to all his questions, like a crystal ball.
"Did you love her?" He asked the question with some fear because, apparently, he did not know if he was jumping to conclusions.
"I loved her", Tommy simply replied, rejoicing at the wretch's surprise.
"And did she love you back?"
"Yes". Tommy took a drag on his tobacco. Never had a cigarette been so satisfying.
Tommy felt he was fulfilling the revenge Olivia could never carry out: breaking Andrew Fairfax's heart into a thousand pieces.
"Tell me, please," out of nowhere, Fairfax was begging, "did you make her happy?"
"I tried," Tommy confessed, "and I think so. Although I would've liked to make her even happier". Tommy was now turning his eyes to his own wedding ring. He had come so close to getting a divorce.
"Glad to hear that". Fairfax sounded sincere. "I already told you that I loved her, but I don't regret breaking up with her. I did it because I had the opportunity of a much more profitable marriage and thanks to it, I am what I am today".
"You talk about the marriage like it's a fucking contract", Tommy was disgusted.
"It's a contract, Mr. Shelby", Fairfax contradicted him. "We're talking about two people who are going to have to bear each other for the rest of their lives, facing different adversities with the only company of the other. Is it wrong that, over Olivia, who was a lower-class worker in a factory, I chose who is now my wife, the daughter of a Lord, with political ties and a loose life? I chose the option that was best for me". Hearing Fairfax, Tommy refrained from speaking; he was furious. "I know what you are thinking. You think I'm a coward, an idiot, but now I see the wedding ring in your hand and I ask myself: with what authority do you question me if you've already married another woman?"
"I didn't marry another woman", Tommy snapped. "I was already married when I met Olivia".
Hearing Fairfax laugh made Tommy almost rise from his seat. That bastard was playing with fire and Tommy almost didn't give a shit about the political consequences of beating him to death in that pub.
"You're a hypocrite", Fairfax insulted him. "You question me when you already have a ring around your finger..."
"And I also have a gun". Tommy patted his chest over his jacket, letting the other man know that he was armed.
"Are you going to shoot me here?", Fairfax didn't look intimidated. "What a man poor Olivia loved", he added. "Putting it together, I wouldn't be surprised if she was killed because of you".
Tommy stood up and tossed the cigarette into the ashtray. Andrew Fairfax bounced in his chair, but still watched him defiantly. Tommy noticed a couple of people around looking at them with some expectation and he tried to contain the outbreak of fury.
Then something caught his eye. At the pub counter, not far from where their table was located, he caught a glimpse of the hallucination of Olivia sitting on a stool, a martini glass in her hand and a wide, blood-red coat. The sparkle in her dark eyes conveyed the message she wanted to tell to him: "Don't do anything stupid, Tom."
Tommy sat down again, visibly confused, and Fairfax studied him with his eyes. He had already realized that Tommy was not very well in his head.
"May I ask how you expect me to help you avenge Olivia?", Fairfax was forced to speak as Tommy was still troubled.
"I assume you ask that question because you intend to collaborate". Tommy took a long drink of his whiskey. He was thirsty.
"Don't be confused. I have no intention of helping you at all", Fairfax said. "All I want is to redeem myself with the memory of Olivia".
"She'll be grateful to you", Tommy snapped sarcastically. "Well, to begin with, I need you to tell me how well your ties to socialism were known when you were dating her".
"How striking. A man who brags about his access to information and doesn't know something as basic as I was a staunch communist before joining the Labour Party", Fairfax said.
"I tend to avoid knowing too much about the Communists", Tommy explained. "I don't like them".
"I don't like them either", the man in front of him said, shrugging. "I used to like them when I was a starving proletarian and believed that we were all worthy of a certain equality. When I began to have power for myself, I considered that I didn't want to give it to anyone else".
"Pretty hypocritical of you, don't you think?" Tommy attacked.
"As you see, I'm a hypocrite too, Mr. Shelby". Fairfax's words were once again charged with vanity. "The thing is, Olivia was most likely linked to communism because of me, although she was never fond of extremes".
"Do you have grounds to believe that?"
"We were a couple until the middle of 1929. The fascists weren't that organized but they already existed, and many emerged from the filthiest coffers of communism and socialism. My name began to circulate in the slums of London and I received tempting proposals to join their ranks. I refused, and they didn't like that", Fairfax recounted. "When I decided to leave the communist militancy, I gave Olivia all the documentation that could compromise me in case the fascists got to the power. She was the only person I knew who was not linked to any party".
"You are an idiot", Tommy couldn't believe what he was hearing. "By giving her all that documentation, you made her sign her death sentence".
"I told her to get rid of it", Fairfax excused.
"And you really think she did?," Tommy picked up his briefcase, which was resting on the floor, and reached through the pile of papers for Olivia's diary to throw it on the table. Fairfax's indifferent reaction to the notebook did not catch Tommy's attention.
"One of her diaries", Fairfax observed.
"Did you know she wrote diaries?" Tommy already knew the answer.
"Of course. I myself gave her several notebooks".
"Then you know that even though Olivia threw the documents you gave her, she most likely wrote about them in her diary", he said. "Olivia had a habit of writing everything down".
"She probably did, yes". Fairfax nodded emphatically. "Never thought about it".
"You never thought about it ?!" Tommy was angry again. "If someone had access to those diaries, linking her to communism would be the first thing they would do. Where the fuck are those diaries?", Tommy demanded, flinging himself slightly across the table.
"At her parents' house, I suppose". Fairfax drank from his Martini.
"Get me those diaries if you don't want your body to be found hanging from Tower Bridge tomorrow", he threatened, and was tempted to draw his gun out.
"Well, get the rope ready, Mr. Shelby, because I can't go to Olivia's house", Fairfax said. "Her parents forbade me entry since I broke their daughter's heart for the second time. You will have to be the one to go there".
Tommy leaned back in his seat and stared at the smoking cigarette in the ashtray. He had never met Olivia's parents and did not know if she had ever told them about him. With what excuse would he appear at the house of parents who are still mourning the death of their daughter to rummage through her things? If Ada had agreed to come to London with him, things would be much easier, but he was alone and he was going to have to figure it out on his own.
"Give me the address", Tommy demanded and reached for a pen in the inside pocket of his jacket. He opened the diary, ready to write.
"Are you going to write on the diary?"
"I'm more likely to lose my head than to lose this diary, Mr. Fairfax. Now, speak up".
He wrote down what his interlocutor had said on the back cover of the diary as he traced the map of Whitechapel in his mind. He had rarely been there but he knew the place.
Once Fairfax gave him the address, he spoke again:
"I find it strange that I didn't find out about Olivia's death", Fairfax said. "We had acquaintances in common and although her parents now detest me, I was close friends with her older brothers. I was the one who had to write them the letter informing them of his deaths in France. They should have sent me a telegram, at least".
"Your new social position may have taken you far enough away from the ties you shared with Olivia", Tommy said slyly.
"Maybe. But even so... ". Fairfax was not convinced. "Where is she buried?"
"I have no idea"
"Didn't you go to his funeral?"
"No. According to my sister, she was buried here in London", Tommy simply replied.
"And she didn't tell you in which cemetery..."
"No, because I didn't ask". Tommy was beginning to lose patience.
"Mr. Shelby, are you sure she's dead?"
The question hit Tommy with the force with which a sledgehammer would hit him to the skull. He stared at Andrew Fairfax and searched his face for something to say he was teasing him. Fairfax couldn't be serious. There was no way he could ask that question without resorting to irony. Tommy glanced at the pub counter and saw that Olivia was gone. Dread ran through every inch of his body.
"I saw my sister mourn her death", Tommy recalled. "Someone heard the shot. I know she's dead". He tried to convince himself but it was too late: doubt had settled in his heart.
"Did you see her body?"
"They wouldn't let me". Polly had stopped him. She had sent him home.
"I see". Apparently Tommy's reaction was so unsettling that Fairfax wanted to dismiss the matter.
"Why would she do something like that?", Tommy had to ask.
"Knowing her, I also find it strange. Beyond her elusive nature, Olivia was... or is, a brave woman. She doesn't run from problems".
"Are you saying I was a problem for Olivia?". Fairfax's words had offended him.
"That only you can know", Fairfax replied, avoiding all responsibility in his words.
But Tommy knew he was. He was a problem for everyone who crossed paths with him and knowing the relationship he had had with Olivia, it was to be expected that she would suddenly find herself involved in matters too dark to face.
She was brave. Tommy had told her after she recited a poem to him, and a million more times when he noticed that she liked it. She had been a woman somewhat unsure of her abilities, anxious about what the future held, and hated being the center of attention. If Tommy got it right, Olivia had plenty of reasons to fake her death.
But what about Polly and Ada? Had they also lied to him?
"She's dead", Tommy repeated aloud. He needed to erase any wild theory from his head.
"When you go to her parents' house, check the surroundings. Don't ask directly because if Olivia is alive they will try to cover for her. And please", Fairfax took a last sip of his martini. "As soon as you know something, contact me. You know where to find me. As much as you hate that I say this, because I've noticed, Olivia was, is and will be the most important woman in my life. I think about her every day. I'm a married man, Mr. Shelby, just like you, and a father who adores his little daughter. Yet it comforts me, in a way, to know that I am not the only one bearing the cross of having loved and lost Olivia Westerling".