1929, Period of the Wall Street Crash and British Fascism
Marguerite still suffered from nervous exhaustion. She was resilient, but from time to time, she couldn't control the stress. It had gotten to a point where she was often out of breath after shooting someone, because taking someone's life took a toll on her mental health.
She often stayed home with Polly now. Polly too was sick, stressed. Michael and Tommy had been on edge with one another, especially since Michael had returned from America having lost a lot of money, but not just because of the Wall Street Crash. Gambling, useless spending, reckless investments and even treason...
Tommy was furious, and Michael was disrespectful, having come back from America with a not-so-pleasant partner, named Gina. The young woman had a short, wavy blonde crop, a thin figure, a slim face and wide, dark, judging eyes. She constantly had a scornful, sarcastic grimace plastered on her bright red lips which drove Marguerite mad with rage. And her clothes were too bright, too tacky and disgustingly expensive.
Polly and Marguerite were dragged into the awkward conflict of interest between Tommy and Michael Gray and Gina. Polly disliked Gina a lot, much like Marguerite.
The family dynamic and situation was quite clear, despite it being tense. The Shelby brothers, Polly, Olivia, Marguerite and all the rest of the gang stood united to attempt to fix the financial ruin, and there was hostility from all of them towards Michael and Gina Gray. Even Polly was beyond disappointed in her son.
Olivia had been wrong: Michael and Marguerite were not the same. She was loyal, and he was not.
And now they were sat in the Garrison, listening to Michael lay down his new terms of employment in Shelby Company Limited.
"You fucking what?" bellowed Arthur, standing from his seat, walking with a hunched back and swinging his arms towards Michael, who was sitting at the centre of them, with Gina standing proudly behind him, gazing as if in disgust at the family.
"I wish to be the new director of the company. I want to improve this business." His voice was unwavering, serious. They couldn't quite believe it. After everything he'd done, he truly believed that he could take over the business with his hoarder of a wife.
Tommy scoffed, taking a swig of his whiskey, exhaling loudly after gulping the warm liquid, feeling the alcohol melting down his throat, warming his chest. He hummed, uninterested as he eyed the stack of documents that Michael had laid out onto the sticky wooden table, as if his effort for formality would be met with compliance. Of course, he was entirely mistaken. He was foolish and self-centred, much like his wife, hoping to take the business from under Tommy's nose. But nobody questioned Tommy. No one should.
Marguerite let out a sneer, returning from behind the bar to pour more whiskey for everyone, apart from Michael and Gina. After she had finished serving everyone, her black heels clicked loudly and obnoxiously on the flooring as she strut towards the now unwelcome couple, all the while keeping her gaze on Gina as she reciprocated the look of disgust. Setting down the almost empty bottle and two glasses in a lethargic, unbothered manner, in the same way that her husband would, she hissed;
"If you want whiskey, pour it yourself."
She said this, almost spitting at them, or at least wishing she could do so, but she kept her composure as best she could.
Finn, Polly, Olivia, who was now with child, Arthur, the entire family was there. Aberama Gold, an ally of Tommy and lover of Polly was there too, along with Johnny Dogs, the uncle Charlie and a few other members of the gang who were not direct family. They all laughed along with Marguerite. They all liked her and her determination. She did not like her husband or his family being disrespected.
Gina lifted her head a little higher, retorting in a spiteful tone;
"I don't like Irish whiskey, Mrs Shelby. Neither does my husband."
"Shame," spat Marguerite, now standing beside Tommy, as he immediately set an eager hand tightly on her hip. "And here I was, thinking that you had expensive taste."
"Expensive taste has changed over the years, but I suppose this company is still stuck in the dark ages, which is why my Michael is here to change things."
"You Americans," replied the woman, cackling, leaning onto Tommy's chest as he smiled proudly at hearing her defend the business with such passion, "you sure do like to talk a lot without really saying anything."
Gina smirked dismissively.
"Allow me to return to the topic of conversation," interrupted Michael, handing Tommy a manuscript of documents. "Here is my proposal. A full restructuring of the company. I will be managing director and you can be nonexecutive chairman."
Upon hearing this, the whole room went quiet. Everyone looked at each other in disbelief and disgust. Marguerite was boiling up with rage. She glared at Michael, but then looked up at Tommy as she felt his grip on her waist tighten, both in anger and anticipation.
Michael insisted, holding the documents up to Tommy, as everyone watched with a smirk, knowing that Tommy would not accept such disrespect.
Slowly, he took the documents, and then in a sarcastic tone, delivered a line that left Marguerite chuckling.
"It's cold in here, Michael." He turned around and swiftly threw the documents into the fireplace, sending Michael and Gina's deluded plans up in flames.
The room was filled with a few sneers and hums of approval. Johnny Dogs let out a giddy giggle.
Michael's protests and Gina's rudeness was met with indifference and hostility by all in the room, including Polly herself, because after everyone had left, she stood up, walked towards Michael and hit him, catching both him and his scornful wife off guard.
And that was that. For a few years onwards, there was conflict and non stop trips to and from America. Investments, a race for money. A silent war between Tommy and Michael.
A war set in stone after Polly's death.
The matriarch.
A mother to all.
It was a turning point, in fact, it was the turning point.
The point of no return.
Michael had vowed to kill Michael.
...
1934, "No Limitations"
No limitations.
That's what Thomas Shelby said to Michael's corpse, laying flat in the mud and dirt.
The only member of the Grey family that the Shelby's would not pay tribute to.
"Tommy, love," mumbled Marguerite, her heels digging into the mud as she stared at him, her eyes soft. He was panting slightly, his finger still twitching on the trigger, his wide, alert gaze still piercing through Michael's dead, cold, lifeless eyes.
"Tommy," repeated Marguerite with a groan, ambling over to him. He was pulled out of his daydream by her gentle hand on the back of his neck.
He closed his eyes.
Years now.
He'd know Marguerite for more than a decade now since she had first arrived in Birmingham.
She'd given up her old life for them, willingly and unconditionally loving him despite him being away from home, between the gang wars, the illegal trafficking, the politics, the deaths of loved ones.
"Maggie," he hums lowly, his eyes still shut.
The wind howls around them, their coat tails flapping in the wind. There is only the sound of the wind.
"Yes Tommy?"
"We're leaving this behind, yeah? Alfie is signing Camden over to us."
"Oh?"
He groans, rubbing his eyes, before turning to her. There it is, that adoration. The one she'd seen in his eyes at the wedding. He was back.
Tommy presses his firm hands to the sides of her face, bringing his lips only centimetres from hers.
"Maggie," he repeats, his breath heavy on her skin, "let's go home."
Marguerite smiles, softly running her slender fingers over his wrists.
"Take me home, Tom," she croons, before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
He inhales sharply, capturing her lower lip in his own eagerly, passionately.
He'd forgotten how much he adored her. How much he needed her.