Florence hated lying to Tommy, but when she was the one sneaking out of the room that morning, it was inevitable that Tommy, the light sleeper, would wake up asking questions.
"Where are you going?" He had asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes as she lingered beside the bedroom door, he took note of the way she was dressed, wearing one of her basic dresses, her hair hanging freely as it always did, "It's still dark outside."
"Just for some fresh air," She lied, even though they both knew that there was nothing fresh about the air in Small Heath.
"I'll come with you, it's too dark for you to be walking the streets alone," Tommy warned, sitting up in her bed, sensing that Florence was attempting to put distance between them.
"You should rest," She insisted, having heard him tossing and turning all night, "I like walking alone, besides, if anything happens, I'm armed."
Tommy looked at the bag she was clinging onto, assuming that she had the gun in there. He was still yet to conclude where she got it, or who would've given it to her. He knew that it would've been someone who could be easily sweet-talked by her, but he also knew that beyond the Peaky Blinders, the locals would be too terrified to help her get her hands on a revolver, knowing the consequences that could follow.
"You come straight back if anything feels out of place, alright?" Tommy told her firmly, fearing for her safety, but knowing her well enough to know she could hold her own if it came to it.
"Promise," She smiled, leaning towards him and kissing him gently before slipping out of the bedroom, creeping past her mother's room and down the stairs, slipping out onto the street as dawn lingered over Small Heath.
She knew she couldn't tell Tommy where she intended to go, but since that conversation she'd had with Polly she couldn't stop thinking about it. It was all she could think about, but she knew that she needed to be sure before she spoke to him.
She wound up on the kind of street that you didn't go to at a time of day when you might be seen, hence why she had left her home before sunrise, naively hoping that Tommy would sleep through her absence.
It was the house at the end of the street that she was heading for, grateful for the hat and long coat she had retrieved on her way out of the house. She lingered on the doorstep before promptly biting the bullet and knocking on the door.
Moments later a slender older woman emerged, lingering in the doorway, she had the kind of dark circles under her eyes that led Florence to wonder when she found time to sleep, "Can I help you?"
"I've got a problem, and I need your help," Florence answered, flustered by the woman's emotionless disposition.
"Come in," She sighed, letting Florence into her house, the Dawson girl hoping that she didn't recognise her.
"You have a lovely home," Florence smiled awkwardly as she was led into the back room of the house, the curtains drawn, the smell of cleaning products lingering in the air, a far cry from the sweet smell of fresh flowers that often filled her own home.
"What brings you here?" The woman asked, straight to the point, Florence simply assumed that she must be a busy woman.
"I think I might be pregnant," Florence told her, in almost a whisper, as though someone else might hear her confession. The thought had been plaguing her mind since that conversation she had outside of the very same house with Polly, when she mentioned the sleep and the appetite, Florence had begun to worry that she might also be in the family way. She didn't know who to share her concerns with, no one knew the truth about her and Tommy, well a few people close to them might have suspected it, but regardless of her relationship with him, she was an unmarried woman. The way she saw it, it was better to be sure before discussing it with anyone, the way the world saw it, she would need to be married if she were to be a mother.
"Have you been having sex?" The woman asked bluntly, startling Florence, but the woman had to ask, given the hysterics she had heard from some young women who's concerns had been based solely on myths.
"Yes," Florence nodded.
"When was your last period?" She asked, cleaning her hands.
"I don't know," Florence answered, "I wouldn't say my body is regular with it."
"Very well, I shall have to examine you to get a better idea of what might be going on in your body," She told her, panicking Florence slightly.
The examination was uncomfortable and Florence spent the entire time regretting her decision to leave Tommy at home. Although she knew that men weren't generally allowed to attend such appointments, she assumed that he would've used his Shelby name to stay beside her in the room. The woman's hands were cold and harsh, they only made the experience more and more intolerable, she longed for the comforting touch of Tommy's hand in hers, knowing that it would make the experience pass much quicker.
"You can get dressed now," The woman told Florence as she sat uncomfortably on the sofa, watching as the woman cleaned her hands again.
"Am I pregnant?" Florence asked, slipping her dress back on over her underwear, the woman's cold exterior leaving her anxious as she turned to face her as she awaited her fate.
"Yes, you are," She told her, Florence's heart feeling as though it could burst through her chest in fear. She knew what it meant to be an unmarried mother, she also didn't know if she was ready to welcome a child into her life and become a mother.
"Do you know how far gone I might be?" Florence asked, unsure of what comfort it might bring, but at least she would know how long she would have to endure pregnancy for.
"I'd say you're nearing two months," The woman told her, "There are options, if you're not going to keep it, I can help you free yourself of that burden."
"No," Florence shook her head, because despite her reservations about becoming a mother she knew enough about what other women had told her about their horrific experiences to be put off from doing such a thing to herself, "I'm going to keep it."
"Very well," The woman nodded, "I wish you the best of luck."
"Thank you," Florence nodded, thinking that it was an odd thing to say to a woman who had just discovered she was set to become a mother.
Not wanting to spend a moment longer in that confined space, she grabbed her bag and left, heading for the front door and out onto the street. In the time it had taken for her to be examined the sun had risen, the cool morning breeze slowly subsiding as she left the street as swiftly as she could, not wanting to be spotted by anyone who might recognise her.
She walked down the main road, subconsciously resting her hand on her stomach, even though she wasn't showing, knowing that a life was already growing inside her, a perfect little blend of her and Tommy. While fear and anxiety were the looming emotions that hung over her head, there was just a small part of her that hoped perhaps that a baby was what they needed. With a baby on the way perhaps Tommy's outlook on their relationship would change, perhaps this was what they both needed.
Florence had always imagined that Tommy would be a good father, from the way she had seen him with Finn, as well as John's children, she knew that family was important to him. She just didn't know when she'd tell him, knowing Tommy he wouldn't be in her bed by the time she returned, so she would have to find a moment to get him alone. It felt right to tell Tommy before telling anyone else, she couldn't comprehend the idea of telling her mother and Polly before she told Tommy.
She might have been in love with the man, but above everything, he was her best friend, the one person she wanted to share everything with.
By the time she reached her home Florence just wanted to curl up in bed and shut the rest of the world out. But by the sound of chatter ringing through the house it seemed that her mother was already hard at work.
"Flossie, is that you?" She called out from the kitchen as Florence hung her coat and bag up.
"I'll be with you in a moment, Ma," Florence answered before heading through to the kitchen where her mother was sitting at the table, accompanied by Grace, the barmaid from the Garrison. Her presence startled the Dawson girl, there was no reason for her to be sitting in her kitchen, as far as Florence was aware, the two women had never even met.
"I didn't know we had a guest," Florence smiled, pouring herself a cup of tea, just as the other two women had.
"Miss Burgess has a dress in need of some alterations," Imelda explained as her daughter sat opposite her, "She seemed cold when I welcomed her in so I thought I'd pour us both some tea before we get started with the fitting."
"Lovely," Florence nodded, unsure of what to make of Grace, given their lack of interactions, and her interest in what the Shelby boys do.
"It's a lovely red frock," Grace smiled, unsure what to make of Florence, despite their lack of interactions she had seen her around the Shelby men regularly, she knew that she was an important part of the Peaky Blinders enterprise, "I bought it from a shop in the city."
"Sounds delightful," Florence nodded, relying on sarcasm as she continued to feel like a stranger in her own home, "Did they not have dress shops back home in Ireland?"
"My life in Ireland was quite different to life in Small Heath," The barmaid answered.
"You didn't get men shooting holes in ceilings at the pubs you worked in before the Garrison?" Florence queried, referring to Billy Kimber's visit.
"No," Grace shook her head, "Just brawls, no guns."
"Welcome to Birmingham." Florence smiled to herself. She had seen it countless times since the war, pretty girls from rich families escaping the restrictive shackles of life with their parents, hoping for a bit of fun and danger in Birmingham. They promptly realise that the two rarely come hand in hand, then leave.
"You must be attending a fancy event with a dress like that," Imelda added, attempting to diffuse the tension that lingered in the air, unsure what was going on in her daughter's world to cause her uncharacteristic sharpness.
"It's for the races," Grace answered, and promptly Florence was able to slot all the pieces of the puzzle together.
"The races, that's a nice day out," Florence nodded over her cup of tea, "Are you going alone?"
"Mr Shelby has asked me to accompany him," Grace answered, unaware of the depth of her statement.
"Arthur?" Florence replied, even though deep down she knew.
"Tommy." Grace answered, Imelda's gaze lingered on her daughter's face. She knew that her daughter cared for the man, she just wasn't aware of just how deep her affection ran, but as she watched her daughter she could tell that the revelation surprised her.
"That's lovely," Florence muttered, placing her tea cup on the table, feeling a need to escape the room, as though the walls were closing in around her, "I've just remembered, I'm meant to be at the Harrington's, they invited me for breakfast."
"But, you can't stand Mr and Mrs Harrington." Imelda replied as her daughter stood up from the table.
"But they make a lovely breakfast, or at least, their staff do," Florence returned with an awkward smile, "I'll see you later, Ma, Grace, it was a pleasure."
Before either of the women could answer, Florence grabbed her coat and bag and left the house, returning to the comfort of Watery Lane. She knew that the obvious solution was to tell Tommy about the baby, and then ask him why he planned on taking Grace to the races. She couldn't help but wonder why Tommy had asked the barmaid that he knew nothing about, if it were business, there is no way Tommy would trust an outsider without reason. She tried not to let the potential alternative reasons plague her mind, she knew that would only cause her grief.
But she knew that the only way of dealing with a Shelby man was to play a Shelby man, so she knew that first she needed to pay a visit to a friend.
After a longer than necessary trip on the horse drawn bus out of Small Heath, Florence wound up on the Harrington Estate. There was no point in finding a public phone and calling, because Margaret would most likely answer, and then her message would never get to its intended recipient.
She strolled down the long driveway and up to the front of the house, where one of the Harrington's doormen was waiting for her. That seemed like such an odd job to Florence, to have a man wait on the doorstep for the duration of the day, in case someone might visit.
"How may I help you, ma'am?" He asked with a gracious smile.
"I'm here to see Elijah Harrington," Florence answered.
"Your name, ma'am?" He continued.
"Florence Dawson."
"Right this way," The doorman smiled, opening the front door of the house and leading her into the house she had only been inside a handful of times. It was one of the largest properties in the area that surrounded Birmingham, and it had been in the Harrington family for years.
The doorman led her along one of the corridors that she knew led to the drawing room, dining room and breakfast room. She hoped that Mr and Mrs Harrington might be away on business to ease the discomfort of her entrance, but given the way her luck had led her that day, she wasn't entirely convinced.
They reached the breakfast room, the doorman opening the door and instantly setting Florence on edge as he entered the room, leaving her lingering in the doorway, "Miss Florence Dawson, here to see Mr Elijah Harrington."
From her previous visits she knew that this is how the formalities worked, she'd be 'announced' and then she would walk into the room as each of the Harringtons stared at her.
So that's exactly what she did, she followed him into the room to see all four members of the Harrington family seated at the round table that was covered in any and every breakfast food that you could imagine. Each of the walls were adorned with large portraits, mostly of Elijah and George's grandparents, but there were a few of their parents, and also the boys as children. The room lacked soul, looking at those portraits was like looking at the faces of ghosts, they simply lacked personality, especially the paintings of the boys.
"Miss Dawson," Mr Harrington smiled, glancing at both of his sons, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Elijah invited me to see your new horse," She lied, and from the look in Elijah's eyes she could tell that he had promptly clocked onto her lie, "Apologies for interrupting your breakfast, I can come back later if-"
"That won't be necessary," Elijah interrupted from beside George, placing his napkin on the table before making his way towards her, dressed in another of his well tailored suits,
"You've not met our newest mare?" Richard Harrington smiled, looking up from his newspaper, eager to discuss his latest chance at winning the derby, "She's an absolute beauty."
"I'm sure she is," Florence nodded, knowing that the best way to soften the Harringtons was to be interested in the topics they cared about most, "Has she been training well?"
"Like a star, we've got a real shot at placing in the top three this year," He told her, "The Carltons have been training her."
"Florence, please rid me of this nightmare," Margaret sighed, "All these men want to talk about is that bloody horse."
"To the stables?" Elijah smiled at her, as George watched the pair in intrigue.
"Lead the way," Florence nodded before glancing at the rest of the family, "Lovely to see you all, as always."
Elijah led her out of the breakfast room and down the corridor towards one of the back doors that led out onto the vast lawn, waiting until they were out of earshot to begin talking, "What brings you here? And don't tell me that it's Dakota."
"I don't know what you're talking about, I love horses," Florence grinned as Elijah held the door open for her, the pair strolling down along the back of the house towards where the stables were.
"You don't love them enough to interrupt my parents' breakfast to see them," He quipped, even though he knew that she had spent much of her childhood surrounded by horses thanks to the Shelby family.
"I just needed to not be in Small Heath for a while," She explained, keeping her answer vague.
"So you came to see me?" Elijah answered.
"I came to see your horses," Florence smirked as they reached the stables, "I also have a question for you."
"What might that be?" Elijah asked as the pair reached Dakota's paddock, a beautiful black beauty of a horse with just a small patch of white fur on her forehead stood before them.
"Will any of your family be accompanying Dakota Dash to Cheltenham?" Florence asked with a grin as she let Dakota nuzzle against her hand.
"That depends whether my father is busy with work, why do you ask?" Elijah replied, still unsure of the true nature of Florence's visit.
"Why don't we accompany her to the races?" Florence suggested, "It could be fun, I've never been."
"You want to go to the races?" Elijah frowned, surprised by Florence's sudden interest in his family's horses.
"It could be fun," Florence smiled, "Getting dressed up to rub shoulders with people who have more money than sense."
"I don't know, Flo," Elijah sighed, even though he knew that Florence would eventually persuade him.
"I personally think it would be a great way to prove yourself to your parents," Florence suggested, "There's no pressure of securing and finalising business deals, you'd just be making your name known amongst the people who matter."
"That brain of yours is wasted in Small Heath, Floss," Elijah smirked, liking the sound of his friend's plan, hoping that if successful he could cement his place in the family business, "You know if it was up to me I'd find you a role in the company."
"We'll just have to wait until you're managing director, won't we?" She smiled.
Florence knew that the element of surprise was her best friend in this instance. She had no intention of telling Tommy that she would be attending the races, especially not that she'd be attending with the favourite to win. She didn't know when exactly she would tell Tommy about the baby, she wasn't even sure how long she would have until she started showing. She promptly concluded that she would at least wait until after the races.
The way she saw it, if Tommy was going to have a pretty barmaid on his arm, she was going to do one better. She'd be on the arm of the heir of the Harrington fortune.
author's note: you can expect jealous tommy and jealous florence in the next chapter...also a baby? how do we think tommy will react? i obviously already know ;)
for context this is how i imagine the harringtons' house