"Who are we seeing?" Chelsea asked as she stood outside of an apartment door with her dad.
Tommy had informed Chelsea that they were traveling down to Margate to see someone and Chelsea couldn't think who and whenever she asked, Tommy just said it was a surprise.
A maid opened the door and Chelsea pushed her way in and asked for the lavatories. The maid told her where to go and Chelsea ran down the hall.
Pregnancy really isn't kind on the bladder.
Once Chelsea had done, she refreshed herself and made sure she looked tidy, staring at her reflection in the small mirror that was hung on the wall.
Five minutes later, Chelsea left the room and made her way back down the hall. The decorations on the wall didn't match at all, and they were all sorts of colours and shapes that made Chelsea feel dizzy just looking at them.
She turned a left and found herself in the main sitting room, her dad stood at the other end of the room, stood on the doorstep of the balcony.
"You going to tell me who we're seeing now?" Chelsea asked.
"A surprise." A voice said that dug into Chelsea's bones and made her want to punch a wall, "What a compliment, Tom. 'Ello, Chelsea."
Alfie Solomon's.
Alfie Solomon's stood up and smiled at Chelsea, the left side of his face completly dishevelled and his one eye was a white murky colour.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Chelsea screamed, jumping back, "DAD! YOU KILLED HIM!"
"Take a seat, Chelsea." Tommy said.
Chelsea placed one hand on her chest and flinched as Alfie took her other hand and guided her to the sofa before sitting down beside her.
"Now," Alfie said, patting Chelsea's leg, "Tom, how soon did you know that I was not dead?"
"You wrote me a letter, Alfie." said Tommy, shaking his head.
"Did I? They gave me a lot of drugs at first. I was lying out there, and the tide come in and woke me up. I remember looking around and thinking, you know, Fuck. If this is hell, then it looks a lot like Margate."
Chelsea rolled her eyes, she hadn't really cared when Tommy told her that Alfie died. But now that she was sat here next to him, she realised that she had missed his stupid comments that made her want to punch him in the face.
She would never admit that she missed him, though. She would like Alfie to think that she hated his guts, it kept him at bay and not questioning her every second.
"Maybe that's just what hell looks like, eh?" Tommy shrugged.
"No." Alfie said, tapping Chelsea's knee once more before he picked up a book next to him, "Not according to this holy book right here, yeah. It gives a very, very vivid description. You and I are both fucked, mate."
Tommy licked his lips and looked around, Chelsea could tell that comment had cut him slightly, but she decided not to press him on it.
"You read the papers, Alfie?" Tommy asked, examining the room.
"No." Alfie scoffed, "Don't be silly."
Chelsea flinched at the sound of a gun and looked down to see Alfie holding one in his lap.
"But you've heard." Tommy said, completly unfazed by Alfie's weapon.
"What?" Alfie asked, "Fascism, yeah?"
Tommy stared at the gun, "Three. . .two. . .one. . .bang. No? Fine."
He moved across the room and sat down opposite them as Alfie stared at him, "Good Lord, your fucking condition has got worse, mate. Mine, on the other hand, I've been living the dream. Sometimes, I will shoot at the side of a ship, and sometimes I'll sit here, I may shoot at the old seagull."
"Alfie," Tommy said, stopping Alfie's random speech short, "I am going to shoot Oswald Mosley."
"Right, well." Alfie said, he turned his head to look at Chelsea, "I hope your dad does a better job on him than the one he done on me. I mean, what were you thinking, Tommy? Was your mind somewhere else?"
"Yes, it was actually." Tommy sighed, pulling out his cigarette and lighting it.
Alfie picked up his binoculars and pressed it against his one eye, "Oh, look! A ship! Why do you want to shoot him?"
"I need to organise a riot, Alfie." said Tommy, him and Chelsea shaking their heads at each other, "And I hear you still have some. . .standing in the Jewish community."
Alfie leaned forward in his chair, "Let me be clear, all right? Since my resurrection, I am considered to be a god, all right? In the Holy Land, someone had made an image of me out of rock embedded in the sand, so I am told, and I am planning to make a pilgrimage to stand in my own shadow. Are you going to shoot him because this man is evil?"
"We need men who can fight." Chelsea said, knowing what her dad needed from this conversation and Alfie wasn't fucking helping, "Mosley uses men from Glasgow. So, if the men causing the trouble are Jewish, it will be. . .explicable."
Alfie kept his eyes locked in on Chelsea and raised his eyebrow, "Since when do you two need explanations?"
"Since I entered politics." Tommy said through gritted teeth.
"Oh, that's right yeah." Alfie said, leaning back in his seat, "And how has that been for you, Tom?"
Tommy shrugged, "Gangs, wars, truces. . .nothing I didn't already know."
Alfie did a fake snore and shook his head, "So, you think if you kill him, you will kill the message, yes?"
Tommy nodded, "I will kill the man, then I will kill the message."
Alfie sat in silence for a moments, twirling his thumbs and shaking his head as if he were sorting out his thoughts into pro's and cons, "How much you paying?"
"Thought you might do it for the cause, Alfie." Tommy said, "Each man will get twenty points and you'll get five thousand."
"You know," Alfie began, stroking his hand over his beard, "as a god, Tommy, right, I am now able to just rise above those kinds of insults, mate."
"Fucking hell, he's back." Chelsea murmured as Alfie smirked in her direction.
"Ten?" Tommy asked.
"Mmm." Alfie nodded, "How is my dog?"
"Your dog is fine." Tommy answered him, "Chelsea has been. . .looking after him."
"In that case," Alfie said, once again slapping Chelsea's knee, "ten should be enough. Where do you want the men?"
"Birmingham." Chelsea said.
"No. No." Alfie shook his head and shook his finger in front of her face, Chelsea grabbed his finger and jabbed it down into the sofa, "That twenty will not be enough for my lads to step inside that fucking shit hole. It'll have to be twenty-five, at least."
"Twenty-five it is." Tommy sighed, "You can take your dog back then, eh?"
"No, it is better for him to think that I am still dead." Alfie said, crossing his hands on his lap, "As it is also with the police. All right. So, you're still at it, eh, Tommy? Ain't got no Margate to go to."
"No." Tommy said, shaking his head as he stared at the floor, "I have no interest in shooting seagulls."
"Oh, but you have in shooting cabinet ministers." Alfie scoffed.
"Yeah." Tommy nodded, "And their paid informants."
"Mm." Alfie said, "I was on a lot of drugs at first due to the pain, you know, on account of it. . .well, you know, being shot in the face by some cunt."
"You shot yourself?" Chelsea asked, fake gasping as she placed her hand over her heart, "My word, Alfie."
"I won't bore you with the details." said Alfie, sending Chelsea one glance, "It'd chill ya. Nonetheless, I had a recurring dream. I saw you, Tommy, in a field, right, with a big black horse, and you said 'Goodbye' and then. . .bang."
Chelsea looked up at her dad and saw his face still as still as a stone, completly unfazed by any of this, but what Alfie had said made Chelsea paint that image in her head, and she held back the tears.
"All right, then, well." said Alfie, "what now?"
Tommy threw his cigarette onto the balcony and picked up his peaked cap from the table, "I will continue. . .till I find a man. . . that I can't defeat. Chelsea."
Chelsea stood up and took her dad's hand to help her stand, her back sore.
"Shit." she winced and stretched.
"Pregnant." Alfie said, staring at Chelsea's face, "I knew somet had changed with you, kid. And the ring. Who you engaged to?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but Isaiah." Chelsea said, as she pulled on her coat.
"Congratulations, Chelsea." Alfie said, offering her a small smile, "A new life. Wonderful."
"See you around, Alfie." Chelsea sighed, "Don't let someone shoot you again, alright?"
Alfie stared at her and furrowed his brow, "Is that a way of saying you care for me, Chelsea? I am flattered."
"Just a suggestion." Chelsea remarked before she turned to face her dad and left Alfie sat on the sofa with a small smile on his face.
★
When Chelsea and Tommy returned home, Chelsea headed down to Charlie's Yard and found him sat around a fire with his leg rested on a chair.
"How's Barney?" she asked as she took the empty seat beside him, "He doing alright?"
"Sleeping." Charlie replied, "I can't because my fucking legs cracked."
"It'll all be worth it in the end." Chelsea sighed, "Mosley will be gone and we can all be happy."
"Are you happy, Princess?" Charlie asked, "You don't seem it."
"That right?" Chelsea asked, turning to face him and offering him a small smile, "I'm fine."
"You may be fine, but are you happy?" Charlie asked again, leaning in closer to her and taking her hand in his own, "It's all good if you're surviving, but it's no use if you're not living."
"Sometimes I wonder, if living has any purpose at all." Chelsea said, standing up and staring down at the fire, "You know? I wonder where I'd go if I just. . .ended it all."
"Chelsea, don't say such things." Charlie said, staring at the back of her head in shock.
"I almost did it before." Chelsea said, watching as the flames crackled.
Chelsea took a step forward, her shoes burying themselves under the soggy ground. As she stepped closer, the orange glow lit up her face, the flames heating up her skin.
She could feel the wooden picture in her hand beginning to heat up drastically, burning her fingers wherever she touched.
But for some reason, she couldn't let go. She didn't want to. The pain oddly satisfied her, it made her forget everything and focused on the pain in her hand.
Every pain of her life went and the only pain was a little burn.
Chelsea pictured the memory in her head and slowly brought her hand over the fire, the flames burning the tips of her fingers but she didn't wince, she welcomed the pain.
"When Grace died." Chelsea continued, "Arthur stopped me, though. But I used to imagine coming down here, standing at the edge of the cut and doing it. Pulling the trigger. I planned that you and Curly were away doing business with my dad and it was just me. No one could stop me. No one could change my mind. My body would float down that damn cut and I would be presumed missing."
"Chelsea-" Charlie began but Chelsea walked forward until she was standing at the she of the cut, the tips of her toes spilling over the edge.
"Chelsea." Charlie said, his voice shaking, "Do not make me do this. I do not want to have to beg you to stop."
Chelsea looked over her shoulder, "I'm not going to do it. I have to many people that would be upset. You, Pol, Finn, Arthur, my dad, Charles and Ruby, Isaiah. . .and my son. I can't leave them. . .not yet."
Charlie fell quiet and took a step back, his heart was shattering with Chelsea's words but he didn't have to worry about her safety, because if Chelsea said she wouldn't, he believed her. But the last part of her sentence scared him more, "Not yet."
One hour later, Chelsea had reduced to a sitting position, her heels sat next to her as she dipped her feet in the water. Smiling as memory's flooded her brain of her and Finn doing this when they were kids. When they were happy.
Charlie however, was now stood next to Tommy, both of them watched Chelsea closely.
Charlie explained the death of Tommys mother to him, telling him that it was in fact a suicide and not just an accident.
"Did she say why?" Tommy asked.
"Nothing that made sense." Charlie said, shaking his head.
Tommy nodded, "Tell me the things that didn't make sense."
"She said it were the gypsies made the nails for Jesus' cross," Charlie said, shaking his head at the memory, "and that's why we're cursed and restless. She said you have to move around or the guilt catches up with you. I said, 'well why not go on the road for a bit?'. She went to Worcester. She came back with a white pony. The one she gave to you."
Tommy flicked his eyes over to Charlie, and saw the tears glistening in his eyes but Charlie's eyes hadn't left the back of Chelsea's head.
"You used to ride it around." Charlie continued, "She seemed happy for a bit, watching you ride it. And then she was gone. None of it made any sense. Afterwards, whenever I looked at that white pony, I saw her. You see, I was in love with her, Tom. No one knew but me. Broke my fucking heart to pull her from the cut."
Tommy flicked his cigarette into the father and took in a deep breath, seeing Chelsea reach into the cut and twirl her fingers in the water.
"You know, your grandfather, he went the same way." Charlie said, "Suicide. Sometimes, these things run in the family. Fuck family, Tom. You just have to get on with it. You're a Gypsy. You have to move around or it all catches up with you."
Tommy took a seat and stared down at the fire, Charlie sat opposite him and wiped his eyes, "Tom, you need to keep your daughter moving."
Tommy looked up at him in confusion, "Why?"
"It's catching up with her, Tom." Charlie said, his eyes flickering over to Chelsea to make sure she was still there, "If you don't do something soon, we'll loose you. You'll lose her. And instead of me pulling your mum from the cut, it'll be you and Isaiah pulling her from the cut."
Tommy shook his head, "She-she's okay. She's happy, she getting married and she's having a child."
"You didn't hear the way she spoke, Tommy." Charlie said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "She said she imagines it. She imagines fucking do it right in the spot that she's sitting on now. Imagines her body floating down the river and no one finds her. She needs help, Tommy. If you don't realise that soon, she'll be gone. I thought your mother was happy, she had a smile on her face, and then she did it, she left. If you don't help her, Chelsea will go the same way."
Tommy looked over at his daughter. She seemed happy, how could he not have seen it.
What if she hadn't told Charlie? What if she did it right now whilst he and Charlie were away? He would've basically handed her the gun because he hadn't noticed the signs.
Maybe he had.
Maybe he ignored them because he didn't want them to be true.