make sure you ready twenty six first!!!
When Florence answered the phone early on that Christmas morning, the words that rang through her ears were a haunting reminder of why she had left Small Heath in the first place. Esme's voice had been filled with hysterical tears, explaining that Michael and John had been shot. Florence had quickly ended the call and rushed upstairs to where Tommy had been attempting to rest with Charles.
She had hammered her fist against the door until he opened it, visibly confused. She just blurted out the words; "They got Michael and John," and Tommy stared at her in shock. She didn't know much else, she had no clue whether the boys had made it out alive, all she knew was that they were on their way to the hospital.
George, Vinnie and the children hadn't even arrived at the house, so in a state of panic Tommy left Charles with Lizzie, asking her to explain the situation to George and Vinnie, while keeping things as normal as possible for the children. It dawned on both Florence and Tommy that Charles would unknowingly be meeting his big sister, but neither of them dared to mention it.
Florence had insisted on driving Tommy to the hospital, she could tell that he wasn't up to it, his hands were shaking, and as much as he attempted to hide it, she could see right through it, just as she always could.
They arrived at the hospital at the same time as Polly and the ambulances. As they climbed out of the car it felt as though everything was unfolding in slow motion. Florence stuck beside Tommy as Polly clung to Michael's side as doctors pushed him on a hospital bed. Florence had wondered if she'd ever meet Michael, she just never imagined it would be like this.
"Please, can we get some help here!" Polly shouted as the doctors pushed Michael through the double doors into a private room, "It's alright Michael, it's alright."
Florence could tell that Polly had changed, she was on edge, not just because her son had been shot, this was different. She had assumed Polly hadn't been the same since the noose, she had sensed it in her letters, she just hoped it wasn't true.
"No, no," Polly looked up from Michael's bedside, looking past Tommy and Florence at the two young men who stood behind them, "I don't want fucking kids in here, I want soldiers! I don't want fucking kids who joined us for the sport!"
"Boys, get out," Florence whispered to the two boys, guiding them out of the room as Tommy turned his attention to Polly.
"I want men who served in here!" Polly shouted before returning to Michael's bedside.
"Alright, Pol," Tommy sighed as Florence returned to his side.
"Mrs Gray, please," One of the nurses spoke, aware that Polly's presence was in no way helping to keep her son alive.
"Polly," Tommy soothed, attempting to pry her away from Michael, "Pol, come on."
"Fuck those bastards responsible!" Polly exclaimed through tears.
"Come on, Pol," Tommy attempted to calm her down, "Alright, let them do their job, come on."
Polly turned to Florence, the woman she hadn't seen in over six years as she pointed at Michael, keeping her eyes on Florence, "You see this? This is the work of your father."
"What?" Florence gulped, looking at Tommy for support.
"Pol, let's not do this now," Tommy interjected, as though he knew what Polly was referring to.
"What does she mean?" Florence looked at Tommy in fear, it was the most vulnerable that he had seen her since she'd returned, the first flicker of the old Florence breaking through.
"Florence, with me," Tommy replied softly, gently placing his hand on her back, guiding her out of the room, looking over his shoulder at Polly, "I'll get soldiers, I'll be back, I'll be back."
"Tommy," Florence's voice wobbled as he guided her down the corridor, "What is she talking about?"
"It's not my place, Florence," Tommy replied calmly.
"My mother is dead, she isn't here to stop you, so do the honest thing and tell me the fucking truth," Florence snapped.
"He's your father, Florence," Tommy muttered, "Luca Changretta is your father."
Florence couldn't quite believe Tommy's words, she knew that there was a reason her mother kept his identity a secret, but she never knew it would come back to haunt her this way. The man she was half of had sent his own granddaughter a black hand, a threat, and for what? He wouldn't harm his own blood, would he?
"How long have you known?" Florence asked.
"We'll talk later, alright?" Tommy assured her, wrapping his arms around her, she immediately felt comforted by his touch, it was so familiar, he felt like home, "I've got to find John and Arthur."
"Okay," Florence nodded as she stepped back from his embrace, trying to remain composed, not quite sure of what John's fate had been.
She watched as Tommy hurried away down the corridor, resting her back against the cool tiled wall. Her life had been fine for the past six years, she was content enough, and all of a sudden a stranger who was in fact her father had torn it all to pieces.
Someone who she shared blood with had placed a vendetta on the family that she still cared deeply for. Perhaps she could stop it now, if she had been sent that letter, it meant that Luca Changretta must've known who she was.
Once she had composed herself she made her way down the same corridor as Tommy, worried for John's sake. She needed to be sure that he was alright, that her father hadn't taken John's life.
She turned a corner to see John's wife, Esme hunched over on a bench, her body trembling as she sobbed.
"Esme?" Florence whispered as she sat beside, resting her hand on Esme's.
"He's gone," Esme looked up at her, tears streaming down her face, "Those Italian bastards killed my John."
"Oh, Esme," Florence sighed, wrapping her arms around the girl as she did what she could to suppress the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. Everyone needed her to be strong, Esme needed her to be strong, Tommy needed her too, as much as they both hated to admit it.
"He's in there, they're in there too," Esme told her, pointing at the sign for the mortuary, "Saying their goodbyes."
"Why are you out here?" Florence asked, confused as to why she wasn't beside her husband.
"They wanted to say goodbye on their own," Esme told her, resentment lingering in her voice, "But I'm sick of waiting."
Esme pulled herself out of Florence's embrace, pushing through the double doors that led into the mortuary. Florence quickly stood up and followed after her, fearing the trouble that was likely to unfold.
"You're cursed!" Esme shouted as she ran towards Tommy, "I curse you again! And again! And again!"
She tried to throw her fists at him but Tommy didn't let her, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest as he whispered, "Come here, come on."
Florence let her eyes linger on John's lifeless body, it destroyed her to see him like that. The John she knew was full of life and charisma, he had so much left to give the world. He was better than all of it, and he had been happy, so happy with Esme.
Arthur looked up at Florence, having never expected to see her again. She had changed, he could see that, because the Florence he had known six years ago would've been visibly destroyed at the sight of John's lifeless body. Inside she was falling apart, but she had taught herself not to let that be seen, much like Tommy.
Esme pulled away from Tommy, "Leave me with him, you've spoken to him, now it's my turn."
"Arthur," Tommy gestured to his brother, as Arthur followed him out of the room, Florence close behind.
"No peace for any of you," Esme called out as the three of them walked away, "Ever."
The three of them made their way back out into the empty corridor, neither of them could conjure up words that felt good enough.
Arthur rubbed his eyes, offering Florence a half smile, "It's good to see you, Floss," He wrapped his arms around her, a shell of his former self who would've torn his way through the entire hospital by now.
"I'm so sorry, Arthur," Florence whispered as she held onto him.
"I'm going to go see Linda, that's my wife, and my little boy, Billy, I'm a proper family man now Floss," Arthur told her, and it was completely obvious that he was struggling to compose himself.
No one had called her Floss since she'd left Small Heath those six years ago, it felt so foreign yet so familiar to hear that name again, it was like coming home.
"I'm glad, Arthur," Florence squeezed his hand before letting him go.
"Arthur," Tommy called out from behind Florence, causing his brother to turn and face him, he thought about asking Arthur to stay, but deep down he knew it wasn't what he needed, "Look after yourself."
"I will, Tom," He nodded before walking down the corridor and eventually disappearing around the corridor.
Florence hesitated, because she knew that losing John would be destroying Tommy on the inside, he just wouldn't show it. She turned around and looked up at him, the light she once admired in his eyes was gone, he was helpless.
She walked towards him and wrapped her arms around him without a word, clinging to him as though he might disappear if she let go. Tommy hesitated, still unsure of where they stood given their history, he held his hands out, not wanting to overstep, "Florence, I don't think-"
"Would you just shut up and let me make sure that you're alright?" Florence muttered, feeling him place his hands on her waist, his heartbeat increasing as she held onto him.
"You should go back to the kids," Tommy told her as he pulled away, keeping his eyes on anything except Florence's, "Elijah will be wondering where you are, it's not fair to keep a man from his wife after he's been away for so long."
"They'll be alright for a little longer, Vinnie can hold his own, I'm more worried about you," Florence told him as they slowly began walking down the corridor towards the exit that opened out onto a small courtyard.
"You're worried about me?" Tommy asked, glancing at her.
"Your brother was just killed by the Italian mafia, of course I'm worried about you," Florence sighed, "I know you've never been one to talk about this sort of thing, but just let someone in, please."
"I'd rather talk about anything except what's going on in my head," Tommy muttered as they made their way out into the small courtyard, the cool air nipping at their skin, "I'd rather you distract me."
"How?" Florence asked as they sat on a tired wooden bench, their hands accidentally brushing momentarily.
"You're colder than you once were," Tommy sighed.
"That's because we're sitting outside in the height of winter," Florence replied with a smirk.
"You know that's not what I meant, you've changed, tell me what's really been going on in London," Tommy answered, putting Florence on edge, "What happened last night didn't phase you, six years ago you would've broken down seeing something like that, never mind involving yourself in it."
"That wasn't the first time I killed someone, I killed a man the night before," Florence told him, "I'm no better than you."
"Why'd you do it?" Tommy asked, surprised by the revelation.
"There are two types of people in this world, good people who do bad things because they have to, and bad people who do bad things because they can," Florence replied, as though it were nothing.
"And this person that you killed," Tommy muttered, "What did they do?"
"He misused their position of power to abuse innocent children, he won't be doing that anymore," Florence told him, deciding to leave her brother's connection out of it, given that it wasn't her story to tell.
"Is he the first man that you've killed?" Tommy asked softly.
"I stopped counting after a while, it makes it easier," She answered honestly.
"Does Elijah know?" Tommy replied.
"No," Florence told him, "And I'd prefer if it could stay that way."
"Your secret's safe with me," Tommy sighed in disbelief at just how much Florence had changed, wondering whether her mother's death was the catalyst.
The doors to the courtyard swung open and George came walking through them, catching both Florence and Tommy's attention.
"George," Florence remarked, "What are you doing here? Who's with the children?"
"Tommy called me, said he needed soldiers for Michael," George explained, "I've brought two of our best men, they're in the room with Polly and Michael now."
"Thank you, George," Tommy nodded.
"How are the children?" Florence asked.
"They're fine, Elijah's back so he's been distracting them with gifts from America," George explained, "And Charles is already a big fan of Vinnie, Lizzie's there too."
"That's good," Florence replied, "How's Elijah?"
"He's confused why a vendetta against the Shelbys means you have to be back in Birmingham, Florence, we all are," George explained.
"We should all be together," Florence told him, "I'll explain everything to him when I'm back."
"I'm going to stay here, keep an eye on the boys looking after Michael, and I'll reassure Polly while I'm there," George assured them both.
"Thanks, George," Tommy replied before George disappeared back into the hospital.
"I'm going to tell Elijah the truth," Florence told Tommy, the idea had been playing on her mind since she received the black hand, but now she knew it was the right thing to do, "About Daisy."
"You think that's a good idea?" Tommy muttered, even though Elijah knew that Daisy wasn't his own, neither of them knew how he would react to her being Tommy's daughter.
"If it helps him see that we're at risk then yes," Florence replied.
"I doubt that Changretta would hurt you or the children," Tommy assured her, knowing that familial blood was most important to a family like the Changrettas.
"But they know that they could use us, they could use Daisy to get to you," Florence explained, "I know you, and I know what you'd do if they took her hostage or something ridiculous."
"I won't let that happen," Tommy assured her.
"Which is why we'll be with all of you in Small Heath until this is done," Florence told him, and Tommy could tell that she wouldn't be swayed even if he tried.
"Well, shall we make our way back?" Tommy sighed, "I won't have your husband giving me a talking to for keeping you out all day."
"Home it is." Florence muttered.
"It doesn't change, does it?" Florence remarked as she climbed out of the car, looking up at the row of houses she once called home.
"It changed for me, once you'd left," Tommy muttered as he stood beside her on the pavement.
"Shall we?" Florence replied, gesturing to the front door of the Shelby house.
Tommy led the way, unlocking the door with his key. The pair were immediately met with excited squeals and laughter from the children. They closed the door and made their way into the living room where Lizzie, Vinnie and Elijah were sitting with the three children.
Lizzie was sitting on the armchair in the corner, Elijah was on the sofa and Vinnie was crouched on the floor with the three children. They were playing with some sort of old train-set which Florence assumed must have belonged to Finn once upon a time.
"Mummy!" Daisy exclaimed as she caught sight of Florence, standing up from the floor and running straight into her arms as the woman crouched down to lift her up in arms.
"Hello, my lovely girl, how are you?" Florence smiled, cradling the girl in her arms, aware that Tommy was standing beside her as she laid eyes on Elijah for the first time in over three months.
"Good, Uncle Vinnie gave us Christmas cake," Daisy replied innocently, not a clue what was unfolding in the world around her.
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Florence sighed, placing her daughter back down on the ground.
"Who are you?" Daisy looked up at Tommy, the man she had no memory of.
Her words tugged on Florence's heartstrings, wondering how they might make Tommy feel to hear those words from the girl he had blindly chosen not to be a father to.
"I'm Tommy," Tommy replied with a nervous smile, "I'm an old friend of your Mum's."
"I'm Daisy Harrington," Daisy grinned, holding her hand out for him to shake the way she had seen her parents do so, "Pleased to meet you."
"Pleased to meet you too, Daisy," Tommy smiled, going along with it as he shook the little girl's hand.
"We taught her well," Florence sighed, looking over to Elijah who seemed uncomfortable, no doubt having a lot of questions about why the need to return to Small Heath was so urgent.
Evidently Lizzie sensed the tension too, as she spoke up, "Florence, why don't you and Elijah catch up in the back room, we'll watch the children."
"Thank you, Lizzie," Florence smiled, slipping out of the room, closely followed by Elijah.
Once they were in the back room with the door closed, the tension between them both became more unsettling. Florence hadn't expected such a reunion, as far as she was aware everything had been fine up until that point, she wasn't sure what else to say.
"How was the ship?" Florence asked as she leant against the sideboard, unsure of what else to say.
"That's what you're leading with?" Elijah muttered.
"What do you want me to say?" Florence sighed.
"Are you going to tell me that this is all a coincidence?" Elijah asked, "That you just decided to bring the children here to spend Christmas with my mother, and on the following morning John has been shot dead?"
It quickly became apparent that George had been selective with what he told his brother.
"Florence, you hate this city, you vowed to never return after what happened to your mother, so please darling, tell me why we're here," Elijah pleaded, "I don't believe it's for the children to have a normal Christmas."
"We're vulnerable in London, someone sent Daisy a black hand." She told him, feeling a pang in her heart, knowing what had to come next.
"What's a black hand?" Elijah asked in complete innocence.
"It's a threat," Florence muttered.
"Who would do that? she's six years old, why would someone do that?" Elijah asked, in complete fear that harm could come to his little girl.
Florence prepared herself to deliver the fatal blow, knowing that it would hurt regardless of the fact that Elijah had never thought of Daisy as anything except his own, "Because she's a Shelby."
"A Shelby," Elijah scoffed, running a hand through his hair, "That's why you refused to tell me who her father is, because he's a Shelby?"
"I was young and scared, I thought you'd take back your offer to marry me if I told you," Florence attempted to explain.
"Who's her father?" Elijah asked the question Florence had feared the most, "It's not John, because you'd be in pieces right now, it's obviously not Arthur, he's fifteen years older than you."
"Elijah, please," Florence whispered as she watched her husband's face drop with realisation.
"Fucking hell," He muttered, "She's Tommy Shelby's daughter."
"She's your daughter, Elijah," Florence assured him, "She has always been your daughter, you've always said it doesn't matter."
"It matters because he is the reason we got sent whatever that was," Elijah exclaimed.
"That's not entirely true," Florence sighed, ready to deal the next lethal blow, "The man who sent the black hand, his name is Luca Changretta, he's part of the Italian mafia, apparently he's my father."
"What?" Elijah muttered in disbelief, "So your father, who's in the mafia, is strolling these streets, and you want us to stay here?"
"We're safer here than we are anywhere else," Florence insisted as Elijah turned his back to her, resting against the dresser, "His vendetta is against the Shelbys, but that doesn't mean he won't use Daisy and I as pawns or some sort of trap."
"Because Tommy still cares for you, I assume," Elijah sighed. "And because Daisy is his daughter, they'd use her to get to him, and you still think we're safe here?"
"If you want to leave Birmingham, I won't stop you Elijah," Florence replied, knowing that Elijah wasn't in danger, "But every man in this town is an ally, without them, we're vulnerable."
"I just worry what being back here will do to you," Elijah muttered, turning back to face her.
"I'm fine, you know that I can cope," Florence assured him.
Elijah knew she could cope, but he had also seen the way she had changed. She had built herself a tough exterior to protect herself from ever getting hurt again. While building walls to protect herself stopped her from getting hurt, it came at a cost, their relationship hadn't been the same since they left Birmingham. Florence had gradually become less emotionally open and more focused on her work, the work she kept from her husband.
"I know you can cope," Elijah sighed, giving in the way he always did when it came to Florence, "You're the strongest woman I know."
"It'll be okay," Florence assured him as he approached her.
"You promise there's nothing left between you and Tommy?" Elijah replied, unaware of just how deep the roots of Florence's relationship with Tommy ran.
"I promise, there's nothing left between Tommy and I."
author's note: well, I bet you weren't expecting that!
I've known that Luca Changretta would be her father since before I even wrote the very first chapter of this book, and as you can imagine its only going to get more complicated for our Flo