For the steadily progressing week, all Tommy had done was wonder whether Verity would actually turn up. His presentation when he had last seen her was perhaps too bolshy too soon – he thought, after he'd mulled it over. Perhaps she didn't take kindly to him telling her what to do – and he maybe thought he might have been a bit too demanding.
But in typical Thomas Shelby fashion – he reminded himself that if she wanted the money, she would come. And so, his chaotic brain calmed for a while.
Friday eventually fell into the clutches of reality, as Tommy stayed shut away in his office like some kind of nocturnal creature, the curtains drawn and his eyes darting from paper to paper – all related to the various businesses he owned and ran. Outside of his office, he could hear his son laughing playfully – and Francis, his housemaid, entertaining the young boy.
Shortly after 11am, the sound of tyres crunching over gravel could be heard. Like a lion alerted to it's prey, Tommy lifted his head to the sound. That had to be Verity.
Leaving the warm seat of his leather chair, he stood by the window and examined the view of a Chevrolet 1924 Superior cruising steadily up his driveway. The car stopped outside of the main door, and not to his surprise – Verity climbed out.
Standing on the stony driveway, the psychologist stared up in awe at the beauty of the house. It had only taken her several more minutes to find the bloody place – driving around town and asking people for directions. But she had finally made it.
The cold wind of the November day whisked through her dark brunette hair, which was left loose in softer curls for today. She stood there, tall and graceful in her black stilettos, with her long red skirt and black ruched blouse – all tucked up in her long camel coloured coat, with it's soft faux fur trim.
Treading carefully in the uneven gravel, Verity wobbled the short distance to the steps of the large, intimidating front door and lifted the oversized brass knocker a few times, waiting patiently with her handbag clutched securely in her black gloved grasp.
In moments, Francis had the door open and offered a gentle smile to Verity.
"Dr Grant?" Francis asked, to which Verity nodded in response.
"Good morning, I take it you're aware I'm here to see Mr Shelby?" Verity asked, her red painted lips set into her usual kind smile.
Taking a step back, Francis furthered opened the door and gestured for the psychologist to come in, lowering her gaze in a polite and respectful manner.
As Verity stepped inside, it was safe to saw her awed feeling from the exterior of the house had followed her in. The only sound that could be heard on the hard floor was the sound of her huge heels clicking, the sound reverberating off the high walls and the ceiling.
She paced like a child, gawping around rather shamelessly at the beauty of the house. It made her London home and office feel like a slum.
"Verity."
The sound of his voice grounded her, and Verity stopped dead in her tracks, a rosiness rising in her cheeks.
She noted how different he looked, stripped of that hitman-esque looking coat and notable blinder's cap. He was simply wearing his white shirt, a smart dark grey waistcoat – not having abandoned his usual sprue suit bottoms and gleaming, polished black shoes.
Even in his own home, he looked like he was dressed to the nines for a business meeting.
"Hi, Tommy." Verity said at last, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face as she carefully began removing her dark leather driving gloves from each hand, revealing her dainty fingers and pink painted nails, a sweet light pink – not dissimilar to a carnation flower.
He offered her a curt nod and a weak smile, his usual rather frosty appearing self.
"Good trip here?" he asked, making conversation as the pretty psychologist tilted her head either way in a 'so so' mannerism.
"I got lost heading into the place. Luckily an old chap knew exactly where I needed to be." Verity replied, quick to brush the small talk out of the way.
"Where would you like to start today?" she asked, "It is your home after all, and I am the guest."
Tommy leaned against the doorframe and looked her over with a reserved look in his oceanic blue eyes. Eventually hauling his way from it's resting position, he strode towards her in the hall.
"I don't quite fancy a formal sit down," he started in a matter of fact tone, "Hope that's alright with you, love." He cleared his throat, making his way over to the wooden cloak stand by the main front door.
"That's quite alright. Whatever suits you best." Verity assured, thanking Francis quietly as the maid set her handbag down in a safe place.
Noticing Tommy putting his coat on, Verity's brows furrowed a little and she automatically held her fur trimmed coat a little tighter around herself.
"Are we going out, Tommy?" she sought to confirm, finding her answer as the Peaky Blinder's leader nodded quickly in response to her question.
He said little else, holding the front door open for her as the pair of them strolled back out into the wintery outdoors.
It was a fairly mild day, there had been a bit of a breeze before but it had very much lost its blustery temperament by now. The skies were overcast, an amalgamation of grey hues lost within the fluffy clouds – clouds that seemed to race quickly across the horizon – but to no end, as if there was no sun behind any of it.
Verity walked at Tommy's side as the pair of them wandered off towards the stables. Tommy felt he would have a better chance of getting more towards what he fancied by not sitting down with her in the previous formal fashion and discussing his feelings.
Very soon the apparent smell of horse piss and straw filled Verity's nostrils, and she gained a sense of familiarity from it. She used to ride as a child, having lessons from her aunty out in the country who owned stables and a manage.
However, as Verity's hazel eyes looked down she noticed the small cobbled path under her feet becoming thicker and thicker with mud, straw and other bits. She felt a pang of pity for her shiny black stilettos.
As they wandered along over the cobbles, Tommy could see Verity looking down at her shoes with a look that was clearly someone trying to hide disappointment or concern.
"I'll have Francis clean your shoes up later." He said, having read her like a book. Glancing across Verity forced a smile and shook her head.
"Not to worry Tommy... I can clean them myself." She assured him, trying to push it to the back of her mind as they rounded into the main stable block.
It was a structure that was open at both ends, with stall after stall of horses – all facing one another. The few stable hands that were working in there all kept their heads down the moment their boss walked in, and daren't say a word. Verity felt like they all lived in some level of fear of him. It made her wonder if she really ought to be scared too... She barely knew him all that well, and already it was clear he had a level of control over her. She'd driven all the way out here to meet with him for a session, and wasn't even able to argue her point properly. She was struggling to fathom it all. No one had ever gotten her feeling so much like a silenced kid before... until Tommy Shelby.
Immediately, Verity was drawn to a young looking chestnut horse, with a white stripe down the centre of it's face. She went over to it, smiling as the horse put it's head over the stable door and instantly enjoying the fussing, Verity tenderly stroking her hand over it's snout.
"Do you come in here to relax?" she asked, trying to at least steer the direction of conversation to what she was there for.
"Sometimes," Tommy started, hands in the pocket of his long dark grey coat. "Sometimes not." He added vaguely, standing close at Verity's side as he watched her making a fuss of the young horse.
"Like her, do you?" he asked in a quizzical, yet all the same flat tone, as if he always tried to appear so withdrawn and disinterested in things all the time when he really wasn't.
"She's a nice little mare." Verity responded, tickling to horse's top lip and amused herself at the faces it was pulling. "Will you race her?"
"Maybe." Tommy shrugged, "Not sure if she'd make the cut. She's not as filled out as I'd like her to be."
"She's only young." Verity replied, as she turned back to face the horse she missed Tommy's expression as she raised his eyebrows at her.
"Know a lot about horses then, I take it?" he asked her, leaning against one of the stalls so he could look at her.
Verity's lips blossomed into a smile, full and red, like a summer rose. She turned to face him, her hazel eyes liner in cat eye liner and her dark brunette hair shiny and soft looking.
"I wouldn't exactly say that." She chuckled, "I have always been around horses as a child and I know the basics." She informed the Shelby Company leader, waiting a few seconds for Tommy to make some smart arse response before she realised he'd disappeared from sight.
Looking around herself, Verity wondered where one earth he'd gotten too. She even peered into the stall next door to see if he was playing some kind of game with her.
The next moment, she heard a thud! And nearly jumped out of her skin, flipping around and noticing he'd returned – and had dropped a pair of riding boots at her feet. Grace's old boots.
"Shoe size?"
"I beg your pardon...?" Verity blurted, still in a state of shock after he'd surprised her like that. Her poor heart was going a mile a minute.
"It's not difficult, love." Tommy retorted dryly, and when he didn't get a response quick enough for the psychologist who he'd half scared to death by causing her to jump like she did, he gave her a firm enough nudge back so she dropped gently to sit on a stack of three rather neat bales of hay. She squeaked in surprise at the moment – her brain was still trying to fight what was going on, and what had happened before – she felt entirely useless but was admittedly scared, not sure at all what the hell Tommy was doing.
With her sat down, Tommy picked off one of the black stilettos from her foot, it gliding off with ease to her silky tights. He examined the inside of the shoe quickly, checking her show size, and then put it aside neatly by the edge of the stall.
"They'll fit." He said confidently, taking her hand and helping her up in a gentler movement as opposed to the push down onto the hay bale. Verity was just about recovery from the strange sequence of happenings to be able to focus on the here and now.
"Let's go for a ride." Tommy said soon after, placing the boots right in front of Verity.
She decided not to try and oppose it, after all she didn't mind riding – and hopefully, out on a country hack in the rolling fields, Tommy might be more open to a conversation about the reason he'd called her here for.Things to do with bettering his mental health.
So, as she was removed her other shoe and slid her toned legs into the long black riding boots – Tommy was marching off again to go and get the appropriate tack for the two horses in question who he planned to take out on a hack.
After summoning a rather skittish looking stable hand, Tommy instructed which tack to fetch and the young blonde lad looked ready to rush off and complete his boss's orders.
"Just a minute, lad." Tommy halted him, catching his arm as the boy of about twenty looked at Mr Shelby with a look of unadulterated fear.
"When you see us leave the yard and head off into the field," Tommy said in a low voice, standing fairly close to the boy as his hand gripped like a vice into the stable hand's arm.
"Go to that black Chevrolet 1924 on the driveway," Tommy continued, his eyes piercing into the boy's, "and I want you to siphon all of the petrol out of it."
".... Sir?" the stable hand stammered, a little confused.
"You heard me." Tommy snarled, letting go of the boy's arm in a sharp motion. "Just get it done"
The young lad scarpered off soon after that, and Tommy returned to the stable block as if nothing had happened. Already the other lads at the stable were busy preparing the two horses for the ride, brushing them off. Verity had insisted to brush off the mare she had bonded with.
"She's been broken about a year," Tommy said regarding Verity's new favourite horse, whilst he wandered in to examine his fine Friesian stallion, with it's shining sleek black coat and beautiful feathers.
"If she doesn't make it to racing standard, I reckon you could have her, if you wanted." He soon added, standing by and watching his grooms tend to his horse whilst Verity got stuck in brushing the little chestnut mare off.
Laughing sweetly, Verity turned her head, glancing back over her shoulder at the cool and collected figure of Tommy, who was smoking a cigarette in the stable despite being surrounded by copious amounts of hay.
"Me? Keep her?" Verity chuckled in amusement, "Tommy where on earth would I keep her? Tied out front on Tenley Street?" she harked, shaking her head as she imagined such a thing.
Hearing her laughter filling the stable incited a small smile to inch it's way onto Tommy's features. It had been a long time since he'd actually spent proper time in a woman's company – and no less, a woman who he had a small, secretive admiration for. Sure, he'd dabbled more than enough times in a quick fuck – but he never knew those girls past their first names and the sound of their moaning. That was it. There was no deeper meaning, no valuable communication. Yes, Tommy wanted to lure Verity in, hoping that all these little smiles and sweet giggles were past being polite and that was interested too, whether she chose to hide or not. He wanted to have her, to see how it felt again to know a woman for being who she was before he climbed into bed with her. It brought a sense of living back to him that all the meaningless fucks took away.
Not too much later, the blonde-haired stable hand returned with the relevant tack and nodded to Tommy briefly, a gentle acknowledgement that he was still aware of his orders from boss.
The grooms quickly tacked up the horses in their respective, custom tack and in under ten minutes, the pair were ready for their country ride. The grooms lead the horses outside of the stable block and into the courtyard, holding them tightly by the reins.
Tommy assuredly took the reins of his horse off of the groom, swinging himself into the saddle with ease. He sorted the correct grip on the double leather reins and waited as Verity had to mount at the stable block. Luckily, she had learned to ride in side saddle, so the fact she was in a skirt today made no real difference.
Sliding into the saddle, she took up the reins and held them tightly, a huge smile on her face. It had been so long since she had ridden, and it was a feeling she truly missed.
"Right, come along then." Tommy called curtly, clicking his horse onwards as the stallion marched onwards, it's beautiful neck bent and it's head carried in the most perfect way – like it knew it was a true show horse. Verity followed closely behind on the chestnut mare, the pair of them walking through the wooden five bar gate on their horses into the rolling pastures of green that seemed to go on for miles.
With their figures shrinking on the slightly misted and grey horizon, Tommy's stable hand got to work – busting open the fuel cap on Verity's car and undertaking his dirty little task.
-
Hoofbeats thudding heavily in the dewy and long grass, the two rode side by side. It had been about 20 minutes, and so far they'd had a lively trot – and a gallop up the green hillside. Verity was having far too much fun, and it tried not to let it show for the sake of the fact she was meant to be here to do a job.
In fact, just to make herself feel better – she wanted to try and prompt Tommy to start talking like he had done in her office two weeks ago
"You said you wanted to work with horses," Verity announced, her face frozen by the chill still present in the air. She looked to her left where Tommy was sat tall in the saddle, reins clutched in one hand. He looked out ahead at the vast expanse of his land, not laying his eyes on Verity.
"Do you think in the future, as part of a plan for bettering your mental health – you could spend more time working with horses?" Verity suggested keenly, still staring at Tommy. Waiting for a word, a look – something.
He said nothing.
"Rather than spending time cooped up in your office, drinking whisky and smoking-"
"Verity," Tommy started, halting his horse square as she too slowed the chestnut mare to a stop.
Tommy stared at her with an unreadable, rather emotionless look in his eyes.
"I didn't come out here to talk about my fucking problems." He stated, his tone was level enough and didn't seem all that aggressive.
Verity was miffed however – what was this all about then? Did he just fancy a riding partner for an equine folly?
"Well, what did we come out here for then, Mr Shelby?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. Verity was admittedly a little pissed off now. She had travelled all this way to come and help Tommy, and yet all he had done so far was avoid everything remotely related to her psychotherapy work.
Not surprisingly, Verity did not get an answer. Tommy spun is horse quickly back in the other direction, clicking his tongue a few times as the Friesian set off into a jaunty trot. Sick of not getting answers, Verity too nudged her horse on and followed – she made a point of hanging back a bit, trying to think of her argument that she needed to face him with once she got to the house. She was not a magician, and if he was expecting her to look into her crystal ball to magically make him feel mentally well – he had another thing coming.
-
Arriving back into the main grounds of the Arrow Mansion, it had started to spit faintly and the skies above looked more miserable than before. Tommy swung himself out of the saddle, dismounting his horse and immediately throwing it's reins into the nearest groom's hand. The other two grooms helped Verity out of the saddle, and already her temper was fiery. Little did she know, it was all part of Tommy's plan.
She kicked off the riding boots, placed them back into the store area near the stables and ran like hell in her black stilettos, not really caring if she fell and broke an ankle at this point.
"Tommy!" Verity called, trying to make a scene as she followed him into the house. He didn't respond – or even look as if he had acknowledged her, as he swiftly hung up his coat and hat, and then rounded the corner and headed towards his office.
Verity threw her coat over one of the small sofas in the reception area in the hall, and stormed into the office behind him – her heels clicking with a predominant purpose as they power walked into the Shelby's large office.
"I've worked with some difficult gits, but by far – Thomas Shelby, you are the worst." Verity snapped, still remaining relatively level headed as she tried to remember she was supposed to be a professional, at the end of the day.
Tommy stood behind his desk and stared at her, the faintest little glow of a smirk behind his lips – which further enraged Dr Grant. Did he think this was some fucking game?
"What is going on with you, Thomas?" she raised her voice again, her expression crumpled in frustration and sadness alike. "I wanted to try and help you. Yet you won't let me in. You won't discuss anything with me." She threw her arms down against her side in deflated defeat.
Opening up his case of cigarettes for the umpteenth time today, Tommy sparked up, the cigarette burning orange between his lips.
"I already told you everything at the session two weeks ago."
"What? That was barely scratching the surface!" Verity protested, feeling enraged that he clearly thought he knew it all. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, Tommy Shelby. But you're not always fucking right." Verity barked, having lost her temper with him. Immediately after, she exhaled heavily – the regret coming through. But she didn't want to tell him that – not whilst her anger was still hot.
He didn't say anything, just kept smoking – the exhalations of the cigarette rising up in twirling, ghost like plumes.
"How are we going to work together to make you better if you won't let me try?" she sighed one last time, her saddened hazel doe eyes framed by long, dark lashes.
"I am letting you try. We can make it better." Was all he said, removing the cigarette from between his fingers, breathing out heavily – the smoke riding on the long sigh.
"How?" was all Verity could say, folding her arms across her chest, cocking her head to one side in a questionable manner.
"Lets fuck."
A pin could be heard dropping in that room for the silence. With such a pause like that, any other man may have been rushing to apologise for hastiness or sheer rudeness – but not Thomas Shelby. He was a man like no other. Verity gave him a good few seconds to attempt to rectify what he'd said, before she realised he clearly intended for his words to settle as truth.
Her cheeks flamed a little hotly – the proposition was ludicrous. As much as she had grown to find her small little fancies in the mysteriousness of Tommy Shelby, there was no way she would be doing such a thing. She had been charmed by him, oddly enough – considering he was so austere and stoic at the most of times – like the drawbridge to a castle – all closed up.
Maybe that was what the draw was with him. A lure that Verity, as a psychologist, didn't even realise. The fact he was so distant, withdrawn – and the slightest little glint of him reflecting interest in a woman had her subconsciously wanting to run to him like a bitch in heat.
Or maybe it was the power – the fact everyone respected him, feared him – woman craved a male figure who was someone they knew could do anything for them, talk down any man and push back any boundary. Tommy Shelby was one of those men.
In an ideal world, would Verity of liked to take to bed with him? If she was just another harlot? Yes. For the reasons listed above – he'd done so well in this short amount of time, instilling an unwitting fancy in her and making her question her work with him.
But as she stood in that office then, she was a psychologist. She did not see herself as a woman with wants and desires, attractions and needs. She saw herself as a medical professional.
"If you don't mind, I shall be excusing myself now." Verity said, trying to make herself sound as convincing as possible as she rushed out of the office to grab her coat, her heels echoing once again through the sound of the main hallway.
As she exited the building, she noticed Tommy had made no attempts to chase her down – but instead remained like a statue, feet planed firmly behind his desk.
Frustrated, confused and upset – Verity climbed inside her Chevrolet 1924 and went to start the car – however as she did so, and the thing wouldn't come to life – she noticed the empty fuel gauge.
"You're kidding me." She sighed, instantly thinking it had been stolen. Not once in those initial few seconds did she think Tommy was behind it.
Climbing back out of the car, pushing her hair back out of her face. She had barely even noticed Tommy who had stepped out onto the front steps of the house.
"What's the problem?" he stated, taking a short drag on the cigarette, "I thought you were leaving."
Verity scoffed, slamming her car door shut.
"All my fuel has magically disappeared." She said, suddenly narrowing her eyes. This felt all too convenient.
"Strange isn't it?" she added, leaning against the car as she folded her arms over her chest.
"I allowed some gypsies to camp on my land not too far down the track." Tommy equivocated, making himself appear distant from his own kind as he pointed down the direction of the driveway. "I'd imagine they've robbed it." Was all he said.
Staring him out, Verity cocked her head to the side, leaning one pointed hell of her stiletto against the step of my car.
"And are you going to do anything about it? I was planning on leaving." She remarked, to which Tommy simply nonchalantly took another drag on his cigarette, the wind maing an unuly mess of his usually kempt short dark hair.
"I can speak to them tomorrow." He said, dropping his cigarette to the floor and crushing it under the sole of his shoe
Verity's shapely brows raised up her forehead, as she craned forwards slightly.
"Tomorrow!?"
"Tomorrow." Tommy repeated, his hands in the pockets of his trousers as he turned to make his way back into the house.
"Now come inside, it's fucking freezing out there." Was all he said.
Carefully pulling her frame away from her car, Verity was aware of the fact this all felt well too timed now. However, the subconscious, womanly part of her behind the doctor was intrigued. It meant the formal side of Verity stood less of a chance of refusing Tommy for the sake of pride - in the rush of the deciding moment, the inner girl with little inhibitions was so desperately trying to wrangle free. She wanted to try something new, to break away from the conforms of the working title. She wanted to take part in something she never usually dared to touch – things she only ever dreamed about in carnal fantasies.
But the question was - could she really bring herself to break the boundaries, forget her morales and drop the doctorate for one night? Or was this just some crazed thought as she tailed Mr Shelby back into his den.