Six long and lonesome months had past since the powerful, engaging essence of Verity had fled from London – fled from her career as a singer and flown the clutches of Thomas Shelby's hands like a bird let loose from its cage.
Although she had long been absent, the memories of her lingered as strong as ever – like the way the aroma of coffee fills a morning kitchen, or the rich smell of a bonfire smoking away on Guy Fawkes night. She was gone. But it was like a part of her still ghosted through the memories of those who had so cared for her.
It was on this particular grey September morning, as the Shelby's held an important 'family meeting' – that Tommy himself had found his brain withdrawn completely from the words exchanged across the long oak table situated in the dining room of Arrow House. His piercing blue eyes fixated on the reflections of his family talking away in the glossy table top, but his mind was elsewhere – memories of Verity, and the night of Charlie's birthday party.
How wonderful it had been for him to at last hold her on that night – to feel her warmth, kiss every inch of skin he possibly could. To have her passion, her smiles, her moans and gasps – all they had been prior were seemingly unattainable fancies in his daydreams.
Her revisited that memory rather a lot since she had left.
"Tommy?"
The Blinder lifted his eyes quickly to find all eyes on him, Aunt Pol's were filled with a considerable amount of concern whilst some, the likes of Michael and Gina seemed to portray nothing but irritability at his disassociation from the conversation.
"Sorry, what?" Tommy responded, clearing his throat as his voice felt a mere croak, a poor attempt to masquerade the hurt he was feeling as he tortured himself every single day about what he had done to Verity.
"We're talking about me takin' a step back, y'know, for Scarlett and the baby?" Arthur then chipped in, his six-months pregnant girlfriend sat to his right, her rather large bump dwarfing her already petite frame.
Taking in the words, Tommy nodded slowly – at least attempting to make himself look involved and interested in these discussions. But frankly he was tired, exhausted and as blue as he had ever been. He felt like telling all the faces around the table to do as they pleased, so that he might slink off to his private office, drown himself in another bottle of whisky and drift off to more pleasant places in his dreams.
"Seems reasonable enough." Tommy answered, making a small amount of effort not to sound bleak. It wasn't exactly a surprise to Tommy that his older brother was considering taking a backseat. When Arthur had decided it best not to rebuild the Eden Club, saying that he didn't think he'd have much time for it in the future – Tommy knew he was losing his fighter to the throes of family life, for a second time. Although it appeared the rugged Arthur Shelby wanted to make more of an effort to get it right this time, for his new little family.
"It's hard to get a bloody word in edgeways with you, Tommy." Aunt Pol snorted sarcastically as she made a point of Tommy's lack of vocalisation on the matter, her brunette hair rolled into neat curls that framed her face.
"it's 'cause he knows what's right for me and Scarlett, Aunt Pol." Arthur responded firmly, taking Scarlett's hand as the former gossipy, outspoken and bubbly American remained a shell of her past self, nude coloured lips pressed tightly shut – dark eyes looking tired and a general sullen look about her.
"Of course." Polly replied, a sickly-sweet smile on her face that flew straight over Arthur's head.
With that, everyone assumed the end of the meeting – and began to clear of the large dining room, once again filling it with the sense of general emptiness it carried each and every day. Yet, staying firmly plated within his seat – Thomas Shelby stayed. His eyes once again boring straight into the table top, as if he might burn holes in it for the fixation of his glance.
One body ceased to move, and without even having to lift his eyes he knew who had remained.
"You've not been the same since that girl took off." Aunt Pol announced, her voice a lot softer than before. She was looking at the fragile Tommy, the one that came back from war, dare she say – a worser version? The man looked as if he'd seen a thousand more casualties in this one ounce of heartbreak than all the bodies he'd seen at war.
Tommy swallowed hard. He still had not told anyone the reason why Verity had left him – he had been too disgusted with himself to even dream of telling anyone else. But he had to, otherwise it would just keep eating at him.
He drew in a much needed breathe, his throat tight and a pain in his chest like he had been starved of oxygen.
"I did horrible things to her, Pol." Tommy sighed, his eyes once again not moving. "I ruined her life so I could have what I want."
Instead of silence, a sense of shame or disgust – Polly started to chuckle quietly. Something that both surprised and obviously, immensely irritated the Blinder, who had now finally looked up at his relative with some darkness to his glance.
"Tommy love," she smiled in light amusement, "How's that different to anyone else we've had to walk through to get to our success?" she remarked, and her complete lack of understanding on just how much Verity meant to Tommy, made him distance himself from her words.
He drew in another pained breath, reaching for the pack of cigarettes tucked, as they always were – inside his jacket pocket.
"She was different." Tommy said after a moments pause, sparking up the cigarette with a flash of orange flame, "She was more than a singer." He couldn't bring himself to be so emotional and unguarded of his true feelings. He couldn't blubber to his Aunt like a child with a grazed knee. He just hoped she would gather that true meaning of Verity. She wasn't just the mistress, the pretty face about the house who was a quick shag – he had loved her in the way he had loved his Grace. Verity was his redemption.
A heaviness fell into the dining room, the same heaviness Tommy encountered every day he had to walk about his home. It was as if the house itself knew there was something missing, the way it had felt for a long time after Grace had first died. It's very walls and floors had become accustomed to the light footsteps and gentle humming of Verity Grant – and they too seemed to ache over her absence much like their master.
"We all make mistakes, love." Aunt Pol then said, her warm brown eyes falling to Tommy with a level of compassion, standing from her seat as she smoothed her hands down her smart black belted dress.
"It's how we learn to deal with them that makes us stronger." She then added, turning on her heels – hoping leaving Tommy with that statement might give him some food for thought.
Little did she know it was more ammo for his thoughts of self-loathing and emptiness – how was he supposed to learn to deal with this loss? This loss that was so self-inflicted and foolish? It was as if he had been a child all along, playing with matches and then being surprised that he eventually got burned.
How ever was he to accept that this was the way it had to be?
He could not.
-
Castle Combe, Wiltshire
Idyllic honey-stone cottages, ambling countryside walks and the steady flow of the By Brook – Verity Grant had rather gotten used to the new, more peaceful surroundings of the Cotswolds village she had come to six months ago.
Having been looking for a totally fresh start -this had been the perfect place; but also, incredibly daunting. She knew nothing about the place, knew no one and had no clue where to start. All she had was the clothes on her back, the possessions in her cases and a few hundred pounds to get her started.
She often sat outside in the front garden of the cottage she currently lodged in, and reflected on the fact she could not have been happier with the outcome of this total leap of faith.
Not long after arriving in Castle Combe, she'd taken up residence with a darling old woman by the name of Edna. Recently widowed, she was merely looking for company to share in her rather large, old country cottage just outside of the village centre. It had been much better for Verity to move in with someone else, little did she know at the time. Edna had been incredibly helpful and even gotten Verity her current job at the local Greengrocers.
Sure, it wasn't exactly the psychologist job she was hoping to have back – but the money in her pocket was a welcome start in hoping to obtain that dream.
Besides, the enjoyed the pace of life here – it was so different to London and she much preferred the quiet surroundings, the fresh air and the ability to just relax in the peace and tranquillity of the countryside at the end of the day. It was fair to say her summer here had been marvellous, having spent many hours cooling down by the gentle flow of the streams, reading books in warm and hazy meadows. It was another life compared to how she had left London – heartbroken and destitute, not knowing where to go.
It was mid-September, as Verity made her usual walks back from the Greengrocer's shop on a Friday afternoon – the shopkeeper, Mr Guild, having sent her home early as thanks for her constantly coming in before she should in order to help him set up.
As she walked home, in her blush pink shirtwaist dress – the last of the summer sun glowing golden behind the clouds, she smiled to herself in appreciation for what she had, and the wonderful people she had met here.
Across the road from the village green, a sleek black car pulled up – not a style of car usually seen around the village. It had her head turning as she walked, her green eyes falling upon the figure of a tall man stepping out from the car. She could not say she recognised this man, and this wasn't exactly a village new people just arrived to every second – Verity knew she felt like an alien here for at least 3 months before people finally accepted her.
Her feet carried on walking, albeit slower, but she could not stop herself from looking. This was not a man of poor means; his tall and lean figure was dressed impeccably in a grey suit, crisp white shirt and black tie. In his hands, he clutched two large suitcases – and by the way he gawped around the place, she knew he had about as much idea of where he was going as she had first done six months ago. She smiled innocently as he looked around; he was some distance away but even from here she could tell he wasn't bad looking, but told herself to leave the thought at that. She had made a promise when she left London that she would not cross paths with another man again until she had gotten her career secure. Then she could worry about romance.
"Excuse me?" a shout came across the way, as Verity looked back to see the well-dressed gentleman in question calling out to her. She halted; her patent black pumps steadfast on the grey stone footpath.
"Sorry to have to ask you, do you have any idea where the doctor's surgery is?"
His accent certainly wasn't anywhere from around here. He was Scottish? It seemed so alien to here those tones in a place like this.
Nodding, Verity paced a little further up the path, crossing the quiet road and making her way up towards the chap. She couldn't help but notice as she approached, how much nicer he looked upon closer inspection. Usually that wasn't the case, it was mostly the other way around!
"Of course, it's just around the top of the corner – carry on straight down the lane and you'll see it on your right, it's a grand old building, you can't miss it." She smiled politely, covering her eyes from the blinding sunlight behind him, looking up considering he was some height above her.
"Thank you, love." The man replied politely, "I hate feeling like I don't know my way around new places."
The former singer smiled softly, nodding her head in wholesome agreement.
"I know, I was the same some months ago." She replied, "It's awful to have to uproot and come somewhere new, but I'm sure you'll settle here soon enough."
Lips growing into a relieved smile – the gentleman seemed to pause for a moment or two, before quickly offering his hand out to Verity.
"Apologies, where are my manners?" he chuckled, "My name's Henry, or Dr Gunthorne as I'll be known to my patients." He chuckled, Verity taking up his firm handshake with little hesitation, instantly more intrigued by this new man.
"Pleasure to meet you Henry, I'm Verity Grant." She responded, letting go of his hand shortly after releasing how dwarfed her own felt in his grasp. "Pardon me for being so nosey, but you're a Doctor you say?" she cocked her head slightly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Oh aye," he started, tucking his hands into his pockets as he stared off into the distance momentarily. "The empty floor above the surgery? I'm planning to open up my office there." He entailed, "I'm not exactly your 'general health' doctor – I specialise in psychiatry."
Verity had to stop her jaw going slack. She didn't know whether to be elated that this might be her chance to set up here, or whether to be mad he had beaten her to it. Remembering she had been stunned silent for a few seconds, the psychologist kicked herself into action.
"This is – such a strange coincidence!" she laughed, trying to hide the wavering tones of surprise and excitement. "I'm actually a psychologist myself..." she struggled on her next selection of words; she didn't exactly want to spill her guts straight away – admitting she'd had her business trashed by a Shelby didn't exactly look good.
"...But I had to sell my business in London, due to personal reasons." She said instead, figuring that sounded much better.
Henry raised a brow at her, and she was pleased when an impressed smile appeared on his face.
"What are you doing at the moment then, if you had to sell your business?" he asked, and she didn't miss the way his eyes trawled over her body. She didn't exactly look the most refined today, in a rather plain pink shirtwaist dress, black knitted cardigan thrown over her shoulders and her black flats on.
"I'm trying to earn some money working at the local Greengrocers." She admitted, feeling the blush heat at her cheeks and hoping this man was not judging her. "I was planning to gather enough funds to start up my own psychology clinic once again." She concluded, her hands linking neatly across her front as Henry nodded softly, tracing his thumb over his lower lip momentarily in passive thought.
"Well... I've got a couple of days before all my stuff gets moved in, and I can open up my office," he started, the hope already rising high in Verity's chest. "But if you come by on Wednesday next week? We could have a little chat then, if you'd like."
It felt as if a million fireworks were exploding in Verity's chest – the happiness kindling and growing stronger each second, as she relished the thought this could be her chance to get her life back – all whilst staying in the new village she loved so well. She tried to keep herself looking calm and controlled, so as not to terrify Dr Gunthorn minutes after meeting him.
"I would love that, Dr Gunthorn." She said, elation on her face – and the vivacity of her smile alone brought a further warmed smirk to the doctor's face. "Thank you so much for even wishing to discuss this with me." She wanted to express her gratitude to the show of his kindness, and shook his hand again earnestly.
He laughed sweetly at her wholesome excitement, shaking his head in a 'no need' manner.
"It's quite alright, Dr Grant." He expressed her title with some warmth – a very small gesture but one that meant a lot to Verity. Being a woman, no men usually wanted to address her by the doctorate name she had worked so hard to earn. So, to have that recognition meant the world to her.
"I shall see you Wednesday then." He affirmed, patting her hand lightly as Verity eventually let go of the handshake was had probably kept on for too long.
"Wednesday it is." She responded back, her mood chirpy and unbeatable at this unexpected and rather strange sudden change in the flow of her life.
As Verity continued on her usual route back home that evening – her mind could not stop coursing over those events – how finely tuned they felt. How much it seemed as if luck was on her side. Her head was swimming and her heart was racing in elation and excitement, this had to be fate!
She practically skipped through the garden gate, up the cobbled path to the front door – feet barely carrying her anymore as she gladly made it home.
She ended that day feeling warm, grateful and so incredibly lucky – head buzzing and a glow of happiness in her stomach. Butterflies over this kind new stranger and the even more promising offer of her career restored; finally setting her back on course to her true means of happiness. Helping others who needed it.
-
A/N; So, I'm so sorry I gotta throw this spanner in the works with Verity's 'new life' and the new guy (SO YES Henry is definitely going to be face-claimed as Peter Quint from Haunting of Bly Manor because I'm ??? maybe??? Slightly ??? in love with him???? A bit???) and I promise this isn't the end and there are some twists and turns to come yet.
Tommy can't just let Verity walk away, after all >:)