dedicating this chapter to the wonderful FeedMeFryes for encouraging me with your kind comments

X

LITTLE feet stomped through the sweet shop, making their way up to the counter. The bell had rung out as the door swung open, but Elizabeth was crouched underneath the counter cleaning up sugar crumbs. She stood slowly, looking to see which customer awaited her service. Finn Shelby stood before her with his cheeky smile, with the friend who had helped him steal previously in tow. Elizabeth raised her brow at the sight of them stood together, bold as brass, but smiled anyway. Finn was a charming clash of mischievous and sweet, and she couldn't bring herself to be mad at him. "Yes, boys?" She asked, picking up her metal scoop in preparation.

"Quarter-pound of Lemon Sherbets, please Elizabeth." He recited the same order as last time, and Elizabeth hid a smile at his confidence. She knew exactly where he got that from. She nodded her head and set to work, scooping out the sweets in to a brown paper bag, weighing them carefully. From the corner of her eye she noticed Finn fishing in his pocket for coins, hearing the clinking of the metal. In respect of his newfound honesty, she added a few extra sweets to the bag. Soon enough, the boys were running out of the shop, grubby hands already digging through the brown paper bag. "Thank you!" Finn called over his shoulder as an after-thought.

Tom shook his head with a low chuckle. "I've never heard that boy use his manners in my life, unless he's got his Aunt Pol twisting his ear." He looked at her gingerly. "You have a great way with children."

Elizabeth wondered if the caution in his eyes was fear of her connection to the Shelby boys. He wouldn't be the only one afraid of the boisterous gang. "I was always good with children growing up," she answered honestly, divulging more information than she needed to try and put to bed any of his worries. "I used to look after all of the young children in my street during the war."

Tom nodded, offering her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It occurred to Elizabeth she hadn't been told anything about the family he had – she wondered whether he had children, wondered if they had fought in the war. Had they returned from war? She didn't dare ask. War was the unspoken elephant in every room in Britain, even a year after it had ended. In most homes empty chairs sat permanently waiting for people who wouldn't come home, some families were torn apart indefinitely, and pubs were scattered full of men who never fully returned home, parts of their minds forever trapped in battles and scenes too ungodly for words.

Nearing the end of Elizabeth's shift she began to clean up as much mess as she could. The bell rang above the door as Elizabeth wiped down the counter. She felt the tension of the room thicken immediately. She looked up, already knowing who to expect. Thomas Shelby, dressed in his smart three-piece suit, stepped forward, walking towards the counter in leisurely strides. "I saw Finn and his friend scoffing sweets," Tommy explained, respectfully keeping his gaze focused on Mr. Brown. "I deemed it fit to come and check they didn't steal them again."

Mr. Brown smiled weakly in return. "No, they paid, Mr. Shelby." He answered politely. "Thank you for checking. It's really no trouble, even if they don't. They're just boys after all." Elizabeth was good at reading people, and she knew that was her boss's way of trying to dissuade Tommy from returning to the shop. Mr. Brown could live with a couple of children stealing a few sweets if it meant he didn't have to hold a conversation with Tommy Shelby.

"Very good." Tommy nodded, glad to hear Finn hadn't been causing chaos again. "The boys will pay for whatever they take from your shop as I told them this morning." He moved his gaze to Elizabeth, who flushed at the memory of her demanding payment from Tommy for the stolen sweets. The thought of Tommy pre-warning the boys to pay before they came to the shop made her stomach flutter.

She cut the eye contact, looking back down at the cloth in her hand, knowing how uncomfortable Mr. Brown was with the Shelby's presence in his shop. "What time do you finish?" His question was direct and Elizabeth's eyes widened in shock at his brazenness.

Mr. Brown jumped in, answering for her. "Elizabeth is finished now, Mr. Shelby." Determined to get the pair of them out of his shop, he figured it would be easier to lose Elizabeth a few minutes early than have Thomas Shelby loiter in his shop until she was done.

"Are you sure, Mr. Brown?" Elizabeth asked as she began to remove her apron, knowing he wouldn't allow her to stay. "I will see you tomorrow." She offered a small smile, apologetic for Tommy's intruding. As the pair left the shop, a small frown formed in between her brows. "I think you make Mr. Brown nervous," she told him, though she knew Tommy was perceptive enough to work that out on his own. "perhaps you wouldn't mind not visiting me at work."

He nodded silently, mulling over her words. "All right." He agreed.

"So, what can I do for you?" She asked, wondering what it was that made him call in to visit her at work. It couldn't have just been over the sweets, that much she was certain. Elizabeth blindly followed him as he walked down the cobbled street, wondering where he was leading them.

He reached for his silver cigarette tin, plucking one out and offering it to her. She shook her head to decline, watching as the cigarette was carefully placed in between his full lips. She watched as he lit the white stick. "There's a wedding today, I would like you to come."

Elizabeth was surprised. This was the first time she had heard of a wedding. A sick feeling tugged at her stomach as she considered whether or not it was Tommy who was getting married. "A wedding?" She asked. "Who's wedding?"

"John's." Tommy told her in between puffs of smoke. "He doesn't know yet, so keep it under your hat for now." He told her. She had an endless stream of questions to ask but she managed to keep them to herself, not wanting to seem too keen. As she watched the familiar houses come in to view, she noticed Tommy was walking her back to her flat.

"I take it I'll be meeting you there?" She asked as they came to a standstill outside of Ms. Winter's house. Tommy explained how to find the wedding, noticing her nerves at the prospect of walking through a Gypsy camp on her own. "I'll see you later. Good luck with John." She smiled at him, closing the door behind her.

†

After another meeting with Inspector Campbell, Elizabeth knew his faith in her ability to complete the mission was slipping. She blamed herself for the murder of the IRA man and knew that was the sole cause of his doubts. He was still overly affectionate, which turned Elizabeth's stomach, but she knew he was on the edge of taking her off the mission, perhaps because of his fondness. She knew she needed to find a way to regain his trust, but she didn't know how she was going to do it.

Swallowing her nerves, Elizabeth tried to follow Tommy's directions from earlier that day, hoping she was recalling them correctly. She was relieved to hear the sounds of shouts, laughter and drunken men singing and playing instruments, knowing that she was nearing the wedding party. As she reached the site, she saw how busy the wedding was. People were dancing and singing and some were sat in small groups drinking and talking, yet Tommy stood separate from them all, at the side-lines.

Timidly, she joined Tommy, standing by his side. "This looks like fun." She smiled, observing the unruly scenes before her. "How was John with his surprise wedding?" She asked good-naturedly.

"See for yourself." Tommy answered coolly, nodding his head towards the newly united couple. She followed his gaze, watching as John sat with his arm draped over a dark-haired beauty, smiling and laughing. They seemed happy. Despite the calmness to Tommy's tone and the liveliness of everyone around them, Elizabeth knew from John's stubborn and feisty attitude that he wouldn't have been impressed when he was informed of the arranged marriage.

"That's lucky then." She pursed her lips, wondering if Tommy saw marriages the same way rich, old-fashioned men did: as a business transaction rather than a declaration of love.

Tommy lifted his glass, looking at Elizabeth studiously. "You don't agree." He commented, taking the time to observe her pretty dress and hair do. She looked exquisite, he thought.

"I don't disagree with you," Elizabeth countered evenly. "I just think marriage is about love, even if you think that's silly."

"I didn't say it was silly." Tommy answered, observing the crowd. "Did you enjoy Cheltenham?" He asked.

The random question threw her slightly. Elizabeth thought of the dancing between them, glad for the darkening sky hiding her blush. "I did."

"Well, let's have another dance then." Tommy smiled, putting his glass down, pushing it to the side to avoid somebody obliviously kicking it. "This time without the eyes of Billy Kimber on us."

Elizabeth grinned broadly, stepping closer to the dancing bodies so that they didn't stand out. Together they danced to music that was noticeably faster paced than the dances they shared at Cheltenham, though their bodies were still close. Elizabeth found Tommy's presence to be as intoxicating as ever. They danced for what seemed like hours, smiling and gazing at each other with a mutual understanding.

Mid dance, a man approached Tommy hesitantly. Understanding it was probably business related, Elizabeth shot Tommy a grateful smile and stepped away. Taking a seat on a make shift chair, she watched Tommy's face, admiring his beauty and concentration, as he listened to the energetic man in front of him.  She felt odd being the only non-family at such an intimate event. With horror and adoration, she realised that Tommy trusted her.

"Elizabeth." She jumped at the unknown, feminine voice, turning in shock to face the woman. The sight she was met with surprised her. Soft, brown eyes encased with harsh smoky makeup, long curls of dark hair and a smouldering face that was somehow laced with kindness. The woman looked loving yet stern, suggesting the woman in front of her was none other than the infamous Aunt Pol.

"Yes, that's me." Elizabeth smiled nervously.

"You're the girl that's captured our Tommy's attention. I was wondering when I'd meet you." The slightly possessive tone didn't go unnoticed by Elizabeth, but she smiled anyway.

She laughed, unsure. "I guess so." She looked over to Tommy to see he was still deep in conversation with the man who had interrupted their dance. "You're Polly, I take it?"

Smug, Polly gave a single nod. "You've heard of me."

"It would be hard not to, it sounds like you're a woman not to be messed with." Elizabeth answered fairly, glancing up as Tommy approached them with an apprehensive look on his face. Before he could interject, Polly raised her hand to stop him, ordering him to get Elizabeth a drink.

"That's right," Polly whispered lowly, eyes focused on the crowd in front of her. "And if you do anything, and I mean anything to hurt Tommy, I will come for you. He's soft, so he won't harm you. I will." The threat was very real. She was, to put it simply, terrifying. Elizabeth's hair stood on end,

As Tommy started making his way back, two glasses in hand, Elizabeth nodded her head. "Understood."

With Tommy's presence, Polly eased up on the young girl, back in a jovial mood – impressed with Tommy's ability to end a family war and find John the wife he so desperately wanted with one single arrangement. Well, she thought, any match would be more suitable than Lizzie Stark.

The good mood didn't last long as she watched Ada become out of control, alcohol fuelled and still hurting from her family war. "Tommy, you need to get over there and get her to slow down." Polly instructed, concern etched on her face. "She's going off like a firecracker."

Reluctantly, Tommy tried to intervene calmly, but this only seemed to anger the drunken woman. Elizabeth wondered if she should go over and try to diffuse the situation by offering Ada a familiar face, but opted out when Ada began shouting at Esme to "look at the family" she had joined, shouting colourful words in Tommy's face. It was a spectacle to say the least, and Elizabeth could sense Polly's embarrassment. Polly stood and approached the squabbling siblings.

Elizabeth watched with baited breath as Ada went in to labour, trying to hide her laughter at Arthur's reaction. "Ada, you do pick your bloody times!" He bellowed drunkenly, looking at the small puddle of fluid on the grass.

Elizabeth rushed over, noticing the lack of help the men were offering Polly. "What can I do?" she asked. Together, they got Ada in to a car and rushed her back to the Thorne household. As Esme took Ada through to the house, Polly pulled Tommy to the side and told him to allow Freddie the opportunity to meet his new-born. Elizabeth scurried inside at the sound of Ada screaming through another contraction.

The birthing process was stressful; Ada's panic seemed to be infectious - Elizabeth's nerves were building with each contraction and when the baby was crowing Elizabeth felt herself about to faint. She was in awe at how perfectly Esme and Polly handled the process, wondering how many births they had assisted in their lives. When she lived at home she was always sheltered from these things, which seemed a shame. Despite how grotesque it was there was something so beautiful and hopeful about watching a new life come in to the world.

Freddie Thorne ran through the house, straight in to the arms of Ada, marvelling at the sight of his baby. Elizabeth stepped outside, allowing them the family privacy they deserved. Unsure of her next move, she walked to the Garrison, knowing that was where all the men were.

The men were drinking heavily in celebration of new life and, seemingly, Arthur's new ownership of the pub. She hung her coat up in the back room, noticing a diary lying open on the desk. There was a day with a black star on it, she noted curiously. She wondered whether the diary belonged to Harry or whether it was Arthur's, now that he was the legal owner of the pub. She walked back out to the bar, noticing that a beer barrel needed changing. As she went downstairs she noticed the newly installed telephone, assuming Tommy or Arthur had installed it during the day. Suddenly, she realised exactly how she could regain Inspector Campbell's trust.

She didn't want to grass, or ruin Ada's beautiful family. She bit her lip, wracked with nerves and pre-conceived guilt. She came to Small Heath with one aim only, and the only way she could fulfil it was if she stuck to the mission. Hating herself, she made the call.

†

Slipping back behind the bar, her absence seemed to have gone unnoticed by everybody there. She'd chewed her lip so hard she could taste blood, and she tried to wipe at it before anybody saw it. Unfortunately, it didn't go unnoticed by the ever-watchful gaze of Tommy. "Nervous?" He asked, tipping his glass back.

Panic and guilt swarmed like angry bees in her stomach, and she wondered if he knew. "I've never seen anybody give birth before." She replied.

He reached over and grabbed the bottle of whisky, refilling his glass. Kindly, he pushed it towards Elizabeth. "Have a drink, it'll settle your nerves." She thanked him and picked it up, downing the contents with a grimace. She needed at least 10 more to start dissolving the guilt lodged in her stomach.

"It was kind of you to let Freddie come back." She said truthfully, knowing that Tommy wasn't a man who liked to back down. Allowing Freddie to return home was most probably a massive kick to his ego. Before he could respond, Polly flew in to the Garrison with rage, pushing Tommy and shouting incoherently in his face. Arthur tried to intervene, telling her to calm down, though it only seemed to spur her on more.

"It's a boy," she shouted at him. Elizabeth could see the confusion written all over Tommy's face and had to swallow down the bile she could feel rising in her throat. "But the police came and took his father away!" The revelation flawed him, the rest of Polly's shouts and name calling falling upon deaf ears as he staggered backwards into a bar stool. He hadn't given the police a tip off, he knew that, which meant somebody else had. He couldn't find the words to defend himself and stood silently staring at her, wincing as she spat by his feet. Arthur escorted Polly out of the pub, reeling from shock himself. It seemed so callous to rip away a family the way he thought Tommy had.

Elizabeth reached for an extra glass and poured both herself and Tommy a drink. "Did you tip them off?" She asked quietly, recoiling at the question.

He shook his head in denial, face taught and white. "No."

"Are you okay? You don't look well." Elizabeth impulsively held his face in her hands, searching for any signs that he might be sick or faint. His blue, stormy gaze met hers and she could have sworn his eyes had never looked so soft and kind. "Shall we go?" She asked him.

"Yes." Another one-word answer, but Elizabeth didn't mind. She had ruined a family and Tommy was facing the blame that should have been directed at her. She grabbed her coat from the back, glancing quickly again at the black star marked in the diary.

"We can't go back to yours," Elizabeth said, then flinched at her stupidity. "so, we'll have to go back to mine. You'll have to be really quiet though. Ms. Winters said if I had any men in my room she would throw me out. It's not very suitable she said." She explained quietly, offering him a small smile. Tommy looked at her with silent gratitude. Together they walked down the street, her arm linked with his. "Home sweet home." She whispered as they made it up the stairs quietly.

She made them both a cup of tea, setting them down on her small table. At first, Tommy turned his nose up at the drink, but eventually he started drinking it. "Not as good as whiskey." He declared with a low chuckle. Elizabeth thought he looked adorable drinking a cup of tea, to her the sight was homely.

"Do you think Freddie will be okay?" She asked tentatively. She was hoping for some reassurance, to know that she hadn't made a bad move, though the lead feeling in her stomach told her she had.

Tommy raked a hand through his dark hair and then over his face, using the feeling of his hand on his face as a way to ground himself, bring himself back to reality. It all had seemed like a blur to him. "I'm not sure. They held Stanley Chapman there a few days ago, apparently he 'fell down the stairs' while in custody. He's dead."

Bile started rising in her throat again; the burning feeling making its way up from her bubbling stomach, through her aching chest and into her throat. She could taste it. The blood was pounding in her ears. It was all too familiar. She'd heard that story once before. And now she was the person who had put another man in that position. She tried to swallow the bile back down, looking at Tommy feebly. "Oh."

"I'll think of something." He said, though for once he looked uncertain. Elizabeth didn't blame him for that; there was only so much influence a small Birmingham gang could have and she knew that Inspector Campbell would never strike a deal with Tommy – he'd rather die than have to accommodate a demand from a Peaky Blinder.

"I'm sorry that Polly thought it was you, she'll see sense." Elizabeth tried to comfort, moving closer to him. As daunting and intimidating as the man was, he looked like a man who needed comforting, protecting, even. Elizabeth went with her gut feeling and, as foreign as it felt, she reached her arms out and wrapped him in a hug. It was odd and he remained stiff momentarily, but seconds later he relaxed and threw his arms around her, reciprocating the warmth.

"I don't know what to do." He mumbled through a face full of her hair. To some, this might have seemed like a small admission, but Elizabeth knew better. She knew admitting his confusion wasn't something Tommy did often, if at all.

She pulled away from him slowly. "You'll think of something. You're brilliant, Tommy, you're always a man with a plan. Tonight, you just need to rest. You'll figure it out in the morning."

They were dangerously close, and as much as Elizabeth wanted to stop herself, she could feel the warmth of his presence spreading through her like wildfire. Even when he was lost and confused, he still held a sense of security. Tommy allowed himself to be comforted by Elizabeth, taking refuge in her kindness and modesty. He felt himself teetering on the edge of spilling all of his secrets; every last one of them, he wanted Elizabeth to know. He wanted her to comfort him, tell him that all of his evils were forgivable, make him feel a way he hadn't felt since before the tunnelling and the fighting and the guns.

Slowly, he tilted his head downwards. He felt abnormally uncertain; did she want what he wanted? He watched her reaction as he inched closer, observing the parting of her mouth and the slight dilation of her pupils. Before he could overthink it or talk himself out of it, he leaned down fully and captured her lips with his in a searing kiss. Elizabeth retaliated, stepping closer to him so that the palms of her hands could rest on his suit-cladded chest, keeping the kiss tender and sweet.

The kiss said everything that their words didn't: it was cautious and restrained, yet at the same time there was something so freeing about it. For Tommy, it almost felt like the first time he had ever kissed someone; he felt nervous, child-like, like no clue what he was doing. Elizabeth's knees were weak at the passion they were finding, lost in the feeling of his mouth on hers and his strong hands gliding through her hair.

They began to edge towards her bed, losing items of clothing slowly as they went. The moment they were sharing felt sacred. They didn't dare make a sound, too wrapped up in their emotions and the sensation of each other's skin. After what Elizabeth felt like was forever, they connected as one, exploring every inch of each other, savouring every pant and touch. The moment was so beautiful, but so painful for Elizabeth. She watched their bodies move together as one, trailing her eyes up to Tommy's face, only to find his beautiful blue eyes already staring back at her. In that very moment when their eyes connected and their bodies were in harmony, she felt the words at the edge of her tongue: I love you. Shocked at her thoughts and overwhelmed with affection, she came to her climax, Tommy following just after.

The silence that followed was a peaceful one as they lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, recapturing their breath. "Ms. Winters would find this very unsuitable, I'm sure." Tommy joked, turning his head to grin at her. He felt alive. Free. Happy.

She rolled on to her side to face him, he copied, and she observed the toned flanks of his chest, his small tattoo, his edgy haircut and his bright blue eyes. She was sure there was no other man who looked as wonderful as he did.

Tommy examined her messy auburn hair as it sprawled over the pillows, her blue eyes were passion in ice; thousands of hues of blue with small swooping arcs of hazel. Tommy had never imagined what an angel would look like, but now he felt he knew.

"You shouldn't have taken the pub from Harry," she commented lightly, not wanting to ruin the moment. "Will you find him another pub?"

Tommy exhaled slowly, feeling regret at his actions. He'd taken the pub to temporarily cure Arthur's Flanders's Blues and spared no other thought for the matter, but Elizabeth seemed to be his conscience – always telling him what was right and wrong, and he could never seem to disagree with her. "Yes, I'll find him a new pub tomorrow."

"Thank you. Good night Tommy." She smiled, wrapping the blanket around them both.

He moved so that his arm securely wrapped around her, adjusting her hair. "Good night 'Beth."

Her eyes shone with tears that she refused to let fall at the sound of her childhood nickname, and she snuggled up to him, the most content she had been for a very long time.