𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃
chapter 22

"You know what you're doing?" Arthur asked quietly as they walked through the halls of the hospital. "Arthur, i am not in the mood for stupid questions."

"Right..sorry."

Ever since Micheal and Florence had arrived in Small Heath, Arthur and Florence slowly begun to realise that they understood each other more than any one else understood them. Some nights, when they'd be drunk, they'd talk, speak about random things that would never make sense if they spoke to one of the others about it. Arthur enjoyed the girls company because he knew she didn't think he was losing his mind.

She held her arm out, stopping Arthur from walking round the corner when she heard voices. Florence looked quickly, Vincente Changretta.

"He will catch a train form Naples to Paris, and then the boat train to London." the man told him in Italian. "And he can be here by sunday, yes?" Vincente asked. The man nodded, walking away.

"Arthur, you wait outside with Finn in the car." She whispered. He frowned, "why?"

"Arthur i won't tell you again, stop with the questions, please." she begged. He tilted his head down, walking the other way.
It surprised the family every time that Arthur would listen to the girl when she'd ask him to do something because he'd never listen to anyone, nobody but Florence.

Florence kept her head down as she walked through the hall, watching as Mr Changretta walked out of the hospital. She locked eyes with a man who stood outside Angel's room, he nodded at her, giving her the ok.

She pushed the door open. "Hello, Angel." she smiled. "I don't believe we've met," she hummed, pulling her gun and checking the bullets. He looked the girl up and down, remaining on his back. "My names Florence."

He stayed quiet.

She winced, "nasty cut." she pointed. "Who did that...wait don't tell me, let me guess.." she grinned. "Was it John Shelby?" she teased, pressing her finger into the freshly stitched wound. Florence used her other hand to cover his mouth, silencing his screams.

"See, i don't really plan on staying long, i've got things to d,o" she whispered. "And it will be a lot easier for the both of us if you just co operate, yeah?"

He breathed heavily. "I refuse to co operate with a Shelby!" he hissed. She lifted the gun, firing it straight into his head. "Well that's good for you isn't it? Because i'm not a Shelby." Florence sighed, placing her gun back in her bag and walking out, nodding at the man from before.

"Did you do it?" John asked, leaning against the car. "No John, i just left him." she rolled her eyes. "Yes,  i did it."

He patted her back. "Well done."

Florence shrugged him off. "You patronising git." she insulted, climbing inside the car.

-

Florence followed Tommy into the den, watching as he spoke to John. "They get worse when they're pregnant Tom." John told him.

"John," Tommy said, he lifted his head, throwing him a gun. "Esme, i need you to leave. Go out the back door now and lock it after you. Come on, i left the office:"

"How come she gets to stay?" She asked , referring to the younger girl. "Because she can be a lot more useful than you think." he pulled back the curtain. "There's two truck full of coppers out there, John. Where the fuck is Arthur?"

"He goes home to the Madonna of Moseley in the trike of five." John sighed.

"You need to talk to him Tom," Esme spoke. "Esme, please, go now." he looked at her. She nodded, heading for the back door.

"This is very fucking unusual." he whispered. "So call Moss." John suggested. "They're from out of town, London." Florence sighed, placing her feet on the table. John frowned, "How do you know?"

"Can tell by the look of their boots."

"Since when were we scared of coppers, Tom?" John asked as Tommy loaded up his gun. "Since things changed, John."
A loud scream came from outside, Esme. The door swung open and Florence grabbed her gun from the table, cocking it.
Coppers stormed in, dragging Esme around. "Scotland Yard! Get down, Police!" one shouted.

Esme continued screaming. "She's fucking pregnant, let her go!" Florence shouted. They ignored her. "John," Tommy spoke. "John, John it's the yard."

Tommy placed his hands up, lowering the gun. The coppers forced the three onto their knees. "Get off." Florence hissed.

"Get off, get off." Esme kicked, struggling. John charged. "Let her fucking go she's pregnant!" he argued. "Leave her alone!" Tommy shouted.

"What the fuck is happening Tom?" John shouted as Coppers held him. Esme continued screaming. "Put me down!"

"Tell Polly is Russian business, John." he said as they took Tommy away from the house. Florence panted, getting up off her feet. "Come on Esme," Florence whispered, she looked at the police beside her. "Let go of her, now." she threatened. "I said let go of her!" she hissed.

They slowly let go of her and Esme pushed past them.

"Get out of the fucking house." Florence pointed.