𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃
chapter 24

Tommy walked back toward his house.
"He's back." Ada said, peeking through the curtain. "He's been out there all night." Micheal said.

"Every night since the funeral" Ada added. "Comes back in the morning to see Charles and feed the horses and when it gets dark he goes off again."

Polly looked over at Florence who sat staring at the hallway, waiting for Tommy to enter. "You okay, love?" she asked the girl.

She looked up to meet her mothers eyes. "Yeah," she sniffed, crossing her arms.

"How's the baby?" she looked back Ada. "He's asked for his mum at night." she stepped toward the table. "Tommy made a list he wants to see you two first, then Florence,"

"What about John, Arthur?"

The door slammed and Tommy stormed through without saying anything.

-

"How are the books?" Tom asked, looking at a piece of paper. "Unaffected." Pol said. "Up slightly." Micheal nodded.

"There's also been a threefold increase in donations to the Shelby Foundation charity." Micheal said. "The councillor suggested naming the new school The Grace Shelby Institute."

Tommy put out his cigarette. "Tell the council the name Grace Shelby Institute is acceptable to us."

Micheal and Polly shared a glance.

"This is a list on the other things i want doing." He handed Polly a piece of paper. "That's all."

Micheal cleared his thought and stood.

"Tommy," Pol said. "That's all, Pol."

She shook her head and left the room. Polly nodded and the girl stood, smoothing her dress and walking to his office. "Tom," she said, slowly pushing the door open.

"Come, have a seat." he said, sitting in his chair and lighting a cigarette. "How you holding up?" she asked. "The best i can be."

"So," he began. "In a few days, i'm sending John and Arthur over to the Liverpool docks where Mr Changretta will be waiting to board a boat."

Florence nodded, listening. "I want you to be there, make sure everything goes as planned." he blew smoke from his mouth. "And if you need to use it, you have the gun i gave you."

"Is that all?" she asked. He opened the drawer, pulling out a stack of money. "For killing Angel." he sighed. Her eyes widened. "I wasn't serious when i said you needed to pay me, Tom."

"No, take it. It's also for killing the man that sent the bullet into my wife's body."

She bit her lip, the scene replaying in her head. Florence looked down at her hands, a flash of blood appearing on them. "Florence," he spoke, she looked again, blood wasn't there.

"Take the money."

Florence licked her bottoms lip, taking the cash and stuffing it into her pocket. "You can leave now, send Arthur and John in."

She nodded and left the office, walking back to the main room.

John and Arthur looked at Polly. "Right, let's go—" Arthur groaned, getting up from the chair. "I've already seen him." Florence told them. "And us." Micheal chimed in.

Arthur looked at Ada. "He wanted to see people in a particular order." she said.

"I can normally ready him but he's difficult to read, so be careful." Pol nodded.

John kept his eyes on Arthur.

"I thought it was a fucking family meeting."he said. "All of us together, i thought."

"John, he's grieving," Polly placed a hand on John's shoulder. "To see everyone together would be too much."

"Yeah, well, come on John."

John sent Micheal a harsh look and followed Arthur into the office.

"There he is." Arthur said hesitantly, walking inside. "Hi, Tom:"

"Hello, Boys."

"We didn't get a chance to see you after the funeral," Arthur said, "well you disappeared on us, but, well, me and John, just wanna say that-"

"Arthur shut up." Tom cut him off.

"All right."

"Talk to me," Tommy said, moving away from the desk. "Florence got to Angel at the hospital where he laid and sent a bullet through his head." Arthur said quietly. "He's dead:"

"Yes, Arthur, i know. I was the one who sent her to do it."

"Cleared out the rest of the Italians out the south of the city. They mostly went to the Black Country but we told Betty Kitchens to keep her moving:" John interrupted. "And Betty sends her condolences."

"All right, i have contacts, people in Cunard and Liverpool. They'll have passenger lists, they can get you into the point of departure. You pick Vincente Changretta up, and you bring him to me. Who's he got travelling with him."

"His wife.." Arthur said quietly, looking down. "What?"

"His wife." he said louder. "So shoot her and bring him to me." Tommy shrugged. John looked at Arthur. "Tommy Mrs Changretta was a teacher at our school."

"She's a good woman, Tom, a good woman."

Tommy nodded. "Well if she's a good woman then she'll go to heaven, eh, Arthur? Just do what's on the list, nothing else. Then burn it. Don't speak in the phones, the secret service is listening. I want the old man alive, i want to do it myself."

Both Arthur and John had regret on their faces. "Come on John."

"Tommy if you haven't got a bird here, you're gonna have to tell us something."

"Ask Polly."

"Not Micheal, or Florence?" John asked. "What?" Tommy frowned. "Not Michael, no?"

"No not Micheal no. He deals with legitimate business. And not Florence either,"

"You saw them before us." John reminded him. "John not now." Arthur said. "Wait, what did you say?" Tom asked him.

"You saw Micheal, before us." He raised his voice. "Fucks sake John."

"Because, John, legitimate business is the priority. And Florence is to be informed of the plans before any of you lot, because she fucking listens."

"Since when?" he shouted. "Since my fucking wife took a bullet, meant for me!" he shouted, pointed at John.

"Oh yeah, okay. So secret service, secret fucking service. Blah blah blah but you don't tell us shit!" John said. "We're a couple of fucking toy soldiers, do this john, do that. Kill your fucking teacher John!"

"This is how it's gonna be? If you don't want to shoot Mrs Changretta, Florence will, i've told her that if any little thing does not go to plan, she has every right to intervene."

"She's fucking seventeen!"

"Yes, John and she seems to be able to do her job better than you at times, take a second to think about what i just said." he hissed.

"Yeah cause she's fucking mental, Tom." John shouted. Arthur bit his tongue. "Don't." he said. John looked at him. "Florence," he whispered. "Don't talk about fucking Florence."

John laughed. "Oh yeah, forgot you two were best mates." he mocked.

"All right, listen to me. There's going to be a little war in a little place that no one gives a fuck about." Tommy said, "and the side that is gonna lose needs a bit of help and they're willing to pay. Florence might be mental but she still does her job. When that business is done, legitimate business is the priority, now do what's on the list and fuck off."

John left the office.

-

"The thing is, we all naturally came in here, where the servants eat," Ada said, referring to where they were seated. "It's nothing to do with politics either, it's fucking freezing in the big room." John says.

"John, mind your language in front of Karl." Polly warned. "Ada we're in the servants quarters, because it's where the fucking booze is kept." Arthur laughed.

John patted his shoulder.

"Arthur find better words."

"When my wife's drunk she can't speak fucking English." he laughed. "John." Polly scolded again. Micheal entered the kitchen and Johns mood dropped.

"You dealt with it?" Pol asked him. "Incentives, no threats." he said. "Implied consequences without specific referent to physical harm."

"That's why your Michael is the boss:" Arthur nodded. "He's knows better words, right, Pol?"

"Since when was i your boss Arthur?"

"First the boss meets you then the workers meet you." John said. "John, give it a rest." Florence warned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"When did either of you two do a days work?" Finn asked earning a laugh out of Ada.

"In the old days, Finn, family meetings used to be all of us together."

Florence pushed her chair back, standing up.

"Arthur shut up." Ada said. "Now me and John, we're just fucking bin men whose duty it is to obey." he mocked. "Arthur shut up, Finn go and get us cigars." Polly pointed.

"It's a fucking joke, is what it is." John hissed. Florence stepped forward. "Shut up" she responded. He tilted his head. "Fucking what?"

Florence stepped closer to his face. "I said fucking be quiet."

His eyes darted around her face. "Florence that's enough." Polly scolded. "It is not mine or Michaels fault that Thomas saw us first, John." she whispered.

"For the love of god.." Polly sighed, leaving the room to get cigars. Karl began fussing and Ada lifted the boy up, taking him into the other room.

"You aren't fucking family." he shouted. She raised her eyebrows. "All right John—" Arthur said, wide eyed. "Excuse me?"

"You heard. You, Florence, you are insane. Belong in the fucking nut house." he hissed, pushing her shoulders back. "John!" Arthur shouted.

Florence grew angry, reaching for her gun and pointing it to his head. "Florence, put that fucking thing away." Arthur pointed at her.

"Apologise." She stared John straight in the eye. He stared at her blankly. Florence cocked the gun, keeping her eyes on his. "John i won't hesitate to send a bullet into your right kneecap." she lowered the gun.

There was a moment of silence.

"Alright, i'm sorry." He said quietly, fixing his hat and taking a step back.

She let out a breath, placing back into the holster which was covered by her jacket.

Micheal watched with wide eyes, curious as to why his sister had a gun in the first place.

"That was too far." Arthur said as she left the room. "She's a kid." he said. John leaned close to him. "A kid who gets given more information than us. A kid who is willing to shoot anyone's brain out, Arthur." he whispered.

Over the two years that Micheal and Florence had been apart of the family, never once had her and John argued the way they had that day. It was unusual for the rest of them to see.

-

"Arthur, i'm being totally fucking honest when i say this. But when Florence had that gun pointed at me, i almost shit meself." John huffed, walking outside.

Arthur looked at him.

"Did you not see the look in her eyes, brother, whoever was holding that gun was not Florence," he whispered.