It's the roaring twenties in Birmingham, the Peaky Blinders exist alongside God but they were much, much closer at hand than Him. Mercedes de Silva, thornless withered rose, petals filled with sorrow. Thomas Shelby, ruthlessly ambitious, conflicted...
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THREE DAYS, THREE DAYS OF WAITING FOR A PHONE CALL FROM SMALL HEATH but it never came. Mercedes desperately wanted to hear his voice like she was craving for it, to hear his raspy breath as if Thomas was just next to her. Her patience was wearing thin and that very thin line finally snapped into two that moment, "Please wait for a moment, Ma'am," the telephone operator replied as she plugs her call into Small Heath, Mercy nodded unconsciously even though the operator won't even see it. Thomas strictly told her that he'd be the one to dial her, she fully understood that as Thomas is a busy man with a busy schedule.
The operator's phone connection took a full minute before the other line answered, "S—Shelby Company Limited, Thomas Shelby speaking," her brow furrowed as she heard Thomas' labored breathing like he just ran a marathon.
Mercy sat bolt upright in the settee, "What's wrong Thomas? Are you sick?" her grip on the phone growing tight alongside the anxiousness swelling inside her chest. She could hear the faint squeaking from the other side of the line and then it stopped, "Thomas?" Mercy repeated as the line went dreadfully silent.
"Mercedes?" Thomas asked, trying to conceal his panting, "Yes, it's me. Why haven't you called me? I was waiting," she frowned and leaned her head against the wooden headboard, Mercy brought her knee up toward her chest and hugged it, "But, are you okay? You sound sick, are you having breathing difficulties?" Mercy quickly changed the subject, not even waiting for Thomas to explain why he hadn't called her in two days.
Thomas cleared his throat—guilt, and shame seeping through the gaps of his bones, "I am well, my angel, don't worry about me. I was swamped with work..." he explained, followed by a deep sigh. Mercy puckered her lips, hearing his voice immediately dissolved the frustrations she was harboring in her core.
"I'll be in London the day after tomorrow, I will make it up to you, angel," he added, eliciting a muffled squeal from her, "Really? I'll wait for you then," Mercy responded, cheeks turning crimson red. It was safe to say that hearing Thomas would be in London indeed riled her up, she was electrified at the thought of meeting him again, and at the same time, it scared her.
She left her old life with Alfie to steer clear of danger but never thought that being with Thomas would also be a dice with death. For a split second, she wanted to be selfish and greedy because she wanted Thomas in her life—it was one of the other risks she was willing to take.
"Alright, love. I'll see you soon, have a good night."
"Good night, Thomas."
Mercy slept with a smile and uncertainty in her heart that night. Her intuitions were acting up again, but she just brushed it aside. She has full trust in Thomas, and she believed that he wouldn't break it.
No, he wouldn't.
A couple of days went by in a blink of an eye, she made breakfast for Ada and Sol like she usually does, but she was sunnier and more radiant that morning. Perhaps, the reason for that upbeat demeanor was she would see Thomas in a few hours or because the nightmares didn't visit her last night. All in all, it was a good and bright day for Mercy.
