"This is all the Peaky Blinders' fault. Your fault, Finn. Damn you."
Beatrice Gold, the youngest child of Aberama Gold, was living with her aunt when she decided that it was time to live the life that she wanted.
Running away to Birmingham without...
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Bea wasn't one to spend much money, but she did like many different dresses and skirts and shirts and necklaces, so she had to control herself, not wanting to give too many expenses to the company for her own pleasure.
After a few hours she went back to the hotel just in time to get ready for the dinner.
"I saw a painting shop nearby," she announces to Michael. "Could I get some supplies there? Nothing much... just a few canvas and some paints and brushes. To pass my free time."
"And to paint your ex-fiance," Michael adds without looking at her.
"Why does everyone keep saying that? We were never engaged."
"You almost were," Michael says looking up at her.
"But I wasn't. And I was thinking of painting you, actually," Bea corrects him. "I think you would look really well painted by me."
Michael looked slightly pleased with that idea and more relaxed than before, but Bea didn't insist anymore and went to her bedroom to start getting ready.
The newly bought red dress, with a jewel neckline and long but thin sleeves and calf length, fitted Bea perfectly.
"Wow!" Michael exclaimed when he saw her. "You look beautiful, Beatrice."
At Michael's amazement, Bea couldn't help the blush filling her cheeks.
Michael was wearing a dark grey suit, with a vest and a watch pocket, just like he used to wear at all times.
"Well, if you're ready, we can go."
"Sure, I'm ready."
Michael smiles and extends a hand to Bea, which she takes, and then he places it on his arm, letting Bea rest it there.
They got to the restaurant quickly, Michael driving his car, whilst Bea looked out the window to see the streets and the people. When they got there, Michael gave the car keys to a man who took the car away, to park it somewhere.
The restaurant was luxurious and Bea wasn't surprised since that had always seemed to be Michael's taste. There was a piano being played by a woman that looked dressed for the performance of her life. Whilst Bea was looking at the piano, the dark walls, the velvet chairs, the mahogany tables, the big chandelier on the high ceiling, Michael was talking to a waiter who then took them to the table.
From their table, Bea, with a wall behind her, could look to the side and see the piano and the woman playing it. The melody sounding across the room stopped before it chanced into another one.
Bea couldn't take her eyes out of the piano as she heard the first notes of the new melody being played.
"Beatrice!" Michael calling out her name brought her attention back to the table.
She looked at Michael and then at the waiter who had taken them to the table, still there.
"Do you want to order a drink while you decide on the meal?" the waiter asks.
"I ordered a whiskey," Michael tells her.
"I'll have a gin then, please. Tonic."
"Right away, ma'am," the waiter says before leaving.
Bea noticed that she had the menu in front of her and picked it up, as did Michael.
Her attention was again deviated for the piano. She couldn't help but feel drawn to the music. The melody's rhythm sped up and Bea started thinking about Finn. She couldn't help it, the music sounded so romantic as if you were supposed to listen to it whilst holding hands with the person you loved most. It was something only someone in love could have composed.
Visions of what she had seen, cents of what she had smelled, things she heard as she was around Finn overflew in her as she listened to the fast melody. The feeling of touching Finn, the feeling of his touch on her skin, his freckles that became more and more visible as she got closer to him, the blue in his eyes, his soft lips in hers, in her cheeks, her forehead, in her ears as he whispered things to her.
When the pace of the music started to decrease to how it was in the beginning, all of those memories were replaced by a feeling of loneliness and sadness. She should be hearing that melody next to him and him alone. Bea should be close to Finn at that moment, and the next day, too, and the next week.
Instead she was across the Atlantic sea, in New York.
As the pianist finalized she song, Bea looked at the menu again, with tears almost falling out of her eyes.
"You all right, Beatrice?" Michael asks.
Bea raises her eyes to Michael, in time to see his smile slowly vanish before a tear falls from each eye.
Bea chuckles and cleans her cheeks softly.
"It's... the music," she dismisses. "It was very beautiful. I have to get the music sheet for it."
Michael smiles again, believing that Bea was just touched by the piano music.
"There are a lot of concerts here. I'll take you to some."
"That'd be very nice."
"We can see when the next piano concert is, but there are orchestras as well."
Bea smiles and looks back to the menu. Meanwhile, the waiter came back with her gin and Michael's whiskey. Michael ordered his food, but Bea hadn't really looked at anything in the menu, since her eyes were there but her mind elsewhere.
"I'll have the same," she says.
"Would you like some red wine with the food?"
"Absolutely," Michael states before ordering one.
Bea recovered from the sudden wave of sadness for being away from Finn and remained chatty with Michael to the end of the meal. However, in the back of her mind, alongside the piano music that kept being played, Bea was thinking that Finn was the one who should be across the table from her.
