𝔹𝕠𝕣𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕖 | Tommy Shelby

𝕏𝕏𝕍𝕀. ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪɢ ᴛʀᴇᴇ

After that particular supper where Tommy surprised me with his words, the morning discovered me curled up in the tartan blankets, much quicker than I would have expected. The physical and mental exhaustion of having left my whole life behind me so suddenly took its toll, and as soon as I put my head on the pillow, I fell into a deep sleep.

When I opened my eyes, I saw that I was alone on the cot, and as I sat up, the cold embraced me, and I felt how much I missed the warmth of Thomas's body beside me. As I hadn't brought a change of clothes with me, I had to sleep in my underwear, and when I got up I covered myself with a blanket so as not to succumb to the cold outside.

I climbed out of the caravan, covering my face. The sun bothered me and the twigs on the ground dug into my bare feet.

"Good morning".

Arms wrapped around me from behind before I could even open my eyes. I felt Thomas's lips on my neck.

"Good morning, Tommy", I greeted him hoarsely.

"I'd ask you how you slept, but I know you slept wonderfully well", he said mockingly. "You snored all night".

I forced myself to look at him furiously, even though the sunlight burned my eyes.

"I don't snore", I said, annoyed. "And it's not the first time we've slept together, so if I snored, you'd have told me by now".

"It never ceases to amaze me how easy it is to make a woman angry", said Thomas. He was barefoot like me, and his nightshirt covered his chest. The braces clung to the fabric of his trousers. "Just tell them they snore or they have a moustache and they'll have reason enough to kill you", he lit a cigarette.

"You're in a very good mood today", I scanned him with my eyes as he picked up something he had left resting on a rock and, before I could identify what kind of fruit it was, tossed it to me.

"It's a fig", Thomas said after I had barely caught it. "I found a fig tree a couple of feet from the caravan, which is strange. The fig tree is not a native tree; it had to be planted", I heard concern in his voice.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that someone else lives on this land", he explained. "Someone rooted enough to this soil to take the trouble to plant a tree". Tommy took a puff on his cigar. "We have to get out of here", he concluded.

Lost in thought, he circled a couple of times around the remains of the campfire that had warmed us the night before. I, for my part, caressed the purplish skin of the fruit and began to peel it with a certain sadness: I had loved the place and, although it was too close to the border with England, I didn't perceive any danger in it. The particular taste of the fig intoxicated my taste buds with its sweetness and I approached the waters of the river, still chewing.

I freed myself from the blanket, my blouse and undergarments, and dipped my feet in the icy water. The cicadas were chirping in the trees.

"Ollie?", Thomas called me when he saw I was reluctantly stepping further and further into the river.

As I turned my face away, I saw him gazing at me with astonishment and almost admiration.

"I need to take a bath", I said as I felt my breath catch in my throat from the cold.

Thomas flicked what was left of his cigarette into the grey ash and removed his braces, shirt and trousers with impressive speed.

"Me too", he concluded, finally stripping down to his underpants.

He dove headfirst into the water, splashing me in the process and making me groan. When he appeared at my side, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me close to him. Without a sentence, he pressed his cheek to mine and we stayed like that for a couple of seconds, feeling the river flow around us and our heartbeats seeming to synchronise.