The Camden Girl and The Devil (Tommy Shelby)

"Wouldn't dream of it."

A guard was put at Ivy's door. Any attempt at exploring the house would be futile now. Any attempt at escaping would be too. She thought about it more, escaping. Even if she got caught, she thought it would be better than this. She was losing her mind. She missed Alfie; she missed her morning tea; she missed the smell of the city; she missed everything that she used to take for granted... and she missed her talks with Tommy.

One day she asked for some paints from Beatrice and she painted over the large portrait of herself. Ivy wasn't amazing, but she was good enough to make a picture look pretty. She completely slated it clean with multiple layers of white and read her books in between each coat as she waited for it to dry. She lost track of the days. She watched as Tommy left and came home, with no sign that she would join him for a meal. And she hated how much she missed it.

Ivy read less now she had no one to tell them about. She felt she could not appreciate them enough without expressing her love for them. She felt a little lost. The days were merging. She felt like she was asleep more than she was awake. At one point, she got so frustrated that she simply threw red paint all over her newly painted design. Now it seemed like someone had been murdered right over her replica of Camden street.

"Don't tell me you're trying this shit again," Alfie said when he walked into the living room one morning. She was attempting to paint the two of them and was failing exceptionally.

"Oh, fuck off - I'm... learning." Ivy bit back.

"Is that what you call it? Why is there a turd on my head?"

Ivy pursed her lips. "It's supposed to be your hat..."

"My hat?" Ivy nodded. There was a pause before Alfie burst into laughter. "My hat?" He pulled it off his head and pointed to it. "This thing? This thing right here? I think you need some glasses, sister." Ivy threw a paintbrush at him in frustration.

Since that day, Ivy was on a mission to be a good artist. She had no natural talent in it at all, but she was slowly getting better with time. Alfie got her a teacher at one point, which seemed to help drastically, but her attempts at drawing hats did, in fact, still look like a pile of shit.

That evening in Tommy's house was the same as the two weeks, or was it three weeks? She did not know, nor did she really care anymore. Two knocks came, and she muttered from them to come in. Most likely Beatrice with her laundry, or was it dinner time? Her back faced the door when it opened as Ivy lay on the bed, her eyes feeling heavy from pure boredom.

"Bit early for no sleep, no?" she flipped over. Tommy stood at the door. Part of her was excited to see him, yet the other part loathed him for leaving her trapped and alone for the last who knows how long.

"Nothing else to do," she answered, sitting up.

Tommy looked away, taking a drag of his already lit cigarette. "You're free to join for dinner."

"Oh, am I?" She could not help the sassy remark. She was irritated, and as Alfie could not control his anger, she could not always control her bite back. "What has allowed me to join his graciousness for dinner?"

Tommy sighed a laugh, placing the cigarette back in his mouth and walking back to the door. "Beatrice will come to get you when it's ready."

Ivy, for once, could hold her tongue. As much as she wanted to send some unwomanly words his way, she decided it was best not to. At least she would be out of the room again.

She did eventually get more casual outfits to wear, and this time she wore a plain white long dress that honestly looked more like a bedsheet than anything, but it was comfortable with minimal designs around the neckline.