Power and Lies

Thirty-Eight

"The end may justify the means as long as there is something that justifies the end."
― Leon Trotsky

The devil came to the door at three p.m. on a Thursday. She was dressed in a modest dress with a stylish bob and proud red lipstick painted her lips. Behind her rain fell down in curtains and lightning struck the earth. It was all very fitting for the woman, Thomas Shelby thought as he watched from the top of his staircase as the household help led her to the office they would have their meeting in. It was Freya's idea to allow this evil into their home, and he had gone along with it with the hopes it would help-but now he simply wanted to scrub the floors after every step she took farther into his safe haven.

Somewhere he was aware of his son running about the rooms, his feet striking the wooden floor repetitiously, no doubt terrified of the storm. Absent were the sounds of Freya running after him with the enchanting sound of her laugh. He would spend his entire fortune right this very minute to hear that laugh. Instead, he saw his wife exit a room down below. Her hair was pulled up and pearls dripped from her ears. Her dress was anything but modest, and he knew it was intentional. If he could not persuade the devil to call off her dogs, then surely Freya was going to give it her best shot. He could merely pray it would be enough. He was unsure of what it took to give a soul back to the soulless. With a deep sigh Tommy began to descend the stairs, his eyes strained and head pounding.

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Freya stared upon herself in the mirror in the hallway. Her hair was pulled back, and her cheek bones pronounced. Pearls cascaded from her ears, and her dress spoke of the wealth they had accrued. Her lips wore no paint on them, nor did her eyes. She would look powerful enough on her own. She would not resort to playing women's games behind the Camouflage of paint. She had been a wife for a long time now, but she would not forget that she was also a Peaky Blinder, and perhaps it was time for her to play games once more. She would not be ashamed of all they had worked for, and she would much rather pluck the eyes from the woman waiting in the office than allow her to take it from her husband.

"You look beautiful," Tommy whispered as he bent to kiss her cheek. A soft smile was brought about to her and she did her best to sequester it. She would not allow the woman to see the happiness they had built up here. It would only give her fodder for her fires.

"Are you ready?" He nodded his response and she reached out and squeezed his fingers with her own. Together they walked into the office to lay eyes upon the thorn in their side.

"My name is Jessie Eden." She was not at all what Freya had thought she would be. Surely she was plain, but she could tell the woman possessed power within herself that was not to be trifled with. Freya reached out to her outstretched hand and shook it with more strength than would notate being ladylike.

"I am Freya Shelby. I understand you already know my husband. Please, let us sit. There are sandwiches and cakes, please eat some."

"You wish for me to dine on the backs of your household help when they do not even have time to dine?"

Freya laughed. It was not the carefree laugh Tommy loved, but more of a terse, venomous laugh.

"I assure you that my staff has more than enough time to dine and are quite happy. And further than that I made these treats for you with my own hands. Well, Charlie certainly helped. So, if they look rather disfigured... well we can't expect much perfection from a two year old child."

After a rather tense moment Jessie reached out and plucked the ugliest cake off the tray and nibbled on it. "Many people have two year old's they cannot feed such delectable foods. Even within your own factory walls."

"I have no doubt that they in fact could. In fact I can personally send them all the recipe. It is only a couple ingredients and they are all very low in price. I know because I have gone to the shop myself and witnessed very many of our workers buying these exact items. If you wish to wage a war, please, do not use cake as your ammunition."

"France used it once, with quite a high success rate I believe." Freya did have to admit that in another life she would have rather liked the mousey girl sitting before her. Her wit was quick and she rather liked that.

"You will find my husband is more of a President than a King though. Now, please allow me to understand the terms in which you would like us to bend to."

The girl smiled at Freya, a rather cheeky smile. Freya wished she could have the same level of effortless confidence this girl brought forth. "Why, all we want is more pay, fair pay, so that we may feed the children the way you feed your little boy. Charlie is his name, correct? And holidays so that we may see our own Charlie's grow up. And for it to be safer so that our Charlie's may see us grow up."

"All of these things are already in place in our factories. People have time with their family, and we pay the highest in the area."

"And yet still your workers are willing to walk out on strike the very first time I whisper the word. And perhaps it is because they see what is before me now, two very shiny individuals who reak of wealth and privilege. Tell me, have you ever worked a day in your life Mrs. Shelby? Do you know what it is to have dirty hands?"

It was Freya's turn to smile now, and she was not sure, but she thought for a passing moment she may have seen fear in Eden's eyes. "I can assure you Mrs. Eden, that I have far dirtier hands than you could ever dream up. Mine may not be caked in coal, but they have been steeped in blood. And I will place my hands once more in the warm pools before I allow you to destroy what we have built. And I assure you, should our workers strike on your orders I will not punish them, but I will punish you. And I do believe it will be rather fun for me."

"Are you threatening violence Mrs. Shelby? I believe that is against the law."

"You believe? Do you not know the laws as well as you preach then? Either way, no Mrs. Eden. I do not threaten violence against you. You see, violence is the way of men. Women though, we take a much more systematic approach to things don't you think? No, a women has no need for violence. Not when we have so many other ways to destroy the things we don't like."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Well, Mrs. Eden, the French has seen large success with their use of cake."

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