VICES AND VIRTUES | Thomas Shelby

NINE

Florence hated lying to Tommy, but when she was the one sneaking out of the room that morning, it was inevitable that Tommy, the light sleeper, would wake up asking questions.

"Where are you going?" He had asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes as she lingered beside the bedroom door, he took note of the way she was dressed, wearing one of her basic dresses, her hair hanging freely as it always did, "It's still dark outside."

"Just for some fresh air," She lied, even though they both knew that there was nothing fresh about the air in Small Heath.

"I'll come with you, it's too dark for you to be walking the streets alone," Tommy warned, sitting up in her bed, sensing that Florence was attempting to put distance between them.

"You should rest," She insisted, having heard him tossing and turning all night, "I like walking alone, besides, if anything happens, I'm armed."

Tommy looked at the bag she was clinging onto, assuming that she had the gun in there. He was still yet to conclude where she got it, or who would've given it to her. He knew that it would've been someone who could be easily sweet-talked by her, but he also knew that beyond the Peaky Blinders, the locals would be too terrified to help her get her hands on a revolver, knowing the consequences that could follow.

"You come straight back if anything feels out of place, alright?" Tommy told her firmly, fearing for her safety, but knowing her well enough to know she could hold her own if it came to it.

"Promise," She smiled, leaning towards him and kissing him gently before slipping out of the bedroom, creeping past her mother's room and down the stairs, slipping out onto the street as dawn lingered over Small Heath.

She knew she couldn't tell Tommy where she intended to go, but since that conversation she'd had with Polly she couldn't stop thinking about it. It was all she could think about, but she knew that she needed to be sure before she spoke to him.

She wound up on the kind of street that you didn't go to at a time of day when you might be seen, hence why she had left her home before sunrise, naively hoping that Tommy would sleep through her absence.

It was the house at the end of the street that she was heading for, grateful for the hat and long coat she had retrieved on her way out of the house. She lingered on the doorstep before promptly biting the bullet and knocking on the door.

Moments later a slender older woman emerged, lingering in the doorway, she had the kind of dark circles under her eyes that led Florence to wonder when she found time to sleep, "Can I help you?"

"I've got a problem, and I need your help," Florence answered, flustered by the woman's emotionless disposition.

"Come in," She sighed, letting Florence into her house, the Dawson girl hoping that she didn't recognise her.

"You have a lovely home," Florence smiled awkwardly as she was led into the back room of the house, the curtains drawn, the smell of cleaning products lingering in the air, a far cry from the sweet smell of fresh flowers that often filled her own home.

"What brings you here?" The woman asked, straight to the point, Florence simply assumed that she must be a busy woman.

"I think I might be pregnant," Florence told her, in almost a whisper, as though someone else might hear her confession. The thought had been plaguing her mind since that conversation she had outside of the very same house with Polly, when she mentioned the sleep and the appetite, Florence had begun to worry that she might also be in the family way. She didn't know who to share her concerns with, no one knew the truth about her and Tommy, well a few people close to them might have suspected it, but regardless of her relationship with him, she was an unmarried woman. The way she saw it, it was better to be sure before discussing it with anyone, the way the world saw it, she would need to be married if she were to be a mother.