"Who are we seeing?" Chelsea asked as she stood outside of an apartment door with her dad.
Tommy had informed Chelsea that they were traveling down to Margate to see someone and Chelsea couldn't think who and whenever she asked, Tommy just said it was a surprise.
A maid opened the door and Chelsea pushed her way in and asked for the lavatories. The maid told her where to go and Chelsea ran down the hall.
Pregnancy really isn't kind on the bladder.
Once Chelsea had done, she refreshed herself and made sure she looked tidy, staring at her reflection in the small mirror that was hung on the wall.
Five minutes later, Chelsea left the room and made her way back down the hall. The decorations on the wall didn't match at all, and they were all sorts of colours and shapes that made Chelsea feel dizzy just looking at them.
She turned a left and found herself in the main sitting room, her dad stood at the other end of the room, stood on the doorstep of the balcony.
"You going to tell me who we're seeing now?" Chelsea asked.
"A surprise." A voice said that dug into Chelsea's bones and made her want to punch a wall, "What a compliment, Tom. 'Ello, Chelsea."
Alfie Solomon's.
Alfie Solomon's stood up and smiled at Chelsea, the left side of his face completly dishevelled and his one eye was a white murky colour.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Chelsea screamed, jumping back, "DAD! YOU KILLED HIM!"
"Take a seat, Chelsea." Tommy said.
Chelsea placed one hand on her chest and flinched as Alfie took her other hand and guided her to the sofa before sitting down beside her.
"Now," Alfie said, patting Chelsea's leg, "Tom, how soon did you know that I was not dead?"
"You wrote me a letter, Alfie." said Tommy, shaking his head.
"Did I? They gave me a lot of drugs at first. I was lying out there, and the tide come in and woke me up. I remember looking around and thinking, you know, Fuck. If this is hell, then it looks a lot like Margate."
Chelsea rolled her eyes, she hadn't really cared when Tommy told her that Alfie died. But now that she was sat here next to him, she realised that she had missed his stupid comments that made her want to punch him in the face.
She would never admit that she missed him, though. She would like Alfie to think that she hated his guts, it kept him at bay and not questioning her every second.
"Maybe that's just what hell looks like, eh?" Tommy shrugged.
"No." Alfie said, tapping Chelsea's knee once more before he picked up a book next to him, "Not according to this holy book right here, yeah. It gives a very, very vivid description. You and I are both fucked, mate."
Tommy licked his lips and looked around, Chelsea could tell that comment had cut him slightly, but she decided not to press him on it.
"You read the papers, Alfie?" Tommy asked, examining the room.
"No." Alfie scoffed, "Don't be silly."
Chelsea flinched at the sound of a gun and looked down to see Alfie holding one in his lap.
"But you've heard." Tommy said, completly unfazed by Alfie's weapon.
"What?" Alfie asked, "Fascism, yeah?"
Tommy stared at the gun, "Three. . .two. . .one. . .bang. No? Fine."
He moved across the room and sat down opposite them as Alfie stared at him, "Good Lord, your fucking condition has got worse, mate. Mine, on the other hand, I've been living the dream. Sometimes, I will shoot at the side of a ship, and sometimes I'll sit here, I may shoot at the old seagull."
