VICES AND VIRTUES | Thomas Shelby

TWENTY SEVEN

make sure you ready twenty six first!!!

When Florence answered the phone early on that Christmas morning, the words that rang through her ears were a haunting reminder of why she had left Small Heath in the first place. Esme's voice had been filled with hysterical tears, explaining that Michael and John had been shot. Florence had quickly ended the call and rushed upstairs to where Tommy had been attempting to rest with Charles.

She had hammered her fist against the door until he opened it, visibly confused. She just blurted out the words; "They got Michael and John," and Tommy stared at her in shock. She didn't know much else, she had no clue whether the boys had made it out alive, all she knew was that they were on their way to the hospital.

George, Vinnie and the children hadn't even arrived at the house, so in a state of panic Tommy left Charles with Lizzie, asking her to explain the situation to George and Vinnie, while keeping things as normal as possible for the children. It dawned on both Florence and Tommy that Charles would unknowingly be meeting his big sister, but neither of them dared to mention it.

Florence had insisted on driving Tommy to the hospital, she could tell that he wasn't up to it, his hands were shaking, and as much as he attempted to hide it, she could see right through it, just as she always could.

They arrived at the hospital at the same time as Polly and the ambulances. As they climbed out of the car it felt as though everything was unfolding in slow motion. Florence stuck beside Tommy as Polly clung to Michael's side as doctors pushed him on a hospital bed. Florence had wondered if she'd ever meet Michael, she just never imagined it would be like this.

"Please, can we get some help here!" Polly shouted as the doctors pushed Michael through the double doors into a private room, "It's alright Michael, it's alright."

Florence could tell that Polly had changed, she was on edge, not just because her son had been shot, this was different. She had assumed Polly hadn't been the same since the noose, she had sensed it in her letters, she just hoped it wasn't true.

"No, no," Polly looked up from Michael's bedside, looking past Tommy and Florence at the two young men who stood behind them, "I don't want fucking kids in here, I want soldiers! I don't want fucking kids who joined us for the sport!"

"Boys, get out," Florence whispered to the two boys, guiding them out of the room as Tommy turned his attention to Polly.

"I want men who served in here!" Polly shouted before returning to Michael's bedside.

"Alright, Pol," Tommy sighed as Florence returned to his side.

"Mrs Gray, please," One of the nurses spoke, aware that Polly's presence was in no way helping to keep her son alive.

"Polly," Tommy soothed, attempting to pry her away from Michael, "Pol, come on."

"Fuck those bastards responsible!" Polly exclaimed through tears.

"Come on, Pol," Tommy attempted to calm her down, "Alright, let them do their job, come on."

Polly turned to Florence, the woman she hadn't seen in over six years as she pointed at Michael, keeping her eyes on Florence, "You see this? This is the work of your father."

"What?" Florence gulped, looking at Tommy for support.

"Pol, let's not do this now," Tommy interjected, as though he knew what Polly was referring to.

"What does she mean?" Florence looked at Tommy in fear, it was the most vulnerable that he had seen her since she'd returned, the first flicker of the old Florence breaking through.