VICES AND VIRTUES | Thomas Shelby

TWENTY NINE

"This is how John wanted to go, on the smoke," Tommy said as the family surrounded the caravan in which John's lifeless body had been laid to rest, "But the truth is, we died together once before."

"Arthur, me, George, Elijah, Danny Whizz Bang, Freddie Thorne, Jeremiah and John," Tommy continued to speak as Florence and Elijah stood beside George and Lizzie, "We were cut off from the retreat, no bullets left, waiting for the Prussian cavalry to come and to finish us off, and while we waited Jeremiah said we should sing In The Bleak Midwinter."

"But we were spared, the enemy never came and we all agreed that everything after that was extra, and when our time came we would all remember," Tommy told the group.

"You remember that God spared you," Polly muttered. "But what did you do with the extra time that he gave you, eh, Thomas?"

Tommy stood speechless as Florence glanced between him and Elijah. Elijah's jaw was tense and his hands were interlocked behind his back, as though he were trying his very best to hold himself together. Florence returned her gaze to Tommy who's eyes were already on her until he realised that she had noticed.

Arthur coughed under his breath before taking the matches from his pocket to light the flame under John's caravan, the way that they always did at a gypsy funeral. It was a tradition Florence had seen countless times growing up, but that didn't mean it got any easier. John was far too young, and he had always looked out for Florence when they were younger, it still didn't feel entirely real that he was gone, that she wouldn't hear his laugh or see his smile again. The pain she felt didn't consume her the way it once would, her tolerance for emotional pain had increased with her tolerance for physical pain.

As everyone stood in silence while the flames consumed the wooden caravan, paying their respects to John the sound of a gunshot rang through the open space, causing most of the group to drop to the floor.

Elijah pulled Florence down to the ground in an effort to protect her, but she clambered to her knees, pulling her gun from where it sat in the holster under her jacket. George and some of the Lee boys did the same, everyone seemed frightened, everyone except Tommy and Arthur.

"At ease! At ease! Do not return fire!" Tommy shouted at the group, "I repeat, do not return fire!"

"Why the fuck do you have that?" Elijah asked, looking at the gun in Florence's hand.

"Now is not the time," Florence hissed, as Florence slipped her gun back into its holster.

"The men doing the firing are on our side," Tommy assured the group as Florence, Lizzie, Elijah and everyone else slowly stood up, "I took the trouble of getting an invitation to Aberama Gold."

"Oh, fuck, now it's begun," Johnny muttered.

"You put us out in the open on purpose," Polly sighed in disbelief, "You used John's funeral fire as a fucking beacon."

"We were never in any danger, Polly," Arthur assured her.

"You set a trap?" Polly exclaimed.

"Finn, Finn!" Tommy called out for his youngest brother, "Go to the yard and light the fires."

"You set a trap with us as fucking bait!" Polly shouted as she stormed towards Tommy, "Who's dead?"

"Our enemies," Tommy told her as Aberama Gold and his son appeared across the field on horses.

"Who's dead?" Polly repeated.

"Want to know, Pol?" Tommy whispered, "Two fucking Italians heard about the vendetta, tried to make a fucking names for themselves, that's who."