VICES AND VIRTUES | Thomas Shelby

THIRTY ONE

Florence hadn't been the same since meeting her father. After the meeting she and Tommy had found themselves in the Garrison, talking about anything except the meeting with Luca Changretta, she really didn't want to talk about it and Tommy knew that. She also knew that if she had gone straight home to Elijah, he would've had questions, he wouldn't understand that she needed not to talk about it.

She had stumbled back into the house during the night, having had one too many whiskeys to numb the overwhelming void of emotions stirred up by the arrival of her father. Tommy had almost carried her home, his arm around her waist as she leant against him as she mumbled, "I'm not a bad person, I'm not like him," again and again, like a stuck record.

He knew that it was the alcohol talking, but he still assured her that she was alright, that she wasn't anything like Luca Changretta, the man who had instigated a vendetta between the two families, killing John in the process.

The distance between Florence and Elijah was partly her own doing, it made it easier to do the work she did if he wasn't so close. It made it easier to comprehend the vendetta created by her father if she didn't feel such a void of guilt for involving him in it.

She had been invited to a Shelby meeting by Tommy, and she knew that Elijah wouldn't approve, but she had told him anyway, in an attempt to better herself after everything that had happened. She really didn't want to be like her father. Elijah had left for work that morning without saying much, except kissing her goodbye on the cheek while Vinnie, having returned from London, watched his sister with intrigue.

Florence had told Vinnie everything, about the meeting, about how low she felt, about how she didn't want to be like her father.

So there she was, sitting on the sofa in Polly's front room, having relayed the same story of meeting her father, waiting to leave for the meeting at the hospital as Michael was yet to be discharged because of his healing bullet wounds. 

"The truth is, Flo," Polly hummed as she stood opposite the young woman, "You can't mould Elijah into something he's not, you can either tell him the truth about what you've been doing in London, or you can keep it to yourself, but don't expect that to end well either."

"I thought I was doing right by us and the children by coming back here, by being where it's safest, but I think it might be destroying us simultaneously," Florence sighed.

"When all this is done, book a nice holiday for you both, leave the children with your brother, have them come out for a week, and remember what it's like to be normal again," Polly told her.

"I don't think I want to be normal, Pol," Florence sighed honestly as the women heard the door open.

"Well then, you're fucked." Polly smirked.

"Come on, ladies, Tommy's expecting us," Ada sighed as she leant against the open door.

"Who's with us?" Polly asked her niece.

"Isiah and two Lee boys," Ada replied.

"How long since you've had a fuck?" Polly looked at the two women.

"What?" Ada remarked.

"It's been nearly two years with me, over Christmas I counted it up, so I've made a New Year's resolution to change the situation," Polly told them both.

"Anyone particular in mind?" Ada replied.

"Not really, just me and someone unsuitable," Polly sighed, "So, what about you, Florence?"

"I've got a husband, Pol," Florence replied.

"But when did you last have a fuck?" Polly answered, knowing that marriage didn't necessarily mean anything in that respect.