Animal Instinct | Peaky Blinders [Thomas Shelby]

12 - Arthur, John, and Finn

A couple of weeks pass by slowly when a person wakes up at 3 am, spends 20 hours in a crammed office, then returns "home" to a mostly empty shack with only enough energy to put on a spot of tea, and then do it all again four hours later. Thomas is used to working off of very little sleep. It comes with the territory. But the routine makes his mind go numb, and he constantly itches to do something other than stare at paperwork all day.

            Polly told him it comes with running a legal business. Before, when he could do as he pleased, there was no need to do paperwork, and no one even had access to his business address to send him any letters. Now, there was a pile he had to get through every day, and no matter how much he sat down and tore through them, he couldn't seem to make a dent in it.

He wakes up at 3 am and takes the short walk to the office, if he didn't fall asleep at his desk. This is the only part of the day he finds himself actually enjoying. It's still dark out, the air is cold, and everything is quiet except for the low hum of the electrical lamps. The walk gives him time to think.

Once he gets to the office, he puts on a kettle of tea and starts counting the bids, before he retreats to his office and starts opening letters and sorting through the paperwork.

Polly would usually come in after a few hours and beg him to take a break. She would bring him a sack of lunch and force him to eat it, and then it's back to more paperwork. He doesn't usually finish until around nine or ten, way after their closing time of 6pm. Then he'd walk down to the Garrison and have a glass of whiskey, and work on orders.

"Why don't you take the day off? I think I can handle the paperwork for a while so you can breathe," Polly said, examining her cigarette. These past few days, she looked lighter and happier, and Thomas knew it had everything to do with her son, Michael. They were reconnecting after spending a lifetime apart, and every day they spent together, Polly seemed to turn a year younger. The worry lines were disappearing from her eyes and she had gained a little bit of weight from their dinners together. Thomas knew she'd much rather be spending her time with Michael than worrying over Thomas.

"There's nothing else for me to do, Polly," Thomas said, not looking up as he read over another letter.

"Go take a walk to the Docks. There's another shipment coming in for whiskey. Better yet, go home and sleep." She leaned against the door frame, tucking her arms under her chest.  "You look like death."

"I'll get there soon enough, Pol," Thomas promised. He went to pick up another letter, but Polly was already swiping it form his hands. He could feel the sting of a papercut marching across his left palm.

"Stop thinking like that," she chastised. "You have a life to live. This business isn't going anywhere." She grabbed his hat and his trench coat from the rack besides the door and tossed them on his desk. "Now go on. Or else I'll have Arthur drag you out of here myself."