Destruction of the Mind / [Thomas Shelby | Peaky Blinders]

chapter / six

Florence woke up, startled at the feeling of an arm being draped over her petite body. She turned her head slightly to see a sleeping Thomas Shelby laying next to her and last nights events travelled into her mind. She sighed and slid out of his grip, standing up to stretch her cramped arms. A small yawn escaped her lips as she trudged to the window, opening the curtains to let the natural light illuminate the room.

"Ay, close the curtains," Thomas moaned, grabbing a pillow and covering his face with it.

"No, now come on, get up," Florence ordered, picking her shawl up off of the floor and putting it over her body, sensing a slight feeling of déjà vu. "You need to get out of here before anyone sees you, Mr. Shelby. I will not be thought of as a whore, you hear me?"

It was all so sudden. He yanked the pillow off of his face and sat up, staring directly at Florence. If looks could kill, she would've died in an instant. He jumped out of bed and Florence pointed to his clothes, which he rushed over to. He winced as he speedily buttoned up his waistcoat, tied his shoes and fitted his cap on his head.

"You may want to grab some aspirin for that headache," Florence advised, leaning against one of the bed posts.

He didn't even look back at her as he made his escape, jogging down the stairs and leaving the building entirely. Thomas wished he'd said something to her as he jogged to the garage, jumping into his car and parking it outside his house, but he had business to attend to and he definitely wasn't going to tell her the details.

"Fucking 'ell, Tommy, where ya' been?" Arthur growled, sliding into the car next to his brother, "We're gonna' be late."

John also jumped into the back seat, just as Thomas started the car and began to drive. John spat the match in his mouth onto the road and pulled another one out of his pocket, popping it into his mouth.

Florence watched as the Shelby brothers left Small Heath, wondering where they were heading. She sighed, holding onto the curtain as she continued to look out the window with her lips falling into a frown. She managed to pull herself away from the window and trudged over to her drawers, pulling out today's clothes. She made her way to the washroom, pouring herself a steaming hot bath and sitting down in the water, closing her eyes sadly.

The Shelby boys reached the station in record time, as luckily the train had been delayed and wouldn't arrive for another 10 minutes. Thomas sighed in relief, leaning against the entrance of the station with a cigarette in his hand. His brothers stood around him, also smoking.

"So where were ya'?" John questioned, tapping his cigarette to let the ash fall to the ground, "And don't say at home 'cause we know that's the one place you weren't. At the whorehouse, were ya' Tommy?"

Arthur and John sniggered, knowing that their brother hadn't even given any woman a look of lust since they returned from the war.

"Yes, actually," Thomas replied, figuring it was easier to tell a little white lie than embarrass himself.

The two men stared at their brother in astonishment, before Arthur gave Thomas a hard slap on the shoulder with a grin on his face. Tommy laughed, shrugging his shoulders as if to say 'what?'.

"Good one, Tommy boy!" He praised.

A cough interrupted them and they turned to see the man they had been waiting for. Henry Matthews was a small yet burly man and he had a friendly face. His smile made his eyes crease up at the corners and his facial features were very soft in comparison to Thomas' sharp, defined face. Henry was nearly 40 years of age, but he was aging quickly as the sides of his hair were noticeably fading to grey.

"Henry!" Arthur chimed, slapping his hands together, "Good ter' see ya', lets go, Tommy."

Tommy stubbed his cigarette out on the wall, then chucked it on the floor before walking over to their car and begun the get the engine started by twisting the handle at the bonnet. He hopped in behind the wheel and turned his key, the engine roaring to life. With everyone in the car, he started the drive home.

Florence was now dressed in a simple flower-patterned dress as she heaved the bath tub up to the window to throw the water away onto the dirty street. As she was doing so, she saw the Shelby car driving down the road and she quickly pulled the tub back in and placed it on the floor beside her quietly. She hid behind the curtain and watched the car come to a stop, the boys hopping out. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the one man she wished to never see again get out of the car with them. But why was he here? And how was he friends with the Shelby brothers?

Florence felt hot tears start to fall down her cheeks. The man she knew as Lawrence Taylor had disappeared through the front door of the Shelby home. He was the vicar she had been set to marry before running away to Birmingham, she knew that it was him in an instant. She slid down the nearest wall, falling to the floor in a fit of tears.

She sobbed quietly to herself, thinking that Thomas Shelby had turned her in, not knowing that the goody-two shoes vicar she knew, was actually the biggest drug-lord in London. And he knew exactly where she was.