Red On Her Hands | Tommy Shelby

Chapter Three

C h a p t e r T h r e e

The city centre of Glasgow roared with life on a typical Friday night as people exited the popular clubs after a long night of dancing and drinking. Since the end of the Great War, celebrations had taken place throughout the country. The celebrations continued on in Glasgow months later, any excuse for a late night out drinking with friends.

Lynette and her girlfriend Pauline, stumbled from one of the busier bars onto the streets. Both were laughing hysterically, dodging out of way of the people around them as they experienced the heavily consumed amount of alcohol take effect on them. They started walking through the cold air hand in hand, the streets becoming darker as they increased the distance from the clubs which provided a source of light.

They would walk to the end of Sauchiehall street, before they would split off in their own direction to make their way home. This became routine for the two women who went out together every chance that they had the night off. They exchanged their goodbyes with an embrace and a kiss on the cheek, shouting humours comments to each other across the street as they separated.

Lynette walked home with a smile on her face, thinking about the fun she had that night. Every now and then she would stumble over a crack in the pavement before laughing it off as she continued on. She made it home fairly quickly, the area silent as people were either out for the night or already in bed.

She climbed the stairs quietly to the second level of the small apartment building, walking down the corridor as she fished for her keys in her bag. The lazy grin vanished and her hand holding the keys froze as she saw that the door to her apartment was open, the hinges broken and barely hanging onto the frame. The redhead reached into her bag again, carefully taking out the gun Billy had given her for protection. She was now completely sober.

She knew that the gun was fully loaded after having checked it before leaving to meet Pauline. Entering the apartment with the gun raised, she looked around the small living room. The curtains were drawn, which she had not done, leaving the place in darkness. And the alcohol she kept in the cupboard above the sink had been opened, as she discovered it sitting on the table.

It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light, once they had her gaze zoned in on a large figure sitting on her couch. She kept the gun trained on him, but her arms had started to shake against her will. A lump formed in her throat, along with the involuntary watering of her eyes as her fear for the man grew after recognising him.

"I thought you were dead," she forced herself to whisper.

"No, sweetheart. I just went away for a little while, but I thought it was about time to come back home and see you," he spoke as he placed the glass of rum on the table before standing.

Lynette was fairly tall, but this man was taller as he stretched well over six feet. His body ideal for that of a boxing champion. His clothes looked rugged, his trousers covered in stains and rips, while his hair had also changed since she had last seen him. What was once dark black hair had aged into the colours of salt and pepper. The war had definitely aged him, she had been so sure that he was dead after he did not return from France. She thought she had finally escaped him.

"Don't come any closer," she warned, as she followed his movement with the gun, her aim focused on his chest. "I will shoot you."

A deep laugh came from the man, his dark beady eyes boring into her's. "Oh come on, Lynnie! You don't have it in you."

"I've changed," she announced slowly. "I'm not a fragile girl anymore. Four years away from you changed that. Now, get the fuck out."

Any amusement on the man's face vanished as his spine straightened out. Lynette had finally ceased from shaking as the fear replaced with a desire for revenge. "What did you say to me?"