"So tell me about Bonnie."
Florence was sure she was going to die from embarrassment. She was currently sitting at Polly's kitchen table, a mug of tea between her palms. Polly had sent Bonnie home and dragged her niece inside, giving her the most accusing look Florence had ever seen.
"So you have a boyfriend?" Polly continued when Florence remained mute, a terrified expression on the poor girl's face. "And you didn't bother telling me? Or Ada?"
"You would tell dad!" Florence spluttered defensively, placing down her mug of tea to cross her arms over her chest. "And if dad finds out that I fancy a Blinder, he would have my fucking head."
"Not true," Polly stated simply, taking a seat across from Florence and giving her the eye. "I wouldn't tell your father."
Florence stayed quiet, watching Polly with careful eyes as she assessed the truth of her statement. Polly looked back, almost challenging Florence, her eyes drilling holes into her niece.
"I really like him, Pol," Florence admitted quietly, avoiding Polly's eyes and lacing her fingers together. "More than I should, I think, after such short time."
Polly shrugged. "You don't get to decide who you fall for, sweetheart," she said, her tone stern but also gentle in a way that only Polly Gray could perfect. "Look at your father; do you think that Grace, of all people, was the one he wanted to fall for? A spy who sold out his entire family and nearly got us all killed? No. But it happened anyway, and now you've got a little brother."
Perhaps Grace wasn't the best example, but Florence understood where Polly was coming from. Love never made sense, and it was out of her control. If things went any further with Bonnie, Tommy would just have to fucking deal with it like the grown adult he was.
"So, tell me," Polly said, and Florence glanced up. "Have you two fucked yet?"
Florence couldn't even speak. She could only shake her head furiously, her face beat red. Polly cracked a smile.
"Well, congratulations, then," she drawled almost sarcastically, shooting Florence a small wink. "You're already moving slower than I did with my first boyfriend."
As Florence's blush receded, she felt a question building in her throat, wondering if she should just ask it or not. The look Polly gave her told her to just spit it out.
"Dad said that boys only want one thing," Florence suddenly blurted, hands folding in her lap. "Which I'd presume is sex. He said that I wouldn't know a boys intentions until it's already over with. Is that true?"
Polly rolled her eyes. "Your father is somehow the smartest yet the most stupid man on this fucking planet," she sighed, plucking up her cigarettes and pulling one out. "He's right, really. But he also isn't."
At Florence's look of confusion, Polly sighed.
"You have to be careful of men, Florence, always," Polly began, striking a match and lighting her cigarette. "Even the ones like Bonnie. Chances are, if he hasn't tried to fuck you yet, he's sticking around for something else."
"So he doesn't want to have sex with me?"
Polly could have laughed. "Oh, I'm sure he does," she ensured, inhaling deeply on her cigarette. "But your father is a terrifying man. Haven't you ever wondered why boys have never approached you, as pretty as you are?"
"Not really, no." Florence could sense the frustration oozing out of Polly at this point. "I dunno, Pol. I haven't felt this way about anybody, ever. It's just different."
"In time, you'll get used to it," Polly promised, handing Florence a cigarette. "In the mean time, have a smoke. Let things flow the way they're supposed to."
"Okay, Polly."
Later that night, Florence found herself back at home with Charlie, their father still missing. Florence wasn't worried; Tommy would show up when he deemed it appropriate. For now, her job was to watch over her brother and make sure that he was fed and sleeping by ten.
At the stroke of nine, Florence was sitting in her bedroom with Charlie, reading to him in Romani from a children's book their father gave them, given to him by their grandmother. While she was fluent, Tommy wanted Charlie fluent as well, so that they could all communicate secretly if need be.
Just as Charlie was beginning to fall asleep, there was a sharp crack against her window.
Florence thought she was imagining it, and then it happened again. Charlie looked up at his big sister curiously, waiting for her to investigate.
"Fine," Florence muttered, climbing out of bed. "Only because you're barely able to stand on two feet."
Peering out of her bedroom window, Florence waited a moment for her eyes to adjust before gasping at the figure standing below her. As quickly as she could, Florence opened the window.
"Bonnie," she hissed, sticking her upper body out. "You're going to get yourself killed."
"Your dad isn't home yet, yeah?" Bonnie knew it already to be a fact. "So come on out, pretty dove. I want to show you something."
And as desperately as she wanted to go, Florence hesitated. "I can't," she said lamely, sagging against the window sill. "I have to watch Charlie."
Florence watched as Bonnie contemplated, his foot tapping against the cobblestones of watery lane. He was dressed casually, in a way that made Florence presume that he had been getting ready for bed.
"Alright," Bonnie said eventually, a new determination in his tone. Florence felt her heart sink; she didn't want to see him go so soon. "Let me in, then. I can show you from up there."
Her eyes widened. "Are you mad?"
Bonnie grinned up at her, face illuminated by the moonlight. "Just a little bit."
Florence bit her lip, contemplating her choices. Her father wasn't home, but she had no way of knowing when he would return. If he caught her with Bonnie in the house, he would surely have a fit. On the other hand, Florence really wanted to see Bonnie, and Charlie was nearly asleep anyways.
"Fine," Florence said eventually, her heart racing with adrenaline. "But you have to be out in forty minutes, otherwise we're both dead."
