❝ PICKET FENCE! ❞ → GRAY ✓

→ iii.xii

Act Three, Scene Twelve

→ ❝ such a pretty face! ❞

             It was a few days after the Extraordinary General Meeting and there was still little progress on the vendetta. Luca Changretta had not been killed yet, not even by the esteemed Aberama Gold, and only two Italians had been removed by Arthur.

             Only two.

             God, it made Carol feel sick; she was slowly becoming accustomed to the violent Shelby-Gray lifestyle that she had sworn she would never be a part of. All of a sudden, the concept of killing seemed usual for her, and two murders somehow weren't enough.

             Tommy had told Carol not to visit Michael in the hospital that day. He had guilt tripped her by telling her that Charles missed her deeply, and he couldn't break his heart for another day by telling him that his Auntie Carol didn't have the time to visit him. It was a low blow – Tommy knew how much Carol loved Charlie due to her own child deficiency, and hoped his reasoning (explained at a much later date, of course) would lessen the betrayal.

             To Carol, it had seemed like Tommy was trying to keep her away from Michael, as if trying to keep her safe. There was a warning hidden in his eyes that she struggled to decode, but regardless she agreed to see Charles again. She had missed him, and hadn't actually seen him since the family returned to Small Heath.

             Kissing Michael on the cheek, she left the hospital early in the morning to go home and change her clothes before going to Tommy's. The sun was only just rising as she snuck into Ada's house as quietly as she could (using the key hidden under the plant pot outside Arthur's house) and tiptoed up the stairs, careful not to wake Ada or Karl.

             She quickly shuffled into a yellow dress – Michael's favourite, of course – and brushed her teeth, checking her reflection in the mirror by the door before making her way back to the hospital. It wasn't a very long walk, maybe forty minutes in total, and the chirping of the birds distracted Carol from the cold morning air as she pulled her coat tighter around her body.

             "I thought you weren't meant to be coming back today?" Michael had a smile plastered across his face when Carol came through the door, revealing herself limb by limb, beginning by sticking her leg through the crack in the door and hitching up her dress to reveal her suspenders. "You said you were playing with Charlie."

             "Tommy didn't say I couldn't see you at all," she replied, sighing and quickly growing bored of her entrance. Being sexy and seductive was tiring, "So I thought I'd leave around mid-morning to see Charlie. I love him, but I can't spend all day with him. That's pathetic."

             Michael yawned, slowly getting out of the bed by himself and refusing the help that Carol offered. He was sick of being so dependent on her, despite her constant reassurances that she didn't mind. In sickness and in health, she would always remind him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

             "What do you want to do this morning then?" Michael asked as Carol draped a blanket over his lap to keep him warm. She was always so thoughtful, and Michael was often frustrated that he couldn't properly show her his appreciation.

              "Well," Carol said, pulling out the chair opposite Michael, "We can have breakfast, and I have to write some letters, and then I'll probably have to go. Is that alright?"

             Michael nodded in satisfaction; he was happy to spend whatever time he could with her, regardless of what they were actually doing. He was convinced that even being in the same room as Carol, watching her concentrate and listening to her laugh, was speeding up his recovery.