𝐞𝐠𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 · 𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

THE HARSH WIND clipped at Tommy's exposed skin as he walked down the pier of Margate towards the figure standing in the distance. Tommy could feel the sand that had entered his shoes with each step he took, trying not to scowl at the sensation of it covering his socks.

He had rushed down to Margate as fast as possible after receiving an earful of screams from Polly who told him to go find Alfie after they had arrived home with a barely conscious Evelyn in Arthur's arms.

"I do hope you're going to leave the dog out of this," Alfie spoke to Tommy as he stopped a few steps away. Alfie's eyes never left the ocean.

"You were easy to find," Tommy responded, opening his mouth to inform Alfie of what was going on before the man cut him off.

"Yeah, well, there's a good reason for that, Tommy, innit? Because I wanted it to be here."

Tommy sighed. "I know that I once told you, Alfie, that for business reasons or in bad blood, I would kill you."

"It seems that I have retired," Alfie exhaled a deep breath. "So this is all purely for bad blood, is it, Tommy?"

"I'm not going to kill you, Alfie. At least not today–"

"You gonna look after my dog?"

Tommy grunted, looking towards Cyril who was sitting at Alfie's feet. "Alfie-"

"Right. Well, his name is Cyril and he'll be very upset and distressed so you'll need to give him to Evelyn since he seemed to love 'er more than me."

"Alfie, listen to me-"

Alfie cut Tommy off again, taking his hands out of his pockets. "I'm not fucking armed – but the one thing I do got on me is fuckin' cancer, mate. Yeah, fuckin' riddled with it. Doctor told me I might have picked it up in France from the gas or somethin'. He even showed me a photograph."

"Alfie shut up," Tommy shook his head, taking a few tentative steps towards him. "I'm not killing you because I need you to come with me. It's Eve-"

"Yeah, Evelyn. Right, I'm going to need yer' to tell 'er that I ran away or somethin'. Tell her that she'll never see me again. Just don't tell 'er that I'm dead or you killed me – she'll fuckin' hate you for it and I know she's gonna need yer'."

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before it seemed like Alfie had even more to say. Sometimes Tommy wondered if he just loved the sound of his own voice.

"There's an honourable reason now for yer' to pull that trigger. So fuckin' get on with it. Stop actin' like a little girl."

Having enough, Tommy threw caution to the wind. "Evelyn's sick, Alfie!"

"She – what?"

"Fainted right into Polly's arms after the bullet was fired into Changretta's head," Tommy sighed. "I didn't come here to kill you, I came here to take you to her at the request of my aunt."

Tommy could see the reluctant expression that covered Alfie's face, which caused him to roll his eyes in exasperation.

"You can pretend that you don't love Eve as much as you want, but we both know that the truth is you never stopped. It's why you wanted me to lie to her to spare her the pain you felt when you thought she was dead."

"Right." Alfie ran and hand through his slightly greasy hair before finally turning to face the Shelby man.

"I thought I knew my sister like the back of me own hand, but now that person is you. You understand her better than maybe any of us. She needs you."

Kissing his teeth, Alfie straightened his coat before shaking his head. "Give 'er my best wishes, yeah?"

"Alfie, just come with me," Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose – waving a hand behind him to gesture to his Bentley parked in the far distance.

However, after a beat of silence – Tommy realised that Alfie had stubbornly planted his feet and wasn't moving. With a heavy sigh, Tommy pointed to the man whose unyielding persistence rivalled his own.

"Just remember that you've made this bed, Alfie," Tommy's voice was sharp – silver-tongued. "When the time comes for you to lay in it, know it was your decisions that put you there."

With that final sentiment, Tommy turned on the balls of his feet to walk back the way he came, not hearing a response from the Jewish gangster – returning to Small Heath without fulfilling the one request his aunt has specifically asked for. 

~~~~~~

EVER SINCE SHE was a child Evelyn hated being babied. She despised the way everyone would tread lightly around her – forcing her to rest even when she wasn't tired.

Evelyn let out a small scoff in disgust to the soaking rag her aunt had placed on her forehead as she laid out on the small armchair – getting lost in the random novel that she had picked out of the stacked bookshelf behind the chair. 

"Pol, I'm fine," she lightly rolled her eyes behind the book, taking the rag off her head – carelessly tossing it onto the coffee table in the middle of the parlour. 

Polly only snatched the book out of her niece's hands, causing Evelyn to huff in frustration. "You've got to keep your temperature down."

"You've said that for the last five days, Pol. I'm completely fine now."

"You fainted in my arms, Evelyn," raising her eyebrow at the use of her aunt's use of her full name, Evelyn shifted until her feet were placed on the floor as she sat.

"I fainted from exhaustion – I've neglected taking care of myself. Between everything with Alfie and then planning to kill Changretta, it's been a lot and I haven't been eating or sleeping well."

Evelyn tried to comfort her aunt, ultimately knowing that it was falling on deaf ears when Polly crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her jaw. Before either of them could say more – Tommy carelessly strolled into the house, tossing his coat onto the nearest surface, which happened to be Evelyn's lap as he ran a hand through his hair.

"What's wrong with you?" Polly frowned at the rushed movements of her nephew – both women watching intently as Tommy reached on top of the tallest cupboard, pulling down two pistols.

"We expecting trouble?" Evelyn questioned, taking the gun from Tommy's hand as he held it out to her after making sure it was loaded.

"In about ten minutes a wagon of men is going to pull up outside the betting shop – they sent a kid earlier to trip the front door, so you and I are going to enter through the back," he gestured between himself and Evelyn. "They're a gang from Manchester, The Scuttlers. They want to do a deal."

Polly propped her palm over her jutted hip, staring at Tommy in what looked to be distaste. They had all thought that after the death of Changretta, they'd finally be able to catch a break.

"I thought that Manchester was run by a bunch of little boys?" Polly tilted her head, scrutinising Tommy – the man sighing in frustration.

"They joined together, the leader is trying to gain more land – he's gone to a gang in London made of fucking women and tried to take their assets because he believed they were weak," Tommy was visibly annoyed at the prospect of another gang trying to gain terrain in places they didn't belong, whereas both Eve and Polly scoffed at how men always seemed to underestimate women. 

Evelyn tucked the pistol into the waistband of her skirt as she stood, tossing Tommy's coat back at him. Brushing back her unruly hair, Evelyn quickly stepped into her discarded kitty heels by the front door, grabbing her own black coat of the hanger on the wall.

"Evelyn, are you sure you should go?" Polly appeared deep in thought, but Evelyn brushed it off as her obviously still being worried about her.

"I'm fine, Pol," she assured before nodding at her brother. "Let's go."