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17
These days, it seemed that Ana would have no peace. Her time was filled with tea and coffee either with her Aunt or her mother, or of tedious dinners with the priest and sometimes the MP too. It was rare that she would have a minute to herself, though it was probably best, she thought, as she didn't need anymore time in which she could recede into her own mind, thinking of everything that was going on.
She hadn't spoke to John since that night. She hadn't given her mother an answer. She hadn't given her Aunt a chance to involve her in the business with the priest any more than she already was. Ana was living in a constant state of sleep, drifting through the monotonous days emotionless and unbothered.
Tonight would be different though. Tommy Shelby would be at the dinner table, and after everything that had happened, she didn't know how she would be able to sit there silent again.
Ana stepped through the doors to the Ritz with her sister on her arm. It was her uncle's favourite place to dine out, and he often came on his own, despite the fact that it was becoming increasingly obvious that his riches were nowhere near as large as he claimed. It was Ana's first time at the Ritz and she couldn't help but feel at home within the private room they had acquired. It reminded her of her father's favourite restaurant back home.
"How do you keep quiet after all that you know?" Ana leaned toward her sister as her eyes placed themselves on the priest who sat opposite the two.
"The same way you stopped yourself from feeling for John Shelby." Tatiana was smirking, and Ana sent a playful glare her way. "A little bit of work. But us girls know a lot about patience."
"Drink, Tatiana? Anastasiya?"
She grimaced, nodding and watching as he poured the wine into her glass, following up with Tatiana's as she said, "A little."
Neither of them would drink it.
"Naughty girls." The slimy tone of voice sent shivers down her back.
The rest of her family, but Ana blocked them out. Even the sound of her sister's voice distracted her. She couldn't help but think of what her mother had said, of the claim she had made. It rang around her head at all mentions of any sort of business or action.
The banging of the door sent echoes through the room, silencing any conversations immediately. Tommy Shelby eventually staggered through, his steps unusually unorganised and nothing like his normal, purposeful walk. He looked more like a child, new to his feet, rather than an elegant tiger, prowling through the room as if he owned it.
