Tommy Shelby finally recognises the extent of his mental damage. An Illness that is eating away at his conscious being, devouring every last morsel of sanity in his head.
An illness that finally forces him to seek counsel from a professional.
To fi...
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Fresh eyes woke to a cloudy, powder blue sky – the type where it was almost deceiving enough to believe the temperature might be somewhat pleasant. The bright white sun shone vivaciously, but every now and again concealed it's shine behind the silky veil of a passing cloud.
Verity had slept rather brokenly as far as sleepless nights went, her mind racing back and forth and the constant reminder she was once again in a foreign bed threw her conscious mind too far out to even begin to think about getting some proper sleep.
It was easy enough for her to awake at 6 that morning, expecting to be getting Charlie out of bed – but as she padded down the darkened hallway; she found his bedroom door open and a bed empty, sheets rustled yet curtains still closed. She smiled warmly to herself, the promise of a ride in the countryside on the horses had obviously made him more excitable than she could have ever imagined.
-
There was no sign of Tommy that morning as Verity joined Charlie's morning ritual – jam and porridge for breakfast, orange juice for Charlie and a steaming pot of tea for Verity. Upon her asking, Verity learned from Francis that Tommy had left early that morning for work. From that rather vague response, Verity knew not even Tommy's housemaid was allowed to really know of his whereabouts. She could only assume he was doing some work that was obviously so legal that it had to remain a secret.
Getting ready for the morning ahead, Verity managed to find some jodhpurs in the bottom of the chest of drawers in her suite. They were taupe coloured, comfortable and stretchy in material and looked barely worn. She could only imagine perhaps they may have been Mrs Shelby's at some point – a pair she may not of liked? She tried not to think too much about it as she slipped into them, pulled on a white ruched blouse, and brushed out her long dark hair. She looked very much the part of an Equestrian despite not having had much horse contact since being a child.
As she made it downstairs to the large hallway area, Charlie was sat by the fire – a tub of boot polish in hand and a brush. The sight was so sweet, she didn't know that many children who meticulously cared for their things.
It was only as her hazel eyes paid more attention, did Verity realised Charlie was polishing up another pair of boots besides his own small ones.
"These are mummy's boots." Charlie said once he was done, carrying the leather long boots over to Verity who looked at them attentively – recognising them as the pair she had worn last time she was here. The memory of it all made her shudder once again – despite the more positive shift in her contact with Tommy, she had never been made to feel so stupid than that day she came to Arrow House.
Her mind forced her into play back, recalling the images – trying so hard to get to know him, only to be mistaken for another one of his casual whores. She remembered how he'd said it so nonchalantly:
'Let's fuck.'
"They're lovely and shiny, Charlie." Verity snapped herself out of it, sitting herself down on one of the high-backed armchairs near the hearth as the little boy smiled on at her approvingly. "Thank you." She said graciously.
