Gun Metal And Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 24

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 24

Isolation is not safety

Masterlist

Only priests and fools are fearless, and I've never been on the best of terms with God.

"It's Tilda! She's shaking! She's shaking real bad!"

Thomas and Charlie exchanged glances before bolting down the street. Thomas tried his best to keep the baby from jostling about too much.

When they entered the cramped walkway, they heard crying and frantic movements.

"Oh, Bubs, thank God you're here! She's got a raging fever but she's freezing to the bone."

Dorothy was trying her best to to get the girl warm, her eyes had tears building up in the corners as she desperately tried to get the girl warm, "I'm so sorry Matilda! I wish I could take you home, but it's just not safe. You'll be fine, I promise!"

By now Dorothy was humming old lullaby's that Thomas also knew. Thomas had learned it was something she did when the ringing got bad; the ringing got bad when she got stressed.

Thomas gave the baby to Theo and shrugged off his blazer, he draped his coat over the violently shaking girl who was sobbing loudly, probably at the sheer discomfort that came with these sorts of illnesses.

Before Thomas really knew what was going on, Dorothy was getting under the coats and jackets with the girl, rubbing her hands up and down the girls arms, trying to get the blood flowing.

"Bonny, what are you doing? You can't get too close, you'll get sick!" He tried pulling gently on her shoulders, trying to manoeuvre her away from the contagiously sick girl.

Thomas knew Dorothy had a poor tolerance to anything, really. He'd seen her get colds from being outside for moments and sometimes collapse from pure exhaustion. He supposed that's what living her in condition would do to a person.

It pained him badly that he had no way of helping. He couldn't make everything better, he couldn't silence the ringing or give her everything so she could have the fullness in her cheeks and the satisfied feeling of a full belly. He couldn't give that to her.

"No, Bubs! She needs to get warm, I'm not just going to sit here and do nothing!" She shrugged her shoulders out of his grasp.

She lowered her voice to a hushed whisper, "I'm not letting this girl DIE, Shelby."

Thomas stepped back. Far back. He wasn't used to her using his name, his real one. Maybe her language is what made Thomas take a step back. He supposed it was only now that the severity of the situation kicked in.

He'd seen people do this in France. Men would lie next to each other as a way to make sure the other wouldn't freeze to death in those trenches. With a huff and a sigh, Thomas turned to the other children, "okay. Until we get Matilda sorted out, you kids need to keep your distance, yeah? Can't have you getting sick either. Now where do you lot sleep?"

Theo picked up the box Tammy was sleeping in and lead Thomas to a small nook in the side of the walkway. It looked to be the remains of a living room of sorts. The front door had seemingly been taken off its hinges completely, leaving the 'living room' of sorts to just be used as a means of protection front the elements.

They had mats and cloths on the floor, the whole 'house' seemed to cave in on itself. The stairway had collapsed completely so it appeared that this was the only room they stayed in.

Thomas nodded slightly, trying to get his bearings.

The three children bundled up close to each other, Charlie took a blanket that was much too small for the three of them and draped it over Leah and Theo. He then laid down next to Leah who laid her head on Theo's shoulder. Charlie then took Leah's box and huddled it close to his body, keeping a protective arm wrapped around it.

Thomas grimaced at the sight of the children who were desperately trying to stay alive.

Reflecting a bit now; Thomas looked at the children and saw them like his own at this point. A mix between sibling and children, he saw them as extended family in a way.

The children, though wary at first, accepted him with open arms the moment Dorothy gave the word.

On the surface level of things, people might think Dorothy was a mother-figure to these kids, when really- she just empathised so deeply for them that she became part of their peculiar family.

"Tell us a story, Tommy?" Leah's small voice called out through the bundles of blankets.

"Oh yeah, please Tommy!" Theo chimed in.

Thomas chuckled and shook his head, he settled next to the children on the floor, lying on his back next to Theo.

"Have I ever told you about the story of the princess and the common boy?"

"No! What's that?" Leah giggled at the premise. She liked Princesses, always wanted to be one. Thomas had seen Bonny tell her many times when Leah talked about her dreams that one day she would definitely be a princess and live in her castle with all her friends. Thomas remembered times when Leah would turn to him and ask him if one day she'd be a princess, to which Thomas' heart swelled; he'd nod his head and ruffle her hair, telling her that she'd have lines of princes stood at her door.

"Well, I'll tell you now: Once upon a time, there was a princess who always roamed the forest of her Kingdom. She took a little device with her that allowed her to save the moments and sights she saw-."

"Like a camera?"

Thomas smiled, "exactly like a camera! And one day, she came across a boy who was on the run. The two were similar ages, but didn't instantly get on very well. At first they fought and butted heads, but sooner or later, the two started to fall in love with each other."

Leah gasped a little at the story, she would have squealed with excitement if Theo wasn't already snoring in her ear, fast asleep.

Thomas continued the story until he heard soft, deep sighs coming from Leah who had surely fallen asleep.

"And the two got married and lived in the palace for ever more and went on all kinds of adventures." Thomas sighed hand sat up. He collected himself and got up, dusting off his trousers.

"What kind of adventures did they go on Tom?" Charlie whispered.

Thomas raised a brow at the child who was supposed to be asleep, but was not for whatever unjust reason. "All kinds of adventures, now go to sleep." Thomas chided quietly.

"Is that story about you and Miss. Dotty-Anne? But just this time you guys finally got together?" Charlie smiled cheekily up at Thomas.

"Now that's none of your concern, and for the record, she and I have no kind of feelings like that for each other, now zip it and shut your eyes."

Charlie's grin only widened more, "I never said anything about feelings, Tommy."

Thomas eventually gave up with the staring match when he heard distant humming coming from the walkway. He pointed at Charlie, "If you're not asleep by the time I get back, then I'm going to let Bonny have you, and I don't think you'd appreciate her nagging."

Thomas waltzed out of the door, slightly amused at the conversation. He stopped and contemplated his day for a moment. He really didn't have so much as a clue as to how Bonny had turned his life on it's head. He did not expect to be doing any of this today.

But he'd let her drag him anywhere if it meant following her.

——

Thomas approached the sound of humming and shuffling. He peeked his head around the corner and saw Dorothy holding Matilda in her arms, rocking back and forth with the shaking girl singing lullabies. She had streams of tears running down her face as she desperately tried to warm the girl up.

Thomas' heart broke at the sight. He wasn't a doctor nor had he any idea how to combat illness. In a feeble attempt at trying to be useful, Thomas sat down on the other side of Matilda and tried his best to use his own body heat to warm her up.

Maybe the sight would have been endearing to a passerby, but if you looked closer, it's was a picturesque sign of tragedy and heartbreak. If it wasn't for the violent shaking coming from the girl, you would have thought her dead.

Tragedy isn't beautiful. The misfortunes of Dorothy's life are not beautiful. The turmoil that plagues Thomas' mind is not beautiful. The tumultuous sound of Dorothy's sobs was not beautiful. The laboured breathing that Thomas harboured was not beautiful.

People are not rain; or snow; or autumn leaves. They do not look pretty when they fall down.

——

Matilda's shaking finally ceased in the early hours of the morning, her body seemingly passed through the hardest part of her fever. She was still asleep, but she was still breathing.

That's all that mattered

Her hair was matted to her scalp and tear streaks from the discomfort ran down her face like train tracks through rolling fields.

Dorothy and Thomas finally sat back a bit and breathed deeply. The long night exhausting both of them.

The panic in the air settled into a distant hush as Dorothy only continued to stare at the girl in front of her. She leaned forward and felt her forehead; her fever had finally broken.

She finally looked up at Thomas and nodded, to which he dipped his head against to wall and sighed.

He looked back to her frame that was covered in goose bumps and chills. She had long since pushed her fringe back so it now sat haphazardly on the top of her head, unkempt.

She too had tear streaks and red eyes, her lip was bleeding from her biting down on it in frustration. She started tapping her fingers on the back of her right hand in unrhythmic patterns.

Thomas leaned over Matilda slightly, careful of the girls sleeping form. He put his hands on top of her own, trying to stop her nervousness, "it's alright. She's going to be okay. You did good and now she's going to be fine." His voice was scratchy and and gruff, but it was quiet and caring to the anxious girl.

Dorothy nodded and leaned her head against the wall behind her, taking deep breaths.

Thomas found the cramped walkway to be suffocating. It was only now that the panic had stopped did his own claustrophobic anxieties kick in. "I'm going to go check on the small ones. Make sure they're sleeping alright." Thomas excused himself. His hips creaked and his knees cracked and popped at the stiffness of his body. He winced at the sounds and hobbled down the walkway to the makeshift bedroom the children created.

He slowly entered the room and sat down at the foot of where they were sleeping. Making sure they were sleeping fine and peering into Tammy's box, he sat back a bit and took a breather.

After his mind had cleared a bit he looked at the faces of the kids in front of him. They all looked truly peaceful. Their faces ignorant to the horrors that had occurred outside of the abandoned house.

They appeared innocent, like the hardships that they faced in the day did not run with them to their dreams; that is something Thomas envied.

He wished for the day when his own night terrors would stop and he too, could sleep through the night.

Thomas had a small epiphany as he sat in the cold room. He looked at the children and saw a family. They were a peculiar and odd, misfit family. But they were together. They stuck with each other, they communicated and loved one another.

Thomas' night terrors were not a product of him being haunted by demons that held him close, but rather a result of his rejection of company.

Isolation is not safety, it is death. If no one knows you're alive, you're not.

This new notion resonated with Thomas as the events of the past several weeks caught up with him. When he met Bonny he started to live again for the first time since the war.

His mind kept going back to a conversation they had when they discussed their fears. Bonny admitted that her worst fear was losing Thomas and by association, her chance to live.

Thomas finally understood what she meant. When he was with Bonny, he was no longer surviving on borrowed time, he was finally breathing again. That's why they craved each others presence. That's why they demanded each other's full attention because if they didn't have it, then they had no chance of feeling the air in their lungs that they quickly became addicted to.

Thomas found himself smoking less when she was around. She gave him air, real air; that wasn't tobacco and nicotine rolled up in a nice sheet of an early grave. She breathed life; much like he did the same for her, surprisingly.

His thoughts were interrupted by Bonny peeking her head around the door and whispering his name. She gestured for him to come back out to which he pushed up and followed her back out.

"I reckon it's going to rain soon. Mind helping me move her? I wish I could, but I can't do it by myself."

Thomas nodded silently. Exhaustion was clear on both of their faces as they decided they no longer wanted to speak any more.

Thomas, without a word, gently scooped up the small girl, trying his best not to disturb her sleep and carried her to the lodging area.

Thomas placed her down on a mat a bit farther away from the sleeping children and he re-tucked the blankets around her.

He quickly ventured out again into the walkway, he found the scrap crates that held small slats of wood. He took them back inside and lit a fire with his matches; small enough to not burn the room down, but enough to provide warmth for Matilda and the other small children.

He wandered over to where Bonny was sitting. She was curled up against one of the brick walls, her head was resting on her knees.

Thomas sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders, "how did you know that the mouldy bread worked?"

Bonny moved her head up so it was now resting on his shoulder, "read a paper on it. Flemmings. Works as and anti-something." Her exhaustion was clear in her voice.

Both of them were highly fatigued, it was only now when Thomas checked his pocket watch did he really understand how much time the two had been dead on their feet, going from lying down, to standing up, to changing the towelette and repeating it all again.

Thomas, with his own weights on his eyelids, wrapped his other arm around Bonny and pulled her down to the side. They shuffled about to a position where Thomas was on his back and Bonny's torso was resting on top of him; her face nuzzled deeply in his neck. The small weight on Thomas' chest relaxed him as his breathing became deeper and he drifted off with his favourite person in his arms.

As the two slept, unmoving and relaxed; the rain started pouring, only adding to the ambiance of the nights cruel events.

The rain and the wind said,

"You push and I'll pelt."

They so smote the garden bed.

That the flowers actually knelt,

And lay lodged—though not dead.

I know how the flowers felt.

Slowly the rain became torrential, but it did not touch the sleeping children.

The minuscule fire they constructed provided light and warmth.

The rain also did not touch the unrequited lover, for he held his own sunshine in his arms.

——

THE FEEEELLLLLS.

Thomas having emotional breakthroughs is my kryptonite and you can quote me on that.

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

I love The Anya-Margaret so much already!! And the fact that Florence is red haired makes it even better. Can't wait for more!

Ah thank you so much!

The person who I based her off of is actually a lady called Rachel Maksy!

She looks like this:

Two chapters in one day? Cor, I’ve got my work cut out for me!

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The Anya-Margaret (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 2

“One might wonder how she combed her hair so her horns didn’t show.”

Masterlist

The young girl fled to the living room with her flouncy pink dress bundling behind her as her white petticoats bunched up in vast layers.

Her sweet sounding giggles echoed through the halls of the stately home and everyone around who heard it found themselves laughing along and shaking their heads, remembering days when ugly green walls and ugly politicians didn’t matter.

Wouldn’t all be so much sweeter if life was a box of chocolates?

She screeched around corners and just when she heard the tapping and padding of the maids shoes, she dove behind the luscious red velvet sofa with spruce coloured legs.

Often if you were to walk into the large home for the first time, you’d wonder if it was some sort of festival resort as all the furniture and decor seemed bold and poorly thought through.

“New money.” They’d scoff, and they’d also be right.

She clasped her chubby fingers together and held them over her mouth in a feeble attempt to silence her perpetual giggles.

——

Florence, as always, started her daily mile walk through the streets of Small Heath.

If anyone took the time to ask her why she was walking and where she was walking to; she’d probably respond with, “exercise and hopefully a good place.”

If anyone was to stick around long enough, they’d know that she absolutely was not walking for exercise and this so called ‘good place’ is actually her local pub.

The Garrison.

It’s a fine establishment, although she’s never actually been in the building—through the front doors that is.

Often, when one finds themselves in the shadows, they'll learn just how easy it is to slip by.

She stomped down the wide streets with her long flowing red hair swishing around her face, something that pissed her off immensely.

Many nights she would find herself standing in front of the bathroom mirror with scissors used for cutting stitches open, threatening to chop the nuisance mane short and spiked.

But every time, she saw them behind her, standing side by side as they choked up water with grease stains on their faces and seeping into their eyes.

Don’t get her wrong, she wouldn’t do something like that for any man. But Ossie wasn’t every man, was he?

She heard three gunshots, one right after the other. She shook her head slightly and walked on. The blissful sounds of canon fire that reverberates in your ears. She would have smiled, had she not resented the sound so much.

It was only when she heard one final shot that was in spitting distance around the corner, did she halt.

Shouts and murmurs ensued and she distinctly heard the sound of his voice.

One so deep and hoarse that stunk of loss in its chords that it teared out among the others in the near vicinity.

She recognised the voice and the tones that struck out.

Florence only had one word come to her mind.

Twat.

It should have been a surprising scene for Florence; to walk around the corner and face two dead men and one wounded. But considering what you’ve learnt about this girl, you can probably assume she only raised a brow.

She dawdled slightly in the middle of the street, swaying side to side with her hunched shoulders and permanent grimace.

Men that she didn’t recognise, took their wagon vans and guns and headed out away from the Garrison.

No one really looked at her, and the older men just looked lost and out of place. It wasn’t until she spoke up, did any eyes meet her face.

“Those for me?”

She gestured with her head in the vague direction of the older man and the one with his face in the mud.

“Oi, Tom—what’s she doing here?” Florence crooked her head to the side to see Arthur scowling and looking a bit sick off to the side.

“Oh for fucks-“ Thomas turned and rolled his eyes.

“Ah, how lovely to see you too, Shelby. I’m waiting for that contract to come through, y’know— when you’re done fooling around and playing petty cannon fights with your mates.” She placed a hand on her hip and slouched further as she felt her fingers twitching for a drink and ciggie.

Thomas only stared at her baffled and unamused. When the silence dragged out a bit, Florence gestured to the other body lying face down in the ground.

“Am I taking that one to me cold room? Who is he anyway?”

A man who stood next to Thomas with a rather large gun snarled and said “oi who the fuck do you think you are, woman? Have some fucking respect, they’re Shelby’s, eh? And that’s our best mate-“

“-was.” Florence coughed.

“You what?” The man with the large gun spluttered.

“He was your best mate. With the way he looks, you would have thought he’d been dead for months.” Florence grumbled as she sidled closer to the body, making a joke of nudging it with her foot as if to see if it was alive.

Thomas, who was now clearly bleeding out, looked like he was about to burst into a fit of rage huffed and countered, “you get the fuck away from Danny, eh? Get the fuck away from him y’ hag.”

Hag? Well that’s not very nice. “Careful, Shelby-someone might start to think you care.”

Florence rubbed her palms together as she tried to work out how best to move the corpse. She always liked a fresh one.

She rolled the man over, grunting and grimacing slightly. “Aye, there he is. Oh, what a pretty boy!” She took the heel of her hands and roughly smeared the mud off his cheeks, dragging upwards making Danny look like he was pulling a face.

From behind her, Thomas got a hold of her shoulders and practically tossed her off the body of his friend.

Florence only rolled her eyes and held her hands up in surrender. “Danny was a dead man already, Mr. Shelby. So are you. So am I. You and I both know that. Now if you’ll excuse me-“ she dusted herself off from the spray of mud when she stumbled back, and ambled down the street, hunched shoulders and all. She waved lazily behind her head at the onlooking men, “-but don’t worry, he’s in your heart and all that jaded bollocks!” She called out.

——

Sorry for the lack of updates and activity, I’ve hit a bit of a rough patch, along with writers block so hopefully you can forgive me for that!

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Feedback and comments are wanted.

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 22

“Would you ever want to fall in love?”

Masterlist

The fact that the word 'lovesick' exists, that the simple absence of a person can make you feel physically ill, says a great deal about the terrible power of the human heart.

Thomas was sat in his small office at his small desk in the small betting shop. He filed through papers that he meant to work through, to examine and sign if he felt like it.

Though when he picked up the last sheet, it was in fact an envelope.

It was addressed to him in a scrawl that looked far too good for a lowly mans complaint.

He knew what was in the letter, but he didn't know what to think about it.

In his hands he held Grace's letter. The one she gave to him the night before she left for New York, asking him to run away with her.

He obviously didn't go with her that night on account that he was still in Birmingham; but he thought about her letter. He thought about the address which she listed at the bottom of the page, the place she was going to inhabit across the oceans.

Thomas, for some unknown reason, didn't throw the letter away, nor did he burn it. He left it on his desk, in between the files. He left it for another time.

It's not like Grace wasn't going to be there, should he journey off to wherever she now lived.

——

It was the seventh week of Thomas' and Dorothy's late night Saturday meetings.

They truly were Thomas' favourite time of the week. It was the time the two could be completely alone as they picked and prodded at the others brain.

Thomas had now formed a small acquaintance with the children that visited Bonny on Saturday nights for left overs.

Thomas now often found himself talking to the five children that popped in on those nights while Dorothy tried her best to feed the small baby, Tammy.

Thomas told fun stories from when he was younger to the children as best he could. Though more often than not, the kids would complain and whine as he drifted off a bit when he got lost staring at Dorothy as she looked after the small girl.

"Please, Bubs, finish the story, Charlie looks like he's going to burst from anticipation." Dorothy giggled a bit when he caught her eye and paused the story to stare.

Charlie was nine years older than Tammy, making him ten. He was the one that decided the Shelby man was a minor threat compared to the men outside the homely bakery and the two got on like a house on fire. It was truly endearing to watch.

Generally while the other three kids sat around the table, talking with Bonny, Charlie wondered over with two pieces of bread, offered one to Thomas and sat next to him.

At first, Thomas decided it wasn't worth befriending a ten year old, of course. But then as time wore on, the two found themselves going from discussing mundane things and their favourite sweet Bonny made to their day to day and both their adoration for the woman in front of them.

Charlie was the second oldest of the group, just a few months younger than Matilda who was almost eleven.

Thomas did always have a soft spot for children and just had a sense of sympathy for them. He knew kids had to grow up quickly now and there wasn't much room to ever enjoy youth as it was.

Charlie, he learned, was handy with a football and had a nack for the sport. Thomas remembered years of playing footie in the park with John. He wasn't the best at it, but the determination to push his younger brother to the ground whenever he got in his way was much stronger than winning.

So Thomas liked football too.

Now Thomas became the resident story master on these nights. Some of the kids stood a bit of a way back, still cautious of the Shelby man, while others sat right at his feet.

It was moments like these that Thomas craved for a family. Where he could have children and a loving wife, someone like Bonny, who was caring and kind-hearted and pure and everything Thomas ever wanted.

After Thomas had finished the story, and Dorothy had put the extra bits of food in a bag, the children scurried off into the night.

The pair stood at the window, waiting for them to go around the corner until they were out of sight before Dorothy spoke, "Charlie's a sweet boy."

Thomas hummed slowly. Thomas wouldn't say it out loud, but he was definitely Thomas' favourite. He had grown fond of the boy who seemingly had to grow up too fast, shepherding the other children, trying to keep them safe.

Charlie did most of the odd jobs. He cleaned strangers shoes for a quick shilling and delivered messages for people who didn't have time for letters. He did what he could.

Thomas found that the two were similar. Charlie tried his best to do what he could for his peculiar family the same way Thomas did.

Everything was for his family.

Thomas admired that in the boy.

——

The two made their way to the back of the bakery to the kitchen.

Thomas now had an allocated seat at the side to sit and ponder while Dorothy busied herself with baking.

This time though, Thomas did something different.

"How do you make that Billion Dollar shite?" He stated rather crudely.

Dorothy giggled slightly, "C'mere, I'll show you."

This was very new. Usually Thomas sat back and watched. He would ask questions or he would answer them.

His next words probably shocked him most, "orright."

Thomas heaved himself out of his chair and stumbled over in Dorothy'a general direction.

"What're you doing here? Wash your hands first! Didn't your aunt eva' teach you 'bout hygiene?'

Thomas held up his hands and ambled to the sink, dipping them under the water briefly. "Good enough."

When he finally got round to standing beside her she already had the ingredients out, he took off his blazer and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. Dorothy briefly appreciated the look before moving on.

She got to work commanding, "mix this!" Or, "pour that!" And "No, that's far too much!"

Thomas huffed a little, he wasn't exactly used to being spoken to like that. Had she been anyone else, he probably would have cut her a long time ago.

"Since when were you so demanding, huh?" He nudged her a bit.

"Since this is my ball park. This isn't your betting shop, nor the streets of Small Heath. This is my territory, Mister!"

Thomas chuckled at her answer, he didn't mention the fact that he was very sure this bakery was in his territory in Small Heath, but he accepted that this was her safe space, he was only a guest.

After the last of the treats had gone in the oven, Thomas decided that maybe baking wasn't for him, but he'd do it a thousand times again for that kind of experience with his Bonny. She truly was at peace when she was working with her sweets.

But now that they had approximately 20 minutes to kill, Thomas decided to take the lead now.

He rifled through her collection of records and pulled out a nice jazzy one that he hoped he remembered the moves to.

"Oh now that's a good one!" Dorothy chimed over his shoulder, startling him a bit as he was too busy recollecting the actions to the piece.

"Go on, Bubs, dance with me!" She flicked her dress about a bit, giggling as she made big gestures with her hands which Thomas reciprocated with an over exaggerated bow.

"As you wish, Miss. Bonny."

The two pranced around the kitchen, at times she was much too far away from him and he wished he'd picked a slower one.

By the time the record was finished the two had five minutes to waste until they had to stop the sweets from burning.

They settled down again in a position very familiar to the two. Thomas sat in his chair while Dorothy sat adjacent on the counter beside him, her shins brushing his knees.

"Would you ever want to fall in love with someone, Bonny?" The question didn't startle Dorothy, but she didn't exactly expect it.

"I'm not sure, Bubs."

"How could you not want to fall in love?" Thomas furrowed his brows as he stared up at her. He adjusted their position so her stocking clad feet her resting on his lap, he brushed his thumb against the side of her ankles. He made note of the fact that she somehow managed to kick off her shoes midway through their dance.

"Easy. I don't want my happiness to depend on whether or not a person gives their attention to me. I don't want to stay up late wondering whether they are thinking about me. I don't want to cry over someone who may not care. I don't want to stare at the postman to see whether they sent a letter in the morning. Most importantly, I don't want to give anyone the power to hurt me."

"Why 'they'? Something you've got to tell me?" He stared up at her.

"I don't know, Bubs? Is there something you should know?" She challengingly stared back down at him.

"I'm a modern man, Bonny." He tilted his head to the side.

"Well that's very good. Though, I'm more just opened minded. I don't know what I want, nor the kind of person. Never been in a relationship."

Thomas only nodded. "So you don't want to fall in love with no one?"

"I never said that." Dorothy wiggled her ankles out of his grasp and got off the counter. Thomas sat back and stared at the place where she sat only a second ago, trying to process the information.

Dorothy got to work with taking the sweets out of the furnaces, "your Billion dollar Bubs are looking good, Bubs." She giggled at her own joke.

Thomas didn't answer only continuing to stare off to the side.

Dorothy finished setting out the sweets to cool.

She meandered around for a while, pretending to gather her things, when really she was just milling about, refusing to admit the night has ended and she'd have to leave Thomas until Monday.

Thomas slowly came back to the present and started gathering his things. The two walked to the entrance of the bakery, Dorothy turned to lock up and place the key in the potted plant.

"C'mon. I'll walk you home." This was also new. It seemed Thomas also did not want the night to end.

He held out his arm, naïvely. He should have known that she'd go for his hand. He wasn't complaining.

The two walked to Dorothy's place in silence. Just enjoying the ambiance of the brief moment Small Heath went to sleep.

It was only when they turned to Dorothy's Lane that Thomas spoke up, "so you've NEVER been in a relationship, eh?"

Dorothy giggled and slapped his chest, "shut up!"

"You've got to have had your first kiss though, right?"

Dorothy stared sheepishly at the ground.

Thomas gaped a bit like a fish. He couldn't believe it, really.

If he was honest with himself, he was rather glad about the fact that she hadn't been in a relationship or missed anyone yet. If he was even more honest with himself, the only reason he was happy was because that way, he could be her first kiss and relationship.

But he refused to admit the latter to himself.

Those kind of demons were for another time maybe.

The two parted ways at Dorothy's doorstep. Dorothy turning around to give him the tightest squeeze she could, knowing she wouldn't be able to see him until Monday. She tried her best to remember the way he smelled and the way his warmth felt. He was warm to her.

The two quite solemnly parted ways.

——

ANOTHER ONE! YAYYYY!

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 23

Hypocrisy isn’t pretty

Masterlist

You drink a little too much

And try a little too hard.

And you go home

To a cold bed and think,

That was fine.

And your life

Is a long line of fine.

The new found friendship between Dorothy Monroe and Thomas Shelby had the whole of Small Heath talking.

Two parties, unanimously known, polar opposites.

People couldn't wrap their heads around it.

Some looked at Dorothy with a disapproving glare. It's not because they were jealous of her, but rather that she even gave the time of day to Thomas.

She spent most of her days preaching kindness and never tolerating the evil.

And understandably, people didn't see Thomas Shelby as an exactly nice man.

"Hypocrisy isn't pretty." They'd snarl.

To which Dorothy'd probably answer, "we all break our rules for someone."

Her answer wouldn't justify her actions, but maybe she just didn't care.

Maybe some thought she was trying to change and tame him.

Those who admired Thomas hated her for that. Those who hated Thomas thought it impossible.

Some, mostly the more romantic young girls, liked the pair. They thought about the romance novels they read and saw the same kind of pairings walking the streets.

Many who visited and talked with Dorothy on days she worked at the counter in her bakery, all loved her and thought her the sweetest girl to ever be.

Some thought that Thomas would taint her.

Those who liked her worried for her.

Those who didn't bid her good riddance.

Despite all the speculation, their friendship was nothing like the public suspected.

Thomas was at his best when he was with her. He was a Thomas even he himself forgot about.

Dorothy was accepting of who her best friend was. She had no desire to change anything about him. She took him the way he was.

——

It was a Tuesday and Dorothy was at the counter talking with a customer who came in regularly.

Mrs. Gold-wing, the customer, usually came in to complain about her sons choice of wife or her husbands drinking habits; but this time, she ventured in with a goal in mind.

She was one of the many who were concerned for Dorothy's well-being as she spent time with the very dangerous Shelby man. She trotted in with the hopes that by the time the conversation was over, Dorothy would be fully convinced that she wanted nothing to do with Thomas Shelby.

Mrs. Gold-wing was very naïve.

Mrs. Gold-wing entered the shop and quite loudly announced her presence while at the same time motioning Dorothy to come chat with her.

It's not like she didn't like Mrs. Gold-wing, It's just that she had work to do and these chats were never short.

Dorothy ambled over, "Morning, Mrs. Gold-wing!" She politely smiled.

"Hello love, take a seat." Mrs. Gold-wing adjusted her purse in her lap, "I need to speak with you about your new acquaintance, Shelby, isn't it?"

Dorothy internally groaned. Straight to the point, but she really didn't want to have this conversation.

"What about him?"

"I'm just concerned dear. He's a dangerous man to be around and I'm worried you'll get hurt. Being with him can't possibly be good for your health." Mrs. Gold-wing tried to be tactful.

"I can assure you, Mrs. Gold-wing, I am certainly not 'with' him. He's a good friend of mine, so don't you worry." She patted Mrs. Gold-wings hand that was resting on the table, trying to finish the conversation as her lunch break was soon and she just wanted Bubs to get there quicker.

"But that doesn't make a difference! I cannot allow you to go running around with a man like that! He'll hurt you, dear! What would your poor mother say? Does she know?"

Mrs. Gold-wing was putting a toe over the line and Dorothy was getting rather sick of it. She didn't appreciate people talking about her situation like they knew her.

"Now don't you worry about my friends and mother. I'll be alright, we're good friends, he treats me very well." She shifted slightly in her seat, trying to stay composed, "Now, what loaf would you like to take this week? I must say, Ms. P did very well this week."

"Miss. Dotty-Anne, I'd very much appreciate it is you sat down! You cannot be near that man! He's so very dangerous and is no good for kind soul like you!" Mrs. Gold-wing slammed her purse on the table which the other customers did not take very kindly to.

"We all have stories we never tell, Mrs. Gold-wing. He has his own and judging him for what you don't know and cannot prove is not fair to him or me. With all due respect." Dorothy added on at the end like it was an after thought.

"Miss. Dotty-Anne, I have half the mind to go find your mother and tell her of you gallivanting with Thomas Shelby! It's hardly appropriate for someone like you, to be seen with someone-."

"Someone like me?" A new voice entered the conversation, "someone like me, Mrs. Gold-wing? That's very derogatory, don't you think? I don't appreciate being spoken about like that."

Thomas had seemingly appeared from nowhere, leaving Dorothy's heart to leap out of her chest, from fright or happiness, she didn't know.

Mrs. Gold-wing also didn't take to kindly to the newcomer in their conversation. She pursed her lips and took a trembling hand to her purse.

Thomas continued, "I don't think it's very kind to go talking about other people's mothers like that. It's not kind to pretend to know someone, y'know?"

"That's what I wanted to say!" Dorothy's internal monologue screamed. She coughed into her hand, trying to conceal a laugh.

Mrs. Gold-wing didn't say anything as she stood up with shaking legs and manoeuvred around Thomas who stayed stock-still where he stood, watching her scuttle out of the door.

"I've never been so happy to see you, Bubs." Dorothy put a hand on her heart and sighed deeply.

"Really? I woulda' thought you'd always been the happiest what when that one time I stuck a gun to your head?" Thomas smirked slightly, offering a hand for Dorothy to take to pull her up.

She took the hand and with a swift motion, Thomas pulled her up into a welcoming hug. Assuming his normal position of resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"Shuddup" she mumbled into his chest.

Dorothy pulled back after a moment, and leaned back to look up at him, "let's get out of here, eh Bubs? I need a break from all this."

Thomas offered just arm and the two walked on.

Thomas kept his promise of trying at least one food from every shop, down in the food quarter. Today, they were having cheese toasties. Thomas was never crazy about them, but he ate them nonetheless.

As the two made their way back to the crate-filled alley, they talked quietly among themselves.

Thomas noticed Dorothy smelling the air and her eyes darted to the cardboard box that held the cheese toastie. Thomas only smirked a little and moved it slightly away from her hands which were twitching slightly. He could have sworn that he heard a small whine come from her as he adjusted the position of the steaming box of cheesy deliciousness.

They were midway through their conversation when Dorothy gasped and let go of a Thomas' arm. She crouched down and opened her arms wide. Thomas stared at her for a moment, his brain trying to catch up with the present, but he was surely interrupted by a small "oomph" coming from Dorothy as she was knocked back a little.

Thomas instinctively jutted out his knee which he stabled her against. Thomas looked down at the little bundle Dorothy held in her arms, whatever it was, it was crying, a lot, and very loudly.

"Sh, sh, shhh. Calm down Theo. Sh, sh, sh. What's wrong love?" She held the crying child close to her chest. When the child seemed to calm down a bit, she pulled him back so she could get a look at his face, trying to see if she could magically tell what's wrong.

"It's Tilda!" The boy cried out.

By now, there was a small crowd forming as people watched the scene. Thomas too, watched on. Unsure what to do.

Those words alone seemed to be enough for Dorothy to take Theo's hand, "where's Tilda? Take me to her."

She held her hand up a bit, as a silent plea for Thomas to help her up because she had no way of getting up with the slightest grace if she pushed off his knee.

Without a moment to spare, Theo spurred off and Thomas found himself following.

They shortly arrived at a cramped, narrow and dirty walkway that was seemingly abandoned.

Though as the group got further in, the two adults heard whispering and hushed chatter.

Soon they came across a huddle of the five kids but one was missing and that scared Dorothy the most.

Dorothy observed the scene and they saw Matilda on the ground with Charlie hunched over her, his hand on her forehead.

Leah stood to the side, shifting from foot to foot. Leah and Theo were the most tightly knit in the group, they spent a year together roaming the streets before they found Matilda and Charlie separately. Leah was seven and Theo and was eight.

Immediately, Dorothy sprang into action.

"Right. Leah and Theo, I need you to take these," she rifled through her dress pocket and pulled out a few coins, "go and find Mr. Whites corner shop bakery. Not mine though. Look around the stall and find a loaf of bread that has mould on it. He always has them at the front of the stall."

The two scuttled off down the walkway, nudging past her.

Dorothy turned to Thomas, "You and Charlie need to go find me a towel and a bowl of cold water. Ms. P always has a basin in the back."

Dorothy turned back to Matilda, and Thomas saw that as his cue to leave. Charlie was already darting ahead of him.

Dorothy wiped Matilda's forehead with her sleeve as it had a sheen of sweat covering it.

Dorothy took off her coat and wrapped it around the shaking girl.

The winter was harsh here, Dorothy didn't have a good, thick winter coat but it was the best she could provide.

The girl was shaking and was semi conscious. Dorothy figured that it was at first a cold which has probably now turned into flu.

"Ok. You're going to be alright Tilda. I'll sort you out." Dorothy nodded to her, trying to keep her emotions at bay.

"Where's Tammy, Tilda?" Dorothy looked around a bit, trying not to sound too panicked.

Matilda croaked our, "in her box, we wrapped her up. But-." She coughed a bit, "-but we decided it was good to keep 'er 'way from me. Don' want her ill."

Dorothy nodded as she looked to the side trying to find the box, but in the end resolved to looking for it later.

Before she knew it, Thomas and Charlie were back with a bowl of cold water, a towel and a glass. She forgot to get a glass, good thinking on Thomas' behalf probably.

Without a word she took the bowl of water, she soaked the towel and laid it on Matilda's forehead. It was times like these, that she was very glad she read those med books she was given.

Next came the mouldy bread. It was only a speculation that she'd read about a few times in books, but apparently mouldy bread worked as a medicine of sorts to combat illness.

The paper was very interesting, it was by a very young man called Alexander Flemming; she'd heard it worked a few times, but she'd never done it herself.

"Okay Tilda, I'm going to sit you up, and I'm going to need you to eat this. It may not taste that nice, but it'll help, I promise." She shifted herself so Matilda's shoulders were resting on her thigh, she also supported her head within the crook of her elbow.

"What are you doing Bonny? We can't give her that!" Thomas, for the first time spoke I up.

She glared up at him, "just trust me, Bubs."

Soon enough, Matilda had eaten two pieces of the bread. The children now sat around Matilda, not getting too close, but just observing her. Every five minutes, Dorothy would re-soak the towel on Tilda's head, muttering softly as she stroked the girls sweat drenched hair. The girl of whom was now deep asleep.

Thomas stood off to the side feeling utterly useless. He didn't know how to deal with these kinds of illnesses. Sure, he could stitch up a bullet would, but he hadn't a clue on how to deal with colds or flu.

It was now late afternoon, no one had moved a muscle and soon enough, Tammy had woken up and had started to cry.

Theo ran off to get the crying child. He brought her back, forgetting the situation slightly as he tried to calm the baby.

"Theo, sweetheart, make sure the baby stays over there, we can't risk Tammy getting sick."

For the first time that day, Thomas thought he could try and make himself useful, he wandered over to the boy with the crying child in his arms, "c'mon, give her here." Thomas gestured for the baby, and took the girl in his warm embrace, "sh, sh. C'mon now. Shh." The girl stopped crying as Thomas bounced her lightly in his arms.

A realisation came over Dorothy, "okay, we've got to get you guys some food.

"We couldn't get any coin today cause we was looking after Tilda, all we've got is one last bun." Leah sounded distressed, of course.

Dorothy was silent for a moment, she didn't have any money left, she was unsure of what to do. Thomas moved to another crate, he shifted the baby so he was only holding her in one arm, he shuffled to the cardboard box on the crate and gave it to Leah.

"Ah! Good thinking, Bubs. Glad we got a large slice! There should be four slices in there." The toastie was most definitely cold by now, but it didn't seem like the children cared.

She gave the bun to Tilda who had momentarily woken up.

But then a bigger problem occurred when Tammy started crying. She was hungry.

"Okay. Uhm. There's milk in the bakery. The key is in the usual place."Dorothy waved her hand, trying to stay calm for the children's sake.

Thomas took that as his command to get going.

"Charlie, mind helping me? I'll need help getting in." Thomas gestured with his head to the side, trying to keep the baby comfortable as it cried in random spouts.

—— (can't stop, won't stop.)

So that's how Thomas found himself wandering the streets of Small Heath with a crying baby and a boy, trying his best to keep up.

After the two had tried to be discrete about breaking in to the bakery Thomas gave what he hoped were correct directions to the glasses and milk in the larder.

He sat down in one of the chairs in the main part of the bakery and kept bouncing the baby every now and again, trying to calm it down the best he could.

Soon enough, Charlie came back with a with warm milk in a glass. Thomas took the glass and surveyed the best way of doing the job. He'd seen Bonny do it several times now, but he wasn't really sure.

He tried his best, but after a while, he just couldn't get the technique.

"I could give it a try, if you want?" Charlie offered. Thomas sighed and figured the boy had more experience with babies, which was rather sad, than he did.

Charlie got it first time and soon enough the baby was right as rain again.

Thomas sighed and put his head in his hands. He didn't expect that this was how his day was going to go. His family's hopefully used to his weird disappearances by now, but he was never  sure.

"You're a lot better with that baby, than I am." Thomas chuckled dryly.

Charlie only shrugged, "I don't know about that. Just practice innit?"

"You usually talking care of 'er?"

Charlie sighed and furrowed his eyebrows, "Tilda's usually better with 'er than I am. Did 'ave a younger baby brother a few years ago though."

"Oh yeah? I've got two younger brothers myself. One's a twat and the other is the same age as you." Thomas thought about Finn and thought maybe him and Charlie would be friends.

"What about your brother, where's he now?" Thomas didn't know why he asked or why he cared.

"Dead." Why'd he ask? "Died when 'e was only one 'n a half. I tried my best to look after 'im, but after a few months out here, I woke up one morning to him stone cold." Charlie was stoic. Not shedding a tear of anything.

Time did that to people when they'd gone through trauma. If you repeat a feat multiple times, you become numb to the feeling. It's just how human emotions work. Thomas understood the numbness that came with this sort of thing.

He nodded, "'am sorry to hear about that. My mum died when I was small. I understand what it's like to loose someone you're close to." Thomas had no clue why he was opening up to this person, a CHILD no less.

Thomas assumed it was Dorothy's influence. She made him soft. Thomas found himself looking at Charlie like a brother now. He'd spent a long while with the boy on Saturday evenings when the children visited and he'd grown fond of him.

He saw Charlie as someone who got it. Someone who grew up too fast. Someone who saw pain all too early.

Charlie got it. He got it better than his brothers. Better than his Aunt Polly.

The two carried on talking for a little while longer, just bonding and joking with boyish grins on their faces

Thomas checked his pocket watch, "aye, we better head back. Make sure they're all still okay. I can't have Bonny stressing more."

The two walked back in silence as Thomas took the baby in his arms again.

"So do you and Miss. Dotty-Anne live together or somthin'? I figured you two weren't married cause she didn' 'ave a ring." Charlie stared up curiously.

Thomas' eyes widened slightly, "uh no. We don't live together or none of that. We're just good friends, that's all." Thomas unintentionally sounded saddened which made Charlie crack a smile.

"Ah, but you want to be more?" Charlie smiles cheekily.

"Oi. Don't go poking your nose where it don't belong." Thomas barked a bit.

Charlie held up his hands in mock surrender, sniggering to himself a bit but he dropped the subject.

The moment that the two males had shared was cut short by a frantic Leah coming screeching to a halt in front of them, "it's Tilda! She's shaking! She's shaking real bad!"

——

>:D cliff hangers!!!!

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