Dangerous Things | Thomas Shelby

22

That evening, Hazel was laying wide awake in the darkness of her room. It felt strange being in the single bed on her own. The last time she was in it, she was pressed against Thomas's chest.

She wondered where he was- probably still drinking at the Garrison with John and Arthur. She huffed in annoyance, not wanting to fall asleep in case she didn't wake up in time to catch the boys before they left for London. She'd decided she would travel back home with them tomorrow morning, she had to be back there with Ada and clear her mind before she made a final decision.

The decision she had to make was wether she was going to quit her job and come back to small Heath, or stay in London. She weighed up the pros and the cons for both.

London- she had a secure job with a decent income. She had regulars- one in particular, whom which she worried wouldn't take it lightly that he would not be in her care anymore. She shared a flat with Ada and Karl- her best friend and her godson. She didn't want to leave them.

Birmingham- Thomas. No- not Thomas, this wasn't about him. Polly, Arthur, Finn, John. The horses and the stables and Curly. The Garrison. Home- it was home.
Thomas was there.

She sighed loudly as she wondered whether every decision she was going to make for the rest of her life would include Tommy as a deciding factor.

A string of noises began to come from the living room down stairs, and Hazel instantly reached under her pillow, feeling her hands wrap around a small hand gun. She remembered Thomas saying there was trouble.

As she tip toed down the stairs, her mind drifted from an intruder, to it perhaps being one of the boys coming home drunk. Her grip on the gun loosened.

She wondered if it was perhaps Thomas bringing a woman home. Her grip on the gun tightened.

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice came from the darkness, and Hazel realised instantly that it was Polly.

"What am I doing? I thought someone had broke in!" Hazel spoke with relief.

Polly didn't reply, just pulled her lighter out and lit a cigarette, before lighting a candle. Hazel strained her eyes to see Pollys face in the darkness, and she could tell she had been crying.

"Pol- what's wrong?" Hazel asked softly as she took a seat opposite her.

"My daughter." Polly responded, her eyes staring blankly at the floor.

"Your daughter?" Hazel frowned.

"Yeah. Daughter and son. He's fine, I don't dream about him b-but she's dead." She replied, wiping a tear that had rolled down her face.

"You dreamt she's dead?"

"It isn't just a dream. That woman- that woman told me it's true. My daughter is dead." Polly spoke, her lips wobbling.

Hazel frowned for a moment before realising what woman Polly had meant.

"You've been to see a medium?" Hazel asked slowly, and Polly just nodded her head in reply.

"Oh Pol- you know there's very few you can trust, especially round here. For all you know she's lying- pushing the glass. Come to the camp with me and we will find some one ther-"

"I don't need to go to a bloody camp. I didn't even really need the medium. I knew, deep down. I can feel it. She's gone. It's like a cold breath on my heart whenever I wake up from my sleep." Polly cut her off sharply.