sweet french. peaky blinders

70

Tommy and Lucille

The relief Lucille felt upon seeing his face was indescribable. His scratches had scabbed over, the bruises that littered his jaw and temples beginning to lighten from the thunderous purple they'd been the last time she'd seen him. His eyes were free of the redness, and finally, Tommy looked somewhat contempt, as if the things he'd said were going right were in fact going right.

Lucille placed a hand to his cheek, running a finger below his eye and across to his lips, pulling him in for a long missed kiss. The manyness of the hours they'd missed in only a few weeks had sunk in, letting the short sweetness of passion be shared for a moment.

"You found the papers?" Tommy asked as she pulled away, a light smile on his lips.

"Yes," she said, standing and moving toward the drawer across the room, pulling the key from where it was hidden beneath her clothes. "Look what I managed to get my hands on."

She unlocked it, pulling a single piece of paper out and handing it to him.

"There was no document in the public archives. I had to contact the agency that took him," Lucille said. He looked down at the address that was scribbled across the top.

"And they gave it to you?"

She smirked lightly, leaning in as he wrapped a hand around her waist. "Men are always more inclined to trust a woman's voice."

Tommy grinned and placed a kiss on her head. "We go to him soon."

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Polly exclaimed as she entered the betting den.

Her face had fallen into a pit of shock, her lips parting and dark eyebrows raising. She examined every face in the room, as if she was seeing them for the first time again, and, in theory, it almost as if she was. Birthdays brought outlooks the equivalent of tinted glasses, obscuring sights with blushes of colour, and Polly had never seen such a yellow scene- all of them, even Tommy, for heaven's sake, were smiling back at her as if God had blessed her to be a saint herself.

"When did you get back?"

"I didn't want to miss your birthday Pol," he said with a smile.

Lucille hurried to her side, warming her cold hands between her arm by tucking in her elbow comfortingly. "Happy Birthday, Pol."

Polly looked bewildered, her eyes still wide, hand loosely falling to pat Lucille's in thanks. "How did you know it was my birthday? Nobody ever knows," she said.

"It's different this year," Tommy said as he turned to his brothers, waving them over with a motion of his hand and a nod of his head. "John, Finn, bring the car around."

"Where we going?"

"To unwrap your birthday present."

Polly was swiftly swooped away by John and Arthur, an arm being taken by each, their long legs taking her quickly out of the betting den's door and to the car on the road outside. Tommy dropped behind, taking up Lucille's left. He was still smiling when she looked up, letting her eyebrow slant in a questioning stare.

"Don't worry, you'll get yours tonight," he said, keeping his face neutral except for the smile.

"On what occasion?"

"Success," he said as if it was the most obvious answer.

"As good as anything."

The gift in question did not come with a large silver bow nor a lovingly scribbled out card. In fact, there was no addressing at all, no wrapping and no box to hand it over in. As the car pulled up onto a quiet, pleasant-looking street, Polly didn't let her mind exaggerate. Even as the boys led her and Lucille up a pretty pathway lined with her favourite blue hydrangeas, she didn't get excited.