“Holy fuck” you whispered, leaning forward to see through the rain spattered glass. The house had appeared out of nowhere, it seemed, hidden by the high trees from the road. You hadn’t even seen the gate until you were through it. The driver had turned in and there it was. You assumed that was entirely on purpose.
Alfie cleared his throat next to you, waiting with the open door in hand.
“Yeah, it’s alright, ain’t it?” he replied, fixing his hat to hide his face from the last sputters of rain.
You stepped out and tried not to go flying on the slick stone beneath your heels. That vintage film star grace that tinged your understanding of this age unfortunately wasn’t something you could borrow from Esther’s cupboards. Alfie hovered his hand around you elbow just in case you tipped. He slammed the door after you and sniffed, letting you admire the view.
“What the fuck, Alfie?” you spat after a few moments, eyes trailing over the windows in succession.
“Yeah” He agreed in a proud voice, his own eyes trailing over the building.
“You live here?”
“Sometimes”
“Some…times. Sorry, did I miss-are you an Earl of somewhere?”
He chuckled, bringing his hand back up to the small of your back this time, leading you towards the building.
“You own this?” you questioned and he turned his head to you, almost offended.
“Yes, I own it. Why d’ya sound so surprised?”
“No, I just-“
He bristled, “You’ve seen my accounts!”
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?”
“I still don’t really know what money means here” you admitted.
He stalled, staring down at you.
“You don’t know what money means?” he frowned.
“No. Not in terms of-“
“I have you…you’re in charge of the club accounts, what are you-?”
“No, I know what it means! I just…I’m not sure what it…I don’t even know what this would cost in my money! Inflation! Conversion! You know?”
He stared you down for a few moments with a look that was becoming tiringly familiar, before turning and continuing up the driveway.
“I know what money means, Alfie!” you shouted after him, trying to keep up on the wet ground.
-
“Fucking hell” you whispered, suddenly feeling very aware of whether or not you were dripping onto the (what was probably very expensive) rug. You pulled the skirt of your coat a little closer, peered down to your shoes.
A continuous roar, accompanied by thundering steps, came towards you down the hallway and you threw your head up just in time to see Alfie tackling the advancing child to the floor. The little girl screeched in laughter, slapping out at the nearest shoulder as he rose, lifting and spinning her.
YOU ARE READING
Another time
Fanficll you wanted was to write a semi-successful book and maybe get a cat or something. Falling through time and shacking up with a gangster was not on your five-year plan. - Reader is researching a book, following women through the history of the city...
