Small Heath's Angel

Chapter 8 - Concern

Word Count:
2556

Tommy stalked up to Florence's front door, his thoughts ran wild through his head. He hadn't seen her since she left the wake the day before, and began to worry.

He knocked loudly, allowing the sound to fill the house.

After a minute, he knocked again, louder and faster.

Another minute passed, still nothing.

He stepped back, trying to see any hint of movement through the covered windows. The curtains hid the interior extremely well, something Tommy was adamant in Florence having once she had returned to Small Heath by herself.

Tommy was getting desperate. He realised the state Florence left in the previous evening but was advised to give her space, something he now greatly regretted. He walked next door into the betting shop and immediately found Polly.

"I need the spare key for Florence's house," he stated, his voice deceptively emotionless.

Polly looked up to her nephew as she continued organising the desk in front of her. "And why is that?"

"Florence's not answering her door."

She looked up at him, a questioning glare laced her features. "Are you sure she's not just out."

His stare was full of annoyance. Of course he had thought of that possibility. His mind was filled with different reasons. "Yes I am sure," he stated. "Especially not this early."

"She could be working, Thomas."

"No," he said quickly causing Polly to tilt her head and arch her brow. "She hasn't started yet."

"And you know that, how?"

He swallowed, keeping his features neutral. "Because I just do, okay?" He stepped closer to her. "Now give me the key."

Polly raised her brows, indicating for a certain word to be said.

Tommy huffed, rolling his eyes before he looked at her. "Please?"

She smirked. "The things you do for her."

Tommy's face returned to his neutral expression, annoyance only slightly peaked through. She opened the top draw to her desk, and placed a key in front of her.

Tommy immediately snatched it up and didn't hesitate to leave. Polly watched her nephew with a smirk plastered on her face.

Returning to the front door, Tommy knocked one last time. He, again, received no response. He unlocked the door, stepped inside and surveyed his surroundings. The house was quiet, far too quiet. The crackle of a fire was all that he could hear. He lightly shut the door.

An envelope was sitting in the ground by the front door. Tommy picked it up, studying it. His eyes widened when he realised what it was and listening to his better judgment, he placed it on the side table in the hallway.

He walked into the living room. "Angel?" He called yet received no response. His footsteps echoed through the house as he continued through, looking around the room.

He looked at the smouldering fire. Then he saw her. She lay on the ground, unmoving. A bottle of vodka half finished in front of her. Dread ran through him.

"Angel?" His voice was shaking as he rushed over to her. "Angel?!" He repeated as he kneeled next her, brushing the hair out of her face. He placed his hand against her cheek; it was unnaturally cold. He checked over her entire body before he focused on her chest and sighed in relief after watching it rise and fall.