Wear Iron//Thomas Shelby

twenty

Tommy and I are down at Charlie's yard. We're watching boats get loaded up.

"There'll be another four boat-loads tomorrow," Tommy says. "What's up, Charlie? Business is good."

"This isn't business, this is bloody work," Charlie argues. "Cigarettes and booze is all right but this manufactured stuff, it's heavy. I'm not even sure it's stolen."

"Some of it is legally purchased," I tell him.

"One day, all of it will be," Tommy insists.

"It's like having a fucking job," Charlie remarks. "Easy with them fan belts." Charlie turns his attention back to Tommy. "And wipe that smile off your face. I want another pound a boat."

"Done," Tommy tells him.

"You don't even fight me anymore," Charlie protests. "And it's no sport getting through the Black Country with this truce. They just fucking wave at you from the bank."

"Well, just wave back, eh?" Tommy tells him.

"And all these fucking cars. When did you last ride a horse, Tom?" Charlie asks.

All of us are meeting at the betting shop.

Polly is the last to arrive. "This had better be good to interrupt my holiday."

"Where's the boy?" Arthur asks.

"In the back room," Polly tells him. "I only brought him because afterwards we're going to the museum."

"He wanted to come in and say hello but..." John starts.

Polly cuts him off, "Shut up, John. There is nothing of interest to Michael in this room. Tommy, get on with it."

"Last night, one of our men had his throat cut in Winson Green," Tommy informs us. "This morning, I had a telegram to say it was Sabini who ordered it."

"And it says here that Thomas Shelby's next," Arthur adds.

"If our men think we can't look after them in prison, they'll not work for us. Sabini knows that," Tommy reasons. "So, we need to get the Green sorted out. Scudboat, you and one of the boys. Break a couple of windows and get yourselves arrested. I'll have our coppers get you into the Green and you can find the bastards who did it."

"Instead of breaking a window, can we pinch a car?" Scudboat asks. John and Finn laugh. "What? Everybody else is getting a bloody car. I'm still on a donkey."

"All right, just get yourselves fucking arrested, it doesn't matter how," Tommy tells him. "And before you all laugh, a boy is dead. He was just a kid. We'll start a fund for his family, Pol."

Polly nods. "Agreed. So, is that it? Can I go now?"

"Well, as company treasurer, I need your permission to spend 1,000 guineas," Tommy tells her.

"On what?" Polly asks.

"On a horse," Tommy informs her.

"1,000 guineas on a horse?" Polly questions.

"That's right," Tommy tells her.

Polly turns away for a moment before turning back to Tommy. "When was this decided?"

"You've been busy with Michael," Tommy says.

"Oh, my God," Polly remarks. "So, in the absence of common sense, you boys have had an idea."

"Polly, there's a thoroughbred quarter-Arab filly up for auction at the Doncaster Blood Stock," Tommy tells her.

"What do we want with a 1,000-guinea horse?" Polly asks.