If I Can't Have you

(46) Michaels 18th

"This had better be good to interrupt my holiday," Polly states as she, Max and John enter the betting den.

"Where's the boy?" Arthur asks, turning his head to look at them from where he was sat on the edge of a desk.

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

"He wanted to come in and say hello," John inputs, but Polly quickly shuts him down, "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 Winston Green," Tommy announces, "this morning, I had a telegram to say it was on Sabinis orders."

"It says here that Thomas Shelby is next," Arthur adds, causing a look of worry to wash over Jemimas facial features.

Tommy places a comforting hand on her shoulder from where he was standing behind her, "if our men think we can't look after them in prison, they shan't work for us. Sabini knows that. So we need to get the Green sorted out."

His eyes divert to where a couple of older Blinders were gathered, "Scudboat, you and one of the boys break a couple of windows, get yourselves arrested, our coppers will get you into the Green, find out which bastards did this."

"Instead of breaking a window, can we pinch a car?" Scudboat responds, "everybody else is getting a bloody car, I'm still on a donkey."

"I don't care how you do it, just get yourselves fucking arrested," Tommy states, glancing around the room, "and before you all laugh, a boy is dead. He was just a kid."

"We'll start a fund for his family, Pol," Tommy addresses his aunt, and she nods, "agreed."

"So is that it? Can I go now?" Polly questions.

"Well, as company treasurer, I need your permission to spend a thousand guineas."

"On what?" Polly inquires, and Tommy shrugs, "on a horse."

"A thousand guineas on a horse?" Polly says.

"That's right," Tommy confirm, and Polly narrows her eyes at him, pacing slightly, "when was this decided?"

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

"Oh, my god," Polly sighs, "so in the absence of common sense you boys have had an idea."

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

"What do we want with a thousand guinea horse?" Polly asks.

"When we make our move on Sabinis racing pitches, any men we get into the betting enclosure will be lifted by his coppers," Tommy replies, "a good racehorse is a passport to the owners enclosure."

"We'll be in there with all the toffs, the coppers won't know where to look," Arthur inputs, as John removes his cap, "the Epsom Derby, Pol. We'll be drinking with the bloody King."

"The Derby?" Polly repeats, as Tommy looks at his brothers, "did he say the Derby?"

"That's right," Tommy nods, "for the last ten years, Sabini has made it his race. If we're going to take him down, might as well make it there as a symbol."