Game Of Bliss

(36)

"Be careful," Florence says to her aunt, who was about to go through the doorway into the pub, "what if there's another bomb? A booby-trap?"

"No," Tommy shakes his head, "this was to get attention. This wasn't to cause harm. If they wanted to cause harm they would've set the bombs off whilst there were people inside."

"And who is they?" Malachi asks, as Polly crouches down, picking something off of the floor and turning to them, "there's green confetti all over the place."

"Green? The Irish?" Malachi questions, glancing at Tommy, "first the cockneys, now the Irish."

Tommy knew Malachi's loyalty to him was wavering. Tommy knew Mal was resistant and pulling back. Yes, Malachi had always questioned Tommys plans, but it used to be to help, to figure out the best way to go about a situation. It had never been skeptical until recently.

Tommy also knew there wasn't much he could do about it. He couldn't take his normal approach, Florence would kick off, and Tommy wasn't going to let his youngest sister slip away as easily as Ada did. Even if Malachi didn't get involved in business dealings, he knew that if Florence became a factor, if Florence was ever in danger, nothing would keep him away. Tommy could live with that. Realistically, it was probably the best outcome. Less people with opinions for Tommy to hear, yet everyone still willing to protect one another.

"We don't know that for sure," Tommy replies, and Malachi scoffs, "we do, we also know that you're about to go to the Black Swan, a renowned Irish pub."

Malachi was level-headed, and intelligent. Did Tommy loathe that slightly? Perhaps. It meant he was one step ahead, and when his loyalties laid with Tommy, it was pleasant. It wasn't so pleasant when Tommy was the one a step behind Malachi.

"Family meeting, tomorrow at 10," Tommy states, before walking away from the three of them.

-

"What I want to know is when did we all take a vote on this expansion south?" John asks, as the family gathered around the betting shop, waiting for Tommy to make an appearance at the meeting he'd called for.

"If you have anything to say, you wait for Thomas," Polly responds, and Arthur nods along, "Polly is fucking right."

"I've spoken to him, he won't listen, not to me, not to Mal, not to Flo," John replies, "I see all the books, legal and off-track. In the past year, the Shelby Company Limited has been making a hundred and fifty pounds a day. A fucking day. Sometimes more. What I want to know is why are we changing things?"

"Polly, look what's happened already," John continues, "we haven't even set foot in London and they've already blown up our fucking pub."

"Who said anything about cockneys?" Arthur shrugs.

"Who else?" Esmé inputs, and Polly turns to look at her, "you know who did it, do you?"

"That's not the point-"

"What is the problem?" Tommy asks, walking into the room, following Pollys eyesight to Esmé, "I'm told only family are allowed to speak."

"Everyone's allowed to speak," Tommy replies, "on your feet, Esmé, let's hear what you have to say."

Esmé places her book down, looking around at everyone who was staring back up at her, "I'm not a blood member of this family but perhaps, indeed because I am not I can see things in a different light."

"As my husband said, the Shelby Company Limited is now very successful. But London... I have kin in Shepherds Bush and Portobello, they say it's more like wars between armies down there. The coppers fight side-by-side with them. The use of bombs is the least of it." Esmé states, "I have a child, I want John to see him grow up. London is just smoke and trouble, Thomas."