Chelsea fell to the floor. Danny's body hit the bags in the boat and the man drove them away down the canal.
Tommy fixed his hat and wiped his eyes, turning away and walking off.
Chelsea could not move, her body was glued to the ground as she watched Tommy walk off, acting as if he hadn't just shot a man.
A man that didn't deserve to be shot but a man that needed help, needed someone to talk to, a man that needed a safe place to feel like home not a bullet in the back of his head.
Tommy walked into his house, throwing his peaky cap on the side and strolling into the betting shop, looking around for his daughter, desperate for one of her long hugs and her comforting words.
But Tommy did not see her, he did not feel her warm embrace or her soothing words, she couldn't hear her little giggles. There was no sigh of Chelsea Shelby in the house.
He turned a corner and faced himself in the mirror, blood splattered across his face, stained on his shirt and dripping onto his blazer.
He ran into his office and grabbed a cloth off the floor, violently wiping his face, terrified that his daughter would stroll in at any second and see her dad painted as a monster.
"Where are ya'" Arthur boomed, walking toward Tommy, "It bloody won!" he said, slamming a paper in front of Tommy's blurry eyes, "Monaghan Boy bloody won!"
Tommy stared for a second and nodded slowly, "Yeah." he breathed, "Yeah, it won. And word will spread. So the next time we do the powder trick, it won't just be the Garrison that'll bet on the horse, it'll be the whole of Small Heath. And you know what? The horse will win again. And the third time we do it, we'll have the whole of Birmingham betting on it. A thousand quid bet on the magic horse. And that time, when we are ready, the horse will lose. Think about it."
Tommy walked away, feeling Arthur's eyes glaring into the back of his head.
"Tom." Arthur said, speaking calmly for a change, "Have you seen Chelsea?"
"No." Tommy said, stopping in his tracks and looking over his shoulder at Arthur, "I assume she's out with Finn again. If she is, don't disturb her, she needs to be a kid whilst she still can. Even after viewing that man get stabbed."
"Tommy. . .she didn't come home last night."
Tommy stayed exactly still, the room had fallen into a haunting silence, the only sound was the creaking of the house.
Tommy didn't say a word as he grabbed his peaky hat, turning around, grabbed Arthur roughly by his t-shirt and slammed him agains the wall, "What do you mean?"
"She didn't come home."
Tommy let go of him, whipped around again and left his house, searching around for his daughter, shouting at everyone who walked past, instructing them to look for his girl.
Jogging down the road, Tommy turned into Charlie's yard, yelling out loudly for his daughter, Tommy could hear some sort of movement from the stables and took of in that direction.
When he broke through into the stables, he saw Chelsea curled up in the corner, tears stained on her face, her eyes swollen and puffy, her teeth chattering and her arms shivering.
"Princess." Tommy breathed, "What happened?"
As Tommy made his way to his daughter, Chelsea moved away, backing up into the wall and shutting her eyes, she couldn't even look into her fathers eyes anymore without seeing him shooting a good and loyal man in the head.
"You've got to tell me what's wrong, kid." Tommy said, now crouching in front of Chelsea and trying to look her in the eyes.
Chelsea refused to meet her fathers glare. She kept her head tucked inside her ice cold arm, trying to hug herself to warm herself up.
Tommy sighed and sat down, leaning against a wooden wall that separated him and the horses stable, "You're not talking to me then? Ey? What did I do? Is it because of school?" Come on, Princess. Talk to me."
"D-don't call me t-that." Chelsea shook, "Don't speak to me."
"Chelsea, tell me!" Tommy shouted, his voice sounding demanding and aggravated.
"You killed him!" Chelsea shouted, "You killed him! An innocent man! You killed Danny! You told me we shouldn't give up on him, that he could be saved! But the minute he made a mistake, you killed him!"
"Chelsea you don't understand-"
"So? If I had just endured years of torture, years of being moments away from death, and I lost control and killed someone who pulled a weapon to me, would you kill me?"
"What?" Tommy scoffed, "Of course I wouldn't!"
Chelsea began to speak but Tommy's voice was too loud for her, "I didn't kill him, Princess. He's fine, he's in London at the moment doing a job for me. I had to make it seem like I killed him so a war wouldn't break out with us and the Italians."
Chelsea didn't speak, instead she made an odd squeaking noise which sounded like a cough, but her whole body was shaking with coldness.
"Come on, take this." Tommy took of his blazer and placed it around Chelsea's shoulders, wrapping her up tightly, "You gonna speak to me now, kid?"
Chelsea slowly looked up at her dead, "P-promise me he's fine?"
Tommy smiled brightly at his daughter, tucking a piece of hair behind her ears, "I promise."
Chelsea nodded and leant forward into her dads chest, falling into his arms that were keeping the blanket wrapped around her shivering body.
Tommy placed one hand under her knees and another on the top of her back, picking her up and pulling her into him, "Let's get you home."
Once Tommy had safely returned Chelsea back to their home and to the comfort of her warm bed, he tucked her in, kissed her goodnight and made his way down to the Garrison.
When he arrived, Grace stood in the corner of the pub, stacking chairs on top of the tables and wiping them down clean, preparing to shut down.
As soon as she saw Tommy, she immediately dropped her cloth and cleaning equipment and hurried behind the bar, "Sorry, Mr Shelby. I wasn't expecting you."
Tommy gave her a respectful nod, watching as she poured his drink, taking note of the woman's beautiful face, Tommy had heard Chelsea speak so highly of this woman and he wanted to see it for himself.
"My daughter. . .she seems to like you." Tommy said, taking off his cap and placing it on the bar beside him.
"Yes, she's a wonderful and bright little girl. You raised her perfectly, Mr Shelby. Do you know if she's okay? She stayed here last night and left first thing in the morning."
Tommy studied Grace for a few moments longer before nodding, "She's alright. Here-" he threw spare change onto the bar, "for taking care of my daughter. Goodnight."
"Mr Shelby!" Grace shouted as the man headed toward the door, "You haven't drunk your drink."
"I know, I need to go home to my daughter." Tommy said, stopping at the door and looking over his shoulder, "She can't sleep if I'm not in the house with her. Good night."
"Good night." Grace smiles politely, watching the drink that she had poured for Tommy, the thoughts of the little girl who was so different to her father, and yet Grace had this some what overwhelming feeling that the two couldn't be more similar.
TT-schoop4xhoy
