Forbidden Afflictions // Alfie Solomons Peaky Blinders

(6) Gin and Jails pt. 1

After driving Freya to a bank, Alfie took her to a small local pub in London. It was the middle of the day so he expected it to be quiet, but the longer he stayed in the city, the worse the commute became. Even a small, mellow pub was becoming a success amongst foreigners.

Freya quickly exited the vehicle and took no mind to the bustle around her. She went in a beeline, straight through the front entrance and declined to be gentle with the door as she did so.

The sound of the edges hitting the back of the wall interrupted the conversations with a loud tun dunt.

There was obvious bustle before she entered the walls and as people turned to see the silent yet reckless intruder, an echoic stillness crashed over the crowd like a wave in the ocean.

She had lost her might and brutality but she looked like the ghost of who she used to be. Men all around began to whisper as she took a few steps further toward the bar. She stood as tall as her neck would allow her and she walked with as much staunch as she could muster. She was rather thin and frail and pale but she also was not at all as pretty as she once was. She hoped that was enough to earn people's fear. She hoped that in losing her prettiness she added to her dominance in some way.

As she locked eyes with the barmen, she opened her mouth for only the second time since leaving Alfie's village home. "Make yourselves scarce," she instructed with a nonchalant sternness to her voice as she walked up to the bar.

People shared looks of uncertainty but few followed orders and got to their feet.

There were many words about Freya Shelby and what had happened to her after being wrongly imprisoned. Many said she had died in her cell. Others thought she had moved to America and become a hermit of sorts. Some said she just had too many enemies on the inside and was murdered in cold blood. Meanwhile, other more boisterous drunks liked to spread the idea of her having killed herself before she was released.

Because folks on the street hardly had any time to comprehend the relationship between the Gypsy and the Jew, many felt it was almost a fever dream. Nobody knew for sure if it were true or not. Alfie never spoke about her and no one ever saw the lady since. She hadn't shown up to work at Shelby Company Limited, her house had since been abandoned, and no one knew where she had gone; no one willing to waste their breath, that is.

Alfie told John where she was but he had no interest in making a trip down to London to speak with her.

Arthur should have a pile of letters about Freya's whereabouts but he never responded with the simplest of telegraphs, let alone a visit to the enemy's house.

Ada had been away in America, though nobody would have known that unless they spoke to Tommy since the incident.

Michael was much like a myth those days; people constantly heard of him but hardly ever saw him. Nobody who wasn't committed to the business ever caught him over the phone or through telegrams. The only way people ever had the chance to catch a glimpse of the busy boy was if they saw him walking about in the offices. He stood clear of the publicity and drama surrounding his and Freya's imprisonment and made a commitment to the company. Whatever Tommy needed, what business needed to be done, he was sure to fill the seats of his missing cousins.

No one had told Tommy a thing. He didn't care to reach out and Alfie certainly wasn't going to track the man down. If he bumped into the man on the street, he was sure to lose his temper, even if it meant getting shot in the process. As far as he cared, Tommy Shelby was nothing but a conniving, lying, and traitorous bookie wearing the coat of a businessman he had skinned and murdered. He too held his tongue about Freya's whereabouts.