Forbidden Afflictions // Alfie Solomons Peaky Blinders

(12) Concealment

A slow and boring chapter this week. I'm sorry. It was truly meant to have a quick pace but... I got carried away. Oh, well. I'm a sucker for domestic Alfie and Freya, what can I say?

I hope you enjoy. I love y'all!

-V

Freya showered before bed and when she awoke, Alfie was shifting on the edge of the bed, hunched over and fiddling with something out of Freya's line of sight. 

Her shifting underneath the sheets must have alarmed him before he quickly looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Good morning, Love."

Freya smiled tenderly. "Morning, Alfie."

Alfie ran his hands through his hair and got to his feet. He rounded the foot of the bed and leaned over Freya, gazing into her bright blues before timorously smiling.  Her eyes finally adjusted to the swelling of her past heaving and sobbing as he looked over her now. 

"I should be 'ome around eight and Edna ain't s'pposed to be by until the afternoon. Will you be alright until then?" he wondered, smoothing out the wispy hair around her face as he planted his fists into the mattress beside her ears. 

"Edna can stay in Bushey," Freya offered politely. "How often do I get you all to myself?"

Alfie warmed to her words and shrugged. "You'll be alone all that time. Are you sure?"

"Is the factory low-staffed?" Freya asked.

"No more than usual, no," Alfie informed her, shaking his head and pouting. "I'm going back to shul on Saturday so I need a haircut."

"Shul?" Freya said in confusion. 

Alfie smiled and straightened his back. "Synagogue," he clarified. 

Freya raised her eyebrows and nodded, feeling idiotic not to have known that before. She was proud to have educated herself well enough with orthodox traditions, but the public records only got her so far. Whatever she didn't get from reading, she hoped she would get from Alfie by now. It had been nearly four years and she never knew he called his synagogue 'shul' until now. 

"Why the different names?" Freya questioned, sitting up and watching Alfie move for his father's hat which laid on a post near the window and dresser. 

"Synagogue is the Greek word for the temple. Shul is 'ow the Yiddish say it," Alfie kindly replied, feeling an odd sense of warmth ignite in his body. There was something about sharing his religion with his love that made his heart grow fonder. He didn't feel the desire to bring her with him or for her to convert, but her asking about his history was beyond admirable. 

"It's the same with 'ow you English say 'Hannahka' and we say 'Channuhka'," he explained, layering a yarmulke underneath his hat, turning for the top drawer in his dresser almost as if it were an afterthought. 

"Why don't you say it like that then?" Freya continued, rolling out of bed and running her fingers through her hair to loosen the knots. "I've only ever heard you say 'Hannuhka' and 'synagogue'."

"Love," Alfie chuckled. "When you speak English all day, every day, and you're surrounded by Brits and Scots, your 'ead starts to think in English," he chuckled as he pointed to his head. "If I'm around my folks for too long, I think in Hebrew. If my mum were around and 'arry were still about, I'm sure the same goes."

"But you only employ Jewish men."

"Not since I met you, Love," he giggled. 

"But aren't you lot speaking Yiddish?" Freya said with a smile.

"No," Alfie corrected her. "Yiddish is sacred to prayer or intimate conversations. Plus, wot, with all the little boys running around my shop, poor bastards weren't taught the language," Alfie said with a roll to his eyes.