VICES AND VIRTUES | Thomas Shelby

THIRTY FOUR

It was quiet, abnormally quiet for a weekday morning in a small terraced house in which a family with two young children resided. Florence realised this as she wiped the sleep from her eyes, her eyes fluttering open to the sight of warm morning sun cascading through the window that overlooked Watery Lane.

Florence was accustomed to being woken up by her two young children most mornings, so it worried her that neither Daisy or Oliver had made an appearance beside her bed. In a state of concern for her children's whereabouts, she climbed out of bed, retrieving her dressing gown and slipping it onto her body over her black silk nightgown.

She made her way out of her bedroom, comforted by the hushed sound of Daisy's voice downstairs when she laid eyes on her brother leaving the room opposite.

"You're awake," Vinnie smiled, "Seems you needed to sleep."

"I suppose it's the first night I've slept through since, well..." Florence's voice wavered, because she still didn't know what to make of everything that unfolded with Elijah.

She had always presumed that Elijah was a man she could trust, because they were friends before anything else, and of course she loved him, but she wondered if that was a result of the almighty sacrifice he made by offering to marry her. She wasn't entirely convinced that she had ever been in love with him, and in the wake of his betrayal she had found herself understanding that to 'love' and to 'be in love' were two very different things.

"Well, you'll want to get dressed," Vinnie sighed, "We've got a visitor."

"Who?"

"I think it's best if you wait and see for yourself," Vinnie answered simply, because he himself was surprised when their guest had knocked on the door that morning.

"Oh," Florence raised her eyebrows in surprise, "Well, I'll be quick then."

Florence was a woman of her word, promptly changing into the first dress she laid her hands on in her wardrobe, which was dark purple. She painted her face with a light layer of makeup and then left her hair the way she always did, hanging free around her shoulders.

She made her way out of her bedroom, the familiar floral scent of her perfume following close behind. As she had readied herself for the day she had wondered who the visitor might be. Vinnie would've made it known if there were something to be worried about, so she wasn't concerned in that respect.

When Florence arrived downstairs the sight that greeted her stunned her, it wasn't what she expected to see, but it warmed her heart that had spent so long cold for fear of hurting.

"We have two horses, they live in Surrey," Daisy spoke with almost perfect intonation for a six year old, evidence of her upbringing and education as a young Harrington in London, "Do you like horses, Tommy?"

"I do, as it goes," Tommy smiled at the young girl who sat beside him at the dining table, a wooden horse in her hands, "Your horses, do they have names?"

"Rascal and Whiskey," Daisy answered as Florence lingered at the bottom of the stairs, watching the pair interact with a smile, but choosing not to interrupt the precious moment, "Mummy chose Whiskey because she said it reminds her of home."

"Right," Tommy nodded slowly, reminded of their stolen kisses once upon a time, when Florence would remark on how his lips tasted of whiskey, "And do you race your horses?"

"No," Daisy shook her head in dismay, "They run in the field, not on the track."

"I have some horses who race," Tommy told the young girl.

"What are they called?" Daisy asked with an intrigued smile.

"Oh, they don't have names," Tommy answered honestly, wondering if perhaps he should've just thought of a name on the spot to appease the young girl, his daughter.