MASTERMIND | Jamie Tartt

THIRTY SEVEN: HANDLE WITH CARE

"So where do you think her father is right now?" Keeley asked the crowded office, in which she, Billie, the coaches, and Higgins had convened in the wake of the news of Rebecca's father's passing.

"In the drawer of a funeral home," Roy answered blankly, never ceasing to amaze Billie with his words as she looked out into the locker room, where the boys were all standing together.

"No, I mean, like, spiritually," Keeley sighed.

"In the drawer of a funeral home," Roy repeated himself, having always maintained an incredibly black and white opinion of life after death.

"You know, growing up I used to believe if you did good things, you went to heaven, you did bad things, you went to hell," Ted told the room, "Nowadays, I know we all just do both, so wherever he is, I hope he's happy."

"It gets complicated when you bring the paradox of doing bad things for a good outcome into the mix," Billie sighed, "Like Tommy Shelby."

"Fuck, yeah, Peaky Blinders," Roy nodded at his sister.

"I like to imagine a heaven where animals are in charge, and humans are the pets" Higgins sighed, "I'd like to spend eternity curled up in front of a fire at Cindy Clawford's feet."

"God rest her soul," Billie signed the cross.

"I'd like to be reincarnated as a tiger...and then ravage anyone who looked at me wrong," Nate remarked while Billie and Roy shared a look of concern.

"You know, if you weigh a person's body right after death, it's 21.3 grams lighter," Beard told the group as he leant back in his seat, "And some say that's the weight of the soul."

"Whoever figured that out clearly weighed someone, murdered them, then weighed them again," Roy huffed, "You live, you die, you're done, good night."

"He's on his period," Keeley told her friends as Roy returned to his own desk.

"Just a few years away from the manopause," Billie sighed.

"Don't you mean, menopause?" Nate frowned.

"No, Nate, I mean the manopause, because he's a man, and he's getting old," Billie replied.

"I am not old," Roy grunted.

"Whatever you say," Billie remarked, opening the office door, gaining the attention of the team as she approached them.

They'd come in for yet another day of training, putting in the graft ahead of their last few league fixtures, every point mattered at that stage in the season. But before they could get changed and warm up, practice was cancelled due to the death of Rebecca's father.

"You told 'em about the dress code yet, skipper?" Billie asked Isaac as she joined the group.

"I was waiting for you, in case I forgot any important details," Isaac told her.

"Go ahead," Billie nodded, glancing at Jamie who was sitting on the platform in the middle of the room. He patted the space beside him, gesturing for him to join her, and she did, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her head on her knees.

They hadn't discussed what happened at the gallery that night, or what Billie may have almost said, she wasn't even sure if Jamie had realised. It didn't change anything between them, they were the same as usual, there just hadn't been a moment that felt like the right time to address it. They'd both been so busy, Billie was taking on freelance jobs and Jamie was tirelessly training, it was ironic that a funeral was what had given them time off.

"Oi, so we're all going to this funeral as a team," Isaac told the group, "So that means ties, shirts..." Jamie kissed his teeth as Isaac gave him a look of authority, reminded of last year's charity gala, "And no trainers."