ɪᴛᴀʟɪᴀɴ ꜱɪʀᴇɴ

settimo capitolo

Tommy was back in the library. It had only been three days since he had last walked those corridors, yet the place felt different in a way he could not quite explain. Everything looked the same as before. The long tables stood in perfect order beneath the high windows, dust caught in the pale September light as it drifted lazily through the room. The air carried that dry, quiet smell of old books and years of silence. Pens scratched softly against paper and pages turned with a muted whisper. No one looked up for long and no one spoke above a murmur. Everything was as it should be, steady and undisturbed, and yet he could not shake the feeling that something beneath the surface had shifted while he had been away.

But that was not the reason for his visit. He had come today because he needed advice and not the kind that Arthur or John could possibly offer. This was not a matter that could be handled with force, threats, or razor blades. It had nothing to do with power or fear. It was a matter of the heart, and that made it far more complicated than any fight he had ever handled in Small Heath. It required patience. It required feeling. It required a woman's touch. Nothing he possessed. And that was exactly why he had come to see his little sister. Whether he liked it or not, he needed her advice.

Obviously, he could have telephoned her from Birmingham. It would have spared him the drive south and the inconvenience to his schedule. It would have been quicker and more efficient, and efficiency was something he respected. Yet there had been a pull to come in person, a quiet insistence he had not ignored. He told himself it was because this concerned family business, and as head of the family he ought to handle it face to face. After all, some conversations lost their weight when reduced to voices carried down a wire.

But that would have been a lie.

There was another reason, one he did not let himself think about for too long. He and Ada had not been on the same side lately. Political disagreements had become personal, and what began as arguments had grown into distance. The two siblings had not managed a proper conversation in weeks without it turning into an argument. They had both said things they never took back, and pride had taken care of the rest.

Even while he was in the hospital, Ada had not visited him once. All the news she received had come through John, passed on in short, careful updates over the telephone. He never showed that it bothered him. Tommy did not know how to show such things. But he had felt it. He missed his little sister. He cared for her and he wanted her safe and not only now because of the London expansion, but because she was his.

So if he needed her advice now, he would have to ask for it properly. It was easier to speak when there was common ground, something solid to focus on, so neither of them had to address the tension that sat unspoken between them. He knew her well. Family was the safest way through. Ada needed to feel included in decisions that carried weight. She needed to be asked, not simply informed. She needed to know that her judgment mattered. That was the bridge back to her and he intended to cross it carefully.

As he moved further into the reading room, coat unbuttoned and hands resting in his trouser pockets, his stride remained steady and composed. His eyes swept the space with quiet awareness, taking in every detail without seeming to linger on any of it. The order of the place stood in clear contrast to Birmingham. Here, no one lowered their voice when he entered. No one watched him with fear or expectation. It was calm. Respectable. Too respectable for his liking.

And not something he intended to remain that way for much longer.

Yesterday the Shelby brothers had taken their aunt Polly to the house on the outskirts of Birmingham, a gift from them because they believed no one deserved it more. It was solid, respectable, the kind of house the Shelbys could afford now. The kind that proved how far they had come. But Tommy knew it was not what she truly wanted. Polly had been restless for some time, and he understood why. A new house could not replace what had been taken from her years ago.