Y O U R C R U C I B L E
"May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you're dead."
Lottie Thorne, sister of the notorious Freddie Thorne, is counted as part of the Shelby family. And her loyalty is...
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"And the worst part was, I believed him"
Mistakes seemed to follow Lottie like a shadow. Guilt filled her stomach, making her want to throw up when she thought back to when she last saw Tommy. She shouldn't have done it, she should never have kissed him. She loved Michael, but she wasn't acting much like she did. Then a little voice in the corner of her brain said, Michael wasn't asking much like he loved her either. She shook her head to quieten the voice. She needed a distraction, one that didn't include any men. She knew she was destructive, but perhaps she was achieving an entire new level. Never in her life ha she ever risked her heart by letting herself get distracted by Tommy. She'd admired him, cared for him, bargained for him, trusted him with everything. She'd trusted him with her entire soul, but to romanticise him? Never. She'd never let herself do that. She'd seen the girls that had been. Swept away by him and none made it out unchanged.
She had been told by Nic that all the men would be out of the den on Good Friday and she saw this as her chance to reintegrate herself back into everyday life. She needed to do it and today seemed like the best time. She dressed, tidied her auburn hair, and studied her reflection in the mirror. She sighed at herself, glad that she no longer looked like a ghost, her cheeks were fuller and her eyes less dim. Hesitantly, she reached for her red lipstick, she'd not worn it in months. "This is me," she muttered, psyching herself to put it on. Her lips looked brighter than she remembered, but she forced herself to keep it on. After the den, she had promised Polly she was ready to be with her children again. It had been too long. She missed them more than she could say, for fucks sake, she was still calling her baby Birdy because she hadn't named him yet. He needed to be named. Frustrated, Lottie stood and kicked the stool she had been sitting on. "Get your shit together."
Her heels clicked on the cobblestone roads in a comfortable, familiar way. She pulled her trench coat tighter around her shoulders as the cold breeze made her shiver. The door creaked as it always had as she stepped inside. Lizzie and Esme were inside at the table, Esme's pregnant belly acting as a table as she sniffed a white powder. Lottie adverted her eyes as she removed her hat and gloves. Lizzie looked over. "Lottie, you're here," she said.
"I said I would be," she replied, walking into the centre of the room.
"I know," she nodded, "I just-" she sighed. "It's good to see you."
Lottie couldn't help but smile a little. "It's good to see you, too."
"Birdy's been crying all night," said Esme.
Lottie's heart ached. "He's been alright, though?"
"Fine, fine," she dismissed. "Polly went drinking so we looked after him last night, I think were handing him over to Max."
