rescue me [thomas shelby]

vi.

         

Polly's pissed. Not only were they screwed over a few days ago by the Lee's because of Tommy's plan, but he's distracted; she can't blame the girl for this, of course, but she can definitely blame Thomas for his inability to keep his fingers out of the cookie jar. So that's how she finds herself outside of The Horse's Head, wanting to meet the girl that had driven her nephew crazy.

Finding out information had been easy; she'd simply called in at the nearest bakery and asked if they'd employed anyone recently. She'd deduced that the girl must be new to town; Tommy would've already snapped her up if she'd already lived in the town beforehand.

The owner of the inn, Frank if her memory served her correctly, simply gave her a shaky smile as she strode towards their stairs, calling out, "Room 3." So, Tommy had already been here, if he knows where to send the Shelby's.

At first, Polly thought he'd been ensnared by the new barmaid at the Garrison, who he'd brought to Cheltenham Races, but she knew once she questioned the man on the mysterious girl, it wasn't her. He would've told her outright; she already knew the barmaid existed, but she didn't know this baker did. He'd tried to protect this baker girl and she had to find out why. Partly to protect their family, partly to satiate her curiosity.

She knocks on room 3 as she lights a cigarette, unsurprised when the door opens, and a pretty, petite girl opens the door, coat thrown over her shoulders and a hand tucked into her pocket. "Are you going out?" Polly asks.

The girl blanches, clearly looking her over. "Who are you?" Is all she replies.

"Polly Gray."

"Should that name mean something to me?" Polly hides a grin at her boldness, inhaling on her cigarette.

"I'm Tommy's aunt." The girl nods slowly, opening her door wider to let her in the room. The moon shines through the open window, flowers waving slightly in the wind. Polly looks around as she steps in, not even attempting to disguise her critical eyes as she looks at the tidy kitchen and adjoined bedroom.

"So, Tommy's aunt," the girl says. "Why are you knocking at my door at–" she checks the time, "–1 am."

"I felt the need to meet the girl who's got Tommy under her spell." Polly takes off her gloves, taking a seat when the baker offers it. "What's your name, love?"

The girl stares at her, obviously trying to work out why she's there. After a moment, she shifts towards the kitchen. "Frances Bevard. Tea or sherry?"

"Sherry would be lovely."

"Didn't my name come up in your research of me?" Frances grabs two glasses and the sherry bottle as she says this bitingly, sending the other woman a sharply look. She places both the alcohol and glasses on the weathered table and sits with Polly.

"I only needed your address," the older woman says as an explanation, ignoring the sarcasm and smiling when the girl hands her the drink before pouring her own. "You're from Manchester?"

"Is my accent that strong?"

"Aye, love." Polly watches as the other girl lights her own cigarette. Frances barely spares her a glance, leaning back in her seat for a moment as smoke swirls around her. "Why'd you move?"

"Didn't get much of a choice," Frances replies, leaning across the table to grab the ashtray, before returning to her previous position of indifference, now with the tray balanced on her crossed legs. "Both of my parents died, and I had nothing left there." Polly watches as the girl swallows, no doubt still upset about her parent's deaths.

"Why Birmingham?" Most people move to London for a fresh start, and the older woman can't help but be suspicious, watching the other girl carefully to look for any signs of lying.