IN BAD FAITH | peaky blinders | T.S

FIVE

LONDON, ENGLAND

TOMMY

5.

"I fucking hate London," John spat, slamming the car door behind him.

"I quite like it," Arthur smirked as he tilted his cap to a pair of young, ivory-skinned girls fluttering across the street in rose-coloured dresses and a fit of laughter.

"Yeah, whatever," John scoffed. "Everyone's up their arses 'ere. Too posh. Doesn't sound right, Arthur. We don't sound right down 'ere."

"Quit your moaning John-Boy, it's doing my fucking head in. Where's Tommy?"

John sighed and sat back in his seat whilst Arthur lent nervously over the steering wheel of the car. They were told to wait for Thomas until six o'clock, but it had been fifteen minutes past the hour and he had not yet reemerged from the small brick building across the road.

"Course we don't know where he is. We don't know anything Arthur. That's Tommy for ya, keeping his brothers in the dark once again."

Arthur turned to John in disbelief. "That's your woman getting into your head again. I don't wanna hear it John. Tommy's the reason we don't live like that," he scoffed, pointing to a man stumbling down the street. The figure was skeletal, hunched over like a wilted flower with rags wrapped around his feet in place for shoes and a tin in his hand that rattled with every slow step he took. John knew that his brother had saved them -- once when they were orphans and again when they returned from war. John knew he owed everything to Tommy, and he couldn't afford to lose him. If his brother included him more, maybe the chances of that would be much smaller.

"Here he comes," John breathed, and both turned to watch their brother approach them.

Thomas pulled his cap over his head as he slammed the door of the building behind him. He fished in his pocket for a cigarette, desperate to feel the paper between his lips. As he walked down the steps he noticed a girl, her thin frame leaning against the concrete, a cap held out in her hands. She looked down at it solemnly, her hands shaking slightly. As he passed her, Tommy threw down a shilling.

"Excuse me Sir," a voice called from behind him.

Tommy sighed. You give them something and they always want more, he thought.

He turned to see the girl, who appeared even thinner now that she was stood up, with an outstretched hand. "You dropped this," she muttered, the coin sitting in her fingertips.

"You had your hat out," Tommy stated. He looked her up-and-down, at her pale dress patched up at the seams and scuffed shoes. "Keep it," he said as he turned away, irritation laced in his voice.

"Your mistake then, Sir," she spat, causing him to stop in his tracks. "I wasn't begging."

Tommy looked at her face now, frowning at her, trying to figure her out. Her eyes were strange — defiant and offended by his charity. Her brown hair swung about her head, little ribbons of blue poking out here and there. He couldn't understand her attitude and yet it reminded him of a younger version of Thomas. 

"Josephine," a voice called from behind them both, catching the girl's attention.

"Keep it," Tommy shrugged over his shoulder, walking away with his cigarette spilling smoke into the air. He climbed into the front seat of the family car, ignoring questions from his brothers.