Painting The Races Red | Tommy Shelby

Chapter Eight ✔️

C h a p t e r E i g h t
H a p p y B i r t h d a y , L y n n

Five days had passed and Lynette was unable to shake the feeling of guilt, nor the image of the heartbreak that had been on Polly's face when she discovered that her first born was alive, yet she could not find him. Folklore believed that redheads had come straight from hell and were the children of Satan, which is exactly what Lynn felt like in those days. Tommy had assured her that if what she said was true - that Michael's curiosity would bring him to them - then Polly would forgive them, and they could put all the guilt behind them.

She found it difficult to accept his assurances, mainly because she was starting to wonder if Michael would learn about the reputation of the Shelby's. That could easily scare off any man, but she hoped that once he realised that he too was a Shelby, then he would have no fear of them.

As she sat at her vanity doing her finishing touches for tonight's reopening of The Garrison, many scenarios crossed her mind of what could happen when they would at some point be unmistakably forced to face Polly. She imagined the woman making a scene, and then she imagined her avoiding them all together. Hopefully, Ada's presence would coax the woman out of the silence pact she had forced upon herself.

Hands suddenly traced down Lynette's bare arms, bringing her back to reality and out of her thoughts. Looking into the mirror, she smiled at the sight of Tommy stood behind her in the reflection. He was dressed in one of his finest grey suits, a colour in which he knew the redhead adored on him. She watched as he ducked his head down so his lips brushed against her ear, meanwhile his fingers continued to leave tingling sensations along her forearms.

"Happy Birthday," he murmured.

Her jaw dropped in surprise, the smile of pleasure fading abruptly. Her eyes closing to slits as she watched him in the reflection, her gaze almost accusing. "How did you know?" she demanded in minor annoyance.

Tommy pressed a kiss to the skin on the side of her neck, his eyes meeting her's in the mirror with a mischievous glint. "I've known for the last two years, but knew you hated your birthday so I acted daft. Told you when I met you, you can't hide anything from me, love."

She could feel him smirk against her skin. In the duration of their relationship she had never told him her birth date, and he had never pressed once he discovered that she did not care for it. She did not like her birthday due to the added attention and she did not have many fond memories to associate with it. Besides, she did not see a reason to celebrate growing old every year.

"Why bring it up now if you knew all along?" she asked him with a frown.

He stood up once again, standing behind her with his hands rested on her shoulders. A playful smile remaining on his face as they continued to watch one another in the mirror. "Because you only turn thirty once," he teased.

"Don't remind me, Tommy!" she whined instantly, she brushed off his hands as she leaned forward to pick up her perfume bottle. She knew she would have to continue getting ready while they spoke, or otherwise they would be late.

Tommy laughed at her comment, before picking up the other chair that sat in the corner of their room. She was confused by his bizarre behaviour as he moved the chair to sit beside her own. Now, he was sat at the side of the vanity, just watching her as she carefully sprayed the perfume onto her bare collar bone as a result of the low neckline of the gold dress she wore.

"I have an idea," he announced. "We won't count the twenty-sixth of June as your birthday. How about this time next year we celebrate a different anniversary?"