Promises Not Kept

56

            Charlie Shelby liked to believe that he was fearless. At least braver than most boys his age. He enjoyed riding horses, never shying away from a challenge in the saddle. He wanted to be as tough as his father and uncles. Wanted to carry a gun in a holster and walk around with razor blades sewn in his cap.

Although he would never say such a thing to his mother. Leah would probably faint from fear if he ever said such a thing. She could barely stand the way he rode horses sometimes.

Tommy hoped for a long time that by the time Charlie was old enough to understand, their business would be one-hundred percent legitimate. He didn't expect the Depression and he certainly wasn't expecting the fascist movement. So, it worried him that his son would pick up on things he wasn't meant to know.

Certainly, spending time with another notorious gang boss wouldn't be the answer. But it strangely was. It took the children out of the framework of the company. Even though they spent most of their time in Warwickshire, business was still conducted there.

Meetings, parties, deals. Didn't matter.

What mattered was pulling them out of that environment. Much as Leah had done when she took them to America. Putting them in a sort of safe-house was enough to draw their attention away from things they weren't meant to be involved in.

Still, Charlie had either learned enough or it was simply ingrained in him by blood.

~~~~~~~~~~

"You're writing an awful lot."

Winter turned into spring and Leah was worried they had long overstayed their welcome at Alfie's. But the man didn't seem to mind or give hints that they needed to leave. In fact, he waved off any of Leah's concerns about how long they'd been there.

Not that Leah wanted to leave. None of them did. The children were so happy to be there with Uncle Alfie. But they were also getting much closer to their father. And Tommy had a feeling he had Alfie to thank for that.

Tommy glanced up from his notebook. He and Leah were sat on the beach, enjoying the first warm afternoon of the season. The children were indulging in the sunshine as well, romping about with Cyril and Alfie along the beach.

"Can I know what you're writing?" She wondered cautiously.

He tapped the tip of his pen on the paper. He'd promised to be more open with his wife no matter how difficult it could be. "Alfie mentioned something about keeping logs in the War and it reminded me of-well of the journals I kept." He admitted. "I used to write as much as I could so that if I died, maybe they'd have something to give Polly."

"And now you're writing again." She noted the number of pages he'd gone through in the leather-covered notebook.

"Yeah." Tommy nodded. "Not really to leave behind to anyone." He idly flipped through the pages already filled with writing. "Just to, I guess get me thoughts out. Somewhere other than my brain." He shrugged.

"I think that's a good idea." She nodded and smiled warmly.

Her husband smiled back and for the first time in a while, she could see the sun in his blue eyes.

By the shore, Charlie was hopping from one rock to the other waving a piece of driftwood around like a sword. He'd been particularly taken by the pirate story Alfie had told them the night before. After all, who was more fearless than a pirate?