Tommy Shelby finally recognises the extent of his mental damage. An Illness that is eating away at his conscious being, devouring every last morsel of sanity in his head.
An illness that finally forces him to seek counsel from a professional.
To fi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
In the coming days, Verity found herself becoming the sole and lead person involved in the planning of Charlie Shelby's 7th birthday party.
It came in the form of one rainy, miserable late March morning – where the dismal grey rain pattered relentlessly upon the window panes – a rhythmic reminder of the bitter cold and wet of the outside world. Charlie's tutor had cancelled for the day, having phone in to say she was ill. With Tommy out as usual, Verity took it upon herself to devote her time to the young boy – it wasn't exactly looking like she was going anywhere any time soon.
"Are you looking forwards to your birthday next Friday?" Verity asked, as the two played a game of Snap on the cosy rug by the hearth.
Placing down a card on the plush material, Charlie sighed and shrugged. The display was immediately off putting for Verity, she hadn't seen a child act like that about their birthday before.
"No. Nothing ever happens." He sounded truly downtrodden, his expressionless face and blank eyes not telling a tale of a spoilt child who had longed for a party – but a sweet boy who had always come second best to the many follies and business' his father was trying to get involved in. Charlie Shelby hadn't really ever had a birthday worth remembering.
That was the moment she decided, whilst she was here, she was going to give that little boy the best bloody birthday he had ever seen.
Initially, Verity was so mad at Tommy for not having made his son's birthday more of a priority all these years, that she didn't even tell him about her plans for a big family party, with lots of lovely presents, delicious food and celebration like the boy had never seen. She kept it to herself, fearful she might not be able to bite her tongue at why Tommy Shelby hadn't been able to sacrifice some time in the past to give Charlie just one day in the year where he felt like he was the only thing that mattered.
On her days in London, Verity spent many an hour before her nightly performance at the club – traipsing around all the best shops she could find to obtain all the necessary components for a good party. Of course she had started with the key planning at home – talking to Francis about catering etc, and the rest of the things – decoration and present buying could be found in all the London shops she bounced between on the odd afternoon.
Verity's purse was noticeably lighter after one particularly important trip to Harrods – her arms bundled with bags containing gifts, wrapping paper, bunting – anything she had set eyes which would be perfect for the party.
It was no wonder however, when she returned to Arrow House the next Sunday morning by cab, then her plans that had so far been unfolding peacefully in secret – were about to be foiled.
It was the first crisp and clear morning in weeks, as Verity huffed and puffed with the bags in her arms. As she had made her way to the station in London earlier that morning after staying the night at Scarlett's beautiful London home, she had even had to enlist the help of her best friend and colleague to take a bag just to lighten the load. As usual, Scarlett was as helpful as ever and kept her promise not to mention it to either Arthur or Tommy for the time being.
