Chapter Text
Tommy watched with minor curiosity as the wagons pulled up to the home across the street, there were some chests that he suspected were filled with clothes being carried into the home by two men he suspected to be around his age but he could only see the backs of their heads. He smoked his cigarette and watched with furrowed brows. His shoulder nudged Freddies, who stood next to him.
“Thought that old fucker Wilson lived there,” Tommy commented, his mind going to the few interactions he had with the angry neighbor across the street. Wilson was likely a last name, Tommy never caught his first nor did he want it. The old man was an ass, with a thick Irish accent that made it impossible to understand him. Why he lived here was a mystery to everyone and everyone wished he would just go back to Ireland.
“Nah, mate, didn’t you hear?” Freddie looked over, the cold January winds making both men shove their hands into their pockets. “That ‘old fucker’ died two nights ago. Not surprised you didn’t know, not much to miss about him.”
Tommy exhaled the smoke, “And someone’s already movin’ in?”
“I heard my mum gossiping about it yesterday morning. He left his home, all his belongings, and whatever money he had to his niece. Danny and David's mum.”
“Danny and David Owns?” Tommy’s eyebrows shot up and he had to fight a smirk pulling at his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand to try and hide it but Freddie caught on.
Of course he did. They were best mates.
“What?”
Tommy wet his lips, shaking his head. As if summoned, he saw her. Hair tied back in a ribbon, curls falling in her face, her cheeks rosy from the cold. He watched her for a moment and it was enough for Freddie to guess.
“Fuck, Tom,” Freddie sighed, “You are not trying to fuck her, are you?”
“I’m not trying to fuck her, Freddie.” He said with a roll of his eyes.
“I can tell when you’re lying, Thomas. I’ve known you since we were five.”
“I’m not trying to fuck her, I swear it. If fucking happens, I would not be unhappy.” Tommy took another long drag from his cigarette, exhaling it into the cold air.
Freddie looked between the two, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to put it together. “She goes to mass every Sunday, Tom. She sits around and reads books. She bloody works at that damn book store. She doesn’t go out drinking, she doesn’t mess around in back alleys with men. You’re not her type.”
“Perhaps I’m not. Perhaps I am.” Tommy answered, crushing the cigarette under his shoe. “Perhaps she’s more my type then the girls who’ve come before.”
He looked both ways down the street before making his way across, ignoring the calls from Freddie and shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets.
Dottie noticed almost instantly. Danny and David were moving belongings upstairs, her father at work, and her mother sitting in their new study. She was alone with him, no excuses to leave or get away. She faced him, Tommy wondered what was going on in her head, her features were tight.
“You didn’t show up to our date.” Tommy commented, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the brick wall.
“I didn’t.” Dottie pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it with a soft pop.
“Why not? Hurt me feelings when you weren’t there.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Better things to do, I guess. I just forgot.” She met his eyes. Her eyes were green. A deep green and with specks of lighter greens and browns throughout.
“Just forget, aye.” Tommy said softly, wetting his lips.
He didn’t understand what had made him so interested in her. He saw her once and she looked beautiful in the dim lighting of that Christmas mass. Then she never showed up and he asked around town and everything he found out made him more curious to know her. Like Freddie said, she went to church every Sunday with her mum, and worked at the only bookshop in the whole of Small Heath. He found that she actually went to Wednesday night mass, too, but she went alone and she would stay after to pray. She went to confession on Mondays, at 8 in the morning every week. She made a deal with the baker, she’d help him learn to read in exchange for sweet rolls in the morning. Freddie was wrong that she didn’t go out, she did. Her friends and her would go out dancing or to the pictures. She saw every new Chaplin picture at the first showing she could. She cared for her mother and she avoided her father. There was speculation that the bruises that would show up on her arms had something to do with her strained relationship with her father. He learned her mother had come down with a fever when Dottie was small. Doctors suspected she wouldn’t make it but she did and her mind hadn’t been the same since.
Everyone gave him a new piece to the puzzle but everyone said the same thing. She was intelligent and stubborn with a strong head on her shoulders.
He sighed again, rubbing at his face. The cocky and arrogant facade faded, his tongue peaking out to trace his lips. “I know that me reputation is pretty shit.”
Dottie nodded, “It is.” She said under her breath.
He ignored it.
“I’ll be honest, my first intention was to fuck you. But then you didn’t show up and no one has ever not shown up. I started asking questions and I found a lot of interesting answers,” He was turning over the lighter in his pocket. He felt nervous. He felt like a school boy talking to a pretty girl for the first time.
“Yeah. I heard about that.” She crossed her arms over his chest. “ ‘Course a man would be surprised that women can be interesting.”
Tommy rolled his eyes and shook his head, “You ever met me aunt? You ever know me mum? Trust me, I know women can be smart and strong. I’m all for the women’s right to vote and divorce and all that.” He noticed how she raised her eyebrows when he dismissed it ‘as all that’. “I just mean to say that you seem like someone that I would want to get to know more."
She just stared at him a moment, not saying anything. He could tell she was thinking of her response.
“Look, Dottie, I’m tryin’ me best to be honest and open here,” Tommy watched her. “I’ve come to understand that finger sandwiches and soup and tea, that might not be the way to win you over or get to know you. What if I come ‘round the shop next time you’re working, yeah, and you can tell me about your favorite books? Maybe give me a recommendation for a book or two to buy?”
He could tell by the way her eyes lit up that that was the right answer. She was forcing a smile not to form, he could tell by the way the edges of her mouth twitched. “I work tomorrow. All day.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He heard her before he saw her and felt her before he heard her.
The air seemed to shift, he had heard the door open and he knew. Perhaps it was the force in which the doors were opened, perhaps it was the way the Garrison quieted.
“Is he here?” He wasn’t sure who she was asking. Arthur and John both shot him a look, the younger taking a sip of his whiskey to hide the smirk that was forming. The older muttering curses under his breath.
No one outside gave an answer that could be heard but the door to their personal booth opened and there she stood. She was furious, a fire in her eyes he’d seen a handful of times. Her jaw set tight.
“Hi, Dot,” John said, trying to hide the smile. It was clear he was enjoying watching this unfold. “Nice seeing you in London, yeah.”
“Fuck off, John,” Her voice was clipped and short.
Dottie and Tommy hadn’t been this close in years, he could smell the familiar scent of peaches. He could reach out and touch her if he wanted. He watched her, the stoic expression not once leaving his face but inside him there was a roaring sea of emotions.
“The fuck is this, Thomas.” She slams a piece of paper down on the table next to his glass of whiskey.
Tommy inhales the smoke of his cigarette. Exhales. Wets his lips and then leans over to look over it. “You’re a smart girl, Dot. That would be a deed to a house.”
“Yeah, yeah. Why is it in me mums name, Thomas? Why did you buy me mum a fuckin’ house?”
John made no effort to hide how he strained his neck to look at her. Arthur nudged his shoulder, “Think its time we leave, brother,” He mumbled under his breath.
The two squeezed past Dottie but she was too busy glaring at Tommy to notice. He met her stare back, taking a sip of whiskey and leaning back in his seat, “Nice ring. Didn’t think you found us Brummies worth a visit anymore.”
“It is a nice ring.” She took a seat across from him and held his gaze, “Only certain brummies.” Her eyebrows raised and she nodded to the paper on the table. “Didn’t come here to chat. Tell me why the fuck you’re buying houses for my mum.”
Tommy exhaled smoke, letting it fill the room and disappear before speaking, “I owe it to Danny…-”
“I’m not asking why you’re throwing money at my mum and Roise, I’m asking why the fuck a house? And why the hell did you think that was a fine thing to do without consulting anyone.”
“Rosie doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Well, Rosie isn’t Mildreds daughter, is she? That’s me.”
Tommy watched her for a moment. Of course she’d see through it, of course she’d come here to argue with him. He eyed her a moment, she looked almost the same as when he’d last talked to her. The last time they spoke her eyes were bloodshot and cheeks red from crying, he’d held her and told her he loved her and kissed her temple before departing to war. God, did he miss her.
He huffed a breath, shaking his head, “Only you would chastise me for trying to help you.”
“This isn’t help, Thomas. This is….condescending.” She answered, tapping her fingers against the table top.
His eyebrows shot up, “Condescending? How the fuck is this anything other than me wanting to help my old friend.”
Dottie rolled her eyes, she dismissed his comment, “Thomas, why? Mum has a house.”
“A house in the city, in the smog and grim. It can’t be good for her health or her mind,” Thomas leaned forward and tapped the deed with his middle finger, “This house is in the country with fresh air and trees and green grass and everything your mother needs. Its close enough that Rosie and the boys can visit and help. Rosie and Ada mention you have money, you were planning on moving your mother anyways, that money can be spent on a live-in nurse.”
Dottie scoffed, shaking her head, “You know, Ada told me she has a fancy new house in London too. Plenty of bedrooms. So does Pol. A house and a maid.”
Tommy sighed, staring at the ceiling for a moment and clicking his tongue,
“Fine, Dottie.” He crossed one leg over the other and brought his attention to her. “I needed to liquidate some assets…-”
“Fuck you, Thomas.”
“Dot..-”
“You’re not giving me mum a house you bought with money you got illegally. You’re not implicaiting my fucking family in your bullshit,” She slammed her hand on the table.
“Dottie! Fuckin’ listen to me for a bloody minute, yeah.” He wet his lips, waiting for her to calm down. It seemed like she did, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched him but he could tell there was a storm brewing in her eyes. “Danny is dead because of me. Let me make up for that by taking care of your mum.”
“No, Tommy. Danny isn’t dead because of you. Danny is dead because of Grace.”
Tommy felt like his two worlds had collided. He blinked in surprise as his brain scrambled for a response.
“Polly really doesn’t like Grace and when Polly doesn’t like someone, she makes sure other people don’t like them too. Your girl was a rat and told your grand plan to the coppers and because of that Billy Kimber shot my brother in the fucking head,” tears glazed over her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Its still me fault and I’m trying to do right by Danny.” Tommy defended himself, tapping a finger against the table.
“If you were trying to do right by Danny, she’d have a bullet between her eyes just like he does. Since when do the Peaky Blinders let rats live?” Dottie shook her head. “I guess when Tommy Shelby wants to get his cock wet, thats the difference, yeah. Now I have dead brother because of it.”
He watched her, he could read her just like she could him. She was hurt, of course, she was angry, but she was hurt more than anything. Hurt by losing another brother, hurt because of him.
“Danny’s not the only reason, Dot.” Tommys voice was quiet and for once he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.
Dottie shook her head, “What good as your help ever done me, Tom? What good have you done me?” She wet her lips, “Taking care of me isn’t your duty any more. I have a nice ring, remember? I have a husband that is more than capable.”
“I don’t fucking care about your fucking husband, Dottie. I made you a promise, yeah, and I may have failed you at every fucking turn but this…-” He held up the deed to the house, “ taking care of you and your mum, that’s not something I’m going to fail. Not again. You can fucking yell and curse and scream all you damn well please, but I can’t…” He rubbed his face and shook his head.
“I know men, Dot, and there’s no man out there that I trust with you,” He pointed out to the door as if pointing to every man in all of Britain.
She sat in silence for a few moments, he was leaning towards her with an intense look on his face. She watched the cars go by and people walking. He could see the turmoil in her eyes, fighting between conflicting feelings just as he had been. It wasn’t often that she was quiet like this, that she had to think about what she said.
Her words came out slow, not watching him as she spoke. “You’re the worst of them all, Tom. You leave dead bodies and broken hearts in your wake.” She turned to look at him and he almost wish she hadn’t. “Your love is fickle, your love is weak.”
All he could do was blink at her, no words could leave his mouth.
“I don’t want you interfering with my family anymore. Not with my mum. Not with Rosie. Not with my nephews. We don’t need your money. I don’t need you to take care of me because you feel bad. I don’t need you.” Dottie stood, grabbing the deed and heading out.
“Dot,” Tommy spoke up, swallowing down the million words that wanted to jump out of his throat.
She stopped, her body was rigid and she stayed facing the door.
“It was good to see you. Congratulations on the wedding. I hope he’s a good man.” Tommy would cut him if he wasn’t. “And congratulations on graduating. Danny and David would be proud of you. I know I am.”
She hesitated just a moment, he knew her well enough to know that she was fighting between yelling at him more, walking away without another word, or saying that she was glad to see him too. She chose the second option, straightening up and walking away. He could see her blurred form passing the window outside and he lit another cigarette.
“Bloody fucking hell,” He leaned back aganist the booth and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what was worse. The IRA, Campbell, or these fucking women.