Chapter Fifteen
"Promise."

Ada's house was an absolute dream, and Arabella was very much in love with it. Though, for someone with such communist views, it didn't exactly seem the most fitting place to live. Arabella decided not to comment on it, instead remaining in awe.

"I brought Michael and Arabella because, as chief accountants, they have to be witnesses," Polly explained to Ada as the four of them took a seat around the table.

"Ada, can I can I use your phone?" Michael questioned. Arabella looked over at him, having noticed he'd been very distracted all day, always checking his watch or sparing glances at the door.

"Michael, business first," Polly dismissed, placing a number of files down in the middle of the table.

Arabella placed her elbow on the table, her chin resting in her hands. There really wasn't much point in both her and Michael being there, especially Michael, who knew barely anything about what was being signed – come to think of it, that's probably why Polly insisted Arabella be there too.

"Michael, stop looking at your watch. Arabella, sit up straight," Polly snapped at the two of them. Arabella shared a look of distaste with Michael from across the table, straightening up in her chair.

"Ada, whilst you're reading this, can I go and use your phone?" Michael eventually asked again, his obsession with the phone making Arabella roll her eyes. It was like being in the bloody office with him again.

"Who's the lucky girl, Michael?" Ada asked him, a playful smirk teasing at her lips. Again, Arabella stifled a groan. She could have been spending the day with Nick instead of listening to Michael grovel about his girlfriend and waiting for Polly and Ada to read documents.

"Her name is Charlotte, and Michael cannot breathe if he does not talk to her every two hours," Polly responded with a sarcastic smile as Arabella stifled a laugh, sharing an amused glance with Ada

"Ada, please–"

"Phone's in the hall," Ada finally gave in to Michael's pleads. "Dial nought for the line."

"Thank you." Michael pushed his chair back, immediately heading out of the room.

"And keep it quick, I pay the bill!" She called after him.

"I will."

Arabella exhaled heavily, beginning to light up a cigarette whilst Polly and Ada continued to discuss business. She decided that, once they were done, and Michael was off the phone, she might give Nick a call since she missed him. Arabella had spent the last few days with him, taking him to her favourite spots in Birmingham, discussing perhaps moving back to America permanently. She was finding that her work life, and life in general, was becoming boring when he wasn't around.

"Think about it Pol, with two of us in the company, we can straighten things out," Ada told her Aunt.

"What about the politics?"

"You and me fighting together and winning, that is politics," Ada argued. "That's a new kind of politics. It's just this way, I get paid and Karl gets a nice Christmas."

"Good," Polly responded. "Welcome to the Bourgeoisie." Arabella exchanged a small smile with Ada as Polly slid a piece of paper over to her. Arabella took another drag of her cigarette, watching as Ada's eyes scanned down the paper. She picked up a pen, glancing between Polly and Arabella for a moment before signing. Polly smiled. "Welcome to Shelby Company Limited."

"Shelby Company Limited," Ada repeated, passing the paper over to Arabella so she could write her signature too. "Limited and unarmed."

Arabella placed the pen back down on the table, her attention turning to the door as it clicked open. "Michael," Polly addressed. "Would you like to welcome Ada, our new Head of Property and Acquisitions."

"Congratulations," Michael responded flatly. Arabella glanced up at him, eyebrows pinching together in concern at his expression. "Where do I sign?" Polly stared at him for a moment, but didn't comment, handing the papers over to him. "Ada, have you got, um, whisky?" He asked as he leaned down to scribble his signature.

Ada rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Tommy."

"I've already told him," Polly chimed in. "He's becoming too like his cousin."

"I thought that was the idea," Michael shot back, moving past the table.

"Yeah, Tommy but with a bit more fucking charm and class," Polly responded.

"Yeah," Michael mumbled as he picked up the whiskey bottle.

"Oh, that'll help," Ada said sarcastically as the three of them watched him take a sip from the bottle.

"Yep," he uttered, completely disinterested. "Where am I sleeping, Ada?"

"Michael–" Polly warned.

"In the room next to Karl's," she answered.

"Michael–"

"Good night!" Michael called as he slipped through the door again, closing it shut behind him.

"Oh," Ada sighed as they watched after him for a few moments. "Heartbroken, poor love."

Arabella felt two pairs of eyes on her and glanced up, looking between Polly and Ada. She exhaled heavily. "What?"

"You should get some sleep," Polly suggested. Arabella's gaze drifted towards Ada, who shrugged, glancing down to hide her amusement at what Polly was trying to do.

"If you wanted me to babysit your son then all you had to do was ask," Arabella said, voice full of exasperation as she stubbed out her cigarette. Polly and Ada shared a subtle smile as they watched her get up from the table.

"Goodnight, Arabella," Polly said.

"Night," Arabella responded flatly, barely glancing over her shoulder at them. She knew they'd all been trying to force the narrative of Arabella and Michael being friends for a long time, and since they'd been on better terms than usual these past few weeks, Arabella didn't exactly want to push it – but she also definitely wasn't going to say no to Polly. Not to mention, she was a little curious about why Michael was acting so glum when he entered the room earlier.

"Sleep well!" Ada called after her. Arabella rolled her eyes as she closed the door shut, Ada and Polly's voices fading away.

With a heavy sigh, she began to climb the stairs, searching for Michael's room as she walked down the hall. She eventually found it and paused outside, hesitating for a moment. Taking a deep breath, Arabella knocked a few times on the door, listening closely for Michael's response.

She heard an irritated groan come from his room and smiled to herself, listening as heavy footsteps began to pad along the floor. "What?" He snapped as he ripped the door open, features softening slightly when he realised it was Arabella.

"You took all the whiskey," she responded simply, pushing past him into the room before he could argue. "So," she started, moving towards the bedside table and pouring herself a glass. "How's the wonderful Charlotte?"

Michael ran a hand through his hair, still hovering by the door as he watched Arabella. She turned around to face him, wondering why he was being so silent. "I wasn't on the phone to Charlotte."

Arabella's eyebrows drew together in a frown as Michael slowly began to cross the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Then who were you so eager to speak to?"

"I was on the phone to the woman Arthur and John told me about," he began to respond, glancing up at her blank expression. "The woman who does abortions."

Arabella slowly began to piece things together, Michael's agitation earlier and his low mood now all making sense. "Oh." She wasn't entirely sure what else to say, so, instead, she passed him the bottle of whiskey, knowing he probably needed it more than her. "You wanna talk about it?"

Michael shook his head, taking a sip and swallowing thickly. "Nope."

"Fair enough," Arabella shrugged, not wanting to push that topic any further. She watched him silently for a few moments, still struggling on what exactly she should say, or if there was anything she could say to help. "You looking forward to the opening next week?" Michael's gaze moved across the room quickly, and he shifted slightly uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than to pretend she hadn't just asked him that question. "What?" Arabella asked him, concern glazing over in her eyes. Michael's jaw tightened, and he turned away from her, the atmosphere in the room growing even more tense. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Michael dismissed, bringing the whiskey bottle to his lips again. "Nothing."

Arabella sat down on the bed beside him. "You can talk to me, you know," she told him. Michael glanced at her for a moment, the sincerity in her voice being the reason he turned his head. "I'm actually quite good at listening. Well, so I've been told."

Michael stared ahead of him at the wall, trying to decide whether or not to tell her about Father Hughes. He trusted Arabella, perhaps more than anybody else. They had been talking more and growing closer the past few months, and she'd trusted him with things, albeit she was usually drunk whenever she opened up to him, and it was mostly about the latest argument her and Nick had, or something along those lines. But still, they were talking, which was more than what they were doing at the beginning of the year.

"You have to promise that it stays in this room," Michael eventually spoke up. They both turned to face each other. "Promise me," he said, lifting his gaze to meet her eyes.

Arabella tried to search his expression for some kind of clue to what he was about to tell her, picking up that it was something serious. "I promise," she told him, and she meant it, she would never betray somebody's trust like that, not without a good reason.

Michael was silent for a while again, the atmosphere in the room growing ever the more tense. Arabella was starting to worry, and Michael's expression was completely unreadable. "I'm going to be the one to kill the priest."

She stared at him for a few moments, trying to process the words. "The priest?" She asked. "Father Hughes? I thought that–"

"I already spoke to Tommy," Michael interjected. "It's going to be me."

"Why?" Arabella questioned. She never saw Michael as anybody who desperately wanted to commit an act like that. She knew he wanted to become more involved with Tommy's side of the business, but not in that way.

Michael took a breath, his attention falling back on the wall again. "When I was a boy, in the orphanage, he– he made me do...things."

Arabella didn't need him to say anything more, knowing what he meant, and understanding exactly why he wanted to be the one to kill Father Hughes. "Michael–"

"That's why," Michael said, his hardened eyes shifting over her again, face stone cold. "That's why I want to be the one to do it."

"I'm sorry," Arabella said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart was breaking at the thought of the awful things Michael had endured at such a young age, and she shuffled closer towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Michael didn't push her away, like part of her expected him to. Instead, he moved closer towards her, their arms touching. "I'm here for you, you know?" She told him. He tilted his head slightly, turning to face her again. "And next week, I'll be by your side the whole time." She lifted her gaze to meet his. "Promise."

Michael's lips tugged slightly. And then he did something that really surprised her – Michael placed his arm around her shoulder. "Thank you, Arabella."

She matched his small smile with her own. "Anytime."

A/N

They're finally bonding and I am here for it!!!

The last episode of season 5 is tomorrow...I am not ready.