Chapter Thirteen
"Fucking pheasant!"

Tommy hadn't spoken to anyone for days.

Arabella was surprised he had even called her to his house to talk business, though she assumed he was focusing on work so he didn't have to think about Grace. Arabella hadn't really known the woman well, but she made Tommy happy, and that was all that mattered. So of course, she felt absolutely awful that Tommy Shelby was now without the love of his life, and that baby Charles was without his mother.

"He's back," Ada informed, releasing her grip on the curtain, the material falling back into place covering the window.

"Was he out there all night?" Arabella asked as she, Michael and Polly followed Ada into the other room.

"Every night since the funeral," Ada replied. "He comes back in the morning to see Charles and feed the horses. And when it gets dark he goes off again."

"He used to sleep out when he was a kid," Polly said. "Curly'd find him in the pasture. How's the baby?"

"He asks for his mum at night," Ada sighed. Arabella felt a heavy pang in her chest, tears almost forming in her eyes as she began to think about Charles' hurt and confusion about where his mother had gone. Arabella knew exactly what it was like to grow up without a mum. "Tommy made a list," Ada informed them. "He wants to see you three first."

Arabella's eyebrows drew together in a frown, sharing a glance with Polly. "What about John and Arthur?" Polly questioned, the exact thought having been on Arabella's mind.

Ada shook her head, any response she could muster being interrupted anyway by the front door opening. Tommy strode past them, face de-void of all expression, heading silently into his office and slamming the door shut behind him. Polly nodded over at Arabella and Michael, motioning for them to follow her. Arabella exhaled heavily, remaining a few steps behind them both, slightly nervous about how Tommy was going to act towards them in the midst of all his grief.

She was the last to step into Tommy's office, occupying herself with shutting the door shut behind them. When she turned around to enter the room properly, she was met with mostly darkness. Tommy sat behind his large desk, which was completely covered in sprawled out papers and documents. Arabella swallowed thickly, taking a few tentative steps inside, not quite knowing how to act, or what to say. Slowly, she moved to stand beside Michael, folding her hands together as she patiently waited for Tommy to speak, though the man merely scribbled over his paperwork, as if they weren't even there.

"How're the books?"

Arabella blinked for a moment, Tommy's voice finally cutting through the silence having startled her slightly.

"Unaffected," Polly answered. Arabella glanced over at her, noticing how rigid with tension the woman's entire body was.

"Up slightly," Michael informed him. "There's also been a threefold increase in donations to the Shelby Foundation Charity."

"The counsellor suggested naming the new school the Grace Shelby Institute," Arabella added on.

Tommy snuffed out his cigarette, clasping his hands together. "Tell the counsellor the name Grace Shelby Institute is acceptable to us," he said, rifling through the endless piles of paper to eventually hand Polly an envelope. "This is a list of the other things I want doing. That's all."

"Tommy–"

"That's all, Pol," Tommy interrupted firmly. "And well done, all of you."

Polly glanced at Michael and Arabella,  nodding her head. "Right, let's go."

Arabella suppressed a sigh, watching Tommy for a moment, almost feeling suffocated by her desperate need to say something of meaning to him. "Tom, I–" He looked away, focusing his attention solely on his paperwork. Arabella shook her head, moving to follow Polly and Michael our the room. "Nevermind," she said quietly to herself.

The three of them quietly entered the living room again, and Arthur and John immediately stood up, brushing down their coats. "Right. Let's go."

"Erm, we've already seen him," Polly said, sharing a glance with Ada.

"He wanted to see people in a particular order," Ada explained quickly, as Arthur's jaw began to clench in annoyance.

"I can normally read him, but he's difficult to read, so be careful," Polly told them.

"I thought it was a fucking family meeting," John snapped.

"Yeah," Arthur agreed.

"All of us together I thought," John added bitterly, eyes glancing over Arabella and Michael.

"John, he's grieving," Polly reminded, attempting to ease the building tension in the room.

"Yeah, well, come on John," Arthur spoke, patting his brother's shoulder as he began to cross the room. 

"Arthur, we need him back," Polly called after him. "Sabini and Solomon's have already sent condolences and flowers. So it won't be long before they come trotting up the A1 like wolves."

"Go on, there's a timetable," Ada hurried the boys along.

"Only good news," Polly reminded them.

"There is only good news, Polly," Arthur called over his shoulder. Arabella sighed heavily, leaning her head back against the wall as she watched the boys leave.

"Is he gonna be okay?" She finally asked, looking between Ada and Polly.

The two women shared an unsure glance. "I hope so," Polly replied.

The four of them sat mostly quietly in the room, until the thoughtful silence was broken by shouts coming from the other room. Arabella stared in the direction of Tommy's office until the noise died down and the door was ripped open, John and Arthur's heavy footsteps heard first as they stormed out.

Eventually they all ended up in the kitchen, glass after glass of whiskey being poured as the tension was given chance to slowly simmer down.

"The thing is, we all naturally came in here," Ada stated, looking between each of them. "Where the servants eat."

"It's nothing to do with politics, Ada, it's fucking freezing in the big room," John responded. Arabella nodded in agreement, having almost froze half to death waiting for them in the main room.

"John, mind your language in front of Karl," Polly chastised. Arabella chuckled, moving past John to reach for another bottle of whisky. 

"Ada, we're in the servants quarters because it's where the fucking booze is kept," Arthur quipped, high-giving Arabella as she passed him with the bottle.

Polly sighed in exasperation. "Arthur, find better words."

"Hey, Pol," John called, as Arabella poured some whisky into her glass and his. "Does swearing in gypsy count?"

"There is no need for us to be speaking Rocka or Shelta in any case," Polly responded firmly. John and Arthur hollered teasingly towards Polly, their shouts causing the woman to roll her eyes. "I'm just saying, there's no need."

"When my wife's drunk she can't speak fucking English," John laughed.

"John!"

"Fucking right," Arthur pointed towards his brother. Arabella rolled her eyes at their antics, taking a sip of her drink.

John's smirk faltered, and Arabella turned around to see Michael striding into the room. "You dealt with it?" Polly asked him.

"Incentives, no threats," Michael responded. "Implied consequences without specific reference to physical harm."

"That's why young Michael is the boss," Arthur ground out, an uneasy undertone in his voice. "He knows better words, right, Pol?"

Arabella quietly placed her drink back on the table, sensing the tension growing in the room again. She knew both John and Arthur had been pissed off that they weren't seen by Tommy first, but she thought it was just in the moment, and that they'd gotten over it by now. Obviously not.

"Since when was I your boss, Arthur?" Michael asked, tilting his head to the side.

"First the bosses meeting, then the workers meeting, eh?" John said.

"When did either of you two do a day's work?" Finn smirked slightly, taking a drag from his cigarette whilst Michael began to remove his coat, draping it over the back of his chair.

"In the old days, Finn, family meetings used to be all of us," Arthur told him. "Together."

"Arthur, shut up," Polly warned.

"Now me and John, we're just the fucking bin men, whose duty it is to obey," Arthur continued on. He raised his glass in the air as a toast. "Mrs Changretta."

"Arthur," Polly cautioned again, stepping beside him. "Shut up. Finn, go and get us cigars."

"So what are we gonna do all night?" John asked as Finn begrudgingly began to leave the room, handing his cigarette to Arabella, who took a much needed drag from it. "Climb fucking trees?"

"John, stop swearing in front of the kids," Polly reprimanded again, growing impatient with both Shelby brothers.

"Yeah, and who said you're staying the night?" Ada challenged.

"I know what we can do," Arthur stated, ignoring his sister. "We can get the guns out, John. We go outside and we shoot some fucking pheasants, that's what the bosses do, innit?"

"Yeah," John laughed.

"Fuck off, Arthur," Michael muttered.

Arabella snapped her head over to him in surprise, biting down on her bottom lip to stifle the smile threatening to grow on her lips. This was going to be good.

"The fuck did you just say to me?" Arthur snapped, rising to his feet.

"I didn't ask for separate meetings today, all right?" Michael stated, his jaw clenching as he took a step towards his cousin.

Arthur pushed his chair back, the legs scratching loudly against the floor. "No, no. What the fuck did you just say?" Arabella brought the cigarette to her lips again, leaning back against the table as she watched the scene unfold, amusement dancing in her eyes. "'Cause I didn't fucking hear you right."

John stood quickly, coming up behind Arthur to pull him away as the man pressed his forehead against Michael's. "I didn't ask for separate meetings today, all right?" Michael stated calmly.

"Fucking pheasant!"

Arabella let out a choked laugh, turning to face Karl, who stood with a grin on the other side of the kitchen. Ada raced across the room, whilst John began to laugh, even Arthur cracking a smile. "Karl, you can't say things like that," Ada chastised her son, biting back her own laughter.

"Now look what you've done," Polly threw her hand up in exasperation.

"All right brothers," Arthur began, slinging his arms around John and Michael. "It's just the fucking whisky talking."

"I don't ask to be protected, all right?" Michael mumbled.

"Right, shut up, the pair of you," Polly ordered. "Sit down. Sit down." The boys began to take their seats at the table. "Look around you, look at this house. Look at where we are. Look how far we've come. I think it's time we start acting in a way more appropriate to our station. We're none of us bin men anymore, Arthur. Tommy needs us all together. I'd like to propose a toast," she said, holding up a bottle. Arabella reaches for her glass. "It's a family united that shall never be defeated."

Just as they began to raise their glasses, Finn burst back into the room, his heavy, frantic breathing capturing everybody's attention, all seeming to sober up in an instant. "Tommy's gone! I swear to god, he is in a wagon with Johnny Dogs!" 

"Shit!"

Arabella was right behind everyone, snatching her coat as they ran down the halls and out onto the driveway, racing after Tommy and his horse until he was almost out of sight. Arabella slowed to a stop beside John, as Arthur tugged back Finn from going any further, the entire family standing breathlessly for a few moments as they watched Tommy leave, and couldn't do a thing about it.

Arabella knew that the old, cold Tommy was coming back, and they certainly weren't going to be better off for it.

A/N

I forgot how painful it is to wait a week for a new episode.