CHAPTER 3

LA VIE EN ROSE

❝ It is the French way of saying, 'I am looking at the world through rose-coloured glasses'. ❞

"Rose, if you had anything to do with the arrest of his family, Thomas Shelby will never leave you alone," Renée warned, her porcelain skin marked by wrinkles of concern. "And he will get to you by getting to us."

Rose sighed and pinched her nose for the tenth time in the last five minutes. Everyone one around her was in disarray as if she had just told them she was planning on killing King George, and she seemed to be the only one who was still familiar with the word calm. Questions were being fired at her like bullets in Flanders fields, and Rose had had enough of those.

"This is going too far, Rose, even for you," Angeline agreed. "You do not play with the Devil without bringing fucking Hell upon us!"

"Rose, you know I usually stand by you, but I can't support you on this. Even I think this is too dangerous," Nicolas added, the worried hand on his chin making him look like the Thinker outside. "You have built a respectable empire, no one doubts that. But Thomas Shelby will be your ruin."

"Were you even thinking about us when you did this?" Angeline asked, her tone strained. "Or were you solely thinking about you, as it is your habit?"

"Enough!" Rose slammed her hands on the table and got up from the chair, her voice strong enough to make a general obey. "Everything I do is for you. Doubt everything, if you want, but never my love."

The room went quiet. Not even Angeline dared contesting that painful truth. Love for Rose wasn't easy or free, and they all knew the price of it. She was still paying it to that day.

"For your information, I had nothing to do with the Shelbys' detention," Rose continued in a lower tone. "But I've been keeping an eye on them and their enemies, namely the Russians and the Economic League. I found out beforehand that their enemies had the arrest planned, so I thought what better time to murder those German bastards than now, when it will go unnoticed by both the British police and Thomas Shelby, as they have more pressing matters to attend to?"

Rose made a pause, to give them a chance to argue with her. No one did.

"Unfortunately, given his power and influence all over Britain, Thomas Shelby is a force to be reckoned with, and a factor to be considered when making risky moves like this one. So I had to get rid of the boches in a time where I knew Thomas would be too busy with his own problems to meddle in ours. I knew an... accident like the one I caused would raise suspicions, especially his. Like you said, Nicolas, Thomas is a clever man. If there's anyone who might not believe the Germans died in an accident, it's him, not the political or military forces in England or Germany."

"But you weren't counting on encountering him that night at the Ritz," Jules intervened. "He will link you to what happened with the Germans now."

"Most likely, but my guess is he will make a wrong assumption about what really happened, that is if he even decides to pay this any extra attention, now that he has his family in Winson Green prison."

"You're relying too much on assumptions and suppositions. We need facts, and logic," Nicolas retorted.

"I'm working on it," Rose assured him. "Why do you think I've been missing for three weeks? I've only come home once I was absolutely sure it was safe for all of us. Officially the boches were an accident. The slipup at the Ritz was my mistake and if any consequences shall arise from it, I will deal with them myself. You should trust me. Have I ever failed you?"

"We do trust you," Renée stated. "But we also care for you, and sometimes that care comes first."

"Ok, now that you've finished doing your Rose-thing of "do not mess with me or I will gladly punch you in the face", let's rewind a bit, shall we? You met Thomas Shelby at the Ritz? When?" Kaya asked, her curious eyes glimmering.

"The night she left and didn't come back," Audrey said with a roguish grin.

"Girl, you're telling me you and that conceited of a gangster...?" Kaya asked, her eyebrows creasing in a disapproving way. If there was a list of people that hated Thomas Shelby, Kaya was not only on top but also in every spot of it.

"Oh putain, non! Believe me, I have no desire to interfere with his business or his life or his anything. We should all still steer away from the Peaky Blinders. We've survived and built our fortune in England because we stayed off the radars, and that's how we will continue."

"What do you think happened? Here?" Christopher asked, gesturing with his chin towards the paper while placing a comforting hand to his wife's shoulder. Renée and Christopher's marriage along with her parents' were the only two things that still made Rose believe in love. In the good side of it.

"Clearly the Russians and Section D came together to set him up, but I bet this is all his plan, anyway. Thomas knew the police needed someone to go down and take the blame after all the crimes that had been happening due to the Peaky Blinders, and that his enemies, as the powerful people they are, would arrange for him and his family to be arrested. So he struck a deal with someone even more powerful – I'd say the government, for instance - to make sure only his family and not him went to prison, so he could stay out and help his family be released. He knew if they all went down, they'd be lost, so he made his family face a doom they would face one way or another without caring if he was seen in a bad light. He had to sacrifice his family first to save them later. I can't blame him for that."

Everyone stood in silence for some seconds. Then Renée spoke.

"It scares me sometimes, how well you understand him."

***

The sound of her heels on the paved road was the only sound heard on that early afternoon. Audrey called it the 'Devil's walk of shame', whenever Rose came back from doing something dangerous and illegal and strolled down the streets of London, letting her arrival be announced by those ominous steps. Rose thought the name to be accurate. One could never tell with her, if she had just gotten out of hell or arrived in it.

"Morning, Rose!" An old man exclaimed, raising his hat to greet her. Rose didn't do it on purpose, but still everyone stopped to watch her. The morning was windy and grim, perfect to make Rose miss the gentle sun of France and the warm afternoons she used to spend with her sisters in Amiens when they were still young girls with their worlds intact.

"Good morning," she replied with a smile before stopping in front of a small boy with dirt on his face and a rusty tin on his hopeful hand. Rose placed ten pounds in it and the boy's eyes widened. "This is all I have today. But come back tomorrow and I shall have more."

The little boy nodded vigorously before running away, and Rose's smile fell. Children should not have to be forced to beg. On the rare occasions Rose started having doubts about the morality of her business, she thought about these children. How her dirty money could keep them clean, and how sometimes she killed people so others like him could keep living.

"Morning, Rose!" Two women saluted while hanging up laundry, at the same time a policeman bowed his head to her. Rose would have preferred if they all behaved indifferently towards her. She liked the anonymity. No matter how much her family insisted she was similar to Thomas Shelby, this is where they were different.

Rose stopped at the end of the street and smiled, an unusual sense of pride invading her. La Vie en Rose was in her opinion the most beautiful place in all London, though she wasn't completely impartial given the fact she owned it. The two-story building was a paragon of the Art Nouveau, its frontage an intricate blend of delicate patterns, floral motifs, marble and statues. There were vines and roses around the entrance drawing a clear line between the outside world and hers. London was a violent place, but La Vie en Rose was off limits. The café was a space of elegance and beauty, and for many former soldiers, the only place where they did not feel at war.

La Vie en Rose was the most French place in London, and people would stop in their tracks just to marble at the window filled with éclairs, pralines, colorful macaroons and mille-feuille. It worked as a café, restaurant and pub, and it was also the place that had given Rose her best memories; it's where she would give her violin recitals Friday and Saturday nights, sometimes joined by the lovely voice of Angeline. It was the only thing she and her sister agreed on, music.

"There she is!" A woman sitting on the terrace exclaimed once she saw her. Rose smiled; Arwen King was one of the first friends Rose had made in London, and true to her name, she always ordered people around like a queen. "Get your arse over here, you English rose!"

"Why am I not surprised to see you're having lunch on the house? Again?" Rose questioned as she got closer to the table, shooting the soon-to-be-eaten profiteroles a wistful stare.

Arwen shrugged while bringing a cigarette to her red lips. "Don't blame me, blame Raphael. He's the one who offered."

"Putain," Rose muttered, "that boy will bring this business to ruin, he can't see a woman smiling that he goes straight into offering. And of course you take advantage of that."

"It's always us women working for them. Why should I not relish on having a man working for me for once? And especially for free?"

Rose shook her head, moving her stare towards the petite woman sitting opposite of Arwen and whose smile made Rose miss the sun less. Élodie Deslisle was a French woman who had come to Britain before 1914, and sometimes Rose envied her for it. She saw herself in her, or who she could have been if it wasn't for the war.

"How many has she had to drink?" Rose asked, gesturing to the empty glasses and the open bottle of champagne between the two ladies.

"Only two, but it's also only noon," Élodie chuckled, getting up to kiss Rose on each cheek. "Good to see you again, Rose, we've missed you."

"I assume Nicolas put you up to speed on what happened? He said he was going to stop by here before going to work."

"Oh, if he did!" Arwen let out with an impish smile. "I tell you, that man is the best thing France has ever produced. Better than the crepes or the croissants. Even better than the wine."

"Offence non taken," Rose joked. She was well aware of the effect Nicolas had on women; his French charm was hard to resist when combined with those almond eyes.

"It's a mystery to me how he hasn't married yet."

"It's a mystery to us all how you have," Rose teased, accepting the cigarette Arwen was handing out to her and lighting it on her lighter.

"How are you, though?" Élodie asked, grabbing Rose's hand. "It must not have been easy, doing all that by yourself. You could have told us, we would have done it with you."

"The more people, the more attention it would attract. This was not a job for the French Kissers, it was a job for me."

"You could have died," Élodie countered. "And a part of us would too. We're not just your employees, Rose, we're your friends and we worry about you. Don't forget that."

"You know why I think she did all of this on her own, Él? She wanted to find a way to be all alone with that Thomas Shelby," Arwen said with a cheeky smile. Rose had a feeling she liked Thomas as much as Kaya hated him. "Best thing Britain has ever produced."

"Not you too," Rose rolled her eyes, turning to Élodie. "Make sure she doesn't drink anymore. Last thing we want is word of any of this being spread on the streets."

Élodie nodded at the same time Arwen reached for her glass and took a long sip. "Should we expect a visit from Mr. Shelby too? Cause if we should, I'm going to need more than two glasses."

"No," Rose replied, stopping before she entered the café to look over her shoulder. "Oh, and Él? I couldn't have died," she said.

"I already did."

***

"Raphael, if you keep offering lunches and dinners to every face that winks at you, I will have no other option but to fire you," Rose announced to the young man behind the counter as she stepped inside the café. She always felt safe in there, with its chandeliers and large windows and golden brown décor.

"Seriously?" Raphael said, shaking his head as he stopped cleaning a table and threw the towel over his shoulder. "Arwen promised not to tell you."

"And is that supposed to be an apology?"

"I'm sorry, Rose, but have you seen her? She can be quite persuasive when she wants to." Yes, all my women can, Rose thought. I trained them for that. I just wasn't expecting them to use that same charm in my own establishments.

"And I can be quite mean when I want to, so keep that in mind," Rose warned, though they both knew that side of hers was kept far away from Raphael. The De La Cour family was a longtime friend of the Salvages; Raphael's father and hers had been classmates. Somehow, Raphael was a connection to that part of her she had lost. He had arrived in London a few months ago and the first person he had searched for was her. Rose had felt touched and offered her that job, though it was now clear she probably shouldn't have.

"A mean person wouldn't have agreed to welcome and take care of my sister while she stays in England," he said in response, a smile of melancholy and tenderness adorning his features. With his blond hair, pale skin and baby blue eyes, Raphael looked like one of the Greek sculptures Audrey always talked about from her history books. Unfortunately, it wasn't just his soft smile that made clients stay around for a while longer, it was his overly generous heart. Rose could protect their lives, but she couldn't protect that beating organ inside people's chests that made them live and die way before they were prepared to do either. God knew how miserably she had failed to protect her own.

"It's nothing. It's the least I can do for your parents. You must miss Andrea a lot."

"I do. Especially of her getting on my nerves," Raphael chuckled. "It's tomorrow, you know? That she arrives from France. I was wondering if..."

"Yes, you can have the day off. She arrives at eleven, right? I'll go with you."

"Thank you. And for letting us stay in your house as well. It's just while I don't manage my life here in the city. One day I'll be able to buy my own house with my own money, you'll see."

"Meanwhile, you don't have to worry, I got you both," Rose assured him, her attention being dragged to Evelyn Heart, her favorite barmaid. If Raphael made her lose money and clients, Evelyn gained them back. Man would walk in and stay just to talk to her. It was one of the most efficient and infallible ways Rose had to obtain information; she had quickly learned during the war that men would talk pretty quickly and about pretty much anything to a woman willing to listen.

That was why all of the women in the French Kissers had jobs in privileged positions where they could get information and see and hear things other people didn't want discovered, and in places where society wouldn't suspect of them or of their real intentions. Anyone that looked at Evelyn would only see a pretty face and completely miss the blade she always carried in her stockings.

"Rose, thank God you're back!" She exclaimed, her tired frown opening into a grin. "I was wondering if there was anyone I would have to assassinate."

"Pff, as if you could," Raphael mocked. "You can't even see a fly without running to me to drive it away."

"That's only because I know you smell so bad not even flies want to be around you," Evelyn retorted, missing the fascinated expression on Raphael's face as she looked beneath the counter and took a small package out. "This arrived for you, Rose, this morning."

Rose stomach turned in anticipation. "Who dropped it here?"

"Just some man. Said it should be delivered straight to you."

Well, at least it wasn't Thomas Shelby, Rose thought. No one would ever refer to him as just some man.

Rose grabbed the package, a suspicion forming on what it could be when she felt its weight and form. To put it simply, if it was what she suspected it was, Rose was screwed.

Rose opened the package; inside there was a red purse, with a note on it.

"Merde," she muttered, opening the note with impatient fingers. On the paper, written in a precise and impeccable handwriting, it said:

Dear Rose,

You seem to have lost your purse a few days ago, so I made it my mission to offer you a new one. Hopefully it will prove to you I am indeed a gentleman.

Yours truly,

Thomas Shelby

"Merde," Rose repeated, this time louder.

"Oh, Rose, only you to receive such an expensive gift and still curse," Evelyn said, shaking her head with a joyful smile.

"This is not a gift, Evelyn," Rose raised her head to meet Evelyn's innocent, dark brown eyes. "It's a declaration of war."

author's note.

I hope you liked this chapter! Please vote and comment if you did, it helps a lot! And if there are any questions, ideas or suggestions you'd like to make, feel free too, I love hearing from you guys <3

Also, I'm so excited for the next chapters! I promise Rose and Thomas will meet again soon :)