XVI. Once.

It was late when Maude came to Tommy's office in the Parliament building. He was sat at his desk, busy packing up files in his briefcase. His eyes shot up and his brows furrowed when he saw his wife. "What are you doing here, sweetheart?" he questioned.

Maude approached his table, putting her things down on one of Tommy's tables. "Did you forget?" she asked him as she filed through a few papers, searching for the one she wanted at the moment.

"Forget what?" Tommy questioned as he stood up, looking at his wife with his eyebrows still furrowed.

Maude stood up straight and turned to face her husband. "You have a meeting tonight, Tommy." she reminded him and his eyebrows remained furrowed. "With the journalist, Mr. Levitt from the Times," she added before walking towards his journal, flipping it open to the date. "It's in your dairy, my love."

Tommy sighed deeply as he placed his hands on his desk and lowered his head. Maude gave him a pity smile and continued sorting through her files, putting a few on Tommy's desk for him to go through at a later time.

Tommy's assistant, Adam entered the office, carrying a small piece of paper. "Mr. Shelby, this arrived from New York," Adam spoke as he walked up to Tommy's desk, holding out the piece of paper. "It's from Winston Churchill," he added and Tommy put on his glasses before taking the paper and looking it over. "He says he was in New York and had dinner with Charlie Chaplin, and Chaplin mentioned your name."

Tommy dropped the piece of paper down on his desk along with his glasses. "So he was in New York and he doesn't mention the crash." He muttered as he looked through the files his wife had brought him.

"No," Adam replied as he shook his head. "Even though, in the bar last night, Mr Churchill's private secretary reckoned he lost seventy-five thousand pounds in two hours," he informed both Tommy and Maude as he looked between them. Adam was a good assistant but he was a known gossip. "And you? Were you affected, Mr Shelby?" he asked curiously.

Maude cleared her throat and looked at Adam while she pulled back one of the chairs in front of Tommy's desk. "Adam, is the journalist here yet?" she asked him as she quirked an eyebrow.

Adam paled the smallest bit, quickly realizing where he overstepped. He quickly nodded his head as he fiddled with his fingers. "He's outside," he replies.

"Send him in," Maude told him and he nodded before hurrying out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Maude sat down before leaning over Tommy's table, snatching one of his cigarettes and his lighter. Tommy eyed his wife, waiting for her to light her cigarette before taking both items back and lighting his own cigarette. "I'm not in the mood for a meeting," he muttered as he shook his head.

Maude looked up at him, taking a drag of her cigarette. "Well, it's just too late now, my love," she informed him as she shook her head.

Adam came back into the room, with an older man. The man was vaguely familiar, from a long time ago that Maude could now barely remember. She couldn't really remember the man, but she could vividly remember the time she saw him. One of her first brushes with how dangerous and driven Tommy was when it came to business. It was the time he had the King's pictures burned to push back against Inspector Campbell. A long time ago now.

"Mr. Shelby." Mr. Levitt greeted as he approached, holding his hand out towards Tommy.

"Mr. Levitt from the London Times." Tommy greeted, motioning towards the empty seat beside Maude. "Have a seat," he instructed, and Mr. Levitt awkwardly lowered his unshaken hand before taking a seat, nodding in acknowledgment at Maude. "Adam, you go home; I'll lock up," he told his assistant as he sat down, and Adam quickly left.

"Mr. Shelby, do you remember me?" Mr. Levitt questioned curiously as he raised his eyebrows at Tommy.

Tommy took a drag of his cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke as he leaned back in his chair. "No," he replied with a shake of his head.

"Once, in Small Heath, you were burning photographs of the King." Mr. Levitt reminded as he fished a notebook out of his leather-bound briefcase.

Immediately Maude and Tommy looked at each other. They weren't remembering Mr. Levitt or the King's pictures, but rather each other. Remembering how they were already so in love back then, yet not together. Reminding themselves how their feelings and emotions from then, had not changed since, only grown stronger. It was also a reminder of how far they had come, the years they had faced together.

Tommy's gaze returned to Mr. Levitt. "London Times," he spoke as he stared at the man with slightly furrowed eyebrows. "You've done well," he commented as he nodded his head.

"As have you, sir, to put it mildly." Mr. Levitt replied as he looked around the office with a polite smile. His gaze returned to Tommy. "I sent you a list of questions." he reminded.

"Yeah, I misplaced them," Tommy replied causally as he nonchalantly shook his head.

"Yeah, well, you have a lot on your plate." Mr. Levitt replied awkwardly as he looked down at his lap and began flipping through his notebook.

"Yes." Tommy agreed as he stared the man down. "All I remember is that your questions interested me," he told the man, and Maude looked at her husband, getting a feeling deep in her stomach that he was up to something.

"Oh! Good." Mr. Levitt chuckled as he looked at Tommy for a moment before searching for a pen in his pockets. "Sorry, just... Ah, here we are," he mumbled when he found a pen, and once again, his gaze lowered to his notebook. "Yes, um..." he began, nervously clearing his throat. "Um... So, Mr Shelby, traditionally in this country, print journalists take no interest in the, er, the private lives of politicians."

"Private lives?" Tommy repeated as he raised his eyebrows.

"But in these modern times, especially in America...journalists are beginning to..." Mr. Levitt continued, visibly uncomfortable and nervous as he read from his notebook. Well, that is to say, yes, um...Readers are beginning to say...want to know more about the men who represent them." he spoke with a stutter here and there.

"Of course," Tommy replied, eyebrows deeply furrowed and eyes cold as he nodded his head. "In these modern times," he repeated with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Whereas before it would have been seen as ungentlemanly to, er, to ask a public figure questions about personal matters, or business affairs..." Mr. Levitt continued, nervously glancing in Maude's direction. She didn't put him much at ease as she was nearly just as intimidating as her husband, staring at him blankly and coldly.

Tommy scoffed and shook his head. "Oh, well. No need to worry," he replied as he continued to stare coldly at the older man. "I'm no gentleman except to my wife," he informed as he pointed his cigarette in Maude's direction.

Mr. Levitt stared at Tommy, wondering if he should laugh, but he could tell by the blank stare, Tommy wasn't joking with him. He lowered his gaze for a moment, gathering himself before looking at Tommy again. "Er, Mr. Shelby, as I said in my letter, ten years ago I was a journalist on the Birmingham Evening Mail. And of course, working in that city, it was impossible not to know your name... and your reputation." he continued, speaking very carefully. "So, when I saw that you had been elected as a socialist-"

"You reflected on the fact that working people can indeed change their lives for the better... channel their abilities in new directions, discover better methods, aim for happier outcomes, even win awards for industry," Tommy replied as he stared at the man, remembering more clearly know who he was dealing with exactly. "You can write this down, Mr. Levitt." he insisted with irritation.

"The question I have for you, Mr. Shelby, is this. Was your conversion from bookmaker to socialist politician a gradual thing or...a road to Damascus experience?" Mr. Levitt questioned as he raised his eyebrows.

Maude gave Mr. Levitt a side-eyed look as she tilted her head. She was suspicious of the man, of his questions, of his clear intentions to get information on personal matters, and of his tone. Especially of his bravery, because newspapers rarely even interviewed Tommy, let alone be so out there with it.

Tommy laughed as he looked at his wife and she returned a cautious look, knowing the look on her husband's face. Tommy's gaze returned to Mr. Levitt. "Yeah," he muttered, his gaze growing cold again as he gave an eerie smile. "Now I hear that question...I remember receiving your letters and I distinctly remember your use of the word bookmaker."

"Were you not a bookmaker, sir?" Mr. Levitt asked hesitantly as his brows furrowed.

"Yes." Tommy confirmed as he nodded his head. "I gained a licence in 1919 for on-track betting. But, since, I've made my fortune in the manufacture, sale, and export of motor cars," he informed.

" And lately gin." Mr. Levitt added as he stared at Tommy.

"And lately three new homes for orphaned children," Maude added in her husband's defense as she looked at Mr. Levitt sharply. She didn't like even the slightest attack on her husband's character. She ashed her cigarette in Tommy's crystal ashtray before looking back at Mr. Levitt. "You can write all this down, Mr. Levitt," she told him sharply as she nodded toward his notebook.

Mr. Levitt stared at Maude for a moment before looking at Tommy. He no longer seemed nervous or uncomfortable. He seemed brave and determined. "I have another question, Mr Shelby," he informed. "In Birmingham, at the time that I was there, there was a Major Campbell. He was found dead. A member of your family was charged." he began.

Tommy's gaze drifted towards his wife and he gave her a look that she could only interpret as, I'm going to kill this man. Then he lowered his gaze and shook his head before chuckling again. He found the audacity amusing. With a heavy sigh, he looked back at the man. "Right, you answer me this. Answer me this." he insisted as he leaned forward. "What is your Tory newspaper more afraid of? Is it evolution or revolution?" he questioned. "And what is it about working-class men like me, standing up in the House of Commons and speaking from the heart, what is it that so troubles you that you would try to undermine me?"

"I am talking about specific events, sir." Mr. Levitt defended himself as he shook his head.

"Which I don't recall..." Tommy replied, his voice dangerously low and his eyes eerily wide. "With which I was never personally linked, and after which all convictions were quashed," he added as he slowly shook his head.

Mr. Levitt cleared his throat and his previous weariness returned for a moment. "There was also the death of a Vincentte Changretta, which was loosely connected to your family after your wife's shooting," he added and Maude's brows furrowed. She didn't like the idea of being used as a pawn to ruin her husband's political image.

Tommy sat back in his seat, jaw clenching hard as he stared at Mr. Levitt. His eyes were cold and hard as he stared the man down. The mention of Maude getting shot, of Vincentte Changretta, that was the last straw for him.

Tommy slowly nodded his head as he sat back in his seat, not breaking his death stare. "Yeah, now... I recall receiving your letter," he informed the older man. "And I recall that when I did, I asked a colleague of mine to carry out some research," he added and Mr. Levitt looked troubled. "Just a moment," he mumbled as he stood up, placing his cigarette between his lips before digging for his personal journal in his coat pocket. "Here we are," he muttered as he returned to his desk, putting on his glasses before blowing out a puff of smoke as he took his cigarette out of his mouth. "Ah, Michael Levitt. Correct?"

"Yes." Mr. Levitt confirmed hesitantly as he nodded his head.

"Yes." Tommy replied as he nodded his head. "Journalist. Unmarried. An apartment in Maida Vale." he read from his journal, sitting back down in his chair. "An apartment opposite the underground station." he went on before looking at Mr. Levitt. "Unmarried is underlined," he informed the man before looking back down at the journal. "Mr Levitt enjoys walks in the park. Sometimes alone. Sometimes not alone. Sometimes with other men." he said and Maude pursed her lips, realizing what angle her husband was playing. Tommy put down his journal and took off his glasses as he sat back in his chair. "Sometimes with other men," he repeated as he stared at Mr. Levitt. "I'm old-fashioned... Michael. I believe private lives should remain private. Not everything modern is good, now, is it?" Tommy taunted. Mr. Levitt stared down at his lap, visibly shaken. He hesitantly met Tommy's gaze. "You gonna write this down......in your little fucking book?" he questioned.

Mr. Levitt cleared his throat, gulping hard as he lowered his gaze. "Perhaps it is time I go." He mumbled softly, his voice shaking.

"Perhaps." Maude agreed sharply as she nodded her head.