IIV. 1921

   "How long is this prick gonna take?" Maggie exhaled loudly.

They were waiting for Tom to finish up with the documents for the horse and he was taking his sweet time. Maggie and the lads stood in the hall, after being given strict instructions to not cause trouble with the toffs.

Arthur and John stood in the doorway with Micheal with the rest of the boys around the corner behind them. Maggie stood a few steps in front of them, looking down at her feet and spinning, like a child.

"Will you stop that? You're making me dizzy," Arthur gave out.

Mags give shrugged, not stopping, "I'll stop when your majesty comes out."

"So who was the lucky man you were talkin' to in there," John started, "does he have a name by chance?"

Still spinning, she answered "John, you are not cutting poor-... you're not cutting him, end of."

"Come on Maggie, I'm just looking for a name, nothing will happen to him. Don't tell me you're gonna marry a someone you just met."

"Last time I checked, you didn't know Esme until you were at the alter." She said.

"Stop spinning." Arthur spoke with his usual gruff voice.

Eventually, Thomas came out the door and Maggie stopped spinning and finally made her way towards the door, smiling, only to hear some posh accent behind her. Her smile dropped instantly seeing Tommy walking away from the exit.

She groaned loudly as she leaned against the wall near Micheal. May Carleton was her name.

"And what is it you do?"

"I rarely answer questions, is what I do."

"'I rarely answer questions'" Maggie mocked, "No wonder Grace left."

"Tommy, come on hurry up, we gotta go." Arthur called as John tried to hide his laughter. Maggie watched as Tommy tried to ignore them, and carry on with his Thomas Shelby bad man persona with this not half bad looking lady.

"Tommy, we gotta get this kid back before dark or Polly will have your balls." John shouted, putting his arm around his cousin.

"She will have 'em" Arthur added.

Maggie can do nothing but sigh as she bangs her head against the wall,

"Tommy! We gotta get back to the caravans! The chickens, they're hungry." Arthur keeps going.

"I'm hungry." Maggie said.

'May' continued, "You still didnt tell me what you do."

"Oh i do bad things, but you already know that," and with that he was finally done.

"Right, 'bout bloody time."

"God would you just fuck her already," Maggie said, making her way out, dragging her feet as she did, "Might save us some time."

"I'm waiting in the car."

She hadn't even gotten outside before she heard a gunshot, and then another.

—

    To say the ending to their day out was uneventful would be a lie, but Polly didn't need to know that.

Micheal drove home sat beside Maggie and Thomas. She was sat uncomfortably between the two, being annoyingly close to Tom. The drive was quiet. She could hear John in the back trying to lighten the mood with Charlie and some other lads. Arthur was quiet.

Polly's once fabulous fur coat was stained by the blood of Sabini's man. The navy dress underneath remained clean, but Maggie rather that was damaged instead.

The smell of smoke and sweat lingered on her clothes more than usual with Tom blowing smoke in her direction ever other second.

Maggie felt claustrophobic between the two. Micheal and Tom remained normal and still while she itched vigorously on her hands where red patches began to appear. She felt the collar of the dress choking her.

The three of them were in their own worlds, almost unaware of their surroundings and trying to ignore the previous events.

She felt the itchiness on her legs now and up her arms. Pulling at the fabric, there were rashes covering her skin now. Her nails dragged along the skin, making it turn more red.

Feeling the bumpiness of the road beneath her didn't help as she felt fill her mouth.

"Stop!" She shouted loudly, "stop now! Let me out! Micheal stop!" Her voice broke, shoving Thomas out before the car stopped suddenly. Maggie crawled past him, jumping out the van and walking down the road they just drove up.

Looking down at her hands, the red didn't go away. She pushed her hair out of her face, holding her locks behind her in one hand and gripping her knee as she bent over. She threw up in the bushes, but it didn't make her feel better. Her mouth felt funny.

"Come on, Mags," John came up behind her, taking her arm that was holding her hair back. He kept the hair away from her face, realising she might not be done. Her grip on her knee got tighter as the urge to itch came again.

She didn't look up at him, instead closed her eyes in her hunched over position.

"You're freezing Mags, get back and then we'll get Pol to look after ya. Been a long day, eh?" He said, trying to encourage her to stand straight, but she didn't budge. He lifted his hand, only to hold her hair again after wrapping his coat over her shoulders.

"No, no, take it off, it's too hot, I'm sweating," she whined, feeling the coat's weight, "get it off, get it off," and he took it off her.

A pair of footsteps approached the two, "What's going on? A bit of car sickness Margaret?" His voice was loud but in clear to Maggie, "Fuck sake, back in the van. Micheal needs to get back," Thomas said in his cold tone.

"No, no," she said again, still crouched down, now giving in and itching her arms, "I need- I need these gone, they can't be good, not for me or Cara."

"These what?" Thomas sighed, tired. While Tom showed no sympathy, John did.

"The red, the spots. Help me John," she whispered, falling into him. John was confused and concerned for his cousin.

John lifted her sleeves, "there's nothin' there Mags, no spots." Tom looked back at the van seeing the faces of his brother, his cousin and his uncle all looking the same way John did. "Let's get you home to Pol, she's waiting, yea?" She stared at the spots on her arms as he led her back. John gave Tommy a look, a worried look, as he saw how much she was itching at her skin.

John walked her back to the van, almost dragging her. He held her wrists to stop her from irritating her skin.

Tom walked ahead, casually smoking. He gave Micheal a signal as well as Charlie. Micheal got back in the driver's seat hesitantly but Charlie stood at the back of the van.

"Alright, up you get." John said, encouraging her into the van, but her legs went limp. Charlie helped the man, grabbing onto Maggie arm and pulling her up.

She was propped up beside Uncle Charlie and Arthur, sat across from John. Micheal spoke quietly in the front to Tom.

"Yep, she's just making a fool of herself. Drive on." Thomas answered, loud enough for the men in the back to hear. John watched her, waiting for a reaction.

Tom's words often didn't get to her because she had gotten to used to it, but at this moment her cousin watched as a tear rolled down her cheek and her head fell onto Arthur's shoulder.

It had been a long day.

—

   
    She woke up to the sound of her little girl calling for her. With her eyes still closed, two pairs of hands pulled her up and out of the vehicle.

She was leaning against the van as the muffled voices spoke beside her but all she could hear clearly was her daughter's voice in the distance. Her laugh was so reassuring to Maggie.

"Open your eyes," a voice said. It was a woman, she were older, her voice was soft. Her hands were cold on her face, "Maggie." It was mum.

Opening her eyes, she was met with troubled eyes, "Hi mum."

"Let's get you inside," Polly spoke softly. Maggie didn't want to go inside but she felt too weak to object. She took as many deep breaths of the fresh air as she could before she was locked in the house.

The men watched as Polly held her daughter up. They walked up the path.

Polly remembered times when she'd have to drag the girl in because Maggie refused to come in from outside each night.

Maggie heard the door close behind them and suddenly heard her daughter loud laugh. Polly watched as Maggie pulled herself away and followed Carissa's voice.

She walked down the hall seeing Micheal sat on the couch, coat still on, watching Carissa dancing around the small coffee table. She laughed as she twirled round and round. Cara was happy and Maggie was happy watching her. The girl stopped suddenly and curtsied as Micheal applauded her performance.

Carissa grin grew as her eyes landed on her mother would stood silently in the doorway. Sprinting around the room to get to her, Maggie prepared herself for the impact. Cara launched herself into her mum's arms. A faint smile graced the woman's face as her daughter gave her a kiss on the cheek and hugged her tightly.

"She was meant to be the bath and in bed an hour ago but it seems she was too excited to show off her dancing," Polly smiled from behind the pair.

"Well it seems we've got to get you in the bath then Carissa," Maggie spoke softly, still clutching onto her girl.

Carissa quickly pulled back and whined, "but I have to show you my dance."

Although she was loved these small moments, Maggie struggled to give her daughter a proper smile. She hoped her daughter could read her mind and know she was happy to see her the way she wished she could show.

"Tomorrow," Was all she could say.

Carissa stared back at her mum. A blank expression. It was as if she was trying to read her mind. Her eyes were empty as she stared back into her young ones. She looked so much like Tommy right now.

"Tomorrow," she confirmed.

Maggie stood up and took her daughter's hand and made their way up the stairs, leaving Micheal and Polly behind, having forgot about them.

—

Kneeling beside the tub in the girl's bedroom. The fire's heat warmed the water and the mother. Carissa sat in the hot water with her head back as her mother washed her hair.

Maggie had very vivid memories of her mother washing her hair. She remember times when Pol's nails scratched her scalp, oh the pain. Young Margaret used to ask if their was blood afterward. She used to think her mum was lying when her mum said no.

Then something happened. One night, she was so gentle. That night, Pol washed her hair until Margaret's fingers were all wrinkly and weird. Despite the knots and mud in her hair, Polly was light and slow, patient with each tangle. She didn't need to ask if their was blood on her scalp.

Maggie was gentle with Carissa.

"Oww, you're hurting." Carissa whined.

Maggie tried to be gentle with Carissa.

It was either how quickly she tried to get the job done or how the shampoo would always get in her eyes, the girl hated baths. She hated how shampoo stung her eyes or how her fingers got all funny or the fact that there is nothing to do expect endure the pain of her scalp being rubbed raw.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, love." Maggie sighed, pushing hair out of her face without her hands. "What is in your hair?" She muttered quietly, trying to detangle a certain cluster of dirty blonde hair.

"What's uncle Tom gonna name the horse?" Carissa asked, currently picking at the bar of soap.

"Fuck know's love."

Carissa hummed at her answer, "what about Benjamin or... Duke or... Peter?"

"Maybe. Head back."

She lay her head back as her mum filled the small basin, "Do you think he'll name the horse after me?" Maggie didn't have an answer to that.

Washing the shampoo out, she answered, "You'll have to ask."

—

    Polly walked in on her eldest making food. Carissa was out the bath and sent to bed. Maggie was going to read her a book, but Carissa had other plans as she asked about the auction some more. Maggie always tried her best to answer her daughter's questions but all the young girl got back from her mother was a few 'uh-huh' or 'no' or 'dunno'. Eventually Cara tried herself out and fell asleep in her mother's arms.

Margaret Gray was sometimes a mystery to her mother. Many people said she was more like Polly and others said she was more like her father. But Polly never really understood how Maggie was Maggie. There were things she did that reminded her of herself and her husband, but she could very much be anyone's daughter. There was no doubt that Polly Gray loved her daughter, no, she did.

"What are you doing, it's half eleven."

"Making sandwiches." Polly watched as her daughter buttered the bread.

"Why, love?"

Maggie concentrated on the sandwiches, "Carissa might want some when she wakes up. Or for lunch." Maggie smiled to herself as she carried on.

"Why don't you make them in the morning?" It was a bit unsettling watching her. She seemed to be in her own world.

"Dunno."

"How are you feeling?"

"Amazing," it didn't sound sarcastic for once, Polly thought.

Polly just watched from beside the woman as she made the sandwiches, "what type of sandwiches are you makin' her?"

"Jam ones and chicken ones. A choice," She cut them into triangles and wrapped them in brown paper, putting them gently in the corner on the counter. She was very careful with them.

Maggie left her mother in the kitchen promptly after checking her watch, as if she was following a schedule.

"You're not staying?" Polly asked, confused.

"Not tonight," Maggie replied, taking her coat of the hook. She was tired.

Polly was worried, "why?"

"Plans."

—

    What shocked Lizzie the most was the the lack of regret Maggie had for what she was doing.

The dark haired woman had found the Gray woman in the spare bedroom above the Garrison. She had heard her all too familiar laughter. The kind of laughter you heard when Maggie Gray was drunk.

Storming in the door, she found Maggie laying in bed with two men, with a thin sheet barely covering her. Bottles from downstairs surrounded them, all opened and more than half empty.

She was laughing. Upon seeing her friend, Maggie grin grew. Lizzie could do nothing but take in the scene as Maggie ran over and hugged her, not minding her lack of cloth. She smelt of liquor and sex.

She knew it wasn't flour that covered the dresser, she just hoped it wasn't Maggie's.

"Let's get you dressed and get you home." Lizzie encouraged, ignoring the men behind her friend.

"No it's not time to go home. Come on Liz, stay, have some fun with us, please."

Lizzie couldn't explain the disappointment. She had faith in her friend, "No, come on, home."

"Come on Liz, stay," one of the men called mockingly. He was not a Blinder and he had an accent. He wasn't from here. He did not know her. He did not know Maggie.

"Please stay, Liz," Lizzie stared at her as she begged. Her hair was all frizzed and damp. Her makeup was running down her face. Lizzie tried to ignore the red marks down her neck and chest. She was stark naked and it didn't seem to bother her as she stood among the three of them.

"Maggie, come home, for me, for Carissa," Lizzie pleaded quietly. Lizzie didn't expect the response she got from the Gray woman. She could hear the two in the back sniggering after Maggie's hand met her cheek.

"Don't you dare mention her name." Maggie pointed her finger in Lizzie's face, as she held her face. Her whole attitude changed at the mention of the young girl.

"She's your daughter, Mags."

"You don't get to talk about her." Maggie said. Lizzie stared into her empty eyes, her pupils large, knowing that at this moment the Gray woman saw her as an enemy, a threat to her fun.

"Please, come with me," She pleaded with her friend, but again felt a hand strike her face. She was not used to seeing this side of her for real. It was hard not to be sad that her friend was treating her this way. She tried not to be frustrated but she couldn't help it when she heard the whistles and chuckles from the two idiots watching.

"I thought you'd want to have fun like you used, but I guess the job's turned you into a bore," Maggie got in her face, "you can go now." There wasn't much difference height-wise but with Lizzie's heels, Maggie had to stand taller.

"You were doing good."

"It was a week. This is my week's reward,"

Lizzie's chest hurt. She felt suffocated in this room. Maggie's state stressed her out and she felt her patience's grew thin, "So what will you do when you're a month sober?"

"I have an idea." One of the men called from behind while the other had slowly approached the two.

"Shut up," Lizzie shouted at him before turning back to her friend, "i just want to help you but i don't know how."

"I don't need or want help, that's what you and the boss need to realise." Lizzie just watched as the man stood behind her friend, very close. Maggie seemed to ignore his slimy hands.

"He'd be so disappointed."

Maggie scoffed, "Tom's always disappointed."

"Not him." And then she gone.