XII. 1921

    "YOU TOOK AGES TO WAKE UP Y'KNOW. I waited all night and nothing. I go for a bit and come back to find you with him, having a little catch up."

"We waited two years and we got nothing from you." He grunted back.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I don't know what you want me to say. I'm not gonna apologise for not writing, because I wouldn't mean it. I'm not gonna explain myself because I don't owe anyone that. And we both know what you would have done if I told you I was leaving." She answered calmly, "Is there anything else you want?"

What else did he want? He thought. "...no."

"So Chester's still here? And you've got Darby on your back too, taking your teeth out like a demon dentist. You are not having a fun day, Thomas, are you?"

"Nope." He stared at his sister as she sat there. As if her brother wasn't in a hospital bed.

She leaned forward, moving closer to the bed, "Your eye looks so bizarre."

"Why are you here?" He asked.

She sat back after getting a good look at his eye, wondering how long it would be all weird looking, "well I heard about our Ada and I wasn't a fan of what Sabini did to her. Last time I checked, she wasn't the one going against the mad man. It was you," She explained, "and here I find you, worse than her."

"Why are you here Vivian? Now?" He asked sternly, he looked pissed off.

"You're hurt."

"Not good enough" he muttered under his breath.

Vivian scoffed at his remark, "how's grace?"

—

Tommy fell in and out of sleep after the nurse gave him some painkillers. When he was a wake he would either look through Vivian as if wasn't there or kick her out but she always came back in.

When the nurse came in, Tom was about to start an argument with his sister, but before he could, the nurse practically shoved the medicine into his mouth.

Whenever Vivian was alone with the woman, she sat back observing her as she did her job. She learned her name was Edith. And her birthday was the next day, turning twenty nine. She had a son. His father died in the last few months of war. She lived with her two sisters and grandmother. By the time night fell, she admitted to Vivian that she was a very private person that 'wasn't much of a talker'.

Edith kept Vivian company over the next few hours and told Vivian whenever the family or blinders arrived so she could move herself elsewhere.

Vivian wasn't up for a big family reunion nor was she in the mood.

"Why are you still here?" He groaned as he set eyes on her.

"Because you can't physically remove me because, at the moment, you're a bit broken." They were sat in silence for a few minutes, maybe ten, when she got up and walked out.

She needed a break. She sped past the sick and the suffering and pushed open the heavy doors. She stood at the top of the steps and pulled out her flask and took a big swing. The sky was black and empty. The sound of chaos and fun was distance but she still heard it.

Vivian took a walk around the grounds before she made her way back to her brother's room but she didn't make it to the door. She felt his heavy weight fall on her as he grabbed onto the doorway

"For fuck sake, what ya at?"

Simply, he answered, "Charlie's Yard. Take that," he shoved into her hand at stumbled out to the other exit. She watched as he slowly made his way out and figured she had enough time to get some drugs.

Quickly, she searched for a door that had 'private' written on its sign. And quickly opened the door. Using a key... she had stolen... from Edith. She rushed around the small room and found some common painkillers and some stronger stuff. She pocketed the stuff and followed her brother who had successfully discharged himself and gone.

"Tom! Tommy! Stop!" She called for him, but he only really listened when she grabbed his shoulder, "you're not walking, idiot. This way."

He followed her to her car, "so when'd you get the car."

"... it was gift"

He chuckled humorously at this, "from a man?"

"Yes" he stared at the back of her head as she got in the driver seat. He stood outside the passenger seat, "you need help getting in, old man?"

He pulled the door opened and Vivian could hear his pain as he did so. What was this stupid man up to?

The first three minutes for quiet, which Vivian wasn't very grateful for until Thomas opened his mouth, "you married?"

"What the fuck?! What planet are you on? How did you come to the conclusion, broken man?"

"The ring."

"From a friend."

"Same man who gifted you this car?"

"Better not have dog shit on your shoes in my car," She muttered.

She didn't answer his question because she knew whatever answer would not be a good one to give him.

"Why are we going to Charlie's?" Her brother laughed at her for her choice of changing teh subject.

"Going to London." She slowed the car down as she turned to him, "for business," he spoke, answering her question but she was still confused.

"And you wanna go by boat?" She faced forward again, "I could drive."

He laughed again, "One, don't trust you behind the wheel for that long and two, I need time to build up my strength."

"And of course you do that on a boat and not at the hospital." She scoffed.

Vivian shut up after that and stared at the streets ahead. It was so familiar. She hated how much she wanted to go off route to the Garrison or home. But she drove on to Charlie's.

As they approached the Yard, she saw the orange flame glowing past the broken gate, "I s'pose you don't want to see anyone so I'll be off from here,"

He was right"Wait!" She stopped him, "where are you going?"

"London." He sighed.

"No shit, where in London?" Vivian asked.

"Don't follow." And he got out, stumbling.

He caused a ruckus as he made his way. Vivian wished she said more, asked him more, made sure he was okay. It was irresponsible of her to help him leave but she knew it was either this or he walked.

She heard him. She heard Charlie and Curly. She missed them.

He'd be out on that boat for days, four maybe.

—

Vivian loved people watching.

Whether she was looking out her bedroom window looking onto the streets or she sat in a club watching the crowd mingle, she loved it.

She listened to people's pointless gossip about people she didn't know, examined their apparel to consider which of the latest fashion trends would suit her best or just watch as two people meet and wonder if they could marry or fight or never see each other again.

You never know what could happen.

Vivian contemplated destiny and the fact that you can meet someone and they can change your life and then you never see them again as she scarfed down her pack of sandwiches.

She didn't like eating as much as she used to. When she did eat she was either too hungover to think about it or she was too distracted people watching.

Sitting in her car, with her sandwiches, she watched as a man and woman spoke, inching closer and closer together.

Vivian had been waiting ages and they still hadn't wrapped up their little rendezvous. For almost thirty minutes they had been talking and casually touching each other not so platonically.

Her mind soon drifted again and the sandwiches were gone. She spaced out and Vivian groaned as realised another ten minutes went by. At least she didn't feel the last ten minutes pass.

Thankfully, it wasn't just the sandwiches that disappeared, the tall man was too, and with that Vivian sprinted to the alleyway.

"Hello there," Vivian greeted. The woman screeched in fright as the unfamiliar woman appeared the the narrow alley.

"Didn't mean to alarm you. How are you?"

"If you didn't mean to alarm me then why corner me in this passageway? Who the fuck are you?" She breathed heavily as she tried to calm herself.

"I'm Cassandra. You are Anastasia."

"I know my name, you fool. How do you know it?"

Anastasia looked so unbelievably out of place. Wearing a burgundy dress that trailed on the ground, a fur scarf that hung off her shoulders and golden jewellery that look brand new, she stood in what seemed to be the worst alley in London. Vivian didn't wanted to think of what took place in the narrow space between the two buildings. What Vivian saw was an elegant princess stood in a place even she herself considered below her.

"You are quite the singer in Naples. I've never been and don't plan to go but I heard you were somewhat of an attraction to visitors." Vivian explained. Vivian also loved a bit of research.

"You've got crumbs on your face." Anastasia remarked impatiently.

"Sorry I missed breakfast, had to eat on the go. Excuse my appearance," She joked, as she wiped her face.

"What do you want? No one's meant to know I'm in the country."

"Well they're gonna have to know if you're gonna earn me and my boss any money," Vivian always hated calling Darby her boss but after what he did to her sister she wanted to wash her mouth with acid.

"Why would I make you and your boss money?"

"My job is to recruit beautiful singers such as yourself to sing at my boss's club. And my boss, he is a very picky man and trusts Italians like himself to work for him. You are a singer. You are Italian. Now the reason why you should be our beautiful singer that makes us money is because you love what you do and you can no longer do that at home."

"And why can't I sing at home, Cassandra?" She spat her name.

Vivian went to explain, "because love is keeping you here. That tall English man you're courting."

"I don't love him, no man can keep me anywhere," Anastasia hissed at the Shelby.

"Right, but your courtship is keeping you here, and until you either marry him or poison him, you're not allowed home ergo staying in England. So why not do something you love to past the time and make money out of it?"

"What's your last name?"

"Romano."

"That's Italian. But you ain't."

"Anastasia's Russian but you ain't." She mocked.

Anastasia remained tall in her heels, arms crossed as she spoke in a confident tone, "your boss trusts Italians and English women with Italian names."

"I had to work harder than other workers to be trusted. I was taken on because of my references and my father."

"References from where? Good if it had to convince a picky man?"

"Worked in highly respected club in France."

"And your father?"

"We just met. And I bet if I brought up your father and how easy it was for him to sell you like a cheap horse and cut you off, you'd slap me in the face."

Anastasia glared at the woman stood in front of her, her ears red, "fair," calmly, the tall woman held out her hand to Vivian. And when Vivian did nothing she only waved her palm about the air.

Vivian pulled out a card with the needed information.

"I'll contact you soon Cassandra," she spoke, looking at the card before meeting the latter's eye again. She nodded at Vivian and stepped past her.

"I think I'll call you Tasha," she heard the woman sigh loudly and the pitter patter of her short heels walk along the pavement.

Tasha was tall. If Vivian wore heels and she stood barefoot she would still stand taller. Her hair was neat and smooth and pinned away with pins that were hidden in her black locks. Her lips were a shade of red that matched her wine coloured dress. Her skin was golden and smooth, not one imperfection. Her eyes were dark like a night sky. The brownish orange powder sparkled on her eyelids. Her nose was perfect.

Vivian remembered asking Polly to use some gypsy magic to fix her nose at the age of eight. Polly had asked her what was wrong with it and she replied that is just wasn't right. Now, as she stood in the alleyway, Vivian would've replied that it just wasn't like Anastasia's. It was like a slope from the side. A smooth steep slope. It was perfectly pointed too.

Tasha was close in age to her. She was twenty. Her dad had sold her off to an English man and carried on with one less mouth to feed. Vivian thought of Thomas selling her off maybe to a gypsy man to help keep her close to her roots or some rich folk he wanted to ally with. He was capable of it. John married Esme because she was a Lee. She doubted Thomas himself would marry for anything other than necessity and convenience.

At the age of twenty, Tasha was getting married off. Sent to another country to meet someone, a stranger but still have to share a bed with him. At the age of twenty, Arthur and Thomas were getting drunk in pubs. Enjoying their prime while they came home to a warm meal cooked for them by others. Vivian would be twenty soon.

Vivian waited at moment before she went back to her car. She strolled across the road she felt full from her snack, recalling that she may have eaten too fast. Vomiting was not an option as she glanced at everyone on their daily errands.

She pulled the heavy door open and threw herself in the vehicle. It was a black 1920 Vauxhall that was gifted to her after she had a few drinks with a rich man that was more than happy to present her with very expensive and inappropriate gifts. It was a fast and sleek car that Vivian named Theodosia after the man's daughter. His daughter was his most prized possession and this car was Vivian's.

Gripping the steering wheel, she counted down from ten. Then turned on the engine, drove out the road and started on.

It was ten and already half through her errands, but she had a feeling her next tasks take a bit longer than the rest.

Speeding through the streets always calmed her down and kept her head on straight and focused as she turned each corner dangerously. Eventually she ended up in Camden and the canal was insight. It had been four days since she dropped Thomas off at Charlie's Yard and if she remembered Charlie's words, he'd be here before midday today.

—

    "Fuck sake," Thomas muttered, rubbing his head in annoyance as Vivian waved from afar, "what are you doing?"

"Hi big brother, been awhile," she greeted as he made his way over.

"Why are you here?"

"Heard you were coming to London and I thought it would be fun to join you on your ridiculous errands. Now, where to first?" Vivian smiled as her brother exhaled.

"No," he said as he smoked his cigarette.

"You're looking better. Walking better definitely but your eye still creeps me out."

Thomas was sick of her already even though he had spent two years hoping she'd come home, "Go home Vivian-,"

"No thanks, so where to?" She repeated, "fight with Darby or... new alliance- oh Alfie Solomons! Or are you actually going to see the sister that got caught in the crossfires of your war?"

All he did was sigh and walk on but she followed. And he let her. Not that there was anything he could say or do to make her turn back.

—

    Dark place.

"Just shut up," he mumbled to her as she watched the burly man came down the hall. She ignored the man giving her brother a pat down as she finally lay eyes on the man that people either hated or feared. Or both.

"Put him down, Ollie" he spoke as he approached, "put him down, mate. He's only little." And Ollie obeyed. "You on your own- oh, two of you. Well you're a brave pair, ain't ya? You wan to take a look at my bakery?" He was already marched ahead of the Shelbys.

So much for introductions.

Vivian walked behind Tommy and in front of Ollie, following the Solomons man ahead as he mumbled about his bakery.

"We bake the white bread, we bake the brown bread. We bake all sorts. Would you like to try some?" He finally turned to his visitors as they approached a cabinet, "Bread? Yeah?" Sure, bread.

"All right." Thomas answered.

Some pair these two were. The Camden man; chatty. Her brother; not so much.

Vivian kept her mouth shut as told. She didn't want to draw too much attention to herself but at the same time she was very curious about the new man.

"What would you like? Brown or white?"

"I'll try the brown."

"Brown, right. And you?"

"I'm not a fan... of bread," answering from behind her brother, Vivian crossed her hands behind her back.

"Alright, suit yourself."

As the men poured their drinks, Vivian kept an eye on Ollie who stood in the shadows. He reminded her of a mixture of Isaiah and Polly. And John if that was possible.

"Not bad."

"Not bad, eh?" Alfie repeated, "not bad." Vivian could tell that Thomas was fighting the urge to not talk back to Alfie the way he would at Vivian if she acted this way, "it's fucking awful, that stuff. The fucking brown stuff is horrible, it's for the worker, yeah."

"The white stuff, now that is for the bosses."

White stuff, brown stuff, who gives a fuck. Men obviously.

"Come look."

Vivian watched as Thomas followed Alfie along. She stayed still. Ollie still stood behind her, "well aren't you going to follow your boss?"

"Aren't you gonna follow yours?"

"Thomas Shelby will never be my boss, I'd shoot myself if he was," and she followed along.

Dark.

Dim.

Depressing.

The office was in need of a woman's touch. A clean. A very deep clean. Vivian appreciated the trinkets littered around the office, personalising his space, but she saw the layer of dust that lay on top of the cabinets and ornaments.

"Ollie, pull up a seat for the pretty lady," Alfie ordered Ollie round as Vivian admired his workspace, "well come sit make yourself comfortable."

"I don't think you've introduced yourself," the Solomons man stated to Vivian.

She patted down her dress and took off her hat, "no I didn't."

In all her time in London, she has always gone by Cassandra Romano. And in all her time working for Darby, she has never met Alfie Solomons. She didn't know if he had heard of her. Or saw her out and about on the streets. This wasn't her first time in Camden and it wasn't like she hid in the shadows.

And not once did she mention to a Shelby that she had changed her name for her own protection and her job. Thomas was not to find out about her alias.

He only hummed when he didn't get what he wanted before turning back to the Shelby man, "well, I've heard very bad, bad, bad things about you Birmingham people, tsk, tsk. Eh? You're gypsies, right? Assuming you are too," he pointed to Vivian while Thomas lit a cigarette, " so what, do you live in a fucking tent or a caravan?"

" I came here to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons."

Vivian turned in her seat to see Ollie stood outside the office looking in the window. Vivian remembered standing outside Thomas' office or the Garrison when he held meetings with God knows who. Anyway, Ollie was tall and not too bad to look at.

"Well," he clapped loudly, causing Vivian to turn back in her seat, "rum is for fun and fucking, isn't it? So, whiskey, now that, that is for business."

"Let's talk first, eh?" Thomas countered.

Alfie stared at Tom in silence, "suit yourself."

As he stared, Vivian couldn't help but open her mouth and disagree with her brother. It was instinct to disagree with the man, "I'll take some whiskey... since I'm the only one here with no alcohol in their system."

Alfie looked between the two people in front of him and eventually pulled out a glass for only the girl. He poured a small glass of whiskey for her as they all sat in silence. Placing the glass right in front of her, she thanked him quietly.

They carried on with business as she savoured the taste of the decent whiskey "they say you had your life saved by a policeman," and with that Vivian smirked slightly behind her glass.

"I have policemen on my payroll."

I have policemen in my bed.

"And I dont like policemen because policemen, they cant be trusted,"

"Mr Sabini uses policemen all the time," tommy continued.

How did you think they ended up in my bed, Vivian continued to participate in conversation in her own head.

"That's why he's winning the war in London... and you are losing it," thats gotta hit a sore spot.

He was quick to respond, "a war ain't over til it's over, mate," men hated to be told that they were losing never mind actually losing, "You were in the war?" He opened his drawer, causing Vivian to pay more attention. More whiskey?

War this, war that. They know what war did to people — and themselves — yet they still go out of their way to start one.

"I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian," story time, Vivian integrally groaned while finishing her glass as placing it on the table, " I pushed his face up against the trench and shoved a six inch nail up his nose and I hammered it home with a duckboard. It was fucking biblical, mate. So don't come in here and sit there in my chair and tell me that I am losing my war to a fucking wop." Vivian guessed he felt a little insulted.

"That war was a long time ago. You need to be more realistic." And he closes the drawer.

"'Realistic', eh? 'Realistic'"

God, he loves to repeat things, don't he?

"If you weren't losing the war, you wouldn't have sent me the telegram-"

"Really? You forgot your fucking telegram. The telegram just said, 'Hello.'"

"You're pen pals now. That's nice," she muttered to herself or to them but they didn't listen. Vivian loved the way the man almost mocked her brother the whole time. Brought her so much joy, "face it, you want to sell me something. What?"

"We join forces."

"Fuck off," quick answer, "no, categorical. Fucking ridiculous," quick and sure.

Her brother leaned forward on the desk, "Mr Solomons," uh oh, boss man Thomas has come to make a deal, "your distillery provides one-tenth of your income. Protection is another ten percent and the rest you make on the race tracks."

And then theirs the fucking drawer again, make up your fucking mind. At this point she wouldn't be surprised if he pulled a gun or a fucking rabbit out of the drawer, but she hoped it was more whiskey.

"I know you keep a gun in the drawer, i know you keep it beside the whiskey," Oh.

"I know you offer a deal or death. I know what I'm saying makes you angry. But I'm offering you a solution." This man just fucking knows everything. Vivian liked knowing everything or at least what was going on but her ability to gather information has declined over the years as she relied more on sources to help her.

Thomas carried on, "You see, Mr. Sabini is running all your bookies off your courses and he is closing down the premises that take your rum," true, "people don't trust you anymore," true again.

"You shot Billy Kimber, right?" Also true, "you did, you fucking shot him. That's you. You fucking betrayed him, mate, so it'll be entirely appropriate to do what I'm thinking in my head to you right now," at least Alfie got his facts straight.

"I can offer you a hundred good men. All with weapons. And a new relationship with the police," Thomas offered to the man.

"Intelligence. Intelligence is a very valuable thing, ain't it my friend and usually it comes far too fucking late." And bam! Gun. Who would of thought.

Vivian huffed and stood up. Thomas' problem, not mine, she repeated in her head as she picked up her glass and walked out the room.

She closed the door behind her and shoved her glass into Ollie, "I need strong liquor, i don't care what anymore," she mumbled at him. She slumped down in the chair with the back of her head against the window of the office. He stared at her and then walked off.