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songtoyou · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2: First Meeting

Tolerate It

Paring: Modern!Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R (No minors should read this fic).

Word Count: 2,778

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault. Sexual activity between two consenting adults.

Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires.

A/N: Again, the response to this fic has been wonderful. We learn more about Rose and find out why Lizzie left. Rose meets Tommy for the first time and begins the process of solidifying their arrangement.

Note: Italics represent the past or past conversations.

Feedback is wonderful. It is nice knowing if people actually like this fic.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Saturday rolled faster than a blink of an eye. Rose was not nervous about tonight's meeting with her new client. A part of her was looking forward to it. Taking the time to look up Tommy Shelby on the Internet, Rose found out more about the man she would be possibly spending most of her time around. His backstory was interesting. The man started from nothing. It was no wonder Tommy was a massive celebrity within the business community. Inspiring entrepreneurs looked up to him and how he accumulated his wealth.

Rose was aware that Tommy's business practices were not always ethical, just like she knew that Alfie, Luca, and her other clients all dealt in questionable behavior to stay ahead of the game. It was like these guys did not know that the 1920s were long gone, and their little gangs should have considered obsolete in these present times. But it was not her job to question them as part of her did not care. All Rose wanted was to get paid and have a little pleasure herself once in a while. She hoped Tommy was good in bed as Lizzie mentioned he was. She had no reason not to believe her former coworker.

It was a terrible incident at the club that made Lizzie leave for good. All because of Oswald Mosley and his sick and deviant behavior. Oswald was a Member of Parliament for South Staffordshire and the youngest member of the Conservative party. His influence within the party continued to gain strength as the young politician expressed his outlandish views that tended to lean towards fascism. Many other MPs have tried to rebuke Mosley's power but to no avail. His supporters only rallied behind him more. He was garnering more attention and enthusiasm to start his very own nationalist party within Great Britain. This idea worried many other MPs, even within the Conservative Party.

As Mosley's profile continued to rise, he found himself needing a form of release. It did not take long for him to receive an invitation to join Excelsior. Politicians were another form of clientele for the club. However, word soon spread about Mosley's odd behavior with the girls. The man had a weird fetish for rape and sexual assault fantasies. Not many girls wanted to partake in that act. Rose quickly passed on having Mosley as one of her clients since non-consensual/dubious consent was not something she gravitated towards when it came to pleasure.

Some of the girls confided in Rose they felt after being with Mosley. Many were scared to inform Izabella or Tatiana in fear of getting fired. Unfortunately, it took the incident with Lizzie that left her brutally scarred, both physically and psychologically, to have Mosley permanently banned from Excelsior. What made it worse was that no one could do anything to Mosley outside the club, no police reports, no arrests, nothing. He was too powerful.

The only thing Lizzie said to Rose was that Mosley took it too far and that she was rethinking her time at the club. When Lizzie did not show up for three days, Rose knew that she left the life of escorting for good.

Giving herself one last look in the mirror, Rose opted for the wine-colored long drape dress, with a silver belt to extenuate her hips, and topped it off with silver ankle strap heels. Satisfied with how she looked, Rose grabbed her clutch (silver as well) and walked towards the front door.

"Mom, you are coming home later, right?" asked Louis as he sat in the living room watching television.

"Uh…probably won't be home until late. I'm simply hanging out with the girls. Don't wait up, sweetie," said Rose kissing her son on the top of his head.

"Aren't you a little too dressed up for a girl's night out?"

"Louis, darling, here is some advice about women. We like to look nice now and then. It makes us feel good. So, don't ever question why your mummy is all dolled up, okay. The girls and I are celebrating Ellie's promotion at the firm. That is all. Now, do not stay up too late. See you later, love."

"Bye, mum."

Rose hated lying to her son, but there was no way she would ever reveal the truth to him about how they could afford their lifestyle.

As a teen mom, Rose worked tirelessly from different part-time jobs to get food on the table. She was tired of struggling to make ends meet. Rose wanted more for her son. By Rose's mid-twenties, she bit the bullet and became an exotic dancer. The nerves and humiliation wore off quickly when Rose counted her tips. It was the most she had ever made and all in one night. She had no intentions of ever becoming a high-end call girl. But again, the money proved to be too good to pass up. It also helped the Duchess and Princess give their girls some sense of agency and control over what they do and partake in certain activities. Rose's clients did not seem to understand or realize that she held all of the power. She was not a puppet, nor was she naïve.

Tommy continued to check his watch every fifteen minutes. Rose was not late by any means; it was merely a habit. It gave him something to do since he was not allowed to smoke at The Savoy. He instructed Rose to meet at the hotel's bar and restaurant at precisely 9:00 p.m.

He was not nervous as Tommy Shelby did not get nervous. He wanted to get the night started. The man needed some release.

"Mr. Shelby," spoke the hostess. "I have a Miss Turner here to see you."

"Yes, thank you. Send Miss Turner over, please," ordered Tommy and downed his glass of Irish whiskey in one gulp.

For a second, Tommy thought he forgot how to breathe when he saw Rose walk towards him. He would not deny that she was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Mr. Shelby," she greeted him with a quick kiss on his cheek. Thankfully, no lipstick residue on his face. Men hated when that happened, Rose learned.

"Miss Turner. It is a pleasure to meet you in person finally," said Tommy as he helped Rose into her seat. He could be a gentleman when he wanted to be one. His Aunt Polly raised him right.

After giving her drink order to the waiter and a refill for Tommy, the two were left alone for the time being. Unsure of where the conversation should start, Rose chose to cut to the chase.

"How do you want tonight to go, exactly? Are we here to talk about, I don't know what you call it, our agreement, our arrangement? Or should we…"

"I say we talk about what we like and don't like," Tommy cut Rose off.

When the waiter brought their drinks, Rose took a sip of her white wine, while Tommy sipped his whiskey.

"My file should have included my interests. What I will and won't do with a man," Rose reminded him.

"Indeed, it did, but a file can only tell me so much. I would rather hear it from you, Miss Turner. So, tell me, what gets you off?" asked Tommy in a low voice as he leaned over the table. Thankfully, the two were at a back corner table with no other patrons around.

Taking another sip of her wine, Rose leaned in as well. "I like being dominated. From your file, you like being the dominant one. I like being tied up, gagged, and made to cum over and over again until I can't take it anymore. Orgasm denial, I like that as well—humiliation or degradation, whatever you want to call it. I don't care for that at all. It has never turned me on."

"What about pain? What is your pain threshold?" Tommy questioned.

"Pretty high."

"So, nipple clamps, whips, floggers…none of that bothers you?"

Rose shook her head 'no' and asked Tommy what kinds of punishment he prefers.

"Spankings with my bare hands and edging. Punishments only occur if I deem you being bratty or don't follow my rules."

Rose nodded, indicating she understood. "Pretty standard forms of punishment for a dominant."

The waiter stopped by again, asking if they wanted another drink or order some food. "I'm okay, thank you," said Rose.

"I liked to order champagne for our room, please," Tommy requested and told the waiter his room number. Rose was not surprised that he was in one of the hotel's suites. On different occasions, she had been to The Savoy Hotel, mostly with her other clients for leisurely visits now and then when they called for her services.

Taking another sip of her drink, Rose started to feel unsure to ask Tommy next. "Is there anything particular that you like or don't like?"

Gulping down his whiskey once again, Tommy stood up from his seat and helped you out of yours.

"Let's head up, and I can show you what I like. You can take your drink with you," mentioned Tommy buttoning up his suit jacket.

Rose gulped down her wine and grabbed her purse. "No need. I'm ready," she said and looped her arm around his. Tommy kept his strides short throughout the walk to the elevator. Rose noticed how the other hotel patrons all seemed to fawn over the man she was with while the employees moved out of his way. Rose found it amusing when in the elevator the people who were already in quickly left, leaving them alone on the ride up to his suit.

"People go out of their way to accommodate you, don't they, Mr. Shelby. Must be nice to have all that power over others," Rose stated admiringly.

Tommy smirked and looked at Rose, "When you come from nothing, you work extra hard to achieve everything, even peoples' fear of you. What about you? Must you find it exhilarating to have powerful men at your fingertips? I would not be shocked that once your clients and I told Tatiana that I have an idea of who they are, well, they are not going to be happy about losing you to me. I have a lot of enemies, Miss Turner, but rest assure that while you are in my company, you will be safe and protected."

The elevator dinged indicated they made it to their destination. Leading the way once again, Tommy steered them down the hall and stopped at the door of his suite. Once he got Rose inside, he took off his suit jacket and opened the doors to the balcony where he could finally get his nicotine fix. He offered one to Rose, but she declined. Tommy watched as Rose looked around the suite. He took this time to look at the woman before him; she would not be deemed the model-type with her 5'7 stature, nor was she skin and bones. Dark brown hair ran past her shoulders, and her skin had a lovely complexion. Tommy took one last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out on the balcony.

He slowly walked up behind Rose and wrapped his strong arms around, inhaling her scent; he began to grind himself against her backside. Rose promptly reciprocated and matched his rhythm. Trailing kisses down Rose's neck, Tommy moved his hands to squeeze her breasts. He quickly turned her around and began kissing her on the mouth. His dominant side was finally allowed to be released.

When Rose pulled away, it took Tommy by surprise. When he began to pull Rose back towards him, she put her hands on his chest. "I need to freshen up first, is that okay?"

Letting out a sigh, Tommy motioned her towards the bathroom. "I won't be long; I promise," assured Rose. Once in the bathroom, she began to take off her heels and dress. She hung her dress on the door hook, placed her heels to the side, and then looked herself over in the mirror. Smoothing out her hair, Rose dug in her clutch to quickly check her phone. No messages from her son. Now, Rose would be able to focus on the task at hand entirely.

Rose exited the bathroom to see Tommy waiting for her on the couch, no longer wearing his tie and vest, shirt partly unbuttoned. She walked towards him, where he indicated he wanted Rose on her knees. Spreading his legs, Rose kneeled and began unzipping his pants, reaching for his hardened member and gave it a few strokes. She looked up to see Tommy stretch and lay his head back against the couch, indicated he was comfortable and was ready for Rose to begin. Rose licked her lips and opened her mouth to take him in as much as far as possible. Rose did not stop until she felt him at the back of her throat.

Rose pulled away for a second to lick off the precum of Tommy's dick before proceeding to lick the entire length. She went back to sucking once Tommy put his hand in her hair. He bobbed her head back and forth at a fast pace. Tommy felt like he was about to explode his load in Rose's mouth he backed off. Rose took the time to catch her breath. She watched as Tommy took off his shirt and got up from the couch.

"Up," he ordered, and Rose followed obediently.

She never took her eyes off Tommy while he walked to the bedroom.

"Take this off," Tommy ordered, indicating he wanted her bra off.

Once again, Rose followed his orders. She tossed the bra to the side, and Tommy walked closer to her. He reached for her breast and began to squeeze them, tugging on her nipples. When he started to pull her nipples extra hard, Rose let out a little squeak.

"Too hard?" Tommy asked and released his tight grip.

"No. I mean, it hurts, but it feels good too," Rose answered truthfully.

Tommy once again started pulling on her nipples as hard as he could without hurting Rose too much. He pressed his lips against hers. Rose quickly reciprocated the action and ran her hands through his hair. Backing Rose towards the bed, he lightly pushed her, where she softly plopped down. Tugging her underwear down, Tommy tossed them to the side and ran a finger up-and-down her folds.

"Wet, as I expected. Let me see how many fingers you can take, shall we," amused Tommy and slipped, not one, but two fingers inside Rose. He soon began pumping his fingers in and out.

He kept going while Rose emitted more moans from her mouth. She was panting and getting closer to needing release. But she knew a sweet release would not come easy. No, Tommy was going to have Rose work for it. She was about the beg to cum when Tommy pulled his fingers out of her cunt.

Tracing his thumb against her clit, Rose let out a squeal at the new feeling. Tommy smirked. That feeling of control, control over this woman's body, it's what made Tommy feel at ease. It allowed for his head to feel clear. Tommy did not have to worry about business deals or rival gangs; instead, his focus was all on the woman before him writhing in pleasure.

Inserting his fingers back in her cunt, Tommy added a third finger this time. Rose sat up on her elbows to watch Tommy. She saw the looked of deep concentration on his face. When he reached that spot, Rose jerked up, and Tommy used his free hand to push her back down on the bed.

"I'm going to cum. I need to cum," Rose panted out, but Tommy kept going.

"Not yet," he merely said. "You do not cum until I say you can, understood." It was an order, not a question.

"Yes…yes sir," Rose managed to say. She did not know how long she would last.

"Cum!" Tommy commanded and Rose more than happily followed it.

Pure bliss is all Rose felt until Tommy pried her mouth open with the fingers that were in her.

"Lick them clean for me, love. Taste yourself."

When she licked his fingers clean, Tommy took off his pants and underwear. He crawled on top of Rose and began kissing her stomach, each breast, her neck, and finally lips.

"You're not tired out yet, are you love?" he asked her.

When Rose shook her head no, Tommy leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Good. It is going to be a long night for you."

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic

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picnic-at-dreaming-rock · 4 years ago

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Top 5 New Books of 2020

A round up of the top 5 new books that I have read this year, full 2020 reading list found here

Warning for possible spoilers below the cut.

Please Don’t Hug Me - Kay Kerr

Erin is looking forward to Schoolies, at least she thinks she is. But things are not going to plan. Life is getting messy, and for Erin, who is autistic, that’s a big problem. She’s lost her job at Surf Zone after an incident that clearly was not her fault. Her driving test went badly even though she followed the instructions perfectly. Her boyfriend is not turning out to be the romantic type. And she’s missing her brother, Rudy, who left almost a year ago.

But now that she’s writing letters to him, some things are beginning to make just a tiny bit of sense.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I cannot stress enough how much I love this book. Growing up as an autistic teen girl, I really lack a lot of representation, both real and fictional, and this books is a huge step forward in remedying that. Written by an autistic woman (yes, this is an #ownvoices novel!), Please Don’t Hug Me shows autism in a new and beautiful light as to what is most commonly shown. Erin is no genius savant that is only autistic when plot relevant or has a lack of social skills used only for comedic relief, but instead a encapsulation of the ordinary and everyday autistic experience of just wanting to get through the day with as little meltdowns as possible while still maintaining your neurotypical facade.

The Dictionary of Lost Words - Pip Williams

In 1901, the word bondmaid was discovered missing from the Oxford English Dictionary. This is the story of the girl who stole it.

Motherless and irrepressibly curious, Esme spends her childhood in the Scriptorium, a garden shed in Oxford where her father and a team of lexicographers are gathering words for the very first Oxford English Dictionary.

Esme’s place is beneath the sorting table, unseen and unheard. One day, she sees a slip containing the word bondmaid flutter to the floor unclaimed. Esme seizes the word and hides it in an old wooden trunk that belongs to her friend, Lizzie, a young servant in the big house. Esme begins to collect other words from the Scriptorium that are misplaced, discarded or have been neglected by the dictionary men. They help her make sense of the world.

Over time, Esme realises that some words are considered more important than others, and that words and meanings relating to women’s experiences often go unrecorded. She begins to collect words for another dictionary: The Dictionary of Lost Words.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

One of my favourite parts about this novel is how perfectly it showed both misogyny and classism/elitism, and how they intertwined. Although it is set in the mid/late 19th century and early 20th century, there is this sense of relatability to it that I think I lot of people might be able to recognise. Williams deals with a lot topics that I don’t often see in other media, such as menstruation without fancy allusions or making it into anything other than what it is, pregnancy out-of-wedlock without it being seen as a character flaw on the woman’s part, and showing characters one might consider like a hag or spinster to be good people worth celebrating because of things that deem them lesser rather than despite it or not at all. One main criticism I do have with this book, however, is how it seems like William just adds tragedy for the sake of moving the plot forward/to add shock value or drama. I will admit, it did get me crying at some parts, it did get a little tedious and lack-luster to have the last half of the novel just be death after life-altering event after death after life-altering event.

The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will be busier still.

By her brother's graveside, Liesel's life is changed when she picks up a single object, partially hidden in the snow. It is The Gravedigger's Handbook, left behind there by accident, and it is her first act of book thievery. So begins a love affair with books and words, as Liesel, with the help of her accordian-playing foster father, learns to read. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor's wife's library, wherever there are books to be found.

But these are dangerous times. When Liesel's foster family hides a Jew in their basement, Liesel's world is both opened up, and closed down.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

I read this book for my advanced literature class earlier this year and it was a great choice on the schools part. Everyone in my class enjoyed it, even if a lot of us were crying by the end of the novel. The book itself is rich with literary techniques that enrich the actual reading if you are one of those people that like to dissect what they read. I think Zusak made a really good choice with having Death narrate, as well as how he tied in his own experiences/interjections in these mini vignette-type extracts which I found really enhanced both the overall atmosphere and environment. The only qualm I have is that there were a lot of questions left unanswered that made the story feel somewhat empty.

Picnic at Hanging Rock - Joan Lindsay

It was a cloudless summer day in the year nineteen hundred.

Everyone at Appleyard College for Young Ladies agreed it was just right for a picnic at Hanging Rock. After lunch, a group of three of the girls climbed into the blaze of the afternoon sun, pressing on through the scrub into the shadows of Hanging Rock. Further, higher, till at last they disappeared.

They never returned.

Whether Picnic at Hanging Rock is fact or fiction the reader must decide for themselves.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

I watched the Foxtel miniseries first a couple years and thoroughly enjoyed it and sought out the novel very quickly afterwards. I will be honest, I picked the novel up first around 2018/19 and dropped it until earlier this year when I reread/finished it and loved it. Lindsay’s ability to create this perfect and constant juxtaposition between the natural Australian bush and the intruding colonialism is really amazing and adds this interesting aesthetic that the academia community on this site seems to enjoy. There is also a really interesting dynamic between the female characters (which is most of the characters, to be fair) and they feel complete and authentic, something that doesn’t always exist in other works of literature. There is also one canon queer character, but there is so much subtext in the novel for so many other characters that it feels purposeful. All in all, this is the gayest straight book I ever read.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins

It is the morning of the reaping that will kick off the tenth annual Hunger Games. In the Capital, eighteen-year-old Coriolanus Snow is preparing for his one shot at glory as a mentor in the Games. The once-mighty house of Snow has fallen on hard times, its fate hanging on the slender chance that Coriolanus will be able to outcharm, outwit, and outmaneuver his fellow students to mentor the winning tribute.

The odds are against him. He's been given the humiliating assignment of mentoring the female tribute from District 12, the lowest of the low. Their fates are now completely intertwined -- every choice Coriolanus makes could lead to favor or failure, triumph or ruin. Inside the arena, it will be a fight to the death. Outside the arena, Coriolanus starts to feel for his doomed tribute... and must weigh his need to follow the rules against his desire to survive no matter what it takes.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Hunger Games was one of the series in primary school that rocked my literary world (joining the ranks of The Great Brain, Harry Potter and The Books of Beginning) and helped inspire my love of reading, and when I heard about a prequel I was over the moon with nostalgia. I found it a couple days after its release at Target for $16 and I loved it. I finished it in about a week and I could barely put it down. I loved reading how the hunger games came to be and how they ended up the way they were, as well as advancing Collins’ previously established and incredible world building. The book also adds upon the themes in the original trilogy of government corruption, classism, elitism, individualism and propaganda, but from those that benefit from it (e.g. Snow) instead of those that suffer (e.g. Katniss). I have seen some criticism from people about not liking it being from Snow’s perspective but I personally think that it was the perfect choice, as no other character’s story would be able to add to the story in such a meaningful way.

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aniray · 5 years ago

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A Different Kind Of Love

I wrote a thing for Tommy and Lizzie because I need more of them in the world. Be gentle, please. This is my first time writing for Peaky Blinders. But I gave it my best shot.

~*~*~

Lizzie had never been one to envy others.

When the other girls had new dresses or shoes, Lizzie didn’t mind. When her father sent her out in a too-short dress and not her sister, Lizzie didn’t wish to switch places. No, she was simply glad for what she had because she learned early that even a little could become nothing if you spent all your time wanting something more. But there was one time- just one in her life- where she felt true envy.

The day Grace Burgess walked down an aisle and became Grace Shelby.

It made something twist inside of Lizzie that she’d never felt before. And it didn’t fade after Grace’s death. It only seemed to get worse. Because no one saw Tommy the way she did. No one saw him the nights he slept in the office talking to a picture that would never talk back. And for Grace to still have so much of him even in her grave… Yes, Lizzie had envied Grace Shelby.

But not anymore. -

The party was a smash. All the toffs that Tommy hated were there. The women were dressed in gowns that Lizzie had only dreamed of during her days as a whore. The men spoke of bets they’d won worth more money than any man should be allowed to have. Conversation flowed as easily as the drinks and Lizzie… Lizzie had taken the first chance to slip away from it all.

Slipping into Tommy’s office had been like taking a breath after being underwater too long. The noise of the party was faded and she could slip her heels off without breaking some rule she didn’t care about. She had never thought that her biggest complaint after marrying Tommy would be the parties. But then, she had never thought much about being married to Tommy. Some fantasies were too impossible to indulge in.

Lizzie allowed herself five minutes before brushing the skirt of her dress free of any wrinkles and slipping her shoes back on. She opened the door of the office with her head high. Appearance was everything- especially if your name was Shelby. She stepped out into the hall, the music and voices once more surrounding her. She hoped that Charlie and Ruby weren’t still awake from the noise.

Stepping around the staircase, the great room came into view. Her eyes scanned as much of it as she could, trying to spot any members of her husband’s family. But a hand grabbed her arm and jerked her backwards. As she tried to catch her balance the cold edge of a blade landed against her throat. The hand that had pulled her backwards quickly covered her mouth.

“You do what I say or those two little ones will be getting measured for coffins.” Lizzie’s entire body tensed at the thought of losing Charlie or Ruby. The man behind her pressed the blade deeper, nudging her to walk towards the dining room. “Now, you’re gonna get your husband to come out here. No fuss, nice and easy. Alright?” A nod was all she could manage, fear strangling her words.

Lizzie forced her feet to move forward. She kept her eyes on the open door of the dining room. And as she got closer she heard Tommy’s voice above the pounding of her heart. The deep rumble of his voice made something snap inside of her. Suddenly her fear was melting- giving way to anger. Because this stranger had come into her home. This man had threatened her children. And now he was using her as bait to trap her husband.

The man kept her to one side of the doors, wrapping his arm painfully tight around her waist. She heard Tommy speak to Frances, heard him ask when dinner would be served. It was a question Lizzie would have been asking if not for her current predicament. The blade had warmed against her skin, almost burning her now, it seemed like.

“Tommy?” Frances paused mid-sentence. The click of men’s shoes moved closer to the door. And Lizzie wanted to say something. She wanted to warn him. But she was a mother first and a wife second. She kept quiet. Stumbling backwards as her attacker moved further into the shadows, Lizzie felt a drop of liquid trail down her neck as a sharp sting bit at her throat. It distracted her enough that she didn’t see Tommy step out of the dining room.

But she saw the moment his eyes found her. She watched him take in the knife and the arm around her waist. She saw him peer at the faceless man- saw him recognize him. “Lizzie, you alright?” She moved to nod, but froze as the blade pressed in. somehow she managed to croak out an affirmative reply. Not that Tommy believed her for a moment. “My wife is not involved in my business. Let her go.”

But that was apparently the wrong thing to say. For no sooner had the words left Tommy’s mouth than the man moved. The arm around her waist was now at her neck, cutting off precious air. And the knife was digging into the soft flesh over her stomach.

“No. No, Mr. Shelby I can’t do that.”

Lizzie’s eyes fell to the knife at her gut. If the man said anything else, she didn’t hear it. If Tommy was speaking, she had no knowledge of it. Because all she could see was the spot of blood surrounding the tip of the blade. All she could hear were the chiming of funeral bells- her funeral bells. The scent of Ruby’s soap invaded Lizzie’s mind and she chocked on a whimper.

Was this how Grace had felt in her last moments? Had she wondered who would sing Charlie lullabies? Because Lizzie wondered. She wondered who would tell Ruby bedtime stories and help her learn her letters. She thought of Charlie’s violin recital coming up. She had promised she’d be there. And now she might miss it. She might miss everything for the rest of their lives.

Slowly, without her truly realizing it, Lizzie’s eyes found Tommy’s. She wanted to think he’d read to Ruby. She wanted to think he’d go to Charlie’s recital. She wanted to think he would be alright. She wasn’t Grace after all- he didn’t love her. And maybe that was better. Because she’d seen him after Grace and he couldn’t go through that again and come out the other side.

She wasn’t paying attention. She wasn’t paying attention and maybe if she had been she’d have seen it. She might have seen the way Tommy jerked towards her. She might have seen the hand holding the knife move away only to come back harder, faster, piercing through skin and muscle. Because between one thought and the next- one breath and the next- there was nothing but pain. -

Tommy watched the knife bury itself into Lizzie’s stomach. He watched as Fryers dragged it from one side to the other until there was nothing visible but blood. He watched the man let her go- let her fall- as he ran. And for a moment- for a split second- it was Grace collapsing in front of him. Then his mind caught up to the present and he could hear himself shouting for help. He was on his knees, suit coat in hand, pulling Lizzie against him so he could try to slow the bleeding.

“Lizzie? Lizzie, look at me.” Her blood was hot and thick on his hands. He’d had men die in his arms. He’d had Grace die in his arms. But Lizzie’s blood felt heavier- it burned him. His eyes shot to her face, took in the pale face and wide eyes. She was staring at him- like she’d never seen him before. “Lizzie, it’s gonna be alright, eh? We’ll get ya patched up quick, hmm?”

But the blood was running too fast. Arthur was there. Tommy could see Finn and Pol running. But it wasn’t fast enough. It was happening all over again. He pressed down harder, hating the way Lizzie flinched away from him. Hated the sound of her screaming in pain. But he didn’t stop- he couldn’t. Polly’s hands joined his and he looked up. She looked scared, his aunt. Scared and sad. She didn’t look like this when it was Grace. But the thought was there and gone before he could feel it tear at the wound Grace’s death had made.

Suddenly a cold hand was on his cheek. Tommy looked at Lizzie again. Her eyes were red rimmed from tears, and she was shaking from the blood loss. But he didn’t look away. She had that look- the one he’d seen dozens of times before. The one that he’d sought out on bad nights. He’d never been able to ignore that particular look- not completely.

“None of this is your fault, Tommy.” He jolted back as if she’d slapped him. Her hand was still on his cheek and he could feel her nails digging into the skin, trying to make him listen. But he couldn’t listen to that. Because it was a lie. It was a lie and Tommy Shelby didn’t lie to himself. “You listen to me,” she rasped, voice breaking on her words. “You listen to me Tommy Shelby. It’s not your fault.”

The doctor burst through the door as her hand slipped, as her eyes closed, as her voice rang in his ears…

“It’s not your fault, Tom.” -

He had never seen Lizzie so still.

She wasn’t a wild sleeper- a remnant of her whoring days. But she’d at least move her legs a bit, curl into a ball if she got too cold. But now she did nothing. Her fingers hadn’t even twitched. No, she was just laid there- still and too pale. Tommy’s eyes moved from her face to the place where her bandage was. He couldn’t see it, but he knew exactly where it was. He knew that Lizzie had fifteen stitches.

He knew that she’d not woken up once since she passed out in his arms.

That had been hours ago. The sun was just rising and the doctor had only left a few hours before. He hadn’t moved from his place beside their bed. It felt as if moving would unsettle things and he couldn’t risk it. Polly had come up to tell him what was happening in the world. Arthur and the Boys were looking for Fryers. The maids had cleaned the blood from the hall. The guests were escorted out with excuses for the host and hostess’ absence. So all was quiet.

But the stillness was a curse to his mind. It gave him time to think. It gave him time to remember. It gave the fear a chance to sink into his bones and wrap tight around his lungs. Because one wife had died in his arms and the other had almost done the same. And he knew- despite Lizzie’s words- that it was his fault. He was the one who kept bringing violence into their lives. He was the one always pushing for more and more.

What if it’s Charlie or Ruby, next?

He couldn’t bear the thought of it. His children were his entire world. Losing Grace had been a hell he’d never thought could exist. But even Tommy knew that to have one of his kids die because of his business would have him in an asylum or a grave. And if Lizzie didn’t pull through this… It would be a shitty way of repaying her loyalty. It would be a shitty way of thanking her for the drinks and the dancing and the warmth on bad nights. It’d be a terrible way to thank her for Ruby.

A light knock came at the door and dragged Tommy from his thoughts. He called for the intruder to come in. He didn’t look up as the door opened. He didn’t care to see anyone, anyway. But the quiet patter of little feet caught his attention and made him turn. Ruby stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes barely open. Her small fist rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she began to move to his side.

“What are you doing up so early, little one?” Tommy asked, as he lifted the little girl onto his lap. She settled against him, tucking her head under his chin. It was something she’d always done- come to him when she woke too early. She always seemed to find him if he was home and it was a little bit of easiness that Tommy let himself enjoy.

“Is Mummy sick?”

Tommy turned back to his wife. He tried to see her the way Ruby was seeing her. He heaved a sigh and held his girl closer. “Yeah, Rue. Mummy’s a bit sick. Her stomach is hurt and she’s resting until she feels better.” He waited for more questions, but they didn’t come. Instead his daughter told him about her dreams- horses and faeries and a tea party, from what he gathered. Nothing like the blood and screams that had filled his night.

“Da, when is Mummy gonna wake up? I want to play with her.” The words cut at Tommy. They sliced into the soft parts of him and left them bleeding. Charlie had been too young with Grace. He didn’t even remember her now. He hadn’t asked such questions. But if Lizzie died, Ruby would remember. Tommy’d have to answer questions like this every step of the way.

“Why don’t we go see about some breakfast, eh Rue?” -

An hour later Ruby was playing happily in the nursery. She had been fed and washed and gotten the attention she’d wanted from her father. She was a happy child. And Tommy was back in his bedroom. Back sitting in the chair beside his bed. Back watching over Lizzie.

For the first time in hours he saw signs of her waking. Her hands had curled into fists and her face was scrunched from pain. Tommy took her right hand and uncurled her fist. He smoothed his thumb against her palm lightly. “I know it hurts, Lizzie,” he whispered as her mouth twisted into a grimace. “I know, but you’ve got to push through. For Ruby. For Charlie. They need ya, Liz.”

Lizzie pulled her hand from his and brought it to her stomach. Tommy just barely had a chance to grab it back, before she could cause herself any more pain. But the sudden movement, seemed to hurt her anyway. A small gasp came from Lizzie and her eyes shot open. He was on his feet and standing over her in the next second. His other hand shot out to keep her from twisting about and tearing her stitches.

“Lizzie? Lizzie, listen,” he said, voice low and gentle like with his horses. “You’ve been hurt, Lizzie. You’ve been hurt, but the doctor’s come and sewed you up.” He waited to see if his words were reaching her. He thought maybe they were, so he kept talking. “Now you’ve got to lie still for me, Liz. You don’t want to rip the stitches. Just breathe and stay still. It’s alright.”

She had stopped wriggling. She was taking small breaths but they weren’t frightened ones anymore. So Tommy let her go and sat back in his seat. He gave her a moment, waiting for her questions. But like their daughter, Lizzie seemed to have none. Instead she turned her head to look at him. He didn’t know what she saw on his face, but it made her reach for his hand.

And that’s how she fell back to sleep- holding his hand. -

She woke up to fire in her belly. Pain lashed across her torso and sent tendrils into her hips and thighs. And the world was different than she remembered it. She’d had a dream, she thought. It had to have been a dream, at any rate. She’d been at Arrow House, lying in her bed. And Tommy had been- he’d been talking to her, telling her everything would be alright.

But she looked around, vision hazy from the pain and the burning, and saw white walls instead of the wallpaper from home. And it was cold, when her room was never cold. Her mind tried to piece together what had brought her to this place. But she couldn’t think.

Lizzie turned her head at the sound of a door opening. A woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform came in. A step behind her was Tommy. For a moment she forgot her worries. Because if Tommy were here, then she was at least safe. She could let him do the thinking just then. But then she realized she hadn’t seen Ruby or Charlie and something was telling her she needed to see them- that something was wrong.

“Tom?” Her voice came out low and raspy. It was like she’d smoked too many cigarettes in a row. But she didn’t care. She watched as Tommy moved closer to her, settling into the chair beside her bed. It was uncomfortable, the bed, now that she thought of it. But that too was unimportant. Her hand grasped her husband’s. “Where’s Ru-” she croaked, throat dry and sore. She swallowed what little saliva she could manage and tried again. “Where’s Ruby and Charlie?”

Tommy reached over and got a glass of water. He helped her sit up a bit so she could drink. She wished he hadn’t. The pain in her stomach flared brighter and she felt dizziness rush in. But somehow she pushed it back. He’d not answered her question and she needed him to. For whatever reason she needed to hear they were alright- that they were safe. “The children are at home. Polly’s watching them.”

She collapsed against her pillow in relief. “Good. That’s good, Tom.” But now that she knew the children were alright she turned back to her surroundings. “I’m in hospital.” Tommy nodded. “Why am I in hospital?” She could guess, of course. Her stomach was a mess of pain and she felt as if her skin was afire. But that told her nothing of how she’d come to be that way.

Tommy let out a deep sigh and sat back in his chair. The harsh light in the room showed the dark circles and pale skin she hadn’t quite noticed in her fear for her children. But she saw it now- this tiredness that wrapped around Tommy. “We had a party at the house, remember?” She nodded. They’d been planning it for weeks- her and Ada. “Well, someone got in. They got in and got to you.” She saw a flash of an image- an arm wrapped around her waist too tightly. She nodded again. “He stabbed you, Lizzie. The doctor came and stitched you up, but the bastard must have nicked something. It’s got infected.”

“Oh.” Her voice was little more than a whisper now. She’d heard the stories. She knew infection could kill her as easy as a bullet. Or a knife. Her mind took her back to that night. It was bits and pieces- nothing all together that she could tell. But she remembered fear. And she remembered pain. And she remembered Tommy, as well, a bit. “He said he’s hurt the kids.”

Tommy sat up straighter. “He’ll not be hurting anyone ever. Arthur got him the next afternoon. He’s at the bottom of the Cut.” Lizzie’s brows furrowed at that. Had he known the man had threatened the kids? Had she told him at some point? She couldn’t remember. “What’s wrong? Are you hurting worse?” There was that note of fear in his voice- the one from when she’d thought she was losing Ruby.

“No. I just don’t remember telling you about the kids.” Tommy tilted his head in confusion. “Not now- before. It’s fine, you sent Arthur so I must have told you. I just don’t remember it.” But her words only seemed to confuse Tommy more. His eyes narrowing on her in question. “You killed him ‘cause he threatened the kids, I just don’t recall when I told you- other than just now. I was probably in too much pain, I suppose,” she mumbled to herself.

The confusion lifted only to be replaced by a slight grimace. If Lizzie didn’t know better and if Tommy were another man she might have called it shame- the thing she saw in his eyes. But Tommy wasn’t another man and Lizzie did know better. “Lizzie…You only told me about the kids just now. I had him killed because he stabbed my wife when you had nothing to do with the business between us.”

“Oh…” Lizzie knew she didn’t hide her surprise well. She wasn’t sure she hid it at all. But suddenly she was too tired to care. A wave of dizziness had wrapped itself around her. Her stomach protested all the breathing she was doing. And now she felt too hot to be wasting energy talking. Something in the back of her head said that this wasn’t normal. But she could feel her eyes growing heavy again. Then she fell back into the darkness of sleep. -

The next time Lizzie woke, the doctor was there. He was standing with Tommy by the door and she just knew something was wrong. Tommy’s shoulders were too stiff and the doctor looked slightly frightened and slightly sympathetic. She couldn’t hear much, but a few words reached her as she struggled against exhaustion- words like, “…done all I can…spread too far…shut down… sorry, Mr. Shelby…”

“Get the fuck out. If you’ve no help to give then get out.” There was a dark, violent, anger in Tommy’s voice. She could hear it as clearly as she had heard his words. And she couldn’t help but feel a bit concerned for the doctor. But then her mind took in what had been said- really took it in. And suddenly the doctor was the least of her worries.

I’m dying…

She felt her breathing grow tight and her hands start to tingle. Her mind raced, pushing out the tiredness she had been feeling moments before. Her eyes locked onto Tommy again. She could see it now- under the anger. He was worried-in a lesser man it might be fear. But it was there, plain for her to see. She was dying. She was dying and there was nothing that could be done about it.

The doctor left the room and Tommy turned to face her. His brows rose in surprise to see her awake, before his face when blank. “What’d you hear?” She tilted her head in exasperation. Her eyes were beginning to sting, but she blinked to keep her tears at bay. Now wasn’t the time. There was too much to deal with. “Lizzie, he’s a fool. You’re going to be just fine, I swear it.”

But this wasn’t something Tommy could will into being. If he could wish someone alive, she’d not be his wife right now. Ruby wouldn’t exist. But no matter what he thought, even Thomas Shelby couldn’t control Death. She let her head drop onto the pillow and she stared up at the ceiling for a long moment.

“I want Ruby to go to a proper school. No tutors. She needs to learn how to be around other children- other people.” Tommy stepped closer to her, a hesitance in his steps she’d never seen before. But Lizzie kept going. “You have to go to all of Charlie’s recitals. He’s awful, and I hate that violin. But he loves it, Tom. And I won’t be there, so you have to go. Every single one.”

“Lizzie-“

“You can’t… you can’t drink too much around Ruby. It scares her. She doesn’t know why you’re angry. Same for Charlie. Don’t let him see you drunk.” But Tommy was shaking his head- that cold expression he wore when he was displeased on full display. “And you promise me- you promise me, Tommy- you’ll not let them see the other side of things. As long as you can, Tom, please.” Her voice was thick with tears, but she kept going. He had to hear it. “I don’t want them growing up afraid of every single shadow. I don’t want them living looking over their shoulders.”

“Lizzie…” He took a deep breathe when her eyes met his again. “Please shut up. Just shut up, Lizzie. You aren’t dying. You hear me? You are not fucking dying.” He stalked over to the bed and leaned over her, his fists on either side of her head. “I’ll not have my wife speaking like this. I’ll not listen to you go on about things as if you won’t fucking be there, because you will. Eh? You fucking will.” His forehead came to rest against hers lightly. He thought it was a comfort, but it wasn’t. It only proved her point.

Because it felt like love- and Tommy could only love her if she was dying. -

“No one’s seen you in days, Tommy. You’ve not called the office. You’ve not called anyone about business. And I know Lizzie’s…in a bad way-“

Tommy stood from his chair and walked around his desk. Charlie looked up from the train set he was playing with. Tommy settled onto the floor with his son and watched as he went back to his toys. Ruby was asleep on the sofa- her little hands curled into fists by her head. He’d always thought she got that from him- something of his war demons settling into her before she was even born.

“I don’t want to seem unconcerned. You know I love Lizzie like I do Ada.” Tommy flinched at that. Polly would never have said that about Grace. And he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know why. “But things are still happening in the world. And they need your attention. You can’t just…hide here and play trains.”

Tommy looked up at the same time Charlie did. His son watched his aunt with a curious expression before turning to his sister. Tommy could see the question before he asked it. But he couldn’t stop the words. “Aunt Polly? Is Ruby not gonna have a mum, too. Like me?” Tommy glared at Pol as the older woman searched for an answer to give Charlie.

“Charlie, you do have a mum. And she loved you very much. Remember?” Tommy kept his voice even despite the pain that always threatened to break through when he spoke of Grace. But he needed to say this. He needed to explain things. He’d not pass the job off on someone else. “And Lizzie isn’t going anywhere for a long time. She’d a bit sick, but she’ll get well again and be back home, yeah?”

The disappointed look his aunt sent him barely registered in Tommy’s mind. She didn’t know what she was talking about. She kept speaking as if Lizzie was already buried and she wasn’t. She was down at hospital getting better. And that was it. “You do him no favors, Thomas,” Pol hissed. But he didn’t respond, didn’t even look her way. The door to his office closed behind her and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Charlie, m’boy.” His son looked up at him and Tommy got that same ache in his chest he always did. “How’d you like to go visit Lizzie for a bit? She’s been missing you and your sister.” The excited look on Charlie’s face was answer enough. It was just further proof of how Lizzie had to get well. Because unlike Grace, she would be the mother Charlie mourned if things went bad.

Standing up, Tommy moved back to his desk. Polly had been right about one thing- business needed handling. And there were some things Polly couldn’t get involved with. So he went over the books and made calls. He wrote letters and sent orders ‘round to the Boys. He watched Charlie play and Ruby sleep. Then when Ruby woke up he’d take his kids to see Lizzie. -

Things were worse. So much worse. Lizzie was pale and sweaty. Her lips were dry and cracked from fever. But she wouldn’t stop shaking. And Tommy hated seeing her that way. It was nothing like the Lizzie he’d known for all his life. It was nothing like the woman he’d come to respect and admire. She was too tough and too stubborn to let anything bring her down.

But one accident and she was reduced to this. He hadn’t brought the kids inside the room this time. They were waiting with Ada in the hall. It had been only a few days since the first time they had come to visit. And Tommy had been sure to bring them every day since. It had made Lizzie smile to see them. And Charlie and Ruby had slept better after they saw Lizzie.

So how she had gotten to this point, he didn’t understand. The nurses told him it was the nature of things. The doctor told him that it was God’s will. But Tommy didn’t give a fuck about God’s will. His will said that Lizzie had to pull through, and it was the only one he gave a damn about.

But he could hear it- she rattle in her chest that came when death was close. He could almost smell it- death had a certain smell. You couldn’t forget it after you’d been around it. It haunted your memory. So he took a cool rag and some soap and wiped down Lizzie’s arms and neck. He cleaned the scent off of her face and out of her hair. It didn’t belong.

Dark brown eyes opened and locked onto him. Tommy watched as his wife fought against her body to turn towards him. “Hello, Mr. Shelby.” Her voice was cracked, her words were too soft. And he couldn’t quite tell if she was being playful or if she was living a memory from before she was Mrs. Shelby. Her eyes cleared a bit, and he saw his Lizzie peek through. “You look awful as always.”

He knew he was meant to smile. He had given her more smiles since she’d been ill. But he couldn’t quite get his face to move the way it needed to this time. So he settled on talking instead. “You’ve looked better yourself, Mrs. Shelby.” Her brows furrowed and he found himself smiling after all. “In fact, I recall you looking quite lovely on our wedding day.”

“You barely looked at me on our wedding day, Thomas Shelby. You kept looking out the window to Grace’s grave. As if I wouldn’t notice.” He winced at that, grateful that Lizzie’s eyes had slipped closed so she didn’t see. “But it was alright,” she rasped. ��I always…knew…what this…was.” Her breathing had turned choppy. Tommy helped her sit up a bit, gave her a glass of water. She relaxed back into the pillows. Let her catch her breath. Then, “And it’s not polite to tell a woman she looks bad, you know.”

He shook his head. “I hadn’t heard that rule. But I’m not much for rules, am I?” She hummed in agreement and let her eyes close again. A knock at the door had Tommy glancing over his shoulder. Ada stood in the doorway with Charlie and Ruby at her sides. Tommy turned back to Lizzie. “You feeling up for visitors, Mrs. Shelby?” Her lips tipped up into a tired smile, as she nodded. “Come in children,” he called.

Charlie reached them first. He stood at the side of the bed and leaned against Tommy. It was clear the boy was nervous. He’d never seen Lizzie sick before, let alone the way she was at that moment. Ruby showed up a moment later, her little feet taking longer to cross the wide space. “Hello, my darlings.” Lizzie forced herself up before Tommy could stop her. Her eyes were drinking in the sight of the little ones as if she’d not seen them in weeks instead of mere hours. “I’ve missed you since yesterday.”

Charlie moved to climb into the bed and settle on one side of Lizzie while Tommy lifted Ruby so she could sit as well without hurting her mum. “We missed you too. Frances doesn’t tell the stories like you do. And she won’t sing at all.” Tommy watched as Lizzie pulled Charlie closer to her.

“Well, maybe if you ask your dad very nicely he’ll read to you sometimes. He’s very good with stories.” She shot him a sly look, “I always believed ‘em at any rate.” Tommy didn’t react, that was a conversation for another time. “Now, Ruby. Have you brought me a picture today?” Charlie sat up and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. One had a mess of scratches and scribbles on it- Ruby’s. The other had some line figures standing together- Charlie’s.

Handing both to Lizzie, Charlie went into an explanation of his. Tommy tuned it all out. He’d heard it earlier after his son had first drawn it. Instead he watched as a spark of life came back into Lizzie’s eyes. It matched the spark in Charlie’s, as if they each were drawing happiness from the other. Eventually Ruby started in, telling Lizzie about the horse she’d drawn and the flower, although if Lizzie had any better luck at telling the scribbles apart than he had- Tommy couldn’t tell.

Soon enough it was time for Charlie and Ruby to be getting home. Lizzie had made them promise to be good for Tommy and Frances, like she always did. And they had both kissed her cheek and gave her hugs that probably hurt more than she let on. Ruby had already skipped over to the door to wait for Ada to collect her. But Charlie lingered. “Can’t you stay a bit longer, Lizzie?” Tommy turned from keeping an eye on Ruby to look at his son.

“What d’you mean, Charlie?” Lizzie asked.

The boy scuffed his shoe against the tile floor and twisted his hands before looking up. “I just mean…Well, Ruby’s only little. And I like you, you’re nice and fun. And I don’t have a mum that’s here and if you go and die then Ruby won’t either. And then there’ll be no one. So could you maybe just stay for a bit? Until Ruby and me are bigger and don’t need you so much anymore?”

Tommy slowly turned his head towards Lizzie. Her eyes were bright with tears and her mouth was open as if she wanted to speak, but no words came. The sound of heels clicking reached Tommy and he saw from the corner of his eye as Ada took Charlie’s hand and led him out. He could just hear her whispering about ice cream and cake. But Tommy kept watching Lizzie.

“I-“ Her voice failed her for a moment. The first tear fell and Tommy had to look away. “I want to stay,” she whispered brokenly. “You tell him that, okay? You tell him that I want to stay with him and Ruby and you. I don’t wanna leave, Tom,” she cried, pain clear in her voice. “Please, I don’t wanna go. I wanna see him with his first girl. I wanna be the one to take Ruby to her first picture show. I wanna be there, Tommy.”

Dropping down to his knees by the bed, Tommy took Lizzie’s hand. It was too hot, he didn’t know how the kids could stand being so close when her fever was like this. But maybe he did, because he didn’t let go of her hand. “Doctor says God wants you in heaven with him. Says he’s calling you home.” Lizzie’s face fell as she nodded. More tears streamed from her eyes. The last time Tommy had seen her cry like this was when they almost lost Ruby. He brushed his thumb against her cheek to wipe her tears. “But I say,” he went on, letting his head rest in her lap, “I say you’re mine, eh? I married you. You’re mine, and I don’t share. Not with God or the Devil or anyone else.”

A watery laugh escaped her. “Thomas Shelby- taking on God and the Devil. Polly’ll have words for you about that, ya know.” He smiled a bit. Because he knew it was what she needed from him. And he’d been shit at giving Lizzie what she wanted, so the least he could do was this. Her hands slid into his hair and he let himself enjoy the feeling, savor it a bit. “I’m fighting too, Tommy. I’m fighting to stay like your fighting to keep me. Don’t think otherwise, alright?”

“I never doubted you for a second, Liz.” -

She didn’t wake up the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that. Coma, the doctor called it. Said she might never wake up again. Said it might be for the best- keep her from suffering. Tommy’d almost strangled him where he stood. Arthur had dragged him off, held him back. Finn and Isaiah had taken the doctor out of the room.

Then the looks came. From Finn and Ada and Arthur. The look that said he’d lost it a bit. The look that said they were already writing Lizzie off. Polly didn’t have the look. But that meant nothing, she’d already written Lizzie off, now she was just waiting for Tommy to catch up. They were all wrong and he was sick of looking at them.

So he put them out. Out of Arrow House, out of the hospital, out of his mind. He had Lizzie moved back home. Set her up in their bedroom. Hired a nurse to care for her. He wondered if it was the right thing- Charlie had caught a glimpse of Lizzie laid up in the bed and hadn’t spoken a word to anyone since. But Tommy hated having her in that hospital with people just waiting for her to die.

She was Elizabeth-fucking-Shelby. She was tougher than all of them.

Frances kept the children away. Tommy was glad. He didn’t want them to see her like that. He didn’t want to scare them. So a new schedule was set up in the Shelby home. Mornings Tommy spent doing business while the children played in the nursery and Charlie was in his lessons. Afternoons were when Tommy and the kids would go to the stables to check the horses and he’d watch them run about for a bit. They’d come in and settle in his office and he’d be the dad he hadn’t been before because Lizzie was there to keep the kids occupied.

Then after dinner he spent with Lizzie. He’d read her the ledgers, ask her opinion about expanding one business or another. He’d play music for her, because she always played music in the evenings. And he’d talk to her. It didn’t escape him that he could only seem to find the words when she couldn’t hear them. The one thing she’d asked from him and he could only give it when she couldn’t appreciate it.

But it didn’t stop him. He told her about his day- the good and the bad. He asked after hers though he knew better than anyone the nothing that occupied her days now. He told her about Charlie and Ruby and Finn and Ada. He told her about the secretary at the office and how he still wasn’t used to the way she filed things. Everything he could think to say, he said to Lizzie.

“I think I’ve realized something, Lizzie.” His hand held hers and he watched her lashes flutter a bit. She was dreaming- he wondered what about. He hoped it was something pleasant. “I think I want another. Charlie and Ruby are grand, but I think you owe me at least one more. Or I owe you.” He leaned forward to brush a bit of hair from her face. Like this he could pretend she was only taking a nap after a long day.

“Yes, I think another boy would be nice. Or twins- one of each. Get it out of the way at one time, eh?” Her chest rose and fell in the same steady rhythm it had been for the past week since she’d been home. “I like the name Evelyn. Evelyn Shelby sounds like a force to be reckoned with, doesn’t it. But Pol will probably have words about that.” He could see it now, Pol staring him down telling him that there would be no Evelyn Shelby being born anytime soon.

“Now my mind’s set. I want at least one more girl. You have to give me one more girl, Lizzie. We did good with our first one. Then we can have as many more as you’d like.” He rubbed his hand across his eyes. A headache was coming on. He hadn’t slept in too long and now his body was kicking up a fuss. But he ignored the pain. He closed his eyes and let his head rest on the back of his chair. “How many babies are we gonna have, Lizzie?”

“You’ll only get one more out of me, Thomas Shelby,” a weak voice replied.

For a long moment he didn’t move, didn’t so much as open his eyes. Because he was half afraid it was a mistake- his mind playing tricks. But the hand he was holding tightened around his fingers for the first time in ten days and he needed to see her. His eyes opened and he turned to the woman lying in his bed. She looked tired- she looked exhausted, really. But her eyes were open and she was giving him a tired smile. “You’ve made my life difficult these last few days, Lizzie Stark.”

Her smile grew the slightest bit, but he saw it. “Yeah?” She nodded to herself, before shaking her head a bit. “Well you’ve been making mine difficult for years. Figure I should even the scales a bit.” Tommy ducked his head and breathed out a laugh. That spark of life that he hadn’t seen in too long lit up Lizzie’s eyes.

“I’m a bookmaker, love, I don’t like even odds.” He stood from his chair, her hand still in is, and helped her take a few sips of water. Then he brought his free hand up to her cheek to check her temperature. Her skin was still flushed, but she wasn’t as warm as she had been. The nurse had been cleaning and changing Lizzie’s bandage every day. And Tommy had stood watch every time. So he didn’t hesitate to push back the blanket and lift the shirt that Lizzie had been sleeping in.

“I’m not sure I’m up to making your babies just yet, Tommy,” she said, a hint of worry in her voice.

He raised a brow, but quickly turned back to what he was doing. “I’m not quite that impatient, Lizzie. I’ll give you at least until tomorrow.” A weak slap to his arm was all the reply he needed. His eyes took in the wound that had caused his entire household to nearly fall apart. The angry red skin, and the yellow and green drainage had cleared three days ago. Now there was no drainage at all and the skin was only a bit red.

Lizzie sighed when Tommy lowered the shirt over her wound again. “So, doctor Shelby, will I make it?” His eyes found hers in an instant and Tommy knew she could see how worried he’d been. Her teasing smile dimmed a bit and her hand took hold of his wrist. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean it like that. But I’m alright, now- I can feel it. So stop glaring at me and tell me how Ruby and Charlie are.”

But he didn’t. Instead he moved around to the other side of the bed and crawled in. He slid over until he and Lizzie were side by side, arms touching. Then he pulled her gently into his arms and held her close. He felt the way she tensed for a moment before relaxing against him fully. He heard the soft sigh of contentment that left her. And he saw her tangle their fingers together, squeezing tight for a moment the way she always did to calm his mind. They stayed like that for a long while.

For the first time in days, Tommy slept- and Lizzie watched over him. -

She was better. She was alive. It had been two weeks since she’d woken up and now life was back to normal- almost. The Shelby family was being ridiculously overprotective of her. Ada barely let her do more than pour tea. Finn was her shadow if she set foot outside the front door. Arthur- of all people- wouldn’t let her drink or smoke. Even Charlie and Ruby were being extra careful with their hugs and not making as much noise. And Polly… Well Polly was alright, actually. But the one Shelby she would have liked to have hanging about was locked away in his office.

Everyone told her that Tommy’d not left her side while she was ill. They told her how he’d not believed for a minute that she wouldn’t pull through- even when they’d had doubts. And she remembered that- Tommy visiting her in the hospital, Tommy yelling at the doctor, Tommy talking to her about babies. But any trace of that man was long gone. In his place was the Thomas Shelby she was painfully familiar with.

And the longer he stayed away from her, the more Lizzie wanted to slap him. Because if this was what she had stayed alive for- besides Charlie and Ruby- then he could take a jump into the Cut. So she left her tea sitting on the table in her bedroom and made her way downstairs. Her fist rapped lightly at the door, the way Frances did, and waited a whole three seconds before entering to room.

As expected Tommy didn’t look up when she entered. But he did when the door closed and locked a moment later. Lizzie strode into the room and took a delicate seat in the chair across from his desk. “Good afternoon, Tommy. How are you today?” Her husband’s eyes narrowed in confusion. His eyes scanned her carefully, checking that all was well. But she was feeling wonderfully. “I’ve come to ask you a quick question.” He waved a hand for her to proceed, annoyance clear in the gesture. “Was it easier when I was dying?”

Tommy froze. “What?”

Lizzie leaned forward to take up his cigarette case. Pulling out a stick, she grabbed his lighter and lit her cigarette. Then she sat back, relaxing into the chair. “Would it have been easier for you if I’d died? I mean, you seemed to want me around while I was in hospital. And you apparently want to have a few more children with me.” Her eyes narrowed when Tommy twitched at that. She took a long drag of her cigarette and let the smoke linger in her lungs a while before exhaling. “It was, wasn’t it? It was easier for you to care about me when you thought I’d be gone soon. When I couldn’t care back.”

“Lizzie…” But Tommy paused. His eyes shot to the picture of Grace on his desk. Then he looked back at Lizzie. “I’ve known you for years, Lizzie. I already care. We wouldn’t be married- we wouldn’t have Ruby- if I didn’t care.”

She gave a slow nod. He was right. Of course he was right. She knew that things had changed between them after Grace’s death. But it had always been an uneven thing. She had always cared more. Until this all happened. Then suddenly she was seeing more concern and kindness from Tommy than she’d seen since she was carrying Ruby- and before that not since the year 1913. And now they were back to the same cold, nothing from before.

“Lizzie, I’m busy. I’ve work to catch up on. I can’t- I can’t do whatever it is you’re wanting me to do here.”

She watched him go back to his papers- not looking at her again. She stood from her seat. Lizzie wasn’t quite sure what she had thought. She wasn’t sure what she expected to change. Tommy Shelby was the same man he’d always been. And a few kind moments given to a woman he thought was dying didn’t change that. She walked to the door and unlocked it- her hand frozen with the knob turned. She kept her eyes on the door as she said, “We were close once, Tommy- friends. We could go back to that. But not if you shut me out at every turn.”

“Liz-“

“Don’t push me away, Tommy. That’s all I ask. You don’t have to let me in. You don’t have to- to love me.” She stumbling over the word, but couldn’t bring herself to care. She just needed to get this out. “But I’m not your enemy. And I just want to help you. So…Please don’t push me away.”

Then she left him to his work and his ghosts. -

Tommy found her in the library later that night. His mind had kept replaying what she’d said to him over and over. He’d been cold. He’d been distant. And he’d had good reason. But when she’d asked him not to push her away, he’d felt something inside him come loose. And it had left him in a storm of anger and grief and fear that he’d not been ready to face.

But he owed her this. So he locked the library door behind him and sat in the chair across from the sofa she was curled up on. Lizzie glanced up from her book briefly before ignoring him. A flare of irritation rose before he pushed it down. He couldn’t have this conversation if he was angry.

“I couldn’t breathe for days after Grace died.” Lizzie’s hand paused in the middle of turning a page. “I thought it was the pain crushing the air from my lungs. I thought it’d kill me.” Slowly the book lowered to her lap. “But then I’d called you over and you came and it was just supposed to be a quick fuck- like before she came back from New York. But we didn’t fuck. You never even got undressed.”

Her head finally lifted and he could see her eyes. “You weren’t in the right place to fuck. It’d have broken you after- the guilt.”

Tommy let out a scoff. “The guilt broke me before I ever called you.” Her eyes dropped again. “When you got stabbed it felt like losing Grace again.” Lizzie’s head snapped up that time, her eyes burning with anger. “Not- not the same. But… I thought I was going to watch my wife die in my arms. I thought I would lose the mother of my child again. And the blood- you both bled so much. But it was after that was different.”

“I should hope so, since I’m not dead.”

He raised a brow in challenge at her sarcasm. “I meant that after the guilt, I felt something else. Something I’d not wanted to feel ever again.” Lizzie narrowed her eyes in confusion. “I realized that I love you.” Lizzie stopped breathing- he could see the stillness of her chest. “It’s…different. It’s a different kind of love. But I do. And I don’t want to, Lizzie. Fuck, I really don’t. Because look what happened. You got hurt, you almost died. And if you had it would be so much harder than after Grace.”

She was breathing again- hard and fast like she was angry.

“How? How could it possibly be harder than after her? You forget, I saw you. I held your broken pieces. I watched you cry and scream and drink yourself unconscious.” She stood up and marched to the side bar. He watched her pour a full glass of his expensive whiskey and finish it in almost one go. “So you tell me, Tommy, how the fuck am I to believe you’d have a harder time losing me than losing her?”

He moved to stand beside her. His hand took the glass from her and set it back down. Then his hands found her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Charlie was too little.” He felt Lizzie tense at that. “He missed Grace for a bit, but it wasn’t… Charlie has known you his whole life. You’ve been with him longer than Grace. You’ve lived with him longer than Grace. You’re his mum, even though you aren’t his mother.”

“I’d never want to replace her with him, Tommy.”

He nodded. “I know. I know that, Lizzie.” He shook his head with a sigh. “Ruby’s older. She’d remember you properly.” He watched Lizzie’s eyes dart to the ceiling as if she could see this other Ruby and wanted to go to her. But Tommy kept her with him. “Then there’s me. Who’d pick up my pieces if I lost you?” She rolled her eyes. “I mean it. It’s not like Grace, and I hate to say this. It feels wrong to say this. But maybe it’s deeper than with Grace- simply because it was you that got me through losing her.”

Lizzie looked up at him and he saw a sad mix of hope and fear. But there was doubt more than anything. Lizzie stepped back and moved back to the sofa. She bent over and picked up her book holding to her chest like a shield. “So what does that mean, Tommy?” She kept her eyes on the books he’d bought but hadn’t bothered to read. “Why tell me this?”

“Because, you almost died and you thought I killed the man who did it for a reason other than that.” He poured himself a drink, swirling the liquid in the glass as he ordered his thoughts. “I’m telling you because you’re the person I go to when I need someone loyal and you never say no. I’m telling you because you almost died- and you deserve to know your husband loves you before you die, Lizzie.”

Tommy watched her take it all in. He watched her process it- watched her believe it. She lifted her head up the way he was used to seeing her. And when her eyes met his, Tommy knew that they’d be alright. It’d take a bit of time, and more than a bit of work. But he and Lizzie would get it. She seemed to agree, because she gave a decisive nod. Her eyes sparked with life the way they rarely did with him. “Alright, Mr. Shelby.”

It was a different kind of love, this, but he’d keep it close.

“Alright, Mrs. Shelby.”

#peaky blinders fanfic #tommy x lizzie #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby #lizzie shelby

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pixiealtaira · 7 years ago

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Christmas Tree fire of ’97

Hummel Holidays day one bonus for @vcg73

At the Hummel Home when Kurt was a tot, so no pairing

Burt had one chore that had to be done at the house during December. Just one…the rest were ‘options’. His job…water the Christmas tree before he left for work, at lunch, when he got home and before bed.

Elizabeth wouldn’t do it because Elizabeth had wanted a new fake tree. She wanted a good one, with soft bushy needles and branches and built in lights. She wanted a tree that looked like a real Douglas fir.

Burt thought Kurt was old enough and decided they would go cut their very own real one.

Burt won by bundling them all into the truck the Saturday after Thanksgiving and driving them a ridiculous amount of time to a place where they could go cut their own tree. It had been a dry year, it was still a dry year…although it was cold.

It also wasn’t nearly as fun as Burt had imagined. Kurt liked little trees that weren’t too tall but were nice and fat. Elizabeth liked tall trees that would just barely fit in their living room and didn’t like to be reminded that they DID NOT have high ceilings and so tall trees weren’t really an option. Finally Burt found the tree he liked best and declared that is what they were getting.

They chopped it. Kurt took a few whacks before he got bored with the whole wielding an axe…unless he could wield it at someone like a barbarian. Elizabeth took two whacks and then insisted that the tree was too poky and hated her. Burt chopped it down while Kurt danced around singing some Lizzie Borden chant he said he learned from the day care he went to for two hours a week while his mom taught piano. It was a bit disturbing.

But Burt got his tree. It was a good tree and Kurt insisted that he did indeed have fun, even though his dad should have found him some barbarians and they should have got a short fat tree.

They decorated it Sunday. Burt and Kurt did most of it because Elizabeth insisted the tree hated her and scratched her too badly and gave her a rash and it was too poky anyway. She wanted a soft fake tree.

They couldn’t find the Christmas lights from the year before, so they put up an old set Burt had had in college. Elizabeth didn’t approve of those either…she said they looked dubious.

They also couldn’t find the Christmas box with their ornaments. Kurt made his mom help him and his dad make ornaments out of paper and cardboard and Burt picked up two sets of inexpensive balls and some tinsel garlands. The tree was fully decorated by Tuesday, but it had already started to shed.

Kurt originally had the job to water the tree. Kurt created huge puddles and not much water got into the tree stand. Elizabeth refused because she came away with too many scratches when she watered the tree. So it was left to Burt.

He did good. From the last week of November until the 15th of December he never missed a day and usually managed all four times. And it took all four waterings for the tree to not shed like crazy. But the 15th brought with it a rash of needed car repairs and overtime at the garage. On the 18th of December, Kurt told his mom he thought he heard a pop when they plugged in the lights. She looked and didn’t see any lights out and shrugged it off. Kurt told his dad when he got home for lunch, but Burt shrugged it off as well.

Burt got home after midnight on the 18th…technically into the 19th. He was out the next morning by 5:30 am because it had been a very icy night…no snow, not much moisture at all, just enough to icy the roads in a black ice that left drivers reckless. He towed non-stop for four hours. Then he worked through lunch so they could get the days appointments done. When he got home...late…Kurt had insisted he smelled smoke when they plugged the tree in that morning. Elizabeth said Kurt was smelling the burnt grilled cheese sandwiches and she couldn’t smell any smoke by the tree when she got there.

Burt left after dinner to head back out to the shop to finish up two emergency repairs. He was again home after midnight.

He left again before 6am. However, he didn’t have to stay for lunch, even though he had to take it late. Lunch ended up at two, and so he figured he’d head home and spend some time with Kurt after he’d had to spend the mid-morning at the babysitters. Elizabeth always had a hard time with him when she picked him up from the baby sitters…he ran wild for hours.

Burt arrived as fire trucks did.

Kurt was sitting on the curb across the street with his arms crossed and a very sour look on his face.

“I told you all that I smelled smoke.” He said.

Burt rushed to the house where Lizzie was still screaming. She didn’t seem to be hurt, however she was blocking the fire fighters from going in the back part of the living room that housed the piano at all…with threats to their lives if they dared.

The chief was arguing with her that they had to check. He won, but only after he promised it would just be him and he would not take a hose.

Burt let them fight it out as he assessed the damage.

The carpet was charred, and the bottoms of the curtains were singed but had not caught fire. It had not reached the sofa or chairs. The tree and everything on it was a loss. There didn’t seem to be anything under it.

“There isn’t even too much smoke damage.” One of the firefighters told Burt as he came over to him. “You all are very lucky.”

“Who called it in?” Burt asked.

“A neighbor, the kid went over and told the neighbor that he thought there was a fire somewhere but he couldn’t see it. Your wife was giving a lesson still and in the other room. The tree was bone dry. It is way too dry to have real trees this year. This is the sixth tree fire today.”

Burt nodded at the fireman; meanwhile he was trying to remember when he last watered the darned tree.

Kurt marched into the house while Burt was thinking about it.

“Did my gifts get wet?” Kurt demanded.

“I didn’t see any, if they were under the tree they are gone, though.” The fireman said.

Kurt snorted. “I removed them this morning because I swear I smelled smoke YESTERDAY! I also tied back the curtains so they weren’t too near it and removed the tree skirt. I thought I smelled smoke when we plugged it in this morning too, but I SAW smoke when Mr. Burton dropped me off from the sitters and I came in here to read quietly because Ralphy has a piece at his church and he needed another hour with mom.”

“Where did you put them?” Burt asked.

“In my bedroom, of course. Don’t worry, I didn’t peek.” Kurt said.

“You all are very lucky.” The fireman said.

Burt nodded. “We are.”

Kurt looked at Burt. “Is it alright if I say ‘I told you so’ to Mommy?”

The fireman lost it and Burt struggled not to laugh as well. “Go ahead kid.”

The rest of the 20th was spent calling and figuring out what needed to be done and fixed. Some was covered by insurance, there was no structural damage, professional cleaners were in on the 21st and people to fix the carpet on the 22nd.

And Elizabeth got her perfect fake tree on the 23rd. Kurt picked out all the ornaments for it, even though in the process of dealing with stuff on the 20th Burt found the Christmas boxes (outside in the garage, next to boxes labeled Easter and July 4th…he hoped he remembered that). Although Elizabeth encouraged Kurt to go crazy, he stuck to plastic balls not too dissimilar to the ones Burt had got for the real tree…just Kurt’s choice was red and white and peppermint themed. (They are very neutral, Daddy, they will mix well with what is already owned.) Burt allowed Kurt to choose three ornaments for his special ornament choices.

Kurt chose a campfire as one. He said it was because it was as close as he could get to the Christmas tree on fire and the fireman ornaments would make it look like his dad was a fireman, not a car doctor.

He also found a fur trimmed trapper boot, which Kurt explained was because he couldn’t find an axe so he had to get something for a barbarian instead. Luckily the third ornament was a bit more normal…he chose a snowman and made his dad and mom get one too.

Burt never did figure out where his son learned the word barbarian, let alone the association to fur trimming on their clothing and axes.

#hummelholidays #glee fic #Kurt Hummel

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trevorbailey61 · 7 years ago

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Mostly Jazz, Funk & Soul Festival

Moseley Park, Birmingham Sunday 9th July, 2017

Just outside Stafford off A518 that leads to Uttoxeter lies New Bingley Hall. It was a road I travelled a few months ago and passing it now it looks like what it is, a big shed that forms part of the county showground. The deserted pens and parade grounds indicate that it still provides its main agricultural function but there was no activity on this day leaving it a ghostly hulk at the side of the road. This was a journey I did a few times many years ago where the hall I sped past would have been my destination. This was because before the NIA, before the NEC, before the Ricoh Arena or before any of the other places that those artists would play who had grown to big for clubs or theatres, this was the main large venue for the West Midlands. Instead of rushing past, I maybe should have left the road, left the car in one of the car parks that always took hours to get out of and searched for an open door that would lead me into its cavernous interior. Then, stand quietly and listen to echoes of shows that were held thirty, forty years ago still reflecting off the hard unforgiving surfaces. A few lyrics from “No Woman No Cry”, the familiar tone of a voice persuading us we could be “Heroes”, the pulsating synthesised rush of “On The Run”, so many legends and such poor acoustics.

Aside from the sound, the main problem with Bingley Hall was that it was virtually inaccessible by anything but a car; a few coaches would run from Stafford or Birmingham but that still left the problem of getting back home having been dropped off around midnight.This meant that by the time I was able to travel there myself those iconic figures had already been and gone. My experience of the place was therefore of being surrounded by beery sweaty blokes listening to other beery sweaty blokes play heads down heavy rock. Thin Lizzy were possibly a little past their peak but still put on a great show, Motorhead were absolutely at theirs for the “Ace of Spades” tour whilst only Dire Straits matched the level of boredom I reached watching Rainbow; six songs in 90minutes including a twenty minute, a TWENTY FUCKING MINUTE, Cozy Powell drum solo. My first visit, however, was during the summer of 1978 and was for something quite different. This was a couple of years after the supposed punk tsunami had washed away the last vestiges of the old music but the problem with the musical tribalism of the 70s was it was all from a white, mostly British and almost entirely male perspective. We would argue over the merits of glam, prog, heavy metal and punk but none of these trends would feature during a night out at a school disco or later at night clubs. Here it was the girls who were in charge and the music they wanted to dance to was bright, optimistic and carried along by a beat that never wavered. This was what I, with a group of friends, travelled to Stafford for, disco, funk soul, we were there to see the Commodores.

It is difficult to think now just how funky The Commodores were in their early days. Just before I saw them, they had scored their biggest hit with “Three Times a Lady” and in trying to repeat this they became lost in a series of weak ballads smothered in so much syrup it made your teeth hurt. Live, however, the energy was still there through “Slippery When Wet”, “Brickhouse” and “Machine Gun” so that when Lionel Ritchie sat down at the piano to serenade us, we took the opportunity for a toilet break. The nonsense about new and old wave may have been playing out in the press and common rooms but away from that artists, mostly American, were producing the music that would go on to make the 80s something of a golden age for soul. Some established singers suddenly found a new audience that was receptive to their work, Bobby Womack produced some of the defining albums of the decade, his brother Cecil made the the superb “Love Wars” and Ritchie himself contributed the sublime “All Night Long”. Shalamar made you feel good, Anita Baker brought “Sweet Love” and for Luther Vandross it was “Never Too Much”. Then there was Chaka Khan. What she could add was an extraordinary voice, built on the gospel traditions of the deep south, it is singing that displays power and versatility, hitting highs that stretch the limits of human vocal chords whilst also plunging into deep resonant bass. She may be older now but for Chaka Khan the range is undiminished, in her first song she releases a melody at ear straining pitch and ferocious power which audience cheer wildly; this is what we are here for, something that only a few of extraordinary talent can pull off.

It was “Ain’t Nobody” that introduced me to Chaka Khan. It is one of those songs that always takes me back; just hearing the fluid bass introduction brings on a wave of nostalgia, the slow build of staccato chords and shimmering keys before Khan’s vocals starts; the melody, a little unsure of itself at first increasing the anticipation before finally finds its home. It is a perfectly constructed song that grabs you from the start and holds you as each new layer is added. The effect of hearing it performed on a warm July evening is simply magical, its powerful effect working its way around the audience as everyone, young, old, even myself, were able to sing along, word perfect. Khan needed to do little other than introduce the song and the audience would do the rest, and at times this is just what she did, but her presence was what made it so special. “Ain’t Nobody” followed “I Feel For You” and “I’m Every Woman”, a flurry of 80s glam soul few could match that finished the day on an incredible high. The band effortlessly slipped into the groove whilst also adding brilliant flourishes and her three backing singers could almost rival the star for power and dexterity. The early part of the set saw some of the early 70s songs that she originally performed as the singer with the band Rufus, with whom she also recorded “Ain’t Nobody”, that allowed her to demonstrate her impressively high register on "Do You Feel What You Feel” and “Tell Me Something Good”. There was also a lovely ballad in “Love Me Still” that saw her seated with the sheer force of her delivery silencing the chatter in the crowd. She did, however, seem to be pacing herself, the band had already performed one song before she made her entrance and she went off for another break midway through the set. By the time that bassline introduces “Ain’t Nobody”, however, that is all forgotten.

Introducing her Craig Charles, who has done much to establish this festival, listed the acts that have been brought to Moseley before describing Chaka Khan as the biggest. It is undoubtedly what she would have wanted to hear and she certainly drew a big crowd including many who would not have been born when “Ain’t Nobody” was soaring up the charts. Rumours soon began to circulate, however, that looking after a star this bright came at a price and that she had been very high maintenance, demands apparently included a toilet solely for her use and being driven across the park to the back stage area. It fits the diva persona that is so easily applied to singers, particularly those approaching the twilight of their career, but her performance shattered the impression that her gilded life meant that she was unable to relate to her audience. She appeared relaxed onstage, responded to calls for songs from her repertoire and shared a few memories, even announcing that she once had lived in Birmingham for a year. The most striking moment came just after she returned after her mid-set break; picking out someone on the front row, she asks if they can sing. When they reply that they can, she invites them onstage to join her for a duet of “My Funny Valentine” at which point they get cold feet and decline. Not everyone, however, was so hesitant and she picks out another girl who is by no means overawed by pitting her vocals against the star. It is always best to apply some scepticism to supposed spontaneous audience involvement and the ability of the girl in question did seem to be very good for someone chosen apparently at random. That said, however, it did seem to be on the level and showed the trust she had in her audience, that she was prepared to take a risk based on this and that she is not completely out of touch.

Bright sunshine with temperatures in the high 20s and a muggy humidity made it an exhausting day but the strong line-up helped to carry us through. Again, this was, as the name of the festival states, mostly Jazz which was seen in its many permutations from small groups to big bands. This often included the same musicians, some appearing in consecutive acts on the two stages, and whilst the playing was invariably of a high standard, the music tended to form a soothing background on such a warm day, lulling my wife to sleep at about the middle of the afternoon. Those acts that could distort and reshape the rules were the ones that stood out with Taupe, a trio from Newcastle, providing an early highlight. The rhythm, guitar, sax format was familiar but their use of effects pedals added distortions to the sound that enhanced the playing, at one point the two at the front crouching as they bent and warped the note they had finished playing minutes earlier. The Comet is Coming were to take this further with wild sax improvisations played above a deep pulsating bass that only electronic music can provide to startling effect. It made for an incredible sound that cut through the lethargy that a warm afternoon can produce and demanded attention.

Aside from the headline, the main soul duties were left to Harleighblu, a young singer from Nottingham whose study of her influences has allowed her to develop a full bodied voice that soars above the immaculate grooves set down by her backing band. She is an engaging and charismatic singer whose enthusiasm helped to get many off their feet during the hottest part of the day. Crazy P also came together in Nottingham, although this was a result of all being students at my alma mater, and also helped many forget how hot it was. Having started out as Crazy Penis, it took them a surprisingly long time to drop all but the first letter of the second word, they have been producing their light mix of disco, jazz and house for over twenty years without quite making the break through to reach a larger audience. Listening to them, this seems surprising, particularly given the infectious beat of their music and that, in Danielle Moore, they possess another striking singer whose hyperactive performance is mesmerising. Starting with “Like a Fool” from their most recent album they are quickly into their shimmering funky groove which, like the star, allows Ms Moore for a mid-set costume change.

Watching the Commodores all those years ago, the thought of the queue to get off the car park could never be completely put out of your mind however good the show was. Many years later we make our way out of Moseley Park onto a street where there are many out for a meal or a drink on a Sunday evening oblivious to the music being played just behind the buildings. A short walk back to the car and we are on our way, no queues, we are back home in less than half an hour. The relaxed departure is in keeping with the festival itself, the music is great, the people friendly and the organisation works by being unobtrusive. In its small way it represents what our leaders have taken to referring to as British values; open, tolerant and inclusive. Alright it is terribly middle class but that still allows for a broad diversity in the audience brought together by the music. Despite living locally, it took me a surprisingly long time to attend my first festival but in the short period of time in which I have been enjoying the event, there have been notable changes. With it being a family event, many make a day of it with picnics, chairs, parasols and so on. Whilst the hi-vis jackets of security were always present, the family nature of the event and that many lived almost next door and knew each other meant that is was very low key. Now, however, the bag searches are more thorough, the hi-vis jackets are more prominent and there are increasing restrictions on items that can be brought in. It is sad that this has been necessary but recent events have shown that people can be at their most vulnerable when they are being entertained. Music is about bringing people together and for the sell-out crowd here tonight that was what happened. It is a part of our culture that some wish to destroy, it is up to the rest of us to show our resilience and deny them that by cherishing those moment we share.

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