CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
DEVIL IN THE DETAILS
( trigger warning: mentions of violence and death )

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HELEN DIDN’T KNOW WHAT to make of the Shelbys and their rise to riches. She had always known what they were capable of. The infamous weight their name carried, the damage their hands -- or even better, just one command and somebody else’s work-worn fingers -- could cause, but this… The Shelby Foundation Charity dinner that Grace had spoken of was something out of a fucking Hollywood film. Helen couldn’t believe it. Everybody who was present in the foyer was someone of importance. Not necessarily to Helen, but she could tell with just one look at the men’s tailored suits, the women’s glittering dresses and jewels, the way their money was wound effortlessly into their general presence that each and every one of them played a role in boosting the Shelbys to the top.

Helen was a nobody around them. No one would’ve spared her a second glance was it not for James perched on her hip.

“Mama, where’s Karl?” he asked, already impatient as he boredly looked around the room.

“I’m sure he’s here somewhere, Jamie,” she answered, though in truth she was more focused on the waiters who stood on either side of the intricate mahogany doors.

Each had their own tray of various beverages -- there was whiskey for the men, champagne for the women, and the likes -- that she made a beeline for; she’d need more than just alcohol to make it through the night, she knew that much. If not for appearance purposes, then for her own peace of mind, it gave her something to cling to as she turned around and made eye contact with Ada.

“Nel,” the Shelby sister smiled. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

She was wearing a beautiful black dress that was not unlike Helen’s own. James gasped at the sight of it, his little fingers reaching for the glimmering crystals on Ada’s neckline. “Pretty,” he commented as the two women laughed.

“Why thank you, sweetheart,” Ada said, her tone soft and similar to how she’d speak to her own son. “Linda’s upstairs watching over the children, Helen, if you wanted her to watch James too.”

“Oh,” Helen hesitated. “I couldn’t ask her to do that.”

“Nonsense. She'd be more than happy to do it,” Ada muttered. Helen pretended not to notice the bitter edge in her voice or the way her brows furrowed at the thought of her sister-in-law. “Whatever gets her away from these frivolities.”

“She sounds… charming,” Helen commented, subconsciously following Ada as she began to lead the way through the crowd. 

Ada scoffed. “Don’t lie.”

Helen’s lips twitched into a smirk that she hid behind her glass. There was a grand staircase on the opposite side of the room where most of the guests had gathered with their glasses as they waited. They parted like the red sea once they spotted Ada, some even stopping her to compliment her dress or ask after Tommy and Grace.

“At last, I can breathe,” Ada sighed once they’d battled their way upstairs and away from the masses. “You have no idea how stressful everything is, Helen. Having all these eyes on you, all the time.”

“Because of Tommy,” Helen said.

“Yes,” she mumbled. “Everything’s because of Tommy.”

Before Helen could figure out what to say, Ada stopped in front of a set of doors. She knocked once before letting herself in, sparing Helen a glance over her shoulder to make sure she was following. Inside, she found Linda sitting with Karl and Charlie, the latter had been rocked to sleep in Linda’s arms while Karl played with a train set on the floor.

“Hello, Ada,” Linda’s nude-painted lips pulled back in a forced smile. There was nothing genuinely pleasant about her; Helen could tell that much from just one look. She said Ada’s name like a curse, pale eyes seeking out the unfamiliar presence in the room. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Helen Godfrey.” Lowering James to the floor next to Karl as he excitedly greeted his friend, she was reluctant at first to offer Linda her hand, especially when she made no move to do so herself. “An old friend of the family’s.”

Linda made a vague humming noise as, at last, she accepted the olive branch and shook Helen’s hand daintily. “Oh, I’ve heard of you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Helen offered up a nervous smile, to which Linda’s own smile tightened. She made no effort to confirm or deny, leaving the silence to linger until Helen broke it again. “Well, congratulations on your marriage. I hope you and Arthur are very happy together.”

“Thank you,” the tiniest bit of warmth flickered across her face at the mention of her husband. Despite Linda’s ever-growing list of disapprovals, it seemed she did genuinely love Arthur Shelby, which was a somewhat comforting thought. “Yes, we are very happy.”

She pretended not to notice Ada’s tiny scoff of disbelief.

“We should be getting back downstairs,” she said instead to Helen as she levelled Linda with an innocuous stare. “You don’t mind watching Helen’s son, James, do you, Linda? He and Karl have already befriended each other.”

It seemed to Helen that Linda did, indeed, mind very much but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Of course not. James, you said his name was?”

Helen nodded, smoothing her son’s hair back from his face as he paused and looked around at the mention of his name. “You be good for Mrs Shelby, won’t you, my boy?”

James nodded sweetly. “Yes, Mama.”

And back to playing with Karl he went. Ada practically fled the room, leaving Helen to hurry after her, Linda’s eagle-eyed stare following them until the door was shut once again. Helen let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding in as the two women made their way down the stairs.

“She’s…”

“Yes,” Ada grimaced. “Arthur adores her. She’s helped him find religion.”

“So I’ve heard,” Helen wrinkled her nose, thinking back to Polly and her not-so-kind expression as she pointed out Arthur and Linda at Tommy and Grace’s wedding. “She’ll look after James, though, won’t she?”

“Oh, Linda’s many things but she’s not neglectful,” Ada reassured her. “I believe she and Arthur have been trying for a baby of their own. I don’t like to ask, though. Linda believes it’s something that should be exclusively kept between them and the lord.”

Helen snorted. “I’m sure Arthur just loves sharing his wife with God.”

Ada joined in on her laughter, her soft face glowing beneath the flickering candles of the chandelier. It was a grand piece that hung high above them in the bannisters of the ceiling, each crystal glimmering like a fractured piece of pure gold. Helen had to admit, Grace had picked the perfect venue for the occasion. Nothing looked out of place. “Linda has Arthur on a tight leash, Helen. If she says it’s between them and God, then Arthur takes to her word like gospel.”

“Lovely,” Helen grimaced. “I bet Tommy’s pleased by that.”

Speak of the devil… He was just leaving the Concert Hall when Helen and Ada reached the bottom of the stairs. He was accompanied by two men that Helen didn’t recognise; one wore the signature white collar of a priest, both were quick to disappear into the crowd before too many people could spot them conversing with Tommy. He watched them go with an icy glare that neither seemed too bothered about. Whatever they’d been discussing, it seemed, had left Tommy in a foul mood. 

“Ada, who--”

But the Shelby sister had gotten caught up in a conversation nearby. She cast Helen an apologetic look, to which Helen merely smiled and waved her away. Throwing back the dregs of her champagne, she reached for a new one and left her empty glass on the bustling waiter’s tray.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and hooked in once more.

She certainly needed it. Tommy had seen her and much to her disbelief, he was heading her way.

What did you say to someone you hadn’t seen in over two years? Sure, she’d been at his wedding, then he’d attended Patrick’s funeral (more, she was sure, for Grace’s benefit than her own) but it wasn’t like they’d spoken to each other one-on-one. What more was left, after the last time they’d been alone, when it was all said and done?

“Hello, Thomas,” she said when the distance closed between them. She was still sipping her champagne when he reached for a glass of whiskey and stopped beside her.

“Hello, Helen,” said Tommy, in that bone-rattling voice of his. He kept his composure as his eyes locked with hers. If it wasn’t for his white-knuckled grip on the whiskey tumbler, she would’ve thought him entirely unbothered and emotionless. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re tonight’s host, are you not? Shouldn’t you know who’s been invited?”

Tommy considered that for a moment, then smirked. “My wife was in charge of the guest list.”

“I see,” Helen swallowed. “Well, it was your wife who extended the invite to me, so I suppose that makes sense. I hope that’s not a problem?”

“Of course not,” he said with a surprising amount of ease, not to mention truth. “Have you seen Arthur and John? I’m sure they’d be delighted to know you’re here.”

Helen’s heart panged. In a sudden burst of frustration, she wanted to throttle him. Then again, that was the effect Tommy Shelby seemed to have on most people, Helen just happened to be no different.

(And that was the issue. Helen wasn't most people.)

“I think I’ll go find them now,” she mumbled, smoothing the dark folds of her dress across her stomach. The baby was kicking a lot tonight. She could feel their tiny feet pressed against her ribcage, this constant pressure like she needed reminding that they were there growing with each and every day. Tommy’s expression remained impassive. Helen hesitated. “It was good seeing you, Thomas.”

Tommy regarded her coolly, then answered on a breath of cigarette smoke, “Have a good night, Helen.”

He didn’t take his eyes off her as she walked away. Helen could feel their searing heat following her, even when she risked a glance back and found him and Grace conversing with yet another person Helen didn’t know. Grace hung off his arm -- this radiant energy with her curly blonde hair, long silver dress and fur coat, not to mention the obnoxious sapphire that hung from her neck on a delicate chain -- like the picture-perfect wife she was made to be. 

Even then, Tommy still searched the sea of guests for another.

True to her word for once, Helen tracked down Arthur and John, who were standing with Finn at the bar. The three brothers were laughing rowdily when she drew near them. Finn’s face was bright red as he took the brunt of their teasing, but he didn’t seem all that upset about it. He’d grown up a lot and it showed. He was even allowed his own glass of whiskey, not that Helen was sure Polly had seen it. Finn was the first to notice Helen. His eyes widened and he quickly downed the rest of his drink before shoving the glass away from him like a guilty child.

“Nice try, Finn boy,” she laughed, relishing in the sudden pang of nostalgia she felt. She couldn’t help but think back to a night that seemed like forever ago; burning pictures of the King in Watery Lane, Helen scolding Finn as he skulled John’s beer, her face warm from the heat of the climbing flames. A whole lifetime had come and gone since then. 

“Nel, about bloody time you showed up,” John grinned, wrapping her up in a hug before she could bat him away. He smelled like smoke and whiskey, practically suffocating her in the scent as he playfully messed with her hair. This time, Helen did retaliate, her elbow jabbing into his ribs while he laughed, unbothered. “And don’t you look gorgeous, eh? She looks stunnin’, doesn’t she, Arthur?”

“You do, sister,” Arthur answered honestly despite it being obvious that John was only giving her shit. “Where’s the young lad, James?”

“Upstairs with your wife and the other children,” Helen commented, raising an eyebrow when John snorted and Arthur sighed. “I’m guessing you’re in the bad books, Arthur.”

“Always is,” John tried and failed to hide his smirk behind his whiskey. 

“Well, Linda’s certainly… lovely.”

“Lovely isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Hey,” Arthur glared at his brother, hands balled into warning fists. John backed away in surrender, still laughing somewhat drunkenly. Part of Helen expected Arthur to lose his temper but instead he merely sighed and smiled weakly at her. “Thank you, love. Linda’s great, she is.”

But no one else seemed to think so. Helen almost felt bad. Almost.

Not a moment too soon, the crowd went quiet and a set of doors on the other side of the room were opened. Helen’s stomach, running on the fumes of champagne and the remnants of her breakfast from that morning, practically growled in anticipation at the thought of food.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the MC, a man dressed in a bright red suit jacket, was standing on a raised dais to get everyone’s attention. “The loyalty toast, to his majesty the king!”

“The king!” echoed the crowd, including Helen. She swallowed back her champagne, coughing slightly when Finn raised his own empty glass much to the amusement of herself and his brothers.  

“Dinner is served.”

“Finally,” commented Helen under her breath.

“Are you hungry, Nel?” Finn smirked. He towered over her now, but his face was quite obviously boyish in a true reflection of his youth. 

Helen narrowed her eyes. No matter how much he grew up, she could still put him in his place. “Are you teasing me, Finn Shelby?”

“Of course not.”

“You are, you little shit,” she chuckled.

John, who would never pass up the opportunity to smack his brother over the head, did just that. “Don’t tease Nel, Finny.”

Finn frowned (pouted.) “Oh, like you don’t do the same.”

“That’s different,” John disagreed as the four of them made their way towards the dining room. John had linked Helen’s arm through his -- more, she suspected, to keep himself balanced than to assist her -- making Helen wonder where Esme (and his kids, for that matter) were. “I’m allowed to.”

“Says who?” she scoffed, at the same time sparing a glance at Arthur, who’d otherwise stayed silent.

“Well--”

All of a sudden, a rough shoulder slammed against hers. Helen let out a gasp, the glass in her hand slipping to the floor and shattering. The Shelby brothers laughed at first, immediately beginning to jokingly berate her, but the noise of the room including their voices had faded into the background as soon as Helen’s eyes landed on the familiar metal barrel of a gun.

“Who is that?” she asked, following the gun to the face of a dark-haired man who clearly meant business. Arthur, suddenly alert at the panic in her voice, chased after the man as he headed right for Tommy and Grace. 

“Come on, Nel,” John tugged on her arm to try and get her away just as the room erupted with sound.

BANG!

The bullet ripped clear through Grace’s chest. 

Blood splattered across her dress and Tommy’s suit as he caught her in his arms. Down they went, two bodies hitting the floor. For a second, Helen feared Tommy had been injured too, but apart from his horrified shouts he otherwise seemed unharmed.

Grace’s eyes were glossed over with pain, far from the pretty wife now as she lay dying in her husband’s arms. Cruelly, the sapphire jewel continued to gleam around her neck, a noose handed to her by her love.

Helen was all but frozen in place. Staring at the blood and at Tommy’s shaking hands failing to stop it from pooling at his feet. The room had quickly emptied out -- except for Ada, who stood in shock a few feet away, and Arthur, who had been joined by John, Finn and who must’ve been Michael. Full of Shelby rage and resentment, the four men beat the gunmen to death with white-knuckled fists. His face was now unrecognisable, but even in death he wore a smile. 

Victory had been his, for just a second.

His job was done. 

Irrevocably, Tommy Shelby’s life was changed that night as his wife joined her cousin in the dirt. Instead, something vicious and raw crept into its place, wrenching his heart clean from his chest. 

All the while, Helen watched from the outside, numb beyond belief. 

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A/N: Ngl I'm not happy with this chapter but at least it's finally finished lol