Devil | A Solomons

THIRTY FIVE - THE VAULTS

One month had passed. Irina had been eating properly most days, managing to stomach at least one full meal and small snacks throughout her day. As she looked in the mirror every morning, she noticed a subtle glow returning in her cheeks and her arms beginning to look less frail, her hands more like they used to be, rather than skeletal bones.

It was hard, like fighting an uphill battle every day, but it was rewarding nonetheless. Irina felt better in herself for being in control of her thoughts and of her body, she felt safe in her own skin, confident again, reminding herself that she did deserve the best, even if the universe had tried to give her something different.

Irina hadn't seen Alfie face to face since telling him to leave, but she came home every Monday evening to a brown paper bag on her doorstep filled with groceries, knowing they had to be from him. He bought her enough food to cook at least one different, healthy meal every evening of the week, but never was there any alcohol in the bag.

The first time it happened, Irina thought he was trying his best to weave his way back into her life. By taking care of her, she thought he was hoping to be forgiven and gifted another chance, but after the fourth week and still not even so much as a note in the groceries or a telephone call, Irina realised that Alfie was acting out of the goodness of his heart. Nothing more, nothing less.

Irina knew Alfie Solomons was a good man, she had known that from the very beginning, but his devilish tendencies and rash actions had skewed her vision of him, making it almost impossible to rewrite over old memories and wounds that still hadn't healed, no matter how kind of a man he was.

Work occupied all of Irina's time and she'd gone the entire month without stepping foot inside a pub. She'd cleared out all the alcohol from her home, leaving a single bottle of vintage champagne in a wooden box in the kitchen, telling herself she'd only open it once she'd gained back the weight that she'd lost.

Not drinking had given Irina the chance to cleanse her mind as well as her body. She'd began keeping a diary, using it as a way to express her thoughts and feelings without numbing them with alcohol like she'd done before. She had opted for burning her words once she'd finished writing, managing to fill an entire notebook after just one week. It was unorthodox, or so she felt like, but for Irina, it was a way of releasing and letting go, leaving her feeling lighter and cleaner afterwards.

It was a September evening when Irina was walking home from work. The sun was setting and the air was beginning to turn colder than it had been the previous few weeks, an eerie autumn chill threatening its way into the London clouds.

"Irina? Sorry, that is you, isn't it?"

Pausing, Irina pulled the black sunglasses from over her eyes, the world seeming brighter for a timid moment before she looked at who had called her name, and suddenly, everything was grey again.

"Yes." Irina said, her face flat as she stared at Rebecca. She had no idea why Rebecca would stop her in the street, feeling like if the shoe was on the other foot, Irina would've kept her head down and ran as far away from the other woman as she could.

"I thought so. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, for what happened with Alfie. I overstepped my mark, it was wrong of me."

Irina looked her up and down, sighing as she realised Rebecca still hadn't upgraded her fashion choices, nor had she discovered how to style her hair properly. She wasn't one to put other women down, but she had no problem being rude to women that had no respect for her, even if they were suddenly seemingly apologetic.

"Apology accepted. I appreciate that you are perhaps a less guilty person than Alfie in all of this, but a word of advice," Irina put her sunglasses back on, flicking her dark hair over her shoulders, "Not every woman will be as calm as I was if they caught you sleeping with their man, keep that in mind."

Rebecca was speechless, leaving Irina to give nothing more than a sarcastic smile before brushing past her down the street, the sound of her heels on the cobblestones stunning her as she stood dumbfounded.

Irina smirked as she continued walking, feeling a rush of energy through her body. She felt like her old self in that moment, the version of herself that didn't let anybody talk down to her or push her around, the version that always had the upper hand.

The telephone was ringing when Irina walked through the door of her house, instantly putting her on edge. She kicked off her shoes and locked the door before picking it up.

"Hello?"

"Irina, it's Kristian. I've just had a call from the offices in Liverpool, one of our vaults has been broken into, they've taken everything."

"Fuck. Is anyone hurt, did anyone see anything?"

"Nobody's hurt," Kristian replied, his voice shaking with panic, "But one of the boys found a business card on the floor by the vault, it had the name 'Joseph Levy' printed on it, does that mean anything to you?"

Irina pursed her lips, desperately racking her brains in thought, searching for anything that could possibly relate to that name, though her mind remained blank.

"I'll make some calls, can you steady things in Liverpool for me? Business as usual, and if anyone remembers anything, tell them to call you straight away."

Kristian agreed, hanging up the phone without wasting any more time. Irina hadn't felt alone for a long time, but in that moment, the isolation began to make itself known.

Unsure of who else to turn to, Irina reluctantly picked up the phone again, pulling out a small contacts book she kept in a drawer in the hallway and dialling the number she was looking for. The tone rang for a few moments before finally clicking, a voice coming from the other end of the line.

"Shelby Company Limited, this is Thomas speaking."

She gulped, desperately fighting the urge to put the phone down and handle everything herself, though her head overpowered her heart, forcing Irina to push her ego to the side for a moment and ask for the help she needed.

"Thomas, it's Irina."

"Irina? Are you alright? I've tried to get in touch with you but I didn't think you wanted to-"

"I'm not calling about that," she interrupted, shooting him down straight away, "I need a your help."

It took a lot for Irina to reach out and ask for help, especially from the likes of Thomas Shelby, after everything that had happened. However, she wasn't left with many other options. The men that worked for her were good, strong men, but Irina couldn't count on them for something like this. And so, she sourly bit the bullet.

"Anything, what's wrong?" Tommy sounded unnerved down the phone, his voice a lighter tone than she had remembered.

"I have a vault in Liverpool that I use to keep money from my factory up there. It's been broken into, everything's gone. The boys found a card with the name 'Joseph Levy' on. I wanted to ask if you recognised the name by any chance? I know you've done business in Liverpool before."

Irina heard a strong silence for a moment, a low buzz of the telephone line making the lack of a response painful as she held the phone to her ear, tapping her foot anxiously on the floor.

Finally, Tommy sighed.

"I know the name," he said, his voice flatter than before she'd asked the question, "But he isn't from Liverpool. Joseph Levy operates a Jewish gang in South London. If you were to ask anybody about this, you should ask Alfie Solomons."