Margate, 1926

From the outside looking in, this all seemed very normal, you were lying in Alfie's back garden in the grass, reading your book, trying your best not to think about him, failing miserably and occasionally remembering to turn your page so it looked like you were still reading.

Your father had owed Alfie a significant amount in late protection fees and you'd begged and pleaded with the London mobster to be more lenient on your father due to his ailing health and age.

Alfie hadn't known Ira had a family, kept hidden from under his nose for good reason too no doubt, Alfie presumed.

He struck a deal with your father and yourself, if you tended his home in Margate, he'd sweep the late protection fees under the rug and promised to forget about them.

Though it was a little strange, not Alfie's possessions or the way he kept his beachfront villa, but the way he'd speak to you with such easy familiarity one would assume he'd known you all your life, perhaps even held a fancy towards you.

He was so polite, as was his way with innocents, you figured, despite your father's mistaken wrongdoing Alfie never held it against you, you were simply here to clear your father's debt for as long as Alfie saw fit and after a while, you didn't mind the thought of forever.

You pondered over this again and again as you turned your page, the sun dappling through the leaves on a small tree you'd chosen to lie under for the shade it gave, unaware that you were being watched.

"That you done for the day, darlin'?" Alfie asked gruffly, checking his pocket watch.