Not Just A 'Shelby'

Chapter 19: Drunk Irish

The next day, Dorthea had found her way to the private snug in the Garrison reading another book. She had decided to take off from the shop for the day since she had miraculously caught up on her numbers. She went against reading her window nook in the house knowing if she stayed within a quarter mile radius on the house she would somehow get sucked into some kind of Blinder business. So, her final decision brought her to the L-shaped boot in the private of the small room, knowing that her family wouldn't venture into the pub until the evening hours.

Boy was she wrong though.

Looking up at her glass, she had decided she had enough water for the day, having drank 4 glasses already to quench her thirst while reading. She stood from her seat and walked towards the window connected to the bar. Opening the window she met the eyes of Grace, to which she rolled her own. "Harry gone home for the day?" Dot asked.

"Not yet, Miss Shelby. We needed some barrels changed so he asked me to come from the back and serve. Need another water?" She was almost too polite in her questioning, like she knew Dot would rip her head off at any given chance.

"No, Grace. I'm switching to something stronger. One whisky please."

"Make it four glasses and the whole bottle, Grace." Tommy spoke from behind Dot as he entered the snug.

"Jesus Christ, Thomas. I can't go anywhere without any of you lot breathing down my neck." Dot said, walking back to her seat and slumping down in it.

"Oh hush sister, I'm not here for you. We're having a meeting." He spoke softly to her.

"Scotch or Irish?" Grace asked.

"Irish." The siblings spoke in unison. Turning back to his sister, the two rolled their eyes at each other.

Bringing the glasses and full bottle to the window, Tommy turned back to Grace. "I've decided not to go. To the races." Dot smirked at Grace's decision. She hadn't wanted the barmaid to go with them anyways. Didn't want to have to babysit.

"Aye?" Tom questioned.

"Not unless you give me another two pound, ten shillings toward the dress." Grace added. Dot's smirk fell from her face as she picked up her book, following from where she left off.

"I've already given you three." Tom spoke to her.

"How much did you and Dorthea pay for the suits you're wearing?" Grace asked matter of factly.

"Oh dear, Grace. Shelbys don't pay for their suits. As my brothers like to say, it's on the house or the house burns down. And besides, I'm not wearing a suit, Thomas has demanded I look like a lady as well and wear a dress too." Dot spoke, smiling up at Grace from her book.

Grace turned back to Tom. "So, you want me to go looking like a flower girl?"

"What I want makes no difference." Tom spoke, grabbing the glass and bottle from her and shutting the window. He sat beside Dot and poured her her whiskey which she gladly accepted.

"So," She spoke, sipping her whiskey. "Are you going to tell me when this meeting is about or do I just have to find out when they come in?"

"Some of the IRA have found out that we have the guns." Tom spoke to her quietly, pulling out two cigarettes and lighting them, handing one to his sister and keeping one for himself.

"And I'm guessing we don't have them?"

"Right you are, sister."

Not soon after, two men walked through the door, eyeing the siblings. "I thought we were just meeting with you Mr. Shelby?" One asked.