Out Of Time | A Shelby

three

Arthur walked into The Garrison at midday on Friday. The sun was shining outside and he was happy with how his week had been for once. There had been no troubles, apart from having to wake up beside Linda every day, and he was finally starting to feel like life was worth when he opened his eyes first thing in the morning.

The pub was quiet, most of the men were still working, though a face he did recognise was at the bar with her purse in her hands speaking to the bartender.

"Here he is! Mr Shelby, Mrs Lewis was just asking for you."

Arthur smiled shyly. He had seen Nancy Lewis around Small Heath more often since she'd saved his life a few weeks ago, though most of the time she was by her husband's side and barely turned her head in Arthur's direction when they crossed paths.

Today, though, she was alone.

"Mr Shelby," Nancy smiled and approached Arthur. Her hair was tied up with a pink ribbon and she wore a white dress with heels that matched the ribbon in her hair, "How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you. How about yourself? Can I get you a drink?"

"Oh," Nancy's smile faded to an awkward one and she hesitated at Arthur's offer, "No, thank you. My husband doesn't like it when I drink, he says one of us has to be sober to look after our boy and well, it's my turn today."

Arthur knew this was a lie. He'd seen Mr Lewis drinking in his pub almost every night since the doors opened. If Nancy was telling the truth, then it must've been her turn to care for the child since she gave birth to him.

"Right."

"I just came by to see how you were doing. I hope you're doing better now? Did you speak to anybody about what happened? Does your wife know?"

Arthur was taken aback at how concerned Nancy was. Nobody had ever really shown that much care towards him. Granted, his family always looked out for him, but the phrase tough love came to mind when he thought about the Shelby's, sometimes Arthur wanted their words to be a little more gentle.

"Er yes," Arthur nodded, "Yeah I told her about it, I'm doing a lot better now I've spoken about everything. Thank you."

Nancy smiled at him, her eyes glancing down at the gold band on his finger quickly.

"Well that's good news. I'm glad you've got somebody there to talk to. Anyway I just wanted to pop in and see how you were, I should get going now."

"You don't have to go," Arthur said without thinking, the words flying from his lips quicker than his brain could register, "I can make us a coffee if you like? Tea?"

Nancy blushed but shook her head.

"I really must go Mr Shelby, thank you for your kind offer, though."

Arthur sighed and smiled. He wasn't sure why he asked her to stay. He had a wife and Nancy was married too, but that hadn't been enough to stop him from proposing the question.

"Of course. And please, call me Arthur."

"Good day, Arthur."

Nancy turned on her heels with a smile and walked out of the pub, leaving him alone with Harry the bartender.

He threw himself down on a leather barstool and pointed at the bottle of Irish whiskey that had been sitting on the top shelf by the mirror for longer than Arthur could remember.

Harry poured him a glass and left the bottle on the bar next to him.

"Who was that?"

Arthur scoffed and took a swig of his drink.

"Nancy Lewis, saved my life the other week. Don't ask."

Harry stayed quiet and nodded. He furrowed his brows in thought and threw a rag over his shoulder, leaning on the bar close to Arthur.

"Not Henry Lewis' wife is it?"

"The very same."

"Christ." Harry blew his cheeks and shook his head.

"What?"

"Nasty piece of work is that Henry Lewis. He's been barred from The Marquis and The Lion round the corner, I'm sure he'll get the same treatment in here one day. I've heard some horrid stories."

"Like what?" Arthur looked up from his drink at Harry who just shook his head.

"You don't wanna know boss, trust me."

*

Nancy was sat in the front room of her home reading a book when her husband returned. She glanced at the clock above the fireplace, the time just shy of 11pm.

"Have you made me dinner?"

Nancy gulped and folded over the corner of the page and placed her book down beside her.

"No, I didn't want it to get cold so-"

"No? I go out to work and graft hard all day while you sit on your arse and you can't even have dinner ready for me by the time I get home?"

Nancy could smell the alcohol on her husband, the lingering scent of whiskey, ale and smoke hit her like a train every time he walked through the door.

"I can make you something now, there's some-"

The hand that struck her across the face came so fast and hard that she couldn't feel her cheek for a few long moments, then the sting began to settle in.

Nancy held her hands to her face and blinked back the tears, looking down at the floor as she took deep breaths, not wanting to cry in front of Henry.

"Useless. I expect it to be ready tomorrow night when I get in."

She said nothing, just held her face to try and stop the pain that was cutting her skin like a million needles pricking her all at once.

Henry disappeared up the stairs, staggering into the wall as he did so. Nancy waited until she heard him collapse into bed before she moved. She pulled herself to her feet and walked over to the mirror that was hung on the wall by the door.

The hand print on her cheek was a fire red compared to her snowy complexion. She could see his entire hand on her cheek as clear as day, she just hoped it wouldn't bruise.

Nancy took a moment to compose herself, leaving enough time for her husband to fall asleep before she cleaned up the kitchen and headed upstairs herself.

She peeked into her son's room and saw him sleeping soundly in his bed. Nancy could only hope that her son would never become like his father, a vile, wretched man with no self control or respect for women. As awful as it sounded, Nancy was thankful that they didn't have a daughter for fear of how her husband would treat her.

Nancy crawled into bed beside Henry, pulling the covers to her chin and shuffling as far away from him as possible. She looked at the moon through the lace curtains that hung over the window, praying to God that her life would get better soon.