It Was Only Supposed to Be Business

The Garrison's Doors

Small Heath, the devil's pit of England, was nothing out of the ordinary for me. I was used to the lingering dark smog over the city and the nasty smell of grim blood, sweat and tears. I spent most nights alone in Thomas's room and my days counting numbers in the betting den with Esmé. What I hated was the forever feeling of being trapped. My heart ached to walk down the street alone or without checking behind my shoulder every few seconds. I missed my bed and my passion- painting the landscape I breathed. I craved the familiarity of my home. My fingers itched to trail across the wallpaper in my bedroom, and my feet longed to press themselves into the rickety wooden floors that lined the hallways. The more I stayed in Small Heath, the more I wished Charles Darcy had disappeared from the face of the earth.

With Thomas in London for a few days on business, he gave Arthur military-like orders to protect and guard me. I went nowhere unless Arthur was by my side with his gun tucked neatly into his jacket. I was confident I could defend myself, especially with a loaded pistol lodged into my purse at all times, but I liked having Arthur near. He kept me company and walked me each morning to the bakery where my mother worked. It was always a pleasant morning when I saw my mother baking over a wood-burning stove with a gentle smile spread on her face. She saved the best muffins for Arthur and me and always prepared me a fresh cup of breakfast tea. It was the closest thing I got to being home. My mother wanted me to return home, but the warning in Arthur's eyes told her that trouble lurked around the corner if I did.

Today was different. With Polly, John and Arthur twisted in complicated business; I spent the morning in Tommy's room sketching the streets below me. A damp, blinding fog hovered over the blackening skies of Small Heath, blinding the horizon. The buildings across my window were blurred, and the winter wind howled and echoed, shaking the Shelby home. It was strong enough to send me back into bed. I pulled the blankets over my head and shoved my fingers in my ears, but it didn't work. I could still feel the wind and hear the crashing of the wet snow against the glass that separated me from the nasty weather.

I heard Tommy from the stairs beneath me that evening after supper. The sound of his voice was enough to light a spark in my dulling heart. He was finally back from business in London, which meant I would sleep easy, and my days wouldn't be long. If I were fortunate, Tommy would bring me promising news about Charles's fate. I crossed my fingers, hoping Charles gave up, left Small Heath or even better- died.

"Is this alright to wear to the Garrison?" I questioned Tommy, stretching out the satin fabric of my emerald dress. Tommy had seen the dress dozens of times since I only had two to my name while hiding in his home, but he nodded in approval.

"You'll make every man in the Garrison do a double take wearing that dress, Adeline," Tommy teased as playfulness lingered heavily in the air. My heart was whole when he was around. Glaring at him caused a sea of joy to crash in my heart.

"I haven't been out in days, Tommy," I sighed, heaving my coat over my shoulders. My heart thundered as my nerves tickled through my body. I felt safe with Tommy, but my stomach did backflips, knowing I may have to use my gun at any time.

Outside, the streets were coal black, and the winter storm flickered through the evening air, but Tommy assured me that he wouldn't let anyone or anything, not even a fly, lay a finger on me. A colossal weight slid off my shoulders when we strode into the Garrison. The usual crowd of workmen from the BSA gathered around the countertop, sipping on pints and telling stories of better times. They tipped their caps at Tommy and gazed at him with the utmost respect.

"Where are your brothers?" I remarked, noticing the only Shelby in the pub was Thomas. It was Arthur's pub. It was typical for Arthur to be around somewhere.

"Arthur, John, Finn. They're all at the track. There's a big race tomorrow," Tommy commented as the bartender placed a glass of whiskey before him. It was then that I could feel eyes on me. Whenever I stepped closer to Thomas, it seemed another set of eyes glued to my petite frame. Being a female beside Thomas Shelby brought significant levels of gossip and murmurs in the room; some were hardly a whisper.