NEW CHAPTERS COMING SOON.
Small Heath, Birmingham, was an unsafe place to be. Men stumbling drunk out of pubs, whores there waiting for them on the side of the street, with gang fights happening around the corner. Unsafe for young girls... but not i...
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• • •
"I've drank all the remedies, Too young for these memories."
• • •
"It happened at exactly seven am, Mr Shelby. Nobody saw anything; our patrols were not in the area." A policeman announced as Thomas and Polly exited the car in front of a half-burnt-down Garrison.
"Your um... 'Nance' took a bit of the blast, though." He uttered, unaware how to address the 'boy' who sat outside the pub on the cobbles. Face blackened by soot as she coughed up her lungs.
"You alright, Harry?" Thomas questioned, advancing towards the girl, eyeing her for any injuries.
"Yeah, I'm alright. Nasty explosion got caught in the blast walking 'round the back." She explained, with a couple of scrapes littering her face and hands to prove it.
"Tom, it stinks of sulfur in there," Harry observed, giving her half-brother a troubled look.
"Sulfur? What do you mean?" Polly questioned urgently as Harry averted the stares from her aunt as she continued:
"Green confetti on the floor too..."
Harry presumed Thomas would have already worked out it was the Irish who were to blame for the state of the pub. But she had to be sure as she continued to hint; Irish business was trouble.
"Mr Shelby, have you any idea who might've done it?" The policeman rejoined.
"I'd say it was something to do with the gas," Thomas lied easily, turning and slipping him a tip-off. His attention returned to the girl, looking down at her dirty clothes.
"Harry get home and washed up, eh?"
• • •
Thomas wasted no time entering the Black Lion pub, walking up to the bar. He never let his enemies come to him; he always went to them.
"Whiskey, Irish." He ordered, tossing a coin down onto the bar, but it was immediately pushed back towards him.
"I heard there was a bit of a bang in your part of town." The barman alleged as Thomas picked up his whisky, smelling the thick scent.
"Gas and electric don't mix. Who'd thought they would anyway, eh?" He ruffed.
"How's business otherwise, Mr Shelby? Heard you lost a sister but gained a fairy?" He pried, looking at the Shelby to find his jaw clenching. It was common knowledge that Ada was not on the best terms with the family. But news about his younger half-sister dressed as a boy was now only coming to light.
"In this time of hunger and hardship, business and family are surprisingly good," Thomas answered, refusing to share details about his personal life. The talking ceased as light footsteps sounded down the stair into the pub, announcing the presence of a little Irish boy:
"Which one of you is the peaky blinder devil?"
• • •
Thomas was roughly pushed down into a seat with the bag removed from his head. Blinking a few times to release the black spots from his vision, revealing he was in front of a man and woman. His eyes drifted along them and down to the table where a gun was placed directly in front of the man.
"Thomas Shelby" The woman broke the silence first.
"You blew up my pub." He snapped back, anger lacing his voice.
"Anger defeats fear. In all the world, violent men are the easiest to deal with." The woman declared to her colleague.
The sound of multiple footsteps entering the room broke the conversation, with an all too familiar voice ringing in Thomas' ears.
"GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"
Harry shouted, fighting the two men who were dragging her. They pulled across the room, forcing her down into a seat next to her brother.
As the bag was lifted from her head, she propelled herself forward out of the chair. With a firm shove, she found herself back in the chair; the wind knocked out of her.
"Easy, Harry," Thomas warned, announcing himself as he noticed her move to get up again. He was just as surprised as she was to see her, but he kept up his emotionless facade.
"What the fuck do you want," Harry seethed out to the man and woman, covering her emotions with anger. She wasn't scared of the Irish, but she was afraid of being mixed up in their war.
"Harry Shelby, anger must run in the family."
"Tell me, what brand of rebel are you, eh? Forgive me; I get confused." Thomas spoke, ignoring the woman's words. Harry could tell her brother was mocking them as she suppressed a chuckle of her own.
From Thomas' tone, she could tell what game he wanted to play with them. With a now level head, her eyes scanned the opposition. The Irish man was less experienced than the woman, just by how his eyes were twitching, unable to hold eye contact.
"I heard you paddy's started fighting against yourself. The king offers you a peace treaty, and you start a war about it." He continued.
"A war about peace. Bit ironic, eh?" Harry added, with a smirk, testing how much she could ruffle the opposition.
"You Shelby's are one decision away from death." The woman replied, agitated by the mocking. As her partner stood up, taking the gun in his hand, trying to be imitating towards the two Shelbys.
"Your name is Irene O'Donnell," Thomas stated as Harry zoned out of the conversation, returning her stare to the man who stood on her right with a pistol in hand.
"Do you know how to use that thing, big boy?" She taunted with a laugh, seeing how easy she could push the man's buttons.
"Please allow me to put a bullet in these scum tinker's heads!" The man fumed, raising his gun to Harry's head and removing the safety. Harry laughed, raising her hands as her head was pushed to one side by the barrel, forcing her to look forward at the woman.
"No. They have been chosen." She sighed.
"We have been chosen," Thomas smirked without missing a beat.
"Chosen," I whispered, turning back to the man holding the pistol with a matching smirk.
"Play nice, Harry," Thomas jokingly scolded.
"Can the chosen smoke?" Harry questioned as the man removed his gun from her head.
"From now on, Miss and Mr Shelby, you shut your fucking gypsy mouths and listen to your instructions!"
