1921
A young dark haired girl pulls a large wooden hand pump, a glass in her other hand. The amber liquid fills the glass as she continues to pull the hand pump. She then stands the pump straight and wipes the glass off with the drip tray below, before she continues pulling the hand pump. She flicks her hair over her shoulder with her free hand before she pushes the hand pump straight once more, and smiles at the customer in front of her.
"Here you are, Danny," she says, her voice husky yet light.
The customer, Danny, smiles, showing off the few decaying teeth he has left. He digs in to his blazer pocket, pulling out a paper note and handing it to the dark haired girl.
She bows her head, gathering her change from her apron pocket before replacing the note in his hand with the change of copper coins.
"Pleasure doing business, Danny," she says, grinning.
Danny, with a cap on his head, nods his head, ripping his cap back. "Always a pleasure to see you, Dottie."
Dottie, Or Dorothea as her mother called her, always loved her job. It was a way to get herself some money, she hated relying on her mother and father for money. She hated the thought of asking them for help when she didn't need it, plus it was a way to interact with everyone in the village. Before she worked in the pub, The Red Lion, she was shielded from the village, kept in her bedroom whilst her brother was able to play in the field opposite. It was a nightmare and a half when she sneaked out and ended up coming home early evening with the news that she had a job. Her mother had grounded her, hissing at the girl.
Dottie uses the rag from the sink under the bar to wipe the wooden counter away from the spillages of the beer. She listens in to the nearest conversation, unknowingly to the two men who sit at the bar.
"Thomas Shelby was here," says one of them, known to Dottie as Peg Leg, for he has a wooden stump on one leg where his calf was meant to be. "Around the Johnson's, you know." He sniffs.
"Rosemary Johnson's?"
Peg Leg grunts, "mhm. She wouldn't let him in according to our Jane."
Yes, our Jane. The village's eyes and ears. Dottie has always hated Jane Jones. She stared out her windows at night, and gossiped during the day. She knew everything about everyone. She had caught Dottie several times trying to escape the village, and had once slapped the young girl as she called her a gruesome name.
"Thomas Shelby? What the fuck was he doing round Rosemary's?" The man opposite Peg Leg asks.
Dottie frowns, she had no idea who this Thomas Shelby is, nor what he wants with her mother. She crouches down to the bottom shelf, running the rag under the glasses to clean the stained wood, listening further in.
"Our Jane said Henry Johnson took a card from him," Peg Leg continues, "didn't see what was on the card though, and Rosemary was crying when Jane went round for tea."
Yes, of course Jane Jones had to go round for tea at that precise moment, Dottie thought, bitch of a woman.
Dottie stands up when a man leans over the bar, his palms flat against the counter top. She raises her eyebrows.
"Thea."
Fuck.
Her brother only calls her Thea when there's something wrong, something bothering him. He use to only call her Thea when they were younger, but their mother had convinced him to try to call her Dorothea, Dottie had stuck instead.
Dottie raises an eyebrow, "Henry?"
"Can we talk in the office?" He brother, Henry's asks, his hazel coloured eyes frantically running over his older sisters features.
Dottie hesitates, knowing she shouldn't leave the bar unless it's an emergency, or she's collecting glasses. "Is it important?"
Henry doesn't respond, instead he pulls out a piece of thick parchment paper from his pocket and slides it over to Dottie. Dottie frowns as she picks it up, reading the cursive writing.
To Dorothea and Henry Johnson,
Your real names are Dorothea and Micheal Gray. You were wrongfully taken by the parish authorities at six and five from your mother. Your mother wishes to see you both, she's been trying to find you both for years.
Her address is down below.
I hope to see you both soon.
Thomas Shelby.
Dottie raises an eyebrow as she looks back at Henry.
"Your dreams, Thea," Henry says quietly, "your dreams were right, Thea. We're going home."
YOU ARE READING
The Hanging Noose
Fanfiction1921 a strange man came to the Johnson's family home. He had asked for Dorothea and Micheal to return home, giving their mother a chance. They agreed to go, travelling from Kent to Small Heath, and had agreed to stay together. After all, they had d...
