𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 ᵖᵉᵃᵏʸ ᵇˡⁱⁿᵈᵉʳˢ

𝟏𝟏

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏

All Maeve could think about on the way to the Garrison was two things. It was way too fucking early for this and the fact that Thea had ditched her and Max to speak to the barmaid.

She couldn't peice it together.

Maeve pushed the heavy Garrison door open and walked to the bar, freezing in her spot when she saw the blonde barmaid with her ear up against the small window that separated the bar from the snug. Grace's eyes widened and she cleared her throat.

"Excuse me?" Maeve asked, sitting upon a stood. Grace looked away, ashamed that a Shelby member had caught her eavesdropping on Tommy. "He'd kill you if he found out, y'know." Maeve said, folding her arms.

Grace avoided her gaze. "Get me a whiskey, please." Maeve asked. "You're too young, sorry." Grace shook her head, continuing to wipe the counter.

"Whats your name? Grace is it? Well mines Maeve. And i'm gathering you don't know who I am." Maeve said cockily, "if it helps, it's my uncle who's conversation you've just been listening in on. And i'm sure he wouldn't be too happy to find out." She smiled.

Grace's lips parted and she quickly took a glass and filled it with whiskey. "Thank you, Grace." Maeve nodded, taking it and sipping the amber liquid.

"You won't tell him?" Grace asked. Maeve shook her head, "I won't tell him. Because i've got a theory that you might've just confirmed. So, thank you Grace." Maeve said, biting back her grin.

Tommy soon joined them at the bar, two men leaving before him, one who was completely mad. "I thought you only liked singing on a Saturday." Grace said.

"Whiskey is good proofing water, tells you who is real and who isn't." He shrugged, blowing smoke out from his cigarette. "And what did my country men want?" Grace questioned.

"Oh, they're nobodies. They drink at the Black Swan in Sparkbrook. They're only rebels cause they like the songs-" he glanced at his niece and frowned, "bit early for you to be drinking." He noticed.

"Well, it's five o'clock somewhere."

Tommy chuckled and turned back to Grace. "You have sympathies with them?" She asked another question. "I have no sympathies of any description."

"Their accents were so thick it's a wonder you could understand them. Next time I could translate." She suggested. Maeve had to stop herself from laughing. "You'd work for me?" Tommy asked.

"I thought i already was."

"So you are coming to the races. Two pounds ten shillings." He pointed, placing the money on the table. "Buy something red."

"Hold on a minute," Maeve snapped, quickly standing and following him out the pub, "you said you'd take me the races, that's why I got out of bed- so i could come talk to you about it!" She said, feeling genuinly upset. "Uncle Tom, you promised."

"Sorry Maeve, i've got business. Next time."

"Next time, next time. Always bloody next time. You said you'd take me but instead you're taking that slaggy barmaid. Uncle Tom, it's not fair!" She argued. Tommy threw his cigarette to the floor and sighed.