Destruction of the Mind / [Thomas Shelby | Peaky Blinders]

chapter / one

The streets of Birmingham were busy as usual. Children were gathered around in open areas, playing games, whilst mothers took to their daily shopping routine to gather supplies for dinner. The men were rushing off to work, kissing their wives and children goodbye as they left their houses into the smoke-filled air of the outside world.

Yet, one lady looked completely and utterly lost.

Her name was Florence Porter and she had just arrived in Small Heath after catching the train from London a few hours prior. Although she didn't recognise her surroundings, she took it upon herself to explore the place, confident that she'll find somewhere to stay for a while. She'd escaped her toxic, heavily religious home and travelled half way across the country to hide from her parents. They'd tried to force a marriage between her and the local vicar, but she was having none of it. Especially when he was almost a decade older than her 24 year old self.

She held her travel bag tightly as she walked through the crowded main street, making a mental note of each major place she strode past, including the Garrison Pub which looked particularly busy for 2pm on a Monday. She eventually found a small bed & breakfast at the end of the street, it looked rather dull but she couldn't find another and her feet were starting to ache.

She waltzed into the macabre looking building, only to find it to be more livelier on the inside. The smell of freshly baked apple pie drifted through the building and she realised how hungry she was, along with her desire to sit down and rest her poor feet. She stood at what looked like a makeshift lobby, which had a tiny counter with a bell on, which she rung nervously.

A lady, noticeably in her late 40s (maybe early 50s), came bustling through from the door at the very end of the hall with a smile on her face as soon as she saw Florence. She clapped her hands together as soon as she got to her position in front of her new guest.

"I only s'ppose yer' lookin' for a room, aye love?" She asked, with a thick accent.

"Yes, that would be nice, thank you." Florence smiled in reply.

"Aye, you're not from 'round 'ere, are ya'?" The lady gasped, going next to the small counter and pulling a book out of a drawer.

"No," Florence laughed, "I'm from London."

"Well I coulda' guessed that, love," She laughed also, before holding a pen at an empty page, "Now, what's yer' name and how long are yer' staying?"

"My name is Florence Porter, but you may call me Flo if you'd like, it's a lot easier," She smiled, "And I'll be seeking long-term residency here in Small Heath if I think I like it, so I'd like to ask if I can stay until I find a job to buy myself a house or a small flat?"

"As long as ya' got the money, you can stay as long as ya' like!" The woman cackled, "My name is Cora, and ya' can rent the room for 10 pennies a night, and for an extra 5 *Bob you can get breakfast served by yours truly for the entirety of your stay."

"I'm sure that would be lovely," Florence smiled, "I'll pay the extra 5, I'm sure you make a tasty breakfast Cora, the apple pie you've already made smells wonderful!"

"Wow, you've got a strong nose there, love," Cora grinned, taking the money Florence had just taken out of her pocket, depositing it in her own pocket. "Come and 'ave a slice, my treat. 'Ere's your room key, go put yer' bag up and then come straight back down, alright?"

Florence nodded and took the key off of Cora, who then took off back down to what Florence presumed was the kitchen. The Key had a small piece of paper dangling off of it with string, signalling that it was room number 2 she was staying in. She lifted her trunk before ascending the stairs and unlocking her room door.

It was empty, except for the four-poster bed in the corner of the room, with dull flowery sheets. A small bedside table resided next to it, with an empty vase resting on top. There was a small chest of drawers on the wall opposite, which had a small clock perched on it, ticking away slowly. She left her trunk on the bed before leaving, locking the door once again and making her way to the kitchen.

Upon arrival, she noticed that Cora had placed a large helping of pie onto a plate, a fork stuck in the middle, waiting to be used. She smiled and sat down, digging in.

"This is delicious, Cora." She exclaimed, after swallowing a few mouthfuls.

"Yeah, I know." Cora smiled, "So, your first time coming to Small Heath, isn't it?"

Florence nodded, finishing her slice of pie before asking, "Is there anything I should know about the place?"

"Well," She watched as the old woman bit her lip as if she were in deep thought, "maybe you ought to know 'bout the Peaky Blinders..."

"The Peaky Blinders? What's that?" Florence asked, confused.

"They're an organisation here in Small Heath, owned by the Shelby family. I doubt you'll get mixed with 'em, 'cos you don't seem like that type of girl. But they do sorta' own this town so just respect 'em and you'll be fine." She said, whilst clearing up the dirty dish and fork, "They protect us, we respect 'em. It's just what we do."

"I'll keep that in mind." Florence replied, taking in the information.

She didn't want to get mixed up with the Peaky Blinders, but they sure as hell intrigued her.

//

*bob = a slang word for shillings | also, 5 shillings comes to around 25p in today's money (in the UK)