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

chapter / thirteen

The next morning arrived quickly, leading Florence to believe she had barely slept at all. She pushed the patterned quilt to the end of the bed, stretching her legs before sitting up. The bright sun glared at her through the open curtains that she had forgotten to close when she had gotten home last night. She squinted her eyes as she made her way to the window, gently closing the curtains to gain some modesty as she begun to get dressed.

She raked through her clothes, finding a plain peach blouse to match her long black skirt. Placing her heels on her feet, she hurriedly left her room to help Cora with breakfast.

"Good morning!" Florence beamed as she helped bring out the teapot and cups. She carefully placed the cups on their saucers on the table, then proceeded to fill the pot with water and left it to boil on the stove.

"You're 'appy this mornin', love," Cora smiled, splashing oil onto the fried egg she was cooking, "what, or should I say who, has put this spring in your step?"

Florence blushed deeply, her cheeks turning a bright crimson. Since the answer to the question was obvious, she didn't reply but instead placed the tea filter into the pot, the leaves instantly reacting to the steaming hot water. She put the teapot on it's stand on the table, then took her seat. She sat quietly, smiling to herself.

"Cat got your tongue?" Cora grinned, placing a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Florence, "Or should I say, Shelby got your tongue?"

"That is highly inappropriate, Cora." Florence giggled after thanking her for the breakfast.

They talked about the news and current events whilst they ate. As they finished, Florence stayed to help clean the plates and the cutlery before excusing herself and taking her leave. As soon as she felt the charcoal pavement beneath her feet, she couldn't help but smile to herself. She counted the days she had been in Birmingham and realised so much had happened since she arrived, but she was too happy to be ashamed. All because of Thomas Shelby.

"Mind out, miss!"

Florence slid out of the way as quick as she could as a horse and carriage quickly passed through the space she had just been standing. It came to an abrupt stop just a few centimetres away from her and she stared at it, confused. The carriage door opened and a man stepped out, taking his hat off to address Florence and apologise for almost hitting her.

She monitored his appearance. The main thing she focused on was his thick large moustache that sat just beneath his nose. His hair was almost completely grey and his eyebrows were almost unrecognisable. She eyed up the expensive wool suit he was wearing before responding.

"No matter, sir. I appreciate your apology, but I am also sorry for not noticing your cart. I shouldn't have been in the way."

"No, no miss." He replied, his strong Irish accent present in his voice, "You mustn't apologise, this is a busy street. I shouldn't have assumed that you would have noticed my carriage coming down the street."

"No worries Mr..." Florence beckoned him to tell her his name.

"Campbell." He retorted.

"It was nice meeting you Mr. Campbell but I must be off. I accept your apology and I hope you accept mine. Thank you." She smiled briefly, nodding her head at him as a form of goodbye.

He watched her walk away before placing his hat back on his head and returning to his carriage, tapping the wood for his driver to continue the journey.

Disappearing into the usual crowd of people on a Wednesday morning, Florence made sure to blend in to hide from the old man. She walked in and out of shops as a number of people did the same until his horse and carriage were completely out of eyeshot down the street. She was so busy looking to see where it had gone that she became so startled when she felt a hand grab hers. Her heart skipped a beat.

She turned around to find none other than Thomas Shelby standing beside her, and she let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding.

"You scared the living daylight out of me, Thomas Shelby!" She gasped, holding a hand to her chest.

"What's wrong, Florence?" Thomas asked her, suspicious of her actions.

"Nothing, nothing. Just an unusual encounter with an old man with the thickest grey moustache I have ever seen." Florence replied, laughing slightly at her own words.

Thomas found her laugh contagious and couldn't help but smile at her words. However, he was still sceptical as to what had happened and who the man with the moustache was. He didn't ask anymore questions and instead took Florence to the Garrison for a drink.

They arrived quickly and Thomas ordered a shot of whiskey, whereas Florence ordered a glass of wine. They placed themselves in the small cut-off room the Shelby's usually occupy and start to fall into deep conversation.

By lunchtime, Florence had slid closer to Thomas on the wooden bench and was now leaning into his chest. His arm was slung around her shoulders casually as he sipped at his third glass of whiskey. Their carefree moment was interrupted by a girl's voice coming from the main bar. Thomas looked quizzical and instructed Florence to go and have a look. 'Girl to girl inspection' he called it.

Florence downed the rest of the wine in her glass and Thomas whistled at her. She rolled her eyes, smiling before taking her empty glass and leaving the room. She headed straight to the bar where a pretty young blonde woman was sitting. Florence sat next to her and placed her glass on the counter.

"Harry! May I have another?"

"Please don't get too drunk, Florence. I need you sober for tonight, it's goin' to be busy." Harry said, pouring wine into her glass.

Once he was finished, he walked off to serve some men at the other end of the bar. Florence turned to the woman beside her with a smile on her face.

"Hi, I'm Florence, what brings you to the Garrison?" She beamed, the alcohol giving her an additional confidence boost.

"My name is Grace and I'm searching for employment." The blonde replied.