LIKE STEEL || Tommy Shelby

II. NEW FACES

- NEW FACES -

The police never found the victim of the gun shot, but people in Small Heath talked. Some said the body would turn up floating down the Cut- a canal that traced through the city- in a week or so. Others said a man called Danny Wizzbang was the man who was shot. After a few days, Rose had heard enough rumors to make her head spin.

"Do you know anything about a man called Danny Wizzbang?" she finally asked her landlady. It had been a long day of work, but a man who needed stiches had told Rose that this Danny was a member of a gang- the Peaky Blinders, he had said. By the tone of his voice, she could tell that whoever the Peaky Blinders were, they were serious business.

The small lady just shook her head. She tutted her tongue as she pulled the sheets off the line.

"I knew Danny," she sighed. "He an' his mum used to live right down the road from here."

She went back to her laundry and Rose almost groaned.

"Well, do you know why people are saying he's been shot?"

"Because he's been shot, love."

She held her breath. "Why?"

"He got in to some murky business. He never came back from France, that one. Not really."

Rose didn't exhale until the breath began to sting her lungs. She pulled a sheet off the line, trying to be casual- normal.

"Did it have anything to do with the Peaky Blinders?"

Finally, the lady stopped folding. She stared at Rose, her eyes so intense that she almost looked away. Almost.

"Don't go askin' questions you don't want the answer to, girl. You want to live here in Small Heath, fine. But if you want to stay out of trouble, stay the 'ell away from the Peaky Blinders."

From the look on her face, it wasn't open for discussion. Instead, the old lady just shook her head and walked out of the garden, basket on hip.

Days began to go by in a blur. Rose spent her time mending small wounds for the factory men or even giving medicine to children all throughout Small Heath. Nothing changed, but she was busy. She never heard about the Peaky Blinders again.

***

November 6th, 1919

Her heels echoed off the pavement. Darkness had fallen over the city, but by no means did that mean that it's residents were asleep. As Rose made her way home, she walked past roaring pubs and shouting men, and they whistled at her as she went by. It was all she could do to keep her hands in her pockets and keep herself from throttling them. Instead, she just wrapped her coat tighter around herself, sighing.

Winter was finally creeping up on Small Heath; Rose pulled her scarf over her nose to ward off the biting cold.

She only had two more streets to go, she told herself. Her feet were sore and her hands frozen; all she wanted was a hot cup of tea and her bed. Without looking, she turned the final corner, only to be hit square in the chest by a car door.

It sent her backwards, tumbling on to the muddy road. She didn't have time to wrench her hands out to stop the fall, so she landed on her shoulder and her head cracked on the ground.

All she could see were stars. The streetlamps turned dim and blurry as she looked up in to the dark.

"Arthur, you're a fuckin' idiot, you know that?" a voice said. She heard the other car door open.