A Birmingham Story (ft. Thomas Shelby)

Chapter Two

Yeah, I missed this city so much, but oh God these smells are driving me crazy. Gas and dirt and too many bodies crammed in those match boxes they call apartaments.

I started work the next day after my arrival at a small tailoring at the edge of Small Heath. The one in charge is one hell of a lady, old and cranky and she has always something to object. But I quickly got on with one of my colleagues, Anna. Such a sweet young girl, I am afraid of what this city is going to do to her. And speaking of the considerable number of threats that Small Heath poses for a lady she whispered something about a group called the Peaky Blinders.

I haven't heard about them before, but Birmingham was known for housing gangs and clans of people who lived off other's misery. I wanted to find out more about this newly discovered group of outlaws, maybe some of my old buddies were still alive and wrecking havoc through these dirty streets.

The Peaky Blinders though were words whispered in the shadows, the fear present in everyone's voice when they told me the little they knew about them. It seemed that their leader was a certain Shelby family, the name spoken with respect and warriness. They are gray shadows carried by the winds of the night, taking whatever they want from whomever they like. No one dares stop them, not even the police beacause after a confruntation with one of them, you might find yourself short of an eye.

I listen carefully to every scrap of information, because even if I plan to stay out of trouble for as long as possible, I always tend to get myself in some miserable situations.

After a long week of sewing pretty shiny gowns, the kind I hated, but the kind that was selling on a lot more money that they were worth, I leave the shop exhausted thinking about the warm bed waiting in my so-called home. This Friday night has nothing special, but the men of Small Heath don't need a reason to drink until they drop, so they travel in dizzy packs trying to find their own way home.

As I'm quickly making my way through the narrow streets I hear a couple of men shouting some obscene comment to one another. One of them burst into a booming laughter and it may be just my paranoia, but they seem to be getting closer. I quicken my pace but then I hear the raspy voice of one of the men calling for me:

"What does a young lady do in the middle of night alone on the streets? Do you want to have some fun girl?"

My blood is already pumping through my veins at an allarming rate but I try not to show any sign that I noticed them. Then all of a sudden a broad hand clasps my bony shoulder and a ale smelling breath warms my face.

"Where to so fast? Why don't you stay a while with Bill and I, eh?"
"I am sorry but I need to get back home. My family is waiting for me." I say forcing my voice not to crack and trying to be as convincing as possible. Of course there is no one waiting for me, but maybe the fact that someone would worry and come looking around would scare these drunkards off.

They aren't impressed though and the second one lunges to grab my purse. In a matter or seconds he is flying back and landing hard on his ass looking up at his attacker just as confused as I am. I try to make out a face in the dimly lit alley, but all I can distinguish is one peaked hat.

"I think the lady said she wants to go home. Piss off!" the faceless man shouts and the drunks start running without glancing back.

My mysterious protector stepps into the light and I can see his sharp features, aged prematurely by a burden too heavy for his young spirit. A soldier then. I always managed to read people after their eyes, but his were hidden under that ridiculous peaked hat. And then something clicks. My tailor eye notices the high quality clothes and the sister of a soldier in me can see the guns hidden under the heavy coat.

I realize I have been staring for too long to be polite anymore so I say warily "Thank you so much for that." I extend my hand and add "I am Evelyn by the way".

He doesn't reach for it immediately, but then he smirks and returns the gesture.

"Arthur Shelby"