Coraline Murphy

12.

"So what's going on between you and Mr Shelby?"

The Irish voice pulled Coraline from her musings during a rare quiet moment in the Garrison, but she didn't react, continuing to polish yet another glass. "Well now, Grace, you'll have to be a bit more specific. There are 4 Mr Shelbys in Small Heath at this very moment after all."

She could almost imagine Grace rolling her eyes at the back of her head. They both knew which Mr Shelby she was referring to, but Coraline wanted to make her work for it. There was something off about Grace, and as much as she tried to make the barmaid feel welcomed in her new job, she was wary.

"Why, Thomas Shelby, of course," Grace persisted. Coraline bristled at the way that Tommy's name rolled off Graces tongue in her beautiful accent. She couldn't help but be envious of Grace - her beautifully styled blonde hair, fine clothes and perfect physique seemed to Coraline to juxtapose completely with her own wild light brown curls, ragged dresses and malnourished figure.

"Tommy and I are childhood friends. As are the rest of the Mr Shelbys, for that matter." Coraline kept her voice light. As she reached up for another glass, she retracted in on herself suddenly, gasping in pain as her still bruised torso pulled. Accidentally knocking the glass she'd just polished as she creased over, it smashed against the stone floor of the Garrison.

Grace, letting out a cry of surprise, raced to Coralines side, putting a gentle arm over her shoulders. "Oh my gosh, Coraline, are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," Coraline managed to say, her voice strained with the sharp pain in her ribs.

"Do you need to sit down?"

Coraline nodded, and Grace lead her over to a chair which one of the regulars, having seen Coralines plight, had quickly vacated.

"You've gone ever so pale, Coraline," Grace was saying as she looked the young woman over. "Is it from your accident the other day?"

Their eyes met as Coraline nodded, although it was common knowledge that the beating from Inspector Campbells men had been anything but an accident. She was surprised to see a flash of guilt cross Grace's face as she nodded. It was gone as quick as it came, and Grace turned to one of the men who had been watching the exchange.

"Can you go and get Thomas Shelby, please?" She instructed, and one of the men got to his feet quickly, donning the cap most associated with the Peaky Blinders.

"No, no," Coraline protested, and the man stopped in his tracks, his face conflicted.

"Surely you should be home resting?" Grace sounded concerned.

"I've done nothing but rest," Coraline argued. "Just give me a minute and I'll be fine. Thank you though," she added, smiling weakly first at the man, then at Grace, who nodded and went to fetch her a glass of water.

Grace had insisted that Coraline have a break until her pain was more bearable, and Coraline watched as she moved gracefully around the Garrison, catching each man's attention as she walked by them. Coraline wasn't envious of the attention Grace received from the men - she had eyes only for one man, and everyone knew he had eyes only for her. And that man suddenly appeared to be riding a stunning white horse down the streets of Small Heath towards the Garrison, its immaculate coat standing out against the grey drear of Birmingham. Coraline waved her hand to wave at Tommy, who had noticed her through the window. He waved back, his mouth tugging into the small smile that he reserved only for her.

Coraline heard the door creak open, and noticed Grace carrying the spit buckets making a beeline for Tommy and his horse. She went to warn Grace against spooking it with her sudden appearance but it was too late. In a flash, Tommy was off the horse, trying to soothe it, the smile wiped from his lips.