DESPERATE / thomas shelby

1 - THE INTERVIEW

— ONE , the interview

    FLORENCE SMITH SMOOTHED her pale blue dress, wiped her clammy palms on her sides and fixed a curly strand of fiery red behind her ear. Her breathing was even, her posture tall and straight, but her head a painful chaos. She felt small in the presence of the massive structure that stood in front of her, especially the double doors that reached almost twice her height. The outside of the manor was made of stone, and the steps from marble. It was truly a rich man's home.

She'd knocked twice, waiting for a woman named Anabelle. She was the current housekeeper who Florence had spoken on the phone with when she'd applied for the position. Judging by the sound of her voice, Florence understood she was an older woman, and she expected such as the door opened.

That's why when she came face-to-face with a handsome, well-dressed, and expensive-looking man, she faltered. From his appearance alone, she needed a mere few seconds to realise who he was. Arthur Shelby, in the flesh, with a moustache standing proudly and a glass of what smelled like whiskey in his hand, smiled at Florence's surprised expression.

A shiver racked her spine. Her friends back in Birmingham had been sceptical when she'd told them about the application, immediately arguing that it was too far and dangerous. Of course, they knew of Thomas Shelby and the business he ran along with his brothers. Combined with how far Warwickshire was from her home, there was logic behind their fear.

He seemed to have said something as his expectant eyes never left hers. Florence cleared her throat and inhaled, courageously asking him to repeat himself. Arthur Shelby chuckled but obliged her request.

"I asked if yer lost, girl," he spoke loudly, almost slurring.

She frowned. "W-Why would I be lost?" Florence stammered in pure confusion. Had she messed up the date she was supposed to show up? "I'm here for the housekeeping job, from the paper."

Her clarification seemed to sober him up, and he mumbled something incoherent before stepping to the side for her to come in. Arthur shut the heavy door and walked away without sparing her another glance. She didn't look at him either.

Florence's gaze followed the lavish the entryway looked. Five steps further and the mansion seemed to open up. The ceiling seemed endless, and the top-to-bottom glass windows delved into that misconception. She turned to the right, where the massive fireplace drew her attention. The living room looked extremely expensive, from the glass table and the chandelier to the couches and lounge chairs. Florence took notice of what seemed like a family portrait. Her eyes squinted, and her mouth opened slightly as she concentrated. She couldn't identify the people from so far but assumed it was the Shelby family.

Approaching footsteps alarmed her, and she turned just in time for the short older lady to greet her.

"You must be Miss Smith. We talked on the telephone. I'm Anabelle, but you can call me Ana. Mr Shelby is busy with his... meetings, so I am in charge of your interview." She grabbed Florence's wrist before adding. "Follow me."

The younger smiled at the older woman. She wished to look at the grand living room for one last time before departing, so she let herself a few seconds before Anabelle would drag her away. Her eyes widened in shock, and the curl of her lips dropped as she noticed something—or rather someone—staring back at her with a stoic expression and a cigarette between his lips.

It was Mr Thomas Shelby. Florence's cheeks burned in embarrassment.

—

    HER INTERVIEW WITH Ms Ana was almost over. The woman had been kind and polite to her throughout the entire process, willing to dismiss Florence's occasional stuttering.