VICES AND VIRTUES | Thomas Shelby

FOUR

"What'll you be drinking tonight?" Florence asked Elijah in an attempt to distract herself from Tommy's looming presence on the side of the street.

"Harrington's finest ale, obviously," Elijah joked, the pair both aware that every pub in Birmingham and beyond stocked Harrington ale, "Call it consumer research, what'll you be having?"

"Whiskey, most likely," Florence answered as the pair rounded another corner, setting their eyes on the Garrison.

"Spoken like a true Peaky Blinder," Elijah nodded as they approached the pub, which even from outside, sounded livelier than usual.

Elijah pushed the door open, propping it open with his elbow, "After you, my lady."

"What a gentleman," Florence teased, crossing the threshold, startled by the sound of a soft female voice singing, a sound she hadn't ever heard in the Garrison. Women didn't frequent the pub prior to the war, but she knew enough to know that it wouldn't go down well with the Peaky Blinders, or rather, one in particular.

The pair moved through the crowds of people, who automatically parted at the sight of the Dawson girl, knowing the consequences that would await them if they crossed her. They found a place at the bar, Harry, the manager, tending to them as the singing continued.

"It's good to see you Florence," Harry smiled nervously, "and you too, Mr Harrington."

"It's lovely to see you too, Harry," Florence replied, sensing Harry's anxiety at the sight of Elijah, given his involvement in the breweries.

"What'll it be?" Harry asked as the girl at the other end of the pub continued to sing.

"I'll have a whiskey, Irish," Florence answered, glancing up at Elijah.

"Make that two," Elijah nodded, discarding his previous comment about Harrington Ale.

"Right away," Harry replied, rummaging for bottles of whiskey as Florence turned her attention to the singer.

"I don't think they've had singing in here since before the war," Elijah muttered from behind the girl, recalling the days he spent in the Garrison prior to the war.

"Tommy won't like it," Florence whispered as Harry returned with their drinks.

"I am just a young girl, I have just come over, over from the country where they do things big," The girl sang, and Florence had to admit, she had one of the smoothest voices she had ever heard, "and amongst the boys, I've got myself a lover and since I have a lover, I don't care a fig."

Florence became startled as the punters around her began to join in with the song, she leant her back against the bar, Elijah beside her as she swilled the liquid around her glass, "The boy I love is up in the gallery, the boy I love is..."

The door to the pub startled the men in the room, as they returned to pretending to be busy, the only voice left in the room being the girl standing on the table at the other end of the room. Florence quickly noted why the men had stopped singing, setting eyes on Tommy and his brother, John accompanied by a few of the other peaky men.

"...looking at me, can't you see him standing there, waving his handkerchief as merry as a robin that sings on the tree." The woman continued to sing until she took note of the hostility that filled the room, Tommy watching her as her voice trailed off, the room laced in painful silence.

"Floss," John nodded as he approached her and Elijah, wrapping his arm around the girl's shoulder, "What did we miss?"

"Not much," Florence answered, placing her glass against her lips and knocking back the remainders of the whiskey.