Chapter One

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"Charlie!" Arthur bellowed from downstairs, "Oi! Charlie! Get your ass down here, there's someone here who wants to take a look at ya."

Rolling her eyes Charlotte considered ignoring her brother, absolutely hating it when things were demanded of her. But she had been stuck in her room for the past three days and she was desperate to spend time anywhere outside of these four walls.

"Coming!" She yelled back.

Charlotte rolled out of bed and tucked her blouse into her grey trousers. Grabbing a belt from the floor she wrapped it around her waist, and stepped into a pair of John's old shoes. Still getting use to the new women's clothes that had been gifted to her, she gave herself a once over in the mirror before she headed down.

The outfit had been a gift from her sister and aunt. For years now Ada had been desperate to get Charlotte out of their brother's old shirts and worn down trousers and into something more suited for a young girl. Knowing full well that she was not interested in skirts and dresses, Ada and Polly had conspired to buy her a handful of new blouses and 'women's trousers'. All in effort to replace the hand-me-downs she'd gotten from her brothers.

She had been skeptical at first, refusing to try on a single pair of the heeled shoes that they had brought home. But she had to admit that the trousers fit much better than anything she'd ever owned before, and she knew it made Polly happy seeing her dress more like Ada. Her aunt had always hated Charlotte following her brothers around Small Heath trying to be like them; dress like them, act like them, curse like them. Polly said it was going to get Charlotte hurt and in big trouble one day.

She wasn't wrong either. One day, a few years before the war, Charlotte had had enough of a schoolmate bullying her about their mother's death and lack of a father. She was tired of getting kicked in the shins and told that she'd end up in the workhouse, orphaned and all alone. She became dead set doing exactly what her brothers would do: knock those words right out of Elijah Miller's big fat mouth.

One morning before school she snatched Arthur's razor cap from where he left it on the table, hid it in the bottom of her school bag, and waited until the end of the day for Elijah to make an appearance in the school yard. She wasn't disappointed. Strolling up to her with a stupid smirk on his face, the boy wasn't able to get a single word out before she was on him.

The fight only lasted a minute or two, but she got a fair amount of cuts and kicks in before the teacher managed to separate the two children. She had been sent home with a split lip, a bruised cheek, and a note saying that her brother could visit the school house if he'd like his cap back. Once she had arrived home her aunt and brothers had demanded an explanation for her behaviour. She'd never been one for fighting before, why now?

Sitting down at the table she told them about the name calling, threats that the coppers would take her away, as well as the perfectly timed kicks he delivered while the teachers weren't looking. Arthur had listened, getting more and more angry as she went on, finally asking why she hadn't come to one of them for help.

"Because..." she explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "...I wanted to teach that fucking cocksucker a lesson, all by meself."

At this Arthur had spit his drink and almost cracked a rib laughing, saying she had the makings of a Peaky Blinder, no doubt. Her aunt, on the other hand, had walloped her a good one, making sure she wouldn't be able to fight, sit, or get the taste of soap out of her mouth for weeks to come.

Smiling at the memory of Elijah Miller crying his stupid eyes out after the fight, Charlotte hurried down the stairs. Jumping down the last step she paused to see Arthur handing a platted sandwich to a familiar looking man. Looking at his face she couldn't tell how old he was, but it was obvious that he was much older than Polly. With memorable and significant wear and tear around his face, Charlotte knew that she had seen him before, but couldn't quite place him. Looking over to Arthur, he held a grin and expectant eyes, but no explanation left his mouth.

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