Gun metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)

Its a crime for a bluebell to look THAT good

'May the flowers remind us why the rain was so necessary.'

"Ouch!" Dorothy, had stumbled into a bramble bush.
She shook her hand in attempt to lessen the stinging sensation, but paid no actual mind to pulling out any of the thorns, too distracted by the blessing of a sunny day in Birmingham.

It was rare for Birmingham to get a sunny day, let alone one with clear skies and lazy breezes. Lucky for Dorothy, she had her day off today, and found herself stumbling around the woods.

This week she'd had her birthday and without a doubt, it was possibly one of the best days of her life. Her father, Dean Monroe, unknowingly to her; had slowly saved up just enough money to purchase her a Kodak Jr, an early model of the actual one, second hand too, but it worked and that's all that mattered.

She remembered sobbing into her hands when she was presented with the gift. The overwhelming joy completely threw her. Once she got over the initial anger of her father keeping secrets and spending so much on her- she thanked him as many times as she could blubber out through her tears.

So here she was, staggering around the woods on the outskirts of Small Heath; a slightly bloodied and pricked hand from her clumsy fall she had earlier.
Off in the distance she saw a stream with bluebells dancing over the path of the water. The sun was shining over them in a way that made them dance over the stream like a ballet performance - putting on a show for only her and nature to see.

After hearing the distinct 'poof' of her camera, the film slowly ejected. She took the developing photo card and ran the smooth texture over her hands.
Mesmerised by the picture that was appearing in her hands, it was no surprise that she almost dropped it when she heard the sound of a door slamming shut in the distance.

Dorothy was highly baffled by the sound as she was in the centre of the large woodland area; there was no buildings or structures here. That's what kept this place so beautiful.

Snapping out of her shock, she shoved the photo into her notebook to protect it and placed it in her film satchel.

Dorothy wasn't necessarily an innocent girl, knowing all too well the dangers of the world, but she was still a very pure one despite all of her trials and tribulations.
Her refusal to ever see the impure before the contrasting was her best and worst trait. She is a friend to many but a target to many more.

Though meek and somewhat shy, she is passionate about things she loves and will fight skin and teeth for them.
This was apparent when she stumbled across a home, it seemed. One that didn't belong in the woods, but rather looked like it should be pushed on the end of a street in line with others that look exactly the same.

It's brick was grey, covered in dirt and it's roof looked like it was rubbed in coal. All in all: it wasn't a pleasant sight and it was an offensive gesture to the woodlands she loved so much.

Dorothy was near fuming.

——

The guns were gone.

They had been dug up. He didn't know how, but now he had lost his bargaining power.
The police were on the streets searching for him. He needed to lie low.

Thomas thanked whatever God there was- no -he thanked himself and his pre-disaster planning that he had built the safe house.

He made a mad dash around the back streets and alleys of Small Heath, taking a risky stretch as he crossed the open fields-hoping that he wouldn't be spotted in the open. As soon as he spotted the house, he did not cease his speed until the door was slammed shut behind him.

Looking around now, trying to get his breath back; He noticed the way that the house was laid out. He hasn't actually been to the safe house, only approving of the outer appearance, knowing it would be inconspicuous and won't draw attention to the building in the woods.

The house was decorated in a somewhat homely fashion. It must have been Aunt Pols doing when he left her to sort out supplies.

He chose not to dwell on the appearance and instead peer out of the windows, cautious of coppers.
When he saw none, he stomped over to the cabinet, situated next to the sofa and pulled out a bottle of Whiskey.

While admiring the fine brand that had been seemingly waiting for him to drink it; He was quickly brought back out of his thoughts when he heard violent banging on the front door of the house.

——

Thank you so much for reading the first chapter! I'm so excited to get into the nitty gritty of this plot line.
Special thanks for nature.and.nonsense for editing some of her photos so they could work with my story! They have the coloured ones on their insta if you want to see them!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hopefully many more!