It was about 12 PM when Marguerite finally reached the small creaky hotel steps, attempting to make as little noise as humanely possible. Charlie had accompanied her back, silently puffing away on his cigarette as they trudged purposefully down the narrow backstreets, in the attempt to warm their limbs. She'd spent a whole evening chatting with the Uncle Charlie, about her family, and his family. Although they weren't related, he had known her Mother at a young age growing up in Birmingham, and that was reason enough to trust him.
It was more pleasant than informative, but yet, she did learn a lot, and was thankful for his open-ness. He also warned her about the dangers of getting too involved with Peaky Blinders, but he knew it couldn't be fully helped, since she was Olivia's sister.
"She's your kin, and of course you'll want to see her, and she'll want to see you. But tread carefully when it comes to the rest of 'em, a'right?"
That's what he'd told her. He knew better than her. That and...
"Stay out of Tommy's way."
Ah, of course. The golden rule. She did not plan to mess with him, that was for sure, because there was no telling what he was capable of.
What he wasn't capable of doing this evening was to stand up. He wasn't in the state to accompany Marguerite back to her and Frank Parsons' hotel room. Not that he would show himself at the front door in his foul-mouthed state anyhow. Frank was not supposed to know about her sister and her family. Or in other words, the gang. But she herself knew nothing.
Marguerite had met Polly, Olivia, Charlie, Arthur, John and Thomas Shelby. But what did she know, really? What was gang life? Real violence? Drugs and death and prostitutes?
It was frightening, but freeing. She was beginning to feel like she wasn't huddled away in a protective cocoon, dumb and oblivious to the lives of poor commoners. She was rich, she could provide for her sister. But not the business they were involved in. She did not want to be seen as some naïve benefactor for their company just because she was family. Now that she was thinking of it, whilst tiptoeing solemnly up the narrow stairway, that was probably what they saw her as.
In earnest, she may never truly belong, and didn't particularly want to. Not if it meant being involved in nasty business. Olivia was family, and Polly too, to some extent. But that was all.
And she must think of her Father, and Aunt Emmeline, even though they disapproved of her meddling in the past, she must always remember that they raised her, even if they did lie. Perhaps it was to protect her...
Either way, it was all too late to be mulling over thoughts that bickered in her mind. She needed to sleep to sober up.
Not drunk but just a wee bit tipsy. I should get a pitcher of water before bed, she thought.
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She awoke to a sound in the room, the clinking of the water pitcher that she'd clumsily placed on her bedside table the night before. Her back was turned, but she could hear Frank fiddling with her things, imagining his strong hand toying with the bracelet she'd worn the night before, a worried frown plastered across his strong features, his jaw clenched, his soft eyes darkened.
After all, he had promised her Father to keep her safe on their stay in Birmingham, and although they were on intimate terms and that he was young, he was still her teacher. She knew he'd take his duty very seriously. It would be hard to keep things a secret from him, to pretend that she was out doing research on the city. Yet, she would still have to provide some proof of work towards the end of their stay.
If she told him, would he understand? Would he see her the same?
She tried to keep her eyes shut, but the sunlight was too bright. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and she sluggishly turned to face Frank, her fatigue apparent, but her restlessness too overwhelming to let her relax.
"Where were you last night, Marguerite?" Frank Parsons' voice was soft but the young woman could sense that there was worry, as well as a twinge of frustration, which couldn't be helped, since she had promised to be back much earlier.
"I met some of my Father's family. I'm sorry Frank, I couldn't have known I'd tag along for a walk with them."
"Couldn't you have found a phone box and called me?" he answered, attempting to dissuade his agitation.
Marguerite did not answer, instead she held her head low. It was best not to lie, rather be quiet. There was a sense of guilt in deceiving one who had much respect for her, and that she in turn cared for.
He sighed and let out a low chuckle, running a hand through his soft and messy chestnut hair. He crouched down by the bed, to meet face to face with Marguerite. In this light, she was overwhelmed by his pure beauty and caring nature. For the second time since the day in his office where they had been intertwined, she fell for him. To not tell him about the real reason for her visit, about her family links at the heart of the Peaky Blinders, would be to jeopardize her relationship with him and the respect her had for her, if he were to find out by himself.
I suppose I'll tell him. Eventually.
He managed a small smile, letting Marguerite know that he was not angry, just a bit disappointed. She reached for his hand, and he held it gently, placing a small kiss on her cheek.
"I'm sorry for worrying you, Frank."
"Don't mention it, Marguerite, it's alright. It's just that I'm still not used to this city, and with the few things I've heard about it, I'm very jumpy about our security. Your Father entrusted your safety to me." His voice was more calm now, seemingly seeping with genuine adoration.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have introduced you to him, seeing as he seems to be weighing on your mind. It's putting pressure on you."
"No, no," answered Frank Parsons softly, nuzzling Marguerite gleefully, "It's nothing, really."
His light brown eyes gleamed with flashes of green in the sunlight flooding through the window, and the young woman lay a tired head on his strong shoulder. He held her head with one hand, stroking the knotty locks of her hair.
"It's late, we should get dressed."
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John Shelby woke to the sound of hooves trotting gently along cobblestones, growing gradually louder as they seemed to get closer. The morning was in full swing, so he could tell it was late even without having to turn his tired eyes to the clock. He stumbled to his feet, hungover. He was still in the pub. Beside him he saw Arthur, sprawled out on the nearest bench, in a mucky mess.
"Fuck," he muttered, ambling across to the nearest window. The light was painful to the eye. Slowly, he was able to make out the figures outside; someone on a horse was slowly trotting towards the Garrison. He hurried clumsily to his older brother, shaking him roughly.
"Arthur, wake up. Come on you old bastard, just open your eyes for f-"
The loud bang of the doors opening echoed in the pub.
Thomas Shelby strode over to the bar in a contemplative silence, removed his flat cap and gloves, and placed them on the counter.
"You alright, Tommy?" asked John, sniffling. He made his way over to Thomas, a slight worried twitch in his eye.
The other lifted his cold eyes with much effort.
"Just get Arthur back up on his feet," he answered, a low growl in his voice, "He's no use to us unconscious."
"Right, of course."
The lonely sounds of steps on the grimy floor of the pub were soon interrupted by another presence. Harry Fenton, the bartender, moped about the place as he entered the pub, observing the mess.
"Bit of a mess here, Tommy..." he said, in no more than a whisper.
Thomas cleared his throat raucously, and glared at his brothers.
"It weren't my mess Harry. I'll get someone to clean it up. John, Arthur, meet me back at Polly's, we have work to do."
And with that, he was gone.
The three men glanced at each other as he left. Arthur was now groggily swaying on his feet, but he was fully awake. In a dry voice he uttered some words;
"Where'd Tommy go yesterday?"
"Gone off to see Charlie with that bird, remember?" scoffed John, referring to Marguerite.
"She weren't all that bad looking, though," he answered, with an amused grin. "An' remember, she's Olivia's family. Apparently."
"And anything to do with Olivia's good news for you, ain't it?" scoffed his brother, winking at him suggestively.
"Sure is, brother."
They pulled on their coats and walked off into the heart of the city.
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