C h a p t e r T h r e e
The city centre of Glasgow roared with life on a typical Friday night as people exited the popular clubs after a long night of dancing and drinking. Since the end of the Great War, celebrations had taken place throughout the country. The celebrations continued on in Glasgow months later, any excuse for a late night out drinking with friends.
Lynette and her girlfriend Pauline, stumbled from one of the busier bars onto the streets. Both were laughing hysterically, dodging out of way of the people around them as they experienced the heavily consumed amount of alcohol take effect on them. They started walking through the cold air hand in hand, the streets becoming darker as they increased the distance from the clubs which provided a source of light.
They would walk to the end of Sauchiehall street, before they would split off in their own direction to make their way home. This became routine for the two women who went out together every chance that they had the night off. They exchanged their goodbyes with an embrace and a kiss on the cheek, shouting humours comments to each other across the street as they separated.
Lynette walked home with a smile on her face, thinking about the fun she had that night. Every now and then she would stumble over a crack in the pavement before laughing it off as she continued on. She made it home fairly quickly, the area silent as people were either out for the night or already in bed.
She climbed the stairs quietly to the second level of the small apartment building, walking down the corridor as she fished for her keys in her bag. The lazy grin vanished and her hand holding the keys froze as she saw that the door to her apartment was open, the hinges broken and barely hanging onto the frame. The redhead reached into her bag again, carefully taking out the gun Billy had given her for protection. She was now completely sober.
She knew that the gun was fully loaded after having checked it before leaving to meet Pauline. Entering the apartment with the gun raised, she looked around the small living room. The curtains were drawn, which she had not done, leaving the place in darkness. And the alcohol she kept in the cupboard above the sink had been opened, as she discovered it sitting on the table.
It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light, once they had her gaze zoned in on a large figure sitting on her couch. She kept the gun trained on him, but her arms had started to shake against her will. A lump formed in her throat, along with the involuntary watering of her eyes as her fear for the man grew after recognising him.
"I thought you were dead," she forced herself to whisper.
"No, sweetheart. I just went away for a little while, but I thought it was about time to come back home and see you," he spoke as he placed the glass of rum on the table before standing.
Lynette was fairly tall, but this man was taller as he stretched well over six feet. His body ideal for that of a boxing champion. His clothes looked rugged, his trousers covered in stains and rips, while his hair had also changed since she had last seen him. What was once dark black hair had aged into the colours of salt and pepper. The war had definitely aged him, she had been so sure that he was dead after he did not return from France. She thought she had finally escaped him.
"Don't come any closer," she warned, as she followed his movement with the gun, her aim focused on his chest. "I will shoot you."
A deep laugh came from the man, his dark beady eyes boring into her's. "Oh come on, Lynnie! You don't have it in you."
"I've changed," she announced slowly. "I'm not a fragile girl anymore. Four years away from you changed that. Now, get the fuck out."
Any amusement on the man's face vanished as his spine straightened out. Lynette had finally ceased from shaking as the fear replaced with a desire for revenge. "What did you say to me?"
"I said 'get the fuck out'!" she repeated herself, this time much more forceful and confident.
"You little bitch!" the man snarked before he advanced on her. He was able to cross the room in three large strides, grabbing her arms before she was able to squeeze the trigger.
They continued to struggle against each other. The taller man attempted to bring the redheaded woman to the floor, but she continued to force the gun towards him as she tried to shoot him. She was failing, Lynette screamed as one of her arms were bent backwards at awkward angle. The gun fell to the floor beside the wrestling figures, both of whom dived to reach for it at the same time.
BANG!
Lynette shot upwards from her bed in hysterics as she woke from her nightmare. Her breathing was erratic, eventually she was able to tell herself that she wasn't in Glasgow, and that she wasn't anywhere near him, allowing it to return to a safer rhythm. The bedding around her felt drenched as she noticed the horrid sensation of stickiness which had been caused by sweat. She reached up to pull the hair away from her face and shoulders, which clung to her skin as a result of the salty fluid.
She lay there for a moment as the images of the event from seven weeks ago repeated over and over again in her mind. She had not thought of the man in a while, but it had been brought on after Tommy Shelby revealed that he knew her real identity. She was terrified that he possibly knew what had happened that night, but it should have been impossible. Lynette had ensured that no one knew which area of Glasgow she was from or what she did for a living there, and also ensured that not a soul would come looking for her when she left.
Reaching down to the area above her hip bone, she could feel the jagged scar under the soaked material of her slip. The memory of being shot now fresh in her mind, all these memories resurfacing as a result of Thomas Shelby and the power he held.
She understood now what Harry's warnings had been about. If Tommy had really shot Danny without consequence, and if he had found out about her old life, then what limits were there to his capability. He was the talk of the town for being the prime suspect responsible for the robbery of the BSA. He could easily shoot Lynette if he wanted to, and no one would bat an eyelid in fear for what he could do to them.
Shaking her head to try and rid of the worrying thoughts, Lynette looked around to see that the sun was now up and pouring into her room. Looking at the bath tub in the corner, she realised that she would have to get a move on and freshen up before she headed to The Garrison for her shift. She could only pray that Grace and Harry did not take note of her shaken state.
A commotion outside caused Lynette to stand up to approach the window that looked onto Watery Lane. Moving aside the curtains she looked out to see police officers lined strategically outside the houses. Some sat upon black horses, others were positioned outside the doors. She saw one older man further along the street, who locked to be in charge as he gave orders. She realised that with the absence of Sergeant Moss, there was a possibility that this was the officer from Belfast that Harry had told her about.
"Oh shit," the woman muttered in shock, as she realised that they were preparing for a raid. Then the whistle was blown, the noise echoing across the street as the violence begun.
..............................
Lynette offered to stay at The Garrison later than usual to clean the place, after being late that morning as a result of the the raids that were conducted in Watery Lane. Her home had also been searched, all she had been able to gather from the men that ransacked her house was that they were looking for guns. They did not confirm that it was the BSA guns, but that was obvious to the people of Small Heath. Much to her relief, they were unable to find the gun that she hid under the floorboards in her bedroom.
She knew that when she arrived home, she would have to spent a majority of the night tidying up the mess that had been left behind. After the raid, she only had time to freshen up and get herself ready before rushing to the pub where Harry brushed off her apologises after hearing what had happened.
He seemed to mistake her sulking mood the rest of the day as a result of the raid, when in reality she was nervous for the visit she would receive that night from Thomas Shelby. She was glad that Harry had accepted her offer to stay later so easily, because it meant she would be the only one in The Garrison by Midnight.
Her distracted mind meant that the day flew by much to her disappointment, it wasn't long before she was wishing Harry and Grace goodnight. As she waited for Tommy to arrive, she made her way around the pub; cleaning tables, and brushing the floors. Anything that would distract her for just a little bit longer. She hoped that after the bonfire he had organised that night in the street, he wouldn't be able to make it or he would forget about their arrangement to meet.
Luck was not on her side as the man she waited for walked through the door at exactly twelve o'clock on the hour. She looked up at him with a blank expression as she watched him take off his Blinder's cap.
"Drink?" Lynnette offered quietly as she rounded the bar so she was behind it.
Tommy nodded as he seated himself at one of the tables, hanging his black coat on the back of the wooden chair. "I'll take a whiskey."
The redhead woman turned and grabbed the closest bottle, she knew that he would ask for Irish. But instead of grabbing one glass, she took two. She rounded the bar again to join him at the table, pouring the amber liquid in both glasses as she kept her eyes downwards.
"I thought you didn't drink on the job," Tommy pointed out as he took out his cigarettes and matches, lighting one for himself before sliding them towards Lynette as an offer to take one.
She shook her head at his offer, instead replying to his comment. "That decision went out the fucking window after what you said to me last night. And besides, it's been a long day," she explained as she drank the beverage before immediately pouring herself another.
"Your house was searched today?" he asked, smoke filling the space between them as he leaned back in his chair.
"Yeah," she answered shortly. There was a moment of silence between them before she finally looked up at him. "I can't wait any longer, how did you know my name?" she demanded.
She watched as his expression remained serious as he took his cigarette away from his mouth to talk. "I have many contacts across the UK, Lynette. When I need information, I can go to them but this is the first time that one of my contacts has came to me for information. I received a telegram yesterday from a member of Billy Fullerton's gang in Glasgow looking for a man and woman that were connected to their crew. A Lynette Paterson and a Richard Paterson. There was no clue to their location after their disappearances, but Fullerton's man gave a very detailed description. So I think you should tell me why you're running and why I shouldn't give them your address?"
"Because you don't want The Bridgeton Boys in your city, do you? It's bad for the reputation, and business from what I hear behind that bar," Lynette answered the second half of the question as she finished her second drink.
"And the reason for the name change?" he urged.
"That's none of your business."
"It is if you want to stay in this city."
Lynette gave a sign as she stared down at the empty glass in her hand. "I can assure you that outing me to the Billy Boys won't be of much benefit to you."
"I can't be sure of that until I find out why you ran from them. You tell me everything, and I'll consider not having two of my men return you to Scotland."
Lynette gave a displeased groan before leaning forward on her elbows as she looked him dead in the eye. "I used to work for the Bridgeton Team before and during the war, my job was to pass on information that I heard in the bars. I would volunteer myself as bait to trap the men they were after, and I got paid good money for it."
She took a deep breath to compose herself. She could feel Tommy's eyes on her, and had noticed that he had not moved at all while she spoke. Not even to take a drink or a draw of his cigarette. He was watching her behaviour, ensuring that she was not lying to him.
"Recently I staged my own kidnapping - or murder - after killing Richard Paterson," she admitted. "I thought he had died during the war, but seven weeks ago he appeared in my apartment. He shot me, and I shot him."
"He was your husband," Tommy predicted as he registered the connected surname, lifting the whiskey bottle to pour her another drink as he took notice of the shakes in her hand.
"No," she responded. "He was my piece-of-shit father, a low life. A horrible fucking man who got what he deserved."
"I know the type," Tommy commented as he finally drank his whiskey. The image of his own father appearing in his mind. "What did he do?"
Lynette debated whether or not to be honest with Tommy, after all he had the advantage here. But she realised that maybe Tommy having the kind of power he did, meant he could help her hide away in Birmingham.
"If I tell you, will you let me stay?"
They both stared into each other's eyes. Tommy examined the pain and the hopefulness in those brown irises as she watched him, waiting for an answer. He knew how to read people, and he could see that Lynette Paterson - or Reid - was not lying to him. He found himself nodding to her request.
"Yes, I will."
Lynette breathed out a sign of relief, before she forced herself to give him the answers she agreed to. "My father was a violent man, who didn't know how to control his temper or his urges. He beat his wife until she was died, he beat his son into submission, and his did unspeakable things to his daughter that no man should every do to little girls."
Tommy's cigarette froze at his lips as he looked at the redheaded woman. He had heard of many horrific men in the world, but he couldn't think of any that were more deserving of their deaths than Richard Paterson was.
"Where did you hide the body?" he asked as he thought of the possibility of the man being uncovered. His death would start a search for immediate family members, and by the sounds of things, she was the last alive.
A slight smile appeared on Lynette's face as she realised that Tommy was concerned on his murder being connected to her. "He's at the bottom of the River Clyde, a sack of bricks weighting him down."
A breathy laugh escaped through Tommy's nose at the answer. Most people would bury a body, but Lynette was clever; she had even staged her own kidnapping and death to make a new life for herself. He didn't even care about the idea of her killing someone because he had done it many times before, he was just glad to hear that there was one less bastard in the world.
"It might interest you to know that I didn't really kill Danny Wizz-Bang," he announced suddenly.
Lynette looked up in surprise, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I heard his funeral is tomorrow?"
"It's an empty coffin, we have to keep up the charade. He's working for me down in London now."
Lynette chuckled in disbelief. "The whispers are true then, you Shelby's really are crazy."
There was a comfortable silence between them for a few short moments before Tommy leaned forward so one elbow rested on the table, catching the attention of the redheaded woman.
"I'll tell the boys in Glasgow that I haven't seen anyone of the given description. You continued to work here under the name Lynette Reid, but you work for me on the side. The same as you did for Fullerton; keep an eye out and listen to more whispers."
Lynette smiled softly at the man, her gratitude showing as she visibly relaxed. "Am I getting paid extra for this work?" she questioned teasingly.
Tommy smirked at this as he put out his cigarette. "Depends how good you do the job."
"So we have a deal, Mr Shelby?" she asked, holding out her right hand for him to shake. He reached over the taking her hand into his as he accepted the sealing of the deal.
"We do, Miss Reid."
(The Bridgeton Team or "Billy's Boys" were a real razor gang that practically ruled Glagsow through the 1900's. They were inspiration for the Peaky Blinders so it only seems fair to give them a mention.
Their longest reining leader was a man named Billy Fullerton.
They were a violent protestant gang, but I am not bringing religion into this story. In this version, they were just a Glaswegien gang and Lynette herself does not have a religion.)