IX
DAYS flew by in the blink of an eye due to Elizabeth's busy work schedule. Her days at Mr. Brown's sweet shop were joyful and easy; the workload was light and she spent most of the day talking to excited children and smiling mothers. Mr. Brown seemed to be in good spirits with Elizabeth and their conversation flowed freely and comfortably. He was a kind old man and, in some ways, he reminded her of her late father. Her days at the Garrison were less fun and far more serious. Constantly stood with perked ears waiting to hear the Shelby's sauntering in, she felt as though she never got a moment's down time when on shift. The workload was faster in pace too, the men difficult to control at times, and at the end of her shifts her whole body ached.
Elizabeth stood behind the bar, polishing the freshly cleaned glasses with the bottom of her apron. She paused as Tommy entered the pub with two men in tow, neither of which she recognised as regulars. Snapping herself out of the momentary halt, she brushed down her green work dress with sweaty palms and re-adjusted her apron to try and busy herself. The men settled in to the small snug of the pub and merely seconds later Tommy swung open the hatch. "Give me a bottle of whiskey and three glasses, please."
Instantly grabbing an unopened bottle of Irish whiskey from behind her, she hands it over through the hatch. Without meaning to, she finds herself caught in Tommy's icy blue eyes. She notices him stare back at her, unspeaking. For a moment, neither of them want to break their trance. The cough of one of the men inside the snug snaps Elizabeth out of the daze she was in. Faltering, she turns and picks up the three clean glasses, gently passing them to him. "Mr. Shelby." Her voice twinkles like the sound of the whiskey glasses gently clinking together under Tommy's hands. She watched as the hatch door slowly closed, shutting her out of the private conversation.
Noticing the empty pub, Elizabeth took the opportunity to press her ear against the hatch, trying her hardest not to acknowledge the nervous feeling in her stomach. The pouring of drinks can be heard and for a moment she wonders who is doing the pouring – as little as she knew about Thomas Shelby, he didn't seem to be the most hospitable type. The thought of him doing such a cordial act was almost unimaginable.
Finally, the first words amongst the men were spoken. "You'll forgive me Mr. Shelby, for indulging." Irish. Her breath catches in her throat at the unmistakable tones. She could recognise Irish accents easier than she could breathe. "It takes a lot for a man from Sparkbrook to step inside this pub." The cutting tone of his voice could be heard louder than the words themselves. Elizabeth quickly grabbed a piece of paper from behind the bar, writing down Sparkbrook messily, smudging it in her haste.
Pressing her ear back against the hatch, she managed to catch Tommy's level reply. "Anyone with money and good intentions is welcome at the Garrison. Now, you said you had business." True to his reputation, Tommy was straight to the point. In a way, Elizabeth admired his mannerism. While the way he communicated wasn't always polite, it was always honest. With Tommy, she thought, you always had a rough idea of where you stood.
"It's delicate Mr. Shelby. It concerns the factory down the road, the BSA. . . Big old place like that, rumours get started." There was a brief pause. Elizabeth's stomach curled and twisted. "Rumours that there was a robbery." Elizabeth's chest felt incredibly tight. Despite already being fed the information that it was Tommy who stole the guns, a small part of her had held out hope for him. And it seemed that hope was wrongfully placed. She listened on as Tommy played dumb to their questions and she bit her lip as the Irishmen's tempers began to grow heated.
"What we're trying to say is, Mr. Shelby, that if you were to hear about the whereabouts of said items, we would pay good money." The worst possible scenario would be the IRA getting hold of those guns, this Elizabeth knew and surely Tommy too. Though, she reasoned with herself, she still didn't know what Tommy's plan for them was either.
After a lack of deal was struck, and the men proudly revealed themselves as IRA members, the conversation seemed to head off track. Perhaps too much whiskey, or perhaps the adrenaline of the situation going straight to his head, one of the men began singing an IRA song obnoxiously, hollering it out for the whole of Small Heath to hear it. Elizabeth's skin was crawling and the nausea began creeping up on her. Her fear of the IRA ran deep but her hatred ran deeper.
As they exited the pub, Tommy approached the bar, his face neutral and steady like always. Elizabeth hoped her face didn't look as flushed as it felt and tried to busy herself with wiping down the bar top. It seemed silly to play as if she'd been oblivious to their obnoxious performance – she'd have to be deaf to not have heard the hollering and out of tune singing, and blind not to have seen the grand gestures and drunken stumbling. "What did they want?" she asked, masking her curiosity.
Tommy observed her, picking up his glass of whiskey. It seemed he hadn't drunk very much in the presence of the Irishmen, his glass still full. "They're nobodies. They drink in the Black Swan in Sparkbrook, they're only rebels because they like the songs." Elizabeth chanted Black Swan mentally, praying she wouldn't forget the name of the pub in the midst of the conversation. She wanted to scope out the venue herself.
"So, Cheltenham is tomorrow." Elizabeth mentioned, changing the topic before her interest with the IRA men became too apparent. "Where will you be picking me up from?"
Tommy gave a rare, small smile at the mention of the races. The smile was so small and so brief, Elizabeth wondered whether if she had blinked she would have missed it completely. "I'll pick you up from outside here at noon. Have you picked out a dress yet?"
"I've got a couple in mind, I'm very indecisive." Elizabeth answered truthfully. "You've got to look your best at the races. There's all kinds of suitable men." She teased, laughing slightly. She watched as he drained the remaining liquid from his glass, observed how sharp his jawline was. How well carved out his face was; stunning bone structure, high cheekbones, bright eyes, a jawline shaved to perfection. If you weren't aware of his heinous crimes or the blades in his cap, you'd easily mistake him for an angel. She tried to picture the vulnerable face she'd been privy to, the rare occasion his stoic mask slipped, but she couldn't place it. It seemed so out of place at the time, but as she stood looking at his blank face it seemed like the vulnerability had belonged to somebody else entirely.
"Wear red." Tommy commanded. He looked over her slowly, imagining her body delicately wrapped in soft, red material. His head started to feel fuzzy and he blamed it on the concoction of the morning's opium and multiple glasses of whiskey. "Until tomorrow." He nodded at her, walking swiftly out of the pub, refusing to look back.
†
Elizabeth cursed her small heels, gritting her teeth in angst with every sound they made on the cobbled ground. Barking dogs shouted at her, warning her to leave, her sight was obstructed by streams of washing lines and clothes hanging out to dry in the smoky yard. Piles of rubble and bricks lay strewn around the lane, netting covering every window as if to hide the inhabitants from the war zone outside. She was following the drunken Irishman that had sung his terrorist song so loudly inside of the Garrison; she'd waited patiently outside of the Black Swan, and then followed him back home, wanting to see exactly where this man lived. Despite the IRA no longer thought as being responsible for the guns, Elizabeth was still determined to get Inspector Campbell to turn over their houses and arrest them; any reason would do. She knew first hand his savageness towards IRA members, and -more specifically- what he did to people he just suspected were IRA sympathisers. At least this time it would be a dangerous IRA savage at the inspector's mercy, instead of an innocent family man.
She came to a stop realising that she lost her trail. There was no sign of the drunken man and she was about to come to a dead end. The barking of the dogs got louder as her reluctance to continue walking increased. Accepting her defeat, she turned to leave but the sudden attack from behind stops her. Her waist grabbed roughly, a hand covering her mouth in one swift motion, disorientates her momentarily. Her screams were muffled as she was dragged into an alleyway. "Fancy me do ye? What are you? Copper?" The sharp, Irish accent was unmistakable, and the smell of strong liquor hit her nose repulsively. He continued whispering harshly in her ear, restraining her as she struggled against his hold. "I've seen you. I've seen your face serving at the Garrison. I'm taking you in for interrogation on behalf of the Irish free state."
She began to panic, not only was she about to be tortured and most probably murdered, she knew that even if she were to survive her cover would be ruined. Struggling in his grasp, she reached into her handbag with her free hand, wrapping her fingers tightly around the shiny metal of her gun. She pressed herself even closer to him to muffle the sound, and slipped the gun in between their bodies, dispensing the bullet upwards into his chest just as he began to pull her hair. The gunshot echoed throughout the yard, finally silencing the barking dog.
Stumbling back, Elizabeth gasped at what she had done. Blood spattered on her green dress and decorated her pale skin like gruesome freckles, the smell of death sticking in to the back of her throat. The man made no move, she watched for any sign that he was still breathing. Realising the man is dead, she shoved her blood-splattered gun back in to her bag and then ran all the way home. Running straight to the toilet, she crouched in front of the porcelain and emptied her entire stomach content in to the bowl below.
Elizabeth hadn't eaten for the rest of the day due to her nausea. When evening fell and she felt safe under the cover of the night sky, she decided to get some fresh air, hoping a walk would make her feel more human and less like an animal. Less evil. Hoping what she did was forgivable. Killing a man had taken more energy from her than she had ever expected or prepared for and the thought of doing it again made her feel abhorrent, despite her plan of revenge requiring just that.
Inspector Campbell stood at a far enough distance away that to a random onlooker they looked merely like two strangers walking past each other, but they had protection in the depth of the night and the thick smoke that littered the night's air from factory fires. "You had no business." He snapped quietly.
It didn't take a scientist to understand what the inspector was talking about. She decided she shouldn't insult him by playing dumb. "I thought we needed to know where he lived for future intelligence. He dragged me in to an alleyway, I had no choice." Elizabeth protested firmly. The Inspector threatened to pull her off the case, claiming it would be protocol to do so, but the tone of his voice lacked conviction. "No," she answered harshly. "Cheltenham is tomorrow."
"Elizabeth, the death of a base Fenian doesn't concern me. Your welfare does. Killing a man affects the heart. And as for my heart..." Elizabeth's mouth dried instantly, the nauseous feeling returning. It seemed Inspector Campbell was struggling to keep his feelings professional, but she hoped the surly man would be able to refrain from finishing his sentence.
Changing the conversation, Elizabeth looked at Inspector Campbell steadily. "I will be fine. I have a plan."
Grabbing her shoulder in an attempt to offer affection, the Inspector gazed deep into her blue eyes hoping to find the warmth he so desperately wanted to receive. "I will be thinking of you." His fleeting touch lingered on her all through the night, leaving chills in its wake. How foolish the man was, to believe someone as young and beautiful as Elizabeth could reciprocate his affections. How foolish he was to believe his cruel actions in Belfast would never catch up to him. And what a fool he was for making it so much easier for her.
†
Elizabeth had agreed to a short morning shift before the races, only in order to help Harry out. He had commitments that he had to see through but needed the bar to be clean and ordered for the day ahead seeing as he would be without her assistance. Elizabeth took pride in pointing out that Harry had originally told her he didn't need a hand with the pub, and he scowled at her playfully as she teased him.
The pub was almost spotless when Ada Thorne burst through the doors looking borderline hysterical. Her face was tight with worry and her sobs racked through her whole body. It was strange for Elizabeth to see a face so beautiful so affected by pain. "Do you know where Tommy is?" She cried.
"No," Elizabeth frowned. "What's wrong?" she asked, pulling out a seat for her. She didn't expect an answer but she wasn't sure what else to say or what to do.
"They're going to kill each other." Ada sobbed, holding her swollen belly with trembling hands. Still unsure of how to respond, Elizabeth fetched two glasses of whiskey, taking a seat next to the shaking girl. She wondered if Harry would mind her handing out free alcohol, but then reminded herself that Ada was a Shelby too.
"What's going on?" She asked carefully, more concerned with Ada's welfare than collecting information for once. Ada had a sweet and kind face, she decided. Slowly, Ada explained everything to Elizabeth with tearful outbursts and a heavy heart; how she had become pregnant by her lover, Freddie Thorne, how they married in secret, the police threats and offers, and Tommy's active opposition to their union. Elizabeth tried subtly to defend Tommy, asking Ada if it was possible that Tommy could be trying to look out for their best interests, but Ada was having none of it.
"Bullshit!" She shouted, her voice laced with venom and anger. "He can worm his way out of any police trouble when it's his neck that's on the line. If he wanted to, he could make this copper's threats go away. He just doesn't care to because it's Freddie. And now I'm a Thorne, too." Elizabeth had to agree with her there, though she didn't dare voice those thoughts. Thomas Shelby was as sharp as the razors in his cap and he always had a way to manipulate situations so that they suited him; it seemed he was happily using Freddie as a bargaining chip.
After another glass of whiskey each, Ada left the pub in the search of her Aunt Pol. Elizabeth had loved Ada's description of the older woman, deciding that she sounded like an absolute boss. From Ada's portrayal, she knew that Aunt Polly was a woman she didn't want to cross and that despite her iron-fist, she also had a very caring side to her. She wondered if Aunt Pol had been the most care Thomas Shelby ever received, and the thought made her heart hurt.
Locking up the pub for Harry, Elizabeth made her way to her flat so that she could get ready for her day at the races though her mind still thought about Ada and her unborn child – surely so much stress would induce early labour if these men weren't careful. She didn't know Tommy well, but she knew he would be distraught if he felt in any way responsible for her premature labour.
Reaching her home, she paid Ms. Winters the extra money for the privilege of a bath, soaking in the warm, comforting water. She took her time getting ready, putting on her red dress at the request of Tommy. Elizabeth always thought dressing in such bold colours gave out the wrong sort of message. Not that she was the judgmental kind, but she knew other women (and men) would look at her as some sort of whore. Decent women didn't wear such daring colours.
As promised, Tommy picked Elizabeth up from the front of the Garrison, taking the opportunity to rake his eyes over her appearance as he pulled up excruciatingly slowly in his motorcar. The red dress looked even more gorgeous than he could have possibly imagined. Her auburn hair worked well with the dress, not clashing at all as he had expected. She looked like a film star that you would only see at the pictures, not that he would admit that out loud. Thoughts like that remined only in his head.
"Your sister was here." Elizabeth's voice broke the silence. "She was worried about you and Freddie. It made her sick. She's all right, but in her condition, she needs some peace."
Tommy's surprise was evident and he made no move to hide it. Elizabeth observed the cocked eyebrow and wondered what it was that surprised him the most: the fact that her and Ada had discussed such personal matters, or that Elizabeth had the balls to boss him around. She got the feeling not very many people got away with giving the lead Blinder orders. "Your sister is nice, I like her. It can't be easy for her." She offered her opinion, though she knew it was probably less than welcome. "Her brother and her husband fighting over the same thing. Men should talk too, it would save you so much wasted energy."
Tommy chose to ignore her, starting their journey towards the races. As they drove through the cobbled streets of Small Heath towards the races, the roaring fires of factories transformed in to beautiful green fields. Elizabeth thought it was quite wonderful to witness.
The car journey seemed to go by quickly and Elizabeth wondered if it was because she was enjoying the conversation she'd been having with Tommy. She'd voiced her thoughts on how wonderful the scenery was, and asked Tommy if he would allow her to drive, to which he laughed. An actual laugh. Elizabeth held her breath in awe. His face lit up so beautifully when he laughed.
Cheltenham was a busy venue, and Elizabeth had seen nothing like it before in her life. "Have you been here before?" She asked, mesmerised by the amount of people surrounding the tracks. People were dressed up to the nines, and suddenly she didn't feel as, well, whore-ish in her red dress anymore.
"Tracks are lawless places." Was Tommy's answer. "I can't stand petty criminals." The sarcastic tone of voice was softened by his smiling face, and Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh.
"Me neither," she teased, beaming up at him. "Are we going to lay a bet? I've always wanted to lay one."
Tommy shook his head at her naivety. "Gambling is for mugs."
Under Tommy's command, Elizabeth pretended to be Lady Sarah Duggan of Connemara in order to gain access to the private lounge. She shot him a scowl afterwards, unimpressed that their day out was not as he had promised, but couldn't hold it for long before bursting in to laughter. "That was the most nervous I have been in a long time. I can't believe they fell for it."
Tommy smiled at her innocence, scanning the room briefly. What he was looking for Elizabeth was unsure. It was times like this when Elizabeth really could see the soldier in him – he was constantly watching, on alert, always ready with a plan for any scenario. She too took the time to observe the room around her, watching as the band created upbeat music for the dancers to move to. The flowers and bouquets were extravagant and beautiful, and the sparkling drapes that decorated the walls screamed extreme wealth. Elizabeth was sure she had never been in a room that held this much money before. The dance floor beneath the stage was full of couples dancing and the balconies overhead offered guests a view of the lively scenes below.
Tommy offered his hand to Elizabeth, addressing her as Lady Sarah jovially. Elizabeth stared as he asked her to dance formally, a move she was not expecting from such a serious man. "Why, of course." She accepted using the same posh voice she had used to fool the guards, giggling like a school girl all the while.
It soon became apparent that Tommy's motives for the day at the races were strictly business, and that he had been flaunting her in front of Billy Kimber the whole time. Trying not to scowl at being used like a chess piece, Elizabeth sat at the bar and waited for Tommy to finish up his business. As she sipped her drink, Billy Kimber approached her cockily. "Your man said it was alright for me to have this dance." He told her, offering his hand. She knew the offer wasn't optional, and took his hand begrudgingly, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. It didn't take long for Elizabeth to spot the red handkerchief he sported, and she felt her teeth grind in irritation. Billy was too close and too hands-on for her liking. She tried to resist the urge to kick him in the shin and run away.
Eventually, Billy left Elizabeth to go back to the meeting. He began talking to Tommy and his accountant, the three of them casting glances her way. Billy looked far too eager for her liking and she began to worry that her appearance at the races was bait for Billy; she knew how ruthless Tommy could be from his files, and knew he would happily treat her as a clause in a contract if it meant he got what he wanted. She watched on as Billy and his accountant looked shocked, Billy looking over her with disgust in his face. Hiding her interest, she continued drinking her drink by the bar. When finally a deal was struck and hands were shook, Tommy came back over to her with the most satisfied grin she had ever seen plastered all over his face.
"And may I ask, Mr. Shelby, what got Mr. Kimber to look at me with such distaste?" She cocked a brow tauntingly, tilting her head to the side.
The corner of Tommy's plump lips pulled up in to a smirk and he looked down at her with his clever, sharp blue eyes. "He wanted two hours with you as part of our deal," he paused for dramatic effect, relishing in the way Elizabeth scrunched up her nose. "I told him you looked good on the outside but that you had the clap."
Elizabeth burst in to laughter, shaking her head at his absurd antics. "At the start of the day I was Lady Sarah Duggan of Connemara and by the end of the day I am a whore with the clap." A real, decent lady would have been horrified to discover such things being said about her, but Elizabeth found hilarity in it all. She felt so relieved and safe in the hands of Tommy, comforted by his gentlemanly protection. "So, you think I look good on the outside then?" She teased.
He gave her a small, knowing smile. "Right, I say that's enough dancing, ey? We came here to watch some bloody races."