Tommy Shelby ~ Between the Walls and the Whiskey

Untitled Part 1

"She can't work here Tommy. Now I know Jeremiah's one of your mates, he's been workin' with us for a long time. Hell, he's like family. But; it just isn't right."

Thomas Shelby looked up at his older brother, the frantic worry in Arthur's glassy eyes making him look every bit as mad as he really was.

John, the youngest of the three old enough to drink, stood beside him with his arms crossed, the toothpick held between his lips bobbing up and down, his jaw muscles working as he held back his own opinion on the matter.

Tommy knew this was coming, he'd known it the moment he told Jeremiah Jesus that his niece could be expected at work tonight.

The news of her had traveled faster than he'd anticipated but he was far from surprised.

With a few words he could silence the family on the topic for good, but he wouldn't hush them like dogs. He liked a bit of a fight every once in a while, and he didn't mind it now because nothing they could say would change his mind.

Jeremiah was a good man who'd done a lot of work with him, he could be counted on in a fight and had been there to help when things got out of hand with rival gangs. He was without question one of Tommy's most loyal friends, and he would not let the man down now.

"Alright Arthur." Tommy said sitting up. He grabbed his glass of whiskey and took a quick swallow of the stuff. It left a familiar trail of fire down his throat ending with an explosion of warmth in his belly. "You go on, tell Jeremiah that we wont take her on because she's the wrong color. Go on and tell him yourself. It's your bar after all." He said, blue eyes fixed calmly on his now sweating older brother.

Arthur began to fidget, the idea of heavy responsibility instantly overwhelming to him.

He took a step back, ran a callused hand through his flopping hair, crossed his arms then uncrossed them. He looked to his little brother John, getting no more than a cocky grin from that one, then back to Tommy.

It became obvious to them all that he had   nothing to say because nothing could be said.

He couldn't do it. No matter how wrong he thought it was, he knew just like Tommy, that if they could have both Isaiah and Jeremiah on the payroll, they could have the girl.

With a sigh and a shove off the edge of the table, Arthur shook his head and gave up the fight. "Fine," He said turning to go, but stopped and spun on his heels to add. "But she's not allowed behind the bar. None of the men will drink if she pours."

Tommy nodded over his glass, but ignored his brothers illogical comment. Men will always accept a drink and make any excuse to justify their needs.

He moved on from the discussion, his mind already busy working on things more important than what the men might think of the new serving girl. But for her sake he hoped she was quick on her feet and brave enough for life in the Garrison.

*

The night brought out the worst in people, and Cecilia Clark knew it as she shut the door to her uncles house behind her.

She stood clutching her small pocket book looking up and down the gravel before taking that first step out into the cool night air. She would just have to keep her eyes open, and her head clear as she walked the unfamiliar streets.

It was late, most people were on their way home from long shifts at factories and shops, while others with no desire to head home would be walking in the same direction as she, towards the bars. Dusk was like dawn for them, the start of life, the promise of a little excitement, and maybe some relief from the endless drudgery of the day.