Peaky Blinders One Shots

7. Bar Part 2

"I dug out a dress like you asked." I tried steering the conversation from a topic we both equally despised, "Is it Cheltenham you talked about?" I had asked around about the races he must have referred to.

"Cheltenham is a grand affair, is it not?" I prodded further.

"The King will be there," he said lighting a cigarette. he offered me one but I declined.

"King George?" I asked in amazement.

"Nope, King Billy Kimber and all his men," he said almost dreamily.

"And what must I do?" I asked grabbing the bottle from the table and pouring myself a drink.

"For two pounds you'll do as I ask you to do," he answered.

"I want three." I countered and he scoffed seeming amused, I went on "If I am meeting a king I won't be wearing a cheap dress. And you reinstate singing in the bar like I requested that is part of the deal now too."

If this was my fate, whoring myself out then I better make it worth my while. At least I would get something more out of this. 

I did not know where this bravery was coming from but Thomas Shelby did not seem to terrify me like he did everyone else.

"Since when?" the corners of his lips turned upwards.

"Since you nearly smiled." I said smiling, "Saturday nights, open and easy. Singing is one cure I have found for the blues, it lifts everyone's spirits and it won't cost you a penny."

"Is that what you did back at your place before you got here?" he asked.

The smile slipped from my face as flashes of the grand Fordville parties and concerts came up in my head. I was always commissioned to play and sing. The governess always said I was the best singer among the girls. 

"What is it? Miss playing the piano in your little parties?" he continued.

"That is not true," I said finally. Mustering enough courage to move past those memories. 

"Don't lie to me." he said locking me with his gaze, "you cannot hide pedigree. My guess is: You're a girl from a good family who got herself pregnant. Bringing a child alone into this world ruined you. Right?"

I took a deep breath to compose myself. He was far from the truth but I did not want to confirm or deny his theory.

"It is not something I like to discuss," I answered.

"So, I am right and Polly is wrong."

"Right about what?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter." he shook his head.

"It matters to you."

"Family business," he said cryptically. I dropped it.
"So what do you sing?" he asked after a moment.

"Anything you want."

"Right, get up on a chair." he banged the table and demanded, leaning back.

I pulled a chair obediently and stood up on it.

"Happy or sad?" I asked.

"Sad." he declared after deliberating for a second.

"I warn you, it will break your heart."

"Already broken." He said shaking his head slightly. I sensed that look in his eyes again. A broken heart that seemed like it would never heal. I understood more than most about what that felt like.

At that moment I felt that we were kindred souls in this pub, hiding secrets, trying to skirt around difficult conversations and concealing as much as possible. I sang him Belfast, not breaking his stare. He seemed transfixed but then he closed his eyes and bowed his head and there he stayed till the song ended.