- CHAPTER ELEVEN -
- IN WHICH SHE HELPS GRACE
. . .
Rory spent the few days reading various books by herself, and she had enjoyed it all too much, Sadie coming and making herself comfortable on her lap, everyone else staying clear of the attic in hopes of not getting dragged into reading with her.
After making sure Ada and the baby were as settled as they could be, Rory, Polly and Esme had gone back to their homes and welcomed sleep easily, hoping that the mother and baby would be fine for the night. She awoke the next morning to Polly knocking on her door, and within an hour, was ready to leave, having bathed, changed and eaten before setting off to Ada's house to offer up some groceries.
Polly had offered a lift to the Betting Den, but she wanted to talk to Tommy about something beforehand. Together they decided that she would come by later that day after her shift in the pub, so that she could also check up on the latest about Freddy. Honestly the Miller was still in shock over what happened, and really wanted to try and get the Thorne woman out of her depressive state.
In the meantime, she had stopped by the local shops as she walked back from Ada's house and picked up a few things as she had promised Harry and Arthur for the pub, before slipping back through the Garrison doors, almost walking into a broom that Grace had propped up against the wall.
Who was currently pouring a pint for one of the men that had just arrived. "I'm going crazy." She spoke as Rory appeared behind the bar, dragging a bag of glasses with her, stacking them up on a shelf below the counter. "I still have work to do for Tommy and manage here."
"Well, I'm working here now." Rory blinked, tying an apron over the top of her skirt. "If you bring his paperwork out you can do it here and we can do that and serve at the same time."
"Yes – good idea." A relieved smile grew on Grace's lips, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears as she began around the bar towards the office at the back.
Rory glanced over the pub, watching as a group of men at the back passed a cigar between them whilst playing a drinking game of some kind. They came in at least twice a week, and quite frankly, they weren't her favourite customers to serve. But they paid an awful lot of money for the best drinks the pub had so she couldn't really complain.
"Right." Grace's shoes clicked across the wooden floor, a file tucked under her arms and a selection of pens sticking out of her apron pocket. "It's hard to decipher which of these are new and old. Tommy has a strange way of working." She laid out a selection of letters in the very corner of the bar.
"Do they have dates on them? That seems like the logical thing to use in these situations." Rory's gaze skimmed the papers, picking up a pen and notebook from below the bar and then walking around it.
"Hey- miss." One of the men from the group called her over, and with a quiet sigh she headed in their direction. "We need six beers and a whiskey. Add it on the tab, the pretty blond one over there has it set up." He gestured to Grace who'd begun reading through envelopes, paying no mind to what was being said.
"Yeah right, I'll be back in a second." Rory twisted away, jumping to a few more tables and collecting glass that needed refills before heading back to the bar and filling each of them with what was wanted. "Some of them are so rude." She sighed out, placing the six beers and one whiskey on a tray, and then carrying it back to the table.
"Thanks, love." The closest man said when she placed the tray on the table, he and the others were all at least tipsy, if not worse. "What did you say your name was?"
"Delilah." Rory smiled amusedly. Every time they came in, they asked for her name, and every time they got a different answer.
"They're much too slow for anyone's good." Grace sighed out as she sidled back behind the bar, peering up from her notebook to watch Rory begin with her next tray of drinks. "How can someone possible become drunk before the time's even eleven in the morning?"
Rory shrugged, watching the men down their next glasses, one of the others counting with an eager expression. After that everything just got louder. The men got drunker and eventually stumbled out of the building, new adults coming in for actual food and not just the drinks which seemed to be what most came for.
After a while John and Arthur came in, their loud laughs interrupting the still air. "There you are, Rory, we've been looking for you." The eldest brother came behind the bar, grabbing himself a glass and a few bottles of different drinks from the shelf behind.
"Oh?" Rory watched the two men sceptically, eyeing the drops of beer that missed the glass. "And why would that be?"
"When you've finished the shift, Tommy wants you to come with us down to this boxing ring. It's not got his approval – wants it shut down." John explained, leaning on the counter, and watching intently as she laid out a group of drinks on a tray.
"Well, I finish in an hour, and I need to change so I'll come to the Betting Den when I'm ready?"
The boys nodded, matching grins falling onto their faces. They might be happy to enter the building but Rory was a bit more hesitant.
✧
YOU ARE READING
𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙮, John Shelby
Fanfiction-JoHn ShElbY :: 𐐪𐑂 She liked the details they didn't see. The way one's eyes portrayed their emotions when the rest of their body seemed completely static, the way they acted differently to the people around them, the way they second guessed their...
