Wear Iron//Thomas Shelby

two

In an attempt to keep some of the money I make for my family legal I work part time at the Garrison pub. I got the job during the war when things were uncertain with the Shelby Company and I needed some reassurance that my family wouldn't go hungry.

Harry is sweeping up as I stand behind the bar.

"You know this is your job," Harry tells me.

I smile. "Then why are you doing it?"

He looks from me to the broom. "I don't know."

The door opens and I look over with curiosity. It's a little too early for any of the boys to be coming in. Most are still sleeping off the drinks from the night before. I'm surprised to see a girl a few years older than me walk in.

"I'm here about the job as a barmaid," the girl says.

"Are you mad?" Harry asks.

The girl looks confused. "Am I what?"

"Do you know about this place?" I ask.

"I saw it in an advertisement," the girl explains.

"Job's been filled," Harry states.

"It was in yesterday's paper," the girl insists.

"Believe me, love, I'm doing you a favour," Harry insists.

"I'm not asking for favours, I'm asking for employment," the girl tells him.

"You're too... nice," Harry tells her.

"How would you know?" the girl asks.

"And too pretty," I add. "They'd have you up against a wall."

"I have experience and references," the girl says as she hands Harry a paper.

"What part of Ireland are you from?" Harry asks.

"Galway," she tells him. "I worked in Dublin."

"Me mother was from Galway," Harry says. "You're too pretty."

"Watch." The girl puts her bag down and takes her hat off. "And listen. She starts to sing as she shows Harry she can barmaid. "I wish I was in Carrickfergus. Only for nights in Ballygrand. I would swim over the deepest ocean. The deepest ocean my love to find. My boyhood friends and my own relations. Have all passed on now like the melting snow." Harry laughs. "In Ireland my singing made them cry and stopped them fighting."

"Well, I hope you know a lot of songs," Harry remarks.

It's a busy day at the Garrison. I've gotten to know Grace. She seems like a nice girl. If she's working here she has to have some toughness to her though. The place is packed.

"Is it always this busy on a daytime?" Grace asks.

"No. These boys are on their way to St Andrews," I tell her.

"To pray?" Grace asks.

Harry laughs. "That'll be the day. St Andrews is a football ground."

"The Blues are playing," I tell her. "That's the forward line there. And that's the goalie, believe it or not."

Tommy opens the shudders in the window into the private room at the end of the bar. "I need a bottle of rum."

"Grace, whatever it is, it's on the house," Harry tells her.

"A whole bottle?" Grace asks.

Tommy nods. "Yeah."

"White or dark rum?" Grace asks.