Wear Iron//Thomas Shelby

six

I stand behind the bar at the Garrison. Grace is standing next to me. The only other person in the pub is Tommy. He's here early 'cause he's having a meeting with some Irishman.

"Can I ask you a question?" Grace asks.

"You can ask. I may not answer," I tell her.

Grace looks at me quite seriously. "What does Tommy want from me?"

"I don't know," I confess.

"I imagine you know why he wants me to go to the races with him," Grace says.

"I can think of about ten different reasons in my head but I don't know that any are what Tommy has planned," I explain.

"You two seem very close," Grace states.

I nod my head. "Things changed when Tommy came back from France. The last thing my brother Sawyer said to him was to look out for me when he made it back home. I guess Tommy is just keeping a promise."

"By getting you involved in his family business?" Grace asks.

I shake my head. "I got myself involved. When the men went to war Polly took over. I was her right hand woman. I needed a way to make money with my husband and brothers away."

Grace looks at me surprised. "You're married?"

"I was," I confess. "My husband George died in France."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Grace offers. "I thought that you and Tommy may be..."

"No." I shake my head. "I mean Tommy is quite nice to look at," I laugh as Grace smiles, "But him and I we... I don't know. We're just good friends."

Tommy opens the window to his private room.

"Give me a bottle of whiskey and four glasses please," Tommy tells Grace.

"Scotch or Irish?" Grace asks.

"Irish," Tommy tells her.

"I've decided not to go. To the races. Not unless you give me two pounds, ten shillings towards the dress," Grace says as she hands Tommy the bottle and glasses.

"I've already given you three," Tommy reminds her.

"How much did you pay for the suit you'll be wearing?" Grace asks.

"Oh, I don't pay for suits," Tommy informs her. "My suits are on the house or the house burns down."

"So you want me to go looking like a flower girl?" Grace jokes.

"What I want makes no difference," Tommy tells her. "It's not me you're dressing up for." Tommy points to me. "In here now."

I roll my eyes as I turn to Grace. "If you need me just shout."

I sit next to Tommy as two men walk into the room. Tommy pours a glass of whiskey for all of us.

"You'll forgive me, Mr Shelby, if I indulge a little," one of the men says as he grabs the whiskey bottle to pour himself more.

"Please," Tommy says.

"It takes a lot for a man from Sparkbrook to step inside this pub," the man offers.

"Anyone with money and good intentions is welcome in the Garrison," Tommy tells him. "Now... you said you had business."

"It's delicate, Mr Shelby," the man says. "It's a question of who knows what about what. It concerns the factory down the road, at the BSA. As you might know, most of the paint shop there is Irish. Big old place like that, rumours get started."