In which a girl attempts to outrun her past only to catch the attention of the ruthless leader of the Peaky Blinders.
or
In which the arrival of the new brown-haired barmaid at the Garrison should have been the canary in the coal mine for the trou...
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Tommy
They had been betrayed and Kimber's boys were heading this way; his plans for black star day were ruined. He had just sent Polly and Ada on their way out of Small Heath, getting them out of the line of fire was a top priority.
Tommy was walking down the lane as his brother approached him, a bag of weapons in hand.
"Tommy. We've had word from Nipper at Hay Mills, and he says the police are letting them through. And how come all our police have disappeared?" John said jogging to catch up with Tommy's fast pace.
"Because it was the police who told Kimber about our plan," Tommy said in response. He knew this must have been Grace's final parting gift before she left.
"And who told the police?" John asked
"You know what, John? For all I think I'm the smart one... I'm guessing it was me." Tommy said in a vague response. Even though it was ultimately Grace who told the police he still felt at fault as he should have suspected her sooner.
Tommy and John approached the small group of men. It was not a sizable force but it was the best they had. He had fought with these men in France and he would have to ask them to fight once more. Tommy climbed atop the loading bay to address his men.
"All right, men... you were mostly in the war, so you know that battle plans always change and get fսckеd up. Well, here it is. Things have changed. We fight them here. Today. Alone. Now, they're going to come for the pub. They're going to try to break us up for good. And we'll have no help from the law today. That pub there is called the Garrison. Well, now it really is one. And it belongs to us, right?" Tommy said trying to boost morale.
"Right!" his men cheered.
"How many are there?" Arthur asked
"Jeremiah says two Riley vans. So I reckon we're outnumbered three to one" Tommy answered honestly. The truth was bleak but these men deserved to know what they were getting into. They were no longer in France, they could leave at any time.
"Ah... fսck," Arthus said in response and Tommy couldn't blame him; the odds were not in their favor.
"But it's us, boys. It's us. The Small Heath Rifles. Never lost a fight yet, did we? Tommy tried again to boost spirits. He couldn't lose to Kimber. He had already lost Elena, he couldn't lose the Peaky Blinders as well.
"No!" his men cheered again.
"All right. Jeremiah. I know you vowed to God to never pick up a weapon again. But can you ask him for me if you can help us today?" Tommy asked Jeremiah. Every extra weapon in hand was an extra chance they could possibly survive this.
"God says he don't deal with Small Heath, sir," Jeremiah said in response indicating he would fight today.
"Good man. Arthur, Scudboat. You take the flanks. Just like at St Marie. Curly, if any Shelby man dies here today, you bury us side by side. All right. We've about ten minutes. Make your peace with whoever" Tommy said as he ran off to the bar. He had unfinished business he needed to sort out before it was too late.
