Nothing is, but what is not // John Shelby

VIII

Two weeks passed; Beth menaged to finally get used to life she now had in Birmingham. She took a train to London as often as she could, spending as much time in the theatre as possible, but still trying to be back home before sunset. She heard a lot of whispers between people, who were talking about 'accidents' that were happening at night. Also, she still remembered her conversation with the salesgirl from the bakery. Beth still hadn't found who the Peaky Blinders were, but she knew that she should stay away from them when she found out.

John visited her a few times. Usually it was in the evening, just a quick tea, which served as a time for him to complain about his children and how unbearable they became after their mother, his wife died. He just lost control over them. Yet, no matter how ruggish he was sometimes, Beth still enjoyed his company. Everything was better than being home alone, thinking about the life in London she once had and now lost.

This was one of those evenings. Beth was occupied with creating a new costume, kneeling on the floor, putting the pattern on the fabric. Warm light from the oil light was dancing on her tired face, as if she was in some trance. A strong knocking at her door made her emerge.

"Good evening" she smiled slightly, seeing John on the other side of the door. He was just putting his hat into his pocket. Something always shone in its peak, but she never bothered to ask about it.

"Have you had at least ten minutes of a break today?" John's only response to her greeting was a nod of his head. The girl started taking some threads off her skirt and shirt.

"I need to finish this project by next Friday," Beth explained, letting John inside, quickly taking his elbow as he took a step forward. "Don't step on the fabric. It was expensive" she warned him as she had already learned that John was not the most observant person in the world. As she raised her head to look at him, she noticed a purple bruise shedding under his skin on his jaw.

"What happened?" she asked, pointing at the bruise.

"Nothing" the man shrugged, his answer was quick "I must've hit myself or something."

John walked into the kitchen, where on the table there was a sketchbook with many messy notes and drawings, surrounded by different pieces of fabric, needles, threads and buttons. Beth was trying to keep her workspace tidy, but it was slowly getting out of control. The girl rubbed her eyes, filling the heavy kettle with water, which she put on the cold stove. She forgot about it today.

"Sit. I'll do it" John wanted to sound helpful, but his voice was more imperious, which he noticed by how Beth flinched, hearing it "You're ot even thirty, and you're already overworked" he added firmly, grabbing the bucked with coal to start a fire. The girl yawned, confirming the truth of his words.

"I have to finish it for Friday" she said again, pointing at the fabric taking up the entire floor as well as her bed.

"You should go somewhere. Have fun" John prodded her slightly "Just this one night" his blue eyes were waiting for her to give in.

"I can't..." she groaned, looking around. In her head she was going through all of the work she still had to do. She had six days to finish.

"Of course you can," the man brushed a few small threads off Beth's knee. "I would even say that you have to" the water in the kettle started boiling, so before the girl responded, John stood up to find two cups. It was cold here, so he was sure that Beth needed something hot to drink.

"Drink" he handed her the steaming tea "And then you're going to the pub with me. And I won't accept a no" John winked at her in that charming way.

***

John opened the door for Beth, letting her enter the warm building first. The room was crowded. A few men turned around to see who just came in. Some conversations faded, others changed into emotional whispers. John didn't seem bothered, and walked straight to the counter.

"Good evening, Mr Shelby" the barman smiled, but Beth couldn't get rid of the thought that there was something forced about that smile.

"Hello, Harry" John leaned on the counter "The usual" he shrugged and then looked at the girl "Gin Fizz?"

"Yes" Beth smiled and reached into her pocket to find her wallet, but the barman quickly opposed.

"There is no need for that, miss" Harry gave John a quick glimpse, as if he was seeking for his approval "No need."

"Maybe you were right. I should go out with you more often" said Beth, when they both sat at the table, which mysteriously remained free, despising people crowded in the room. She also couldn't help, but notice that she had enough space to still feel some privacy.

"Because?"

"Because never in my life I got a free drink, and with you it's the second time" the girl explained, taking the first sip.

"Pretty sweethearts like you shouldn't have to pay for themselves" John shrugged, tasting his whiskey.

"I am far from pretty today" that was not completely untrue. Her eyes were a little red from the lack of sleep and her skin seemed somehow greyish. John was right, she was overworked.

After few minutes of silence, interrupted by gales of laughter and loud conversations of men around them, Beth looked down at her Gin Fizz and started talking.

"We're putting on a new show in December" she decided to explain why she was working so much. She put the glass on the table, playing with it, but still being careful not to spill anything "Well, we would like to put on a new show, to be precise"

"You're working on clothes for a play, not even being sure if it is going to be put on?" John spit, rolling his eyes "Bloody theatre"

"Don't say that" the girl looked at him with indignation "Makbet is a great play" she noticed that the man frowned, so she added a quick "Shakespeare" that made him nod. He knew Beth for long enough to know that there was no point in trying to discuss that man's genius. Not that he had any knowledge on that topic.

"We're putting on this play" she said firmly, but the corner of her lips twitched, which she covered with her glass, taking a very long sip.

"Why wouldn't you?" Beth sighed, thinking about the answer.

"The audience is never full anymore, because of the murder" she murmured reluctantly "People are trying to forget about the war, but it is hard to do that somewhere, where they still have blood on the carpet" she looked down at her fingers, nervously tapping the table with them.

"Motherfucker ruined your business, eh?" John stared at Beth, the melting ice moving in the glass, that he couldn't stop moving.

"Not mine" the girl shrugged "But I probably need to start looking for a new job" she sighed again, running her hand through the hair in frustration. She tightened her fingers on the glass, getting lost in her thoughts. She knew that sooner or later it would come to this. Even during the best days of the theatre, it was hard to make a living only from that. Especially in London. Beth couldn't fell lower. She couldn't not be able to afford living in such a terrible place like Birmingham.