War. The first man-made catastrophe of the twentieth century. The Great War lasted four years. After the loss of many lives, the war was finally over. On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918, a cease-fire went into effect for all...
You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something in your life. - Winston Churchill
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Give me a bottle of whiskey and three glasses, please." Tommy asked through the doors of the private room.
"Oh, so you do have manners." Lillian teased with a small smile, which he returned.
"Scotch or Irish?" Grace interrupted, and his smile disappeared.
"Irish." He answered, and Lillian nodded, grabbing it quickly before Grace could and went over to him.
"I've decided not to go, to the races. Not unless you give me another two-pound, ten shilling, towards the dress." He smiled at her, shaking his head.
"I've already given you three." He said, and Lillian shrugged.
"How much did you pay for the suit you'll be wearing?" She asked, and he smirked at her.
"Oh, I don't pay for suits. My suits are on the house or the house burns down."
"So, you want me to go looking like a flower girl?" Lillian asked sarcastically.
"What I want makes no difference. It's not me you're dressing up for." He said, and Lillian rolled her eyes, giving him a fake smile before shutting the door in face and turning back to the bar to see Grace looking at her suspiciously.
"You're going to the races, with Mr. Shelby?" She asked, and Lillian nodded.
"Yes, me and Tommy are and that's all I'll say on the matter."
It wasn't a long meeting as half way through it Lillian could hear one of the men singing, the door opened revealing the other man was pulling the other one out as he sang songs about the IRA. "All right, boys. If I hear anything about who knows what about what, I'll let you know." Tommy shouted after them as he sang louder, he turned back to the bar, seeing Lillian and Grace behind it and made his way to Lillian with a shake of his head and smile on his face as he put the nearly empty bottle of whiskey on the bar. Lillian smiled, leaning onto the bar with her arms.
"I thought you only allowed singing on a Saturday." She said with a knowing look and he scoffed playfully.
"Whiskey is good proofing water. It tells you who's real and who isn't." he replied with a puff of smoke.
"And what did my countrymen want?" Grace piped up and Lillian rolled her eyes at her being nosy again.
"They're nobodies. They drink in The Black Swan in Sparkbrook. They're only rebels because they like the songs." He explained.
"You have sympathies with them?" Grace asked.
"I have no sympathies of any description." He replied.
