Bloodsport ; tommy shelby

𝒕𝒘𝒐 - whiskey with a glass

Iris was overwhelmed by deja-vu as she passed through the cobbled streets of Small Heath. She watched as the children ran barefoot on the pavement while their mothers hung up laundry, and remembered she and her sister chasing their brothers and playing in the mud. She felt a warmth towards her childhood for a moment, but it was quickly replaced by a cold chill of the bitter memories that followed in the years after it. She turned away, keeping her eyes upfront.

Iris reached a street of shops and walked until she passed a small bed and breakfast on the corner with the sign 'HELP WANTED' in the window. It didn't look too mad, and Iris could do with the cash considering she'd already found a pokey flat that had rent she needed to pay. Jobs were scarce in a town like this, so she knew to take what she could get.

Inside was deserted, so Iris rang the bell on the front desk.

"Hello?" She called.

There was a rumble from upstairs and a small, pretty girl with mousy brown hair scampered downstairs in a maid's uniform, feather duster in hand.

She took one look at Iris and called "MARGIE!" At the top of her lungs. "Sorry madam, I'd check you in myself but I'm awfully incompetent when it comes to numbers. MARGIE!"

"Actually, I—" Iris began.

"For heavens' sake, Betty, what have I told you about screaming the place down," a much older woman bustled in looking rather flustered. "People pay good money to be woken up at a certain time and it is half an hour too early."

"Sorry Marge," Betty blushed. "There's a customer," she gestured towards Iris.

"Actually, I came here for a job." Iris said.

Betty and Margie exchanged a look and chuckled.

"Funny," Margie said. "Garden or canal view?"

"I'm not joking," Iris said.

"What does a girl like you want working here?" The older woman asked, looking her outfit up and down.

"I'm skint, honestly," Iris pleaded. "Please?"

"Then sell your coat." Margie said. "We're not hiring."

"But you put a sign up in the wind—," Betty began, but was cut off by a warning glare.

"I'd rather not freeze to death this winter, so no thank you," Iris said dryly.

"Why would I hire you, then?" Margie asked tiredly, lighting a cigarette.

Betty coughed, covering her mouth.

"Unlike Betty here, I'm good with numbers, so I can work at the till when you're busy," Iris said. "I cook, clean, mend and do laundry, whatever you like, and I can work long hours into the night. I worked my whole childhood, believe it or not. That's why you should hire me, Margie, unless you really don't like my coat that much."

Betty grinned, and Margie tapped the ash off her cigarette while sizing Iris up one more time.

"Two questions," Margie said. "What's your name?"

"Iris Hancock."

"And when can you start?"

"Right now."

"That's the spirit."

♞

After a strenuous shift of cleaning rooms and changing bed sheets, Iris took Betty to the Garrison for drinks. She found herself oddly warming to the chatty girl, and they walked into the pub arm in arm in their black maids dresses with white collars and aprons.