6

Chapter One

Birmingham seemed especially dingy this early morning Thomas Shelby noticed as he made his way down the street. He looked up from under his cap at the smoke rising from the chimneys to check the sky but all his eyes were met with were fog and cloud cover. It didn't seem the sun would be making an appearance any time soon.

He looked back down at the ground to be sure he didn't step in a mud puddle as he continued his brisk walk to The Garrison, the local pub that he and the other Peaky Blinders enjoyed spending their down time in.

Although, Tommy wasn't so sure how much the landlord, Harry Fenton, was going to like him today as he planned on buying the pub from him without him ever having expressed an interest in selling, but that was the way with the Peaky Blinders. Besides, he was planning on giving it to his brother, Arthur, who had always talked about owning a pub. A gift, really.

Granted Tommy planned on using the pub as a legitimate business to cover what they actually did for money. But it was really the thought that counted, right?

Tommy turned the handle of the pub and swung open the door.

"Mr. Shelby! Yor a soight for sore eyes. 'Ow are yeh?" Harry Fenton asked.

"Fine, Harry. How's business?" Thomas politely asked back. Better to be polite and all business in this situation. Regardless of what anyone thought, Thomas still got a bit anxious whenever he was handling Blinder business. Especially by himself.

"Oh, the usual. Nothin' terribly exciting. What brings you in so early this mornin'?"

"I'm here to make you an offer." Tommy replied back shortly in his usual brusque manner, his voice like quiet thunder rolling in the distance.

"An offer, eh?" Harry replied back nervously. He used the rag in his hand to quickly wipe his forehead. "Wot kind of an offer there, Tom?"

"I want to buy The Garrison from yeh," Tom stated as he threw a bag of heavy coin on the counter.

Harry scratched his temple as he looked down at the bag. "Yeah?" he said back in that same nervous tone. "Wot for?"

Thomas raised his eyes to the now previous landlord. "My brother Arthur has always wanted to run a pub of 'is own. Not that that should matter," his gaze freezing Harry where he stood with his eyes cold as ice. Eyes to match a soul, Thomas joked frequently.

"Of course not, Mr. Shelby!" Harry started quickly, "I only meant I 'adn't known you was interested in buyin' a pub."

"Of course, Harry. Simple mistake," Thomas relented. He didn't want to shout unless it was necessary. It was important that people follow his instructions without him having to raise his voice. Him ordering it ought to be plenty enough reason to do as he said.

Harry Fenton picked up the bag in defeat, weighing it in his hand.

"There's more than enough there. And of course, you are welcome to continue working here. I would hire some help as well if I were you. I plan on making sure this place stays busy," Tommy said in his kindest voice instead of his usual short tone. This was a happy occasion after all. The Shelby family now owned its first legitimate business and many cups would be poured this evening in celebration.

"Of course, Mr. Shelby. I'll put an ad in the paper tomorrow," Harry said back with that nervous smile painted on his face.

Tom nodded his head in approval and turned to leave, the wind closing the door of the pub behind him.

The walk back home seemed shorter than it had on the way to the pub for which Tommy was grateful as it seemed the air was only getting colder. Spring was nowhere near this early in March, but it sure felt like the middle of winter at the moment.

Tom walked into the kitchen where his Aunt Polly was sipping a cup of tea with the paper spread open in front of her and his younger brother John was shoveling porridge into his mouth.

John looked up and acknowledged Tommy's entrance while Aunt Polly acted as if he weren't even there. I suppose she was still mad at him for something he couldn't remember. At least, that always seemed to be the case lately. There was a time when he and his Aunt had been fairly close. She had raised them as her own after their mother died and their father left to go drink and gamble his life away.

"Where's Arthur?" Tom asked.

"Sleepin'," John answered. "Rough night last night."

"Every night is a rough night for Arthur," Tommy answered back in a slightly bitter voice. Another reason Tommy had bought the pub was in hopes that it might give his brother something to focus on other than the bottom of a glass or getting a woman on her back.

The War had affected each of the brother's in different ways. For John it made him grow up too quickly. He seemed to be in such a rush to be a man nowadays that his childhood never had its proper phasing out period. He still laughed more than the other two, but his heart wasn't in it the same way.

Tommy became more calculated. Cold. Fierce. A force to be reckoned with and not necessarily in the best way. It lit a fire under him that nothing could extinguish; a fire to become great and to bring his family with him. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life scrambling. He wanted it all and would do whatever it took to get there.

And for Arthur…well. Arthur also had a fire lit under him, but not in the same direct way that Tommy did. His fire was fueled by whiskey and woman and making sure he went after life in the most dangerous ways possible. He would go into fits if he had been into his cups too much which was frequent. He was like a ticking time bomb, a grenade with a trip wire hidden somewhere bound to go off at any moment.

Tom worried about him a lot, but it was getting to the point where he was becoming more of an annoyance and you did not want to be an annoyance to Thomas Shelby. Blood or otherwise.

Tommy decided that Arthur had slept long enough and took the steps two at a time to go wake his drunken brother and let him know it was time to clean up. He had a new job to do.

"Arthur!" Tommy bellowed as he rapped the door. "Arthur, get up you drunken lout!"

Muffled tones and cursing could be heard from behind the door. Thomas tried the door and found it unlocked so he pushed it open. His nose was met with a pungent smell of sex, stale cigarettes, and old whiskey. He peered around the corner to where the fireplace stood and saw Arthur pulling his socks on sitting in his armchair.

"'Ello, Tommy. Wot do I owe this fine pleasure this mornin'?" Arthur slurred in his usual manner. You never could tell if he was just drunk or half asleep as those were Arthur's two default states of living.

"I bring news," Tommy said in a cheerful voice choosing to ignore the state of the room. His wasn't much better after all.

"Eh?" Arthur said back as he pulled his other sock on. "Good news I 'ope?"

"I think so," Tommy smiled back. "This mornin' I went down to The Garrison and had a chat with old Harry Fenton and made 'im an offer."

Arthur's brow furrowed and his mustache twitched upward. "An offer?" he asked.

"Aye, an offer. For the pub. And he sold it to me," Tommy said back and raised his own eyebrows in question of Arthur's response.

"You bought the pub?" Arthur asked confused. "Can we afford that?"

"We've been doing quite well. We have the money," Tommy smiled, pleased with Arthur's concern. "Plus, we need a legitimate business to pass our money through now that we might be taken note of by the police 'round here. We're more than just trouble makers now, Arthur."

"Yeah?" Arthur beamed back. "A pub of our own?"

"Your pub, Arthur. We'll put your name above the door and everythin'."

Tommy clapped his brother on the back, happy with the exchange. He loved when something not only benefited the family business, but his family as well. The War may have made him cold, but his family was everything to him.

Tommy made his way back downstairs to see Polly flipping through the day's mail as he made his way to the cupboard to fetch a glass. His hand paused over the tumblers and tea cups. It's only 8 am, he thought and settled on a cup and saucer instead of the whiskey glass.

Polly looked up and raised a delicate eyebrow in his direction and choice of glass, but didn't say anything. It was unlike her nephew to drink much tea nowadays, but she wasn't complaining. She looked back down at the stack of mail in her hand and saw familiar handwriting. With both brows raised now she slowly tucked the letter under her arm as to not be noticed by her nephews.

Of course, nothing got past Thomas and he said, "What've you got there, Pol?"

"A bill to do with the business I need to see to later," Polly replied back quickly. A little too quickly. Thomas squinted his eyes at his Aunt, scrutinizing her facial expression. Polly met his gaze back, refusing to blink.

Tommy stood up and calmly walked to her side and wordlessly held out his hand. Polly stared at him for a few moments before folding and shoving the letter into his open palm.

Tommy glared back at her. It seemed he was always at odds with his Aunt since he came back from fighting. Perhaps she got too used to being in charge, but she would release the reins whether she liked it or not.

Finally, Tommy looked down at the letter in his hand and his ice blue eyes widened in surprise.

For in the top left-hand corner of the envelope was a name he had not seen for 15 years.

Mr. Aiden O'Casey