ANN
It was the train's whistle that startled me awake. My hat crumpled against my shoulder. The carriage was no longer moving and there were the heavy footfalls of the train conductor calling out the station's name.
" SMALL HEATH STATION! SMALL HEATH STATION!"
This was my stop. I jumped up, wobbling slightly on my limbs after the nap I'd taken, and turned to reach above my head for my luggage. My hands met with only air, I wasn't going to be able to reach. I hesitantly checked the window to my compartment and before sighing and climbing onto the cushions. Not wanting to miss my stop, I tugged the luggage hard, nearly knocking myself over in the process. I cursed under my breath and promptly pulled my hat back over my hair. I nearly knocked into the conductor as I swung out into the aisle way.
"Forgive me, Ma'am. Will you be needing any assistance with your luggage?"
"No, thank you. I think I've managed just fine on my own." I called out trudging down the way towards the doors.
The conductors footfalls never ceased behind me however, "Wait, Miss. You'll be forgetting your bag!"
This startled me from my journey. Using my free left hand to pat my sides for the aforementioned bag, at this point I actually did turn to face him. Stout and bald, but not unpleasant looking. He held my leather satchel up almost delicately for me to take, and I in turn offered up a smile as it was returned to me. Muttering out a very out of breath, "Thank you." I slung it across my head and continued into the cloudy day outside.
The station wasn't very much to look at, I knew this was a factory town, but I hadn't expected everything to actually look like God had purposefully smudged and dirtied it for effect. The air was brisk, for being after noon. Though, it didn't look like much sun got through the factory's dust. Following the station past the benches and down the stairs brought me to an equally dirty street. All I had to go on now was the quick scrawled address in my satchel, 437 Coventry Rd. Looking up the long road in front of me, it would be a long walk, a good many blocks at the very least.
It was more than an hour later, having gotten sufficiently lost twice, and given wrong directions at least three times, I finally spied the sign for Coventry Rd. Following the numbers down in the correct direction was the easiest part of my trip so far. Towards the end of the street on the left side, looking unimposing on the outside was a tall brick building. The door was scratched and rotting, but somehow still fighting the hinge pins to keep itself hanging upright. The sign above the door was long, following past the tops of the door and window to read, SMALL HEATH MEDICAL CLINIC, in dirty gold letters.
Finally settling my luggage on the step and smoothing my rather rumpled clothes, I gave 3 hard knocks and waited. No answer. I gave 3 more hard knocks and called out, "Dr. Malcolm, are you there?" No answer.
Finally I tried the worn curved handle, it was unlocked. It really shouldn't be unlocked, I grabbed up my bag once more and stepped over the threshold. I found Dr. Malcolm alright, the weathered old man laid in the office to the left of the front door snoring loudly. He had a tall and unfortunately empty bottle of rum tipped over his desk and his chair was knocked against the side wall. And underneath the large oak desk was Dr. Malcolm, with his suit coat as a pillow curled up sleeping off what would be a very large, very unpleasant hangover.
You've got to be fucking kidding me, I thought angrily. I was invited here for this job, and here my would be employer laid in his own mess. I lifted my trunk and dropped in loudly to the floor. Dr. Malcolm jumped in his stupor and stared at me rather bleary eyed with his glasses crooked on his face from under the desk. He must still be drunk, with no good sense to even look remorseful at me.
I heard mumbling first and then a rather gruff, "Bloody hell." Righting his glasses and crawling out from under his desk, not without hitting his head, twice, he turned to me, "I forgot you were to be coming, Miss...?"
Too drunk to have remembered my name I suppose, " It's Dr. Kerns, Dr. Ann Kerns. You did contact me about an open position here at your clinic?"
"Mmmm."
"Grunting isn't really a response, Dr. Malcolm." I felt like my mother, echoing her scolding of my father when he wasn't paying attention at dinner. Sighing, I wandered off into the rest of the building, while he righted himself.
Outside his office was a small sitting area, up against a large fireplace. There were two faded green couches opposite each other, the window to the street was pulled shut and not one glowing ember was to be seen in the barren cave. Further down the small hallway towards the back, sat two more rooms, presumably used for client visits since they had hard chairs and unorganized counters of medical equipment. To the right of these rooms was a rather spacious surgery theater. It had a sink and counter along the left wall and large glass cabinets which seemed rather empty and unprepared. I sighed irritably at the situation I'd gotten myself into.
It was a good 10 minutes later that Dr. Malcolm emerged from his room, looking no worse for wear but still pretty rough if I did say so myself. He gestured toward one of the couches before seating himself.
"I apologize Miss Kerns, for my appearance. It must have slipped my mind that you were coming today." That earned an eye roll from me, one it seemed he didn't notice. "Your commanding officer sent along a glowing reference to your medical skills, Miss Kerns. "
"Thank you for your apology, but it is Dr. Kerns. "
"Yes, yes, doctor...he mentioned your no nonsense attitude as well. I'll be happy to have you here working in the clinic. My previous partner, well...he just couldn't quite handle the pressure here." His smile was tight and hesitant at that. "What your commanding officer failed to mention though is that you're not English."
Sigh...at least it wasn't that I was a woman, "Yes, I'm American actually. From Pennsylvania to be exact, that's also where I attended the Women's Medical College of Philadelphia."
"Yes, yes, that's very nice but that doesn't explain your interest for a clinic in Small Heath. If you don't mind me prying that is."
Of course he wants to pry, likely wants dirt on me for catching him so indisposed. "Well, I was a military doctor in the United States Army, I was on the front lines in Belgium for some time. I wasn't allowed to officially enlist, so I was paid as a civilian contractor. " At this I sigh and remove my hat sitting it in my lap, "Many hospitals aren't permitting women doctors now that the men are home, and I'll take work where I can get it."
Dr. Malcolm is a tall man, already graying in places, his mustache especially. Not unfriendly in his look, but perhaps not quite as youthful as he once was. He nods absentmindedly at my answers. He fiddles in his pockets until he comes across a worn cigarette which he lights and puffs at leisurely. I've never been fond of cigarettes, better yet I never had time for them. I grew up on a farm, all we had time for was work and there was always plenty of it to go around. I lean back on the couch, dust rises from my actions. This clinic would have its fair share of work, and I'd never learned to be lazy.
THOMAS
Several streets over it wasn't quite so slow of an afternoon. Men trudging through the streets, dirty from the factories and children chasing each other, weaving in and out of horses legs. Young Finn Shelby was one of them, racing around pretending to be his brothers gathering shouts of greetings and bits of intrigue as he went. Up to the door of his home, bounding through the door nearly knocking into Aunt Polly who sat at a table working numbers. She smiled, her affection for the boy outweighing her irritation.
Through the parlor doors and into the Shelby epicenter of chaos; men, women, and children came and went making bets with their milk money, wages, and tips. Anyone else unfamiliar to this scene would have been startled and perhaps overwhelmed at the energy that bounced from person to person. This was the chaos that a one Thomas Shelby thrived on.
The powder trick had worked, for now and people having heard the rumors spread by the wash women, were eager to eat it up. Content with his efforts Tommy strut from the building and into the street, a cigarette between his lips, heading towards the Garrison.