"How much ya' lookin' ta sell tha' piece for, miss?"

The man speaking to her was leaning casually against the entryway to a small shop labeled 'James' Consignment.' He flashed her a smile, showing his yellowing teeth which didn't look at all out of place against his dirty skin and ripped overcoat. In his hands, he twirled a small knife through his fingers, almost too fast for her eyes to follow. But that wasn't what interested June. It was the sign.

"This your shop?" she asked, feigning mild interest.

"Ay," he said, taking a modest bow, "James be mah' name."

She glanced down at the rather large pocket watch hanging from her gloved hand. "You must be referring to this piece here?" She held it up, brushing a stray lock of hair back from her face as she did so.

"Yes ma…" he cut off, his eyes widening as he looked closer at the hand holding the watch. "Alright, there, miss?" he asked.

Closing her hand around the watch's chain to obscure his view, June replied, "Quite. And as for your price … I think ten pounds ought to do it."

James the consigner threw his head back and laughed, causing several passersby to stare. June's jaw clenched, her patience wearing thin. This wasn't the sort of attention she had wanted to draw when she had chosen to hide here.

"Ten pounds?" He shook his head, wiping his face off as though he had just been crying for laughing so hard. "I'd wager five. No more." He folded his arms.

She brought both hands together pleadingly, her eyebrows raising together, "Please… it's all I have. I just… I need…." She lowered her head, her eyes closing in defeat as her shoulders trembled.

For a moment, no words came from this James the consigner. The only sounds in the streets were the drunken shouts of men, the clopping of a horse's hooves, and the yelling of a pissed off wife. Then, a pair of brown, worn shoes appeared in her vision.

She looked up, blinking with wide eyes as she took in the upset face of James. "There, love," he said as he put an awkward hand around her clasped ones. "What's gone and happened to you to get you in this state? And here? Don't ya got any family?"

June just shook her head, keeping her despairing gaze on James' the entire time.

He shook his head, "Fuck's sake, beggin' your pardon, ma'am. I suppose I can swing eight. That get ya' a start?"

Her expression turned from one of defeat to one of sudden hope, her mouth falling open and eyes widening. "You would? Oh, bless you!" She threw her arms around his filthy shoulders, releasing before he could hug her back and dirty her dress too much.

"I'll be right back with that," he said as he scurried into his shop to retrieve her coin. She turned to look out at the street, quiet for a late evening on a Friday. Where could everyone be?

"Here ye' are," James said, holding out eight pounds. "As promised."

"God bless!" June repeated, holding up the pocket watch one last time, as though she were having a hard time letting it go. Then, she gingerly placed it in his hand as he dumped the money into hers.

"May you find some fortune here in our small town of Birmingham!" James called as June turned to walk back along the street, a grin lining her face.

She ventured down the roads in the gathering dusk, taking care to keep her deep red skirt free of the soiled ground. Puddles of dirty water and other … unsavory items littered the side streets. The main roads were a little easier going but still filthy.

The further she walked, the more she heard the cackles and howling of drunken men. Bright light filtered down the road, outlining the building on the corner labeled 'The Garrison.' The light was so intense; the building almost looked as though it were on fire compared to the rest of the dark street. Two young-looking boys marched through the doors, for a moment revealing the boisterous scene within before shutting once more, hiding its secrets from her.

"Are you looking for somewhere to stay?" a female voice sounded from behind her, making June whip around.

"Ye… yes," she recovered. "I am new in town and have money, but there appears to be no inn that I could find."

The woman smiled, enhancing her already beautiful face outlined by her dark curls. From the flickering light in the pub, June could make out freckles spritzed across the woman's nose. Her clothes looked nice, too nice to be a common middle-class lady.

"There isn't one. Come on; you can stay with me until you find work. Don't want to be hanging around here when the boys let out." The woman took off walking back away from the pub. June scampered behind to follow, glancing back behind her.

"I take it that's why the streets are so quiet? They're all bundled in there for the night?" she asked as her guide's heels clicked on the stone street.

"Indeed, lucky for you. And me, I suppose. Fucking men and their whiskey."

June blanched, a little taken aback by this woman's language. Of course, she herself was no stranger to such strong words, but most women tended to have more delicate dispositions.

"Sorry," the woman said, reading June's reaction. "I don't usually have polite company. I'm Ada, by the way."

"Pleasure, June."

"Lovely name. Where are you from, then?" They took a right at the end of the road. The alleyway was dark. Dark enough to make most women scared and uncomfortable. But Ada didn't seem the least bit phased. In fact, she looked as relaxed as June felt. Uncommon.

"I suppose you could say London," June replied, skipping around a sunken stone in the road where water had accumulated.

"Oh, don't even get me started on London," Ada shook her head and looked back forward again.

"What's wrong with London?" June asked, not caring for this stranger's opinion, but needing to keep the conversation moving along.

"Nothin', I suppose. Just my brothers have this big business idea about London, and it's stupid."

Chuckling, June replied, "I don't believe men can see common sense when it's right in front of them."

"Isn't that the truest thing today."

Silence fell, June not knowing how else to take the conversation from here as they took another turn. The sun had lowered below the horizon completely, darkness having fallen along with it. It had to be around ten in the evening if she had to guess.

"So, is your husband in the pub? Was that why you were hanging around there?" June asked.

"Not quite. It's just me and Carl, my son, now. His father passed a while ago."

Ada stopped in front of a gate, opening it and holding it for June to follow. She did so, pulling the metal gate shut behind her. "It would scare me," June lied, "living here all by myself. I mean without your family or a man. Doesn't it bother you?"

She chuckled, smirking a little as she unlocked the door. "If I have ever been afraid in my life, it was long before I lived here by myself. Come in and get warm. It's chilly out."

June blinked the sleep out of her eyes, shielding herself from the sun's rays as they slowly crept in above the window sill. The previous night, she hadn't shut the curtains. Note for future: make sure to draw the drapes.

The bed squeaked as she turned over and pushed herself to an upright position. It couldn't have been later than seven. Late for her though. Pushing back the navy embroidered quilt, she slid out of bed, her nightgown silently sliding down her legs to cover all but her ankles and feet.

She first walked over to the window and pulled the curtains tight to obscure the prying eyes of anyone passing by. Then, June proceeded to change into the dress she had been wearing the previous night. With only two outfits, she had to use them sparingly. Ada had promised to try and dig up some clothes that might fit her today. But for now, she had to reuse her dress.

Dropping her nightgown, she pulled on her chemise and stockings before throwing her mid-calf length dress on over it. No time today to look too nice or fancy. She needed to gather information. She needed to learn.

Brushing her hair out, she pulled it into a strict, auburn braid which hung over her right shoulder and tied it off with a ribbon to match her dress. Peering into the mirror of her armoire, she decided it was good enough. Appearances could be deceiving, after all.

She made her way into the hall and shut her guest room door behind her before walking down the stairs, her shoes clacking on the wood and echoing in the foyer. Despite her loud approach, she didn't hear Ada call a greeting or acknowledge her. June arrived at the bottom, checking the parlor and great room. No Ada. Not in the kitchen either.

"Ada?" she called, hesitation in her voice as the small word echoed in the large house.

A stray piece of paper on the table caught her attention. It read: June, went out for some errands. Make yourself at home. Key in the flower pot.

Errands? A single mother who could afford this kind of a house surely had people she paid to run her 'errands.'

But now wasn't the time to wonder. It was June's opportunity to explore her new temporary home. Learn its ins and outs. Make some familiar faces.

The bright sun outside almost blinded her, her eyes fluttering as they adjusted. When she could see once more, she lifted the flower pot on the porch and retrieved the key. Locking the door with a solid click, she replaced it in its hiding place before walking down the steps and heading back the way she had come the previous evening.

Other houses identical to Ada's lined the streets. All tall and imposing. But the street was quiet, no doubt the owners slumbering in the early hours of the weekend. Despite the sun, the morning air was cool, making June pull her shawl closer around her shoulders as she walked through a spot of light fog which had settled on the streets.

Rather than turn back toward the pub from the previous night, she took a left, down a different side street. She took several more turns, not needing to look at the road names. She would remember her route down to the number of footsteps when she returned. As she continued, she noted the change of scenery. The houses became less tall. They were close together, many with holes in the roofs or human waste dumped in front of their doors. Streets were littered with human beings. Sleeping on the corners or scrounging for crumbs of food before the rest of the impoverished awoke. And others were engaging in less savory public activities. Apparently, there weren't any whore houses here for the cheap whores to frequent. They just did their business right there on the streets. And no one seemed to think anything of it.

"'Ow mooch'?"

A pressure on her arm made June jerk back as she turned, yanking herself from the grip of a greasy man. His beard was matted with dirt and food, and his smile only had a handful of teeth in it despite his age of mid-thirties.

"Bugger off," she simply snapped, not caring to be polite.

"'Ave 'lot ta' offa,'" he persisted, taking a step forward once more.

"And I don't. Touch me again, and I won't say it nicely."

The man let out a chuckle, filling June's nose with the pungent aroma of alcohol and tobacco. But then, he reached out his hand toward her….

June reacted fast, grabbing his hand and twisting it behind him as she tripped him over her foot. The wretch hit the ground, not even letting out a grunt despite the loud thud. His drunkenness spared him from the pain. But as she stepped onto his back and yanked at his arm, he squirmed, getting the message.

"'Right already! Yield, please!" he called.

June released, stepping off his back and letting him raise his body from the piss-stained street. Not looking behind her, she continued on, her confidence not leaving her step in the least as she walked away from the impoverished part of Birmingham.

Main Street was a little less sleepy than Ada's road by the time June made her way around to it. Several women were dragging their children up and down the road with baskets and bags of groceries. Men stood in small groups chatting animatedly while the occasional car passed. A policeman strode casually up and down the streets, earning dirty side glances from the citizens, which he ignored with friendly nods of good morning.

All normal Saturday morning behaviors…. Except there was a disturbance in the dynamics of the Birmingham citizens. It started toward the far end of the street and rippled up toward June. Men stopped talking and turned their heads toward the ground, one or two giving a nod without looking up. The women ushered their children to the sides of the streets and scurried on a little bit faster. The children, though, looked with wide eyes behind them, intrigued by the cause of this disturbance.

Four men prowled down the middle of the street, their faces all partially concealed by the matching hats adorning their heads. They were all similar in dress. And they didn't dress cheaply. Even the youngest, maybe a teenager, was dressed in clothes above the pay grade of most senior employees at any business. Most of them had hands hidden in their pockets. As she watched, though, the second from the right brought a lit cigarette up to his mouth and took a long drag on it. The man to his left threw his head back and tipped a flask back into his throat before replacing it into his pocket.

These were just more men of Birmingham walking down the street. But the reactions of the other citizens said they were anything but ordinary men. And June's instincts were telling her not to turn her back. So, as they continued towards her, she kept on walking off to the right so as to not be in their way, but close enough to get a good look. And look she did. Her eyes remained fearlessly on the four men as they drew closer.

When she came within twenty feet of them, the one who was smoking looked her way. It was a look which almost froze her in her steps. His ice-blue eyes stared into her. No emotion could be found in his face. No hint of a smile crossed his sharply defined cheekbones. But there was something she got from him as his gaze held hers: curiosity.

It wasn't but a few more seconds before the man on his left noted her as well. He did some sort of a double take, his mustache almost twitching. And then, he reacted as she could have predicted. He stopped, taking a step forward as she continued to approach. The other three stopped, in turn, as he called in a thick cockney accent, "Hey! I don't like your look! You show some respect!"

June continued to approach, only coming to a halt when she stood a foot in front of the tall man. She stood only several centimeters shorter than him, which seemed to throw him off. The other three men watched on curiously as she said, "This is a public street, is it not?"

"Fuckin' 'public street!' You hear this, boys?" he turned to look at his posse for backup. The two younger ones both grinned, the teenager even cackling a little as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. The other young one, older but with a bit of a baby face and heavy eyelids, stepped forward. "Tha's right, Arthur. The prime minister owns this street." The man with the blue eyes just looked at the exchange coolly, his eyes calculating as they flickered back and forth between the man called Arthur and June.

Arthur threw his hands up in the air in mock surprise, "Well then, I guess you were right," he said as he turned back to June. "So, I guess I'm going ta' have to confiscate this road by order of the Peaky FOOKIN' Blinders!"

June stayed silent a moment, unsure as to what this man had just said. In her peripherals, she witnessed the policeman take a wary step forward, his face unsure. The man with the blue eyes, though, raised his hand slightly. Just a small movement without even looking. And the policeman stepped back, crossing his hands in front of him as he stood straight and watched.

The question June had then was: could she afford to piss off these men? They seemed to have some semblance of power here. Playing it safe was perhaps best.

"You can take your 'peaky fucking blinders' and shove them straight up your arsehole," June said, not even flinching as Arthur's face grew red. "I will walk wherever I so please and no fucking town drunkard is going to stop me." She then moved to step around him as though to go on her way.

But Arthur stepped to cut her off and lifted his hand as if to strike her. Exactly the reaction she had sought. As he began to swing his hand down toward her cheek, something lightning fast brought his arm to a standstill.

It was the man with the blue eyes. He had grabbed Arthur's arm, and now Arthur's red and huffing face turned toward the other man. June half expected him to strike him. But then the man who had intervened on her behalf spoke, "Save it for the real fight, brother."

Arthur just nodded, lowering his arm slowly as his brother released his grip on him. "Sorry, Tommy. Been a long fuckin' day. Long fuckin' day."

"You boys go get a round of whiskey. I'll be right behind you," the man named Tommy said, his voice soft and level. The other three nodded and continued on down the street. The eyes of the street's patrons followed their backs.

"Bit early for whiskey, especially for a drunk, isn't it?" June asked.

Tommy turned to face her. He lifted his chin and tilted his head as he took another drag on his cigarette. His eyes never strayed from hers.

"After going through hell, it's never too early for a drink," he simply replied.

"He's the blowhard, but you're the one they're all afraid of, aren't you?" June said bluntly, making him tilt his head a little more. Then he surprised her. He smiled a little bit. A dry, humorless smile as he threw his head back a little. It didn't help to make him more approachable.

"So, who are you, then? Come in here. To my town. Asking questions and causing trouble with my brothers. It's a bad way to try and start a new life."

"What makes you think I'm not just passing through?" she said, taking a step back from this man. She realized at once why she didn't want to be close to him: she was afraid of him. He seemed casual, friendly, and calm enough. But maybe that's what scared her even more. He didn't have to act or talk tough. His actions spoke for themselves. The most dangerous kind of a criminal. Like her.

"Birmingham is a bit of a shithole," he said as he puffed on his cigarette before throwing it down on the street. "Why the fuck would anyone just come here to have afternoon tea?"

He was blunt and honest. And he was insightful. June felt the need to get rid of him before he could gauge anything useful about her. "Good day, sir," she said as she turned and continued to walk down the street. Her only destination was out of the line of that icy gaze.