CHAPTER 4
After two minutes' walk, they came to a pub. Esme halted outside the door. "Here we are."
Alex hesitated, and Esme scoffed. "Too working class for you? You won't find any doctors in the Garrison—or any fancy cocktails. The Shelbys are hardworking men with simple tastes."
"Then we have something in common," Alex said with a smile. "Thank you for walking me over, Esme. It was very kind of you."
"I didn't do it for you. I did it for John—and Tommy." Turning on her heel, the young woman walked away without a backwards glance.
Alex shook her head. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed the door open, and stepped inside the pub. The large common room was empty except for the barkeep, who appeared to be busy with inventory. The man looked up, and called out, "Mr. Shelby's in the snug. Just to the left there—-he's expecting you."
"Thank you," Alex said. The man, having returned to his task, merely raised a hand in acknowledgment.
When the door to the snug opened, she saw Tommy going through a sheaf of papers. He looked up, and she got her first proper look at him in the full light. His eyes were a startlingly clear blue, and stood out in stark contrast to his chiseled features. He cleared his throat, and stood up.
"Have a seat, Alex."
"Thank you, Mr. Shelby." She sat down, and he did likewise, arranging his papers into a neat stack and setting them off to the side. Folding his hands, he fixed his gaze on her.
"I think we're beyond that, aren't we?"
"Beyond what?"
"Whether you meant to or not, you've chosen a side. You're now part of the Peaky Blinders' extended family, and your safety is my responsibility. So we're beyond Mr. Shelby. You can call me Tommy."
She felt a flash of annoyance at his paternalistic tone, but quickly tamped it down. "I'm very grateful for your concern, but I hardly think I need protection."
"What do you know about the gangs in Birmingham?" he asked abruptly.
"What does that have to do with me?"
He took out a cigarette, then offered her one.
"No thank you. I don't smoke."
He raised an eyebrow. "An educated woman who doesn't raise the torch of freedom?"
"I have never been one for symbols, Mr.— Tommy."
"Fair enough." He lit his cigarette. "You still haven't answered my question."
She was silent for a moment. "I knew enough to recognize you as a Peaky Blinder when you took your cap off. The razor and the haircut were not exactly subtle."
He took a drag. "But you didn't hesitate to help me."
"My patient's safety was at stake. As was my own."
Tommy considered her words for a moment, then asked, "And how did you come to know how to handle a revolver so expertly?"
She met his gaze. "A friend taught me."
"A friend taught you," he repeated, his voice betraying his scepticism.
"Yes."
"This friend taught you well."
"He did."
"And by now, every foot soldier of Darby Sabini knows who you are and how good you are with a firearm."
Alex suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. Such a thought had never occurred to her. "What would they possibly want with me?" she asked, hating the note of uncertainty in her voice.
"You killed two men. Don't think for a second that those deaths will not go unavenged."
She'd pushed that thought out of her mind, focusing on Finn in order to forget that she had taken lives. Lives of men who were undeniably criminals, but who had wives and children waiting for them at home.
"I'm not proud of the killing," she said softly, twisting the thin silver band on her right hand. "When I recited the Hippocratic Oath at my medical school graduation, i swore I would abstain from inflicting intentional wrong-doing or harm on another human being." She met his eyes. "But I did what I had to do."
Tommy pointed a finger at her. "And that's exactly what Sabini's men will say when they bury a bullet in your head."
She felt the blood drain from her face, and looked down at her hands.
When Tommy spoke again, his voice was more
gentle. "Let me help you, Alex."
"I just want to get back to practicing medicine—and to put all this behind me."
"I can help get you back to work. I've already a place in mind for your office."
She considered his words for a few moments, then lifted her chin."Until this all blows over, I will accept your help—but with several stipulations."
Tommy stood up. "Well, if we've reached the negotiation phase, we need something to drink." Opening the window to the snug, he called, "Harry, a bottle of the Irish for me, and a bottle of Glenlivet—"
"Glenfiddich," she said firmly.
The corner of his mouth quirked up for just an instant. "I stand corrected. Make that Glenfiddich for the lady."
A moment later, he was pouring them each a drink.
As Alex watched him, she had to repress the urge to laugh. "You do realize that it's 9 o'clock in the morning? Isn't it a bit early for whisky?"
Just for an instant, his eyes lost some of their coolness. "It's never too early for whisky." Raising his glass, he saluted her. "To brave women."
"And the kindness of strangers," she replied, downing half her glass.
Tommy drained his drink, then sat back down. "Now, you said you have terms. I have a few of my own, but ladies first."
The whisky warmed her body and cleared her thoughts, and the gravity of her situation finally hit her. She'd heard whispers about the Peaky Blinders ever since she had first set foot in Small Heath, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that she would cross paths with their leader...let alone kill for him.
Now here I am sitting in a back room in a Birmingham pub with nothing but the clothes on my back, negotiating a compact with a notorious gangster.
She took another sip of whisky to calm her nerves. "I'll be completely honest, and I'll ask the same of you. I came to Birmingham to try to make a difference. I purposely chose to set up my practice in an underserved area. I'm not in this for the money. In fact, I used up the great majority of a small inheritance in order to buy medical equipment and put down two months' rent."
"You've no need to worry about money. Everything will be taken care of."
"But it's important for me to maintain my independence—to do things my way. I don't want to be obligated to anyone."
Tommy exhaled, and a cloud of smoke curled from his mouth.
"My mother was Romani, Alex. The blood that flows through my veins carries the weight of hundreds of years of tradition. There is nothing more important to us than family and baxt— honour. You treated Finn without demanding payment, and saved his life in the process. Am I obligated to you?"
"Of course not."
"But by Romani code, I owe you a debt of honour. To outsiders, that might be seen as an obligation—but you are not to see it as such. To our people, it is a sacred vow."
"Very well. But I will pay you—"
Tommy made an impatient gesture, and spoke over her. "In return, you are to defer to me regarding any matter concerning your personal security."
"Of course—after I have been consulted, and been allowed to participate in crafting said plan."
Tommy stubbed his cigarette out, and leaned across the table. "Did you consult with me when you extracted the bullet from Finn's arm?"
Alex flushed, but decided it would be unwise to risk provoking him further. Instead, she elected to make a tactical retreat by changing the subject.
"I am eager to re-establish my practice as soon as possible. In fact, if I may use the telephone, I'd like to place a call to my receptionist."
"There's no need," Tommy said, his voice matter-of-fact. "Anna Oliveri doesn't work for you anymore."
With difficulty, Alex curbed her rising temper. "And why is that?"
"Because she was found dead at dawn this morning. She had a bullet to the head—and a note in her hand."
Alex felt physically ill. Anna had been a warm, gentle presence in her office. In fact, in just two short weeks, the middle aged grandmother had proved to be a great favorite with patients of all ages. "What did it say?" she asked, her voice hoarse with emotion.
"It was addressed to you—and it read 'Cui mali accumensa, peju finisci'."
"Which means?" she whispered.
"'A bad beginning makes a bad ending."
Alex felt as if she could not breathe. Tommy reached for her glass, filled it, then slid it back to her. She took a gulp, then lifted her eyes to his. "You're right, Tommy. I'm
In above my head, and I'm not ready to die. I'll be grateful for whatever assistance you can provide. But promise me that you won't keep anything from me. I've seen darkness before, and the devil's boots don't creak. I need to know everything."
"That, I can do. Provided you do the same with me."
"Of course."
"Good. Then we can start now." He pulled out another cigarette, then lit it. "Who is Jonathan, and why are you going to meet him today? Because if you're a police informer, our brief association is headed for a very unhappy ending."
I wrote the majority of this his during a few peaceful hours by the Christmas tree late last night. My knowledge of Romani culture and Italian is limited to internet searches, so I apologize in advance for any errors.
Some responses to guest comments-there have been some really interesting ones.
For Danielle-Glad this chapter was a fun start to the day! I imagine John's family as having 3 or 4 dogs. When one had puppies, Esme told John there was no way in hell they were keeping any of them-even the runt of the litter, who was John's favorite. So he gave him to Finn instead ;-)
For Iris-Hmm, I hadn't considered that the Shelbys might have come into contact with the man in the picture. That's something to consider...
For Siam-I think Alex has only now grasped the seriousness of the situation. I imagine it would be very hard for a woman like her to have all control over her life snatched away in a matter of moments. As I haven't yet decided how everything is going to unfold, it will be interesting to see what transpires.
For Leanne-I hadn't thought about Audrey Hepburn, but you are completely right about there being some parallels.
