Hello, everyone! Sorry for the delay, I had to focus on college and I've been sick the past few days. Thank you so much for all the feedback, I appreciate it so much! Thank you for being patient, I hope you all enjoy xoxo
Chapter 3: A Proposition
Mary gave her head a slight shake, gazing at herself in the mirror as she spun the skirt tails of her dress. Her short bob-cut brunette hair, large doe eyes, and taste in flapper dresses made Joanne almost forget she was a nurse. She had grown so accustomed to seeing her friend in the white nurse's uniform that she had forgotten that Mary had a taste for fashion, and wore garments outside the hospital. Mary added lipstick to her cupid-shaped lips, concealing all her wear from hours of hospital work.
Try as she might, Joanne couldn't hide her deep purple bags under her eyes. Her green eyes appeared dull and flat as she watched Mary with slight admiration. Mary was great at preserving her femininity even after everything she had endured in France. After the war Joanne gradually lost interest in anything to do with make-up or fashion because she had learned to live without it. It wasn't a necessity. Now as Joanne tried to fasten her wild hair into a high Edwardian pompadour bun, strands of her unruly curly hair broke free and hung down. She put a headband on her hair, having to really push down on the pouf of her hair. It helped contain the madness up there. Joanne had observed herself in the mirror, looking less extraordinary, but content with her simplistic appearance. Her long sleeved, white, button up blouse and long olive green Simpsons skirt was enough for her to be satisfied.
"Don't look so down," Mary chimed as she put in her earrings, "we haven't had a night out since we moved to this dreadful place."
"This 'dreadful place' was your idea," Joanne retorted playfully.
Mary smirked confidently and headed toward the door of their flat, Joanne watched her, following behind.
"You never told me where we were going," Joanne added.
"It's a surprise! You'll see when we get there!"
0000
The moment of unpleasant anxiety Joanne experienced when she read the name of the pub nearly made her lose her footing. She stared reluctantly up at the bold sign which read: THE GARRISON overhead. Mary was excited, oblivious to her friend's weariness. Joanne had never told Mary about her two encounters with the strange Thomas and John, and their family. She hid it well, not wanting to raise alarm and scare Mary, but now she feared Mary would be able to read her like a book (which wasn't unusual).
"What's wrong," Mary questioned, giving Joanne's arm a tug.
"It's just… I haven't done anything like this since before the war," Joanne replied meekly.
"All the more reason to start."
Mary led Joanne in. She could hear boisterous singing from outside the pub. Joanne felt somewhat relieved that the pub was crowded, she felt less exposed. A large man sang jollily as he stood on top of a table, holding a large glass of some dark ale. He slung the cup around, spilling droplets of it. The other patrons of the bar stomped and clapped in an unorthodox beat; some men and women danced in a drunken frenzy with no rhythm.
Mary laughed, leading Joanne to the bar. Joanne recognized Grace from behind the bar, but she was too preoccupied listening to the man singing to notice her. Once again, Joanne felt anxious. Grace knew The Family, which means she could tell them the weird redhead girl was back, or they could be here. Mary said something about gin and music, but the pub was so loud Joanne didn't hear. The two women sat on two of the free bar stools, squishing in between people.
The man continued to belt-out an Irish song:
"A buidhean nach fann d'fuil Ghaoidheal is Gall
Sinn breacadh lae na saoirse,
Tá sgéimhle 's sgannradh í gcroidhthibh namhad,
Roimh ranngaibh laochra ár dtíre;
Ár dteinte is tréith gan spréach anois,
Sin luinne ghlé san spéir anoir,
'S an bíodhbha i raon na bpiléar agaibh:
Seo libh, canaidh amhrán na bhFiann."
"I don't know what he was singing, but it was great," Mary exalted.
The crowd cheered as the man finished his foreign song. He nearly stumbled off the table, but others caught him and led him down, clapping him on the back. Joanne spun around on her bar stool, seeing now that Grace was looking at her. The two women had a mute moment of recognition as Mary applauded the singer. Mary nudged Joanne, tearing her attention away from the knowing barmaid.
"Is there singing here often," Mary asked Grace.
"Only on Saturdays."
Mary turned eagerly to Joanne. "We should get up there and sing!"
Joanne scoffed, "I haven't even had a drink yet."
"Would you like anything to drink," Grace asked.
"I'll have a gin and tonic," Mary answered, still beaming.
"And you," Grace glanced over at Joanne, her eyes searching her.
"Whiskey," Joanne said with a tight smile. As Grace poured her drink and slid it to her, Joanne found herself just staring at it like she did when she first came here. This sinking feeling of déjà vu made her stomach turn.
Some of the patrons of the bar started calling Grace up to sing. She smiled and chuckled bashfully, but they were persistent enough for her to go up to the table. She stood on top of the table, still laughing as people clapped at her bravery. Mary clapped along with them, as Joanne studied the mysterious Grace. There was something almost hidden about her that she couldn't put her finger on. She took a tentative sip of her whiskey, grimacing slightly at the burn it gave her as she swallowed it.
"What should I sing," Grace asked the rambunctious crowd.
A door from a hidden seating entrance opened from Joanne's left. "Sing Gypsy Rover!"
Joanne turned to see Arthur, raising his glass with a drunken smile on his face. Thomas and John emerged from behind him. Joanne immediately looked away and went back to concentrating on her drink. Her suspicions were correct.
"Of all the songs-" John began.
"Oi, why not give 'ttention to our heritage," he slurred with a careless shrug.
Grace looked at Thomas for affirmation as the bar practically held their breath in waiting. Joanne didn't understand why this Thomas man had such authority and influence over these people. He said to Joanne: 'You really don't know who we are do you?' that day, but she never understood what he meant.
"If you can do the song justice, eh," Thomas answered, with a small smile.
Grace returned his smile, and Joanne swore she blushed. Closing her eyes as she prepared to sing. Mary stood up from her bar stool, her gin already gone. She wanted to get up to dance and get ready to sing next, but Joanne told her she had to finish her whiskey. Joanne wanted to stand as still as possible so The Family wouldn't notice her.
"The gypsy rover came over the hill
Down through the valley so shady,
He whistled and he sang 'til the greenwoods rang,
And he won the heart of a lady."
The crowd roared their approval, Arthur included. Grace had a nice voice, even though it was being mostly drowned out by everyone else's noise. Joanne kept her back to the crowd, continuing to sip her whiskey. The seats by her had long since been abandoned, the patrons leaving to dance and sing themselves. Now she felt the presence of two people sitting on either side of her; she didn't have to look to know who it was.
"Back again, eh?"
Thomas lit a cigarette to her right, as John watched Grace sing to her left, half-interested. She felt stuck in between the two men, but she knew their suspicions of her were warranted. She kept appearing in places where they were.
"I swear I'm not doing this on purpose," Joanne said.
"Right place at the right time, like you said."
Grace and the crowd began to sing the chorus:
"Ah-de-do, ah-de-do-da-day,
Ah-de-do, ah-de-da-ay
He whistled and he sang 'til the greenwoods rang,
And he won the heart of a lady."
"So what brings you to The Garrison," John asked.
Joanne had never seen him so relaxed, mainly because the last two accounts he was mad at her or going off about something. Joanne thought he looked pleasant when he was calm, his nice cherub face appeared almost angelic with youth. His blue eyes and groomed hair complimented each other nicely. He appeared so much less intense than his two older brothers, less weathered somehow.
"My friend, Mary brought me here," Joanne pointed to Mary. She was standing by some fellow patrons, singing and swaying in rhythm.
"Ah," Thomas answered, blowing out a puff of smoke. "Not here to check up on John's children, or a veteran friend of mine this time?"
Joanne was unsure how to answer. It surprised her to see a slight smirk on Thomas' lips, his eyes pinned on Grace. She noted how he looked at Grace, like she was the most fascinating human in the room. Could part of that be admiration? She didn't know. She also wasn't sure if this was his sense of humor, or if he was being serious and preoccupied at the same time.
"Relax, Nurse Joanne, it's a joke," he said, taking the cigarette from his mouth. "John wanted to talk to you, anyway."
John shot his brother a look, appeared almost embarrassed as Joanne looked to him curiously.
"She left her father's castle gates
She left her own fine lover
She left her servants and her state
To follow the gypsy rover."
"Oi, Tommy I said maybe-" John started.
His older brother waved him off, "it's better than your other idea."
John appeared cross but didn't counter Thomas' words. Joanne glanced back and forth between the two, feeling lost. She took another cautious drink of her whiskey, trying to fill the silence with alcohol. Before anyone could speak Arthur came stumbling over, grinning at his brothers.
"Aye, you're that girl, damn you look tired" Arthur pointed out, "you like horses?"
"Arthur," Thomas warned, placing a hand on his forehead like he was getting a headache.
"I do, actually. My family has a farm full of them back home," Joanne replied.
"That so? We've been doin' work with the bookies at the race tracks-"
"Go sing your song, Arthur," Thomas got up and led his brother away. Arthur sang the chorus of the song gleefully, unaware of his younger brother's irritation.
Bookies at the race tracks? Is that what this family does, Joanne thought, still trying to figure them all out.
"James and Katie talk about you all the time," John interjected from beside her, "you left quite 'n impression on them."
"Really? They're great kids," Joanne responded awkwardly.
John turned around toward the bar and leaned his elbows on it. He seemed deep in thought and anxious to speak. Joanne watched him, wondering if she should add more to her comment or leave it be. She always felt like she was walking on egg shells whenever she encountered The Family.
"My children need someone to look after 'em. I can't be there all the time, and with their mother gone… they need a woman's influence in their lives. They need someone they can trust while I'm workin'," he paused, thinking how he should phrase his words. "They need a mother, and I'm working on that, but in the meantime they need a caretaker."
Joanne stared at him, not knowing what to say. He went from completely distrusting her to now asking for her help to watch over his children? The man was practically pouring out his heart to her in desperation.
"I know you're a nurse so you can't be there all the time. I just need someone to make sure they stay out of trouble when you can, someone who can make sure they make it to and from school, and watch the youngest."
"I…" Joanne stammered, aghast.
John sighed, "I know this is sudden. I was set on just findin' them a mum, I even proposed to someone and she agreed, but Tommy, Arthur, and Polly think it's bloody insane. Now I don' know what to do or who to listen to. I'm stuck, but I don' want my kids to be left alone anymore."
"You proposed to someone and they don't approve? Why," Joanne questioned, baffled by this. He was doing this for his children, and probably because he was lonely and trying to fill a void that his late wife left behind.
John shook his head, unwilling to discuss that topic further. Joanne let him drop it without prying. "I will make it worth your while, just consider it please."
Joanne bit her lip in contemplation. She couldn't believe it, but she actually pitied him. It wasn't easy for him to ask for help. John waited for an answer, his eyes begging her for an answer. How could she say no to a face like that?
"Sure, I'll need more details later on and I'll have to let Mary know," Joanne agreed.
John was relieved, "thank you."
"Joanne! Come up here!"
Joanne turned her attention to the rest of the bar. She saw Mary standing on top of the table, waving her over to join her. Joanne started to shake her head no in rejection, but the rest of the bar started to urge her on. She had just made a deal with the Shelby family, not that she was aware what that meant yet, but she knew it was a big deal for some reason. Mary continued to wave her up frantically, beckoning her.
Joanne took a long swig of her whiskey, shaking her head shyly at the crowd. "Fine, I'm coming."
The crowd applauded loudly as Joanne walked across The Garrison and climbed onto the table. She already felt like a giant so standing on top of the table didn't help. The sea of people and their attention made Joanne's head spin, but she felt comforted with Mary by her side. Her eyes landed on John's; he was watching her curiously, his arm propped up on the bar next to her discarded whiskey. Mary introduced them and told the restless crowd that they would be singing something from their homeland across the pond. Now she definitely had their attention, but Joanne was aware that this meant no one would know the song to sing along. They would be alone vocalizing up there.
Joanne already knew what song Mary wanted to sing, one that she sang often when they were treating soldiers in France. Mary loved to sing, it helped her cope, and Joanne also found it therapeutic. They were told they had nice voices, but the crowd before them would be the ultimate judge of that. Joanne prepared herself for the upbeat Stephen Foster song, composing herself among the scrutiny. She wondered what on Earth she had gotten herself into, both as she agreed to sing and that she agreed to take care of John Shelby's children.
"We live in hard and stirring times,
Too sad for mirth, too rough for rhymes;
For songs of peace have lost their chimes,
And that's what's the matter!
The men we held as brothers true
Have turned into a rebel crew;
So now we have to put them thro',
And that's what's the matter!
That's what's the matter,
The rebels have to scatter;
We'll make them flee, by land and sea,
And that's what's the matter!"