As soon as the door shut behind Dante and his men, Jenny scurried around the bar to the suite where she knew the Shelbys were waiting. Her heart raced as she knocked on the door, and entered without waiting for a reply. All three Shelby men were sitting around the table, apparently chain smoking cigarettes, based on the amount of stale smoke that clung to the air.
Thomas looked up as she entered. The corner of his mouth twitched up ever so slightly as his eyes fell to the envelope she clutched. This was what he had been waiting for, she realized, the first official move of war.
"Jenny, you have something for us?" he asked, the ghost of a grin disappearing, replaced by his usual grimace.
"Yes, they just left... the men at the table. One of them, Dante - he came up and gave me this," she said quickly, striding across the room to the table and handing Tommy the envelope. He gave it a quick once over, but, to her dismay, tucked it into his jacket pocket, unopened.
"You're not going to read it?" Disbelief and disappointment painting Jenny's words.
After all that, she wasn't going to be trusted with the contents of the letter. Tommy didn't seem fazed by her desperation to see the contents of the letter, but she caught what looked like a momentary smile flash across his face.
"I seem to remember, not too long ago, a newly hired barmaid telling me she didn't want anything to do with the gang business of the Garrison." His teasing tone made her blood boil.
"That was then, that was before I very much got involved in the Peaky Blinders," Jenny could feel the heat rising to her cheeks and immediately wanted to pinch herself for taking the bait.
"But if you don't want me to know that's fine, just don't ask me for help again." She tried to collect herself - standing tall and crossing her arms.
"And if you don't need anything else, then start thinking of wrapping it up in here, gentlemen, I don't want to be stuck here any longer than I have to." Each word dripped with venom.
Not waiting for a response or evening looking at the others, she turned on her heel, wrenching the door upon and making an effort to slam it behind her. She stood in the doorway for a moment, her back resting on the suite door, letting the adrenaline of anger roll through her. After all that, she was disregarded! The nerve of Tommy, asking her to take on a task and then not evening letting her in on what was about to happen. Next time she would let him do his own dirty work. "Fucking bastard," she mumbled to herself, lifting herself off the door and surveying the quiet bar.
Most of the Garrison was empty, only the wreckage of the night remained. Empty pint glasses occupied most tables, while spilt ones littered the floor. She knew it would take at least an hour or two to get the whole place cleaned up, even with Harry's help.
At the thought, fatigue hit her like a brick wall. Her legs ached from standing for so long, her eyes were heavy, and she felt a tension headache creeping up the back of her skull. She was not paid enough for this bullshit.
It ended up being almost a quarter to four by the time she finished closing. The Shelbys had long since slinked out of the suite, not so much as giving her a nod before heading out the door, only making her resent them more.
Harry bid her goodnight as she pulled on her heavy coat and made her way out onto the street, locking the doors behind her. A cold but fresh breeze greeted her as she stepped out into the Birmingham night. She looked up to see a cloudless night sky, a rarity for this time of year. Jenny took a moment to soak in the beauty of the starry canopy above her head.
Back home, the stars could always be seen, peeking out from behind the clouds, unencumbered by smog or city lights. She missed that in her time here. Missed the fresh air of the country, the grassy hills, even the rain. The rain had been her favorite part. Every time it swept through, a fresh natural perfume would soak the earth and fill her nostrils. She had always sworn that would be what heaven would smell like. But now, the rain just meant dampness, mildew, and the methodical drip drip into the tin pal in the corner of her room from the leak in the ceiling.
Wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck, she began to make her way to that leaky roofed room, which had, as much as she hated to admit it, become her home. A home that, though modest and old, and run by a crabby old woman, had a bed, her books, and warmth that sounded oh so good after the exhaustion of a hard night's work.
She walked with brisk determination, the thought of her soft bed and avoidance of any unwanted attention from those who prowled the streets this early, pushing Jenny forward. Despite her exhaustion, she made it back to the Rose within 20 minutes. Panting a little, she finally reached the corner where the Inn stood, but stopped dead in her tracks. There, standing in the doorway to the Rose, was Dante, idling, smoking a cigarette, glancing up and down the street, waiting.
For me, she thought suddenly. He could be waiting for me. Her mouth went dry, surely that couldn't be true, what would he want with her?
She inwardly scolded herself for the thought. It's an inn, of course he might be staying here, he is from out of town after all, why would he be waiting for you, you are nobody. But unease still filled her. It was so late, they were completely alone. Warily, she continued to make her way to the entrance of the inn. She was a few meters away before Dante looked up towards the sounds of her footsteps on the deserted street.
"Fancy seeing you here, Miss Barmaid," he said, flicking his cigarette onto the ground and flashing her a smile that made him look younger than his grey hairs suggested.
"Yes, fancy seeing you here Mr. Dante. You're certainly up late," she replied, walking confidently to the door of the Inn and stopping in front of the man. He was handsome, in a disheveled, worn looking way, and the warmth of his smile calmed her a little, even if she wouldn't ever admit it out loud.
"Can't sleep when it's not my own bed. Thought I'd look at the stars and have a smoke." He looked upward, Jenny followed his gaze to the stars above.
It was an incredible display, to be sure, the twinkling stars over the city. They made her feel so small but in a comforting sort of way. The beauty made her feel that her insecurities, fears, were all just little blips in the universe, not to be taken too seriously.
"Are you from the country?" Dante's voice pulled her out of her starry trance. She ripped her gaze away from the heavens and found him staring at her, as if he had been analyzing her reaction to the cosmos.
"Why do you ask that?"
"Homesickness." He said, his smile had gone soft into a knowing look.
"Sorry?"
"You looked homesick just now, looking up there." He pointed upwards. "Like you grew up looking up at the stars, un-smudged by the city."
"You got all that from a look?" She asked, her voice betraying her disbelief that was probably also etched on her face. Dante nodded.
"My advice, Miss Barmaid, if you are going to be employed by gangsters, you need a better poker face."
Jenny could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, her heart quickening in both embarrassment and a little bit of fear.
"I am just a barmaid at the Garrison, what the Shelby's do is their business. I just pour drinks and get paid." She shot back, a little annoyed but more at herself, knowing he was right.
Dante simply shrugged "If that's what you tell yourself…" He reached into his heavy wool jacket and pulled out a beat up old cigarette tin. He offered her one, which she denied, before pulling one out for himself and placing it between his lips. What was it with gangsters and chain smoking?
"Just make sure you don't half-ass it," he paused to light his cigarette. "Either be all in or not at all, cause there is no such thing as 'just working' for a crime enterprise." He placed the cigarette to his lips and took a deep inhale. Jenny watched him as the meaning of his words sunk in, making her stomach turn a little.
"I'll keep that in mind." was the only thing she could think of as a response. She was too tired and cold to take advice from a gangster. She moved to walk through the Inn door, but Dante stepped in front of her. She looked up at him and was startled to see his face no longer held any warmth. Instead, she was looking into the face of a ruthless gangster, a face that made her blood run cold.
"I hope you do," he growled, then stepped aside to let Jenny enter the inn. She hesitated for a moment, the shock of his sudden change in demeanor had caught her off guard to say the least. Gone was the comfort she felt in his grin.
Not wanting to push him any further, she nodded and hurried into and down the musty hall, hearing the door close behind her as she made her way up the stairs. As soon as she heard the click, felt the comfort of having a wall between her and Dante, she bound up the last few stairs and practically ran to her room.
She only let herself catch a breath when she was enveloped in the safe darkness of her room and slid the dead bolt into its socket. Turning, she leaned her back against the door and slid down the rough wood until she was sitting at the floor. She let her head fall back, her eyes closed, silently counting her breaths.
In, one, two, three, four… hold, one, two, three, four, … out one, two, three, four. She counted, letting the interaction with Dante sink in. It was a warning. A warning and a threat. He was giving her an ultimatum, stay out of the coming war, or… the thought made her shiver. She had seen the bloodshed, the violence that came with the Peaky Blinders. She couldn't remember the last time she was Michael or Arthur without bruised and damaged knuckles. Tommy seemed to keep his hands more clean, but only because she knew he had others due much of the grunt work.
She shuddered at the thought of how Dante would play in the struggle between his family and the Shelby's. The latter was known for being fair, violent, cruel, but fair. Foreign to her as the ways of gangsters was, she knew that was not a given.
"Idiot", she breathed into the darkness. Her naivety made her skin crawl. A nice smile and charm and she had let herself get comfortable, let her guard down. She realized that she was lucky. Her stupidity could have had more dire consequences that night.
"You are as stupid as you look, aren't you Jen?" she could imagine Michael saying, annoyance and anger scrunched onto his face. He would tease her mercilessly about her naivety, calling her a liability to the family, a subject he always seemed to enjoy pushing her buttons on.
At the thought, she resigned herself to never telling the Shelbys. Of course she would tell them Dante was staying at the inn, but wouldn't mention the details of their interaction together, or her stupidity.
In the distance, the town bells chimed, a reminder of how late, or early rather, it was. But she stayed against the door, wishing her heart to stop racing… for the fear to melt away. After what seemed like hours, she finally felt her breath soften and exhaustion replace adrenaline. She groaned as she pulled herself off the floor.
The next morning and afternoon passed at a snail's pace. Despite not having to be at the Garrison until late afternoon, Jenny gave up on sleeping in by 10. Instead, she spent the rest of the day doing menial tasks, trying, in vain, to distract herself from the previous night's events. As she dusted, washed her linens, made the bed, and did everything else possible in her tiny room, a pit formed in her stomach. Resentment towards Tommy and the others and fear of the possibility of war, simmered inside her as she worked.
Dante's warning from the night before had only made it worse. She replayed everything from Tommy soliciting her help, to refusing to read her the letter, to Dante's petrifying face at the entrance to the Rose. She mulled it over in her head over and over. She was at a crossroads. One way or another she would have to make a decision. Dante's threat was surely no idle, and she knew it was true.
Tommy had made it very clear he had no interest in her being involved except as a pawn. She didn't owe him anything. She could walk away, from the Garrison, from the Shelbys, from the Peaky Blinders. But where would she go? No one would hire a barmaid, and especially not after she had worked for the Shelbys. They would think she was a liability. Leaving the Garrison wasn't much of an option, but staying out of Shelby business might be. As she dressed, she resigned herself to stepping away from the Peaky blinders, from the men of the Shelby family. From now on she would just be a barmaid, nothing more and nothing less. Not a Peaky Blinder, and certainly not a Shelby, not that she ever could have been.
Later that evening, Jenny slowly dressed for work. She had bought a few new clothes with her wages, but still dressed rather plainly for the city. It wasn't that she didn't want to, the fashion was beautiful, but she never had the confidence to pull it off. But then again, she had quickly found that blending in was much more advantageous than sticking out, especially for a woman. She had settled on plain clothes but added a bit of color every now and then. Today, it was a subtle forest green skirt that complimented her hazel eyes and reminded her of one her aunt used to wear. As she checked her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but smile, bringing up her mood ever so slightly. With a final once over in the mirror, Jenny sighed and made her way down the hall and the treacherous steps of the Rose.
The noise of the late afternoon Birmingham bustle greeted her as she stepped out of the Rose. She was about to turn in the direction of the Garrison when a familiar voice came from her right.
"Did you really think Tommy would let you off the hook that easily?" Micheal crooned, as she turned to face him. He leaned casually against the side of the Rose. Like Dante the night before, he had been waiting for her. Deciding to not let her face give away anything, she quickly turned and again began to make her way to work.
"Oi," she heard him grunt, followed by the sound of footsteps following her.
"Hello Michael, good afternoon to you too. I don't know what you're talking about and frankly I don't care," Jenny said, not stopping or even glancing in the Shelby's direction.
"Don't play dumb Jen. You had a little interaction with the Londoner last night." He growled, coming up to walk alongside her. Jenny continued to ignore him, walking briskly in the direction of the Garrison.
"Silence isn't doing you any favors, we know what happened last night. Tommy had you followed." Jenny whirled around.
"Tommy had me followed?" she huffed, glaring at Michael. He matched her glare with equal intensity and, without warning, he reached out and grabbed her arm. Before she could protest he dragged her down a deserted alley. They made it halfway down the deserted street before he stopped and let her go. The sounds of the bustle of main street were muffled as Michael dragged a hand through his dirty blonde hair.
"Michael, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Jenny huffed, winded from being practically dragged.
"Shhhh," He snarled, stepping forward so he was almost an inch from her face. Without thinking Jenny stepped back, she felt the rough damp texture of the wall on her back as she stared back at Michael. His eyes were wild, his pupils dilated, bags sat under his green eyes. To her surprise, they were clear. He was sober. She couldn't remember the last time she saw him sober.
She reached out a hand, instinctual, and brushed it against his face. He looked tired, downtrodden, but sober, aware of everything, including her fingers as they brushed against the stubble of his chin.
He froze under her touch, and with a sudden realization of embarrassment she dropped her hand. She could feel blood rushing to her cheeks and looked to the ground in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. If Michael noticed, he pretended not to.
"Jen, what did Dante say to you last night? Tommy's man said you talked to Dante for a while, that he is staying at the Rose, that you looked shaken up…" He looked down at me, his cold features barely seemed to restrain the anger beneath the surface.
"I… He… we just talked, he was outside the inn when I got home last night. I thought he was nice enough… he just.." She stuttered, trying to avoid Michael's eyes.
"Jen, you know I don't believe you, and neither will Tommy. The fact that you are lying is causing more trouble than whatever it is you're hiding," his voice came out in a low growl. He was annoyed, she figured, annoyed at the inconvenience she had caused him and the family. She was a liability, he had always said it.
"Did he threaten you?" The question came out as almost a whisper.
"No," Jenny replied, looking away, towards the main road. "We just talked about the inn and then I went to my room. I don't know what spies Tommy has in his pocket but I suggest he gets ones with better observation skills."
Michael snorted. "Jesus Jen, you need to figure out how to be a better liar. It's written all over your face." A cruel grin danced across his lips as he said it, as if he found pleasure in detecting her dishonesty.
"It's not funny and I'm not lying. He didn't threaten me, he was polite and actually quite charming. Maybe I should work for him instead of your family. Probably wouldn't be used as a pawn or dragged down alleys." She challenged, finally meeting his eye to glare up at him.
If the remark bothered him, Michael didn't let on. Instead his face remained blank as he turned to look back towards the main road, his eyes lost in thought.
"Jenny, you lying about this won't make things not happen. It won't stop the inevitable." His voice was barely a murmur, as if he was talking more to himself than to her.
"But I don't want a part of it, Michael," She saw a muscle in his jaw flex at the sound of his name.
"Are you heading to your shift?' he asked, not looking back at her.
"Yes, before you dragged me down here and accused me of being a liar," she mumbled, annoyed at his sudden change in the subject.
"Good, Tommy wants to speak to you later, about what Dante said to you last night. I suggest you tell the truth." He finally looked back down at her.
"And Jen, don't try to hide something like that from us. It could have negative consequences for the family, … and for you."
"Is that a threat?" she challenged, standing up straight and glaring up at him. His face didn't reveal anything, but his glared softened a bit.
"No, it's a warning. We have no interest in losing a barmaid."
And with that he turned on his heel and walked back down the alley and turned out of sight.
Michael was right, Tommy did press her about her interaction with Dante. It was a few hours into her shift when he pulled her into the private suite and sat her down at the table.
"Drink?" he asked, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. She shook her head.
"Very well," he corked the bottle and took a sip before continuing.
"You know what I am going to ask you, Jenny. I request that you are honest with me, don't try to pull the same horseshit you did with Michael this afternoon. She was about to protest but Tommy put up a hand to silence her.
"Arthur suspects that Dante threatened you last night, threatened you personally," he continued, his blue eyes burning into her from across the table. "But, you see I think Michael's right. I think you're lying for a different reason. I think you're scared. You're scared that if you relay whatever he said to you, it might escalate the situation." His eyes bore into hers with such an intensity that she had to look away. He took that only as confirmation of his theory.
"Let me assure you, Jenny. There is territory, power, and profit at play between the Peaky Blinders and Dante's family. You won't be able to stop it."
She knew that of course. She had no doubt that blood and violence would come. She just didn't know if should be part of it. But she wasn't going to admit that. She wasn't going to admit that she was petrified of a war, especially that she feared for her own life. It was silly anyway, she was just a barmaid, a person of convenience. Assuming she would be involved at all, was self involved. So all she could do was nod, nod and hope that her face didn't betray that fear.
There was silence for a moment, Tommy seemed to be waiting for her to say something. She looked up from studying the floor to find him watching her, knowingly.
"So what did Dante say to you last night, Jenny? And the truth only, if you don't mind." Even though his words were teasing, his face remained stoic.
"Honestly, not much. We talked about the stars, being from the country, feeling…." Jenny stopped for a moment, feeling a rush of blood to her cheeks, embarrassed to recollect how much she had divulged to a potential violent stranger.
"He guessed I was feeling homesick," she admitted, watching to see if Tommy's expression would change. When it didn't, she continued.
"He asked me about being a barmaid, and then we talked about whether I was a part of the Peaky Blinders. I said I wasn't, just helped out last night, and… that's it." She looked down at her feet again, willing, praying her face didn't give away the lie.
"He told you were part of it, didn't he? Whether you liked it or not?" Startled, she looked up. A little grin curled onto Tommy's lips, a knowing smile indicating she had given herself away.
"Well, not exactly, he said to either get in or get out, there wasn't anything in between," she admitted, a blush filling her cheeks. "It wasn't really a threat. It was more of a statement." She finished, looking at Tommy, searching his face for a reaction, an indication of his displeasure with her. To her surprise, instead he looked at her with warmth, or at least Tommy's version of it.
"But it scared you just the same - his 'statement', as you call it. It felt like a threat, right?" His eyes searched hers, waiting for her to respond.
"Yes." Was all she could muster, but she felt relief. Relief that Tommy didn't shame her for her naivety with Dante.
Tommy didn't respond. Instead he pulled out his cigarette tin and lit a cigarette. It was not until he took his first exhale did he speak.
"He has a point, Jenny. There isn't a middle ground when it comes to what we do. Unfortunately, though, Dante was wrong, you don't really have a choice anymore. He, and, I admit, I, already made that choice for you." He took another drag of his cigarette, waiting for her to respond.
"What do you mean? I don't have to be involved if I don't want to. Last night was a one off, all I did was tell you what I saw. I can step away now." But even as she said it, Jenny knew it was a lie.
"Jen, unless you pack up and leave Birmingham tomorrow, you are part of this now. That's how gang wars work. Anyone and everyone is a part of it, a target, an asset, of one side of the other. Unfortunately, I have made you part of it, Dante has seen you as part of our military, so to speak, and I apologize for that. But now, you are a part of the Peaky Blinders."
Tommy's words sent a chill down her spin. Part of the peaky blinders? What would Aunt May say, knowing she was now part of a gang. Jenny could imagine telling her, imagine May's laughter ringing out like bells, thinking it was some practical joke. Jennifer Mckenzie Hunter, the gangster, she would cry with laughter, Jesus that would be the day, the day hell freezes over. The thought brought a wave of sadness. Jenny would have traded 5 years off her life to have her aunt with her now, to tell her what to do, to comfort her advice one last time. Without her, she was alone, she was -
"Jen?" Tommy's concerned voice brought her back to reality. Judging by his expression, her melancholy was written all over her face.
"Sorry, I'm fine, just a little… feel a little lost." Her voice cracked a little at the end, and averted her eyes from Tommy's in embarrassment.
"Here," she looked up to see Tommy pouring her a drink. This time, when he offered it to her, she took it. Tommy watched her as she put the glass to her lips and took an unceremonious gulp of the amber liquid.
Though she was well versed in drinking at this point in her life, gulping down the whiskey today felt different. The kick, the burn of the alcohol as it slipped down her throat, warming her lungs and stomach on the way down, she knew there was no turning back. That burn was the first one of many as the Peaky Blinders.