Upon Dorothy's return to the Garrison, she noted a young blonde woman had joined Harry behind the bar.

"Sorry Harry, I got caught up with Thomas."

Harry stared at her silently, mouth slightly open in shock as though he was looking for the right words to say. "Look, Grace, Dotty.' The two barmaids gathered beside him, "You're both friendly girls but be careful. If I say something's on the house then say nothing to whoever you're serving. You certainly shouldn't follow 'em out the door." Harry focused on Dorothy, conveying his seriousness thorough the slight fear in his eyes. "The Shelby's and their… Associates. They aren't to be messed with. If they decide they want you…" The older man began to rub his chin in frustration and discomfort. "There's nothing anybody can do about it." A heavy silence fell upon the three bar hands. "Lucky for you, since he got back from France, Tommy doesn't want anybody at all."

Harry resumed serving the demanding patrons as the two young women stared quietly at one another. Dorothy didn't feel that uneasy around the Shelby family. Their name seemed to strike fear into everyone in town but so far, their fear-striking abilities hadn't worked on her. Grace, however, looked quietly fearful.

"Hey, don't worry about 'em. I've been dealing with lads like them my whole life. Stick with me." Dorothy tried to sound reassuring but Grace could only muster a half-hearted smile in response.

"Dorothy, by the way. Dotty if you prefer." Dorothy held out her hand to the blonde barmaid.

"Grace." The other women replied before sweeping around and continuing to serve customers.

Dorothy couldn't help but feel a little bit on edge with Grace's cool greeting, but she put it down to first day nerves and the two worked silently side by side the rest of the night.

The distant sound of whistles woke Dorothy up. Instant panic set over her and all too fresh memories of whistles blowing and men running caused her to leave the comfort of her bed. In minutes, she was out the door and wandering the damp alleys towards the source of the commotion. As she rounded the corner she froze. Men were being pulled from their homes, furniture thrown from houses and children cowered in the street. With a calming breath, Dorothy began. First, running towards two young children crying for their father. She could see no bleeding and swiftly moved on towards the next group. Women huddle together in a group. Another glance at them and no obvious injuries. Next, a man pinned on the floor. He had a bloodied nose and his arm was being pulled at an uncomfortable angle. Two coppers held him down as a third ransacked his house.

"Oi!" Dorothy shouted from six paces away. No one reacted. "Oi!" She shouted again, three paces. Nothing. "I said, oi!" Dorothy had reached the group and moved to pull one of the officers from the poor man.

The sting in her cheek didn't take long to make itself known as she fell to the floor, the officer's arm still swinging through the air, fresh from her sharp slap.

After she had recovered, Dorothy tried again to help the bloodied man on the floor and, again, she was pushed away – earning herself a grazed hand for her troubles as she landed on the cold cobbles.

"Miss." The polite tone of an Irish voice caught Dorothy's attention. "I wouldn't try that again if I were you. You see, this is official police business and we wouldn't want you to get caught up in all this commie nonsense, now would we?" The man pulled a pipe from his pocket and lit it in front of Dorothy. "Because if you were to get caught up in all of this, we'd have to take you with us too." His tone was condescending and vile. Something about the way he moved, the way he held himself, put Dorothy on edge.

"If your men were a bit more gentle, I wouldn't be here trying to mop up their blood, Officer"

"Inspector." He bit back, without missing a beat. Dorothy knew from his clothes and the smarmy tone that he was one of the higher-ups but she couldn't resist a small dig. Dorothy had never really known when she should stop and it had gotten her into trouble more than once.

"Sorry, in-spec-tor." Dorothy over-pronounced every letter in an effort to sound insincere. The words exchanged may have been pleasant enough but both parties could tell their encounter was anything but friendly.

Campbell extended his arm out to her to help her off the ground. She hesitantly accepted.

As Campbell helped her up, he pulled Dorothy in close and whispered menacingly, "Watch yourself, girl. I don't know how things used to run but rest assured, I run a much tighter ship."

The men were taken away in the dozens, leaving the women and children behind.

The fire was a sight to behold that eve. The middle of the street – it couldn't have been more dramatic if the boys had tried. It certainly sent a message. People buzzed around the blaze as more and more portraits were thrown onto the pile. Through the flames, she could see the Shelby brothers. After further conversations with Harry, she finally understood their social standing; the reputation Shelby's had and the status they held.

Dorothy was entranced by the flames. The way they flickered against the black sky and the warmth that kissed her skin. It was reminiscent of a more fearful time yet oddly comforting. Familiar. As the evening wore on, families retreated to the safety of their homes and the crowd thinned to only a handful of people. Dorothy was so entranced by the fire than she barely noticed Tommy approach her.

"Smoke?"

Dorothy had been told Tommy was a man of few words but she couldn't hide the smirk on her face from just how few words he used.

"Thanks," she replied.

Tommy held out his cigarettes and with her grazed hand, Dorothy picked out one and placed it between her lips. Tommy looked at her questioningly as he noted the scrapes on her palm.

"I fell into a copper's hand," Dorothy replied nonchalantly. Tommy raised a match to her face to light her smoke and noticed the red bruise forming on her cheek. Again, he looked at her for further explanation. "I fell twice."

The following day saw Dorothy working at The Garrison. It was quiet. People were still hesitant about leaving their homes, what with the new policemen wandering the streets. The crowd never particularly picked up and Grace left early to run errands and go shopping. Harry left early to go to the pictures. Dorothy hummed to herself as she closed up for the night. As she began to clear the empty glasses and wipe the puddles of beer from the bar that night, Tommy walked in.

"Mr Shelby." Dorothy nodded her head as he entered.

"Whi-" Tommy was cut off as the sound of a clean glass and full bottle of whiskey chimed as Dorothy placed them on the bar.

"I'll leave you alone." Dorothy went to bow out of the room when his voice stopped her.

"I came 'ere for company."

Dorothy paused. Unsure of where to stand or what to say.

"Where's Harry?"

"He took the night off. I'm closing the pub alone, Mr Shelby."

"Dangerous around these parts. Lady like you shouldn't be wandering alone late at night. Dangerous men about."

"So I've been told, Mr Shel-"

"It's Tommy. Just Tommy." He poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed it in one.

"Long night, Thomas?" She was testing his last nerve, yet he couldn't summon the energy to be mad.

Dorothy sat down opposite him at his table. "Somethin' like that." He replied.

A silence hung between them, not comfortable but not uncomfortable. Just a heavy silence until Dorothy tried again.

"I hear you're goin' to the races. Grace went to go buy a dress today. She doesn't say much, that one, but she did tell me I'll be needing to cover her shift soon." Tommy barely acknowledged Dorothy's presence, so she persisted. "How's Arthur doing? He seemed much better last night at the fire, save for the fact he was blind drunk. I'm sorry about that, by the way. Not the finest introduction. If I'd had known who you all were I'd have-"

"You'd have what?"

Dorothy was caught off guard by his reply. She hadn't been aware he was even still listening to her. She blushed slightly, "I'd probably have done it anyway."

After finishing his second whiskey, Tommy pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Dorothy. She accepted gratefully and leaned forward slowly for him to light it.

"Cheltenham." Dorothy kept quiet so Tommy would elaborate. "The races we're going to. It's Cheltenham."

"You and Grace will have a grand time" Dorothy replied.

"No. 'We' are going to. You too."

"But, Mr Shelby I-"

"Tommy." He commanded.

"But, Thomas," Dorothy tested him slightly and the faint trace of a smile momentarily graced his lips before returning to the straight-faced man he usually was. "I wouldn't know what to wear or what to do. I've never been to the races before."

"Where is it you're from, Doll?" Tommy cigarette hung out his mouth and a cloud of smoke surrounded his face.

"Dorothy." She corrected.

"I know who you are," Tommy replied smugly.

"I'm from London way, Thomas."

Both of them were trying to hide their smirks from the other, determined to have the last word.

"I've asked around about you, ya' know. No one knows who you are. See, I have friends down in London."

Dorothy grew uneasy, their friendly banter rapidly changing to an uncomfortable interrogation.

"I-"

"See my guess is; you're a girl from a good family. Who got herself pregnant. And bringing a child into the world, alone, ruins your life. Right?"

Dorothy took a moment to gather herself. Rather than lashing out she simply shrugged. "You can think what you want to think, Mr Shelby. No one here is interested in anything more than gossip."

Tommy raised an eyebrow interestedly, "Go on then."

"I lived in London when I was young. Moved around a lot with my family. After I got back from France…" Tommy's posture changed. He leaned in further upon her mentioning of the war. "I thought London would be the place for me. I thought wrong. Thought I'd try again up 'ere instead."

The silence that existed between them was mutually appreciated. Tommy poured another glass of whiskey and pushed it towards Dorothy. Hesitantly bringing her eyes up to meet Tommy's she quietly accepted his offer and finished the glass. "Well, you'll have a grand time with us in Cheltenham. Two pounds wage and a day out. I won't hear no more." Tommy declared.

"But-" Tommy silenced Dorothy as he poured himself a final drink, swallowed the liquid in one and sat his empty glass back on the table.

"Not. A. Word." Tommy rose from his seat and made his way to the door, turning just before he slipped out into the street, "Doll."

When Dorothy arrived at work the next day, behind the vacant bar rested a small package wrapped with brown paper. 'Doll" written in thick dark letters on the front. Dorothy didn't have time to give it a second thought as the first patrons of the day arrived. The Shelby brothers arrived at midday and occupied the snug. Grace insisted on serving them and Dorothy gave no objection. As the beer flowed and the songs were sung, Dorothy could almost pretend she was enjoying herself. Everyone's cheery attitude was of stark contrast to that of the mood a few mornings ago during the raid. While Harry was tending to the men waiting for drinks, Dorothy retrieved the mysterious package from beneath the bar and carefully untied the strings fastening it. Folded carefully inside was a silk black dress with delicate white beading running across the neckline. Dorothy couldn't help but smile. She looked through the hatch to the snug and met blue eyes staring back at her.

"Holy shit." Harry's exclamation caught Dorothy's attention. "It's Billy Kimber."

The man in question moved slowly, deliberately, as the crowd parted for him.

"Is there any man here named Shelby?" Kimber was flanked by two large men carrying large guns. As his eyes fell onto Dorothy, she was sure not to look away. She wouldn't let this man scare her into blinking first. His gaze passed over her, onto Grace. He pulled out a gun from his breast pocket and shot directly into the ceiling. "I said: Is there any man here names Shelby?"

Tommy sauntered from the small room, Arthur and John on his tail, and told Billy to get the men a drink. "Everybody out," Tommy commanded.

"Whiskey," Harry mumbled to Dorothy as he moved to herd people out the back door. Dorothy did as she was told and gathered enough glasses for all the men and a bottle of whiskey.

"You go home," Tommy ordered.

Dorothy knew better than to make a fuss.

"I've never approved of women in pubs, but when they look like that…" Kimber's stare made Dorothy's stomach turn and her temper flare as she silently retreated from The Garrison.

When she got back to her small Inn room, she studied the dress further, removing it completely from the packaging. A small handwritten note fell from the parcel.

'For The Races'

A/N Thank you for reading! Please leave a review and favourite/follow the story if you're enjoying it.

-QwertyWords