Footsteps echoed as she walked along the corridor, following the stern silhouette who had yet to even offer the bereaved young child any words of comfort. Instead, the Sister had firmly instructed Saoirse to stop her crying or else she would receive something worth crying for.

Her mother always told her Nuns were strict. She would threaten Saoirse for her bad behaviour with a trip to church to see those very women she had become so afraid of after listening to her mother's horror stories.

"Pay her no mind, my girl," her father would pat his knee gently and when she climbed upon it he would hold her to him closely. "Your mother's just trying to scare you."

"Gerry, you have no idea how many times those Nuns at school used to tan my arse for even breathing too loudly."

"Well, judging by how loudly you snore at night, I'd say they were right to," Saoirse's father winked at her playfully. "Besides, we'll always be here to look after you so don't worry your pretty wee head about that, love."

But he lied. Saoirse was as angry as she was grief stricken. She was angry that her parents would leave her. When her mother passed away, her father had sworn again to take care of her for the rest of her life. Only he had lied. He had left her too, and now she was alone in this strange place that smelled of wax and damp and was run by the very women her mother had warned her about.

"Stop your snivelling, you little brat." the Nun turned around sharply when Saoirse let out a subconscious sob. She grabbed Saoirse by the shoulders, towering over and forcing her to meet her cold, grey eyes. "There's a reason your parents are both rotting in hell as we speak and that's because of you. If you hadn't been born, then your mother might have come to her senses and severed her ties with your father. Eventually she could have absolved herself of her sins with God's help, but she chose not to, and you must understand that you play a large part in that. So, there is no use in crying about it. You should never have been born but you were, and it was your parents who were forced to pay the price."

Saoirse looked down at the floor, her shoes blurring as more tears spilled down her cheeks at the cold and callous words that stabbed at her like sharp knives into the skin. She tried desperately not to believe she was responsible for her parents' deaths, but her young brain couldn't ignore the niggle of doubt that what the Nun said was the truth. After all, hadn't her own relatives chosen to deny her existence on account of her being a half breed bastard? But her mother always told her that Protestants and Catholics argued despite both believing in the same God and that they both believed God was kind and loving, so why would God do such a thing? Her heart ached with confusion as she continued to cry pitifully.

"Give me your hand," the Nun's harsh voice broke through her thoughts, snatching at Saoirse before she could even respond.

The sting of the wooden stick upon her palm burnt like fire, momentarily startling Saoirse into silence before she broke down into sobs once more. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Her hand was raw and bleeding; the pain was like nothing she had ever felt before.

"If I see so much as one more tear or hear one more snivel from you, you can expect that again," Sister Agatha said, not bothering to conceal her vindictive delight.

With a sneer of contempt, she turned and continued walking while Saoirse followed numbly behind, her shoulders sagging as bit her lip in an attempt not to cry. Her hand throbbed and all she wanted was for her mother to kiss it better or her father to tease her and say that it would be a pig's foot come morning. However, as she continued to walk down the dark corridor towards what would be her doom, she knew that she was alone now. Forever.

Saoirse awoke with a start, rubbing at her wet eyes, desperately trying to rid herself of the nightmare. It was always the same. Whenever she was anxious it would come and taunt her as she tried to sleep, reminding her that physically she was free of that hell on earth, but a part of her soul would remain there for eternity.

The truth was that she was very anxious. She was terrified that she was going to sleep in and somehow be late for her first day of work. Also, she kept thinking about the many things she had been told about the Shelbys, and she wondered if she was really doing the right thing working for them. Yet morning came and she found her feet walking the twenty minutes to the same office she had been in the day before, ready to begin her new job. The door was open when she arrived but out of politeness she knocked before stepping inside gingerly.

"You're late," Mr Shelby stood just inside of the doorway, looking her up and down with narrowed eyes.

"I am not," Saoirse answered indignantly before she could stop herself. "Forgive me for being rude, Mr Shelby, but I'm not late. In fact, I'm actually early."

She pulled back her coat sleeve and held up her wrist. Tommy noted that she was in fact three minutes early… by her watch anyway. He lifted his pocket watch to her face, and she observed that she was actually two minutes late according to the small round object in his hand. She also caught a glimpse of black ink tattoo and her interest was piqued, but that was a question for another day when she knew the man better. Although who was she kidding? She doubted she would ever know Tommy Shelby well enough to enquire about his tattoos, and perhaps that was for the best.

"Well, I apologise for being late then, Mr Shelby," she said diplomatically, remembering that he was still annoyed by her supposed tardiness.

"I'll let it slide this once, but from now on I suggest you get yourself a watch that tells the time correctly," he muttered.

"Perhaps it's your watch that's wrong?" Saoirse raised an eyebrow.

She almost slapped a hand over her mouth, wishing she could take the words back. Had she not learned about thinking before speaking after yesterday? She smiled apologetically, hoping he wouldn't take offence at the lack of filter between her brain and her mouth. Perhaps it was the years of keeping silent and doing exactly as she was told, but once she had left the orphanage, she had made a point to always speak her mind and stick up for herself when she knew she was right. Judging by the unamused look on her employer's face, she had better try and restrain herself from now on.

Tommy looked down at Saoirse and bit his lip to keep from smiling at the worried expression on her face. Tommy Shelby didn't smile. Especially not when he was exerting his authority over someone. If anyone ever dared to answer him back in the way she had, he would have sent them packing with a swift word and perhaps worse. Yet for some reason with her, he found it amusing. He liked the fact that she wasn't as afraid of him as everyone else. Or if she was, she didn't show it. But he was still her boss and he needed to make sure she knew her place, just like everyone else did.

"I can't say I like being questioned, Miss O'Reilly," his eyes bore into hers. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood this morning otherwise I'd be finding myself a new assistant."

Saoirse struggled to control the disbelief on her face. If this was him in a good mood, she would hate to see him in a bad mood and she desperately pitied anyone who found themselves frequently on his bad side.

"I can only apologise again," she said sincerely. "I sometimes forget that there's a filter in between my brain and my mouth."

"Best you remember it from now on," he commented, ushering her to come further into the office. "In you come then."

Letting out the breath she had not realised she was holding, Saoirse stepped through the open doorway. It was narrow and when Mr Shelby didn't move, she had no choice but to brush her body against his to get past. The smell of tobacco and musk invaded her nostrils along with something else. It was fierce and masculine. It was him. She blushed and looked down when she felt the hard angles of his body against her much softer ones, and she hurried past as quickly as possible.

"Who's this then, brother?" a distinctly familiar voice came from an open doorway to the left of the small building; a door she had not even noticed yesterday, believing the office to be nothing more than just one large room until now. "Oh, I know you."

"You know, Miss O'Reilly?" Tommy eyeballed his brother questioningly.

"Yeah, I had the fortune of knocking her over yesterday," Arthur grinned at Saoirse.

"I'm awfully sorry about that again," she grimaced. "I just wasn't watching where I was going."

"Not to worry," Arthur waved her off. "I once got knocked over by an old man on a bike when I was a kid and broke my wrist, and the older fucker had the cheek to clip me round the ear and drag me home to me Mum. Trust me, love, almost getting knocked over by you was a fucking delight in comparison."

"Oh well that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me knocking into them before," Saoirse grinned, and Tommy noticed for the first time that she had a small dimple on one side of her mouth when she smiled.

"Well as lovely as this is, I'm not paying you to stand around all day flirting with my brother," Tommy's eyes darkened with a jealousy he didn't quite understand.

"Of course, I'm sorry, Mr Shelby," Saoirse apologised, lowering her eyes to the ground and therefore completely missing the confused frown that Arthur sent to his slightly older brother.

"Don't you have things to be doing, Arthur?"

"Not really. Thought I might stick around here and help Saoirse get to grips with whatever it is you're going to have her doing," Arthur grinned, enjoying the angry scowl on Tommy's face. "Alright no need to look at me like you're about to gauge my bloody eyes out; I'll go and find something else to do."

"I can give you a list if you need some ideas," Tommy muttered, narrowing his eyes slightly. "And get John out of bed and have him help you."

"I reckon I'll be alright, brother," Arthur grinned, slapping him lightly on the back. "It was very nice to meet you again, Saoirse."

"It's Miss O'Reilly to you," Tommy commented, waiting for his brother to make his way towards the door before turning once more to Saoirse. "Come along, Miss O'Reilly and I'll show where you'll be working."

As Tommy all but marched over to the large mahogany desk he had been sitting at the day before, Saoirse glanced back towards the door quickly and Arthur winked at her playfully and then hurried out of the door.

"Miss O'Reilly?"

"Sorry," she cleared her throat, hurrying over to Tommy who was waiting with an impertinent raise of his eyebrow.

"This will be your desk," Tommy explained. "You may hang your coat and bag over there on the coat stand. Nobody will take anything here, you can be assured of that, so your belongings will be quite safe if you need to leave them unattended at any time or for any reason. Your job role will be mainly secretarial duties such as sorting out my diary and arranging meetings, dealing with any correspondence I have and reading through contracts with our suppliers and so on. You're experienced in that regard so I'm certain you'll have no trouble. My aunt tends to deal with our accounts because I usually prefer to keep that within the family and with people I trust; no offence to you of course."

"None taken, Mr Shelby," Saoirse answered truthfully.

"But with my aunt having a lot of other things to take care of as well, she needs a little bit of help with the wages for the men every week. She'll help you for the first week or two but then after that I expect you to be able to handle it alone. We employ a little over two hundred men in our businesses combined, and they are paid every Friday. So, for example, this Friday they will be paid for the previous week, but I must warn you that when they come it can turn into a free for all. I'm sure you understand that after a long working week, they're in a hurry to get their wages and go home but it will be up to you to keep them in line and collecting their wages in an orderly manner. Any questions?"

"I don't think so," she shook her head, even though inside she was slightly terrified that she had bitten off a lot more than she could chew. There was no way she was going to let her employer know that though.

"Alright, well for today I would like you to write up these notes from my meetings over the past couple of weeks since our last secretary left," he ordered, pointing to a stack of papers on the desk. "And I'll be in my office which is just through that door if you should need me."

"Why did she leave?" Saoirse asked without thinking.

"What?"

"The old secretary. Why did she leave?"

"Because she couldn't keep her mouth shut," Tommy answered bluntly, watching Saoirse's face blanch slightly. "We already established yesterday that despite your very short time living here you have heard about the reputation my family holds around here, but I'm curious to know if anyone has taken the time to tell you about the good things our family does for the people of this community?"

"I've heard some good things, although not many," Saoirse gave a tentative smile and it warmed Tommy to see the slight hint of playfulness in her eyes.

"I suppose I'll have to make sure we show you some more then," he murmured, and Saoirse was unsure whether or not he had intended to make it sound like there was a double meaning to his words or not. Before she could think any further into it, he turned on his heel and left her alone mulling over the unreadable look in his eyes.

Saoirse rolled her head from side to side, sighing with relief when she felt the knots in her neck crack. Her head was spinning and her eyes were sore from staring at letters and words all day. She couldn't even begin to process what the notes were about because she was just so focused on the typing of them.

"Are you done then?" Tommy appeared in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and Saoirse realised it was the first time she had ever seen him with one.

"I think so," she smiled, stacking the papers neatly and then holding the thick pile out to him. "Do you want to see them?"

"Later," he said, and Saoirse placed the papers down gently on the desk.

Tommy had popped in and out of his office all day, and each time he had peered through the slightly ajar doorway, she had been hunched over the desk, her brow furrowed and her pencil scribbling away furiously or typewriter keys clacking. As far as he was aware, she had not even stopped for lunch. He would cast an eye over her work later but if first impressions were anything to go by, he was pleased with his new employee.

"Tomorrow, I'd like you to make a start on wages for the end of the week, but to do that you'll need to go to my home." he asked.

"Your home?" she frowned, a little unnerved by that idea.

"Is that a problem?" Tommy raised a questioning eyebrow.

"No, not at all, Mr Shelby." Saoirse shook her head vehemently. "It's just that I wasn't expecting it."

"Tomorrow also happens to be race day so my aunt will be needed at our bookmakers which is attached to our home, so it'll be better if you do the wages there," he explained, reaching across the desk for a piece of paper and pencil to scribble down the address. "I'm going out of town for the day, but I'll make sure Polly knows to expect you."

"Alright then," she smiled, slipping on her coat and then taking her bag off the hook and clutching it in front of her.

Tommy walked Saoirse to the door. She was completely aware of just how close he stood to her and once again she could smell his unique scent. It was unlike that of any other man she had smelled before. Not that she was in the habit of going round and sniffing men.

"Thank you for today, Miss O'Reilly," he murmured. "Polly'll expect you promptly at eight in the morning, and she will tell me if you're even a minute late."

"I'll be sure to be on time tomorrow then," Saoirse couldn't help but smile. "Oh, and Mr Shelby? Would it be too inappropriate if I asked you to call me Saoirse? Miss O'Reilly makes me sound like some matronly old school ma'am, and I can't say I like it very much."

"If you wish," he nodded, but for some reason he couldn't explain the feeling that came over him at the thought of being able to say her name. "But just so we're clear I still expect you to call me Mr Shelby."

"Understood," she nodded, although she swore she could see a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

And in that moment, she decided that there was more to Tommy Shelby than what was visible on the surface.

When Saoirse got home, she kicked off her shoes and fell onto the sofa with a groan. Joe wasn't yet home, and she knew she had better get dinner ready. But her eyes shut of their own volition and she was asleep before she knew it. It was late by the time she woke up, and she smiled as she felt someone rubbing at her stockinged feet.

"When did you get back?" she opened her eyes and yawned.

"About ten minutes ago because I took some overtime that was going," Joe smiled. "Long day, love?"

"Something like that," she answered, lifting her feet from his lap and sitting up. "But shouldn't it be me rubbing your feet? You're the one who's been standing up all day."

"Ach, dinna ye worry about that," Joe kissed her nose. "But you can rub something else if you like?"

"Is that all you think about?" Saoirse tutted, slapping his arm playfully, even as heat began to pool in between her thighs.

"What can I say? I'm a red-blooded male and there's a beautiful young woman sitting beside me."

With a breathy chuckle, Saoirse allowed Joe to lay her down once more on the sofa. As his bearded face tickled hers and his hands caressed her through her dress, his scent enveloped her, and she gave in to the needs of her body. Perhaps if she had not been so overcome by her sudden desire, she might have noticed that the woody scent of the man above her didn't affect her in the way the scent of Tommy Shelby had. It didn't even come close.

Afterwards they ate a simple dinner of paste sandwiches and then rushed out in the rain to the phone box at the end of the road. They had promised to call Joe's mother tonight and they both knew she would be waiting eagerly by her own phone for them to call.

"Hello Mum," Joe smiled into the mouthpiece even though she couldn't see him. "How are you?"

"Oh, it's lovely to hear from you, darling," his mother was teary. "Is Saoirse with you?"

"Aye she's next to me," he answered, holding the phone to Saoirse to say hello briefly before answering all of his mother's questions about their new home and their new jobs. The longer she spoke the less like her usual cheery self she sounded, and even Saoirse could tell from hearing her muffled chatting that something wasn't quite right. She motioned for Joe to ask her what was wrong and at first, he shook his head and waved her off but when she wouldn't give up, he finally gave in. "Are you alright, Mum? You don't sound yourself. Are you not feelin' well?"

"Oh, it's nothing love," she sniffed. "It's just your father again."

Joe made a noise of understanding, raising an eyebrow at Saoirse who was frowning in confusion. What about Joe's father had made his mother so upset?

"Well, the thing is Mum you know how he gets when he's had a bad day," Joe was less than sympathetic. "And you know how to antagonise him, don't you?"

"I know but he's really hurt me this time," his mother murmured. "Worse than usual."

"Well, you must have made him lash out worse than usual," Joe shrugged. "Are you done complainin' now cos I'm almost out of time and I don't wanna listen to this."

Saoirse was shocked as she listened to the conversation between Joe and his mother. It was obvious that his father had hurt her and judging by the sounds of it, it wasn't the first time either. What shocked Saoirse wasn't so much the act itself, because she knew marriages like that existed, but she couldn't understand how Joe could be so cold towards his mother who was clearly upset and hurt. She was still thinking about it as they walked home and when Joe asked her what was bothering her, she didn't hesitate to tell him.

"I understand that you probably thought I was bein' horrible," Joe answered. "But the thing is Saoirse, my Mum and Dad have always had a rocky marriage. My Dad drinks a lot, but he works bloody hard, he always has, and sometimes when he's had a drink or two, he gets a little bit on the rough side."

"And you think that's alright do you?"

"I never said that," Joe sighed. "But you don't understand cos you've never seen it. He comes home in a bad mood, and she gets on his case about him drinkin' or sleepin' around with other women. She winds him up and goads him into getting' angry and then wonders why he hits her. Look Saoirse," he stopped and held her by the shoulders. "It's complicated, alright? They love each other. My Dad loves my Mum, but he just isn't very good at controllin' his temper sometimes, and my Mum, God love her, still isn't very good at just keepin' her mouth shut and stayin' out of his way. She'll be alright in a couple of days, she's always just over emotional about everythin'. Knowin' my mum, he probably gave her nothin' more than a gentle smack and she's actin' as though he's beaten her to within an inch of her life."

Saoirse frowned. Joe's words just didn't sit right with her and she couldn't help but think that if it was her mother, she would want to do something about it.

"Look at me love," Joe cupped her cheek and smiled down at her reassuringly. "I understand you're upset and it upsets me too, but I promise you that by tomorrow they'll be happy as Larry again and it'll all be forgotten about. It's just the way they are. Families eh?"

Saoirse smiled back, although it didn't quite reach her eyes. She supposed everyone's families were different and she highly doubted that Joe would stand by idly and allow his mother to be hurt for no reason. Perhaps she really did goad her husband into hurting her somehow? Who was she to judge or to interfere, especially if Joe saw no reason to? Chewing on her lip in indecision, Saoirse decided there was nothing else she could do except put it to the back of her mind. Even if it proved difficult.