"Wakey, wakey, sleepy head," Saoirse kissed Joe's head as he snored softly. "It's time to get up or else you're going to be late for work."
"Fucks sakes," Joe muttered under his breath, cracking a bleary brown eye open. "How are you always so fuckin' perky first thing in the mornin'? It's actually a bit sickenin'."
"You can thank the nuns at St. Bernadette's for that one," Saoirse smirked. "Seven o'clock is basically a lie in when you spent years getting up at five. And anyway, what are you going to do when we have babies one day that cry at all hours of the night?"
"I'll put the pillow over my head and go back to sleep," Joe replied, chuckling and reaching for Saoirse when she tried to give him a playful clip around the ear. She allowed herself to be pulled into bed, relishing the warmth of the duvet in comparison to the frigid morning air around them. "I'm kiddin', you daft mare. When we have babies, I'll have no problem with them gettin' up at all sorts of hours because with any luck they'll be adorable just like you and I won't be able to get annoyed at them. Just like I'm not even really that annoyed with you right now."
"Ha," Saoirse snorted. "Well, if that's the case you won't mind me dragging you out of bed right now, will you? There's tea and toast waiting on the table for you and it'll be cold if you don't hurry and then you really will have something to whine about then."
"Slave driver," Joe murmured, pulling her on top of him. His hands roamed under the thin material of her night gown and he grinned. "I can think of something else I'd rather have for breakfast."
"Did you not get enough last night?"
"I don't think I'll ever get enough," Joe smirked, grabbing hold of her bottom and squeezing. "That's prime meat right there."
"Get off, you bloody oaf," she chuckled. "I'm not a piece of bloody beef. But I tell you what? I'll make you a deal. You get up for work and get ready like a good boy and I might just reward you for it tonight."
"How exactly?" his walnut-coloured eyes followed hers as she opened the wardrobe and pulled out a dark green dress.
"You'll have to wait and see, won't you?" she smirked, pulling underwear out of the drawer beside the wardrobe.
With a groan, Joe swung his feet out of bed and rubbed his face wearily.
" You're gonna be the death of me woman."
Saoirse grinned to herself, pondering if all couples felt this happy together. They were so in love and she felt it in the way her stomach would lurch with excitement when she saw him at the end of each day, or in the tingles she would get when he held her hand sweetly over the dinner table as they talked. She had heard so many married couples talking about each other with disdain or annoyance, but she could just never imagine feeling that way about Joe. Perhaps she was just one of the lucky ones.
Saoirse knew roughly where she was headed because Mary's house was just around the corner from the Shelbys' two adjoining houses, and as she navigated her way through the streets in the semi-darkness of the morning, she heard a voice she recognised.
"Well, well, look who turned up like a bad smell."
"Nice to see you too, Mary," Saoirse smirked.
"Not as nice as it to see you, Miss 'I'm living in sin and now I'm working for the Shelbys.'" Mary raised a playful eyebrow. "And before you say it, yes, news does travel fast around here."
"So, it would seem," Saoirse murmured. She didn't know why but she found herself nervous to ascertain Mary's true reaction to her new job.
"You do know you're going the wrong direction for the office, don't you? I mean, if the job's that bad, Saoirse, I'm certain you could just quit you don't have to run away," Mary chuckled. "That's unless you're running away because Tommy Shelby had you murdering someone on your first day?"
"The only person close to death was me, and that was from boredom due to the disgusting amount of paperwork I had to do," Saoirse grimaced. "Apparently it had all built up since the previous secretary, erm, left."
"I'm guessing by the look on your face you heard about her mysterious disappearance, then? I wouldn't worry if I were you because she was a right gobby cow, always down the pub and letting blokes get her drunk. I'm pretty certain that she let the wrong bloke get her drunk and she told him everything he wanted to know about the Shelbys business. Can't say it was terribly sad," Mary sniffed indignantly. "She was always trying it with my Pete anyway, the dirty slapper."
"Mary!" Saoirse gasped. "You can't wish death on someone just because they tried it on with your husband."
"I didn't wish her dead, I just wasn't sad to see her gone," Mary rolled her eyes. "And anyway, she's not dead you daft mare, she's just gone away. Far away, like to the other end of the country away."
Saoirse didn't know why but she felt relief that Tommy had not killed the woman. It shouldn't have mattered to her, but she didn't want to believe he was capable of hurting a woman in such a way.
"I'd better be going, Mary. I'm supposed to be meeting his aunt at the house to learn about wage slips today," Saoirse said. "Mr Shelby said that I'd need to go to the house because of race day."
" Oh, yes," Mary nodded knowingly. "Bloody chaos in there when there's races on, although it's a little more organised now that they're not taking bets illegally anymore. Yeah once the gambling den became legal, Tommy set up office elsewhere to look more professional. Polly'll have them all under control though, and she'll see you right as well. Proper mother hen when it suits her that one."
"Well, that's nice to know at least," Saoirse smiled in relief. She felt no shame in admitting to herself that she had a preconceived idea that Polly Gray was going to be as stern and as cold as her nephew. "I really hate to be rude, but I need to go."
"You're alright, girl, go on," Mary waved her off. "I've got to sort the brats out anyway. I only came out here for a sly cigarette cos my youngest one's got a bad chest, so I don't want to smoke in the house. I'll see you for a brew soon, and I'll expect gossip. Lots of it."
Saoirse could hear Mary's shrill voice from halfway down the road as she shouted at the children for drawing on the wall with her lipstick, and she was still chuckling by the time she reached her destination. She looked at the door, frowning subconsciously as she realised it truly was just like every other house on the street. There was nothing fancy about it, nothing that spoke of the people who lived in it. She couldn't decide if she found it to be heart-warming that despite their fortune and power the Shelbys had retained a sense of self, or in fact it was strange; a sort of reminder to the people of this area that they were always watching.
"You're right on time," the door swung open before Saoirse could even knock upon it. A woman, Polly she presumed, eyed her with a smug grin and dark eyes that were full of mirth. "That's five pounds Tommy owes me now."
"He bet you I'd be late?" Saoirse asked as the woman beckoned her inside. She slipped off her coat and hat with Polly's beckoning, hanging them in the hallway before stepping into the parlour. Immediately the heat from the fire hit her and she could feel her appendages begin to thaw. It was only mid-November, yet winter was already fast approaching, bringing with it a biting chill in the air.
"Well, I bet him five pounds that you wouldn't be," Polly answered. "And he didn't refuse the bet which I took to mean he was on board with it."
"When have you ever known Tommy to turn down a bet?" a younger girl appeared, yawning. She was still in her dressing gown and her hair was sticking up wildly.
"And what bloody time did you get in last night?" Polly turned to her niece, arms folded and her eyebrows raised.
"Just after ten," the girl answered sweetly, sitting down at the table and pouring herself a cup of tea.
"Did you see that, Saoirse?" Polly asked, setting the baby down in the small bassinet next to the table.
"See what?" Saoirse frowned.
"That great big, bloody flying pig that went past the window then," Polly eyed Ada. "Ten o'clock my backside, Ada Shelby. Best you watch what you're doing and whoever you're doing it with."
"Who says I'm doing anything with anyone?" Ada asked indignantly.
"Because I was young and stupid myself once," Polly told her. "And unlike you, I didn't have your brothers to deal with. I was sitting up still at eleven last night when Arthur got home from the Garrison and I told him you were asleep in bed, but it was almost two before I heard you sneaking in the back door."
"Well, if you knew what time I got in, why did you ask?"
"To see if you'd lie or tell the truth," Polly answered. "And your lie only confirmed my suspicion, which is that you're up to no good."
"Pol, I love you but it's really none of your business," Ada said.
"Everything in this family is my business," she said, a warning tone to her voice. "And more than that, Tommy makes everything his business too. Tread carefully, Ada. If you play with matches, it's only a matter of time before you get burnt."
Saoirse stared at her hands intently, trying to pretend she couldn't hear the uncomfortable conversation taking place before her. She felt like an intruder, listening to such a personal matter but neither Polly nor Ada seemed to notice or care and Saoirse used the opportunity to study the older woman. Polly had a maturity about her; a look in her ebony eyes and in the way she held herself that spoke of her being the matriarch of the family, which was no mean feat in a family like this one. Ada, meanwhile, had that air of carefree youth around her.
"Does your family interfere in your life like this, Saoirse?" Ada enquired, casting Polly an exaggerated glare.
"Uh no," Saoirse shook her head, lifting it to meet the younger woman's questioning gaze.
"Lucky you," Ada grumbled. "How many siblings do you have?"
"None," Saoirse answered quickly. She didn't want to appear rude, but she found it hard talking about her lack of family without a lump appearing in her throat.
"What I'd give to be an only child," Ada sighed longingly, smearing jam on the cold toast left out for her. "Your parents must spoil you rotten then?"
"Not exactly," Saoirse whispered. "They're, uh, both dead actually."
Ada almost choked on the food in her mouth but managed to regain her composure and swallow it down before offering Saoirse an apologetic smile.
"I didn't know," she said.
"How could you?" Saoirse shrugged.
"Would you mind if I asked how old you were when they, you know?" Ada asked, sincerely curious and saddened for the girl at the same time.
" Ada," Polly hissed. "I'm sorry, Saoirse, ignore my niece. As well as being a sneaky liar, she's a right nosy cow as well."
"No, it's alright honestly. I was seven," Saoirse answered. "It was two days after my seventh birthday when my mum died from flu. And then it was just a few weeks before my next birthday when my Dad passed too. No other family wanted me, so I lived in St Bernadette's orphanage in Liverpool, where I'm from, until I was old enough to leave."
"Oh, you poor girl," Polly reached out and took her hand, sandwiching it in between her own and squeezing soothingly. "You know, a cousin of ours was in that place years ago before they got her out of there, thank God. She said it was a terrible place. Gosh, some of the stories she told me about that place were so horrific that I could hardly believe they were real."
"I can't imagine losing your whole family like that," Ada shook her head sadly. "That must have been awful for you. Polly drives me up the wall, but I couldn't imagine being without her, especially not when Mum died and Dad fucked off. I couldn't imagine having been all alone."
"And in that God awful place," Polly murmured and crossed herself. "I wouldn't put my worst enemy in there, let alone a child."
"Mr Shelby said much of the same thing," Saoirse murmured. "But I got through it and I hope I'm making my parents proud by trying to make something of myself. I didn't want to disappear into the workhouse, never to be seen again like so many others."
"They're proud of you, I'm certain," Polly smiled knowing, giving her hand a final squeeze.
"So, you moved to Small Heath for what reason exactly?" Ada frowned. "It's not exactly fine living, is it?"
" Well, I have to be truthful and say that I wouldn't have chosen to move here out of choice," she answered. "Don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm too good for the place or anything like that. It's just that I was happy and settled where I was, and I was happy in my job. But my fiancé, Joe, got a new job at the BSA, and when he asked me to come with him I decided that he was worth the move."
"You're engaged?" Ada's face lit up excitedly. "Let me see the ring. Oh, it's beautiful. Pol, look at it. So how did you meet?"
Saoirse smiled remembering the moment six months, three weeks and four days ago.
She had just left the surgery for the evening. She was searching for her keys in her bag and wasn't really watching where she was going when she suddenly fell to the floor and the contents of her bag went sprawling across the street.
"Ach, I'm so sorry," a strong Scottish burr spoke. "Are you alright?"
She looked up ready to berate the idiotic individual when her breath caught in her throat. Concerned eyes met her own and any annoyance she felt dissipated.
"I'm ok," she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was my fault. I wasn't really concentrating on where I was going."
"Well, I'm sorry anyway," the man smiled. "Here, let me help you pick up your things."
He quickly gathered up her belongings and plonked them into her bag before handing it back to her.
"Thank you," Saoirse answered, almost breathlessly as his hand brushed slightly against her own.
Her heart was beating so loudly in her chest that she was certain he must have been able to hear it. The whole of Liverpool surely could.
"I'm Joe," he held out a hand. "Joe Eddison."
"Saoirse O'Reilly," she shook his head, blushing at the intense feelings coursing through her body. "So, do you often find yourself in the habit of knocking over poor defenceless women?"
"Only the beautiful ones," he grinned.
Saoirse looked down at her black pumps, enjoying his flattery. No one had ever spoken to her like that before, and she realised she quite liked it.
"Perhaps I could buy you a cup of tea in that café over there by way of apology?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," Saoirse shrugged. She wanted to. But she didn't know him, and it was rather inappropriate for a young woman to be going off alone with a man she didn't know. But then again, the cafê would be full of other patrons so they wouldn't actually be alone, would they?
"It's just one cup of tea and nothin' more," Joe spoke as if he could hear the argument she was having with herself in her head. "And if afterwards we go our separate ways and you don't wish to see me again, then so be it."
One cup of tea turned into another, and then another until it grew dark and the proprietor kindly asked them to leave. Joe walked her back to her lodgings but not before kissing her sweetly, and right there in that moment, Saoirse knew that she needed to see him again. Everyday. For the rest of her life.
"So where are you living?" Ada wanted to know more.
"Up near Garrison Lane," Saoirse replied, and judging by the look they gave one another she could tell they knew of the place. "I know it's not ideal, but it's cheap and it's only to put us on until we find something better."
"Of course, dear," Polly smiled.
"And the two of you live there alone?" Ada still had not finished with her curious enquiries.
"Yes," Saoirse almost grimaced uncomfortably. "I know it's not really the done thing seeing as we're not married and all, but it just made sense."
"You don't have to explain yourself to us, love, or anyone else," Polly reassured her. "We don't think any less of you for it. There are far worse sinners in the world."
"So how did you-"
"-Ada, that's enough questions," Polly clapped her hands together. "At this rate none of us are going to get any work done."
"Fine," Ada sighed, before looking to Saoirse. "But I'm going to take you for a drink soon and there will be no Polly to save you from my questions then."
"I'll survive, I think. Especially if you ply me with a few drinks first," Saoirse chuckled.
"It's a date then," Ada smiled. She really liked Saoirse, judging from first impressions, and it was always nice to make a new friend.
"Well, that's so lovely that you two have hit it off," Tommy appeared, hand in pocket and cigarette in mouth, leaning against the doorway that he had just opened into an area that Saoirse presumed was the gambling den from what she could see. "But there's work to be done, Ada."
"Alright," Ada sulked. "I'm going."
As Ada thudded moodily up the staircase, muttering to herself, Polly turned to Saoirse with a smirk.
"Let's get started, shall we?"
Saoirse was engrossed in numbers when she heard the front door open and close. Polly walked in, rubbing her hands together as she tried to warm them up, and dropping her basket on the side as she divested herself of her thick winter coat
"Is Ada back yet?" she asked.
Ada had disappeared shortly before lunch to visit a friend and she was supposed to have been back by three in time for Polly to run an errand or two. When she had not come back, Polly had been forced to leave Saoirse alone in the house against her better judgement. It wasn't that she didn't trust the girl. It was just that there were a lot of things in the house that were for the eyes of the family only, and until they knew Saoirse better it wasn't wise that she saw any of those things. Also, she had been worried that Saoirse still hadn't gotten to grips with the wage slips, but judging by the pile on the table, she was a fast learner. In the end, Polly had kindly but firmly instructed Saoirse to stay only in the kitchen until she got back, and had instructed Esme and Scudboat, who were in the den, to keep an eye out for her.
"No," Saoirse shook her head, wiping her the ink from her hands with a handkerchief.
"That bloody girl," Polly muttered under breath. "Oh well, that's her loss I suppose. I think you've worked hard enough for one day, so I got us a little something to enjoy from the bakery."
Saoirse glanced at the clock on the parlour mantelpiece as she stepped in there and was pleasantly surprised to see that there were only twenty more minutes of the working day left. Polly pulled two iced buns out of her basket with a grin.
"Why don't you sit and I'll boil some tea?"
When Tommy and Arthur arrived home only a few minutes later it was to see the two women sitting at the table, eating their buns and laughing.
"Well, isn't this cosy?" Arthur commented, pulling out a chair and almost throwing himself onto it with a tired sigh.
"Get off," Polly swatted his hand away as he went for the last remaining ice bun in the basket.
"How come you both get one and not me?" Arthur scowled, shrugging off his coat and flinging it carelessly over the back of his chair.
"Because we've been working hard today, that's why," Polly told him. "This one especially," she smiled warmly at Saoirse, her eyes crinkling in the corners. "Thought she deserved a little treat."
What Polly didn't say was that throughout the morning and the rest of the day, she had not been able to get the image of a young, red haired girl living out her youth in that monstrosity of a place out of her head. It had played on her mind all day. How was it that not one member of her family had offered to take her? What kind of human being could do that to a child? She had thought of her own children and how they had been taken from her. She prayed that they hadn't been forced to endure what Saoirse had.
"A treat?" Tommy muttered, taking a drag on his cigarette. "What do you think she gets paid for, Pol?"
"Tommy," Polly frowned at him.
"What?" he scowled. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise we were in the habit of treating our employees like they were part of the family."
"Well to be fair, Tommy, most of us are family," Arthur murmured. "Even bloody Ada pulls her weight from time to time."
"I was just trying to do something nice," Polly said, glancing from Tommy to Saoirse and back again.
"Good for you, Pol," Tommy said. "There's a kid on the corner by the paper stand. Maybe you could pay him to sweep the chimney and buy him a cake when he's done? You know, just as a treat?"
Saoirse could feel heat rising up her neck and into her cheeks. Tommy was right and she was embarrassed at having made such a terrible impression on this, only her second day of employment.
"I should go," she stood up, her chair scraping loudly on the floor as she pushed it back.
"There's seven minutes left of the day yet, Miss O'Reilly."
Saoirse stopped and swallowed, feeling tears bubbling in her throat. Do not cry. Don't you dare cry, she repeated to herself like a mantra.
Tommy wasn't sorry that he had set the girl on edge. His business dealings that day had been dire and he was in a foul mood. He didn't care that he was taking that foul mood out on his new employee.
"There's nothing left for her to do," Polly said curtly. "She's done everything; she got to grips with the wages far quicker than I did when I first started doing them."
"Then why is she still sitting in my parlour?"
"Sorry Mr Shelby," Saoirse apologised. "I'll be going now."
"Don't be silly," Polly told her, glaring at Tommy who just eyed her lazily. "Stay and finish your tea."
"Oh no, honestly," Saoirse shook her head. "I should get back and cook dinner anyway."
Hurriedly she pulled on her coat and with a small, nervous smile and bid the Shelbys a good evening.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Polly glared at Tommy, who stood unflinching under his aunt's thunderous gaze.
"What's the matter with you , Polly?" Tommy asked, forgoing the use of her nickname to show his annoyance. "Behaving like she's an honoured guest and not someone we pay to work for us."
"It was a drink and a bloody iced bun," Polly growled. "And after the shitty life she's had, I didn't think a few minutes of kindness would go amiss."
Tommy clenched his jaw and his icy facade wavered ever so slightly as Polly's words hit him like a thump in the chest.
"So, you know then? About her growing up in St Bernadette's?" Polly asked him.
"I know," Tommy nodded lazily.
"St Bernadette's?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Poor bloody girl."
"Be that as it may, this is a business," Tommy stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table. "Not a place to take in waifs and strays and try to fix them."
"You're a hard, faced bastard, Tommy Shelby," Polly gritted her teeth. "You might have moved up in the world, Tommy, but don't forget where it is you once came from because you can just as easy fall back down there."
Polly stormed off into the den just as Ada walked in and she paused, sensing the friction in the room.
"What's going on here then?" she asked, unravelling the woollen scarf from around her neck.
"Just Tommy being a dickhead as usual," Arthur chortled. "I'm going down the pub for a drink before dinner. You coming, Ada?"
"Why not?" she grinned, wrapping the scarf back around herself again. "Not like I've got anything better to do. You coming as well, Tommy?"
" Later," he murmured, sitting down on the chair that Saoirse had been sitting on only moments before. It was still warm.
The door slammed as the others left and with a sigh, Tommy lit up a cigarette. As he inhaled, his gaze fell upon the half-eaten bun. Beside it was a small black glove. It was small and dainty, and there was a tiny hole on the middle finger.
Guilt wasn't something that Tommy was accustomed to feeling. It was an emotion that he preferred to ignore. In his line of work, there wasn't a need for morals. In fact, they were the thing that could very well cripple a man in his position. But as he took the glove in his hand, he began to feel the guilt gnaw away at him.
"Fucks sakes," he muttered, standing up. He wrapped the bun up in a napkin before grabbing it and the glove and heading out onto the cold street.
He had barely made it to the end of the street when he saw her heading in his direction. She wasn't easy to miss. Not with her flaming red hair that brought vivid colour to the dull grey of the houses around them. She saw him and he saw her body stiffen.
"You forgot this," he held her glove out to her, his voice gruff.
"I was just coming back to get it," Saoirse told him, taking it from his hand. "Thank you. I hope you didn't go out of your way to bring it to me?"
"No," he shook his head. "I was just on my way to the pub anyway."
She nodded, trying to determine his expression, but it was proving difficult. He was truly unreadable.
" Well, thank you again," she gave him a small smile. "I'll see you in the morning. Polly said you would want me back in the office?"
"That's right," he answered, his eyes looking her up and down.
"Good evening then, Mr Shelby," she said, with a small nod.
"Oh, and Saoirse?" Tommy called out to her. She turned her head and looked at him questioningly. "You forgot this as well."
He threw a small napkin wrapped package into the air which she caught easily. He was gone before she could open it, and when she saw what it was her face broke out into a wide smile. One which stayed with her all the way home.
"What are you so happy about?" Joe looked up from his newspaper when she walked into the flat.
"Oh nothing," she shrugged. "I just had a good day."
"I'm glad one of us did," he said.
"Well why don't you put your feet up while I make us some dinner? And then you can tell me all about?" she said, slipping off her coat.
"I'm not really hungry," he shook his head. He set down the paper and stood up. "I think I'm gonna go out for a bit. Some of the blokes from work have gone to the pub and asked me to join them."
"But you've just got in," Saoirse frowned. "We've not even eaten yet."
"I just said I'm not hungry," he told her. "I'll make something later."
"Well, why don't you just wait until after dinner and then go?" she suggested.
"Don't tell me when I can go out," Joe growled at her, marching over so that his face was in hers.
"Joe, I wasn't," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "I just thought-"
"-I don't care what you thought," he spat, his eyes boring angrily into hers. "I'm a grown man and I'll do as I please."
And with that he stormed out of the house, leaving Saoirse both confused and upset. She had never seen that side of Joe before in the entire six months she had known him. It was completely out of character. And what was more, she didn't understand where the anger had come from. She had not meant to make him think that she was telling him what to do.
Her stomach rumbled, but she was too upset to consider eating anything. She just wanted to crawl in bed and wait for Joe to get back. Hopefully, he would have calmed down and she would be able to make it up to him. She would let him know that she was sorry for upsetting him.
He was everything to her and she would make sure that he knew it.