Saoirse had woken up at the crack of dawn, after a night of much unrest. Seeing Joe so angry the night before had been so out of character that it made her feel unsettled. She knew unequivocally that he would never hurt her; of course he wouldn't, but she couldn't help wondering what on earth had happened to make him so angry that he could lose his temper in such a way. Hopefully, some much needed rest would help him to return to the normal Joe she knew and loved.
"Why are you awake?" he murmured groggily, reaching for her in his half-asleep state.
"Can't sleep," she answered truthfully.
Joe opened his and there was a look in them that she couldn't quite read. Sitting up, he rubbed a hand over his face wearily and switched on his bedside lamp and Saoirse was awestruck by his muscular body in the faint light. He was well toned yet somehow still soft, and his skin was somehow tanned despite the time of year and the fact that his job required him to spend most of his time indoors.
"I thought people were supposed to stop bein' excited for their birthdays once they were grown up," he murmured, rooting around in his bedside drawer for something.
"What are you talking about?" Saoirse frowned. "It's not my birthday."
"Aye it is," Joe grinned, triumphantly holding up a parcel wrapped delicately in lavender crepe paper that smelled of perfume. "Surely you've not forgotten your own birthday, you daft girl."
Saoirse realised that she had in fact forgotten her own birthday. What with moving and her new job, she had seen the date approaching yet given no thought about it being her birthday. She was touched that Joe had remembered because aside from her parents nobody had ever remembered her birthday. Well, that wasn't strictly true.
"Miss O'Reilly."
Saoirse stood in front of Sister Agatha's desk, her hands clasped in front of her as she looked at the floor just in the manner she had been instructed to always do in the callous woman's presence. Sister Agatha was such a contradiction to the young girl whose mother and father had always spoke to her about God in such a loving way, yet here in this awful place they spoke about God as though he was almost akin to the Devil. Sinners could repent and beg for His forgiveness yet rarely would they earn it. These women who proclaimed that the Lord above was their husband spoke of Him in such a manner that made Saoirse question why a person would want to dedicate their lives to Him.
"Today is your birthday," Sister Agatha muttered. "And as he always does for our orphans, Father McElroy has sent you a most delicious treat."
Saoirse's mouth watered at the sight of the custard tart Sister Agatha revealed, hidden beneath a simple white napkin. Her stomach rumbled and the old woman smirked.
"Isn't that most kind of Father McElroy?" the old woman smirked, her eyes cold upon Saoirse just like always. Saoirse nodded and Sister Agatha's face fell into a physical manifestation of the evil inside of her. "But what Father McElroy fails to understand is that you are not here to be rewarded for your sins or those of your parents. Your birthday is yet another reminder of the fact that your very existence is an abomination and there shall be no celebrating such a day here."
Saoirse watched hopelessly as Sister Agatha broke apart the tart and began eating with gusto, as her eyes bored into the young girls all the while. Saoirse blinked back tears and clenched her little fists until her nails dug into her palms so hard, she could feel them begin to bleed. If she cried, she would be punished.
"You will select two of the girls in your dormitory and you will complete their chores for today along with their own, do you understand?" the woman narrowed her eyes, licking at the custard around her smacking lips noisily. "Now get out of my sight."
"Are you even listenin' to me, love?"
Saoirse blinked and frowned at the puzzled look Joe was giving her as he stared into her face.
"You were in a world of your own then," he smiled. "I was sayin', are you not gonna open your present?"
"Oh," she nodded, staring down at the parcel on her lap. "Of course I am."
With care Saoirse unwrapped the paper, folding it neatly to keep for another occasion and she gasped as her fingers traced the soft fabric of the dressing gown that had been hidden beneath the wrapping. She held it to her cheek, marvelling at how gentle it felt against her skin and smiling at Joe when she realised how thick it was.
"I've seen you shiverin' in the mornings when you get up to make me breakfast," Joe explained, taking the woollen dressing gown and wrapping it around Saoirse's shoulders with a smile. "And I knew that this would be the perfect present for you."
"It's beautiful," Saoirse cupped his stubbled cheek and kissed him tenderly, swallowing as she pulled back in an attempt to conceal the emotions overtaking her.
"Hey, why you cryin'?" Joe frowned, catching a tear that fell before she could stop it. "If you don't like the dressin' gown you don't need to cry."
"It's not that," she sputtered out a laugh as more tears fell. "It's just that this is the first birthday present I've had since my parents died."
Joe pulled her against him, murmuring against her hair that there would be far more presents to come every birthday, Christmas, and anniversary for the rest of their lives. Saoirse let herself cry not only with joy but also with a tinge of grief that her parents were not here to see the man who made her so happy; the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with.
"Right, no more tears now," Joe spoke quietly, kissing her forehead before rolling out of bed. "Seein' as you're up we can begin the special day I've got planned for you."
"What are we doing?" Saoirse was curious.
"That's for me to know and you to find out."
By the time eight o'clock came around, Saoirse was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed. Joe, true to his word, had planned a most special day which involved going to the museum and art gallery and then to somewhere fancy to eat.. Then they had taken the bus to the park and botanical gardens and enjoyed wandering around together in the crisp yet sunny weather. It had truly been the most magical birthday Saoirse ever remembered having, and Joe convinced her that a few drinks in the pub would be the perfect way to round off her birthday.
The Garrison wasn't at all as Saoirse expected. It of course stunk of alcohol and smoke, but it was rather grand inside; all modern and golden. Perhaps almost a little out of keeping with the area but definitely a lovely surprise.
"Saoirse! Over here!"
"I take it that's your friend?" Joe smirked, pointing to a table in the far corner near to the back of the pub.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Saoirse chuckled, taking his hand and leading him over.
"I'm so glad you came," Ada smiled, standing up to greet them.
"Well, you didn't give me much of a choice," Saoirse snorted, taking off her coat and resting it on the back of her chair. "Ada, this is Joe."
"Nice to meet you," Ada shook his hand before casting Saoirse a knowing look. "Now I totally understand why you moved here."
"Ada," Polly admonished her, although with a grin of her own. She kissed Saoirse on the cheek before reaching out to shake Joe's hand. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Polly."
If Ada or Saoirse noticed the strange look on Polly's face when she shook hands with Joe, they didn't say. Polly dropped his hand quickly and wiped her own hand on the skirt of her dress discreetly. There was something about that man that had set her on edge. She didn't know what it was exactly, just that she knew to be wary of him. Sometimes she got these feelings, she always had, and they had never served her wrong before.
"Hello Esme," Saoirse smiled politely, receiving little more than a grunt from John's wife.
"Can I get you ladies a drink?" Joe asked.
"We've just got one," Ada held up her full glass of gin with a grin. "But if you tell the fellow behind the bar that you're with us, he'll be sure to sort you out with whatever you want."
"Aye ok, thank you," Joe smiled. "Right birthday girl, what is it you'll be wantin' to drink?"
"It's your birthday?" Ada exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell us? Polly, can you believe it's Saoirse's birthday and we didn't know."
"Well, we know now," Polly eyeballed her niece playfully. "Happy birthday, Saoirse."
"Yes, happy birthday Saoirse," Ada echoed. "Now hurry up and get yourself a drink so that we can toast to your special day."
"That sounds like a right plan," Joe agreed. "So, what'll you be havin', Saoirse?"
"Um, I'll have whiskey please," she said. "And don't give me any of that rubbish you Scots drink. I want the proper stuff."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Joe narrowed his eyes before disappearing towards the bar.
"Well, he's a handsome fellow, isn't he?" Ada smirked at Saoirse as Joe waded through the tables towards the bar. "Tell me, does he look as good out of clothes as he does in them?"
"Ada Shelby!" Polly hissed, and Saoirse was almost bowled over to see the grin on Esme's usually pinched face.
"What?" Ada shrugged innocently. "It's a normal human curiosity. Just because your legs have been closed for so long that they're full of cobwebs doesn't mean other people don't think about getting a handsome man in between theirs."
"You best fucking hope that no man's been between your legs or there'll be trouble from me and the boys," Polly glared at her pointedly. "Now get your mind out of the gutter and behave, will you?"
"But it's so much fun in the gutter," Ada smirked, taking a sip of her drink. "I'll let you answer that later when the old bag isn't listening," Ada whispered to Saoirse.
"The old bag can hear you," Polly raised an eyebrow and lit up a cigarette. "So, Saoirse, how have you found your first week working for us? It's not been too terrible has it."
"I've enjoyed it," Saoirse smiled. "Mr Shelby said he was happy with how I'm doing which is nice to know."
"Oh, call him Tommy, love," Polly smiled at her. "Mr Shelby makes him sound like a pompous old bastard."
"Actually, he said he'd like me to call him Mr Shelby," Saoirse said quietly.
"Is that right?" Polly leant back in her seat and eyeballed the small huddle of men who had appeared from the nook next to the door.
As if on cue, Tommy looked up and his eyes fell upon the three women. He said something to Arthur and John and the other three men they were talking to, who waved their goodbyes as the Shelby brothers headed over towards the girls.
She didn't notice Joe walking in the brothers' direction, and neither did they until it was too late. As he swerved out of the way of a drunken man who was swaying precariously on his feet, he managed to send the contents of the two glasses in his hands flying down the front of Tommy's grey suit. In truth, no one was entirely sure how the drinks ended up where they did, seeing as they should have landed a little to the left of Tommy, but no one thought for a minute that Joe had aimed for him on purpose. Not that it mattered anyway, because the hush that fell over the pub meant that everyone was waiting for the trouble to begin. Saoirse stood up quickly, her chair scraping back loudly on the uneven wooden floor.
"I'm so sorry, Mr Shelby," she stammered, placing herself in between Joe and Tommy who were staring at each other intently. They had the look of two lions weighing each other up before launching into a fight to the death.
"What are you sorry for?" Tommy asked, his eyes never leaving Joe's.
It was obvious that he was waiting for an apology from the Scot. Joe meanwhile stood completely unfazed, an apology the furthest thing from his mind. In fact, to anyone close by there was a hint of a smirk on his face.
"Here, let me clean that up for you," Saoirse murmured, taking a handkerchief out of her bag and beginning to wipe down the front of Tommy's suit jacket.
"Stop that," Joe snapped, yanking her hand away impatiently.
"Don't talk to her like that," Tommy growled at him.
"Or what?" Joe glared.
"You're new around here," Tommy said in an almost bored tone. "So, you obviously don't know the way things go, which is why I will be happy to overlook this unfortunate incident. However, one thing I can't excuse is your lack of apology. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I presumed that even in Scotland you people are taught manners."
Joe's neck turned red with anger and he clenched his jaw tightly.
"You're an arrogant piece of-"
"-I think maybe we should go," Saoirse decided, grabbing Joe by the arm and silently imploring him to say nothing else.
"We've not even had a drink yet," he answered.
"Yeah but-"
"-But nothin'," Joe was adamant. "Your friend, Ada, invited us for a drink and that's what we're gonna have. Is there a problem with that, pal?" Saoirse swallowed as Tommy's eyes blazed with fury, and she was waiting with a vicious gnawing in her stomach for one of them to throw the first punch.
"Apologise for spilling your drink and we'll say no more about it," Tommy said firmly, his eyes not bothering to conceal the rage he felt.
"You'd be wise to accept Tommy's mercy," Arthur commented, his fists clenched at his sides. "There's many who have wished for his leniency and not been shown it."
"I'm not apologisin' for anythin'," Joe looked Tommy up and down like he was a piece of rubbish. It was an action that didn't go unnoticed by the patrons of the pub, and a few of them shuffled themselves backwards to clear the way for the fight that they were convinced was imminent.
"Mr Shelby," Saoirse spoke quietly before either man could make another move. "I think that if perhaps everyone were to just take a moment to calm down then we could resolve this civilly. I'm sure that Joe is very sorry for spilling our drinks, and of course we will be more than happy to pay for your suit to be cleaned."
Tommy did nothing more than clench his jaw. He wanted to lash out, but he was trying his hardest to remain calm. He could see Saoirse's worried expression out of the corner of his eyes, and for some reason that made him want to refrain from his usual reaction to being so disrespected.
"I think that Saoirse makes a fine point," Polly touched Tommy's arm. "Why don't we sit down and you two can introduce yourselves properly."
Tommy allowed himself to be pulled away from Joe even though he wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smirk off the man's arrogant face. Saoirse let out a sigh of relief and pulled Joe to the other side of the table.
"Just one drink and then we'll go," she whispered to him, pushing him down into his seat. "I'll just go and get us another drink."
Standing up, she hurried over to the bar as the noise in the pub gradually returned to normal once more. Her eyes kept flicking over to the table making sure that Tommy and Joe were not fighting. She felt Tommy's eyes following her on her way back, and when she reached the table again, Polly and Ada were trying their best to make light-hearted conversation, while Esme and John had their mouths fused together beside an unbothered looking Arthur, and Joe and Tommy continued to eyeball one another like two children in a schoolyard.
"Didn't take you for a whiskey drinker," Arthur commented when Saoirse took a sip of the amber liquid in her glass. "Thought you'd be after the gin like our Ada."
"What can I say?" she shrugged. "It's the Irish in me."
"Not drinking any of that Scottish crap then?" Tommy commented before looking at Joe drolly. "No offence to you of course, mate ."
"None taken," Joe smiled, although it didn't reach his eyes. He put an arm around Saoirse's shoulder and pulled her into his side. "She enjoys a Scot in every other way though, ain't that right doll?"
Saoirse blushed uncomfortably and internally she cringed. It was obvious by Joe's tone of voice what he meant. Saoirse looked down at the mahogany table so as to avoid anyone's eyes and wished for the ground to swallow her up. It was bad enough that everyone knew she was living in sin without them being allured to any of the sordid details.
Tommy looked at the top of Saoirse's bent head and felt rage wash over him. He wasn't averse to men talking crudely about women; it was a normal occurrence. However, for a man to say something such about his fiancée, especially to a group of strangers, was crossing the line. Even to him, a person that many others saw as the worst of mankind. A man's wife, or wife to be, was to always be shown respect in front of others always.
"So how are you finding Birmingham compared to Glasgow?" Ada asked, trying to diffuse some of the palpable tension.
"Ach, well it's not too different really," Joe sipped his drink. "One big city is much like the other. Of course, in Glasgow though, the people are much friendlier, but the girls are not as pretty as the ones here. You Birmingham lasses are a breed of your own."
He winked at Ada, and Saoirse felt herself stiffen against him. She knew he was just trying to be friendly, but she couldn't help the way it set her on edge. It wasn't that she was jealous as such, it was more just how inappropriate it seemed.
"Flattery will get you everywhere around here," Ada chuckled, but even she couldn't ignore the niggle of discomfort that played at the back of her mind. There was just something behind that friendly smile of his that suddenly didn't seem so sincere. She told herself it was most likely just because she was paranoid that he and Tommy were about to start a fight with one another, but deep down she believed it was just something about him. "Saoirse told me how you two met. I must say it's all very romantic."
"Aye, that it was," he squeezed Saoirse against him and kissed the side of her head. "Two days in Liverpool and this one falls practically to her knees in front of me. And that's where she's stayed most of the time since. Can a guy get any luckier?"
Saoirse stood up suddenly, her face flaming and tears threatening to spill.
"I want to go home," she announced, yanking on her coat.
"You've barely touched your drink," Joe frowned.
"I don't feel very well," she mumbled an excuse. "Can we just go please?"
"Can't hold her drink this one," Joe chortled, standing up. "But what my lady wants, she gets."
"Will you be alright, Saoirse?" Polly frowned. She herself, trying to resist the urge to stand up and punch that smarmy and disrespectful bastard.
"Yeah," Saoirse forced a small smile. "I think it's probably something I ate earlier. I'll be alright. I hope you're not offended that we're going so soon."
"Of course not, dear," Polly answered sincerely. "You just get yourself to bed and hopefully you'll be right as rain again in the morning."
Saoirse practically ran out of the pub without barely a second glance at any of them. Joe downed the last of his drink and smiled thinly at the group.
"Was nice to meet you all," he smirked, making sure his gaze lingered on Tommy longer than everyone else. "Hopefully, we can do it again soon."
"I don't like that man one little bit," Polly decided once the door swung shut behind Joe's large form.
"Me neither," Arthur commented. "What does she see in him? Sweet thing like her."
"Love is blind, Arthur," Polly pursed her lips.
"You should know, Pol," Ada snorted, but Polly didn't reciprocate. Her thoughts were with Saoirse.
Tommy didn't say anything as he nursed the drink in his hands. Harry, who ran the pub, had slipped it over only a moment before without Tommy even noticing. Tommy couldn't decide which part of him hated the Scot more. The part that completely disregarded the respect that he or any of his family should be shown, or the part that would belittle and embarrass his own fiancée?
One thing he did know was that he was going to make it his mission to find out everything he could about this man. If not just for him, but for the auburn haired girl who had plagued his dreams for the last three nights. The red headed siren who called to him sweetly in his sleep.
Saoirse's footsteps echoed down the quiet alleyway, each step doing little to ebb the rage and shame coursing through her veins.
"Slow down, will you?" Joe grumbled, lighting up a cigarette as he walked almost leisurely behind her. Saoirse had never seen him smoke before, but she didn't have the energy nor inclination to enquire about it. "You'd think death was on your tail the speed you're going at."
"I wish it was," she muttered, turning to glare at him. "Death would be better than having to face the Shelbys on Monday after that little performance."
"Performance? What the fuck are you talking about?"
"What am I talking about?" she laughed dryly, coming to a stop and her eyes blazing with fury. "Are you serious? Where to begin? First of all, there was that ridiculous standoff between you and my boss over the drinks. You could have just apologised like any normal human being and it would have been fine. Instead, you behaved like an absolute dickhead and created an atmosphere when there didn't need to be one. Do you have any idea how dangerous he is? And his brothers?"
"Just cos everyone else is scared of Tommy fuckin' Shelby, doesn't mean I am," Joe scoffed. "And I certainly wasn't gonna back down to the prick. He doesn't own me, and he certainly doesn't tell me what to do or how to behave."
"He's my boss, Joe," Saoirse was exasperated by him. "Whatever your feelings about the man are, couldn't you have just put that aside to show some respect for the fact that the man pays my wages? He could sack me at the click of a finger and then what would we do?"
"Find you another job," he answered curtly.
"But I like this job," she sighed. "I just don't understand what is wrong with you. We've been here for less than a week and you've changed. You're moody and agitated. You were flirting with Ada for crying out loud, and you basically sat there and told my boss all about our sex life. This isn't the Joe I know or love, and I don't like your behaviour."
"You don't like my behaviour?" Joe narrowed his eyes at her. He walked towards her, only his face illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette in his mouth.
Saoirse swallowed nervously and stepped backwards away from him. When her back suddenly met with the cold stone wall, she tried not to panic even though she felt like an animal trapped by a much larger predator.
"You don't like my behaviour?" Joe repeated, before grabbing her roughly by the top of the arm. "And who the fuck are you to tell me you don't like my fuckin' behaviour?"
"Joe, I-"
"-Shut up," he spat, his other hand reaching up to grab her by the face. His fingers on her face and arm were squeezing so hard that she cried out in pain. "I think you're forgettin' yourself, Saoirse. Don't ever, ever fuckin' tell me how I can and can't behave, do you hear me?"
She nodded, her bottom lip trembling.
"Now apologise and we'll say no more about it," he ordered.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
After one final squeeze, he let go of her. Saoirse put a hand to her chest, her heart pounding wildly underneath the skin. Joe turned and walked away, and numbly she followed him feeling bewildered and shaken.
That night as they lay in bed, Saoirse faced the wall and tried her hardest not to cry. She couldn't get the furious glint in Joe's eye out of her mind. Her arm was bruised and her jaw was sore where he had grabbed her. She felt Joe shift behind her and she flinched when his hand slid across her stomach. She held her breath when he cupped her breast and his mouth began to kiss the sensitive flesh of her neck.
"Joe," she murmured, trying to wriggle away. "I'm not in the mood."
"I can make you in the mood," he purred suggestively against her neck.
"I said no," she shrugged him off.
But Joe wasn't taking no for an answer. He pulled up her nightgown and slid a hand under her knickers, his fingers probing and teasing. Saoirse closed her eyes. She wanted to push him away, but she knew that in his own way this was how he was apologising for his behaviour. She reached up a hand until she found his stubbly face and she cupped it gently. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips while his fingers continued their pleasuring assault.
"You know you really upset me earlier," Joe whispered against her mouth. "The way you treated me was really out of order."
"I know," Saoirse found herself saying, in between gasps. Thinking back, she decided that perhaps she had overstepped the mark. Joe was tired because he was working hard. His job in the factory was much more physical than her job and the hours were longer, not to mention, he was in charge of at least one hundred men. Was it any wonder he was so tired and grouchy? And as for the incident with Mr Shelby; what right did she have to question Joe's decision? The way he conducted himself with another man was his choice and his alone. "I'm sorry."
"I know you are, love," Joe murmured, standing up and pulling off his pyjama bottoms. He picked Saoirse up under her arms so she was kneeling, and then pulled her towards the end of the bed. "But I know how you can prove your apology."
Saoirse nodded and allowed her head to be guided towards his throbbing member. Holding her head still, he fucked her mouth, not relenting even when she choked on him. Saoirse wanted to tear her mouth away and beg him to stop but she was supposed to be earning Joe's forgiveness and she didn't want to disappoint him further. So, she told herself to let Joe do what he wanted, even when he stiffened, and his seed filled her mouth. Despite the fact that he knew she hated that, she wouldn't allow herself to complain.
"Swallow it," he commanded, and like the good girl she was, she did. Anything to make him happy. Anything to prove how sorry she was.
Snaking her arms up around Joe's neck, she tried to kiss him, hoping that he was going to reward her good behaviour with some relief of her own. But he pushed her away and lay down on his side, his back facing her. Within minutes he was asleep, leaving Saoirse feeling strangely used and confused about their relationship.