AUTHORS NOTE: Chapter 7, and its time for the races!
VII A FOUL COMPANY
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 turned sour the moment Caterina opened her eyes in the morning. That action was followed by an agonised groan at the infernal sun hitting her face.
She could hardly tell if the dull ache in her head came from that fifth bottle of whiskey they opened the night prior or the fact she would have to attend Cheltenham - one of her favourite races of the season — with Billy Kimber.
The things I do for this family, she grumbled begrudgingly as she flung her legs over the side of the bed, careful not to topple down. One step at a time, she shuffled into the bathroom, each feeling like a hammer against the anvil of her skull. And papà still won't make me a shareholder.
Between vigorous brushing of her black tresses and contemplating whether to drown herself in the bathtub and end her misery then and there, she tried to remember how she got home in one piece last night.
An awful lot of toasts for anything that came to their mind. Someone must have played the old piano by the bar because she remembered Arthur swinging her wildly around the pub and laughing until her lungs ached. Even Thomas smiled, albeit faintly, leaning on the bar and watching them dance.
It was a small gathering at The Garrison, as a celebration of Arthur taking over the pub - Tommy's way of trying to cheer his brother up after another episode of Flanders Blues.
Lately, it seemed to her the Shelby's had a particular way of dealing with problems, either drowning them in alcohol or shooting them up.
Still, she felt uneasy after a quarrel with Polly earlier that day. Caterina had the honour of breaking news of Ada's marriage to her aunt, sheepishly admitting that she was the one to help them in the process. It would be an understatement to say Polly was furious, and it was most likely that by the end of their discussion the entire Watery Lane knew of the Shelby daughter's elopement with their friendly neighbourhood communist agitator.
At the very least she was thankful she was not the one that had to break the news to Tommy.
White and beige powder covered the bags under her eyes, the soft round puff gently dabbing her face, particles of it flying around like dust. Several little tins of lipstick laid open in the sink, an opened bottle of mascara lying on the side, forgotten and trickling into the basin. It was a mess, a complete and utter mess that resembled the inside of her mind that morning.
A pinch of morphine in her morning tea would have to do its magic, and by the time she departed, the hellish hungover would be blown away.
Washed and pressed, the cream coloured dress she chose for today hung on the closet door, waiting. It was by far one of the most beautiful garments she ever purchased, almost ethereal in the flowing smoke emitted by her dying cigarette.
In truth, she could care less about impressing Kimber today. It was someone else plaguing her mind as of late, not that she would ever admit it to herself.
With a heavy sigh, Caterina pushed herself from the doorway. There was work to be done.Time to put on the armour.
Cheltenham was, beyond doubt, the grandest affair of spring in all the Northern England. If you were even remotely important, you had to be seen at the races. Otherwise you simply didn't exist.
Thousands of pounds flowed through the hands of bookmakers and thousands of glasses of champagne ran through the veins of the attending. The wealthiest of the lot raced their prized horses for the entertainment of the masses, losing and gaining some a fortune.
Killing the engine of her sleek black Bentley, she took a moment to stare at the jockeys passing by. That was the dream of eleven year old Caterina, to race against the odds and chase wind. Horse riding was her first love, a simple one, ripped so cruelly from beneath her by her family's ambitions. Her fate had always been set in stone, it seemed.
As planned last night — before the copious amounts of alcohol - Tommy would be arriving soon, but through the back door as the Lee's would most definitely jump to the opportunity to slit his throat.
Caterina, on the other hand opted for the grand entrance. Among the sea of heads covered by ostentatious headpieces, miles of satin and lace and pearls, she fit in like she was born for the glittering dance-floor of the ballroom.
In truth, she was born for black leather and smoke, unrepentant sinner, hands dripping with blood.
"Name, miss?"
She smiled pleasantly at the doorman, peering to look at the guest list in front of him. "Caterina Cardinale, I'm with-"
"Let her in, she's with me." Swivelling to look at the origin of the voice, Caterina graciously nodded towards the man of the day. "Mr Kimber. It's a pleasure once again."
It was far from it, really. Still, she allowed him to kiss her hand and led her towards the grand ballroom, one hand on the small of her back.
The insufferable man smirked, not at all subtly measuring her up and down. "No, no the pleasure is all mine. First time at Cheltenham?"
Suppressing a dramatic roll of her eyes, she opted for another pleasant smile. A regular to the races since she turned eleven, is what she was, but she hardly had the patience to argue with him. "Not quite."
A small, plain woman sat at the end of the table, eyes filled with contempt scanning the people in the room. It had to be the unfortunate Mrs Kimber. Once she spotted Caterina, all dolled up like a pictures star, a sour look crossed her features. Probably thought her to be one of the air-headed slags her husband favoured. On her left was Kimber's trusty bespectacled accountant.
Once seated and having accepted a glass from a passing waiter, Caterina wasted no time in frivolities and jumped straight into business.
"You put too much trust in Changretta's men. They're the ones offering you personal protection, si ?" Not waiting for the men's answer she continued.
"From a trusted source I've acquired the information that Changretta gets a monthly sum of around a hundred pounds from a London address — most likely from Darby Sabini. It seems he pays quite a lot for information on you, Mr Kimber. The two of you are sworn enemies, if I'm correct?" She asked innocently, taking a sip of champagne.
"How'd I know you ain't lying? You've got proof? You think I'm going to fire men that have been protecting me for years because someone or other told you somethin' ?" His patronising tone grated her ears. He was one of those who simply liked the sound of their own voice.
"You haven't slept with your wife in more than 15 months and instead, you opt for whores and other easy women you manage to woo during the races. You keep a stash of whiskey in the back of your closet. And today, your horse Windmare will lose, earning you well over seven thousand pounds from the bets."
Caterina took her sweet time lighting the cigarette carefully nested between her lips, making her point and leaning back into the chair. For the sake of dramatics, she exhaled the smoke in her mouth. "That's how I know."
The King's face turned various shades of red, the grip on his glass tightening to the point Cat though it might just break in his hand. "Fuckin' Italian traitors I'll kill the lot-"
"Mr Kimber, leave that to me. Instead, let us consider the employment of my men as your personal security. You don't have to worry about me ratting you out. Us Cardinale's hold little love for our London kin."
Kimber narrowed his eyes at the woman sitting opposite of him. "I suspect you want something in return."
"Naturally. A small favor, really. I would like to supply the racetracks you control with my booze, first gin and then with time whiskey. For that I would need an alcohol distribution license." A springboard for opportunities.
"I believe that can be arranged. Do you agree Mr Kimber?" The accountant glanced expectantly at his boss.
"Mhm, yes yes." The moment they started talking business, all of his attention was completely lost. He let her and Roberts discuss for a time, focusing his eyes on the new faces entering the grand hall.
One of his hands managed to find its way up her leg, dangerously straying upwards. He leaned forward, warm breath tickling her ear uncomfortably. "How about we escape the party for a bit huh? I'll show you some good time."
Without removing her eyes from his, she slowly picked his hand off of her knee, letting it drop lamely by his side. She gently leaned down,and with a tight-lipped smile on her face said. "My apologies, Mr Kimber. But I never mix business and pleasure."
Like a kicked puppy, Kimber retreated, slumping in his chair in defeat. He drummed his fingers in boredom, glancing back and forth between Cat and Roberts discussing paperwork. Not even bothering to excuse himself from the table, he rose and disappeared in the sea of twirling couples in search of a new victim, leaving his accountant to sort the boring bits of his work.
Using his absence to her advantage she leaned closer to Roberts. "One more thing. I'm interested in renting your warehouses on Liverpool docks."
It had come to her attention that the American market was a flower waiting to be plucked and it would be a true shame not to use the opportunity just waiting to be grabbed. The prohibition was an unfortunate situation for the Americans but very fortunate for her.
"For a rate of sixty percent of the revenue achieved through Liverpool, it can be arranged."
She snorted at the number the accountant was offering. "Absolutely ridiculous. I was thinking twenty-five."
"Fifty percent, no less."
"Thirty."
"Forty five and a discount on gin import for the tracks." Roberts squinted through his glasses, partly knowing it was not a battle he could win.
"Thirty-five and a fifteen percent discount off large shipments of any type of booze."
"A deal, I believe."
With a satisfied grin, Caterina leaned back into the chair. "A deal it is. Where do I sign?"
Thankfully, only few moments after Kimber returned to the table, Thomas Shelby made his grand appearance. Sauntering over to where the four of them sat, the retrieved money was tipped all over the table, some spilling over the edge like a waterfall.
"Your money, Mr Kimber." Tommy gestured grandly at the pile accumulated before him. "Rescued from the Lee brothers and returned to you with a request for a fair hearing."
She faintly eyed Grace looking completely lost by the bar while Tommy took a seat to her right. The red dress she had tried on the week before nicely hugged her figure. For her purpose today, all she had to do was to be a pretty face - Kimber didn't seem to have any other standard.
"Your own protection is failing, Mr Kimber. Your boys are taking cuts. I want to suggest that from now on, you contract out your racetrack security to the Peaky Blinders. We would be saving you a lot of money, Mr Kimber."
"A lot of money." Caterina piped in, nodding her head towards the money in front of them. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Tommy giving her a thankful look before resuming his speech.
"In return, you give us five percent of the take and three legal betting pitches at every race meeting north of the River Severn, rising to six after one year if we are all satisfied with the service. What do you say, Mr Kimber?"
"I say you talk business to my accountant. I want to dance."
And with that, he stood up, determined look in his eyes as he set out towards Grace, looking more like a wild predator than a businessman.
"How many men can you put in the field at one time?" Inquired Roberts.
"There's a lot of men out of work at the moment. Two guards for every bookie."
"We'll always know where the Lees plan to attack. With all the strikes and troubles, you can't depend on the police. Anyway, we're more honest." Thomas joked, earning him an amused smile from Roberts.
"Looks like you two are making a deal." Kimber showed up behind Tommy.
"We are making progress."
"Then let me throw a small condition into the mix." He nodded for Tommy to follow him away from the table. Cat straightened up in her seat. This was it, did he take the bait?
Caterina observed the animated way Kimber was explaining something to Thomas, subtly nodding over to the table where she sat. Feigning innocence, she diverted her gaze to the champagne glass in her hand, not noticing the way Tommy's posture tensed or the dark look burning in his eyes.
"I want that one."
"No, the one in the red only."
"Do we have a deal? As a sweetener, you can try your luck with mine."
"Yes, we have a deal."
Good. Cat suppressed a sigh of relief, the plan was going as it was supposed to. From the moment he stepped foot in the Pub that other night, it was obvious Kimber would want anything Tommy had, or in this case the blonde beauty on his arm.
Foreseeing such predicament, they planted their little barmaid in his mind, all red and classy, a simple pawn in the great plan.
"I bet he said you could have me, didn't he? While he has her." The woman's defiant glare centred on Thomas.
"That's the arrangement, isn't it? Yours might be a prostitute, but I'm not."
"Mrs Kimber, I give you my word you won't be mistreated tonight." Caterina tried to reassure the bitter woman.
"By your man, I won't." Mrs Kimber sneered.
"I was a milliner when I met him. I was independent. I made this hat." Her voice had gone quiet, focusing on the little hat in her hands. "I was a good milliner."
"It's a very pretty hat." Thomas shifted awkwardly.
"So is she a prostitute?"
She was talking about Grace. Tommy could only shrug, unsure of the answer himself. There was something different about the pretty Irishwoman but he could not simply point it out. "God's honest truth? I don't know."
"Mr Roberts, will you take Mrs Kimber home?" Caterina supplied.
"Yes, yes, Anna please this way." He ushered the woman who threw one last thankful glance at them before hurrying out of the room.
The two waited until Anna and Roberts disappeared out of their sight and mind before turning to each other. Relief etched on both of their faces, Caterina let out a huff of laughter.
"That was successful." She breathed, glancing up at Thomas downing both his and hers glass of champagne. He stood up abruptly, signalling her to do the same.
"Yup. Come on. Dance." Thomas stretched out his hand, waiting for her to take it.
Half surprised by his request, she chuckled and took his hand. Larger than hers, calloused by war and time, it felt warm and secure in her tiny one. In the sea of swaying couples Tommy pulled her closer and brought his other hand on her lower back.
Even in her considerably tall heels, her nose barely reached his chin. It didn't bother them in the slightest.
"That's not how you ask a lady to dance. Has Polly not taught you any manners?" She jested, knowing full well Polly did in fact do just that, but Thomas used them only when necessary.
"What use are manners on the dirty streets of Small Heath?" He countered.
Humming in agreement, she let him lead them through the sea of twirling couples. It came as a surprise, but Tommy Shelby was an excellent dancer.
"You're climbing the social ladder now, Shelby. It'll be Cheltenham in March, Epsom in spring, Aston, Wimbledon," she dropped her voice, resembling an old gossip. "Champagne instead of ale."
He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised in what must have been amusement. "Ambitious."
"Isn't that your middle name?" That half smile of his now grew into a proper one.
"You clean up nicely. For a Small Heath bookmaker."
"Do I? You look beautiful. For a Nechells gangster." It provoked another smile from her as she ducked her head, blush gently dusting her cheeks.
"You know, I didn't ask you nicely because I wasn't asking a lady." He drawled casually, every syllable dripping with his accent.
Almost offended and already shooting him a venomous glare, he took her by surprise.
He closed the distance between them, their chest touching, so close she could hear the steady beat of his heart. Her own threatened to jump out of her chest.
Feeling his warm breath by her ear caused a now all too familiar fluttering sensation to fly over her heart.
"I was askin' a queen."
And with that, the warmth was gone and he dropped her hand. A smug smirk painted over his handsome face, as if expecting her flustered reaction. Blushing an embarrassing shade of red, she was left standing in the middle of the dance floor, incredulous stare fixed at Tommy's back, who disappeared out of the room and over where the Blinders waited for him.
"That doesn't make any sense, you sod!"
Although Maria tried to instill into her from an early age that biting nails is an awful habit to she possess, Caterina kept gnawing at them any time she was faces with a stressful situation.
For that precise reason she ruined her freshly painted rose nails. On the drivers seat, Thomas squirmed again, not in any better a predicament.
Growing tired of him glancing at his pocket watch for the fourth time, she broke the tense silence. "It just feels wrong. We sold her like a piece of meat."
As if denying what she said, Thomas shook his head. "She got her pay. I could've gotten any whore who'd do it for less." It was just a business transaction, and to him Grace seemed thoroughly competent to do what she was asked to.
"Dammit Thomas, she's my friend." She said. A thousand scenarios flew through her head, every worse than the one before. "I can't just sit here while he- I don't know- rapes her, or worse!" Her dark stare contested his icy blues. A few tense moments passed before Thomas let out a begrudging sigh indicating her victory.
"Ah, fuck. Fuck it. Stay here." He swore under his breath before rushing out of the car.
Several minutes later two figures emerged from the mansion - Grace, a definition of fury stalking right pass the car she Cat was sitting in, dress and hair disheveled, and Thomas trying to catch up with her.
"Grace get in the car."
"I can walk on my own!"
"Grace, dear, please we can explain." Caterina called after her pleadingly.
"You were onto this too? I can't believe it. No, wait I can. Because you," She stopped walking for a moment to point an accusing finger at them, " are Thomas Shelby and Caterina Cardinale and you don't care about others!" She spat, throwing her hands in the air.
Thomas stopped the car for her to get in. Grace clambered onto the backseat, not even sparing them a glance, hugging herself tightly. Fighting tears in her eyes, she tried to focus on counting the trees they passed in the speeding car. If she closed her eyes, she though she might feel Kimber's grabbing hands tugging at her ruined dress again.
"Start of the day, I was Lady Sarah of Connemara. By the end, I was a whore with the clap. You're a fucking bastard, offering me like that."
Guilt churned Caterina's gut. It could not be properly justified, the deceitful game Tommy and her played. For too long they had been on the top of everything, not bothering about the feelings of people on the other end of their orders.
"But then you changed your mind." She said quietly, turning her head.
"Why did you change your mind, Thomas?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, almost unnoticeably, he let his eyes wander over to the woman sitting on the passenger seat, one hand propped under her chin and slowly dozing off with the rhythm of the car engine. The lights of the dying day reflected in her amber eyes.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, in that very moment, Thomas knew he was too far gone.
