Inspiration for this chapter: The Subway Lovers by Jesús Papoleto Melendez
Tommy Shelby leaned casually against the front of the Italian Market storefront. His fists closed around the secret universe he held in his trouser pockets. With him were four other boys, all identical with their caps, rolled up sleeves, and dark trousers. They were crowded under the shop awning, failing to smother loud laughter and shoving one another around the cobblestone sidewalk. Only Tommy stood still, quiet, occasionally glancing through the window into the dark shop.
In the apartment above their heads, Greta was sick with dread when she dressed herself the next morning. She hadn't told Kitty about the face off that was planned between Tommy Shelby and the unnamed man. If Kitty was trusted with that information she'd promptly share it with their parents, and Greta couldn't risk that happening. She slipped out of the bedroom and tiptoed down the creaky stairs leading down to the family business.
When Greta unlocked the front door, careful not to make eye contact with any one of the unfamiliar faces, she could feel their collective attention turn towards her. As she carefully pushed the door open, the wooden frame gave a loud squeak and Greta couldn't help feeling grateful for that familiar sound. It reminded her that it was her store and they were just strangers. She didn't need to be scared.
To her relief only Tommy stepped inside, closing the door on the teasing ooo' s and mock puckering noises that chorused from Arthur, Freddie, John, and Danny Owens. "Hello," he turned the wooden sign to open to save her the chore and smiled down. "Sleep well?"
"Didn't expect you to be here at the crack of dawn."
Tommy shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "We've been here a little longer than that."
She tilted her head in question and Tommy sheepishly continued, still rubbing the nape of his neck and yanking at his collar where bits of newly sheared hair clung to his skin. "I might have been looking out for any arsonists."
"Arsonists?" Greta echoed the word with laughter speckled in her eyes. What an absurd thought. "Arson," she questioned again skeptically, "over a packet of cigarettes?"
Tommy shrugged. "You never know."
The fear of being a victim of arson didn't once cross Greta's mind but she was grateful he had thought ten steps ahead. "You're very thorough."
A feeling with no name filled the air between Greta Jurrosi and Tommy Shelby and, if they stepped even an inch closer, it might have filled their lungs and taken root. But Greta was pressed against the wooden counter, jars of brightly colored sweets flush to her back, and Tommy was by the door, already forcing air through his lips in preparation for the jolt of his heart skipping a beat.
"Well," he tugged at the loose buttons of shirt, glancing over his shoulder breathlessly, hoping he wouldn't trip over his words, "I'll be outside with the boys."
Greta made a movement toward the door along with him. "It's only fair that I get to meet them. Otherwise it would be loitering and my father doesn't tolerate that." A small smile tugged at the hairpin corners of her lips and she added, " I also don't tolerate that."
He might have been ten steps ahead worrying about arson, but Greta was determined to match him step for step. Meeting the boys defending her father's shop was a precautionary measure.
Worried about what his friends might let slip through loose lips, Tommy hesitated. He should have taken a second to be elated, to catch the jolt of electricity that caught a frayed thread in his heart. "Fair enough," he slowly agreed. His hand caught the door handle and, knowing the rest of her family was just upstairs, he was quick to push it open to make the least amount of noise. "Boys, this is Greta."
As he pointed to each of the four boys, Greta made an attempt to commit their faces and names to memory. The tallest, Arthur, was Tommy's older brother and the shortest, John, was the youngest Shelby. The two boys in between, Freddie Thorne and Danny Owens, had the kindest faces and had heads shaped like a milk bottle and a pin cushion, respectively.
"You ever met a real gangster before, love?" Danny dragged the cap from his skull to show off the signature haircut of the Peaky Blinders.
Greta's eyes widened in awe and fear at the sight of the tight cut. The razor had left small nicks and red cuts contrasting starkly from his pale skin. She shook her head no. She'd never met a real gangster before. One by one the three other heads were uncovered to reveal the same cuts.
"Come on now, boys." Tommy slapped each cap back onto its respective skull. He put a reassuring hand on Greta's arm to nudge her back into the shop.
"D'you like it?" Freddie had whipped his cap right off again and bowed his head. "Go on, touch it, darlin'!"
Curiosity overtook the original timidity and Greta, with a grin reaching ear to ear, carded her fingers through his hair. Greta could hardly believe it. Here she was, surrounded by gang members, laughing and chatting. She looked over her shoulder just to make sure her mother or sister weren't nearby. To her relief, the streets were still empty and the city was just beginning to clear the sleep from its bleary eyes.
Annoyed and knowing full well what Freddie was up to, Tommy good heartedly slapped a palm to his friend's head, shoved, and sent him staggering several steps away. The others seemed to sense the same irritation in Tommy and happily offered up their heads for Greta's touch.
"Alright, fuck off," Tommy muttered but his words were drowned by the snorts and snickers of Arthur, Freddie, Danny, and John alike. Even Greta cracked a smile.
Back behind the counter, watching the speckles of morning light begin to brighten the stones in the opposite building, Greta watched the four boys and Tommy lingering on the cobblestones. They left enough space so as not to arouse suspicion from the Jurossi family, neighbors, and customers. Every now and again Tommy would glance through the glass and, upon meeting Greta's gaze, would turn quickly back towards the streets.
It was late in the afternoon when the man appeared again. He was trailed by six men as large, hook-nosed, and burly as him. Greta rushed to the open shop door and caught the top of Tommy's sleeve.
"You're going to fight them ?" her voice cracked with panic.
Calmly Tommy swiped his hand over his own. "We'll be alright. You stay inside." He closed the door and offered a reassuring smile to ease the wariness on her face.
Arthur and Freddie were already cracking their knuckles and staring down the men they were about to fight. Danny Owens suavely pulled the cap from his head, tossed it onto the storefront, and gave Greta a cheeky wink through the window. A crowd, bare-faced in the streets and watching from windows, was starting to take notice.
From the safety of the shop, Greta pressed her face to the window pane to watch Tommy flick his cigarette to the street, part through his brothers, and stand before the man from the other day. She would soon learn the man's name to be Antonio Erice, a recent immigrant from a city of the same surname in southern Sicily. Though she was safe, she wished she could hear what Tommy was saying, standing unnaturally still in the shadow of Antonio Erice.
When the punches flew, Greta nearly missed it. Antonio's fist cut through the air with shocking speed, but Tommy was faster. He ducked and threw his own blow to Antonio's knee. With a cry, the large man fell to one keee, and that's when the rest of the Blinders attacked. Greta could hardly keep up with the upper-cuts and hooks and kicks. Her eyes followed Tommy the entire time. She muttered a quick prayer for his safety without really understanding why.
One of Antonio's men was knocked unconscious when Danny Owens blasted him in the forehead with his pincushion-shaped head. Arthur took a blow to the face but quickly regained his bearings to send a hailstorm of punches down until a second man was bleeding from the nose and sprawled on the ground. Freddie sent one flying into the gutter. Peaky caps flew. That just left three men and Antonio himself.
Being the smallest, John was quick to weave between the legs of such large men. He hit them in the groin, behind the knee, tripped them up as much as he could so the others could get a better advantage. For such a little boy, he worked seamlessly with his two brothers and friends. Another went down.
"I got this one," Arthur laughed as he sized up the last of Antonio's men. "Tommy gets the ugliest to impress his pretty girl."
"Thank you, Arthur," was Tommy's mirthless response. He swiped beads of sweat from his brow and blood from his split lip. Antonio Erice was a large man that used his strength. His blows were strong, but clunky and almost uncoordinated. Tommy was smaller, fast on his feet, and motivated by the pretty girl watching from the shop behind them. He'd tire this ugly fucker out.
Antonio charged forward like a bull in a ring. Tommy side-stepped and landed a blow to the man's side as he barrelled past. But Antonio wheeled around with a tight fist straight to the sharp curve of Tommy's jaw, sending him stumbling down to the cobblestoned streets.
Greta watched on with bated breath. She had half a mind to rush to the till, grab the gun her father laid there, and turn it on Antonio Erice herself.
A spit of blood landed on the ground from Tommy's mouth and he pushed himself back on his feet. Police whistles echoed down the laneway. Whatever had to be done had to be done soon. Antonio glanced down towards the sound of the whistles briefly before turning back to Tommy with his dukes up. One left-hook with hit air, an unsteady placed footfall on the edge of the sidewalk, a blow to the throat, and Antonio Erice was exhausted and falling face-first into the streets.
"Ruffians!" Carmela Jurossi rushed down the stairs and pulled her daughter away from the window. "Thugs!"
Coppers were pushing through the crowd and the Peaky Blinders, adjusting their caps, melted into the slew of people making for home. Greta eagerly searched for Tommy through the maddening crowd.
"In front of our shop too!" her mother continued grumbling. "Mad dogs, the lot of them!"
There he was! Greta's chest lept. Tommy was standing across the street and met her eye. He winked. Nearly laughing in relief, Greta grinned back.
"Who is that?" Carmela's eyes narrowed in suspicion at the receding figure.
Greta stared after him until he disappeared into the distance, trying to suppress a smile. "Just some boy."
AN: A huge thank you to ConstantlyIrksome for helping perfect this chapter! Her story "This Disappearing Land" is one of my favorites and so worth checking out!