This story is being re-uploaded for archival purposes.

Originally published in 2020.

Chapter One

"Are you sure this is the right way?"

The dreary English skyline Cassandra had become accustomed to during their long drive through miles of soggy countryside had disappeared, replaced by ugly, looming factories and smokestacks that belched black clouds into the air. It was nearing dusk, as far as she could tell; it was impossible to know given the perpetual clouds, but it did seem darker than it had been an hour ago.

Depressing, she thought, glancing distastefully at the overcast sky and billowing smoke. Depressing and wet is what this country is.

She looked at her younger sister sitting behind the steering wheel. Evelyn had been adamant that she be the one to drive, and Cassandra had happily obliged her; she'd never liked automobiles much.

"I'm sure," Evelyn said, though her frown said otherwise. She switched the windscreen wipers on to clean off the accumulated drizzle and soot that had started ever since they'd made a left two miles ago and ended up…wherever they were.

Cassandra unfolded the map given to her by the man they'd rented the car from in London. Behind her, their cousin Mabel snorted in her sleep and mumbled something incoherent before falling silent again. Cassandra envied her; she would've loved nothing more than to take a quick nap, but her stomach had been in knots ever since breakfast—whether it was from the food she'd eaten at their bed and breakfast that morning, or the sheer discomfort of being in an unknown country halfway around the world, she had no idea.

"We just entered Birmingham," she said, tapping the little spot on the map. "I saw the sign for it only a few minutes ago." She peered out the windscreen again and the industrial quarters they'd somehow stumbled upon. "We must be in some part of the city."

"An astute observation," Evelyn remarked. "Could you be more specific? Like which part?"

Cassandra shot her sister an annoyed look. "I don't know which part, Evie. You're the one who turned for no reason when we should have kept going straight."

"I'm hungry," Evelyn said with a pout. "I was trying to find somewhere to eat."

"I don't think we're going to find much to eat here." Cassandra gestured to the factories with their fire and smoke all around them. With the end of the workday drawing to a close, herds of tired, shuffling men emptied the buildings, keeping out of the way as their car passed through them. The men were dirty, sweaty, and mean-looking. Cassandra avoided eye contact with them. "Unless you're fine with eating coal."

"There's got to be something here," Evelyn said. Cassandra sighed. Her sister hated being wrong; they'd spend all night driving just for a place to eat so Evelyn could say I told you so. But Cassandra feared they didn't have enough fuel for that, so she looked at the map again.

"Maybe if we turned around—"

"No," Evelyn said, her jaw set.

"Evie—"

"Five minutes, Sandy. Just—give me five minutes, and if we don't find anything, I'll turn around."

"Fine." Cassandra glanced at the map again, then at the darkening sky. "We should try and find somewhere to sleep for the night, too. If we stop to eat, we'll be out of daylight, and I don't want to drive to Nottingham while it's dark."

Evelyn nodded, keeping her eyes on the road, or what little of it she could see underneath all the soot and coal dust. Mabel snorted again from the backseat. The sisters ignored her.

"There," Evelyn said a few minutes later, pointing to a building on the corner of the street that beckoned them with bright golden light. "That looks like something."

Cassandra squinted through the dirty windscreen. "The Garrison," she said, reading the large white letters on the outside of the building. Men and some women streamed through its doors in droves. It seemed like a popular place with the locals. She looked around and saw the people who weren't going inside though: strong-armed men and women with heavily painted faces. Discomfort pricked at her gut. "I get the feeling this isn't the sort of place that serves food, Evie."

"Nonsense," Evelyn said, turning the car off. "It's the only place for miles. They have to have something. Look at the crowd it's drawing!"

She wasn't convinced. "Maybe it's only a bar—or, pub. Whatever they call them here."

Evelyn grinned. "Even better."

Cassandra looked between the golden lights and her sister's mischievous smile. She ought to know better, being the older sister, but Evelyn always got what she wanted. Cassandra sighed and twisted in her seat, slapping Mabel's knee. "Mab. Mab!"

Mab jerked awake, gazing at Cassandra through bleary eyes. "Wha'? Are we in Nottingham?"

"No. Birmingham." She looked pointedly at Evelyn. "Evie wants food. Or a drink. Whichever she can get her hands on first."

"A drink sounds nice." Mab yawned and sat up. "Count me in."

Cassandra rolled her eyes but grabbed her purse. "All right. Let's see what this charming place has to offer."

The three women climbed out of the car where Evelyn had parked it off to the side of the building. When Cassandra straightened, her low heels sinking into the soggy ash, she noticed that there were no other cars around. Her unease grew. She knew they should have taken a cab, but Evelyn had insisted they rent their own car.

"We have plenty of money," she'd said. "Plus, we'd get to see England at our own pace. Haven't you always wanted to travel, Sandy?"

Cassandra hadn't been able to deny that, and England had been on her travel list for quite some time, but she knew the real reason why Evelyn had dragged her and their cousin from California all the way to dreary England—and that reason's name was Frank Walter.

Evelyn led the way to The Garrison, seemingly unbothered by the layers of grime and dirt that stuck to the bottom of her shoes as they walked. Mab pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. She offered it to Cassandra. Cassandra shook her head.

They followed Evelyn inside, squeezing past several men who took one look at their nice heels and dresses and chuckled under their breath. Cassandra spun around, but the men turned away, avoiding her gaze. Taking stock of her surroundings, she saw instantly that they were far too overdressed for such a place—a pub, no doubt, since there were plenty of drinks to go around, but not one hint of food. She knew it when they'd first passed the factories, but this place only confirmed it—this pub was for the working people, not girls like them.

But Evelyn forged ahead with all the subtlety of a steam engine, heading straight for the bar. Mab trailed after her, smoke curling from her dark painted lips, and Cassandra followed, her back burning with the gazes of dozens of eyes.

"Two gins, please," Evelyn said to the bartender, an older gentleman with a long face and even longer limbs, but he looked kind enough. Evelyn turned to Cassandra. "What are you drinking?"

"Oh, um…" She looked at all the bottles on display. "Do you have champagne?"

The bartender shook his head. "Reserved. Sorry, miss."

"Oh." Her cheeks heated. "Rum?"

"White or dark?"

"White, please."

He got out three glasses and poured, pushing the two gins to Mab and Evelyn and the rum to her. "'ere you go, ladies."

"How much?" Cassandra asked, fumbling in her purse to find the right coins. She still didn't understand British money, but the bartender shook his head.

"First round on the 'ouse," he said. "It's not often we get Americans in here. 'specially not fine ladies such as yourselves."

"Thank you," Cassandra and Evelyn said at the same time.

"You're too kind," Evelyn added with a sweet smile that made the bartender blush. Mab dragged on her cigarette, unimpressed. "What's your name?"

"'Arry," he said, wiping his hand on the cloth thrown over his shoulder before offering it to Evelyn. "And you, miss?"

"Evelyn," she said, shaking his hand. "This is my sister, Cassandra, and our cousin, Mabel, but everyone calls her Mab."

Harry nodded politely to them. "Pleasure, ladies. Let me know if there's anything you need, or, ah, any trouble."

He swept a worried gaze over the crowd that Cassandra did not miss. Quelling the apprehension in her belly, she pointed out an available table—right by the door, she noticed with relief. Though Harry had been kind, she doubted many of the others were that way—not with the looks they were receiving as the three women took their seats, drinks in hand.

As Mab continued smoking and Evelyn started drinking, Cassandra took out the map again and spread it across the table, sipping from her rum. It wasn't excellent by any means, but it wasn't swill, either. She traced her finger from Birmingham to Nottingham.

"How far do you think it is from here to Nottingham?" she asked.

"Far enough," Mab said. She drank from her glass. "Probably need another stop for fuel before we make it there."

Cassandra shook her head. "Why did we even drive? They have trains everywhere here. We could've taken one of those."

"Because we're free women, Sandy," Evelyn said. She'd removed her hat and set it in her lap. In the warm yellow lights of the pub, her red hair shone like fire. "Isn't that what the feminists are going on about these days? Independence and women's rights and all that?"

"Don't knock," Cassandra said. "They've done us good with the vote."

"Hear, hear," Mab said, raising her glass and draining the rest of her gin in one gulp.

Evelyn laughed. "I'm not knocking, Sandy. Only practicing what they preach."

"By running into the arms of a man," Mab said. She cocked her head to the side and smiled coyly at Evelyn. "How very progressive of you, Evie."

Evelyn sighed. "You'd understand if you ever fell in love, Mab."

Mab and Cassandra traded a significant look while Evelyn drank. "Enlighten me as to how you fell in love with this man by only exchanging letters? You've never even met him before."

"What Frank and I have goes beyond just writing," Evelyn said. A faraway look entered her eyes that made Cassandra refrain from rolling hers. She'd asked her sister the same question for months and received the same answers about "true love" every time. "It's something real. I felt it in those letters, in all the months I wrote to him during the war."

"Mm." Mab glanced at Cassandra again. "But he wouldn't come to America after the war was done to find you, so that's why we came here. To find him."

Evelyn nodded. "He told me about Nottingham; the town he grew up in, his family. Imagine the look on his face when I turn up out of nowhere to see him. How I came all the way from San Francisco just for him."

She sipped from her gin with a smile. Cassandra swallowed her rum, attributing the burning in her throat to the alcohol instead of pity for her sister. She'd tried talking sense into Evelyn—how Frank could've been lying to her about who he was, where he lived, how he could be married already. But Evelyn hadn't listened. If Cassandra had gotten her way, they would never be in England—but there were a lot of things that she hadn't expected to happen recently, and Evelyn wasn't the only sister who had a reason to leave everything behind in California.

Mab looked on the verge of arguing, but just as she opened her mouth, the doors to the pub banged open, bringing in a gust of air that nearly sent the map to the floor before Cassandra caught it.

Three men in dark suits and caps walked into the pub, and the crowd quieted. There were some murmurs of "Mr. Shelby" from the men and women gathered and many respectful nods as people shuffled to make a path for the men.

"Evening, Mr. Shelby," Harry the barman said. He nodded to the men from behind the bar, a mixture of reverence and apprehension on his long face. "What'll it be tonight?"

"Whiskey, Irish," one of the men said in a deep voice. It sounded like it came from the shortest one, but with their backs to them, Cassandra couldn't quite tell.

Harry nodded and rushed to fulfill the order. The noise of the crowd increased again like the drink request had lifted some sort of spell off them. Harry brought over an entire bottle of whiskey and three glasses before leaning in to talk to the shorter man. With a flash of panic, Cassandra started when Harry looked over at their table and nodded to them, the men following his line of sight.

"The fuck are they whispering about?" Mab demanded. She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray Cassandra had moved to keep the map down.

"I don't know," Cassandra said, keeping her voice low as the men turned and walked to their table. "Oh, God, they're coming over here."

"Calm down, Sandy," Evelyn whispered. "They're just men."

"Dangerous men," she hissed. "Look at their caps!"

She hadn't realized until they'd turned around, but each man had silver razor blades sewn into the front of their caps. "Sweet Jesus. I think they're gangsters."

"You've seen too many films," Evelyn said derisively. "C'mon, Sandy—"

"Ladies," one of the men interrupted. It was the shortest one who spoke, dressed in a fine suit that was too nice for the looks of The Garrison. Cassandra couldn't see his eyes from underneath his deadly cap, but he had a sharp, square jawline. "Our good man Harry over there tells us you're Americans. Is that right?"

"It is," Evelyn said. She sipped from her gin calmly. "Do you not like Americans?"

The man shrugged. "Never had much to do with 'em, so I can't say."

The tallest man sported a large mustache and a gravelly voice when he spoke, pointing to their map. "How'd you lot find yourselves in Birmingham, eh?"

"Just passing through," Evelyn said. "I'm afraid we got a bit lost, though."

"This here's Small Heath," the third man said, speaking from around a toothpick and puffing out his chest. "Peaky Blinders territory—"

"That's enough, John," the first man said. He, too, pointed at the map. "Where're you headed?"

"Nottingham," Mab said, speaking up for the first time since the men had approached them.

The man looked at her. "Then I imagine that's your car outside?"

"Yes," Evelyn said. "Why?"

"Well, you should know that all your petrol's been sucked out of it."

Evelyn straightened while Cassandra's stomach dropped. "What? How do you know?"

The third man laughed. "Saw some kids runnin' off with it as we came up."

"No!" Evelyn whirled on Cassandra. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"Ah, don' worry," the man with the thick mustache said. "We've got our own boys on it. Your car'll be filled up by the time you leave."

"'Filled up?'" Cassandra forced herself to say. She cringed under the men's stares, though she still couldn't see their eyes. "As in…fully?"

"Aye."

"But that's…" Cassandra shook her head. "How much do we owe you?"

"Nothin'," he said.

"No, please, I insist—" She reached for her purse, but the man shook his head.

"You don't owe anythin'," he said. "We're just doin' good business, that's all."

"Thank you," Evelyn said, speaking over Cassandra's protests. "We really appreciate it."

"Well." The first man cleared his throat. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

He proceeded to lead the way into a private room, the other men in tow. Once the door had closed, Cassandra released a heavy sigh of relief.

"Good Lord," she said. "Why were they so…intimidating?"

Nobody answered her, for Harry rushed over to them just then.

"More gin?" he asked Mab and Evelyn. Mab nodded, but Evelyn declined. He refilled Mab's glass, but almost overflowed it when he kept casting anxious looks to the private room where the three men had disappeared.

"Harry," Cassandra said, "who were those men?"

Harry wiped his hands on his towel. "The Shelby brothers," he said, keeping his voice down like he was afraid the men were listening. "They run things 'round 'ere."

"'Run things?'" Evelyn repeated. "Like how?"

He just shrugged, rubbing his hands on his towel again.

"And what are the Peaky Blinders?" Cassandra asked.

"Their gang." He nearly whispered the word.

Cassandra turned to Evelyn, triumphant. "I told you."

Evelyn waved her off, speaking to Harry. "They said some kids stole the gasoline from our car, but they would fill it back up. Is that what you mean by them running things around here?"

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "Yeah, something like that."

Mab hummed. "Interesting."

Harry nodded again before retreating to the bar. Cassandra finished off her rum and refolded the map. "Finish your drinks. Let's find somewhere to stay for the night."

Mab left a few coins for her second drink, then she and Evelyn walked out of the pub. Cassandra stood, stowing the map into her purse before she realized she was shaking.

Her hand trembled, and she curled it into a fist, holding it close to her chest. Those three men in their dark suits… Her first thought was that it wasn't possible; she couldn't have been found so quickly. And that they were gangsters, on top of it all…

She hurried after Evelyn and Mab and didn't look back.