Chapter Two

Mab was awake with the dawn.

Truth be told, she'd been awake several hours before the dark sky had lightened to gray. She hadn't been able to sleep, but that wasn't a new occurrence—rather, an old one that she'd known for so long that losing it would be like losing a friend. Falling asleep in the car the day before had been a fluke; but with the lull of the engine and the damp scenery that seemed never-ending, her mind had fallen silent for once and allowed her to drift into the black.

She hadn't been so lucky last night.

They'd left The Garrison without any more interference—not even a glance of those gangsters who called themselves the Peaky Blinders, the Shelby brothers—but when they'd gone outside to the car, they'd indeed found it filled up, with two muscled men standing in the shadows watching them. They'd piled in and Evelyn had driven them to the edge of what they now knew was called Small Heath, where they'd found a cheap inn and rented a room for the night.

Evelyn and Cassandra had promptly gone to bed, but Mab had tossed and turned for a few hours before deciding sleep was futile. From there, she'd sat at the window and watched the rain drum on the glass before deeming it a reasonable time to go downstairs for breakfast.

She was in the inn's small dining room eating a slice of toast with strawberry marmalade and drinking tea from an old, chipped glass when Evelyn and Cassandra found her, already dressed and packed. Evelyn had donned her best pink dress—the one that was so light and rosy that it turned her hair an even more vivid shade of red, bringing out the blue of her eyes and the peachy flush to her cheeks. Cassandra was more conservative in her pale blue blouse and beige skirt, but her blonde hair had been pinned up, revealing her heart-shaped face and the same sky-blue eyes as her sister.

"Morning, Mab," Cassandra said, taking the seat next to her. Mab waved, her mouth too full of toast to give a proper greeting. "Sleep well?"

She shrugged, not missing the concern in her cousin's eyes as she sipped from her tea. She'd tried her best to keep her restlessness unknown to her cousins, but Cassandra and Evelyn were bound to have noticed on the boat that had carried them from America to England.

She ignored the silent question in Cassandra's gaze and spoke to Evelyn. "You look nice. Are you ready for Nottingham?"

Evelyn nodded with a small smile. "Yes. I can't wait to find Frank. I'm shaking like a leaf, I'm so excited. See?"

She held out a dainty hand that was, indeed, trembling. Mab set down her teacup and glanced at Cassandra. She had her head down, spooning sugar into her own tea, but her face was settled into a frown. Mab sighed.

"Look, Evie, I'm not trying to be a spoilsport…but you have thought of the alternatives to today, yes? That Frank may have lied to you? Or that his name isn't really Frank Walter at all? Do you even know what he looks like?"

"Of course, I do." Evelyn sniffed. "He's sent me pictures, you know. He's very handsome, with dark hair. And he told me his eyes were green."

"What if he already has a wife?" she pressed. "What are you going to do then, Evie?"

"It'll be fine, Mabel," Evelyn said. Mab scowled at the use of her dreaded first name. "You'll see when you meet Frank. It will all be well. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to order some breakfast."

She got up from the wobbly oak table and made her way to the small serving window attached to the inn's kitchen, her heels clicking on the old wooden floors. Mab turned to Cassandra.

"You can't seriously be letting her go through with this?" she demanded. "I get that it was all for laughs when we decided to take an impromptu vacation to England, but this is too far, Sandy. If Frank doesn't exist, or he lied to her, she'll be heartbroken. And then what?"

Cassandra shrugged, setting down her tea. "Then she'll move on. You know Evelyn—off to the next one."

Mab shook her head. "This is insane. We crossed an entire ocean for Evie to get her heart broken. We should be in Spain or something—drinking sangria and laying out on a beach somewhere. Not in this shithole where men run around with razor blades stitched into their caps."

Cassandra hummed, noncommittal. Mab refrained from leaping out of her seat and smacking her older cousin. Sometimes she just wanted to grab her by the shoulders, shake her, and yell, "Stand up for something! Anything!"

Evelyn returned to their table and sat down, either oblivious to the tension between her older relations or ignoring it entirely. Mab scoffed at Cassandra and leaned back, pulling out a cigarette from her purse and lighting it.

"Mab, did you happen to see my purse anywhere this morning?" Evelyn asked suddenly.

She thought about it, then shook her head. "No, can't say I have."

Evelyn turned to her sister with a frown. "I can't find it in any of my luggage. Did you see it when you were packing?"

"No." Cassandra dug through her own purse and extracted the car keys. "Go check the car. Maybe you left it in there."

Evelyn took the keys and left. Cassandra looked at Mab. "You're angry with me."

"I'm not angry," she said. She took another drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke fill her lungs. "I just think you should be the older sister and rein Evelyn in before all this goes too far."

Cassandra shook her head, helpless. "You know how Evie gets. She's stubborn as a bull." She scoffed lightly. "If anyone can get her to see reason, it's you. I think you intimidate her."

"The only things that intimidate Evie are God and your mother."

Cassandra laughed. "You may be right about that."

Mab blew out a trail of smoke. "I'm always right."

"And arrogant."

"Too true." She raised her teacup. "Cheers."

They drank as Evelyn reentered the inn with a frown and threw herself into her seat.

"It's not in the car," she said. "I don't know where else it could be!"

"Did you double-check the luggage?" Cassandra asked, raising an eyebrow.

Evelyn crossed her arms. "Yes."

"Did you triple-check?"

"Yes, Sandy." Evelyn rolled her eyes. "I'm eighteen; not five." She sighed. "The only place I can think of where I had it last was that pub we went to last night."

Mab snorted. "Well, you might as well say good-bye to it. You're never getting it back now."

Evelyn shook her head. "I left it under my seat. Maybe it's still there."

"And I'm the Pope." Mab flicked ash off her cigarette. "Forget about it. We're not going back there."

Evelyn raised a brow. "Scared of a few men wearing caps?"

"You heard the man last night—what was his name? Harry? He said they're a gang. No way in hell am I going near that place again."

"It's the morning. I'm sure no one but Harry'll be there."

"Then you go. I'll stay in the car."

Cassandra sighed and looked at Evelyn. "Are you sure you left it there?"

Evelyn set her jaw. "Positive."

"Very well. Then we'll go back and ask Harry if we can poke around—assuming no one took it."

Mab shot her a look. "So, we're willingly going back to a pub that's frequented by known gang members?"

Cassandra shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "They did us a service last night. They didn't have to fill the car up, but they did. Surely they can't be so bad?"

"Sandy's right," Evelyn said. "And we'll only be there a few minutes. We'll be fine."

Mab drained the rest of her tea and pushed her chair back. "Whatever you say. I'm going to finish packing."

And perhaps I'll pick out something black to wear to their funerals.

Small Heath looked even worse in the daylight.

Everything was gray—the houses, the roads, the factories. Even the people looked dull and colorless, dressed in drab clothing marked with coal, dirt, and labor. They were an especially grim lot, too, Mab noticed; she didn't think she'd seen a smile since they'd entered the town. Not even from the children.

She drove their car past the dark-stoned houses, following the signs for Garrison Lane as the innkeeper had instructed. Evelyn had let her drive, citing her tenure as chauffeur the day before as a reason to relax in the backseat while Cassandra resumed her place on the passenger side. Cassandra hadn't said a word since they'd left the inn, and Mab wondered if she'd been too hard on her cousin. Though Cassandra was two years older, Mab often felt like the eldest out of the three, especially with Evelyn's wild streak and Cassandra's meek temperament.

"Can't you drive any faster?" Evelyn complained from the back. "We'll never reach Nottingham today at this rate."

Mab shot a disgruntled look over her shoulder. "There're children playing in the lane, Evie. What would you have me do? Run them over?"

"If it'd make you go faster than blind Granny Nell…"

"I'm not afraid to drive this thing into the river with you still inside it."

"Please don't bicker," Cassandra said, turning away from the window. "The pub's right there."

Indeed, on the corner of Garrison Lane stood The Garrison itself, its gilded windows gleaming in the faint, watery sunlight. A few men and women loitered outside, but the drawn curtains on the second level of the building made her think there were tenants who lived above the pub. Mab parked the car and shut off the engine.

"Off you go," she said. "Five minutes."

"Sir, yes, sir," Evelyn said, saluting as she exited the car. Cassandra followed her, and Mab watched them enter through the glass-paned doors, sticking out like sore thumbs in their fashionable and bright clothing.

Mab cranked the window down and settled herself in for a smoke, keeping her eyes on their surroundings. Though she and the car were receiving some curious looks, no one approached, for which she was grateful. She didn't need anyone else sucking their gasoline out.

She took a few puffs off her cigarette and tried to ignore the stench of oil and burning coal, all layered on top of human excrement. God, this city reeks. She couldn't wait to get back on the road again, even if it meant endless miles of soggy farmland. At least then there would be fresh air.

She couldn't sit in that tiny car and be overwhelmed by the smell anymore. She opened the door and got out, her heels clicking on the grimy cobblestones. She inhaled deeply through her mouth. There. That was better. Though the smell had worsened, at least she wasn't confined with it anymore.

She shut the car door and leaned against it, checking the small pocket-watch she kept in her coat—a gift from her brother. Three minutes had passed since Cassandra and Evelyn had walked into the pub. She gave them two more before she went in there herself and dragged them out by the scruffs of their necks, purse or no. She remembered Cassandra's words about those Peaky Blinders; how'd they done them a "good service" by filling up their car the night before. She scoffed. Gangsters doing good deeds. Honestly…

"Back again so soon, eh?"

She looked up and saw one of the men from the night before standing in front of her as if her thoughts had summoned him. It was the tall and lanky one, dressed in a gray suit—imagine that—with a matching razor-blade cap like the one he and his brothers had been wearing before. In the daylight, it was easier to pick out features: the full, dark mustache, the few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the blue of those eyes. He approached her and took off his cap, smoothing back overlong dark hair that was shorn on the sides.

Mab huffed out her cigarette smoke, maintaining her casual stance despite every nerve standing on high alert. "Never left, actually." She tilted her head to The Garrison. "My cousin believes she left her purse in there last night and insisted we come back for it. I told her it was as good as gone, but she didn't listen."

"Is she the younger one?" he asked. She nodded, and he grinned slightly. It was off-putting, especially when the blade in his cap glinted with the sun. "Well, ah, from experience, the younger ones never listen to the older. I think that's just our lot in life."

She didn't smile. "So, you're the oldest brother?"

He nodded and stuck out his hand. "Yeah. Name's Arthur. Arthur Shelby."

"Harry told us about you," she said, not taking his hand. "He didn't utter the words in exact terms, but we figured out the rest enough; you're gangsters. The Peaky Blinders."

"And I s'pose that means you rich girls look down on the likes of us?" he said, stuffing his hand back into his trouser pocket. "Well, I say you don't get to be picky when it's yous who ended up in a place like this out of everywhere else."

The doors to the pub opened and Evelyn skipped out, her purse swinging from her hand. "I got it! Harry was kind enough to hold it behind the bar for me after he found—oh."

Evelyn stopped in her tracks when she saw who Mab was talking to. Cassandra followed her sister out, her eyes widening when she took in Arthur Shelby.

"Ladies," Arthur said, putting back on his cap. "Good day to ya."

"Wait." Evelyn stepped forward. "You run things around here, right?"

Mab whirled on her.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. Evelyn ignored her.

Arthur nodded. "That's right."

Evelyn bit her lip. Cassandra looked between her and Mab, lost.

"I was wondering if you could do something for me?" Evelyn asked. "If you could find someone?"

Arthur Shelby shifted his gaze from one woman to the next. "We're not really in the business of finding people."

"Here." Evelyn opened her purse and pulled out a letter and a photograph. She handed them to Arthur. He took them, confused. "He said his name was Frank Walter. He lives in Nottingham, but I don't know where. If you have any, er, connections or information you could give me, it would be so helpful. I can pay, too."

"Evie…" Cassandra murmured.

"Nottingham's out of our territory," he said, shuffling the papers in his hands.

"And I'm sure the Peaky Blinders have much better things to do with their time," Mab said, not even attempting to hide the derision in her tone. Arthur glanced at her but didn't say anything.

"Please," Evelyn said to him. "We've already been traveling for weeks. I know it's not far, but without anything else to go on, we could be searching for days. And like I said before, I'd be more than willing to pay."

Arthur shifted on his feet, looking between the photograph of Frank Walter and Evelyn's pleading eyes.

"I guess I can make some calls," he hedged. "But I'm an awfully busy man, Miss…?"

"Winters," she said. "Evelyn Winters. And this is my sister Cassandra, and our cousin Mabel."

"Mab," Mab muttered under her breath.

Arthur nodded. "Right, Miss Winters. I can make some calls if you'll give me a week."

"A week?" Mab said, incredulous. She looked at Evelyn. "Are you mad?"

"It's our best bet, Mab," she said. "And we can do plenty of things within a week. I'm sure there's all sorts of trouble we can get up to around here."

Mab stared at Cassandra, her cigarette forgotten. "Well, aren't you going to say anything? This is ridiculous!"

Cassandra flushed under everyone's stares. "Evie has a point. It could take us ages to find Frank without the proper information…"

Mab let out a noise of disgust. "Go boil your heads, the both of you. I can't believe this." She flicked away her cigarette and began walking toward the pub.

"Where are you going?" Evelyn asked as she stormed past them.

"To drink, since we're clearly not going anywhere," she shot over her shoulder.

"Stop being dramatic, Mab," Evelyn sighed. When Mab ignored her, she turned back to Arthur, saying, "We'll be staying at this address…"

Mab entered the pub before she could hear more. Let Evelyn get them mixed up with a gang all for the sake of finding one man, she thought angrily. They'd be dead before the next week came.

She marched to the bar where a wary Harry stood, cleaning glasses, and slapped her purse on the counter. "Give me whatever's strongest."

Harry shifted. "Er, we don't officially open for another hour, miss—"

She pointed to the doors. "And put it on Arthur Shelby's tab."

She'd never seen a man move so fast to get a drink before.