Chapter 4

They didn't cuff my left hand again after dinner. I held it in my lap, twitching nervously as Polly and Ada cleared the plates. If they realised I still had a hand free, they gave no indication. I wondered if the Shelby's did anything by accident or if every decision was another move in their own game of chess. I knew my father was the latter type.

John sighed, sat in the seat the other side of the room once more, just the two of us here. "You wish you were out with them?" I asked.He scowled in my direction, but there was no true malice behind it. "You just keep your mouth shut.""I'm bored," I answered. "And you must be, too. Haven't you got races to fix?"John smirked. "And what has Billy told you about our business? That we're terrible boogeymen, out to destroy his living?" "Is it not true?" I asked."Oh, it is," he said. "I'm just wondering how much you know." My cheeks flushed. "I know enough," I lied.

I'd rather put a pistol to my head than admit my father didn't tell me a thing about any of his business, that everything I knew I'd gleaned from snippets of conversation between the other Birmingham Boys, while I'd hidden out of earshot. The drives to London were the best. When I travelled between our houses, whoever escorted me would grow bored, and sloppy, forgetting I was there after the first hour or so. The men would speak among themselves in hushed tones while I pretended to be engrossed in a novel, or sleeping off half a bottle of whiskey. That was how I'd learned the name Shelby. If my father knew how much his boys had said in my presence, he'd have them killed and probably threaten me with a gun for good measure. Women and business don't mix, he'd always said.

John scoffed, as though reading my thoughts. "Right you are.""Did your father tell you much about business?" I asked.I didn't miss the way his shoulders stiffened, though he ignored the question. "Fuck Arthur," he grumbled. "I've got every bit of business tonight as the rest of them."A glimmer of opportunity, I noted with excitement. "Do you always do what your brother tells you?" I asked."Pull the other one.""I'm just curious." I leaned back slightly. "Arthur told you to get me in the first place, right? Now he's ordering about your shifts. Is it him in charge, or Thomas? They're the only ones who seem to get shit done. Though, I suppose you and Finn have your own roles in the family. Just as important and all that."

He considered me for a moment. "You're talking to me like I'm some kid, like I'm Finn," he said. "I fought in the war. I fought alongside my brothers. I have four children now, and I run the books for this company. Don't try to make me feel like a child, Kimber. You'll meet the same sticky end that's coming for your father."I brushed off his last insult. "You're right. It's just we're of a similar age, and I still feel like a child myself. I didn't think... never mind.""But surely you work," John said. "Surely you're in the running for a husband?" I let out a bitter laugh. "You think Billy Kimber would let his daughter earn an honest living? Would entrust his daughter to a man who could be a spy for another gang, or a lowly henchman of his own one? No, John, I don't work. I'm nothing but a liability to the Kimber image."

John said nothing, and I became suddenly embarrassed by my outburst. "I need to use the bathroom," I said quickly. John's eyes widened. "I don't think I'm allowed to take you.""So, should I just go here then?" I retorted. "Right through my best skirts? The room would start to smell pretty quick. And once it's stained into the wood, it'll be a pain to clean out.""I don't have the key. You'll have to hold it until Tommy's back to take the night shift.""And when will that be?" I asked."Could be hours," John sighed. He fidgeted. "Hey, did you mean what you said this morning? About Billy not caring if you're here?""Of course not," I lied. "I was just trying to get in your head."John nodded slowly, not looking convinced one way or the other. "Right, well I have work to do," he said. "Can I trust you to behave yourself if I'm in the other room?""What's the worst I can do?" I said glumly.

He rose to his feet, buttoning his jacket. "If we were friends, I might be able to give you ideas.""If we were friends, I wonder who would blow our heads off first," I replied.John shrugged. "Tommy's closer, but your father's quicker to load a gun. Could be either of them.""Let's not piss them off then," I said."Or, let's keep it a secret." And without any indication as to whether he was joking, John left the room, only the sounds of pen scratching on paper to keep me company as night fell.