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Grace and Florence had only briefly spoke to one another the next morning, and they did not speak at all once they got to The Garrison.
Florence knew the reason: Grace was still upset that Florence was going to the races with Thomas. She tried to wrap her head around why Grace could have such a deep hatred for Thomas, she barely knew him. Florence wondered if she was jealous, but the more she thought about it the more she began to doubt it.
Her mind did, however, wander back to the letter from Inspector Campbell. She still hadn't read it. Were her feelings for Thomas connected with that somehow? Florence had overheard that Inspector Campbell was suspicious of the Peaky Blinders, as they had become suspects in the search for the missing guns. But the only possible evidence Florence could have of Grace's involvement in that was the letter, and Florence had no idea what it even said. She couldn't suspect Grace of anything yet.
The day came and went quickly, and before Florence knew it, The Garrison was closed for the night. She decided that she would stay and clean by herself, she expressed to Harry that she wanted to earlier in the night and Harry had no problem giving her permission to do so. It was pouring rain outside by the time pub closed, so both he and Grace were quick to leave Florence to her own devices.
"G'night, Miss Florence." Harry called to her as he put his hat and coat on, making his way to the front doors.
She gave the man a warm smile and nodded her head, following after him so she could lock the doors behind him. "Goodnight, Harry. Get home safe."
"You too." He replied, bowing his head to her before walking off into the heavy rain.
Florence locked the doors and carried on with her closing tasks, humming to herself as she began to clean up the bar area. There wasn't too much to do, Harry offered to do the dishes before he left so she only had to clean the front of the pub.
As she began to wipe down the tables, someone began to pound on the front doors as hard as they possibly could. The sudden sound scared Florence, making her nearly jump out of her skin. She assumed it was Harry. He had possibly returned to get something he forgot to take with him initially.
She walked over to the front doors and unlocked them, seeing Thomas standing on the other side. He was soaked from the rain, keeping his arms crossed tightly over his chest for warmth. She certainly didn't expect to see him of all people. He barged passed her, walking into the pub searching for Harry.
"We're closed, Mister Shelby." Florence spoke, still holding the door open for him so he could turn right back around and carry on with his evening.
"Where's Harry?" He asked, taking his hat off. Even with the hat, his dark hair was still drenched.
