К сожалению, это изображение не соответствует нашим правилам. Чтобы продолжить публикацию, пожалуйста, удалите изображение или загрузите другое.
It had been four long and dreadful days since Florence went to the races with Thomas.
Florence was doing fine. With each passing day, she felt better. The bruise on her hip had slowly healed, but it still hurt when she touched it. She hadn't seen Thomas since he had dropped her off at her flat, nor did she want to. She was still absolutely furious.
She refused to tell Grace a single detail about the day when she had asked about it. But of course, Grace kept asking, even when Florence told her to let it go. The two women went to work that Wednesday morning, still not speaking about what transpired on Sunday. The Garrison was not as crowded as it often was, men weren't shoving each other around or making large messes all around the place. But when the clock struck eleven in the morning, people began to walk through the front doors of the bar and it became the same old busy pub.
"There they are." Grace joked when the bar had filled with men, turning to Florence when she spoke. She didn't return the laugh.
As Florence was pouring a glass of rum for a man who had asked for it, she saw John and Arthur Shelby walk into the bar with a dark-haired woman Florence had never seen before. Her heart beat picked up quickly as she wondered if Thomas was with them. She didn't see him however, which calmed her nerves. The three walked into the private room beside the counter.
Florence continued pouring drinks. Part of her did want to see him, only because she wanted to give him the opportunity to apologize- if he was even capable of doing so. She wasn't keen on forgiving him, but it would help her feel better.
And as if she summoned him, Thomas came striding into The Garrison. Their eyes met immediately. Florence could see a glimpse of regret in his eyes, but she only looked away and didn't bother to acknowledge him. He quickly looked away and disappeared into the private room.
As Florence turned to grab another bottle of alcohol, Grace quickly approached her.
"I saw that." She muttered to the dark-haired woman. "Florence, what happened?"
"Grace." Florence answered with an irritated tone as she turned to pour another drink. "Bloody hell, why does it matter to you? You didn't even want me to go."
"That doesn't mean I don't want to know anything." Grace answered cockily, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. "Was it that horrible?"
Yes. "No." Florence answered. "Stop asking."
Grace stared at her for a moment before setting the bottle down. She walked away from Florence, leaving her at the counter by herself. Florence didn't care, she found it quite irritating that Grace was suddenly so interested in her business with Thomas. She was beginning to wonder more and more about the past few weeks and why they were even in Birmingham.
