NEW CHAPTERS COMING SOON.
Small Heath, Birmingham, was an unsafe place to be. Men stumbling drunk out of pubs, whores there waiting for them on the side of the street, with gang fights happening around the corner. Unsafe for young girls... but not i...
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• • •
"An empty shell,
I used to be."
• • •
"You're late," Thomas grunted as Harry rounded the corner and approached him. He had decided it was best to go over the plan out of range of the rest of the family... especially Polly.
"Yeah, yeah, lost track of time." She muttered, still irritated from this morning's events.
"Watch your fucking attitude. This is important business, or have you forgotten?" Thomas scolded as Harry let out a sigh in response. She knew Thomas was right; this affair had to be taken care of as a matter of priority.
"What's the plan then?" She queered, trying her best to put the dispute aside.
"You're to distract the cops, keep them away from the cooperative stables. We strike at midnight."
"How the fuck am I going to do that?" Harry grumbled, eyebrows frowning.
"Steal a custodian helmet or something. Use your fucking imagination, Harry. Ten minutes is all I need. We'll meet back here." Thomas was vexed as Harry remained silent in attempts to control her ever-shortening temper. What had gotten up his ass today, she wondered.
"Eh?" He questioned in a somewhat peeved tone.
"Aye, aye, Captain Tom!" Harry replied sarcastically, with a roll of her eyes, as she attempted to walk away.
Abruptly, Tommy roughly grasped ahold of her arm, losing his patience with the young girl.
"Oi! If you're not fucking up to it, tell me." Thomas snapped. The situation was stressful enough without his sister starting her rebellion phase.
"I'm fine, Tom," Harry concluded, snatching her arm out of his grip as she stomped off.
• • •
Lurking in the shadows of the cooperative stables, Harry pulled out a brass pocket watch, moonlight reflecting off the shiny surface. With a shaky breath, she checked the time. Five to midnight. Time to get this show on the road.
Her eyes glanced up to see a copper on his patrol, plodding down the cobbles. With a light sigh, she pushed herself off the wall, advancing towards the man.
Harry's feet feathered along the street as she snuck up behind the copper. '3...2...1'. She counted down in her head, jumping up as her hands grasped ahold of the custodian's helmet and yanked it forward so that the strap fell away from the policeman's chin. Harry wasted no time sprinting off as soon as her feet touched the ground, hearing the yells behind her.
"Oi! STOP RIGHT THERE!"
Adrenaline pulsed through Harry like electricity as she darted down the street as fast as her legs would carry her. A spark coursed through her veins... Happiness. In that minute, the day's troubles disappeared into the dark night.
Remembering the route Thomas had said the coppers take on patrol, she cut left down Burnel Street and bolted past another copper.
In an instant, the feet pounding along the cobbles tallied to three as the sound echoed against the walls.
She panted heavily, with the wind ruffling her curls as she swung her body around a lamppost to turn down a side lane. Listening to the footsteps behind her, she gauged the gap behind her was big enough for her ' disappearance''.
Turning out of the dark alleyway took her to the path alongside the cut. It seemed like a lifetime ago she used to meet Lee there. She chucked the helmet onto her head, ensuring the strap was under her chin so as not to fall off.
Jumping onto a crate, she reached the bridge overhead, grasping ahold of the rails. Using all her upper body strength, Harry pulled herself up, tucking her legs out of sight around another rail.
Right on cue, the coppers bounded after her, out of the alleyway, running right under the bridge and Harry. Once the coast was clear, she jumped down, attempting to land as lightly as possible.
Standing up, Harry turned in the direction the coppers had run in to see their figure get smaller as they left into the distance. With a breath of relief, Harry turned and walked in the opposite direction. Swinging the helmet alongside her as she walked.
• • •
"For fuck's sake Harry. I was joking when I said to steal a policeman's helmet." Thomas reprimanded as Harry strolled up the cobbles towards him. Hat perched on her head, with the biggest smirk playing on her lips.
"Well, you don't get the chance every day," she grinned cheekily, forgetting all the day's troubles in the moment. Thomas reached out and took the helmet from her head with a chuckle.
"Right, get home. I'll return this, so you don't get sentenced." Thomas smirked as he shook his head. But Harry's eyes drew attention to the small blood splatter contrasting with the white of the collar of his shirt. Regret showed in her brother's eyes as he pondered if he was just in his actions.
"What's going to happen now?" She queered.
"Nothing for you to worry about. Rember to use the back door; the last thing we need is Pol asking you where you were."
• • •
A few days had passed since Thomas had carried out the assassination. He had since been to London with John and Arthur to announce their presence. Unfortunately, leaving Harry behind as a trusted blinder to watch over the betting den. Cheap lies: a voice in Harry's head had told her. Maybe what he said to Polly was true; he was too busy for her.
Harry wandered down the edge of the cut on her way home from a drink with Isiah and Zack at the Garrison.
A crunch of gravel behind her brought her out of her intoxicated state as she became very aware of the light footsteps behind her.
Just as she was about to dart away from danger, a hand grappled around her waist and another on her mouth. As another man stepped out in front of her, a gun aimed at her head.
"I heard something about a Shelby Nancy who dresses up in trousers." The man spoke, as Harry instantly recognised the accent.
"I'd be embarrassed if I was Thomas. Maybe we should help him out..." He continued with a sickening grin as he advanced towards Harry, replacing the gun with a knife.
Harry kicked out as the man began cutting up the seam of her trouser legs. The cold metal of the blade catching her skin.
