It was 10:30am, and the Shelby boys were at the station, tickets in hand waiting for the train to take them back to Birmingham.

"Do ya think this kid will turn up?" John suddenly asked, as he turned to look at Tommy and Arthur.

"By the sounds of it, this Richie does whatever Alfie says without question. He's a good little soldier, always follows orders." Tommy replied, as he looked down at his watch, wondering if the train would be early for once. The leader of the family firm, not asking why his younger brother's tone sounded anxious. John just nodding, before turning his attention back to the end of the long platform. The younger Shelby finding himself smiling, as he spied a distinctive swagger and smart suit, quickly moving towards them; a porter following close behind the man, with a large steamer trunk on a trolley. A few girls looking at him and giggling as he passed them. Richie smiling and tugging respectfully on his cap. For even though the attention from girls always made Richie feel uncomfortable, it went with the territory; and if she wanted to keep up the pretence, then she had to make it look good.

Richie came to a halt in front of the Shelby's, the porter nearly running into her before apologising profusely.

"What's in there?" Arthur asked, pointing at the large trunk.

"Suits, shirts, and ties, everything that a gentleman needs. I like ta dress well, and as Mr. Solomons representative, I have a standard to maintain." Richie told him, as Arthur looked over his shoulder at the girls who are still eyeing Richie up and down.

"Bit of a lady's man are ya kid?" Arthur smirked, nudging his younger sibling.

"The name is Richie, not kid, and I have my moments." Richie told him, as she stared into his eyes of the older Shelby, a wicked grin forming across his face.

"See, I told you he was the London version of you." Arthur chuckled, as he slapped John on the back. Arthur laughing loudly, as John muttered under his breath at his brother's comment.

                                                     >>---------------------------------<<

"I'm sorry again for nearly bumping into you Mr. (Y/l/n), it was an accident." The old porter said nervously, as he helped put Richie's trunk in the baggage carriage. Richie staying quiet for a moment, until she saw the Birmingham brothers climb into their carriage.

"Don't worry Mac, that's why I asked for ya, I know ya a good man. Ere, is that missus of yours still sick?" Richie asked, as she looked down at the porter. The righthand man taking out a five pound note from a roll of money and putting it in the old man's top pocket, as he nodded his head,

"Ere, this is for you, you get ya wife some medicine and decent food. But don't tell anyone I gave it to ya right................?"

"Thank you, Richie, I appreciate it." The man said; shaking Richie's hand before he scurried away.

                                                             >>------------------------------<<

Richie took a seat in the carriage next to the window, lit up a cigarette and opened up a copy of The Times, seemingly ignoring the Shelby's as the train slowly made its way out of the capital; but really listening intently to everything they said. It was one of the things that she did, it allowed her to get information for Alfie, without seemingly getting information. And sometime into the journey, Arthur looked at Richie and then at Tommy, finally speaking to his in younger brother in the rudimentary French which he must have picked up during the war.

"Pensez-vous que nous pouvons lui faire confiance Tommy?" Arthur said, asking Tommy if he really thought they could trust the man sat in the window seat. Richie smirking to herself at the question. Arthur obviously thinking that she couldn't speak French, well, the joke was on him. The once street kid having learned French and German from the immigrants who came to London when she was younger. The little girl proving to be a quick study in both languages and was more or less fluent. So, before Tommy could reply to his brother's question, Richie interjected without even looking up from the newspaper.

"Peu importe si vous me faites confiance ou non, monsieur Shelby, ju suis employe par monsieur Solomons et il me fait confiance. C'est tout ce qui est important." Richie replied in a perfect French accent. The Shelby's looking at one another. Arthur in particular looked dumbfounded, as Richie folded the paper slightly and look over the top of it.

"And if you aren't quite sure what that meant, I said, it doesn't matter to me if you trust me or not Mr. Shelby. I'm employed by Mr. Solomons, and he trusts me. That's all that matters." Richie explained, grinning before returning to her paper.

"You speak French?" Came another voice, obviously that of John. Richie folding the paper completely and placing it on her lap with a small sigh.

"Yes, I speak almost fluent French and German, but I don't suppose there will be much call for either in Birmingham!" Richie told him with a smile, before turning her attention to the window as the world passed by. John unable to stop himself from staring at the Londoner.

"So, Richie, tell us about yourself." John suddenly continued, as Richie turned back to look the younger Shelby, seeing a wicked glint in his eyes. Richie having a feeling that he was up to something but deciding to play along.

"There's not much to tell. Parents died when I was young, brought myself up and learnt everything I know from anyone and everyone I could learn from. Been fighting since I can remember, I've got a mean right hook, a bad temper and an itchy trigger finger. I do anything and everything that Alfie requires and most of my time is taken up with the business. And if I'm not working, I can usually be found in the nearest pub drinking whisky and beating idiots out of their hard-earned money at cards. I'm really rather boring." Richie explained, as she sat back in her seat. John deciding to push a little further.

"We got told that the fellas call you 'The Dandy'." John said with a chuckle as Richie took a deep breath and leaned in close to him; trying to keep her face as emotionless as possible.

"They only dare call me that behind my back, cos if they are stupid enough to say it to my face, I'll shoot them between the fuckin eyes." Richie told him, glaring so intensely that it made even John shuffle slightly in his seat. Richie leaning back as he heard Arthur and Tommy chuckle quietly, causing John to fold his arms and grumble.

                                                     >>-----------------------------------<<

By the time they arrived in Birmingham, Richie was more than ready to get off the train; her legs were sore, her backside was numb, and the compartment smelt of cigarettes and sweat. Despite how good Richie's act was, there was still something about the smells that real men seemed not to notice, that Richie did, and she needed air. And as the train came to a halt, Richie stood up and smoothed her hair back over her head, before putting on her hat. Straightened her suit and wrapped the large black over coat around her shoulders. Finishing off the ensemble, with a pair of leather gloves.

"Trying to impress the girls of Birmingham straightaway are ya kid?" Arthur asked, also rising to his feet.

"Well, a gentleman should always make a good first impression." Richie told him, as Arthur slapped her on the back.

"John, you've got competition. I think the girls will think they've died and gone ta fuckin heaven when this one steps into the Garrison.' Arthur joked, now slapping John on the shoulder. John simply staring at Richie, as one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen came to the young Londoners face.