DIY Success

"The distinction between bread and rum in this bakery is NOT DISCUSSED!"

Chapter 1

Alfie sat at his desk, frowning at the paperwork in front of him. Just when he thought he'd completed more paperwork than any self-respecting gangster had an obligation to, Ollie would shuffle more in. His frown turned to a scowl and he shoved the papers and spectacles away from him and dragged a hand down his face. He debated the benefit of an early morning helping of white bread vs how much he needed to get done today. He still had work to oversee out on the floor this afternoon and a few-

"Fuck it."

He already hated everything, one drink wasn't going to be the tipping point of his day. Alfie hauled himself out of his chair and ambled to the liquor cart just as a knock sounded at the door. Ollie-damn that useless infant. He couldn't make a decision on his own if the choices were blonde or brunette and lined up in front of him.

As the door behind him opened without waiting for an answer, Alfie felt his mask slide back in place. He hadn't realised how far the combination of boredom and exhaustion had dropped his guard. He couldn't see him, but he could sense Ollie's hesitation and he took his time measuring out a healthy few fingers of the white.

"What the fuck is it?" he barked when it became apparent that Ollie wasn't going to speak.

"Um...sir, uh. Sir, there's someone here about the foreman position, and I...I thought...you'd..." Ollie fumbled.

"Mmph," Alfie grunted, replacing the bottle. "Well, send him up."

Ollie hesitated. "Uh, well, sir, actually..."

"Actually?" Alfie's voice sharpened.

"Actually, I'm already up," a decidedly non-male voice stated behind him.

Alfie turned and took in the sight before him.

She was fair skinned and the dark hair that peeked out from under her hat curled prettily around her face. Her dress had a stylish dropped waist but the material was sturdy, no doubt something that was meant to last through many washings. Nonetheless, the pale green colour suited her, and she probably knew it.

"Mabel Ziemann," she said, reaching out her hand. Alfie's sharp eyes took in her calloused hands and muscled forearm before he met her grip in a shake rather than with a kiss. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she looked absurdly pleased he'd noticed this about her.

"Ms Ziemann. What can I do for you?" Alfie's tone was neither friendly or rude, but very purposefully neutral. His face gave nothing away, and he couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a flash of uncertainty before it was covered up and a shawl of determination and confidence settled around her shoulders.

"As your man said, I'm here about the foreman position I'd heard about. I brought a list of my qualifications-"

"Ah, that position had been filled," Alfie interrupted. He moved around the desk to take her elbow. "Sorry about the waste of a trip, Ollie here can show you out."

Mabel gently removed her elbow from his grip and looked directly into Alfie's face. He watched her look him over, deliberately taking in the way he appeared, shoulders carefully rounded, beard deliberately scruffy. He stood with a slight hunch, bringing their eyes almost level. However, at his full height, he would easily be able to overwhelm her, and as carefully constructed as this facade was, his reputation as an unlit but short fuse was far-reaching.

Whatever conclusions she'd drawn from her appraisal, she kept to herself. "My qualifications were gathered as a factory foreman during the war," she said simply. "I'm strong, I work hard, I'm smart, and I have a background that can help run your...bakery."

Alfie held his hand up to stop her. "Ollie?" he said, without taking his eyes off of Mabel. She met his gaze calmly.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Fuck off."

"Yeah, boss."

As the door closed behind him, Alfie crossed his arms and leant back on his overflowing desk. He regarded her coolly and she folded her hands and let him. His slumped posture belied his intelligent blue eyes, and he studied the woman in front of him: A woman used to being in a man's world, in fact being in charge of men in a man's world. He'd expected haughtiness, anger, maybe even brashness from her, but she just looked back at him with calm confidence.

"Mmph."

It wasn't, but she took that as a sign to continue. "I know what you're working on here, and I know you need someone to run this side of things. I'm new in town, I don't have ties anywhere else and no obligations outside of these walls. I can increase your production by 5% in the next year, 15% in the next two. In my last job I handled hiring, paperwork, layoffs, strikes, scabbers, the production floor and firing. This is actually a bit of a smaller operation, although more specialised, so it may be possible for me to..."

"Fuck me. I'm gonna stop you, love. You had me at 'paperwork'."

Mabel aimed a small smile at his messy desk. Her mischievous brown eyes flashed as she asked, "Did I now?"

Alfie recognised the tease for what it was: an attempt to align herself with him and put them on equal footing. He wasn't going to let it work, but he respected her for the attempt all the same.

"Mmph," he grunted. "Tell you what, sweetheart. Why don't you talk to Ollie on your way out, we could use a good secretary round here and he can get you a desk set up by the end of the month."

He didn't wait for her reaction, just turned back to the liquor cart he'd abandoned earlier.

She didn't let the 'sweetheart' or the 'secretary' jibe affect her. She saw them for what they were: a test, and she looked ready for any he saw fit to throw out.

"Mr Solomons, I'd be happy to start as foreman right away, tomorrow if you like, and I could even be talked into accepting only a pound more than the going wage, even though I bring much more to the table than you've been currently used to."

She, on the other hand, did wait for his reaction, like she had all the time in the world.

Alfie felt a genuine laugh bubble up in his chest, although he refused to let it out. Instead, he cocked an eyebrow and let her sweat. Cheeky Jewish girl, far from home but confident she could walk into any of the factories on Camden Road and do a better job than the current bloke. Hmm. Paperwork indeed.