March // John Shelby x Reader - Peaky Blinders

Chapter 42

I sleep in John's bed alone.

The grandfather clock chimes at three every morning, and I rise, bathing and dressing and tying my hair back in a ribbon.

I walk to the bakery and greet Mama, tie my apron, and spend the first few hours of my morning mixing doughs and pastries.

Polly drops the kids off after eight, and I walk them to school.

When I see the Headmaster, something flashes through his gaze. Is it surprise, that I'm still alive? I wonder. Or anger?

I walk back, help Florence clean up the mess from the fairy cakes, and begin serving customers.

Every time the doorbell tinkles, I lift my head expectantly. I hope to see John.

I'm left disappointed.

"Why don't you call him?" Mama suggests late that afternoon, appearing very interested in the twins' toy soldiers as I lock up.

"I don't know where he's staying."

"Polly would know."

"Polly has more important things to worry about." I sniff.

Mama gathers up the kids' lunchboxes. "Go," she tells me gently. "Ask Polly."

I kiss her on the cheek goodbye and head back to the Shelbys' house, with my drawing things tucked beneath my arm. After a lengthy game of I Spy to keep the kids entertained, we reach the door, and they run through to play outside. I light the oven, and when it's warm, place the chicken and mushroom pie in for dinner.

And then I am still.

Motionless.

Unoccupied.

I lift my hand to my mouth and fight back a sob. I've lost Papa. I cannot bear the thought that I've lost John too.

"They're making gin."

Polly's voice comes from behind me, making me flinch and turn around. I hastily smooth my skirts, my face.

"That's why he's in London," Polly continues. "They're shipping it all over the States. Making enough money doing it, that even as company treasurer, I was thinking of buying you two a house in the countryside. Room for the kids to run around. But we can always get you a London apartment, instead. So you don't need to be apart."

I release a shaky breath. There's no way to tell her that would be a perfect solution, if the distance was our only problem.

"I don't mind," I say instead. "I know he has to work. I don't want to change him. And I'm busy enough at the bakery."

Polly frowns. "My dear girl, then why are you so sad?"

"I just miss him," I whisper. And its true.

She wraps me in a hug. "That boy adores you," she says. "I've never seen him so happy in all his life. And god knows he deserves some happiness. You both do."

I wonder if I can tell her. I wonder if she already knows, and these words are meant as a comfort. Despite your body not working properly. It feels like everything's a but.

I have the best husband, but I cannot give him another child.

I have the best husband, but he might be killed.

"Pie must be ready," Polly says, pulling away.

She gives me a quick glance, up and down, and her lips quirk into that same, strange smile she'd worn when I first met her.