March // John Shelby x Reader - Peaky Blinders

Chapter 55

The smell of bread dough hits me in a relentless assault as I knead, scowling, the words forming in my throat to tell my mother that this is ridiculous and futile and she needs to resign herself to the fact I cannot bake bread to save my life.

But I don't want to upset her. Not with the questions I'm about to ask — questions I'm unable to swallow. John's brothers still haven't come home. He left this morning to join them, to find out what they'd done to Billy Kimber.

Whether he'd truly had information on my father.

I make sure Florence is happily playing with her brother's trains in the bakery, out of earshot before I speak.

"Mama," I begin slowly. "Why did we never bury Papa?"

Her lips become thin as she ices the cakes. I don't want to cause her any distress — not after all the violence and terror she's experienced of late. She hasn't said a single bad word about any of it, and has even gone so far as to assure me she does not blame me or John or even John's family. She's strong, strong enough to withstand guns and death. But this is as new to her as it is to me. And still she won't guilt me about any of it.

I hate that I might be hurting her further, on top of everything else she's doing for me. But I need to know.

"He's a part of a memorial in London," she says, as though that's the end of it.

"Why did we not have our own memorial?" I push. "Or a funeral? Just a ceremony of some kind—"

She taps the cake tin harder than usual, and her voice is sharper. "Because I couldn't." She takes a breath, and when she speaks again, her voice is back to normal. "I cannot... I cannot bring myself to say goodbye."

I place a hand on her shoulder as she covers her eyes, steeling herself. I hesitate. Ought I tell her that there might be hope, that even now, the Shelby's might know if Papa's still alive?

"You might not need to," I manage.

But she looks at me with a sadness, a grim understanding. "When my own father passed, I used to see him everywhere. Around every street corner. In the garden, each Sunday morning." She hugs me, then returns to her icing. "It is only normal to hold out hope, darling. But eventually, you will need to grieve."

I bite my tongue. I've pushed her far enough. She's already here alone to grieve now I've moved out, and though she has not once complained, I worry about how she's coping.

But her face lights up when Florence comes in and asks for a fairy cake, and I realise she loves the children as much as I do. As if they were her own grandchildren. And they heal some part of her — her role as grandmother provides her with some sense of comfort that is helping her through everything else that has transpired.

The rest of the day passes, and before I know it, I'm walking the kids back home. The twins got into a fight at school, and they won't stop recounting it. I was prepared to gently chastise them until William informed me there were six other boys who cornered them demanding their lunches, and the twins fought until every single one of them had sprinted away crying. And so I bought them lollipops, instead.

The girls got lollipops too, and they lick happily, piling into the house to show Polly their different colours when we arrive.

Just before I close the front door, I hear the motor of a Ford pull up outside. My face lights up. John opens the door and gets out of the car before it's even stopped, wrapping his arms around me, lifting me in the air and kissing me.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, suddenly frowning and pulling away. "You're meant to wait for me to walk you."

"I didn't know how long you'd be," I explain, breathless and slightly flushed. "I wanted to come home to you."

His face softens and he grins. Tommy and Arthur get out of the car, both looking like shit — sallow skinned and weary-eyed.

"Need a stiff fucking drink," Arthur mutters, clapping me on the shoulder as he passes us.

I look at Tom expectantly for answers. He stops beside us and lights a cigarette.

"You two go out for the night," he says. "We'll watch the kids."

I take a moment of surprise before responding. "Are you sure?"

Tommy nods. "John can catch you up on everything," he says. "And make sure he invites you to the race this weekend."

"Fuck, I forgot that was this weekend," John groans. "The paperwork's gonna fucking kill me."

"That's the spirit," Tommy says drily. He heads indoors, where I can hear Katie squealing in delight and Arthur chasing her around.

"Night all to ourselves?" John says to me. He runs his hands up my waist.

"Where will you take me?" I ask.

"I have an idea." He smiles and holds out his hand, wrapping his fingers around mine. "Come on."