Astor // Arthur Shelby x Reader - Peaky Blinders

Chapter 47

I do not dream until I am already waking up.

Fleeting images.

A pen moving across paper.

A soldier's uniform.

A necklace, a watch.

A horse auction.

A wedding.

A fireplace

A flooded road

Blood smeared across marble tiles and a whiskey flask and a plum suit and Arthur's thumb grazing my cheek, his knuckles down the length of my spine, his eyes piercing in the morning light, the fabric of his tie beneath my fingers —

"Ah, good. I see you are awake, Mrs Changretta."

I blink slowly. My attention snaps back, and I realise I've been staring vacantly at the wall for... how long?

My voice is hoarse. Speech is difficult. And still I manage, "My name is Astor."

The Doctor tuts, marks something on his clipboard. "And here I hoped we'd be making some progress by now. Usually there are more promising signs after the third treatment."

Third? This is only my second treatment. Isn't it? Is... Is it? My chest tightens in panic, in confusion.

"Your husband will be displeased," the Doctor continues. "We'll try six weeks of treatment this time."

"No." I strain against the leather bindings, but my body is so weak, I barely manage any force at all. I slam my head back in frustration, and once more, the movement is placid. The world spins before me, jarred. I have to hold my breath so I do not cry in frustration. I refuse to let him see it.

"I know it's within you, Mrs Changretta," he says. "Inherently, as humans, we all wish to behave. Ah, Nurse Parker, you've arrived. Nurse Parker will do her usual checks. Good day."

There is no emotion in my eyes, my voice, as I lay restrained on the bed and apathetically answer the nurse's questions. Where is Arthur? If he was truly alive, he'd be looking for me. He'd have found me by now. He wouldn't give up — I know it. The very fact he isn't here terrifies me.

"Mrs Changretta? Mrs Changretta?" Nurse Parker glances guiltily around the ward — but nobody else is awake. "Astor," she hisses quietly.

It's enough to capture my attention once more. "Yes?"

She glances at me worriedly. "I can't leave this room until I'm satisfied you've passed the assessments."

"Am I not passing?"

"I need you to concentrate, please."

I try, I really do try, but her voice grows so faint and the worry about Arthur consumes me once more. I have to trust that Tommy and John wouldn't just leave me here, either. Nor would Polly. Has Luca hurt them all? Has Small Heath been cleansed of the Shelby's in the month I've laid here strapped to this bed?

"Astor."

I blink. "Sorry. Sorry. What was that again?"

Nurse Parker shines a light in each of my eyes. "Please can you focus? We just need to get through one last form, and then we're all done."

"Alright."

"I'm already an hour past my shift." She rolls her eyes. "Classic conditions of the working class."

My attention is suddenly entirely locked on her. It's as though she is surrounded in a halo of golden light. She stills, frozen. Understandably terrified.

She has practically declared herself a communist.

I'm more awake than I've been in a long time. "We need a better world for the working class," I tell her.

Her eyes widen. "You're... You're a party member?" she asks me in a whisper.

"Yes," I lie.

She glances furtively around the ward once more. I lean up as far as I can, my torso lifted from the bed in my urgency. My muscles tremble and burn, but it does not matter.

There is hope.

"I need you to get a message to Ada Shelby," I tell her urgently. "I need you to tell her I'm here."

"To... To Freddie's wife?" She asks quietly, her eyes still wide. She's staring at me as though she's never seen me before.

"You know them?" I ask.

"Freddie's my brother," she whispers.

My heart leaps in somersaults. "Please tell her," I beg. "Please... Tell Ada."

"I don't know that I want to get involved in this," she says quietly. Then, with a small shake of her head, she fixes her attention back onto the form. "Do you know who the current prime minister is?"

"Please, Nurse Parker," I beg. "You know what the Shelby's are like. You know what will happen if you do not."

"The current prime minister," she says firmly, "Is David Lloyd George. Can you recall the sequence of words I gave you at the beginning of the assessment?"

And then, once more, I remember nothing else.