Astor // Arthur Shelby x Reader - Peaky Blinders

Chapter 52

But he's out here. In the massive patch of land that has been toiled and turned to soil. I stare at it.

Arthur's leaning against whatever shovel-like contraption he's using to work the land. Watching me. His face creases, and for some unknown reason, my own heart breaks a little at his sadness.

Not that I know he is sad. How could I know? He is a complete stranger. And he is dangerous.

But he did get me out of that place. I remember that much.

Nothing bad has happened to me since he came to get me. Even if he did kill a man in front of me.

And so, with this strange new — and very tentative — thread of compassion for the man, I walk slowly across the grounds, further away from the trees and toward the farm area. He watches me. He scans my face when I get close, as though looking for something. As though hoping for something.

I lean against the waist-height fence. "What is this?" I ask him.

I see him break, over and over, as he turns away from me. "A farm," he says, getting to work once again.

I frown. "Your farm?"

He shakes his head. "Belongs to someone I care about. Very fucking much."

I stare at the ground as he works until my brain does the zap thing again. In that time, he's covered almost half the area — no small feat.

"You seem to be very good at it," I tell him.

He glances at me. "You ever done it before?"

I'm sure if I looked at the ground again I'd be able to remember one way or another, but I don't want another zap. I don't want to lose any more time. "I don't think so."

He nods at another tool leaning against the nearby shed, something between a shovel and a rake. "Give it a go, if you like."

I eye it with suspicion. And then I eye Arthur with suspicion. This is different. I glance behind both shoulders, waiting for somebody to come looking for me. I'm not supposed to be here.

They'll put me to sleep.

But nobody comes. Arthur continues to work. I see in the slope of his shoulders, the way he's finished speaking to me. He's resigned himself to thinking I won't do it.

I'm not sure why, but I want so badly to prove him wrong.

I climb over the fence, my feet shaking slightly, and my leg doesn't feel nearly graceful enough as I swoop it over. It's reminiscent of some muscle memory, something I cannot recall. The smell of hay. And once again, it is all very frustrating — to know there's something there, just out of reach.

But I push it aside, worried I'll lose focus and zap once more. I stride purposefully towards the tool and take it in my hands. It's heavy, and my arms feel the strain just holding it. But I don't let that show as, with a singular dark glare at Arthur, I begin using it to cultivate the earth.

He watches me for a moment. Looks as though he might say something, then thinks better of it. The earth is soft and willing to turn, but even so, the movement takes a toll on me far sooner than I'd have liked.

And weirdly, it feels almost as good as tipping my head back to the sun.

Every burn of my muscles is somehow gentle. Once I make peace with it, once I accept the difficulty in working like this, it stops searing and locking me up. I become warm with it. Sweat glistens across my forehead, and soon I have to shrug off my outer layers of clothing.

We work in silence, the two of us. Silent but for our heavy breathing — and the sound of Arthur becomes a comfort. A white noise. It doesn't matter that my thoughts cannot form properly, or that I spend most of my time in various states of confusion.

This is a welcome reprieve and release.

I don't need to recall anything. While the work is difficult on my body, it soothes my mind. I till and plough and work the soil, and then I move on to the next patch.

I decide I'd much rather do this than stare blankly at a chessboard.

"Good morning, Miss."

I freeze as I glance up. A kind woman with red hair, dressed simply, smiling at me. The one who helps me read books, or makes me a cup of tea.

But I've been caught. She might hand me over to the nurses. I begin backing away slowly, then faster, until I trip and stumble, falling down at Arthur's feet. Fuck.

"Careful," he mutters. He lifts me back up, and the whole time I'm in his arms, my mind is blanker than usual. "Lucille won't let you out here again if she thinks I'm overworking you."

I freeze in horror, but then I turn and see he's smiling. The lady is, too.

"I think it's great that you're helping with the farm," she tells me. "Are you enjoying it?"

I nod slowly. And slowly, I begin to relax once more.

"You must be thirsty," she says. "Shall I bring you some water?"

I nod once more, suddenly aware that my throat is prickly with thirst. The woman turns and leaves. I exhale.

It's okay. I am safe.

"You can go inside," Arthur tells me. "Don't want you overworking yourself."

I shoot him a dark glare once more before getting back to work. Does he really think I'll admit to weakness in front of him after he's said that?

If I'm not mistaken, it brings a small smile to his face as we continue to work.