#not to say something snide about him being a SPANISH teacher and me being a math teacher

[chaoswillcalmusdown]

finally marked all the 8th grade maths tests and like. i've only just met them this august but 1 of them has 0 correct answers. 0 points out of like 50. i have no fucking clue what is happening in there. i have no clue how he's gotten to the second to last year of compulsory education and he doesn't have a standing appointment with a special teacher

[zreezree]

The Church: Chapter 3

Summary:

Imagine waking up in a church dressed in a priest’s robe and stockings, munching on eucharists for breakfast. Not only were you not in 2018 anymore, but seemingly in the time of the Peaky Blinders. It was supposed to be a silly dream, but when you’re gazing into the icy eyes of Thomas Shelby and trying to hide your sacrilege : things get a little interesting and kooky.

A Thomas Shelby X Reader story.

Chapter 1   Chapter 2

 “Why? Why am I here?” You asked for the umpteenth time since you woke up sopping wet on the freezing concrete in Birmingham. It was evident that you were not in a dream.

You were stuck here and no idea how you got here or how to get out.

You had nowhere or no one to run to. Just your good ol’ makeshift bed behind a loud organ.

There was also your evening shift at the Garrisons tonight. That was IF you were still hired.

All the groceries and toiletries you bought yesterday were still at the pub. Forgotten in all of last night’s chaos.

Honestly, it was as though you had dynamite shoved up your arse with the way you bolted away from Thomas Shelby last night.

Your poor aching legs protested with every movement.

“Fuck.” You swore under your breath.

The white bandages Tommy wrapped around your hands now had an angry red hue, possibly from your frantic climbing through the church window.

A trip to the pharmacy was the priority today.

That meant you had to step out onto the streets, where you could run into the Blinders at any corner and moment.

It could possibly mean instantaneous death for all you knew.

Swallowing, you pushed the giant oaken doors and stepped out.

The musty, wet smell of rain and cool wind swept through you. It was grey and bloody miserable.

“Fuck.” You uttered under your breath, your hamstrings mocking you with every step on the dark cobbled ground.

Your breaths came out as white mist as you trudged down the street, eyes straining to find the words ‘pharmacy’ or ‘apothecary’ on shop signs through the rain.

Thankfully something was opened, and you bought yourself fresh bandages and rub-in alcohol, beginning to make your way to the Garrsions to see if you still had a job.

Walking in, Harry immediately smiled in relief seeing you.

“Lassie! Are you ok? Tommy told me you cut your hands!”

Taking in a sharp breath at hearing is name, you nodded with a slight smile,” Yes, I am fine! Am I still hired?”

Harry looked at you incredulously,” Of course! Now why you would be asking such a question?”

Harry looked at you and shook his head, chucking an apron at you.

  “Are you still able to work with your hands?”

You gave him a bright grin, tying the apron behind you. “Of course. It’s honestly not that bad.”

“It will be just us two for the evenin’. Grace will be away.” You nodded, immediately began wiping tables and pushing the chairs in.

It was oddly a soothing afternoon.

The doors of the entrance swung open abruptly, nearly giving you a heart attack. Only instead of seeing your typical adult, male clients: you saw a little boy.

He couldn’t have been more than ten and his clothes stuck to him from the rain.

His body visibly shivering and swaying.

You immediately put the glass you were polishing down and made a beeline for the boy.

“Sweet heart, come take a seat. What happened?” You pointed towards the nearest chair and gently brought it towards him.

“I-I’m ok. I just need Tommy. Or Arthur.” He uttered, his eyes drooping. He looked as though he were about to collapse. “They’re not here. Please take a seat.”

“But-“

You moved the chair right in front of him and gestured towards it with a firm stare. The boy sluggishly sat on the stool, his face white and damp.

“It’s ok sweety, my name’s [Your Name] and I’m a nurse.” You uttered as you began to place a hand against his forehead.

“What’s your name?” You asked brightly, trying to hide the building concern you had for the boy. His forehead felt like a furnace against your hand. The poor thing had a fever.

“Finn Shelby.” He whispered as leaned into your hand.

“Harry, could you please ring the Shelby’s?” His nose was also runny.

“What, why?”

“Just do it. Finn needs a doctor, a vaccine more likely since it looks like he has the flu.”

Harry immediately begin to ring all the members. Of course, no one would answer. Instead he rang the doctor.

It took at least an hour for the slow idiot to come. Finn was laid down with his head in your lap while you were both settled on the couch in the backroom.

He was in a delirious state. Your fingers gently combed back his damp hair, occasionally placing a rag in a jug of water to wring it and put it back on the boy’s head.

You already had Harry run to the apothecary. All they had was peppermint oil. No paracetamol. No aspirin of ibuprofen. No antiviral medication.

The doctor came in with a massive leather bag and looked at Finn with cautiously.

“He has the flu.” You spoke, nodding your head at the doctor in greeting. The doctor immediately stepped back.

“Just chamomile tea. That’s all we can do for him.” He shook his head, turning to walk out of the pub.

Your eyes narrowed.

“No. You are going to do something,” you paused, voice deepening.

“You are going to give him the flu vaccine.”

“Young lady are you the doctor?” he asked snidely, glaring at you with a reddened face.

“I’m a certified nurse. Give him the vaccine for goodness sakes!” You looked at him incredulously. The idiocy of this man.

From what you remember, there was the Spanish influenza epidemic just after the first world war. According to one tutorial class in university that you actually payed attention in, the flu ended up killing more American troops than battle itself.

Thankfully, they had developed a vaccine at the end. You just didn’t know why this ass was not giving Finn the vaccine.

“He will be fine…”

“Finn!” Polly called as she strode quickly inside the room. Her eyes and eyebrows furrowed with worry as she saw the delirious boy in your arms.

“Give. Him. The. Vaccine.”

You growled, glaring menacingly at the man. A sudden click was heard within the room.

“Listen to the lady there,” Polly pressed a pistol behind the doctor’s spine. The doctor turned white as a freshly bleached cloth. “P-polly. Didn’t realise it was y-you.”

“NOW!” You shouted at the doctor.

Polly in turn pressed the gun painfully against one of his vertebrae.

“C-Certainly.”

Within the next hour, both you and Polly carried Finn to her home. The dimwit finally injected him and the two of you tucked him in.

“We owe you for this,” Polly uttered as she watched you smooth Finn’s hair back. You sighed and shook your head.

“No, you don’t.” You looked up at her from your seated position at the side of his bed.

“I just don’t want anyone catching this, lest it spread like wildfire again. I think it’s better that I attend to him. I’ve already gotten it before, so I have some sort of immunity but as for everyone else….Don’t let them in the room until it passes.”

Polly pursed her lips together tightly, nodding.

“He should be ok within a week and a half. The main thing is that he hasn’t gotten pneumonia. Just keep him in bed and make sure he drinks plenty of fluids. Just in case that idiot doctor didn’t tell you.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you looked up to the wooden ceiling.

“If you need anything, you’ll find me most of the time at the pub working.”

You stood up and gave her a smile.

“He’ll be alright. I promise! Is it ok that I come by tonight to check on him?”

Polly nodded gratefully. “Absolutely.”  

“I’ll go back to my shift, I will see you later.”

“Thank you.” Was all she said as she led you out.

She closed the door behind and leant her back against it, her eyes flickering closed. A tear trailed down her cheek.

“Where the fuck are those boys?” She uttered, rubbing her forehead.

It must have been at eight in the evening when Polly heard the knock,

She opened the door only to see you with bags in your hand.

“How is he?” You asked, voice muffled behind the brown paper bags as you trudged into the dimly lit kitchen.

Polly let out a sigh,” He is still asleep.”

“Good. Means his body is fighting it off. I brought some things that should quicken his recovery along.” You placed the bags on the timbre table.

“Some elder berries.” You uttered as brought out at least a kilo to show. They looked similar to blue berries in shape and size but had a darker, purple tint.

“We will need to cook them, in their raw form their toxic. But it will help his immune system and clear everything in the chest and throat.”

Polly immediately went about setting the stove up, bringing out a large pot while you went to the sink to rinse the fruit.

It took at least three hours to prepare the damned juice concoction. If only you had electric stove tops.

“It tastes like shit.” Blunt and straight to the point, she uttered, placing the spoon in the sink.

“That’s how you know it’s real medicine.” You chuckled.

Within the three hours that the two of you laboured over the juice, you could say that you were in the good books of the fearsome matriarch.

That in itself was a feat. You knew she was wary of strangers.

Both Polly and yourself sat at the kitchen table exhausted. She had a cigarette in between her fingers as she took a bottle and poured two drinks.

“Whisky,” was all she said, sliding the glass to you. Nodding in thanks, the two of you clanged your glasses together and swung the drink into your throats.

You spluttered, face reddening as you knocked your fist against your chest. Polly chuckled,” Not much of a drinker?”

You shook your head, tears forming in your eyes as you heaved,” Only just started.”

She took a drag out of her cigarette,” Birmingham will do that to you.”

“Why are you here of all places?” You sighed at the question. You could tell that her and Tommy were related.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I guess I have been drifting about to try a find a job either as a teacher or a nurse. There was no point in going back to Australia.

“…Call it the curse of being born a girl that people don’t want to hire you.”

Polly nodded, pouring another shot of drinks.

“Why can’t you go back?”

“Nothing there. Ma passed away from influenza after she found the news that Pa and my brothers perished in Gallipoli. It was just a month later after she received the letter. Heart attack.”

It’s true, no one was alive. Yet. But Gallipoli was a sidenote and an ode to thirteen years of schooling in the limited 200 years of history of Australia.

You swung back the shot, feeling the alcohol starting to fuzz your senses. This time, thankfully you didn’t choke on the whisky.

“Now, I won’t ever see them again,” you whispered, feeling tears pooling at the edge of your eyes. It was the truth. You had no idea if you would ever return to your time to see your family.

“So, there is no point. There is nothing there for me.”

Polly placed a hand on top of your knuckles.

“Funny thing for you Polly, I heard you are gypsy, right?” You inquired with a watery smile.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she nodded slowly, almost stiffly.

“Ma’ always said that we had some sort of gypsy heritage. She always used to say that it was hard to keep me in one place. It was that blood showing through.”

Her eyes widened slightly and crinkled, a relieved smile pinched her maroon coloured lips,” Of what kind?”

“Romani. My grandmother was Romani, from the Balkans. That’s all she told me. She taught me a few words and some songs.”

Was it the alcohol that loosened your tongue? You didn’t know. It just felt good to talk to someone properly. To talk about your mama. Your family. Something that was not a lie.

‘Sa me amala oro kelena’ You sang softly while your eyes looked up to the wooden ceiling. Polly had even joined you, her eyes closed as she sung between breathing some of the cigarette. A smile quirked at the edge of her lips as her head leaned back singing louder for the chorus.

Sa o Roma babo Sa o Roma o daje Sa o Roma babo Ederlezi, Ederlezi Sa o Roma daje’

“…I hadn’t heard or sung that in years.” Polly uttered, shaking her head.

“My own ma’ and baba sang it to me.” She poured another drink for the two of you.

The two of you clanged glasses and downed it.

“…I had two children. One girl, Anna. One boy, Michael. I used to sing it to them when they were babes.” She poured another shot for the two of you, her own eyes pooling with tears.

“They took them away from me. The parish. Took my Anna, she was only three and Michael five. Well two weeks from being six.” She downed another shot.

Only this time, you placed your own hand on her knuckles. Your own eyes tearing for her.

“Those bastards,” you uttered. You knew the story well enough. She swung back another glass.

“I don’t know if they are alive. Are they healthy? Are they on the streets or buried six feet under in some ditch!” She spat like a hissing snake, tears still streaming down her face.

“I keep dreaming of them almost every night.” She shook her head, curling her fists.

She took another shot and closed her eyes, one tear drop trickled down her cheek.

You wish you could tell her. You could. But bloody hell you’ve watched and read enough stories on time-travel. History and future could change. Who knows what you could fuck up.

As much as you wanted to help the grieving, strong matriarch.

You could feel her pain resonate and pierce into you. It was haunting.

You stood up from the chair and embraced her. Her shoulders shook violently. Her hand gripped your arm in a death grip.

Her grip eventually slackened, and her weight leaned fully into you.

“Polly?” You asked. No response.

“Polly?” You gently shook at her. She passed out. She must’ve down an easy five shots in two minutes.

Sighing, you swung her arm around your shoulder and began to drag her to her room upstairs.

“…Tommy’s.” She whispered as you stood outside the first door. Swallowing, you nodded as the two of you staggered further down the corridor to the last room.

You knew it was her room by the lipsticks balanced by the vanity mirror. Dresses folded on a nearby chair. As well as two pictures.

One of a baby. It was black and white, the edges slowly fading. The other of a boy that looked no more than four holding a wooden car with a wide grin, his two front teeth missing. Closing your eyes, you gently guided the woman to her bed.

Her back sprawled against the bed as you took her boots off. Fluffing her pillow, your fingers touched some article of clothing.

She was already fast asleep, mouth slightly opened.

Taking them out from underneath her head, it was two tiny pieces of clothing.

It must be their clothes. You heard of mothers who lost their children. Keeping and smelling their clothes or blankets in their grief.

Swallowing, you felt tears in your eyes. She loved her children more than anything.

God, you wanted to help her.

Maybe you could hurry the process somehow? Leave an anonymous tip?

But knowing Tommy at least by watching him on Netflix, was that he would find out one way or another.

You would not be able to explain anything.

“…I’m so sorry Polly,” you whispered as your finger grazed of the smooth edge of the photographs.

“You will meet Michael. I know it. I promise.” With that, you left to get her a glass of water. Her head would more than likely explode when she wakes up in the morning. Leaving the glass on her bedside, you turned off the lamp and walked into corridor.

Once more, you stood outside the first door of the corridor. His room.  Curiosity was burning inside you with feverous ache. All you had to do was turn the knob.

Swallowing, you entered. Turning on his lamp which was a simple light globe by his bedside you sat at the end of the bed.

It was springy, bouncing slightly under your weight.

It was his. Tommy’s.

A clean room. The walls adorned with a simple dark green striped wall paper. A globe for a lamp on his wooden bedside table. His metal bed with grey sheets folded with military precision and a flannel blanket folded over the bottom half of his bed.

It smelt like him.

Cigarettes. A certain musk that was just him.

It was calming. Almost familiar.

His suits hung by the corner. A pack of cigarettes on the bedside table and peeking out from the draw was a pipe. At least, what you assumed to be an opium pipe.

Sighing, you almost forgot. He experienced night terrors. Post-traumatic stress.

“…Tommy,” you whispered. Gods, what were you doing?

Curious or not, you should not be snooping his room.

Swallowing, you gently caressed his bed just for a moment longer. He could come any moment.

Forcing yourself to stand to walked out, closing the door behind you and walked over to Finn’s room.

 It was morning when Polly woke groggy, hardly remembering what happened the previous evening.

She remembered that the two of you sang Romani songs. She mentioned Anna and Michael…

But that was all. She felt as though she was missing something. Finn.

“Finn!” She gasped as she abruptly stood from her bed. The head was pulsating, but she bolted for his room.

Opening the door, she sighed in relief.

There were you, the girl she poured her deepest secret seated on the chair next to Finn.

Your hand was clasping his while your head laid sprawled onto your arm leaning onto the bed from the seat.

“Pol’?” Tommy’s voice echoed down the hall. His strong footsteps headed her way as he stopped and stared at the scene.

“What happened?” He gestured to your sleeping form and Finn.

Polly placed her index finger to her lips and led him out.

“Finn got the influenza. If it wasn’t for her, we would be burying him tomorrow Tom. She saved him.” Tommy slowly inhaled closing his eyes and nodded before walking away for what seemed to be another errand.

“She’s a good girl Tommy.” Polly spoke as she blocked his exit.

“Move.” It was a clear, cut command. Polly did not budge.

“She saved your brother Tommy. You treat her right, you hear me?”

Tommy stared at her blankly.

“Polly.” He ordered once more before Polly stepped away. Something was amiss. She could not pinpoint what, but she felt in her bones that something big was going to happen for him.

Love perhaps?

She smirked as she closed the door behind him. When it came to matters of the heart, Polly Gray was never wrong.

Stretching your neck, you awoke to a curious pair of brown eyes.

“G’morning miss,” he uttered in a voice a smidge too raspy for a young child.

You gave him a soft smile, stretching and hearing your neck pop.

“Ugh,” you breathed as you moved your neck side to side.

Putting a hand against his damp forehead, he felt a little warm.

“How are you feeling Finn?” You asked, combing his hair back with your fingers.

“A little better, can I go outside now?” His raspy voice rose in pitch with hope.

It made your smile wane slightly and your eyes looked at him sympathetically.

“Not for the next few days chick-a-dee. You need some rest so that body of yours fights off the gunk.” You wagged an index finger at him playfully.

“I’ll see if we can get you some breakfast.” Standing up, you chuckled as he complained,” But I’m bored!”

As your steps clacked against the timbre, your eyes met Polly’s cooking form. The lady normally avoided cooking if she had to. Yet here she was, with crisp white apron tied at the back of waist with a wooden spoon in hand slaving over the stove.

“Morning Polly, how’s the head.” you greeted warmly.

She turned around with a huff,” Absolutely fabulous.”

Her bleary eyes and dark circles told you that a drum was beating away inside her cranium.

“I haven’t gotten that plastered in years. How you managed to get me to bed is a miracle. Thank you [Your Name].”

“Don’t mention it Pol’.” You grinned as she rubbed at her forehead.

“About last night-“

“Will go to the grave with me.” You promised. The lady honestly did not need to say more.

Her eyes warmed as she lifted her lips into a smile.

“I don’t give trust easily, [Your Name].”

You chuckled,” I gathered. The boys must’ve been terrified of you, especially when holding a wooden spoon.”

She rolled her eyes with a smirk,” They were.  But Tommy used to hide them. Would never tell me where, the little devil.”

You could not help but laugh, trying to imagine a little Tommy getting into mischief. With those baby blues of his, he could’ve gotten away with everything.

“He had the brains back then even,” Polly muttered wistfully.

“But break that trust, I will never forgive. Never forget.” Her voice changed to deeper tone.

You nodded and lifted a bandaged palm up. “Likewise, Polly. For me it’s like pulling out teeth to say anything.”

She smiled again, nodding before moving to face the stove.

“But I better be off, I start at the pub at eleven.”

“No, you have an hour. Have some breakfast first. I will not take no for an answer young lady.”

“…That seems to run in the family.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I’ll bring a tray up to Finn first.”

  “

   When you arrived at the pub, you noticed that it was peculiarly quiet. Your eyes scanned the place for anything amiss, only to spot nothing.

“Harry, what’s going on?” You asked, tying your apron behind you.

“Nothing.” Harry answered, his face furrowed in a frown as gazed at piles of papers and receipts in front of him.

“Where’s Grace?”

“She should be arriving any moment. Today she will be singing, Mr Shelby let off the ban.”

Ah right.

The door opened to reveal the blonde lady. Speak of the devil and she shall appear. Though to be fair, you never really spoke to her. Most of the time, the two of you were running around like headless chooks serving.

But today, you noticed an extra spring in her step. A certain spark in her smile. Reminding you of the cat who got the canary. Ah yes, their relationship must have progressed the next level last night. Was it before or after your ‘meeting’ with Mr Shelby?

Your mood immediately plummeted. Oh, you wanted nothing more than to sock a punch into his nose.

“[Your Name]! How are you?” She asked cheerly, almost singing as she tied her apron.

“Good. But I’m frightened by how quiet it is here. And you Grace? You seem to be glowing.” You gestured at her with your newly bandaged hands.

Polly insisted wrapping them up anew after feeding you a feast. It was heavenly having a hot, home cooked meal.

Ah yes, the glowing angel meet the bandaged mummy. She simply smiled wider. “I’m feeling wonderful,” she answered with her Irish accent ringing merrily

“Harry, has Tommy arrived yet?” She was even on first name basis with him.

Ah fuck.

You hoped today was not going to be another ‘interrogation’.

You were not sure if you had the nerve to look at him in the eyes after kissing him two nights before.

You’d only been dreaming of the feeling of his lips on yours through most seconds of the day.

Instead, it was more likely to be a day to watch Mr. Shelby and Miss Angel make goo-goo eyes at each other.

Was that a good thing?

Your mood sunk.

“No, not yet.”

Cue the door opening. In comes Arthur, John and of course your most favourite person in the world.

The brothers walked over, you nodded your head at John with a smile. Completely refusing to acknowledge Thomas. He was most likely eyeing Grace anyway.

Had you been looking, you would have noticed his normal stoic face furrow slightly. His eyes were indeed on you, noticing the bags under your eyes. The tautness of your cheeks. Sighing, he took the glass searching for your eyes.  

“Cheers big ears!” Hollered Arthur, and all three brothers downed their drink.

You brought out the rest of the bottle and left it on the bar. “Knock yourselves out, gents.”

“Why thank you, pretty lady!” Arthur battered his eyelashes at you before taking the bottle and walked off. Not before taking a big swig. John rolled his eyes,” Well, see you later. In case I don’t, Sunday. Polly told me to invite you to the Sunday lunch”

“Oh, I won’t be able to. Harry and Grace will be gone, so I will be the only one managing it.”

“Finn will be disappointed. He’s only been driving me mad with the bloody bang-bang game. To be fair, my own tables have been getting better. Wish we had you as our teacher, may have attended more often.” He winked and raised his glass towards you.

“But come next week.” He called behind his back as he followed Arthur.

Shaking your head with a laugh, you mistakenly raised your eyes only to meet pale blue.

His eyes were intent on yours. Swallowing you quickly shifted them to the side and turned your back, attempting to look busy by shifting the perfectly placed bottles around.

“Tommy!” Grace called, saving you.

“I’ll be singing one ditty especially just for you,” she chirped brightly, eyes glazing with happiness.

Thomas gave her a small smile nodding his head, walking towards the back room. Not before looking back at your ‘busy’ form, pursing his lips.

Grace’s eyes narrowed, catching that small look. Her eyes immediately followed his gaze only to find it placed upon you.

“So [Your Name], what have you been up to the past few days?” Your ears prickled in surprise. That had to be the first question she had asked you aside of ‘how are you’. It all nothing beyond small-talk.

“Ah nothing, just worked here and I’ve been looking after Finn. And you?” Her eyes widened slightly.  

“Oh.” Her brows furrowed slightly. Knowing that she was most likely going to fish more information out of you to feed to Campbell, you attempted to change the subject.

“But you’ve been practically glowing at the seams, what has been happening on your end?” You asked, attempting to sound excited. You even raised your pitch a little, even though you already knew.

“Oh, I got invited to go to the races with Tommy, I’ve been shopping for a red dress.” She raised her brows, biting her lip and tried to ‘spot’ him.

You managed to plaster a smile. ‘Don’t worry Grace. I got the message. Hands off.’ You thought.

“Ah the races, how exciting! I’m sure the two of you will have fun,” you winked suggestively.

Your chat with her  had to be cut short. Thankfully, more customers began to pour in.

An hour later, Grace was once more up on the chair singing. All men in the room were entranced. You did not even try to spot Tommy, his eyes were most likely glued on to her like every other man in the room. That or still in the back doing business.

Why did you even care?

You knew those two would fall in love. Albeit there will be a little bit of trouble because of her working with Campbell, but that did not deter them at the end of season one according to your memory.

Smiling bitterly, you still had no idea why you were here. Were you supposed to assist the Peaky Blinders in some way?

Lead Michael to Polly, earlier than expected?

Sighing, you tried to block out your thoughts. Good that you did, you saw one of the men wipe a tear away from his eye. Crying. Not only him, but a few.

Smiling, you that it was beautiful. It made you want to sing a little as well, but only by yourself. At this moment, you wished you had a piano or a guitar. You had played them during high school. You were nothing special, just learnt a few chords and special songs.

“Ah bloody hell, why’d Tommy lift the ban off? They sound like dying dogs.” John muttered, approaching you while gesturing at the swaying men.

Cue one man, clutching his chest as he belted out lyrics.

John rolled his eyes and placed his hands at his ears.

“It makes our job easier. Don’t have to worry about men groping or anything. They’d be too sombre.”

John immediately started laughing,” Aye, you don’t have to knock a few boys out to the land of the fairies.”

You gave a strained smile and shrugged.

“Now that was a sight. I doubt anyone will try anything after that. Where’d you learn that lass?”

“Well back in Australia, I always fought with my siblings and got taught a few tricks while in Belgium.” Purposefully avoiding that you trained martial arts for extra-curricular sports.

John tilted his head as he took a glass of whisky from you. You stationed another bottle next to it.

“Why were you at Belgium?”

“I was a combat nurse. My brothers and pa were stationed in Gallipoli, but I got sent to Belgium.” John nodded

“Where are they now?”

“Not here anymore.” Which technically was true, they haven’t even been born yet!

John bowed his head, “I’ll drink to them, lassie. Good that they taught you how to pack a punch.” With that downed it.

“Your ma?”

“Influenza.” John sighed and shook his head. “Sorry to hear that darl’. Didn’t mean to open a can of worms, was just wondering why is it that there’s a pretty lass doing here in Birmingham by herself.”

 You chuckled, opening your hands,” It’s all good John. Believe me I’ve been asking myself. It’s bloody awful working here now, especially with you lot.”

Rolling his eyes,” Aye, I’d imagine. But I heard you’re good with the books. Harry is going to need all the help he can get.”

A giggle bubbled out as you winked at John,” Don’t worry John. I’m already on it.” Taking out the books from beneath the counter you showed him the up to date records of inventory, profits and excess. Raising his eyebrows, he chewed on his toothpick,” Blimey, we should have you over at this office.”

You took the books away and shrugged. “Eh, I worked at my uncle’s bar and just had a knack for maths.”

Nodding with a sigh,” At least we can rest easy that the place won’t be in complete ruins.”

Leaving both the glass and bottle at the bar, he waved. “G’night darl’. I’ve got me some errands to run.”

Nodding,” G’night John.”

It was thankfully closing time. Harry, Grace and yourself had managed to clean and place everything in order. All that was left was to do a final sweep. Harry had also left you a pair of keys for the place to set up everything tomorrow. It’ll be your first time managing the entire place yourself. Thankfully, he already changed and replaces the kegs.

Bringing out the broom, you began to leisurely sweep the floor. Humming softly, you once more wished you had a guitar.

“Well I hope that I don't fall in love with you 'Cause falling in love just makes me blue

Laughing bitterly in between the verse, this song was just a perfect summary of everything right now. Looking up to the ceiling, you continued on with the second verse.

 ‘Well the room is crowded, people everywhere And I wonder, should I offer you a chair? Well if you sit down with this old clown Take that frown and break it Before the evening's gone away I think that we could make it

 Little did you know that a certain pair of cerulean eyes watched as you gently swayed. Tommy had been so engrossed with plans that he did not notice the time, only until he heard soft singing did he raise his head from the papers scattered around the table. The light was well and truly dimmed, but he had not noticed.  He stood silent against the door frame of the back room, entranced by the lyrics and gentle timbers of your voice.

‘And I hope that I don't fall in love with you

Well the night does funny things inside a man These old tom-cat feelings you don't understand

Well I turn around to look at you You light a cigarette I wish I had the guts to bum one But we've never met

 Shaking your head as you finished the verse, it reminded you of Tommy.

 ‘And I hope that I don't fall in love with you

I can see that you are lonesome just like me And it being late, you'd like some company Well I turn around to look at you And you look back at me The guy you're with he's up and split The chair next to you's free And I hope that you don't fall in love with me

 Sighing, you paused dejectedly. Your shoulders were slumped as you leaned against the broom. You were simply witnessing Grace’s and Tom-Mr. Shelby’s love, albeit tragic story. This song was bringing up the mellow, bittersweet feelings within you.

 Shaking your shoulders, you placed the broom against the wall and stretched. As you began to dim out the lighting, Tommy stepped back into the room silently.

 You luckily remembered to take your shopping that had been laying behind the bar for days. Holding everything in one hand, you managed to open the door and lock it with ease. Shuddering at the cold, you looked left and right. He’s not here.

Pursing your lips, you began to walk home. You did not know what you felt or what to feel anymore.

 Tommy emerged from the back room and sighed, thankfully he had the spare set of keys to the pub. Taking a bottle from the bar, he took a swig before lighting up a cigarette. He slumped against a seat and held his head in between his hands, cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. The final verse that you sang haunted him.

Shaking his head, he took another drag of his cigarette with a bitter chuckle. He was growing soft.

Chapter 1   Chapter 2