March // John Shelby x Reader - Peaky Blinders

Chapter 62

Six months later

We place a small pinecone in the corner of the slughouse.

"It needs more glitter," Florence announces, dumping the whole container over the pinecone.

"Slugs don't like glitter," Katie says, exasperated but smiling.

It took her a few months to smile again, like this, without fear in her eyes. She still wakes up some nights, crying and shouting, her whole body stiff as though she's been tied up and shoved into a car again. John and I hold her and remind her she's safe until she drifts back to sleep again.

"They like snow, don't they?" William says, shaking icing sugar over the house.

"They bloody better," says John, feet crunching across the stones as he comes over to join us. "Took me half the morning making this snowman. Glue's only just dried."

He places the cotton ball snowman beside the slug house, where the kids shout in delight. I smile at my husband, and he kisses me as he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"Now it's a proper Christmas," says Katie.

"It's not Christmas until tomorrow," William points out. "It's not Christmas until we get our presents."

"You're not getting any presents this year," says John, while the kids moan and complain. "No money left after the bloody fortune we've spent on these slugs."

"Daddy's only teasing," I say, rounding up the kids to head back inside. "There'll be presents around the tree bright and early, just you wait."

"Can we wake up at three o'clock with you to open them?" George asks excitedly.

"I'm working tonight," says John. "Won't be home until late morning, so you'll have to wait."

The kids groan in complaint as we enter the warm house, fire crackling in the hearth and the sound of clattering China as Polly serves dinner.

"I didn't know you were working," I frown. "On Christmas Eve? Tommy and Arthur are home tonight, they're begging me for a round of charades."

"You'll have to learn how to play the Shelby way," John tells me. "Instead of song, book, or play, it's stabbed, blinded, or shot."

"No acid and tar?" I ask.

He grins. "And to think I spent so many months worrying you'd be frightened by my violent lifestyle. You're worse than I am."

"He hurt our kids," I point out. "I'm only a murderer if they're in danger. Or if you were."

John presses me against the wall. "No one will ever hurt us again," he promises, kissing me softly, slowly. "No one."

"I fucking will if you miss your train, after all the money it cost to book," says Tommy, entering the room and sitting down for dinner.

I laugh softly. "What on earth are you up to, John Shelby?"

"You'll see, love," he grins. He kisses me again. "I'll be back in the morning with the best Christmas present of all."

"I love you," I tell him.

"Mrs Shelby," he murmurs, kissing me goodbye.

"Mr Shelby."

***

Mama bounces Florence on her lap the next morning, graciously accepting a cup of tea from Polly as we all wait. The children are shaking presents, trying to peek through the gaps in the wrapping paper. Ada and Freddie feed and change their newborn Karl, while Tommy throws aspersing looks Freddie's way. Finn tries to reign in the twins, and Arthur's drunk already, singing a deep, booming rendition of 'We Three Kings' in the corner, with the occasional hiccough.