School teacher - Part 11 - Tommy x Reader

711 25 10
                                    

For NavaMia

"Mabel!" (Y/n) exclaimed, as the cow nearly trod on her foot for the fifth time since she had sat down to milk her. The black and white Holstein turning her head and looking at her with complete disdain, as (Y/n) slapped her on the haunch.

"If you kept still, this wouldn't take so long. You would be able to get back to the others, and I would be able to get on with everything else I have to do. I still have the chickens and geese to feed, and Hector needs his oats. So, be good and keep still or one of the geese won't be the only thing to be getting fattened up for Christmas." (Y/n) continued. Chuckling to herself as the feisty cow began to keep very still.

It was a freezing cold day, the snow thick on the ground; but even though there was nothing to do in the fields, there was still much to do around the farm. As she had just told Mabel, (Y/n) still had to go and feed the others; the chicken, geese and her grandfather's old horse, Hector, sure not to be too happy about having to wait. But it would all get done, and (Y/n) was glad to do it; well aware that all this made things much easier on her grandparents who were not getting any younger.

Her new life was so different to what it had been, a classroom and children replaced by open fields and animals; but she had come to like it. She had spent her summers at the farm when she was younger; and when her schooling had finished and her parents had passed away, she had lived here before finding her first teaching post, so this was nothing new. But knowing that this really was her new life, had taken a little to get used to.

The first couple of months had been the most difficult. In the beginning, she had cried herself to sleep; lamenting her loss. It wasn't the loss of Arthur, she had never had him in the first place, so she couldn't lose him; no, it was more the children. She had loved each of them, even Matthew Blake, who liked to put frogs in her desk draws, she had loved. And given this, she had found herself writing to Charles Shelby, apologising for leaving him and the others, before telling him about her new life. The school teacher getting back a thick envelope filled with letters from all the other children, drawings, and pleas for her to come back as Mister Martin, their new teacher, was awful. There was a part of her that knew she would regret the letters; that they might come back to haunt her. But they made her happy, they kept her going, and had made the transition so much easier.

"There, see..........I told you that it would be over quickly if you kept still." (Y/n) said, as she got to her feet and grabbed the bucket that was now full of milk. Pushing Mabel over to where the other girls waited in the barn.

"Now, behave and I will bring you some fresh hay when I have finished feeding the chickens." (Y/n) continued, chuckling to herself as she heard what she had said. It sounding to her as though she were back in the school room, talking to her children.

"Would you like me ta take that for ya...........?" A voice came, making the ex-school teacher jump slightly. (Y/n) breathing a sigh of relief, as she turned to see Albert, the farm hand, smiling at her. The tall, broad, blonde haired young man, making his way over to her and taking the full pail from her hand.

"Thank you, Albert. If you could take it to the house, and if you could tell my grandmother that I just have the chickens and Hector to feed before I come in for the evening." (Y/n) told him; smiling as the big man nodded. Albert turning but stopping and turning back.

"Miss................."

"Yes Albert...........?"

"There's a dance, for Christmas, down in the local village tomorrow night. I was wondering if ya would like ta go with me?" Albert explained, pulling the cap from his head.

"Oh, er..........I........don't..................."

"No, no, course not.................."

"Oh, Albert. Please don't think that it has anything to do with you. Its just the last time that I went to a dance, to a party, it ended very badly. And well..........I am afraid the events of the night still haunt me a little. In fact, they put me off dancing and parties, completely. But maybe we could go out somewhere else, just you and I.............." (Y/n) explained, as she reached for the man's arm, holding his wrist delicately. The farm hand smiling at her as he nodded.

"Aye........I'd like that, Miss." Albert smiled. His smile getting all the broader, as (Y/n) stood on her tip toes and kissed him on the cheek.

"Good. Now, I think you should get that milk to my grandmother, before it turns into ice cream." (Y/n) chuckled. Shaking her head slightly, as she watched the tall man nearly fall over his own feet, as he made his way to the house.

                                                        >>------------------------------------<<

Tommy had managed to get a car, along with directions about how to get to the farm. It had already been a long day; the train first thing up to Sheffield, then another to Manchester. And finally, from Manchester, to the nearest big town; the rest of the way being made in the rickety, creaky automobile that he had managed to get from a so-called garage. The cold nipping at his bones, even with his large woollen overcoat covering him.

He had read a couple of the letters that (Y/n) had sent Charlie and the other children. They spoke of a new life away from the city. Of the farm that belonged to her grandparents, and how the classroom had been replaced by rolling fields; a quite idyllic existence some might say. And as much as he was loathed to spoil it, he knew that John was right. That if he didn't do something, if he couldn't persuade (Y/n) to help, then they might just lose Arthur. Tommy not wanting to tell anyone else, that one night, he had discovered his brother sitting on his bed with a pistol in one hand and (Y/n)'s dress in the other; tears rolling down his cheeks. So, he would have to do all he could to get her to return with him to Small Heath, even if just for a short time.

The brakes screeched worryingly, as he pulled to a stop outside the old farmhouse. Tommy pulling his coat a light tighter around himself, as he made his way to the door. The boy from Birmingham hoping that there might be a warm fire and a hot cup of tea, or something stronger, to be found inside. His knuckles rapping on the door; Tommy having to wait for only a moment, before the door opened. A pale haired, older woman looking up at him.

"Can I help you...............?"

"I.........I would like to see (Y/n)..............."

"Our (Y/n).................?"

"Yes.........my name is Shelby, Tommy Shelby..........."

"Shelby? You wouldn't be the father of Charles Shelby, would you...........?"

"Yes........Charlie is my boy.............."

"Oh, please come in. (Y/n) has told us all about Charles and the other children that she used to teach. They send her drawings, you know. Such sweet things..........Come and have a cup of tea; you much be frozen to tha bone..........." The old woman replied cheerily, as she ushered him into the farmhouse.

                                                         >>----------------------------------<<

(Y/n) patted Hector, before making her way outside and closing the stable door. Her breath hanging heavy in the freezing air, as she made her way back to the house. Relieved that all the evening chores were over for the day; but still aware that she would have to do it all again tomorrow. She didn't mind the monotony of the routine, the animals having to be fed, be milked two or three times a day. It gave things a certainty. It gave her comfort; a belief that there were not going to be any awful surprises. Yet as she spied the car outside the front of the farmhouse, a car that she had never seen before; she got the strangest feeling that that comfort was about to leave her.

"Oh, (Y/n) dear." Her grandmother greeted cheerily, as she placed a tea pot and two cups on a tray.

"You have a visitor..............they are waiting in tha parlour............." The old woman continued, as (Y/n) pulled the scarf from around her head and the gloves from her hands. Nodding her head slowly, before she made her way to the best room. Her stomach twisting and turning in the most unpleasant way, as she opened the door.

"Hello, (Y/n)......................."   

Peaky Blinders. One shot and imaginesWhere stories live. Discover now