Calloway // Michael Gray x Reader - Peaky Blinders Fanfic

Chapter 24

Michael

Polly sighs through the phone. "Tell me you at least got the bloody certificate."

Michael shifts uncomfortably, glad she can't see him. "Yeah, 'course." He decides she doesn't need to know that his certificate was amended for not attending every day of the course. As were most certificates — over half the men in attendance had only come for the last two days, but there's no easy way to explain that to his mum.

"I thought the last day would run later, or I'd have booked your train ticket home for this evening," Polly says.

"It's fine, Mum." There's no way to stress enough how much he means the words, when faced with the prospect of another night with Calloway. "Honest."

"Did you at least learn something?"

"'Course I did. I know how to enter the new commission fees in the journals, and how to balance these new investments on the sheets."

"Glad to hear it." She pauses. "And how about your friend?"

"Eh?" He feigns ignorance. "Which one?"

"Which one do you bloody think? The woman from the bank you're sharing a hotel room with."

Michael sighs. "You need to stop getting all your information from Tommy."

"Don't change the subject."

"What do you want to bloody know?"

He's tense, awkward. His Mum knows he's bedded girls — she's bloody watched him leave the pub with most of them — and that's never bothered him. But this is different. She's going to pry into the depths of his feelings, and he doesn't know what to tell her. We don't really get along, but I'd take a bullet for her. What would she make of that? He doesn't even know what he makes of it himself.

Polly sighs once more. "Is she going to open an account for us, or not?"

Oh. A sinking feeling of dread hits Michael's stomach. Of course, that's what the whole family will be wanting to know. That's meant to be what he should be focusing on himself.

And what is he meant to tell them — no, sorry, I forgot all about that while cuddling her every night? John would laugh him out of Birmingham, and Tommy might never trust him with anything so important again.

"Michael?" Polly asks.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think so. Leave it with me." The hotel room door clicks open, and he glances up, waves of relief rolling through him. "Hey Mum, I'd better go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright. I'll be there to pick you up from the train station."

"Yeah, yeah. Have a good night."

He hangs up the phone and crosses the room to where Calloway enters, eyes raking across her instinctively to check she's unharmed.

"How did it go?" He asks.

"Couldn't get much of a read on him." She takes off her shoes, presses a hand to her forehead. "But I'm still alive, so I think it went alright."

She gives a small smile. Michael doesn't have the heart to tell her that these sorts of people don't kill on sight — they bide their time. Draw it out. He pushes the thought from his own mind. She's safe, and that's all that matters.

"You can have the first shower," he tells her.

"No, you go." She stifles a yawn. "I still need to pack."

When Michael gets out of the shower, Calloway's only half packed — there's clothes and forms everywhere, scattered all over her trunk. She's flat on her back, lying on top of the bedsheets, mouth slightly open and fast asleep.