sweet french. peaky blinders

7

Lucille

She expected to pull up to the farm and see crowds of people swarming like bees, ecstatic and hyper. But when the stolen car turned around the dirt road, the courtyard was empty, the same as she had left it, save random papers and small rubble that scattered the floor. She waited for her father to come out from the side door, eyes in a glare, blazing like guns.

But when he didn't, she stepped from the car, closing it slowly behind her, urging it lightly to be silent. Lucille walked to the boot, opening it to reveal the dishevelled man to the soft sun. She left him to gradually blink his eyes open and hurried to open the side door, showing the second man, flat out.

She turned back to the boot, coming face to face with the barrel of a gun. She gasped, holding her hands up, for once calmly. Her tears of shock had dried, and were not prepared to spill again.

"Je suis là pour aider." She pleaded, but he shook his head.

"No french." He attempted to speak the words clearly, but they ended up falling out sloppily.

She was surprised to hear English words. Lucille had been told that most of the men in the camp were french.

"I'm here to help."

"Who are you?" He questioned. It was soft enough for her to be able to tell that he wouldn't shoot. She lowered her hands, reaching one out to push the gun down carefully.

"The person who saved the both of you." She replied, her voice not faltering.

He raised his brow, nodding, unconvinced. "The both of us?"

Lucille nodded her head, motioning for him to climb out from the boot. He grunted as he did so, hand placed on his stomach as he attempted to move. Once he had placed both feet on soil, he peered into the back seat, recognising the former prisoner that had dragged him when he fell.

He looked awkwardly to the side, his breath heavy from the slight movement.

"I don't think I can stand any longer." He said, his whole face flushing bright.

Lucille hurried quickly to grab his right arm, forgetting that he had been shot twice, though upon looking, one had only been a light grazing, in need of a only few stitches. She left the car and boot open while she helped the first soldier stagger into her house, leaving him to sit uncomfortably at the kitchen table.

Returning to the car, she could hear the other soldier moan in discomfort as he stirred. He fluttered in and out of consciousness, his long eyelashes hitting his lids and eyes rolling back as he shifted. Lucille placed a hand on his arm, soothing and comforting him as he groaned some more, before turning silent and resting once more.

She sighed as she looked down upon his beaten body. There was no way that she would be able to get him to the house by herself and the other soldier couldn't help. Lucille climbed back into the front of the car.

Driving toward the house, she stopped the car so the back door opened straight into the house. She got out of the car once more and hurried around, pulling the man by the leg so they hung into the floor.

The man's eyes struggled to open but Lucille sighed in relief. She stroked his cheek, attempting to bring him around so he'd be able to at least stand on his own feet. Pulling him up, he leaned against her, his eyes falling closed as he dropped to the bench beside the door.

Lucille spluttered out a cough, her breath leaving her as she leaned against the table in the middle of the kitchen.

***

The farm remained quiet for the rest of the night and early morning. The two soldiers slept, though it was restlessly, through the evening until the early hours, when Lucille's father returned.

Maron didn't speak at first as he walked into the kitchen, seeing her sat with a cup of tea in hand, bags under her eyes.

"You haven't slept." He broke his silent with an obvious statement, as he hobbled to the table. She had noticed the struggle to his walk. His limp had become more obvious.

"I helped, father, I did." Lucille said. She could hear the meaning behind his first sentence.

"I told you-"

"But I've helped! Don't you see?" Lucille interrupted him, standing from her chair. "There's two soldiers, safe in the living room. I helped."

"First you go against my orders." He didn't need to shout to be frightening. But Lucille was seething. "Then you being escaped soldiers to our fucking house!"

Maron shuffled forward and slammed the papers that had been held in his hands onto the table. "Read them."

She looked down at the papers. They were new, just delivered that morning. He must have collected them on the way in.

"They're placing a fucking soldier in our house, Lucille." Her father shouted and Lucille threw the papers to the bench.

"What do we do?" She breathed out, as she stared up at her father.

"We? You can sort it yourself. I told you not to go." He turned toward the back door, before looking back for the last time. "I'll be back after the soldier comes, you can greet the bastard."

Lucille walked to catch up to him, standing in his way. "You're leaving? Just like that?"

"You know what to do, Lucille." He said finally and softly, before leaving through the doorway.

Lucille let him leave. She did know what to do. And she had to get it done. Soon.