The sunlight danced along the Earth in a tender breath, like a delicate exhale of warmth that flooded the blades of blooming grass with just enough heat, that it banished every last trace of the previous winter season from reality and whispered the promise of balmier days to come.
For even as the England rain had coated the cobbles in a downpour of chilling precipitation just the night before, while its grey clouds that coated the sky in a haze of smoke like trails strived to stay, the sun broke through the melancholy presence that consumed Birmingham and endeavored to impart a single day of warmth and hope into the atmosphere.
Out in the countryside, miles down a single narrow winding road that they traveled on until the smoke and the smog and the pure misery of life in Small Heath, became a memory of a past long behind them, the sunshine felt unscathed. Like as it beamed down in delicate rays of soft honey and sharp marigold, through clouds fluffy and free of any lingering trace of a staining grey hue, it met the Earth with a purity that seemed like a beautiful fantasy.
For the sky was a vast blanket of the faintest breath of blue, dusted with wispy clouds that held not a single droplet of rain to spoil the day, and it stretched further than the eye could see. It seemed grander out there in the countryside, like the universe unveiled itself there in the fields of lush chartreuse, and as Tommy Shelby laid beneath its overwhelming scale, one couldn't help but feel small beneath the all-consuming evidence of a world far larger than any one soul could ever know.
The weeping willow shielded Tommy from the sunlight that rained down from the open heavens. An enchanting tree, blossoming up from firm roots and an inexplicable placement in the middle of a field, as though it was God's own hand that had come along and planted the tree there, right where he saw fit, in the midst of an empty and uninhabited land. He laid stretched out on his back beneath the beautiful tree, with his right hand resting behind his head as a pillow made of bone and soft flesh, knuckles just barely beginning to brush against the bark of the stump behind him. The ground beneath him solid and yet, soft and welcoming.
For the grass that had erupted with the enrichment of life and summertime warmth, was lush and soft beneath the brush of his left palm. Blades of intertwining emerald and deep jade tones, with the light hues of chartreuse sprinkled within as though nature itself couldn't choose just one shade of green to paint the open rolling land with, like a mosaic of the countryside untouched by the scathing hand of man.
It smelled of the Earth, rich like the soil lingering beneath their softly swaying blades that captured the faintest current of a timid breeze. The slightest hint of damp soil, as the remembrance of last evening's showers lingered in the air. And it held that inexplicable scent that one simply knew. That kind of warmth that tingled one's nose with the faintest evidence of pollen and the knowledge that the field was alive and beaming with a presence that could only be extinguished when the threat of a freezing autumn came back around.
It was quiet out here, that might've been one of the things Tommy loved most about this secret oasis he'd discovered years ago. For he couldn't hear the churn of the factories, the sharp pinging of metal hitting metal, the eruptions of sparking embers in a blistering fire, the rambunctious squeals of children running amuck in the cobblestone streets or even the belligerent slurs of drunks stumbling their way home late into the evening hours. The sounds of Small Heath, the sounds of home, were lost out here. Not even that of faint whispers echoing in the background, it was simply peace and untarnished silence.
A soft sound broke the void however, a timid breath exhaling deeply beside him as a rustle of grass danced along the current of the gentle breeze. But the sound was a welcome one. It was a sound that Tommy Shelby had grown accustomed to over the years, the adorable musings of his girl as she woke. Whether it be in that snug little twin bed back in his bedroom on Watery Lane, or the mattress and nestled quilts he'd drag out to the stables every once and a while for them to share, or even here... in the middle of an empty field that only they knew, she awoke in the very same fashion each and every time.
