Bancroft - Peaky Blinders Reverse Harem x Reader

Chapter 8

Tommy's POV

Tommy pulls the phone receiver to his ear. "Thomas Shelby."

A crackle through the line — transatlantic call. His fingers tug at his tie and he prepares mentally for news from the business in New York.

"You have my daughter? You're looking after Miss Bancroft?"

Tommy's face is unamused as he replies. "Bancroft has no parents."

"She has me. I'm her mother." Another crackle. "She needs to come to New York. It's where she belongs."

"Mrs Bancroft—"

"No," she cuts in sharply. "Not anymore. I didn't keep that piece of shit's name any longer than I had to."

Tommy sighs. As if he's got nothing better to do with his time. "I'd ask why you can't contact her yourself, but I assume that's because of the court order."

A moment's silence. "You know about that."

"I've read the Will. I know you'll go back to prison if you contact your daughter, just as you went in the first place for bankrupting her name before she even turned twelve years old. Taking out loans, stacking up debt, signing her name on the forms. The very reasons your husband divorced you in the first place, eh?"

Tommy swallows the burning anger that simmers beneath his words. He knew it was fucked up when he first read this information in the Will. But now the girl's living with him, now he's seen how unhappy she is, it makes this woman on the phone all the more despicable to him.

"I've changed," she hisses. "A girl needs her mother, not some... some rag-tag gang."

"Come crawling back now you've a whiff of the money, eh?" Tommy says. "You're shit out of luck. All in a trust, every penny. Not to be touched by you, or me, or anyone but her."

"We'll see about that."

And then the line rings dead. Tommy places the receiver back, exhaling with a small shake of his head as he returns to reviewing the finance reports Michael drew up.

The whole thing's bloody ridiculous, he thinks, circling figures in red ink. He doesn't even like Bancroft. She's irritating, morose, and makes his stomach churn in an unfamiliar way. With those large eyes, slightly downturned like a puppy, and the way her mouth's always set in a thin line. She's arrogant, he decides, always needing the last word, refusing necessities like food just because she can.

He hasn't stopped thinking about her from the moment she arrived.

But he turns his attention back to the Profit and Loss statement, disregarding the phone call.

He works in silence.

Until John's laughter echoes through the house. Quietly at first, then coming in louder and louder spurts. Tommy tries to ignore it, but the sound grates on him and doesn't seem to be ending. He clenches his jaw as he sets down his fountain pen — it's hard enough to concentrate on numbers and figures with Bancroft running through his head. It's even harder with his brother's raucous laughter.

He follows the sound all the way outside to the back garden, where John is bent over double laughing. Bancroft's next to him, soaking wet from head to toe, arms crossed. She looks livid. Tommy sees John holding the garden hose. He can't help but smirk slightly at the sight, in spite of himself.

"Honest, Bancroft, I had no idea," John manages to say, still grinning from ear to ear. "I thought I'd turned it off. Sorry."

Tommy watches with an expression of amusement as she turns and storms away. He's about ready to leave them to it, when he sees her hand reach for the garden tap, and give it three hard twists.

John swears as the hose explodes in his hand, covering him in water. He drops it in surprise, which is the worst thing he could have done, Tommy thinks, as it flails around with a life of its own, drenching John even further. He struggles to tackle it down, before realising how futile it is, and charging instead for where Bancroft stands beside the tap, her lips finally breaking into a grin.

It's the first time Tommy sees her smile. Straight white teeth, wide lips, and crinkles forming at the corner of her eyes. It stumps him for a moment and he's unable to do anything but stare, one hand in his trouser pocket.

John picks her up and throws her over his shoulder, running back to the rogue hose spraying water everywhere. She shrieks and wriggles against him, trying to break free, finally catching him in a headlock until he releases her. She steadies herself when she hits the ground, sprinting back to the tap and turning it off again before John can catch her.

The hose dies. John collapses on his back on the muddy grass, pinching his nose as he laughs.

There's a swooping sensation in Tommy's stomach as Bancroft's gaze suddenly locks onto his as though magnetised, seeing his presence for the first time. Her eyes darken, making his heart skip a beat. But then she scowls — an image of her former self.

If sulking's good enough for her, it's good enough for me, he thinks.

"No more fucking water fights," he calls out. "I'm trying to work in here, John."

"Sorry, Tom!" John called back. "Only trying to water the plants!"

Tommy leaves, wondering how the hell he's going to be able to focus on figures all afternoon.