Loving Gwen Baker (Thomas Shelby/Peaky Blinders)

Chapter Eight

Gwen was more than happy to not be working that next day. Grace had told the strawberry blonde that a man named Billy Kimber had strolled inside the Garrison and shot a hole in the ceiling. She was glad that she had been out for lunch when the incident had occurred; she would've been absolutely terrified! She knew she would've been hidden down in the basement between the barrels, for sure!

In any case, she placed her paints and paintbrushes and her sketchbook in the basket on the front of the bike, along with a couple of apples before she left her house that next morning.

Gwen pushed the bicycle through the streets of Small Heath, before she mounted as soon as she had reached the entrance to the woodland. She was a little wobbly to begin with, but she quickly found her balance and squealed in both joy and excitement as the wind whipped through her long wavy hair.

She laughed as she free-wheeled most of the way, and as soon as she made it to the meadow she ditched the bike and spread her arms out wide as she twirled on the spot.

Gwen ate one of the apples she had packed before she sat herself down cross legged in the grass just inside the meadow. She rest her back against the post and rail fencing, and propped her sketchbook against her knees as she made rough, yet beautiful watercolour paintings of each horse.

Blushing Bride was curious over her presence, and came closer to sniff at her. Gwen closed her eyes and smiled as the large horse's warm breath fanned over her hair, the whiskers on the mares chin tickling her cheek.

She shared her apple with the snowy white horse, which encouraged the other two horses to approach her. Gwen would've liked to think that they wanted to be friends, but she knew they were obliging her request through the promise of a treat.

The strawberry blonde spent hours listening to the birds, petting the horses, and painting. She thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet, the clear skies, the fresh air and just being. She felt like she belonged here; out in the country.

Her peaceful, fret and worry free alone time was interrupted when she heard the unmistakable sound of a car engine.

The horses looked up, their ears pricked forward when the engine cut off.

Gwen glanced over her shoulder to see Tommy making his way towards her. He cast his smoke to the side before he rest his arms against the fence, and peered down at her.

"Been looking for you." He said. "Pol told me where you were."

"I'm sorry, I should've asked-"

"-It's alright." He interrupted her, "I did say you could come and go."

She watched as he leant over the fence above her, and brushed his hand through the chestnuts mane.

"How long have you been up here?"

"Since nine o'clock this morning."

A grin teased the corners of his lips, "All day then."

"Is it late?" She asked.

"About three." He replied, looking over at her again.

"Why were you looking for me?" She asked, fiddling with the paintbrush in her colour stained hands.

"Eh?"

"You said you'd been looking for me?" She said, "I just wondered, what for?"

"Oh." He looked away from her again, using the chestnut mare in front of him as a distraction.

He wanted to ask her something.

She waited patiently, continuing on with her painting while she gave him time.

"I'm taking Grace to the races." He said finally.

She ignored the disappointed feeling that seeded itself in her chest, "Oh, that's nice."

"Yeah."

"Is Monaghan Boy running?"

"No." He said, "I'm with meeting someone. For business."

"I hope that's not the only reason you're going." She said, "I've always imagined the races to be grand and fun. Mum said she had heard there was lots of music and dancing?"

Tommy nodded, "There is."

Gwen smiled, "I hope you and Grace have a wonderful time."

Something flashed across his eyes, and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But she had already looked back down to her sketchbook.

"What've you been painting?" He asked.

"The horses." She replied, "They're rough images, really. There's a few of each of them...I wanted to do a few, and then decide on the best one for each horse before I made the final paintings."

He leant against the fence beside her as she got to her feet, and he held his hand out for her book as she passed it to him.

"You choose your favourites - they're your paintings." She said, and then blushed. "You don't have to pick one of those, I mean, if you want something different then-"

"-Paint them all." He said, flicking slowly through the book and paying close attention to each individual page. "I want you to paint them all."

"I-I won't be done anytime soon." She said, "That'll take me a long time to get them all done, I don't want to keep getting under your feet-"

"-I don't mind." He said, his eyes meeting with hers. "You could take a year if you need to. You won't be in my way."

She felt her face heating even more, and she had to look away from him, "If you ever want to tell me to leave-"

"-I'll allow you to stay forever."

"Tommy..." She looked up at him once more as he handed her sketchbook back, "Thank you. You could've asked anyone to do this - I know a lot of people in Small Heath are talented painters - but I appreciate you asking me." She looked over at the horses, "I don't think you realise how much this means to me...I needed this."

"You're the only one I consider talented, Gwen." He said, "If you'd have told me 'no' then..." He stopped talking when she looked at him, and he swallowed almost nervously. He didn't finish what he had been going to say, and Gwen frowned upon realising that (for whatever reason was behind it) he couldn't finish his sentence.

"I wouldn't have said 'no'." She said, "Like I told Polly yesterday: I've found part of my old self up here, and I want to find the rest of me."

His voice was quieter than a whisper, almost as if he was worried about how she would react to his words, "Let me know how I can help." He said, "I'll do whatever you want me to."

"Thank you, Tommy." She replied, her voice just as quiet as his.

They both looked away from one another as their cheeks tinted pink. "Have you thought of anymore names for the horses?" She asked.

"Yeah." He said, pointing to the dappled mare. "The grey...Careless Whisper."

She smiled, "I thought you said the colour reminded you of a storm."

"But you said it reminded you of something quiet." He countered, "Do you not like the name?"

"I love the name, I think it's beautiful." She said, reaching out a hand to gently pet the mares muzzle. "What about the chestnut?"

"I haven't decided yet." He replied honestly. "There's something about her that's unusually gentle. Chestnut mares are commonly known to be quite feisty."

"You've just said it." Gwen smiled.

Tommy looked at her, "Said what?"

"Her name." Gwen turned her hazel gaze back to the ginger horse. "Something About Her."

"Then it's decided." He offered her a small smile in return to her infectious one.

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