Chapter Text
Luce couldn’t sit still, excitement and exhaustion warring away inside her. She’d spent half the night awake and talking to Stan, trying to catch up with everything that was new for him, learning about what his classes were like and all the new kinds of people he’d met while studying. It wasn’t that he hadn’t told her all of this already – they’d been writing to each other since he moved to London, and there’d been the occasional phone call – it was just those means of communication were nothing compared to having him there with her, seeing the way his eyes lit as he spoke or the way he picked idly at the stubble peeking through on his chin. She was eager to hear what he’d thought about the list of sights she’d given him, and if he’d managed to avoid the few places she’d told him adamantly not to go. She’d wanted desperately to have gone with him, but her own memories of the city, the ghosts that lingered there, had been the thing to prevent her from joining him.
In retrospect, however, the catch-up might have been better in the morning, or for when the party started.
Beside her, Michael lifted Karl to sit on the ledge of the pews as hymn sheets were handed out. Stan was on her other side, fiddling with his tie. The lines of weariness were obvious on his face, somehow more prominent now he was grinning at his brother.
‘You’re worse than he is,’ Michael noted, causing Luce to roll her eyes as Karl shifted to be in front of her. Instinctively she put one hand at the small of his back, the other on one side of him, to catch him if he unbalanced himself. Michael’s hand barely trailed after him.
‘And yet, still nowhere near as annoying as you are,’ she countered without looking at Michael.
He scoffed, but whatever irritable comment he might have countered with was lost. Her attention was distracted by Hal. He was fidgeting nearby, looking almost lost without Cece, who was acting as maid of honour to Grace, and with John trying to calm his own little family there was no one to make sure that the other man wasn’t completely alone in the sea of Shelbys.
Stan lent forwards, rested a calming hand on Hal’s shoulder and instantly drew his attention their way. ‘Your one’s next, right?’
Hal smirked over his shoulder and glanced between Stan and Luce. ‘Thought it was one of yous… or both of yous.’
Luce let out a sarcastic laugh, even as Stan’s face seemed to pale slightly and he withdrew his hand. The moment was short-lived, though. The chapel doors opened, and instantly all attention was drawn that way.
Jeremiah was the first one in, walking up the aisle to the sound of the small, and still utterly terrible, choir. The singing, thankfully, stopped when he was at the altar, when the Bridal March started. Grace followed on a moment later, and Luce felt her excitement mounting; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually been to a wedding. The veil was black, an oddly morbid look for the bride-to-be but one that Luce understood. Behind her, with a bright smile on her face, was Cecily Hawthorne, who’s attention found Hal in an instant. The smile deepened, and she offered him a brief nod, before winking at Luce and Stan. The sight of her alone appeared to ease a little of the tense line of Hal’s shoulders.
Once Grace was at the altar, Arthur and Cece a little set back from the couple, the room seemed to hold its breath. Tommy carefully lifted the veil. Grace’s smile was bright, it made Luce’s own smile grow, before they looked towards Jeremiah.
Luce cast a brief look to Stanley. There was a soft smile on his face, his eyes lit with a cheer that she’d grown used to. He was genuinely happy, glad to see that his brother finally got something good when the world had conspired against him for so long. Thomas Shelby may be a bad man sometimes, but he wasn’t the complete monster that he pretended to be; Luce had learnt that and still there were moments when it shocked her.
But even monsters deserved a moment of happiness, right?
‘Dearly beloved,’ said Jeremiah, his voice booming in the silence of the church; even the little ones appeared to be reverently quiet as soon as they heard him, ‘we are gathered here today to join together in holy matrimony Thomas Michael Shelby and Grace Helen Burgess.’
The rest of the words washed over Luce, her attention skittering around the church. How they’d managed to make the soldiers on the other side and the Shelbys hold up some kind of peace was a mystery to her. She knew none of them wanted to ruin the day, but it was still shocking that they were managing not to draw weapons on each other. There was, she had to admit, the odd irritable look, a feeling of tension in the air that was impossible to ignore, but they were holding out. They were allowing the couple their moment, refusing to ruin it for their loved ones.
She just hoped that it would continue to hold true when there was more alcohol supplied, when people weren’t trying to be on their best behaviour because of the chapel.
‘Do you, Thomas Michael Shelby, take Grace Helen Burgess to be your lawful wedded wife?’ asked Jeremiah, snapping Luce’s attention back towards him.
‘I do,’ vowed Tommy.
‘Do you, Grace Helen Burgess, solemnly swear to love, honour and obey till death do you part?’ asked Jeremiah.
‘I do,’ Grace said.
‘I now pronounce you husband and wife,’ said Jeremiah.
Tommy and Grace turned to face each other; Tommy took her face in his hands and kissed her in front of the congregation.
‘Go on, son!’ called Arthur as the church erupted into applause and cheering. Luce tried not to notice that Grace’s side of the church looked almost bored by the whole thing, disappointed even. In fact, the realisation only made her cheer louder as the newly married couple waved, grinning around the room. She encouraged Karl to cheer with her.
She might not be a Shelby, but there was no way she was letting anything ruin this day for the two of them. They deserved it after everything they’d been through.
***
Hal walked with his arm looped through Cece’s. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a smile as bright as hers before, even when she’d shown him the place where she’d grown up, when she’d introduced him to her parents over the summer. It was one of those milestones that John had kept bugging him about. It was in preparation for the final piece of Hal’s summer plan: a proposal.
Now, he tried to put thoughts of his own wedding from his mind. This was Tommy and Grace’s day. The family were alive with their own excitement, Arthur trying to rally everyone as they headed towards the house, as they prepared the celebrations for the newlyweds. Hal patted Arthur on the shoulder as he passed. After everything that had happened, he was glad to see that Arthur was still there, still trying to be the big brother to the others.
Stan and Luce looked tired, but still happy. Luce hadn’t looked so at ease since Stan left for university; even with the new job, the new confidence that America seemed to have given her, this was when she was truly happiest. Even if neither of them realised it, they were home for each other like nothing else could be. Hal made a mental note to catch up with Stan soon; there simply hadn’t been time between him arriving and the wedding.
The crowd cheered as Tommy and Grace kissed, as he helped her down from the carriage. Applause rose up through the ranks, and Hal could feel Cece practically bouncing at his side. John caught his eye, but Hal refused to look at him properly; he knew exactly what was going through his friend’s mind.
And then, they followed the newlyweds into the house.
Inside it didn’t take long for the party to start. Hal could see the line between the two sides of the wedding, could see where Grace’s family ended and Tommy’s started. Not that he really cared. He watched as Cece happily integrated herself with Grace in the middle of a group, making sure that her new mark was made on the friendship they had. Music floated around the place, and Hal shifted his attention to find a familiar face.
Not that it took long. Luce was standing by the fireplace, playing idly with the stem of a wine glass. Stan stood beside her, hunched ever so slightly as the lack of sleep probably caught up with him. Michael lent on the fireplace, his attention on Luce who was talking animatedly about something. The barriers that had previously made her hold her tongue around the family had come down somewhere between America and Tommy’s job offer. The mere thought of that brought a smile to Hal’s face that he couldn’t prevent.
‘But why,’ Luce was asking as Hal moved over to them, as he shot Stan a quick wink of greeting, ‘do the women have to promise to “love and obey” and all the men have to do is accept that they’re getting married?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Stan, but Michael opened his mouth at the same time.
‘You give me any of your bullshit, Michael and so help me –’
‘Whatever happened to our dear sweet Luce?’ Hal jibed gently, instantly quelling her irritation.
‘Hal!’ she said, shifting to hug him.
‘See, we need you around again, Stan,’ Hal said as he pulled away. ‘Look what happens when she doesn’t have your guiding presence.’
Stanley chuckled softly, shook his head. His attention strayed ever so slightly to Michael, and Hal wasn’t sure if there was an undercurrent of blame there or not.
‘She has a point though,’ Cece said, causing Hal to look back at her. She was coming their way, two glasses in her hands. She passed him off one filled with juice before taking a sip of her own.
No one spoke for a moment, as if each of them were trying to figure out what to say that wouldn’t end in violence. Though, for Stan’s part he was probably just too tired to really care. Instead, he shifted and lent an elbow on Luce’s shoulder, settling himself.
‘Kitchen,’ Arthur said, clapping Hal on the back. He’d barely looked around when he noticed that Arthur was moving around the party, gathering the Peaky Blinders.
He glanced briefly at the Shelby men, noticed Cece’s expression darken out of the corner of his eye. She looked as though she were about to argue, but he gently gave her hand a squeeze.
‘Be back before you know it,’ he vowed, nodding towards Stan who straightened in an instant. Michael was already walking away, as if eager to move away from his new work partner and the argument that was beginning to brew.
Even as Hal and Stan walked towards the others, John pulled him in close to his side. ‘Yours gonna be half the size of this? All singing in fucking Welsh?’
Hal nudged his ribs gently, causing his friend to move away and drape an arm around Stan’s shoulders, assuring him that he didn’t have to be in on this particular family meeting. The taller man visibly relaxed and hastily extracted himself from his brother’s embrace. ‘Might be the only time you don’t feel the need to join in.’
‘He can sing even without knowing the words,’ teased Finn, earning a whack around the back of his head from John.
Hal shrugged, but the thought was one that had occurred to him. ‘Anyway, what’s this meeting about?’
‘Hell if I know,’ complained John, but there was little bitterness behind the admittance today. Which either meant he had an idea, or he was giving his brother a little more leeway given that it was all happening on his wedding day. ‘Just not the kind of thing Stan needs in on.’
Hal started down one corridor, but John pulled him back. ‘Don’t go wandering.’
‘Wait, that isn’t the way to the kitchen?’ Hal asked, looking back over his shoulder as John led him down a set of stairs. ‘Who the fuck needs a house this big anyway?’ The joke about compensation, one that Cece had muttered in the car, died on his lips as John picked up some oranges and began to juggle them, as Hal heard the hustle and bustle of a kitchen getting ready for a big meal.
‘Seriously, how the fuck did you drive from Wales and back again?’
‘I had a very good navigator,’ Hal assured him, causing John to mock being sick as they joined the family meeting. Tommy was already lighting up a cigarette.
‘Right, boys, you’re all here,’ noted Tommy once John had made his way across the room to be with Isaiah. Hal stayed by the wall, beside Michael who was smoking as well. ‘Today, this is my fucking wedding day.’
‘Yeah,’ noted John, ‘and you said there’d be no bloody uniforms.’
‘Nevertheless. Nevertheless, John,’ said Tommy, voice raised warningly. ‘Despite the bad blood, I’ll have none of it on my carpet. Now, for Grace’s sake, nothing will go wrong. Those bastards out there are her family. And if you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, you do anything to –’
‘Tom?’
‘What?’ snapped Tommy, his attention on Isaiah in an instant.
‘What about snow?’ For his credit, Isaiah didn’t flinch at the sudden irritable attention. Tommy had never been so stressed, even during the War.
‘Yeah, their women are sports, I’ll say that,’ noted John, clapping Isaiah around the head and bringing it down to rub it.
‘No. No. No,’ said Tommy, walking towards Isaiah. He got right in his face. ‘No cocaine. No cocaine. No sport. No telling fortunes.’ Tommy went around the room, pointing to each person as if it might somehow help stop them from doing just that. ‘No racing. No fucking sucking petrol out of their fucking cars.’ He grabbed Finn’s chin, slapped him on the cheek as if it might knock the words into his head. ‘And you, Charlie, stop spinning yarns about me, eh?’
‘I’m just trying to sell you to them, Tom,’ noted Charlie from his spot leaning on the cabinet.
‘But the main thing is, you bunch of fuckers,’ said Tommy after taking a deep breath as if to calm himself. ‘Despite the provocation from the cavalry, no fighting! Oi!’ He rounded on Isaiah, knocking his chin to force the younger man to look at him; he then moved to point at John, Arthur and Michael, repeating the comment as if it were some kind of mantra. ‘No fighting. No fucking fighting. No fighting. NO FUCKING FIGHTING! Good.’ He moved to collect his jacket, Hal stepped aside, knew that he hadn’t been included in that focused reminder because with Cece around the likelihood of him fighting was close to nil.
But as Tommy shrugged his jacket on, he knocked into one of the servants. The collision was small, but Tommy pushed him away forcefully. ‘Get the fuck off me!’
The man stumbled into the middle of the room, glass shattered against the floor. Hal winced ever so slightly. No fighting. It was an easier sentiment to say than to enforce with this family.
***
‘You seen that Lia lady again?’ Luce asked, trying to get Stan back into the conversation that had brought a smile to his face. His attention kept straying to the door where Hal had come back from, as if concerned that he hadn’t been part of the meeting. Now, his attention strayed around the room, as if trying to make sure that the Blinders were behaving. She wasn’t sure if it was more or less worrying that very few of them were there. Michael had already slunk off; John was helping Esme with the kids; Hal was carefully watching Cece as she chatted brightly with Grace. The only Blinders really making themselves known were Charlie – chatting away loudly with a bunch of soldiers, still trying to make Tommy look good – and Isaiah who was chatting to Finn, his attention sweeping the room occasionally.
A soft smile curled Stan’s lips, and his attention turned towards her. ‘We went for coffee the morning before I left,’ he admitted, and she could see the beginnings of a blush flushing his cheeks.
‘And you didn’t think to invite her here?’ she teased. They both knew there was no way Stan would bring someone into this. Even if he’d known her for a year. Even if, by the sounds of things, she would have been able to hold her own. There were some things that took more than a year to work up to. Introducing a possible romantic partner to the family? That wasn’t something to take lightly.
‘You going to come visit?’ Stan asked, his attention shifting away from her. He watched the path of someone, but Luce didn’t look around. The question itself was mundane enough, was normal even, but still… She’d exhumed those ghosts a long time ago, but still London held fears for her.
Chelmsford. That was the closest she’d been in the two years since she’d last seen her brother. In that time she’d had lunch with her mother and written a couple of letters to her father, but everything had changed. They no longer knew each other, no longer had anything to talk about. She’d vowed to call at the weekends, but so far there was no bridging the gap that Luce running away had caused. And there was no way she could talk to Wilf yet, not without being reminded of Epson.
‘Not yet,’ she said softly, before she noticed Isaiah coming up beside her. She shot him a small smile as he lent on the fireplace. ‘What’re you up to?’
‘Nothing,’ he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence.
Luce shared a knowing look with Stan. Neither of them were willing to buy it. But also, neither of them really cared if it was family business.
‘You two actually going to join the party?’ he asked, cocking his head a little to one side.
‘This isn’t the party?’ Luce countered, looking shocked as she indicated between herself and Stan. Stan scoffed, and that was the only encouragement she needed to keep up with the façade. ‘Woah, maybe we should drive back home. Go find this mysterious party.’
Isaiah opened his mouth, probably to make some comment or another about the dark, or the alcohol, or the fact that she was still using his car, but a tinkling sound cut him off.
‘Dinner is served,’ a waiter announced.
‘Shall we?’ Isaiah asked, offering Luce out his arm.
Stan smirked, causing Luce to roll her eyes. She took his arm instead, but lopped her other through Stan’s and started toward the table, really hoping that she wasn’t going to end up sat with some solider that she’d be best placed to be civil to.
***
‘Hey, listen. Listen, listen,’ said John, and Stanley had to internally groan. He shared a quick look with Luce, and was glad that at least she was close by. ‘What do you call an animal with a prick halfway up its back?’
‘Not now, John,’ said Stan wearily, glad that he was far enough from his brother that he couldn’t quite hear the punchline.
‘Hey,’ Luce said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. ‘It’ll be all right.’
Stan opened his mouth, but his attention was drawn to the return of Arthur and Michael. They slipped back into their respective seats; instantly, Luce seemed to radiate mild irritation. Her mouth was set in a firm line that probably had everything to do with whatever business the others had been conducting. If she knew what they were up to, she didn’t say, and Stan wouldn’t ask. It obviously wasn’t family business per se, otherwise she wouldn’t have had a clue, but it certainly seemed to leave a sour expression on her face.
He gave her hand a squeeze, glad when she looked to him instead of focusing on whatever the others had been up to.
He was grateful when, sometime later, everyone raised their glasses at the arrival of Tommy and Grace.
‘And now, according to tradition,’ announced Tommy as everyone took up their seats once more, ‘my best man will say a few words.’
‘Go on!’ cheered on John as others clapped. ‘Here he goes! Go on, Arthur!’
Stanley shot a warm smile up the table towards his brother, hopeful that it might just help even if he didn’t see it.
‘I’d like to, erm…’ started Arthur nervously, standing up as Tommy sat, already lighting a cigarette. ‘I’m not one for speeches.’
‘Sing, then!’ suggested John.
Hal scoffed, and Stan was certain he kicked his best friend under the table. Not that it perturbed John in the slightest.
‘I will later, John,’ Arthur said, tone more subdued than Stan had ever heard before. His eyes were locked on his brother. Part of him wanted to get up there and do the whole thing for him, not that he would have fared much better but it would have been something. ‘But I do, er… I do have some words written down here –’ he reached to grab a stack of notes from his jacket pocket, which hung over the back of his chair ‘– on this piece of paper. This doesn’t include everything that I want to say…’
‘Arthur, just read what we wrote down, eh?’ Stan heard Tommy murmur. He felt Luce shift, knew that she was thinking about commenting and successfully biting her tongue.
‘I will. I will, mm-hmm,’ said Arthur, flattening the paper on the table. ‘But first… First a few words from the heart.’ Stan felt the atmosphere in the room shift, felt people already looking away, but he kept his attention resolutely on Arthur, on the head of the table in the hopes of assuring him that people were still listening, that people cared. ‘This man here, my brother, Tommy, helped me survive through some of the worst times.’
Tommy coughed loudly.
‘It’s a wedding, Arthur,’ heckled Michael, earning a sharp look from Luce which he ignored, ‘tell a joke.’
‘Yeah. Tell a joke,’ said Hal, a little more comfortingly.
‘What – what I’m trying to say is this,’ said Arthur, ignoring the comments entirely. ‘My – my brother, and the love of a good woman pulled me through that time. Now Tommy also has the love of a good woman. Her name’s Grace. Like the grace of the good Lord. And even though the circumstances of their union was tragic –’
‘Right,’ said Tommy, standing up and knocking the table. Stan jumped slightly, the moment broken. ‘Let’s… Arthur, let’s raise a toast, eh? To, er, love, to peace, to marriage.’
‘And to marriage,’ the room chorused, lifting their glasses. Stan glanced briefly at John, who was smirking over at Hal.
‘Well done, Arthur,’ said Stan, raising his voice to be heard despite how the words got caught slightly.
‘Beautiful speech,’ said John, though his voice seemed to lack some of the enthusiasm that Stan had been trying for. ‘Really nice.’
Arthur wasn’t paying any attention though. He pulled his jacket off the back of his chair and left the room, quickly followed by Linda and Tommy.
Stan was up in an instant, even as John was asking about the destination of the little trip. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder as they passed. ‘Stay here, brother,’ he said, before moving after the others.
Luce watched after Tommy for a moment, daggers barely hidden behind the look as Stan slowly sat back down. ‘He’ll be fine,’ she said, though there was a touch of doubt behind her voice. ‘And if not, well, you can talk to him after.’
Stan hummed a mild agreement, really hoping that Tommy might just be able to make amends for the way he’d dealt with it all.
***
Hal had seen the man coming a mile off. There was something almost predatory about him, something that made Hal grateful he was finally outside of the party, instead of in amongst all the people that Hal cared about. The thought of this man having been inside was one that sent a strange uneasiness down his back. He was just glad that Luce and Stan hadn’t decided to duck out, to spend a moment in the stables because it was all just that little bit too overwhelming for Stan indoors. He knew Luce was loving the party; knew that Cece was enjoying having the other woman there, and making sure that Grace was never frowning. But Stan? Stan didn’t like too many people; how he was coping at University, Hal would never know.
‘Go and watch the race, boys,’ he heard Tommy calling, and Hal shifted further into the darkness. He knew that Tommy wouldn’t need him, he was simply there as a precaution. He also knew that by sending his brothers away Tommy was making a show of trust.
Arthur said something else, but the reply was lost.
Hal didn’t see the others walking away, but he knew they were doing as Tommy said. They’d watch the race, make sure no one was going to miss the new groom. Make sure no one interrupted the business that had to be conducted.
Hal allowed his thoughts to drift though. They drifted to Stan, and how much he’d have preferred to be out here to stuck in the party; in fact, how he’d probably prefer to be anywhere rather than in there with the threat of family business looming over them despite the attempts not to make it that obvious. He thought of Luce trying to make sure that Stan’s thoughts never strayed too close to what the missing members of his family might be doing, all the while preparing whatever telling off she was bound to dish out to Michael – and probably Isaiah – when she saw them next.
And then, his thoughts drifted to Cece. He wanted to be inside, dancing with her. Wanted to hold her in his arms, to feel the peace of it being the two of them again. Their little trip to Wales had been perfect, and while he’d missed his friends, there had been something soothing about getting away from it all; about it being just the two of them for most of their time away. It wasn’t fair that there was still work to be done – how Grace would take this he had no idea.
The more time he spent away from Cece, the more his thoughts strayed to what happened next, oddly enough. Strayed to the conversation he’d had when they were in Wales. To the dialect that he was never going to wrap his head around.
He heard the knock on the wall as Tommy left, knew that he was to leave five minutes later; keeping an eye on the Russian. He’d get back to Cece and the wedding soon, but first there were other things to think about.
***
‘Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom will now dance alone,’ said the man on stage, causing the room to erupt with cheers.
Luce toasted her glass to the two of them, felt the smile spread easily across her face. This moment, this second of pretending that they were normal, that the Peaky Blinders didn’t hover on the periphery of everything with their violence only a hair’s breadth from the surface, this was what they both deserved.
The music started as soon as the duo were in the middle, swaying in time with the beat of the swing. They were talking as they spun around; there was something about the tension in Grace’s shoulders, something she only recognised from working with her in the pub, that assured her they weren’t whispering sweet nothings to each other.
They kissed before the man on stage spoke again. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, you may now join.’
In an instant, Hal had taken Cece’s hand and was pulling her to the floor, a coy smile on his face that Luce had never seen before. He went undisturbed as the others Blinders left, another man moving to dance with Grace.
Luce spotted Isaiah on the other side of the room. He tilted his head slightly, questioning her, but she shook her own. There’d be plenty of time for dancing, especially with him. Instead, she turned her attention to Stan.
‘May I?’ he asked before she could say anything.
She beamed at him, offered him something of a curtsy. ‘Of course,’ she assured him in her most well-spoken tone.
He smirked before taking her hand and leading her to the floor with everyone else. She just hoped that this was the beginning of good things for Tommy and the Shelbys, that the marriage might make them finally strive more for the desire of legal business options. The things that they’d been wishing for since she’d known them at least.
But, deep down she had a feeling that it wouldn’t work out that way. She was just glad that Stan had got away from it all, and that the rot of that life might not tarnish the one he was trying to make for himself.
Even if it tried to touch him, she vowed to herself as they span around the floor that she would do whatever she could to protect him.
***
Mr. Hawthorne had been an imposing man. Hal knew it was something about the set of his shoulders, the firm line of his lips, that didn’t scream the jovial man Cece had always painted him to be. Hal knew that some of his reservations had come from his own childhood, from the hidden aspects of his father in the face of strangers and company. He knew that it was wrong to paint all fathers in the same terrible way that he’d seen his own father, that he’d seen Arthur Shelby Sr. in, and yet he couldn’t help his reservations from building. Still, he would never forget the grin, the way those eyes – so similar to Cece’s – had lit up when Hal asked if he could propose to Cecily when they were back home.
Mr. Hawthorne had pulled him in for a tight hug, made some joke about how it was time enough for the question to come. He’d given his blessing in a heartbeat, and the memory still made Hal’s heart soar.
However, now the moment was finally upon him, he’d never felt so nervous. His hands were clammy, his heart thundered in his chest, and he was worried that his mouth might not actually form the words. His life hadn’t been easy at the best of times, but right now he would have put up with any of his childhood fears above this.
Two days after Tommy’s wedding hadn’t been the day he’d really meant to do this, hadn’t wanted it to be so close to someone else’s big day. But it was special for Cece. It was the day her own parents had first met. A little bit of information that her father had imparted on him just before they’d left.
‘Henry, what are you doing?’ Cece asked, straightening from behind her bike. Her hair was a mess, there was oil streaked on her face, and the ghost of her smile lingered, even if now she was looking at him with some concern.
Unable to trust his voice just yet, Hal lifted the cup of tea that he’d made for her in an awkward kind of salute. It brought back the smile in an instant, and a little of his tensions slipped away.
‘Leave it on the sill, please,’ she said, before ducking back down. She hummed gently as she worked.
Hal was grateful that she wasn’t looking. His hands trembled as he put the cup on the side. Carefully, he slipped the little box from his pocket. The ring that Esme had helped him pick out wasn’t much, but it was very Cece. It wasn’t flash enough to get in the way of her work, but it was nice so that she could enjoy it.
‘Can you pass me that spanner, please?’
In an instant, Hal’s plan changed. He slipped the ring out of the box, carefully threaded it onto one curved side of the spanner and offered it out reverently to Cece.
It took her a moment to reach for the thing, her eyes still on the bike, still on trying to fix it. Her hand gripped the end with the ring, and she stilled before looking to him. Her brows pinched together in confusion, knowing that there was something different about the usually familiar tool.
Carefully, she unfurled her fingers and spotted the ring. Her mouth fell open in an almost comical “o” shape. Not that Hal was paying much attention to it. He was already on one knee beside her, his eyes skimming over her face, taking in every little nuance of her reaction, desperately hoping that this was the right thing to do.
‘Cecily Dianna Hawthorne, a wnewch chi –?1’
‘Ydw!2’ she said, not even letting him finish. ‘Yes.’ Tears welled in her eyes, something he only briefly saw before she was hugging him. She squeezed him before pulling away, before she kissed him.
When she finally pulled away fully there were tears rolling down her cheeks, but her eyes were bright and her smile wide.
‘Took your time,’ she teased as he eased the ring off the spanner and slid it over her finger, his own hands shaking with the movement.
‘Better late than never,’ he said, the weight in his chest gone. He felt as though he could fly, as if there was nothing that could ever ruin this for him. And, from the look on her face, he knew that Cece felt exactly the same, which was all that really mattered.
- Will you -?
- Yes!