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queen-of-writing-bad-things · 2 years

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BBC Worzel Gummidge x Reader (2019) S1: Episode 1: The Scarecrow of Scatterbrook ~ Part 1

"I've checked on the lambs in the field." (y/n) Braithwaite told her auntie as she sat down for the first time that day. Waking up at five o'clock every morning was no mean feat, and the fact that the harvest was around the corner made nothing easier. Only, the yield wasn't around the corner; for some strange reason, the rolling hills and meadows of the village of Scatterbrook were still and unchanging like they had fallen asleep in the middle of August.

It had been troubling (y/n)'s Uncle to no end. He needed those crops to live for the next year, and nothing was happening. His niece had marked the mysterious goings-on, too; the lambs in her field were still too young for her liking, and it just wasn't normal.

She knew sheep; she was raised to shepherd them from when they were born to when she had to say goodbye. They were her livelihood and the only reason she lived in Scatterbrook, not the Yorkshire Dales where she was born. With her dogs, Honeysuckle and Meg, by her side, she was the village's best shepherdess but even her knowledge couldn't solve this one.

"They still too small, my love?" Reenie asked the young woman, who sighed into her mug of tea as she walked into the kitchen and sat down. The veterinarian assured her that the lambs were healthy; they just wouldn't grow. The whole season was weeks behind schedule, and if a miracle didn't happen soon, then the entirety of Scatterbrook Farm could be in danger.

"Yeah, I don't know what's wrong with them. I'm off up Ten Acre Field in a bit to see if I can find something out there." (y/n) offered her a calming smile, not letting onto how she wasn't going to monitor her sheep, oh no. She had a somewhat secret friend she cherished above all others (Honey and Meg came quite close), and he was in tune with nature. So much that she was sure that he'd be able to help her, even if it took him a while to blow the dust off of his conkers.

"Right, you are, my love. Oh, and watch out for your Uncle Henry. He's in a right mood this morning." Mrs Braithwaite warned her niece, who knew all too well of her Uncle's temper.

The stress from the harvest was causing it; he was pretty lovely usually. The farmer's wife had spent all morning preparing for two young children to stay with them, a couple of orphans from the foster home in the city. She loved caring for her dears, as she always called them, but this year, it was just something else to worry about.

"Ugh, tell me about it. Tripped over Meg this morning and nearly had her for breakfast. Isn't that right, Megsy?" (y/n) smiled to her faithful pup, who realised a gruff yap.

She was unbelievably bright, stemming from her fine Border Collie Pedigree. She often acted like she could understand everything her mistress was saying. HoneyDuke was the same, a little slower. Still, she, too, had an unyielding sense of loyalty that made her an asset around the farm, even if Meg was the favourite for herding sheep.

"He's stressed, love. This bloody harvest, I tell you, he--" The kind woman started, trying to enjoy their brief moment of peace so they could gossip about farm life, but alas, it didn't last long.

"Reenie!" They heard the farmer's bellowing voice from outside, and (y/n) frowned in concern at his agitated tone. Whatever had gone wrong must have really upset him.

"Please say it's not the car again." Mrs Braithwaite mumbled as their chairs scraped across the cold stone of the kitchen floor, and they dashed through the house until they could heave open the cottage's wooden door. It wasn't the car, the chickens, or a tractor. It was two children looking like fish out of water; they were totally unprepared for life on the farm, and being met by the anger of an intimidating farmer wasn't helping.

"Oh!" Reenie gasped as she saw the two waifs stand awkwardly with her husband, who undoubtedly gave them a hard time. She hadn't expected them to arrive so soon, and it was hard to stop when the gossiping started. No matter, these two looked polite and well-behaved, just like she had been hoping.

"Look what they've sent us!" The farmer complained, referring to the children and their unusual dress sense. They had grown up in the city and had been hoping for a fresh start or maybe a little adventure in the sleepy village, but so far, their trip hadn't been a roaring success. They'd be moving onto the next home at this rate.

"Oh! Hello, my dears. Sorry, I wasn't here to meet you. I was making up your room and then chatting with my lovely niece. Here she is, say hello, my lovely." Mrs Braithwaite smiled at the three warmly as (y/n) shook hands with her new friends.

"Hiya, I'm (y/n). Oh, and this is Meg, my sheepdog and that is Honeysuckle...my general dog." She introduced herself and giggled as she pondered what her Labrador did apart from being adorable. She collected the morning paper and chewed her bed frame. Was that a job?

"Nice to meet you. I'm Susan. This is my brother, John." The girl replied, and her brother smiled at the young lady who would soon become their closest companion on the farm. Oh, the adventures they would have.

"Willing farm hands!...it says in the letter with an exclamation mark!" Mr Braithwaite read out from the letter the foster home had sent with Susan and John, highlighting that he was none too keen to have two little mischief-makers running around the place when he was so busy.

"Oh, pipe down, Henry." Reenie shushed her grumpy husband, not wanting him to scare the children ten seconds after they had arrived on their doorstep. First impressions count for everything, after all.

"Yeah, Unc, they always put that. It's a joke!" (y/n) laughed off his tetchy mood, knowing that the foster agency loved breaking the ice with their poorly judged humour. It was tradition to have foster children stay at Scatterbrook Farm; surely, her Uncle knew how it worked by now.

"Oooh, have you come as something, dear?" Mrs Braithwaite suddenly remarked as her mind finally registered Susan's shockingly bright and bizarre outfit. She had a cat-themed hoodie, ears on the hood, a tutu skirt, ripped leggings, and boots. Not something that was often seen by the Braithwaites as they tilled their soil and minded the cattle.

"Pardon?" The girl looked down at what she wore and frowned at her new foster carer. She didn't see anything wrong with her quirky outfit, even if it was more suited to the greyscale city and not life on a farm.

"Your costume?" The woman continued, thinking that she was being kind and polite. She didn't mean to insult Susan's fashion, not at all. It was a little usual, (y/n) had to admit it, not that it made her cringe any less.

"Think that's just how Susan likes to dress, auntie." She murmured, but the matter was soon put to bed as her Uncle began to grumble again.

"Well, they're not going to be any help, so they better not be any trouble." He commented harshly, making John bite his lip. he could just tell that their time living in Scatterbrook would be short. The farmer hated them, even if his wife and niece were lovely.

"He's just worried. He wasn't bothered about having kids coming to stay this year. Too much on his plate. The harvest is late, and none of the crops are ready." Mrs Braithwaite explained when she saw the panicked looks on the kid's faces and tried to put their minds at ease.

"Not to mention my lambs. They're still not ready either. We're just better off staying out of his way until this whole mess blows over." (y/n) added and tried to smile warmly. However, she was sure they were also picking up on her worry. This was one of the most brutal years she'd experienced in Scatterbrook, and the poor children had arrived right in the thick of it.

"We'll try to find something for you to do." Reenie chuckled to let it all blow away. Still, being a typical suburban teenager at heart, John had something more pressing on his mind.

"Is there a WiFi code?" He asked Mrs Braithwaite, making (y/n) laugh into her hand. The modern technology of the twenty-first century had quite reached the farm, and trying to find a computer or the internet here was nearly impossible. They had the village library, but even that wasn't great. Life here was about the earth and friendship, the day-to-day struggles of those who worked in the fields, not keyboard tapping and the glare of digital screens.

"A what fi what?" The woman stuttered, having never heard of WiFi before. It sounded vaguely familiar; perhaps it was one of those new-fangled doohickeys the kids played with today.

"A WiFi code." John reiterated, getting a sense of dread in his stomach. What kind of medieval place didn't have WiFi?

"A why what-what?" Mrs Braithwaite shook her head and kitted her eyebrows together in confusion. It would've been clearer if John spoke Swahili as the farmer's wife tried to decipher his words.

"Wireless internet, auntie. And...sorry, John. We've barely got signal up here, let alone WiFi. There's a strong signal in the village, though." (y/n) told the disheartened boy solemnly, making Meg nuzzle her head lovingly into her palm when she sensed her mistress's distress. A scratch behind the ears was needed for this sweet girl.

"Doesn't matter." John sighed in disappointment. This was going to be a long stay.

"Maybe you can throw stones at the crows. How does that sound?" Mrs B suggested, which, out loud, sounded like the most boring job ever thought up. Even (y/n) didn't like that sound, which was pointless. She knew all too well that Scatterbrook was protected by the greatest of scarecrows, so their work would be futile.

"Terrific." Susan nodded slowly, her voice void of any excitement or happiness. Scaring birds wasn't her idea of fun, and (y/n) was determined to make life on the farm more enjoyable for them. She never found it dull, probably because farming was in her blood, and she had a few friends who made her life more exhilarating. She wanted that for the kids, too.

"I'm off up Ten Acre Field in a bit. You can join me if you like, taking the dogs for a walk, checking on my sheep." The young woman smiled at the kids, who perked up slightly. The animals were a bit better, more of what they were expecting, but still not outstanding. Even if the Collie and Lab were cute, they couldn't make crow scaring enjoyable.

"Oh, (y/n). They can start tomorrow...right. In we go. This way, that's it." Mrs B grabbed the children's bags and escorted them into the cottage, where they'd sleep for the next few days, weeks, or months. Maybe they'd only survive one week, perhaps even just a few days, if they annoyed Mr Braithwaite. But maybe they'd meet someone in Scatterbrook with a particular charm and sense of magic that would enchant them into loving it.

True to her word, (y/n) had taken the kids out on their first country ramble. The early evening air was warm but not so stifling that it made the stroll difficult; it was just right. Meg and Honeysuckle were bounding along the dirt lane as Susan and John stomped. The young woman could see they were disappointed at the prickly welcome and was desperate to show them how wonderful life in the countryside could be. She had gone for too long without having someone to talk to apart from her Uncle and auntie, and she just wanted them to stay.

"He doesn't even want us here!" John yelled to his sister as she walked ahead, (y/n) trailing behind the two. The dogs would show them the way; they knew these country roads as well as their owner and had spent many a charming afternoon pouncing for butterflies and rounding up flocks of sheep.

"She said he wasn't bothered." Susan corrected him, wanting to stay positive this time. She was fed up with bouncing from one foster home to the next and was determined to settle down for a stable life. At least, that was the plan. She wasn't sure if Scatterbrook was for them.

"Honeysuckle...wait. Well, I'd say that's an improvement." (y/n) told her new friends as she chatted or occasionally slipped the odd comment into their conversation whilst she kept an eye on her dogs. They were both well trained, but sometimes, the younger would get carried away by the scent of adventure whilst her four-legged companion obediently waited for the group. A quick shout was always enough to reign her in, though.

"I'm tired of being a nuisance everywhere we go...you said this was going to be different," John exclaimed, trying to stop himself from getting too upset. He didn't want to seem like a baby, but he couldn't help but feel that no one wanted them.

"It will be. Honestly, I think this will be good, and if we make ourselves useful, who knows?" His sister replied, hoping to inspire faith in her brother. The Braithwaites were good people and had a lovely home, meaning the young girl was sure they wouldn't have to move again.

"Maybe you won't have to go back." (y/n) added to her hope and put a comforting arm around Susan as the dogs sniffed around their feet. They were coming to Ten Acre Field, and the young woman couldn't wait to see her old friend.

"She thought you were in fancy dress," John smirked at his sister, who still wasn't happy about that. Her outfit was fine, a bit weird, but okay.

"Shut your mouth." She hissed and marched away, pressing to follow the wagging tail of Honeysuckle as she followed the scent of a badger down the country lane.

"What have you come as?" John giggled, prompting (y/n) to bite back a grin. It was funny, especially when Susan got defensive about her tutu.

"Shut your mouth. You're not exactly dressed for life on the farm. Tell him, (y/n)!" The girl looked to her elder for support, but she just shook her head with a small laugh and made her way over the stile of Ten Acre Field. Meg and Honeysuckle shimmied their way under the fence. They excitedly ran through the corn, looking forward to seeing the being that treated them kindly.

Strolling up the hill, the teens took a moment to appreciate the serenity of the swaying crops, stopping only when the figure of a scarecrow in the middle of the field stopped Susan in her tracks.

"Look at that..." She pointed out, making (y/n) smile as they took an interest in the Scarecrow of Scatterbrook, one of her oldest and dearest friends, not that she could ever tell anyone. Who would believe her if she revealed that she had been talking to living scarecrows since she was a little girl? She'd be sectioned for sure.

"Weird," John commented, blinking in surprise when he saw the same man he had seen waving to their taxi as they drove into the village. Only, he wasn't a man. He was just a stuffed dummy hanging from a pole.

"Yeah, creepy." Susan agreed, making the woman beside her prod her ribs with her elbow. He was a little raggedy but creepy, no. Well, maybe. He wasn't strange to her anymore. In fact, he was all too human to her. Perhaps it was just a fleeting fancy of hers, but he was so kind and charming with her that she never thought about the distance between them.

"Hey, he--I mean, it's been here a long time. Less of the creepy." She jokingly scolded them, trying to distance herself from the genuine affection she felt for her wooden friend. Personifying a scarecrow is absolute madness.

"Sorry, no, I mean, I saw it earlier, from the car, but not here." John frowned, igniting a sense of panic in (y/n), but she hid it well. No need to worry. A white lie would brush away John's ideas about seeing a scarecrow move.

"It must have been another one. We have lots of scarecrows in the countryside." She offered, praying it would be enough to dupe him into believing what she was saying. The secret could never be divulged, not by her; she was pushing her luck with their friendship as it was. Two more in the know would surely freak him out.

"You want to see?" She asked the kids, thinking a quick peep at the scarecrow would satisfy their curiosity. Judging by their enthusiastic smiles, they definitely wanted a closer look. She started treading across the field until they reached the tramlines that passed by the scarecrow. A light trampling would be fine. It was particularly amusing to see two dogs occasionally glide over the corn and then disappear into the green sea again as they tried to navigate in the right direction.

"Hm. It's the same one. Same coat." John frowned once he had taken a moment to analyse the figure, from his scuffed boots to his worn army coat and scraggy hat. He was sure that this was the thing waving at him.

"I like him." Susan smiled, thinking that the ruggedness and weather-beaten scarecrow before her had a certain charm that endeared him to her. He had that effect on most people (y/n), really. She was the only human he spoke with, against the rules.

"Yeah, me too. He's always guarded Ten Acre Field ever since I first came here for the summer when I was a little girl." (y/n) smiled fondly and watched a robin disappear under the red army coat.

"Did you see that? A bird!" Susan gasped at how the bird fearlessly flew under their noses as if it knew that the scarecrow would save him if there was any danger.

"Yeah, a robin. There must be a nest in there." John nodded, recognising that familiar rusty tinge that he had always seen on Christmas cards in the city but never in real life. Susan gently stepped forward, under the careful eye of (y/n) and pulled the coat open to reveal that John was right. The robin had built his nest in the inside pocket, and his chicks were still safely tucked up.

"Yeah, chicks." She confirmed and allowed (y/n) to have a closer look since she was the farm girl, not her.

"Odd, I thought all the chicks would've fledged by now." She muttered, fearing it wasn't just her flock affected by whatever was happening. Meg was sniffing around the bottom of the stake whilst Honeysuckle scratched behind her ears, and the young woman bit her lip in concern.

"It's like his heart." John's musings brought her out of her little daydream, and she suddenly remembered that the chicks were still chirping at being exposed as the boy got a good look at them.

"I guess so. We should leave them alone now. We don't want them to get scared," (y/n) told him, carefully putting the coat back where it was initially, taking care not to bash the babies inside.

"That'll be us tomorrow. Scaring crows." John nudged his sister, referring to how they would become real-life scarecrows since they had nothing better to do on the farm. The three giggled at his little joke, but the children were taken aback as a sudden strong wind made the scarecrow wiggle and jolt.

"Oh!" John gasped, stumbling backwards and onto the ground as he thought the dummy would grab him. Why did it seem so lifelike?

"Oh, that made me jump." Susan panted and clutched at her heart as it thumped from the sudden scare. (y/n) rolled her eyes, not at the children, but at how she was almost certain it wasn't entirely the wind that made the pole move.

"Let's go," Susan said to them, immediately walking across the field. She'd had quite enough jump scares for one day. (y/n) John took one more moment to gaze at the scarecrow, and the boy smiled.

"See you later. Look after those chicks." He grinned and walked away, thinking that the country air must've been affecting him. Although, as he walked away, he could swear he heard something or someone reply to him. But perhaps it was just (y/n). After all, she coughed straight after the sound. Yeah, it was nothing, just the wind or a weird cough, that's all.

"I'll have to speak to you tomorrow, Worzel. We have guests at Scatterbrook Farm; you know how it is." (y/n) quickly whispered to her friend, who momentarily opened his eyes to have a peek at her. So, help was staying with his dear lady friend at the farm, eh? How peculiar...

~Later that evening~

The sun had finally set over the rolling hills, and the moon rose in its place. The once-bustling farm had settled for the night as all the animals started snoozing, and the Braithwaites and their guests got ready for bed after supper.

Sitting on her brother's bed, Susan struck a match to light the bedside lamp so she could see what she was doing, but she couldn't find the right place to ignite the gas. It was one of those old-fashioned things from the 1800s, and she was stumped until a nightgown-clad (y/n) wandered to their room to see if they needed anything before the lights went out.

"What are you doing?" She asked the girl, watching in amusement and confusion as she moved the match around, searching for a lighting point.

"I can't...I don't know how to light this." Susan admitted shyly and blew out her match before the flames could lick at her fingers. Seeing that she was struggling, (y/n) crept into the room and crouched next to the bed on the left to flick the switch. They weren't that out of touch with the modern world; they'd never had gas lamps around the house.

"Ohhh. I thought it was..." Susan realised that the cable was an obvious giveaway, and suddenly, she felt a bit stupid for not seeing it sooner.

"It's this bloody electricity lark. Don't worry, though. I'm sure you'll get used to it." She smiled mischievously and moved away from the lamp to pull back the covers from the bed for the girl.

"I did see that scarecrow from the cab, and I can prove it because I filmed it." John suddenly appeared in the doorway just as Susan clambered into bed, and the dogs came rushing in to see what everyone was up to.

They were rarely allowed upstairs; even after hard work, they had boundless energy. However, (y/n) was still preoccupied with the boy's words to worry about her auntie having a fit if she saw them lying on the beds. They'd filmed Worzel? How was she meant to explain that one away?

"Where's my phone? Have you got it?" John asked in alarm as he patted down his coat in search of his most prized possession, but his pockets were empty. His sister looked mildly annoyed at the accusation that she'd touched his belongings when she had her own.

"Why would I have it?" She asked indignantly, reaching out to scratch behind the ears as she lay across the foot of her bed.

"Phone it with yours." Her brother ordered her, making her grab her device from the bedside table whilst (y/n) perched next to her Collie. John listened as the unmistakable noise of a dialling tone quietly filled the room, but there was no ringtone.

Outside, up Ten Acre Field, Worzel Gummidge awoke to the tinkling noise of John's found playing in the crops, which distracted him from his job. Peering around to see if anyone was about, he hopped off his post and parted the corn, plucking the vibrating thing from the soil. He felt he knew where this was from and thought it was best to deliver it in person.

Back in the cottage, John sighed as his sister's phone went caput. "Out of battery. You got a charger?" He asked her, watching as her face dropped in disappointment and annoyance.

"You packed the charger. Tell me you packed the charger." She pleaded, and judging by how the boy dramatically flopped down, that was the case. "Oh, no. What are we gonna do?"

"I'm sure you'll both survive. They might sell them down in the village or the next town over." (y/n) told them kindly and stood up from Susan's bed so the girl could snuggle into the quilt.

"It'll be like the olden days, like the nineties or something," Susan reassured her brother, making the young woman gasp and laugh at her assumption that the nineties were a bygone era. The cheek of the youth of today.

"Hey! I was born in the nineties. It wasn't the Middle Ages, you know." She grinned and laughed with the girl before walking to the doorway, whistling for her dogs. "Meg, Honey, let's go."

"I did see it. I'm not lying," John whispered to the girls as one tried to drift off, and the other stopped in the hallway. She knew he wasn't lying, but it wasn't like she could tell him that he was right and that the scarecrow had come to life.

"We never said you were. Go to sleep." Susan told him, trying to seem like she wasn't fussed about the whole affair, but deep down, she didn't believe him. It must have been a person or trick of the light.

"Night, guys." (y/n) whispered and chuckled like she had done with Susan when she saw John try to blow out the lamp. So, he thought it was gas too, funny. The girl in the opposite bed smiled too and reached beside her bed to where the switch was, killing the light as (y/n) had turned it on.

"Oh." He mumbled and quickly settled down as the girls chuckled. "An easy mistake to make," thought (y/n) as she closed the door and tiptoed down the hall. It was fun to have new faces staying at the farm; she hoped these two stayed for a while.

"Downstairs." She commanded her dogs, who swiftly obeyed her and trotted down the stairs. Mrs Braithwaite wasn't a stickler for neatness, but she refused to have the dogs in the bedrooms, so they always slept in the kitchen.

(y/n) crept into her own room and quickly slid into her bed. Tomorrow would be another day, and for now, she was just happy to get some rest. Still unknown to her, a certain scarecrow was making his way across the farmyard, searching for the owner of the missing phone.

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