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Helen awoke slowly to dim light from the little window next to the bed. Raising her head, she saw it had snowed during the night. The room was quiet; the children and James slept on. Figuring she had about another hour before the day began, she turned towards James and burrowed into him, enjoying his solid warmth.
After Christmas they had decided to move back to Skeldale with the children. Richard was getting on with Tom as his farmhand so Helen felt less need to be at Heston Grange on a day-to-day basis.
The bedsit was tight for the four of them but no less space than they’d had at the farmhouse. Besides, it was warmer, and living in the center of Darrowby was convenient for James, not to mention tempting for Helen. She’d missed it in the years away.
And Jimmy loved Skeldale. He had little friends in town, loved helping his Auntie Audrey in the kitchen and held a special affinity for his Uncle Siegfried that sometimes baffled Helen but she didn’t begrudge either of them.
Most importantly, the atmosphere at Skeldale had thawed considerably of late. Audrey’s return had restored a certain balance, and Siegfried had mellowed in her calming presence. It was an inviting place again.
Helen found herself very quickly reconsidering all of this as her eyes flew open at the sound of a loud, unintelligible male yell. It wasn’t Siegfried. His bombast was routine enough that she probably would have slept through it.
James tensed beside her and threw his legs over the side of the bed.
“Was that Tristan?” she asked blearily, peering across the space at the children, who hadn’t stirred.
“I don’t know,” he said, pulling on his dressing gown. “Stay here.”
Helen propped herself on an elbow, unaccountably worried, as James made his way down the stairs. On the one hand, what nefarious happenings could occur in Darrowby? On the other, if anything nefarious were to happen, she should be at James’s back (or, better, he at hers).
After a moment there was more yelling. Now that was Siegfried, and at a familiar decibel and officiousness level. Helen relaxed. Murmurs followed but no more outbursts. Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, Helen donned her own dressing gown, checked the children again and tiptoed downstairs.
She followed voices down the hall towards the back of the house. When she rounded the corner she saw her husband leaning against the doorway into the kitchen, his arms crossed in front of him and posture relaxed. As she had surmised, there was nothing seriously amiss. Helen padded up behind him and ran a hand up his warm back. He turned to her, smiling, and motioned into the kitchen with his head. Helen peered around him.
Siegfried was seated at the table, reading a newspaper over his breakfast; Tristan stood in the middle of the room in his dressing gown; and Audrey was occupied at the sink. None of these things were unusual. But the manic gleam in Tristan’s eye as he approached the doorway was, Helen had to admit, slightly out of place.
“Helen, you’re here!” he exclaimed. “The joy continues to multiply!”
“Tris, what’s got you so happy this fine morning?” Helen asked bemusedly. He was an excitable one, to be sure, but his energy was off the charts even by his standards. Had something happened with Charlotte?
“Helen,” Tristan said in a hushed voice, pulling her into the kitchen by the shoulders. “What would be the greatest thing that could ever happen, in your opinion? In the entire world, across time?”
“What are you on about?”
“Tristan,” Siegfried called, with a little more force than was necessary, even for him, “do shut up.”
Audrey had yet to turn around.
“Let me set the scene,” said Tristan, undeterred. “A handsome young veteran of the second Great War finds himself awake at an ungodly hour of the morning, dehydrated,” he said, screwing up his face and gesturing to himself dramatically, “famished—probably from all his heroics overseas, which have had a lasting impact on his constitution—craving nothing but a bit of coffee and toast. He descends into the bowels of his home, quieter than he apparently realizes—also a product of impeccable military training—and comes upon what in his own kitchen?”
Helen, immeasurably entertained, raised her eyebrows. Siegfried heaved a sigh behind his newspaper and Audrey scrubbed an already-clean dish a little harder in the sink.
“These two,” Tristan crowed, hands pointing to both Siegfried and Audrey, “kissing!”
Helen’s jaw hit the floor.
“Get out.”
She gaped at the culprits, who were both trying very hard to act normally but had obviously been caught unprepared for this situation. There was a kind of comic dignity about them, and in addition to being gobsmacked—and delighted, of course—she also felt a twinge of sympathy. Who could ever be prepared for Tristan?
So many questions swirled through her mind. She’d known Siegfried was in love, of course (anyone with eyes did) and had begun to have her suspicions about Audrey, too, but both of them were so skittish—how had this happened? And when? Before Christmas?
“It’s true!” exclaimed Tristan. His face was lit with more than just glee at embarrassing his brother. In fact, Helen would have sworn his eyes were glistening. “They’re in love!”
With a whoop, Tristan crossed to Audrey, wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up. As if he were displaying a prized cricket trophy, he strutted her around the room.
“I didn’t think he would ever do it! You are in the presence of a miracle, ladies and gentlemen!”
Audrey slapped Tristan on the shoulders. “Tristan Farnon, put me down this instant!” But she was laughing, color in her cheeks. She looked joyful, and years younger.
Tristan obliged with a smacking kiss to her cheek and a jaunty arm thrown around her shoulder. Audrey ran a hand over her hair and avoided eye contact with Helen and James, who looked more amused than Helen had ever seen him.
“What do you mean by that?” Siegfried said indignantly, abandoning the pretense of reading the newspaper. “You didn't think I would ever do it.”
Tristan threw his head back and laughed. His barrel chest shook infectiously. “Siegfried, we all know you’ve loved her for years.”
“Nonsense!” Siegfried twisted around in his chair towards James and Helen. “Is that true?”
James cleared his throat and made a tactful, ambiguous sort of gesture with his hands but Helen was not so delicate.
“Near as makes no odds,” she said. “You’re not exactly subtle.”
“And you all just spend your spare time speculating about us, do you?” he groused.
This was absolutely the case but Helen felt it was unkind to admit it, so she simply pressed her lips together in a display of restraint. With a hearty harrumph, Siegfried redonned his armor of newsprint.
“Well, it were long enough for me to catch on, too,” Audrey said with a shy smile.
Siegfried said nothing but Helen could see the pleased crease at the corner of his eye.
“This is the greatest day of my life,” Tristan said, suddenly and exaggeratedly serious. He moved away from Audrey and paced about the room, propelled by restless energy. “It is quite possibly the greatest day anyone has ever lived. I am going to personally inform each and every person in Darrowby so I can witness them have the greatest day of their lives. And then I’ll tell all the animals.”
It was a one-man show, made all the more entertaining for the fact that Tristan, for once, did not seem to be performing.
“Do I still call you Mrs. H?” he said earnestly, regarding Audrey with wide eyes. “I can’t possibly call you Audrey, can I? That would be quite an adjustment for me, let me tell you. Or!” His eyes lit up even further. “Will it be Mrs. F?! Have you asked her yet, Siegfried? My God, get on with it!”
Siegfried’s newspaper slapped down to the table again. He looked frustrated and embarrassed enough to cause an aneurysm.
“You have committed a veritable bounty of ridiculous acts in your life, Tristan, but you will not propose on my behalf. I can handle that perfectly well myself.”
Every head in the room swiveled towards him like a shot, including Audrey’s. Tristan looked on the verge of fainting from happiness. Siegfried’s eyes fell closed at the farcical corner into which he’d backed himself.
“Everyone out!” he bellowed.
Tristan bent down and took Siegfried’s face in his hands as if the latter weren’t seriously considering violence.
“I’ll plan everything, dear brother. You leave it to me. Tricki-woo will be ring bearer!”
“Out!” Siegfried shouted directly into his face.
*
The mood for the rest of the day was a bit tense but not nearly as uncomfortable as Helen had expected. Siegfried and Audrey both seemed determined to act as if nothing had happened, and the Herriots respected that choice. Tristan wore a constant, satisfied smile but, amazingly, kept his thoughts to himself. Probably formulating his next avenue of attack, Helen thought. Although he did seem genuinely delighted. It really was a wonderful development all around.
Around nine o’clock that evening Helen and James trudged in from a rare dinner alone at the Drovers. Shivering, Helen stomped her boots on the mat inside the front door.
“‘Tis the coldest January I remember, no two ways about it,” she said.
“Give me your coat.” James strode down the hall to hang his and Helen’s things, glancing into the parlor as he passed. From the coat rack he shot Helen a loaded look and brought his finger to his lips. Be quiet. Helen tiptoed towards him.
Warm firelight beckoned from the parlor, and as Helen looked inside she saw Audrey and Siegfried sitting together on the sofa in contented silence, their backs to her. They weren’t any closer together than they normally would be but there was something intimate about the scene. Or perhaps Helen was just seeing with fresh eyes what had always been there.
She and James were quietly mounting the stairs when Siegfried called—
“Oh, for God’s sake, get in here!”
After exchanging a bemused glance the Herriots strode into the parlor as if they had intended to all along.
“Hello!” Helen said. “Enjoying your evening?”
She noticed they were holding hands on the sofa between them, Siegfried’s thumb running slowly over the back of Audrey’s hand. It was such a sweet sight, actual tears sprang to Helen’s eyes. She was so blasted happy for them.
“It’s been perfectly lovely,” said Audrey, her color a little high. She was clearly flustered but made no move to withdraw her hand. “The children are fast asleep. Siegfried thoroughly tuckered them out with a game of Sardines.”
Siegfried. It sounded at once strange and entirely natural from Audrey.
“Jimmy is alarmingly good at it,” he said. “The boy has preternatural senses. How was dinner?”
“I am full of shepherd’s pie,” said James, and sat heavily. Helen took the other chair.
The four of them enjoyed a comfortable, quiet reverie for a few moments, Helen stealing occasional glances at the sofa. This felt like such a natural extension of their everyday lives. Of course Audrey and Siegfried were in love. Very little would change.
As often happened, Siegfried was the one to break the silence.
“This morning, I didn’t mean to act as if there were anything to hide,” he said haltingly. He seemed to be addressing Audrey as well as Helen and James. Audrey squeezed his hand with a smile and he relaxed, reassured. It was far from the first wordless display Helen had seen pass between them. “There isn’t. I was just unprepared. That was not exactly how I envisioned introducing us to the world.”
“No,” Audrey agreed with a rueful laugh. “But Tris does know how to make things interesting.”
“We’re hardly the world, Siegfried,” said Helen. “You can introduce yourselves any way you like, out there. But in here it’s just family, innit?”
She and Siegfried exchanged a warm look. They had never discussed Helen and James’s prolonged absence from Skeldale or their reasons for returning, not directly. In Siegfried’s expression Helen read both apology and gratitude—she suspected her own face might read the same.
“That it is,” he said.
“Amen,” added Audrey.
“Amen!” announced Tristan loudly from the hall.
“Good God, man!” Siegfried exclaimed, twisting to face him. “How on earth have you learned to be so bloody quiet? You’re like a panther.”
“Yes, an exotic jungle cat is exactly how the Sicilian signorinas used to describe me,” drawled Tristan, hanging his coat on the rack and entering the parlor. He’d been at the Drovers too, although he’d kept separate company from the Herriots, and was just a bit tipsy. “You’re not the first to notice my feline qualities.”
Siegfried looked him up and down and scowled.
“Spreading your good news all over town, then, were you?”
“Well,” Tristan sighed, “after some consideration, and a not-insignificant amount of personal disappointment, I have decided that it isn’t really my place to divulge your romantic minutiae, however entertaining, to the community at large. Your wanton and salacious exploits are common knowledge in this town, Siegfried—forgive me, Mrs. H, but if you don’t know what you’re getting into by now then there’s no helping you—”
“Tristan!” Siegfried sputtered as James and Helen stifled laughs. Even Audrey pressed her lips against a smile and earned a glare for it.
“But,” Tristan continued, “I could not bring myself to defile Mrs. H’s reputation in such an appalling way. I cannot guarantee prolonged silence, as I am only human, but you both have my blessing regarding how you choose to announce yourselves.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
“I thought so!”
Audrey saw through the comic antics to the blessing the young man was really giving.
“Thank you, love.”
Tristan smiled in return, his big heart on display. He rounded the sofa and considered its occupants.
“Am I forgiven? May I snuggle with Mummy and Daddy?”
Helen and James lost the battle with laughter as Tristan plopped down between Siegfried and Audrey, forcing them to break their hands apart.
“Oh, come off it!” Siegfried grumbled. He crossed his arms and legs, leaning away from his brother. “I suppose your restraint dissolves the moment you step foot in this house.”
Helen sank back into her chair, soothed by the familiar patter between the brothers. Their conflict contained far less bite than it used to, especially since the war had ended. Now that the family was drawing even closer in new ways, they would doubtlessly find new ways to both respect and provoke each other.
“Only,” Tristan said, snatching Siegfried’s whiskey from the table, holding it in a winking toast to James and Helen, then downing it in one, “human.”