Chapter Text
Siegfried rounded the top of the first-floor staircase at Skeldale, freshly dressed and ready to tackle whatever the day held. A heady urge to take the stairs two at a time on the way down flared within him and he suppressed it. He may have felt thirty years younger this morning but there was no need to push his luck.
Was it really only last night his entire life had changed? It seemed impossible the universe could shift in such a short time. Even the quality of light filtering through the sitting room window was brighter, the birdsong in the garden as he passed the dispensary sweeter. Had this little planet been drawn closer to the sun whilst he slept?
Siegfried knew as well as any man of his approximate age that life could upend itself in the blink of an eye: a shell’s impact, a doctor’s diagnosis, a call from Singapore. He had come to expect, despite long stretches of relative contentment, the end of each individual thing that made him happy.
It wasn’t often that a cataclysm changed things for the better. The harried events of last night, however, had put a few decided marks in that column.
Audrey still loved him—well, loved him at all. He had never really dared believe it years ago, despite a suspicion that had first kindled at her every retort, later guttered to life when she’d kissed him and finally burned into his bones at the train station when she’d left.
She wanted to return, to be with him, to marry him. It truly beggared belief that such a magical woman held the riotous mess that was Siegfried Farnon in her heart. As he passed through the dusty halls of the home she had left behind it was easy to wonder if it had all been a luxurious, hopeless dream.
But despite the way he occasionally retreated from reality by pulling his feathers around him until he could face daylight again, Siegfried was a rational man, by nature if not always in behavior. He gathered facts and used them to make sound assessments. What had happened last night was clear beyond any shadow of a doubt. In any case, a failure of his judgment would be sufficed by hers, which he knew to be impenetrable. She had said it, and he believed her.
The one sobering thought in Siegfried’s mind was that he owed James and Helen an apology. Now that his resistance had washed away he could see how bullheaded he’d been, how lonely. He had missed Audrey like a starving man for bread; it had changed the way he’d lived, worked, slept. At the time he thought he’d been coping. But he’d just felt worse with time instead of better. In the end he’d made life difficult for the Herriots and pushed them away with his self-pity. It was inexcusable.
Perhaps one day he could convince them to return. Perhaps Audrey would help him find a way. There was nothing she couldn’t do. She really was magnificent.
He itched to jump into the Rover and drive back to Sunderland right now. In the few moments of privacy they’d stolen before he’d left last night, Siegfried had promised to return soon—and begged Audrey for a short engagement.
Don’t make me wait, he’d told her, pressing his lips to her palm.
The hungry way she’d kissed him then had made him wonder if he wasn’t the only one in a rush.
Before Tris ships out again, she’d said, her voice breathless but somehow all business, too. Now shift.
Lord, how the woman kissed. He could live off that alone.
On cue, his stomach rumbled. Well, Audrey’s kisses and eggs, perhaps. And toast. He’d tackle a fry up this morning—probably have to scrub a pan first but no matter. Enough food for Tristan, too. Who, Siegfried was surprised to note as he approached the kitchen, was already up. Another miracle!
Before he could call out a cheerful greeting, Siegfried was assailed by the sense that something in the kitchen was different. He stopped abruptly just over the threshold, trying to pinpoint what it was.
“Morning,” Tristan grumbled, toying with the belt of his dressing gown.
Siegfried turned his attention to his brother. He didn’t look ready to seize the day; on the contrary, he slouched in his chair, a scowl on his lips. Not terribly out of the ordinary when Siegfried was around. Still, the air attached to him was one of overall gloom.
“What’s got you so down in the mouth? Overdid it at the Drovers again?”
Tristan ignored the questions and shot back one of his own, accusation in his voice.
“Did you screw it up?”
Siegfried blanched. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“She’s not here.”
Ah, thought Siegfried, eyes sparkling. So Tristan had figured where he had gone to last night, and why. Siegfried didn’t know why he was surprised. Tristan was a clever lad—and it wasn’t as if Siegfried had been particularly subtle about it.
“What did you think I was going to do,” he scoffed, striding to the cupboard to make coffee, “truss her and toss her in the back of the Rover?”
Tristan raised his eyebrows. “I certainly hadn’t ruled it out.”
Suddenly it occurred to Siegfried what was different about the kitchen. He swiveled around, coffee tin in hand.
“Hang on. It’s… clean in here. Cleaner, anyway.”
Surfaces were free of clutter, the sink was empty, and there was, significantly, no hint of rat activity.
“Helen, James and I put in a fair bit of work after you left,” Tristan said. He was looking down at the table, a boyish lock of auburn hanging over his forehead.
Siegfried turned to face his brother, unexpectedly touched. “Oh. That’s—”
“We didn’t want her returning to utter devastation,” Tristan added sourly. “She would have turned around and walked right back out.”
Siegfried had not thought that far ahead, but now his mind presented him with the image of Audrey encountering the kitchen in yesterday’s state. It would not have been pretty.
“That’s a good point. She probably would have.”
“Your rats are back in their cages, by the way.”
“Thank you.” Siegfried’s face shone with warmth.
Tristan eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t look unhappy.”
“I’m not.”
“What happened, then?”
Siegfried had been looking forward to this moment, but now that it was here he realized how shocking it would be. How would Tristan react? With a nervous tug on his waistcoat, Siegfried beamed, “She agreed to marry me.”
Tristan’s eyes grew slowly wider. He straightened in his chair and leaned forward. It was the posture of wary disbelief.
“What?”
Siegfried gave a quick, shy nod. It’s true.
Then Tristan was a blur, up and hurling himself at his brother. Siegfried barely got a look at the joy splitting the boy’s face before he was enveloped in a crushing hug.
“Siegfried, you old dog!” Tristan cried. “You absolute star!”
Siegfried gripped him back, grinning from ear to ear. Tristan’s happy energy had always been more than infectious. It was intoxicating. That was why Siegfried usually resisted it so stubbornly; if he didn’t, everyone in a mile radius would be swept away. Today there was no reason to resist. My God, he thought, this is really happening.
When Tristan pulled away, gripping Siegfried by the shoulders, they were both a little teary.
“You’re all right with it, then?”
“All right?” Tristan sputtered. “Are you insane? She’s an angel among women. Gaia incarnate. The only thing that worries me is her mental state to have accepted you. Hell, if I were twenty years older—”
A bleary laugh escaped Siegfried in spite of himself. “Yes, yes. I get it.” He looked down, unsure. Tristan waited. He really had grown into quite a good listener.
“You and I,” Siegfried continued. The words came out slow and halting. “We’re the only ones who remember her. Sometimes I feel like—”
“Don’t think it for a moment, brother,” Tristan said firmly. “She would be so happy for you. You know that.”
Siegfried nodded. He did know. Evelyn would have been appalled, probably, at him having waited so long to move on. But it was good to hear it from Tristan, to have it confirmed that he wasn’t just believing what he wanted to believe because he had fallen in love again.
Tristan let out one of his rough-chested laughs.
“This is so weird!” he exclaimed. “Now you have to tell me everything. How long has this been going on?”
Siegfried exhaled and raised his eyebrows, still in disbelief on some level. “Well, it never really went on. There were… feelings,”—Tristan grimaced humorously at this—“but I wanted more than Audrey could give at the time. She was worried about the scandal.”
“Scandal!” Tristan cried with the easy disregard only the young could possess. “Who cares?”
Siegfried’s expression turned serious. “She does,” he said emphatically. “It’s important to her. That’s why we’re going to do things the right way. She won’t be moving back in here until we’re married.”
“And when will that be?”
“Well, that largely depends on you.”
Tristan was nonplussed, like he was surprised to find himself in the room. “Me?”
“How long your leave is.”
“Aw, brother,” Tristan replied, laughing again with what struck Siegfried as cautious self-effacement, “I’m honored you even want me there. Or no, you mean you’ll wait until I’ve gone to do it, don’t you?”
Siegfried had taken a turn for the sentimental now. He would not be put off by humor.
“It’s not an exaggeration to say none of this would have happened if not for you.”
“No idea what I did,” Tristan replied with a little bow, “but I’ll take the credit anyway. Always happy to help.”
“I don’t just mean last night. But thanks for that, by the way.” Siegfried looked at his brother fondly. It suddenly felt very important that the boy understand his role.
Tristan said wryly, “I feel a speech coming.”
“Oh, would you shut up and listen,” Siegfried spat, but then softened. “We are a family, Tristan. You, me and her. But it came about in reverse, you see. Usually two people fall in love, and then if children come along that love grows to include them. Audrey and I both loved you first, and that grew into love for each other. It’s all because of you.”
Tristan sobered as Siegfried spoke, his lips suspiciously quivery. His breezy facade looked set to crack.
“Besides,” Siegfried added, “I can’t get married without my best man.”
This time Tristan didn’t so much embrace Siegfried as collapse against him, shoulders shaking. Siegfried held him close. I may have laid it on a little thick, he thought, eyes soft.
But as sobs began to wrack the boy—no, not a boy, of course not; a man, a soldier, someone Siegfried was proud to call a brother—Siegfried, with the sixth sense all parents possess, intuited that there was more affecting Tristan than just this morning’s surprise. A well of pain existed within him and Siegfried had unwittingly tapped it. Siegfried squeezed his eyes shut and tucked Tristan against the warm skin of his neck, as he had when his brother had been very small. It was the way the most instinctive fathers soothed their children, sheltering them in the darkness of their own bodies. For long minutes Tristan came undone, clutching handfuls of the back of Siegfried’s jacket, and Siegfried did his best to weather the waves of pain washing over them both.
Eventually Tristan calmed into the occasional sniffle. Siegfried didn’t move back yet.
“You all right?”
Tristan nodded against him and pulled away, wiping his face. “Yeah.”
“Want to talk about it?” Siegfried said cautiously, a hand still on Tristan’s shoulder as if he’d float away otherwise. He would not let his brother languish in silence as he had after the first war, as so many soldiers had to their unending detriment. He would dig out by the roots whatever was hurting Tristan and strangle it himself.
Tristan let out a watery laugh, mischief back in his eyes already. He seemed lighter. “The only thing I want to talk about is this miraculous development. Can I tell Jim and Helen?”