Chapter Text
1
The fire in the fireplace had burned down noticeably over the last hour, yet no one had bothered to add another log. It was late, and judging by recent nights, the coming one promised to be short and eventful as well. During lambing season, the three veterinarians from Skeldale House always had their hands full. For weeks, not a single night had passed without at least two calls and the subsequent farm visits.
Exhausted, the men sat on the sofa or in their chairs, drifting closer to sleep by the moment. Helen, who had come down from the bedsit a while ago, wanted to finish the darning she was working on before getting her husband upstairs. James’s chin was visibly sinking toward his chest as he conversed sluggishly with Tristan, who lay stretched out on the floor with a cushion under his head. Lately, he had been plagued by recurring back pain, but he wouldn't dream of letting anyone know. He might confide in Mrs. Hall—she would surely have an ointment or lotion to ease it—but she wasn't home this evening.
"Right, James..." Helen threaded the final stitch. "Get ready to head upstairs."
James groaned. "Can't I sleep down here? I don't know if I can manage all those stairs."
Siegfried, sitting by the fire with his pipe in his mouth and leafing through a magazine, chuckled—he knew he was only third in line for the night ahead. At least there was a chance he might get some sleep until the morning hours before being needed. He glanced over the rim of his spectacles and looked at his partner.
"If Mrs. Hall finds you down here in the dark, she’ll get the shock of her life."
Tristan slowly sat up and leaned against the sofa where Helen was sitting.
"Where is she, anyway?" he asked. After all, the days when she would cycle around late at night, telling people off if their blackout curtains weren't properly closed, were over. Thank goodness.
"Grace Chapman is celebrating her birthday and has invited a small but select group of her closest friends," Helen replied.
"And you don't count as one of them?"
"I said closest friends, not half the county," she said, raising an eyebrow. "The few she invited really are closer to her than I am." She knotted the thread and stuck the needle back into the pincushion. "How is Aud getting home, Siegfried?" she asked then. "Are you picking her up?"
The man in question looked up. "Am I a taxi service?" he asked, only to immediately backtrack when three pairs of eyes fixed pointedly on him. "They’re at the tearoom in Hebden, so it’s not as far as coming down from the Chapman farm."
"Two questions: why the tearoom, and why didn't you offer to pick her up?" Tristan hoisted himself onto the sofa and sank heavily into the cushions.
Siegfried tossed his magazine onto the empty armchair beside him and snatched his glasses off his nose.
"First of all, I did exactly that," he said pointedly. "But I think you know Mrs. Hall as well as the rest of us by now. She doesn't like to be a bother, so I don't expect she'll take anyone up on the offer of a lift." No one could argue with that. "And they chose the tearoom because Mrs. Winter is one of Grace's dearest friends." He cleared his throat. "Her very dearest friend, you might say. She’s hosting the evening."
At that moment, the grandfather clock struck ten. “Right, James. That’s our cue.” Helen stood up and fluffed the cushion she had been leaning against. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. Good night, everyone.”
Grunting, James got to his feet, pushed his chair aside, and listlessly lifted his head to bid the other two good night. Helen made sure he found both the door and the stairs, steering him upward.
Tristan, who had been gazing into the dying fire to mentally and emotionally prepare himself to go to bed as well, eventually looked up. “What do you mean by ‘very dearest friend’?”
Siegfried gave a low, dark laugh but refrained from giving a more explicit answer. His brother had enough experience with women to figure it out for himself.
Tristan frowned as the realization dawned on him. "But she has Tom."
"And how old is he now?"
"Early twenties, I’d say."
Siegfried nodded. "That’s a long time."
"Long enough to change so fundamentally?" Tristan scratched the back of his head. He wasn't really awake enough for a conversation like this.
"Perhaps she hasn't changed at all. But whatever the case, Tristan—what goes on in other people's bedrooms is none of our business."
Tristan snorted. "Sometimes it’s better that way."
"Sometimes? Most of the time. Now, off to bed with you. What is it with you youngsters? Back in my day..." He got no further; the ringing of the telephone shattered the evening silence. Groaning, Tristan let his head sink back against the sofa.
"I'll get it," Siegfried announced, already mentally saying goodbye to the idea of finishing the evening in his armchair by the fireplace. After all, exhausted as both his brother and his partner were, neither of them could possibly get behind the wheel anytime soon. One could only hope the caller was either Mrs. Hall or a farmer with a case that wouldn't take up half the night.
* * *
“Thanks for coming over so quickly, Siegfried.”
Susan Hudson held out her hand after Siegfried had placed his medical bag in the Rover and closed the door.
“Gladys isn’t usually so clumsy.” She smiled apologetically.
He shook her hand and lifted his chin. “The wound wasn’t deep; keep it clean and let me know if it gets infected before I stop by again in two days. And don’t forget to check the grounds for hazards tomorrow. If she’d caught her eye on something, the outcome wouldn’t have been so mild.”
She nodded, painfully aware of that fact.
“Good night, then.” He nodded to her once more before getting into his car and slowly rolling out of the yard. Catching sight of her watching him in the rearview mirror, he immediately pressed harder on the accelerator.
* * *
“I’m tempted to suggest an evening like this a bit more often.”
Meg Winter came out from behind the counter, carrying a freshly filled platter of pigs in blankets. She set it on the table before taking her seat next to Grace and immediately popping one of the appetizers into her mouth. It was a small group that had gathered; besides her, Grace, and Audrey Hall, Phyllis Dalby, Laura Rudd, and Tilda Boyd Campbell were also there.
“We all have a birthday once a year, after all,” Grace grinned. Meg pointed a finger at her.
“Exactly, my dear.” She laughed, then looked around the group. “So, who’s next?”
“That would be me, I suppose,” Laura admitted. “In mid may. Or does anyone have hers before that?”
The others said no, and after Meg got up again to fetch a notebook, everyone took turns in stating their birthdays.
“Is there a milestone one coming up?” she asked afterwards and looked around.
“Mine,” Phyllis admitted reluctantly. “Forty.” She grimaced, prompting Audrey to place a hand on her forearm.
“It’s not as bad as it feels right now,” she said with a small smile. “Actually, you don’t feel any different at all with a four as the first digit.”
Tilda chuckled. “How would you know? The last time you had a four as the first digit, you were four years old!”
Audrey blushed. “That’s not quite right,” she interjected. “Actually... for my last birthday, there were two fours.”
Laura Rudd wrinkled her nose. “You aren’t eighty yet, are you?”
Grace burst out laughing at that and quickly apologized. “I think I’ve had one sherry too many.”
“What about me?” chuckled Laura, who didn’t take offense at what had just happened. Meg placed her palms on the table and used them for support as she stood up. "One more round before we call it a day?"
None of the ladies objected, and once they all had a glass of sherry in hand, they toasted one another.
"To Grace," said Meg. "And to many more birthday rounds."
"To Grace," came the unanimous reply. "And to many more birthday rounds!"
It wasn't long after that before everyone except Grace and Meg began getting ready to leave.
"And you're sure we shouldn't help tidy up a bit here?" asked Audrey, having buttoned her blazer and put on her gloves. It might be april—and, for a change, not raining—but the nights were still cold and sometimes quite biting, thanks to the wind blowing down from the heights into the dales. And it would be a while yet before she was back in the warmth and could snuggle into her bed.
"Absolutely," Grace assured her. "The least I can do to repay Meg for the evening is help her clean up. And whatever we don't finish tonight, we'll do tomorrow morning."
Audrey stepped forward and hugged her friend. "Have a cozy rest of the evening, then, and thanks for the invitation."
Meg stepped up beside her. "You'll all get back safely, won't you?" she asked, looking at the four departing women in turn; they, in turn, glanced at one another.
"Oh, yes. We'll just walk along the river," said Laura Rudd. "And I can cycle from Darrowby. Phyllis, you'll cycle part of the way with me, won't you?"
"With you? Not a chance." Phyllis linked arms with her, and, laughing, they were the first to leave the tearoom.
“We’ll have to organize this a bit better next time,” Grace remarked as Tilda and Audrey said their goodbyes. On the way there, the birthday girl had picked up her guests in her truck, but hadn’t considered that she wouldn’t be driving back.
“I’m sure we’ll come up with something,” Audrey said confidently. “See you later, Grace… Meg. It was a lovely evening!” She smiled at both women, then hurried to catch up with the others. She wasn’t too keen on the idea of walking along the river in the dark, but it would be fine; it was only a few miles to Darrowby, after all. She had barely taken a few steps when she heard Laura and Phyllis giggling. Tilda linked her arm through hers.
“Do you think those two ought to be riding bikes?” she mused.
“The night air will sort them out,” Audrey said with conviction. “Though we really ought to… Oh.” Only then did she see the reason for the other two’s excitement. Phyllis was just turning around to face her.
“I think you’re catching a ride, Audrey!” She grinned, the tip of her tongue flashing briefly. Audrey knew all too well what she was implying, and she resolved to bring it up and set the record straight at the first opportunity.
Tilda nudged her. “Yours?” she asked, though she let her gaze wander unabashedly over Siegfried Farnon as he leaned against the Rover. She knew him only by sight from a distance, as she owned no pets and didn’t live on a farm. She had heard plenty about him, however, and seeing him leaning there now, she believed every word.
“My boss,” Audrey said firmly, stepping away from her to approach him. “What are you doing here? And how long have you been waiting?”
Siegfried shrugged. “Not long. I was on my way back from seeing a patient.” He surveyed the colorful group with a hint of amusement. “If the ladies don’t mind squeezing into the back seat, I’d like to invite you to get in now.” He gallantly opened the car door. “I believe the two bicycles standing in the yard at Skeldale belong to you?”
It took a while for Phyllis, Laura, and Tilda to arrange themselves in a way that made the short drive feasible. There was plenty of laughter, which didn’t subside even when the driver’s seat was tilted back, making things even more cramped.
Audrey, still standing in the street waiting to get in, looked over the roof of the car and at Siegfried.
“What?” he asked quietly. “Would you have preferred to walk?”
“I would have preferred if we’d discussed this beforehand,” she replied just as quietly. “It looks as though you’ve been waiting for hours to escort me back.”
“Pish. I haven’t been standing here for even fifteen minutes, and I only stopped because I saw through the windows that you were all getting ready to leave.” He gestured behind him, and Audrey’s gaze followed the movement of his hand. When he saw her expression shift and a faint, barely perceptible smile play upon her lips, he turned around. His eyes widened, and a few seconds later, he lowered his head.
As he had already told Tristan, what went on in other people’s bedrooms was none of his business—not even when one could merely guess at a kiss taking place behind drawn curtains.
“Mrs. Hall!” His voice cracked. He would never have imagined she would watch, so unabashedly, something he himself considered one of the most intimate moments shared between two people.
Audrey blinked and tore her gaze away from the scene they had inadvertently witnessed. The faint tingle inside her vanished. “Mmh?”
“That is a private moment!” His brows rose, and their eyes locked for a brief instant.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “Let’s be off... And, Mr. Farnon?”
“Yes?”
Audrey smiled. “Thank you. For picking us up.”
Siegfried gave a curt nod and said nothing more on the matter. It was getting late.
* * *
“And the ladies are sure they can make it home savely?”
Siegfried watched as Phyllis and Laura wheeled their bicycles towards the courtyard exit and prepared to mount.
“We’ll manage somehow,” Phyllis called out and rode off, followed—in a similarly wobbly fashion—by Laura Rudd. They were unsteady for the first few meters but soon found their balance, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Do they have far to go?” asked Tilda, who had just unfolded herself from the Rover. She smoothed down her skirt and adjusted her felt hat.
“Not too far,” said Audrey. “About twenty minutes; the two farms aren't far apart. Will you be all right getting home, or shall I walk with you?”
“And then I’ll walk back with you, and we play this little game until it’s finally light out? No, I’m fine. Thanks for the lift!” She leaned forward and gave Audrey a quick peck on the cheek. “See you later!”
“See you then,” Audrey nodded, and together with Siegfried, she waited until Tilda had disappeared around the corner. The clatter of her heels on the cobblestones echoed for a few seconds longer, then all way quiet again.
“I must confess, she’s the only one I don’t know,” Siegfried said as they went into the house.
“Tilda? She took over the haberdashery on Moor Lane about a year ago. You rarely get over that way, I imagine.”
“Rarely?” he exclaimed. “I’ve never been there!”
“There you are. No wonder you don’t know her.” Audrey placed her handbag on the kitchen table and carefully removed her hat. She slipped the two pins that had held it in place into her blazer pocket so they wouldn’t get lost. “Another cup of tea?” she asked, reaching for the kettle.
“Sounds wonderful, Mrs. Hall.” As she put the kettle on, he placed two cups and the bulbous brown teapot on the table. "How was the evening?" he asked. "To Grace’s satisfaction, I assume?" A brief glint appeared in his eyes—something Audrey didn’t miss.
"How do you know?" she asked as they sat facing each other, a steaming cup of tea before each of them. The kitchen was bathed in a warm glow; the lamp in Audrey’s corner provided just enough light for a late-night conversation between two people who had known and cared for each other for years.
"I possess eyes, a brain, and common sense. Besides, I’ve known Grace for decades. I was more surprised by the existence of Tom than by the friendship with Mrs. Winter. Neither situation makes life any easier for her, one would think." He looked at Audrey curiously. "The church isn't exactly thrilled about it."
"So how could I be you mean?" Audrey leaned back.
"I didn't say that. I know you have a big heart and open it to pretty much anyone. Deserving or not."
"I can't imagine what Grace could have done to make her undeserving of my friendship." Her tone sharpened slightly. "It certainly isn't the presence of Tom and Meg in her life."
Siegfried held up his hands. "I didn't mean to imply that."
"Then what did you mean to imply?"
He snorted and decided to let it drop. His lingering fatigue and her irritability—whatever its source, likely the sherry—did not make for a good conversation. "I think for tonight, we should just finish our tea and then turn in," he said. "I didn't intend to stir up any controversy."
Audrey narrowed her eyes, and for a moment, Siegfried felt uneasy. Only when she gave a brief nod did he breathe easily again.
“It’s been decided to repeat this evening,” she said a moment later, deliberately changing the subject. “Whenever a birthday comes up.”
He looked up. “But hopefully not over in Hebden every time? I mean… if four ladies have to make their way home in the dark afterwards, you ought to think of an alternative. I won’t just happen to be passing by every time.”
“Won’t you?” Now it was her turn to shoot him a sharp look. “But I bet you could arrange it.”
“Well… perhaps,” he admitted reluctantly, and a smile flitted across her face. “But you’re also welcome to invite the ladies here.”
“So that five people have to make their way through the night afterwards?” She raised an eyebrow meaningfully. Since she was looking straight at him, she could see the exact moment the penny dropped and he had to admit the flaw in that suggestion. He shifted uncomfortably.
“There’s still a bit of time before the next birthday,” Audrey said, letting him off the hook. “I’m sure we’ll find a solution by then.”
“Good… good… Good… Oh no.” Siegfried slumped back in his chair and tilted his head back as he heard the telephone ring. “Not good.”
"I’ll get it." Audrey pushed back her chair and was about to stand up when the ringing stopped, so she stayed seated. "Either the cow’s dropped dead, or James has answered the call up in the bedsit."
"Suits me either way," Siegfried said, and she chuckled.
Less than a minute later, footsteps could be heard in the hallway.
"Helen," Audrey said, with the certainty that comes from living with someone for years.
"Aud, you’re back!" the young woman exclaimed. "Was it good?" If she was surprised to find Siegfried in the kitchen too, she didn’t show it—though, in truth, it didn’t surprise her. He was usually to be found wherever Audrey was.
"It was good." Audrey allowed herself to remain seated. Helen could make her husband a sandwich and ready a thermos in case he was out for a while.
"Who called?" Siegfried asked.
"Cranford." Helen’s voice made it clear exactly what she thought of the man.
"Oh, good lord. He’s still holding that grudge because of the ointment against us, after all these years."
The corners of Audrey’s mouth twitched. "They say some people have the memory of an elephant," she remarked with a slightly teasing undertone. "I know a few like that myself."
"Oh, really?" He looked at her curiously. "Who?"
Helen laughed. "I think she means you, Siegfried."
"Me?" He tapped his chest indignantly.
"Well, except when you forget what you’ve just done or where you’ve put something down. You might say you’ve mastered both extremes, Mr. Farnon."
"So that’s the reward I get for saving you from having to walk back from Hebden in the middle of the night."
"My memory goes back far enough to know that I’ve already thanked you for that."
"Ah. Right. You’re right."
“Of course I am.”
James came through the short hallway connecting the main house to the annex and stumbled into the kitchen. “You two can be heard three corridors away.” He rubbed his eyes. Siegfried guessed he couldn’t have managed more than two hours of sleep. But that was simply life as a country vet in the Dales. Next week it would be Tristan’s turn to suffer, and the week after that, his own. It was a privilege he couldn’t value highly enough—being able to share this burden among three pairs of shoulders. He would make a point of thanking Mrs Hall again for practically foisting Herriot on him all those years ago.
As he emerged from his thoughts, James was just taking the thermos flask from Helen and tucking it under his arm.
“Take care of yourself,” Helen said softly, placing her hands on his chest so she could rise on her tiptoes for a goodbye kiss. James met her halfway and kissed her.
“You too,” he said just as quietly.
“On my way back to the bedsit?” They laughed, then walked arm in arm to the door leading out to the yard. Helen would wave after him, as always. It had become a little ritual between them.
Siegfried—whose gaze had been resting on Audrey, who in turn hadn’t been able to take her eyes off the young couple—cleared his throat softly. It was the second time recently he had seen that gentle yet slightly melancholic expression on her face, and it gave him pause. Without a doubt, two to six sherries were to blame for this openness. He leaned forward.
“Are you quite alright, Mrs Hall?”
“I miss it.” She turned her head towards him with a smile, then suddenly realized what had inadvertently slipped out, and her eyes widened in horror. But Siegfried had already understood. He swallowed, yet before he could say a word, she had pushed back her chair and jumped to her feet. "I think I’ll call it a night. Good night, Mr. Farnon."
"Good night!" he called after her, but she was already on her way upstairs. She had left her hat on the table, along with her handbag—both signs that her mind was elsewhere. Siegfried carefully placed the items on her desk, then began clearing the table and washing the used cups.
"Where’s Audrey?" Helen returned to the kitchen, bringing a breath of the night’s chill with her. She rubbed her upper arms, her mind already turning towards her bed.
“She’s gone upstairs.” Siegfried didn’t look up; instead, he focused entirely on not dropping the china he was holding.
“Sounds like it was an enjoyable evening,” she laughed. “You need that sort of thing now and then—you can’t just sit in the living room darning socks every night and see the same faces day in day out. Goodnight, Siegfried.” She patted his shoulder as she walked past, and he let his arms drop to his sides.
Her words, spoken so casually, gave him food for thought and stayed on his mind for quite some time.