Chapter Text
Robert died the next afternoon, clean and shaved, hair and nails trimmed.
The vicar of St Felix’s, also a veteran of the Great War, was very understanding and Robert, who had been baptised there, was buried beside his parents in the churchyard. Only Audrey, Dorothy, and Siegfried, who had insisted on coming back for the funeral and driving her home, had stood beside the grave in the spring rain.
Audrey and Siegfried talked very little as they left Scarborough behind. Audrey removed her hat and set it in her lap. A great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, but rather than feeling lighter she was weighed down by exhaustion and sorrow. The grief that had assailed her at her estranged husband’s death had knocked her for six: it was the waste of his life and the dashing of their young hopes for their future as well as Robert’s untimely passing just when he had been trying to pull himself out of the gutter for which she mourned, that much sharper for thinking she’d dealt with the first two already. And there was another emotion, a feeling of spinning out of control, as though she were falling from a high Pennine fell and no telling when the terrible impact would stop her dead, every bone in her body shattered. Widowhood had turned her life upside down and she didn’t know what to make of it. With no warning she burst into tears.
As soon as he could, Farnon pulled into a layby and gathered Audrey close, arms tight around her. He didn’t say much, letting her cry it out, stroking her hair occasionally, rubbing her back, and, she thought, once or twice kissing her temple as she clung to him and sobbed against his chest. When the storm had passed, he helped her into the back of the motor where she could lie down the rest of the way home and covered her with one of the blankets he’d taken to carrying in the boot after a miserable night spent in the car when he’d got caught out in bad weather. She fell asleep almost immediately and didn’t open her eyes until the Rover came to a stop in the lot behind Skeldale House.
“Can you manage? Shall I carry you?” he asked gently.
“And drop me on me ‘ead?” she retorted.
“Glad you’re feeling better,” he grinned.
Mr Farnon collected her bag from the boot and then offered her his arm. The house was quiet, the dogs in the care of the Aldersons and Vonolel with Andrew, who had agreed to feed Dinah, too. Siegfried carried her bag up to her room, reminiscent of that day many years earlier when she’d cast up on this friendly shore. Only this time, she went and sat down in the chair in the corner.
“Why don’t you have a long, warm bath? Help yourself to Helen’s and my share of the hot water. I don’t mind, I'm used to dousing down with buckets of cold water on the farms, and Helen won’t be coming back from Heston Grange until tomorrow. Tea will be ready when you’re ready for it.”
“I can get the tea,” she insisted. “I’m not an invalid.” She blushed, ashamed of herself for snapping at him, and remembering, too, that he had cared for his invalid wife before her death. “I mean—”
A shadow crossed his face. “I knew what you meant,” he said shortly but not unkindly. “You’ve had a difficult several days and tea is not beyond my capabilities. Please allow me the joy of caring for you for a change, Audrey. You’ve always looked after me beyond what I’d any right to expect.”
“Thank you,” she replied graciously.
Lying in the bath, grateful for the gift of warm water, such a luxury nowadays with hot water for bathing limited to five inches a day per person per household, she began to feel more herself. It were just the shock of Robert’s sudden illness and passing had caught up with her for all she’d been steeled for that phone call, telegram or knock at the door announcing her husband’s death for years. She supposed it had hit her so hard because she had witnessed it in the end. But weren’t it better that they’d had a chance to make peace? She’d be able to write to their son that his father had stopped drinking in the months before his death and had acknowledged the wrong he’d done to the both of them and begged pardon. That he’d been able to die with dignity and had received a proper burial. She wouldn't urge Edward to forgive his father. That were for him to decide. As the water cooled, Audrey stepped out of the bath and dried herself, reaching for the almond and honey cream whilst she were still a bit damp. That were something her mother had taught her. It was only then that it occurred to her that Mr Farnon had called her by her ‘Christian’ name.
Siegfried looked up in surprise when Audrey came down wearing a pretty frock and the pearls that had belonged to her mother. He got to his feet, his admiration evident.
Audrey's cheeks turned pink. “I just felt like dressin’ up a bit, to show I’m sensible of the honour o’ bein’ given tea by Siegfried Farnon.”
The gentleman in question chuckled, relieved to see her looking more herself. He was glad that she hadn't put her black frock back on.
“Sit down and I’ll fetch the tray,” he told her. “You’re in for a treat. I popped into Higgin’s Bakery after fetching Vonolel from young Andrew’s and she had scones. Helen left us a ball of butter in the larder yesterday to go with them.”
Audrey had hardly sat down when the bell rang. She answered the summons, stunned to find Gerald stood on the step.
“Audrey!” he said, his voice kind and concerned. He kissed her cheek. As she led him into the sitting room, he continued speaking, “I stopped by the bakery to see if they ‘ad anything left this time o’ day, not wantin’ t’ turn up empty ‘anded if I could ‘elp it, and ‘appen Mrs ‘Iggins told me Mr Farnon ‘ad just been in and bought ‘em out and that there’d been a death in the family.”
“Not the immediate family so much as – as. . . . That is, Robert were injured in ‘ull a few months ago. ‘E managed t’ get back ‘ome to Scarborough where it caught up with ‘im. ‘Appen they found Dorothy’s number on ‘im. ‘E knew she’d always know where I were. We saw ‘im decently buried this morning.” Siegfried entered the room. She saw his face fall and the pain in his eyes before he managed to shutter them again. “Mr Farnon, Dorothy and I did. I ‘adn’t expected to see you any time soon, Gerald,” she changed the subject before he could ask any questions.
“I ‘ad a bit o’ time due me. I told my sister not to mention that I were comin’ to visit. I wanted to surprise you,” he explained.
“Well, you ‘ave done,” she acknowledged.
Siegfried put down the tea tray set with two cups. She noticed he'd used the best tea set.
“Enjoy,” he told them.
“Siegfried!” Audrey called to his departing back.
He closed the seldom used doors between the sitting and drawing rooms and went through to his study, drawing the curtain between it and the dining room. Audrey felt bereft. But that were silly. Here her ‘gentleman friend’, as Diana Brompton and Mrs Pumphrey referred to him, ‘ad turned up all unexpected when she were most in need of ‘er friends and she were worryin’ about Mr Farnon’s capriciousness. No, that weren’t fair. ‘E were bein’ considerate, givin’ ‘er and Gerald their privacy and sacrificin’ ‘is tea besides.
“I didn’t mean to take ‘is tea out of ‘is mouth,” an abashed Gerald apologised, as though reading her thoughts.
“No, I know y’ didn’t. You ‘aven’t. We ‘ave enough if ‘e wants it. Why don’t you sit down Gerald and I’ll pour you a brew,” she said, doing just that and adding a drop of milk the way ‘e liked it. No, that were the way Siegfried – Mr Farnon liked it. But there weren’t any sugar on the tray. Gerald didn’t complain. He refused a scone.
“Please don’t worry about us. I told you, we’ve plenty. We’re very fortunate t’ live in the Dales and t’ave farmers for clients. And friends and family. The butter’s from the Aldersons at 'Eston Grange.”
“That’s all right,” he assured her. “My sister’s planned a nice meal in honour of my ‘homecomin’. If I don’t do it justice, she’ll skin me,” Hammond made excuse.
“Well, we can’t ‘ave that,” Audrey joked. “Especially after all you’ve been through there in ‘ull and lived t’ tell the tale.”
“Ought I to just pop in and ‘ave a word to Mr Farnon? Ask ‘im t’ join us? What d’ you reckon? I’d ‘ate to think ‘e were angry with me.”
“E’s just worn ragged from tryin’ t’ fit in as many jobs as e’ could between trips t’ Scarborough the past few days and sleepin’ on the sofa at Dorothy’s last night and the drivin’ and all, in’t ‘e? Best leave ‘im be,” she advised. Gerald nodded.
“So. Robert’s gone.” He glanced at her ring finger where the plain gold band still shone in the afternoon light slanting in through the lace curtains at the windows and in the glow of the lamps Siegfried had switched on earlier. “I’m sorry, Aud,” he added belatedly. “I really am. And sorry I weren’t around to go with you, ‘elp ya through it.”
“I ‘aven’t got used to the idea of bein’ a widow yet. It’ll take some time I don’t doubt. I were that overwhelmed I slept in the back o’ the car all the way home after the funeral.”
“Like that little dog, Tricki, that the vets gave the Nembutal to, t’ make ‘im sleep so ‘e could ‘eal. It did you good. Not that I’m comparin’ you to a dog, Audrey. You’re lookin’ well. Lovely.”
“No, I know. That’s kind of ya t’ say.”
The ticking of the clock caught the caller’s attention. He rose as though to go and have a look at it.
“Don’t. Please,” Audrey said. “It’s all right, thanks. The way we like it, any road.”
Gerald sat back down again. The silence stretched out between them as the visitor drank his tea. Audrey had neglected to pour any for herself.
“You’ve never really told me much about ‘im,” Gerald ventured. “About Robert. What yer life was like before ‘ere and all.”
“Well, that’s ancient ‘istory now, innit? You know enough. A woman doesn’t leave ‘er ‘usband and the family ‘ome t’ make ‘er own way in’t world on a whim,” she answered him more sharply than she’d intended.
“No, of course not. I never thought it. Does Mr Farnon know?”
“Well, I’ve known ‘im for many years now, ‘aven’t I?” Siegfried had taken her in without a reference, on her own merits. To her great good fortune he hadn’t time for all that ‘flannel’ people wrote in letters of reference. “I told ‘im a couple o’ things I thought he were entitled to know before ‘e offered me the job and a bit more when the time were right. ‘E’s not one t’ press nor probe without good reason.”
“I’m sorry, Audrey. I didn’t mean t’ pry, truly. You’re right, whatever ‘appened in the past is all water under the bridge now. This is a new day, a new chapter.” Gerald placed his hand over hers resting on the sofa between them. Audrey turned her head to look at him. After a minute he spoke again. “You don't 'ave t' say anything, Aud. I’ve known for a while now it were just a matter o’ time before you gave me the push. Only, I didn’t think it’d ‘appen today.”
“I’m sorry, Gerald. Tisn’t that I don’t care for you. Tisn’t that.”
“I know you do, Audrey. Just not enough.” Not nearly as much as she cared for someone else, but that didn’t need saying between them. For a while now he’d been aware that he was the usurper, the serpent in this happy Eden.
“Not enough,” she agreed.
At the door, she kissed his cheek. “I’m—”
“Don’t say it, Aud," he told her. "You’ve nothin’ t’ be sorry for. Nothin’ a’tall. I mean that. I’ve enjoyed our time together and I won’t ever regret it. I’ll always consider you a friend, Audrey, and I ‘ope you will me, too.”
“Thank you, Gerald. I wish you well.”
Diana had just stepped outside the tea room across the square when she saw Gerald Hammond leaving Skeldale House and making for the pub. Somebody could use a friend she decided seeing the dejected set of his shoulders. She’d intended dropping in on Audrey briefly to express her sympathy and arrange a longer visit for the next day. Perhaps it would be better to ring her later instead. Rather than collecting her car and heading home, she strolled over to The Drovers.
Audrey checked the tea pot was still warm under its cosy and carried the tray into the dining room. She pushed open the curtain between the rooms revealing Siegfried sulking in his easy chair cuddling that rat, Vonolel. She broke off a bit of scone and entered the inner sanctum where she fed it to him.
“If I give you a scone with fresh farm butter and strawberry jam all to yourself, you won’t feed it to that animal, will you?” she asked him.
“Buttered scones with or without strawberry jam are very bad for domesticated rats,” he informed her. “But poor Vonolel doesn’t know that and might try to snatch it, anyway. Perhaps you ought to carry on feeding me from your own fingers.”
“Put ‘poor Vonolel’ away before you rub all ‘is fur off,” she ordered. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in the dining room?”
“Yes please,” he said, a faint hope flickering in his heart. He returned Vonolel to his cage.
“You do mean to wash your ‘ands don’t you?”
“Rats are very clean animals." Audrey fixed him with a look that brooked no argument. "Fine,” he gave in.
She rewarded him with a lingering kiss on the lips. Siegfried searched her face and what he saw there filled him with gladness. When he opened his arms she readily stepped into his embrace, her own arms slipping easily round his neck. It was a first—well, second—kiss for the ages, the coming together of two people who already knew and trusted each other so well that it was as natural as breathing, the kiss of a couple mated for life who could still surprise and thrill one another as only old lovers could. A dangerous pair, unpredictable, who might suddenly glance at one another from the separate islands of their cosy easy chairs and cap a quiet evening at home ecstatically intertwined in one or the other of them, proper middle class sensible clothing puddled round ankles or abandoned on the carpet. It was all there, the myriad possibilities available to them, the hopes, the promises, the passion, the deep, everlasting love.
“There, now, that’s enough of that or we’ll be enjoyin’ the ‘oneymoon before anyone’s even got down on one knee, never mind the vows bein’ spoken,” Audrey broke off reluctantly to caution him.
“Mere formalities,” Siegfried demurred, eyes dancing, but he obeyed his lady, as true knights do, kissing her hand in parting.
They would enjoy their courtship, albeit a brief one he hoped, and he would indeed get down on one knee, perhaps in the garden, or in their own sitting room, witnessed by St Nick, who would travel from his cathedra in the entry hall to the mantel to bless the betrothal. When he returned from making his quick ablutions, including splashing on a bit of cologne, the lady of the house had everything arranged on the dining table. As he passed her chair, he placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to plant a kiss on the cheek gladly offered to him.
“I love you, Audrey Hall,” he said after he had sat down, sliding his hand close to hers resting on the table cloth.
“I love you, too, Siegfried Farnon, you ridiculous creature,” she replied, taking his hand. “Now drink your tea, dear’eart, before it gets cold.”
“And then?”
Audrey smiled, dimples deepening. “We’ll see,” she said simply, giving his hand a squeeze before releasing it and taking a restorative sip of tea.