Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The clock in the hallway had just chimed twelve when Anne was awoken by a loud, incessant knocking at the front door. She sat upright in bed with a start, rubbing her eyes sleepily and yawning. Who it could possibly be at such a late hour, Anne had no idea. At first, she had thought maybe she was still dreaming; after all, she was known for having an incredibly active imagination. But after pinching her forearm a good few times, the knocking still continued, and Anne was sure it was no dream. A moment later, she heard a shout coming from outside, followed by the front door being opened rather forcefully. Then came a tremendous clatter, as if someone had collapsed onto the kitchen floor and taken all the furniture down with them. She leapt up from her bed in an instant, pulling on her nightgown and grabbing the oil lamp from her bedside table before barrelling out of the door, her heart beating furiously in her chest. If she was required to hit someone over the head, it might as well be with something that could hurt.

"Anne!" Marilla shouted from downstairs. Anne's breathing quickened. She took the stairs two at a time, jumping with a thud from the last step and nearly barrelling full speed into Marilla, who was standing at the bottom with a troubled expression plastered over her features. She didn't look hurt, to Anne's immense relief, but it was clear something was not right.

"What is it?" Anne gasped, grabbing Marilla by the arm. "Are you alright? Is Matthew okay? I heard you shouting and there was a noise and-"

"No, darling, I'm okay. Matthew's okay, he's in the kitchen. But I need you to come with me, Anne. It's really important that you do exactly as I say, do you understand?" Marilla's voice was calm, strangely calm, but Anne could sense a desperate urgency in her gentle words that made her stomach churn. She let herself be guided through the dark and into the kitchen, the oil lamp still clutched firmly in her other hand.

At the scene before her, the lamp slipped out of her hand and crashed to the floor.

In the middle of her kitchen, Matthew and Bash were huddled over Gilbert, who lay between them. It seemed as if they were trying to hold him down; his arms and legs were flailing about wildly, and he was wheezing and gasping so violently Anne thought he might cough up a lung. The two men moved to his sides to pin his arms down, and it was only then that Anne saw his face. Gilbert’s cheeks were flushed a deep red, hair stuck to his forehead that was gleaming with a layer of sweat. He was incredibly pale, all of the colour completely drained from his face. He coughed again, a horrible rattling cough, and Anne felt the nausea rise up in her throat like a wave crashing over her. Suddenly, Marilla was shaking her by the arm. Anne dragged her eyes from the boy in front of her. She felt like she was in a daze, completely detached from reality.

“Anne.” Marilla’s voice was sharp, and it sliced through her hazy thoughts like a knife. “I need you to concentrate. Go and fetch a cloth- run it under cold water and bring it back here. Do you understand? I need you to listen to me, Anne.”

It was as if something had snapped inside her, and soon she was running to the water pump outside and back into the living room where Matthew and Bash had managed to lift Gilbert and carry him to the couch. She handed the cloth to Marilla, who knelt down beside him and pressed it to his forehead. Gilbert recoiled at her touch, struggling against the hands holding him down, and Anne noticed him start to shiver uncontrollably as she crept closer. He let out a loud groan, almost like a sob.

“I know, Gilbert, it’s okay, it’s going to be fine. Matthew, fetch the bucket, I think we may need it. Sebastian, hold his arm for a moment.” Marilla sounded calm, but Anne could tell from the waver in her voice that she was panicking just as much as everyone else. As for herself, Anne could barely breathe. Gilbert was sick- really sick. She’d never seen anyone look so bad before in the whole of Avonlea, even when the fever had caused the townsfolk to drop like flies for the winter. But Anne knew that this was no ordinary fever.

It was something much worse.

“Marilla?” Anne whispered as she knelt down beside Gilbert. He had opened his eyes and was staring straight at her, although they were glazed over and unfocused. Marilla handed the cloth to Anne, and she pressed it gently to Gilberts forehead.

“It’s going to be fine.” Marilla stood up. “Keep doing that, and give him water when he wants it. I’m going to get Delphine- it won’t do to have her alone in the house. Matthew will be back soon. Mr Lacroix, how fast can you run?”

Bash was already halfway out of the door when she spoke. He shouted something incomprehensible, sprinting out of the house and down the dirt path to the town. Anne assumed that’s where he was going- to get a doctor- but she couldn’t be sure. Her mind had turned to jelly, and she could barely focus on anything apart from the fact that she was now alone in her living room in hardly any light, leaning over Gilbert and feeling the most helpless she’d ever felt in her whole life. Gilbert coughed again, screwing up his face tightly with pain. Unable to think of anything else, she began to smooth back his damp hair; just as she rested her hand on his hot, sweaty forehead, Gilbert’s own hand shot up and clutched at hers desperately. He gasped in a breath, mumbling in confusion at his surroundings.

“Hey, Gil, its okay. It’s me, it’s Anne.” She pressed his hand to her cheek in an attempt to calm him down. “See, it’s me.”

Gilbert stared at her with wide eyes, struggling to take in a breath. “Carrots?” he muttered, his hand travelling to her braid. If this were a different situation, Anne would have scolded him, or yelled at him, or possibly even broken something over his head like last time; but the reality hit her hard, and she couldn’t for one second be mad at him for bringing back her dreaded nickname. In fact, she was glad of it- at least he still recognised her.

“Yes!” Anne exclaimed. There was an edge of hysteria to her voice that she could barely control. “Yes, its me. Carrots. Do you remember that?”

Gilbert nodded. Anne could see him start to shiver again. She went to take the cloth away, but Gilbert held onto her hand as tightly as he could. “No.” he mumbled deliriously, “Cold. Don’t.”

“Gilbert, you’re freezing. I need to take this off.” She tried again, but he held on even tighter, his breathing turning rapid. “No.” His voice cracked, and Anne thought her heart might break in two. “Please. No.”

“Okay.” Out of the corner of her eye, Anne saw Matthew return to the room carrying a bucket from the stables. She was about to ask what it was for when Gilbert leant forward suddenly, pushing her from him; she grabbed it from Matthew and held it under him just in time. Matthew leant over after a while and took the bucket away wordlessly; he looked at Anne with a pained expression in his eyes. She knew he was reluctant to let her stay, but it was clear he wasn’t going to stop her. He knew her too well to try and change her mind. Next to her, Gilbert fell back against the couch. His eyelids were starting to droop heavily, and in her bewildered state Anne thought that it was a good thing, that if he were asleep, he wouldn’t have to deal with anything for a while. But just as he had closed his eyes, Matthew appeared behind them. He looked more worried than Anne had ever seen him, and it frightened her.

“Anne, we need to keep him awake.” He said, kneeling down next to her. “He needs to be awake when the doctor gets here. Gilbert? Listen to me, you need to open your eyes, son.”

Gilbert only groaned in reply. Anne took her hands to his face once again; he was burning up. She felt an intense panic rise up inside her, and began to ramble, not really sure herself what she was talking about.

“Gilbert? If you can hear me, I need you to concentrate. I need you to try and stay awake, alright? Look, Gil, you can’t go and die on me now, that’s just not fair. Who am I supposed to beat in Miss Stacey’s spelling bees if you do? And, I’ll never be able to hit you with a slate again, which I was planning on doing, by the way. And Winifred, you can’t just leave her when you two were supposed to-“

“Anne.” Gilbert’s eyes were open slightly. He reached out and brushed a curl from in front of her face. “Not Winifred. No no no, not Winifred.”

“That’s good.” Matthew said. “Keep him talking. I’m going to check if the doctor is here.”

Anne choked back a sob as Matthew left her alone again. Keep him talking. She could do that. Although not much of what he was saying made any sense, she was glad he wasn’t completely unconscious.

“Don’t close your eyes.” She whispered. She couldn’t look at him; her eyes travelled around the room, frantically searching for something else to focus on. “You’re going to be fine.”

Gilbert’s chest heaved up and down; it seemed as though he was close to fainting. “Not Winifred.” He repeated hoarsely.

“What do you mean?”

“Not Winifred. You said-“ A hacking, painful cough interrupted his words and Anne felt the tears start to stream down her cheeks as she held her arms around him, his body shaking and shuddering. I’m sorry, she thought, I’m so, so sorry.

At that moment the front door burst open, and Matthew ran into the room, followed by Bash and Doctor Ward. Marilla trailed behind, carrying a weeping Delphine in her arms. Anne watched Doctor Ward’s face fall as he knelt beside her.

“Get her out of here.” was all he said. Anne felt arms wrap around her waist. She immediately began to struggle, but the arms were too strong, and soon she was being lifted from the ground and away from Gilbert. But she couldn’t leave, she wouldn’t, not when he needed her the most. Couldn’t anyone see? He needed her. She needed him. What did it matter about Winifred, or stupid courting or stupid rules and proposals? They needed each other. It was simple.

For a second, Anne became still in Bash’s arms. Then, she began to wrestle and fight as if someone were attacking her, her arms and legs flailing around just like Gilbert’s were when they were trying to carry him from the kitchen. She could hear Bash’s desperate voice begging her to calm down, but she couldn’t stop, and soon there were more hands around her. She gasped and struggled, sobbing out loud, screaming and yelling, desperately trying to get out of her restraints.

“Don’t.” she whimpered as Marilla held her arms down. “Please. Don’t. Marilla, you have to let me see him, please!”

“I’m sorry, Anne. I’m so sorry.” Marilla was crying too. Anne felt her body go numb.

"You can't make me leave! Please, Marilla-" Anne sobbed. Her eyes were blurry with tears, and she could hardly see anything above her. She felt the exhaustion set in, and soon it seemed as if everything was slipping away from her. "Let me go! Please, please let me go-"

"I can't, Anne." Marillas voice was far away. "I'm so sorry. He'll be okay, I promise. He's going to be fine."

Anne wasn't sure she believed her.

But she tried her hardest to, anyway.

Chapter Text

When morning finally came, Anne had slept no more than half an hour. The sun had just started to rise over Avonlea when Doctor Ward left the house. Anne watched from the staircase as Marilla opened the door for him; he wore a grim expression, his eyebrows furrowed as he spoke quietly. She had spent most of the night in her room, curled up on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees, huddled away like she was trying to squeeze herself into a ball and disappear. Every so often, if she heard Gilbert coughing or whimpering- if she heard any noise at all-, she would run to the door and into the hallway before she was sent back by a firm pair of hands, reassuring her that it would be okay, and that it was in her best interest, and Gilbert’s, to stay out of the way for now.

As soon as Marilla had closed the door, Anne burst into the room. Marilla opened her mouth as if to speak, but Anne cut in before she had chance to.

“I know what you’re going to say, Marilla, and I don’t mean to disrespect you, but there is absolutely no way I am not going to see him today.”

Marilla sighed, closing her eyes. She rubbed her temples with her hand. “I know you want to, Anne,” she said slowly. Anne felt the rage start to bubble up inside of her again. “But he’s too sick, you know that. He needs to rest.”
“So, let him rest! It’s not like I’m making him get up and walk around, is it? I just want to see him! I don’t understand what’s wrong with that. He probably wants to see someone he recognises, besides Bash-“

“Anne, he doesn’t recognise anyone right now.”

“That’s absurd, he can’t just not recognise people-“

“His fever is extremely high. He’s not focused on anything, he- he’s barely even conscious. We need to bring it down quickly, otherwise…” Marilla stopped. Anne stood with her hands on her waist, glaring with a burning intensity in her gaze. She watched as Marilla walked closer, grabbing Anne’s hands and pressing them beneath her own.

“I’m sorry, Anne. But you know how terrible Scarlet fever can be. Your parents, you know they-“

“I know they died, yes. But it’s Gilbert, Marilla. He can’t just die, that’s ridiculous. And, we don’t even know if it’s Scarlet fever, do we?”

“Honey, Doctor Ward said-“

“Who cares about what Doctor Ward said? He barely even examined him. And anyway, Gilbert was talking to me. He was saying words, and I know it didn’t make much sense, and all he was talking about was Winifred, but he can’t be that sick if he’s talking, can he? He probably didn’t- I just, I don’t see how he could-“

“Anne. Calm down.” Marilla’s voice was quieter than Anne had ever heard it. Tears sprang to her eyes and she didn’t bother to wipe them away; they flowed freely down her cheeks as she jerked away from Marilla, taking her hands away and sobbing with an uncontrollable rage.

“Calm down?” She cried, “Calm down? You just said that Gilbert is dying, and you want me to calm down?”

“Look, that’s not what I meant-“

“Then what did you mean?” Anne had started to yell; her voice was hysterical, and no matter how hard she tried, there was no stopping her tears. They fell like a waterfall, accompanied by loud convulsive gasps, and soon she had turned away, hiding her face in her hands in embarrassment. Marilla paused for a moment. Then, Anne felt her move to stand behind her, arms outstretched. She flew into them in an instant, clutching onto Marilla with the little strength she had left.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to shout, I’m sorry.”

Marilla shook her head vigorously. She lifted Anne’s head so their eyes met, wiping away her tears as they fell. “Don’t be sorry.” She said. “It’s hard, when a friend is hurting. You just want to be there for them. Trust me, I understand completely.”

“No. It’s not like that. I mean, I know you understand, but he’s not-” Anne stopped abruptly. She was going to say that Gilbert was not her friend, he was so much more than ‘just a friend,’ but something stopped her. An unwelcome image of Gilbert stepping out with Winifred at the county fair burst into her mind. No matter how she felt for him, her feelings would never be reciprocated. She knew that for certain.

Marilla sighed, pulling Anne into a tight embrace. “I know, Anne. You don’t have to explain.” Anne doubted that she did, but returned the hug anyway, her head buried in Marilla’s shoulder. A moment later, there was a noise from upstairs, and Bash descended down the staircase, hurtling into the kitchen at full speed.

“What is it?” Anne blurted out before she could stop herself. “Is he okay?”
Bash grabbed Anne’s arm gently. “I’m sorry, Marilla, but she’s goin’ to need to come upstairs.” And without waiting for a reply or any objection from Marilla, Anne was lead upstairs and into Matthew’s room where Gilbert lay.

When they opened the door, Anne let out a gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. Gilbert looked worse than the night before. His face was white and pasty, cheeks flushed with fever, sweat virtually running down his face. He seemed to be in some sort of intense fever-dream, thrashing around and muttering things Anne could barely comprehend. Matthew stood at the side of his bed, dabbing at Gilbert’s forehead with a cloth. He raised his head slightly when Anne walked in, but said nothing else.

“He’s been like this for a while.” Bash guided Anne to Gilbert’s bedside. Her hands hovered over him, unsure of what to do, frightened at seeing him in such a state. “He started speakin’. Not much made sense, but I caught your name in there a lot. I think he wants to see you. Thought maybe he’d calm down if you were in here.”

Anne forced herself to swallow the painful lump that had formed in her throat. “He’s delirious.” She said softly. “He most likely has no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t think I should-“

“Anne.” Bash looked at her. There was kindness in his eyes, something gentle that Anne nearly recoiled at.

He knew.

Oh, heavens above, he knew! The way he looked at her, she was sure of it. Had she been so obvious the previous night? Had he heard her screaming and shouting at Marilla only moments before, heard the desperation in her voice that told him this was not just her friend she was scared of losing, but something- at least, to her- much, much more?

She was such an idiot.

Beside her, Matthew handed her the cloth. He stood up and kissed her forehead before retreating out of the room and closing the door behind him. Gilbert coughed violently, his whole body shaking, and Anne could only watch in silent horror as Bash tried everything he could to stop Gilbert from moving.

“Gilbert, man, calm down. It’s gonna be okay. Anne, grab his arm, will you? Hey, listen…Gil, it’s Anne. I brought Anne.”
Gilbert shuddered, tossing and turning. “No,” he whimpered, “No, no, no, please don’t. Don’t go.”

Anne grabbed his hand and sat down on the edge of the bed. Gilberts eyes shot open and looked at her blearily, clutching at Anne’s hand so tightly she thought he would pull it off.

“Anne.” he gasped desperately, as if he hadn’t seen her for a long time. “It’s you. Is it you? There’s people here, but I don’t know- is it really you?”

“Yes, it’s me. I’ve got you. Don’t worry, Gil. I’m not going anywhere.” She placed a cold hand on his forehead, wiping the damp hair from his eyes. The shock from seeing him, and the humiliation of realising Bash might know the truth had faded in an instant, and now, sitting at his bedside, Anne felt calm. She was utterly terrified, and her heart felt like it had been smashed into a million pieces, but she was calm. Besides, she knew if she wasn’t, it wouldn’t help Gilbert’s state in the slightest. In fact, it would most likely make it worse.

“But you said- you said you were leaving, Anne. I was going to- Anne, you can’t, you can’t leave, please-“ Gilbert broke off, with a gasp, and Anne couldn’t tell if he was fully awake, or still stuck in the frightening dream he had seemed to be in before. His eyes were glassy, and his breath came in shallow, painful exhales.

“I’m not leaving, Gil. I’m staying right here. I won’t go anywhere.”

“But you told me. You told me that we wouldn’t see each other anymore. I tried to make you stay, but you said you had to leave. Why did you leave?”

It was clear that Gilbert had no idea what was happening. It reassured Anne, in a strange way. She knew that if he survived this- no, when he survived this- he wouldn’t remember a thing. So no matter what she said to him, it wouldn’t make a difference. And that was a good thing. Because then he wouldn’t have to know how she felt, and how she had been acting so foolishly around him.

“I didn’t leave. I won’t leave, Gil. I’ve been here the whole time, and I’m not going to leave you now.”

“Promise. Do you promise?” Gilbert’s voice pleaded with her in such a childlike tone that she had to choke back a sob, feeling Bash’s hand on her shoulder as she did so. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

Stay calm, Anne. Stay calm.

“Yes.” She said, her hand running slowly through his curly hair. “I promise. I’ll stay here with you until you’re well again. And it will be soon, I promise that too.”

Gilbert’s eyes started to close. He stopped moving, and lay back against the pillow suddenly, fighting with his exhaustion. It made Anne’s heart stop to see him so motionless, but she knew it was a good thing, so she made no attempt to get him to open his eyes again.

“Gilbert.” She whispered; her hand stayed clutched in his. For a moment, she forgot Bash was standing in the room behind her. “You’re going to be fine. And then you can go to Paris with Winnie, and become a doctor, and do all the things you wanted to do-“
“Not with Winnie.” Gilbert interrupted; his voice was barely audible, and Anne could tell he was on the brink of passing out again. “Not Winnie.” he said again; it was followed by a rattling cough that shook his entire body. When it had finished, he took Anne’s other hand.

“You.” He said. “Not Winifred. You.”

And then, just like that, his eyes closed, and he was out like a light. His hand slipped from Anne’s and dropped limply onto the bedsheets.

Chapter Text

On the sixth day, Anne had almost given up completely. Gilbert hadn’t gotten any worse, but nothing had improved, either. He slept for hours, only waking up occasionally for Marilla to feed him some sort of watered down broth that made Anne feel sick just looking at it. On rare occasions he would speak, but nothing he said made any sense to her, and even when it did, she was sure he wasn’t speaking to her. She doubted he even knew she was there.

No one had visited the house in the week Gilbert had been there, and it felt as if the whole place was closing in on itself; Anne was sure she would go insane if she stayed any longer, but there was nowhere else for her to go. The possibility of infection was too great, Doctor Ward had said, to risk any other members of the community catching it. It was a disease that could spread like wildfire, and he didn’t want anyone else to suffer because of it. They were to stay inside the house until Gilbert had recovered, and no one was to enter at any time, aside from himself. Anne had scoffed at this, addressing him in a somewhat hysterical tone, thanking him for his worry concerning their mental states. “And physical!” she added, “it spreads like wildfire, if I’m not mistaken. What if one of us catches it?”

When Dr Ward ignored her, she threw a lamp at his head. It missed by an inch.

She spent the rest of the day by Gilbert’s bedside in silence.

Towards the evening, there was a quiet knock at the door, and Bash entered, coming to sit by Anne. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and she felt a sudden pang of sadness at the dark circles under his eyes, and the way he hung his head, mouth drawn into a tight line. She had to remind herself each day that she wasn’t the only one who felt like the entire world was ending. Bash and Gilbert were like brothers- they were family. It was hard for him, too.

“Heard your fight with Doctor Ward today.”

Anne sighed heavily. “It wasn’t a fight. He was just being an idiot, that’s all. I was trying to make him see that being shut up in this house isn’t healthy for any of us. And Gilbert probably just wants us to leave him alone and stop pestering him. If he was awake, he’d probably say that, anyway.”

“You know we can’t go out, Anne. It’s better for all of us if we stay here for now, n’ we don’t want the whole of Avonlea catchin’ the fever, now, do we?”

“No.” she sighed again, putting her face in her hands. “I guess not.”

Bash put his hand on her shoulder gently. “I doubt any of us will get it, Anne. We’d have known by now if we had, that’s for sure. An’ he looks like he’s gettin’ better, doesn’t he?”

He motioned to Gilbert, who lay on his side facing them. His breath was shallow, face still flushed, but Anne had to admit he looked a little more relaxed than before. If this was a good thing, however, she didn’t know. Sometimes she would fall asleep by his chair and wake up with a start, rushing over to his bed and leaning over him to check he was still breathing. Gilbert had been too quiet for her liking over the past couple of days. It was strange, to see him so unresponsive. Dr Ward had said it was a positive, and that if he woke up soon there would be a good chance of his recovery. Still, Anne had missed listening to him ramble on about school, and college, and even Winifred, of all things. She missed it all.

“Bash.” Anne took her hands away from her face and looked at the man sat next to her; he wore a peculiar expression, like he knew what she was about to say, but was trying to hide it. “Gilbert said something to me. When his fever was worse. And I don’t know whether he was awake, or asleep, and whether he really meant it, or if it was just some stupid fever dream and he had no idea what he was talking about. And now I don’t know what to do.”

Bash chuckled. “I know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, Anne. You don’t have to talk to me like it’s a secret, you know. I was there, when he said it.”

Anne leant against his shoulder, her head hanging heavily in defeat. “I had a feeling you might have been.”

“So, what do you think?”

“About what he said?” Bash nodded. “I just-” She paused as Gilbert mumbled something and turned over beside her. “I keep wishing it was true. I mean, I’ve known for a while now, what I- how I feel. About him. And I didn’t want to admit it to myself because the whole idea just seemed absurd. And then, he told me he was going to get engaged. Can you imagine? Being rejected for someone who is engaged? That would be the most humiliating thing. And, I’d be losing a friend, too. So I wish it was true, the thing he said, but…”

“But what?”

“But if you’d met Winifred, Bash, you would know why I think he was just confused. I mean, she’s beautiful. And blonde. She’s just… lovely. And her family are incredibly wealthy. There just isn’t a better match, really.”

“That may be true. But does he love her?”

His question stopped Anne’s racing thoughts for a moment. Did he love her? She searched her mind for any recollection of a conversation she’d had with him about his engagement to Winifred, and found it completely blank. He’d never really talked about it. At all.

“I don’t know. He’s going to marry her, isn’t he? He must love her if they’re to be married.”

Bash chuckled again. “Think that’s the only reason people get married, Anne?” When she didn’t reply, he continued on, a glimmer in his eye.

“Look. I didn’t wanna have to say this because, y’know, it’s not my right to say. Gilbert’s his own man, and he… he should be the one to tell you this. But I know him, Anne. And I know he’s not in love with Winifred. Hell, I don’t think he’ll ever be in love with her even if he tries.”

“But that doesn’t matter-“

“Of course it matters! He’s not in love with Miss Rose, Anne, because he’s in love with you. ’s always been you. You must’ve known that. It’s obvious to anyone.”

For a moment, Anne thought that Bash was joking. She started, sitting bolt upright in her chair, and almost yelled into his face: if that’s what you call a joke, Bash, your sense of humour is completely off!

But then, it hit her. Hard. Usually, she would have questioned something like this. But she knew Bash was telling the truth. He had married Mary for love, and Anne was sure he would do anything to make Gilbert do the same. She sat back in her chair, and looked at Gilbert, who was still asleep. Her voice was quiet for the first time in days as she spoke. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. He good as told me it. Think he was panicking, ‘bout the engagement, blurted some stuff out he didn’t mean to. Tried to take it back, of course, but I’d heard enough.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Bash leant back in his chair, a short laugh erupting from him suddenly. “Oh, okay? I just told you the man’s in love with you, Anne Shirley Cuthbert, and all y’ can say is oh, okay!? I’ve never heard you answer a sentence with less than ten words, y’ know.”

It was true- and Anne knew it. She tried desperately to say something else, anything else, but the only noise she could manage was a small giggle; she covered her mouth with her hand, attempting as best she could to stifle the sound, but it only made her giggle even harder. Another burst out of her, and another, until she was clutching her stomach and rocking back and forth in her chair. Bash was in a similar state, it seemed, head bent over, his shoulders shaking. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, wheezing and spluttering in between breaths.

“ We- really need to- have more than three hours sleep- a- night-“ Anne managed to choke out, “ We’re-probably- just-sleep-deprived- “

Bash snorted loudly. “Either that-or we’re just, y’know, going…insane-“

“Yeah, that- that too.”

Beside them, Gilbert mumbled again; he rolled over onto his side, and his eyes fluttered open, blinking blearily at Anne and Bash, who had only just managed to stop laughing. He frowned in confusion, the corner of his mouth raised up slightly.

“Gilbert?” After a moment of surprise, Anne moved her chair closer, all past excitement ripped out of her at once. She took his hand, and was hardly surprised when he squeezed it back. “Are you okay? How are you feeling? Should I- do you need some-“

“Anne, let the man breathe.” Bash stood up. “I’m going to get Marilla, she prob’ly knows what to do. Don’t let her smother you, ‘kay Blythe?”

Gilbert smirked in reply, and Anne let out a huge breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. She placed her other hand on top of his, their fingers intertwining, and suddenly all the words she had been longing to say to him for days seemed to disappear into thin air. She felt her eyes fill with tears, some of them already spilling down her cheeks.

“You’re an idiot.” It was all she could manage, but somehow Gilbert understood. He reached out and traced his thumb over her freckles, wiping away a tear.

“Glad you’ve taken notice.” Came the quiet reply. “Bash tell you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Sorry.” He murmured, eyes shutting again as he leant back into the pillow. He kept his hand where it was, gently cupping the side of her face, her bright curls completely covering it.

“It’s okay. You scared me to death, though. Coming into my kitchen in the middle of the night. A completely stupid idea, if you ask me.”

“Bash found me.” He said, “Walking. Outside.” His speech was broken slightly, like it was too much effort to speak in full sentences. Anne guessed that was what happened when you hadn’t talked in a week. And had Scarlet fever, of course. That wouldn’t have helped either. “Don’t know what I was doing. Probably was the fever, or something.” He paused again, the hand in hers tightening. “Think he thought it was closer than anywhere else. To come here, I mean.”

“I know. I’m glad.” She said, bending her head over; the tears were coming fast as she remembered the night she found him on her kitchen floor. “I’m glad you came here. I would’ve killed you, If you’d died, you know. I would’ve actually murdered you.” Her voice broke off, and she struggled hard to choke back a sob.

“Anne.” Gilbert moved his hand and titled her chin up so their eyes met. “It’s okay.”

Anne hadn’t really let herself cry in the whole week. She was afraid people might have thought she was going mad; not that throwing things helped her case, anyway. But it was just her, and Gilbert, and he was awake, and he looked okay, and suddenly she was in tears, laying her head on his chest and sobbing. Gilbert’s shoulders shook underneath her, his arms around her tightly, and although he said nothing, Anne knew there was no need for him to.

It was only after a few minutes that there was a knock on the door, and both Anne and Gilbert froze at Winifred’s voice on the other side.

Chapter Text

“Anne? Are you in here?”

Anne shot up from Gilbert’s chest so quickly it made her head spin. She sat bolt upright in the chair and gulped in a breath, frantically wiping at her eyes with her free hand in a vain effort to hide any evidence she had been crying. From the bed, Gilbert looked up at her in confusion, scanning her face with hazy, unfocused eyes.

‘Winnie?’ he mouthed. Anne nodded slowly, and his eyes widened.

“Anne?” Winifred’s voice came again; this time, it sounded a little nearer. The doorknob began to turn, and Anne had to curb the impulse to gasp out loud, although it took every inch of her not to. She started to pull her hand away from Gilbert’s, but he resisted as she did so, gripping onto it even tighter than before and shaking his head.

“Are you sure?” She whispered. Gilbert squeezed her hand in reply, and she let out a breath. “Okay. Alright. But we can’t-“

The sound of a latch clicking open sent Anne’s head flying towards the doorway, and she watched, frozen, as Winifred opened the door quietly and stepped into the room, carrying a pitcher of water in one hand. Her hair was fastened to the top of her head in an elegant bun, tendrils of golden blonde falling down the sides of her face, framing it perfectly; she walked with a graceful elegance, her blue dress lightly brushing the floor as she moved across the room with barely any sound at all. Anne could do nothing but watch as she reached the bedside and stopped.

“Hello, Anne.” Winifred looked up and smiled softly, and Anne was surprised to see an unexpected warmth in her gaze. The young woman’s eyes flitted down towards where Gilbert lay, and she smiled again, taking his hand and squeezing it lightly before letting go. “Glad to hear you’re doing better, Gilbert. Anne’s been taking good care of you, then?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Anne blurted out suddenly. Winifred blinked and cleared her throat, smoothing out her dress as she stepped back a little. After a moment, Anne shook herself out of silence. She looked down in embarrassment, cheeks turning red. “I mean- I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to sound- it’s just that Doctor Ward said- “

“Don’t worry, I know what he said. I’m not staying for long.” Winifred took the glass from the table beside the bed and filled it up. “Marilla said to give him this.” She placed the jug back on the side and handed Anne the glass of water.
“And she said it’s perfectly fine if he goes back to sleep. You just need to make sure he drinks all of it first.”

Anne felt like she was still in a daze; she stuttered, struggling to find the words to speak, but strangely, Winifred seemed to understand. “It’s alright, Anne.” She said softly, “Just help me sit him up.”

Anne stood up, letting go of Gilbert’s hand gently. She watched as Winifred leant over the bed. “We’re just going to sit you up a little bit, is that alright?”

Gilbert nodded in reply, eyes darting warily, first to Anne, then to Winifred, and then back to Anne. When they pulled him up, he groaned quietly, his whole body collapsed against Anne for support. He breathed out heavily, eyelids drooping; Anne closed his hand gently around the glass, pushing it towards his chest.

“Here.” She whispered. Gilbert took it and slowly brought it to his lips. He managed a few sips before a coughing fit overtook him, and he handed Anne the glass quickly, grabbing the side of the bed to steady himself. Anne looked across the room as she held onto his shaking frame, locking eyes with Winifred and sharing a grimace. When he had finished, she gave him the glass again, and after a few moments he had drained it completely.

“Sebastian said he’d come upstairs in a moment. To check on Gilbert.” Winifred said. She looked down at her lap, exhaling slowly. “Anne, can we- may we talk? Alone?”

“Alone?” Anne lowered Gilbert back down onto the pillows. His eyes were already starting to close, but Anne could read his expression perfectly. “It’s okay.” She muttered, “Now go back to sleep.” When she turned to Winifred again, she found it hard to look her in the eye. Her gaze travelled desperately around the room, searching for something else to fix upon; when she could find nothing to take her interest, she settled for the door handle, staring at it fixatedly. Winifred cleared her throat.

“I don’t mean to make you nervous, Anne. It’s just that- I believe we have some things to discuss.”

“Discuss?”

“Yes.” Again, the girl looked at her, and Anne felt her cheeks start to burn. But there was no intensity in her gaze, no accusatory glare; she didn’t even look the slightest bit angry. Her expression only added to Anne’s confusion. As slowly as she could, she stood up and led Winifred out of the room, passing Bash as she went. He shot her a nervous glance, and she shrugged in reply. When they were in the hallway, Winifred shut the door gently and turned around. Anne took in a breath. Her chest ached painfully.

“What did you want to… discuss?”

Winifred sighed. “I think you know what, Anne.”

“If you’re talking about Gilbert, then- well, he’s going to be fine, you know.” Anne said quickly. “He’s doing better, much better than he was before. He’ll be out of here in no time at all. He can stay at yours, too, if you really want. I mean- it’s not like he lives here or anything. In fact, we don’t even have to- “

“Anne. Stop.” Winifred held up her hand and sighed again. “I’m not angry, alright. I’m not. I just thought that we might as well get this over with now. Now that I’m sure about it, anyway.”

“Sure about…what?”

“You and Gilbert.”

It took Anne a moment to understand what Winifred had just said; she stared, incredulous. “What?”

“You and Gilbert.” Winifred frowned suddenly. “I’m not wrong, am I? That he’s…well, he’s in love with you. I’m right, aren’t I? Anne?”

“Uh…” Anne turned around, running her hands through her hair. Out of all the strange situations she had ever been in- and, that had been a lot- this was definitely a contender for the strangest. When she turned around again, Winifred was looking at her expectantly.

“So?” she asked, “Is it true? Because I will have wasted a lot of time and thought if it’s not, you know.” When Anne didn’t reply, Winifred frowned again, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. That was completely inappropriate of me, I shouldn’t have been so forward about it. But I just really need to know, for certain. You understand why, don’t you?”

“Uh.” Anne blinked. “No. I mean… yes. I do. I understand. But I- he didn’t tell me he was- I mean, not really, it was sort of Bash who told me. Just now, actually, and, well- Winifred, how did you know?”

Winifred chuckled. “How did I know? How did you not know? I mean, it was quite obvious if you ask me.”

Anne stared at her. “You knew he was in love with…me, but you… you let him court you anyway?”

Again, Winifred sighed. She stepped forward, taking Anne’s hands in her own. “I didn’t know. At first, anyway. It was only after a while that I thought- that I knew- he was in love with you. Frankly, I should have seen it sooner. It was partly my fault, I’m afraid.”

Anne felt the heat rise up in her cheeks, and she looked down at the floor, her eyes glistening. Don’t cry, she thought, desperately fighting at the tears that were threatening to spill. Don’t. Cry.

“He knows he’s in love with me, and he’s going to get engaged to you anyway.” She whispered. “I don’t understand. Why would he not tell me? Why would he go through with it?”

“It’s not his fault. You must remember that. It’s obvious he doesn’t think that you will ever see him like that- as more than a friend, I mean. You can tell just by the way he looks at you. He most likely tried to ignore it by courting me, knowing him.”

“But aren’t you angry?” Anne said; her voice was thick and hoarse as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. “He’s going to marry you, but you know it’s not for love. Why aren’t you angry?”

“Because I’m going to break it off, Anne.”

With a sudden jerk of her head, Anne pulled her gaze from the floor, the tears now falling freely down her cheeks. She let out an exasperated gasp. “You can’t do that!”

“Why not? Isn’t that what you would want?” Winifred’s voice was calm and quiet, and it made Anne want to cry even more. She found herself laughing almost manically through her tears, every attempt to stem the flow with her hands proving unsuccessful.

“Oh, but, you’re going to have a future, Winnie! It’ll be taking everything away from you. And what about Paris? Oh, and your family! What are they going to think?”

“I’m sure they’ll come around to the idea.” Winifred said, “And if they don’t, well, I’m afraid they’ll have to. It’s not their choice. And anyway, I can still go to Paris with or without Gilbert.”

“But-“ Anne struggled with the words- a problem she very rarely experienced. There was odd sense of guilt that was weighing down on her oppressively like a huge bolder on her chest. “-don’t you love him? Isn’t this going to break your heart, Winifred? Break it irreparably?”

Winifred chuckled. “I have to admit, when I found out, I was a little heartbroken, yes. But I’ve since realised it would never have worked anyway. And it would be wrong, to live with him knowing he loved someone else.”

“And that someone else is…me? Truly?”

“Yes.”

Anne let out an enormous breath. The room had started to spin wildly, and she placed her hand on the wall at the side of her to steady herself. “I think I need to sit down.”

“Oh. Alright.” Winifred watched closely as Anne slid herself down with her back against the wall, breathing in and out heavily. After a few moments of silence, Anne spoke again. “Gilbert doesn’t think I love him back?”

“No. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have courted me to begin with.” Winifred said quietly, smoothing out her dress. Anne couldn’t help but notice again how beautiful she looked, with her blue satin skirt and puff sleeves, and for a moment she wondered exactly why on earth Gilbert was in love with her, and not Winifred.

“But doesn’t he realise that he’s leading you on?” She asked. Winifred shook her head.

“No. I doubt it very much. People will do strange things to try and get over someone, Anne. I don’t think he ever meant to hurt me. Or you, for that matter.”

“Oh.” Anne paused, frowning suddenly. “May I ask… how did you get in here? We haven’t been able to leave for days, because of the risk of infection or something.” She stopped and stood up quickly, eyes alight. “Did you sneak in?”

Winifred laughed again, her eyes sparkling. “I wish I was as adventurous as you, but no. I managed to convince Doctor Ward.” She said. “He’s very stubborn, but I convinced him it was an extremely important matter.”

Anne scoffed. “I’m glad you did. I had to resort to throwing a lamp at his head, and he still didn’t listen.”

Winifred raised her eyebrows, shaking her head in disbelief. “You threw a lamp at his head?”

“Yes, I-“

Before Anne could get out another word, Bash burst into the hallway, his eyes wide with panic. Through the crack in the door behind them, Anne caught a glimpse of Gilbert sitting up with his legs swung over the side of the bed, hunched over with his hands fisted around the bedsheets tightly.

“Bash, what is it?” Anne grabbed him by the arm, but he shook her off, already at the top of the stairs.

“Go and help him!” He shouted back to her before descending at full speed down the steps. Anne turned around and took hold of Winifred’s hand firmly. Her face was white as a sheet, and she looked as if she might be sick. She was looking at desperately at Anne, searching her face for an answer.

Anne squeezed her hand, and together they rushed inside.

Chapter Text

For possibly the first time in her life, Anne had no idea what to do. Normally, she was somewhat prepared, especially in situations like these; the night she had spent with Minnie May proved as much. But now, as she sat on the edge of the bed with Winifred on the other side and Gilbert in between them, she realised just how unprepared she was.

Gilbert sat upright with his head bent over, hands clutching at the sheets desperately as if he were trying to wring them out. His breath came in short, sharp gasps that made his chest heave up and down rapidly, and Anne could see the panic in his eyes as he looked up from the floor and met her gaze. She clasped his hand in her own, prising it from the bedsheets, and he gripped it so tightly it turned white.

“Gilbert, I need you to tell me what’s wrong.” Anne struggled to steady her voice. “Tell me what to do.”

Gilbert only shook his head in reply. His breath shuddered violently, and he reached with his other hand to clutch at his chest. His breath came faster, almost as if something was blocking his windpipe. For a moment, Anne thought it may be croup- something she knew how to deal with- but then her heart sank. Scarlet fever and croup together would have killed him already. Besides, she didn’t even know if it was possible to have them both at the same time.

“Does it hurt? Here?” Anne placed her other hand over his chest, fighting the urge not to go into complete panic. Her stomach dropped suddenly as she felt his heartbeat pounding rapidly underneath her fingers. From the other side of her, Winifred covered her mouth with her hands.

“What is it?” Her voice trembled. “Anne?”

“I don’t know.” Anne inhaled sharply. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she let them fall, her voice breaking. “I don’t know, I really don’t know.”

The door swung open, and soon Bash and Marilla were standing above them. Matthew stood at the doorway, and Anne noticed for a brief moment that his eyes were glistening with tears.

“Where’s Doctor Ward?” Anne looked around desperately. Bash crouched down in front of Gilbert, scanning his face frantically. His own eyes darkened. “He left.”

“What?!”

“I’m sorry, Anne, but he said he wasn’t needed here. Blythe was doing okay, until-“

“Doing okay?! Bash, look at him!” Anne yelled. Gilbert looked up at her, his expression even more panicked than before. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a whimper, struggling for breath.

“Gilbert, what’s wrong?” Marilla placed a hand on his forehead, but he recoiled at her touch, jerking backwards. He spluttered and wheezed, clutching onto his chest more desperately, and Anne watched Marilla’s face fall.

“Marilla, what is it? What’s happening?” Anne sobbed. Marilla didn’t answer. Instead, she stood up abruptly.

“Matthew, go downstairs and boil the kettle. I’m going to need a bowl, too. Sebastian, go and help him. I need it fast.” She looked at Winifred. “Help me close the windows, Winifred. We need to keep the air in. Anne, keep talking to him. Don’t let him lose consciousness, do you hear me?”

Anne turned back to Gilbert. She could feel her own breath start to come faster as he fought hard for breath, gasping as if he couldn’t take in anymore air. Behind her, Winifred slammed the window shut.

“Gil…” Anne brought her hand up to Gilbert’s forehead as Marilla did, but he pushed it away weakly, shaking his head. His breath was coming so fast Anne was scared he might faint, and one look at his face told her she didn’t have much time before he did.

“Gilbert, look at me.” He met her gaze, but his eyelids drooped heavily, and Anne could tell she was about to lose him. “Gilbert!” she cried out, “Just breathe, alright? Please, you have to try. Look at me. See? Now breathe, like this.”

After a while, the sound of footsteps echoed along the hallway, and Bash appeared, carrying a bowl of steaming water. Matthew followed, towel in hand, and passed it to Marilla. Anne could see Winifred in the corner of the room, holding her arms tightly around her stomach and sobbing. Matthew caught Anne’s eye, and she nodded. He moved forward, then, holding out his arms, and Winifred fell into them without hesitation.

Anne turned towards Marilla, watching as she brought the chair forward and placed the bowl on her knees; only then did it hit her. A thousand memories, all at once; mostly of the orphanage, though some were of her first days at Avonlea. They weren’t pleasant memories- in fact, some almost made her gasp out loud at the sheer thought of them- but suddenly she knew what to do.

“Marilla, don’t.” Anne put her hand out and stopped Marilla’s arm. “It won’t help.”

“Anne, we don’t have time for this!” Marilla exclaimed. “Help him closer so I can get his head over-“

“Marilla, you don’t understand, it’s not going to help!”

“Anne, please!”

Behind them, Bash swore out loud. Gilbert had slouched forward with his head in his hands, and he was breathing so fast he didn’t even seem to be taking in any air at all. Anne clutched at Marilla’s arm. “Please, Marilla, I know what to do. You have to trust me, please. Just let me do this.”

Marilla’s hand slackened on the bowl. She hesitated for a split second, her gaze travelling around the room and locking with Matthew’s. He nodded slowly, and she pursed her lips. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Anne breathed. “Okay. Alright, you’re going to need to move out of the way. You too, Bash.”

“But-“

“Please, Bash, I need you to do what I say!” Anne’s voice rose; her words came out sharper and louder than she had intended, but there wasn’t time to apologise.

“Let me sit there, Marilla. And, don’t touch him, it’ll only make it worse.” Anne sat down on the chair and pulled it up in front of Gilbert, keeping a safe distance between them; their knees bumped together clumsily.

“Gil? I need you to listen to me. I need you to do exactly as I tell you, okay?”

Gilbert brought his head up from his hands, his eyes wide. His chest continued to heave up and down at an alarming pace, and he was staring at Anne with a frantic, desperate look in his eye. Anne realised, to her own horror, that he most likely had no idea what was happening to him. She didn’t blame him. The first time it had happened to her, she truly thought she might be dying.

“You have to breathe through your nose. Look, like this.” Anne said, and she began to demonstrate, breathing slowly with her mouth closed. Gilbert just shook his head. He reached out almost blindly for her hand, and she took it, biting her lip to avoid crying out as his fingernails dug deep into her palm. He shook his head again.

“Yes, you can.” Anne said, doing as best she could to keep her voice calm. She knew herself how hard it could be, and she didn’t want him to be any more frightened than he already was.

“Watch me. Just close your mouth, like this,” She took another deep breath, and let it out slowly, watching as Gilbert tried his best to copy her. “Good. Now hold it, don’t let it go. I’m going to count, alright?”

Gilbert face was incredibly pale- from the lack of oxygen, or from the fever, Anne didn’t know. They were on the fourth for fifth attempt when he finally managed to hold a breath. Anne let out a choked sob of relief.

“Yes! That’s good, okay, now hold it. Ten seconds, and I’ll count. And then you can let go, I promise.”

She began to count slowly backwards from ten. From behind her, Marilla let out an exasperated sigh. “Anne, what in heaven’s name are you-“

“It’s fine!” She snapped. “I’ve got it. Seven, six, five…”

“But Anne, it could be something to do with his fever! If he has chest pains, then…”

“It’s not his fever! I know what I’m doing, Marilla, just trust me!” Anne almost swore as Gilbert let go of the breath in a heaving, painful exhale before she had gotten to zero. “It’s okay.” She said, “It’s fine. Don’t worry, let’s try again.”

It was almost half an hour later when Gilbert’s breathing finally became normal again. As she clasped his hands and watched his face closely from her seat opposite him- exhaustion beginning to gnaw at her like an oppressive hunger- she was struck with a sickening sense of fear. Soon, she would have to explain what had happened- reassure Bash and Marilla, who were standing in the hallway in anxious conversation, that it wasn’t anything at all to do with his fever.

She really, really didn’t want to have to talk about it. Because talking about it would mean admitting how she knew what it was, how to deal with it; admitting that she, too, had been in that situation before.

Anne really didn’t want to be sent to an asylum again.

“Anne?” Matthew’s voice was quiet, but it broke through her thoughts easily. He sat with Winifred on the far side of the room, and as Anne turned to look their way, he motioned towards Gilbert.

Anne turned around again. Gilbert was looking intently at her through bleary red eyes, confusion still plastered over his features. He was shivering almost uncontrollably, and he let out a slow, shaky breath, locks of brown hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Anne began to pull her chair forward, but he shook his head, instead pulling her wrist gently towards him.

“Are you sure?” Anne whispered. He nodded, and she left the chair to sit beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, she put an arm around his shoulder carefully; he leant into her embrace, coughing quietly and wincing as it wracked through him.

“How do you feel?”

Gilbert looked up at her. His eyes were red, dark purple underneath, and Anne could tell he was having trouble keeping them open. “You shouldn’t be in here, carrots.” He said, although Anne had to strain to hear him, it was so quiet. “You could catch it.”

Anne sighed. “I won’t catch it. Besides, it’s practically gone, Dr Ward said so himself. Or in any case, it’s getting better.”

“You don’t know that.” He closed his eyes again. Anne felt his head drop onto her shoulder. “What just happened… I don’t…how did you…know? That it wasn’t my fever? Could it be my fever?”

Anne clenched her teeth. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, blowing out a breath. “I promise you, you’re going to be fine. I’ve got you.”

“But it felt like-“

“I know.”

“Like I was going to-“

“I know, Gil. I know.” Again, she tightened her arms around his shoulders. “But I promise you, it’s nothing to do with your fever. I understand, alright? I’ve- I know what it…feels like.”

Anne lowered her voice as she spoke, for fear that someone else might be listening. Her heart almost stopped as she caught a glimpse of Matthew in the corner. His expression was pained, and he was looking at her intensely, a glimmer of sadness in his pale blue eyes; she knew then that he had been listening. He was looking at her incredulously, as if to say, you? how could you know what that feels like?

When she looked down again, Gilbert had opened his eyes; he looked up at her with the same expression as Matthew, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Anne broke away from his gaze, a hot blush creeping up her cheeks. “Winnie?” She said quietly, motioning to the girl beside Matthew in an attempt to remove the focus from herself. “Come over.”

Winifred crept up to the bedside and sat down lightly next to Gilbert. Her hands fiddled with the tassels on the blanket nervously, and she was staring at Gilbert in fear, as if he might keel over at any moment. Anne reached over Gilbert’s lap and took Winifred’s hand in her own, squeezing it gently. Winifred squeezed it in reply. When her gaze flitted to Gilbert, she sighed softly.

“Is he asleep?”

Anne looked down at her shoulder. Gilbert’s breathing was even and slow, his head threatening to fall off as he slumped further into her arms. As gently as she good, she let go, and with Winnie’s help they managed to lay him down again. Winnie stood over him, loosening a shaky breath.

“Do you know what happened?” she asked tearfully. Anne bit her lip.

She prayed they would take pity on her when she told them.

Chapter Text

At first, Anne was utterly terrified.

In her mind, she had no doubt that as soon as she spoke one word about anything, she would be carted off immediately to the nearest asylum, sent kicking and screaming away from Green Gables to a decrepit old house in the middle of nowhere where the women were chained to their beds and herded like animals because they were too hysterical for their own good. She was so scared, in fact, that the minute she stepped out into the hallway she found herself begging frantically for Matthew and Marilla to let her stay.

It was only later, as she sat once again by Gilbert’s bedside, watching the sun disappear slowly below the horizon, that she realised how foolish she had been. To think they would ever send her away was something Anne regretted considering even for a moment.

“You’ve had a… a rough time with it, Anne.” Matthew had said, his voice low, eyes glistening with tears. “And we would never… never, think that what you were going through was…wrong. It wasn’t wrong, I can tell y’ that. And I know, that- uh, well, I know people may say it’s wrong. But it’s not. And you’re so very brave, Anne, for dealing with it all on your own.”

He didn’t have time to say anything more, because Anne had already barrelled straight into his arms. He held her tightly, and so did Marilla. They stood for a long time, arms round each other, Anne reassuring them that, yes, she was alright now, and no, it hadn’t happened in a while, and yes, of course she would let them help her if it did.

“And what about Gilbert?” Marilla pulled away. “Will it happen again? Will he feel the same way you did?”

Anne looked down at the floor. “I don’t know. Maybe. I think his fever probably made it worse, but it could be the same as me.”

“Well, we shall help him all we can. I don’t want him to feel as though he can’t talk to us.” She took Anne’s hands in her own, voice wavering a little. “And I don’t want you to either. You do know that you can always talk to us, don’t you? I know I can be stern sometimes, but I do love you, Anne. And it’s a horrible thing to go through- whatever it is. I don’t want you two going through it alone.”

Anne squeezed Marilla’s hands tightly. “Thank you, Marilla. I know. I love you too. Both of you. And you’re not stern. Well-“ Anne continued, looking at Matthew’s raised eyebrow with a smile, “Maybe a little stern.”

An hour later, Winifred stood up from her place next to Anne. They had been reading together to pass the time while Gilbert slept quietly beside them. “I should go.” She said softly. “It’s getting late, and I shouldn’t be away from work for so long. Not when Doctor Ward is up here on business, anyway.”

Anne frowned, shutting up her copy of Jane Eyre. “There are still trains this late?”

“Right up until nine. Matthew said he’d take me to the station.”

“Oh.” She paused, eyes scanning Gilbert’s sleeping form. “When will you talk to him? About all of this, I mean.”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll send him a letter, explaining things. And you can talk to him too if you’d like, I don’t mind.”

“Oh, thank you, Winnie. I really appreciate it.” She paused again, hesitant. “Would you like to pray with me? Before you go? I just thought, with everything that’s happened, we might need to. I’ve been severely neglecting my prayers recently and I feel as though maybe two of us will make them stronger.”

Winifred smiled and nodded her head. She moved the chair aside and knelt carefully on the floor, moving her blue skirts out of the way. Anne knelt beside her, and together they bowed their heads and laced their hands together on their laps.

“Dear Gracious Heavenly Father,” Anne began. Winifred gave her a quizzical glance, but said nothing.

“I suppose I should start with the things I’m thankful for, although this might take some time. I’ll try to keep it short. I thank thee first for helping Gilbert to get better. And I’m thankful for Winnie, who has been…remarkable. And I’m thankful for Marilla, and Matthew, and Bash, for being so wonderfully supportive, and the best family I could ask for.”

She opened her eyes for a moment to look at Winifred. “Do you want to say anything?”

“Oh. Well…” Winifred sighed. “Let’s see. I’m thankful for…Gilbert’s recovery, albeit a slow one. I’m thankful for all the help he’s been given, by the Cuthbert’s- and Bash, of course.

And…” Winifred gave Anne another sideways glance, the corners of her lips tugging upwards in a sad smile. “And I’m thankful for Anne. She is possibly the strongest person I’ve ever known, and, despite the rather solemn circumstances, I am very glad I have come to know her.”

Anne felt her eyes prickle with tears. She looked away, blushing furiously. “Thank you, Winnie.”

“That’s okay.” Winifred said. “Have we finished?”

“Oh! No,” Anne exclaimed suddenly. “No, now we have to ask for the things we want. Not rudely, of course, but more like… a request, in a way. So, I would like to ask thee, heavenly father, to help Gilbert’s fever. Make it go completely, I mean. So he doesn’t have to be stuck in Matthew’s room with me all day. And that’s all I have to say, really. So…Amen.”

“Amen.”

After a moment of silence, Winifred stood up; Anne followed her to the door. For some strange reason she felt a sudden, horrible sense of sadness at Winifred’s departure, as if she were being separated from a close friend. It was odd, to feel this way about someone she had been against for so long.

“I’ll see you soon, Anne.” Winifred adjusted her hat, brushing the curls from her face. “And I’ll write, to you both.”

“That’s a relief. I think Gilbert may be very, very confused.”

Winifred chuckled, but then her face went dark, and she frowned. “What happened earlier…will it happen again?”

Anne sighed, fidgeting uncomfortably, biting her lip; she twiddled her fingers just for something to do with her hands. “I don’t know.”

“Did you? Did it happen more than once, I mean?”

“Yes, but- I think it’s different for him. I can’t really say what he’s feeling. I’ll talk to him, though. He won’t have to deal with it alone, I promise.”

“Good.” Winifred hesitated for a brief second, before pulling Anne into a hug. “Take care.”

“You too.” Anne said into her shoulder. When they pulled apart, it was as if something had changed; Anne felt an enormous weight lifted from her shoulders, and she was so relieved and exhausted she thought she might crumple up in a heap on the floor right where she was standing. She shut the door quietly and moved over to her chair, collapsing in it with a groan.

“Anyone would think you’re the one with scarlet fever, carrots.”

“Gilbert.” She was at his side in an instant, perching on the edge of the bed, grabbing his hands tightly. He looked down at them curiously, as if he wasn’t expecting her to do so.

“Did Winnie leave?”

Anne nodded, but she was barely listening. Her mind was elsewhere, busy scanning his face frantically, searching for any signs that he might be sicker than he was before. He frowned at her, furrowing his brows.

“You didn’t…fight, did you?”

“What? Fight, no, of course not, we just talked, and- you don’t feel sick, do you?”

“No. What did you talk about?”

“Lots of things. Mostly about you. Has your fever gone down?” She put her hand on his forehead; it was still warm, but not nearly as bad as before. As she started to pull away, Gilbert grabbed her hand, forcing it to stay there.

“It’s better than before. You talked about me?”

“Yes, about you, who else? Is your chest okay, and your cough?”

Gilbert chuckled quietly. “I’m fine, Anne, really. You’re starting to sound like Doctor Ward, you know.”

Anne sighed in frustration. She took her hand and Gilberts away from his forehead, their fingers laced together, bringing them to rest on Gilbert’s chest as it moved up and down evenly. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the slow rhythm of his heart beneath her fingertips.

“Just because you’re sick doesn’t mean I can’t whack you, Blythe.” She muttered, teeth clenched together.

“Oh, I know, Shirley.” Gilbert said plainly. “But I promise. I’m okay. I just- I got kind of scared, before. Bash was talking to me and everything was fine, I felt okay, but then he mentioned Dellie and I just- I completely forgot she was even here, and I started to panic. I- I thought that she could have caught it, you know, I mean it’s really easy for them to get it, and all of a sudden it was like I couldn’t breathe, and I know it sounds stupid-“

“-It doesn’t sound stupid.”

“-but it felt like the whole room was closing in on me, and I really didn’t know what to do. And then you said you knew what it felt like, and that really scares me because that was…well, it was-“

Gilbert stopped talking. His eyes were glistening, full of such compassion and sympathy that Anne could have sworn she was the one who was sick, and not him. Without thinking, she turned around and crawled over his legs to the other side of the bed, sitting upright on top of the covers. Gilbert turned on his side to face her.

“It scares me because I hate that you went through that. Whatever the hell it was. I hate that you went through it alone, and I hate that you probably couldn’t talk to anyone about it, and I’m really sorry I’m telling you this now, and I’m sorry to Winnie but I have to tell you because I-“

“I know.”

Gilbert stopped. He raised any eyebrow in confusion. “What?”

By now, the room had gone dark, the faint glow of sunset reflecting through the windows and onto the wooden panels of the floor. Anne hoped it was too dark for Gilbert to see her face; she knew it was probably the same shade as her hair by now.

“I know.” She said again. “Winifred does too. That’s what we were talking about.” Anne let herself slip further down the headboard, until she was completely on her side, level with Gilbert. His eyelids fluttered, and all of a sudden she had a strange urge to reach out and trace the side of his face, run her hands through his hair.

“You know?” Gilbert’s voice was soft. “Both of you?”

“Yes. Winifred doesn’t mind. She wanted to break off the engagement, anyway. Said she’d write you a letter when she got back to Charlottown.”

“A letter.”

“Yes.” This time, she did reach out. Her fingertips ran along his jawline faintly, almost as if she weren’t touching him at all; slowly, her hand travelled up to his hair, burying itself in his curls, running through them gently. Much to her delight, he seemed to lean into the touch.

“So, she’s not mad?” Gilbert whispered. Anne shook her head.

“No.”

“And…” he asked, tentatively. “Are you?”

Anne’s hand stilled, moving to rest on the side of his face. “No. I’m not mad.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Anne moved forward; their foreheads touched lightly together, and Anne was relieved to feel the warm heat against her head instead of burning hot.

“I love you too.” She said. It was the first time she’d said those words out loud, but somehow it felt right. “There will never be anyone for me but you, Gil. I mean it.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Anne woke up, sunlight streamed through the window. It took her a while to realise that she wasn’t in her own bed; blinking and rubbing her eyes, she sat up in a wild confusion at her surroundings. It was only when she looked around did she realise where she was.

“Oh, God.” Anne groaned inwardly. If she’d been there all night, there was no doubt that Marilla had seen them together. Matthew and Bash, she didn’t mind. But Marilla, that was a different situation altogether.

She turned slowly, expecting to see Gilbert still sleeping beside her. But to her surprise, the side of the bed was empty.

Gilbert was gone.

Chapter Text

The house was uncomfortably still. It seemed as if Anne was the only one left in it. As she crept slowly down the staircase, each step creaking lightly under her feet, her hands began to tremble.

Gilbert had been fine. Completely fine. So much so, that the two of them had stayed awake much later than they should have done, exchanging soft words and muddled explanations in the darkness. He was still confused about earlier, and even more upset when Anne explained what had happened to him, how she’d had them ever since she was little. It was hard for her; the memories she had tried so hard to push away were resurfacing, and it was possibly the most difficult thing she had ever had to do. But he held her closely, listening to her until they were both almost asleep.

She hadn’t meant to stay, of course, but hearing Gilbert’s sleepy murmur beside her, the way he reached out and caught her wrist when she tried to sit up- ‘don’t go.’ Well, it was practically impossible not to stay. Besides, she was already lying down, so close to sleep she would have woken herself up if she’d tried to stand.

The house was quieter than it had ever been that morning; usually it creaked and groaned, floorboards squeaking and windowpanes rattling with the wind outside. But the morning was still and silent. No voices, not even that of the house itself. Anne couldn’t hear a thing but the vicious beating of her own heart pounding incessantly at her chest.

She wouldn’t let herself think the worst. She couldn’t. Not after that night, not after everything she’d done, after all that she’d prayed and begged and sobbed for Gilbert to get better. And, he was better- wasn’t he?

Anne felt awfully sick. She forced herself to move forward, clamped her shaking hands together and shook her head wildly. Stop it, she thought, stop it stop it stop it stop it please stop it.

She caught sight of him a moment later, slumped in an armchair behind the kitchen table with a blanket draped over his shoulders, brown curls messy and dishevelled. Anne could see Bash standing at the kitchen sink, helping Marilla with the dishes and holding Delphine with his free arm. They talked quietly in low voices, and wouldn’t have noticed Anne standing at the foot of the stairs at all if it weren’t for the huge, ugly sob that came from her mouth before she could stop it.

“Anne?” Marilla turned suddenly, saucepan clanging noisily into the sink. “What it is? Are you alright?” She began to move forward, but Bash put out his free hand to stop her. He shook his head, and Marilla seemed to understand, hesitating before slowly backing away and disappearing into the living room.

Anne was barely concentrating on either of them. She stepped down from the staircase and before she knew it she was pressed against Gilbert’s chest with her eyes squeezed shut, breathing in and out slowly and trying desperately to stop crying. He wasn’t at all steady on his feet, and one of his arms loosened from around her back and grabbed onto the top of the armchair for support as he swayed a little.

“It’s alright.” Gilbert seemed to read Anne’s mind instantly, something he had become ridiculously good at. “I’m okay.”

“You’re an idiot.” She mumbled into his shirt. Her tears ran down her cheeks and pooled at her chin, dampening the patch where her head rested. Gilbert gave a breathy, exhausted laugh in reply.

“Yeah, I guess I’m that too.”

Anne sniffed. Her head was still pressed firmly into his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. She felt that if she let go for just one second he would disappear altogether, slip away from her grasp like he had never been there at all; so she held on tight, breathing in and out, feeling the reassuring thump of his heart against her ear.

“I came down here this morning. Not long before you, actually.” Gilbert said. His voice was hoarse and scratchy from coughing, and for a moment Anne debated telling him to shut up, you’re going to lose it if you carry on like that. But she knew for certain that as soon as she opened her mouth it would send her into another fit of sobs, so she kept quiet.

“My fever broke… in the night.” Gilbert continued gingerly. “I think you…uh, slept through it all.”

Anne’s head shot up and she glared at him furiously, but before she could say anything Gilbert cut in. “Don’t. You needed to sleep, and I was fine.”

“You should have woken me, Gil, I could have helped.”

“No, you needed to rest, I-“

“I’m not the one who had scarlet fever, Gilbert.” Anne snapped. She was beginning to get frustrated, though she knew it was completely irrational of her. It wasn’t Gilbert’s fault and she knew it, yet there was part of her that just wanted him to be selfish for once in his life and do something for himself. “You should have woken me, I was right next to you!”

“I’m sorry.” Gilbert sighed heavily. Anne saw tears start to pool at the corner of his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I-”

Gilbert’s voice broke. He started to cover his face, obviously embarrassed, but Anne pulled him into a hug before he could pull away, cursing herself for being so ridiculously angry. They stood for a while, Gilbert’s arms tightening around her as he cried quietly, occasionally letting out a small whimper that made Anne’s chest hurt; it was like having a thousand pieces of glass stabbed into her heart all at once.

“Woah.” Gilbert loosened his grip on Anne suddenly. He grabbed the side of the chair tightly, screwing up his face in concentration. Before Anne had chance to do anything Bash was behind her, holding Delphine out. She took the gurgling baby in her arms without a second thought.

“Head down.” Bash instructed. Gilbert did as he said, bracing his hands on the chair, holding it like a lifeline. Delphine squealed unhappily in Anne’s arms, reaching out her arms and waving furiously in Gilbert’s direction.

“Grab my arm, Blythe. ‘kay, now sit down…slowly, man, slowly…Can’t have you keelin’ over again.”

“Again?” Anne looked at him, horrified. Bash only shrugged, lowering Gilbert down into the armchair where he collapsed with a groan.

“You know how stubborn he is, Anne. Won’t admit he’s still sick just cause he got himself down one flight of stairs this mornin’.”

“Go away, Bash.” Gilbert swatted Bash away lightly. “Don’t you have latrine duty or something?”

“Very funny, Blythe. I see the fever hasn’t knocked the comedian outta you.”

Delphine squealed again, wriggling, and Anne struggled to keep her from launching herself onto the hard floor. She held her out for Bash, but he only pushed her back in to Anne’s chest, kissing the top of his daughters head lightly. “You take her.”

“Oh. Alright. Why are you going?” Anne asked. Bash’s mouth turned upwards into a grin, and he raised his eyebrows as if to say: you really don’t know?

Oh, I see what you’re doing, Anne thought. She scoffed and rolled her eyes at Bash, who only smirked in reply, bumping his shoulder against hers in a silent recognition before picking up his coat from the side and leaving through the front door. He’d got halfway through it when he turned again and ran back the way he came, right up to Gilbert’s chair.

“I win.” He practically squealed. “I called it! I win, Blythe!”

And with that, he turned on his heel and bounded out of the door, dancing and jumping and shouting “I win!” over and over again until he was far enough away that his voice was just a quiet whisper carried away on the wind.

“Someone’s excited, I see.” Anne moved around the chair and sat down next to Gilbert; after a week of barely eating a thing expect for broth, he was considerably thinner- not terribly so, but noticeable enough. With Anne’s natural slimness, it was easy for them to fit in one armchair, albeit a slight squish. Gilbert moved over and laughed as Delphine’s hand grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, fisting it tightly between her chubby fingers.

“Please ignore him, he’s an idiot.” Gilbert said. He tried to move Delphine’s hand away from him but she wailed in protest, inching out of Anne’s arms and holding her own arms out in front.

“Oh, I see who’s the favourite here.” Anne held Delphine out towards Gilbert. “Apparently Auntie Anne’s not up to scratch anymore.”

Gilbert chuckled. He took Delphine from Anne and settled her on his lap; she immediately stopped whining, instead resting her head in the crook of his neck and hanging onto his shirt with her fingers.

“Now that’s just mean, Dellie.” Gilbert let her grab his finger in her own. “Auntie Anne is perfectly capable.”

Anne watched as Delphine’s eyes began to droop against Gilbert’s chest. She was simultaneously amazed and slightly irritated at how good he was with babies.

“I think it’s because you haven’t bathed properly in a week, you know.” she said. “Babies can be attracted to that kind of smell.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet. I’d like to point out that you haven’t changed clothes since yesterday morning, carrots.” Gilbert quipped back, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Yes, well, that’s only because you didn’t let me leave last night.” Slowly, Anne shifted further into the chair. After a moments hesitation she swung her legs over Gilbert’s, and wasn’t surprised to find he didn’t move a muscle. It was strange, how ridiculously natural it all was becoming. Of course, if Rachel Lynde were there, well, they’d be ten feet apart on opposite sides of the room at all times. But she wasn’t, and neither was Marilla, and Anne was glad of it.

“I see.” Gilbert put his arm around her, and she let her head fall onto his shoulder, careful not to disturb Delphine, who had fallen asleep almost straight away. “I do apologise, but I couldn’t help it, it is particularly interesting to listen to you sleep talk.”

“I don’t sleep talk!” Anne sputtered. Of course it was a lie; many a night, she’d woken herself up mumbling complete nonsense. It was slightly embarrassing to think about what Gilbert may have heard.

“Yeah right. Of course not.” Gilbert smiled knowingly, and Anne groaned.

“Don’t say anything, Gilbert.” she said. “I don’t want to know.”

The hand that wasn’t supporting Delphine reached for Anne’s hair and began to twiddle it beneath his fingertips. She wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing it, but the action made her so sleepy and relaxed all of a sudden that she didn’t dare say anything, for fear he would stop. She only reached for the book on the table behind her and flipped open its pages.

They stayed like that until Marilla came back into the house; Anne curled up with her nose in her book, Gilbert beside her with one hand running gently through her hair and the other holding onto a sleeping Delphine. It was only when she heard Miss Stacey’s voice coming from the kitchen did she look up from her reading.

“I do hope I’m not disturbing anything.” Her teacher’s voice rang loud and clear, followed by a thump that sounded like textbooks being dropped onto a table. “But I just wanted to see how he was doing.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Marilla said kindly, “We’re not up to much. Gilbert’s only just got out of bed, the poor thing.”

“In the whole week?” Miss Stacey sounded shocked. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was so serious.”

Anne heard Marilla sigh. She looked at Gilbert quizzically, and he shrugged. She thought everyone knew how bad it had been. Usually, when something like scarlet fever hit, the whole town knew about it in a matter of hours.

“Doctor Ward said we shouldn’t discuss it too much.” Marilla said. “Didn’t want the whole of Avonlea losing their minds over something if it wasn’t going to spread. It’s unusual, to say the least, for only one to get it, but it happens.”

Oh. That explains it. Anne winced as she pictured having to explain in detail to Diana and the rest of the girls how she’d had barely any sleep trying to block out the sounds of Gilbert’s painful coughing and wheezing, seeing him hunched over a bucket, sweat pouring from him, flushed and shaking while Bash held him up so he didn’t collapse.

She decided that maybe it was best not to tell them.

“I just wanted to see what was happening with exams, as you know they’re coming up soon and I wondered when they’ll be coming back to school?”

Exams! Anne almost dropped her book. She felt as Gilbert’s hand stilled in her hair; they met eyes, both wide with terror.

She guessed he had forgotten, too.

Chapter Text

It had been precisely ten seconds since Anne had first opened Gilbert’s medical textbook, and already the words had begun swimming unpleasantly before her eyes. After a few more moments of trying to make sense of it, she gave up, shutting it hastily with a loud smack and huffing out an exasperated breath.

“I refuse to read this nonsense, it’s barely legible. I mean, it’s like trying to read a whole chapter of the Canadian banking system. In French!”

Gilbert smirked, keeping his eyes on his work. The floor of his bedroom was scattered with papers and sheets, books stacked on top of each other in mounds all around the bed. There seemed to be very little space for anything else, and that was precisely why they found themselves sitting on top of his bed, cross-legged opposite each other with their heads bent over their textbooks.

“Mais Français n’est pas très difficile, n’est-ce pas?” Gilbert yelped as the textbook Anne had been holding landed heavily on his lap. “Hey, you’re not allowed to hurt me, I’m sick.”

“I am allowed if you’re being ridiculous.” Anne responded curtly. “Besides, you’re not sick anymore, Doctor Ward said so. You’ll be back at school in a few days.”

Gilbert sighed. He shut his book and flung it to the side, rubbing his temples with his hands. “What about you? You’re not sick, and you haven’t been at school in nearly two weeks.”

“Well, that’s because I was taking care of you. And now I’m helping you study. So, it’s technically your fault I haven’t been at school reaching my utmost potential.” Anne said. They had been sitting in the same position for a good few hours and Anne could feel her hands start to cramp up painfully. She shook her head, rubbing at her eyes and swinging her legs over the bed to stretch out her aching muscles.

Gilbert frowned at her. “So, what you’re saying is it’s all my fault and if you fail your exams then you’ll never talk to me again and I’ll have to go live with Jerry in the stables and only sleep on hay for the rest of my life?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, at least I won’t have to deal with Bash’s baby-talk anymore. Its driving me mad.” He moved behind her and reached out a hand. “Do you have a hair tie?”

Anne took two from her wrist and handed them to him. She felt his hands in her hair, combing it out gently before starting on one braid. It was different to how she usually did her hair each morning, starting right from the top and going all the way down the back of her head, but she liked the new style almost as much as her own. She vaguely remembered Mary having braids like these, and wondered if Gilbert had practiced with her- but she thought it best not to ask.

They remained in a comfortable silence until Gilbert finished. When he had done, Anne placed her textbook next to the bedside and turned round to face him. A stray curl came loose from the braid and wafted in front her face, and she screwed up her nose as it tickled, shaking her head to try and get it out of the way. Gilbert smiled and reached out to tuck it behind her ear. His hand hesitated by her cheek, and suddenly his smile was gone, replaced by an expression Anne couldn’t recognise, one that made her heart shudder in her chest.

Gilbert’s gaze dropped down slightly, and his eyelids fluttered as he exhaled. Anne’s breathing hitched. He looked up and met her eyes for a brief moment before his gaze flickered back down, and she found that her eyes followed his. She let her eyes shut, feeling the light brush of his hand on her face for just a second before he leaned in and closed the distance between them.

The first brush of his lips upon hers set her whole body alight. It was like nothing she’d ever imagined before; and, of course, she had imagined it before- or at least tried to, anyway. In fact, she’d always thought the idea of it was rather odd, kissing- but as his hand found her waist and her hand found his hair and she found it in herself to deepen this kiss, she knew that this was exactly how it was meant to be.

When they pulled away, Anne took Gilbert’s face in her hands.

“Wow.” She said. And then… “You look exhausted.”

Gilbert laughed. His forehead bumped against hers and he gave a sigh, rubbing his eyes with his hand, running it through his dishevelled brown curls. He really did look exhausted; his face was pale, dark circles around his eyes. Bash had forced him to take breaks every few hours, but even so, the effects of the fever were only starting to wear off, and it knocked him out easily.

“You should sleep.” Anne said, although it was more of a command than a suggestion. He saw it in her face, and his eyebrows furrowed, lips pouting like a child.

“Don’t give me that face, Blythe.” She pulled away slightly and reached out to take the textbooks from his lap, setting them down onto the floor. “You need to.”

“But it’s booooooor-ing.” Gilbert groaned, protesting as Anne tried to push him down gently. “And I have to study!”

“You’ve been studying for three hours straight, Gil, I think you’ll be fine.”

“But it’s important…” he whined, but as soon as his head hit the pillow he stopped. “…’kay,” he mumbled into it after a moment. “You were right.”

“I told you.” Slowly, she lowered herself down next to him. “I should go.” She said decidedly, although she didn’t think she could get up if she tried. There was a hint of hesitation in her voice that Gilbert picked up on immediately.

“You don’t have to.” He said quickly. Anne knew he was right; they were the only two in the house, with Bash and Delphine out fishing with Miss Stacey, and Marilla and Matthew a safe distance away at Green Gables. So, theoretically, if she were to stay, no one would know. And it’s not like she hadn’t done it before… although, this time she didn’t have much of an excuse.

“Half an hour.” Gilbert mumbled beside her. “Then we can get back to studying.”

Half an hour.

Anne stared up at the ceiling for a while. She willed herself not to make a stupid, irrational decision that would end up with both of them being in serious trouble, but as she looked to her side and saw Gilbert asleep beside her, watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his features seemed to soften as he slept, she knew she didn’t care at all.

When she woke up three hours later, feeling the weight of Gilbert’s arm draped heavily over her waist, for some reason it didn’t surprise her as much as she thought it would. In fact, she was just about to close her eyes and go back to sleep when she heard a loud knock at Gilbert’s front door. When she didn’t move- hoping desperately that whoever it was would go away- the knock came again, an impatient, incessant knocking that told her she didn’t have a choice but to answer it.

As carefully as she could, Anne slipped out of Gilbert’s grasp and clambered over the papers on his floor. She supressed a yell as her foot caught on a book and she nearly went tumbling forward; but her hand caught the door handle just in time, and she regained her balance. It closed behind her with a soft click.

The person on the other side of the door knocked again just as Anne reached it, and she groaned, already forming an angry reply as the door swung open.

The words got stuck in her throat. Rachel Lynde stood in the porch, her hand poised in the air as if she was about to knock again. From the expression on her face, she was as surprised as Anne was.

“Anne Shirley Cuthbert?” Rachel squinted, narrowing her eyes as if she didn’t quite believe them. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Anne coughed. “I was…um…” She stopped, smoothing her hands over her hair as quickly as she could in a vain attempt to neaten her braids, which had come loose while she slept. Mrs Lynde stared at her, clutching the basket in her hands closer to her chest.

“I was just-“ Anne froze as she felt Gilbert’s arm slide around her waist. He seemed relaxed enough, until he realised who it was at the door, and suddenly became as still as she was. She could practically feel the panic coming off him in waves.

“Gilbert.” Mrs Lynde’s voice was even more strained that it was before. Her eyes were fixated on Gilbert’s hand as it slowly began to move away from Anne’s middle; but just as he was about to pull away, Anne grabbed his arm and held it there, linking their fingers together and gripping tightly as she pulled him closer towards her.

If there was going to be gossip, it might as well be good.

“How are you, Mrs Lynde?” Anne asked through gritted teeth. Rachel opened her mouth, and then closed it without speaking. She looked rather like a fish out of water, gaping and gasping for breath.

“I was just passing by-“ she managed to get out after a moment, “on my way to see Marilla, and I thought I should come and see how you were doing, Gilbert.” Again, she glanced down at their hands, her mouth in a tight line. “You’re feeling better, I see.”

Gilbert cleared his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly. “Much better, thank you. Although scarlet fever does knock a lot out of you, if I’m being completely honest.”

“Scarlet-“ Rachel stammered, “-Scarlet fever? You mean to say you had scarlet fever?”

Gilbert nodded. “Uh…yes, I did.” He looked as uncomfortable as Anne felt; she could feel his body tense up behind her as Mrs Lynde stared at him, muttering to herself, “Good heavens, good heavens!”

For once, Anne was at a loss for words. “Mrs Lynde, would you, uh…would you like to come in?” she said, trying her best to be polite.

“Oh, no, no, no…. no thank you, I was just on my way to….” Mrs Lynde looked them up and down once more, and Anne couldn’t help but feel quite sorry for her; she looked terribly confused. “I’m awfully sorry, but I’m running a little late.” And with that, she turned on her heel and took off along the path towards Green Gables, tottering along with her basket clutched in her hands and her coat dragging on the ground.

When she was halfway up the path, Gilbert shut the door. He let out a sound almost like a snort, covering his mouth with his hand. Anne hit him hard on the arm, but she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her soon after. Before long they were both in fits of laughter as they stumbled into the kitchen; Gilbert grabbed the countertop and clutched at his stomach as he spluttered.

“Did you- see- her-face!” He choked out. Anne tried to whack his arm again, but she couldn’t even stand up straight and she missed her aim entirely, her hand hitting thin air.

“Shut…up!”

Gilbert took in a large breath. “Uh-oh.” He said, blowing it out. “I think she’s still there.”

“What?!” Anne ran over to the window, pulling Gilbert with her. He was still giggling profusely, and she covered his mouth with her own hand to keep him quiet.

“Shh!”

“Is she watching us?”

“I don’t know.” Slowly, Anne peeled back the curtain. Mrs Lynde stood at the end of the road, but Anne could see her still peering at the house. She was still close enough to see them perfectly through the window. “The nerve of that woman! It’s like she’s spying on us. Like she’s practically waiting for us to give her something else to gossip about!”

And then, she had an idea. A terrible, brilliant idea.

Anne turned to face Gilbert. He looked at her, eyebrows raised, hair still ruffled from sleep, a puzzled look on his face.

“Anne, why are you looking at me like tha-“

Anne cut off his words as she crashed her lips onto his.

Chapter Text

When Anne finally made her way home the sun had already begun to set. The evening was warm and pleasant, a soft breeze rustling her braids gently as she walked, the faint sounds of crickets chirping away in the grass. As she climbed the gate and jumped over, the soles of her boots landing with an unceremonious thud onto the hard ground, she sighed heavily. It was a perfect evening; although, it would have been much more perfect if Gilbert had walked home with her. But they both knew the chances of Rachel Lynde being at Green Gables, and Anne certainly didn’t want to make things even worse than they already were.

“You know, you sort of did it to yourself, Anne.” Gilbert had said with a playful smile. “I mean, you practically threw yourself onto me.” Anne scoffed, snatching her textbook from him.

“I did not! Besides, you’re partly to blame, too, you let me.”

“Don’t think I had much choice. Maybe she’ll think you’re keeping me hostage in my own house or something. I don’t know, with witchcraft.”

“Oh, that’s real funny.”

As Anne approached the house, she began to feel quite nervous. Of course, it was her own rash thinking that got her into this mess in the first place, but usually in these types of situations it wasn’t the getting into the problem but the getting out of it that was the hard part.

“Marilla?” She pushed the door open, shrugging Gilbert’s coat off her shoulders- the red one with the stripes on it. It was too small for him now and she thought it might be useful in the winter, what with it being about five sizes too big for her. She was just about to hang it on the rack when, out of the corner of the room, Rachel Lynde appeared, brandishing a saucepan in one hand.

“Oh, goodness, Anne, I didn’t expect to see you there.” She said. “It’s quite late for you to be getting back, don’t you think, Marilla?”

Marilla sat at the table, her mouth drawn into a tight line. Anne expected her to be angry, but she just looked up with an exasperated expression, and Anne knew it wasn’t meant for her, but for the woman behind.

“I’ve told you, Rachel, I’ve said my part on the matter. You’ll here no more from me.”

Mrs Lynde scoffed loudly. She stirred the pan with a wooden spoon, and when she turned around again to speak she began waving it around in the air vigorously. Anne couldn’t help but giggle; Marilla narrowed her eyes, and she covered it up with a cough quickly.

“I hope you know what a situation you’ve got yourself in, Anne Shirley Cuthbert. It’s going to be a scandal, mark my words. Not only has there been a sufficient lack of courting, young lady, it’s also entirely inappropriate. Who would have imagined, Gilbert Blythe going for someone such as yourself? And then there’s that young lady, Winifred- practically engaged, they were, and a good match too. I mean, he must have made a mistake, I can’t think what he was-”

“I think I’m going to go.” Anne interrupted. “To the barn, I mean. I have to- the horses. I have to see the- horses.”

It wasn’t so much Rachel’s lecture that had stung her, but rather the fact that she thought Gilbert was making a mistake. That hurt her the most. Of course, Rachel was honest; sometimes, it was a blessing. But this time, Anne thought, she had gone way too far. She’d expected a lecture, expected an outburst, yes; if she was being honest, she’d sort of meant for that to happen, just to annoy her. But she didn’t expect…this.

Marilla seemed to think it too. “Excuse me, Rachel, I won’t be a moment.” She said coolly. When they were outside, Marilla sighed, shaking her head.

“I’m so sorry for that, Anne. She’s been going on non-stop about you and Gilbert, and, well, I expected this- and I know you did too. But that was wrong of her to say. And I’ll tell her so, don’t you worry. I’ve tried to explain things best I could, but…”

Marilla stopped and looked pointedly at Anne. “You know what you did was…well, it was…”

“Yes, I know, Marilla. It was inappropriate, improper, unladylike, I get it.” Anne shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “But you have to admit, it was kind of funny. And it wasn’t like we were in public, she was practically spying on us through the window!”

“Anne, you should never-”

“Oh, Marilla, didn’t you ever do something like that? With John? You can’t have been completely perfect, can you?”

Again, Marilla sighed, but there was a slight twinkle in her eye. “Go on, get off to the barn if you’re going. Jerry’s just finishing up. You know you’re going to have to deal with this sooner or later, don’t you?”

Anne was already running down the path. She ran into the barn shouting, “I pick later!” and smiled as Marilla’s soft laugh bounced off the walls and stopped abruptly as the front door slammed shut.

When she got into the barn, Jerry was leaning against the wall petting Belle, a long strand of corn hanging from his mouth. She ran up to him and swung from the fence.

“Jerry, you won’t believe what a mess I’ve got myself into!”

Jerry raised an eyebrow. He didn’t look up from the horse, still chewing on the corn nonchalantly. “Try me.”

“Well, first of all, I just want to point out it was also partly Gilbert’s fault, although if you ask him he’ll say it was all mine-”

“Wait, what does Gilbert ‘ave to do with this?”

Anne groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “Gilbert has everything to do with this, Jerry! It’s the whole problem!”

“Have you finally told ‘im you like ‘im or something?”

Anne stopped swinging on the fence. She dropped from it heavily. “How do you know I like him?”

“It’s obvious. You talk about ‘im all the time.” Jerry looked at her and shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s true. So ‘ave you?”

“Yes.” She slumped to the floor and kicked the hay with her foot; Jerry sat down next to her, twiddling the corn between his fingers. “Yes, I have. And we’re sort of courting, but- Jerry, don’t look at me like that, you’re freaking me out- we’re courting, but Rachel Lynde decided to be a gossip just because I sort of kissed him right in front of her-”

“You did what?”

“Shut up, Jerry, that’s not the point, the point is I got myself into a mess just because I wanted to see the look on her smug little face and now she thinks Gilbert’s made a mistake, which is ridiculously unfair, I mean I know I’ve got red hair and too many freckles and I’m skinny as a rake and obviously not wife material, but it’s not HER decision to make, is it? And I think Gilbert knows what he wants, which is definitely not Winifred, because she told me so-”

“Wait, Winifred told you so?”

“Yes, Jerry. Honestly, it’s like you’re not even listening to me. Now me and Winnie are friends- look, she’s sent me a letter and everything- but obviously Rachel doesn’t know that and I really shouldn’t have made it so obvious but now the whole town probably knows and I’ll be known as the village wench for the rest of my life!”

She slumped against the wall, finishing her speech with a heavy exhale. When she looked over at Jerry, his eyes were wide, mouth open slightly; the corn dropped from it onto the floor.

“I think you dropped something.” Anne pointed down at the floor. “You should close your mouth, you look like a fish.”

“You- you and Gilbert… and Winifred, she… and you didn’t even- I mean, you ‘aven’t-”

Anne laughed. “Jerry, you’re not making any sense.” She took Winifred’s letter from her dress pocket and unfolded it carefully. “Want me to read it?”

“Oui, s’il vous plaît.” Jerry move closer and peered at the letter. “She ‘as very nice ‘andwriting.”

Anne took a breath. “Dear Anne,” she began.

‘…Firstly, I hope you and Gilbert are both well. I’ve heard from Doctor Ward that he’s making a wonderful recovery. You can’t imagine how happy I am to here that- although, you yourself are probably just as happy. I’m sure it was our prayers that made the difference, although you mustn’t tell Doctor Ward I said that. Still, I must give him some credit. He really is a brilliant doctor. Anyway, I hope both your studies are going well. I must admit I had forgotten about the exams when I came to visit you, but I shouldn’t worry about them. I know you’ll do perfectly well. I wanted to write you to tell you that I’m going to Paris in two weeks- my parents were confused at first, a little angry I must say, but I think now they realise it’s not my fault, or Gilbert’s for that matter. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I haven’t told them much about you. I think it would make matters a little complicated. But yes, I am headed to Paris. For how long, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll meet a handsome French gentleman while I’m there-”

“Hey, what about me, je suis français.” Jerry grinned. Anne swatted him lightly with the letter.

“Yes, but you’re not a gentleman, Jerry.”

“But am I ‘andsome? Or do you only think Gilbert is ‘andsome?”

“Shut up and let me read it.”

‘…or maybe I’ll live on my own for my whole life. I’ve begun to think that’s not such a bad idea, after all. I’m sending a letter to Gilbert, although you musn’t think it’s anything too personal. We’re great friends, but I do intend to keep it that way. I hope he has had no more of those…well, I don’t know what to call it. But you know what I mean. I hope you two never have to feel that way again. But remember you can write to me anytime, I’d be happy to hear from you. I’ll write the address to the flat in Paris at the bottom of this letter, just in case I’m gone before you write.

I just wanted to say thank you, Anne, for letting me into your life. Thank you for being so wonderfully… well, so wonderfully Anne. It’s been a pleasure to get to know you. I will always admire your strength, and your character. If anyone says anything, about you and Gilbert, just know that you two are possibly the most perfect match I have ever seen in my life. You work well together, you and him. I hope no one ever challenges that, and if they do, I hope you know how wrong they are.

Good luck with exams, Anne with an E.

Love, Winifred.

P.S I’m going to start wearing trousers in Paris. Everyone seems to wear them, and it sounds positively thrilling. I’m sick to death of this corset!

Also, tell Gilbert that Mr Bones misses him very much. I'll be taking him to Paris, too, if Doctor Ward lets me!'

Chapter Text

It was the morning of her first day back at school since Gilbert had fallen ill, and Anne felt positively awful. The little sleep she had managed to have in-between worrying had been restless and fraught with dreams about her classmates who pointed, gawking and whispering, as she sat awkwardly in her seat, their accusatory stares burning through the back of her head and making her feel horribly uncomfortable. In one dream- possibly the strangest of them all- Rachel Lynde had been teaching the class instead of Miss Stacey, and had instructed them all to write an essay on ‘The Reasons why Gilbert Blythe has unknowingly made a huge mistake in courting Anne Shirley Cuthbert: 25 marks.’

Anne woke up in a cold sweat and had to forcibly drag herself out of bed and downstairs to breakfast. Catching a look at her expression, Marilla raised her eyebrows as she set the plates down on the table.

“Don’t tell me you’re sick, Anne Shirley Cuthbert, because that is not going to convince me to let you stay home today.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Anne said defensively. She slumped down in her chair and covered her face with her arms. “Nothing at all.”

“I know that look.” Marilla sat down opposite her. A slight smile played on her lips, though Anne could tell she was trying her best to look stern. “Now I don’t want to hear anything about it. You brought it on yourself, and now you must deal with the consequences.”

“But it’s Gilbert’s fault too!”

“That’s all well and good, but you’re the one going to school today, not him.”

Anne groaned loudly as Matthew opened the door and stepped inside, and didn’t even flinch as Marilla shouted “boots!” When he returned to sit down- shoes safely outside on the porch- she looked at him intently, searching in desperation for some sign of sympathy. He only smiled, knowingly.

“You’ll be fine.”

Anne pushed her eggs around the plate with distain. “I know for a fact that is not true. I appreciate you being kind, but I am most certainly going to be slaughtered by my classmates and I don’t think there is anything I can do about it. And-” she continued, before Marilla could speak, “I know it’s partly my fault, but I’d just like to complain a bit more if you don’t mind, and then I’ll go.”

To her surprise, Marilla chuckled. “You’ve handled worse, I’m sure.” She said with a smile. “Now eat your eggs, Miss Cuthbert. Or are you too deep in the depths of despair again today?”

Anne gaped. Beside her, Matthew ducked his head to conceal what she thought might be a laugh. She swatted him lightly on the arm, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Not fair.” She grumbled, but her mouth twitched upwards involuntarily, and soon she was laughing joyfully over her breakfast, thinking that maybe the day would be better than she thought.

A short while later, she took a detour- partly because she’d become nervous again, and wanted to delay her arrival at school a little while longer; and partly because she wanted to see Gilbert before she left for school. As she neared the front door clutching her basket in hand, the sound of raised voices drifted through the walls from the kitchen. She recognised one immediately- he seemed upset, tearful and somewhat out of breath, but not angry. Bash didn’t seem angry either, though Anne noticed his voice was considerably louder than Gilbert’s.

She pushed the door gently, and it creaked open. From the kitchen, Gilbert inhaled sharply. “Bash, listen to me-”

“I am listening to you, Blythe!” Anne stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. She had a feeling she shouldn’t be listening, that this was a private conversation, but she knew she’d be late to school if she didn’t leave soon, and she needed to pick up a textbook from Gilbert to take back to Miss Stacey. Advancing towards the kitchen door, the voices became clearer. “I am listening to you, but you makin’ no sense. I’m not lettin’ you go to school if you’re still sick!”

“I’m not sick, Bash, I told you I’m fine-”

“If you’re fine, then what the hell was that?” Anne winced; Bash seemed angry now, like he was about to throw something across the room. She’d never seen him like this, apart from the time when Mary got sick. It scared her, and she stood by the door, looking in through the gap, not knowing whether to stay or go.

Gilbert seemed lost for words. “I- it’s complicated, Bash, I don’t-” He took another deep breath, bracing himself on the kitchen counter. “It’s hard to explain, alright. But you remember what Anne said, don’t you? I’m not sick, I’m just-”

“You’re just feelin’ like someone’s sittin’ on your windpipe! C’mon, Blythe, even I know that ain’t normal. It’s gotta be scarlet fever. And I know Anne says it’s happened to her, but it’s gotta be a whole other thing.”

“No, listen to me, it’s not.” Gilbert put his head into his hands. His shoulders sagged heavily as he breathed out. “It’s the same thing. I promise I’m not sick. It just happens sometimes.”

“And what d’ you expect me to do then, Blythe?” Bash threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Sit here and do nothing while you lookin’ like you ‘bout to stop breathin’? Is that what you want me to do?”

“I told you, there’s nothing you can do. It’s not caused by anything. I’m not sick.”

Bash laughed bitterly. “That’s what Mary said, and look what happened to her.”

“Bash, this isn’t about Mary, it’s not the same thing-”

“Of course it’s the same thing!” Anne jumped as Bash brought his hands down onto the table, the force of the blow knocking a glass onto the floor, where it smashed loudly. In the next room, Delphine started crying. Gilbert was crying too- silently; he rubbed a hand over his eyes and through his hair.

“Gilbert, I’m sorry.” Bash said quietly. He stared at the broken glass as if he couldn’t quite believe he was the one who had done it. “I’m sorry. I just- I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Gilbert sniffed. “I don’t want you to do anything.” he said. “Just let me go to school tomorrow.”

Bash ran a hand over his face and sighed. Slowly, he walked over to where Gilbert stood. “You were so sick, Blythe.” He said gently. “I really thought I might lose you, like I did Mary. And now you say you’re fine, that you’re not sick, and I want to believe you and Anne, but…” He took another deep breath. Anne leaned heavily against the doorframe and squeezed her eyes shut, listening.

“…I don’t like it. I don’t like sittin’ here watchin’ you go through hell and doin’ nothin’ about it. At least if it was scarlet fever I could do somethin’. At least then I’d know what to do. But right now I don’t, and it scares me, Blythe. I don’t like it. It’s like watchin’ Mary all over again and not bein’ able to do nothin’ to help her.”

Instead of answering, Gilbert put his arms around him, squeezing tightly. After a while he looked up from Bash’s shoulder, and it was only after a few moments of silence did Anne realise that he could probably see her.

“Anne?” Gilbert looked through the door, a faint smile dancing on his lips despite the tears running down his cheeks. “What are you doing?”

She edged slowly into the room, holding out her basket. “I need your textbook.”

“Oh.”

Bash turned around. “Anne!” He said with surprise, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Didn’t know you were here. You should’ve come in.”

Gilbert raised an eyebrow with a small smile, but said nothing. Anne cleared her throat, shifting her weight awkwardly.

“That’s okay, you were…busy.”

“Well, I should go now anyway.” Bash said. He ruffled Gilbert’s hair lightly and grabbed his coat from the chair. “We’re not done talking about this, Blythe. See you later, Anne. He’s all yours.”

The door shut softly behind him.

“Another one?” Anne put her basket down on the table and hugged him tightly, careful to avoid the shards of glass littering the floor. Gilbert sniffed, tightening his arms around her.

“I don’t think he understands. He’s trying, but it’s hard for him. Because of Mary.”

“I know.”

“He wants it to be something he can cure. It’s like he’ll feel better if he knows what’s wrong.”

“I know.”

“And it’s worse because I don’t even know what’s wrong anymore. It’s like it comes out of nowhere, and I want to find a reason for it because then maybe it would make sense but it doesn’t and I can’t stand not knowing, and neither can Bash, because-”

“Gil, I know.” Anne released her grip on him a bit and took his face in her hands. “I know. It’s okay. I know.”

He sighed heavily, shoulders drooping. “Yeah. I know you do.” He looked up at her, eyes full of tears, eyebrows all scrunched together, and suddenly the desire to kiss him right there in the middle of the kitchen overtook her- so much so, that she had to look away for a second before she could speak again.

“I can teach you how to make them better, if you like.” She said. “Not make them go away, because I don’t really know how to do that, or if it’s possible. But I think I can make them better.”

Gilbert traced the freckles on her nose with his fingertip. “Thank you.” He said. “That would be useful. I really appreciate it, Anne. I mean it.”

“Yes, I know you do. I’ve got to go to school now. Are you going to be okay? I could make up an excuse and stay with you for longer, if you need me to.”

Their foreheads bumped together lightly, and Anne didn’t have to keep looking away because he kissed her anyway; softly, only briefly, but it left her breathless even so. She wondered if she would ever get used to kissing Gilbert Blythe, or whether it would always feel like he was kissing her for the first time- and decided afterwards that she wouldn’t mind a bit if every one felt like the first; in fact, she hoped she never got used to it.

“I’ll be fine.” Gilbert stepped aside, taking his textbook from the side and placing it into the basket. “And you will too. I know that face, carrots. They’re not going to be angry with you.”

Anne marvelled at how well he could read her expression, but she managed to hide her amazement with a playful scowl.

“I think you’ll find they’re going to hang me out to dry like Marilla’s laundry.” She said, picking up the basket. “But that’s fine. In a couple of days I’ll have you there to defend my honour.”

Gilbert laughed. He kissed her again, quickly, as she made her way towards the front door. “You don’t need me to defend your honour, Shirley. You can do that perfectly well by yourself. Now go, you’re going to be late.”

On the walk to school, Anne found a note in Gilbert’s book. She had just neared the building- could see the tall jut of the roof looming over the field like something out of a scary story she’d written herself once- when a slip of paper caught her eye. It poked out of the top of the medical textbook, and on the top there was a small sketch of a carrot. Anne rolled her eyes and pulled it out, smiling to herself as she walked.

‘Dear Anne,’ it read. ‘I know you’ll probably read this on the way to school so I won’t write much. Also, my head hurts a little so I really shouldn’t be writing at all. But I just wanted to tell you that I love you. That’s all. Don’t let the others change your mind about that. You’ll be fine.

Love, Gil.

P.S you should whack them with your slate if they say anything stupid. In my experience, that’s a very effective way to shut someone up. Also, please make sure you read this because Miss Stacey finding it in my book would be extremely embarrassing.

Anne couldn’t help but laugh. An enormous, strange wave of emotion crashed over her as she neared the school building and she had to fight away the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks, again; it seemed as though she hadn’t stopped crying in the last two weeks. Just as she was about to put the note in her pocket, her friends came running out of the door and down the steps.

“Is it true you and Gilbert are courting?” Ruby blurted out. “Is it true, Anne- is that a note from Gilbert?”

Josie looked angry, although Anne realised there wasn’t much change to how she usually looked. “You’ve made a huge scandal, you know. Even worse than I did. But I’m not surprised, seeing as it’s you. And it’s not true, Ruby.”

“It could be.” Jane said. “You two have been off school for ages. Mrs Lynde said Gilbert nearly died.”

“Don’t be silly.” Josie snapped. “He didn’t nearly die, that’s ridiculous.”

Diana stood silent, her arms crossed, and Anne noticed the small smile on her face, as if she was concealing a laugh. Of course, Diana knew the truth. Anne had wasted no time in sending her a long, detailed letter of everything that had happened- as long as she swore to tell no one else. With a laugh, she linked their arms together.

“If you really want to know, then yes, we are courting. And I’m not apologising for it because I have absolutely no need to. Gilbert had scarlet fever, and we all thought he was going to die, but he didn’t, and now Winifred’s wearing trousers in Paris and sending us letters and everything’s wonderful!”

And with that, she dragged Diana inside, leaving the rest of the girls standing open-mouthed and gaping by the door.