Chapter Text
The atmosphere in the pub on the evening that Carmody announced his departure was decidedly convivial. The Skeldale gang were gathered together around the table, with the addition of Doris, perched on a stool next to a beaming Carmody. Tristan entertained them with tales of cricket in the yard, earning himself only a mild frown from Helen when he described the ball clipping off James’s bat and straight into Jimmy’s pram. “He’s a natural, Helen!” Tristan proclaimed as she shook her head at him. “Tried to grab the ball straight away.”
“And put it in his mouth, no doubt,” Helen said with a sigh.
As cricketing tales subsided, it was Audrey’s turn. “As if I didn’t have enough to do today without Mr Bosworth dragging me off to look at a suspected unexploded bomb. In full uniform, of course!”
“Very important to be in uniform,” Tristan nodded, wisely. “Show that bomb who’s in charge.”
“And what was it?” Siegfried queried.
Audrey laughed. “A box of supplies, dropped by one of ours. Not that you’d think it to hear Mr Bosworth of course.”
“What does he think it is?” Doris wondered.
“Spies, of course,” Tristan interjected.
Audrey nodded. “Spies and who knows what else. The man seems desperate for a bit of drama. He’s reported it to be checked. Soap! And biscuits!”
“I doubt there’ll be any left by the time by tomorrow,” Siegfried said, taking another gulp of beer, “the farm kids will clear that out.”
“I expect you’re right,” Audrey agreed with a sigh. “Mr Bosworth wanted to hush it up, even though it’s not a-” she lowered her voice dramatically- “bomb-” she returned to her normal voice - “But they’ll have heard by now, I’m sure. Enough about me, what did you two get up to today?” She looked at Carmody and Mr Farnon.
Carmody caught Mr Farnon’s eye and interpreted his sudden scowl correctly. “Goats,” he declared loudly. “Some rather adorable pygmy goats with sun-sensitive skin.”
“They sound so cute,” Doris said. “Did you get to cuddle one?”
And so the evening continued.
It was a couple of weeks later and Audrey had almost forgotten about the bomb that wasn’t, when one morning found a frantic Mr Bosworth at Skeldale’s back door. He barged straight into the kitchen, where Audrey was organising her wash day. “Uniform,” he snapped at her, “now!”
Audrey smiled at him. “Good morning Mr Bosworth, and how are you today?” But she took off her apron as she spoke, aware that he wouldn’t take too much teasing.
He glanced around the empty kitchen. “Where are the household?”
Audrey folded her apron and put it on the back of the chair. “Tristan is lecturing, Mr Farnon is off looking at some goats, Helen is at the farm and James is in surgery.” She looked at the worried man quizzically. “Why?”
He leant in close and whispered. “A bomb.”
Audrey sighed. “I’ll go and get changed.”
“Quick as you can!”
Smart and tidy in her uniform, Audrey climbed into the passenger seat of Mr Bosworth’s requisitioned car. He barely waited for her to close the door before he was roaring out of the yard. “Mr Bosworth!” she exclaimed, clinging frantically to the door handle.
“No time to lose,” he said. He glanced at her and back to the road, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. “This time it’s a real one.”
Audrey’s fingers clenched involuntarily. “Oh,” she said.
They’d all heard the planes roar over last night; had sheltered under the large dining room table with Jimmy in his cradle in the middle. But the all clear had sounded before long and a household of vets was used to disturbed nights.
“Came down in a field. Farmer got sight of it and called me.”
“Oh dear,” said Audrey, rather faintly.
“Lucky the cows were in a different field at the time.”
Audrey tightened the strap on her hat.
She was glad to see the field was empty of onlookers. They’d driven to the farm and the farmer had directed them – but he was staying well clear. Sensible man, Audrey thought, as she and Mr Bosworth squelched their way across a muddy field, along a stone wall, towards the most dangerous thing she’d seen in nearly three decades – Mr Farnon included. She grinned momentarily. The grin vanished as Mr Bosworth flung out a trembling arm.
“There,” he said. Ahead of them, mere metres away, an ominous dull grey cylinder protruded from the earth. Slowly, he opened his bag and drew out paper and clipboard. “We must write a report.”
Audrey stared at the form, the bomb, and up, at the birds that were darting merrily about with no thought to the danger beneath them.
“Right,” she said.
Siegfried sipped a cup of the curious Persian coffee and listened as Mrs Grantley expounded on the theme of her book. He’d managed half of it, in between calls and surgery and cuddling his godson. He considered himself cultured and well-educated. This book had, however, been something of a challenge. Myths and legends, gods and tales – all those he knew and loved. The detail of ancient civilisation, the precise movement of man away from hunter gatherer to settled living – less so. And even less in the impenetrable, academic style in which the rather charming lady opposite him had chosen to write. He nodded along, trying to look as if he was following her. She slipped frequently into what he assumed was Farsi. He was beginning to regret the visit. He was on the point of admitting defeat when there was a thunderous roar and the house shook.
“What the d- the deuce was that?” he demanded, putting his coffee down hastily.
Mrs Grantley looked mildly perturbed. “Either someone is blowing up flour, or that was a bomb.”
“Flour? What?!” Siegfried didn’t wait for an answer. “I must be going. Good day, Mrs Grantley.” He stood up, clapped his hat onto his head and almost ran for the car. Suddenly, Mrs Hall’s tale in the pub came back to him. She, along with that idiot Bosworth, had been expected to investigate an unexploded bomb.
He drove home without caution, skidded into the Skeldale yard and ran into the house.
“Herriot, where’s Mrs Hall?”
James looked at him, his face pale. “I heard an explosion.”
“Where is she, dammit!” Siegfried nearly shook him.
James shook his head. “I don’t know. She went out – in uniform. I saw her when I was seeing out a patient,” he explained, as though Siegfried cared how he knew.
Siegfried ran out of the house again. Villagers were flooding into the streets, gossiping for all they were worth. He grabbed a small boy by the collar. “What do you know?”
“Sorry sir,” the boy gasped, “they’re saying there’s a bomb up at Hunt’s and it went off!”
“We heard it go off,” Siegfried growled.
“Sir!” the boy whimpered.
Siegfried looked down and realised he’d half strangled the lad. “Sorry,” he muttered. He let go, fished in his pocket and found a shilling. “There you go.”
The boy’s eyes lit up. “Thank you!”
Hunt’s. He’d been there often enough. Good herd. Back in Skeldale, he grabbed his call bag, threw extra rolls of bandages in and ran back to his car. “Dear god,” he mumbled as he drove, palms sweaty, heart racing. “Dear god, let her be safe.”
Audrey blinked, blearily. Why was her bed so uncomfortable? She blinked again. Her fingers brushed stone. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. She tried to move but couldn’t, and then blackness washed back over her.
“Mrs Hall,” a voice called, from a long way away. She forced her weary eyes open. A face swam into view – a familiar one. “Joan,” she mumbled.
“That’s right,” Joan said, loud and cheery. “You just stay with me Aud, we’re going to get you into the ambulance.”
“Mr… Bosworth?” she managed.
“He’s fine. Having a cup of tea. Keep looking at me, Audrey!” Joan said sharply.
“Sorry,” Audrey mumbled. She felt gentle hands explore her head, a worried murmur. Joan’s eyes stayed fixed on hers. More hands, at her shoulders and feet.
“We’re going to lift you onto the stretcher, Audrey,” Joan said. The movement sent pain shooting through her. She screamed, once, and the blackness took her again.
She swam back into consciousness to the sounds of an argument. There was cloth beneath her, a van roof above her and a furious man outside.
“Let me see her!” the furious man demanded.
A smile tugged at her lips.
“Mr Farnon, the best thing you can do now is let us get her to hospital as fast as we can,” an exasperated voice replied.
“You don’t – I must – please...”
“Mr Farnon,” Audrey croaked, coughed, and tried again. “Mr Farnon!”
The van door swung abruptly open and Mr Farnon barged through it, headless of the despairing man behind him.
“Sit down then, we need to get going!” the man snapped. Joan climbed in beside Mr Farnon, the door closed and the engine started.
Audrey tried to turn her head to look at Mr Farnon, but the movement hurt too much. Instead, she felt his hand clasp hers, squeezed his fingers to reassure him.
“Mrs Hall, I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered.
“Never,” she vowed.
The van bumped over cobbles, pain shot through her head and she couldn’t stifle a gasp.
“Just hold on,” he said. “I’m here Audrey, I’ve got you.”
“I’m – glad,” she managed, and the van faded away again.
Siegfried rubbed his eyes. The ambulance had taken Mrs Hall to Pumphrey Manor. She’d been carefully decanted, wheeled up to the ladies ward – opened recently after a spate of injuries among the land girls – and placed in a bed. She hadn’t opened her eyes again in all that time. Siegfried had been summarily dismissed upon the arrival of the doctor. He’d argued, but this time he’d met his match. He’d been provided with a bicycle, a promise extracted that he would return it within a day, and sent on his way home.
Now, the bicycle was propped against the yard wall, various parts of him ached, and he was desperately worried.
James met him at the door. “Mrs Hall?” he queried, anxiously.
Siegfried met his gaze. “Unconscious, injuries not yet fully ascertained.” The memory of the bloody bandage around her delicate head would stay with him for a long while, as would the marks on her face, the stains on her skin.
James blanched.
“I left the doctor with her.” He steeled himself. “I had better phone Tristan.”
“And Carmody,” James said quietly. “Richard would want to know.”
Tristan arrived that evening, having pulled some strings to get out of his afternoon lectures. “How is she?” where the first words out of his mouth as he stepped through the door of Skeldale.
“No news, yet.” James beckoned him into the living room and Siegfried handed him a glass of whiskey.
They sat in silence. Helen was cuddling little Jimmy, the only member of the household who was unaffected. Even Dash and Jess sat quietly, ears drooping.
“I shouldn’t have let her do it,” Siegfried said, twisting his fingers around his glass. “It was always going to be far too dangerous.”
“You couldn’t have stopped her, old boy. It’s not like you’re her husband,” Tristan pointed out.
“I was sitting there, talking about ancient Persia, while she was risking her life!” Siegfried exclaimed.
The others exchanged glances.
“I don’t follow,” Helen said, on behalf of all of them.
“Blasted Carmody and his signs,” Siegfried muttered. “Dilated pupils, flushed cheeks – I should have ignored him.”
“Siegfried?” Helen asked again.
He put down his glass with a thump and stood up abruptly. “I was – flirting! Engaged in a nonsensical conversation, over ridiculous coffee, while she was investigating an unexploded bomb! I should have been here! There!”
“I’m sorry,” Tristan said, “go back a bit. Did you take advice – romantic advice – from Richard Carmody? The man took months to utter a coherent sentence to the woman he liked!”
Siegfried waved his hand. “He was convincing.”
“And even if you had been here and not flirting over coffee,” Tristan shot his brother a look, “I fail to see how that would have made any difference. Unless you flirt so badly that you can make bombs several miles away explode.”
“I’d have stopped her going.”
Tristan shook his head. “You wouldn’t, you do know that? So,” he stood up and pushed his brother back down into an armchair, “stop blaming yourself.”
“What else can I do?” Siegfried asked despairingly.
“You can pray,” Helen said. They all looked at her. “Audrey would, for you.”
“Well then,” Siegfried muttered, “let us pray.”
Audrey woke slowly. She was in bed. Her head hurt like the blazes. A smiling face appeared before her. “Ah, Mrs Hall, you’re awake. How do you feel?”
Audrey took in the starched blue and white uniform. “I’m in hospital?”
“At Pumphrey Manor. Close to home, I believe?” the nurse said reassuringly. “How are you feeling?” she prompted again.
“My head – hurts,” Audrey said. She raised a hand slowly, felt the bandages running round her head.
“You had a very nasty knock,” the nurse said, “a lot of blood, but that’s usual with head wounds. And – the rest of you?”
There was a hesitancy to her words that made Audrey think. She tried to stretch out, testing for any winces – but found that she couldn’t. “My – my legs. I can’t move.” Panic welled within her and she fought it down. “Have I lost them?”
“No, no!” the nurse hastened to say. “There was some pressure on your spine. The doctors think it may have had an effect on your legs.”
The panic rose again. “I’m paralysed?!”
“It – may not be permanent.” The nurse smiled. “I’ll bring you something for your head. For now, try to relax and not to worry. It’ll help you heal.”
Relax! Audrey would have shaken her head if it hadn’t hurt so much. How could she relax? To be paralysed, stuck in a wheelchair… How could she go back to work at Skeldale? Her job was such an active one. Nobody would hire a paralysed housekeeper. What could she still do? Knitting? Could she support herself that way? Most of her savings had gone to Edward over the years but she had a bit by. Maybe she could afford a room somewhere, on the ground floor of course. Knitting and mending might bring in enough to live on. Maybe when Edward left the navy she could live with him, if she was lucky.
“Here you go!” The nurse brought a spoon towards her. “This should help.”
Audrey took it obediently and let herself slide back into oblivion.
“You’ve got a visitor, Mrs Hall!” The nurse was back, cheery. “Your husband! Isn’t that nice?”
Audrey frowned at her. Surely she had divorced her husband? Who could this be?
Then she sank back into the pillow in amused resignation as Mr Farnon appeared.
“Your wife, Mr Hall.” The nurse smiled at him. “I’ll leave you two in peace.” She retreated to her desk at the end of the room.
Mr Farnon slipped into the chair by her bedside and took her hand. “Hello, Audrey.”
“Mr- I mean, Siegfried,” she corrected herself. “You ridiculous man, what tales have you been telling?”
“They said only family could visit,” he said, eyes scanning her face. “You don’t mind, do you?”
She squeezed his hand. “Of course I don’t mind.”
“The boys send their love. You gave us all a fright.” His thumb ran gently over her hand. “How are you?”
“Sore,” she admitted. She eyed his familiar face. How much had they shared over the years? And how much had they both bottled up when they shouldn’t?
He could read her so easily these days. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked gently.
“I – I can’t use my legs.” She screwed her eyes shut but couldn’t stop the tears suddenly escaping.
“I see.” His tone was thoughtful. “Is it permanent?”
Trust him to cut to the chase. “They don’t know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Mr Farnon. I might have to leave you after all.”
She felt him lift her hand and then opened her eyes in astonishment as his lips brushed over her fingers. He looked at her, quiet and serious. “Never,” he said. “Audrey, dearest Audrey. You are more than a housekeeper to Skeldale. You’re our beating heart. You belong with us.”
“But – I -”
“When you are discharged,” Siegfried said firmly, “you are coming home with me, to our boys. Whether your legs work or not.” His lips twitched. “And young Carmody will be sure to find a way to make them work.”
“Clever boy, that one,” she agreed, hiding her overwhelming relief and love behind a cool exterior.
“That’s long enough for a first visit,” the nurse called over. “Let your wife have some rest, Mr Hall. You may return tomorrow.”
Siegfried pulled a face, but stood obediently. His fingers squeezed hers. “Till tomorrow, my dear.”
The nurse escorted him out, then returned to Audrey’s bedside. She looked at her patient approvingly. “You’re a good colour and you’ve perked up a treat.” She nodded at the door. “You’ve got a good one there.”
Audrey sighed. Her head still hurt. The idea of not being able to walk again was terrifying. But Mr Farnon had left her feeling loved, cared for, like she could face anything with him and her boys behind her.
“You have no idea,” she said with a smile.