Chapter Text
The sun rose over the Dales like it did every morning. Its dark orange glow and the warmth it already provided in early June evaporated the mist that hung over the fields and meadows. Birds started their song, heralding another fine day. On the green behind Skeldale butterflies, bumblebees and bees enjoyed the nectar of the countless wildflowers scattered across the vast area. Somewhere in the distance a rooster crowed. To any person arriving in Darrowby at this very hour it was a perfect morning, one poets might immortalise in writing. But a stranger had no insight into the close-knit community that lived here, knew nothing about their worries and fears. They would overlook the residents that had lain awake all night, could not point them out in a crowd, were unaware of their suffering. To them this was a quaint village like any other, perfectly situated in the Yorkshire Dales. A better place than the noisy, overcrowded cities that had suffered throughout the war, had seen aerial attacks, rationing without the chance of resorting to home grown vegetables or other food sources that weren’t shops.
Yet like any other place in Britain, Darrowby had suffered losses. They might be invisible to the strangers eye but they were felt strongly by everyone in the village. Because it was not a house or a flat that had been destroyed. It was a loved ones life, a heart that would never beat again, eyes that would never see the world anew. On kitchen tables, on the doormat of a cottage, on the bedside tables lay letters no one ever wanted to receive. Especially not now that the war in Europe was officially over.
Thankfully, Skeldale had been spared. There had been close calls, more than once, resulting in weeks of anxious waiting, sleepless nights and tears of relief when the redeeming telegram finally arrived. Or when that was replaced by a patched through phone call, the voice of Edward or Tristan on the other end. Both boys were now safe, back in the country, back in their home and flat. Other friends had not been so lucky, had not received good news in the post. And each time the loss hit harder than the one before.
A few days ago Maggie had found a letter she never wanted to receive. When the Drovers stayed closed at noon on the same day, people were not particularly worried. Not for the first time the local pub had to alter its opening hours. Usually rationing caused Maggie to make last minute adjustments. But in the evening the doors were still locked and there was no sign of any activity inside the building. Only the next morning did folk really began to worry, made whispered comments, pointed over their shoulders at the closed pub. Audrey had been on her way to get the weekly shopping but the way people speculated about Maggie’s whereabouts, additional to the gossip she heard all around her, made her leave the green grocers immediately. No one deserved to be talked about like that behind closed doors and especially not in public. She soon found herself in front of Maggie’s front door, just a short walk from Skeldale. Anger and worry had taken her there instinctively. And wasn’t she also the patron saint of lost causes according to Siegfried? Someone had to make sure everything was alright and if that was not the case, offer support, a helping hand, anything at all. They were a community after all, one that did not stand by and watch other people suffer in their midst.
*---A---*
“I don’t know how she manages to cope.” Helen whispered, pressing Rosie close to her chest, stroking her fair hair absentmindedly. “I was a mess while James was away and he wasn’t even at the frontlines. Not really.” She pressed a kiss on her daughter’s head.
“The plain truth is that she doesn’t cope.” Audrey was busy packing a basket with everything they could spare. Preserves, leftover food, a freshly baked pie, even some of their precious tea and coffee rations.
“I am sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Helen sighed, visibly upset by the entire situation.
Audrey reached out to touch the young mother’s shoulder, stroked it gently. “I know love. We’re all affected by it. But if there is one thing we can do is stick together as a community and show our support. Help Maggie in any way we can.”
As soon as the news had travelled through Darrowby, Tristan had offered to keep the Drovers open and running in the evening. An idea Siegfried had been more than sceptical about in the beginning given his brother’s inability to pay his tab regularly. But for the last three evenings, everything had run surprisingly smooth. The Drovers opened, served the regular customers, closed again at an earlier hour than it usually would and the daily takings were safely stored at Skedale for the time being with Helen keeping a close eye on it.
Until Maggie’s aunt arrived in the village, Audrey had volunteered to provide the young woman with some food and company for an hour or two each day. Other friends stayed with her during the rest of the time, giving her comfort, helping her with everyday chores, gently coaxing her to leave the house for short walks every now and then.
“You’re a marvel, Audrey.” Helen got up from her chair and pressed a kiss on the housekeeper’s cheek, awkwardly balancing Rosie who was perched on her hip. “Rosie, Jimmy and I will be over at Maggie’s later in the afternoon. But what you have been doing, what you’ve organised so far is just…” She searched for the right words. “… remarkable.”
Audrey did not reply or react to the praise, only smiled mildly. “Go on, be on your way. I’ll be back in an hour or two.” She briefly ruffled Rosie’s hair before she gently shooed Helen out of the kitchen. Normally she did not mind the company or the chatter, even welcomed the distraction. But after the last three days, after having been exposed to Maggie’s grief, hopelessness and pain her stalwart façade had grown dangerously brittle. Cracks started to show, especially when she was on her own and had too much time to think, to remember. During the day she put on a brave smile whenever someone mentioned how good it was that she was there for Maggie, how wonderful the selfless support she offered was. But no one was aware of the memories that plagued her during the night. No one could see how she lay awake, staring into the darkness, wishing to erase all of the images forever and replace them with some from happier times.
Unlike Arthur, Robert had not been missing in action later to be declared dead. Her husband had returned from the war. Albeit as a shadow, an empty, almost unrecognisable shell of his former self. The stabbing pain Maggie felt in her heart, the one that attacked you out of nowhere and at any given time had been Audrey’s constant companion during the early weeks after Robert’s return home. She had wanted to help, be a supportive wife, someone her husband could rely on. Instead he had withdrawn from the world, shut her out almost completely until she felt like the rest of the war widows. Alone, heartbroken, helpless. Had Audrey known that these months would later be the ones she wished she could have back, she would not have believed it. Although Maggie’s situation was different, the emotions they brought back were difficult to bear.
Audrey closed the lid of the basket, let her hands rest on it for a moment. She took a deep, fortifying breath, pulled her shoulders back and left the house. One or two more days. She would manage somehow.
*tbc*