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Audrey was elbow deep in soap suds, washing the breakfast dishes when the doorbell echoed through the house, so disposed more to muttering a curse as she searched for her tea towel. Helen was up and heading for the door instantly in her stead, calling over her shoulder as she went. She was firmly of the opinion that Aud had enough to be getting on with without answering the door when Helen had two legs and arms to open it herself. Besides, it was far too early for anyone for surgery which meant it might be the post, and if so, there might be a letter from James.
Unfortunately, the woman on the doorstep was neither Alice nor Joan with the post, but one Helen didn’t recognise in the slightest.
“How do?” she asked cheerily, stepping out into the cool autumn air. The woman was holding a parcel, not a pet, but she erred on the side of caution. “Small animal surgery starts at two t’day.”
The woman, slightly dusty and patched in a way that suggested she were in her farmers best, looked down at the parcel in her hands and frowned. “Ain’t got no pets,” she replied in an accent that didn’t quite match Helen’s own, but weren’t far off. “Just this.”
“What’s this then?” Helen grinned, hands on hips. She cocked a head, sure she knew most farmers round these parts and then some, not to mention the townies. “You new round ‘ere?”
“Aye, of sorts,” The woman shifted the package and held out a hand. “Carol Fawcett, an’ that there’s me Billy. We come few weeks back t’me sisters up at the Fords.”
“Ah, Paul and Flo Ford?” Helen knew them, though they weren’t neighbours of theirs. Worked the land over yonder fair enough. “How’re they doing?”
“They good,” Carol nodded and then hoisted the parcel again. “Now, Flo reckons these ‘ere t’be given t’the missus at th’vets.”
Helen had to bite back an even wider grin. This had become a game she very much enjoyed playing.
“Which missus at the vets?” It was a fair question, there being two. But the answer was rarely her. “I’m Mrs ‘erriot, me husbands one of the vets ‘ere. Whatch’ got?”
“We ‘eard the womens inst’ute doing a jumble, and we found out some of the bairns old things, bit worn but nowt wrong with em,” she held out the parcel and Helen took it with something approaching glee. There wasn’t much entertainment to be had during a war with a newborn after all.
“Ah, Women’s Institute, you’ll be wantin’ our Aud, one mo,” she turned into the hall and called out for her friend and housemate, glad Jimmy was used to sleeping through Siegfried Farnon’s blustering when Aud hollered back she were just coming. “She’ll be right out.”
Behind her, Helen could just about hear Siegfried grumbling that it was hardly fair he got told off for shouting when Jimmy was asleep when the womenfolk carried on regardless. He was procrastinating his rounds, it seemed, in the dispensary and was probably being nosy about their guests.
“Won’t you come on in?” Helen stepped back into the hall and putting the parcel on a spare chair, reluctant to admit that she still wasn’t fully recovered from the birth and while a pack of clothes wasn’t heavy, per say, it was still heavier than their Jimmy.
She heard Audrey’s footsteps first, as she so often did, marking the rhythm of their home, before Audrey hurried round the corner, pulling her sleeves down to her wrists again, hands pink from the warmth of the water and the vigorous scrub to dry them.
“Everythin’ alright Helen?” She smiled politely at the newcomers. “Mornin’”
“This is Carol Fawcett, Aud,” Helen made the introductions, eager to get to the bit that really mattered. “New ter town. She come with things fer yer jumble sale.”
“Aye, me sister said ter give em to the missus at th’vets. That be you I ‘ear?” Carol thumbed over her shoulder. “If this one ‘ere’s Missus ‘Erriot, I reckons that makes youse Missus Farnon?”
Something clattered in the treatment room. She wanted to laugh. It never ceased to amaze Helen how Aud could smooth things over, even as her ears went pink at the assumption. Or how increasingly often this happened with new people.
“Oh, no, I’m Mrs ‘All, the ‘ousekeeper, I keep ‘ouse fer Mr Farnon,” she held out a hand, “Good’t meet you both. Welcome ter Darrowby.”
“Aye, my apologies I reckon fer assuming, when me sister said the missus I assumed she meant the wife,” Carol looked a bit put out at the mistake. Helen reckoned Flo Ford would be getting an earful when they got back. Oh to be a fly on the wall.
“You’d ‘ardly be the first,” Helen grinned. “No Mrs Faron, just ‘all and ‘erriot.”
“Right,” Carol nodded firmly, clearly putting that to memory. “I reckons we ‘ad Mister Farnon out our way three night ago. Cows needed checkin’.”
“Aye, Thursday last I think, if I remember rightly,” Audrey agreed amiably. “Now, what’s this about me jumble sale?”
The parcel was handed over, and Audrey looked pleased to be getting back to steady ground.
“Me Billy has s’more on the cart, an’ a few eggs fer you from our Flo,” Carol added, looking back out to the street.
“Oh, how lovely,” Aud smiled, hefting the first parcel. Helen watched with concealed interest as another sound from the treatment rooms caught Aud’s attention and reminded her – if she even needed reminding – that her grumpy senior vet was still there. “Tell you what, Helen love. Why don’t you take this one through to the kitchen, an’ I’ll show Mrs Fawcett the way to the kitchen door and,” here her voice raised slightly, her lips ticking up into a smile, “P’raphs Mr Farnon can ‘elp bring the bags in.”
There was a pause, a shuffle, and then Siegfried opened the door to the second treatment room with a look of put-upon irritation that no longer fooled Helen in the slightest, and clearly didn’t do a jot of fooling Aud.
“I am quite busy, Mrs Hall,” he said with a huff that made Helen want to laugh out loud. Especially when he turned to Mrs Fawcett with a charming smile and an outstretched hand, “Lovely to see you again, Mrs Fawcett, I hope your herd are doing well?”
Audrey let him have his moment of chatter, cutting him off before he could protest yet again that he was busy – “It’ll take five minutes and you’ve already wasted this much time, what’s another few minutes hey Mr Farnon?”
Siegfried attempted to argue, but Audrey’s raised eyebrows was enough to have him huffing slightly in resignation.
“Fine,” he muttered, turning towards the door before quickly turning back, “Though, really there is no need for you, and I, and Mrs Fawcett to show poor Mr Fawcett where the kitchen door is, Mrs Hall. And, given how you’ll take it through to the dining room after lunch, why not allow me to go out and help Mr Fawcett now, and bring it straight through to the dining room instead.”
He waited while Audrey considered, eyebrows slightly raised as if challenging her to point out the flaws in his plan.
“Tell you what,” Helen said brightly, “I’ll go put the kettle on, make us a brew while you all get everythin’ in. Then Siegfried can go on ‘is rounds.”
“Aye,” Audrey agreed at last with a fond smile, “But lemme ‘elp bring things in.”
“Ah, ah, Mrs Hall,” Siegfried held up his hand to stop her and smirked. “As you so judiciously offered my services, let me. I am perfectly sure Mr Fawcett and I can manage without you.”
Audrey huffed and tried to supress her smile, while Siegfried didn’t even try not to look victorious as he backed towards the door and pointed them towards the parlour. He turned and disappeared through the door, and only at that point did Audrey smile and roll her eyes fondly.
“Right, come on in then, Mrs Fawcett,” Audrey shuffled them all into the dining room, “How’d you take yer tea?”
From nowhere Helen could see, Audrey had produced a pair of scissors and was deftly unwrapping the parcel to hand the wrapping back. Helen hoped that at some point she would become half as good at Aud as keeping house, being a mother and generally holding the family together. Even half would be pretty impressive.
“Nowt fer me, ta,” Mrs Fawcett smiled, shuffling awkwardly like she was worried to get mud on the carpet. Like it hadn’t seen worse. “We got ter’be getting back soon.”
“Aye, always a rush,” Audrey agreed sympathetically, probably thinking of her own task list for the day now increased by a sort, an extra wash of items and any mending she found.
“Here we are,” Siegfried announced, appearing behind them with a brown wrapped parcel under each arm and a sparkle of delight in his eyes. “There’s another few, but I think you’ll like some of what’s being bought in, Helen, for young Jimmy!”
“This is for my jumble sale,” Audrey sighed pointedly, taking one parcel from him easily as he dropped the other to the table, as if such a handover of items had been done a hundred times before. It probably had, thousands even, Helen considered. “Will you stop pickin’ through things before I get them to the ‘all!”
“One tie! I ask if I can buy one tie and you act like I’m trying to make off with the entire village’s supply!” Siegfried threw his hands up in mock exasperation, but he was clearly enjoying his unexpected bickering with Audrey.
“It weren’t a nice tie, Mr Farnon,” Audrey said firmly, “I’d be failing in my duties if I let you go out wearin’ it.”
Siegfried all but beamed as she turned back to the table.
“So that’s what all that was about hmmm?! Managing my sartorial choices now are you?”
“Have been fer years. Now, you said you ‘ad more to bring.”
“Fine. We can discuss the tie later,” Siegfried conceded easily, spinning around, “One more trip, Mrs Hall.”
Audrey rolled his eyes at his retreating back, muttering under her breath about daft men and paisley patterned ties as she folded the brown paper with careful deft hands.
Helen risked a glance to their guest and wasn’t entirely surprised to see Carol Fawcett’s eyebrows somewhere in her wiry dark hair. It was nice having confirmation from someone with eyes (that Tris and James seemed not to possess) that she wasn’t seeing things, and they really were even more domestic than usual.
“Look Mrs Hall,” Siegfried called out, leading the presumably Mr Fawcett into the room, carrying a dozen eggs that he placed on the table carefully. “Eggs!”
“Oh, you really don’t need to,” Audrey protested. Helen knew she always appreciated what people bought, but felt a little guilty when it were not in lieu of payment, as if she wouldn’t give whatever she had spare to whoever needed it. They had hens and eggs aplenty, but with how quickly the family went through them, more were always happily accepted.
“Aye, we insist, for all yer work organising this,” Mrs Fawcett shuffled aside to allow her husband to deposit the last item – a slightly dilapidated but sturdy child’s rocking chair. “Thanks love.”
Aud stopped to consider it. “Oh, that is a fine chair,” she admitted, stepping back to look at it from a slightly different angle and presumably to avoid Siegfried’s triumphantly pointed look. “Are you sure you don’t want t’be keeping that, Mrs Fawcett?”
“Oh, aye, our youngest is far too big and our eldest a long way off bairns of ‘is own,” she smiled down at the chair and patted the top. “Rather it be put ter good use. You have a bairn?”
“Aye, Helen’s babe Jimmy,” Audrey smiled as she always did when talking about Jimmy, proud and pleased. “He’s a fine lad. Bit small though, Mr Farnon, to be thinking about a chair we got no room for.”
“But it’s a lovely chair,” Siegfried fell silent as Audrey looked sideways at him, looking chastised. They could, and would, bicker about it later when the company had gone.
“Well, thank you very much for all o’this,” Audrey looked over the table and handed the last of the paper back to Mrs Fawcett. “I think I got some plum preserves in me pantry, give us a mo and I’ll fetch yer some as thanks.”
Audrey, as expert in sharing goods as gracious in receiving them, bustled out to the kitchen before Mrs Fawcett could disagree.
“We insist,” Siegfried headed her off before she could refuse, pulling his pipe out of his pocket and patting tobacco in ready for his car journey. “She won’t hear otherwise, and neither would I. It is easier to just agree, in this case.”
“Tis a donation, Mr Farnon, not to be traded for,” Mrs Fawcett gestured a little helplessly, turning to Helen for support that Helen wouldn’t and couldn’t give. Aud would do as Aud pleased, after all.
“Then consider it trade for the eggs,” Siegfried insisted. “We really do insist. And quite honestly, we have more preserve than we could ever eat on our own, and it is easier to just accept than to argue with her.”
“Ain’t that always th’way?” Mr Fawcett chortled, and Siegfried huffed a laugh of agreement.
“Yes, it really rather is, I find,” he said fondly and Helen had to fight not to roll her eyes at the pair of them. At how much he adored having Audrey to bicker and argue with, and to stand beside in the running of their home. His partner in their family.
“You’re meant to be going up to Dinsdale’s,” Audrey appeared in the doorway, a glass jar in each hand and a stern expression for Siegfried. Presumably she’d thought he’d disappear now his task was complete, as if he wouldn’t take any extra excuse to stay with her for just a few more minutes. “Thank you for your ‘elp, but you mustn’t dilly dally much longer or ‘e’ll be phoning me t’have words. Again.”
“Perish the thought,” Siegfried’s eyes twinkled above his unlit pipe. “I’ll be off then. Only a few on the list today, so I’ll be back before dinner.”
Which Audrey knew, having written the lists herself over the breakfast table only that morning.
“Your lunch is on the side,” she reminded him with a gentle shooing motion, “Remember t’take it this time.”
Siegfried agreed and headed off to the treatment rooms for his bag, whistling happily as he went and clearly in no great rush to get to Dinsdale’s.
“Now, I also found a jar of gooseberry jam, if you’d prefer,” Audrey held out the pair of jars for Mrs Fawcett to consider. “Fer the eggs. We mighty appreciate it and we had a good berry ‘arvest last year. Got more than we’ve use for.”
Helen had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as Audrey gave similar enough reasons to Siegfried, without having heard him speaking. Mrs Fawcett continued to look unsure.
“And it’ll be a nice welcome to the neighbourhood proper,” Audrey added on, waiting for Mrs Fawcett to make her selection. Helen knew if Mrs Fawcett didn’t choose soon, she’d be packed off with both. Mrs Fawcett somewhat reluctantly selected the jam with thanks. Audrey dropped the preserves to the table.
“We best be gettin’ on back t’farm,” Mr Fawcett interrupted the niceties, tapping his fist to his forehead at Audrey, “Mrs Farnon, Mrs ‘Erriot.”
The husband, Helen realised suddenly, hadn’t been in the hall during the first correction and Audrey was clearly torn as to whether it was worth the embarrassment of declaring she wasn’t Mrs Farnon for the second time in less than twenty minutes.
“Lemme show y’out,” Helen said brightly instead, before it got awkward. Let Mrs Fawcett correct her husband. “P’raps we’ll see you at the occasional Women’s Institute meeting, if you can get ter them, Mrs Fawcett?”
“Aye, m’raphs,” she sounded dubious, and Helen could understand. There was always so much on the farm to do. She and Audrey could send some yarn and patterns up, if nowt else.
She gently shepherded them to the door, and couldn’t say she was particularly surprised when Mrs Fawcett turned back, leaning in to whisper in baffled confusion, “They really ain’t married?”
“No,” Helen scrunched her nose up to keep from laughing, “She’s just been ‘is ‘ousekeeper near a decade now. Best friends.”
She hoped that would be enough to make sure there were no rumours. It usually was. They’d hear from others about the set up at Skeldale and in time, they’d take no more notice of Mr Farnon and Mrs Hall’s friendship than the grocers did. It would become as much the scenery as his temper and the cobblestones.
Mrs Fawcett didn’t look convinced, but bid her farewells and joined her husband on the cart. Helen waved cheerily and closed the door, smiling widely as she made a mental note to add this entire exchange to her next letter to Tris.
“Twice in twenty minutes must be a record,” Audrey said from the living room doors, somehow looking amused and tired in the same weary tilt of her lips. “But I’ll ‘ave to defer to you to know if it is.”
She should have know that her enjoyment of all the “missus vets” and “missus Farnon’s” hadn’t escaped Audrey’s notice. Nothing usually did.
Now, if only Audrey and Siegfried could see how they already had all they wanted and needed under this roof, she’d be happy. No more deciding to leave for the Lake District – just Audrey and Siegfried where they belonged.
Though, she would settle for James or Tris accepting she were right. She had more of a chance with them than in Audrey and Siegfried changing the habits of a decade.
In the kitchen Jimmy’s thin, hungry cry filtered through, and Helen shook off her amusement in favour of retrieving her son.