Chapter Text
“It’s her udder there, you see?” Mr Dutfield gestured at the cow.
Siegfried peered at the large gash and nodded. He retrieved his suture kit from his bag, safely stowed on the field wall, and bent to the task. It was a simple enough job, putting the stitches in, and the late spring sun was warm on his back, and his mind wandered as he worked.
It had been tense at home, recently. He’d started stepping out with Dorothy after Christmas. Mrs Hall had all but told him to. But Mrs Hall seemed quiet these days, and he’d noticed that when Dorothy arrived through one door, she left through the other. He’d thought it would make her happy; him doing what he was told. He’d tried to confess his feelings at Christmas, but now he looked back on it, he thought that maybe his meandering story about Aristophanes and soul mates hadn’t been the way forward. Maybe she hadn’t realised what he’d been trying to tell her. Maybe it was all too fanciful for a sensible Yorkshire woman.
He sighed. Dorothy was charming and fun, but their connection was superficial. It was Mrs Hall who understood him, who shared his late nights and early mornings and to whom he could open himself up.
Audrey, he thought wistfully, and jabbed his needle through the udder again.
He registered the movement too late, jerked his body away but not quickly enough. Blinding pain exploded across the side of his head.
Siegfried blinked. Simultaneously, he became aware of the pounding pain in his head and the lights hanging from the ceiling above him. He blinked again. This was not Dutfield’s farm.
He wrestled an arm from under the blankets that were tucked around him, lifted a tentative hand to his aching head and registered cloth wrapped around it. Well, this probably wasn’t good.
“Ah, Mr Farnon!” A man in a white coat loomed over him. “You’re awake, excellent.”
“Where am I?” Siegfried asked, realising as the words left his mouth that this was a foolish question. The doctor merely smiled.
“Broughton hospital. You had a close encounter with a cow’s hoof. Luckily for you, your head is made of stern stuff.”
“It’s been said before,” Siegfried said, managing a smile. He ran the fingers over the bandage. “The cow?”
“I’m sure the cow is in a better state than you are, Mr Farnon. Please leave the bandage alone,” he added sternly.
Nausea rose suddenly and unexpectedly. “Feel… sick…” he managed, trying to swallow the feeling down.
“Nurse!” The doctor barked. “Basin!”
The basin arrived just in time and Siegfried was violently sick into it. He was dimly aware of the nurse stroking his back and offering words of comfort and then the bout subsided and he leant back against the pillows, drained.
“I’ll fetch you a drink, love,” the nurse said, and a moment later a blissfully cool glass of water was in his hand.
He sipped it slowly and gratefully.
“Nausea is to be expected,” the doctor said when he’d recovered himself. “You have a fractured skull.” Siegfried’s hand clenched involuntarily on his covers. He was getting old, letting a cow injure him like this. “Don’t worry, you don’t need surgery,” the doctor continued. “The nausea and vomiting may last a day or so, and you’ll probably find you’re easily fatigued. I suggest you let your brother take the farm calls for a few weeks.”
“Nonsense,” Siegfried muttered. He’d be up and about in no time.
“Your brother brought you in. He’s waiting outside. I’ll let him know you’re awake.”
“Have I been out long?” Siegfried wondered. “My wife will be worrying about me.”
The doctor smiled. “Not too long. I’ll fetch your brother now.”
He left, and a moment later reappeared with Tristan at his side.
“Siegfried!” Tristan’s gaze scanned him closely and Siegfried smiled sheepishly. “You absolute idiot,” Tristan said, unsympathetically. “How are you feeling?”
“Bit of a headache,” Siegfried admitted.
“Any sense knocked into you?”
“Like any sensible man,” the doctor, who had remained in earshot, put in, “he’s worried about upsetting his wife.”
To Siegfried’s surprise, Tristan paled dramatically.
“What is it? Tristan?”
Tristan sat slowly in the chair next to Siegfried’s bed. “Siegfried… I…” he looked up at the doctor and there was worry in his eyes. “Evelyn died. Years ago.”
Siegfried raised his eyebrows. “I know that. I mean Audrey, of course!”