This one sorta just... happened...
Disclaimer: I do not own The Crimson Field or any of the characters you might recognise from it. If I did, I would not be writing fanfiction.
She had to admit that this was all rather strange.
Kitty Gillan had only met Miles twice since the end of the war- once for Joan and Anton's wedding, and then again for her own a few years later.
She hadn't even received so much as a Christmas card from him, let alone a letter.
Yet it was a letter that her husband brought into the dining room that morning, handing it to her and then stealing a bite of her toast while she fussed over the envelope.
"Thomas!" She scolded.
He smiled and sat down in the chair next to hers, protesting but making no move to stop her when Kitty reached over and dabbed the crumbs from around his mouth with her napkin.
"Who's it from?" Thomas asked as Kitty ran her nail along the flap of the envelope and eased the letter out.
Dear Mrs Gillan,
I have a surprise for you. Come quickly. If you turn this over, you'll find my address.
Hopefully, I'll be seeing you within the next week or so.
Your friend,
Miles Hesketh-Thorne
"It's from Miles." She said, not quite believing it herself.
Thomas took the letter from her, reading it through several times before putting it down on the table.
"That's Miles alright." He confirmed. "I'd recognise his spidery scrawl anywhere."
Kitty chewed on a bite of toast thoughtfully, swallowed it before speaking; "Do you have any plans for today?"
Having been married to Kitty for a little over a decade now, Thomas immediately knew exactly what she was suggesting.
"I'll go have them get a carriage ready." He said, standing up and leaving the room.
Kitty smiled into her glass of water; she had him so well trained.
They reached the address Miles had given that evening, having stopped off at a friend's who happened to live along the route for a brief chat and some honey sandwiches around midday.
It was a pretty house, not too big but by no means small. The door was a soft cream colour, and roses roamed wild and untamed over the front wall.
Thomas helped her out of the carriage, and hand-in-hand they made their way down the little stone pathway.
Kitty knocked on the yellow-white door. Once, twice, three times.
It swung open before she could knock again a fourth, revealing a familiar grin accompanied soon after by an equally as familiar laugh.
"You came!" Miles said excitedly. "You actually came! And you brought Thomas!"
The man in question raised an eyebrow, as if to question what exactly had brought them rushing halfway across the country.
Kitty squeezed his hand and offered Miles a polite smile.
"Yes, we're here." She confirmed. "Now. Would you mind telling us why, exactly, that is?"
Miles smirked mischievously. "Follow me."
His house, Kitty noticed, was filled with junk- artefacts and souvenirs from at least a hundred different countries, if not more. Perhaps that was why they'd not heard from him in so long; he'd been travelling.
Miles eventually stopped outside a rather unremarkable wooden door.
"Brace yourselves," He whispered. "The surprise I have waiting for you behind this door is going to change your lives."
"Oh dear," Thomas muttered. Kitty gave his hand another squeeze.
"No, you'll like it." Miles insisted hastily. "It's a good surprise. I'm just going to brew some tea. See you in a bit!"
He scarpered.
Kitty and Thomas shared a similarly confused look.
"Should we open it?" She asked her husband.
"I don't think Miles is going to come back until we do." Thomas admitted. "Which I know is reason enough not to open it, but I'm curious now."
"Me too," Kitty agreed, reaching for the brass doorknob.
She twisted and pushed the door open.
Knowing Miles as they once had, the pair were expecting something to jump out at them. However, when they entered the room, they found nothing of the sort.
A young lady sat by the window reading a worn copy of Tarzan of the Apes; Miles must have lent it to her, Kitty realised. Her dark hair was braided back and up, her big brown eyes moving from side to side as they scanned the book in her lap.
As the door clicked shut, the lady jumped and looked up.
"Hello," She said, putting her book on the windowsill behind her and rising up onto her feet. "You must be Mr and Mrs Gillan."
When Kitty failed to respond, her mouth opening and closing uselessly, Thomas stepped in for the both of them.
"We are indeed." He confirmed. "Who might you be?"
"I'm Miss Trevelyan." The young lady explained. "Mr Hesketh-thorne told me that he could help me find my mother. I've not seen her since I was very small."
The moment she'd said her name, Thomas had glanced from his wife to her and then back again.
Kitty slipped her hand from his.
She was trembling. She was trembling and she wanted to cry because she was just so happy. So incomprehensibly happy.
"Sylvie," She said, her voice just as shaky as her hands. "It's me. I'm your mother."
Sylvie bit her lower lip to keep from crying, just as she'd always done was she was a little girl. It proved just as futile as it had then, though, and soon tears were running down her cheeks.
Kitty hurried across the room to her, wrapping her in a bone-crushing hug, which Sylvie returned without pause. Neither of them complained, though both could scarcely breathe.
Thomas watched on, feeling out of place and awkward.
"Get over here, you silly fool." Kitty said into Sylvie's hair.
It took Thomas a moment to realise that she was talking to him.
Wrapping his arms around the pair, he hugged them both, too. He may have just met Sylvie, but he'd heard so many of Kitty's stories that he felt like they'd known each-other for years. It still felt awkward, but he'd roll with it, see where it took him.
Downstairs, Miles cackled gleefully to himself as he poured hot water into four separate china cups.