Crossing the Siegfried line
And as always I have to thank Chinoise, my wonderful and very quick beta who's sweated in the summer heat for getting this chapter ready.
Chapter 4: The lost way II
London, Winter 1949
For their honeymoon, Siegfried and Caroline had gone to Scotland. For two weeks they'd been almost entirely on their own, strolling through the hills, eating in little restaurants and doing some sight-seeing. But most of the time they remained in their room, kissing, cuddling and making love.
Coming back home had been a shock. As the alarm rang at six o'clock on the first morning in their new house Caroline, who'd always liked to sleep in, felt like pulling the blanket over her head – and not only because she was still rather sleepy, but because Siegfried had greeted the upcoming day with a grumble before he'd jumped out of bed and started to bustle around. Caroline had learned very quickly that in the early morning he wasn't at his best - and certainly not interested in kisses and embraces, but in her preparing his breakfast while he shaved and dressed. So because their housekeeper hadn't started yet, Caroline had found herself in the kitchen, fighting with the Aga, burning the toast, forgetting to get the tea leaves out of the pot and discovering that she hadn't ordered milk. Siegfried had just shrugged his shoulders: "I'll get some coffee at Skeldale then" he had said, kissing her on the forehead. And before she'd even gotten a chance to ask him if he'd be back for lunch, she heard the engine of his car as he roared down the driveway.
The next day she'd at managed to make him some coffee, but the toast was burned again so he'd fixed himself some bread and marmalade before running off. However, a few hours later the new housekeeper arrived and started to work, so Caroline no longer needed to worry about feeding her husband. Instead, she' started to work on finally furnishing and decorating the house, which kept her quite busy over the first weeks. There had also been a lot of things she'd needed to arrange with the housekeeper and the gardener. In addition, Siegfried – very busy in the practise – had asked her to oversee the renovation of the stables. After four weeks, the horses – until then housed at Lord Hulton's place – had finally moved in.
Caroline had been very happy upon seeing the quartet in their new stalls at last. There had been Domino, the chestnut gelding she'd bought with Siegfried just after coming back to Yorkshire – and he was indeed a softie with a heart of gold. Next to him, the six year old grey, Heaven's Dancer - her wedding gift to Siegfried - rummaged through his straw. And across from the two boys were Siegfried's old mare, Morning Light, and her little friend, Charmer the pony .
Watching the horses happily munching their hay, Caroline dreamed about galloping over the hills with Siegfried, stopping every now and then for a sweet kiss. She knew how much riding meant to him and she was sure that the horses would connect them even more.
Only there had been a snag: Siegfried did his riding mostly before he went to work – and at five o'clock in the morning Caroline certainly didn't feel like crawling out of bed and going down in the stables to groom and saddle a horse. Even Siegfried's enthusiasm for the joy of riding out in the fresh, crisp air of the morning and what it could do to one's health hadn't convinced Caroline to leave her nice, warm bed at such an ungodly hour.
Even if she had been willing to become an early riser, just three months into the marriage she'd discovered that she was pregnant . As happy as she'd been about it, she'd suffered from morning sickness not only through the first weeks but almost all through her pregnancy.
Not wanting to take a risk, Caroline had given up riding as soon as she'd learned about her pregnancy, so her involvement with the horses was soon restricted to petting them occasionally.
The pregnancy had caused other changes in their living arrangements – and the worst certainly had been Siegfried's moving out of the bedroom they'd shared. Even while sleeping he showed his temper by turning, moving and kicking all through the night. As if this weren't bad enough, Siegfried suffered from a slight cold all through the winter, and he snored loudly. Caroline, who had always been a light sleeper, had no chance of sleeping with him snoring next to him. And there was the ringing phone, which had become Caroline's personal nemesis. To her it felt as if it would always start to ring just as she'd just fallen asleep. And its ringing meant that Siegfried jumped out of bed, stumbled over his slippers, stubbed a toe, cursed loudly, raced through the bedroom on the quest for his clothes, switched all lights on in search of his spectacles and then insisted, "Just sleep, darling, there's no need for you to be awake too!"
She'd put up with that until the third month of her pregnancy, when her doctor told her that she was not only a bit anaemic, but was obviously not getting enough rest. Looking at her, he sighed: "Let me guess: Siegfried snores like a lumber mill in full swing, making it impossible for you to sleep next to him, correct? I'm afraid I can't cure him of that, so you'll have to sleep apart as long as you're pregnant."
Caroline had done so – but she'd missed Siegfried dreadfully. Unfortunately she hadn't only missed him at night, but even more during the daytime. To her it had looked as if Siegfried was never at home. At five in the morning he'd leave for his ride, coming back around half past seven for bathing and changing. Knowing that she'd need her rest, he didn't waken her then, but generally had his breakfast at Skeldale. Usually he'd announce to the housekeeper that he would try to be home for lunch, but Caroline quickly learned not to wait for him. The best he could muster was a phone call to say that he couldn't make it, but he was often in such a hurry he didn't find time to call.
Caroline had tried to be an understanding wife, but she felt neglected, lonely and even jealous. To her it looked as if he cared more about even a hamster than her.
Finally one night it was just too much for her. It was Wednesday and she'd hardly seen Siegfried for more than half an hour since Saturday. On Monday he had just come home for dinner when the phone rang and he – without even getting out of his coat – was off again. When he'd returned, Caroline had still been awake, but he'd been so tired that he'd gone to bed without any further delay. On Thursday he'd only come home to change his clothes – he'd been appointed to give a speech at the farmer's club. At Wednesday Caroline had asked her housekeeper to prepare something special for dinner, had decorated the table with flowers and candles, had called Skeldale and told Helen that she was expecting Siegfried home at half past seven, had dressed in a new frock and brushed her hair until it was shining like silk. At eight she'd called at Skeldale again, already a bit upset. This time she'd gotten Callum Buchanan who'd been astonished to hear her and said, "Siegfried left already half an hour ago. During evening surgery he mentioned that he'd need to be at home punctually, so I thought he'd already be with you."
Thinking that Siegfried was already on his way home, Caroline had told the housekeeper to serve the dinner. Half an hour later Caroline sat in front of slowly cooling lamb chops and the housekeeper was complaining because the soufflé she'd prepared had just collapsed. At nine, Caroline put the cold meal back in the kitchen – she'd lost her appetite now – and extinguished the candles.
When Siegfried finally arrived at a little past ten o'clock, whistling cheerfully, Caroline felt like throttling him. Instead of a kiss he got a furious: "Where the hell have you been?" for a greeting.
Siegfried slipped out of his coat, beamed at her and reached out to pull her close for a kiss – and Caroline noticed that he smelled of beer and smoke. His "Sorry, darling, I forgot to call" wasn't calming her, and not even the compliment "You look ravishing!" improved her disposition.
Stepping back, she looked at him accusingly and repeated her question: "Would you care to tell me where you've been? I called at Skeldale at eight and Callum told me that you had left half an hour earlier. Considering that we're only ten minutes away from your practise, I really wonder – did you take a detour to Scotland?"
"Caroline, I said I'm sorry!" Loosening his tie, Siegfried wandered into the living room. "I met James in the yard and we decided spontaneously to have a beer at the Drover's." Walking over to the sideboard, he got a bottle and two glasses. "Drinkie for you too?"
"In case you've forgotten: I'm pregnant," Caroline said icily. "So I shouldn't drink – though I certainly feel like having one!"
Siegfried poured himself a glass, went to the sofa, slumped down on it and put his feet up. "Caroline, we're very busy at the moment. James and I hadn't gotten a chance to talk in days ..."
"Oh?" Caroline started to pace in front of the fireplace. "I'm very glad you at least managed a talk with your partner."
"Actually James and I didn't talk much. Henry Sutton was at the Drover's too and he's just bought this great new stallion out of the famous Dark Ronald line. His dame is from ..."
Even on good days Caroline wasn't interested in horses' pedigrees, and tonight she didn't want to hear another word about it. Breathing deeply, she interrupted him. "The idea that I could be waiting for you never crossed your mind, did it?" She couldn't stop herself anymore and raised her voice. "You know what, Siegfried Farnon? The longer I'm married to you, the more I wonder why the hell you did marry me. You need a wife about as much as a tortoise needs a bike! Lately I've felt like the landlady of the hotel where you sleep and keep your clothes. Only you'd at least call the landlady if you were not able – or not willing, as the case may be – to be home in time for a meal."
"Caroline!" Now he began to shout too. "You knew that you were marrying a vet! If you can't deal with that..."
"For heaven's sake, Siegfried!" she cried furiously. "Don't try telling me that every vet in this country neglects his wife as much as you do or I'll write a petition to parliament to make the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons a community of monks, sworn to celibacy!" Now Caroline was in full swing, unable to stop herself. "And when we're at it, could you perhaps take off your shoes before putting your feet up on the sofa? Your trust in my ability to deal with odd stains on the furniture and to clean your stinking clothes might flatter Helen Herriot, but as far as I'm concerned I had other expectations about marital bliss!"
He'd gotten up while she'd spoken, had put his glass on the mantelpiece and was now facing her, obviously fighting not to lose control too. "Caroline, I understand you're upset," he started quietly, but then his temper got the better of him. "But for heaven's sake, would you please stop bickering like a fishwife? It's vulgar and it doesn't suit you at all!" he thundered, stormed out of the room and up the stairs.
When she came downstairs the next morning, Siegfried had just returned from his morning ride and was entering the hall. Although Caroline again felt queasy and was still disturbed about their argument, she couldn't help noticing that he looked very handsome in his riding gear. She'd always admired how the beige trousers and the brown boots accentuated his long legs and his slender hips, and despite the uproar in her stomach, she suddenly found herself wishing that she could just pull him up the stairs and into her bed. As infuriating as he was sometimes, she loved and desired him.
He had just gotten out of his boots and now came towards her in his socks, looking rather awkward. "Caroline – how are you?"
"I've been better," she replied with a tired smile. "You know, this morning sickness just might keep me from having those half a dozen babies."
"I'm sorry." For a few seconds he stood scrutinizing her, then took her hand, bowed over it and kissed it. "Caroline, I have to apologize. Shouting at you was out of line. I'm sorry. And I promise that I'll try to be more punctual in the future."
"Siegfried, I understand you're working a demanding job, I really do. But sometimes I feel so lonely." She put her hands on his shoulders. "Could you just take me in your arms?"
"I'd love to, but I'm afraid my smell and your stomach won't go well together." He bent forward and kissed the tip of her nose. "Why don't you return to your warm bed again while I have a shower, and then I'll serve you breakfast in bed?"
"That sounds lovely! Only I don't have much of a breakfast nowadays – just a slice of toast and tea." She stroked his cheek. "Siegfried?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
Once again he kissed her hand, but this time he turned it and laid his mouth against the inside of her wrist.
That evening Siegfried wasn't only home in time for dinner, he even brought her a bunch of beautiful red roses. After dinner they sat together on the sofa, cuddling and kissing – until Siegfried finally complained that his back wasn't up to "necking on the sofa like a teenager" anymore.
"Well, what about kissing in a nice, spacious bed?" she asked.
"Is that an invitation?" he smiled at her.
"Definitely." Caroline's fingers ruffled through his hair.
"Caroline?" Breathing deeply, he pulled her closer. "Listen, my darling: I'd very much like to make love to you. But if you'd rather I just hold and kiss you, that's fine too."
Caroline didn't understand what he was talking about. "Siegfried, I'm your wife!" she reminded him, stroking the back of his neck.
"Yes, Mrs Farnon, I'm aware of that. But I've never liked this odd idea about 'marital duty' some people have. I loathe the thought of making love as an obligation. To know that you want me as much as I want you is very important to me. If I thought that you just put up with me because of some 'marital duty,' it would seem as though I were raping you – and the mere idea of that is revolting to me. And with you being pregnant ..." He didn't finish the line, but only looked at her.
Caroline suddenly had a lump in her throat. Siegfried's thoughtfullness always touched her deeply, and at this moment she believed his consideration for her would make up for every hour she waited for him - every night he was late or forgot to call. On the other hand, his statement wasn't a surprise to her. She had always known that her pleasure was very important to him. "Siegfried, of one thing I'm absolutely sure: being with you will never feel like an obligation," she said and snuggled closer in his embrace. "I'm probably not the first woman telling you that, but you are a marvellous lover."
"Well," he arose and pulled her onto her feet, "you might not be the first, but you are definitely the most important." Kissing her, he led her to the stairs with his arm around her waist. "So, let's hem the baby's ears," he grinned.
"Please, what?"
He laughed. "I was advised to do so by Atkins – you remember the old farmer up on Eryns Fell? He's the father of twelve and definitely an authority in these matters. He keeps asking me when you and I are going to have our first child. Yesterday I told him that we're expecting, and he told me that I shouldn't assume I'd already done my part in this enterprise." Imitating the old farmer's voice he quoted: "It's up to you to hem the ears of the little one now, laddie!"
Around two hours later Caroline snuggled closer against her husband and put her hand on his naked chest, playing with the hair there as she loved to do. Although she felt as content as a baby with its bottle, she couldn't resist the temptation to let her fingers glide down over his belly to his groin, cupping his spent member. As always when she touched him like that, he made a purring sound and then opened one eye, smiling at her. "Darling, I'm afraid you're overestimating your aging husband."
In lieu of an answer, Caroline bent over him for a kiss. Only one minute before she had been totally sated, and despite his words his body was already reacting to her again. His shaft was growing under her tender ministrations, as was her desire for him.
"Are we a bit insatiable tonight?" he asked, turning and kissing her neck.
"No, we aren't," Caroline chuckled. "I just think you wouldn't want your firstborn to have only one ear properly hemmed."
At this time they'd been able to overcome their difficulties with love and laughter, but even then Caroline had already been aware that Siegfried wasn't an ideal husband – at least not for her. He had loved her then – of that she had no doubt. But he'd loved his work too and probably even more than he loved her. Perhaps he had remained a bachelor too long. Caroline had found that he was totally set in his ways, and much too used to his independence. She'd realized that it hadn't been due to any animosity on Siegfried's part, but nevertheless it had upset her that he'd so often forget to phone her when he was detained. She'd learned about the striking contrasts in his character – while Siegfried was an extrovert, at the same time he was also a very reserved man who often bottled up his feelings. And she didn't always feel able to deal with his being so contradictory. He might make a firm stand for something on Monday, then on Tuesday he did just the opposite – obviously not even aware of how confusing this sometimes was for his wife.
James Herriot had once stated that in Siegfried's universe opposites were the rule and not the exception*. His attention span was sometimes shorter than that of the average toddler's – but all Caroline had to do was to hope that he wouldn't look too closely at something, and he was after it like Lord Hulton's pack after the fox. The same went for his memory: Whatever Caroline wanted him to remember, he seemed to forget as quickly as she could tell him. But if there was something she wanted him to forget, she could be sure that he'd keep at it like a dog at his favourite bone. This forgetful streak of Siegfried's meant that he could never find things. He was always on the hunt for his spectacles, his car keys, his watch or whatever – and he often blamed the housekeeper or Caroline when he couldn't find something: "You're always misplacing my things! I'm sure I put my spectacles on the mantelpiece, but there aren't there anymore!" And while he was always after Callum because of "the mess he leaves everywhere," he himself was far of being the epitome of neatness. Just the opposite: Caroline's housekeeper used to say that the chaos Siegfried left in his bedroom always reminded her of the bomb attack she'd gone through during the war.
All of that would have been enough to make it difficult to live with him, but he added to the pile with his work and his way of putting it before everything else. Caroline couldn't help it – she didn't understand why the paperwork in the practise was obviously more important to him than spending time with her. The longer she was married to him, the more she resented his job.
It wasn't only that she disliked his job. She developed a distinct dislike of Skeldale and everything connected with it, including her brother-in-law, though Tristan didn't actually live at Skeldale anymore. Despite being a qualified vet, he still seemed to hang around at Skeldale all the time – except when he was out making a fool of himself. And whenever he got in trouble, he expected his older brother to bail him out. There was the tough farmer who was after Tristan like a Sicilian on a blood feud, because the younger Farnon had trifled with his daughter's affection – and it was of course Siegfried who talked to man, plied him with enough whiskey to get a bull blotto and finally calmed him down. Two weeks later, Tristan landed himself in jail for being "drunk and disorderly" – so the police said. Wee Trissi of course felt completely innocent: "I only told the patrolman that he needn't act so foolish! It was only a bit after midnight, so why didn't he have to make such a fuss about my friends and me having another beer?" Nevertheless he had needed Siegfried to get him out of jail. Tristan obviously never gave a thought to the fact that his older brother had a family of his own now – when he needed him, he called for him. The idea that Caroline might want a bit of her husband's attention never seemed to cross his mind.
And there were the Herriots – nice people, without a doubt, but in a way no less annoying than Tristan. Of course, Caroline saw that the hard-working, kind-hearted James was probably the best partner and friend her hot-tempered, impatient and erratic husband could have acquired. As far as that was concerned, Caroline had no reason to complain. But the oh-so-perfect, wonderful, infallible Helen Herriot was another kettle of fish. Siegfried saw her as the cat's whiskers, the paragon of female virtue, the perfect wife and mother. And Siegfried being Siegfried, he rarely let an opportunity slip to sing Helen's praise. Helen here, Helen there, Helen this, Helen that – and whatever Caroline did, Helen had already been there, done it and of course she'd done it better than Caroline ever could. Helen wasn't only a champion in the kitchen, but knew all about gardening and how to hold a piglet for castration – Caroline shuddered just thinking of it! Helen could probably have done half of the lambing on her own. Helen was obviously a miracle-worker in the Skeldale office.
Caroline tried – she really did. When lambing season started and Skeldale became even more of a madhouse than usual, Caroline volunteered to take over as receptionist. For one entire day she ran from the entrance door to the waiting room door and from there to the phone and back to the entrance door, but despite trying as hard as she could, she failed. Helen was a farmer's daughter who'd grown up in the area. She probably knew the name of every sheep grazing in the dales and spoke the Yorkshire dialect herself. In contrast, Caroline didn't stand a chance with her husband's clients. The first one she spoke with on the phone sounded as though he didn't even speak English, because she hardly understood a word of his thick dialect. To her, the man's language sounded like a mixture of Gaelic and a sore throat. And what, for heaven's sake, did he mean by "Heifer's foot stinks"? In her opinion all cows stank –not just their feet, but all over!
The next one was even worse. Yorkshire dialect spoken very fast, and a bad phone line. Caroline started to sweat and asked him if he could please repeat what he'd just said, "clearly and slowly"? The answer she unfortunately understood: The farmer bellowed into the phone: "Are you daft, woman?"
The third phone call was from a woman who spoke understandable English, but firmly insisted upon speaking with the "charming Mr Farnon" and only to him. Caroline told her that Mr Farnon wasn't in. "If you'll tell me what you need him for, I'll write a note."
But this suggestion wasn't good enough for the lady. "But I always talk to Mr Farnon himself! He's such a wonderful man" – here the woman lowered her voice to almost a whisper - "and he's terribly attractive, you know!"
"Yes, I do. I'm Mrs Farnon", Caroline deadpanned. "What message am I to give my husband?" She had to bite her tongue to keep from adding, "other than telling him that you find him terribly attractive?".
She'd hardly written the message – Siegfried's admirer had a sick dog – before the doorbell rang again. Dashing to the door she found a man sitting on the stairs holding a beer bottle to his face as if it were the receiver of a phone. He was speaking into it: "Pig's sweating like a pig!" He obviously found this line so funny that he almost keeled over with laughter. And although Caroline tried for almost 10 minutes, she couldn't get the man to tell her who he was or where he lived. Finally she wrote a note, saying "Sweating pig – drunk farmer using beer bottle like a phone sitting in front of our door."
Then the telephone rang again and Caroline once more was showered with a splash of Yorkshire English at its finest. Sighing inwardly she asked again: "Could you please repeat that for me clearly and slowly?" This time the answer was even worse than with the man who'd wondered if she were daft. This one started to tell her off for wasting his time and phone charges at great length and detail, obviously unaware that in the time it took for him to complete his tirade, he might as well have repeated slowly and clearly what he'd said earlier.
Lunch time came, and with it Siegfried and James. Exhausted but proud, Caroline presented the long list of calls she'd taken. Fortunately the man with the beer bottle phone wasn't a problem; as Siegfried read his entry on the list, he laughed and knew immediately who the man had been and where he could find the sweating pig. Nevertheless, he wasn't satisfied with her efforts. Furrowing his brow he told her that just entering the calls chronologically on the list wouldn't do. "Helen always makes two lists – one for James and one for me."
"And how am I to know which is James' client and which is yours?" Caroline asked.
"Just look it up in the register! It's on my desk in the surgery," Siegfried replied, got up and fetched a notepad. Sighing he looked at James. "We need to get this mess in the right order!"
Caroline felt like throttling him. She'd worked hard to get the 101 little notes she'd taken into a proper list – and now her loving husband called the product of her diligence "a mess!" "Thanks for appreciating my efforts!" she snorted.
Siegfried took off his spectacles and looked at her with his "I'm surrounded by idiots, but l'm a patient man" expression she'd learned to hate. "Dearest," he started, sounding as if he'd talk to a small and rather daft child, "just try to imagine us doing our rounds. Do you think it would be smart if I first drove South to Pemperbroke's place, then North to Miller and afterwards back South to Heavers? It wouldn't only waste a lot of time, but a lot of fuel as well. That's the reason James and I require our lists to be sorted so we won't drive the same way more than once on our rounds."
Caroline balled her fists to keep from having a go at his throat. "And how," she asked, almost trembling with fury, "am I supposed to know where your clients' live? I'm terribly sorry, but I really don't know every shabby shed around here!"
James, as always the one sensing that someone was close to losing it, patted her hand. "No one expects you to, Caroline. It's no problem – we'll sort it all out!"
But Siegfried's was feeling no sympathy for Caroline. Looking at her over the rim of his spectacles, he explained sweetly, "Darling, we have something called a 'map' in the office. I suppose you know how to handle such a thing?"
It was only James' presence that prevented Caroline from snatching her list, scrunching it into a ball and cramming it down Siegfried's throat. Instead she sent him a death glare, got up and stalked out the door to the phone - which was already ringing again. Turing around in the doorway, she looked at Siegfried, who was already writing his list down on the inside of his left wrist. "You should really hire a secretary," she stated. "And the best place for you to get one would be a Catholic church. They still have saints, you know!"
Unfortunately, this hadn't been the end of Caroline's attempt to help out. As Siegfried came back from his afternoon rounds a few hours later, she learned that she'd gotten one name wrong, resulting in his driving "half through Yorkshire only to learn that I had the wrong name!" He had yet another cold and hadn't had a proper sleep for several nights because of the lambing, so he wasn't at his best - and it wasn't surprising that he accused Caroline of being someone "who obviously isn't even able to deal with a few simple phone calls." It had led to a row that surpassed every previous argument in the history of the couple's stormy relationship. At the end, Caroline had told her husband that she would never again lift a finger to help him out, not even if Skeldale were on fire
This time she hadn't gotten an apology from him for yelling at her; he'd simply forgotten it in the hustle and bustle of lambing. However, coming home after an absence of nearly three days, he'd grandly complimented Helen about what a great help she had been the previous night – and this had made Caroline once again consider choking her husband. Fortunately, instead of killing Siegfried she'd just thrown a bowl of soup on the floor, yelling: "Why, for heaven's sake, didn't you marry the oh-so-perfect Helen Herriot instead of someone as useless as I am?" Storming up the stairs, she'd fallen on her bed, sobbing in frustration and fury.
Siegfried came after her. Leaning on the mantel in their bedroom, he shook his head and told her that he really didn't understand her "silly jealousy" about Helen. "You're childish, Caroline. No one expects you to compete with her."
He couldn't have said anything worse. Caroline jumped up like a jack-in-the-box. "So now I'm the spoiled princess who can't compare to your precious Helen, the epitome of all womanly virtues!"
Now he was angry too, his cheeks reddening and his eyes becoming small. "Your words, not mine!" he snorted.
Caroline placed herself in front of him – and yes, for once she was glad that she was even a bit taller than he because she could look in his eyes even without her shoes. "Too bad," she sneered, "that for once in his life James was one step ahead of you, Siegfried. I mean, except for her fondness for really ugly aprons and even uglier hats, Helen would have been the perfect wife for you! She would have cooked five meals for you every day and between cooking and mending your socks she'd have dusted off the pedestal she's set you on. Still, considering her prudishness I suppose she wears flannel night shirts with little flowers on them in bed, and only does her marital duty on Wednesdays and Saturdays between nine and ten o'clock with the lights out. That certainly wouldn't please you, my darling."
"That was petty and tasteless, Caroline!" Siegfried thundered. "I hate to repeat myself, but as I told you before - and now, hopefully, for the last time - bickering like a fishwife doesn't suit you at all! Helen is a good woman and a great friend of mine. I won't listen to you badmouthing her out of your absolute idiotic, unfounded jealousy. It's neither Helen's nor my problem that you obviously feel inferior to her!"
"I feel inferior to Helen Herriot?" Caroline found herself regretting that she'd thrown the soup bowl on the floor instead of on his head. "You're obviously forgetting to whom you're speaking, Siegfried Farnon!"
"Oh no, I don't! I'm certainly not about to forget that I'm having a very civil conversation with the Honourable Caroline Farnon neé Fisher. I'm beginning to wonder if the heaps of money your father paid for your education weren't a wee bit wasted!"
His sarcasm was the last straw. Breathing deeply, she looked at him and said flatly, "I think it's better that you leave now before I do or say something I may regret later. There's no sense having a debate with you – you don't want to understand!"
Laying his hand on his heart, Siegfried bowed in a mocking gesture. "As always, your wish is my command, my lady. With your graceful permission I'll take my leave now." With three quick steps he was through the door, closing it with a bang and storming down the stairs. Just a moment later she heard the engine of his car in the driveway – he was gone and didn't return until the following evening.
However, he'd apologized then and so had Caroline. Nevertheless, the argument had made her think. She'd tried to fit into his life and had failed. There wasn't a place for her at Skeldale or even in their own home, just sitting around all day, waiting for Siegfried. And as much as she loved spending time with their son, Tim was still just an infant who needed a lot of rest. He really wasn't much company for her.
To Caroline, it looked as if there were only one solution: To build a life of her own again, doing the things she'd always enjoyed and was good at. And so she'd called her father, suggesting that she once more help him with his social obligations. He'd been delighted – Catherine had three children by that time and therefore couldn't see as much of her father, while Cassandra still loved horses better than human beings – so Caroline finally felt as if she'd found her place. Entertaining guests and accompanying her father had certainly been better than hanging around at home like a withering hydrangea waiting to be watered. The appreciation and praise she'd received from her father had made her home life easier too. Siegfried had no reason to complain about her "bickering" anymore and sometimes even seemed to enjoy going out with her. However, he was still a vet first and foremost, so now and then their evenings had been complicated and they had to coordinate their schedules for being together. They sometimes only managed to have an evening together once a fortnight. And as far as their love life had been concerned, well, that had become a case of "ships passing in the night" - and those passings were pleasant and still passionate. Only the two ships had obviously travelled on rather different routes, making their pleasant and still passionate meetings far too infrequent.
The longer Caroline had lived like that, the more she'd resigned herself. There was no longer any sense in denying that their marriage wasn't what she had envisioned, or that the strongest connection between them was their son. Somewhere along the way Siegfried seemed to have lost his love for her, and there were moments when she wondered if he regretted having married her. Worse, sometimes she even wondered if he was still faithful to her. There were tiny things which had irritated her – like the time Siegfried grew a moustache. She hadn't like it and said so, but Siegfried had only stroked it and replied: "I felt like a change – and for the moment I like it!" Or had there been someone else who'd liked the moustache? She didn't know. Even during good times she'd never felt able to see through her husband, but now she felt like living with a stranger with whom she casually shared a son and sometimes a bed.
She'd been sad and in a way she even mourned, but on the other hand she'd felt too drained to care. She'd lost Siegfried and she wouldn't even have known how to fight to get him back. But her upbringing had at least taught her to keep a stiff under lip and to show the world a smiling face even when she felt lousy.
Of course, there had been Richard – still a bachelor and obviously still in love with her. His father had died, leaving him the estate, and his younger brother had joined the guards and was in Germany, so he'd been on his own. His estate required little work on his part because his father had left him with a very good, experienced steward. Richard had always had time for Caroline. He'd ridden out with her; he'd accompanied her on shopping trips to Leeds and York; he'd even waited patiently for hours whenever she was at her tailors. And being with him had been blissfully uncomplicated. He'd never criticised her, but had always showed her nothing but admiration; he'd never challenged her and never put hurdles in her way, but brought her flowers and her favourite chocolate and never missed a chance to compliment her.
He'd made her feel appreciated and loved again and so it was hardly surprising when it happened. First she'd only given him a peek on the cheek now and then, but somehow that had changed to an embrace and a kiss on the mouth and then, one night he'd driven her home after a party with friends, and upon arriving they'd noticed that the house was entirely dark and Siegfried's car wasn't in the garage.
Normally they didn't speak about Siegfried – Caroline had always avoided the subject and Richard definitely wasn't keen on it either. But now he looked at her, his brows furrowed. "Where's your husband? Isn't he normally home at this time?"
Caroline shrugged her shoulders. "We're talking about Siegfried!" she said. "With him, you can never count on 'normal'."
"You don't know where he is?" Richard shook his head in surprise.
"I don't have the slightest clue. Perhaps he's on night duty at Skeldale or playing chess with the Herriots or dealing with a calving. How should I know?" She'd tried to sound casual, but obviously not with much success.
"He neglects you badly!" Richard stated heatedly. Pulling her in his arms, he whispered: "He doesn't deserve you! Not at all! If you were my wife ..."
"I'm not, Richard! I'm Mrs Farnon ..."
"Only Mr Farnon doesn't know how to appreciate you! He doesn't love you – at least not as much as I love you!" He kissed her – and this time it wasn't a sweet little kiss, but a passionate, open-mouthed one and somehow Caroline didn't feel like resisting, but simply closed her eyes and enjoyed it.
A few days later Caroline once found herself sitting in front of a laid table with candles and flowers. And there had been a wonderfully smelling roast duck with carrots and Brussels sprouts and potatoes with a whiff of rosemary just like Siegfried loved them, but unfortunately her husband hadn't been there. He'd obviously forgotten her 30th birthday and so Caroline had once again ordered her housekeeper to clear the table, had poured herself a big brandy and considered her options. She certainly hadn't felt like staying at home, waiting for Siegfried to show up, and so - glass in hand - she'd gone to the phone and called Richard. He had remembered her birthday – he'd already sent a big bunch of roses over that morning. Now hearing her on the phone, he exclaimed delightedly, "How nice of you to call! How do you feel as a 30 year old?"
Laughing, Caroline had replied: "Like drinking a glass of champagne with a friend. Do you think you can find a bottle at your place?"
Three glasses of champagne later - on an empty stomach, as Siegfried's letting her down had spoiled her appetite –Caroline found herself in Richard's arms, enjoying his kisses and thrilling at his touch. Another two glasses later he carried her up the stairs and into bed, and though he certainly couldn't play in Siegfried's league when it came to making love, his happiness at having her here made up for that.
Caroline had not intended to carry on with the affair after their first night together, but somehow it had happened –primarily because she hadn't wanted to hurt Richard, who was so obviously in love with her and who asked her at least twice a week to leave Siegfried and to marry him.
Caroline hadn't once considered this option. Even though Siegfried obviously didn't love her anymore, there was Tim to think of, and despite all his faults as a husband, Siegfried had always been a wonderful father. Caroline knew that he loved Timothy with all his heart and she'd also known that Tim adored his father and looked upon him as his hero. To separate Timothy and Siegfried would have been cruel, and as unhappy though she'd been in her marriage, Caroline was determined to remain in it as long as Tim needed both of his parents.
But then Tristan had appeared, telling her that he knew about her affair and that he would inform Siegfried if she didn't do so herself. In a state of shock and sheer panic Caroline had run away and made Richard to take her on a journey to France. He'd liked that – he'd definitely believed then that she would divorce Siegfried now and marry him. Richard had already planned how his lawyers would work out the divorce with Siegfried's attorneys and "until you're free we'll live in Europe, perhaps in Nice or near Paris – there no one bothers about one's marital state. As soon as the divorce is final, we'll marry - and then, after a year or so, after the gossip has died down, we'll go back home."
"And what about my son?" Caroline had asked. "I miss him dreadfully already!"
"Darling, you'll get to see him soon," Richard had assured her. "As soon as we've found a house, I'm sure Siegfried will send him to you. I mean what he would want with a two-year-old? He works all day and half the night. He doesn't have time for the boy, so he'll be glad when you can look after him again."
Caroline had shaken her head. "I'd bet that Helen Herriot is already looking after our son. With her maternal instincts, she'll enjoy it. And knowing Siegfried and his fondness for Madame Herriot, I'm sure he thinks she looks after Timothy much better than I could, so there's no way he'd ever let me have him. And as the plaintiff in the divorce, I might not be seen by the judges as fit to bring up my son. I'm doomed – I can only hope that Siegfried's generosity and his love for Tim allow me to see my son again."
Richard had looked at her. "But Caroline, Siegfried should at least be gentleman enough to take the blame for the divorce! And if he isn't, my solicitors will certainly find a reason to make him the guilty party! I mean, everyone in Darrowby knows that he can't keep his trousers up around pretty women."
Caroline had looked at him as if she'd see him for the first time. "Richard, are you completely out of your mind? Even if it meant gaining custody of Tim, I would never try to put the blame for something I've done on Siegfried! How could I ever look my son in the eye after doing something like that to his father? And furthermore, Richard, I dislike the way you talk about my husband! If you're not willing to respect him for who he is, you should at least be aware that I'm still very much connected to him, and you should respect that!"
This argument had only been one glimpse of what she'd actually already known before she had run away with Richard: She didn't love him. She had been fond of him but she certainly hadn't loved him, and the thought of spending the rest of her life with him hadn't appealed to her in the least. She had probably broken a record: She'd managed to leave two men in only two weeks. After only 10 days on the French Riviera she'd told Richard, "I'm sorry, I really am, but I've made a horrible mistake in coming with you. I can't life with you and therefore it's better I leave now."
However, as much as she'd wanted to go home, she hadn't dared. Instead, she'd travelled to London where she and her sister owned a little house on a quiet side street in Belgravia. She'd arrived seven days earlier and had phoned her sister then. Since moving in with her sister, she'd waited for something to happen – perhaps Siegfried's solicitor sending her a letter announcing he'd filed for divorce, or her sister kicking her out of her stupor, or a good fairy coming around and granting her three wishes.
Her first wish would have been to make the last few months disappear completely.
t.b.c.
* I have to confess that I've stolen this line from Toxophilate. If you don't know her ACGAS fics – go and read them! They're champion!