Disclaimer: English is not my first language. Forgive my typos and grammar mistakes (or bad word choices). I just write for fun.
Facts
Chapter 01
When James leaves the bar before everyone else Audrey knows what to do. Beside her, Siegfried looks at her and then nods. The silent communication between the two does not surprise her anymore. It is comforting to have someone who understands her so easily, something she did not even have with the husband with whom she lived more than a decade.
"I'm going to fetch the coats." He says when she leaves her beer aside. The night is cool. Winter is not far now and James seems completely lost. Audrey knows that nothing she or anyone else says will make a difference at that moment. What matters is that James knows that he is not alone, that he can count on them and that is what they do. He seems relieved to find himself surrounded by them and that gives her a hint of satisfaction.
The walk to Skeldale House is short and Tristan hugs James, reminding him of his success with Strawberry. She watches them out of the corner of her eyes. They will be quite a pair in the near future, she is sure of that and Siegfried seems to read her thoughts. His smiles brief at her.
Their coats are hung in the corridor hooks side by side, the door is locked and Saint Nick gains a pat of thanks. Good night wishes are exchanged at the bottom of the stairs. The joyful mood had faded despite Tristan's effort and it was no surprise to anyone when James was the first to go upstairs. The Fanon's and Mr. H watched him for a few seconds in silence.
James was a good lad, a good vet, a good son... If Edward were a little like him... Making comparisons is wrong and unfair, but inevitable in some circumstances. She wanted to be able to give some comfort to that poor boy.
"You need help?" Tristan's words bring her back from thinking.
The youngest Fanon watches her fondly and she smiles as she gives his arm a gentle squeeze.
"No love, go to bed. You did a lot today."
"Ok, Mrs. H. Night."
"Night." She and Siegfriend respond together.
He is standing beside her, his hands buried deep in his pants pocket watching her closely as if waiting for some sort of guidance on what to do. It was almost funny how she managed to impose her will on her boss and how he obeyed without much resistance. This was one of the things she liked most about him, the fact that he was always willing to help her, to accept her advice and sometimes (although unwillingly) to assume his mistakes.
"Will you help me?"
He shrugs with a sigh. "I feel like I deserve this punishment after I didn't believe in James."
Siegfried is a good man, the best she has ever known, even though he spends most of his time behaving insufferably, like a spoiled child, full of wills, screaming and having his tantrums. And she likes him, likes him more than she allows herself to imagine.
"I can't disagree with that." She says at last trying hard not to smile.
Although he still feels a little ill and quite tired Siegfried follows her around the rooms collecting glasses, bottles and plates from the furniture and tables. It is a ritual that they have adopted since the early days. No matter how tired he is, he always tries to help with something at the end of the day, even if it is getting up to answer the door or on the phone. She worked as hard (and often a lot more) than he did, lending a hand seems fair.
Together they collected everything. The cushions returned to their proper places and the room returned to its presentable appearance, while the dining room resumed its absolute serenity with nothing out of place. The empty bottle cases were placed in a corner to be returned to the pub in the morning and the dishes washed while the kettle was put on.
Siegfried notices how their movements seem synchronized, as if the two know exactly what the other would do next, a choreography performed perfectly. It makes him wonder if they would actually dance together so well as they moved around each other. The idea of the two dancing made him frown and watch her closely. It wasn't absurd, after all he had the habit of dancing with an abundant group of women at Mrs. Pumphrey's parties, but where did that come from?
"What's it?" Nothing went unnoticed with Mrs. H. and now she was looking at him carefully as she prepared two cups of tea and generous slices of cake for them.
He liked to watch how she did everything with precision and care. Most of the time she was practical, going back and forth quickly, but in those quieter moments she had a subtle grace that he liked even more. If he was honest with himself at all, and at that moment maybe he was (and it was certainly that witch coaction's she gave him fault), there was nothing about her that he didn't like.
"Do you miss being married?" Usually it was he who deviated from the subject. Whenever she brought up a sentimental conversation he changed the subject, and yet here he was asking that, to her, after midnight on a terribly long and hectic day.
Mrs. H. stop what she was doing for a few seconds to look at him before finishing serving them both. She sits across from him, takes a sip of tea and sticks her fork at the cake. It was clear that she was putting her thoughts in order before she answered.
"I don't know, not really. My marriage is not something I miss. " He watches her and she continues to look at the cake, but he knows that her gaze is actually somewhere in the past, analyzing her own experiences. "To be honest, I have been happier here than I was when I was married, but I cannot deny that in the winter I miss someone to warm my feet." Her eyes meet his and he grins at the playful comment.
It amazes him how she always manages to put sad things aside and see a positive side or a sarcastic comment, sometimes even a joke. Despite the pain and scars she carries, she manages to put everything aside and live in the moment and that is something he envies.
"Is good to hear that. I'm glad you feel so good here. " Siegfried feels relieved, enormously relieved. Relieved as he did not imagine that he would feel for such a simple answer.
Her face lights up for a brief moment and she shrugs. "The life I have here is not so different from the life I had when I was married. I have you to infuriate me, I take care of the house and I have to try to keep the boys in line, it's basically the same thing. "
"I supposed it is quite similar in some ways." Since he is being sincere with himself he ponders her words briefly and there is really not much in the way that she deals with the house and the boys that is different from being a mother, nor in their relationship that is different from a marriage. Apart from the part of a couple's physical intimacy they obviously didn't have, everything else is there. That thought makes him strangely uncomfortable hot. "I'm sorry to be such an annoying fake husband."
"Indeed you are, but I wouldn't trade you for anyone else." Mrs. H hides behind the cup of tea and doesn't look at him directly.
Siegfried momentarily ignores the meaning of her statement because he finds himself simply agreeing with it. He knows that deep down he wouldn't trade her for anyone, either. He didn't want someone else walking around his house, going through his things, taking care of him and Tristan, giving orders and advice or having dinner beside him at the table. He didn't see himself going to Mass with anyone else, or shopping or spending nights playing board games or just listening to the radio. He didn't want another woman's company, not permanently, not as he wanted and enjoyed her company. It was then that he understood.
Tristan had been insisting that he should do something about his civil status. That he should go out and meet women, give them a chance, live. Maybe even invite Dorothy to dinner. Yes, she was a beautiful woman, captivating and intelligent, it is difficult not to be interested in her. Her affable exuberance and the way convention happens easily with her is attractive. She seemed interested in what he had to say, but when he stopped to imagine beyond those moments of pleasant conversations and intense looks, the truth is that Dorothy does not fit into his life as a whole.
So Siegfried finally accepted the fact that inviting Dorothy or any other woman to dinner was not not to create an expectation that he didn't want, it wasn't not to imply the possibility of an eventual involvement when he wasn't ready for it, it was a simply way to fool himself. He had already chosen someone, he just hadn't realized it consciously until that moment.
"Not even for one that warmed your cold feet?"
That was what he asked, partially hiding behind the cup of tea, trying to hide the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that swirled inside him at that moment. And yet Audrey's eyes searched him for a few seconds and he wonders if what she is looking for questions or answers.
"You can buy me more socks, can't you?" She simply asked.
"As many as you like, Mrs. H." He answered.