PART TWO

25 June 1937

Siegfried stared at the shelves in the dispensary despairing, once again at how disorganised the place was. He didn't know how many times he had tried to tell Tristan and James about it and every time it appeared to fall on deaf ears. Oh, things might improve for a short time, but it wouldn't take long before, once again, he struggled to find what he was looking for.

It had never been like this when he had been practicing on his own.

"So, what are you going to do?"

Tristan's voice behind him made him start, and he half-turned to look at him over his shoulder. "What am I going to do about what?"

"Not what, whom. What are you going to do about Lily? James told me that he met her yesterday. Quite a turn up for the books."

He felt his stomach contract just at the mention of her name. After taking to his room the previous evening, Mrs Hall had brought him up supper on a tray. He had, rather rudely he accepted, told her that he wasn't hungry and that she should leave him alone. She had taken his dismissal with her usual good grace and, once she was gone, he had fallen into a restless sleep, waking early only to feel exhausted rather than refreshed. Breakfast had held no interest for him, and he had, instead, squirrelled himself away in the examination room on the pretext of sorting out the clutter, hoping to be left alone.

"Oh, that. Nothing."

"Nothing? Siegfried, Lily is home at Windy Hill. Your Lily…"

"She's hardly my Lily, is she? I haven't seen the woman for five years…"

"The woman…?"

He sighed and turned to face his brother. "Tristan…"

"Siegfried." Tristan stared at him. "This is Lily we're talking about. Do you mean to tell me that you're not going to go to her? Not going to see her…not going to speak to her…?"

"Yes, that's precisely what I'm telling you."

"But…she's the love of your life, the woman you were going to marry…"

"Yes, five years ago!"

"What does that matter?"

He sighed heavily, "I don't expect you to understand."

"Good, because I don't."

"Look, she made it very clear that she never wanted to see me again. Not to mention the fact that her father told me that if I ever set foot on Windy Hill land, he would shoot me. So, forgive me for not running up there at the first mention of her name!"

Tristan paused, "Is this about Diana?"

"Diana? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you're courting her and…"

"I am not courting her!" he exclaimed, finding himself somewhat shocked by the very notion. Diana was a kind woman, a lovely woman to spend time with, but he wanted nothing more from her and knew he could give her even less.

"Well, what would you call it then?"

"I…I simply enjoy her company, as she does mine. There's nothing more or less to it."

"Then all the more reason why you should go and see Lily."

"And say what, exactly? 'Hello Lily, how are you? Where have you been hiding all these years? Do you still hate me with every fibre of your being?'"

"She could never hate you."

"I'm glad you consider yourself such an expert on the point."

"Fine, if you won't go, I will."

He swung around to face his brother again. "What are you talking about? I told you Tom Bailey said never to go there again!"

"Well, he might have said that to you, but he certainly didn't say it to me. Just because you're too afraid to face Lily, doesn't mean that I am. Don't you want to know why she left? Why she hasn't bothered to get in touch with you all these years? Don't you think she owes you some kind of explanation?"

"Tristan, this isn't your business!"

"I think it's very much my business!" Tristan glared at him. "Have you even looked at yourself? Have you even thought about how much you changed after she left? How you've never been the same since?"

"Now you're just being ridiculous!"

"Am I? These last few years you've been a shell of the person you once were. You've reverted back to exactly how you were after Evelyn died, before you met Lily and realised you still had a chance of happiness."

"Well, I'm sorry I haven't been the brother you expected me to be." He turned back around to the bottles in front of him, desperate for the subject to be changed. "How many times do I have to tell you about keeping this place in order!"

"Don't change the subject!"

"I'll do whatever I damn well like!" Tristan said nothing and he paused in the silence that followed, well aware that it wasn't his brother's fault. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to shout but…I really wish that you would just leave the whole issue about Lily alone. It's been five years. I've learned to live with her not being here and I really don't want to stir the whole thing up again, if you don't mind."

"I do mind," Tristan said, turning his back. "Somebody has to."

He opened his mouth to protest, but his brother had already gone, and he found himself pondering the questions he had spat into the air. Of course he wanted to know the answers…sometimes…but other times it felt as though the safest thing all round was just to let sleeping dogs lie. What would be the point in raking up the past now?

He was on an even keel.

He was fine.

XXXX

"Sit down lass, you don't need to be doing that."

She looked up from her position on her knees, scrubbing the floor beside the stove, to see her father framed in the doorway. "It's no trouble. Looks like there must be about five years' worth of grime down here."

"I've managed quite well without you fussing around this kitchen. I'm not needing you to start again now." His tone was pleasant, but she could read the underlying meaning. Whilst he was pleased that she had returned, times had changed for both of them. Rising to her feet, she dropped the now blackened cloth in her hand into the sink and wiped her hands on her apron.

"You've put a bit of weight on since I've been back at any rate."

"You always were a good cook."

He sat down at the table and poured himself some tea and she sat opposite, watching him for a long moment. "He seems nice."

"Who?"

"That Mr Herriot."

"Oh aye? Going to start taking a fancy to him now, are you?" She knew that his words were meant in jest, but she still found her gaze lowering to the table in front of her. "Sorry lass; that were glib of me."

"It's all right."

There was a long silence before he spoke again. "It's lovely 'aving you back 'ere you know…"

"But?"

"Well, you've been 'ere nearly two weeks and I still 'ave no idea if you're planning to stay or not."

"I didn't realise you had me on a clock."

"Course I 'aven't. But am I not at least allowed to ask? You've not set foot on this land for five years and then, all of a sudden, you're 'ere. I'm allowed to be a little curious as to what your intentions are, aren't I?"

She met his gaze and nodded. "And I'd tell you, if I knew myself."

"Something must have brought you back 'ere now. Not that it isn't lovely 'aving you, before you accuse me of being unwelcoming. Truth is, I thought I'd never see you 'ere again."

"Truth is, I'm not sure I saw myself being back here either." She looked out of the window at the view beyond realising, suddenly quite acutely, how much she had missed it. So much had changed in the intervening years. She wasn't the person she had been when he had put her on the train that summer afternoon.

"I 'alf expected you to be coming 'ome to tell me that you were getting married."

"To who?" she laughed.

"Well, that Peter bloke perhaps."

She looked down at the table again, well aware that telling her father Peter hadn't been interested in her, or any woman for that matter, wasn't a conversation she really wished to have. He would never understand. "No, there was never any danger there."

"You're thirty-four years old now, Lily."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning, that if you want to get wed and 'ave bairns of your own, you'd best get a move on."

As she watched him drain his tea, she realised that the irony was quite lost on him. The fact that he had spent years trying to prevent her from doing that very thing and then, when she had found someone, someone who had cared about her, loved her, doing everything in his power to turn her against him. "I'm not sure that's for me now, Dad." He looked at her over his mug. "I sort of understand how you feel now."

"In what way?"

"Well, the fact that you could never conceive of loving anyone else after Mam died, let alone getting re-married. I know he's not dead, but…" she broke off, feeling a lump rise in her throat. It had been all right when she had been away, banishing him from her mind as she had, telling herself that it was clearly all for the best. It was only now that she was home that the very thought of him brought tears to her eyes.

"Aye, well…" he shifted in his chair. "Lest said about 'im the better. I still don't understand why you 'ad me call Skeldale House about that 'orse."

"I told you; I don't trust Paddy Trotter, I never have."

"Well, I could have called George Pandhi if you'd been really worried about it. I didn't 'ave to call down there."

"Despite what you think, I know he's still the best vet in the area."

"Aye. Didn't come himself though, did 'e?"

"No, he didn't." She mused quietly on that thought, tossing it around in her mind. He might not have known that she was there, or he might hate her so much as to never wish to lay eyes on her again.

The conversation moved on to what she might be making for tea that evening and, eventually, Tom left the kitchen again, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Sitting at the table where they had sat, being in the sitting room where they had spent time together, sleeping in the bed where they had…

A sudden knocking at the door caused her to start and, opening it, found herself shocked to be face to face with none other than Tristan.

"Lily Bailey," he said, though with less of the exuberance that she remembered.

"Tristan Farnon," she replied automatically. "How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you, and you?"

"Yes, I'm well."

"I just came up to see for myself if the rumours were true."

"Rumours?"

"Oh, James came home yesterday afternoon with a fanciful tale of how he had met Tom Bailey's daughter, Lily, and, well, you can't blame me for being sceptical."

She hesitated slightly, unnerved by his tone. "Do you want to come in?"

"I'd love to, assuming your father isn't around."

"He's down in the lower field. I've just stuck the kettle on, do you want some tea?"

"Lovely, thank you." He followed her inside and sat down at the table, his gaze fierce. "You look different."

"Do I?" she turned her back on him as she fidgeted at the stove. "Just older, I suppose."

"Sound different too." She put the kettle onto the fire and then turned back to face him. "Not as broad as you once were."

"No. I thought it would be easier to try and make myself better understood."

"Where?"

"Where what?"

"Where would you need to try and make yourself better understood."

"Oh, London."

"Is that where you've been all this time? London?"

"Mostly," she replied, discomfited by the directness of his questioning. He had always just been Siegfried's younger, sweet yet mildly irritating, little brother. But now she could see that he had grown and matured into a young man, and it was clear from his tone where his loyalties lay. "What are you up to these days?" she asked, to try and force a chance in the subject. "Still at university?"

"Just finished my final year," he replied. "Or rather, I had. I have to go back and repeat it given that I failed my exams."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She poured tea into a cup for him and slid it carefully across the table, watching as he brought it to his mouth and then set it down again. For a moment, a heavy silence hung between them, his gaze piercing hers, like a predator just waiting to pounce.

"Aren't you even going to ask?" he said finally.

"Ask?"

"About Siegfried. About how he is."

"Oh…" she felt her face flame. "I asked James yesterday and he said that…that he was well."

"You asked someone who has absolutely no knowledge of who you are or what you meant to Siegfried how he is?" His tone was overtly critical now and she felt herself cowed. "James has no idea. You broke Siegfried's heart. He's never been the same since you left. Why did you do it, Lily? Why did you leave?"

"I don't expect you to understand," she met his gaze. "I don't expect you to know how I felt at the time, how I knew I just couldn't stay here. I've been gone five years and I could tell the moment I returned that people were talking about me."

"Yes, because you just disappeared without trace, not because you were once carrying a child out of wedlock." She winced at his words, at the memories that had never truly left her. "No-one knows."

"No-one knows what?"

"About the baby. At least, not to my knowledge. Dr Bellamy hasn't proved himself to be quite the gossip that your father made him out to be the day he came to Skeldale House and tried to kill my brother. I'd wager most people have no idea." He paused. "But to be so cruel…"

"Cruel?"

"It was no more Siegfried's fault than your own," Tristan said firmly. "And he didn't deserve to take all the blame. He didn't deserve your vitriol."

"What vitriol?" she asked, confused. "I asked him to leave Darrowby with me and he said no. There was no vitriol. I was upset, heartbroken, devastated at his choice, but I wasn't angry with him."

"Then why say what you did? Why return his ring?" Tristan sat forwards. "Why would you want him to know that you never…"

The kitchen door opened suddenly, and Tom appeared, pausing in the doorway when he saw the visitor. "Oh aye. What's all this then?"

"Tristan just came up to say hello and catch up on old times," she said quickly. "That's all right, isn't it?"

Tom said nothing, merely pulling his boots off and then making his way over to the sink. A long silence followed in which all she could hear was the ticking of the clock on the mantel.

"I should go," Tristan said finally, rising to his feet. "It was good to see you again, Lily. I hope you're planning to stay for a while."

"I haven't quite made my mind up yet," she replied, glancing at her father. "But it was nice to see you too."

"We've got lots more to talk about," he said pointedly as he turned for the door.

"What were that all about?" Tom asked, when they were alone again.

"Nothing. Like I said, he just came up to see how I am." To her relief, he didn't question her further, but as she moved around the kitchen preparing for the evening meal, Tristan's words came back to her. Cruel…vitriol…neither of them sat right with what had happened, with the choices she had made and the things that she had said.

Perhaps the person she really needed to speak to was Siegfried.

XXXX

He'd barely been able to concentrate that day. Originally planned for surgery whilst James undertook the farm visits, at the last moment he decided to swap the lists, feeling that being away from the house in the fresh air and the majestic countryside would be better for him than being cooped up. The weather was glorious, and he was able to drive with the roof of the Rover down, wondering, not for the first time, what she would have made of such a car.

Most of his visits passed without incident. No-one saw fit to mention Lily, indeed he wondered if many of them even knew that she was back at Windy Hill. As the day drew to a close, he was left with two calls to pay, one to Mrs Salter and one to the Aldersons. Whilst he knew which one he would prefer, he elected to face the worst one head on, and deal with Mrs Salter first. The woman had changed little over the years, her irascible attitude perhaps only worsening as time had passed. But he felt they had something of a mutual respect and understanding for one another.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Salter," he greeted her as he drew into the yard and climbed out of the car.

"Mr Farnon," she greeted him carefully. "I've got a cow with an abscess."

"How lovely," he replied, eliciting a raised eyebrow. "Let's take a look then." Following her into the barn, she directed him to the beast in question and saw, much to his concern, what looked like a wound on her side. "How did this happen then?"

"No idea," she replied. "She came in from the field with it."

"And you've had a look in the field?"

"It's a field," she said, as though he were simple. "It's got fences, trees…"

"Yes, I take your point." He examined the wound carefully. "It looks like she's caught herself on something and the wound's been left to fester. It's become infected."

"Can you treat it?"

"Yes, of course," he reached down into his bag. "I'll wash it out with a saline solution and then apply a dressing. You'll have to keep an eye on her though over the next few days. I'll leave some extra dressings so that they can be reapplied. She'd be best staying inside too."

"Aye, as you say…" Mrs Salter paused. "I 'eard that girl's back."

"Which girl?"

"Tom Bailey's lass, Lily."

He paused momentarily as he lifted the solution. "Yes, I heard that too."

"Funny that. Five years is a long time to be away to suddenly come back."

"Mmmm…"

"Seems no time at all since the little princess was in 'ere watching you birth one of my calves."

As he drenched the wound with saline and the cow whined in protest, he thought back to that day at Darrowby Show, when she had driven him to the farm, and he had encouraged her to help. He remembered the look of surprise on her face when he had stripped to the waist, never imagining for one moment at that point that they would…

"Not to mention I 'eard that that very same day you and she jumped into the river to say one of Lord Hulton's beasts."

"Yes," a brief smile came to his face. "Yes, we did."

"Not of sound mind, if you ask me."

He continued in his work, cleaning and then dressing the wound before stepping back admire his handiwork. "There now. As I said, keep an eye on her. Obviously if the wound increases or gets any worse, call me out again. I'll leave you these dressings to use and, if you need more, please let me know." He met her gaze and felt the weight of it pierce him.

"You and she were to be married," she said, "before she got fool notions into 'er 'ead and crashed down into Rudd's field."

"Yes, well that was a long time ago…"

"Strange that, after that, she should just up and leave, especially coming so soon after her getting well again."

He knew the woman was fishing for information and that she would undoubtedly not be the last person to question him on what he knew of Lily's return. In the weeks and months after she had left, people had been equally curious about her departure, and he had tried hard to remain vague about it all. Eventually, they had stopped querying and life had gone on almost as though she had never existed at all. He had learned to live that way.

"Let me know if you have any other trouble," he said finally, avoiding the implication in her words and heading back towards the car.

"You ask me, best thing for her was to stay away."

"Yes well…" he said, climbing back into the car and starting the engine. "No-one asked you, did they?" Fortunately, she appeared not to have heard his latter remark and with a cheery wave that belied how he truly felt, he turned and drove out of the yard, making his way to Heston Grange and the last call of the day.

As he drove up the track to the house, he saw Jenny Alderson in one of the fields and raised his hand to her in greeting before stopping in the yard in time for her older sister, Helen, to come out of the house.

"Afternoon Siegfried," she greeted him.

"Helen."

"Last call of the day?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Course not," she laughed. "Do you want a quick brew?"

"That would be very kind, thank you." He followed her into the kitchen and accepted her offer to sit down at the table. "What seems to be the trouble in any event?"

"We've got a lamb with a gimpy leg. Me dad wants to know if it's worth treating or…well…"

"Sending to the knackers yard?"

"Something like that." She passed him a cup. "Can I get you a scone?"

"Ah…no, thank you," he replied, eyeing a wire rack of rather blackened looking baking suspiciously. "Mrs Hall will not take kindly to me spoiling my appetite before tea. How is your father? Jenny?"

"Both fine," she replied, sitting down opposite him. "How's Tristan?"

"Incorrigible as always." She smiled in that way that always made them feel as though they shared a kinship. She had stepped up to care for her sister in the wake of her mother's death much as he had for Tristan. "And Hugh?"

"He's been away a lot recently. But he'll be back next week."

"Be nice for you to see him again."

"Mmm…" she paused. "He told me last time I spoke to him that the attending vet at Darrowby Racecourse is due to retire soon."

"Really?" he sat forward. "How soon?"

"Very soon, as far as Hugh could tell me. Within the next few weeks. You interested?"

"I could be," he said, trying to remain detached at the prospect when, deep down, it was a position he had craved more than he cared to admit. "In any event, it'll be nice to see Hugh again. I haven't been up to the stables for a while, but I'm sure Andante is coming along well."

"He's favourite, or so Hugh says." She paused. "It were 'is father that you pulled out of the river, wasn't it?"

"Adagio? Yes, it was. Yes, Hugh's father was very grateful, God rest his soul. It's how I came to be the 'vet of choice' as it were for the Hall." He paused again as, once more, Lily's face swam into his mind. He could still picture her, climbing into the horsebox to free Adagio, then dripping wet on the riverbank beside him…

"Me dad was talking to Tom Bailey the other day in the Drovers," she said. "'e said that Lily was back."

He looked at Helen, at the kind, openness of her expression and knew that whilst her query no doubt partially came from inquisitiveness, it also came from a place of concern. He wasn't surprised that James appeared to be as attracted to her as he was. She was a good person.

And yet…

"A lamb with a gimpy leg, you say?"

She smiled understandingly and got to her feet. "Come on, I'll show you the way."