DISCLAIMER: I don't own All Creatures Great and Small. Just borrowing the characters for a little while.
A/n: Hello again all. Fun fact: I've had this fic sitting in my drafts since June last year and had actually finished writing it before series 2 came out! I've made a few changes since then, taking the Christmas special into account, and realised if I don't post it now it may never see the light of day. So, here is chapter one of this little fluffy fic. Please do read and review if you have the time. I would love to know what you think. As always, enjoy x
CHAPTER ONE
The next time poor Tricki Woo was ill, Mrs Pumphrey was adamant that she be allowed to visit the Farnon household at least once a day to ensure he wasn't being completely starved. Whatever diet Mr Herriot was proposing, it couldn't possibly be enough to sustain her darling pooch.
"Mrs Pumphrey, I can assure you he will not starve," said Mr Farnon, watching as the small dog was carried safely out to the Rover on the plushest of pillows, and placed with great delicacy in the passenger seat. "As our most distinguished patient, Tricki will receive the very best of care, and I have no doubt he will be back with you by the end of the week."
"Oh! Do you hear that, Tricki?" Mrs Pumphrey clutched her handkerchief and waved it vigorously. "You can come home to mummy very soon."
She was rather baffled that the Pekingese was having to be taken into convalescence once more. But then she had, on several occasions, openly admitted to giving Tricki all sorts of treats that were entirely unsuitable for such a tiny animal. Winter, Mrs Pumphrey declared, had provided reason enough to keep him warm and well-fed, and after his Christmas illness she was determined he be kept in the best of health. All had been reasonably well until resolution had given way to indulgence. And so Tricki Woo was to be put on a strict health regime once again - if only to prevent his consumption of trifle for a couple of days.
"I've had a hamper made for him," Mrs Pumphrey confessed. "Nothing too extravagant, of course, I haven't forgotten, but he does so love his treats and I couldn't bear it if he were to go without."
Such foods would no doubt hinder Tricki's recovery, but the veterinarian was too well-experienced to insist the Fortnum and Mason delicacies be left behind. For Siegfried was not immune to the delights of Mrs Pumphrey's hampers, having been a recipient of one several times before. The pork pies in particular, he knew, were criminally moreish.
"Now, don't forget: you must be on your best behaviour for your dear uncles," Mrs Pumphrey reminded Tricki in her strictest tone.
Blinking up at his mistress with wide eyes, Tricki offered a strange, woebegone noise by way of reply. He appeared to understand exactly what was happening, and why the man in tweed had come to collect him. That the place they were headed to would provide no sweet, sugary snacks for him to enjoy. No slices of fresh, succulent ham, or pates or puddings. Indeed, nothing of interest to appease his insatiable appetite.
"Now, then." Siegfried turned to his fluffy companion as they waved goodbye to Mrs Pumphrey and sped up the driveway toward the rolling dales. "Under no circumstances are we to have a repeat of last time. There'll be no hamper picnics for you, I'm afraid!"
The hamper, though intended for Tricki Woo, was to be kept in the kitchen in a place the cunning creature could neither find nor reach it. Siegfried was determined there should be no unfortunate mishaps, and Tristan was charged with keeping an ever-watchful eye.
On occasion Mr Farnon would wait until Mrs Hall wasn't around to peruse the scrumptious contents of the hamper, tentatively creeping across the kitchen and lifting the lid for a glimpse of pate. The scent of bilberry tart was delightful, and he couldn't help contemplating the generous helping of scotch eggs - and a rather glorious selection of pork pies with the crumbliest of pastries - with a growing appetite. The idea of eating all six at once was tremendously tempting, but Siegfried could and would not risk spoiling his dinner.
The first day was relatively uneventful. The day after however was tantamount to chaos.
Though tasked with looking after the tiny Pekingese, Tristan had inevitably lost sight of him. How such a small dog could create such an enormous amount of panic was almost beyond the veterinarian. Yet, as the hour after breakfast stretched on and the hopes of finding Mrs Pumphrey's beloved pet lessened, Siegfried insisted they conduct a thorough search of the entire house.
His brother took to checking beneath the beds whilst James searched the numerous chairs and nooks within the sitting room. Jess padded here and there, sniffing around and barking softly amidst all the commotion. He could not be found in the kitchen or the back garden, Mrs Hall had announced, nor was he tucked away in either of the examination rooms.
Upon entering the office, his head spinning with profound agitation, Siegfried collapsed into the chair behind his desk and took a moment to gather himself. James appeared at the doorway, breathless, only to disappear with disorientating speed. Having already mislaid both his spectacles and errand list - due to the desk being buried beneath a great mound of scattered, unorganised paperwork - Siegfried found, after several minutes, that he had entirely forgotten what he was supposed to be doing.
A sharp cry broke through the air, prompting him to leap up and plough across the living room. He narrowly missed tripping over the coffee table, his briefcase, James - who had wriggled his way half beneath the armchair - and rushed into the hallway. Tristan came thundering down the stairs panting like a wild thing, and skidded after his brother.
It was in the kitchen that the three discovered the source of the exclamation: Mrs Hall pulling a wet and muddy ball of fluff out of her clean washing pile. The sheets, along with the furry culprit, came tumbling out of the basket and pooled on the kitchen floor at her feet. Tricki looked up at the housekeeper as if to accuse her of waking him from a well-earned rest, and she caught him before he could dirty the rest of the house with his muddy paws.
"How the hell did he get in there?" Siegfried hissed urgently, watching the unfolding scene with some trepidation. And then, to his brother: "You were supposed to be watching him!"
Tristan shrugged, entirely bemused. But his smile soon disappeared as Mrs Hall paced towards them, her expression most displeased.
"I believe it's your turn to bath Tricki, Mr Farnon," she said, and promptly deposited the dog in the veterinarian's arms.
For the most part Tricki Woo was very well behaved. The responsibility of walking the Pekingese fell upon the boys in turn, and they returned every morning with a variety of amusing stories to tell. Gradually, Tricki became used to his daily walks, eager to explore the busy streets of Darrowby - particularly on Market Day when there were so many intriguing smells to explore. It took James near twenty minutes to prise the dog away from the stalls offering local pies and cakes.
Often Siegfried entered the kitchen to find the dog staring up at the table as if in a trance, drawn to the tantalising smell of freshly baked bread and biscuits. On other days he would watch Tricki and Jess follow Mrs Hall about the house as she worked, sitting obediently in their beds as she mopped the floors or playing happily on the lawn when she went into the garden to hang the washing on the line.
By the end of the week it was as if Tricki had become an entirely different dog altogether. How long his rejuvenated health would last however, was a point of great disparagement. Siegfried was certain it would only be a month before Tricki returned to their care. James three weeks, and Tristan five. Mrs Hall settled on an entire three months, but then she was always overtly optimistic about such things.
It was on Friday afternoon that Mrs Pumphrey arrived to take Tricki Woo home. With the lady seated comfortably in the parlour and the housekeeper busy making a brew, the boys gathered nervously in the examination room. It was time to give the Pekingese one last check over.
As good as gold, Tricki waited for the final report. The number on the scales rose higher and higher still, edging toward dangerous territory, until abruptly the hand stopped. It rocked back and forth precariously before pointing to a conclusive, positive digit. To everyone's relief, Tricki Woo had once again achieved the seemingly impossible.
Setting him down on the floor, Siegfried watched the small dog patter over the tiles towards the waiting room, his head held high in a majestically dignified manner. He seemed to know instinctively that his mistress had arrived.
"Oh, Tricki!" Mrs Pumphrey gushed, sweeping the pooch up into her arms and cuddling him close. "How I've missed you. Why, you hardly weigh a thing! What have you been feeding him, Mr Farnon?"
"Exactly what Uncle Herriot prescribed," Siegfried grinned, sharing a knowing look with his two assistants.
Tea was poured. Pleasantries exchanged. And specific instructions given regarding Tricki Woo's future diet - though James was convinced they would not always be taken into any great consideration.
Hugging the dog close, Mrs Pumphrey made her farewells and then, just as she was about to step through the front door, she turned and said, "We'll see you this evening, won't we, Mr Farnon?"
"This evening?" Siegfried echoed. A moment's pause brought nothing of significance to mind, but an evening invitation could only mean one thing. His recovery was accompanied with practiced charm. "Ah, yes. Of course. I wouldn't miss one of your parties for the world, Mrs Pumphrey."
"Very good," the lady smiled. "And do bring Mrs Hall along."
Siegfried had never before witnessed his housekeeper rendered speechless. He watched with increasing curiosity as her lips parted, closed, and opened again with no audible reply. She blinked several times in rapid succession, though her features remained unreadable.
"Wonderful. That settles it. I'll see you both this evening." Mrs Pumphrey turned to Siegfried and patted his shoulder. "And thank you so very much again for looking after my darling Tricki all this week. He does appear to be much better."
"I'm afraid I can't take all the credit," Siegfried grinned. "It was a group effort."
As the shiny black car drove away, trundling over the stone cobbled streets, a wave of satisfied calm settled on Skeldale House. Aside from Tricki winding up in the housekeeper's basket of fresh laundry, the week had passed by surprisingly well.
"I rather forgot about the party this evening," Siegfried admitted as he closed the front door. "Completely slipped my mind. I didn't happen to mention it to you, did I?"
"No," Mrs Hall replied. "You didn't."
If he had, she would have easily recollected the memory.
"An invitation from Mrs Pumphrey herself," Siegfried whistled cheerily. "My, my. That really is quite the honour, you know."
The tray was still held tightly in her hands, teapot, cups and saucers stacked together next to a half-eaten plate of rich tea biscuits. On impulse he took one, broke off a large piece and ate it noisily. Any elation of a job well done was suddenly overshadowed by anxious l expectation.
"I'd better get started on dinner," said Mrs Hall, mostly to herself, and headed towards the kitchen. "I didn't expect..." She stopped at the store cupboard, turned back. "I had a roast planned. How does cottage pie sound instead?"
"It sounds delightful," Siegfried smiled, and she nodded slowly in reply, eyes clouded with frantic thought.
Instinct beckoned him follow her. There was a noticeable hesitation in her movements, and as she set the tray down on the kitchen table, flicking through her recipe book with almost violent speed - though he was certain she had no need of the instructions - he offered the proverbial question.
"Mrs Hall, are you quite alright? Only, you seem a little flustered."
The pages stopped turning. Closer inspection confirmed his observation.
"It's silly," she said at last, her darting, pensive gaze lifting to meet his for the briefest of seconds.
"What is?"
"It's just that..." A deep blush spread across her cheeks. "It's been a long time since..." She sighed a resigned admission, fingers smoothing over the tiny pink flowers on her apron. "I don't think I have anything suitable to wear."
"Mrs Hall," Siegfried breathed quietly, "I don't believe that statement is entirely true."
Half-ready to protest, the housekeeper considered the veterinarian, drawing in a sharp breath before perusing the cookbook with unbridled ferocity. The pages crinkled and turned. Siegfried edged closer.
"I'm sure your best will do just fine."
Her hands stilled, brows furrowed, doubt fogging the air.
"Will it?"
"Yes, I should think so. What about the... the navy one with the little..." He wiggled his fingers about, searching for the correct name of the little shapes that appeared as stars and moons in his eyes, but found none forthcoming. At the housekeeper's raised brow, Seigfried conjured his most reassuring smile. "I like that one."
She merely blinked at him.
"Or there's the other one," he continued hurriedly, rushing through the words before he could change his mind. "The... the, um, the one you wore at Christmas with all the..."
Mrs Hall stared; Mr Farnon stared back.
"The sparkles," he managed eventually, lost in her gaze and acutely aware of the dissipating distance between them.
Her hand settled over the page; he made a bee-line for the door, overcome with a sudden, inexplicable need to be elsewhere. And yet still he found himself pausing in the passageway, turning to confess in the smallest of voices, "I rather like that one too."
