Second Day
With an elegant box of chocolate truffles in the nook of one arm and a bottle of champagne in the other, Tara entered her hotel suite in a disgruntled silence. She was planning to distract herself from the pain and misery by devouring the entire box of twenty-four chocolates and drinking the whole bottle of champagne. She knew she'd have a stomach ache and hangover afterwards, not to mention her gaining several unwanted pounds. But if it kept her mind occupied, what did she care? Nobody noticed the weight she'd lost and the pains she'd taken in looking classy and sweet.
They still thought of her as Agent 69, the swinging sixties chick, fast, easy, and lush. Hadn't they figured out it was the seventies now, almost 1971? Didn't they realise she'd taken such pains to change her ways? It was evident nobody had noticed anything, so she would just revert to her old self.
Tara stripped from her lovely attire and slipped into her silk, purple dressing gown with the feather cuffs. She practically ripped her wig off, letting her real shoulder-length hair** cascade to her shoulders. After she'd finished her undressing, Miss King slouched on her sofa and opened the bottle of champagne.
She decided to just drink it straight from the bottle; nobody was there to see her look like a slob. She took her first sip and popped the first truffle in her mouth. As the taste of chocolate combined with the aftertaste of the alcohol, Tara thought about what she should tell Steed.
She knew she had to tell them she'd failed-that she had misjudged Conrad Siegfried-but how could she break the news to them delicately? It seemed unfair just to blurt out, "Well, that selfish sadist refused to help us, so I guess you're stuck in these bodies forever." However, was there any other way to say it?
As she stuffed her second chocolate into her mouth, the telephone began to ring. Tara ignored it; the call had to be from Steed, demanding to know how her meeting went. She would pretend she wasn't home, and Steed would have to assume she was still at Siegfried's hideout, enjoying his company. She savoured the taste of the truffle melting in her mouth for a brief second before taking another swig of her champagne to wash it down.
Tara hugged one of the decorative pillows that adorned the couch. Tears of self-pity and reproach slid down her cheeks, but she didn't heed them. "What you need is another truffle," she told herself.
It was more difficult to cram the third chocolate into her mouth, but she succeeded. By the forth truffle, Tara wondered how anybody could gorge themselves on such rich food. With the fourth chocolate still in her mouth, she was about to force herself to eat a fifth piece. She probably would have if there hadn't been a knock on her suite's door.
Now Steed's coming to make sure I'm not home, she thought. Tara lethargically rose to her feet, the champagne bottle in her hand. Slowly she peered through the peep hole to see if it was indeed John Steed or one her other friends. To her consternation, it was Conrad Siegfried looking particularly dashing in a suit and holding her straw hat!
*Good God, he mustn't know I've been stuffing my face with chocolate and deluding the pain with alcohol*, she mused. "Muff a mimin!" she shouted through the food in her mouth. She swallowed and tried her declaration again. "Just a minute, please!"
Tara scampered back to the couch in search for the bottle's cork. She soon was crawling on her hands and knees, examining every cranny. She found the cork under the sofa and, after a quick sip to soothe her nerves, lodged the cork into the neck of the bottle. She then hid the liquor in one of the many drawers in her bedroom.
The knocking was incessant now, but she still had to conceal the chocolate truffles. "I'm just getting out of the bathtub!" she lied. Hastily, she stuffed the chocolate box behind the sofa's pillow.
Tara was about to open the door when she realised she might have chocolate smeared on her face. After a rapid swipe of the hand across the mouth, she yanked open the door.
There stood Siegfried attired in a grey suit, blue bowtie, glasses, and grey derby hat. He glanced suspiciously around the hotel corridor before pushing past her into her room. "Whew nobody saw me, or recognised me!" he muttered. Putting on his wrathful gaze, he demanded, "Vhat took you so long? Zis disguise is not impregnable, you know." He removed his glasses and hat and after glancing disdainfully at them, tossed them onto the floor.
"I forgot you're still a fugitive of the law," faltered Miss King.
"I was about to leave vhen you finally answered ze door. How lucky for you, isn't it?" Siegfried placed her straw hat on an empty table then gazed at her superiorly.
Tara exhaled, the idea of losing Siegfried again too inconceivable and alarming. Finally she spoke, "Won't you sit down?" She gesticulated towards the sofa, and Siegfried eased himself onto the couch right on top of the pillow that was concealing the truffles!
CRUNCH!
Siegfried bolted, regained his serenity, and lifted the pillow. He looked disgustedly at the crushed box. It appeared he was going to make a tactless comment on Tara's eating habits; so she lifted the box and asked, "Would you care for a chocolate?"
"No, truffles are nasty zings, not worthy of consumption. Though I'm sure you had your fill of zem today, seeing how many are already missing from ze box."
Abashed, Tara flung the box onto an adjacent chair and sat down next to Siegfried, who was back on the sofa. This procedure ruffled the feathers on her dressing-gown, causing several to sail into the air and land in awkward places, including Siegfried's mouth.
He spat out the feathers, his eyes flashing so angrily Tara was certain he'd burn a hole in whatever object his eyes fastened on. Naturally, his eyes fixed firmly on her, but they quickly lost their enraged gleam. "I suppose you vonder vhy I decided to grace your presence?"
Sagely ignoring this cheeky remark, Tara nodded.
"Vell, I vas zinking, and it suddenly occurred to me I hadn't been to nice to my old friend, Tara King."
"You suddenly decided this?" Tara asked sceptically.
"Of, course, dummkopf, vhat vere you driving at?"
Tara sighed and said, "Just continue your story, Siegfried."
"Anyvay, I decided to . . . come over and-and," he took a deep breath before finishing, "help your friends get zeir bodies back."
Tara immediately went in raptures, throwing her arms around the German before she could stop herself. More feathers went flying, once more coming to rest on Siegfried. This time he made no effort to remove them or Tara's arms. Once she had composed herself, Tara said, "I'm sorry for getting so emotional, especially since you abhor that sort of behaviour."
"You can't help it really; if Shteed hadn't been so into love and romance you vouldn't have zose tendencies now. But Shteed alvays vas vone to get ze ladies under his shpell, and if zat meant turning zem into mushy, hugging, kissing fools, zat's vhat he'd do."
"I am NOT a fool, nor is Steed all those things you called him!" shouted Tara indignantly.
"You're a fool to defend him, especially vhen all I say is true. He used you abominably, and don't try to deny it!"
"I suppose your treatment of me is far superior-the way you torture, insult and under-feed me is much better than being loved, kissed and embraced." Tara's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"I haven't under-fed or tortured you since you vere mein prisoner," Siegfried protested. "At least I didn't lie to you and say I loved you vhen all I vanted out of you vas-"
"You have some gall to point out all of Steed's faults when you have a great deal more than he-and at least his faults aren't physically abusive!"
"Vell, zat's a debatable point!" Siegfried scoffed.
Fury boiled inside Tara, and before she could control herself, she barked, "Get out of here, you-you KRAUT!" She expected Conrad to yell at her until he turned blue, but instead he became exceedingly quiet and sombre.
"Oh, I undershtand," he spoke in a frighteningly low voice. "Ze truz is too painful for you to hear, so vhy bring it up?" His tone was becoming alarmingly hostile. "I should just speak about ardour and honour and promise never to leave you like good old Shteed vould." He grabbed her hand, stopping the circulation. "How's zis, my pet, do you prefer my loving mood?" He yanked her towards him with all the warmth of a snake, while Tara fought to get out of his clasp.
"You had better let me go, or I swear I will start screaming!" Tara threatened. As his grasp grew tighter, she bit her tongue to keep back her ejaculation of pain. She remembered her other hand was free and in a rush of adrenaline, brought this hand across the left side of his face-the side with the scar.
Siegfried cringed, dropped her hand, and gingerly prodded his face. His face ached even more since the scar was still tender. He glared at her, trying to ignore the cheek that was on fire. Then, he retaliated by slapping her face HARD.
Tara felt her head spin, but before she could fall over she regained her balance. Her next action was instinctive; she hit his left cheek again, feeling her anger subside even as her hand began to sting. Noting the wrath in Siegfried's eyes, she anticipated his next move. When he raised his hand to strike, she gripped it and twisted it.
Conrad yelped and wriggled out of her hold. His next movement caught Tara totally off guard; he flipped her onto the floor. She lay there, sprawled across the carpet, the wind knocked out of her. Tara was about to stand up when Siegfried attempted to pounce on her. She threw her feet out in time, kicking him in the stomach. Siegfried toppled backwards onto the chair where Miss King had tossed the chocolates. The truffles caved in under his weight, squirting the creamy chocolate on the seat of his pants.
"You dummkopf, how could you ruin my suit?" Siegfried bellowed.
Tara was in sitting position by now, panting and trying to foresee his next attack. She watched the feathers from her cuff flit through the air and land on her nose. As she blew them off, Siegfried hefted her off the ground and began carrying her around.
"Where are you taking me, you oversized monkey?" she demanded, kicking and struggling.
"Your other insult vas more effective, *Freundchen*," snarled the German.
Tara had been learning German, so she understood the name he had called her. "If I'm your friend, why the bloody heck are we fighting?"
"Isn't zis vhat *freunde* do, annoy each ozer to dez and zen make up?" He carried her into her bedroom and into the adjoining washroom. "Now let's see about zis baz you vere supposedly taking."
"I drained the bathtub already," she lied.
Siegfried nearly choked as he smelled her breath. "*Um Gottes willen*! You've been drinking as vell as stuffing your face vith chocolates? Vhere did you hide ze bottle, you shtupid voman?"
Tara was determined not to answer any more of his inquiries no matter what the consequence. For her obstinacy, Siegfried dropped her into the tub and turned on the faucet. Tara yelped as the cold water splashed into the tub, quickly soaking her. He left her there as he went in search of the alcohol bottle. Several minutes later, a cry of triumph indicated that he had found it. Dripping and shuddering, Miss King stumbled out of the tub.
Conrad entered again, dangerously waving the bottle in front of her face. "You can kill yourself if you drink too much!"
"Coming from the leading expert on beer that is extremely funny," Tara retorted. "And I think you could kill me a whole lot easier by swinging that bottle into my face." She wrung out her robe all over the tile floor and noted the water flowing into the tiny crevices where the grout had worn away. "Are you done torturing me, Herr Siegfried?" she asked, adverting his eyes.
Instead of making an apology or looking remorseful, Siegfried let out a bitter laugh. "I could have injured you much worse, cutie."
Tara liked having Conrad address her as "cutie," she enjoyed having his arms around her when he carried her, and she was pleased that he was concerned about her drinking habit. So why did they have to fight every time they met? "Siegfried, can't we act like civilised human beings?"
"Yes ve could," he began slowly, "but vhat would be ze fun in zat?" He chuckled at his joke as if he had never heard a more clever line in his life. He abruptly stopped when he realised Miss King did not share his enthusiasm. "Curse it, Tara, vhen I act like a 'normal' person you brush it off like it vas nozing!"
"That ridiculous line was normal?" Tara enquired.
Conrad threw the champagne bottle against the bathtub and stomped out of the room. Tara covered her face as shards flew into the air. When the pieces had settled around her feet, she gingerly stepped over them and likewise quitted the room. Her robe trailed water as she entered the living area. "Siegfried don't be irrational; it won't help our relationship."
Conrad was sulking on the sofa but he acknowledged her presence by glancing up at her. Tara drew in a sharp breath as she noticed the wounded expression on his countenance. "Tara, you have no idea how difficult it is for me to remain calm and collected as you hurl one insult after anozer at me."
"I didn't mean to offend you," she whispered, kneeling down next to him. She placed her hands on his knee in a kindly gesture.
He looked at the slender hands that were adorned with silver nail polish. He followed the hands up the youthful face with the haunting blue eyes, dark eyelashes, silky brown trusses, and full lips. "Tara," he choked, "I . . . I don't belong here . . . vith you." Madness seemed to posses him as he stared at her beguiling eyes that were now brimming with tears. Strange thoughts were forming in his already addled brain. Why did she look at him that way, why did she have to be so enchanting?
"Shtop shtaring at me!" he shouted. "Shtop shtaring at me," he repeated, his voice soft and quavering. Siegfried noticed his shoes were wet from where her robe had dripped on them. "*Um Himmels willen*, change your clozes before you freeze to deaz."
Tara docilely rose to her feet and entered her bedroom, shutting the door. She slipped back in her sundress but decided not to put her wig on again. Once she was dressed, she returned to the living room.
She expected Siegfried to make some reproving remark about how she would have never changed her clothes unless he had been there to goad her. But Conrad Siegfried did not make any such comment; he didn't even speak. In fact, Siegfried was gone!
************
The Steeds and Smarts were ecstatic when, later that night, Tara informed them that Siegfried would indeed help them get their bodies back. Though Miss King was grateful that Conrad was going to assist them, she could not share in her friends' elation. Siegfried's unexpected and silent departure earlier that day hurt her deeply. However, Tara knew that in order to keep her companions hopeful, she should continue her outward joyful behaviour. It was difficult, but she managed.
"Now my only wish is that Katie would realise that I am her mother, even if I look different," Emma spoke in her new voice. She clutched Katherine tightly as if she was afraid the baby would walk out on her unless she produced the figure of Emma Peel in a matter of seconds.
"I hope you'll get your wish, Mrs. Steed," Tara replied earnestly, "then at least some of us will be truly happy."
To Be Continued!
**Note: Linda Thorson's real hair was not shoulder-length. However, from certain scenes in the series, particularly one in "My Wildest Dream," I think Tara's hair is supposed to be long and she just wears short wigs.
Freundchen-- My Friend
Freunde-- Friends
Um Gottes willen-- For God's Sake!
Um Himmels willen-- For Heaven's Sake!
With an elegant box of chocolate truffles in the nook of one arm and a bottle of champagne in the other, Tara entered her hotel suite in a disgruntled silence. She was planning to distract herself from the pain and misery by devouring the entire box of twenty-four chocolates and drinking the whole bottle of champagne. She knew she'd have a stomach ache and hangover afterwards, not to mention her gaining several unwanted pounds. But if it kept her mind occupied, what did she care? Nobody noticed the weight she'd lost and the pains she'd taken in looking classy and sweet.
They still thought of her as Agent 69, the swinging sixties chick, fast, easy, and lush. Hadn't they figured out it was the seventies now, almost 1971? Didn't they realise she'd taken such pains to change her ways? It was evident nobody had noticed anything, so she would just revert to her old self.
Tara stripped from her lovely attire and slipped into her silk, purple dressing gown with the feather cuffs. She practically ripped her wig off, letting her real shoulder-length hair** cascade to her shoulders. After she'd finished her undressing, Miss King slouched on her sofa and opened the bottle of champagne.
She decided to just drink it straight from the bottle; nobody was there to see her look like a slob. She took her first sip and popped the first truffle in her mouth. As the taste of chocolate combined with the aftertaste of the alcohol, Tara thought about what she should tell Steed.
She knew she had to tell them she'd failed-that she had misjudged Conrad Siegfried-but how could she break the news to them delicately? It seemed unfair just to blurt out, "Well, that selfish sadist refused to help us, so I guess you're stuck in these bodies forever." However, was there any other way to say it?
As she stuffed her second chocolate into her mouth, the telephone began to ring. Tara ignored it; the call had to be from Steed, demanding to know how her meeting went. She would pretend she wasn't home, and Steed would have to assume she was still at Siegfried's hideout, enjoying his company. She savoured the taste of the truffle melting in her mouth for a brief second before taking another swig of her champagne to wash it down.
Tara hugged one of the decorative pillows that adorned the couch. Tears of self-pity and reproach slid down her cheeks, but she didn't heed them. "What you need is another truffle," she told herself.
It was more difficult to cram the third chocolate into her mouth, but she succeeded. By the forth truffle, Tara wondered how anybody could gorge themselves on such rich food. With the fourth chocolate still in her mouth, she was about to force herself to eat a fifth piece. She probably would have if there hadn't been a knock on her suite's door.
Now Steed's coming to make sure I'm not home, she thought. Tara lethargically rose to her feet, the champagne bottle in her hand. Slowly she peered through the peep hole to see if it was indeed John Steed or one her other friends. To her consternation, it was Conrad Siegfried looking particularly dashing in a suit and holding her straw hat!
*Good God, he mustn't know I've been stuffing my face with chocolate and deluding the pain with alcohol*, she mused. "Muff a mimin!" she shouted through the food in her mouth. She swallowed and tried her declaration again. "Just a minute, please!"
Tara scampered back to the couch in search for the bottle's cork. She soon was crawling on her hands and knees, examining every cranny. She found the cork under the sofa and, after a quick sip to soothe her nerves, lodged the cork into the neck of the bottle. She then hid the liquor in one of the many drawers in her bedroom.
The knocking was incessant now, but she still had to conceal the chocolate truffles. "I'm just getting out of the bathtub!" she lied. Hastily, she stuffed the chocolate box behind the sofa's pillow.
Tara was about to open the door when she realised she might have chocolate smeared on her face. After a rapid swipe of the hand across the mouth, she yanked open the door.
There stood Siegfried attired in a grey suit, blue bowtie, glasses, and grey derby hat. He glanced suspiciously around the hotel corridor before pushing past her into her room. "Whew nobody saw me, or recognised me!" he muttered. Putting on his wrathful gaze, he demanded, "Vhat took you so long? Zis disguise is not impregnable, you know." He removed his glasses and hat and after glancing disdainfully at them, tossed them onto the floor.
"I forgot you're still a fugitive of the law," faltered Miss King.
"I was about to leave vhen you finally answered ze door. How lucky for you, isn't it?" Siegfried placed her straw hat on an empty table then gazed at her superiorly.
Tara exhaled, the idea of losing Siegfried again too inconceivable and alarming. Finally she spoke, "Won't you sit down?" She gesticulated towards the sofa, and Siegfried eased himself onto the couch right on top of the pillow that was concealing the truffles!
CRUNCH!
Siegfried bolted, regained his serenity, and lifted the pillow. He looked disgustedly at the crushed box. It appeared he was going to make a tactless comment on Tara's eating habits; so she lifted the box and asked, "Would you care for a chocolate?"
"No, truffles are nasty zings, not worthy of consumption. Though I'm sure you had your fill of zem today, seeing how many are already missing from ze box."
Abashed, Tara flung the box onto an adjacent chair and sat down next to Siegfried, who was back on the sofa. This procedure ruffled the feathers on her dressing-gown, causing several to sail into the air and land in awkward places, including Siegfried's mouth.
He spat out the feathers, his eyes flashing so angrily Tara was certain he'd burn a hole in whatever object his eyes fastened on. Naturally, his eyes fixed firmly on her, but they quickly lost their enraged gleam. "I suppose you vonder vhy I decided to grace your presence?"
Sagely ignoring this cheeky remark, Tara nodded.
"Vell, I vas zinking, and it suddenly occurred to me I hadn't been to nice to my old friend, Tara King."
"You suddenly decided this?" Tara asked sceptically.
"Of, course, dummkopf, vhat vere you driving at?"
Tara sighed and said, "Just continue your story, Siegfried."
"Anyvay, I decided to . . . come over and-and," he took a deep breath before finishing, "help your friends get zeir bodies back."
Tara immediately went in raptures, throwing her arms around the German before she could stop herself. More feathers went flying, once more coming to rest on Siegfried. This time he made no effort to remove them or Tara's arms. Once she had composed herself, Tara said, "I'm sorry for getting so emotional, especially since you abhor that sort of behaviour."
"You can't help it really; if Shteed hadn't been so into love and romance you vouldn't have zose tendencies now. But Shteed alvays vas vone to get ze ladies under his shpell, and if zat meant turning zem into mushy, hugging, kissing fools, zat's vhat he'd do."
"I am NOT a fool, nor is Steed all those things you called him!" shouted Tara indignantly.
"You're a fool to defend him, especially vhen all I say is true. He used you abominably, and don't try to deny it!"
"I suppose your treatment of me is far superior-the way you torture, insult and under-feed me is much better than being loved, kissed and embraced." Tara's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"I haven't under-fed or tortured you since you vere mein prisoner," Siegfried protested. "At least I didn't lie to you and say I loved you vhen all I vanted out of you vas-"
"You have some gall to point out all of Steed's faults when you have a great deal more than he-and at least his faults aren't physically abusive!"
"Vell, zat's a debatable point!" Siegfried scoffed.
Fury boiled inside Tara, and before she could control herself, she barked, "Get out of here, you-you KRAUT!" She expected Conrad to yell at her until he turned blue, but instead he became exceedingly quiet and sombre.
"Oh, I undershtand," he spoke in a frighteningly low voice. "Ze truz is too painful for you to hear, so vhy bring it up?" His tone was becoming alarmingly hostile. "I should just speak about ardour and honour and promise never to leave you like good old Shteed vould." He grabbed her hand, stopping the circulation. "How's zis, my pet, do you prefer my loving mood?" He yanked her towards him with all the warmth of a snake, while Tara fought to get out of his clasp.
"You had better let me go, or I swear I will start screaming!" Tara threatened. As his grasp grew tighter, she bit her tongue to keep back her ejaculation of pain. She remembered her other hand was free and in a rush of adrenaline, brought this hand across the left side of his face-the side with the scar.
Siegfried cringed, dropped her hand, and gingerly prodded his face. His face ached even more since the scar was still tender. He glared at her, trying to ignore the cheek that was on fire. Then, he retaliated by slapping her face HARD.
Tara felt her head spin, but before she could fall over she regained her balance. Her next action was instinctive; she hit his left cheek again, feeling her anger subside even as her hand began to sting. Noting the wrath in Siegfried's eyes, she anticipated his next move. When he raised his hand to strike, she gripped it and twisted it.
Conrad yelped and wriggled out of her hold. His next movement caught Tara totally off guard; he flipped her onto the floor. She lay there, sprawled across the carpet, the wind knocked out of her. Tara was about to stand up when Siegfried attempted to pounce on her. She threw her feet out in time, kicking him in the stomach. Siegfried toppled backwards onto the chair where Miss King had tossed the chocolates. The truffles caved in under his weight, squirting the creamy chocolate on the seat of his pants.
"You dummkopf, how could you ruin my suit?" Siegfried bellowed.
Tara was in sitting position by now, panting and trying to foresee his next attack. She watched the feathers from her cuff flit through the air and land on her nose. As she blew them off, Siegfried hefted her off the ground and began carrying her around.
"Where are you taking me, you oversized monkey?" she demanded, kicking and struggling.
"Your other insult vas more effective, *Freundchen*," snarled the German.
Tara had been learning German, so she understood the name he had called her. "If I'm your friend, why the bloody heck are we fighting?"
"Isn't zis vhat *freunde* do, annoy each ozer to dez and zen make up?" He carried her into her bedroom and into the adjoining washroom. "Now let's see about zis baz you vere supposedly taking."
"I drained the bathtub already," she lied.
Siegfried nearly choked as he smelled her breath. "*Um Gottes willen*! You've been drinking as vell as stuffing your face vith chocolates? Vhere did you hide ze bottle, you shtupid voman?"
Tara was determined not to answer any more of his inquiries no matter what the consequence. For her obstinacy, Siegfried dropped her into the tub and turned on the faucet. Tara yelped as the cold water splashed into the tub, quickly soaking her. He left her there as he went in search of the alcohol bottle. Several minutes later, a cry of triumph indicated that he had found it. Dripping and shuddering, Miss King stumbled out of the tub.
Conrad entered again, dangerously waving the bottle in front of her face. "You can kill yourself if you drink too much!"
"Coming from the leading expert on beer that is extremely funny," Tara retorted. "And I think you could kill me a whole lot easier by swinging that bottle into my face." She wrung out her robe all over the tile floor and noted the water flowing into the tiny crevices where the grout had worn away. "Are you done torturing me, Herr Siegfried?" she asked, adverting his eyes.
Instead of making an apology or looking remorseful, Siegfried let out a bitter laugh. "I could have injured you much worse, cutie."
Tara liked having Conrad address her as "cutie," she enjoyed having his arms around her when he carried her, and she was pleased that he was concerned about her drinking habit. So why did they have to fight every time they met? "Siegfried, can't we act like civilised human beings?"
"Yes ve could," he began slowly, "but vhat would be ze fun in zat?" He chuckled at his joke as if he had never heard a more clever line in his life. He abruptly stopped when he realised Miss King did not share his enthusiasm. "Curse it, Tara, vhen I act like a 'normal' person you brush it off like it vas nozing!"
"That ridiculous line was normal?" Tara enquired.
Conrad threw the champagne bottle against the bathtub and stomped out of the room. Tara covered her face as shards flew into the air. When the pieces had settled around her feet, she gingerly stepped over them and likewise quitted the room. Her robe trailed water as she entered the living area. "Siegfried don't be irrational; it won't help our relationship."
Conrad was sulking on the sofa but he acknowledged her presence by glancing up at her. Tara drew in a sharp breath as she noticed the wounded expression on his countenance. "Tara, you have no idea how difficult it is for me to remain calm and collected as you hurl one insult after anozer at me."
"I didn't mean to offend you," she whispered, kneeling down next to him. She placed her hands on his knee in a kindly gesture.
He looked at the slender hands that were adorned with silver nail polish. He followed the hands up the youthful face with the haunting blue eyes, dark eyelashes, silky brown trusses, and full lips. "Tara," he choked, "I . . . I don't belong here . . . vith you." Madness seemed to posses him as he stared at her beguiling eyes that were now brimming with tears. Strange thoughts were forming in his already addled brain. Why did she look at him that way, why did she have to be so enchanting?
"Shtop shtaring at me!" he shouted. "Shtop shtaring at me," he repeated, his voice soft and quavering. Siegfried noticed his shoes were wet from where her robe had dripped on them. "*Um Himmels willen*, change your clozes before you freeze to deaz."
Tara docilely rose to her feet and entered her bedroom, shutting the door. She slipped back in her sundress but decided not to put her wig on again. Once she was dressed, she returned to the living room.
She expected Siegfried to make some reproving remark about how she would have never changed her clothes unless he had been there to goad her. But Conrad Siegfried did not make any such comment; he didn't even speak. In fact, Siegfried was gone!
************
The Steeds and Smarts were ecstatic when, later that night, Tara informed them that Siegfried would indeed help them get their bodies back. Though Miss King was grateful that Conrad was going to assist them, she could not share in her friends' elation. Siegfried's unexpected and silent departure earlier that day hurt her deeply. However, Tara knew that in order to keep her companions hopeful, she should continue her outward joyful behaviour. It was difficult, but she managed.
"Now my only wish is that Katie would realise that I am her mother, even if I look different," Emma spoke in her new voice. She clutched Katherine tightly as if she was afraid the baby would walk out on her unless she produced the figure of Emma Peel in a matter of seconds.
"I hope you'll get your wish, Mrs. Steed," Tara replied earnestly, "then at least some of us will be truly happy."
To Be Continued!
**Note: Linda Thorson's real hair was not shoulder-length. However, from certain scenes in the series, particularly one in "My Wildest Dream," I think Tara's hair is supposed to be long and she just wears short wigs.
Freundchen-- My Friend
Freunde-- Friends
Um Gottes willen-- For God's Sake!
Um Himmels willen-- For Heaven's Sake!