PART 2
"Siegfried!" Deidre called as she threw the front door open and ran out into the eerily silent street. Callum had already gone, but she was somewhat surprised to see Siegfried's car still parked in the road outside the house. She wondered whether he'd accosted Callum as he'd left – he was standing next to the driver's side door, gazing absentmindedly up the road in the direction Callum would have taken if he'd been heading back into the village.
He turned to look at her as she approached him.
"I'm sorry my dear." He smiled. "I did try talking to him, but he'll come around eventually. He just needs time to calm down and sober up a little first. He always was a little hot headed that boy, I'm afraid..."
"Siegfried it's Tristan!" Deidre explained, grateful that the older Farnham brother cared enough to involve himself in their petty squabbles, but recognising that Callum could not be first on her list of priorities at the moment. She forced herself to push her thoughts of her lover to the back of her mind for now, despite the lingering ache in her heart.
She still couldn't believe that it had been Callum of all people who had suggested that she go back home. Those last few words of his before he'd stormed out of the house had cut through her like a knife, and hurt her more than anything else he could have chosen to say to her, caught up in his alcohol fuelled tantrum. The pain had made her want to pack her bags there and then and catch the first train back to Edinburgh, but she would not go. Deidre had made up her mind that she would stay and fight for Callum, and for their relationship. It was worth at least that much to her – even if he hadn't seemed to think so.
"Tristan?" Siegfried frowned. "My dear I can't seem to leave my little brother alone for more than five minutes! What on earth has he gone and done now?" He asked her.
"He's collapsed Siegfried," She told him, "just now in the kitchen..."
Siegfried's face fell visibly when he heard this – evidently deeply concerned.
"What happened?" He asked her.
"I don't know." She explained. "There was this almighty bang, and when I went in I just found him... lying on the floor in the kitchen."
Before the young woman had even finished trying to explain Siegfried had slammed the car door and had hurried back towards the house. Tristan and Siegfried had always had a tense and volatile relationship which could make things very uncomfortable at times for anyone other than those who knew them well, but their love for each other was never too far from the surface, and Siegfried seemed to take his role as the older brother very seriously indeed – in his own way. There were brief glimpses of the deep affection they harboured for each other if you knew what to look for and knew them both well enough to pick up on the subtle exchanges between the two of them - a gaze held slightly longer than was necessary, or a hand briefly placed gently upon a shoulder - but for the most part Siegfried kept his emotions tightly under wraps.
Deidre found the depth of his concern touching, as she quickly followed him.
"Siegfried!" She called after him, the cold winter wind beating against her cheeks and bleaching her delicate rosy blush. "Siegfried!"
As darkness had set in and sooted the sky black the early evening was beginning to shape up to be a very bitter night indeed. The air was so cold that her breath came in wisps of cloudy-white vapour, and after only a minute of being outside her nose and fingers were already beginning to turn numb. She could no longer feel her top lip and the tip of her tongue had been severed from her senses, so much so that her speech had become unnaturally slurred - her tongue lacking the dexterity to produce certain sounds.
She finally managed to catch up with him at the front door, and as he stopped and turned around to face her he must have noticed the silent appeal within her dark eyes. She was very clearly worried about something, but Siegfried didn't try to force an explanation from her. He held her gaze for a moment with an inquiring look upon his face, and waited patiently for her to explain.
"There's something else." She told him - remembering the brief glimpse she'd caught of the deep and congealed wound just below Tristan's dishevelled trouser leg. She hadn't been able to access how serious the damage was, and whether it was just an inconsequential graze or something a bit more serious - but instinct told her that it was not good, and that the reason he had suddenly collapsed was that below the rest of his trouser leg there was probably a far more severe injury that he was trying to hide.
"He's hurt... it's his leg Siegfried..." She explained. "When he fell I saw blood beneath his trousers... He's leg was black with it...I've been with him for hours..." She faltered, blaming herself, "how could I not have noticed?" She asked him – sounding distraught. She couldn't conceal her panic, despite her attempts to try and compose herself in front of the man she not only considered to be a very good friend but also something of a second father.
Siegfried placed his hand upon her shoulder and patted it gently in what she understood was intended to be a reassuring gesture. He still didn't say anything, Deidre could tell that he was reserving judgement until he had seen the extent of Tristan's injuries for himself, but he didn't have to. Siegfried had his own remarkable way of silencing someone and sending their heart sliding down into the pit of their stomach with one fiercely angry look, but on the same score a small smile, and a gentle hand placed upon the back or a shoulder could have the effect of making one feel as safe as it might be possible to feel, and as though nothing was ever quite as bad as it first seemed.
He held on to her gaze for a further moment, drinking in her watery eyes - wet from the cold, and perhaps a little moist from her suppressed tears - before swiftly turning and hurrying into the house.
