16 May 1931
"Maybe I should just stay 'ere."
Lily turned around from the stove to look at her father, ensconced as he was at the table finishing off the remnants of his breakfast. "Why would you want to do that?"
"Well, you know…beasts need looking after…"
"But you've done all you would do today already anyway. I don't think Cousin Joe would be too 'appy at you crying off at the last minute. 'e enjoys your visits."
"I know…" he eyed her carefully. "If I do go, what are you going to do?"
"The usual, I suppose," she replied, turning back around. "Some cleaning and tidying. Might take a walk in the 'ills this afternoon given it's a nice day. Stop worrying about me and go and enjoy yourself."
"Hmmm…"
She sighed inwardly, fervently hoping that he indeed wasn't going to change his mind and elect to stay at home. His regular visits to his cousin Joe over in Wensleydale were one of the few occasions where she had the place to herself. It allowed her to breathe a little and do something for herself without the constant scrutiny of someone being over her shoulder all the time, watching her every move. She had been looking forward to it since he had told her he was intending to go, especially as the sun was shining particularly brightly and he wouldn't return until the following morning.
"You can drop me at church on your way," she said cheerfully, taking off her apron and turning back around to face him. "Come on Dad. You know you'll enjoy it once you get there."
"I suppose so." He looked at her again. "You'll be all right 'ere until morning?"
"Yes, I always am," she sighed. "Now, come on, or we'll both be late."
Grumbling under his breath, Tom rose from the table and, moments later, they were in the van heading down towards the village. "That a new 'at?" he observed over the noise of the engine.
"This?" she touched her head briefly. "Yes, I bought it at the gala. Do you like it?"
"Bit over the top for church, isn't it?"
"Over the top? It's just an 'at, dad. A normal, black 'at."
"Hmmm…" he murmured again. "You don't normally get so dressed up for church."
"I always wear an 'at."
"Do you?"
"Yes." She rolled her eyes and turned her gaze outwards to the passing countryside, knowing what he was getting at and choosing to ignore it. Clearly he thought that the wearing of a hat, any hat, was for the benefit of someone other than herself and whilst not strictly true, she couldn't help but hope that she might see Mr Farnon at the kirk that morning. After she had been to Skeldale House for dinner two weeks previously, she had written him a brief letter of thanks for a pleasant evening and indicated that she was already two chapters into the book on veterinary medicine. Not expecting a reply, she had been surprised when, a few days later, one had arrived. In it, he had thanked her for her company, hoped that she was enjoying the book and that, no doubt, he would see her again soon. The last few weeks, however, had not led to any further meetings and, for that, she had found herself feeling slightly disappointed.
Tom pulled up around the corner from the church and yanked on the handbrake. "You 'ave a nice day then, lass."
"I will," she kissed him on the cheek. "Say hello to Joe for me." Hopping out, she waved him goodbye and then began walking smartly along the road, ducking into a pew at the back of the church just as the service was about to start. As Reverend Thwaite's voice flowed around her, she found herself wondering why she often bothered attending. So far as her own faith went, well, she wasn't altogether sure she really had any and none of his sermons ever seemed to make much sense to her. By the time the hymns had been sung, the prayers offered and the service had ended, she found herself feeling quite impatient to get back to Windy Hill and prepare for her afternoon.
"Morning lass," Henry Dinsdale greeted her as the congregation spilled outside. "Yer dad away on his trip then?"
"Yes, he dropped me off."
"You'll be needing a lift back to the farm then?"
"Well, I was going to walk, but if you don't mind…"
"Not a problem, lass. Let me just find Mother and we can be on our way."
Lily smiled as he disappeared into the throng in search of his wife and cast her face upwards to the sun, feeling herself relax in its warmth.
"Miss Bailey?" The sound of his voice brought her up sharply and she snapped her head back down in time to meet Siegfried's amused gaze. "I don't believe staring at the sun is recommended."
"No, I suppose not," she laughed. "I was just…well…it's nice to 'ave good weather, isn't it?"
"Very much so," he agreed, then glanced around. "Your father not here?"
"No, 'e's away to visit 'is cousin Joe over in Wensleydale. 'e likes to go there a few times a year, 'ave a few drinks, put the world to rights, sleep it off and come back the next day, fresh as a daisy."
"I see. Then you're…on your own today?"
"Very much so and I'm looking forward to it. I like to go walking in the 'ills when the weather's good and…well…knowing that me dad isn't at 'ome waiting for me makes it all the better. Sorry…" she suddenly felt a wave of shame wash over her. "I shouldn't 'ave said that. It sounds…"
"No, it doesn't," he laughed. "It sounds like a perfectly wonderful way to spend such a glorious afternoon."
For a moment, she couldn't think of what else to say and then seized upon his recent letter. "I got your letter. The one in reply to mine, I mean. I did think about replying but then I thought that you might then feel obliged to reply and then I might and so on…"
"I would always be pleased to receive a letter from you," he said. "And replying would never be an obligation."
"Oh…well then…" she felt herself blush. "I don't suppose…"
"You don't suppose what?" he asked when she didn't continue.
"Well I…" she cursed herself for being so inept and yet couldn't help but wonder how he might take what she had been about to suggest. "I don't know 'ow well you know the 'ills round 'ere and, well, I wondered if you might….well…if you might like to come with me this afternoon." He hesitated and she immediately felt stupid. What had she been thinking even suggesting it? "It's all right, you don't 'ave to…"
"No! No, I would…I would very much like to," he replied hurriedly. "Yes…indeed. What time were you thinking?"
"Well I usually tend to leave about 'alf past one, make the most of the time. I can 'pack us a bit of lunch if you'd like."
"That sounds…splendid," he said. "I shall just have to tell Mrs Hall." He turned away and then back again. "That's a very lovely hat, by the way."
"Oh…" she felt her face flush. "That's very kind of you to say."
"Half past one at Windy Hill then?" She nodded. "Excellent. Ah, Mr Dinsdale." He touched his hat as Henry approached. "Lovely day, isn't it? Lovely day."
"That it is," Henry replied as Siegfried hurried away, turning back to her with a frown. "Mr Farnon weren't bothering you, lass, were 'e?"
"No, not at all," she replied, feeling a curious warmth flood her belly. "Not at all."
XXXX
Once back at the farm, Lily busied herself getting changed into outdoor clothes and putting together some supplies for their walk. Bread, butter, ham and cheese all went into the bag she usually took, along with a bottle of ginger and some gingerbread cake. As she packed, she found herself hoping that he would like it and then chastised herself for worrying over something so nonsensical. "It's just a walk in the 'ills," she muttered to herself. "Don't be so bloody stupid."
Just before half past one, she heard the sound of a vehicle approaching and, glancing out of the kitchen window, saw Siegfried's car pull up in the yard. When he got out and saw her, he smiled, and she felt a slight giddy excitement inside.
"I hope I'm not late," he commented when she opened the door.
"Right on time," she replied. "I was just putting the food together. I 'ope Mrs Hall didn't mind you missing a meal at Skeldale House."
"Oh, I think she'll be glad of the peace and quiet. I'm sure she thinks I should do more countryside rambling. Do you agree that I'm suitably attired?"
She looked him up and down, at the boots, trousers, jacket and hat he was wearing and smiled. "I think you look ideal."
"As do you." He paused and she saw him pink slightly. "Well, lead on Miss Bailey, the scenery awaits!"
"I think if we're going to be tramping over the countryside together, you really should call me Lily."
"Lily," he repeated, and she felt a slight thrill at the way he said her name. "I suppose, in that case, you should call me Siegfried."
"Well then Siegfried," she smiled. "Let's go."
They left around the back of the farm, treading a well-worn path that she had taken plenty of times before leading down the hill around the far field and then rising again into the gentle slope of the hills. Their conversation was general, the weather, the morning sermon and recent cases he had had at the surgery.
"Business is good then?"
"Well I can't complain. There would have been little point in coming to Darrowby to sit idle. But I would like to increase my customer base if I could. The trouble is, there's not really a shortage of vets in these parts and many people, particularly farmers, are wedded to the person they know best." He paused to take a breath. "Now you didn't say we were going to be mountain climbing."
"It's 'ardly a mountain," she laughed. "We can stop at the brow of this 'ill up 'ere. It's me favourite spot. Wonderful views down over the valley."
"I shall take your word for it."
"I will be very disappointed if you can't make it."
"Well…I would hate to cause disappointment to any lady," he huffed. "So, I shall endeavour…to push on…"
Moments later, they had cleared the brow and the valley spread out before them like a rich tapestry. Though she had seen it many times before, it never failed to make Lily's heart swell with the beauty of it all. The grass, the rocks, the streams. "God's country," she said, putting the bag down on the grass. "Where else in the world would you find views like that?"
"Yes, indeed…" Siegfried said, throwing himself down onto the grass, breathing heavily. "And I'm sure I shall need the good Lord to get me back down again." Laughing, she sat down beside him and proceeded to empty the contents of the bag, making him a sandwich and then passing it to him. "You said this was your favourite spot."
"I love coming up 'ere," she nodded. "It's one of the few places where I feel…I don't know…free, I suppose. Away from me dad and the farm and...everything else. I won't lie, the times he goes to Wensleydale and I can come up 'ere…they're the best days." She paused and glanced over to see him watching her. "I suppose you must find that rather dull."
"Why would I find it dull? You enjoy coming up here and it's hardly dull."
"No, I mean…that this, coming 'ere, would be what I would consider one of me best days. I'm sure you 'ave far more exciting ways to spend your time."
"Well I'm hardly out causing high-jinks and mayhem in my spare time. I prefer to leave that sort of affair to Tristan." He paused, looking out again over the landscape. "It is very beautiful. Evelyn would have loved it too. She adored the countryside."
"Evelyn?"
"My late wife. She grew up in a place not unlike this. Her parents ran a dairy farm and that's how we met. My father tended to their herd and I used to go with him on his calls there, initially to learn more about caring for large animals but, latterly, to see her."
Lily paused. He had never mentioned his wife again, not since commenting on her struggles with her monthlies or his caution that she not waste her life, and though she didn't want to say anything that might upset him, she found herself overcome with curiosity about the woman. "Can I ask…'ow she died?"
"Brucellosis, May 1917. Fourteen years ago next week, in fact."
"Brucellosis?"
"It's a condition arising from consuming infected dairy products. She drank some contaminated milk. Her father never forgave himself for it…nor me."
"Surely neither of you were to blame?"
"She was staying with her parents at their farm whilst I was away with my regiment. They didn't want her to be by herself and I suppose it made me feel better that she wasn't alone. It was whilst she was there that she drank the milk and so he…he blamed himself for that and…and me for her being there in the first place. And for not being there afterwards. I was in Belgium, you see and…well, news didn't reach us there very timeously. By the time I found out what had happened, she was dead and buried. Took me weeks to get home and, well, then there seemed little point." He met her gaze, and she could see the pain in his eyes.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I can't imagine how awful that must 'ave been for you. I suppose…at least you 'ad your family to support you once you got 'ome."
"Well Father and I had our differences. He wasn't too pleased when I told him that Evelyn and I were to be married. The irony of the fact that he and my mother had been around the same age when they wed appeared completely lost on him."
"'e thought you were too young?"
"Yes, he was worried that I wouldn't finish veterinary college, that Evelyn might fall pregnant and that I might be tempted to take a lesser job to make ends meet. The second irony being that Mother then fell pregnant with Tristan which wasn't exactly what you might call planned." He shook his head. "But in the end, the war came, and I joined up. Father didn't approve of that either. As a vet, I could have avoided the draft, our services being essential to the country but…but I wanted to go. Wanted to 'do my bit' as it were." He paused. "I suppose I hoped that Evelyn's tragic passing might have brought us all closer, might have…healed the rift but, well, six months later Mother died and Father was left with Tristan to care for."
"I suppose that can't 'ave been easy for 'im."
"I suppose not…anyway, a year later he was remarried and Tristan…I…we…gained a very lovely stepmother. But I suppose part of me never understood how he could do that. Remarry, I mean. There was I, mourning the loss of my wife and not even contemplating replacing her and yet he…"
"Maybe you might 'ave felt differently if you'd 'ad a child."
"Perhaps I would have. It's certainly something I've considered but I suppose I'll never know."
For a long moment neither of them said anything and the only sound came from the birds flying overhead and the occasional breath of wind. Looking at him, Lily could feel his pain. It was still there, even after so many years, his wife's death coming a mere month after her own mother's. Who would ever have guessed that two people, sat together in May 1931, would have been in such similar anguish fourteen years earlier?
"My apologies," he said suddenly, turning to her. "You don't need to hear all of this."
"I don't mind," she replied honestly. "It can be good to 'ave someone to talk to sometimes. About things that…well…that you maybe can't talk about with other people. I'm guessing you don't say much about this to Tristan."
"No," he shook his head. "He barely remembers Evelyn or our mother. I feel sorry for him in that regard for they were both wonderful people." He looked at her again. "And you? Do you talk to anyone? About your life, your father?"
She paused and looked away, painfully aware of how seemingly insignificant her own problems must appear to him when he had endured one of the greatest losses imaginable. "It doesn't really seem like something worth complaining about. You've been to war, seen so much suffering, endured a terrible loss…me complaining about me dad seems stupid by comparison."
"It's not stupid," he said softly. "Not if it makes you unhappy and it clearly does."
Her eyes pricked with tears again. "I just wish sometimes…that 'e 'ad let me 'ave me own life. That 'e 'didn't try to smother me, make me feel as though I couldn't ever leave 'im. Not that there 'ave been any young men knocking on the door but…but 'e's never even tried to encourage me, never made me feel that 'aving someone of me own, 'aving me own 'ome and me own children was something that I should want. All 'e wants is for me to stay at Windy Hill for as long as 'e lives and then bugger what 'appens afterwards." She paused, suddenly embarrassed by her use of profanity and yet unable to bring herself to apologise. "Me mother died…and I took over right where she 'ad left off. I told you before that I don't know anything about running the farm because 'e won't let me do anything. Just tells me it isn't for me to worry about, that I should just stay inside, make the supper, wash up, clean, do the laundry…" she looked over at him again. "I don't mind doing all those things because, if I were married to someone, then I would expect to do all that anyway but…is that all there's ever going to be to my life?"
"It shouldn't be," he said after a moment. "It absolutely shouldn't be. You deserve to be happy, just like everyone else."
"You said you were content, remember?" she reminded him. "You never said you were 'appy."
"No, I didn't. Perhaps…perhaps I've let myself think that way since Evelyn died. Made myself believe that I never could be happy, not without her being here with me." He paused. "You said you were happy, but that was clearly a lie."
"I try to tell myself that I am 'appy. Believing it, or at least trying to, makes each day more bearable I suppose." Laughing, she wiped her eyes and got to her feet, conscious that she had probably said far too much. "What are we like? A right pair of miserable moaners. Come on, we'd best get back down. I've got a nice bit of beef for tea, if you'd like to stay that is."
Siegfried followed her lead and smiled down at her. "That would be very kind, thank you."
"Good. If there's one thing I 'ate it's seeing good food go to waste."
"You sound like Mrs Hall," he said, "though younger and marginally prettier."
"Only marginally?" she joked as they started back down the hill.
"Well…" he replied. "Significantly marginally."
Laughing and joking they made it back to the farm in good time, the moroseness of the earlier conversation seemingly gone, and it felt almost the most natural thing in the world for him to sit at the table whilst she busied herself preparing the meal. She found she didn't mind in the same way that her father's expectation irked her. As she worked, he talked about Tristan's latest escapades at school and she spoke about what she had read in the book he had loaned her.
"So, you found it interesting then?" he enquired.
"Yes, very much so. It certainly makes for more taxing reading than the local paper, but I suppose that's no bad thing." She turned and placed a plate down in front of him. "I 'ope you like it. The gravy's one of me mother's recipes. She was very talented in the kitchen."
"It's delicious," he enthused. "You may not think it, but there's a skill to being a good baker and a good cook and you excel at both. Believe me, I've had many a meal put down in front of me that was far inferior."
"Not another dig at Mrs Hall I 'ope."
"No, Mrs Hall is an excellent cook, I have to give her that. My own mother was less talented in that department, though she tried her best, bless her."
They ate in companionable silence for a while, but Lily couldn't help feeling discomfited by what she had told him out on the hills. It seemed wrong, somehow, to have poured her heart out to someone she barely knew, and a man at that. Though he was making a good show of not being concerned by it, she couldn't help but wonder what he was really thinking. "Siegfried…"
"Yes?"
"I wanted to apologise…for what I said earlier about, well, me father and…that."
"Why would you want to apologise?" he asked, observing her curiously. "You were the one who said that it was good to have someone to talk to after listening to my woes."
"Well…I know, but…your feelings are entirely valid, whereas mine…"
"Are equally so," he interrupted her. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, especially not your father."
She felt warmth flood her insides again at his validation and, for a moment, she thought she might cry. He was a nice man, a lovely man, someone that she had enjoyed spending time with and yet…nothing could ever come of it. Her father would never let her have her own life, of that she was sure. Too much time had passed. And Siegfried…well, she had only had to look in his eyes when he was talking to see how much he still loved his wife. By the time he was getting ready to leave, she had resolved that they most likely wouldn't see each other again, except as passing acquaintances.
"I've had the loveliest of afternoons," he said, as she walked him out to the car. "I really have."
"As 'ave I," she replied honestly. He looked at her for a long moment and she found her gaze forced to the ground under the weight of his own. "Well, I suppose…"
"Would you have dinner with me again?"
The question came so out of the blue that Lily found herself quite taken aback. "Oh…well I'd 'ate to put Mrs Hall out again so soon…"
"No, not with Mrs Hall, just with me. Just the two of us. There's a lovely little place over in Helmsdale that I think you'd like." He paused as she fought for a response. "I mean, if you'd like to check with your father first then of course…"
"No," she said hurriedly. "No, I don't need to check with 'im. I'd be delighted to 'ave dinner with you, thank you."
"Oh, oh well…" he beamed. "Well that's splendid. How does next Saturday suit?"
"It suits very well."
"Splendid. Just splendid. Well, I shall be in touch this week then to firm up the arrangements and…and I look forward to it." He hesitated slightly and then kissed her cheek. "Well, goodbye Lily."
"Goodbye Siegfried." She watched as he turned the car, waved and then started driving down the hill away from her. "Oh Lily…" she sighed to herself. "What 'ave you done?"
