22 May 1931
As he drove the road up to Windy Hill the following Saturday evening, Siegfried couldn't help but having misgivings about the entire venture. When he had suggested to Lily that he take her for dinner, he had been caught up in the aftermath of a lovely afternoon spent in amiable company, yet when he had returned home and thought more about it, he couldn't help but wonder if he had made a terrible mistake.
Evelyn's anniversary had come and gone, and he had spent the day the way he usually did, doing things as normal and yet often pausing for quiet reflection upon her. She would have been thirty-seven and he wondered how she might have changed in the intervening years. He wondered if they would have had children and how many. He wondered where they would be living, and he wondered if he would still have loved her as fiercely as he had done the last time he saw her. He had mentioned the significance of the day in passing to Mrs Hall and she had said little, but had made him his favourite meal for dinner and been extra kind and less critical of him than she might otherwise have been.
Of course, thinking about Evelyn had then automatically led to him thinking about Lily and their upcoming meeting. He wanted to see her, indeed her face often came into his mind when he was least expecting it, but part of him felt as though enjoying her company was almost a betrayal to his wife, despite the many years that had passed. Being, as he was however, a gentleman, he had resolved to go through with the evening and had telephoned Windy Hill in order to confirm the arrangements. Tom had answered and informed him, in a suspicious and none too welcoming tone, that Lily was ill in bed, news which had greatly discomfited him and yet, he couldn't help but hope, might mean that she would require to cancel. The following afternoon, he had spied Tom in the village and had taken the opportunity to call the farm again. This time, Lily herself had answered, reassured him that she was fine and that she was looking forward to their dinner, at which point he felt he had little choice but to agree.
"I 'ope you both 'ave a lovely time," Mrs Hall had said, fixing his tie slightly at the front door.
"Yes, I'm sure we shall," he had replied with as much conviction as he could muster and had smiled over her concerned frown, stating that he was merely tired after another busy week. He knew that his housekeeper would be less than impressed if he were to confess that he was having second thoughts.
The day had been bright and warm and he found the sun in his eyes as he approached the farmhouse, suddenly painfully aware that he hadn't brought anything. The idea of flowers had flitted briefly through his mind earlier in the week, but, somehow, he had pushed the notion to one side. He could only hope that she wouldn't be offended. As he pulled to a halt, the door of the house opened, and Lily appeared. She was wearing a red dress with black trim and a black hat and he couldn't help being momentarily frozen as he looked at her. Though he had seen her in various modes of dress, kitchen, church, hill-climbing, he was instantly struck by how beautiful she looked. She smiled broadly as she approached the car and he found himself forcing the same greeting onto his own face as he climbed out.
"Hello," she said.
"Hello," he replied, his voice sounding reedy to his own ears. "You look…lovely."
"Oh, thank you. You scrub up pretty well yourself."
"Yes…well…"
"Shall we go?" she asked upon his hesitation.
"Oh, yes, yes…I suppose I wondered if I needed to speak to your father before we left."
"About what?"
"Well…perhaps he would like some reassurance about my intentions? Or that I'll have you back at a sensible hour?"
"No, it's fine," she replied hurriedly, glancing over her shoulder. "There's no need."
He was about to enquire further, when the door opened again and Tom appeared, his expression dark, and as he moved towards them, Siegfried could almost feel Lily tense by his side. "Good evening, Mr Bailey," he greeted him.
"Mr Farnon," Tom replied in a low voice, his eyes shifting to his daughter. Lily kept her own gaze on the ground, giving no indication that she wished to acknowledge him. "You going far?"
"Helmsdale."
"I see." Tom paused. "You bring my lass back in one piece now, you 'ear?"
"Of course," he replied, glancing at Lily again. "Shall we?" She nodded imperceptibly and allowed him to open the car door for her. Once closed, he made his way back around to the driver's side, only for Tom to step closer to him.
"I meant what I said," he said quietly. "You touch one 'air on my lass's 'ead…"
"I'm taking her for dinner, Mr Bailey, not to a bordello," he replied, trying to make light of the situation and yet quickly realising that the other man was not to be so entertained. "I promise you that Lily will come to no harm whilst in my company." Finally, Tom stood back, and he quickly climbed into the car beside her.
"What did 'e say?" she asked, as he turned and began driving back down the hill.
"Oh, he just wanted to make sure that I took care of you," he replied, glancing in the rear mirror at her father's rapidly decreasing figure. "As any father would, I'm sure."
She sighed and shook her head. "'e wasn't too pleased when I told 'im you were taking me for dinner. We 'ad words about it."
"Really?"
"I said some things, 'e said some things…"
"And?"
"Well I told 'im I was going, whether 'e liked it or not. I left his supper in the oven for 'im so 'e can't complain."
"Good for you," he said, feeling a strange sense of pride at her forthrightness. "I bet it felt good standing up to him."
"Yes and no." She paused for a long moment. "But I'm sure we 'ave far better things to talk about than 'im."
"Oh, yes. Absolutely." She started talking about the book again and though he should have listened, he found himself tuning out, Evelyn coming back into his mind. He could hear her voice in his head, that last time they had spoken at the train station and see her as clear as though it had been yesterday.
"I love you, Siegfried Farnon," she had said, her eyes full of tears. "Make sure you come back to me."
"And I love you, my darling," he had replied, holding her tightly. "More than you will ever know."
"Siegfried?"
"Yes! What? I…eh…" he jolted back to reality and glanced over to see Lily looking at him curiously. "Forgive me, I was just…ah…thinking…" he paused. "I'm sorry, what was the question again?"
"I was just asking what if there 'ad ever been an operation that you 'adn't been able to do."
"Oh…oh, plenty. Sometimes…sometimes the risk itself is greater than the potential for reward." He smiled at her, hoping that he had answered adequately, and she smiled back at him. "Ah, we're here!" Pulling the car to a stop, he got out and opened her door, offering her his arm as they made their way inside. It was a small establishment, yet fairly well attended, the soft strains of music coming from a hidden wireless.
"This is nice," Lily commented as he pushed her chair in for her. "I didn't know this place was 'ere."
"Neither did I until I was passing through one day on my way back from a call. I thought about bringing Tristan when he was home, but I rather think he might find it less than exciting. Not that I think for a moment that you wouldn't like something exciting, of course."
"I like it very much," she smiled in response.
As they ordered, ate and talked, to his surprise he found Evelyn slipping further and further to the back of his mind, present company occupying his attention completely. Conversation with Lily seemed to flow so freely and there never appeared a moment when neither one had nothing to say. Her face lit up when she laughed, her smile wide and bright and he thought it was the most radiant he had seen her, released from the cage that she had allowed her father to trap her in. All topics were covered, from the surgery to village gossip, Tristan and Lily spoke a little about her mother, recounting some of the things that they used to do together before her death. She talked about her mother showing her how to cook and the conversation naturally seemed to move on to Mrs Hall.
"I must say she is an excellent housekeeper," he admitted over coffee. "I rather think I landed on my feet with her."
"She's always been a very kind person, too kind sometimes."
"How do you mean?"
"Well…I probably shouldn't really say too much but 'er son, Edward, is…well, 'e's always brought 'er a lot of worry."
"In what way?" he frowned.
"'e was never very diligent at the school and 'e got 'imself into a bit of bother a few years ago. I mean, 'e can't be more than twenty or so now, but 'e fell in with a bit of a bad crowd. The police were involved, and I know that it affected Audrey deeply. She's raised 'im on 'er own since she left 'er 'usband."
"She left him? I always assumed…well…it's never been discussed, but I just presumed she was a widow."
"Oh no, 'er 'usband was a bad lot too. 'e 'ad a terrible temper and, while I don't know exactly what went on between them, I don't think she 'ad it easy with 'im. When she left 'im, 'e went crazy and smashed up their 'ouse. Luckily, Mr Grant was looking for an 'ousekeeper by then, 'is previous ones 'aving retired to London, and 'e gave 'er a job and 'er and Edward a place to stay."
"And what happened to her husband?"
"From what I 'ear, he just upped and left one day. No-one really knew anything, other than 'e was gone. That must 'ave been…oh…three years ago now, maybe more."
"Poor Mrs Hall…" he sat back in his chair. "How awful for her."
"She seems much 'appier on 'er own. Apart from the troubles with Edward, that is." She sat forwards, her expression turning suddenly earnest. "But please, don't tell 'er I said anything. I would 'ate 'er to think that I was gossiping about 'er personal business. I've known 'er a good many years now."
"No, of course I won't say a word." He smiled at her. "You've got a good heart."
"I don't know about that," she blushed.
"You do, I can tell. You're a very kind person." She smiled and looked down at the table and he felt a sudden rush of something that he couldn't quite identify. "Shall we?"
"Yes, thank you." He pulled her chair out for her and once again offered his arm as they made their way back outside. The sun had long since started to sink, casting long shadows over the ground, and there was a coolness to the air. "Dinner was lovely, thank you very much for inviting me."
"It was my pleasure," he said, turning to face her as they reached the car. "I enjoy your company."
"As I enjoy yours."
She smiled up at him, her expression filled with warmth. He found his gaze slipping to her mouth, lips red and inviting and he found his own inhibitions slowly lowering. "You're a very…"
"Very what?"
"A very beautiful woman," he heard himself say.
Her face flushed slightly, and she ducked her head, "You don't mean that…"
"I do," he moved closer to her as she looked up again and he could hear a faint humming in his ears. "I thought it the first time that I saw you. I hate to think of you feeling so…trapped by your father when there's…so much life in you. I saw it that day on the hill."
"Oh…" her expression became mildly panicked and, for a moment, he thought she might turn and flee. Before she could, however, he found his hands moving to rest on her arms, his upper body pressing against hers and his mouth inches from her own. "Siegfried…" she began, but he kissed her before she could say anything else.
She felt…different and yet familiar and the overwhelming feeling when he pulled away from her was that he desperately wanted to be connected to her again. Without waiting to find out whether she would welcome it, he kissed her again, harder and with more intensity than the first time, and he half expected her to push him away, slap him and berate him for his forwardness. But she did none of those things. Instead, he felt her arms slide up and around his neck as his own moved around her back, pulling her into him. She held him as tightly as he was holding her and reciprocated with as ardent a desire as he himself felt. He had never touched another woman in that way in all the years that had passed, and he felt his body react in a way seemingly long forgotten.
"Oh my…" he breathed when they finally broke apart. "I…" He looked down into her eyes, so pale and yet so full of life and warmth, at the tentative smile on her lips still so close to his own. "Have you ever… have you ever been kissed before?" It was a ridiculous question and one which he expected her to ridicule him for, but she merely shook her head, her gaze still locked on his.
"No, never. Not by any man."
In a split second, a thousand emotions swept over him. Sorrow, that she had never before experienced something so wonderful, satisfaction that it had been he who had been the first and, most pressing of all, guilt.
Guilt that she wasn't Evelyn.
Guilt that he belonged to another.
It came crashing down on him so suddenly that it almost seemed to physically hurt. Lily pressed herself against him again, clearly hoping for another repeat, but he found himself pulling away from her, putting space between them. "I'm…I'm sorry."
"For what?" she asked, frowning slightly.
"For…for putting hands on you. For…for kissing you like that…"
"You don't 'ave to be sorry, not in a million years."
"I do. I do. I promised your father that I wouldn't harm you and…and I have…"
"You 'aven't 'armed me! Not at all, not for one moment!"
"Maybe not physically but…oh Lord…" he turned away from her, as though not looking at her could make him feel better, could make him feel less…guilty. "I shouldn't have…I can't…" closing his eyes, all he could see was Evelyn's face before him. What had he done? He had betrayed her, betrayed her memory and now, all he wished he could do was somehow transport himself far, far away.
"Were it that bad?"
The sound of her voice brought him back to himself and he turned around quickly to look at her again, unable to miss the hurt-filled expression on her face. "No, no of course not."
"If you didn't want to kiss me, you didn't 'ave to."
"I know."
"You must 'ave wanted to, otherwise why did you?" Her gaze flitted about between his own, the ground and the immediate surrounding area and her obvious embarrassment and discomfort only made him feel worse.
"I did want to. I do want to. It's just that…I suppose I can't expect you to understand."
For a moment, she just looked at him before realisation dawned. "Oh…I see. I'm not…I'm not your wife. 'ow stupid of me. I…I should have known…"
"No, it's not…" he fought for words, any words, that might help convey that it was in no way possible her fault and yet he found himself faltering like a schoolboy.
"No, I realised last week on the 'ill," she said. "I realised when you were talking about 'er 'ow much you still loved her, still missed 'er. It were obvious in everything that you said. Truth is, I was surprised when you asked me to 'ave dinner with you. I didn't think that you would. I should 'ave said no. I should 'ave followed me gut but…but with what you 'ad said about living life and not letting me father dictate…"
He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"You don't 'ave to be sorry. Your wife was a lucky woman. I envy 'er." He opened his eyes again. "I mean, not for what 'appened to 'er of course, but for the fact that she were so loved by you. So loved, that all these years later you still mourn 'er. Much like me dad, I suppose."
The comparison to Tom brought him up somehow short. "I'm not…I'm not like your father. I would never…never stifle someone as full of life as you are, with so much to give." He stepped towards her again. "Any man, any man, would be lucky to be in your favour."
"Just not you," she said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I understand."
"I'm sorry," he repeated, feeling that the word was somehow so inadequate.
"I suppose I should thank you," she stepped back and laughed. "At least I can say I've been kissed now. I don't feel quite as pathetic as I did ten minutes ago. Embarrassed, perhaps, but not pathetic."
"Lily…"
"It might be a good idea to take me 'ome now, don't you think?" She moved away from him around to the passenger side of the car and, without waiting, opened the door and slid inside, closing it firmly behind her. He felt wretched, so utterly wretched, for so many reasons. Part of him wanted to avoid getting in the car, avoid being near her, but he knew that he had no other option than to slide in beside her.
They drove back to Windy Hill in silence, the atmosphere so different from that which had been before. She kept her gaze fixed on the darkening horizon and though he opened his mouth to start a million different conversations, he felt as though anything he might say would simply sound trite.
When he reached the farm he stopped, pulled on the handbrake and turned to look at her again. "Lily…"
"Thank you for dinner."
He paused. "I am sorry."
"You don't 'ave to keep saying it," she said lightly." I'll bid you goodnight now and…and farewell."
"Farewell…?" he echoed.
"Well there's probably little point is us meeting again, is there? It would likely just be too awkward, for both of us."
"I…"
She opened the car door and then turned back to look at him. "Let me say this, though. You talked about not being like me dad, that you would never stifle someone so full of life. You're more like 'im than you think, only the person you're stifling is yourself." With that, she jumped out and hurried into the farmhouse, gone before he could even consider how else to reply.
"You stupid fool," he cursed himself as he made his way back to the village. "You stupid, stupid fool."
"Nice evening?" Mrs Hall enquired when he stepped into the sitting room.
"Yes," he lied. "Yes, it was very pleasant."
"Glad to 'ear it," she smiled, turning back to the newspaper.
"I'll…uh…I'll just go up."
"All right then, goodnight Mr Farnon."
"Goodnight Mrs Hall." He climbed the stairs slowly to his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You should never have gone," he said to himself. "You should have made up an excuse. You should definitely never have kissed her. What were you thinking?" He put his head in his hands and screwed his eyes shut, desperate to block out the memory of what had taken place and yet, ashamedly, he could still feel her in his arms. "You led her on, you made her think that…what kind of a man are you?" He got to his feet and moved to the window, looking out to the fields beyond. "There can never be anyone else, there just…can't be…" His mind flitted back to what Tristan had said, about how Evelyn would have wanted him to be happy and yet… "How can I be happy? How can I be happy when you're not here? I can't be happy, I just can't and yet I'm so useless at putting into words…" he paused, a thought suddenly striking him and, unlocking his door, headed back down into the sitting room.
"Everything all right?" Mrs Hall asked, as he opened the drawer of the sideboard and took out some writing paper and a pen.
"Yes, fine," he replied, moving to sit down at the table.
"What are you writing?"
He paused, the pen hovering over the paper before him. "A letter."
