25 September 1931

Lily was nervous, more nervous than she should have been at such an innocuous thing and, yet, was it really that innocuous? Here she was, at the ripe old age of twenty-eight, having never invited a man to dinner and now staring the prospect square in the face. It had seemed like such an obvious idea in her head, especially as she had already had dinner three times at Skeldale House in less than a fortnight and she felt it only fair that she return the invitation, to Siegfried at least. He had accepted, of course, and then the task of telling her father had befallen her. At first, she had considered asking his permission for Siegfried to come, then she had chastised herself for being so stupid and weak and had instead simply informed him that there were to have a guest that Friday evening.

"Oh aye?" Tom had enquired from his position in the armchair. "And who might that be then?"

"Siegfried," she had replied casually, flicking though a magazine, the content of which she had no real interest in. "I thought it might be nice given how often I've been down there of late."

"Oh aye, very nice." His tone had dripped with sarcasm, but she had chosen to ignore it as he poured himself another large glass of whisky and then had said little to each other for most of the remainder of the evening. In truth, he had said little to her at all since witnessing her kiss Siegfried in the field. She had half expected him to shout at her, tell her that she wasn't to get involved with him but, instead, he had been stoically quiet, emitting a sense of misplaced wounded pride at every opportunity and looking at her as though she had no business courting anyone at all.

It was only the thought of Siegfried that kept her spirits light. They had met on several occasions since their walk in the hills and each time had proven better than the one before. The more time spent in each other's company, the more comfortable they became and much of the awkwardness that had plagued the first few moments of their courtship were soon resigned to history. When she didn't have the chance to see him, she had started writing him letters, more formal to begin with, but slowly developing into a warm exchange which he readily reciprocated. Each time she posted one or received one in return, she felt her heart sing in a way it didn't in any other circumstance.

Tom's offering for her to assist him on the farm had not materialised further. She had ruefully had to admit that it had clearly been part of a manipulation to stop her from ending up in Siegfried's arms and, when he had seen it had had the opposite effect, he had made no secret of the fact that her place was, very much, in the kitchen.

Not knowing how her father was going to react when faced with Siegfried in his home, was the matter giving her most cause for concern. As she flitted about the kitchen that afternoon making final preparations for the meal, she found herself offering up a fervent prayer that everything would go well, that her father would be hospitable and that Siegfried wouldn't be put off if he wasn't. It was ridiculous, completely ridiculous, that such a thing was causing her the anxiety that it was and as she dressed for dinner and fixed her hair and makeup, she noticed that her hands were shaking.

"Come on Lily," she chided herself gently as she examined her reflection in the mirror. "What's the worst that can 'appen, eh?"

Siegfried was due at seven o'clock and, knowing that he would be prompt, she found herself back in the kitchen in good time, laying the table and making sure that everything was on track. Her father had kept out of her way until almost the last minute when, at five minutes to seven, he came in from the yard, his clothes and boots filthy from having bedded the beasts down for the night.

"You'll be getting washed and changed," she said.

He shot her a look. "Think I don't know how to present meself?"

She bit back a retort and instead said nothing as he kicked off his boots and then disappeared upstairs. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to keep herself calm, she froze suddenly as headlights swept across the yard and a car pulled to a stop outside. Opening the door, she felt a sudden rush of relief when she saw Siegfried climbing out, a large bouquet of flowers in his hands, the smile on his face making her insides slowly melt. It had been three days since she had last seen him and, at that moment, it felt like a lifetime.

"Hello," he greeted her as he reached the door.

"'ello. Come in."

"Thank you. Oh, these are for you."

She smiled gratefully as he presented the flowers to her, never having received such a thoughtful gift from anyone before. "They're beautiful, thank you," she replied, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "You didn't 'ave to do that."

"Well, I wanted to. I brought something for your father too." As if on cue, Tom appeared in the doorway and Lily felt her insides twist with anxiety again at the look on his face, though she was relieved to see that he had put on a clean shirt and trousers at least. "Good evening Mr Bailey."

"Evening," he replied stiffly.

"So nice of you and Lily to invite me for dinner." Tom said nothing, instead moving over and taking a seat at the table. "I…understand you're quite the purveyor of whisky so I thought…" Siegfried held out a small bottle.

"That were kind, Dad, weren't it?" Lily said, moving over to the stove and checking on the soup that was bubbling away.

"Aye," Tom replied blandly, taking the bottle from him and setting it down on the table. "Very kind, I'm sure."

An awkward silence descended, and Lily flitted back to the table. "Well, sit down Siegfried. Dinner shouldn't be too long."

"Smells wonderful," he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite Tom. "I've been looking forward to it all day."

"Well there's soup to start with, some of me 'omemade broth, and then roast chicken to follow," she replied proudly. "I 'ope you'll like it."

"If you made it, then I'm sure I shall. Your daughter's a fine cook," he directed the latter comment at Tom who merely grunted.

"'ave you 'ad a busy day?" Lily asked, turning down the heat and lifting the soup bowls waiting on the side.

"You could say that. Mr Dobson's been having terrible trouble with one of his cows, poor thing, so I spent quite a bit of time up there this morning. Then one of Mr Salter's ewes managed to get herself tangled in some wire and she was a bit of a mess. I feel as though I've never stopped."

"Occupational 'azard in your profession I would 'ave assumed," Tom said.

"Well, yes."

"Were you able to save the ewe?"

"Yes, thankfully. She had some terrible cuts but I'm confident that she'll be fine in a few weeks time. Oh, thank you." Siegfried smiled up at her as she placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of him.

Smiling, she turned back to the stove, ladled out a similar bowl for her father and then one for herself before joining them both at the table. Silence descended once more as they started to eat and she found her brain scabbling for decent conversation.

"This really is delicious," Siegfried said. "You'll have to give Mrs Hall the recipe."

"Oh, it's just a simple broth," she replied, feeling her face flame slightly. "I'm sure she could make it as well as I can if not better."

"Well I won't tell her that she hasn't yet if you won't."

"Must be strange," Tom butted in. "Living in an 'ouse just you and 'er."

Siegfried paused, "How so?"

"Well, you're a man on 'is own, she's a woman on 'er own…"

"She's my housekeeper. I'm sure I can't be the only single man who has one."

"Not able to look after yourself then."

If Siegfried was struck by the blatant irony of her father's statement, his expression belied it. "I have a very busy practice. I'm sure that I could look after myself if I required to, but it's certainly very welcome having someone there to keep house and do everything that a…well, that needs to be done, I suppose. Much as you have a busy farm," he added.

"Audrey's a lovely woman," Lily said. "And, I'm sure, an excellent 'ousekeeper."

"Wouldn't want to see 'er out of a job then, would we?" Tom said, looking at her.

"No, I suppose not. Are we all finished?" She got to her feet again and cleared away the soup bowls before beginning the process of dishing up the main course. She had hoped that the conversation would continue meantime, despite the content not being exactly what she would have liked, but instead silence reigned once again until everyone was served and she was sat back at the table.

"Lily said you were a widower," Tom said suddenly and she felt herself freeze at his words, before stealing a look at Siegfried.

To her relief, he looked non-plussed by the question. "Yes, I am."

"Long time ago."

"Fourteen years."

"Same time I lost my Rose."

"Yes, Lily told me. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Aye, well…been on your own a long time then."

"Yes, I suppose I have."

"You'll have gotten used to it."

He glanced over at her and she smiled tentatively. "In a way, but that's not to say that I wouldn't welcome the prospect of not seeing out my days without company."

Tom's face tightened and he focused his gaze on his plate, all prospect of conversation seemingly ended. She and Siegfried continued to speak about general matters, the village, other cases he had had recently and whether he had heard much from Tristan. This came to a halt, however, when Tom, having finished his food, dropped his cutlery onto the plate with a clatter, pushed back his chair and left the room.

For a moment, they both watched the space where he had been, Lily finding herself grow angrier by the minute. "Excuse me a moment," she said finally, pushing her chair back from the table.

"Of course," Siegfried said, half-rising as he did so.

She made her way through to the sitting room where her father was now ensconced in his armchair next to the fire. "Why are you behaving like this?" she asked.

"Behaving like what?"

"Like…like some sort of child who 'asn't got 'is own way! Slamming down your cutlery and just leaving the table. Siegfried is a guest in our 'ouse and you…"

"Don't you be telling me 'ow to act in me own 'ome lady. I've sat and ate dinner with you both and I've made conversation."

"Conversation? Is that what you call it? Making snide remarks about Mrs Hall and 'ow 'e'll be used to living on 'is own?"

"Aye, conversation. What more do you want?"

The question seemed almost farcical. "I want you to make an effort! I want you to be 'appy at the fact that I'm appy! Is that really so much to ask?" He said nothing but simply lifted the newspaper that was sat on the table and slowly unfolded it. She stared at him for a long moment, hoping that he might say more, might give her some sort of reassurance that he had heard what she had said and would take it on board, but there was nothing. Curling her fingers into a fist and digging her nails into her palms, she turned on her heel and walked back into the kitchen.

"Everything all right?" Siegfried asked as she sat back down.

"Not really. I knew 'e would be like this, I knew it!" She couldn't stop the tears from coming and though she tried to hide them by covering her face with her hands, it was useless, and she felt her body start to shake. Instantly, she heard his chair scrape against the floor and seconds later his arms were around her, pulling her into him and murmuring words of comfort that she couldn't quite make out over the sound of her own heavy breathing. The action seemed to soothe her, however, and she managed to gather herself back together, wiping her eyes viciously as she did so. "I'm sorry," she said, hiccupping slightly over the words.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. Nothing at all. I'm only sorry that I'm the cause of all this."

"You?" she looked at him. "You're not the cause of it, 'e is. You could never…I mean…so much good 'as come out of you and I in such a short space of time and I…" she sighed and shook her head. "I just don't understand 'im. I suppose I never will."

"Lily…if you would rather…" he hesitated slightly. "If you would rather that we…stop…"

"No! No, I don't want that, please!" She exclaimed, suddenly terrified by the thought. "Please, I…"

"All right, all right…I just don't want to make things any more difficult for you than they appear to be already." He stroked her hair gently and then leant over and kissed her. "I care about you too much to want that."

She held his gaze for a long moment and then kissed him back, longer, deeper and harder than the first time and she couldn't help but wish that they were on their own, in their own home, without having to worry about anyone or anything else. Breaking apart, she gently cupped his face and ran her fingers over his beard. "I'm lucky to 'ave found you."

"That makes two of us," he replied, catching her hand in his and kissing it.

"I've got apple crumble for pudding, if you can manage some."

"As if I would ever turn down the offer of pudding."

Smiling, she got to her feet again and moved back over to the oven, pulling out the tray that was warming inside. Lining up three bowls, she scooped in equal amounts and then carried two of them over to the table. "There's custard too," she said, retrieving the jug from the side.

"Wonderful."

"Just give me a moment," she said, leaving the kitchen and heading back into the sitting room where her father had poured himself a large glass of whisky. "There's pudding if you want some." Without lifting his head, he held out his hand and she felt anger flare inside her again. "If you want it, you can come to the table and eat with the rest of us." Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and headed back to the kitchen, taking her seat across from Siegfried. A few moments later, her father appeared in the doorway. He paused and then re-took his own seat, digging into the pudding without so much as looking at either of them.

"How are your horses doing?" Siegfried asked, after another tense silence.

"Fine," Tom replied.

"That's good."

"I 'ear you're going to be working for Lord Hulton."

"Ah, yes, well he did ask if I would look after his horses' veterinary needs…"

"It were a 'onour to be asked," she chimed in.

"Yes, it was," he agreed.

"Think you're a cut above then?" Tom lifted his head and looked at him.

"I…well…no," Siegfried replied. "I mean…"

"Dad…"

"I'm just saying. You've 'ardly been 'ere five minutes and already you're at 'is Lordship's beck and call."

"Well, I've been in Darrowby some ten months now and I don't think his Lordship sees it quite like that…"

"No? Paddy Trotter's a good vet."

"Yes, I have no doubt that he is…"

"'e were looking to Hulton's horses after John Grant died and now, all of a sudden, 'ere you are."

"Siegfried saved one of Lord Hulton's horse's lives," Lily said.

"Well, we both did," he said generously.

"Aye," Tom looked at her. "So, you did."

"If you've got something to say about it, why don't you just say it?" she glared at him.

He shook his head and dropped his spoon into his now empty bowl. "I've got nowt else to say." Pushing his chair back, he rose from the table and once again headed towards the sitting room.

She felt deflated, utterly deflated, and had there not been anger mixed in with it, she knew that she would have started weeping again. Instead, she simply concentrated on finishing her own pudding before meeting Siegfried's gaze again. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologising. Besides, I came here tonight to see you, not him." Reaching across the table, he covered her hand with his. "And I wouldn't have missed this meal."

"Thank you," she said, smiling gratefully at him. "That means a lot. I'd offer you a comfortable chair in the sitting room for coffee but…"

"I'm quite happy right here."

She felt her heart swell again at the knowledge that he appeared to care so much for her. "Me too."

XXXX

"'ow did it go?" Mrs Hall asked when Siegfried returned to Skeldale House.

The entire drive home he had experienced a whole gambit of emotions. Joy, at having spent time with Lily, anger at the way her father had behaved, sorrow that it affected her so badly. He had been tempted to say something, really say something, but sense had won out and he had realised that it would probably only make things ten times worse for her.

"It was…uh…interesting," he said, sitting down in the armchair opposite.

"Interesting?"

"Her father is…." he fought for the right words, "a very difficult man."

"I suppose 'e's not used to Lily 'aving a gentleman friend."

"And that gives him the right to behave in the way he did this evening? There were occasions when he was downright rude. Lily got very upset at one point and I don't blame her. You would think that he would be pleased at the prospect of her being happy."

"Perhaps 'e can't comprehend 'ow she couldn't be 'appy now."

"What, stuck up at Windy Hill all day every day, pandering to his every need?"

"Folks might say I do the same for you."

"You're my housekeeper, Mrs Hall, and you're paid for the tasks that you undertake for me. Lily is his daughter and, as far as I'm concerned, it's an entirely different thing. A father should want their child to be happy. A father should want their child to go out into the world and make something of themselves, whatever that may be. A father shouldn't want their child to remain alone and unhappy just so his needs are attended to. If that is so important to Mr Bailey, then he too should hire a housekeeper. In fact, he'll bloody well have to, eventually."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really, and 'ow's that then?"

"Well because…just because," he replied, feeling momentarily flummoxed. It seemed obvious where his association with Lily would lead and yet, when he considered it, particularly in light of Tristan's comments on the subject, he couldn't help but feel a slight frisson of apprehension.

"Well I suppose you'll just 'ave to work 'ard at getting into 'is good graces then, won't you?"

"I told Lily I wanted her to come and assist me in the surgery. No doubt her father will have much to say about that."

"Assist you in what way?"

"With patients and their treatment."

"You mean, as in an actual assistant?"

"Well, of sorts. Clearly she isn't formally qualified but there's no reason why she couldn't learn under my guidance."

"Tristan might have said much the same thing."

"No, he needs the rigours of discipline that, hopefully, university will provide. It's different with Lily, very different."

"And is this something that Lily 'erself wants to do?"

"I believe so and I believe she would be good at it. There's no harm in showing her that there's more to life than household drudgery."

"Indeed…"

Instantly, he realised he had said the wrong thing, "My apologies Mrs Hall, I didn't mean that the way that it came out. Obviously there is nothing wrong with choosing that path, none at all. Where would I be without you, for example?"

"Where indeed," she smiled generously. "Well, I wish I 'ad some sort of advice for you on 'ow to 'andle Tom Bailey, but as it is…

"No, I know…" he sighed. "I just hate seeing Lily so unhappy. I wish there was some way to make things better for her, right now at least."

"If I know you Siegfried Farnon, you'll think of something. 'aving 'er 'ere at the surgery with you would be a start. Nothing better than getting 'er out of that 'ouse as much as possible. I reckon she'll bloom before our very eyes."

It was a welcome thought, the image of Lily blooming in his company. He wanted to see her happy, enjoying herself, gaining satisfaction from something more than she normally would experience, wanted to see the smile that lit up her face when they were in each other's company…and he wanted to see the look in her eyes when he could tell that she desired him as much as he desired her.

"Well I don't know about you, Mrs Hall, but I'm rather fatigued," he said, getting to his feet. "I think I'll turn in for the evening."

"Goodnight Mr Farnon."

Her smile was knowing and, as he climbed the stairs towards his bedroom, Siegfried told himself that there was no possible way that she could have any idea what he was going to be thinking about once he got there.