31 January 1932
Lily barely slept. How could she after what the doctor had told her? When he had looked at her with seemingly little empathy and said that it was likely she would never walk again. Did he expect her to drift off into contented slumber? Nothing could have been further from the reality. She lay in the bed, willing her legs to move, growing frustrated at the numb sensation and feeling utterly confused by the fact that she thought she was moving them and yet nothing was happening. Hot tears had run down her face and pooled on the pillow behind her head and when the nurses had come to check on her, to find out why she wasn't sleeping like everyone else, they simply chided her and told her that she had to rest.
"'ow can I rest?" she had demanded. "Could you rest, being given such news?"
They'd had no response for her and so she had continued to lie there, staring at the ceiling, wishing that she could change so many things. She should never have got into the damn van, should never have driven up to George Sharp's farm. What hubris had led her to believe that she was so capable of diagnosing a problem with his sheep that she should venture out in such terrible weather? When had she become so arrogant, so full of her own capabilities? It was right what people in the village had said when she had first started to help Siegfried at the surgery; she was getting ideas above her station, ideas that had now led her to this moment.
Siegfried…
When she thought about him, about the expression on his face when he had looked at her, she wanted to weep more. What must he think of her? Did he share her views on her own stupidity? Did he think her ridiculous and liable to rebuke for what she had done? Could he ever look at her in the same way as he had done before? Closing her eyes, she thought of all they had done together; walked in the hills, ridden Lord Hulton's horses, made love…how could they do any of those things now?
She awoke with a sudden jolt and realised that she must have, eventually, succumbed to sleep. The curtain around her bed was pulled back and a breakfast tray was placed in front of her, consisting of a bowl of some sort of porridge-like substance and a mug of dark tea. She should have been ravenous, given that she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten anything, but the sight of the food only turned her stomach and she pushed it away.
"You need to eat," one of the nurses said, tutting slightly at her actions. "Can't let good food go to waste."
"I'm not 'ungry."
"This isn't a restaurant you know. You can't just order food whenever you feel like it. If you don't eat now, then there's nothing else until lunchtime."
Reluctantly, she allowed the nurse to help her slide into a seated position, wincing at the pain from her stitches, and then lifted the spoon. The porridge was lumpy and somewhat lukewarm, but she forced it down as best as she could and drank the tea. "I need to go to the toilet," she said when the nurse returned to remove the dishes.
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do. I can feel it."
The nurse looked at her sympathetically. "You can't feel it, love and besides, you've got a catheter in, so you don't need to go to the toilet."
"A what?"
"A catheter. It's a tube the doctor inserts into your bladder so that you don't need to go to the toilet. At least not to pass urine anyway. If you need anything else, you make sure to let us know."
"I…" the nurse was gone before she could ask any other questions, pulling open the curtain as she did so, revealing the rest of the ward. There were seven other beds around her, filled with people who looked nothing short of deathly. She wondered suddenly if that was how she looked, pale, drawn, bloodless. The thought sent a shiver through her and her fingers strayed to the hospital smock she was wearing and the tenderness of her wound underneath. She wanted to look at it and yet was afraid to. It would only be something else for her to cry over and, right at that moment, she felt devoid of tears, devoid of all emotion, devoid of all hope.
XXXX
Breakfast at Skeldale House was sombre, despite the news that Lily had survived the operation. Siegfried found himself eating mechanically and yet not really tasting anything as Mrs Hall fluttered around him, making inconsequential conversation and Tristan occasionally chipped in with a comment or two.
They had returned from the hospital the previous night in silence, Mrs Hall driving given as Tom had seemed incapable due to grief or shock or a combination of the two. Siegfried had sat beside him, his own thoughts twisting and turning in his mind. There had been so much to take in in such a short space of time. Lily was alive and yet, she might not be as she once was, at least not in the physical sense. It was almost incomprehensible.
Tristan had been characteristically upbeat at the news, opining that there were many things that could be done nowadays for such conditions and that he was confident that Lily would walk again, despite what the doctor had said. He had wanted to join in his brother's optimism, had wanted to share in the belief that all would be well and, yet, he found himself incapable of doing so.
"She's a fighter, is Lily," Mrs Hall said suddenly, causing him to look up at her. "She'll come through this; I know she will. She has all of us and 'er father. She'll come through it." She nodded as though trying to convince herself of the words she was speaking. "You 'ave to tell 'er that, Mr Farnon. You 'ave to make 'er believe it."
"Me?" he replied without thinking.
"Of course you. You're her fiancé, the man who loves 'er. If anyone 'as to be the one to convince 'er that everything's going to be all right, then it's you."
"Quite right Mrs H," Tristan agreed.
"Oh well I'm glad you all think me so capable," he replied tightly. "She's just been given dreadful news and I'm supposed to…" he broke off and took a deep breath, inwardly chiding himself. "No, you're right. You're both right, I know you are. It's just…"
"It's just what?" Tristan asked. Siegfried paused, unsure whether it was wise to divulge what he was feeling. In the hours since learning about Lily's diagnosis he had found himself contemplating all that had been lost; all that she may no longer be able to do; all the dreams that he had had for their life together. "She's still the same person. Just because a person might not be able to walk again doesn't mean they've changed."
"No, of course not," he replied, "it doesn't mean a thing, does it? I mean, not being able to walk, well, that's hardly something to be concerned about now, is it?"
"There's no need to be sarcastic."
"And there's no need to be so bloody naïve! Everything has changed for her, can't you see that?"
"I can see how there might be difficulties…"
"Difficulties…" he shook his head.
"But difficulties can be overcome. She's alive, Siegfried, isn't that what you wanted?"
"Yes of course it is!"
"But?"
"But…" he paused again, desperate to harness the words before he said something that might, once more, display him in a poor light. How could he convey his thoughts without sounding selfish, as though what had happened to Lily made her seem less to him, which couldn't be further from the truth. "I don't want to discuss this," he said finally. "Not until I've seen Lily."
"I think that might be best," Mrs Hall said diplomatically. "The poor lass 'as 'ad quite a shock to the system. She'll need time to process everything. Tom said 'e would be 'ere at nine, so you'd better get your skates on," she glanced at the clock.
"I think I'd rather go by myself," Siegfried replied, rising from the table. "If you don't mind, that is."
"But I thought the two of you were going to go together?"
He sighed, knowing that had been the agreement and yet finding himself wishing to make the journey alone, wishing to see her alone, talk to her alone, without her father's presence over his shoulder. Surely he was entitled to that as her fiancé? "I'm sure you can explain to him that I wanted to go early. I doubt he'll mind."
"Well…all right, if that's what you want."
"It is." Without further recourse to either of them, he left the kitchen and headed out to the hallway, lifting his keys and coat from the stand before opening the front door. "I'm not sure when I'll be back."
"Keep in touch," Mrs Hall said, following him. "Let us know 'ow she is and give 'er our love."
He felt a lump rise in his throat again and swallowed hard against it. "I will."
XXXX
She wanted to see him and yet she didn't. Every time someone came into the ward, she felt her heart start to thud loudly in her chest and she wasn't sure if it was down to expectation or fear. She winced at the memory of the pity in his eyes and could only imagine what he had been thinking. What would he say to her? What could he say to her? How could he not blame her for what had happened when she blamed herself?
When he eventually arrived at her bedside, she realised that she still wasn't sure she wanted him there at all. He smiled as he approached her bed, took her hand in his and kissed it, before stooping to kiss her gently on the mouth. Then he sat down in the chair beside the bed and looked upon her with an expression that she couldn't quite place.
"I must look terrible," she said, by way of opening.
"Of course you don't," he replied, squeezing her hand. "You look as beautiful as you always have."
"I don't feel it."
"Well, naturally I wouldn't expect you to. You've been through an awful ordeal over the last few days. I thought…I really thought at one point that I was going to lose you. The doctor held out little hope for you in those first few hours. He was amazed that you had survived the crash at all."
"A crash caused by my own stupidity."
"Don't say that."
"Why not? It's the truth, isn't it? I should never 'ave gone up there. I should never 'ave thought myself qualified to…to…" she shook her head. "All over some bloody sheep with bloody laminitis." She felt his grip tighten on her hand. "I should never 'ave listened to you."
"To me?" his eyes widened. "In what sense?"
"I should never 'ave let you convince me that I 'ad it in me to become anything like you. I'm not like you. I could never be a vet, and this just proves it. I can't even control a bloody van." Tears pricked her eyes. "I should 'ave listened to me dad and stayed at 'ome."
"Lily…"
"Don't tell me you don't think the same? 'ow could you not? 'ow could you not think me arrogant and foolhardy and…"
"I don't think any of those things," he interrupted her. "I'm very proud of what you chose to do, even despite the consequences. Seeing how much you've blossomed in these last months as a direct result of what you've allowed yourself to achieve…"
"Achieve?" she snorted. "Crippling myself, you mean? Ruining everything for myself, for both of us?"
"Nothing has been ruined for me, nothing." He looked at her earnestly and yet, she found herself almost unable to believe his words. They were lies, they had to be. Everything had changed. If she never walked again, how could they live their life together? She wouldn't be able to keep house let alone assist him in his practice. How could she live at Skeldale House with the steep staircase that led to what was supposed to be her bedroom and the narrow doorways? There were so many things, things she knew she probably hadn't even thought of, preventing them from living the life they had planned.
"'ow can you say that? 'ow can you say that and mean it? I can't be a wife to you, let alone anything else, if I'm in this condition, can I?"
"The doctor only said that you might not walk again. It wasn't a foregone conclusion." He leaned over and gently stroked her hair. "This changes nothing for me, Lily, nothing. I still love you as much as I did before, and I still want to marry you as much as I did before. Our life might be different but…"
"But you've had a marriage, a proper marriage, with a wife who was able to do everything and go everywhere and I'm…" she broke off as the tears slid down her cheeks and she once more tried in vain to move her legs beneath the blankets before admitting defeat and lying back against the pillows.
"Try and not over-exert yourself darling," he said softly. "It's early days, very early days. Chances are you'll be up and out of this bed before you know it and things will go back to the way they were."
"But what if they don't? What if I'm stuck like this forever? How could you possibly…?" the emotion overtook her at that point and she pulled her hand from his to cover her face as her body shook. "Why? Why 'as this 'appened?" It had been a question that had gone around and around in her mind as she lay unable to move. Why, after everything that her life had already thrown at her, was she now being tested like this? When she had finally found someone and was on the brink of everlasting happiness? Why?
"Lily…please…" she felt his arms go awkwardly around her. "Please, don't cry. I don't know why, I really don't, but we can work our way through this together, I promise. I'm here now and I'm not leaving you. I could never leave you." She pulled back and looked up at him through the mist of her tears. He seemed genuine and she could see the familiar look of love in his eyes but, as he had said, it was early days. Perhaps once the initial shock of events had worn off, he might see things differently, might see her differently. How could she bear that?
Exhaustion overtook her and she felt her eyes grow heavy as she lay back down against the pillows. It was all too much to think about, just too much, and sleep claimed her before she could think on any of it any longer.
XXXX
Away from her bedside, Siegfried felt his own emotion come to the surface and as he sat in the corridor, he put his head in his hands, willing himself to be strong and stoic, fully aware that that was what she needed at that moment. It would do her no good in the long run for him to cry with her or tell her his own thoughts. It was clear that she had plenty of her own to occupy her mind. How could he tell her that, despite his love for her, he doubted their future? It was no lie to say he wanted all of the things that the past had promised. He wanted to walk with her in the hills, ride horses with her, see her at Skeldale House flitting up and down the stairs, take her out on his rounds and watch as she came into her own treating the animals, make fierce love with her…he rubbed his eyes, hating himself for his doubt, cursing himself for thinking for one moment that she was less because of what might now afflict her. It seemed so grossly unreasonable of him. A few hours earlier, all he had wanted was for her to live and now…now that she had, all he wanted was for her to be perfect again.
"Everything all right?" He looked up suddenly to see Tom striding along the corridor towards him, his expression one of concern. "There's nowt wrong, is there?"
"No," he got to his feet. "No, she's…well…she's still here." It was a lame attempt at humour, but he could tell the other man didn't see it that way. "She's very upset."
"Why, what 'ave you said to 'er?"
"Nothing," he replied, slightly put out at the insinuation, "that is to say, nothing that wasn't positive. I tried to tell her that nothing had changed, despite what had happened and…"
"So, you lied to 'er."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You lied to 'er," Tom crossed his arms across his chest. "You told 'er that it didn't matter that she couldn't walk."
"Well of course I did. I was hardly going to say anything else now, was I? And it wasn't a lie."
"No?"
"No!" Despite his own misgivings, he found himself irked by the other man's suggestion that he was anything less than genuine in his feelings. "Are you suggesting that I would feel differently towards her if she couldn't walk?"
"Well, I don't rightly know what's in your 'ead, but I know 'ow I'd feel if it were my intended or my wife."
"And how would you feel?"
"Upset…angry…cheated out of the life I 'ad expected."
"That's not…I don't feel cheated."
"No? You're a better man than me then. There's not many out there who would say they would want a cripple for a wife. Makes life all that much more difficult. She'll be limited in what she can do in the 'ome and working with you is probably a non-starter. You'll spend more time than I'm sure you'd like tending to 'er needs and caring for 'er. Not to mention the fact that the doctor said she'd be unlikely to bear you any children, crippled or not."
The presumptions stung, seemingly all the more for the fact that Tom was putting into words what he himself had been feeling. And yet, surely it was only human to have these thoughts? Surely someone who didn't have them would have had to be living in some kind of denial?
"Might be better if you walk away now."
The last sentence brought him up short and he met the other man's gaze, trying to read his expression. "I don't…"
"If you can't 'andle whatever's going to 'appen to 'er, walk away now. It'll be for the best in the long run, save 'er getting 'er 'opes up over you."
"I'm not going to walk away," he replied, angrily. "I would never just walk away."
"No? You were going to when you thought she were dying. You weren't even going to come 'ere, remember?"
"Yes, and we discussed that, and I said…"
"I know what you said. Fact is, sometimes death is a blessing compared to what can be left behind. Not everyone can deal with it and those that can't, need to get out sooner rather than later. Saves a lot of 'urt all round."
"And you can deal with it, I suppose?" Siegfried challenged him.
"I'm 'er father," Tom replied, "bonded to 'er by blood. There's no walking away for me. But you…you could be anybody."
"That's…that's outrageous…"
"What I'm trying to say, Farnon, is that if you don't think you can commit to 'er, fully and properly regardless of whether she can walk or not, then you need to decide that now and leave 'er be. I won't 'ave you filling 'er 'ead about a future and then running away at some point down the road when it all becomes too much. It's all or it's nothing. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand, and I can assure you that…that I'm here for Lily, irrespective of what she may or may not be able to do."
"Right then," Tom stepped back and nodded. "I'm glad we understand each other then. If you don't mind, I'll go and see 'ow my daughter is this morning."
Left alone once more in the corridor, Siegfried found himself sinking back down into the chair, his whole body shaking at the confrontation, such as it had been, For the other man to have seemingly recognised his own fears and seen fit to comment on then...
"I am committed to Lily," he whispered to himself. "I love Lily. I will never leave Lily, never, not for anything."
