5 March 1932
Three Weeks Later
Her sourness knew no bounds. Every day she felt worse and worse, weighted down with the inability to move and the fact that she needed to rely on someone else for the most basic task, in particular, her toileting needs. She imagined it was akin to being a child again, back in time when she had still worn nappies only now, she was aware of her own shortcomings. Every time she needed assistance, she felt useless. She was twenty-seven years old and destined for a life of…well…what exactly? Lying in a bed or sitting in a chair?
Every night, hot tears would pool in her eyes and her throat would become choked with emotion to the point where she couldn't help but wish that her airway would just close up in the night and prevent her waking again. But morning after morning, her eyes opened on the same view of the room and the other people in it and, morning after morning, she felt the same crushing weight of despair.
"'ow are you this morning?" Mary asked pleasantly as she brought her some breakfast. Lily eyed the other woman mistrustfully, aware that no difference had been made in her care since her outburst weeks earlier and wondering what the other woman's motivation was. Was she simply doing her job, or did she have designs on Siegfried and he on her? She chose not to reply to Mary and lifted the spoon wedged in the lumpy porridge. There was certainly little compliment she could give to the food.
"I'll come and give you a bed bath once you've 'ad your breakfast," Mary said, as though they were having a conversation. "That'll make you feel better."
"Will it now?" she replied quietly. "I'm glad you're so sure."
Mary paused, "Come on Lily, you're doing well."
"I can't walk. On what possible reasoning can you found that I'm doing well?" She glared at the woman beside her bed, at her youth and litheness, her vitality. All things that any man, including Siegfried, couldn't help but be attracted to. For that, she felt so very jealous and so completely inadequate. "You're just saying that."
"Well, part of my job is to try and make you feel better," Mary said gently.
"Well, you can't, can you? Nobody can."
"Your young man could, surely?"
Lily looked at her again, thinking it somewhat ridiculous that a woman her own age would refer to Siegfried as her 'young man,' The phrase was more akin to what an older woman would say and, in any event, what did it have to do with her? "I don't 'ave a young man."
"Mr Farnon then."
"'e's not mine, not anymore."
"Lily…"
"Ah, good morning Miss Bailey." They were interrupted by Dr Campbell, the young, good-looking doctor who had greeted her upon her arrival and overseen her care ever since. He approached her bed with a wide smile. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"As always," she replied.
"Good, good," he said, as though she had said she couldn't have been in better health. "I have some news for you. I know you feel that you've made little progress since you've been here and I can only apologise for that..."
"I've made no progress here," she interrupted acerbically. "So much for this being a better place than the hospital in York. You all appear to have forgotten about me."
"I can understand your frustration, which is why I think I may have a solution." He sat down in the chair beside her bed. "There is a unit in Bexley where I feel you would be able to receive the one-to-one care and attention that you need in order to give you the optimum chance of a full recovery."
"Bexley?" She blinked. "Where's that then?"
"It's on the outskirts of London."
"London? You're going to send me to London?"
"It's an option for you," Dr Campbell said, "but not one that you have to accept if you don't want to."
"What's my other option, stay 'ere?"
"No, but you could return home."
She paused, thinking on this possibility. On the one hand, the familiarity of home might be what she needed but, on the other, how would she possibly manage in an old farmhouse with narrow doorways and steep stairs? On that front, her options did, in fact, seem rather limited. "I wouldn't be able to manage at 'ome, not like this."
"No, I agree. Which is why I think the unit in Bexley would be ideal. It's in an altogether lovely setting, near the sea."
"'ow would I get there?"
"Transportation would be arranged," he assured her. "There would be some cost involved, but no greater than that which has already been paid for your treatment here."
London…it seemed so far away and yet perhaps that was just what she needed. To be somewhere different, away from the prying eyes of people who knew her and had some sort of vested interest in the outcome of her recovery. In Bexley, she could be someone completely different. No-one need know that she was the plaid farmer's daughter from Darrowby who had once thought herself above her station.
"If my father agrees," she said slowly, "then I'll go."
Dr Campbell smiled and patted her arm gently. "I think it's for the best, Lily, I really do. I can make the arrangements for next week."
When he had left, Mary turned to her again. "Would you like me to arrange a telephone call to Mr Farnon?"
The darkness descended over her again. "No," she said, pulling the blanket tighter around her. "'e doesn't need to know."
XXXX
"How is she?"
"How is who?" Siegfried asked, though he knew full well to whom his brother was referring.
"You know exactly who I mean," Tristan replied tightly. "I'm talking about Lily, your fiancée, the love of your life. How is she?"
He paused momentarily, fighting down the lump in his throat. "I wouldn't know."
"What do you mean, you wouldn't know? Haven't you seen her?"
"Not since she told me to leave her alone, no."
"But that was weeks ago!"
"Three weeks, to be precise."
"Siegfried…" Tristan sighed. "And you're just going to give up, are you?"
"I'm not in the business of forcing my company on those who don't wish it. Lily has made her feelings perfectly clear."
"And what if those feelings have changed in the last three weeks, only she hasn't been able to tell you because you haven't bothered to go near her?"
"Tristan, I appreciate what you're trying to do…"
"Do you?"
"Yes, but I really wish you would mind your own business when it comes to my relationship with Lily. Ever since we first met you've done nothing but stick your nose in where it's not wanted. I thank you to just leave it alone!" He let out a long breath.
"Fine."
"Now, did you call about anything in particular or just to harass me?" There was a long silence at the other end of the telephone, and, for a moment, he thought Tristan had hung up.
"No, I only called to see how you all were, but clearly any concern I had for either you or Lily was misplaced. Goodbye brother."
"Tristan…" the phone went dead before he could say anything further and he found himself slamming down the receiver in frustration. Tristan had a terrible knack of picking up on his own feelings and twisting them until they hurt. Of course he had wondered about Lily; had thought of little else but here since her vicious dismissal of him, but part of him still held his pride. There seemed little use in going to her, cap in hand, and hoping that her mood had improved. There was only so much rebuke a man could take.
"Have you got your list?" Mrs Hall said, as he ventured into the kitchen where the morning coffee had just been brewed. "I left it for you on the side."
"Yes, I've got it," he replied, thinking of all the calls he needed to make that afternoon and dreading every single one. To a man, every customer would ask about Lily and he would be forced to make up some platitude so that didn't all think he was some sort of rogue for having seemingly abandoned her. If only they all knew the viciousness of her tongue.
"Should keep you busy then."
"Yes, it should."
Mrs Hall paused, stirring the milky liquid in her cup. "I were planning to go and see Lily this afternoon. Tom said he thought she could do with some cheering up. There doesn't seem to have been much improvement on the mobility front."
"I'm sure she'll be glad of your company," he replied, realising that she was attempting to lure him down a road of conversation he felt no desire to travel. "Do give her my best."
"I will." She paused. "You could always…"
"I'm sorry, Mrs Hall, but as you said I have a full list, so I'd better get on." Scraping his chair back from the table, he lifted his cup and strode out of the kitchen and into the surgery, pointedly closing the door behind him and breathing in deeply the familiar scent of the place he felt most at home. He had no wish to hear his housekeeper's platitudes or suggestions as to what he should do or how he should act. He had to make his own decisions, and, at that moment, he decided to work.
XXXX
"You've got colour in your cheeks."
Lily glanced sideways at Mrs Hall and then looked away. "'ave I."
"Yes, you do," the other woman said, making a show of smoothing down the bedcover. "You look far better than you did the last time I were 'ere."
"I'm glad for you." There was a moment of silence and Lily found herself hoping against hope that she would be left alone. She had no desire to make small talk about the village or local events or people she cared nothing for. As for the people she did care for…well, she had no desire to talk about them either.
"Lily love…" Mrs Hall sat forwards. "I do wish you would change your mind about Mr Farnon."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Of course you do. That man loves you more than anything in this world and you shutting him out like this is hurting him far more than he would ever let on. I can appreciate how difficult things must be for you right now…"
The absurdity of her words brought Lily up sharp. It never ceased to amaze her how many people felt themselves qualified to opine on her predicament, people who clearly had no idea of how it felt to be so broken. "You've got no bloody idea," she said viciously. "No bloody idea at all! You can walk on your own two legs, Audrey! You can still do everything you were ever born to do! You 'ave no idea what it's been like for me these last few weeks, no idea at all!"
"Maybe not," Mrs Hall said quietly, "maybe you're right. All I can say is what I see and Mr Farnon…"
"Mr Farnon can 'ave 'is pick of any woman in Darrowby!"
"Perhaps so, but 'e wants you."
"Well, I don't want 'im, not anymore." She turned to look out of the window again, fighting back the tears. "I don't need 'is pity."
"Pity? It's not pity, Lily Bailey, it's love! Mr Farnon wants to be there for you, wants to take care of you…"
"I don't want 'im to take care of me," she retorted. "That's not 'ow it was supposed to be between us! I want us to be able to do all the things we did before; go out on rounds together, work together in the surgery, go riding at Hulton Hall, make love…" she broke off, suddenly aware of who else could hear their conversation, not to mention the fact that she had just divulged the secret only the two of them had shared. If Mrs Hall was scandalised by her comments, she did her best not to show it. When Lily chanced to look at her again, she was simply watching her impassively. "I want things to be as they were before, and they can't be."
"I don't think you're being fair to Mr Farnon."
"Don't you."
"No, I don't. You 'ave to let 'im make 'is own decisions, Lily, not make them for 'im. Things might be different from 'ow you 'ad planned them, but if 'e still loves you and still wants to marry you then surely it's not for you to put 'im off."
Lily paused, "Well where is 'e then?"
Mrs Hall frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Where is 'e? 'e 'asn't been 'ere for weeks now! If 'e's still so much in love with me, why 'asn't 'e come back?!" She knew she was being unreasonable, but part of her was curious as to how the other woman would react.
"Because you told 'im to stay away."
"Well then, 'e can't love me that much, can 'e? If 'e did, 'e would 'ave fought 'arder." She plucked at a thread on the duvet. "Anyway, it won't matter after next week."
"'ow do you mean?"
"I'm going away."
"Away where? Are you going 'ome to Windy Hill?"
"No."
"Well, where then?"
"I'm going to London."
"London?" Mrs Hall exclaimed.
"Bexley, to be precise."
"Where's that then?"
"It's on the outskirts of London, near the sea," she said the words authoritatively, as though she had researched herself rather than simply been told. "And I'll be able to 'ave one to one care, better than I'm getting 'ere."
"Well…" Mrs Hall sat back in her chair. "If it 'elps you walk again…"
"If it does."
"They wouldn't be suggesting you go if they didn't think it would, surely?"
"Well, I don't know, do I?" she replied irritably. "I can only go on what Dr Campbell says and 'e says I should go."
Mrs Hall paused for a long moment and Lily found herself looking at her curiously, knowing with growing certainty what she was going to say next and how she could counter it. "Mr Farnon will miss you terribly."
She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. "'e'll get over it and, besides, I don't want you to tell 'im."
"What?"
"I don't want you to tell im, Audrey, it's not your place. Promise me you won't say anything."
"Lily, 'ow can I go back to Skeldale House knowing this and not…"
"Please!" she reached out and took the other woman's hand. "Please don't tell 'im. I…I'll tell 'im myself, I will. I just…I don't want it to come from you, please."
Mrs Hall paused and then nodded. "All right, I won't say anything if that's what you want." She squeezed Lily's hand. "Does that mean that you'll see 'im, Mr Farnon?"
Lily turned her head away, "Yes," she lied. "I'll see 'im."
XXXX
"Well, they look far better than they did before," Siegfried said as he looked out across the fields at the flock of grazing sheep. "Your lambing is going well, I understand?"
"Oh aye," George Sharp said, "very well."
"And there haven't been any other signs of listeriosis?"
"No, none."
"Well, that's good." He closed his bag with a click. "Obviously, should you have any other problems, all you have to do is contact the surgery."
"Yes, of course," George shifted nervously. "I 'ope you understand why I 'aven't called you before now, Mr Farnon."
"I have no idea what you mean, George."
"I mean…well…the fact that I went to Paddy Trotter the last time. I didn't want you to think that…well…"
"You're entitled to consult whomever you choose." He turned back towards his car, George following him. "But I am grateful for your continued custom."
"It's just…well…I feel bad, about what 'appened to Lily. The fact that she 'ad 'er accident on 'er way back from 'ere and…"
"Think nothing on it," Siegfried said quickly, tossing his case into the back seat. "No-one blames you George, least of all me." He felt the familiar tightening in his chest whenever he allowed himself to think on the circumstances of what had happened and the part he had played in it.
"I shouldn't 'ave let 'er come."
"Well, none of us can control another person, can we? Lily's her own woman."
"'ow is she? I 'eard she's still in 'ospital."
"She's…doing as well as can be expected," he replied, unwilling to get into a deeper discussion. "I'll make sure and pass on your best wishes."
"Please do," George said earnestly. "I look forward to 'aving 'er back up 'ere with you at some point soon."
"Indeed. Goodbye now." As he turned out of George's yard and made the familiar turning towards Windy Hill, he couldn't help but wish that the other man had never mentioned Lily. Pushing her from his mind as much as he could during the day was the only way he felt he knew how to survive and his weekly visit to the farm had already been weighing on him. The sun came out from behind a cloud as the car climbed the hill and he found Tom in the yard when he pulled in.
"Siegfried," he greeted him.
"Tom."
"'ow are you?"
"As well as can be expected," he replied, aware he had given the same answer to George about Lily. It felt the most appropriate phrase to use. "You?"
"Fine," Tom replied. "I'm going to see 'er this evening."
"Good." He paused, wondering if he should ask Lily's father to pass on his best wishes and then thinking better of it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a brown envelope and passed it over. "This should be enough to cover the next few weeks."
Tom paused before taking it from him. "I appreciate your assistance, Siegfried, especially given Lily's attitude at the moment."
"Yes, well…" he looked out across the horizon before them. "I suppose it's the least I can do to assist in the circumstances. I appreciate that her continued care is expensive and, given my role in what happened and…my behaviour in the immediate aftermath."
"Least said about that the better," Tom said, holding out his hand for Siegfried to shake. "As agreed, I won't tell 'er about your contribution."
"No, best not to." He stepped back towards the car. "I still have some calls to make so, best I get on."
"Take care Siegfried."
"And you." He got back into the car and quickly turned out of the yard and headed back down the hill. It was almost four o'clock and he still had two calls to pay, one to the Rudds' and one to the Calverts'. The welcome would likely be warmer at the former, but he wasn't sure if he could stand the sympathy that Dick and Linda would heap upon him. At least any comment Mrs Calvert might make would be laced with enough cynicism as to avoid pulling at his own deeper emotion. Pausing at the bottom of the road, he turned towards the Calvert farm. Leaving the Rudds until last would mean he could make an excuse of needing to get home in time for dinner.
And he could simply hope that no-one else mentioned Lily.
