29 June 1937

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"What, go to church? Why wouldn't I?"

"Well…" her father stepped up behind her as she stood in from of the mirror. "You haven't been anywhere since you got back 'ere and I just assumed…"

"That I didn't want to see anyone?"

"Well…"

"I can't hide up here forever, can I?" She finished fixing her hat and looked at herself critically. Since her conversation with Tristan, she had had much to mull over, not least what he had suggested about her being cruel to Siegfried. There had been so much more than she had wanted to say, had her father not put paid to the conversation when he had. If she was planning to stay in Darrowby, and she was still unsure as to what her plans would be, she would have to confront Siegfried at some point. He had questions to answer too, such as why he had chosen not to come after her. Perhaps seeing him first, in public, was the best way to start that process. "How do I look?"

"Very well lass, as always."

"You're biased."

"Yes, I suppose I am. Come on then, if you're coming. We don't want to be late."

"I doubt Reverend Thwaite has changed that much in five years," she commented, following him into the yard and climbing into the van. "I would have thought he'd be about ready to retire."

"Reckon they'll have to take him out that church in a box," Tom replied, as they made their way down the track to the main road. "He's a good age now, mind you."

As they made the familiar journey towards the village, she looked out of the window, a thousand emotions running through her. Everything looked exactly the same and, for a brief moment if she closed her eyes, it felt as though the last five years had never happened. Except, they had. She wasn't the same person she had been when she had fled.

Her father parked and she alighted from the van into the morning sunshine. The church bells were tolling, and people were milling about, most of whom she recognised. She couldn't fail to miss those looking curiously at her, no doubt wondering where she had been for so long and why she had chosen to come back. Perhaps they were talking about other, more intimate things. Despite what Tristan had said about no-one knowing she had once been with child, she couldn't help but think him somewhat naïve. Surely something like that would have gotten around the village somehow.

Dutifully, she followed her father inside and took a seat next to him near the back, her eyes scanning the pews for the sight of a familiar face, the turn of a head, the glint of an eye. Somewhat to her dismay, he was nowhere to be seen and she gazed down at the words in her hymn book, finding it so odd that someone she hadn't seen for so long was now the only person she wanted to see.

Reverend Thwaite certainly hadn't changed that much in five years, though if anything had grown worse and even more monotone and deathly dull as he always had been. She was gratefully relieved when he pronounced the benediction and they rose to make their way outside again. Once more, she looked for him and, once more, was left wanting.

"Lily?"

The sound of a familiar voice caused her to turn. "Audrey," she greeted the other woman. "It's lovely to see you."

"And you," Mrs Hall replied, though her eyes were not quite as warm as they had once been and she made no move towards offering an embrace. "I 'eard you were back."

"Yes, a few weeks now."

"Planning on staying?"

"I'm…not sure as yet." An awkward silence descended and, for something to say, she cast her eyes around. "I was looking for…"

"Mr Farnon?"

The words were said quietly, without malice, and yet she could tell there was a multitude of feeling behind them. "Yes, I suppose so."

"He got called away on account of a sickly sow."

"Oh, well I suppose that's understandable." She shifted uncomfortably. "I…does he…?"

"'e knows you're back."

"I…erm…" she fought for the right words, to say what she wanted to say within the confines of what was appropriate for who she was talking to. "Tristan came to see me the other day."

Mrs Hall's eyebrows raised in surprise, "Did 'e now? 'e never said."

"He wanted to tell me…I don't know…he wanted to ask me about why certain things had been done and…and…" she broke off, as Mrs Hall stepped forward and touched her arm gently.

"I reckon that's a conversation you're best placed to 'ave with Mr Farnon, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose so. Do you…do you think he would come up to Windy Hill?"

Mrs Hall paused, "No, I suspect not."

"Oh."

"Only on account of your father telling 'im that 'e must never set foot on 'is land again."

The revelation stunned her, "What? But…"

"I don't know any more of it than that," Mrs Hall said, glancing quickly over her shoulder. "But I think you'd be better meeting somewhere other than Windy Hill." She paused. "Why not come for supper one evening?"

"Oh, no…I don't think that would be a good idea," she replied, the thought of them all sat around the table, staring at her, almost more than she could bear. No, it had to be just her and Siegfried. If they were going to talk about anything, resolve anything, that was the way it had to be. "Maybe you could…well…suggest that he meets me?"

"Where?"

She opened her mouth to suggest the crossroads and then closed it again. That had been the last time she had seen him, when she had told him about her miscarriage, begged him to leave Darrowby with her and then walked away when he had refused. It was almost too painful a place to revisit, mentally or physically. "The churchyard."

"The churchyard?"

"Yes," she nodded. "It's perhaps somewhere where we'd be able to speak privately…"

"I understand," Mrs Hall nodded. "I'll suggest it to him."

"Thank you. Perhaps…tomorrow morning, ten o'clock?"

"I'll tell him."

Mrs Hall squeezed her arm again before turning and walking away and she found herself almost quite exhausted by the encounter. When she had been making the journey home, she had thought about seeing Siegfried again, thought about what they might say to one another and yet, she found herself surprised at how speedily she had tried to arrange matters. What would he think when the other woman put the suggestion to him? Would he want to meet her? Had he any desire to see her again? Did he think as ill of her as she imagined him to?

"You ready lass?" her father's voice broke into her thoughts and she turned to face him, a smile painted onto her face.

"Yes, let's go."

XXXX

"I have no desire to see her."

"Mr Farnon…"

"Mrs Hall, I appreciate that you are merely the messenger and I have no wish to shoot you, but I think I've made myself perfectly clear."

"'ave you?"

"Yes. I don't see what else I could say to emphasise my point." He paused for a moment, taking in her arched eyebrow and knew was she was thinking. "I understand why you might consider it a commendable idea to meet but…I have no wish to reopen that wound."

"Tristan's been to see 'er."

"I rather suspected he had. He threatened to, though he never told me if he had carried through or not."

"So?"

"So, what?"

"So, aren't you even a little bit curious?"

"Why should I be? She can't possibly be the same person she was when she left here. She's been living in London for five years without so much as a letter or…or anything…" he broke off and shook his head. "It was made perfectly clear to me when she left that she had no wish to encounter me again. I have moved on with my life, much as she has hers, and I see no reason to revisit the past."

"Closure, then."

"I don't require closure." He turned away. "If you'll excuse me, I've correspondence to attend to. Perhaps you would be good enough to call me when lunch is ready." Before she could reply, he turned and hurried away from her into his study, to the familiar organised chaos that abounded on his desk. There he could pretend to focus on one thing whilst focusing entirely on another.

When Mrs Hall had returned from church and told him that Lily had been there, he had felt a familiar pang of pain in his chest, realising how close she had been. In five years, he had learned to harness that pain, to push it away and not give it light or sound or thought. But now that she walked the streets, the hills, the dales of his home, he couldn't help but let it run rampant through his body. He had wanted to ask her what she looked like now. Whether her hair was still as fiery, her eyes still as blue, her body still as…

He shook his head and lifted the first bill that sat on the desk in front of him, the words and figures swimming before his eyes. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. The carefully crafted essence of his life was slowly shifting, dissolving under him like sand. He tried to think of others that he had some care for…Dorothy…Diana…and yet, neither of them, no-one, held a candle to her.

Except Evelyn.

He lifted her picture, the one that always sat on the left hand side of his desk and studied it. If only she had lived, things would have been so different in so many ways. Lily would have been inconsequential to him. Likely, he would never have laid eyes on her. He paused. What would Evelyn want him to do now? Five years ago, he would have said that she would have wanted him to marry Lily, to make her mistress of the house, to have children with her, to be happy. Had she been watching him over the last five years shaking her head at his lack of courage?

Placing the picture back down, he busied himself as best as he could until Mrs Hall called them to the table for lunch. Returning to the kitchen, he saw that James and Tristan had arrived and he lowered himself into his chair in silence as they chattered around him, doing his level best to avoid Mrs Hall's gaze.

"I nipped into the Drovers earlier," Tristan said suddenly, helping himself to roast beef.

"You do surprise us," James quipped.

"Maggie said that there were whispers flying around due to Lily attending church this morning."

He paused for a long moment, before lifting his gaze to meet his brother's. Tristan's expression was somewhat cocky, determined, as though he intended saying his piece, yet again. "Mrs Hall told me that she had seen her there," he replied.

"Looking very well, by all accounts."

"Well, you've already seen her yourself, haven't you?"

"I went to Windy Hill, yes."

"After I told you not to?"

"You can't dictate where I go or who I speak to."

"No, I suppose not."

Tristan paused for a long moment, "Siegfried…"

"Whatever you're going to say, I wish you wouldn't!"

"Why not? Why won't you listen to me for once!"

"Perhaps I would if you had anything worth hearing!"

"How can you say that?" Tristan said. "This is Lily we're talking about."

"Yes, and I rather wish we weren't!"

"But…"

"Tris…" Mrs Hall broke into the conversation. "It might be best to leave things be. Your brother's made his decision and that should be it. 'e doesn't want to see Lily again and that's 'is choice."

"But in a few days, she could be gone and you'll never get the chance to ask her why she left you the way she did! You'll never hear her explain why she was so cruel to you, though she seemed rather confused at the notion when I said to her…"

"When you said what to her?"

"I said to her that I couldn't understand how she could be so cruel to you. I told her that she had broken your heart but that it was no more your fault than her own and why should you be the subject of her vitriol…"

"You had no right saying any of that!" he threw his napkin down onto the table and glared at his brother. "Who do you think you are, opining on what I may or may not feel about the matter?!"

"Someone had to, seeing as you won't."

"This is no-one's business but mine! Whether I see her or not is up to me, not any of you!" Pushing his chair back from the table he stalked back into the hallway, Jess at his heels. Why was everyone so hellbent on telling him what he should and shouldn't be doing? Didn't they have enough going on in their own lives without interfering in the intimacies of his?

Jess nudged his hand gently and so he opened the front door and headed out into the warm sunshine, a furry companion at his heels.

30 June

Finding a plausible excuse to give her father as to why she wanted to go back into the village had proved more difficult than she had thought. He had picked up all the essentials they had needed a few days prior and so shopping for food would have aroused suspicion. In the end, she simply told him that she wanted to spend some time just wandering around the village, taking in the familiar sights and perhaps doing some window shopping. He hadn't seemed entirely convinced, but he hadn't objected, and so she had set out on the familiar walk, her spirits lifted somewhat by the glorious weather.

As she walked, she replayed over and over in her mind what she would say to Siegfried if he should choose to meet her. She wanted to come across as open, friendly, non-judgemental. No doubt he had his reasons for choosing not to follow her or make any attempt to seek her out over the last five years, and she knew that she would have to accept whatever he said with good grace. After all, she had been the one to leave so abruptly in the first place. If he was angry about that, she supposed that she couldn't really blame him.

Approaching the village, she stopped and stepped into the telephone box, carefully lifted a letter from her bag as she did so, her eyes skimming over the contents. It still seemed so unreal to her, that so much had changed in such a short space of time. She knew that she would have to make a decision one way or the other shortly, but she had no clue which way to go. Poor Peter. She wondered if he had known what angst he would cause within her, making the choice that he had. She lifted the receiver and then replaced it again, pushing open the door and stepping back outside. It was perhaps too much to ask of herself to give deep thought to two important issues on the same day.

Various people greeted her as she walked, some with genuine affection, others more out of curiosity. Some didn't acknowledge her save looking at her. It made her want to scream. What did they know of her life, truly know of it? Nothing.

All of a sudden, she paused as Skeldale House loomed in front of her. She hadn't meant to go this way, preferring to take the slightly longer route that avoided the square and brought her to the far end of the churchyard. Sense dictated that she just keep walking, that she go past the house as though it was of no concern to her. But then she remembered a day, long ago yet not unlike this day, when she had walked past the house, the door had opened…and there he had been, looking frazzled as he searched for a lost rabbit.

Turning on her heel, she retraced her steps back around the edge of the square and away from the memories.

XXXX

"There you go Mrs Harris; she'll be as good as new in no time."

"Thank you, Mr Farnon. She is such a comfort to me, is Molly."

"Yes, cats can be very loving creatures. I would just keep her away from the rubbish bins in the future, if you can. That way we can avoid her needing a repeat visit."

"I'll do my best, Mr Farnon, thank you."

He watched as the elderly lady let herself out of the house, clutching her beloved moggie to her. It was moments like those which never failed to remind him why he had picked the profession he had. Seeing owners so happy when their pet was made well again was worth all the inevitable stress and struggle.

"Mrs 'arris quite 'appy then?" Mrs Hall said, coming out of the living room, dust cloth in hand.

"Yes, now that's Molly's right as rain."

"Good, well you've got time for a little stroll then, haven't you?"

"A little stroll?"

"Yes, to the churchyard. It's almost ten o'clock."

He glanced at the clock on the wall, not that he needed reminding of the time. "Yes, so it is."

"And?"

"And…I believe I could use a cup of tea before our next patient."

She glanced around the empty hallway. "I don't see any more patients."

"Yes, well they may still come."

"Tristan can deal with them."

"I thought he wasn't here."

"'e got back about ten minutes ago. 's sat in the kitchen drinking tea 'imself. I'm sure 'e wouldn't mind covering for you for a bit."

He felt his mouth go dry. In the last twenty-four hours, all he had thought about was Lily. Walking with Jess, reading, eating dinner, laying in bed…he felt so utterly torn. What on earth would he even say to her if he saw her? Would he, in fact, be capable of speech at all?

"Mrs Hall…"

"Mr Farnon," she fixed him with her steeliest look. "I've kept my counsel these last few years. I never questioned your decision not to follow Lily because I knew that it weren't my place. But I've also watched how you've been since the day she left. I know things were said and actions completed but…" she sighed. "Pride trips us all up, if we let it."

The clock started chiming the hour.