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Chapter Text

Friday, 7 February 1941

Audrey stepped off of the local bus and waited to the side for her travel companion to exit. An injury to his leg in the Great War caused Gerald Hammond to move a bit more slowly in some situations, and leaving the bus was one such time. But injury or no injury, once on solid ground, he was ever the gentleman and reached down to pick up the overnight bag Audrey had placed on the ground at her feet.

"I can carry it, Gerald," she protested gently.

"I know, but I'd rather you not have to." He pointed across the way and smiled. "There's a tea room right there, near to the station. Since we're here early, we can stop in for awhile after you've secured your ticket."

She tried to politely refuse. "Oh, Gerald, th..." but barely started when Gerald accidentally spoke over her. 

"I know they won't be offering as much these days, what with the war and all, but it would still be nice for us to have a chance to catch up with one another."

"That's very kind of you, Gerald, but there's no need. I don't want to take up so much of your time. You've already brought me to the station. I can wait for the train on me own." 

Her mind returned to several days earlier and a conversation with Helen.

"Are you sure you should go, Aud? He may see it as a second chance with you if you travel out there." Helen's words had been full of concern, but Audrey had been sure there would be no opportunity for him to get any such ideas. She'd barely have time for the funeral services before needing to return to the station to catch a train home again. But that was before her train home was cancelled. Before she'd had to stay over yet another night at the local inn. Before he'd shown up early in the morning at said inn to accompany her on the short bus ride to the train station.

"You did me a kindness attending Lillian's services," he insisted. "I'd like the chance to do a kindness for you in return."

She gave a small smile, and not seeing any gracious way out of it, agreed. "That'll be lovely, then. Thank you."

"Let's see to your ticket first, and then we can walk over." Gerald set off, his step lighter now, and Audrey followed, despite Helen's words still echoing in her head.

The two entered the first door they came to, which opened at the end of the waiting area furthest from the ticket window. Looking around, Audrey saw the space was quite crowded due to both the weather and most likely other travellers who had their plans cancelled yesterday. As she scanned the room for a place where Gerald could sit and wait for her, her eyes fell upon two small children huddled on a bench in the opposite corner of the room from where she and Gerald stood. They looked to be very young to her, and both were crying or whimpering to some degree. To Audrey's discomfort, there seemed to be no one around caring for them.

"Audrey? Audrey, we should get in the line before it gets any longer. Audrey?" It took a moment for Gerald's voice to register with her, her attention so fully captured by the little ones.

Looking to her side, she saw Gerald, bag in hand, gesturing towards the lengthy line for the ticket counter, a puzzled look on his face. "I'm sorry, Gerald. I were distracted. Do you see the children in the back of the room?"

Gerald could see several children in the waiting room but was confused as to why any of them would matter to himself or to Audrey. "Which children?"
  
"Cuddled up together in the corner across from us. The little one's crying, and the older girl looks close to crying herself." Before Gerald could even be sure he'd spotted the children in question, Audrey continued in a worried voice. "And there's no adult with them!"

"I'm sure their mother is off buying tickets as well and just left them for a moment."

"You're probably right," Audrey assented, though it still tugged at her heart to see them so upset. She cast one more look over her shoulder as she and Gerald made their way to the ticket line. While waiting, she periodically looked back again, craning to see over the crowd or around people taller than she. And each time her eyes found the children, they were still alone.

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"Audrey, this is silly," Gerald murmured under his breath, hoping to keep their conversation from being heard by those around them. 

Audrey stopped dead and looked at him with a level of displeasure he had never before seen her cast his way. "I am not being silly. I am being concerned," she hissed at him under her breath. "They've been alone the entire time we've been here." 

Audrey's return ticket procured; she and Gerald had made their way past the line at the window and back to the closer door. Gerald had been pleased to see that the weather continued to be as pleasant as one could expect for this time of year, so that they could still walk over to the tea room. But before he could escort her out to the platform, she veered over towards the indoor seating area instead and started looking towards the back corner of the room once more. Finding them still alone, she became intent upon inserting herself into the situation, and Gerald was doing his very best to dissuade her.

"We've not been here that very long, Audrey. I'm sure they'll be fine."

"We've already been here too long for children that young to be alone, Gerald. The girl is too young to even attend school."

Gesturing to the crowded room and ticket line, Gerald once again tried to convince her that whoever was minding them was likely held up due to how busy it was at the station, but Audrey would not be deterred. 

"Their mother likely got delayed, Audrey. It's very busy here. They say trains are very crowded these days. The tea room may be busy as well. We really should walk over now while we still have time." He hooked an arm around hers and attempted to take a step towards the open door.

Audrey, however, stood firm. "Maybe she left them one place and they moved, and now she can't find them." 

Gerald was feeling frustrated. "There's no reason to believe that's the case. I'm sure she'll be here soon. There's no need to fret. They're in a warm, safe spot. Just the sort of place a mother might tell her children to stay to wait for her."

Audrey removed his arm from her own. "I'm going to go check on them."

Shoulders slumped, Gerald looked down a moment as if the floor might have the answers to his problems. "Audrey, we're not going to have time for tea if we don't move along soon."

But while time for tea was of the highest priority for Gerald, Audrey was no longer placing importance on anything but the children. "I need to know they're all right."

Gerald spoke gently, hoping to make her see sense. "Audrey, they're not your responsibility." Once again, he chose the wrong thing to say.

"Those children need someone to make them their responsibility, and no one else seems to be volunteering." She drew her arm across the room in a semi-circle gesture, indicating the numerous people filling the waiting area and platform beyond.

Gerald realised two things. Firstly, they were not going to be visiting the local tea room, and secondly, nothing he said was going to stop her from making the children her problem. 

Several months apart had given him time to contemplate both his relationship with Audrey as well as the woman herself. And he could chalk this moment up to a pattern he had noticed in retrospect. She could effortlessly sweep up any mess or disaster at Skeldale House without showing the slightest bit of fluster, but anything else unexpected in life seemed to draw overly emotional responses from her. In such a moment, one could hardly sway her, but, inevitably, and this he knew keenly from experience, given a bit of time after said event or incident, she'd regain some degree of rational thought and end up regretting her actions or decisions. At first this habit seemed to work in his favour, but he came to learn that the crash at the end when she changed her mind—be it about something as simple as a date or as important as an engagement—was painful enough to make you wish you had been more cautious when things seemed to suddenly be going your way.

He had wondered if it was something about him that made her behave so irrationally at times, and then pondered if it had more to do with her last relationship—both in the way that it had fallen apart and that it had been so long since. But her insistence in regards to these children appeared like a crack in his mental image of her as he tried to find an excuse for her current actions. Could it be blamed on the troubles she'd had with her son? Or was this simply a personality trait that no amount of reasoning away could ever change?

Nevertheless, he could at least attempt to thwart her from hurtling headlong into something she'd likely regret eventually, while simultaneously unravelling the plans he had been so happily anticipating. Caring for his sister had been difficult, losing her heartbreaking, and making it through the service exhausting. He had been glad when Audrey's train home yesterday was cancelled, making it necessary for her to stay at the local inn overnight and offering them this opportunity to spend some time together before she departed this morning. His luck seemed to be holding steady on the bad side, in that even those simple plans seemed to be falling to pieces. After everything he had gone through with his sister, suddenly having this small amount of time with Audrey felt like a long-deserved reward. A bit of sunshine after so much gloom. But now these children had arrived like unexpected rainclouds, threatening stormy times ahead.

"Audrey," he was nearly pleading by this point, well aware that this was his last chance. "We've the tearoom to visit, and you've a train to catch. If you go over to settle them, they may become upset again when you have to leave. Better to let an employee look into the situation—someone who will be here long enough to wait for their family to return to them."

"Those people have been here as long as we have and haven't even noticed them," she stubbornly retorted. 

"They haven't noticed because it's busy here and they all have their own responsibilities to see to. But if we say something to them, I'm sure they'll be happy to check on the children, and you can keep to your schedule."

Gerald's heart sank as he recognised Audrey's expression. She was about to say something she knew he wouldn't like to hear. "I'm sorry for causing us to miss tea, Gerald, but I need to check on them myself." She gave him a weak smile and a pat on the arm and started across the crowded waiting room.

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Gerald wasn't even sure how she ever noticed the children huddled up in the opposite side of the crowded room. He hadn't. He sighed and began to follow her, realising that he had just proved her point that no one else was paying them any attention. They were unremarkable-looking children, dressed as any others, appearing as any others, and of no concern of theirs, in Gerald's firm opinion. An opinion Audrey clearly didn't share. Between his limp and her concern-fueled walking speed, by the time he reached the far corner, Audrey was settled on the bench alongside the children, apparently deep in conversation already. However, as he reached the trio, it became apparent that only Audrey was speaking. Neither child responded at all. Audrey looked up at him with worry in her eyes. "Poor loves. I can't get a word from either of them."

"You need to let someone else take this over, Audrey," he reiterated softly. "This is not something you and I can solve."

"Will you go find someone, please? I hate to leave them alone again."

Gerald felt a bit of an affront at the idea of leaving the children with him would equal "leaving them alone" in her mind, but he held his tongue and set back off to weave his way through the ever-increasing number of people back to the line for the ticket counter, where he eventually explained the situation to the gentleman at the window. 

It was approximately twenty minutes before the local constable finally arrived, having been summoned by the station master, for whom Gerald had waited to be fetched as well. He was feeling relieved, both that he hadn't been left with the children for all of that time and that finally someone was here to take charge of all of this business. 

There was certainly no longer enough time to visit the tea room. And although he predicted that would be the case a good half hour ago, he still felt disappointed. He had been so looking forward to talking to Audrey again. But at least now, with things firmly in hand, he and Audrey could go find a spot to sit with a cup from the volunteers who were set up on the platform offering the hot beverage to weary travellers. And while not a traveller himself, Gerald was most assuredly feeling weary.

Arriving back, Gerald made the introductions and told Audrey that since the children were now in safe hands, the two of them could sit for a spell before her departure. He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when she ignored his suggestion and instead began speaking in earnest with the station master, a man by the name of Mr. Ellard. 

"Do you have any spare linens I can use? A towel or even some clean rags?" At the man's muddled stare, she explained, "The little one is wet through, and they don't seem to have any luggage with them, so I have no way to put him to rights. And perhaps something to wrap him in so he won't be cold? A blanket, or if you have any lost or left-behind items, even a garment a bit too large would be all right. I can launder the items and send them back in the post, of course." The station master hurried away to check, beckoning for Gerald to follow, leaving the constable with Audrey to sort out the more pressing problem.

Said gentleman explained to Audrey that they would need to contact other train stations up and down the line, any nearby children's homes and hospitals, and neighbouring police. There were still groups of refugee children being shuffled about the country, and some orphanages and schools sustained damage, and now those children had to be consolidated as well. It could take quite awhile, depending on whether or not any word of missing children was left anywhere. If they were part of a large travelling group or were left purposely, it could be a longer time before they made any headway. He asked Audrey what the children had to say about the situation, and she was forced to admit that despite her efforts, neither child had uttered a single word to her yet. 

"If they're not telling their names and they were abandoned, then identifying them may be impossible if they're not local, and most likely they wouldn't be left at a station close to home in that case." Audrey pressed her lips together, trying to digest the horrible idea of someone deliberately leaving the two children all alone. The constable, perhaps sensing her disapproval, continued. "It really is a good choice of place one could leave them, ma'am. It's warm, there are people about to take notice of them, and it's crowded enough for a parent walking away from them to go unnoticed. More and more families find themselves unable to care for their children in these times—men and oldest sons away—mothers left with only any older daughters and youngens. Rations don't help if you don't have the coin to pay in the first place. Parents get sick, or some just get sick in the head. But the number of calls about things like this is increasing."

The little girl had come against Audrey's side and was looking up at her with doleful eyes. Audrey placed a gentle hand on the little one's head and wished this conversation wasn't taking place right in front of the children in question. She guided the girl back to the bench and asked her to sit there for a moment and not move, promising that she would be able to see Audrey from her spot on the bench. Tears welled in the child's eyes, but she said nothing and obediently climbed back onto the bench. Audrey, filled with sympathy for the little one, gave her a quick hug and smile and pointed to where she would be. Returning to the constable, she drew him a few feet further away from the children, positioning herself so that she could see them while the two adults continued their conversation.

"What will happen to them right now while you're making all of those calls and waiting for responses?"

"I can't say for sure. We don't have any sort of home or whatnot here. I'll probably take them back to the office with me for now. Then, unless we get lucky and one of the close stations knows of them being missing, I'll call the vicar here and see if he knows of any families who might be willing to take one or both of them for a night or two. We'll probably have to keep moving them around so they don't burden the same family for long. Some families here have refugees still with them, or their own extended family members. Things are getting more difficult the more time goes by without an end to this war. It won't be easy finding places for two so young. Especially if they can't or won't speak. They're two mouths more to feed with no expected help from them to compensate. If none of that works out, then I suppose a hospital could take them until we arrange to send them off somewhere else." 

Audrey choked back her own emotions as she attempted to sound steady as she continued to speak to the constable. "What about me? Can they come home with me? I don't live local, but I can give you my telephone exchange, and you can ring once you've found owt about them. We had an evacuee with us, but she returned to family, so we have space again. And we don't mind about them not being able to help with chores and such. Then they won't have to keep being moved from one stranger to another—and they can stay together." 

The officer looked torn between an easy answer to his problem and the fact that she didn't live nearby. "Is that telephone in a box or inside a private residence?" 

"The residence. We have a veterinary practice in the house, so it's there to serve the business and the home." 

During her answer, Gerald had returned with some small scraps of old linens and a knit blanket and stood hovering awkwardly between the children and the adults. He was shocked when he overheard her use of the word "we" as if the house and surgery were hers and gobsmacked that she actually seemed to be considering bringing the children back to Darrowby—and Skeldale with her. 

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The constable soon appeared to have shook off any concern over the distance that would exist between himself and the children if they were to go to Darrowby and was instead seemingly accepting the unexpected salvation from having to take charge of two crying children on top of everything else he had on his plate. He started taking down all manner of information from Audrey. Her address, phone exchange, the names of everyone living in the home, including those off to war at present, as well as questions about the surgery and how it worked running the business from the residence. 

Gerald wondered if the man's detailed inquiries and note-taking were merely a cover for washing his hands of these crying, wet, lost little bundles of needs. And Audrey was falling it for it hook, line, and sinker. How could she possibly add caring for two small youngsters to the never-ending list of demands life at Skeldale already placed upon her? Especially now, with Mrs. Herriot relying on her to help with her baby as well? Gerald shook his head in silent disagreement with what was unfolding before him.

Promising to get back to her as soon as possible, the constable turned to leave. Gerald, hoping to stop this insanity, swooped in close to Audrey before she could return to the bench where the sniffling children sat waiting. "Audrey, you can't be serious?"

She sighed in disappointment that he was still so adamant in protesting about her offering assistance to the lost, lonely children. "I'll not leave them here to be moved from one place to another, Gerald. And perhaps not even together!" 

Gerald opened his mouth to say more, but Audrey cut him off. "Gerald, please, if you wish to help me for a few more moments, I'd appreciate it very much. But if you are going to keep trying to get me to change me mind, then it might be better for you to head home." 

Gerald was silent a moment, then asked in resignation what he could do to help. 

"Can you please take my ticket back to the window and see if there's any later train I can exchange it for?"

"Later train? They're advising people to travel as early in the day as possible."

"I don't mean an evening train, just one later than right now. I need to get them cleaned up before we board a train. Oh, and here." She opened her pocketbook, once again relieved that she had brought along more funding than she had anticipated needing. First the extra night at the inn, and now the extra train fare. "Can you also purchase passage for the children?" She handed him the money and smiled at him in true appreciation. She knew he didn't agree or understand any of this, yet he was willing to help. "Thank you, Gerald. Very much."

Her smile reminded him of why he had been so taken with her from the start. Yet still feeling it was his responsibility to try one last time to save her from herself, Gerald returned her smile with a half smile, half grimace. "Are you absolutely sure, Audrey? What will Mr. Farnon think? What of food and clothing? The children have no ration books. They have no possessions." 

"We'll find a way," she assured him.

Gerald frowned upon hearing that "we" again, as if she and Mr. Farnon were some sort of...unit. 

"Where will you put them? You said the new student is boarding with you now? And you have Mrs. Herriot and the baby upstairs. How will you work with these two under your feet?" 

"They can stay in my room with me, and I'll manage." She responded firmly, as if her desire to make it work was all that was required for this crazy scheme to actually become achievable.

Gerald felt more desperate than ever to make her see sense. "Mr. Farnon could refuse to take them in." Gerald lowered his voice to a tense whisper. "He didn't even want to keep an extra dog! These two are a bigger problem than a dog!"

She bit back the furious retort resting on the tip of her tongue, realising first that while she felt perfectly comfortable speaking her mind to Siegfried, she felt uneasy about putting Gerald in his place, and secondly that at some point she had started thinking of Mr. Farnon as "Siegfried" in the privacy of her own thoughts. 

Instead, in a similarly low voice, she tersely corrected, "They're children, not problems. And he'd never refuse to help children in need."
 
"But to take them in without his permission—you could lose your position doing something like this, Audrey!" 

"It'll be fine. We'll make it work. Please, Gerald, if you can take care of those tickets." She gestured back towards the children. "I don't want to leave the smaller one wet any longer."

"You keep speaking for Mr. Farnon as if you and he are the business partners instead of him and Mr. Herriot." He implored her to take his concerns seriously. "He's your employer, and he can tell you 'no', or even let you go."

"He may be my employer, but I know him and I know what kind of man he is. He will not refuse to help two children in need, Gerald."

Seeing he wouldn't get anywhere with her in regards to Mr. Farnon, Gerald changed tactics. "What if this constable never gets back to you? You've taken away his problem, so why should he bother looking for who they truly belong to?" He cringed a bit hearing himself refer to the children as 'problems' a second time.

But Audrey, still not wanting to start an argument, closed her eyes briefly and then replied matter of factly. "Because it's his job, and he said he would."

"People sometimes say they'll do a thing and then they don't do it, Audrey."

Her earlier hesitancy in speaking her full mind with the man dissipated like morning dew on a hot summer day, and she glared at him. "If there's summat you need to say to me that's not related to these children, then please say it, Gerald," she hissed at him, adding, "and quickly, because the longer we stand here bickering, the longer they sit there suffering!"

Gerald, who had honestly been thinking only of the constable when he spoke, groaned when it dawned on him that his words sounded very much like a sharp accusation towards the woman in front of him. "I didn't mean it like that, Audrey," he capitulated. "I truly didn't."

But Audrey was finished with the entire situation. The children were her only priority now, and she wouldn't continue to stand there wasting time on a useless quarrel. "Gerald, the tickets, please." She gave him a look that needed no interpretation—this conversation, as far as she was concerned, was over. 

She turned and walked back to the bench, where she sat down next to the children and started looking through the linens to sort out the younger child's situation before they needed to board whichever train they would be taking next. By the time Gerald sorted out the exchange and additional passengers and returned to the corner of the room, Audrey had a bundle, tied up in some of the rags she had been given, on the floor next to them. The younger child had finally ceased his crying and was sitting on her lap, a blanket wound around his bottom half, presumably over some sort of makeshift napkin.

He handed her the new tickets and her change and quietly inquired, "Is there anything else I can do before I go?"

Hesitant to keep him any longer, particularly if he were to start squabbling with her again, Audrey considered letting him go on his way, but despite not wishing to ask him another favour, she had just told herself she'd put the children first, and there was one more matter she needed to sort.

"I would like to bring this one to the toilets before the train journey," she mentioned quietly, pointing to the little girl. "I don't know how much assistance she'll need. I'm sure the three of us can figure it all out on our own, but if you're willing to stay with my things, that will at least free my hands to deal with the children. Or...", she trailed off.

He had a feeling he might regret asking, but as always he simply couldn't ignore that she wanted his help. "Yes?" he asked with some degree of trepidation.

"Do you think I might leave him here on the bench with you? We'd be done much sooner, I expect." She was already holding the girl's hand, ready to go.

Gerald nodded and watched as she murmured something to the little chap. The two boys on the bench watched the two girls set off to find the ladies'. The boy then looked up at Gerald, determining whether or not he found this turn of events acceptable. Gerald felt very much the same. He had no experience with children and certainly didn't know how to keep this particular child silent and stationary. As if reading Gerald's mind, the boy looked quickly away from him, started to scooch down and forward, then re-thought the move and flipped to his belly before sliding off the bench and to his little feet, his blanket kilt twisting and bunching during the maneuver.  Gerald, heaving a sigh at his predicament, quickly reached forward and captured the child under his arms, picking him up and placing him back on the bench. "You need to stay here." He tried to sound firm but not frightening. 

After a very short while, the little lad cast another sideways glance up at Gerald and started his scooting action a second time. This time Gerald hauled him back up immediately before he could leave the bench and issued a sterner. "No! You need to stay here."

Then, in a friendlier, hopeful voice, he added, "They'll be back soon. And you'll have Audrey back." He suddenly felt a bit of understanding for the little one. "I know she makes things better." 

The boy's face still wore a look of confusion, and he looked away again, but something in Gerald's tone must have assured him somewhat, because while he fidgeted something fierce, he did stay on the bench, and Gerald felt himself jumping up in relief when he eventually spotted Audrey and the girl winding their way back to their corner of the room.

"We're all done. How was he?" she asked, gesturing towards the boy. 

"He's fine. He didn't cry."

"I'm glad." She smiled and placed her hand on Gerald's arm. "Thank you for everything, Gerald. And again, I'm very sorry about Lillian." 

"Thank you. I appreciate you going to the trouble to attend the service. If you'd like, you can send me a note to let me know how all of this works out."

Audrey nodded and reached out to give Gerald a friendly hug as they exchanged "goodbyes."  She turned smiling to the children and suggested they too say "goodbye" to Mr. Hammond. The children merely stared warily as he gave a half-hearted wave and then left the trio to wait together for their train, feeling exhausted and concerned by how the morning had gone. 

He wondered if he would ever hear from Audrey again. He wondered if he ever were to visit Darrowby if he'd even still find her there after this. He shuffled across the room, barely mustering the energy to properly lift his feet, ruminating on how differently Audrey's trip to the Lakes had been to how he had imagined it just over six months earlier. It was time to close that door for good. And now Lillian's door was closed as well. As was the Darrowby one. It was a new life for him now. The start of a new journey in this still relatively new place. He tried to tell himself that it would be better going forward. And against his instinctual inclination, he left the station without turning back for one last glimpse of the woman he once briefly believed would be his wife.

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Siegfried Farnon entered the kitchen from the small entryway at the rear of the house. It had been a long but rewarding day, and while his body might be tired and a bit sore, his mind felt relaxed, and he was looking very much forward to coming home, cleaning up, having something warm to eat, then settling down for an evening by the fire with the radio playing something pleasant and a pipe and glass nearby.

He whistled a cheery tune as he crossed the threshold to the scullery and stopped abruptly when, to his surprise, he noticed two small children he did not recognise sitting at the kitchen table. There was no one else in the room.
  
"Why, hello there," he said softly. "I didn't know we were having visitors." Neither child said anything, so he pressed on. "I'm Siegfried. I know it's a funny name."

He smiled at the two bedraggled-looking youngsters. The little girl sat silently staring at him with solemn dark eyes. Her hair, a lighter shade of brown, hung limply upon her slight shoulders and looked slightly damp, as if she had had a recent bath or been caught in a rainstorm. The younger child, a boy with darker hair, its soft waves slightly dishevelled, was seated on an extra cushion added to the seat of his chair, with one of Audrey's pinnies wrapped around his middle and tied to the chair back to keep the tot from falling. The boy slowly lifted his hand and stuck a thumb in his mouth while staring straight down at the tabletop the entire time.

"Right then. I guess I'll wait for someone else to introduce us." He was about to join the children at the table when a sound from the other end of the room caught his attention. He took the few steps towards the partition nearest to the pantry and saw Helen Herriot exiting the small space, one arm tucked safely around Jimmy Herriot, and her other hand grasping a rectangular tin. "Oh, hello, Siegfried!" she greeted cheerfully, ignoring the two tiny elephants in the room.

"Helen." He smiled and raised his eyebrows in silent question. A question Helen opted not to answer as she set the tin on the table, then sat down across from the little girl, settling Jimmy against her as she worked to open the box, which Siegfried knew contained the very last of an apple cake Audrey had been trying to stretch as long as possible as her ability to keep baking new treats diminished with each new tightening of the rationing system.

"Helen?" he tried again. "Hel-len??"

"Yes, Siegfried?" She looked up at him briefly and blandly before bringing her attention back to her son and their small guests.

Siegfried sat right beside the new mother and shot her a look that would have caused any number of past assistants or housekeepers to quake in their boots. "Is there anything interesting happening here today?" He gave a jerk of his head towards the opposite side of the table where the children sat, still silent, still staring, although the current object of their interest was now clearly the tin.
  
But Helen was neither nervous assistant nor apprehensive housekeeper, so she merely continued on as she was, not even bothering to glance Siegfried's way as she answered. "You're going to need to ask Audrey about that."

"You can't give me even a clue?" He reached towards the tin, trying to see how much cake was still left, a move that had Helen shooting invisible daggers his way instead.
 
"Absolutely not." She cut the small remaining slice into two tiny slivers.

"Can I at least know their names? We only managed half an introduction so far." He winked at the children as if they were all in on the joke together.

"I'm serious, Siegfried—you need to talk to Audrey." She portioned out one sliver of cake onto two small plates and gently pushed one plate each towards the children. 

"And would you happen to know where I might find her?" He watched in silent chagrin as the boy removed the thumb from his mouth and used it to poke at the cake instead. Despite never having a child of his own and having missed most of this age when Tristan was young, his gut instinct was that the child was going to destroy that last precious bit of sweet treat rather than eat it. 

"She's upstairs." Helen's voice brought him back from his dismay over the lost opportunity for cake. "She should be down soon, though."

Standing up quickly, his chair scraping across the floor and making the girl, who was completely engrossed on eating her own minute portion, jump in her seat. Siegfried worried she'd cry, and for a moment her face did begin to crumple, but the remaining bits of apple-laden goodness on her plate called to her instead, and she went back to devouring every last crumb. Siegfried immediately felt an affinity towards the child, who clearly shared a common belief system as himself when it came to Mrs. Hall's baked goods—don't waste a single bit.

"I'll go find her, then, shall I, and see if I might finally solve the mystery of the multiplying children." He gave a silly wave before heading for the hallway.

"Siegfried," Helen called out to him. "Be gentle with her. She's had the right time of it today."

Siegfried's jovial smile faltered, and worry immediately etched itself onto his face. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine, but she might need a moment before having to tell the whole story again. Be patient—if that's possible for you." She reached out with a cloth to wipe the crumbs from the girl's face.

"I am the epitome of patience; I'll have you know, Helen."

"Course you are," she mumbled as he took off at a clip towards the front of the house. Turning to the children, she stood and switched seats to better reach the boy. "Aren't you hungry? Do you want some help?" She adjusted Jimmy to get a better grip on the sleeping infant and offered the boy a small fork full of cake, wishing she might be a fly on the wall as Siegfried heard the story behind their unexpected guests.

Chapter Text

Siegfried was just reaching the staircase when he spotted Audrey descending the stairs. She stopped midflight when she noticed him and seemed to steel herself before continuing down to the base of the steps to meet him. Keeping Helen's warning in mind, Siegfried wore an absurdly large smile. "And here she is now!"

Puzzled by her employer's demeanour, Audrey opted to issue the same greetings she would any other day. "Hello, Mr. Farnon. Did your visits go well?"

"They did. Thank you for asking. I can only hope Carmody did as well here." He peeked his head through the doorway towards the front hall, noting the empty waiting area and darkened examination rooms. "Looks as though he's done for the day."

Audrey nodded, biting her lip. "Yes, he's gone up to his room to read, he said." She looked uncomfortable, as if there was something she wasn't saying. "I told him I'd call him for supper. I'm just going to reheat some leftover stew." She pointed towards the kitchen, as if planning to sprint off to her next task that very minute.

"I think that can wait a bit longer," Siegfried suggested.

"You're not hungry?" Her voice held a note of incredulous disbelief. "After a full day of visits? I can't imagine you're still being fed up the likes of how it were before the rationing."

"I had only what I brought with me," he insisted. "But that's fine because, as it turns out, I find myself more curious than hungry at present." His raised brow told her that he had already seen the children, and she wondered what Helen had told him, what he had thought, and what he was thinking now.

"Oh, aye?" There was a slight waver to her words, and she clutched at the curved top of the newel post as if in need of its support.

"Yes," he replied simply, leaning against the wall beside the phone niche.

"I see." Audrey resigned herself to having to tell the entire story here in the hallway.

"Helen tells me I'm to ask you about our visitors," Siegfried continued, waiting for her to take up the reigns of the conversation. Instead, exhaustion flooded her face, causing Siegfried immediate concern. "Are you all right?" he asked, bringing a gentle hand up to briefly touch her upper arm before realising what he had done and taking his hand back, trying not to be obvious about his panic as he removed it and retreated back to the wall.

"I'm fine. Just very tired. It were quite a day."

"And the children?" He folded his hands back in front of himself to resist reaching out to her again.

"They're only here for a few days. If that's all right, that is." She rushed through her words. "It's just that they have nowhere else to go right now. They're hungry and tired. I haven't gotten tea out yet." She felt a bit of panic at the list of things she needed to accomplish and the amount of time necessary to bring Siegfried up to speed. 

"And I need to sort where they'll sleep and what they'll wear tomorrow, and...oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Farnon!" She looked shocked, as if she had meant to begin with the apology and then forgot to issue one at all. "I'm sorry for bringing them home without your permission."

Pushing off from the wall, Siegfried came to stand in front of Audrey, the railing the only barrier between them, as she remained in her spot at the base of the stairs, and he came around to the side of the staircase. "How can I help, Mrs. Hall?" His voice was calm and quiet, and his offer surprised her.

"With the children?" she clarified.

"Unless you have any other exciting dilemmas for us to work out?" 

She gave a weary smile. "One's enough, I should think."
 
"You said they need to eat, and so we'll have your lovely stew. They're certain to like that. And Carmody and I can gather whatever you need for them in terms of bedding for the night," he assured her. "What else was it you said you needed?" 

"They've nowt to wear but what's on them, and the boy's only half dressed as it is. I've called over to the church and, at Helen's suggestion, tried the midwives. The midwives only had things for newborns, but the one I spoke to promised to try to borrow a few things from neighbours and said she'd bring over owt she finds." She took a breath. "The vicar says they do have some smaller items in the clothing they've been collecting, but he asked that one of us stop by the church to pick up what he's found."

"I'm guessing there hasn't been time for you or Helen to run that errand yet, correct?"

"We've barely had time to breathe." Her admission of their struggle gave away just how trying things must have been so far, as Siegfried was far more accustomed to the woman before him insisting that all was fine and that she had everything running smoothly even on the most calamitous of days.

"Then that's where I shall go right now. I'm sure the vicar still remembers my face," he teased, drawing a tired grin from the woman he viewed as so much more than his housekeeper. He held out an arm in front of them to gesture for her to lead the way back to the rear of the house. As they were about to enter the kitchen, he stayed her with a hand held aloft. "Mrs. Hall, what are their names?"

"I don't know yet." Her reply was sad, discouraged. "Neither of them's said a word since I found them."

"I see. This sounds like it shall be a long story, indeed! I look forward to it—perhaps with a sherry after the little ones are asleep? Or...," seeing the weariness that enveloped her at his suggestion, "perhaps it would be best to wait until tomorrow. I'll be here for the surgery, and if we're lucky, it will be a slow morning so that we might find time to discuss the situation."

Audrey agreed with a nod, and they entered the room to find the children's cake plates scraped clean of every crumb, and Helen employing young Jimmy as a form of impromptu entertainment while waiting for Siegfried and Audrey to return. 

Siegfried stood behind Helen's chair, facing the children. "Did you finish your cake? Was it good? I see it's all gone, so I bet that means you liked it." As was becoming habitual, the boy looked away from Siegfried, while the girl's stare was the only answer she was willing or able to give.

Audrey stepped up to the table. "I know it's a bit backward, but I'm going to heat up some vegetable stew for us to have next. Does that sound good?" She knew better than to expect an answer, but was encouraged by a look of interest on the girl's face as she peered about trying to find the promised meal.

Noticing the girl's reaction as well, Siegfried directed his words towards her: "I will be getting out of the way, so that Mrs. Hall can get her delicious stew ready for us. I have to go take a walk, but I'll see you both when I return home." 

Audrey followed Siegfried to the back door as he collected his coat from the hook. "I'll try to be as quick as possible, but don't wait to start eating on my account. I saw the little lady practically inhale her sliver of cake earlier, and she still looks like she might be willing to start nibbling at the dogs' food if we don't feed her again soon." Audrey chuckled at his silliness, and Siegfried was pleased that he was able to give her a moment's reprieve from her worries.

He stepped forward and said quietly and earnestly, "We'll soon have this all under control. It's only for a short while, and with you leading the rest of us, there's no other outcome possible." Then, in a more typical volume and a chipper tone, he proclaimed, "I'll be back soon!" and he waltzed out the back door, whistling a merry tune.

Audrey stood still in the vestibule, replaying the last few moments in her head and finding herself unable to refrain from comparing them to the debacle with Gerald at the train station. She stood there pondering the reactions of both men until she finally noticed Helen calling to her.

"Audrey! Should I be getting owt else out to go with the stew?"

Audrey hustled back into the scullery. "Sorry, love, here I am."

"Are you all right, Aud? I called you a few times."

"Just woolgathering after I gave Mr. Farnon some last-minute instructions. If we're lucky, he'll not come back with clothing fit for a grown adult." 

Helen laughed, all too knowingly, and the two women started gathering odds and ends to create a meal to feed their temporarily expanded family.

Chapter Text

Helen and Audrey took longer than expected to get tea served, with both women needing to stop and attend to one or the other of the young lads, only then to be called upon to comfort the little lass, who didn't seem to have any real problem other than perhaps feeling a bit left out while the boys demanded all of the adults' attention. And so stew was just being ladled into bowls as Siegfried returned from his jaunt to the vicarage, arms laden with possible fixes for their wardrobe dilemma and bemoaning the chatty nature of the vicar. "Is he always like that? If I dropped any larger hints about my need to hurry home, he would have been knocked out by the weight of them!"

"He probably knew it were his only chance to see you for awhile," Helen needled as she settled the baby into a basket they had placed in Audrey's sitting area just for that purpose.

"I've gone to church with Mrs. Hall many a time; thank you, Helen. And furthermore, not one word of his verbosity was even in regard to my church attendance."

Curiosity and the importance of clothing the children were enough reasons for Audrey to put an end to the bickering banter between her fellow adults. "Were the vicar able to give you anything helpful, Mr. Farnon?" The concern in her voice was evident and brought Siegfried promptly back to task. 

"He said that as long as we're not terribly 'choosy' there ought to at least be a few items each to keep them covered and warm for now. And he promised to specifically inquire whether any local families have items that are now too small for any of their children." 

"We're not 'choosy' at all! Poor lad's wearing nowt on his bottom half but an old bit of towelling and an apron for goodness sake." 

Siegfried turned to the children in question and held the two small bundles in the air. "After we eat, we can see what we have here for you. What do you think?" He strolled across the kitchen to place the items over near the sewing machine, noticing little Jimmy in the basket and smiling. He made a show of returning to the table on tip-toe and whispering to their small guests, "No one told me the baby was sleeping in here! Did you know? People need to warn me about these things, or otherwise I'm often a bit loud, you see." 

Bringing a bowl of root vegetable mash over to the table, Audrey scoffed, "Loud? Mr. Farnon? You?" a chuckle poorly hiding behind every word.

"Yes, yes, Mrs. Hall, even you must admit I've been on my best behaviour since this new Herriot has arrived. I have made a firm rule to only yell at Carmody when Jimmy's already awake." He grinned at his own teasing, then did a double-take as he realised the young student wasn't present. "Where is Richard? Too busy reading to eat?"

"Hiding in his room," Helen piped up as she sat next to the young nameless boy, blowing on a spoon of stew to cool it before offering it to him. "Turns out he's a bit of a coward when it comes to children. He all but ran from the kitchen earlier!"

Turning back to the children, Siegfried smiled. "Well, we can't have that, can we? No, of course not. I shall go get Mr. Carmody, and the two of you can get to know him while we eat." Then, with a wink, he left the room, only for his muffled calls up the staircase to soon be heard in the kitchen. 

"Oh, aye, he only yells when the baby's awake." Helen rolled her eyes. 

Audrey took a few steps towards the basket to be sure Jimmy was still fast asleep, then came to sit at the table with a shake of her head. "At least he waited till he left the room."

Helen continued to try to get the little one to eat some stew, hoping he might work through a decent amount before the adults were all settled to eat, and Audrey followed suit, placing a small bowl of stew she'd set to cool in front of the little girl, who, as before, was quick to dive in. "Well, this one's got a good appetite at least."

She was answered by Siegfried as he re-entered the room, Richard in tow, the latter, as always, clutching a textbook. "Mr. Carmody and I have returned with our good appetites as well, Mrs. Hall!" 

Audrey looked on, trying to hide her amusement, as Richard weighed his options of the remaining seats at the table, finally deciding to sit down next to herself, placing him across from the little boy, and Helen, who had dragged the chair from the short end of the table over to the lad's seat to help him with his stew. The remaining short side of the table now held the only unoccupied chair, putting Siegfried between Audrey and the little girl. Richard had only just reluctantly taken his seat when the little chap decided he was done with the stew and batted a pudgy hand at the spoon full Helen was offering, spattering it across the table. 

Richard quickly jumped back up, swiftly scooping his precious book back from any potential danger and stammering, "Maybe I should eat elsewhere. The dining room?" His voice took on a hopeful tone as he added, "My own room?"

"Buck up, man!"

"I do rather think I would be better off on my own, Mr. Farnon. There are children here," he pointed out, as if that ought to explain everything.

"Your observational skills are sharp as ever, Carmody." Then chuckling, Siegfried added, "I assure you they won't bite. The little one can't be made to even bite actual food!"

Still standing up, now behind the chair, gripping the wooden back as he held it between himself and the now messy tabletop, Richard insisted, "I don't know what one is supposed to do with children," he admitted in a strained whisper.

"I heard you did very well with the children at Christmas!" Audrey joined the conversation to remind the young man.

"I was pretending to be a beloved figure, Mrs. Hall. The children were pleased to see me before they even entered the room. All I had to do was read from a book, of which I have considerable practice in doing. Living with children is very different! They're..." Carmody struggled to find the source of his discomfort, finally settling with "unpredictable."

"Nothing in life is to be feared; it is only to be understood." Siegfried advised. "Perhaps at some later time, you might read to our two new charges. If you get to know them, their behaviours may become easier to anticipate. But for now, do sit back down, Carmody." He lifted his spoon in the air as if tempting a dog. The stew is marvellous."

"Yes, Mr. Farnon." Carmody reluctantly returned to his seat, relieved to see that Helen seemed to have ceased her attempts to feed the young boy.

Dinner continued without any further calamities befalling Richard--or his book, and afterward, at Siegfried's insistence, he and Siegfried did the washing up (thereby "continuing Skeldale House's efforts in offering a well-rounded learning experience, Richard!"), and allowing Helen and Audrey to bring baby Herriot and the children upstairs to ready them for bed. Then the two men would come move about any furnishings and linens necessary to make space for their visitors to settle in for the night.

And privately, Siegfried hoped, allowing Audrey some spare time afterwards in which she might feel up to telling him all about her trip to the Lakes and how it was that he came to return home earlier that day to find these two little strangers staying with them.

Chapter Text

By the time that Helen and the littlest Herriot had gone up to the bedsit, Carmody had retired with a few books, and the newest children were settled in on a small makeshift bed in her own room, Audrey was beginning to feel slightly nervous about discussing the situation with Siegfried. It seemed silly to suddenly be concerned again after he had spent the last few hours being so helpful to her, but somehow, that made her more anxious rather than less.

When she had told Gerald that Mr. Farnon wouldn't mind her bringing home the children, she had felt confident in her assertions, but after the long, awful trip home and the few hours so far at Skeldale, she found herself less sure in her belief that Mr. Farnon would just blithely accept her decision to bring two new people into their home, no matter how temporarily. He had been incredibly supportive thus far, but he had no idea the true nature of why the children were here or of the uncertain time period for which she had accepted the children into their responsibility. Seeing how disruptive the two had already been to the daily routine of the house, she could only pray that tomorrow would be easier and that Siegfried would continue to be as understanding as she had insisted he would be. 

She made her way downstairs to the front room and found him relaxing in an armchair, with a whisky and a sherry poured into glasses on the side table, awaiting their talk. She entered the room, stopping a few feet from his chair, and smiled wearily before sinking down the end of the sofa closest to where Siegfried sat.

"How did you get on with the clothing?" he asked, passing over the smaller of the two glasses.

"Better than I had hoped, really. There's not much there, but there were gowns for sleeping and some knit pieces that will help keep them warm tomorrow when I wash their own things. I felt badly putting them back into their dirty clothing after they had a bath earlier." She took a small fortifying sip, enjoying the slight warmth as the liquid travelled down her throat. "Thank you for fetching them for us."

"Your very welcome, Mrs. Hall." He waited a moment to see if she would begin her account, but she merely sat, head back, eyes closed, seemingly enjoying a bit of peace for the first time in—well, he wasn't exactly sure how long. That was part of what he was waiting to hear, after all. And with that in mind, he carefully began the conversation. "I'm assuming our small friends are not local, since we don't know their names."

Audrey opened her eyes, sat up, and ran her fingers over the stem of the petite glass. "No, at least I don't believe them to be."

Siegfried was intrigued but tried not to press too much, recalling Helen's earlier warning to be gentle with her. "We don't know where they're from?"

She looked at him, her mouth set into a straight line, her bottom lip sucked in slightly, and shook her head regretfully. "We know nowt about them at all, Mr. Farnon." Her eyes looked sad as she continued. "I found them at the train station. Not the first time, when me train were cancelled, but this morning, when I went back again." And she gave a condensed version of the happenings between when she and Gerald arrived at the station and when she first met the little ones. 

"The boy were wet, and they were both crying, and when I went over to them, they started holding on to me straight away." She continued to relate how she and Gerald had disagreed and how the station master and constable had become involved, and ultimately how the constable, then Gerald, both left, leaving her in charge of the tots for the time being. Her voice, which started off less than strong to begin with, quickly took on the sound of someone struggling to make it through what they were trying to say, her words becoming more and more rushed as she continued to speak.

"The constable—Lamley were his name—he didn't have any plan of what to do with them. He spoke of splitting them up. I didn't know if they're brother and sister, but it seemed they'd be better together than alone going to a strange place. Gerald said I were risking my position to take them with me, but I just couldn't leave them there, Mr. Farnon!" Her expression was pleading as she rushed to make assurances. "I'll cover the cost of owt they need, and I'll not let me other duties fall aside. And I can stop helping with the Women's Institute for while they're here, if need be." 

By her third watery promise, Siegfried couldn't stand to let her go on any longer. He stood up and came over to kneel on the floor beside her, grasping her hand in his own, in an effort to reassure her that the blasted Hammond was as far from correct as was possible. "Mrs. Hall, it's fine. Bringing the children here was the right thing to do. It would be cruel to separate them." He looked her in the eye and firmly continued. "And I promise you that there is quite likely nothing that you could ever do that would have me asking you to leave." 

She nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm...I..."

"You must be exhausted," Siegfried suggested. "Travelling, attending a funeral, dealing with cancelled trains—all trying enough on their own, but adding the excitement of the children and enduring what I imagine was an arduous trip home must have been especially difficult."

She gave him a shaky smile. "Were you there watching, then? Because it were awful, it truly were."

Grimacing a bit, Siegfried stood from his crouched position. "I'm afraid I'm not getting any younger, Mrs. Hall. Do you mind if I join you here?"

"Course not," she answered, affection in her tone. And he sat himself down, reached out, and gently grasped her hand again.

"Ah, that's much better. Now, why don't you finish telling me about your day?" he encouraged, keeping his hand tangled with hers.

And so, in a calmer voice and more reasonable speed, she began the story of their journey to Darrowby and all that had transpired since they had arrived. The children had been clingy and unhappy during their wait at the station, but it was nothing compared to their reaction to boarding the train. They had both immediately resumed crying as she attempted to lift them up into the coach. The little girl tried her best to dig in her heels and refuse to move, while the boy attempted to work his way out of her arms to escape. A railway porter, seeing her difficulties, came to assist her in loading the children, but their squalling and squirming continued in their seat until, one at a time, each child wore themselves out to the point of sleep. But her reprieve was short-lived, as both children woke well before the end of the train journey and began to carry on once more. 

It had been bad enough for Audrey to hear the young ones so unhappy, but for a portion of the journey another couple sat in the compartment with them, and the older gentleman made no secret of his disdain for the children or Audrey's skills in caring for them. She knew that the man, no matter how rude or unkind he may have been, wasn't incorrect in his complaint that the lad (along with his bundle of wet clothing) smelled of urine and that she was sorely lacking in any sort of distraction to keep the children occupied. And when the lad threw a tantrum in which he accidentally kicked the girl in the arm, she sobbed as though she'd never have use of the limb again, causing even the older woman, who had been apathetic until that point, to start clicking her tongue in disapproval.

"And that were just the train. Then we still had the bus ride and the walk home. The whole journey seemed to take three times longer than it did when I were on me own. I've never been so relieved to see that kitchen door in all my years here." She let out a slight chuckle of self-depreciation and rubbed a palm along her forehead. "We must have been a picture crossing the square. They both wanted to be held, but I had me things and the dirty clothes, so I took turns carrying them." She shook her head as she recalled the struggle it had been. "Whichever child I weren't carrying had to be nearly dragged along. You'd think I'd never cared for a child in me life." 

Siegfried looked over at her in admiration. "I'm tired just listening to your day; I truly am. You, my dear, are a marvel."

She squeezed the hand still holding hers, surprised to note that they had remained clasped together for so long. "I'm a right mess, and I only made it through the rest of the day thanks to you and our Helen."

"You had no help at all on the journey home with two hungry, confused children," Siegfried pointed out. 

They sat quietly together for a moment, Siegfried thinking over all he'd heard, Audrey resting after the telling of it.

After a moment, Siegfried spoke up again. "There's no reason for you to give up your Women's Institute meetings. The children won't be here long, and if you have a meeting while they're still here, the rest of us will endeavour to keep things running smoothly in your place."

She smiled at him fondly. He had been so attentive and helpful in the past few months. And here he was ready to jump in and assist with this new complication she had brought into their lives with no thought at all as to how it might work out day to day. It had been silly of her to let Gerald's words worry her even for a moment. Siegfried was a good, kind man, and she was lucky to have him in her life.

She reached over to finish the last sip of sherry in her glass, prompting Siegfried to offer a second, to which she refused. "I best get to sleep myself. There's no telling what time those two might wake up tomorrow. And I need to start me day washing their clothing. There really wasn't terribly much from the vicar."

"Perhaps tomorrow we'll hear from someone about additional donations." He paused and continued in a softer voice. "Do we have any idea when we might hear from Constable Lamley?"

"I don't know. He told me he'd start calling other stations first and ask around locally to see if anyone knows anything." She let out an sigh. "He didn't seem optimistic about dealing with any orphanages. I imagine it's chaos trying to keep moving children into different places right now."

Siegfried stood and collected their empty glasses. "Well, the two we have here are safe, Mrs. Hall, something I'm sure Lamley realised when he made arrangements for you to take them. For as long as they're here, we'll do our very best for them."

Audrey gestured for the glasses, meaning to wash them before heading upstairs. But Siegfried shook his head. "You go on up, Mrs. Hall. I'll take care of these. I imagine you need the rest far more urgently than I do."

Audrey nodded gratefully, relief washing over her, both at the prospect of much-needed repose but more so in regards to Siegfried's reaction to the children and the story she had shared with him. She couldn't have imagined a better reception, and she knew his gracious words and the memory of her hand, held warm and securely in his, would fill her thoughts as she drifted off to sleep. "Thank you, Mr. Farnon—for everything."

Chapter Text

Saturday, 8 February 1941: First Full Day, Part 1: 

It had been a difficult first night for Audrey and the children. Sheer exhaustion ushered them both off to an immediate slumber at first, but their sleep was interrupted multiple times during the night. Audrey had woken to whimpers and sniffles and once was surprised by the soft, small hand of the girl patting her cheek, the only part of Audrey the child could find in the dark room.

She gave cuddles, sang quiet songs, and made trips to the toilet, all in an attempt to sooth two little ones who were out of sorts at finding themselves in this strange new environment with strange new people. By two o'clock in the morning, the beleaguered housekeeper had given in and tucked both children into the narrow bed with her. Audrey's remaining sleep was slight as she clung to a sliver of space at the bitter edge of the mattress while attempting to keep her arm around both children to prevent either from rolling away.

Five o'clock felt as though it came extra early, while simultaneously feeling as though it would never arrive, and Audrey arranged pillows and rolled blankets down the sides of her bed in hopes of keeping the duo safely centred on the mattress and sleeping for a bit longer. Then, with heavy eyelids and sluggish limbs, she set off downstairs to start her day. Breakfast was served as usual, albeit with only the veterinarians of the house in attendance. 

Sipping his weak tea and trying to pretend it was as robust as before, Siegfried noted the absence of the Herriots. While the baby's still erratic sleep patterns meant one could never be sure when he might be awake, Helen had started making a conscious effort to eat breakfast with the rest of the house as soon as she was able. "Where's Helen this morning?"

"Having a bit of a lie-in, I imagine. Jimmy were up several times last night. I usually ask her if I can help, but last night I had me hands full." Audrey, who had had her own sad tea and bit of porridge earlier that morning, began the washing up as soon as Siegfried and Richard Carmody were served and settled, hoping to get a start on the laundry before the children woke up looking for their own breakfast.

Siegfried stopped his eating, spoon perched in the air halfway through its journey from bowl to mouth. "The children were up?" His voice held puzzlement and surprise.

"Aye. Many times."

"I would have expected them to be exhausted."

"You and me, both," she muttered, replacing a dried pot in the pantry.

"I never even heard them," Siegfried continued, feeling badly that she had been the one to lose sleep all night while he was completely oblivious. "If you ever need any help, Mrs. Hall..."

"We'll be fine, but thank you. I do feel badly 'bout Helen, though. I'm supposed to be helping her. Not only have I gone for two days, but now she's spent half her day helping me."

"I'm sure she didn't mind." 

"I know she don't mind, but that don't mean she's not still bone-tired."

Siegfried couldn't help but think that his housekeeper looked bone-tired herself. 

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Audrey moved from breakfast dishes directly to washing the children's clothing, a task she had bestowed utmost priority to, seeing how little else they had to wear right now. Not knowing how long she had available before the little ones needed her again, she opted for what she felt was a rather haphazard hand-washing of the few items, striving for improvement over perfection. She had just lowered the drying racks to pin up the scant few possessions when she heard Siegfried returning to the kitchen, singing. Checking her watch, she thought it odd he wasn't readying surgery for the day, only to look up and see him carrying the little girl into the kitchen. "I spotted this one standing at the top of the staircase. I think she was hoping someone might come along."

"Poor love. She weren't too fond of the stairs yesterday. She climbs up on all fours but wants help getting back down." She set aside the small shirt in her hands and came over to take the child from Siegfried. "I can take her from here. Don't want you to be late for surgery."

"It's my surgery; I'll open when I like." Siegfried kept the child tucked in his arm and turned his attention back to her. "Isn't that right?" The girl, of course, did not reply but did regard him with interest. After a moment of staring, she slowly ran one finger along a portion of Siegfried's beard. "Ah! A beard! What do you think? Dignified? Dapper?" She removed her hand from his face but continued to study him as if he were a bird with interesting plumage. Siegfried chuckled as he joked, "No comment, I see. I'm not sure that bodes well for me in terms of your opinion on the matter."

Noticing the laundry basket out on the table behind his housekeeper. "Why don't I get her settled, Mrs. Hall, so you can finish hanging those? I imagine we need them dry sooner rather than later." He brought the girl over to the table and then asked what he ought to get for her meal.

"You're going to get her breakfast?" Audrey tried not to sound as unsure as she felt.

"How hard can it be?" He grinned, pleased with himself for thinking to offer his assistance. "This one likes to eat!"

Audrey shook her head at his naivete about the simplicity of feeding small children and instructed him on what he should fetch and where to find it, giving her the few minutes necessary to finish hanging the laundry before handling the actual reheating and serving herself, thereby sending Siegfried off to prepare for his own day.

She's no sooner set a bowl in front of the child when a faint sound caught her attention, and straining to hear, realised it was crying. "I'll be right back. You stay in your chair and eat, sweetheart." 

Audrey found Helen in the first-floor hall, carrying a squalling Jimmy and trying to console the little boy, who was clutching the skirt of her dress and crying big crocodile tears. "Oh! Let me help!" Audrey carried the lad downstairs, Helen & Jimmy behind her, and was happily relieved to find the girl still seated and eating well. 

Helen sat down with the baby in the armchair in the sewing area, and Audrey started serving breakfast for the third time that day, already deciding that the next day, the children would rise with her, no matter how few hours they had slept during the night.

But the boy didn't seem to have any interest in eating, and despite being old enough to at least feed himself bite-sized portions of food, Audrey found the only way to get any sort of nourishment into the lad was to methodically feed him tiny spoonfuls at a time, with a great deal of cajoling, waiting, and smiling in between bites. Beyond that, he also seemed a bit skittish around the dogs, letting out cries when they ventured with interest near his chair, further distracting him from his breakfast.

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When breakfast and the subsequent clean-up were finally over, Audrey and Helen decided to bring the children out for a short walk around the garden to give everyone a chance to take in some fresh air. The children, silent as always, seemed happy to poke about in the dirt and dead leaves, exploring, while Helen pushed Jimmy around in his pram. Upon coming back into the house, Helen brought Jimmy up to the bedsit as Audrey unbundled the older children and helped them wash their hands. She was making sure they dried properly to avoid chapping when she heard the phone ringing. Hoping it might be someone calling about additional clothing donations, or perhaps Constable Lamley with more information, Audrey quickly ushered the children out into the hall, passing an empty-handed Helen coming down the staircase, and made her way to the phone only after it had been ringing for some time.

Meanwhile, Siegfried had worked his way through the few clients who were waiting at the door for him that morning. After the last of them had left, he found himself experiencing a lull and filled his time pottering around moving equipment into new places that he'd almost surely forget by the next time he needed them, and dreaming up seldom taught veterinary topics to discuss with Carmody when he returned from the list of visits he was tackling on his own that day.

Noticing the phone was going unanswered for longer than usual, Siegfried started off towards the ringing as well, catching up with Helen just as Mrs. Hall plucked up the receiver and chirped "Darrowby 2297" down the line in a voice far more cheerful than the rest of her appeared at present. Her hair was escaping its pins in more than one place, her eyes told the story of a dismal night's sleep peppered with interruptions, and her apron was soaked with water, dots of dried porridge, and inexplicably to Siegfried, what seemed to be actual soil.

"Oh, Gerald! This is a surprise."

Siegfried rolled his eyes in an irritated look that Helen caught while Audrey, leaning against the phone table, her eyes briefly closed, as she gathered the strength to have a courteous conversation with the man so soon after their difficult morning the previous day, missed. Helen gathered the children, jerked her head in the direction of his office, and whispered that Audrey would need her to mind the children while she was on the phone. Siegfried, still uncalled by any of the good residents of Darrowby, followed behind the trio, despite his terrible curiosity over the conversation happening between his housekeeper and her former suitor.

The children looked around the room in interest, not yet having seen this area of the house. An idea occurring to him, Siegfried quietly closed the door leading to the hallway and gestured for the little ones to come over to the piano, where he showed them how to gently press one key at a time. The girl seemed willing to sit on the bench and do this for some time, and the boy, while only occasionally touching the keys himself, appeared interested in what the girl, believed to be his sister, was doing.

Siegfried took a step back, satisfied all was well, and joined Helen in her spot by the door. "Can you hear her?" he asked, his nosiness winning out over propriety. Helen gave a silent shake of her head, leaving Siegfried forced to mind his own business.

"What could he be calling for now? He hasn't another sister, has he?" Siegfried questioned further, sounding sulkier than he had intended.

Helen shot him a look that he felt sure she must have picked up from Audrey since moving in with them. "He must be checking on how she's doing, is all," Helen assured.

Speaking in hushed tones in case Mrs. Hall should reappear suddenly, he scoffed. "Or checking that she still lives here." 

Helen pulled her head back in confusion. "What are you going on about?"

Siegfried pursed his lips in annoyance. "Apparently he tried to convince Mrs. Hall to leave the children behind, else put her position in jeopardy."

Helen's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me?" 

"He was concerned that she didn't feel it necessary to gain my permission before making a significant household decision."

"Since when does she need permission to have visitors?" Helen whispered indignantly. "She practically runs the house single-handed. Visitors add only to her workload, not anyone else's." Then, reconsidering based on the fact that she was currently minding these specific visitors, she amended, "Well, usually."

Thinking back to Miss Harbottle, Siegfried rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his bearded chin. "I'm starting to think that people outside this house don't realise that about her."

"That's true. I didn't. I remember having a conversation with Aud about just that when I first moved in. She's much more than a housekeeper here. She's part of the family."

Siegfried could only silently agree, unable to trust himself to say any more aloud when it came to that subject. She was so much more than a housekeeper to him, and he feared his face would broadcast just how he really viewed her if he wandered any closer to that secret truth.

He was saved by the boy, however, who chose that moment to slide down off of the piano bench, having lost interest in watching the little girl continue to create one plunking note at a time.

The boy veered off towards Siegfried's desk and the rat's cage that sat upon the small stand beside it. 

"Would you like to see him?" Siegfried asked, glad for the distraction. There was no verbal reply, but the boy did actually look up at Siegfried, a change in behaviour that Siegfried decided must indicate an affirmative answer. Siegfried lifted the child and sat him down on the desk chair, once again pleased to be allowed to do so, as the lad had so far shown a strong preference only for Mrs. Hall, an opinion Siegfried could hardly fault the boy for. 

Moving the cage over to the desk, he pointed to his little friend. "This is Vonolel. He's my pet rat." The boy's expression remained difficult to read, but his gaze remained intent upon the rodent, which was enough of an invitation for Siegfried to open the cage and bring Vonolel out for a cuddle. The boy gasped as Vonolel scurried along Siegfried's arm and thrust his own pudgy little hands out in a wordless plea.

Siegfried lowered his voice and gave the child a few simple instructions. "You must be very soft." Holding out his forefinger, he instructed the child to do the same, which he managed with a bit of assistance. "I'll help you to pet him," Siegfried continued, and receiving no resistance, he guided the child's finger gently along Vonolel's coat. Siegfried looked down at the boy to see a miniature transformation had occurred. The boy was still looking wide-eyed at the rat, but with a happy smile spread across his face.

Chapter Text

Saturday, 8 February 1941: First Full Day, Part 2: 

"I thought I heard music." Audrey smiled encouragingly at the small girl at the piano, who kept plunking away at her single-digit concerto. 

"Mrs. Hall, look who's made a friend." Siegfried, toddler still perched upon his lap, turned slightly in his desk chair to highlight Vonolel, cradled up against his waistcoat. "Apparently our young guest prefers animals who are considerably smaller than himself."

"He can be friendly with him all he wants, so long as you're home. When you're out, he stays in. his. cage." Her Yorkshire lilt seemed to grow as she emphasised her last few words, and Siegfried couldn't help but smirk in response.

"Is all well with Gerald?" Helen, who could always be counted on to get right to the point of things, saw no reason to sit through any more back and forth about a rat when Jimmy might wake up at any moment and scupper her chance to hear anything of interest about the phone call.

Audrey looked over from Siegfried and the boy and expelled a long, thin breath as she briefly ruminated about her answer. "He were wanting to check on the young ones is all."

"That's funny. I were under the impression..." Realising her barb about his disinterest in the children wasn't something she should let those in question hear, the new mother bit back her words and tried a more diplomatic approach. "I'm just surprised is all," she settled on, a bit of an unsatisfied frown on her face.

Audrey eyed her, quite aware of what she was likely about to say. "He wanted to know if any alternate solution had been found."

"Alternate solution? We don't need any alternate solution." Siegfried's volume was lower than his typical blusters, but irritation was still evident in his tone. "I was under the impression the good purveyors of all things just and legal were focusing solely on finding answers to the cause of the situation, not alternate solutions for anyone in the meantime."

"They are," Audrey insisted. "Gerald is, just..."

"He still thinks you were wrong to do what you did," Helen piped up, continuing to talk around the true subject being discussed.

Audrey twisted her mouth as she considered her wording. "Let's just say he's not changed his mind about things."

Siegfried, without ceasing to guide the lad's finger gently over Vonolel, stated his feelings on the matter quite concisely. "It seems to me that the only opinions of consequence are those of the fine people residing in this house." He looked up at his housekeeper and closet friend. "You haven't had a change of heart, have you, Mrs. Hall?"

There was a twinkle in his eye indicating that he knew full well she hadn't. But she still gave him the firm, fiercely stated answer he was expecting nonetheless. "I have not!"

Returning his attention to the two small creatures on his lap, his voice was jovial. "Well then! There we have it! And Helen? Do you still feel the same?"

"'Course I do."

"We're all in agreement!" Catching the young boy's attention, he cheered to the toddler, "Hurrah!" but the boy simply pointed back to Vonolel. "One track mind, this one has. Can't say I blame him. A fine friend is our Vonolel, isn't he?" 

Audrey settled back against the cupboard door, crossed her arms, and pursed her lips with the uncomfortable knowledge that there was one person living in the house who was less enthusiastic about their guests. "And what about Mr. Carmody?" 

Siegfried waved away her question. "Firstly, he's only ever down here for meals or to hide away in the sitting room with a pile of textbooks. Secondly, God knows he could use all the practice he can get with people, regardless of their age."

Audrey's lips remained firmly pressed together, but her look of uncertainty was replaced with one of slightly amused exasperation at his somewhat valid points about the young man, and Siegfried grinned broadly at the idea that he had helped to make her feel better about things.

A ringing sounding out from the front hall broke up their unintended late morning break. As Mrs. Hall rushed off to answer the front door, Siegfried placed Vonolel back in his cage for a well-deserved reprieve from time spent so nicely tolerating his newest admirer, and Helen managed to pry the little girl from the piano by telling her it was time for the instrument to have a rest, then easing the fallboard down over the keys.

Audrey answered the front door to a surprise in the form of Mrs. Duggleby, who lived a few lanes over and whom Audrey knew from church and more recently from their Women's Institute meetings. However, seeing no sign of the family dog, Pepper, Audrey was puzzled by the woman's visit, especially given that the woman was expecting and looking to be ready to deliver at any moment. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Duggleby. Here, come in out of the cold!" she greeted, opening the door and gesturing for their neighbour to enter.

"I'll not keep you. I heard you have little ones in need of some bits and bobs. Some of this'll be a bit short and some a bit long, but if you can find a free moment to do some altering, they might help. Me two youngest boys are two and four now, and we have a girl what's five, so when me midwife visited me today and I heard you had visitors, I looked in some drawers to see if we had owt outgrown to spare. It'll be some time before this one might need any of those things. Better someone gets to use them now."

"Thank you, Mrs. Duggleby. That's ever so kind of you. I'll be sure to make note of what you've brought, so we can get owt possible back to you later. You can save for when your newest needs them."

"Oh, let the poor dears keep what they can. Most of that's seen better days as is."

"Will you at least have a cuppa?"

"Thank you, but no. I know you must have much to do right now, and I've a list of me own to get done before this one arrives." She patted her rounded abdomen fondly. 

Audrey accepted the bundle wrapped in an old piece of sheet fabric, saw her out the front doors, and waved her off as she walked out into the square. Her return to the study was interrupted by the ringing phone, and so she carried her bundle in the direction of the staircase instead.

"Darrowby 2297," she answered. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Tompkin. Of course. yes.  Oh, we can't have that, now, can we? I'll have Mr. Farnon stop by as soon as possible. All right. Good bye." 

"Hello? Veterinary? Hello?" Popping back through the doorway to the main hall, Audrey held up her free hand in greeting to Mrs. Lackenby from up behind the booksellers.

"One moment!" 

"It never rains but pours." Audrey set off for the office yet again, mumbling under her breath about the sudden rush of activity in the house. She re-entered the room to find Siegfried on his own with the children, both of whom were moping about at the removal of their respective forms of entertainment. "Where's Helen?"

"James Herriot the third did not wish to be outdone by the ringing and dinging and whinging, and so felt compelled to add his crying to the cacophony."

"Oh dear. I'll take over here. You've got Mrs. Lackenby in the waiting area with her cat, and Mrs. Tompkins called. Peter's not chirping the same as usual." She shot Siegfried a scolding look over her disgruntlement in regards to the entire switched budgerigar situation, to which he put up both hands in surrender. "I'll be sure to see Peter sometime today."

Speaking to children and lifting up her bundle to catch their attention, she instructed them to follow her back to the kitchen. "Come along; we'll see what we have here for you."

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Ringing of bells and crying of boy together ushered in the start a very hectic afternoon for the occupants of Skeldale House. And after several hours of non-stop need fulfilment by the two women of the house, both Audrey and Helen were feeling ready for the day to draw to a close. Audrey was setting the table for tea while keeping a close eye on the timing of the shepherd's pie she had in the oven when Richard Carmody returned from the last of his visits for the day, grimacing slightly when he noted both children sitting at the kitchen table banging utensils against the wooden surface.

He looked to Helen, who was rocking Jimmy and ignoring the completely unnecessary racket the children were making. "Why are they doing that?"

"Keeps them busy while we're busy."

"Is there nothing else they might do to 'keep busy'?" he asked beseechingly. 

"Do you want to entertain them, then?" Helen's tone was such that even Carmody, who was not always the best at picking up on a person's mood, realised escape was his best option. A feeling he had experienced several times since the young guests had arrived, and one he surmised he would be enduring often until they left. 
 
"I, uh, best clean myself up. I don't imagine Mrs. Hall will appreciate it if I hold up her meal."

A roll of the eyes was the only response he received from Helen.

A short while later, the family was nearly done enjoying their meal, taken in the dining room for the first time since their visitors came to stay. As the children lost all interest in their food and started fidgeting in their seats, Richard questioned if allowing them to eat in the formal room had been a wise decision, which earned a similar response from Siegfried, who added a quip to his eyeroll. "They're not going to gnaw at the furnishings, Carmody."

Richard wasn't so sure that was a valid assertion.

Ever the peacekeeper, Audrey spoke up before he could extrapolate further upon those concerns. "Mr. Carmody, were you the one who left a sack of some sort near the back door?"

Momentarily confused, as he had forgotten all about the unexpected bundle he had been saddled with early in the day once he returned to the house and dropped it rather unceremoniously to the floor along with his dirty boots. Recollection widened his eyes, and he took a sip of tea to avoid choking on the bit of shepherd's pie. "Yes, I apologise, Mrs. Hall." He cleared his throat and took one more sip. "I forgot to give that to you."

"To me?" She had been sure it was some sort of misplaced belonging being returned to Mr. Farnon.

"Yes, Mrs. Rudd said that it's clothing." He nodded towards the two messy creatures situated between Mr. Farnon and Mrs. Hall, relieved that the table had been set to place himself between Helen and Mrs. Hall instead. "For the children." He involuntarily pulled a face as he delivered his last word, while sounding a bit like it was a vulgarity he was embarrassed to utter in polite company.

"Oh, that were very nice of her. We've had a few unexpected gifts today. It'll be much easier having a few more things on hand for them."

Richard looked pensive. "I don't understand how they knew the children were here. I didn't tell either of them and neither of us." He gestured to himself and Siegfried. "...have been to see the Rudds since before the children arrived."

"You are underestimating the great prowess of the village gossip mongers, Carmody!" Siegfried raised his glass as if to toast the village chatterboxes.

"They're spreading the word to help, not gossiping." Audrey issued a somewhat disapproving reproach.

"But who even knows they're here?" Richard pressed on, still baffled.

Helen gave a knowing smile. "By now? Half the village or more."

"How is that possible? You haven't even had them out in the village."

"I did call the vicar straight away looking for help," Audrey reminded the young vet.

"Who would have told his wife," Helen pointed out.

"Plus I called the midwives," Audrey remembered.

"Who likely told all the mothers they saw between then and now."

Audrey thought back to Mrs. Duggleby's visit. "That's exactly who told Mrs. Duggleby! And I'm sure the mothers told anyone they saw during their day."

Helen rattled off possibilities on the fingers of her left hand, free now that Jimmy was napping. "Grocers, butchers, repairmen, post..."

Audrey cut in. "Their husbands—many of whom gossip more than their wives!" she added, a bit of mischief in her smile.

Siegfried chortled. "So true! One man can tell the same tale to every warm body in the Drovers before he drinks a sip of ale!"

Audrey and Helen exchanged smirks. "I'm glad he said it," Helen teased.

Richard looked on in confusion as the two women dissolved into a momentary bout of giggles.

Siegfried pushed away from the table. "Oh ho, Carmody, the women are in rare form tonight! Best we flee if we know what's best for us." He winked and then smiled softly as he leaned towards the woman who held his heart. "If it would help, I can take the children with me to the sitting room. I have some books that we can read together."

Her giggles subsided; she smiled at him, pleased with his suggestion. "I'm sure they'd enjoy that. Thank you."

Richard quickly set aside his napkin and stood as well. "I'll just be studying." His voice was heavy with concern, as if he might be dragged into something involving the children. as well.

"Don't fret, Carmody! I can read quite adequately on my own. Be off, young bird—you're free—fly away!"

Audrey shook her head at their antics and began clearing the table. 

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"So if you're Peter, then who might you be? Flopsy? Mopsy? Oh look, Mrs. Hall has returned." The children and Siegfried were clustered together on the sofa, though one might more correctly describe it as Siegfried sitting on the sofa, with the children piled on top of him.

"Oh, and she has Jess and Dash with her, too." The dogs came over, a flurry of soft woofs and wagging tails. The boy whimpered a bit, but Siegfried assured him all was fine. "Don't you know? Jess and Dash are good friends with the Rabbit family. Oh yes, they've heard all about Peter's trips into the garden. Haven't you, girl?" He leaned forward to give Jess a few firm pats as she settled on the floor by his feet, keeping the boy tucked firmly against him while also giving the child a chance for a closer look at Jess in a quiet, docile situation. 

Audrey perched on the arm of one of the armchairs he always thought of as "theirs,"  Dash running over to be by her side. "Who could blame him?" Siegfried thought, followed by the disappointing realisation that her failure to sit down properly likely indicated she wasn't intending to stay. "I suppose you're here because you need these two little rabbits."

"Are they rabbits? All this time I thought they were children." 

A ghost of a smile graced the face of the little girl, who wiggled her nose the way the nice man had shown her. Audrey swallowed her gasp and looked up quickly to see if Siegfried had seen the child's reaction. The crinkling of eyes confirmed that he had. "They are certainly rabbits right now. Is it time for the rabbits to go to their burrow to sleep?"

"Aye. I need all rabbits to be able to get up with me come morning."

Siegfried smiled a bit self-consciously as he admitted, "I can't help but feel it's been far longer ago than just before lunch that we were all gathered together in my office."

"We certainly paid for our peaceful morning this afternoon."

"And then Carmody rather commandeered the dinner conversation."

"He means well enough. He just don't know how to deal with our 'rabbits'."

Siegfried declined to comment, instead telling the children, "You heard Mrs. Hall. It's early to bed, early to rise for little rabbits everywhere!"

"One can only hope."

"Won't they be underfoot tomorrow morning when you're starting your day?"

Audrey put a hand out towards each child. "It'll still be better than having to make breakfast three times in a row."

"In that case, I shall stop delaying you." He gave a little wave. "Goodnight children!"

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A little more than an hour had passed after Audrey had escorted the children to bed. With Helen, the baby, and Richard all upstairs for the night as well, Siegfried opted to turn in himself rather than continue to sit alone, with only his own thoughts for company. After taking the dogs out one last time, he climbed the stairs to the first-floor landing and was surprised to see a strip of pale light shining out from under the door of Audrey's bedroom. He stared at the light, pondering the irony that the smallest room of the house now held the largest number of people, and recalled her tired eyes earlier that morning after her fractured night of sleep. Recalling how he had slept on through all of the numerous times the children had been awake, leaving Audrey to deal with all of their needs and fears herself, he stepped up closer to her door.

He considered how rarely he had ever had any reason to knock on her door over the years. Contemplating doing so now, to offer his help, to let her know he was thinking of her, felt very right in theory, but so very odd as he actually raised his knuckles to the wooden blockade between them. Reconsidering a knock, he instead gently tapped his fingertips against the door, unsure if she would even hear the slight noise. Unsure if it was in fact better for it to go unheard. 

The door opened a fraction, and Audrey's face became visible, etched with concern. He wondered what worries his visit had caused. Did she think there was a problem with the baby? With the house? Or something else, something she hadn't specifically imagined, and yet somehow still caused her trepidation? He noticed that in her haste, she didn't don her dressing gown but instead pressed it against her front as she leaned against the edge of the door, still looking at him, questioning his presence outside her private space.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hall, for bothering you—and if I startled you. I saw the light and wanted to check that all was well. I couldn't help but recall that you and the children had a difficult time last night. I wanted to be sure you couldn't use any help."

A soft understanding filled out the lines of worry on her face, and she assured him all was well. "It's no bother. I'm darning some of the things Mrs. Duggleby brought while I wait for them to fall asleep."

The room sounded silent and peaceful behind her, and he was surprised to think that the children might be awake and yet so quiet. He had thought on multiple occasions over the last day and a half that for children who could not or would not speak, they still managed to introduce a surprising amount of extra volume into the house. "Are they still awake?" He dropped his voice to the barest of whispers.

"Little Miss were out like a light. But the lad's fighting it. Keeps opening his eyes every few minutes. He slept more during the day than she did."

Siegfried was surprised yet again, not having realised that either child had napped during the day, but now seeing that it made perfect sense given their young ages and their poor night of slumber. "Things will become busier very soon. I doubt I'll see many quiet mornings to spend with all of you going forward. Richard and I will be gone more often, and..."

"Less surgery hours mean busier surgery hours," she finished for him, still pressed against the door, one slim hand up against her chest, close to her neck, one bare foot just barely visible near the base of the ochre door. He caught himself staring, mesmerised by the difference in seeing just a sliver of her peeking out from behind the barrier between them, as opposed to seeing her day in and day out, moving freely about the house. He was glad for the darkened hall to hide the heat beneath his beard and offered his sincere compliment.

"Not that you need my assistance, of course. You're wonderful with them."

She scoffed. "I'm barely doing what needs doing."

Siegfried brought his hand up to the door, grasping the edge just underneath where her own hand held the door open. "I can see a difference in them in just one day. I can't imagine anyone else could have done better in the circumstances."

She ducked her head momentarily but then shared his praise, as was always her way. "You and Helen have been part of that too. I'd never have brought them into your office, like Helen did. Never thought to let them play the piano. And you know I wouldn't have brought out Vonolel." 

"Quite right!" He chucked at the very thought. 

Audrey grinned, enjoying their impromptu conversation, then suddenly remembering the current situation and her state of dress, pulled her robe more tightly against herself. "I best get back."

"Of course. Of course. And, perhaps..."

"Yes?"

"Might we find a few moments in the evenings going forward to try to discuss our day? I'd like to hear what's been happening with the children—anything I might have missed."

"That's a lovely idea. I'd like that."

She began to close the door, then stopped and added, "And thank you, Mr. Farnon."

Siegfried was momentarily flummoxed over what she might be thanking him for. "For interrupting your sleep? No trouble at all. Any time." Hearing his words out loud caused a blush to come to his cheeks for the second time in their short hallway interlude. But he couldn't help but notice that even in the dim light he could make out a pinkening of her face as well. And she let out a small nervous giggle that made him immediately imagine what she might have been like a few decades ago. He attempted to correct his faux pas. "I'm sorry, Mrs..."

But she released her hold on the door to hold up her hand, preempting his apology. "Thank you for offering to help with the children."

He nodded in understanding.

And with a more serious look on her lovely face, she added, "And for not wanting to find an 'alternate solution' for them."

"They're not a problem that needs solving. Until we can find out where they truly belong, then they can stay here as long as they need."

She looked at him so tenderly that he was glad they were about to part, for fear that he might not be able to continue to find good reasons to resist kissing her if he stayed this close to her any longer. "Goodnight, Mrs. Hall."

"Goodnight, Mr. Farnon."

That night, the children, while still waking a few times during the night, settled back down more easily each time, granting Audrey a greater total number of hours of much-needed sleep.

During her sleeping hours, Audrey dreamt of Siegfried holding a child on his knee. It was neither of their little guests, and somehow, without any idea of what Jimmy might look like as he grew, her dream self knew it wasn't the youngest Herriot on Siegfried's knee, either.

Meanwhile, once again uninterrupted in his own repose, Siegfried dreamt of the feel of the nightgown he had spied peeking out from under Audrey's dressing gown. And he dreamt of the feel of the woman beneath the gown as well.

Chapter Text

Sunday, 9 February 1941: 2nd Full Day

Siegfried woke, unable to stop thinking of his nighttime conversation with Audrey in the hallway. Mrs. Hall!, he silently chastised himself. He had taken to privately referring to her as "Audrey" more and more, despite knowing it was one more way in which he was setting himself up for pain if her feelings for him remained just those of a dear friend. But his mind prodded him. She did blush like a schoolgirl last night. Despite the meagre lamp light filtering through her partially opened door, he had seen the flush of pink when he had accidentally uttered his slight innuendo about waking her at night—as if he would be actually present in her room for some reason.

Still, his dream version of her went far beyond best of friend or childish crush, and he couldn't help but find himself wedged between the initial instinct to cherish the memory of those dreams and the later desire to wish them away completely. To initially long for nothing more than to close his eyes and replay each ethereal moment, committing them firmly to memory before they escaped in a whiff of dream-like vapours, destined to be lost completely to the recesses of his mind where all nocturnal inventions forever disappear. Only to subsequently be besieged by his guilt-ridden conscience that told him it was disrespectful of him to dream of her in such a way, as she had never given him permission in actual life to do anything remotely close to what his dream self had enjoyed with her.

The first time he ever dreamt of her in such a salacious way, he had woken up aghast at the images his mind had conjured. She was still strictly "Mrs. Hall, Housekeeper" at the time. Not best friend, not member of the family, not even yet "Audrey" in his own thoughts. She was the incredibly patient, hard-working employee who had single-handedly brought the house, as well as himself and Tristan, back from the brink of ruin after Evelyn's death. And Evelyn—how crushed he was at the thought that he had, even in a dream, replaced his beloved Evelyn with such carnal thoughts of another woman. He was at least grateful that those dreams were blessedly infrequent at first. But as "Mrs. Hall, Housekeeper" morphed into Mrs. Hall, friend, confident, and partner in nearly all things, the dreams transpired a bit more regularly. Each time he would doggedly attempt to put a bit more space between them for a few days, seek her out less, avoid running into her as often. If she noticed the difference in either the amount of time she saw the man or the lack of proximity to her employer those days, she was intelligent enough a woman not to question either.

Eventually, under the guise of community relations, he resumed attendance at local balls and dances, holding an array of different women in his arms, even if for just a brief, predetermined measure of time. But he never dreamt of any of those women, the widows and spinsters of Darrowby. When he started seeing some of the women on more private social occasions, dining or dancing one-on-one, he wondered if those women would begin to populate his dreamscape. But nothing changed. He either dreamt of hazy, memory-induced montages of moments spent with his young wife when she was healthy, happy, and carefree; or he dreamt of imagination-fueled romps with the woman he could no longer bring himself to regard as simply his "housekeeper." She was an esteemed part of the household but also an integral part of his very being. 
   
He felt waves of apprehensive energy rush through him as he contemplated whether she would act any differently when they first laid eyes upon one another that morning. Would the atmosphere be charged between them when he arrived downstairs? He shook his head, regarding his thoughts as foolishness. The woman spent the night with two small children who are away from anyone or anything familiar. And now, despite it being a day of "rest,"  she had likely been up for some time already caring for said guests while simultaneously seeking to keep up her usual household responsibilities.

Sunday--church! Siegfried groaned aloud. He had forgotten that the poor woman was probably without a way to fit in her ritualistic habit of attending services with two demanding children now under her care. He felt incredibly selfish for hiding away upstairs, and he pushed away his bedevilling thoughts and hurried to ready himself.

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Siegfried found a harried environment downstairs. Helen was nestled in the corner of the room in Audrey's armchair, trying to console Jimmy, while Audrey held the crying little girl on her lap as the young boy sat mutilating a strip of toasted bread in his hands. Siegfried also noted the table, nearly empty save for an equally sparse toast rack, and no sign of Carmody anywhere. Before he even opened his mouth to issue a "Good Morning,"  he could practically feel an apology radiating from Audrey, and he rushed to cut her off before she began. 

"I'm guessing it's been a difficult morning. I'm sorry I'm late in offering my assistance. Speaking of assisting," he rushed on to fill any gap into which she might try to offer atonements for sins he most unequivocally felt she hadn't committed. "Where's Carmody?"

Helen looked up briefly from the baby. "He took his plate in the dining room, and we're all better for it, so please leave him be."

"I see. In that case, Mrs. Hall, I believe that if I assume your remaining tasks immediately, there is still ample time for you to make it to church for services."

"I've not even made breakfast for everyone yet."

"Tell me who has eaten so far, and I'll take over from there. If I need reinforcement, I shall ask Helen." He raised an eyebrow in silent challenge, knowing she had no way to refuse without insulting the young mother's skills in the kitchen.

"Fine." She pressed her lips together as she gave in to the fool man. "Mr. Carmody, Helen, and I've had tea and a bit of toast. Our young lad's as interested in food as ever he is. I don't know how he survives," she lamented. "Someone must have found a way, but I've not any idea what it might be." Her shoulders slumped under the weight of her self-appointed inadequacy. 

"This one," she gave a jiggle of her knees to indicate the child sniffling on her lap, "was very interested in a pickled egg, but just as I set it out for her, Mr. Carmody came in. She were distracted; her brother knocked the egg off the table, and Dash had it for his breakfast. She's been bawling ever since, refusing offers of a new egg." She rolled her eyes to illustrate her opinions on that conundrum.

"Meanwhile Richard took off for the dining room, and the baby decided to join in the wailing," Helen added dryly. 

"We shall survive, Mrs. Hall, I promise you that. Now, go, enjoy the cool air, read, pray, sing."

He walked over to where she sat and directed his words to the child. "Hello there! Whatever is happening? It's time for Mrs. Hall to go to church. You'll just have to cry on me for now, I'm afraid. I'm not as soft or lovely as she is, but I'll have to do for now." And he took advantage of her surprised confusion to gingerly grasp her under her arms and slide her to a standing position. He held her there a moment while encouraging an equally surprised Audrey to make herself scarce. Soft and lovely?, she mused as she left for her room.

"Now! What can Uncle Siegfried help you with today? Are you hungry?" He tentatively let go of her, and she slid bonelessly to the floor,  recommencing her crying. Crouched down, rocking on his heels, Siegfried clapped his hands together and looked over his shoulder. "That went well; don't you agree, Helen?"

"Oh, aye, that were just grand."

"At least the baby seems to be content now." He gestured to the blanket-covered bundle she cuddled against her chest.

Helen's smirk was impish. "Oh, he is. He's having his breakfast." She threw back her head in a spate of chuckles as Siegfried's face turned as red as that of the bawling child behind him, and he spun on his heels so as to no longer be facing her. "Thanks, Siegfried. I needed a laugh."

"Yes, well, I best see to these two," he responded, resolutely keeping his eyes facing in any direction but towards her.

"I'm ready. Are you sure about me going?" Audrey returned to the kitchen, her hair tucked neatly back into its pins, and her full-length blue apron exchanged for her long woollen coat of the same hue. 

"We're perfectly fine, Mrs. Hall! Couldn't be better!"

"I doubt that, but all right. I'll make a real breakfast when I get back... or else an early lunch."

"Whatever you'd like, my dear. Enjoy your services. Say "Hello!" to the vicar for me." He added cheekily.

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Despite his feelings of unease around the actual children, Siegfried found Richard was perfectly willing to help in any way that kept him separate from the little humans, a fact that became Siegfried's secret to restoring calm to the chaos before Audrey's return, an accomplishment that brought him a warm, satisfied feeling of finally being able to give back in to his treasured housekeeper in some small way, after all the years she'd spent bringing calm to the chaos that routinely surrounded him.

After Audrey left, Siegfried paced a few loops around the kitchen table, trying to devise a plan of action while still avoiding lifting his gaze to Helen and Jimmy at the opposite end of the room. He noticed a small football in the back vestibule and, upon examining it, found it to be soft rubber with an almost leather-looking covering. Keeping his eyes on the ball, he called out, "Helen? What do you know about this ball?" 

But it was Richard's voice that provided the answer from the passage between the kitchen and hall. "That was from the Rudds. They gave it to me with the clothing." Then wincing, added, "Is there nothing to be done about her?"

"I'm working on it, Carmody! To start, keep your eyes on this end of the room and then tackle the washing up."

"What? Me? But I don't know where to begin. "

"You disinfect the examination room, Carmody; you can clean a few dishes. Soap, water, and refrain from breaking anything; otherwise, face Mrs. Hall's wrath. Oh, and don't forget to change the water before rinsing them!"

Richard nodded and began to roll up his shirt sleeves. 

Siegfried grabbed a cloth and wiped up the mess of toast from the boy's hands and front, then removed him from his apron-tie restraints. Ball in hand, he set the child down and rolled the ball to him. The boy was immediately interested and started smacking the ball against the terra-cotta-coloured floor. 

Going back to the little girl, who seemed to have either grown too tired or too bored to continue her tantrum, he sat right down in front of her and gently brushed her hair from out of her face. "Hello, there." His voice was soft yet cheerful. "Your brother has a ball to play with, see? He helped her scoot over so that she could peer under the table to where the boy was still happily rolling and pushing the ball about the corner of the room.

"Do you want to play with him or do you want to eat?" He waited a beat for the answer he did not expect to hear, then, lifting himself to a crouched position, held out a hand. "Do you want to look in the pantry?" She stood silently, and he grasped her hand and led her to Mrs. Hall's prized sector of all things culinary. He spotted the jar of pickled eggs on an upper shelf and a wrapped loaf that must have been used for the morning's toast on the lower open shelf space. 

He put out his hands in a silent request to lift the child; her raised arms offered her answer, and as he lifted her from the ground, he couldn't help but marvel at how it felt to hoist this little human being into his arms. So different from cradling a bundled baby. Memories of Evelyn flooded his mind. She had wanted this. A small child of her own to hold against her, their little limbs clinging to her side. And he had refused her. He blinked to clear his eyes and attempted to clear his thoughts as well. It was far to late for him to give Evelyn the children she had so greatly desired. But it was not too late for him to help Audrey care for these children. And perhaps somehow, in helping these little ones, he might possibly ease the burning in his chest when he considered his own children, fated to non-existence by his younger self's stubborn insistence that he didn't want them at the time. 

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Siegfried had found the child willing to eat a slice of bread, untoasted, upon which he had put a slight spread of jam from a started jar. Afterwards Helen, who had finished feeding and winding the baby, offered each of their guests a chance to use a small chamber pot they had tucked in a corner of the passage to alleviate multiple trips up and down the stairs all day, while Richard finished the washing up and Siegfried gave a cursory wipe-down to the table. 

By the time Audrey returned, Carmody was digesting a book on bovine maladies, Helen and Jimmy had returned to the bedsit, and Siegfried was giving the children what he announced to be a "belated grand tour of the house.".

"Hello?" Audrey's voice called from the front hall. Siegfried poked his head out of the second examination room, where he had been showing the children a small skull. 

"Ah, Mrs. Hall! You're back! I've been telling the children about river otters." His voice was merry, and he poked his head back into the exam room. "Lutra lutra, right children?" His head peeked once more out into the hall, making Audrey grin at the comedic nature of his face bopping back and forth. "The name sounds very silly. I think they like it." He put the skull back on a shelf and ushered the children out of the room, making sure the doors to both exam rooms were tightly closed and reminding himself to warn everyone in the house to be sure to keep both those and the dispensary and equipment cupboard doors closed while the children were staying in the residence.

Once Audrey had removed her coat, hat, and gloves, Siegfried gestured her towards the sitting room.

"But I've got a meal to make. Everyone must be famished by now. I'm sorry for leaving before I..."

Siegfried interrupted. "We're fine, Mrs. Hall—or at least we will be for a bit longer. Perhaps while we have our guests here with us we can impose a moratorium on apologies, else we may spend half our time issuing them. Things will be different than usual, and that's to be expected. But we'll all survive—even Carmody." He winked. "Besides, if we're to be issuing apologies, then we have one of our own. I cannot promise our idea of a clean kitchen will in any way meet your own standards. Nor can I promise that anything is actually back "where it lives." He gave her a look of somewhat bashful cheekiness as he used her often repeated words.

"I'm surprised to hear it's clean at all," she admitted with a chuckle. 

Siegfried pointedly ignored her lighthearted gibe and invited the children to show off their new football and how they had learned to play with it gently when inside the house. "We had a close call in the kitchen before we taught them the gentle part," Siegfried whispered out of the side of his mouth.

Audrey made noises of impressed delight at the children's ball-rolling skills and stood to "finally go make a decent meal for everyone."

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Though the start of their second full day had been a formidable challenge in its earliest hours, as the morning progressed, the Skeldale inhabitants found that Sunday afforded them the unforeseen luxury of having the available adults outnumbering the children at most times. Richard, who was still leery of interacting with their visitors, had no qualms in fulfilling a fetch and carry role for the day, allowing him to feel useful while also providing him genuine reasons to flee the scene any time a predicament of any sort occurred. Audrey was able to get their meal times back on track for the day, making them the most filling lunch possible to redeem herself for what she viewed as a rather appalling Sunday breakfast. 

Helen had ample time to continue her pursuit of an improved sleeping schedule with little James, Carmody was rewarded with sufficient time for his scholarly enterprises, and Siegfried even absconded to the bedsit for a few moments to rummage through a few boxes still being stored on the second floor, looking for some old toys once belonging to Tristan.

He secreted down a small crate of wooden blocks; a golden-haired teddy bear, a bit sparse in spots but still well stuffed; and a tatty old lion, that while worse for wear, still had a rather affable look about him, bringing them all down to Mrs. Hall. 

"I suggest we hide these someplace convenient, yet out of sight for now, while the children have an overflow of adult attention, then bring them out in some future moment when a distraction would be more advantageous." Siegfried's knowing look indicated that he knew full well the weekdays might prove more difficult than the two weekend days had been.

"They were Tristan's, so they're in a bit of a state, as you might imagine, but at least the children are unlikely to cause them any more destruction than has already befallen the poor things." He held up the well-loved lion to support the slight barb against his brother.

Audrey's entire demeanour softened at the sight of the toys, imagining both a young Tris dragging around the sad little lion or cuddling the beloved bear, as well as the faces of their small guests when the toys were eventually unveiled to them. Her heart swelled with tenderness for the man before her, willing to share these precious mementos with two little strangers. She reached out to sentimentally stroke the corduroy body of the toy lion. "I wondered where you'd run off to. This were such a kind thing for you to do. Thank you."

"It's the least I can do, as I'll be busying myself with animals while you're left to occupy their time. But for now, my dear, I am here and prepared for playtime. I just need to borrow a few things from your pantry if you don't mind."

Audrey raised an eyebrow but followed him into the small space to see what new, peculiar plan he was hatching.

Chapter Text

Sunday, 9 February 1941: 2nd Full Day, Continued:

Marjorie Pumphrey carefully climbed the steps to Skeldale House, her beloved Tricki-Woo in arms. It was Sunday afternoon, a day in which surgery was typically closed, which was fine by her, as she wasn't actually stopping by in regards to Tricki today. She was on a mission of another sort and was delighted when the door was opened, and Mrs. Hall, the very woman she wished to see, invited her in warmly.

Mrs. Pumphrey was accustomed to some level of oddities happening at Skeldale whenever she had reason to visit. And of course, being largely viewed by others as a bit odd herself, the fine woman found that to be part of the home's endearing charm. But this afternoon, as she followed the ever-welcoming Mrs. Hall in from the front vestibule to the waiting area, Mrs. Pumphrey was greeted with a sight strange even by Skeldale standards.

The lead veterinary surgeon marched into the space via the double doors of the home's quaint sitting room, a closed umbrella in one hand, and quite surprisingly, a small boy held firmly in his opposite arm. The vet turned marching band leader was moving the umbrella up and down in lieu of a baton, and as he came more fully into the space, she noted he was leading a small girl, who, like the young lad, was wearing an interesting array of ill-fitting clothing and who was focused entirely upon the playing of her instrument, a yellow enamel sauce pan, which she was arrhythmically smacking with a wooden spoon.

Realising their audience had grown beyond just his fellow family members, so to speak, Siegfried called out "Squad Halt!" and stopped dead in his current position, upon which his young drummer ran pot and, all right into the back of his legs, fell backward onto her bottom, where she sat, looking about in confusion as her lower lip began to quiver.

In the moment it took Siegfried to realise his mistake in assuming the girl would stop as abruptly as the command expected, both Mrs. Hall and Mrs. Pumphrey had sprung into action. Mrs. Hall squatting down to help the girl to her feet and assure her that she was fine, while Mrs. Pumphrey aimed to distract, cheerfully proclaiming, "My, what a wonderful parade I have just seen! You played that drum so beautifully. My dear Tricki-Woo liked your song very much as well!"

Puzzled at first, the girl finally noted that the armful of fur the older woman was holding was indeed a living thing, and she tilted her head this way and that, trying to determine where this creature's face was hiding. Noting her difficulty, Mrs. Pumphrey smoothed back Tricki's hair and brought his face closer to the child. "This is Tricki. He's my very best friend. I take him everywhere I go. Would you like to give him a little pet?" 

Audrey touched the girl's wrist. "Do you want help to pet Tricki?" The child nodded, and Audrey guided her hand to the back of Tricki's head. "Gentle, now, poppet." 

The child smiled and took to petting the small dog a few more times before Mrs. Pumphrey interrupted. "That was very nice of you. Tricki does love attention." Pointing to the boy, still in Siegfried's arms, she inquired if he, too, might like to pet Tricki.

"Ah, that's a very good question, Mrs. Pumphrey. I'm afraid our young visitor has a strict set of rules about animals. He wants nothing at all to do with larger ones and is quite enamoured with smaller ones. However, we are still currently uneducated on those in between. So it all depends on whether he views Tricki-Woo as small enough to be worthy of his affection."

Mrs. Pumphrey nodded her head slowly and lifted a finger for a moment as she contemplated the possible outcome if the toddler didn't view her beloved pet as worthy. "I see. Well, perhaps I shall introduce them at a bit of a distance, shall I?"

Siegfried smiled in silent understanding of her plan and turned his body to put himself between the tot and the dog. "This is my friend Mrs. Pumphrey and her dog, Tricki. What do you think about Tricki?" The boy's face remained impassive, and Siegfried lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "Tricki and Vonolel are very good friends, you know. Volonel thinks Tricki is the best dog he knows." 

The child looks at Siegfried with interest that was slightly tinged with suspicion, but he did slowly extend his arm just a bit, keeping his elbow bent and his upper arm tucked against Siegfried's chest, though letting his hand sway slightly out in the air, fingers splayed. Siegfried smiled in encouragement. "Very good! Just one nice little pat." Mrs. Pumphrey took the few steps needed to gently bump Tricki's back against the small pudgy hand, smiling broadly when they made soft contact. "Oh, very good, brave fellow! Very good, indeed!"

Audrey stepped forward, arms extended. "Here, let me get these two out of your hair, and then you can talk to Mr. Farnon in peace."

Turning back from vet and boy, Mrs. Pumphrey smiled broadly at the younger woman. "I'm actually here to see you, Mrs. Hall."

Surprised, Audrey stopped mid-transfer of the little boy, one hand along the child's back and one tucked between the child's front and Siegfried's chest. Realising her positioning, she quickly drew back her hands, leaving Siegfried to re-adjust his grip on the boy. 

Siegfried was pleased to hear the stately woman was here to speak to Audrey, hoping to see the two women become better acquainted in time, as he felt they would likely find they had much in common despite their differences in their economic circumstances or supposed social standings. "In that case, I shall take these two on a more quiet adventure while you ladies enjoy your chat."

Mrs. Pumphrey gave a bemused smile and wave as Siegfried brought the children down towards the archway leading to the stairs. "Well, I must admit, Mrs. Hall, I'm both amused and curious about this development. 

"Oh, it's a long story, Mrs. Pumphrey, but the short version is that we're looking out for the two little ones for now."

"I didn't get their names, I'm afraid. Or, for that matter, I don't recall if I even offered mine! The surprise of it all must have addled my mind!" She lightly chuckled. 

Audrey grinned, "I can only imagine walking in and seeing a three-person parade marching through the house!"

The women moved into the sitting room, where Audrey offered to procure some sort of refreshment, and Mrs. Pumphrey, practical enough to know such things were not so simple these days, graciously declined. While not a gossip, Mrs. Pumphrey was still intrigued about the two rather bedraggled children staying at Skeldale and wound up sitting with Mrs. Hall considerably longer than originally expected when she arrived, wishing to ask for the housekeeper's help with an upcoming meeting she was hosting. By the time she left, tucked back into her gleaming Rolls Royce by a relieved-looking Francois, Marjorie's mind was busy mulling over the story of the two lost children and how she might help, while Audrey waved her off then turned back to a surprisingly silent house. 

After meandering her way from room to room throughout the entire house looking for them, to no avail, Audrey was making her way back down the stairs when inspiration hit, and checking the hooks in the small entry off the kitchen, she saw their little coats missing. Grabbing an extra layer of warmth for herself, she headed out the back door and around to the animal shed, smiling to herself as she heard Mr. Farnon's voice on her approach. 

"Now this is a European Shorthair. Not to be confused with the British Shorthair, which is a much rounder cat."

She stopped for a moment when a few soft giggles met her ears, feeling so incredibly pleased to hear any sounds beyond crying or whimpering. "His name is Stripey. It's not the most original of names, I'll grant you, but I wasn't the one to choose it, you see, so I have no say in the matter." 

Audrey shook her head at the man, unseen, as she knocked on the door jamb and called out, "Is it safe to open the door?"

"Yes, yes! Come in, Mrs. Hall." 

She opened the door to see the little girl peering into a cage containing a brown tabby cat, presumably the aforementioned "Stripey." Siegfried was in the midst of opening another cage, this one containing a ginger cat. She looked about the space, trying to pinpoint the boy; her actions were noticed by Siegfried, who tapped her shoulder, then pointed to the corner of the room. Stepping around a table in the room's centre, piled high with all manner of animal-related paraphernalia blocking her view, Audrey couldn't help but smile at the toddler fast asleep on a paltry pile of hay, with a small rabbit snuggled up against him.

"Have you been out here the whole time?" she asked as she walked back over to Siegfried and his littlest assistant. "It's not feeding time."

"No, but the animals will never complain about some extra attention, which these two were more than happy to provide. Granted, our lad's only more than happy with certain ones, of course. But after our story last night, he deemed that rabbit to be perfectly acceptable. He was also a bit too fond of the guinea pig. I had to separate them before he cuddled it to death." Audrey grimaced at the thought. "Don't worry, my dear. The rabbit's sturdier and more capable of escaping if need be."

"I hope the rabbit knows that."

Siegfried chuckled and carefully set the ginger cat down into the awaiting arms of the girl, who was now sitting cross-legged on the shed floor. "Remember, you must be very gentle."

He stood up again, straightening his jacket sleeves and picking a bit of straw from the bottom edge of his waistcoat. "Am I permitted to ask about Mrs. Pumphrey's visit?"

"Nowt too interesting, I'm afraid. She wants to organise a group of women to get together to knit all day to send some warm things to our lads."

"A very worthy endeavour! When will she be hosting this party of clicking needles and flying yarn?" 

"This coming Saturday. I'll attend if the children have returned to their home by then. Otherwise, I can do some extra knitting here on me own just as well."

"Nonsense! " You should attend either way. The rest of us are perfectly capable of keeping two small humans present and accounted for over the course of a single day. We did well enough while you were at church."

"That were for less than two hours!"

Siegfried waggled his eyebrows. "You wait and see, Mrs. Hall! We'll all get along famously!"

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The rest of the day moved along in a mostly peaceful state, a pleasant happenstance for which the adults were truly grateful. The children both napped after returning indoors from their trip to the animal shed, with the boy simply being transferred from one spot of slumber to another, too deeply asleep to notice his transport. Their coinciding rest period gave the older occupants of the house a well-needed respite as well, and they all gathered in the sitting room, each busy with their individual endeavours but enjoying the camaraderie of sharing the same space to do so. Even the dogs joined in, taking up their traditional bit of floor space as close to the fireplace as was safe to venture. It offered a quietly rejuvenating stretch of time before Helen eventually heard the telltale sounds of the youngest Herriot voicing concerns about his lot in life, while Audrey returned to her sanctuary of fragrant vegetables, the warmth of the AGA, and some dulcet radio tunes.

Siegfried and Carmody were left on their own until the return of the children, who were happy to cram their little bodies alongside that of Siegfried's in his armchair and once again be regaled by the adventures of the naughty Peter Rabbit, now all the more meaningful after having had the great fortune to have been introduced to an actual live example of the species.

Tea was presented in a timely manner, unadorned, despite it being a Sunday, as rationing continually made necessary, but enough for everyone to have their fill. And in a refreshing rarity, even the young lad was willing to accept an amount of food that Mrs. Hall happily deemed sufficient.

Afterwards Audrey sent everyone off so that she could privately do a brisk cleansing of the kitchen, which, though she would never divulge if asked, was truly not terribly well mopped up after the breakfast debacle. Still, the thought of Carmody and Siegfried attempting to wash up and set the room to rights made her smile.

Mr. Farnon!, she silently reminded herself. For reasons she could not fathom, she had taken to privately referring to her employer by his first name in the privacy of her own thoughts far more often of late. The increase in incidents disquieted her. Her feelings for the man had been complicated for some time, but in the last several months, his behaviour towards her had changed, and it made her own feelings swirl more vigorously, creating a tempest as self-disparagement and near constant yearning grappled together within her. And seeing the man interact with these two precious little lost souls did nothing to quell the storm.

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Sunday, Late Evening:

Siegfried was just lighting his pipe when Audrey finally crossed the threshold of the sitting room again, easing into the armchair alongside his with a beleaguered sigh. He had preemptively filled two sherry glasses and checked the fire whilst awaiting Audrey's return from settling the children in the kitchen with Helen, who volunteered to keep them company while he and Audrey attempted the first of the evening exchanges he had suggested. Having spent most the day together, a true need for private discussion was fairly tenuous, but once he had envisioned the pleasing notion of he and Audrey sharing a few moments together each day, he wished to set the precedent for their conversations tout de suite, less the day-to-day madness intervene and they might never get the habit off the ground.

His wait for Audrey's presence had been longer than anticipated, and when he started hearing sounds of unhappiness filter through the house, he decided perhaps he had time to enjoy his pipe before they got started.

"Do you mind?" He raised his pipe in indication.

"Not at all." Her head was resting against the back of the chair, and her eyes were closed.

"They weren't keen on you leaving them with Helen, I gather?"

She hummed out a slight sound of humour. "I think they preferred last night's routine. Sitting in the kitchen with Helen's not quite the same as clambering all over you like a pile of puppies."

Siegfried's eyes crinkled with mirth. "I suppose that is a good description of how things went. I started off with a child on either side of me, but somehow they wound up trying to share a lap. Tonight we managed to share a chair, which was slightly more civilized. Everyone had their own spot, and I didn't wind up buffeted by miniature feet and elbows."

"Must be all that time as Father Christmas," she teased. "The little ones flock to you now."

He scoffed. "Perhaps it's just that children enjoy the smells of animals and dirt!"

Audrey was quiet for a moment before changing the subject. "Mrs. Pumphrey thinks perhaps the children should see a doctor."

"Whatever for? They look the picture of health to me."

"They may be able to tell us if they are as healthy as we hope and maybe fathom a guess as to why they don't speak."

"We only have Doctor Bowes here now, and the man's as old as Methuselah and as testy as Scrooge. Don't get me wrong, he's fine for fevers and sprains, but I doubt he'll be able to sleuth out any medical-related secrets about these two."

"I did wonder how patient he'd be with them. Mrs. Pumphrey sounded concerned, too. She's going to see if she can find the name of anyone else, but that might be quite costly, and I've..." She turned her head away from him, and an unseen fist clenched around his chest at the thought that his words had caused her upset. "I've spent more of my savings that I would have liked seeking my divorce," she whispered towards her hands, fingers twisting anxiously, cradled in her lap.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest you shouldn't bring them over. It can't hurt for them to see Bowes. I just don't know how productive it will be." 

"I suppose it might at least be something I can tell the constable when he calls again." She sounded worried and dejected, and he longed for a way to allay her concerns.

"Why don't I give him a call tomorrow and ask him for his thoughts on the matter? It might save you and the children needing to see the miserable sod."

"Mr. Farnon! He can't be that bad, can he?"

"Ah, see, Mrs. Hall—you've managed to avoid his company over the years, your supply of witch's brews, treatments, and tinctures always available to remedy any woes. But those of us who have battled a stubborn beast and failed to win the battle, we've been forced to call on the man and deal with his constant ill-temper."

"Well," Audrey hunted for the right words. "In that case, maybe a call would be best."

Siegfried waved his pipe at her in agreement. "Wise choice, my dear. A very wise choice. I'll see to it myself tomorrow while I'm here in surgery."

"If you think it best, then that would be very helpful." 

Siegfired held out his hand across the arms of the chairs, and she accepted it with an encouraged smile and a grateful squeeze.

Chapter Text

Monday, 10 February 1941: 3rd Full Day

Siegfried clapped his hands together. "All right! Carmody, do you have your list?" 

Richard drew a folded sheet of paper from his pocket to verify its presence. "Ye..."

"Wonderful! Off with you, then! No need to dilly-dally. Farmers wake with the sun!" Carmody made an attempt to turn away, only for Siegfried to continue on with his incessant queries and suggestions. "Remember, you know what you're doing! You are the professional!"

"Right, Mr. Farnon. Thank you."

"And for God's sake, don't crash the car!"

From her position at the sink, Audrey stilled in her movements to turn and give her employer a look of gentle admonishment. "He knows how to drive perfectly well, Mr. Farnon."

"Fine, fine! Do you have your bag packed properly?"

"Yes, I believe so." The young vet was befuddled by his mentor's mood this morning. He sounded jovial and enthusiastic, yet he kept issuing reminders in regards to tasks Richard had already mastered. The man was an enigma, and Richard Carmody had enough to deal with trying to comprehend the average individual.

"You 'Believe so'?! Carmody! You're coming up on a year here."

Carmody lifted a hand tentatively and opened his mouth to supply the proper calculation of time in which he had been studying under the tutelage of the veterinary surgeons of Skeldale, but Siegfried cut him off yet again before he could utter the first syllable.

"Close enough, Carmody! The point is that you should know your bag is packed properly. You should be organised, energetic, and ready to go out into the world and treat its animals of all varieties."

"Oi, Siegfried! Just let him go already before the farmers start calling, wondering if he's ever going to show up."

"Difficult night, Helen?" Siegfried's tone held a teasing implication that she sounded a bit waspish.

"Yes, Siegfried, I did. We both did." Helen pointed back and forth between herself and Audrey, who had turned her back on the insanity and was focusing her already waning energy on washing up.

Siegfried spun around, his full attention swiftly bouncing from his student vet to his housekeeper. Helen, from behind him, gestured to Carmody to leave while the path was clear for his unnoticed escape.

"The children were awake again?" Gone was the over-exuberance of his speech, as concern now infused his every word. "But I told you to wake me so that I might assist."

Audrey set down a clean pot and dried her hands. "It may come as a surprise, Mr. Farnon, but I don't always do everything you suggest."

"Yes, well, there is often a neglect from the occupants of this house to recall who's actually in charge here." Although he tried valiantly, Siegfried failed to keep his face as stern as intended. He held a covert weakness for Audrey's slightly acerbic side. Her saucy expression when she delivered her dry wit or a sarcastic reply always stirred something inside of him. 

It was partly a pleased relief that she felt comfortable telling him exactly what she was thinking, but more so, it was simply the notion that she had that slightly wicked side to her that so greatly stoked his curiosity. Not a true wickedness, an evil wickedness, of course, but rather a challenging spicy side that she had originally kept as carefully tucked away as the soft curls she pinned up each day and the feminine curves she kept under wraps under layers of cardigans and aprons. As her time at Skeldale House moved from being measured in months to years, she slowly started offering less cushioned versions of her views on the day-to-day running of the household. And now, with each sassy reply, Siegfried couldn't help but long for the possibility of some day earning the right to know even more of the thoughts and opinions that crossed her mind when she pierced him with one of her sharp looks. 

Mistaking his silence for annoyance, however, Audrey's gleeful expression at besting the man began to fade. "I'm sor..."

"Ah, ah, ah, Mrs. Hall! A moratorium! We agreed!"

"Yes, but..."

"No! We agreed!"

Her frustration with the exasperating man caused her to revert back to the offensive. "You apologised just last night."

"I did not."

"You did!"

"When?!" While enjoying their back and forth, Siegfried truly couldn't recall issuing an apology to the wonderful woman since he had unofficially established a temporary ban on them.

"When we were discussing taking the children to the doctor,"

She was right. Of course, she was right. She was delightfully correct on most matters, almost all of the time. It was one of the things he loved about her. "Oh dear, I must really stop thinking that all of the time before I accidentally blurt it out one day."

"Ah. Yes, well, moving on then! It's me in surgery today, and I plan to contact Dr. Bowes, so I best be on my way!" 

He cast a glance over to the two youngsters, who were thoroughly enjoying dipping small rags into a shallow bowl of water, then slapping the rags on the tabletop, creating small splashes of water droplets all about the space, and wondered once more if bringing them to see the village doctor was wise. He hoped today's phone conversation would leave him with a firm opinion on whether or not to go ahead with the idea.

"Until later, ladies and children, Baby Herriot!" He squinted towards Helen. "You are just holding him right now, I assume."

Helen rolled her eyes. "If you can't tell, then it don't matter."

Siegfried wasn't sure he truly needed that answer, anyway, and finally set off towards the front of the house.

Audrey gave a half-hearted harrumph to his retreating form. "Daft man!"

Rising from her customary spot in the back corner of the room, a drowsy little James nodding off in her arms. Helen shook her head at the antics of the older members of the household. "I can't decide if the two of you are like naughty children or an old married couple!" And she left for the bedsit, a promise to return shortly tossed out as she exited the room.

Audrey was left staring down the passage, open-mouthed and momentarily speechless, then blurted out in shock, "An old married couple?!" with only the dogs and children present to look up in startled surprise at her sudden exclamation.

****************************************

Siegfried patted Suzie tenderly on the side. "You're all set, girl." Turning to Bert Chapman, he smiled encouragingly. "Try to have her rest the leg as much as possible. When she needs to go out, use a lead if possible to avoid her running or jumping.

Bert replaced the knit hat he had been anxiously wringing throughout the vet's examination of the Chapman's ageing pet and thanked Siegfried. "The missus will be relieved. She were afraid the dog had gone and broken the leg. The old girl's not getting any younger, you know." He elbowed Siegfried and guffawed. "'Course, neither are we!" 

Siegfried laughed politely and was assisting in moving the Suzie from the table when he was distracted by the jiggling of the door knob out in the hall. "They don't even wait to be called in anymore," he quipped. Once the beloved dog was tucked safely back into Bert's arms, Siegfried cautiously opened the examination room door for the older man, surprised to find the waiting room empty.

"You've got ghosts, now," Mr. Chapman joked. 

"Why not? We have everything else going on around here." The men said their farewells, and Siegfried took a quick jaunt around the nearby rooms, trying to determine the source of the interruption. As he returned to the front of the house after checking the dispensary, he became aware of a faint knocking noise coming from the sitting room. Poking his head in, he found Audrey and the boy crouched together on the floor outside the doors to the dining room, which were currently closed.

Noticing his presence, Audrey explained, "I'm teaching them to knock on closed doors." She let the knock sound one more time, then called out, "Come in!" And the door slowly opened.

"That explains my ghost client. Which one of them was it?"

Audrey nodded towards the girl. "I think she heard your voice and were hoping you'd be ready to play or read again."

"Perhaps they are not accustomed to someone who works and lives in the same habitat. They think if I'm here, then I am available to them." 

It made him feel uncharacteristically guilty about the amount of time he had to offer them. His position insured that his time was so rarely his own that what time he did set aside for himself or family, he tended to feel quite understandably well-entitled to, and now, for the first time, he wished he had more open hours to devote to someone outside of his family instead. Oh, he had generally bemoaned not having enough time for dating during his short sojourn into the open arms of Darrowby's single, eligible female population, but beyond a slight annoyance or disappointment, easily shaken off, he hadn't minded when work interfered. But now, it truly tore at him, knowing that these two would be here for such a short stay and that he could not offer them the time they wished from him.

Siegfried left the children and Audrey to their door-knocking lessons. The waiting room was still empty, but rather than enjoy time practicing good manners, he still had to attempt to call the irascible Dr. Bowes. He had called over to the local practitioner earlier, immediately after breakfast, but received no response. He had been in a much better mindset for dealing with the old codger at that point, but life deals you what it will, so now he'd be greeting Bowes' crankiness with a serving of his own. And most living in the Dales would be happy to share an earful about Siegfried Farnon's own bad temper from time to time.

He closed the doors between the sitting room and waiting room and returned to the phone niche to make the call once again. This time the call was answered by a harassed-sounding woman. "Yes, this is Siegfried Farnon, veterinary surgeon at Skeldale House, calling for Dr. Bowes. Is he with a patient? I'm sure he is. I am available now, so I shall wait." He tapped his fingers on the table in impatience, waiting for the doctor to finish the vague "business" Siegfried was assured the man was busy dealing with. "Business" that was not, however, an actual patient.

The irritated and impatient vet paced back and forth across the short hallway, as far as the phone's cord would allow, walking towards the auxiliary door to the secondary exam room, then performing an about-turn, crossing once again past the phone stand and staircase towards the archway to the front hallway, habitually checking for clients on every third approach. He mentally counted both his paces and his loops around the small tiled passage. When it came time to check for anyone in the waiting area, he'd hold his left arm out-stretched behind him and crane his neck, just allowing him to peer out into the next hallway without pulling the entire telephone down onto the floor. On one such strategic gander, he just caught the front door opening as he began to pull his face back from around the corner. "Be with you shortly!" he yelled out and rushed back to the niche, slamming the receiver down on its base. "What blasted "business" was more important than a call from a potential patient?"

It seemed as if half of Darrowby's pets had managed themselves one mischief or another over the day of rest, as there was a steady stream of two and four-legged creatures paraded in and out of the surgery for the next few hours. Siegfried tried, but primarily failed, to keep his annoyance with Bowes out of his handling of his own feathered and furred subjects.

In a few instances, in between patients, however, he would be offered a respite in the form of tiny knocks at the exam room door. As part of their continued lesson, each time Audrey had a phone message to pass along or a cup of tea to offer, she'd have the children rap their little knuckles against the lower wooden half of the door, and Siegfried would answer wearing one of the rare real smiles he experienced during the tedious remaining hours of his morning.

When the waiting area eventually proved clear upon inspection, Siegfried resumed his communication attempts with the doctor, once again facing the request to wait. "Try, try, and try again!" he mumbled aloud as he resumed his earlier march across the short hall. However, on this tertiary attempt, he was finally able to speak to the doctor, a success that seemed far less fortuitous within mere minutes of speaking to the older man. 

"Bloody half-wit!" He slammed down the receiver with a force that made him cringe and pause in his anger to ensure he had not damaged the apparatus. Upon finding it still whole and in working order, he resumed his thunderous diatribe against Darrowby's ageing doctor. "Goddamn lunatic! Calls himself a physician!"

"Mr. Farnon? Mr. Farnon?" Siegfried could hear Audrey's anxious voice and hurried footfall as she rushed towards his rampaging. She arrived slightly flushed, worry lines etched on her lovely face, and she cast a furtive glance up the stairs towards the upper hall, pausing a moment to listen intently for any sounds of movement or upset. 

Siegfried instantly regretted his outburst as well as the second-hand nonsense he would soon have to pass along to the dear woman. He stalled, looking to first apologise for possibly disturbing or frightening the children. "Mrs. Hall, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think..."

"I believe I were told we've a moratorium on that." The corner of her mouth twitched as if she were struggling to keep back a smirk.

He stared at that spot on her face for a beat and mused that he didn't deserve this wonderful woman who could so swiftly tease a smile from him, even in the midst of a miserable mood. "Yes, now that you mention it, I do recall hearing something along those lines."

Audrey's face grew serious and sympathetic. "Talk about it?" she offered. 

Nodding, Siegfried placed a sign on the front door letting clients know the surgery hours for the morning had concluded, and he joined Audrey in the front room. "We're having our chat early today." His smile was forced and Audrey noticed immediately.

"I've a feeling this won't be as pleasant as our evening talks usually are. What happened?"

With little preamble, Siegfried launched into his grievances against the doctor. "Bowes is a buffoon! First, he had me wait an eternity to even speak to him. He was attending to 'business'! What about my business? There was no one taking care of that while I paced grooves into the hallway floor. And for what? Not one iota of assistance from the man!"

Audrey was silent as she waited for him to take a breath before continuing his tale. 

"I explained the situation to the imbecile and asked if he could see the children here. I thought it might be easier for them than going to another unfamiliar place. He outright refused, so I asked if I could arrange an appointment, and he informed me that he doesn't accept appointments. You simply show up when surgery is open, and then you must wait for an undetermined amount of time. It could be minutes; it could be an hour or more! What kind of system is that?"

Audrey bit down on her lip to be sure she didn't dare say a word in regards to that loaded query. Fortunately, Siegfried's fervour was such that a response from her was neither required nor expected.

"The idiot then proceeded to inform me that with 'that kind of child', it's not necessary to examine them. And a 'straight-forward diagnosis could easily be given' based solely on my explanation of their behaviour."

"That kind of child?" Audrey repeated, indignant.

"Yes, according to the stupid swine, the children are 'obviously both deaf and dumb', and he had no idea why I wasted his time phoning." He exhaled a long stream of air from his tense body. "No offense to swine," he added as an after-thought.

Audrey stared wide-eyed as Siegfried quoted the doctor's "diagnosis." "But that's not right! They hear me just fine. They listen me when I speak to them."

"I agree, and I informed him of that exact thing. But he had already given his opinion, and nothing I said mattered at that point." 

"What a dreadful man!" Audrey fumed, shocked that a man of medicine would deliver such a cavalier verdict on the health of two young children without even laying eyes on them.

"We're best moving on. There's no reasoning with Bowes. We can take the children elsewhere if you'd like."

"Maybe you were right from the start. They seem healthy, and that will have to be good enough."

Chapter Text

Monday, 10 February 1941, Continued:

Somewhat calmer for having had the opportunity to voice his numerous complaints to Audrey, the one person whose mere presence could often soothe the man when he was at his most agitated, Siegfried decided to see to the list of calls Audrey had accumulated while he was in surgery that morning.

"But isn't Mr. Carmody on visits today?"

"He should be finishing shortly if he's not already finished them all. He had only a return check at Rudd's along with an ailing sheep at Slaven's and an injured one at Kitson's. Child's play, really."

"Kitson? Is that wise?" 

"It's a simple laceration. He's more than capable of seeing to it."

"I meant dealing with Kitson." 

Siegfried felt a further lifting of his spirits wash over him, along with his amusement at the look on her face. "Our job doesn't allow us preference over who we associate with, Mrs. Hall; otherwise, I'd spend each day with only you and the quartet of napping individuals upstairs. Until James and Tristan return, of course." 

She felt a warmness in her heart at his words, despite their slightly teasing nature, as she could hear the layer of truth mixed in with his playfulness. "Go on with you!"

He chuckled. "I'm serious! In fact, why don't all of us go on these calls? We can make an outing of it. We can even ask Helen if she and the baby would like to accompany us. They're all simple visits to friendly faces."

"Isn't that all the more reason you should leave them to poor Mr. Carmody?"

"Nonsense! I'll leave him a note asking him to reopen surgery, and he can bask in a warm afternoon of treating patients indoors and with the security of his precious books nearby."

"If you're sure..."

"Very much so, Mrs. Hall. Is it too early to rouse the children from their nap?"

"No, I were about to bring them down for lunch. If you don't mind waiting a bit, we can all eat a little summat before we leave."

"That sounds perfectly fine. I'm free to be of service in any way I might be able."

"I'll go ask Helen if she'd like to go. It may be more than she wishes to take on quite yet. Even the other two will need me to bring a basket of supplies in case we need anything while we're out."

*************************************************************

Getting the children up from their slumber, fed, and ready for an outing took longer than Siegfried could have imagined, but eventually the temporary family, along with what to Siegfried was a surprising array of items necessary to be ready for any contingency, were finally loaded into the Rover and on their way over the rolling hills of the dales leading to the farm of Sid and Elsie Crabtree. Helen had opted to stay back and enjoy the novelty of a nearly empty house, with only Carmody and any afternoon clients present to conceivably interfere with the otherwise peaceful quiet that might exist with the older children, and even more so, Siegfried, gone out for a few hours.

This stop won't take long," Siegfried promised. "Nothing more than a check-up on their yearlings after last year's brucellosis outbreak. A little caution goes a long way in reassuring new farmers."

Siegfried strode off with Mr. Crabtree, while the man's young wife, noticing Audrey and the children in the car, donned a coat and came to greet them. After hearing an abridged version of who the children were and why they were at Skeldale, Elsie Crabtree invited the trio indoors to warm themselves while she looked for anything she might have that the little girl could use. She returned with two small knit items in hand, offering them to Audrey, who fussed over the slate blue cardigan carefully knit in a diamond pattern, complete with diminutive rosettes centred in each diamond, along with a bright red Fair Isle-patterned pullover.
 
"Oh, Mrs. Crabtree," Audrey began.

"Elsie, please." 

"Elsie." Audrey gave a friendly nod of agreement, and waved a hand towards herself. "Audrey, then. Are you sure you wish to give these up? They're so beautiful."

"They're doing no good stored away here."
 
As she did with Mrs. Duggleby, Audrey offered to set the precious garments aside to return when the children returned home.

"No, no, let her keep them. It'd be nice to think another little girl is wearing them."

"Thank you, truly." Audrey turned to the girl who was sitting nearby, patting the Crabtree's sweetly patient dog, a black and white collie mix.

"Oh, poppet, look at this. Do you like it? It will keep you so warm." 

"I'm sorry we have nothing for the boy." 

"Not at all. A few other families sent us some things for him."

Audrey was thoughtful as she sipped the weak black tea that Elsie had offered her with needless regret. "Do you knit, Mrs...Elsie? We're having a get-together of women on Saturday to unravel worn items and knit new ones for the war effort." 

The young woman's entire face lit up at the opportunity to be involved with other women in doing something useful, and Audrey was pleased to have thought to ask her.

"I can't say I'm very good at it, but I can manage scarves and simple hats well enough. And I'm sure we have some old jumpers I can bring to unravel." 

"That sounds lovely. We'd be so happy to have you join us."

*************************************************************

The task of checking the yearlings had been accomplished every bit as expeditiously as Siegfried had promised, and Siegfried was soon steering his treasured vehicle from Low Beck Farm to Heston Grange. The sound of the winter wind whipping against the windows made Audrey glad for the warm woollen blanket Siegfried had given her to tuck around herself and the children.

Their stop at the Aldersons brought with it the first questioning they had faced in regards to their small guests since Gerald's baffled annoyance Friday morning at the train station, three days prior. Richard Alderson minced no words in sharing his thoughts when he met the car and saw the additions to the already busy Skeldale household, still in the Rover, waiting to be helped out into the gravel lane.

"You've got two less vets to help with your work and our Helen and the baby with you. Don't you have owt else to do besides taking in more mouths to feed?"

"We've had an evacuee before," Siegfried pointed out magnanimously.

"Evacuees are old enough to be a help. But this were someone's mistake you decided to fix."

To Siegfried, Richard's slightly gruff disbelief at their taking in of two unknown, unspeaking tots came as little surprise. He was a no-nonsense man who firmly believed family came first and foremost over anything or anyone else, and there was little two children of such tender age could do to make life at Skeldale easier for anyone in the pieced-together family who lived there.

But Audrey's face had taken on a wounded look. "We're still helping Helen with the baby," she defended, as Siegfried patted her arm in reassurance.

"I believe we're supposed to be seeing to a cow, yes?" Siegfried looked to change the subject, just as Jenny, sensing her father had ruffled feathers, also intervened. 

"Auntie Aud, my cat Poppy had kittens last month." She gestured to the boy and girl who were still waiting, with surprising patience, to be helped from the car. "Can we bring them to see?" 

"Thank you, Jenny. I'm sure they'd like that very much."

After quick introductions and the promise of kittens to pet, the little girl was willing to accept Jenny's hand, and the young woman led the way to the barn, Audrey and the boy in tow. 

"She was right to take them." Siegfried looked straight ahead as he started on his way to the stall where the day's patient was waiting to be seen. "They needed someone like her. And no one is expecting anything extra from Helen. Mrs. Hall's taking on the extra work herself, as she always does."

"You've always been half mad, Siegfried, but when it comes to her, you're even more so."
 
Siegfried stopped at the barn and opened the door to cast a critical first look over his bovine subject. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Richard."

"Nay, 'course not."

Jenny and the children were still thoroughly enjoying Poppy's five kittens, as well as one another, when Siegfried and Richard made their way around to the warm corner where Poppy was housing her litter. Jenny was charmed by the younger ones, and they were quickly enamoured with her after she so kindly offered up the sweet small balls of fluff for them to cuddle and coo over. 

"Are you finished, then?, Audrey asked, on alert for any sign of tension between the men.

"All set. We're off to Pumphrey Manor next." The group made their way back to the front of the property, with Siegfried acting cheerful enough as he opened the Rover door and helped the children scramble up into the car's back seat once more. Before Audrey could join them, Richard called out a gruff "Farnon!" held a finger aloft and added, "Hold on, got summat I need." He ducked into the house and, upon his return, pressed a small cloth sack into Audrey's hand.

"What ever?" Her voice was tinged with confusion.

"Just some sugar we don't need."

"You don't need?" Audrey felt that couldn't possibly be right, as she was acutely aware of how limited the sugar rations were.

Alderson nodded nonchalantly. "Without Helen here burning things, we don't use as much."

"But surely you can use it for..."

"Just take it," he rasped. "You've got those younguns to feed."

Comprehending that the man was offering the sugar as a silent apology, Audrey's face blossomed into a relieved smile, glad that there were no hard feelings between them. "I'll be sure to make summat Helen likes." She vowed, then turned and carefully climbed into the rear seat.

Siegfried shook the farmer's hand. "Thank you, Richard." He started for the driver's door. 

Richard held up a hand. "Aye, best get on. Work don't wait."

Jenny enthusiastically waved them off as they left Heston Grange, as Richard stood, hands jammed into his pockets, and shook his head. "Fools, the pair of them."

Chapter Text

Monday, 10 February 1941, Continued:

"How are they doing?" Siegfried asked as he drove the quartet through the stone gate to their final planned stop of the afternoon.

"They're tired, but so long as this isn't too long, they should be all right."

"You mentioned needing to call Mrs. Pumphrey. Hopefully these two will allow you a few moments for your discussion while we're here."

"Maybe if Tricki distracts them."

Upon the arrival of the Skeldale contingent to Pumphrey Manor, salutations were exchanged, and François was dispatched along with "Uncle Farnon" to see to the health and well-being of a stray dog that had been frequenting the property and for whom Mrs. Pumphrey was concerned. Meanwhile, the lady of the house ushered Audrey and the children to what she referred to as the "small" sitting room (Audrey mused that "small" was definitely a relative term.), where the furnishings had been moved aside or simply removed to create an open area in the room flanked by two floral armchairs and a settee of coordinating hue, all of which Mrs. Pumphrey considered "rather worn" these days, while Mrs. Hall was concurrently viewing them with sincere appreciation for their fine lines and detailed upholstery.

Scattered about on a Kashan rug were a handful of wooden tray puzzles, a set of carved farm animal figures just the right proportions to be held by little hands, and a set of colourfully painted alphabet blocks.

"Mrs. Pumphrey!" Audrey was unable to hide the surprise in her voice. "What's all this?" The children noticed the toys and started pulling at her hands, trying to be allowed to go investigate the treasures.

"Charles and I had no children of our own, but we did have nieces and nephews who visited when they were young. I made it a point to always keep a small trunk of toys and dolls on hand for any young guests who might stop by, no matter how infrequently. It's always such a delight to them to find playthings where they least expect them." 

"I'm sure."

Mrs. Pumphrey gestured to the children. "Please, let them play. I rather hope it may allow us a few moments to chat." The older woman smoothed her skirt and sat down gently on one of the armchairs, holding out a hand to offer the matching seat to Mrs. Hall.

Besides being a practiced planner of all manner of events, Marjorie Pumphrey also possessed an innate ability to rally the troops, including zeroing in on the natural leaders among a group, and she knew that Audrey Hall fit that description perfectly, which is why she had a list of ideas to discuss with the younger woman that would keep them both busy far beyond the upcoming Saturday's knitting party. She was delighted to hear that Mrs. Hall had not only invited a few more attendees but that she had also arranged to transport them to the manor herself, meaning they would increase their output and still save on petrol. Oh yes, she was tremendously pleased to have Audrey Hall in her ranks.

"Delightful! You are a skilled planner, Mrs. Hall. I foresee many more successful efforts on the part of the women of Darrowby, with you helping to lead the way."

"I don't know about that."

"Nonsense! It's true, and I should know, as I've planned many events myself. You showed your talent at Christmas, of course, and goodness knows you wrangle all of those veterinarians, and I dare say that's no small feat."

Noting that she had caused a degree of embarrassment to the humble woman, Mrs. Pumphrey graciously changed the subject. "And where is Uncle Carmody today?"

"He's in charge of surgery." There was a note of pride in the housekeeper's voice that Marjorie couldn't help but find endearing. The woman truly did envelope anyone who entered the walls of Skeldale with her wholehearted support. 

"I'm glad to hear he's doing well. I do admit that I gave him rather a difficult time when he first arrived."

"Well, he can take some getting used to," Audrey gently confessed. "But he's a good lad who wants nowt more than to do a good job."

"And Uncle Farnon, how is he getting on with his brother and Uncle Herriot away?"

Audrey answered carefully, not wishing to cause Siegfried any upset if she spoke too candidly but also correctly surmising that Mrs. Pumphrey was no fool and would know quite readily if she understated the difficulties. "He's doing his best. Trying not to admit he misses the lads. And sometimes working too hard for his own good." She gave a sad grin. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"I actually heard a bit of that from Mr. Farnon himself."

"Oh?"

"Yes, right before Uncle Herriot left, Uncle Farnon somewhat beseachingly spoke to me about being more accepting of Mr. Carmody. He indicated that he would be unlikely to cope on his own, and it was one of those times when we at home must adjust in order to do our part." 

"I'm surprised he admitted it."

"I was being a bit, shall we say, less than accommodating at the time. I needed the reminder that I cannot always have my way. We do lose our heads sometimes when it comes to those we love." She reached over to the cushion perched on a table to her left, where Trick-Woo was half dozing and half surveying the situation in which these large human pups had been brought into his realm, and gave the spoiled Pekingese a pat of the head. Tricki let out a soft rumble of appreciation, finally catching the attention of the children, who looked up in surprise. 

"Did you forget Tricki-Woo?" Mrs. Pumphrey asked as the little girl came over closer to the cushion and looked to the woman for permission. "Would you like to pat Tricki like you did yesterday? You can pat him right here." She stroked Tricki's silky back in demonstration, and the child followed her movements a few times before deciding she'd had enough, and she returned to the toys where the boy had remained the entire time.

"Oh dear, Tricki. It seems you have still failed to capture the heart of our young man here." 

Their conversation was briefly interrupted by the return of François, who came bearing a tray with tea and a small plate of biscuits.

"Thank you, François. How is Uncle Farnon getting along with our stray?"

"Very well, Madame."

"Splendid!" Mrs. Pumphrey indicated that François was free to go and turned her attention back to her guests.

"I've been saving any special treats I have for when I have someone to share them with, you see." Marjorie's happiness at having visitors was palpable, and Audrey realised that while she had often felt herself not of high enough standing to spend time with the older woman for merely social reasons, Mrs. Pumphrey truly was glad to have her and the children here, even now that they had concluded their logistical discussions. 

"That's very nice of you, Mrs. Pumphrey."

Marjorie looked on in amusement as Audrey settled each child with a biscuit and a tea towel from a small stack that François had the foresight to discreetly provide along with the tray. The children had dropped the toys immediately when offered to partake of the petite serving dish.

Once the younger set had been fed and wiped free of crumbs, they cheerfully went back to the toys, and the two women were able to spend the rest of their time together discussing all manner of topics, both enjoying the visit immensely.

"Do you ever hear from the soldier who owns Cedric?" Audrey correctly surmised that Mrs. Pumphrey would be nearly as keen to talk about her foster dog as her beloved Tricki, and she was rewarded with an enthusiastic response.

"Oh yes, Tricki, Cedric, and I write him regularly with updates on all of the events and activities happening here, along with any new people or animals Cedric has met. His master writes only occasionally, but we appreciate the correspondence very much, and I of course read the letters aloud to Cedric so that he might know that his master is doing well."

"That's very thoughtful of you."

"You're far kinder in describing my peculiarities than most, Mrs. Hall." And holding up a hand to ward off any assurances to the contrary, she shrewdly continued. "Then again, I was there when your Mr. Farnon decided to keep the Springer Spaniel for you, so I know you understand the fondness one can have for a dog."

Audrey's cheeks took on a pink hue, both at Mr. Farnon being described as "hers" and with the idea that Mrs. Pumphrey believed he kept Dash solely for Audrey's own benefit.

This time, however, Marjorie didn't rush to rescue Audrey from her blush but instead let the idea take root for a moment before moving on with their chat.

It was the little girl who came to Audrey's rescue, coming over to her during the quiet moment with some of the wooden blocks in her hands and looking to show them to Audrey.

"What have you got, love?" The little one handed her a painted block. "That's an 'A'. Very nice. And what's on the other side? An 'M'."

"Look at that! Those are our initials, aren't they?" Marjorie pointed to herself. "My name starts with the letter 'M'. Yes. It's Margorie. And Mrs. Hall's name starts with an 'A', Audrey."

The girl looked at her for a moment, then back to the block they had been discussing. Audrey turned it again to find a simple drawing of a horse. "Oh, Mr. Farnon will like this one. He likes his horses very much." The child returned to the other toys, leaving Audrey with the horse block.

Watching with fondness for the two little ones, Marjorie inquired, "Did you make any decisions about consulting with a physician?"

Audrey relayed a sanitised version of what happened with Dr. Bowes.

"Oh dear. I admit that I had forgotten that he was the only one here when I made my suggestion yesterday.
Alas, so many men up and down the country are signing up, even if their occupation excludes them. They're brave and loyal, and we owe them a great debt of gratitude, of course, although their absence does leave us a bit in the lurch at times. However, I do have one other thought."

Mrs. Pumphrey went on to mention a nurse, Frances Naylor, who came to the manor on a regular basis when the land girls were working the gardens of the estate. "She came to make sure they were all doing well. This was a very new situation for many of them. I wanted to be sure they were well looked after." The nurse had worked in the same office as a young doctor, "A Dr. Robinson, was his name," whom the woman had spoken highly of, and Mrs. Pumphrey promised to contact Nurse Naylor to obtain the phone exchange of the physician. 

"You know, I didn't speak very much myself until I was past three years old."

"Really?" Audrey was intrigued. 

"I was the youngest in my family, and my older siblings fawned over me something awful." She chuckled at the memory of how she once ruled her older siblings with nothing more than a sweet grin or quivering chin. "One might say I was the Tricki-Woo of the house." She chuckled at her own joke, and Audrey couldn't keep her own dimpled grin from forming at the thought.

"What changed to make you start talking on your own?"

"I came down with whooping cough and had to be isolated from my siblings. I'm sure you've either experienced the dilemma yourself or have seen it in someone you've nursed to health. There comes a day when the person who's been very ill for quite some time starts to feel well enough to want nothing more than to get up and go about their life again, even if they are still ill."

Audrey nodded knowingly, recalling times when a young Edward proclaimed himself "all better" before she was willing to let him return to school and play.

"Life was suddenly very monotonous, and I wanted nothing more than to get out of bed and play with the other children. Of course, the wise adults overseeing my care wouldn't have it. So I found my voice—for the singular purpose of complaining bitterly during the portion of my recovery my young self deemed unnecessary." The two women laughed together at the picture Marjorie painted of a stubborn, bored little girl, deciding she better start speaking or be locked in her bedroom forever.

"Unfortunately, it doesn't seem that the reason for my own silence would be appropriate in their case, as they have no one speaking for them now, even if they did previously."

"It's still good to hear a reason for a child not talking that's less permanent than Dr. Bowes' suggestion." 

The girl wandered back to Audrey, giving her another block. Audrey gave Marjorie an apologetic look, which their host waved away. "What do you have here, poppet? Oh, that's a 'J.'. Very nice. Do you want me to hold that one?" 

The child clutched the block tightly to her chest. "I see. You keep it, then." 

"I don't always guess correctly; I'm afraid," she confided to Mrs. Pumphrey. "It's a bit like having two more newborns in the house. Every sound or cry is a mystery to solve."

"Hopefully, Nurse Naylor's acquaintance will be able to help. Once I have procured his exchange, I shall set up an appointment for you." She lowered her voice to a near whisper. "And I will cover the cost of the visit."

Audrey immediately began to shake her head in the negative. "Oh, no, Mrs. Pum..."

"Please, Mrs. Hall, I insist! You told me yourself about the help you've received from others. I've so enjoyed the children today. Please let me be of assistance as well."

Audrey could hardly refuse such a plea, and Marjorie's face radiated joy at being allowed to be of service in some way. 

The drive home from Pumphrey Manor was a quiet but pleasant one. The adults appreciated the beautiful scenery and an afternoon well spent. Audrey, one arm devotedly wrapped around each small seatmate, felt utterly content with the slight weight of the warm, dozing children pressed against her sides, and for a moment she allowed her mind to wander back to the early days of courting Robert and how she had dreamed of the happy family they would create together. After the great war, she had, at many times during the dozen years she remained tethered to her husband and their home, asked herself why her life had turned out as it had. What had she done wrong? Why did it have to be that way? What had she done to deserve it? But in this one moment, despite all of her earlier heartache, she felt content and at peace.

Chapter Text

Monday, 10 February 1941, Continued:

The children woke as they were moved from automobile to residence, leading Audrey and Siegfried to attempt to keep them placated long enough to check in with Carmody and Helen. The sound of the ringing phone filled the house, and Audrey ruefully left Siegfried on his own to answer what could very well be someone calling for him to go right back out again. "Back to usual, then."

When she did not swiftly return, Siegfried set aside the provisions they had brought with them, hung up the children's outerwear, and offered them their favourite distraction—yet another reading of Peter Rabbit.

"Did Tristan not have owt books besides that one?" Helen smiled in bemusement at the sight of the children so enthusiastic over a book they'd heard several times now. 

"Father and Mother purchased each of the titles written while he was still young. But where they all are right now, I cannot say." He returned to his current performance, occasionally glancing up in mutual concern with Helen as more time went by without Audrey's return.

Helen finally announced she was off to fetch some unspecified item and found Audrey still by the phone niche, receiver pressed between her shoulder and ear as she jotted down notes on the message pad. With a deflated look on her face, she thanked the caller and set the receiver back in the cradle.

"What's wrong?" Helen asked, her voice sympathetic to the idea of any more difficulties befalling her friend.

"That were Constable Lamley."

"Oh! Did he..."

"Nowt new to report." Audrey answered preemptively, a grim set to her mouth. "He wants me to have their photos taken."

"Photos?"

"He says it'll help."

"And that's a problem?"

Audrey fidgeted with the pencil in her hands, her words softened by self-doubt. "There's the cost. When I took them home, I were thinking of food, maybe clothing. I never considered doctor visits or photos."

"I see. Siegfried told me that Mrs. Pumphrey is helping with the doctor visit, so that's one less thing." 

"Yes, thank goodness for Mrs. Pumphrey."
   
"Summat else is worrying you."

"I'm not keen on taking them out in public again after the time I had getting them here. It's just—they get so upset, and I don't know why, and they can't tell me." She sighed in realisation. "That's probably part of the problem. Must be so frustrating for them, poor loves."

"Surely it'll be easier now that they know you better."

"I hope so."

"You did travel some today. How'd that go?"

Audrey talked around their stop at Heston. "It were mostly good."
  
"And I can call the man who took our wedding photo. He were reasonable."

"Thank you, Helen. You're right. I best go get tea started."

Helen returned to the sitting room to check in on Siegfried and the children, filling him in on some of Audrey's concerns.

*****************************************************

Their long day became more apparent as the children fussed during supper and became antsy afterwards, unable to be consoled or entertained easily. They were tired, having only napped that morning and then briefly in the Rover. And with their bedtime routine still non-existent, evenings had been tricky since they had arrived, especially with Siegfried and Audrey trying to fit in their opportunity for discourse about their day before she retired to her room with their small guests each night.

"Divide and conquer, Mrs. Hall!" Siegfried's announcement came after the washing up had been completed and the Herriots and Carmody had  gone off to their separate corners of the house. "Why don't you spend some time with this little fellow on his own for a change, and I'll take my little assistant out to help feed the boarded animals? She enjoys the animals, and he'll likely enjoy having your attention all to himself for awhile. In fact, they can take turns—tomorrow he can help instead."

Audrey nodded in appreciation as the children did seem to be having difficulties with one another at the moment, an unusual turn of events since they had been at Skeldale. She held out a hand to the toddler, and they slowly made their way to the dining room, where she settled into the quiet corner arm chair and let the overtired lad snuggle against her. She held his little hand in hers and drew slow invisible squiggles through the air with their joined hands as she spoke to him about their day, reminding him of all he had seen and done and asking him what he thought of it all.

"I saw you playing with puzzles and blocks at Mrs. Pumphrey's house. Did you like the dogs on those puzzles? Mrs. Pumphrey loves dogs very much." 

Their arms gradually settled together against her chest as he grew calm while listening to her gentle words. "And you held kittens with Jenny. Do you remember? They were soft, weren't they?" Her words drifted off to a light humming of nothing in particular, and she swayed her upper body ever so slightly until the boy was soothed and sleepily pleased with his current arrangement.

Audrey gave him a bit longer and decided to move him up to bed right then, hoping he'd stay asleep when she brought his sister up later.

She was closing the door to her room when she saw Siegfried carrying the girl up the stairs. "Has she washed up from feeding the animals?" 

"Not yet. I thought it best to bring her up here. She was starting to nod off in the shed."

"Hand her over, then, and I'll try to get her down without disturbing the little one."

Despite his earlier sad attempt to joke about the situation, Siegfried and Audrey quickly agreed that their morning conversation about Dr. Bowes should not truly take the place of their new evening ritual, and so as Siegfried handed over the drowsy tot, he promised to go prepare the sitting room for their nighttime chat.

Siegfried was slow in checking the fire and fetching glasses and decanters. His workload for the day had been blessedly light; the cases were straight-forward and efficiently handled. Yet he felt weary. Whether it was the war, worry over the missing members of his household, or caring for its new visitors instead, life seemed to extract more from him each day of late.

As the minutes ticked by, Siegfried pushed his more morose thoughts from his mind and instead made his way around the room, looking over the paintings, photos, and figures he tended to primarily ignore in day-to-day life. It struck him that they were his belongings, but he probably gave many of them less thought than anyone else in the house. His mind wandered, and he wondered which adornments Audrey liked best. 

He was running an absent-minded finger over the black bear that lived on the table near the doors to the hall when Audrey entered, looking as if the day had finally caught up with her as well. She noted his movements. "Not checking for dust, I hope, because these past few days I can make no promises."

"Just pondering life, Mrs. Hall."

"Oh, blimey, is that all?"

Siegfried smiled at her quip. "Bedtime not popular, I take it?"

She placed two hands on the back of the sofa and leaned heavily. "Why is it children who are the most tired are the least likely to want to sleep? Me Edward were the same."

"They don't realise how precious sleep is until they become adults and can seemingly never acquire enough."

"Aye." She hoisted herself to standing, only to take the few lazy steps around to the front of the sofa to sit down fully in the corner seat. Siegfried plucked up the two glasses he had poured earlier, brought one to her, then followed her lead, sinking into the armchair nearest her.

"Lamley rang earlier, I heard?"

"They haven't found owt yet. They've contacted all of the train stations up and down the line for miles, and no one came about looking for any missing children. No one has come looking in any of the nearby villages, either. He says they've alerted police in all of the neighbouring villages, too." 

She looked at him in concern. "I've no idea how long this is going to take."

"We've discussed this, Mrs. Hall. They're welcome here as long as necessary."

"He wanted to know if they've spoken yet. He could really use their names, he said. And he asked for photos." 

The constable had told her the next step was the somewhat Herculean task of contacting as many orphanages and children's homes as possible, starting in his own village and working outward. But the results were bound to be less fruitful, with neither names nor images of the children to utilise. He had grimly informed her that people were far more likely to deny knowledge of faceless, nameless children when asked.

"Helen mentioned that. Said she'd be getting in touch with the chap who took their wedding photo."

"Aye."  

"He's right in town, so the journey will be a short one." Siegfried's reassurance reminded her of another journey she had been saved from enduring thanks to his help.

"I want to thank you. For calling Dr. Bowes today. I can only imagine how bad it would have been if I brought the children to see him." She looked down at her watch, then laced her fingers together. "You were right about him. You knew it'd be a waste of time. I'm..."

"Moratorium!" His sudden outburst startled her somewhat, and she fixed him with one of her looks.

"You don't know what I were going to say," she retorted primly.

"Then do tell, Mrs. Hall, 'I'm' what?"

"I were going to say that I felt bad you had to deal with the man, is all."

"Ahhhh! No! You said 'I'm', not 'I'." Siegfried sat up straight, moving forward to the edge of his seat as he challenged his favourite sparring partner heartily.

"I were going to say, 'I'm regretting ever having you call. I feel badly about you having to deal with him." She crossed her hands on her lap and, raising her chin, stared intently at him as he briefly considered the possibility of making another comeback attempt in their impromptu verbal match. 

With a mirthful expression, he instead conceded the game. "I don't know if I should be awed or alarmed by how effortlessly you just made that up."

"Maybe both," she replied simply, and then stood to bid him goodnight.

Siegfried, lips pressed tightly together, dipped his head in acknowledgment, his eyes twinkling with merriment over their second bout of playful banter over his earlier ad hoc issuance of their silly moratorium. 

Audrey was half way to the stairs when she heard him lose his battle against withholding his laughter, a pleased grin accompanying her for the rest of her ascent to the next floor.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, 11 February 1941: 4th Full Day

"Look at who's eating up a storm, Mr. Farnon!" Audrey's face shone with happy relief as she motioned towards their young guest, who was uncharacteristically ploughing through a small bowl of scrambled eggs.

"Jolly good!" Siegfried praised the lad then to Audrey: "Rather fortuitous; we didn't give all of the chickens to the Ingledews after all."

"In more ways than one, these days. It were kind of you to share them, though. I know young Samuel were so keen on them, especially that one. were her name?"

"The name Tristan christened her with, or the name Samuel chose?" Siegfried flicked open the paper, his snort of mild derision only slightly muffled behind the pages.

"Behave!" Audrey moved about picking up dirtied dishes while setting fresh ones down for Mr. Farnon, who was the last to reach the kitchen that morning.

"Me?! I wasn't the one naming an entire brood of hens after every unmarried young woman in Darrowby."

"At any rate, he seems quite happy with his scrambled eggs, so I'm glad we've enough to keep offering him some."

"Maybe the poor chap was finally hungry enough to eat whatever meal you chose to feed him today." Siegfried turned the page of the paper, skimming the headlines as he blew on his tea in an attempt to make it possible to drink it more quickly.

"Or perhaps he's feeling more comfortable with us now. It's hard to have an appetite if you are scared and confused. poor love."
 
The hidden niche in Siegfried's heart where he kept his devotion to the woman standing beside him trembled a bit at her words. They bore the deliverance of someone who spoke from experience, a reaction he recalled having when she was similarly empathetic to Dash when the abandoned dog first turned up on their doorstep. Siegfried knew life had been difficult at times for Audrey before she arrived here—and at times after as well, even if she rarely spoke of those trials. But hearing the knowledge in her words when she spoke of fear, loneliness, and confusion tore at him nevertheless. 

He set the paper aside to look at her fully. "If that's the case, then it's all down to you that he's doing so much better. You've been marvellous with them. Speaking of which, aren't we missing one?" Siegfried, in his hurry, was just noting that the little girl wasn't present at the table.

"She's upstairs with Helen. She spilt summat on her dress, and Helen's helping her into fresh clothing."

************************************************************

Siegfried was just finishing his tea and porridge when Helen entered the room with Jimmy and their dry, clean little guest. "Oh! The baby woke up and distracted me. I forgot to bring down her dress. Here, Aud, you take him. I'll run back." She transferred the baby over to Audrey before the older woman could offer to do the task for her.

"I would have fetched it," Audrey pointed out as she used her free hand to guide the girl back into a chair by her brother. "Here you are, love; finish your toast."

Siegfried gave a knowing look. "Sometimes I suspect she's searching for a few minutes completely alone."

"We can't blame her for that, can we?" She smiled down at the baby. "Besides, I've barely had a moment to spend with this one lately. I helped Helen the other night, but it were just a clean and a change, not a nice cuddle like this." She nuzzled her nose against the baby's forehead as she walked around the room, stopping by her desk. "Isn't that right?" she cooed.
 
Siegfried came to look over her shoulder and softly remarked, "When the children go home, we'll be fighting for chances to hold him again."

Audrey looked up at the two little ones, still engrossed in the last bits of their food. She was so grateful for the progress they made today in getting the boy to eat so well. She wasn't at all sure she was ready to discuss the eventuality of them leaving right then and instead focused her words on Jimmy again. "He'll be starting to have real smiles now."

"We can spend our free moments making funny faces and ridiculous noises to try to make him smile at us, then."

"You've a lot of practice in those skills." She shook her head at the baby. "Doesn't he? Yes, he does."

"I am a man of many talents, my dear."

Audrey blushed fiercely and turned to walk the baby in the opposite direction to hide her unexpected reaction.

Siegfried, belatedly realising how his words sounded, hastily excused himself. "Ah, yes, I just remembered; I need to sort something...somewhere." And he took off at a clip down the passage, brushing by Helen in the doorway where she had witnessed the last few moments but missed any of the dialogue. 

"What's going on with you two?" She came and accepted the baby back from Audrey, who retreated to the sink and began scrubbing a pot as if her life depended on it.

"I don't know what you mean."

Helen planted herself right next to her friend. "I'm not blind, and you're not stupid. You know what I mean."

"Oh, Helen, we're just worn out with the children, is all."

"Oh? Do you always blush when you're tired? And Siegfried? When he's tired, he stammers like a lad asking a girl to dance for the first time."

Audrey sighed and gave in. "We're just off our normal course a bit, Helen, playing house like this."

"'Playing house'? You've been living in the same house for years!"

Audrey's voice was subdued as she tried to explain what she didn't truly understand herself. "It were different. I did my things, and Mr. Farnon did his. We weren't trying to care for children together."

"Seems to me maybe it's been the same for awhile and you just haven't noticed yet."

"What's that mean?" Audrey turned off the tap and faced Helen.

"It's not the children that have changed things." Helen's voice was insistent. "He's been different ever since you decided to stay. You've been together more than apart lately. He's always looking to help or just to be where you are. If you think about it, you'll see it, too."

************************************************************

Audrey had little time to ponder Helen's words or her interaction with Siegfried, as Helen had called the photographer from her and James' wedding and made arrangements for him to photograph the children early that morning, opening before his normal hours of operation. 

As soon as breakfast was over and the kitchen set to rights, Audrey hustled the children upstairs to make them as presentable as possible in their photo. Once they were given a clean-up of breakfast crumbs, she combed their hair, straightened and tucked in their clothing, and returned to the main floor to gather their coats. She noted Carmody in the dispensary and surmised that Siegfried had already departed for the day with his list. She had, in just a few short days, grown accustomed to him seeking her and the children out to bid them farewell each time he left the house, and it caused her a slight ache to realise they had omitted the small but sweet detail from their morning.

There was no time to dwell, she firmly informed herself. She wished to allow ample time to walk to the studio, in case there were any obstacles along the way. Her worries were unfounded, and they made the walk of just a few blocks with no stumbles or dilemmas, arriving even earlier than agreed upon, a point for which she apologised immediately when greeted by Mr. Stockhill. The photographer, a sprightly man with greying hair and a friendly smile, informed her that "one must never complain about extra time when dealing with the unpredictability of children" and suggested they get to work immediately.

Audrey was hoping to have one photo taken of the children together to keep her costs at bay and conveyed that wish to Mr. Stockhill, who agreed that starting off with a photo together might be a good way to ease the children into the idea of sitting for the camera, but he suggested that a constable might prefer an individual photograph of each child if using them for possible identification. Audrey couldn't fault the man for his logic, especially given that when posed together, the children kept holding on to or leaning on one another, obscuring one side of each of their faces to some degree. 

With the use of a sing-song voice, a bright yellow duck toy to focus their attention, and a great deal of facilitating from Audrey, the gentleman was able to take a few shots of the children together, then separated them for a few individual photographs each. The task of capturing solo images of each child was considerably more complex, and the man let out an accomplished "Phew!" when at last they had concluded their sitting. 

Audrey explained that she needed the photos as soon as possible since she still had to post them for Mr. Lamley, to which Stockhill apologetically explained that he was thoroughly engrossed in a backlog of photo-development work. "It seems as if half of Darrowby has been here seeking portraits they can send off to their men at war. I can give priority to your photograghs, Mrs. Hall, but I'm afraid I would need to charge an extra fee to do so." Audrey, feeling she had no other option, agreed to the stipulation and set back off across the village with the children, hoping the entire experience would at least prove beneficial to the constable in his search for an explanation about the origins of the children.

*************************************************************************

Helen and Audrey spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen, along with Jimmy and the children. Helen sat with Jimmy and keep an eye on the children, guiding them with simple reminders or suggestions from time to time, and keeping a grateful Audrey company as she prepared for the remaining meals of the day. 

Helen and Audrey had been spending more time together since Baby James had been born, with Helen often letting Jimmy nap on the ground floor rather than going off with him to the bedsit, as Helen found she often preferred to be down with other people, even if it meant resting in a chair in the sitting room or scullery.
 
Audrey offered advice sparingly and typically only when asked, but she showered sincere praise and encouragement to the new mother any chance she could, and Helen felt more sure of her ability to get along with Jimmy even with James away, basking under the glow of Audrey's kind words. Meanwhile, having Helen and the baby around kept Audrey's heart full and eased the ache formed by their missing boys. Both women appreciated the friendship and support of their relationship, and mornings like this one were times they both quietly enjoyed, even now, among the hubbub created by the visiting children. 

A sudden outburst of unhappy cries caused Helen to stand and walk over to the two, who were having an uncharacteristic fuss over the ball from the Rudds. Helen, Jimmy in one arm, reached down to gently touch the top of the little girl's head, catching her attention. "Hey there, how would you like to be a big help to Mrs. Hall?" The child stopped what she was doing and looked at Helen with interest.

"See that basket?" She pointed out a basket full of clean kitchen linens as she returned to her seat. "Do you want to learn how to fold them for Mrs. Hall?

The girl walked over to Helen and the now slightly grizzling baby and stood quietly for a moment, holding on to the back of the chair, no longer interested in the ball but not yet indicating any desire to take part in Helen's suggested activity either. But after a few moments of consideration, she puttered over to the basket and leaned into it, pressing down on the clean laundry several times over as if she were testing the fill of a mattress or cushion. Helen and Audrey exchanged shrugs and let the girl be to see what she would decide to do next. After awhile Audrey looked over to see she had pulled all of the smallest cleaning cloths out of the basket and was trying her best to fold them, messily creasing them once, then twice, and piling them along side her, patting the pile with satisfaction after each finished cloth.

"I guess I don't need to show her how after all," Helen pointed out.

Audrey smiled, a feeling of happiness filling her seeing the child so engrossed in her task. "She's happy now."

"When you're done, poppet, I can show you where they live. Would you like that?" Audrey continued chopping a pile of peeled root vegetables.

Helen let out a slight sardonic laugh. "That'll make her the third woman in the house to know that secret location, while every single man who lives here still has no idea." She winked at Audrey, who shook her head fondly, both at the light-hearted conversation shared between the two women and in thinking of the men of their "family" and their combined inability to remember where anything in the house lived.

When the linen folding lost its appeal, the little girl surprised them by climbing up into one of the chairs and pulling on Audrey's arm, her big, dark eyes asking what she failed to have words to request. "Would you like to help me with more, pet?" 

Her willing apprentice spent the rest of the morning content to stir the chopped vegetables, dry freshly washed flatware, and dust off chair seats with a whisk broom. She then did her best to pour measured ingredients into a mixing bowl, sticking out the tip of her tongue as she concentrated on her new job. 

Siegfried entered the back scullery door just before lunchtime to find a family scene that pushed away some of the constant worries that weighed down his mind of late. Helen holding Jimmy, happily dozing, while carefully playing ball with the young boy. She'd lean slightly down from her perch and roll the football towards him, then he'd race off on chubby legs to fetch it and bring it back to her to start the game again. "He's half dog, this one," Helen joked.

At the kitchen table, the little girl was kneeling on a kitchen chair with a half apron wrapped around her like a full-length pinny, cautiously watching Audrey lift vegetable pasties from a hot baking pan. Siegfried carefully manoeuvred behind Audrey as she leaned over to transfer their steaming lunch from pan to platter. Reaching the child, he smiled and teased. "Are you Mrs. Hall's assistant now? I thought you were my assistant! Whatever will I do?" The girl stared at him with an inscrutable expression, and he capitulated. "I suppose you're clever enough to be an assistant to both of us, aren't you?"

"She's been a wonder, today," Audrey informed him, placing the last pasty down on the plate and turning to put the hot pan out of reach of any little hands.

"A wonder! Well, congratulations! Your new talents officially make you the newest addition to the group of remarkable women here at Skeldale House!"

Helen let out a sound of surprise. "Did you hear that, Aud? We're 'remarkable' now!"

Audrey merely grinned at Helen, but then turned to look at Siegfried with a smirk that left Siegfried pondering if he had just given away his secret from Christmas Day. Her response to him, however, left no doubt. "I seem to think I may have heard summat like that once before." Siegfried gave a waggle of his eyebrows before setting off to clean up properly for their upcoming meal. 

Chapter Text

Tuesday, 11 February 1941: 4th Full Day, continued:

Siegfried had returned to the kitchen and gathered the children, and together they marched off to practice knocking on the exam room door and announcing the impending meal.

"Time for sustenance, Carmody!" 

The young vet claimed he had far too much to do in between clients to join the family and asked if it might be permissible for him to partake his meal in situ. Siegfried saw through his excuse, but having been informed of the student's busy morning, he decided to grant his request, allowing the young man a bit of peace and quiet in which to enjoy his lunch, as opposed to the minor chaos household meals tended to be now with two non-communicative children present. As he escorted the young ones back to the kitchen, however, Siegfried made a pact with himself to be very sure that Richard was back at the family table come tea time. He knew their time with Carmody had stretched as long as possible and that they'd soon lose Richard back to the world of academia. And though he'd not likely admit it, he'd miss the quirky young man once he'd returned to London for the culmination of his studies.

Once they had been filled and warmed by Mrs. Hall's vegetable pasties, the chef herself praised, and the small assistant applauded—at the behest of the main cook, of course—the youngest residents went off with Helen while Siegfried delayed returning to his list in order to sit with Audrey for a few moments. After three days at home, able to keep an eye, or at least the occasional ear, open for the goings on with their unforeseen guests, he had found his mind wandering to them numerous times during his morning veterinary visits.

"She must have been in a real home recently enough to remember doing these kinds of things." Audrey theorised, as she shared some of the key moments of their own morning.

Siegfried nodded thoughtfully, then regrettably stood to leave, abruptly stopping midway to the door and spinning around to point back towards the pantry. "Don't forget, Mrs. Hall, you have the toys if the need should arrive."

"They did have a squabble over the ball earlier. Might help to have a few more things for them." Noticing his procrastination in departing for the second half of his work day, Audrey presented him with an excuse to spend a few additional minutes with the children. "Would you like to bring them out to the little ones before you leave? I'm sure they'll be very excited."

"If it would be a help to you, Mrs. Hall, I'd be delighted." He knew she was asking for his own benefit, and as was so often the case, he felt warmed by the thought that she knew him so well, even if he couldn't find the nerve to tell him how much her actions meant to him.

"It'll be nice if they can fill the rest of the afternoon with a nap and playing nicely together. I'd like to finish the laundry."

"Point the way, Mrs. Hall." 

She beckoned him with a crooked finger and a conspiratorial grin, leading him into the pantry, where she moved aside a stool, pulled a wicker basket out from beneath the open shelves, then dragged out a tall crock, finally leaning into the vessel nearly up to her shoulder and pulling from its depths the well-loved toys.

Siegfried couldn't help but laugh at how overly thorough she had been in hiding the items from children too small to even be able to move items so heavy or cumbersome on their own. "My dear Mrs. Hall, now you see why I asked you to hide my tobacco last Easter."

The knowing twist of her mouth, combined with her dimpled cheeks and sparkling eyes, was an image he closed his eyes to remember several times over the rest of his day out.

********************************************************

After settling Jimmy for a nap, Helen descended the stairs and made her way to the main hall, where she spotted Audrey standing in the doorway, her attention captured by something in the sitting room. Moving closer, Helen joined her and located only the little girl in the room. "Are both boys asleep now?"

Audrey nodded and spoke in little more than a whisper. "Little lad put up more of a bother than she did during the photo taking. Then he insisted on walking the whole way to and from the shop, and on such little legs." She smiled at the memory of their walk home. "I'm surprised he didn't fall asleep in his lunch."

Helen looked back in and saw that the little girl was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, cuddling with Tristan's ratty old stuffed lion, staring off into space. "What's she doing?"

Audrey shrugged. "When Eva were quiet, I knew why. She were missing her mum and her dad, her home, even her own holidays. But with this one, I don't know what she's thinking. Were she with her parents, and she's missing them too? Were she in some sort of orphanage, and she's just confused about what's happened to her?"

Helen noted a tremble in Audrey's voice and felt for the woman, trying so hard to help these little lost ones. "It's hard not knowing more about them," she agreed.

"We keep assuming they're brother and sister, and we don't even know if that's true."

Helen tried to console her friend. "They do resemble one another. Same dark hair and eyes. Same dimpled chin. Their noses and foreheads look different, but their mouths look similar."

"Sometimes I worry. What if they are siblings, but there were more than just the two of them? Is there one or two who are somewhere else, and they all wake up each day wondering where the others are?" Her eyes filled, and she tried to blink away the tears.

"Oh, Aud. Come here." She pulled her friend into a quick hug.

"I feel like we're caring for them, but it don't seem enough."

"No matter what else has happened to them, what you're doing now is helping, Audrey. I know it is."

Audrey's smile of appreciation was a sad one as she gave Helen's hand a grateful squeeze and then made her way over to join the quiet child.

************************************************************

The afternoon remained hectic for all of Skeldale's inhabitants. Carmody saw to a seemingly endless crowd of pet owners, and Audrey was buoyed by the distractions now available to the children by way of the toys from Siegfried and their little personal game of helping, or "unhelping," as the case turned out to be with the little boy, who at one point was found emptying out a basket of folded clothing unto the floor, looking ever so pleased with himself as he accomplished his task. Folding aside, Audrey was able to get more of her typical daily tasks done today than she had since before she left for Lillian's service, a day she was shocked to calculate was still less than a week ago.

When the telephone began to ring while Audrey was preparing tea, she smiled at her good fortune when Helen's voice rang out immediately following, announcing that she'd answer the call, allowing Audrey to once again continue with her work. But she was quickly summoned by Helen, informing her that Nurse Naylor was the one ringing and that she wished to speak to Mrs. Hall. Audrey set aside what she was doing and hesitantly picked up the receiver. 

Her trepidation was understood by the empathetic nurse, who had heard an abbreviated version of the Dr. Bowes situation from Mrs. Pumphrey. She assured Audrey that Dr. Robinson was a highly qualified young man and, just as importantly, kind and eager. He was intrigued by what little Nurse Naylor had reported to him about the case and was willing to see the children on the coming Thursday if Audrey could bring them to his temporary post in Ripon. Nurse Naylor finished the call by discretely pointing out the doctor had been instructed to bill Mrs. Pumphrey for the examination.

Audrey thanked the nurse and returned to the kitchen, turning over the idea of this next journey in her head as she readied tea, feeling less confident in making the trip the longer she considered it.

************************************************************

True to Siegfried's private self-promise, the entire Skeldale family, including Carmody and their two guests, all sat down together to enjoy their evening repast. It was taken in the dining room, and although there was a decent amount of guesswork and cajoling to keep both children satisfied, seated, and fed, there was marked improvement over their earliest meals together.

Audrey had made quick work of the washing up, enjoying the radio turned to quiet instrumentals, and appreciating the generosity of Helen and Siegfried in offering their services to allow her the chance to work on her own for the short stretch of time. The little lass had made a visit to the bedsit with Helen as she readied Jimmy for bed, and Siegfried provided the lad with his initial evening's work as an animal-feeding apprentice. She even had a few moments afterwards to sit at her desk for a spell, legs stretched out in front of her, ankles crossed, and eyes closed, as she leaned back and focused on nothing but the sound of the soft notes of the current song selection.

"Mrs. Hall?" Siegfried's voice called out from nearby, and Audrey opened her eyes and turned to see Siegfried standing in front of the back doorway, arms out straight in front of him, holding a completely mud-covered boy.

"We've made a bit of a blunder, I'm afraid." He set the child down on the floor, a hand on his shoulder to keep him from spreading the mess about.

"Where did you even find mud?"

"We made it. Accidentally. That was part of the blunder."

"I see. Goodness. How..." She waved her hands. "No, I don't need to know. We've more pressing concerns now, haven't we little man?" The boy looked up at her, then down at his legs, spattered with mud. He smacked his knees with his hands, then held out his palms in front of him in dismay, and began to search for a clean bit of himself on which to wipe off his dirty digits. As he was about to resort to wiping off the mud in his hair, Audrey swooped in with a cloth and caught hold of the two chubby mess-making appendages. 

"I suppose a bath is in order." She stood thinking a moment as she attempted to quickly make the boys hands clean enough to appease him. "You keep him like that for one moment." She hurried from the room, leaving a perplexed man and child, and came back just as swiftly with a large towel. "We'll undress him here. Drop his muddy things in the bucket, and I'll wrap him in this to bring him upstairs."

The two worked together to accomplish her plan of action, and she hoisted the little fellow into her arms, where he promptly laid his head against her cheek. "Will you relieve Helen? She has the little miss with her now. She's been extra tired today. I think she's missing James more, too. Might be nice for her to get an early night—if the babe will let her, of course."

Siegfried nodded, impressed as always with how this woman could be right in the middle of one mess and yet still be thinking up ways to solve other problems or help other people at the same time. "Will do, Mrs. Hall."

"I'll ask her to bring the little one down to you then."

Siegfried brushed himself off and made his way to the front room, where Helen met up with him shortly, and took a minute to brief him on a few of the things she knew were on Audrey's mind. He thanked her for letting him know, sent her off for some much-deserved rest, and stored away the concerns she had confided to him for further deliberation once on his own that night.

He eased himself down to the floor, where the little one was stacking blocks and knocking them down again. "Oh, I remember this game! I used to play it with my little brother." He helped her construct her next tower. "Is your brother here with you?" he asked, Audrey's worries in mind. "My brother is all grown now. But once upon a time these blocks, and Mr. Lion and Teddy there, all belonged to him." The child regarded him for a moment, then smacked her arm through the stacked blocks, scattering them around their legs. "Ah! Good fun!"

Standing up, he told his little guest he'd be right back, and he retrieved the framed photo of Tristan in uniform from his office. Bringing it back he showed it to her. "This is my brother. His name is Tristan. Do you know your brother's name?" The little one listened to him, her face earnest in its concentration, but, as Siegfried expected, no answer was given. 

Chapter Text

Wednesday, 12 February 1941:  5th Full Day :

"Morning, love. How was your night?" Audrey Hall was dishing out porridge and a few scrambled eggs to the visiting children when Helen entered the room with the baby.

"It weren't that bad. He were only up once." Helen's voice held a note of incredulity as she took a seat next to the small girl, who peered over at Jimmy with interest.

"He's seven weeks old today," she informed the small fan of her young son. 

"Pretty soon we'll start seeing more of his personality," Audrey chimed in. She set a cup of tea down in front of Helen. "We've porridge, or I can scramble a few more eggs. We've still got a few."

"I'm happy with porridge, Aud. Leave the eggs for..." and she nodded her head towards the boy who had abandoned all pretence of using his fork and was happily digging in with both hands. "In fact, I can ask Jenny if they've any extra at the farm they can spare."

Audrey shook her head emphatically. "No, no. I don't want them giving up theirs for us. He'll have them when we have them, and we'll find summat else he likes if we run out."

"The chickens won't produce as much this time of year," Helen warned.

"Which means they won't have as many at Heston, either, then, will they?" Audrey delivered a look along with her words that left Helen quite assured that the conversation was closed. They'd simply start looking for a new food that the young lad liked, as well as his eggs.

The men of the house came down together and tucked eagerly into their own hot cereal and tea, particularly Carmody, who once again was the one who would be setting off into the February chill to see to the clients on their list. The adult residents of the house were all too well aware that the student's time with them was coming to a close. Siegfried had decided to let the young vet get in as many farm calls as possible before returning to the city for his studies. He also hoped it would help bolster Richard's confidence before lambing season began in earnest. 

The War Ag might be telling farmers to keep less livestock, but Siegfried theorised that didn't necessarily translate to fewer calls on the veterinary staff. The farmers had less help on their own farms, with many of their sons and farmhands signed up and gone off to fight in this "blasted war,"  and the animals the farmers did retain would be all the more important to them. Siegfried expected that this might create a situation in which farmers who would normally let nature take its course might become less reluctant to call seeking professional assistance this season than in those prior. He would be grateful for each week of lambing in which Carmody was still there to offer a hand.

Breakfast consumed, bodies fortified, the vets set off on their missions for the day. Siegfried was looking to open the surgery earlier today and keep it open straight through lunch, requesting his meal be brought to him. He knew he had been cutting hours since the children arrived, and knowing his busiest time of year lay ahead, he thought it prudent to give the small animal owners some extra hours when he could. Unbeknownst to Audrey, he fully intended to escort her and the children to the doctor's office the next day, leaving Carmody in surgery as long as no more pressing matter called him away, which was all the more reason to work in a few more hours of availability today.

Richard took a short list for the morning, planning to return for lunch and then tackle a new batch of visits in the afternoon. He was aware that Mr. Farnon often worked right through the day without returning to Skeldale, but of late, even the senior vet seemed more appreciative of that chance to warm up and fuel himself midday, and Carmody was pleased to be allowed to do the same.

****************************************************************************

Audrey hummed to herself as she finished drying the last of the breakfast pots and pans, having left them for last to allow time for them to soak. Helen and Jimmy were still in the room, along with the other little ones, who seemed happy to play upon the tile floor, despite its temperature or harshness under their soft, small knees.

"I can't believe it's been almost two months now." Helen stroked a finger gently down the soft curves of her son's face. "Feels like he's always been here."

"Especially at night, I imagine."

"Aye, I feel like I'll never have a peaceful night's sleep again." Helen grew quiet, and Audrey placed her towel down alongside the sink and pulled out the chair alongside the young mother. 

"You're doing wonderfully with him, Helen."

"He's changing so much week to week. I wonder how different he'll be by the time James sees him again." She twisted the corner of the baby's blanket around her index finger, then released the coiled bit of white wool and smoothed it flat again. "Will he even still be baby? Or will he be walking around like this one?" She gestured towards their little visitor. engrossed in some invented game involving a line of blocks that the children kept moving about on the kitchen floor.

"It's hard, love. You have the baby keeping you busy, but no matter how busy you are, you still miss those not here with you."

Helen's nod of agreement was all she could manage, and Audrey put a comforting hand up her arm, wishing she could offer more. A sniffle or two later, Helen tried to lighten the mood. "You and I are a weepy pair lately, Aud."

Audrey's deep sigh of acknowledgement preceded her words. "Love and children—both like to tug on one's heartstrings; and sometimes those tugs bring a bit of teariness, I suppose."

"Even me dad gets a bit soft when he holds this one," Helen remarked, a mischievous look to her smile, despite her moments of sadness over her husband being away.

"I'll tell him you said so," Audrey grinned in amusement at the idea of telling Richard Alderson to his face that he was a soft or emotional man.

"Don't you dare! He'd be three times worse afterwards just to make up for it!" Helen pressed a hand against her mouth in an effort not to laugh out loud in her jocularity and startle the baby just nodding off in her arms. 

Across the frozen fields and wind-swept hills, Richard Alderson was, at that same moment, spending his time fighting with a bit of broken hardware on a weathered barn door, unaware that his gruff nature had temporarily lessened the aches in the hearts of the two ladies of Skeldale House.

****************************************************************************

"Thank you, Miss Copeland. Have a good day."

Audrey and the children rounded their way into the front hall just as Siegfried was seeing a client to the door, a woman Audrey had never seen before, cradling a large grey cat, who seemed to be without a tail. 

As the front door closed, Siegfried spun on his heel, his face swiftly moving from somewhat agitated to smiling in a matter of seconds. "It seems you all have perfect timing. I've just escorted a new client out, and as you can see, we are now experiencing a lull, making this the opportune time for a nice cup of tea." He crouched down to child height and, in a stage whisper, double-checked with the youngsters. "That tray Mrs. Hall is carrying is for me, right?" The girl patted his hand and pointed to the open exam room.

"Shall I drink my tea in there? Or would you like to come in to visit?"

Mrs. Hall gave a slight clearing of her throat, balanced the small tray in her left hand, and over the heads of the children pantomimed a knocking motion with a closed right fist.

Siegfried's mouth opened in an "Ah!" formation, but he said nothing to his lovely housekeeper, instead continuing his banter with their small guests. "Or, maybe the tray is for all of you? Were you about to have a lovely little bite to eat? Oh dear me. I am embarrassed. I best be off to the surgery and leave you to it." And after sharing a conspiratorial grin with Audrey, he swiftly entered the exam room, closing the door behind him.

From the other side of the glass, he could hear the Yorkshire lilt that filled his days. "Silly Mr. Farnon! He thinks the tea is for us? Now what shall we do?" She paused, "probably leaving space for the children to consider answering," Siegfried mused. 

"Do you think we ought to tell him the tea is for him?" Another pause. "Well, how do we get him back again? The door is closed, and we're not to open a closed door, right? Yes, of course, poppet, we have to knock. Go on, loves; you can both do it."

The sound of four little fists banging at the door soon filled his ears, and he let them knock a bit longer than usual just to prolong their lesson as well as their entertainment. Opening the door with a flourish, he looked out into the hall, feigning shock to see them all again. "You've come back again! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The girl pointed to the tray. "We've brought you summat to eat, Mr. Farnon. And tea, though it may be cold before we finally give it to you. Thank goodness the tray inn't heavy," she teased.

Siegfried gratefully accepted the tray and exclaimed over each item he saw, asking the children if they had helped and exclaiming how much he would enjoy his tea and baked apple. 

As they were about to leave, Audrey handed him an envelope, addressed in a neat but clearly juvenile hand. "A letter from Eva. Arrived earlier. She's talking all about her cousins and Saint Valentine's Day. I thought you might enjoy it if you've time between patients." She looked back towards the waiting room, still empty after the time spent on their door antics. "Looks like that time is now, so we'll leave you in peace."

She shooed the children out, leaving Siegfried in the empty room feeling that being left "in peace" was sometimes a lonely place to be.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, 12 February 1941:  5th Full Day :

Richard Carmody clutched the wheel of the rattling Vauxhall with a white-knuckle grip. He was returning to Skeldale House later than he had anticipated. The sun was setting as he wound his way through the dales towards the quiet roads of Darrowby; and just when he felt the drive could become no more worrisome, the rain started. Every visit had been a challenge today, despite the list being scrutinised and proclaimed "Child's play, Carmody!" by Mr. Farnon when he handed over the tatty scrap of paper over during lunch, a list of four farms scrawled upon it in the senior vet's hand.

And on the surface, the cases were truly uncomplicated examples of elementary veterinary work. However, as was often the case, it was the people and the surroundings that did him in. The unsmiling, unwavering surveillance of Kate Billings the entire time he looked over her cow, suffering from a rather unremarkable digestive issue, left him nervously stuttering. The anxiety that came off Phyllis Dalby in waves when he visited Prospect House to check over her cattle had him perspiring with apprehension himself. Rob Benson's fixed suspicious glare caused a trembling of his hands as he assessed a ewe close to lambing. And Jeremy Sharpe's laughter every time he tripped over the rutted paths all around the farm made him reprimand himself for so naively thinking that veterinary work would be best for him, as he could supposedly focus on animals rather than the infinitely more baffling human species.

And now rain and rapidly darkening skies made even his escape back to the warm, comforting walls of Skeldale a test of endurance. Richard sighed aloud at the thought of Skeldale. The addition of two strange children had, on several occasions over the past several days, made him wish he were still boarding at Mrs. Micklethwaite's. He didn't begrudge Mrs. Hall bringing home the lost, or perhaps abandoned, children. It was her way. Even someone as deficient in comprehension of human behaviour as he could still easily see that the woman thrived on caring for anyone and everyone around her. Mrs. Hall's ability to zero in on those in need was in stark contrast to his own. Not only could she easily recognise when a fellow individual required something, but she somehow always seemed to correctly deduce exactly what was troubling them, as well as the best course of action to aid or comfort them.

He appreciated that the benevolent housekeeper understood that he was uncomfortable around the small duo that had essentially taken over every aspect of daily life in the house, and that she tried to put space between them whenever possible, as did Mrs. Herriot to a degree. Mr. Farnon, however, seemed to view them as a challenge he should undertake, a suggestion that made little sense to him. Small children do not own animals. They are neither farmers, nor riders, nor breeders. What benefit could spending time with these messy, loud beings offer to a veterinary student? He mused furthermore on how children who didn't even speak could still cause such a ruckus at all times. He had understood that when the Herriot baby entered the world, it would cry, possibly at length, but their newcomers could easily drown out the infant with barely any effort at all. And one never knew when or how they might next begin their onslaught of noise. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

His pondering took his mind off the driving conditions, and he was surprised to suddenly notice the rooftops of the village come into view. Apparently Mrs. Pumphrey's distraction technique did not require conversing with a canine companion in order to perform its magic. Getting somewhat lost in his own thoughts had brought about the same results he realised, noting that he now had a looser grip on the steering wheel as well. Perhaps the day was improving. Yes, he'd soon be back in clean clothing and enjoying a gratifying meal. He had earned a quiet evening of rest, comfort, and time alone to study his books. He risked a smile at the thought.

*********************************************************** 

Trundling in through the rear scullery door, Carmody stopped briefly to inhale the aroma of something rich and hearty in the air. He knew it was likely stew again, a meal that proved relatively undemanding for Mrs. Hall to produce despite shortages of food due to rations and time due to the two young chaotic ones the housekeeper had brought into the house, a decision that endlessly puzzled the young man every time he reflected upon it. Mrs. Hall seemed to have so much to do at Skeldale already, and he found himself surprised at how often she voluntarily took on tasks that he believed to be above and beyond whatever her official responsibilities might be. 

She had mended several pieces of his clothing since he had started, insisting that they were ruined because he was out on calls, so it was only right that she correct the problems for him, although the holes and tears didn't have a thing to do with her at all. If one were to follow that line of thought, then the logical thing would have been for the wives of the farmers to tend to his garments. After all, it was on their farms that he found uncooperative animals, sharp splinters of wood, and rogue nails or wires. Still, she'd hold out her hand; a look on her face that he had come to understand meant she was about to be very stubborn about something, and he therefore handed over the items each time, and without fail, a day or two later, she'd hand them back, clean, pressed, and with repairs so delicately done that in some cases he had to specifically search for them in order to notice the work she had done.

But right now it was the stew that was her latest means of improving his day. He had noticed that Mrs. Hall occasionally seemed apologetic when she offered the oft-repeated meal, though Richard was unsure why she felt the need for any remorse. It was simple but filling and pleasantly hot in these especially bitter winter months. And she had a way of making what little meat was available seem more abundant when she worked the tiny diced pieces into a thick, fragrant broth. 

He pulled the hat from his head, opened his top coat buttons, and unwound the scarf from his head. Realising his gloves were not assisting him any longer, he removed those next, then shucked off his coat, hanging it one of the hooks. He began to work his left foot out of its filthy boot, setting it aside before he moved too much further into Mrs. Hall's clean abode. As he began removing the right boot, however, he shifted his body weight too much in one direction, knocking himself off balance, and began to stumble and hop, trying to keep himself upright. He didn't realise that he had caught the attention of the rest of the family, gathered in the scullery as Mrs. Hall finished preparing their supper, as he swung his arms wildly about in circles, grunting a bit as he finally felt himself gain control of his body. He brought his left stockinged foot back down to what he thought was solid ground, only to feel the arch of his foot hit an odd edge; there was a dull clanking noise, and a slight wetness began to seep into his sock, shocking and confusing him. He looked down to see that he had caught the side of a small chamber pot, knocking it over, leading to its contents making contact with his foot. 

"Augh!" he cried out, disgusted, and once again started to dance about on one foot, arms flailing. 

"Oh dear!" He heard Mrs. Hall cry out, his first indication that he had an audience.

Helen's voice sounded less sympathetic. "Richard, what's happening with you?" Yes, there was definitely laughter in her question that even he couldn't miss. Though how she could miss what was clearly the problem was beyond him.

"The chamber pot! My foot, ugh! Right in it!"

Helen was full out sniggering now. "It's clean!"

He begged to differ, as the liquid one finds in a chamber pot is certainly not what he considered "clean" by any stretch of the imagination.

"It's wet. It's wet. And now my foot..." He continued to wobble about on one foot, for fear of accidentally finding more of the puddle that had now poured out onto the tiles.

He heard Mrs. Hall's voice coming closer, and he hoped she wouldn't walk through the spilt urine, as he would be terribly embarrassed for her if she did. Instead her words, soft and reassuring, reached his ears to explain. "It's water, Mr. Carmody. I just washed it out. I am sorry." Her voice, too, was now suspiciously jocular, despite her apologetic words, and he recalled her stifled laughter that day with the disastrous trip to fetch the holiday goose.
 
"Where did it come from?" He asked, still confused as to why it was here of all places. They had been keeping it in the stone passage since the children arrived.

"It's been down here for five days now." Helen lost her ability to stay straight-faced and started to chuckle softly.

"Not right here!" Why in the world would they place it down where people would be entering the house?

"I just set it by the stove after I washed it out. I were going to dry it in a minute. I needed to see to summat with the dinner first." She felt badly, but the sight of Carmody covered in all manner of mud and muck, yet so dreadfully concerned about the possibility of a bit of wee on his sock, combined with Helen's low chuckles got to be too much for Audrey, and she was no longer able to keep her own giggles at bay, which then made Helen laugh more loudly as well.

Siegfried suddenly joined the fray, catching Richard off guard, as he didn't notice the senior vet was also in the room. "Look what you've started, Carmody! We won't eat for an age, now." 

The little girl, who had been rolling the ball back and forth in a somewhat triangular pattern between herself, her brother, and Siegfried, looked up around at the adults, and a smile slowly crept across her face. Forgetting the ball and their game, she stood up and began clapping her hands and spying Richard, still on one foot, added her own little hop, turning the adults' amused attention from Carmody to her. Then suddenly, while still seated at the other end of the broken game formation, the little lad started to laugh. It began as a staccatoed little titter, which evened out and grew into a full-blown baby belly laugh, the sound of which stopped Audrey and Helen's laughter as they stared at the toddler in amazement. 

Audrey immediately teared up and, excusing herself, turned away, hurrying off towards the hallway.

Richard, finally giving in and returning to two feet, one still enveloped in the soggy sock, the other remaining in its muddy boot, stared out across the room, slack-jawed in confusion, as Siegfried quickly followed the housekeeper out of the room.

"I didn't intend to upset her!" Richard was aghast at the idea that he had made her unhappy with his discomfort regarding the chamber pot situation.

"It weren't you, Carmody, and she's not upset." Helen seemed completely certain of her statement, but they made little sense to Richard.

"She left the room crying!" He argued.

Helen stepped closer, baby still in her arms, and lowered her volume. "She's relieved and glad to hear him laughing is all."

The student was still perplexed. "And that made her cry? I don't understand why that would make her cry." His agitation over the housekeeper's possibly despair was evident as he continued to fret.

"They were tears of happiness."
 
Richard struggled to fathom what Mrs. Herriot was telling him. "I don't recall ever seeing my mother cry in all of my life. She didn't cry when she was distressed, and certainly not when she felt the opposite."

"People, well, maybe women more than men, sometimes cry when they're happy. I cried when this one were born. And when James came back at Christmas, too."

"I didn't realise that."

"Well, I were upstairs both times," Helen pointed out reasonably.

"I thought I had learnt so much more about people during my time here." Richard's face took on a dejected frown.

"You have, but there's always more to learn. I'm learning. Before you arrived, I never knew anyone like you. The lads around here mostly run off at the mouth about nowt but nonsense. I never heard someone your age recite textbook passages before." 

Richard heaved a long-suffering sigh and admitted, "I've never known anyone like me before, either." 

Helen gave a sympathetic smile. "Why don't you go get cleaned up? Siegfried's fetching Audrey, and I'll stay here with the little ones."

Carmody gave a terse nod and began to attend to his feet once more.

"And Richard?" Helen called out to the young man, abashed at her part in making him feel like the odd man out.

"Yes?" He looked up briefly from his bent position, one hand reaching for his boot.

"I'm sorry we laughed about the pot. We'll try to keep it in the hall, where it..."

"It lives!" Richard finished along with Helen, causing them both to smile genially at one another; Helen, relieved that the student was so readily willing to forgive her teasing; and Richard, pleased not just to have understood the joke but to have seen it coming early enough to join in.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, 12 February 1941:  5th Full Day  :

Carmody set off for his room to clean up before dinner. Siegfried, who had found Mrs. Hall just out of sight of the kitchen, assured himself that she was truly just very happy to hear the boy laugh and let her have a moment to collect herself, scampered through to his office for a quick smoke of his pipe while the rest of the household settled down.

Audrey returned to the kitchen, where Helen shared the discussion she'd had with Carmody. "Poor love. He tries so hard. I didn't mean to laugh at him." She declared that she too would find a quiet moment to sincerely apologise, and with Jimmy dozing in his downstairs cradle, Helen and Audrey were able to get the dining room set at last for their evening meal.

As everyone dispersed after eating, Audrey surprised Carmody by discretely asking him if he'd mind staying and helping her clear the meal from the room. But when he actually began to lift plates from the table, she stilled his movements with a light hand on his forearm and asked if he might sit a moment. Feeling as though he might spend this entire evening in a state of puzzlement, Richard gave in and joined the housekeeper at the table.

"I want to start by saying I'm sorry for laughing at your troubles in the kitchen earlier."

"It's fine, Mrs. Hall. I imagine I was rather a sight at the time."

She smiled in appreciation of his acceptance of her words. "I also heard a bit of what you and Helen were saying—about learning about people." She paused, not wishing to embarrass the lad or make him think ill of Helen for passing along their conversation. "And about you not knowing others who remind you of yourself."

Carmody did look slightly discomfited, and Audrey bit her lip in worry that she might be doing more harm than good. But she had already started, and it seemed somewhat unfair if she were to now refuse to continue with her thoughts on the matter.

"There are a lot more people of all sorts in London than in Darrowby, I'm sure?" Her statement came out more as a question.

"Indubitably so." Richard agreed.

"Perhaps, when you go back, try to look at people more, like Mr. Farnon taught you. You know more about folks now than you used to, don't you think?" Richard answered in the affirmative once more.

"Maybe, if you look, you may find there are more people like you than you think."

"I most often observe loud, boisterous people who apparently enjoy having everyone's attention on them, despite having nothing intelligent to say to those people, a desire I do not understand at all."

"Maybe try not to look at the loud ones. Perhaps when they're causing a racket and keeping other people distracted, you can look for the ones not paying them any mind. Look for the ones still reading their books through all that hubbub. They might be the ones you'd like to get to know."

Carmody was quiet as he mulled over her words. He had always found the loud jocularity of his classmates to be very distracting and irritating. He truly had no idea what anyone else was doing in those instances besides looking at the merrymakers as well. But statistically speaking, Mrs. Hall was likely correct. It was highly improbable that in a large crowd he was absolutely solitary in his position as a quiet bystander. There likely would be at least one or two others. The idea gave him a small thrill of anticipation about returning to school that he had not felt since leaving for Darrowby last spring. 

"That's very wise, Mrs. Hall. Thank you."

"Oh, well, occasionally I come up with summat resembling a good idea." She gave his arm a quick pat and began to get up from her chair to return to work.

But Richard spoke up before she could resume her task. "I think to be in charge of this house, you must have a plethora of sound ideas, Mrs. Hall."

A bashful smile graced her face, one that someone with more nuanced human observation skills might have realised indicated that despite hearing them from time to time, she wasn't entirely used to compliments—or at least ones unrelated to her organisational or cooking skills. "Thank you, Mr. Carmody, but don't let Mr. Farnon know you think I'm in charge." She chuckled and hoped the lad would understand she was joking.

"Oh, Mr. Farnon is very well aware that you're in charge, Mrs. Hall. I just pretend to consider myself to be the authority figure every so often for the sheer laughability of the notion."

Audrey jumped in her chair as she spotted Siegfried hovering in the doorway, the little boy in his arms. "You startled me!"

Siegfried's face crinkled into a joyful smile. "Good! It's nice to know I can still get one over on you occasionally."

"All right, then. I've work to do. You three can be on your way."

"I'm far ahead of you, my dear." He called out as Richard was just about to leave the room. "Carmody!" Siegfried gave the toddler in her arm a slight bounce. "This fine young vet and I are heading out to feed the animals. Since he now thinks you are easily the most entertaining person in this household, perhaps you would like to join us?"

"Oh, I don't think that would..."

"Rich-chard!" Siegfried's voice rose on the second prolonged syllable. "That wasn't a suggestion."
 
Carmody gave an audible groan, and dragging his feet, followed Siegfried and the boy, the older of the two breaking into song along the way. "With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal; in silence dread, our cautious way we feel. No sound at all; we never speak a word. A fly’s footfall would be distinctly heard."

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"He's just being mean, now." Helen nestled into an armchair with Jimmy as she and Audrey moved from the scullery to the sitting room with two of the little ones. The trio of animal feeders had been gone the entire time it took Audrey to clean up, prompting raised eyebrows between the women, wondering what Siegfried was doing to the poor young man.

"He's trying to force him to do things he's not comfortable with. He hopes it'll help him."

"Tell that to Carmody."

The women shared a knowing look and went back to the small ones on their respective laps, Helen cooing at Jimmy and Audrey playing finger rhymes with the little girl, in an effort to distract her from the fact that Siegfried had accidentally taken the boy to feed the animals on a day that was supposed to be the little girl's turn.

"This is the meadow where all the long day ten little frolicsome lambs are at play." Audrey drew her arms around the child in a bowl-like shape.

"These are the measures the good farmer brings salt in, or cornmeal, and other good things." Audrey cupped her hands, one on each side of the child, who mimicked the movements by simply opening her little hands.

"This is the lambkins’ own big water trough. Drink, little lambkins, and then scamper off!" Audrey brought the little girl's hands together to form an open oval shape. 

"This is the rack where in winter they feed. Hay makes a very good dinner indeed." The inverted finger lacing confused the girl, but Audrey made her grin by asking her silly questions. "Do you like to eat hay? Are you a little lamb who eats hay from a rack?"

From across the room, Helen smiled watching Audrey and the little girl curled up together on the sofa. She was happy for her friend, who was clearly enjoying these soft, quiet moments with the children. But she worried, too, about how Audrey would cope when they left. She hoped asking for her help with Jimmy would ease the transition from a house with two little children to a house empty of their presence.

"These are the big shears to shear the old sheep. The dear little lambkins, their soft wool may keep." The two used their first two fingers to make shearing motions.

"Here, with its big double doors shut so tight, this is the barn where they all sleep at night." Audrey hid her laced fingers into her palms, leaving her vertical thumbs standing in place of the two barn doors. "What do you think, poppet?"

"I know that I think it was a fine rhyme and very well suited for children living in the dales." 

The girl scrambled up onto the sofa to peer over at Siegfried as he entered the room with her young companion. "The animals are fed, and this good man is improving by the day in regards to avoiding accidental smothering."

"That'll reassure your clients," Helen quipped.

"At least he's not mixing them up, as a certain new assistant I once had did." Siegfried's eyes crinkled at his gentle gibe in James' absence.

Audrey rolled her eyes and interrupted, muttering to Siegfried out of the side of her mouth. "By the way, you might want to keep a written animal feeding schedule in the future."  

Siegfried's eyes widened. "Ah! I may have been over-zealous about encouraging some sort of rapport between our youngest lad and our older one.

"No harm, done.  She seemed happy enough with our rhyme. I take it Carmody has gone up to his room?" She kept a loose but careful arm around the back of the girl as she continued to stand on the sofa, waiting for Siegfried's attention. 

"Yes, it was his reward for good behaviour." 

"What in the world were you three doing out there for so long?" Audrey couldn't hold back her curiosity any longer.

"Feeding the animals, of course!"

He turned to the little one and clapped his hands. "Mrs. Hall does ask silly questions; don't you agree?"

"You were gone out there for an age!"

"We had things to discuss, Mrs. Hall. Plus, just as I expected, this little chap was eager to spend time with Carmody, who is now apparently his favorite human being. And that, my dear, is all. No need for your mother-henning."

"I'm not mother-henning!"

Siegfried bent down close to the little girl and whispered, "What sound does a hen make? Cluck-cluck?" He caught Audrey's eye and winked, and she responded with nothing more than a light-hearted glare in his direction, which Siegfried pretended not to notice as he continued his conversation with the child. "I promise that tomorrow it will be your turn to feed the animals again. Do you still want to help me feed them?"

The girl nodded eagerly and gave Siegfried a pat on his bearded cheek, before he returned to standing, and announced, "But for now, I think it must be time for bed; don't you agree, Mrs. Hall?"

The look of exhausted relief on her face was confirmation in itself.

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"I don't think there's much for us to discuss that you don't already know. I feel I've talked your ear off throughout the day." 

"Not in the least, Mrs. Hall. The sound of those knocks on the door throughout the day were very welcome, as were the food and drink that accompanied the knocks. I was especially fond of the baked apples."

"I knew the apples we had left wouldn't keep much longer, and baking them stuffed were summat I hadn't done in awhile."

"I'm happy to just sit and have a drink if you're so inclined, even without any additional information to pass on about our guests. Although I don't wish to keep you if you'd like to turn in early."

"No, I wasn't looking to go upstairs quite yet. I thought it would be nice to make them summat they can take with them when they go home." Audrey leaned down to grasp the knitting basket by her feet. "I have some extra yarn leftover from other things I've made. I'll be knitting items for the lads on Saturday, so I thought I'd spend some time each night working on hats, scarves, and mittens for the children instead." 

She held up a ball of deep red. "I'll start with two hats. And only start more items if they're still here."

She set to work casting on the initial stitches, a pensive look on her face that Siegfried surmised had little to do with counting the number of loops upon her needle. He only occasionally allowed a rare comparison between his wife and his housekeeper to skitter across his mind, but in that moment, as she sat resolutely staring at the wool and needle as if they required her utmost concentration, a fact he knew to be completely untrue, he saw a touch of longing on her face. It was a pale version of the look he would see on Evelyn during those years when she so ardently wished to be a mother, but it was undoubtedly a similar expression. 

He never enquired about Audrey's marriage. It wasn't a topic for an employer to ask an employee, and it seemed impertinent even for a man to ask a friend, especially when that friend was a woman, and one that was still legally married at that. By the time he knew she was no longer be married, it didn't feel his place to ask personal questions of her at all anymore, what with Mr. Hammond stepping in to whisk her away.

But she hadn't gone with the banker. She had stayed, and since the children had arrived, he found himself wondering more and more how it came to be that Audrey had only mothered one child. He could imagine no one else more aptly endowed with the perfect array of personality traits and innate talents necessary for embracing motherhood. He knew how much she enjoyed caring for others. He'd seen how incredibly excited she was when Helen was expecting and how delighted she was every time she caught sight of the baby. And when she held little Jimmy—the happiness she radiated pulled at him like a magnet, making him wish to be closer to them every possible time the baby found his way to her arms.

He simply couldn't imagine anyone could care for their guests as well as Audrey had been. Because she didn't simply care for them—she swathed them in affection. She had so much love within her that she seemed to always be seeking someone to bestow it upon. He thought it only natural that she would have liked to have more children. But for some reason, or a host of reasons, she was never given the opportunity, and then things went badly with the one child she did have. What a pair they were. Her, robbed of the chance to have more children, and he, who gave away his chance.

Now, he here was, a childless man surrounded by other people's children. Strictly speaking, of course, he could still father a child if he chose a young enough wife, but the very thought of such a thing—seeking a wife based on nothing more than the desire to have a child—sounded repulsive to such a degree that it nearly cured him of any disappointment over that aspect of his life immediately. No, there was only one woman Siegfried Farnon wished to offer the dubious opportunity of marrying him, and she was right here, living in his house, sitting an arm's reach from him, filling his every thought. Siegfried, his mind so full of unexpressed yearning for the woman next to him and heavy remorse for his younger self, sighed inadvertently, causing Audrey to look up instantly, her face full of concern.

"Is everything all right?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Hall. In some ways things seem incredibly right, but in others..." He trailed off, not sure how to put into words anything he was feeling without adding to her melancholy or giving far too much of his own longings and regrets away.

Chapter Text

6th Full Day: Thursday, 13 February 1941:

Audrey Hall was not typically one to panic. She was one to see a problem and immediately start formulating the best ways in which to solve the problem. But Audrey Hall was not having a typical morning. She had a difficult night's sleep worrying over the plans for the coming day. She wasn't sure about bringing the children to see another doctor after the fiasco with Dr. Bowes, no matter how highly esteemed the man might be in the eyes of a nurse known only to Mrs. Pumphrey. Plus, she dreaded, absolutely dreaded, the idea of trying to board buses and trains with the children. The last time had been just so awful for both her and the children, alike, and it broke her heart to think of putting the poor loves through that again.

Logically, she assured herself that the children knew her better now, and that might help. They wouldn't be confused, hungry, and wet on the journey to meet with the young physician, which was also bound to help. Plus, Siegfried, the sweetest of men, no matter how vehemently he'd dispute such a thing, should he ever know she even let the idea cross her mind, had volunteered to come along with her and the children. And having another adult the children trusted had to make a positive difference. Yet she couldn't help but lie awake, fretting away several hours of the night. 

And just a few hours of sleep, Audrey woke early, which on a day one needed to get an early start should have been advantageous. But she had woken to the feeling of something being wrong and quickly realised that at some point after she finally fell asleep, she had been joined in bed by the little girl, who apparently had an accident. So now she needed a wash, the child needed a wash, and there was a whole bed's worth of linens to be put to soak on top of the normal morning routine and getting ready for their journey.

While she and the girl were in the bathroom, washing up, the boy woke up, found himself alone, and decided that full-volume crying was the only answer to that situation. So, making sure the tub was empty, Audrey told the towel-wrapped girl to sit and wait a moment and rushed to try to get to the boy before he disturbed the entire household. Unfortunately, in her haste, she tripped and stubbed her foot so painfully against the door jamb it brought tears to her eyes.

She hobbled down the hallway, fetched the crying lad, and brought him back to the washroom, where she rinsed her bleeding foot and wrapped it in a bit of cotton gauze. Once she and the children were dressed, a task that took additional time due to her sore appendage, the trio set off downstairs to get started on breakfast. But unlike other mornings, when the children were content to play with Tristan's old toys while she prepared their morning meal, both children were agitated and prone to bouts of whinging and fussing with one another, causing her to pause in her efforts several times to intervene in their squabbles or offer a quick cuddle. By the time the rest of the household joined them in the kitchen, Audrey was at the end of her tether and feeling embarrassed for how out of sorts she imagined she appeared to the others.

She felt a bit of relief when at last everyone was seated with their hot cereal until the young boy decided to pitch his breakfast, bowl and all, to the kitchen floor, bowl exploding on contact and cereal splattering across a lsignificant section of tile.

"No, love!" she cried out to him from across the table. "You can't do that!" Her voice was loud and had taken on a somewhat shrill quality, even to her own ears, and she berated herself for speaking to him with such upset. Poor lad hadn't even been here a week, and he was just a toddler.

She pushed away from the table and to clean the mess, physical and emotional, apologising to the little one for shouting, then noticing the quivering lip on his sister and soothing her as well, passing behind the boy's chair to give the little girl a one-armed hug as she held numerous jagged chunks of bowl in her opposite hand.

Siegfried rose and gently took the shards from her hand, careful not to scrape any sharp edges against her palm. When she looked up in surprise, he softly suggested she see about getting the children to eat, and he'd attend to the cereal and bits of crockery still littering the floor. She gave a wavering smile, still grappling with the sense of shame she felt for yelling, but also feeling a surge of gratitude for how Siegfried seemed to always know just how to assist her and how much she appreciated his willingness to do so, even when he had no need. She was the housekeeper, after all, and she had brought this extra responsibility into their lives. Yet he was there, day after day, kindly offering his time whenever he could. Her heart felt a tightness, and she wasn't sure it was a pleasant ache or a painful one, knowing that the tangents her mind took in regards to the kind man could never be realised.

With all that went awry in the early part of the morning, the adults were left hurrying about to be ready on time. Carmody had set off to prepare the exam room for surgery. Helen volunteered to take care of the kitchen after breakfast and to keep a discreet ear open for Carmody during the day. 

Siegfried had found the rest of the collection of Beatrix Potter books that Tristan had enjoyed as a child and brought both the familiar Peter Rabbit, along with ones they had yet to see, The Tale of Benjamin Bunny and The Tale of Tom Kitten, to Audrey, seeking her approval. "I opted to go out of order. I thought if the trip was difficult, it might be more important to offer stories of animals they see here every day. Are you by chance carrying a bag large enough to fit some of these, Mrs. Hall?"

Audrey indicated the basket she had set on the sofa beside the children, who she was helping along with their socks and shoes. Siegfried peeked under the cover and smiled in appreciation for Audrey's foresight in packing what appeared to be a few items of clothing and a selection of easy-to-eat foodstuffs. Dropping the books inside, he announced, "I'll carry this, seeing as how I've made it heavier." 

"They're small books, Mr. Farnon. I'm sure I'll manage." She didn't even look up at him as she struggled with buckles attached to squirming feet. "Why is it that the simplest of tasks becomes so much more time-consuming when you're in a hurry? I were hoping to leave earlier than this."

"We'll make it. You have the little ones to contend with, Mrs. Hall. I'll go fetch the coats, hats, and gloves."

Upon his return, everyone was bundled up for the cold, and Siegfried plucked the basket up from the cushion. "We're all set then." Audrey's voice sounded more confident than her face appeared, and Siegfried started to reach out to touch the small of her back when he caught hold of himself and brought his hand back to his side. He had been finding it increasingly difficult not to reach out for her, especially in times like this, when he felt it might be a comfort to her. 

He had promised himself after the Gerald debacle that he would find a way to determine if her feelings for him were anything similar to the ones he harboured for her, and if so, to let her know how he felt. But months had gone by, and he had neither determined her feelings nor shared his. And now, with the children serving as a near constant distraction, he found himself slipping, saying and doing things he normally wouldn't. And yet he still hadn't seen much more than a few shy blushes in response. "Now isn't the time!", he admonished himself. She needed his assistance and support, and he needed to keep his head clear enough to provide her with those things.

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Audrey checked her watch as they reached the bus stop. They had arrived with only a few minutes to spare, and she tried to use those moments to catch her breath, as she and Siegfried had walked over at quite a fast pace, both carrying a child to keep their short legs from slowing down their progress. Once she had her respiration under control, she turned to Siegfried and, with a tenuous smile, thanked him for coming along. "I'd never have made it here on time on me own."

"There's no need to thank me, Mrs. Hall. It's my pleasure. I'm grateful the timing allowed me to be available before lambing season begins in earnest."

Their conversation concluded as the sound of the approaching bus filled their ears. The children both became uneasy as the vehicle approached but kept their unhappiness to mild whimpers, which subsided as Audrey and Siegfried took their seats, each adult paired off with one child, and distracted them by pointing out sights outside the windows. 

But while the children had been only mildly concerned about the bus, they fell completely to pieces when the group reached the first station of their journey and they spotted the trains. They begin crying and clinging desperately to the adults. Audrey, still feeling more fragile of heart after their difficult morning, spoke quickly and under her breath to Siegfried, placing a beseeching grip on his forearm. "This was a bad idea, Mr. Farnon. We shouldn't have done this. We need to go back. I can ring the practice and cancel." Siegfried pulled his pseudo-family aside, finding a bench for them to rest and discuss the situation. He assured the children that everything was all right and that they were all going on a trip together and would then all go back home together. He opened Audrey's carefully prepared basket, drew out a book, and promised them they would all read on the train.

And while his speech seemed to help calm Audrey, the little ones were not so easily appeased, continuing to cry. Audrey felt more certain than ever that these children were not local to the station where she had found them, but had been brought there by train, and now they associated the mighty mode of transport with confusion and fear. She quietly shared her thoughts with Siegfried, who nodded his head in agreement and further speculated that perhaps they had either been moved to and from some sort of home or perhaps travelled as part of a group of evacuees with their mother, but were somehow separated. 

The train's arrival increased the volume of the children's cries and brought back the anguish to Audrey's face. Siegfried caught the grim looks of several other travellers boarding the train, all probably hoping they wouldn't be seated within earshot of what they probably assumed were two hapless parents, unable to keep their children under control. As they struggled to board the train themselves, only the fact that his hands were full of small girl and awkward basket that kept him from offering a consoling caress to the woman beside him, for no amount of self-doubt would have kept him from trying to comfort her in that moment had he been able.

The time spent in stations and train compartments that morning was some of the most difficult Siegfried had spent in a very long time, and he marvelled at the notion that Audrey had made a similar journey with their young guests all on her own. It was little wonder she had been so apprehensive and so desperate to cancel when they had reached Skipton. Their trip involved more than one train that day, and by the time they finally had the children somewhat placated, it was time to disembark, then rush to catch another train for the next leg of the trip, upsetting the children anew. 

By the time they reached the station at Ripon, both children were more than ready for a nap, and once again Siegfried and Audrey had to carry them to the neighbouring bus stop.

The exhausted little ones barely gave a mewl and a sniffle when reloading the second bus, instead nestling in next to adults for the blessedly brief bus ride. When they reached their stop, Siegfried announced they were going to take a little walk in town, re-energising the children and giving Audrey a deep feeling of relief to be awarded a respite from travelling with the small duo.

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The office they were looking for was only six buildings down from the bus station, though it still took longer than Siegfried would have estimated with two children who had spent the last few hours being tired, confused, and upset, now insisting on walking on their own, setting a pace slowed by their exploration of everything at their eye level, and stopping to investigate numerous discoveries along the way. Audrey had been given an address and basic directions from Nurse Naylor and kept her eyes peeled for a red brick building, split into two separate businesses, one with a green door, the other black, and located across the street from a small brick church with a relatively low slung roofline.
 
Audrey found the building described and noted the name etched into the brass placard matched the name of the doctor they had been advised that Dr. Robinson was assisting. With a deep breath, Audrey reached for the hammered metal handle, only to be interrupted by a pat on the thigh from the little girl standing beside her. 

"What is it, love?"

The girl stepped forward and knocked upon the pine green door, bringing forth matching smiles from both adults, happy to see the child in better spirits and acting more like herself. "That's very good, poppet. It's good to knock on closed doors."

Siegfried cupped his ear. "I heard someone say we can come in now, Mrs. Hall." He grinned at her over the head of the child, and Audrey opened the door to a small vestibule and a set of glass-topped doors through which they could see a reception desk and waiting area. The group entered the room, and Audrey went to speak to the woman at the desk as Siegfried directed the children to a section of unoccupied chairs. 

Finding themselves in another new environment, the children had become reserved again, both holding onto Siegfried when he attempted to settle them into seats of their own. In an effort to prevent another bout of crying, he hauled them both up, a bit clumsily, to perch on his lap together, and when Audrey turned to return to the trio, she pressed her lips together in an attempt to bite back her emotions at seeing them cuddled together like a little family.

As their time in the reception area dragged on, the demeanour of the children moved from concern to boredom to curiosity, and both young ones required a hand to prevent them from trying to wander away from their temporary guardians. Siegfried was contemplating the merits of bringing out their book again so soon, when Mrs. Hall's name was called out, and their turn was finally upon them.

They were ushered into a small windowless room, smaller than either examination room at Skeldale. There was a small wooden desk with a wheeled wooden chair, an examination table, and two smaller stationary chairs, upon which Siegfried deposited the young boy, pointing to the second chair for his sister. 

A young man with short cropped dark blond hair and tortoise shell glasses was sitting at the desk, and he set the glasses down on the blotter as he stood to greet them.

"Hello, you must be Mrs. Hall." He thrust out a hand and shook hers vigorously.

"Yes." She turned to Siegfried, a bit taken aback. "And this is..."

"Siegfried Farnon--don't ask. I'm here merely as an assistant to Mrs. Hall."

The doctor shook Siegfried's hand and continued his introduction. "I'm Dr. Robinson. Good to meet you both. Nurse Naylor contacted me to give me a brief summary of the situation." 

He walked over to where the children were seated and crouched down in front of them. "Hello. My name is Dr. Robinson. It was very nice of you to visit me today." The little girl looked warily from the young man back to Siegfried and Audrey, while the lad turned his head away from all of the adults, refusing to acknowledge the doctor at all.

Unperturbed, Dr. Robinson stood again and resumed speaking with the adults. "If you don't mind, I'd actually like to move us to another room. There's a kitchen in this building—small, but larger than this room, and a bit more—friendly, I'd say."

Audrey knew how ill at ease the children were and was eager to try anything that might help them feel more comfortable. "That's fine."

"You may leave your coats and basket here, if you'd like. No one else will be using the room while we're away from it."

He went back to his desk to collect a few things, picked up a cloth with which he cleaned his spectacles, then placed them back on his face, then led them out of the tiny room and to the left, away from the waiting room, and down to the end of a short, narrow hall.

When he opened the door to the "kitchen,"  Audrey was surprised to see there was actually a sink, a very small stove, and a few cupboards, along with a round wooden table with four chairs. At the far end of the room were two windows, with a cushioned bench beneath, and two more chairs at each end.

Noticing Audrey's observations, the doctor explained, "We use the stove primarily for heat and not for any cooking, but it is rather nice to come sit in here between patients and have a tea sometimes."

Siegfried instructed the children to take two seats at the table. And the doctor invited him and Audrey to sit as well.

Grabbing one of the extra chairs, the doctor carried it over and sat it down in the empty space between Audrey and the girl. "Hello, again." He spoke to the child in a friendly, gentle tone. She looked up at him quickly, then looked away, but then immediately turned back again and started to scramble up onto her knees. Once situated, she attempted to reach for the doctor's glasses. "Oh, I'm very sorry, but that's one thing I cannot let you play with. I'm afraid I need them to see properly." 

When the little one made a second grab for the spectacles, Audrey stood up to intervene. "No, love, you can't touch those."

The doctor stood and held an index finger up in front of the child. "Can you wait right there? Because I do have something else you can play with." He walked over to the cupboards and drew out a small box, which he brought to the table. When he returned, he was surprised to see the little boy now facing him, until he realised that the girl was eagerly pointing out his face and presumably the prized eyewear to the toddler, who was now looking at him in fascination as well. 

"Would I be correct in guessing that no one at your home wears eyeglasses?"

Siegfried spoke up. "I actually do wear them on occasion, but I must say that mine have never caught their attention the way yours seem to be. Mine are rather drab by comparison, however, so perhaps that's the difference."

The doctor opened the box and began placing the contents onto the tabletop, one at a time. A handful of wooden blocks, two small rubber balls, a half dozen wooden puzzle pieces, a soft rag doll, two small bowls and spoons, some simple wooden horse figures with shaggy horse tails, and some half sheets of letter paper along with a few stubs of pencils. "There you are. Now, I'd like the two of you to please play nicely while I talk to Mrs. Hall and Mr. Farnon for a while. Can you do that for me?"

The doctor left his chair and sat over on the bench, inviting Audrey and Siegfried to take up one of the remaining chairs at that end of the room.

"I'd like a chance to talk to the two of you, as well as to let them warm up to this situation a bit more. I hope that's all right."

"Of course." Siegfried rearranged two chairs for Audrey and himself, forming a three-quarter-circle formation open to the room so as to be able to see the children.

"As Nurse Naylor has informed you, this is not a permanent practice location for me. I grew up in York, but studied and got my start in Manchester, working in hospital there. My grandparents used to live here in Ripon, however, and I loved the area as a child. 

My eyesight, alas, is so pitiful that our good country preferred I keep to medical work over signing up, so when I heard that the assistant to the GP here had been called up with the army, I put forth my name to serve as a temporary replacement. Few people bring children to us unless they are ill, so I've been looking forward to your visit today."

He smiled encouragingly to the older couple, who appeared to be rather anxious about the situation.

"Nurse Naylor told me a bit about the children and your concerns over their lack of speech. Have the children been spending time with both of you, or do they spend most of their time with you, Mrs. Hall?"

Siegfried promptly answered, "Mrs. Hall spends the majority of the day with the children," at the same time that Audrey was answering.

"Mr. Farnon has a veterinary surgery in his home, so he does get to spend a good deal of time with them."

The two guardians looked at one another, and Siegfried chuckled. "My apologies. I introduced myself as the assistant, and I have forgotten my place already."

The doctor grinned, happily relieved to hear some friendly jocularity, and hoping he could ease their worries.

"Besides the issue of the lack of speech, do you have any other concerns about the children, Mrs. Hall?"

"We just don't know anything about them. I don't even know how old they are. It's hard to know what they should be able to do when you don't know their ages."

"And is there anything else?"

"I'd just like to know if you think they seem healthy. It's been a long time since I've had a small child, and I worry about how little the boy eats."

"I understand, although I must warn you, I won't be carrying out a typical examination today. I will look them over, of course, but I'd like to proceed as more of a conversation combined with what I hope the children will see as a game. But if you're both willing, I think we might be able to answer some of your questions via those means."

Chapter Text

6th Full Day: Thursday, 13 February 1941, Continued:

Siegfried and Audrey continued to talk with the doctor for several minutes, answering his questions while providing a summary of the past six days the children had been in their care. They spoke of the children's sleeping and eating routines, their habits, and their behavior. They discussed their fears along with the things they found enjoyment in doing. And the young assistant quizzed them on what tasks the children could manage on their own and which they required help to achieve.

Afterwards, Dr. Robinson carefully broached the topic of Dr. Bowes. "Nurse Naylor mentioned you had consulted a local physician previously."

Siegfried scowled. "Please do not ask me to repeat what he had to say, nor ask me what I think of him, for young ears shouldn't be subjected to the likes of what I might utter."

"He never even saw them. He only spoke to Mr. Farnon on the phone. And he still insisted that they can't hear or speak." Audrey's mouth was pressed into a firm line as she conveyed the information as politely as possible. Hearing the wobble in her voice, Siegfried reached out to grasp her hand, giving it a squeeze of support. "But I know that's not the case," she pressed on. "At least not entirely."

"Because they clearly hear just fine," the doctor supplied.

"Yes!" Audrey's upper body, held tense in her chair, sagged in relief.

"And they follow your instructions. I've seen it just in the short span of time you've been here. They can very obviously hear and understand what's being said to them. There is no doubt in my mind about that. Furthermore, I doubt they suffer from any hearing loss at all."

He held his two index fingers out in front of him, leaned in, and lowered his voice. "Do you think the children would like more toys?"

The sounds of toys being patted, stacked, and banged upon the table stopped. The sound of chair legs squeaking could no longer be heard. And the sounds of childish noises ceased.

Dr. Robinson smiled. From his pocket he withdrew a small bell, which he set upon his knee behind a cupped hand to hide it. Picking up the pencil he had been using to take notes, he gave the bell the slightest of taps, and a very soft ding sounded. The adults looked up to see both children transfixed on them, straining to see what it was they had heard. The little girl had already left her chair, and the boy was struggling to get down from his own seat.

"Hold on, there, young man," Dr. Robinson called out to the child, who waited, a look of slight apprehension on his face. The doctor walked over and put his hands out. "May I help you?" The child didn't answer but didn't complain, either.

The doctor lowered the boy to the floor and asked the children if they'd like to see what he had. The boy made no overt attempt to communicate but did keep looking at this new stranger, while his sister nodded her head for both of them. The doctor took out the bell, along with a string of two more, and securely tied the third bell back to the string. Then he jiggled the bells in the air, and when the toddler reached out his hand, the young physician rewarded him with the jingling ribbon.

The adults retreated back to their end of the room, with an excited Dr. Robinson giving his opinion on what had just occurred between him and the children.

"The boy is communicating in his own way. It's the attention he pays to you. You told me he wouldn't look at you at first, and he treated me the same when you arrived. But I took a short cut and bypassed the task of gaining his trust, by appealing to the child's innate sense of curiosity instead. He's perfectly well aware that if he ignores adults, they will likely turn to his sister, either for some sort of gesture of response or in hopes that if she will do as they ask, that he might follow. But here today, he didn't want us to turn to his sister. He knew I had the toy, and so he gave in and looked at me. That was his form of communicating that he was listening and possibly even willing to do what I asked of him, if it meant he would be given the bells."

Audrey felt impressed by both the doctor and by the boy.  "I knew he were looking at us now, but I never thought of it like that—that it were his way of talking."

"Indeed, Mrs. Hall. In fact, more than that, I imagine he changed your behaviour when he began looking at you as well."

"Oh?"

"How did you feel when he wouldn't look at you?"

"Worried."

"And how did you feel when he did look at you?"

"Relieved. Happy."

"And happy adults are more likely to offer young children interesting things to do, wouldn't you say? When you were worried, you likely just watched him, wondering what to do, perhaps asking him more questions, trying to cajole him to do something--anything.  But when a child looks at you, you're more likely to start asking them things or showing them things. When he began looking at you, he was telling you that he was ready to accept that you were the one caring for him now, and he was willing to consider participating in whatever you might suggest."

Audrey found herself picturing Siegfried leading the little parade with the boy hoisted in his arms, the three of them cuddled on the sofa reading about Peter Rabbit, or out in the shed seeing the real rabbits.

Siegfried's mind was filled with memories of Audrey and the boy crouched at various doors of their home, learning to knock, or the little lad happily "washing" the table with his cloth and bowl of water. He looked up from his musings and grinned. "Well, look at that, Mrs. Hall—he's a rather brilliant little chap, isn't he?"

The young doctor continued with his observations. "Now, I did see that he allows his sister to be the one to nod or shake her head, and that may well be how it was when they were speaking, as well."

"You think they can speak, then?" Audrey cut in, then flushed and excused herself for interrupting.
 
The doctor didn't mind in the least. He felt very appreciative to have something new and different to contend with and enjoyed having such interested adults interacting with them. "I think that our young lady here can almost certainly do so—at least to a degree. Her communication skills are very good beyond the obvious lack of speech. She listens well, looks at whomever is speaking to her, responds in gestures or actions, and, in my opinion, most tellingly, is that I've noticed her occasionally moving her lips as if speaking."

Audrey's eyes widened. "Oh, aye-- I forgot to say. I just noticed her doing that for the first time yesterday." She gave Siegfried a pat on the wrist, and an apologetic glance at the look of surprise on his face at hearing her news as well.

Dr. Robinson leaned in again to keep his next words shielded from the children. "If they have truly been in some sort of institution or orphanage, she may be out of practice in speaking, due to overcrowding during war time,  or worse, she may have been instructed, possibly very firmly,  to hold her tongue. Part of her upset may be frustration or confusion along with a left-over fear, and those negative feelings might be slowly eroding as she spends more time in an affectionate home. It does seem to me that you have described seeing improvements just in their short time with you. Eating and sleeping better. Being more willing to interact with others. Playing on their own. Helping with chores."

"Well, yes, I suppose that's true."

"My suggestion to you both is to continue as you've been doing. We may not know the specifics of what misfortunes have befallen them, but we do know that there's been some sort of upheaval in their lives, and that alone is ample reason for them to be out of sorts. The environment you are providing is not only adequate for their survival but clearly well-suited for their improvement. You're obviously doing them a great deal of service. I think with patience, one day she may surprise you."

"And the boy, do you believe that he may have spoken in the past as well?" Siegfried's eyes were sincere in their interest and concern.

"It's harder to know with him due to his young age. I have a few more things to check before I give my estimate on how old they may be, but if he left his home or his parents before he started speaking, then perhaps he has not spoken at all yet. However, it doesn't mean he couldn't do so now if he were to try. I imagine if he had spoken in the past, then, if he were to see his sister resume speaking, he may follow."

Doctor Robinson gestured for Audrey and Siegfried to go ahead of him as the trio returned to the round table once more. They took their seats, and the young man explained that he would give out instructions, and whoever he pointed to would need to try to follow those instructions if they were able. The little girl looked up at her temporary caretakers, and noting her need for their reassurance, the doctor conspiratorially lowered his voice to a mock whisper. "Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Hall and Mr. Farnon are going to play, too!"

The doctor stood and announced, "First, we'll all stand up. So everyone please stand, but this time we'll let everyone get off of their chair by themselves, all right?" 

Once all five of them were standing (The boy was able to eventually shimmy his way off when not distracted by tinkling bells.), he had everyone attempt to stand on one foot, instructing them to hold on to the back of a chair if they needed help. Then he asked everyone to bounce, kick, throw, or catch the ball, then sit back down to draw or write anything they wanted.  He then asked everyone to point to different items in the room, including their own body parts. The children were asked to run around the room, jump, and climb onto the cushioned bench. When they finished their tasks, they joined the adults in clapping at their own efforts.

Once they were pink-cheeked with the exertion from their fun and adventure, the doctor moved on to what he expected to be the trickiest part of the visit. He asked the girl if she could show him her teeth like a big bear, and when she looked to Siegfried for his opinion, he winked and made a growling bear face of his own, making both the children and Audrey smile. The girl mimicked Siegfried beautifully, and the doctor praised her efforts, then asked her to open her mouth wide like a bear about to eat a big dinner. There was a gleam in the child's eyes when she looked to Siegfried the second time, and he laughed aloud at her cheek before capitulating and making a minor fool of himself. The ploy worked, and the girl was willing to open her mouth, and after a few attempts, they were able to get the lad to join as well. Audrey sat back, chuckling, very pleased she was spared a turn in that particular game.

When the exam disguised as silliness was complete, the doctor once again led the adults aside. "I'd say the girl is between three and four years old. She has all of her primary teeth and can accomplish tasks we expect to see a three-year-old handle. I don't believe by her size or some of her skills that she is four yet. If I had to be more precise, I'd estimate she's a bit closer to three, but I admit that her lack of ability to better communicate with me is part of that guess." 

Audrey clasped her hands together and listened intently, so happy to finally be learning any possible information about the children. Siegfried, moved by the sight of her so obviously happy, stepped closer and set one of his hands upon hers, and she turned to him briefly, smiled widely, and grasped the offered hand.

"Now, the boy has one set of molars, so that along with his size and what talents he was willing to showcase makes me think he's right around a year and a half. And as I said earlier, there's a chance he hasn't started speaking yet. He's mastered walking, running, jumping, and so forth more than adequately, and sometimes children will conquer one type of skill first. Some speak early but walk late. It's entirely possible that he has spent all of his energy on being a very physically capable little lad and simply hasn't devoted much time to speech yet. So try not to worry about that with either of them. I truly believe that in their cases, the diagnosis is that there isn't any medical diagnosis. They will resume, or start, speaking when they feel comfortable doing so."

Audrey squeezed Siegfried's hand, and he couldn't help but grin, imagining that she was likely ready to burst with her own desire to speak but was doing her best to let the doctor finish first.

"As for overall health, they seem fit and healthy to me, despite the little one giving you trouble at mealtime. They don't appear to me to have been in a situation where there was any great difficulty. I've worked with people in rough circumstances, and in my experience, parents typically didn't leave or give up children unless they were in dire circumstances, often with the children already showing signs of ill health. These children look cared for beyond just the week's worth of care they've received from you. Unless they were left behind for reasons beyond poverty or similar difficulties, I can't help but think some terrible mistake has occurred. I hope the police will be able to sort that out for you."

Audrey released Siegfried's hand and reached out to shake the doctor's hand again, thanking him profusely for all the time he had spent with them and for giving them such sought-after information.

"I thank you, Mrs. Hall, Mr. Farnon. I took psychology courses, and they did include sections on paediatric studies, but I've not had any real call to use what I had learnt until today, and I must say it was truly enjoyable for me to put that knowledge to practical use. I hope all goes well in finding out what has happened with them. Perhaps your friend Mrs. Pumphrey can pass along a message via Nurse Naylor to let me know what the constable eventually deduces about the situation."

Siegfried and the doctor exchanged their own pleasantries, and the doctor said "Good-bye" to the children, prompting the boy to make one more attempt at the young man's glasses before they were escorted back to the original examination room to collect their belongings.

They walked back to the bus station buoyed by the successful visit and found that the children even boarded the bus with less nervousness than earlier. Arriving at Ripon's train station, the children did still begin to show upset, however, and they had to be carried onto the train crying once more. Siegfried noticed Audrey's hand trembling as she reached out for the handle as she stepped up into the train car, and the pain etched so plainly upon her face so soon after having been glowing with happiness, tore at Siegfried's heart.  

Fortunately, the train leaving Ripon was far less busy than the trains they had travelled on that morning, and they were able to easily find a compartment to themselves.  Siegfried indicated for Audrey to sit next to him as opposed to across on her own seat, so that the four could sit close to one another as they attempted to soothe the children, allowing their physical proximity to soothe the adults as well, regardless of whether either would have ever admitted it.  After a few minutes, to try to calm her own jangled nerves, Audrey switched over to the seat across from Siegfried. He regretted the loss of her warmth beside him, until he realised that she was using the opportunity of their own private space to bring out the remaining food she had packed. A chance to eat pacified the children, especially when coupled with the promise of another new book to read.

By the time they boarded their final train for the day, Audrey carried the sleeping toddler onto the train, while Siegfried lifted up the girl, drowsy, but still awake, worried, but finally appeased by his gentle promises that they were now on the very last train of the day and that they would soon be boarding the bus to transport them home, back to Helen and Richard, back to Jess and Dash and the animals in the shed, and back to Baby Jimmy, whose presence she always delighted in.

Chapter Text

6th Full Day: Thursday, 13 February 1941, Continued:

By the time the bus containing the Skeldale residents was approaching their stop, both children had fallen fast asleep, the little lad curled up on Audrey's lap, and the little girl spread out across the empty bench seat right in front of the rest of her temporary family. Siegfried, sharing the seat with Audrey and the napping toddler, could feel Audrey's head continually dipping towards his own as she struggled against nodding off herself. Had their journey been any longer, he might have considered it the perfect excuse to offer a shoulder, to indulge in the feel of her resting upon him for the duration of their trip. But with Darrowby just a few miles away, it seemed ridiculous to suggest she relent to her fatigue for so short a respite.

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Helen was knitting in the sitting room as the weary travellers trundled their way through the front doors of the house, their lethargy after a long day slowing their movements, and giving the cold February air ample time to bring its chill into the front rooms of the house. Helen gave a shiver as she quietly welcomed them home, seeing both children slumbering in the arms of her friends. She put away her project, a knit jacket she was attempting for little James for when the milder months arrived, and offered to take the basket and return its contents to their rightful places. 

After successfully divesting the children of their outerwear without either little one waking fully, Audrey and Siegfried trudged upstairs with the pair. Siegfried waited somewhat awkwardly in the hallway, the girl snoozing on his shoulder, as Audrey settled the boy on to his makeshift bed. He felt silly not to bring the child to Audrey, yet his feeling of unease at the thought of entering her room uninvited proved more powerful, and so he remained swaying gently outside her door until Audrey came back for the girl, putting her to nap without fuss.

The two adults returned to the ground floor where Helen handed the books she found in the basket back to Siegfried and advised Audrey that the photographer had called while they were in Ripon.

"Thank you, Helen. I completely forgot that they might be ready today." 

Siegfried immediately offered to retrieve the portraits for her, pointing out that she could get a start on tea if she stayed home, a logical suggestion she could hardly argue against, though she regretted him taking on an errand when he had likely been anticipating an opportunity to sit with a nice warm brew in front of the fire.  But Helen cheerfully offered to help in any way she could, and so with Audrey's acceptance of his offer, Siegfried left before even having had a chance to have shed his own coat. 

Unbeknownst to Audrey, Siegfried had paid a secret call to the photographer the very day the children had sat for their portraits; visiting after lunch, before setting off on his afternoon farm calls, and had made additions to the development order. He had been working various possible scenarios through his mind on how he might arrange to be the person who picked up the order and was pleased to have the current situation play so well into his plans.

Siegfried strode slowly across Market Square towards Stockhill's small storefront. His mind wasn't on his task, nor the few villagers milling about the square as late afternoon inched towards early evening, but instead was fixated on the following day, and more precisely the calendar notation for the date—Saint Valentine's Day.

He had picked up a card for Audrey at the book shop during the same window of time when he stopped to discuss the extra photos with Stockhill. The card was colourful and happy, with brief wording indicating a friendly affection and little more. It was safe while still being something. And he knew where he could pick some snowdrops, bravely pushing their sweet green stems out of the cold ground and bursting into delicate multi-petalled blooms. He could gather them early in the day, before she and the children came downstairs, and place them into one of the small vases she kept scattered around the kitchen, tucking the card alongside of the tiny vessel.

He was pleased with the notion of those small gestures, knowing they'd each make her smile; although he secretly yearned so very much to buy her a small gift as well. However, he didn't know if she'd feel comfortable receiving a gift from him on this particular holiday, and he didn't want to risk making her feel embarrassed or self-conscious. He never wanted to do that to her, which felt like the heaviest of weights on his shoulders of late. Her marriage was over. Her ring removed. Gerald gone off without her. And yet he so feared making her feel obligated or anxious if he let on that he wished so fervently to have the place in her life that the other men had previously occupied. He believed he could love her better than they did. He knew he would treat her better. And yet he kept himself at arm's length, not sure if she wanted him to love her at all.

And while his mind was full of Audrey as this February fourteenth approached, his heart still reminded him of Evelyn each year at this time, too. He only occasionally spoke of Evelyn, and he rarely engaged in conversation when any of his housemates or acquaintances were brave enough to bring up her name, but it did warm him when Audrey attempted to speak of her once in awhile, even if he didn't let on as much. He felt a soft contentment to know she cared and that she accepted his love of Evelyn as a part of him, with no annoyance over his inability to discuss her.

This Valentine's Day, as in the previous seven years, he would not buy anything for Evelyn on this day set aside for expressing love. He would, however, for the very first time, mark the day, to some small degree, with Audrey. He just hoped he wouldn't make a balls up of it.

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A small bell tinkled on its metal arm as Siegfried entered the photography studio. It consisted of a cramped front room, with a doorway that lead to what Siegfried assumed must be both the actual working areas of the business. Mr. Stockhill came out from behind a dark curtain across said opening, confirmed that the photographs were indeed ready, and proceeded to display the prints out on top of the glass case that dominated the majority of the front space of the shop, for Siegfried to inspect. 

Siegfried had added the photograph of the children together, plus two more copies each of the individual portraits, to the order Audrey had placed. He would give Audrey the two portraits she was expecting so that she could post them to Constable Lamley. He planned to save two of the individual photos to give to Audrey when the day came that they had to say goodbye to the children, a little something to remember the days they spent pretending to be a somewhat typical family. And if the children did have actual family somewhere—parents, aunt and uncle, grandparents—who might take them home with them, he'd offer the remaining two photos to them as a gift from a man honoured to have had the chance to care for their little ones for a short while. He supposed he'd just keep the photo of the two children together for himself—something to put in a drawer and view on occasion when he thought of their little visitors in the future.

The pictures were well done, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as the eager photographer showed him the prints. The one of the two children together showed a tenderness between them that touched his heart. The duo nestled close to one another, the girl, slightly leaning, allowing her cheek to press against the top of her brother's head. And he immediately knew his Valentine's Day dilemma was solved. This photograph was too precious to be left in a drawer of his desk to languish. He'd frame this print to give to Audrey now, still saving the additional individual photos for when the children left them, as originally planned. The individual shots were clear and endearing, each child looking earnestly at the camera. One would never guess the amount of time that was invested in helping the young ones warm up to the idea of sitting for the portraits.

Mr. Stockhill pointed out the frames in the case, asking if Siegfried might be interested in any of the fine choices displayed on the glass shelves, along with a few cameras also available for purchase. Siegfried was aware of extra frames in the house, unearthed in the bedsit when they cleared it for James and Helen, and filed away in various drawers and cupboards in the main rooms of the house with all of the other items he deemed of worth from the boxes they had brought down from the uppermost floor. They had chosen two of the frames to hold the photos Edward and Tristan had sent home. He would use one of the remaining frames for the photo of the two children together, so as not to make her feel he had spent a great deal on the token present and hopefully make it easier for her to accept a gift on this day on which he had never dared to give her anything before.

Siegfried felt Audrey would think it was too much if he purchased one of the brand new picture frames right now. However, he did take note of a handsome hinged metal frame with oval openings bordered with delicate swooping curves. There was at least one double frame still unused at the house, and that could be given to the children's family, if they had any. He would then have nothing to hold the two remaining photos for Audrey if she wanted them framed. She would likely be more accepting of a purchased gift at that point, he mused, given that she would be missing the children. He could put it aside and save it for later. 

He negotiated a deal with Stockhill. He purchased the graceful double frame along with the extra prints, suggesting Stockhill drop the fee for developing the photos as a priority case in lieu of the additions he had added to the overall purchase. Mr. Stockhill was happy to oblige, and Siegfried left Stockhill's feeling very pleased overall. He carefully took the wrapped package and tucked it inside his coat, keeping the two photos for Constable Lamley in a small black paper folio to give to Audrey when he reached the house.

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Carmody arrived home early and without calamity, just in time for tea, and was proud of himself for remembering to enquire about the doctor's office visit from Mr. Farnon and Mrs. Hall. His polite question was rewarded with an impressed rise of eyebrows from his mentor and a touched smile from the housekeeper, who, as was the case for everyone in the house, seemed to mean more to Richard than he ever might have imagined a housekeeper could. And when the little lad's excitement at seeing Carmody enter the dining room led to him smacking his hands together and pointing enthusiastically at the young veterinary student, Richard even relented to sitting between Siegfried and the boy, sighing as he took his seat next to the exuberant toddler.

"I suppose it won't be too problematic to sit beside him for one meal." He did, however, completely miss the amused glance between the two eldest members of the house, who both knew that the toddler would likely now expect his new friend to sit beside him regularly.

The meal was simple and lasted a shorter time than usual, as four of the six people present at the table were looking far more forward to sleep than sustenance, and one was more than eager to get away from his young neighbor who somehow managed to wear more of the meal than he actually ate. Carmody spent the brief meal inching further and further from the child until he was precariously balancing to the very edge of his chair, causing the vet to his right to spend most of his meal trying not to burst out in laughter and startle the children.

Helen offered to wash up, volunteering the child-weary Carmody to help with the drying. "Me?" he clarified, hoping he was mistaken and that he could answer the call of his text books summoning him from the floor above.

"You've helped me once before, Carmody. I'm sure you recall." Siegfried pointed out as he waited for Audrey to help clean the hands and face of the little girl so she could get her coat on and take her turn feeding the animals boarding in the shed. Carmody's face took on a resigned look, feeling at least fortunate that he wasn't being asked to embark on another animal-feeding adventure.

"We'll be much quicker tonight," Siegfried promised as Audrey buttoned up the child and checked that her shoes were still buckled properly.

He was true to his word. Audrey, assured by Helen that she and Carmody were perfectly capable on their own, set off into the sitting room with the young lad, who ignored the ball and blocks he usually enjoyed and instead was content to hold on to Tristan's old teddy bear while leaning up against Audrey's side on the sofa. The disjointed stints of sleep the children had during their day were wholly inadequate when set against the physical and emotional toll the day had taken on the little ones and adults alike, and so Audrey put an arm around the boy, leaned back against the cushion, closed her eyes, and listened to the sounds of the crackling fire, relishing the chance to be still and quiet for a moment. She felt as thought they had barely sat down when she began to hear the faint sounds of Siegfried and the girl at the far end of the house. Pressing a gentle kiss to the top of the boy's head, Audrey gave a tired sigh and picked the toddler back up to get him and his sister ready for bed.

**********************************************************

She returned thirty minutes later and smiled, finding Siegfried lightly dozing in his favourite chair, Jess and Dash both nestled at his feet. She bent to give each canine their own share of attention, her soft words to them enough to stir the man from his catnap.

"I were hoping you wouldn't mind I changed into me slippers before coming down here, but I see you've jumped ahead of me and gone to sleep already." Siegfried made a show of peering down to see that she was in fact in her bedroom slippers and clucked his tongue. "Sore after a day out of town? I would have guessed that you put your feet through many more paces on any given day here."

"More tired than sore." She tilted her head as she reconsidered. "Actually, just very tired and not sore at all." She sat gently down onto the sofa once again, hoping to sit a bit longer this time. Dash stood up from his watch over Siegfried, stretched, then ambled over to Audrey's side before jumping up onto the sofa next to her. Audrey reached an arm around the spaniel and sat quietly, thinking over the day.

"Mrs. Hall?"

"Aye?" She turned towards Siegfried, blinking away her musings.

"I thought that appointment went rather well."

"I agree. I'm glad he felt they were healthy and ought to speak again."

"And yet...?" Siegfried prompted gently.

She looked at him blankly. "What?"

"You look very trepidatious for someone who has received good news."

"More like apologetic."

"Oh no!" He sat up straighter in his chair, bumping Jess with his leg, who looked up at him impassively and settled right back down in to her spot. "We've talked about that. Beside, what on Earth could you be feeling apologetic for?"

"I feel like we've taken you away from your practice for an entire day and accepted Mrs. Pumphrey's generosity, only to be told to just go home and keep on as we've been."
 
"I have it on good authority that the visit was Mrs. Pumphrey's idea in the first place, and that she also volunteered to cover the compensation. And I know firsthand that accompanying you on the trip was entirely my own idea as well." He cast a significant look at Audrey, his expression daring her to contradict him, and so she smartly kept quiet as he continued.

"Thirdly, I very sincerely feel that the day was a very good use of my time."

Audrey couldn't argue his first two points, but the third point left her feeling baffled. "Really?"

"Do you feel less worried about the children now? You appeared to be, if your smiles when the doctor gave us his opinions were any indication."

"I do feel a bit less concerned—about their health anyway."

"Then that, my dear, is why it was well worth my time. But I have the feeling there's still more on your mind."

"I still worry about what's happened to them and how to get them where they belong." She shifted on the sofa, turning her body more fully in his direction. "Did you see how interested they both were in his eyeglasses? It made me wonder if they knew someone who wore them." She grimaced slightly. "I'm being foolish, going on about silly little things like they're some sort of clues to a mystery." She gave an impatient flutter of her hand, as if waving away her own words.

"I see nothing wrong with trying to work out answers to all of the questions we have. Besides, I like the idea of having my very own Sherlock in house, and I heartily volunteer my assistance as your loyal Watson."

She gave a slight chuckle at the thought. "None of me clues help us in the least, though, do they? We can't chase down every man with similar spectacles to see if he knows the two of them."

"We'll have to trust Lamley with tracking down their proper place of residence, and consider your clues helpful in caring for them in the meantime."

She sighed and nodded her acceptance of his words. "Thank you, Mr. Farnon, for everything."

It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest she call him by his given name, at least during their nightly chats, but his same anxieties over her reaction still plagued him, tightening their tendrils around his heart and keeping the words firmly planted in his mouth once more.

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Hours later, Audrey sat up in bed, something having woken her from her much-needed sleep. She listened intently but heard nothing from the children. That observation was still travelling through her mind as she heard the source of her disruption—the phone. Sliding out of bed, she scooped up her dressing gown and rushed down the stairs, grabbing the receiver hurriedly. "Darrowby 2297."

As she reached the last few steps on her return to the upper floor, she became aware of crying coming from above. "Poor Helen." Audrey gave a gentle knock at Siegfried's door and waited, listening. She repeated her taps, and this time heard the rustling of the man moving about on his way to the door. "Call out to Cranford, I'm afraid. A cow in distress."

Siegfried ran a hand over his face. "Cranford, of all the people on all of the nights." 

"Would you like me to wake Mr. Carmody?" She gestured weakly down the hall, not sure who she felt worse sending out in the dead of night to deal with the cantankerous farmer.

"No, that's fine, Mrs. Hall. I don't believe a night call out to Cranford would be a good fit for Carmody or Cranford, and I'm in no mood to be called back if they don't get on."

"Is there anything you need before you set out? Only poor Helen is up with the baby, and I thought I'd check on her before I go back to me room."

"No, of course, you should go see if she needs anything, but do be sure to get your own rest, too, Mrs. Hall."

He closed the door between them, and she carefully made her way up the next flight of stairs, calling out softly half way up to announce her presence.

After she and Helen soothed the baby, she returned to her room, checked on the children, noted the time, and decided to sit down stairs until Mr. Farnon returned. She was so very tired after their day, but she knew he was equally exhausted, and now he was out in the cold, dealing with both a sick animal and the likes of Cranford. And on top of it all, he'd need to drive back under blackout conditions. She couldn't help but worry.  She knew he was a highly capable driver, of course, but the thought of him getting himself into any sort of difficulty out alone in the night caused a physical pain that made her eyes brim up and her breath catch and stutter.

She'd felt for the man since very early in her days at Skeldale, then learnt him to be a good, decent man, underneath all of his acts of bluster and bravado. Eventually she found herself thinking of him as a friend, an idea she chastised herself for at first. He was her employer, and it was silly of her to think of him as anything else just because she'd been at Skeldale a few years and they had become rather used to one another. But as more time went by, she couldn't deny it—they were certainly more than employee and employer, even when he sometimes deigned to emphasise those labels and roles. They had indeed become some sort of friends.

Nestled in an armchair, she mused that Siegfried, as well as the boys gone off to serve, were absolutely her family. Helen and the baby as well. But Siegfried had started to feel like something even more. The feeling had been growing—ashamed as she was to admit it—even while she was still spending time with Gerald. She kept trying to tamp it down, reminding herself of those same roles and labels that defined their actual relationship—their official relationship.  But never before had the thought of losing an employer caused her to wrap her arms around herself and struggle to hold back sobs. Over the last several months, if she were willing to admit it to herself, she saw him as far more than a friend, or even just vaguely "family" as well. 

Since the children had arrived, it was becoming so much more difficult to keep herself from thinking it, over and over, day after day. She wanted to scold herself aloud at times at the thoughts and images that flit through her mind. Even in sleep, her dreams had taken to featuring the two of them together more nights than she cared to dwell upon.

He had changed over the past months as well. Helen had told her to "think about it," and she knew the young woman was right. He did spend more time with her, and he did help out more, even before she brought home their little visitors. And seeing him with the children—oh, it made her want to weep with both joy and longing.  She closed her eyes and tried to will away the line of thought, and the tears it kept trying to dredge up with it.

**********************************************************

Siegfried entered the scullery as quietly as possible, knowing Helen and Audrey would have his guts for garters if he made any noises loud enough to reach young ears. He stopped in his office to set down his bag, not wishing to spend any more of his possible sleeping hours emptying it right then.

As he turned to leave, he saw her, fast asleep in the corner chair in the dining room, the same chair he'd found in her other nights as well. For some reason she tended to prefer this room when keeping her late-night vigils.

The fanciful part of him longed to simply carry her up the stairs, kissing any place he could reach as he made the climb—if he wasn't worn to the bone, of course. But reality insisted he simply call her name, softly, gently, lovingly. He did indulge himself slightly by running a single finger down the back of one long pale hand, starting at her wrist, and trailing back down to the start of her fingers, telling himself it was acceptable, as they held hands plenty of times, and he was simply trying to rouse her from her slumber. She stirred and mumbled, and he called her name a second time, reluctantly ceasing the stroking of her hand.

"Oh...Mr. Farnon." She twisted her head this way and that, trying to work out the kinks from sleeping with it at such an odd angle. "How did it go?"

"All is well, with cow and man. But I wish you would have gone back to your room. I hate to think of you trying to rest in an armchair for hours."

"I were worried. The blackout and driving and whatnot. I just worry."

"Well, I'm back, and we still have a few hours before tomorrow comes calling our names. We've had a busy day, and I doubt tomorrow will spare us either. We best get some sleep while we can."

He allowed Audrey to go on up ahead of him, as he double checked that all was well on the ground floor, then returned to his bedchamber alone, desperately dreaming that wasn't still the case.

Chapter Text

7th Full Day:  Friday, 14 February 1941:

Friday dawned early for Audrey Hall, who woke earlier than usual and with no apparent provocation. She stretched and took a few deep breaths before peering over at the children, who were still sleeping soundly in their cosy little nook. She felt good—better than she had in nearly two weeks of mornings. She smiled, thinking what a good night's rest and one or two less worries could do for a person. She had started tossing and turning at night right after she received the sombre call from Gerald informing her of his sister's passing and his hope that she might make the journey to attend the service. And then, of course, she brought home two new little worries with her. That wasn't to say that she regretted it. Because she didn't—not for a minute. But she already had the three lads to fret over, plus Siegfried, Helen and Jimmy, and Mr. Carmody. Two more household occupants meant two more sets of concerns to keep her mind whirling, and when it did settle down enough for her to sleep, the children themselves often woke her during the night. However, the previous day's adventures had kept them snug and snoozing all night long. And now Audrey decided that if she wished to avoid a repeat of yesterday's early morning linens to launder, she unfortunately ought to rouse the little ones to use the lav.

Meanwhile, Siegfried Farnon had also started his day earlier than was his habit, though his early hour was chosen purposely to avoid being caught out by his beloved as he set out to create his modest holiday surprise for her to discover when she first entered her domain in the morning. So he was somewhat dismayed when he heard her moving about in the first-floor hallway as he dressed for the day. "This won't do!"

He pressed an ear against the cool bedroom door, straining to listen to the activity in the hall, coming to comprehend that it was apparently a trip to the toilet with the children. He quietly opened the door, an amount just large enough to allow for one eye's view. He waited for the trio to retreat back to Audrey's room and close the door behind them to make his move, easing out of his room as close to silently as possible. He took the stairs as quickly as he dared, gingerly retrieved a torch from the exam room, and opted to go out the front doors rather than take a chance on the dogs making noise if he set off via the back of the house. Walking briskly under the charcoal sky of early morning, he made his way to the green, where he had previously noted numerous snowdrops blooming. He had committed their positions to memory so that he could find them before dawn's illuminating assistance. He carefully held his torch facing only towards the ground as he rapidly scanned the various groupings, looking for the most pristine of blossoms. Finding a fist full he deemed worthy of becoming Audrey's gift, and at the last minute, thinking to choose several extra to present to Helen as well, he set back for the house and the examination room, where he swapped the torch for the small hidden card, and brought both offerings to the kitchen.

He shushed the dogs before they even fully opened their eyes, both giving him suspicious glances but settling back down in their basket nonetheless, well used to their master's odd behaviours as they were. Siegfried chose ten of the little white flowers and arranged them to the best of his ability in a small yellow vase, which he placed in the centre of the table along with the card.

He found a second small vessel in a cupboard and put the remaining five flowers into it, setting it in his study, to give to Helen later to bring up to the bedsit. Thoroughly vivified by his early morning jaunt and successful covert morning mission, he decided to go tidy up in the surgery for the coming day.

Audrey was surprised to hear Siegfried's whistling ringing out from the examination room as she and the children descended the staircase. She smiled at the thought of the daft man, up so early after so little sleep, and making music, no less! It was as if he could manufacture energy some days.

Audrey brought out a small basket with the children's toys and set to work collecting ingredients for the day's breakfast. She placed a pouch of ground oats on the table and noticed her petite yellow vase in the middle of the space, filled with snowdrops, a small ivory envelope tucked underneath the vase, and bearing her name. She held the envelope in her hand, surprised to see what was clearly Siegfried's writing, but unlike every message he had ever left for her over her years at Skeldale, this envelope was not addressed to "Mrs. Hall," but instead he had penned her Christian name across the blank space. She flipped it over to open it right there at the table, then reminded herself that she'd make a mess of the envelope if she were to be hasty, and summoned patience as she knew this was likely something she'd want to preserve for her memory box.

She walked over to her desk and picked up her envelope knife. The single-sided card she drew out was bright and happy-looking, featuring two rosy-cheeked children, framed in a heart—a dark-haired girl and a blonde boy, the latter of whom was gesturing to a heart-shaped cake with pink frosting and a red ribbon. Above the cake, the card read, "You take the cake, Valentine!" Under the cake was simply "Siegfried".

She grinned at the sweet image and funny little message and turned the card over in her hand to see if there was any design on the flip side. Instead she found a blank field with more of Siegfried's handwriting, indicating there was a flower for each person presently in their home, as well as one each for the three currently away. Her heart swelled to have him include Edward in his count. She walked back to the table and counted the diminutive flowers, and tracing one of the delicate blooms with her fingertip, marvelled at the comforting idea that her "family" currently consisted of enough people to fill the sweet container to overflowing. She brought a hand to her chest, resting it over her heart, and felt more appreciated at the start of this St. Valentine's Day than she had in over twenty years.

She decided to move the flowers to a safer place—one where little hands couldn't reach. As she removed the vase from the table, however, her movements caught the attention of the little girl, who had already hoisted herself up into one of the chairs and was stacking a few wooden blocks on the wooden tabletop.

When the girl saw the flowers, she let out a gasp of breath that sounded remarkably similar to an exclamation of surprise, more "ah!" than "oh!" and not intentional, yet it made Audrey's eye widen at yet another happy surprise. "Do you like the flowers, poppet? Mr. Farnon must have been outside in the dark picking them for us. Weren't that kind of him?"

The girl put her face down into the flowers, searching for a scent. Audrey couldn't help but muse that the child's reaction was likely a learnt behaviour. Someone had taught her to enjoy flowers in this way. She ran a tender hand down the child's dark hair and hoped that soon they might hear from Constable Lamley with encouraging information for a change. She reminded herself that posting the children's photos was first on her list of errands after her breakfast clean-up was complete.

The child returned to her blocks, and Audrey set the prized little vase full of blooms on the windowsill over the sink where she might gaze upon it throughout the day.

She heard the little "ah" noise again and whirled back to the table, shocked and delighted. Perhaps the earlier response had not been as accidental as she thought. The girl was holding a block out to her. 

"Oh, yes, look at the block! It has a dog on it. That dog looks like our Dash. The girl pointed to the block, now held in Audrey's hand, and she obediently turned the block to see the other sides. Oh, the letter "M.". That's like my name. M. Mmmmm. Mmmissus. Mrs. Hall."

She spun the block again and exclaimed over a cat and the letter J before the girl held out her hand to take back the block. Looking through the other blocks scattered about the table, Audrey found one with a V. "This is a V. Vvvvv for Valentine's Day. That's today. It's a day for letting your friends and family know you care about them. And people like to decorate with hearts. We can make some hearts later if you like."

She wasn't sure how much of that the girl understood, but she sat listening in rapt attention as Audrey spoke, and Audrey, thinking over everything Dr. Robinson had told them, felt a stronger sense of optimism over the children's future than she had since first found them.

******************************

Her back was to Siegfried when he entered the kitchen, and he took the opportunity to watch her for a moment. She was in her full-length red apron, stirring something, likely porridge, at the stove. It was a scene that had played out countless mornings over the past seven years, and yet so much was different now, and he just drank her in until a little voice dragged his attention from Audrey's back. "Ah!"

He and Audrey both turned towards the girl, who had looked up from her play and noticed Siegfried. He glanced at Audrey in amazement, and she nodded, happiness radiating from her dimpled grin. He crossed the room to the AGA and spoke under his breath. "When did that start?"

She kept nonchalantly stirring as she answered out of the side of her mouth. "Just this morning."

"Progress," he murmured with hushed excitement. "We're making progress!"

Standing alongside her, he noticed that she was wearing a deep red cardigan and a dark wool skirt under her red pinny, which he pointed out with a sparkle in his eye. "And you're looking appropriately festive in your array of reds today, Mrs. Hall."

Her smile was shy as she gave a simple nod of thanks, then gestured to his burgundy waistcoat. "I see you had a similar idea."

He proudly straightened the garment in question, pleased that they had both dressed with the same idea in mind. "In the midst of war and winter gloom, when the calendar suggests an opportunity for brightness and cheer, surely one must accept the offer with gratitude."

"Then I'd like to offer my gratitude for the bright and cheery flowers and card I found this morning. It were very kind of you to think of me."

"You seem to always be finding ways to make my life brighter, Mrs. Hall. It's high time I tried to make yours a bit brighter on occasion as well."

"You have been." She paused in her stirring and looked up from under her lashes. "I've noticed—more and more lately—helping with me chores and with the children. You make my life brighter, too—more than you know."

"Morning!" Helen's voice rang out across the room as she and Carmody entered together, Helen carrying Jimmy and Carmody, unsurprisingly, an open book.

Audrey looked up at Siegfried in time to see him give a teasing roll of his eyes at the timing of the younger residents' arrival for breakfast, though she wasn't entirely sure if she felt more disappointed or relieved by the interruption to their conversation.

Helen placed Jimmy down in his basket and drew an envelope out of her own pocket as she took a place at the table. "I've got a Valentine from James!" Her joy was palpable as she held up the postmarked greeting for everyone to see. "It arrived in the post over a fortnight ago, but it's marked "Do not open until February fourteenth." She grinned like a child with a surprise present. "I nearly burst summat waiting to open it!"

Audrey and Siegfried were both pleased for her and said so, while Carmody watched the conversation unfold with a degree of confusion. "I don't understand why he'd want you to wait to open his correspondence."

"So I'd have it for today. On Valentine's Day."

"But wouldn't the news be far more relevant when it first arrived?" He set aside his book, ready to delve fully into the discussion.

Audrey, knowing that Helen was not likely wishing to wait any longer to see her card, placed a gentle pat on Richard's shoulder. "There's probably no real news, just a card with a sweet message."

Carmody turned his attention to the housekeeper. "Couldn't he add such a message to a standard letter?"

"Then it wouldn't be a Valentine's Day card, Richard," Helen chuckled.

"I don't understand the purpose of this holiday."

"There doesn't need to be a 'purpose', Carmody. It's just a nice reason to let people know..." Siegfried glanced downward, pretending to fiddle with his pipe. "...how much they mean to you," he concluded. Audrey concentrated on her cooking, trying to hide the beaming smile that his words brought forth.

Carmody cast a blank look around the room, reached for his book, and resumed his reading, convinced that the day would remain a bafflement to him.

Audrey drew the collected attention away from the young man by speculating with a smirk, "Can't help but wonder how many Valentine's cards Tris has given out over the years."

Siegfried harrumphed. "Enough to single-handedly keep the tradition going, no doubt."

Audrey gave his shoulder a poke as she walked behind him to fetch bowls. "Well, it's a lovely tradition, so if that's the case, then I'll be sure to thank him when he comes home."

"Hear, hear!" Helen held up her unopened card once again. "Aud, do you have a letter opener I can borrow?"

"Course, love. Left side, just under me Edward's photo." She poured out a small amount of porridge into two bowls and placed them down to begin to cool as she set the rest of the table.

Helen used the knife, and placing it back where she had found it, she noticed a small heart-festooned card propped up against the frame of her friend's son. She spotted Siegfried's scrawl under the preprinted message and smiled to herself. She'd be sure to bring that up once the ladies were on their own for the day.

******************************

Richard Carmody was the first to leave the breakfast table, thanking Mrs. Hall, then reluctantly stopping to accept a sticky spoon thrust at him by the boy, who had apparently decided it was the perfect gift for whom he seemed to consider to be his new good friend. Audrey bit back a laugh and discreetly held out a dishrag in exchange for the offending utensil, allowing Carmody to wipe the cold porridge from his hands and make his swift retreat.

"Poor Richard. Valentine's Day and a messy toddler all in one meal." Helen shook her head in sympathy, then noticed his book on the corner of the table, where he had set it down to wipe off his hand. Pointing it out, she was half way from her chair when Audrey took it from her. 

"I'll bring it to him. You sit while you can."

"Actually, Helen," Siegfried began. "I have something I need to retrieve from my study. Would you mind?" He twirled a finger in the air, indicating the three little ones in need of minding. "I'll be just one moment."

Helen shrugged in acceptance and turned to ask the children if they were ready to get cleaned up. She had the girl wiped down and was just starting with the boy when Siegfried returned, a small clear bud vase of snowdrops in hand. "This is for you."

"Me?"

"I'm sure if James were home, he would have done something special for you today. But since that is not the case, I am offering this small token in his absence."

Helen accepted the vase, a look of sincere appreciation on her face. "Thank you, Siegfried." 

Her smile wavered a bit, and Siegfried rushed to add, "I thought you might like to bring them to the bedsit with you."

She nodded and managed a "yes" of agreement. 

"I have time before I need to head to the surgery. I can take over with this one." He gave a jerk of his head towards the lad, who had poured out the last dregs of cereal onto the tabletop and was running his fingers through it.

Audrey passed a touched Helen in the hallway before returning to find Siegfried standing at the sink, holding the toddler under one arm, parallel to the floor, trying to ease stubborn oatmeal from the child's hands under the rushing tap. She couldn't help but stop and take the opportunity to watch him for a moment. His jacket was on the back of a kitchen chair, and both he and the boy had their shirtsleeves rolled up as high as possible on their arms. It was striking to see Siegfried's large hands so tenderly aiding the much smaller hands of the child. 

She felt things really had been different with Siegfried in the last several months. She had been speaking the truth when Helen and Carmody came in earlier. Since James left, there had been a noticeable change in Siegfried's behaviour and how he reacted to the others in the house. Oh, he still loved to poke fun when possible and to use sixteen words when six would suffice. He still spewed forth Latin and literary quotations just because he could. And he still blustered about whichever farmer nettled him any particular day. But his volume was often lower, his words occasionally tinged with sentimentality, and he spent a good deal of what little free time he had trying to find ways to help her, Helen, or Carmody. And now, with Jimmy's birth and the arrival of their visitors, he delighted in helping or playing with the collective group of little ones as well. And with every day of this softer, calmer Siegfried, she felt a tugging at her heart that seemed to be growing stronger as the months went by.

Chapter Text

Surgery hours were upon them, and Audrey and Helen had settled in the scullery, as was often their morning routine. It was a convenient place for them to convene, having ample space for multiple activities to occur at once and the right supplies for Audrey to see to many of her daily tasks. The children's messes were easily wiped away, and the floor and table were forgiving surfaces for their play.

Helen took a relatively serene moment to bring up the Valentine's Day card she spotted earlier. "You got more of a Valentine's Day gift than I did, Aud." 

Audrey raised an eyebrow but said nothing, looking back down at the sheet of paper she was carefully cutting into the shape of a heart.

Helen pressed on. "I couldn't help but notice a second vase of snowdrops, and I saw the card from Siegfried on your desk." Audrey remained silent in her work, but Helen was determined to make her point. "Even James only sent me a card." 

Her innate sense of loyalty to "her boys" forced Audrey into the conversation to defend the young vet. "That hardly seems fair, Helen. James inn't even home." She picked up a fresh piece of paper and folded it in half, then drew out a half-heart shape.

"It's still more than he's given you before, right?"

"I suppose," she conceded, picking up the scissors once more.

"It's summat to think about, is all I'm saying."

Audrey gave a light sigh and set the next heart aside. "So you keep telling me. But he gave you flowers as well." 

"Aye, but less, I see, and without a card."
 
"We both received a card and flowers, far as I can see. I never did get to see your card with all the nonsense happening. What were it like?" She deftly redirected the conversation while rising to put her stack of paper hearts on her desk.

"Oh, you'll have to see it later, Aud. It has a little pilot on it!"

"Sounds like James found the perfect card, then," Audrey smiled as she came back around to face Helen.

"But my flowers didn't come from James."

"Well, how could he send any?" Audrey questioned reasonably.

"The point is your card and flowers both came from Siegfried." 

"All right. I don't know what it is you want me to say, but I've no time for any more of this silliness." She lifted an envelope addressed to Constable Lamley from her desktop. "I've got to get this posted."

She called to the children who had been engrossed in their play. "Come along, loves. We're going for a short walk. Time to get ready." 

***************************************************************

Siegfried made a hasty escape from the exam room after a busy few hours of surgery. He was feeling a bit peckish, and with the waiting room favourably empty, he dashed off in hopes of finding lunch in the works. Mrs. Hall wasn't making extra food choices one could nibble on here and there, as was her habit pre-war, but that didn't mean he might not be able to steal a bite or two as she prepared the meal.

His hopes of sneaking away with a tidbit or two were dashed upon seeing that the children, with Audrey's assistance, had commandeered the scullery table for what he believed to be some sort of artistic endeavour, though he couldn't be sure what exactly they were trying to achieve.

He did spy a few basic heart shapes mixed in between pencils, bits of yarn and fabric, paper scraps, scissors, a squatty glass bottle and a few wrinkled tubes of glue and gum. The latter items were placed at a far corner of the table, within Audrey's reach but far from the children.

"Well hello." He spoke to the room. "Where are the Herriots?"

"Hiding from the bedlam up in the bedsit," Audrey smirked. "Helen's far too smart a lass to stick around when we're purposely making such a mess."

"Yes, things do look somewhat...disorderly," he finished diplomatically. "What exactly do we have here?"

"I thought it would be summat nice to decorate paper hearts today." She looked around and blew out a long breath that morphed into a sheepish smile.

Siegfried did his best not to laugh. "Ah, I see. And how is that going?" 

She touched the head of the girl, who was sitting closest to her. "She's the only one interested in the hearts. We're just letting the little one scribble and stick a few bits together."

Siegfried ran his fingers through a decently sized pile of tiny pieces of yarn and fabric, genuinely interested. "Where did all of this come from?"

"Last year Miss Dent were at one of our meetings."

"I apologise, Miss Dent?" The name was slightly familiar, yet he couldn't place it.

Audrey looked up to Siegfried's blank look. "She teaches the younger ones at the school. You might have heard Eva speak of her."

"Yes! Yes, of course. Carry on, please."

"She asked if everyone might save her any scraps too small for patching or darning. She lets the children use them for artistic projects. I have a pouch I keep adding to for her, but today I decided we would try using some ourselves."

"Right." He lifted a heart, heavily laden with layers of gummed up fabric shapes and positively fluffy with added yarn ends. "My goodness, I'm surprised the paper held up to the effort given to this one."

"Mr. Farnon likes your heart, love," she translated to the girl, who smiled brightly at the compliment.

"When me Edward were small, I used to mix flour and water for this sort of play, but I don't know if the flour we're using now would work the same, and I'm not about to make paste with owt we can eat these days."

"Tell that to him," Siegfried quipped, a smirk gracing his face.

Audrey craned around the little girl to see the boy peeling dried paste from his fingers and tasting it. "Oh! That he eats!" 

Siegfried walked over to the stove to fetch the kettle, trying to hide his quiet laughter as Audrey quickly grabbed a dampened cloth to clean the child's hands. "I didn't even let him use the gum on his own! I just dabbed some on the fabric pieces and let him stick them down."

Siegfried spoke up over the sound of water as he filled the kettle. "That one can find trouble even tied to a chair!"

Audrey's face held an expression he knew well. She was very slightly irked by his joke, yet she also knew full well that he was technically correct in his droll observation. It was a look he had grown to adore over the years. It spoke of her acceptance of him just as he was, and it always made his day better when he could say something to elicit the fondly exasperated look from her. More and more, it also made him wish to then offer her some sort of peace offering in lieu of purposely antagonising her. He held up the kettle. "Tea?"

She still had the look on her face as she nodded her appreciative acceptance. 

***************************************************************

Helen and Jimmy returned to the kitchen as the older children were losing interest in their holiday activity. Audrey had already returned the boy to the throw rug along with the basket of toys, and was helping the girl remove dried glue from her skirt. "There you are, Poppet. All better."

Helen took a look at the table and raised an eyebrow. "If he'll stay in the cradle, I'll give you a hand." She indicated the crafting carnage spread across every corner of the table. "How many children did you have in here, Aud?" She shot her friend a dimpled grin. 

Audrey rolled her eyes. I've never tried owt like this with more than one before. I underestimated the insanity of the idea." The ladies chuckled, and while Helen started sorting usable supplies from paste-encrusted rubbish, Audrey ran a string from the last rung of the dish cupboard to a nail on the partition between the sink and back door. 

"I'll hang up a few of these to dry over the small stove. If we find that they do have family looking for them, I can save these to give to them."

"Oh, Aud. That's such a nice thing to do. If I were away from Jimmy and someone kept a few things for me, that would mean so much to me, it really would. Makes me weepy to think about, really."

She stopped sorting through the detritus a moment and wiped her eyes. "I know its silly—you're doing so much for them, and here I am, crying over a paper heart." She laughed through her sniffles and held up a heart that had its point torn off by an exuberant artist. "If you can call this a heart!" 

Audrey left the string and hearts and opened her arms to Helen, who accepted the hug. "We're a mess these days, aren't we? Me yesterday. You today." 

Helen pulled gratefully back from her friend's embrace and got back to work. "Add a few children into the mix and we fall to pieces," she agreed.

The women finished clearing the table, and Audrey herded the older children off for a nap. Upon her return, she found Helen trying to feed a fussy Jimmy and Dash pacing by the kitchen door to go outside. Donning a coat, she took both dogs outside for a brief walk around the garden, returning only for Helen to ruefully decide to take the crying baby back upstairs. "Looks like I won't be much more help."

"Don't you worry about that. You helped me sort it all. Now I just need to wash the table. You go try to rest."

***************************************************************

The phone was ringing as Siegfried was exchanging final words of advice and farewells with Mr. Whitten and his scrappy little terrier. He noted it still ringing as he started to clean the room between patients and decided the others must be busy with their collective small charges, and so changed tacks and walked through the second examination room to reach the phone before the caller gave up on them. "Constable Lamley. Good of you to ring." He stood nodding and gave a few concise answers before replacing the receiver and returning to his work. The women of the house were clearly occupied. Sharing the conversation could wait.

An hour later, Siegfried sauntered back to the kitchen after hearing Helen taking a fussy Jimmy upstairs. The art session had finished, the children were not in the room, and Audrey was rubbing at what he imagined was dried gum paste with a checkered rag. "Lamley called," he stated, seeing no reason to beat about the bush when they actually had a quiet moment alone in which to discuss the matter.

Audrey looked up in surprise from her scrubbing. "I never even heard the phone." Her voice held interest, tinged with a hint of anxiety.

"It was earlier. He said he was ringing to provide us with a one-week update."

Audrey had mixed feelings about that particular milestone in their unexpected journey with the children, but she tucked it away to possibly talk over that evening rather than distract from what Siegfried wished to relay from the constable.

"There is, as it happens, still no update as such. The man says he's been shut down with all inquiries to date. He's found absolutely no one remotely local to that station who admits to knowing anything about the children, and his deduction is exactly as we already presumed—that someone brought them there on a train and then left them." He paused to see her reaction to his last line, recalling her upset at how desperately unhappy the children became when faced with train travel.

Audrey knew him well and gave him a strained smile to signify that she was all right and to encourage him to continue with his news.

"He asked about the photographs, and I let him know that you had posted them early this morning. And he asked again if we had made any progress with learning their names. I assured him we're doing our best."

"I haven't asked those children their names since they've been here." Audrey whispered, shamefaced. "I couldn't bear it after how upset they were at the station that first morning when I asked." She looked up and off to the ceiling, as if it suddenly held great interest to her, gripping the table as if for support. 

Siegfried covered her hand with his own. "You've done nothing wrong and countless things right. He wasn't accusing, just asking." He patted her hand and, before returning to surgery, suggested, "Why don't you let me work on their names? I did try once before, but now I can take it on as my personal project." 

She brought her face back down to grace him with an appreciative half-smile. He walked away quickly, whistling, to cover the overwhelming inner voice that would have had him easing her tense fingers from the tabletop and drawing her into his arms in a gesture of comfort.

***************************************************************

The afternoon was a peaceful one, albeit slightly off its normal course given how late the heart creation and subsequent clean-up had lasted. Audrey served lunch further into the day, when the children were still asleep, as was the youngest Herriot. Carmody was unusually free from any further visits in the afternoon hours, which meant for the first time in over a week, all four adults of Skeldale House were able to sit down to a meal together, without the presence of babies or children. Lunch lasted longer than usual, as they enjoyed a meal free from distraction, and conversation free from interruption. Helen was eager to hear how different farmers were doing. Siegfried enjoyed quizzing Richard about the intricacies of some of the ailments and injuries he had attended, and Audrey was incredibly pleased to see everyone free from worry, even just for the span of one meal's worth of time.

Later in the day she had to feed the children a little something separately, of course, but she didn't mind as the soup she had served was easy to reheat and serve again, and because the little ones ate so much later than usual, they were rather hungry and happily skipped any of their typical games or theatrics, instead emptying their warm bowls with enthusiasm, a feat that always left Audrey feeling relieved.

***************************************************************

Due to their late lunch, tea was a light meal, consequently served off schedule as well. After eating, the inhabitants of the house scattered in pursuit of various evening activities. Carmody and Siegfried retreated to the sitting room to discuss a chapter of equine study Carmody had found especially fascinating. Helen gave the children a treat, bringing them up to the bedsit, where she read to them after they had their fill of exploring the space in which they had spent exceptionally minimal time thus far in their stay. And Audrey had switched on the radio and was enjoying a bit of quiet time as she did the washing up, the dozing dogs her quiet company in the back of the house.

With no distractions, she finished quickly and settled into the armchair to peruse a periodical that had been lying unread on her desk the past few days. So engrossed in her reading and so content in her respite, she was surprised when Helen and the children entered the room. "Thought I better bring them down before bedtime winds up delayed."

Checking her watch, Audrey groaned. "Oh, goodness. Better get Mr. Farnon to take the little one out to the shed so we can get everyone ready." She took the boy by the hand and led him down the corridors to the sitting room, where only Siegfried remained, Carmody having left for his room shortly before. 

"We're running late, Mr. Farnon, but this one is eager as ever for his animal feeding duties."

Siegfried pushed himself up from his repose and clapped his hands. "Are you going to help feed the animals?" Audrey had released the child's hand, and in response to Siegfried's query, started toddling out of the room, turning his head this way and that as if searching for something. Siegfried barked out a laugh. "He's looking for Richard! I'd swear to it!" And he swooped up the boy and started flying him from room to room on the main floor, peering into darkened rooms and calling out Richard's name.

Audrey shook her head fondly at his antics. "I'll go see if I can find him," she offered in hopes of cutting short the silliness of looking for the student on the entire wrong floor, no matter how much the little one enjoyed his "flight.".

Siegfried swooped towards her, tucked the child under one arm, and reached a hand out to touch her elbow. "Oh, no, please, Mrs. Hall, do let me! Here you go." He passed over the boy and practically danced from the room, bellowing "CARMODY!". He stood at the base of the staircase and yelled again. "CAR-mody! CAR-MO-DY!!" 

"Whatever am I to do with that man?" Audrey sat down on the arm of one of the chairs, the boy nestled on her lap. "Can you tell me, love? And here I was just thinking he's been quieter lately." The boy twisted his upper body around to look up at her, staring in interest. 

"You don't know? That's all right. I don't have any idea myself." She straightened the boy's knit vest, which had become bunched up as he wriggled around. "I guess we'll just have to keep putting up with him." "And loving him," her mind added.

She looked down at the silent boy and grinned at the idea that she held the perfect confidant in her arms. "Aye, and loving him, too, then. It's the right day for it, after all, innit?" The child turned to face her again, and she gently brought her nose down to touch the boy's, rubbing them together, then pulled back, her face blossoming into dimpled delight seeing his face also sporting a tickled grin.

***************************************************************

Siegfried sat waiting, anxious and impatient for what seemed like an age, before finally heading up to the first floor to find out why, on that night of all nights, Audrey was so delayed in joining him for their conversation. He had rummaged about the house, pleased to have found a frame he believed well suited for the photograph of the two children. Round and unadorned, made of brushed silver, and showing its age via an attractive patina, Siegfried thought it was the perfect balance of modest in appearance yet possessing intrinsic value and hoped fervently that Audrey would find it acceptable. But the indeterminable wait to deliver it to her hands was too much for the man, unused to giving such gifts to the woman he loved, and he eventually gave up on sitting out the interim alone in the sitting room.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, he followed Audrey's voice and found her dressing the children for bed. "You two are up with the nocturnal creatures tonight, aren't you?"

Audrey looked chagrinned, and Siegfried quickly added, "Not that I have any problem with that. It was simply an observation."

"I were trying to get them dressed earlier, but kept finding bits of glue we missed this morning. Finally decided it were best to just bathe them, even though we're running late." She plucked the damp towels up and hung them to dry. "I hope this won't make for trouble tomorrow," she fretted. 

"I'm sure we'll all do just fine tomorrow, Mrs. Hall. I promised you that you could enjoy the knitting party, and a late bedtime isn't about to change my mind."

She opened her arms and herded the children to their little nook. "Say 'goodnight' to Mr. Farnon!" The girl waved, while the little boy just looked up as if waiting for Siegfried to offer some more interesting alternatives. When no such rescue was given, he relented and settled under the covers next to his sister. Audrey kneeled down beside the two and murmured soft words to them as she stroked the tops of their heads. 

"I'll be down shortly," she promised, as Siegfried tiptoed from the room.

***************************************************************

Siegfried had been waiting a markedly shorter time when Audrey arrived. She sat down in the chair next to him and fiddled with her fingers, as if looking to twist the ring she no longer wore.

"It's been a full week." She needlessly pointed out what Siegfried already knew. He was silent, allowing her the chance to continue as she saw fit. "Thank you. For tomorrow. For this past week. For sending Carmody off so many days to be home with us."

"It's the very least I can do. As I told you, it's good for Carmody to get in these visits on his own. I learnt my lesson with Tristan. There's plenty more a not-yet-qualified vet can do beyond mixing medicines and feeding boarded animals."

A memory of Tris nodding off in the dispensary filled Audrey with a loving ache of yearning for the days when the lad was home, where he belonged.

Siegfried carried on. "When lambing picks up, I'll be glad I had the opportunity for this break from cold, damp winter farm runs."

"I'm glad, then." She reached for her knitting, having moved on to making scarves for the children.

"We posted the photograph to the constable this morning. Thank you for picking them up for me."

Siegfried considered the photos on their way to Lamley. "He'll receive them soon, and then he can start sharing them with other authorities across the country." 

"If they do have family," Audrey considered aloud, "and they are looking for them, it seems they're bound to come across someone who has seen their photos, and they can finally be reunited."

"Yes..."

The shrill ring of the telephone cut through Siegfried's train of thought. "No rest for the wicked," Audrey grimaced, standing to answer the offending noise.

"Richard Alderson." The famer's name on her lips announced her return to the room. "Jenny's cat is poorly, and he wanted to know if someone might stop by tomorrow instead of him coming here. Says his day's already full enough for three tomorrow."

"Of course. Carmody will be up that way tomorrow morning, so he can stop by." Audrey gave a nod and returned to the phone niche to deliver the news and add Heston to the morning list.

As she left the room the second time, Siegfried jumped up from his chair to check on the small package he had hidden behind the mantel clock. He watched for her approach through the open living room doors and withdrew the small flat package, wrapped up in white paper. "Mrs. Hall?"

"Aye?"

"I have one other small thing I'd like to give to you today."

"For me?" Her brow creased, and her mouth took on a slightly confused frown. But..."

He stalled her inquisition with one hand held slightly aloft between them. "I think you'll understand once you open it. At least I hope you will."

She met him in front of the fireplace and accepted the wrapped gift, glancing at him questioningly, even as he transferred the package to her waiting hands. "Please open it. I promise you can ask me a whole slew of questions afterwards if you feel the need."

He watched, transfixed, as her long, slim fingers worked open the twine he had knotted around the paper. She tucked the length of string into her apron pocket, then, as if just recalling she was still wearing it, looked apologetically at Siegfried and held the gift back out to him. "Do you mind? I forgot my apron, and it's a bit of a mess after bath time."

He thought she would have looked utterly lovely no matter what she wore, but merely smiled fondly as he took temporary repossession of her present. She folded the dampened front of the apron in on itself and set the bundle down on the floor by the sofa to collect later, then somewhat bashfully opened her palm to wordlessly request the return of her gift. Siegfried's gaze was once again riveted, this time by her face, as he waited for her to recognise what it was he had chosen for her.

Unfolding the last flap of paper, she flipped over the small picture frame and inhaled a quick deep gasp when she saw the faces she had come to know so well preserved in black and white and grey. Her eyes sparkled and her chin quivered, and she looked up at him with a full, beautiful smile. 

Placing the frame and paper back onto the mantlepiece, she canted her head slightly and hesitantly brought her arms slightly up and out, bent at the elbows, silently questioning if she might thank him as she would normally thank others for doing her such a kindness. Siegfried held his breath as he stepped forward, mimicking her movements, and the two came together to share a brief but tender embrace. 

"Thank you, Siegfried. Ever so much." She spoke the words into his shoulder, a wobble to her voice.

"You're ever so welcome. Happy Valentine's Day, my dear."

Audrey had always felt that his occasional use of that endearment was simply his way of placating her when she was in the midst of giving him what for, or if she was in need of some sort of consolation, but in that moment, while experiencing the welcoming warmth of his embrace for the first time, she wondered if perhaps she had made an incorrect assumption and that his use of the term meant more than she previously believed.

She slowly released him, shyly excusing herself. "I best go—no telling when one of them might wake up and find me missing."

Giving her upper arms the slightest squeeze, Siegfried stepped back, drawing his hands down her arms, bringing their hands together rather than letting her go completely. "We can't have that."

"There'd be chaos."

Siegfried grinned at her exaggeration and carried it forward. "Mutiny even." 

They exchanged smiles, and she collected the frame and its paper and began to walk away, when, framed by the doorway, she turned back to see him still standing by fire, watching her, not the flickering flames. "Goodnight," she called out softly.

"Goodnight." His answer, just as soft, was, unless she was imagining it simply because she wished it to be true, infused with great affection as well.

She stepped into the hall then turned one last time, reluctant to let the moment end, and summoning her courage, she called to him again. "Siegfried?"

"Yes?" His voice held hopefulness, she mused.

"Thank you again for the photograph. I'm so happy to have it."

He was tempted to tell her she deserved it, to extol the virtues of her hard work, and to point out that she certainly should have it for all that she'd done for the children. But he held his tongue, and with a smile she was not familiar with, to the point of questioning the expression she was seeing in the low light, he simply restated, You're very welcome, Audrey."

Never before had her name sounded so sweet, nor held such meaning or promise. She nodded in the darkened hallway, clutching the precious photo to her chest as she made quickly for the stairs, glad the same shadows covered the beaming grin and flushed cheeks that took over her face at hearing him call her by her given name, and before she might turn back a third time in hopes of returning to his arms.

Chapter Text

Saturday, 15 February, 1941:


Siegfried readied himself quickly after springing out of bed at the ringing of his clock before dawn on Saturday morning, hoping to help alleviate the morning rush for Audrey as she prepared for the knitting party at Pumphrey Manor. Though the reasons for his early arising were not entirely altruistic.  He wanted a bit of time alone with her before she left for the day, and more pressingly, he wished for a moment to discuss something that had been on his mind overnight. 

He had felt a surge of hope and happiness in that moment last night when he finally felt permitted to call her by her first name, at long last uttering the syllables that filled his thoughts whenever his mind conjured her exquisite image. And to his greatest relief, she had given no indication that hearing her Christian name tumble forth from his lips was any sort of unwelcome liberty on his part. He wasn't sure, however, if first names would still be welcome come the bright light of a new morning. Yet he also didn't want to start fresh with "Mrs. Hall" for fear she'd think his use of her name the previous night had been accidental or that he had thought better of it in retrospect. Which meant the early hours of morning was his only time available to discuss it with her privately, before the rest of the household entered the kitchen along with the first glow of dawn.

She had called him by his given name a handful times over the years—often in consolation of something or to bolster him, and occasionally when he had gotten himself into very hot water with her. But he had never uttered "Audrey" aloud to her, before, and he hoped that in reciprocating with her first name last night she'd realise that he was all for loosening the protocols they had established for one another at the start of their relationship, strictly professional as it was at the time.

Siegfried was pleased to find that he was indeed the first to enter the kitchen after Audrey, giving them a quiet but somewhat bashful moment together. "Good morning, Mis..my dear." He stumbled over his greeting, further emphasising the importance of the conversation he wished to initiate. "I am at your beck and call. Tell me what I should be doing, and I shall do it." 

"Oh, Mi..my goodness, you're up early!" She fumbled in surprise at his early arrival in the kitchen. She had been mulling over the previous night since waking, wondering how things would be going forward. He had called her "Audrey," and it had sparked something so hopeful in her, like a soft, welcome warmth emanating out from her chest to envelope her on a cold day. She hadn't stopped to truly consider how ready she was to stop being "Mrs. Hall" to him at all times.

"I was hoping we might find a moment to speak to one another before the others come looking for breakfast. That is if you're amenable to the idea."

He looked a bit skittish, she thought, watching him offer up assistance with unspecified tasks. It made her feel calmer, somehow, to think that perhaps she wasn't the only person who started today with a nervous fluttering inside of them.

"Aye." She drew out her response and answered in the affirmative out of trust rather than any idea of what he wished to discuss.

"About last night..." He paused, and Audrey held out her hand towards the table. 

"Maybe we should sit?"

"No, no, I don't wish to slow down your morning. I can talk while you work."

She smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. "All right then."

"Last night, well, it was very nice, I thought."

"It were," she agreed as he trailed off once again.

"I thought that one thing about it—the evening, that is, that was nice—was,... blast! Let me start over."

She'd seen him lose his typical eloquence when upset or angry, but this was the first time she could recall him stumbling over his words while appearing so uncharacteristically out of sorts in an anxious sort of way. She couldn't help but find it endearing, and she smiled again, trying not to appear to be teasing the poor man. 

She turned her attention to cutting bread slices for toast. The bread these days wasn't anyone's favourite, but she thankfully still had preserves on hand, which made it far more palatable. "I put my gift up on me dresser. It looks lovely there, and seeing their photo makes me smile."

Siegfried took a breath and, with a gentle look, silently thanked her for helping him ease into the conversation he wished to have, but struggled to begin. "Last night. You called me "Siegfried" a few times, and I reciprocated with your name as we said our goodnights."

She nodded. "Yes, I thought that were very nice."

"Did you?" The words nearly leapt from him in giddy relief.

Her smile turned shy, and she studied her work as if she had never toasted bread before. "I did."

His smile was instantaneous and lit up his entire face. His eyes crinkled, and his cheeks rose, round and full from beneath his beard. "I'm so glad. I realise that during the day, and among the fine people of Darrowby, it's probably best for you to be "Mrs. Hall," of course, but I did wonder, if perhaps going forward, during our nightly discussions, for instance, if we can take a rest from the formalities of the daytime hours and..." He looked at her intently, trying to gauge her feelings in regards to his rambling, yet fractured suggestion, and she felt compelled to take pity on the poor man and meet him half way.

"That we can just be Siegfried and Audrey?" she guessed.

"Yes. Just that. What do you think?"

"I think that's a very nice idea. Truly." 

He basked in the glow of her dimpled reaction, relieved beyond reason and so glad that he had plucked up the courage to have the discussion first thing rather than stewing over it for the entire day. He wondered if he should say any more on the subject when Carmody entered the room, earlier than usual, as well; and instead Siegfried shared one last knowing look with Audrey and nodded, knowing they would pick the topic back up that night instead.

"Breakfast will be ready shortly, Mr. Carmody." 

"I thought I'd set out now, if you don't mind, Mrs. Hall." He had a determined look upon his face, and Audrey was surprised both by his countenance and his words. "I'd like to get the visits done as early as possible, and I see there's been an addition since I last went over the list."

"What? Without breakfast?"

"I won't be gone too very long. I can eat upon my return."

"Well, here, at least have some toast to take with you." She placed two pieces of toasted bread, jam-spread sides together, into a napkin and handed it to the young vet, who left with a firm stride, just as Helen arrived, with Baby Jimmy.

"Where's he off to so early?" "Why in the world does he need to skip breakfast?" 

Helen and Audrey's confused queries overlapped one another, and Siegfried shrugged off their interrogation. "How should I know?"

Audrey raised an eyebrow, and Helen scoffed. "Sounds like you know to me."

Siegfried shot Helen a pointed look. "It's all fine, Mrs. Hall."

Audrey was far too shrewd to believe there wasn't something happening, but was also wise enough to know when it was better not to ask. Siegfried only sent Richard on visits easy enough for a "monkey to accomplish," and so she consoled herself with the fact that the lad should survive well enough on toast for the few hours necessary for his short list.

***************

The next few hours of the morning found Audrey busy cleaning up after breakfast and preparing something for lunch, while also making lists of reminders about the children's daily routine and setting out extra changes of clothing and such, should they be required. Helen and Jimmy kept her company as she bustled about the kitchen, though Jimmy wasn't terribly happy about it, crying red-faced intermittently, but with the instances of quiet largely outnumbered by the periods of wailing.

"I don't know what's wrong. He were like this all last night. I can't tell you how often I fed him. Then I started to worry; I had given him too much, and he were suffering from pains."

Audrey came over, arms open, and gave mother and a baby a hug together. "You want me to take him a bit before I go? Everything is ready for while I'm gone, so I've time."

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all." She scooped the squalling baby into her arms and shooed off his weary mother. 

She was walking the unhappy baby around the scullery when Siegfried and the children came clamouring in the back door. Siegfried pointed them towards their toys and came to cluck over the baby. "Someone isn't very happy."

"Apparently he gave Helen a terrible time of it last night. I heard him once or twice but didn't realise he was up so often or for so long, or I would have tried to help. I've sent her up for a nice warm bath and a bit of peace before I leave."

"I see. Well, the children and I are pleased to report that we found a few more eggs than usual this morning."

"That'll make the lad happy."

Siegfried agreed. "They were happy being out in the shed and barn as well. Well, to a degree. The moment the hens started flapping around, they both bolted for the door." Siegfried made sure that he couldn't be seen by the little ones as he grinned in mirth towards Audrey.

"And did you remember to close that door when you left, or will more of our neighbours be finding surprise eggs?" Audrey teased, softly jiggling Jimmy, who seemed to finally be settling down.

"I'll have you know I'm doing a far better job with those hens than Tristan." Audrey drew back in surprise and gave him a stern look. Don't you mean Helen's been doing a far better job with them? She is the one who volunteered to take over when Tris left, after all."

"Certainly. That's what I said." He blinked and took on what he hoped was an expression of innocence.

Her responding expression was a mix of exasperation and amusement, one he had grown to think of as some sort of reward for a successful and enjoyable interaction between them. 

He decided to push his luck a bit more. "Although..."

"Oh, here we go."

"I might point out that it's been my responsibility to look after them these past few months, as I'm far too much of a gentleman to ask Helen to continue to care for them at the moment."

"Perhaps you can be a gentleman now and take the children. I've a baby to deal with." Siegfried gathered up the children and their toy basket, still chuckling as they left the room. 

***************

Richard returned to Skeldale to find Jimmy finally asleep, and back upstairs with his mother, and Audrey and Siegfried together in the living room with the children. "Poppy is fine," Richard reported when asked about the last-minute addition to the call list. "A mild case of conjunctivitis is all. I've instructed Miss Alderson on how to wash the eye carefully and gave her some ointment. I also brought home a basket of eggs for you, Mrs. Hall. I left them by the sink."

"Thank you, Mr. Carmody. We'll be well supplied for the next few days. And now it's about my time to leave. I don't want to keep the ladies waiting."

The student had arrived back in time for Audrey to take the Vauxhall to pick up Mrs. Hirst from the local laundry, along with Elsie Crabtree, and to drive them all to Pumphrey Manor. Siegfried had wished he could have offered her the Rover, but fearing it might set tongues wagging, instead instructed Richard to be doubly sure to be back with the Vauxhall in time. He certainly didn't want Audrey left with nothing but Tristan's bucket of bolts to take to and from the knitting party.

Audrey closed up her coat, and made sure her hat was arranged neatly over her pinned curls. Then she returned to make her farewells, finding Richard had already left the room, leaving only Siegfried and the children there, stacking blocks and rolling the ball to tumble the wobbly structures. 

"I'm ready to go. Are you sure there's nowt else?"

"There's nothing for you to do but have a lovely day, Mrs. Hall. We'll all be just fine."

"I'll be back in time for supper, so you don't need to worry."

He smiled. "I'm not in the least bit worried, Mrs. Hall. Have a wonderful time. I hope it's both productive and enjoyable."

"Thank you." She stepped further into the room and stooped low to speak to the children. "Be good for Mr. Farnon and Helen, loves." 

The boy barely spared her a glance, intent on his turn at building with the blocks. But the girl got to her feet and started towards the hall, stopping at the coat tree to see if she could spot her own little coat, and when she could not, heading further down the hall, presumably to check the hooks by the back door instead. Audrey strode after her and took her by the hand, explaining that she and her brother were staying home this time. 

Siegfried beckoned her back to the toys. "Your brother's built another block mountain. Would you like to make the boulder roll again?" 

She stood between the two adults, her little mouth twisted into a confused frown. 

Siegfried tried again. "Do you remember the day when Mrs. Hall went to church? We stayed home and played." Siegfried cast his mind back to try to recall exactly what they did that morning, as it felt far longer than six days ago. He winced when his memories surfaced, and the image of the girl throwing a tantrum on the kitchen floor formed clear and foreboding. He shook off thoughts of past trouble and snapped his fingers, catching the child's attention. 

"I know! It was when we toured the examination room. We learnt about otters, remember?" She cast a sceptical look his way. "Lutra lutra. The funny name we all liked?" As he prattled on about river otters, he gave a reassuring smile to Audrey, who relented and turned to leave. The movement caught the girl's eye, and she followed after the housekeeper a second time. 

"Oh, love, I'm sorry. I can't take you this time."

"She'll be fine. She has me and her brother, and Helen and Jimmy to keep her company. And when all else fails, we'll make Richard play with us. That always brings a smile." Siegfried winked and scooped up the girl, gesturing towards the door with a jerk of his head to indicate that Audrey should take her leave. The child twisted in his arms as the door clicked shut, but to Siegfried's immense relief, he was able to convince her to return to the block and ball game with little additional effort. 

"There we go. Crisis averted," he silently congratulated himself.

***************

Even the immense fun of knocking over block towers wasn't enough to keep the children occupied much longer, and Siegfried recognised that he would need to invent some longer-lasting activities. 

He pointed out a stack of additional Beatrix Potter books he brought out from Tristan's childhood collection.  "Frankly, I'm more than ready for some new selections, aren't you?" And he revealed three books that the children had not yet seen: The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin, The Tailor of Gloucester, and The Tale of Two Bad Mice. "We'll save those for later, though, I think. I thought right now we could play a game instead." 

The little girl looked over at him and made a small humming noise.

"Are you humming a little song or telling me something?" Siegfried hummed back to the girl to see if she was simply trying to make music or convey some sort of message, but he received nothing in return. 

He wondered if she was trying to say "Mmm" as in a sort of affirmative answer, or if it was a sound of appreciation, as he might make when biting into his first forkful of a succulent roast, prepared to perfection by Mrs. Hall. Or perhaps, he pondered, it was more of a questioning noise, such as "Hmm?"

He made a few gentle attempts to obtain more insight into the situation, but the little one was silent, and when his continued efforts proved to also be for naught, he switched gears and devised his first idea of an enjoyable pursuit—enjoyable for the children, at any rate. Seeing the mess they had made across the sitting room floor, Siegfried decided they had better clean and clear as they went about their day, else Audrey might come home, take one look at the house, and opt to volunteer away the remaining hours of the day. "Let's put our blocks away, first."

They put the toys back into the basket and looked expectantly up at Siegfried. "Do you know what time it is now?" He paused for dramatic effect. "It is time to go on a safari! And do you know what we will be searching for?  We're searching for the elusive Mr. Carmody! Could he be in the animal shed? Best check!" 

They donned their winter outer clothing, and Siegfried chuckled aloud when he imagined Audrey's reaction if she saw him going through so much effort to purposely bring the children to a location he knew full well did not house the veterinary student. 

Once back from their first failed safari location, the trio then re-checked the kitchen, "Mrs. Hall's" pantry, the corridor, and the dispensary—"Carefully! Just look. Don't go in. It's dangerous. Not for children!"

And when their friend didn't turn up in any of those places, things got a bit silly.

"Do you think Mr. Carmody can fit in the linen cupboard?" The girl grinned as they checked, turning up nothing but towels and table linens. 

"Cloak cupboard, then?" She shook her head "no," but Siegfried insisted they check nevertheless, opening the door and calling out "Richard!! Mr. Carmody!" in a wildly exaggerated falsetto, that made even the little lad let out a small chortle.

They greeted a bemused Helen descending the stairs with Jimmy as they checked the phone niche, Siegfried making a theatrical production of carefully peering under the telephone and message pad, causing the children as much hilarity as their little grins could express. They carried on, checking the exam rooms, waiting room, entry, and then back down the main hall to Siegfried's study. Siegfried carefully steered the children around the dining room, keeping them from noticing the book snug in the far corner of the sitting room until they had at last entered the front room of the house, where Siegfried took a quick peek and announced, "No, I don't see him! I don't see Richard in here at all!"

Carmody looked up briefly from his book, realised his studying was about to come to an end, and quickly dove back down into the text once more, hoping fervently that he might be spared any actual participation in whatever ridiculous antics his mentor might be engaging in with their diminutive guests.

The girl gave Siegfried's hand a tug, a gesture that made him momentarily forget his nonsensical game and be filled with a surprising swell of emotion. She pointed in the direction of Siegfried's favourite chair, excitedly bouncing on the spot and gleefully smiling.

Siegfried dropped his act for a moment and kneeled down to her level, giving her small hand a gentle squeeze and tenderly asking, "What? What is it that you want to show me?"

By then, the boy had noticed the young vet as well and took off running, tripping over his own two feet, then stumbling back to an upright position much like Tristan after a few too many at the Drovers, finally regaining forward movement and hightailing it over to Carmody, the latter of whom had given up on his book entirely and was observing the mayhem unfolding before him with an undisguised expression of mild horror.

***************

Once Carmody had been located, Siegfried and the children marched him off to the kitchen to join Helen and Jimmy. They found Jimmy cooing in his basket, content for at least the current moment, and Helen at Audrey's desk. "I'm writing to thank James for the Valentine's Day card." 

She smiled down at the children. "Hello, you two! Are you having fun with Uncle Siegfried?" 

The children gave her a quick look, but finding her arms empty of baby or anything else of interest, they both opted for hanging onto Carmody's arms and legs instead, charged by Siegfried with making sure the young vet didn't "escape."

"Me flowers look lovely in bedsit," Helen continued. "And Audrey seems to be enjoying hers, too, I noticed. Along with her card." She gave Siegfried an impish grin. "What were your excuse for showering her with gifts?" 

"I would hardly call it "showering," and I see no reason for me to be required to furnish an "excuse," as you say."

"You're the one who had an excuse for me flowers." 

"I absolutely did not."

"You certainly did!"

"Helen," Siegfried cleared his throat. "We're here for a reason—the children, Carmody, and I, and this interrogation is not it."

"Mmm-hmm." Helen hummed mockingly.

Siegfried's train of thought was disrupted by her hummed-out response. "Helen?"

"Aye?"

"Have you been doing that with any regularity lately?"

"Doing what?"

"Giving an "mmm-hmm" type of answer to questions or statements."

"Not that I know of, why?" She set aside her correspondence, eager for the answer to his curious question.

He gave a quick jab of his head towards the girl. "No, nothing at all! Just pondering how little ones pick up on new skills." His eyes were wide with unsaid meaning, and Helen lifted her head and then nodded in understanding.

"What are you all doing out here, then? It's not time for lunch. Aud's only been gone an hour."

"Ah, yes. We're playing a game."

"Oh, we are?" Helen looked to Carmody, whose expression was nothing short of pained.

"Are you playing this game as well, Richard?"

"He absolutely is!" Siegfried left no question about the young man's mandatory partaking.

Siegfried sat everyone around the table and had all of the adults introduce themselves, drawing a twisted grin from Helen, who kept quiet and played along nevertheless. He then asked Jimmy for his name, which Helen provided for the quiet infant. Siegfried asked Jess and answered for the lounging retriever himself; then repeated the strange query with Dash. 

"What about you? What's your name?" He asked the girl, who was sitting across the table from him, clearly confused by this so-called game they were supposedly playing. She looked at him, a concerned look on her face, then looked around the room and made her humming sound again.

Siegfried, sensing that not only was he not getting anywhere with this exercise but also that he might be upsetting at least the older of the children, decided to bring their activity to a close. He released a grateful Carmody, who removed himself from the room with a speed Siegfried previously believed the young man saved solely for fleeing angry dogs.

"Helen, any interest in a walk? I think the three of us could use some fresh air."

"Weren't you just out for a walk? The children's things were all over the kitchen when Jimmy and I came in." 

"Ah! Yes, now that you mention it, things do look a bit tidier in here than when we left the room earlier. Thank you for that. But, no, we were strictly looking for Carmody—just out to the shed and back. Oh! And to fetch eggs before that. Now we're taking a proper walk! Isn't that right?" He looked to the children, who seemed to have perked up at hearing the idea. 

"Just a quick exploration of the square, Helen. If you don't mind bundling the baby for such a short outing, of course."

Helen decided a short walk sounded nice, and as it was never getting any warmer this year, she might as well give in and go out anyway; else stay cooped up till spring. After nearly fifteen minutes of preparing the children to go outdoors, the group left for a jaunt about the village that lasted only twice as long as the precursory dressing of the young ones, though no one seemed to mind. Siegfried chattered away the entire time, pointing out every business, lane, plant, and creature they spotted, and the children soaked it all in like new spring shoots unfurling their leaves to the rays of the sun.

***************

Once the children and Jimmy were back inside the warm scullery and unwrapped yet again, Helen announced wearily that it was time for Jimmy to be changed and have a feed. "I'm so knackered, I'll be lucky not to nod off while I'm holding him!" she joked.

"You rest, Helen. I've been here most of the week. I'm more than up to the task of caring for these two for a few hours. You have to sleep sometime, and if the littlest James here won't allow it at night," He gently tapped the baby on the nose with his index finger. "Then sleeping during the day is really your only remaining choice, isn't it?"

Helen could hardly disagree with his logic, but did volunteer to help children with their own toileting needs first, a task Siegfried was more than happy to eschew in exchange for properly returning the children's outerwear to the hooks "where they live." He smiled to himself as his thoughts took on Audrey's voice in his head. Then he grinned all the more broadly when he realised that, for the first time, he was calling her "Audrey" in his mind while also being able to look forward to calling her that in actuality, even if it was just once or twice a day. He could scarcely believe they had finally reached that point, and while he was in full understanding and agreement of their decision to hold back on using their first names in all situations right yet, there was a jubilation bubbling up in him that made him want to run circles in Market Square proclaiming her name to anyone who would listen.

He was jostled back to reality by the return of the children, reminding him of something he wished to ask Helen before she returned to the bedsit. He sidled over to her as she gathered up Jimmy, speaking in hushed tones.

"When we passed the small alley that leads to the photography studio, did you hear the girl's reaction, by chance?"

"No, I don't remember owt like that. What happened?"

"I anticipated as much. You were checking on Jimmy in the pram at the time. She pointed towards the shop and made that same humming noise that she made earlier. I wish I knew what she meant by it."

"I'm sorry, Siegfried. I have no idea."

"Yes, well, I'm sure we'll discover the meaning eventually. Now, I mustn't keep you and our ravenous James Herriot the Third any longer," he announced brightly, urging her off to settle Jimmy and try for some much-needed slumber herself.

Chapter Text

Saturday, 15 February, 1941, continued:

Siegfried soon learnt that a small basket of toys does not keep two young children occupied for long. During his previous times playing with the children, they always seemed very happy with the limited selection of playthings, but now, facing an entire day with their young guests, they grew bored with them rather quickly, leaving Siegfried at a momentary loss. He cast a wistful glance over at the Potter books stacked on the occasional table but decided they would be best saved for when he wished the children to rest, something that, according to Audrey's notes, she tried to fit into the early afternoon hours when possible. So Siegfried instead spent a tiring hour entertaining the children with songs, switching between the gramophone, radio, and piano. He was surprised by how much of a physical toll a solid hour of dancing and singing with toddlers, while simultaneously preventing their small fingers from damaging the rather valuable musical equipment, took on a man. He delivered calves, for goodness sake! How twirling and chasing children could possibly require a similar amount of physical effort was beyond him, but it certainly did appear to be the case.

When the striking of the clock indicated that they had reached a reasonable hour to partake in the cold lunch Audrey had left for them, he gladly proclaimed music time to be over, and marched the happy dance troupe out to the kitchen, where, joined by Carmody, Helen, and Jimmy, they tucked into their meal and ate heartily. Siegfried made a mental note to pass that tip along to Audrey the next time the boy didn't want to eat. An hour of dancing around the sitting room might solve her problem, and he couldn't help but harbour the secret hope that he might be around to witness the event should she ever opt to give his suggestion a try.

Faced with an empty window of time to fill after lunch and feeling depleted of any more interesting ideas for how to pass the time, he questioned Helen over what Audrey did with them all day long, especially given that she was busy keeping the household running smoothly at the same time. 

"They go where she goes, Siegfried, and play on their own, or she lets them help the best that they can."

With that sage advice in mind, Siegfried announced that they needed to clean up for Mrs. Hall and gave each child a pile of clean flatware to dry, forks to the girl, and spoons to the lad. As he attended to the washing up, Helen took the opportunity to remove the clean clothing and napkins that had been drying on the rack and folded them, sorting them into piles for each child, and Carmody swept and mopped the floor, a task that seemed necessary after every meal since the children had arrived, even when they did eat well. 

Once the scullery at least partially resembled its typical degree of tidiness, and feeling the children seemed anything but tired, Siegfried armed the little ones with slightly dampened tea towels and had them wash all of the doors in the hallways, which was no slight task at Skeldale. When they had washed every bit of a door that they could reach on their own, Siegfried magically became a pilot and flew them up in the air to give a cursory swipe to the top two-thirds of each door as well. When every door was proclaimed gleaming by the vet-turned-pilot-turned-cleanliness inspector, they returned the cleaning cloths to the laundry bucket in the back of the scullery. After their towels had been neatly laid over the edge of the bucket to air dry, and Siegfried was pondering if they had reached the proper time for a nap, the girl's mood quickly shifted, and she hummed again as she wandered around the kitchen in a wide circle.

"Are you feeling tired?" Siegfried stopped in front of her to halt her progress and dropped down on one knee, desperately wishing he knew what she was thinking. "Mrs. Hall's helpful note does show that we're a bit late for nap time."

"Mmm." She looked at him despondently as she hummed her answer, as if she knew that she wouldn't be able to make him understand.

Siegfried was momentarily dumbfounded. He might not know what she wanted, but he knew a deliberate reply when he heard one. He managed to rein in the part of him that wanted to dance around the room again; instead, he simply smiled and carefully grasped her hands in his. 

"That was a very good try. We'll get ready for a nap, and I'll read to you. Does that sound all right?" 

She didn't answer again, nor did she appear particularly pleased with his suggestion. Siegfried and Helen shared silent shrugs and swapped charges, as Helen had volunteered to prepare the children for their nap. Jimmy's earlier discontent returned in full force while she was away, and Siegfried was surprised to find that his youngest friend was in no way mollified by a single thing Siegfried had to offer him. Neither songs and rhymes nor rocking, swaying, or pacing would appease him. Winding him produced no results, nor did the gentle patting and rubbing of circles on his little back provide any comfort. 

Hearing the increasingly vehement cries of her son, Helen hurried the young duo as much as she could, noting that the little boy was now also starting to seem rather gloomy, as well. She returned to Siegfried, accepting her squalling son and grimacing as she handed off the children. "I think they're definitely ready to go to sleep, Siegfried. They've been unhappy the whole time we were gone."

"If Jimmy were eating solid food yet, I'd blame Mrs. Hall's lunch," he teased, trying to bring some levity to the suddenly and significantly downcast atmosphere in the room.

While Helen took over with the irritable infant and Carmody disappeared into the dispensary with Siegfried's permission to work on some practical pharmaceutical studies, Siegfried was left on his own with two children who were becoming less happy by the minute. He ushered them upstairs, grabbing one of the unread books on the way, and felt relieved that they had each made notable progress on climbing the stairs since they first arrived, for he questioned whether he had it in him at that point to carry both of them to the upper floor.

He reached Audrey's door and was hit by a wave of discomfort. It had not occurred to him that he would be the one to settle the children down for their naps. In thinking out the day, he always imagined it would be Helen who escorted the young ones into Audrey's private space. And he now felt deeply uncomfortable with the idea of intruding upon the small corner of the house that he considered as belonging entirely to her. He contemplated asking Helen if they might trade duties yet again, but he knew she was still worn from these few difficult days with Jimmy, and he felt it was unfair to ask her to keep switching tasks just because he felt she might be better suited than he. 

The children were whinging as they waited, much as Helen had warned him, and the girl had started off down this first-floor hall, knocking on doors along the way. Steeling himself, Siegfried retrieved the small escapee and opened the door, ushering the children into Audrey's personal place of respite from the chaos the rest of them inflicted upon the house. He focused in on the far corner, trying not to let his gaze linger elsewhere in the room, and encouraged the little ones to climb into their temporary bed. Neither child was in any way accepting of the matter. The boy arched his back every time Siegfried tried to place him down on the mattress, and the girl kept walking over to pat the foot of Audrey's bed instead. 

"I'm afraid not, little one. No one can sleep in Mrs. Hall's bed without her." Siegfried closed his eyes in supreme embarrassment at the words leaving his mouth, despite there being no one present who could even understand the reason for his mortification. 

She hummed out again, this time sounding more like a whimper, while the boy started pulling the blankets off of the mattress onto the floor and stepping on them, and Siegfried couldn't help but give the little chap silent credit for demonstrating a really rather clear way of getting his point across. 

After a few more failed tries at getting them to lie down in their own spot or even to sit still to hear the story, Siegfried decided they were better off returning to the ground floor, hoping that perhaps some reading down there would help soothe them before any further attempts at napping were made. He sat down in the middle of the sofa, a child on either side, and started to tell them all about two red squirrels called Nutkin and Twinkleberry and an owl called Old Mr. Brown. 

"Do you know what sound an owl makes? Hoo-hoo!" But his charges were as unimpressed with his bird calls as they were with Nutkin and Twinkleberry, both fidgeting and fussing.

Helen entered the room, minus her grumpy offspring, surprised to see their guests still awake. 

"I'm afraid I've miscalculated the timing of things today, Helen." His expression was one of deep disappointment in one's self. "As well as their response to Mrs. Hall's absence. We spoke to them about it, but I don't think they understood she'd be gone all day. When we were just playing, they didn't seem to mind her being gone, but now that they are tired, they both seem lost without her, I'm afraid."

"Now that Jimmy's asleep, I can try to bring these two back up to Audrey's room."

Siegfried thanked Helen with a relieved nod and let the children know the newest plan of action. He wasn't terribly surprised, however, when the boy slid off the sofa to the floor in miserable response, and the girl ran from the room as fast as her weary little legs could move her. Siegfried followed to find her knocking on the second examination room door, her face fixed in a discouraged frown at the lack of an answer. 

Siegfried attempted to make a joke, asking, "Who are we looking for? Are we searching for Mr. Carmody again?"

But to his dismay, the little girl sat down hard on the hall floor and began to cry, pausing only to repeatedly make her sad humming noises. Crestfallen to see her so upset, but still clueless as to what she was trying to convey, Siegfried pulled out his handkerchief, wiped her face, and asked her to repeat herself. The child gave another pitiful hum. 

"Can you say another word for me, to tell me what you want? I can't help you if I don't know."

"Mmm....aw." Siegfried nearly toppled back from his crouched position in disbelief, yet with still no further idea of the meaning of what he was hearing. The girl's chin began to quiver again, and Siegfried put his arms out to her.

"Shall we make a new plan? We can all sit in my favourite chair together, and we will read our book. No nap. Just sit and read and wait for Mrs. Hall."

The girl brought up one slightly tear-dampened hand, patted his cheek, and nodded. "Mmm aw." 

"Oh, my girl, how I wish I knew what... Wait. Are you saying Mrs. Hall?" 

She looked at him with pleading eyes, and Siegfried brought his voice down to a whisper. "Can you say "Mrs. Hall?" 

"Mmm aw."

"You clever, clever girl! I'm so proud of you!" He gave her a gentle squeeze. "And Mrs. Hall will be so happy when we show her! Do you want to show her when she returns?" 

She blinked in surprise at his sudden exuberance, sniffled a few times, then slowly gave a small smile in response to his beaming expression of pride and excitement.

"Let's read our book, shall we? And we will keep watching this spot for Mrs. Hall to come home."

Siegfried carried her back and, collecting their book from the side table, sat down in the book snug with the child. Once she was comfortable, he took the squirming boy from a relieved Helen and waited for the child to settle against his side. 

"It's time to hear about our squirrel friends. And when Mrs. Hall comes home, we'll have a surprise for her." The girl tucked her hands between herself and Siegfried, leaned her head against his arm, and gave a small sleepy nod.

Chapter Text

Saturday, 15 February, 1941, continued:

An hour and several sleeping limbs later, Siegfried gave a sigh of relief when he heard footsteps approaching the room. Seeing Carmody hesitantly peer in, he put a forefinger to his lips. He then beckoned the young man over and whispered a series of urgent instructions.

"I need you to carefully, quietly, carry over those two armchairs to the sofa. Don't drag them!" 

Carmody had been in the company of the man long enough to know that it was best to simply comply first, and ask or ponder the whys of the task later. And so he dutifully brought the chairs up against the sofa.

"Right. Where's Helen?" He asked, keeping his volume low. 

The young man turned pink. "She suggested I leave the kitchen so that she could feed the baby."

"Ah. In that case, how do you feel about moving a sleeping child—just to the sofa?"

Richard took three steps backwards and bumped into one of the recently transferred chairs. "I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"I'm unable to stand carrying them both at once—not without waking them.  So get hold of yourself and put out your arms together like I'm handing over a new lamb." 

Carmody did as he was told, his face full of trepidation.

"Come closer. We'll let him roll into your arms. Slowly, though!" Siegfried lifted the boy, and the lad began to fuss. Siegfried made frantic shushing noises, gesturing for Carmody to do the same. Richard took a breath to voice his dissent, but Siegfried's glare had him biting his tongue, awkwardly shushing, and accepting the sleeping child. 

"To the sofa with him, man! Keep "shushing." And leave a hand on his back until he's settled." Siegfried continued to whisper out commands from his seat.

Once the lad was snoozing in his new location, Siegfried carried over the girl, covered them both with an old quilt that had become part of the room's contents since the children arrived, and made sure the armchairs were pressed up against the cushions to prevent anyone from rolling to the floor in their sleep. Then he retreated back to the corner and dropped, exhausted, into his chair, more than ready for a nap of his own.

********************

Helen greeted her friend as she entered the back cloak room, the older woman unwinding her scarf, carefully slipping off her gloves and coat, and finally removing her hat before entering the kitchen proper. Audrey folded the coat neatly over a chair back and set her other items on the end of the table before pressing Helen for an update on the day.

"How were it?"

"We managed."

"Oh dear." Audrey had been hoping for a slightly more encouraging answer.

"I were napping meself for part of it, but I know the earlier part of the day went well. Siegfried seemed to have things under control."

Audrey gave her a worried look. "And then?"

"The afternoon nap didn't go according to plan. The commotion were enough to bring even Richard out from hiding in his room. Mind, he turned tail and ran right back. Didn't turn up again until everything was quiet again." Helen smirked good-naturedly.

"What? His room? Why weren't he in surgery?"

Helen realised her mistake a moment too late. "Siegfried decided it were best to keep it closed today," she admitted, cringing as she spoke the words.

"I never meant for him to lose a day of surgery. Where is he?" 

"Siegfried or Richard?" Helen questioned, but Audrey had already walked away at a flustered clip.

*******************

Siegfried was roused by a sound in the hall. He looked up from his warm spot, nestled in his chair, and saw Audrey framed by the doorway. He felt a surge of contentment in seeing her back with them again. 

"We're all very glad you're home." Siegfried's voice was soft and sleepy, having been dozing on and off as he kept a somewhat vigilant watch over the napping toddlers.

She smiled, then glanced down, touched to hear him include himself in the statement, and walked quietly to his side, her shocked agitation over the closing of surgery melting away, replaced by warm affection for the three people sprawled out in the room before her.

"I heard you closed the surgery for the day," she whispered, concern creasing the space between her eyes, making Siegfried wish he could reach up and gently smooth away the lines. 

He sought to reassure her with soft spoken words, instead. "I decided I would enjoy the day more if the clinic remained closed."

"I thought Richard were going to run it."

"Helen was very tired." He spoke quietly, craning his head to check about conspiratorially. "I knew if a case came in that he couldn't handle, he would need to call me, and then I would need to call Helen. I didn't want to ask her to watch all three of them today if it could be avoided." 

"That were very kind of you," she relented, understanding his desire not to overburden the new mother.

Gazing down at the sleeping children, she changed the subject. "What happened here?" she asked with a slight smirk.

"Your absence was acceptable to them in the beginning of the day, when we were playing, eating, and taking walks." He gave a self-depreciating chuckle. "I admit to feeling rather impressed with myself for those first few hours." His eyes twinkled with mirth at his own antics.

"And then I dared suggest they lie down without you and that's precisely the moment that your absence became no longer acceptable at all."

He pointed towards the little girl, now fast asleep on her back, her head resting against the arm of the sofa, one arm tucked under her chin, and the other stretched across the adjacent chair, and with her brother's legs resting on top of hers as he napped with his head at the opposite end of the settee.  "This one was most disgruntled by the change in the usual routine."

Audrey bit back a smile at the thought of the little mite of a girl raging against an altered naptime. "I'm sorry she gave you trouble."

"No need. She made up for it, but that's a surprise that we need to wait for her to show you."

"Oh, I am intrigued, and it is getting late for them to still be sleeping if we want to have any chance of them going to bed at a decent hour tonight," she began.

Siegfried gave a mock angry glare. "Mrs. Hall, are you suggesting we wake the same children I worked so diligently to get to sleep?"

Grinning somewhat deviously, she offered an alternative. "We could let them sleep now, and then you can try to put them to bed tonight."

"Now that you mention it, waking them now sounds like a very sensible idea. Nothing less than I would ever expect from you, my dear!" 

The two worked together to gently wake the children, who woke up momentarily confused by their setting. However, the little girl quickly noticed Mrs. Hall's presence and threw herself at the woman who had so kindly cared for her for the past week. Audrey, awkwardly balanced in a semi-squatting position near the sofa, suddenly had her arms full of a surprisingly wide awake child, bouncing with happiness. "Mmm aw!" 

Audrey gasped and drew the child forward into a hug. The child puled back, gave her a beaming grin, and patted her cheek. "Siegfried, did she..."

Siegfried nodded, taking in Audrey's elation. She was always lovely, but Siegfried couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful she was when she was so radiantly happy.

"What is she saying?" Audrey asked, still perched precariously. Siegfried took note of her predicament and carefully helped her to her feet with one hand cupped around her elbow and the other along her back. He was glad the heat in his cheeks couldn't be seen as he momentarily basked in the feel of holding on to her in even this practical, innocent manner. "Let's move you both to the sofa, Au..Mrs. Hall." 

Once she was safely sitting down with the child on her lap, Siegfried addressed the girl. "Who is this?" he asked, pointing to Audrey. "Mmm aw," she answered, a bit bashfully. 

Audrey's hand shook a bit as she leaned in close to the little girl. "Are you saying my name? Mrs. Hall?"

"Mmmmm," the child added, reminding Audrey of the way she had pointed out the sounds on the letter blocks to the toddler just one day earlier.

"Oh, poppet, that's wonderful!" Her eyes began to fill, and she hugged the child again to hide her face until she could be sure she wouldn't confuse the girl with her tears.

Audrey looked up at Siegfried for further explanation. 

"She had been making what I thought of as a hum several times early in the day, and we didn't know why. But when I tried to convince them to go to sleep without you, she started looking around the house, saying it more often. Eventually she said both words, and I was able to finally guess what she was saying. I was..." 

He shook his head and tried again. "I was thrilled. I don't believe that would be an exaggeration in the least." He reached out to run a hand over the little girl's head, tousling her hair, his face nearly sore from the strength of his smile.

********************

Later that evening, Audrey was relishing a chance to do absolutely nothing, relaxed in her armchair watching the children making faces and noises for Jimmy, who was recently fed, and momentarily pleased with life.

Siegfried bounded into the room, like a child, himself. "Time to feed the animals! I think Richard and I shall bring both children out tonight. They were incredibly patient with their decidedly second-rate minders today and therefore deserve to go out together." 

Richard, resigned to the task, didn't complain but gathered his things and waited for Mrs. Hall to ready the excited children. When they reached the shed, however, he questioned the vet about his insistence on having the little ones take part in the task each night. "I don't understand the purpose of including them in this nightly errand. It takes three times as long and makes twice the mess."

Siegfried paused, his arms full of a toddler who was happily strewing torn up bits of straw all over the shed like Christmas tree tinsel, doing a rather good job of perfectly proving the student's point.

"You and James first learnt to provide veterinary care to animals in a school setting. I first learnt in the opposite method—by watching and doing." He pointed to the girl who was leaning against a sack of feed, patting the burlap with a small metal cup as she waited for the men to finish their chat so that they might get back to the business at hand. 

"She knows that's what we do first. We open that sack, and we use that cup to measure out the feed. She's very young, and she's only been out here a few times so far, yet she already knows what we need to do, and the order in which we do it."

"But she can't lift the sack, read the dietary instructions for each animal, or even reach the majority of the hutches. So what is the point of her knowing you go to the sack first?"

Siegfried was still for a moment, thinking back upon his childhood memories of trailing behind his father anywhere he was allowed, absorbing every bit of knowledge like dry towelling slowly submerged into a tub of water. 

"I was only nine years old when I delivered my first lamb. I had never attended a lecture, picked up a text book, or sat an exam. And I couldn't have managed the task at the age of five or seven. But I could follow my father and repeatedly watch him take the necessary steps to help a ewe bring forth her new offspring into the world. Just because their bodies are too small to accomplish the necessary tasks on their own doesn't mean they're not still listening and learning each time we bring them out here."

Richard pondered Siegfried's explanation and mused that in this case, neither of these children would be staying here long enough to learn to assist with a lambing or even to grow tall enough to reach all of the animal pens. Much like the excitement everyone else seemed to show over the girl speaking a fractured version of Mrs. Hall's name, he didn't understand it. They were informed she could probably talk and would likely do so again, so her attempt, somewhat unimpressive to his way of thinking, should have been expected. But he surmised that they would be out here all the longer if he continued to question the senior vet about such things, and opted to simply nod in an illusion of comprehension and fetch the sack of feed.

***************

Bedtime went blissfully well, with both children both extremely tired from their day, and especially cooperative in having their routine re-established. Even Jimmy, who had been rather grisly, seemed to be reverting back to his usual cheery self.

As Siegfried and Audrey met in the sitting room for their nightly drink and discussion, both felt a bit shy in resuming the use of their first names, and without the knowledge that the other was feeling similarly anxious, both opted to avoid using any names at all as they started their conversation.

"You've been subjected to us prattling on about our day since the moment you came home today." Siegfried walked over to the settee with two glasses in his hand.

"Well, it were a big day, here." She smiled and accepted her drink, glancing to her side in an unspoken invitation, or perhaps wish, that Siegfried might sit beside her.

He picked up on her suggestion, though he thought of it more as permission, which he was honoured to have gained, and eager to accept. "I cannot disagree with that point, but it is finally your turn. How was your day?"

Audrey took a first warming sip of her sherry and quickly filled Siegfried in on the basic highlights of the day. There had been free patterns distributed at the meeting, some for any women who could use the assistance and others they would hand out at the school, along with donated wool, for the children to do their part as well. Women who needed a break from their needlework or who felt a lack of confidence in their skills could pick apart piles of old knitwear, rolling balls of yarn for others to reuse, making mountains of socks, their primary project for the day.

And, as always, Mrs. Pumphrey had managed to offer a lovely lunch for those in attendance, insisting that the women deserved a nice meal for their efforts.

"Mrs. Pumphrey announced another meeting for this coming Wednesday. We'll be discussing spring gardens, conserving cooking fuels, and rationing—as always." She reached for her glass again, and added, "Oh, and there'll be  opportunities to join in the civil defence efforts—they need air raid wardens for our area. They'll be another meeting dedicated to that sometime next month." She took a sip and replaced her glass. "I think I'd like to do summat like that."

Siegfried tried to find words as his mind kept looping over the idea of her being out during air raids over and over again. "I see. And that first meeting is this Wednesday, you say?"

"Aye, if you don't mind me being gone again, of course."

"No, not at all, Mrs. Hall. I'll be sure to mark my calendar."

"Mrs. Hall," Audrey murmured her married name under her breath, feeling tears threatening at his use of it so soon after their discussion in regards to loosening the formality during their evening time together. She turned toward her knitting basket to hide her reaction, pulling a started scarf unto her lap.

"I would have expected you to be looking to avoid additional knitting tonight," Siegfried teased, trying to distance his mind from the image of Audrey out in the dark nights, waiting for danger in order to do her job.

"Always more work to be done, Mr. Farnon."

Siegfried's eyes widened in alarm. "Mr. Farnon?" 

"Well, I. You just..."

She looked over at the man by her side and found Siegfried's shocked face void of comprehension.

"You just called me 'Mrs. Hall.'" 

Siegfried looked slightly startled. His mind hadn't been properly focused on the words he was uttering. "Did I?"

"Aye." Her answer was quiet as she concentrated on straightening the strands of yarn and checking where she left off with the child-size scarf.

"It must have been habit. I didn't mean to move us backward."

Audrey was puzzled by the remark and silently returned to her knitting, unsure of what to say in response. 

Siegfried reached out and touched the bare skin of her wrist, and she had to purposely avoid letting out a small gasp at the contact, suddenly remembering the feel of his hands assisting her earlier when they were waking the children. She collected herself and faced him again, hoping her expression was one of mild interest, nothing more.

"I apologise--Audrey. I didn't mean to detract from the happiness of earlier. I just worry."

"Worry?" She frowned in confusion. They had been discussing knitting and their names. What worry was there to be had in that?

Siegfried fidgeted in his seat, trying to transform his frantic thoughts into sensible words. "I worry about you—out there—if something should happen."

Understanding filled her, and she set aside the scarf, turning towards him more fully. "Siegfried. I'd only be there as a precaution. Chances of Darrowby being hit seem very slight. Besides, I were a Wren. I'm not completely useless in an emergency."

"I have no doubt about that at all."

"Right then. No need to worry. I haven't even gone to the meeting yet."

She returned to her knitting, then paused as she curiously recalled that morning. "What were that all about this morning with Richard not eating breakfast?"

"I wanted to be sure he had the Vauxhall back for you—primarily." He looked sheepish. "I also felt that perhaps I should start the day with all possible reinforcements in place." 

"And then poor Helen wound up leaving you on your own at exactly the wrong time." She patted Siegfried's arm with a sympathetic tilt of her head.

"Yes, rather poor timing on Jimmy's part, keeping her up all last night." His eyes crinkled as he teased. 

"You'll have to sit him down and have a talk with him."

"Most definitely. Man to not-quite-man."

Audrey grinned as she worked her knitting needles. "I think we've both reached the point of ridiculousness tonight." 

She paused in her work and let out a sudden little chuff of laughter. "I can't believe she finally spoke!" Her laughter turned to a few small, stifled sobs, which she waved off. "I'm fine. Just always emotional these days."

Siegfried's whole face softened in unspoken agreement. He, too, felt himself teetering between one emotion and another of late. And it wasn't just the children that had him off-balance. This marvellous woman beside him became more precious, more essential, more beloved with each passing day. He spent more time than was likely prudent searching for clues that she might feel similarly towards him, for he wasn't sure how much longer he could continue to keep quiet about something so all-consuming in his life.

Chapter Text

Sunday, 16 February, 1941:

Sunday morning dawned over Skeldale House with both a new joy and a slight complication. The children, even after an evening in Audrey's company after she had been away during the previous day, woke in very clingy moods, both looking for the assurance of her presence repeatedly in the early hours of the morning. Feeling more than a slight measure of guilt for having left the house for so long with no real way to be sure they understood what was happening, Audrey went about her usual morning routine and responsibilities imperturbable in the face of the children being underfoot at every turn. The trio used the facilities and dressed for the day; beds were made, fires were checked, dogs were let out, breakfast was made, consumed, and cleaned up afterwards, all with one or more of their small guests seeking her attention or trying to remain physically attached to her throughout. 

But any obstacle or obstruction the children caused that morning was overlaid by the delight Audrey felt each time the little girl reached out for her, not physically but verbally, her "Mmm Aw"s ranging from quiet and shy when she first woke up to rapidly repeated in an insistent chant when she later realised that she could successfully conjure the kind woman with just those two words to instantly come over to intervene in her playtime squabbles with her brother. The latter raised the eyebrows and upturned the mouth of Siegfried when he saw the little lass wielding her new power. 

"You do realise, Mrs. Hall, that if you let this continue, you'll become a full-time referee between them, don't you?" 

The housekeeper's wry smile preceded her scoff. "Conveniently forgetting I do that already?"

"I haven't required any such assistance in ages!" 

She answered him with a scathing look that had him backing down immediately. "Yes, yes, he hasn't been here. You win!"

She smiled broadly at his final words on the subject. "Very glad to hear it."

The frivolity was brought to a sobering end when the adults noted the time of week was upon them for the beloved housekeeper to take her leave to attend church services. Audrey managed to unpeel the children from her side long enough to go up to her room to change, having not trusted a morning with the little ones to be conducive to keeping herself presentable, and therefore having initially redressed herself in the skirt and blouse she had worn the previous day.

She returned to the main floor to find Siegfried struggling to keep both children calm in her brief absence. "Oh dear." 

"We've done this once, Mrs. Hall; we can manage it a second time."

But Siegfried's bravado rang blatantly untrue to everyone assembled, particularly when the children noticed Audrey leaving the room without them. The girl chased after her in a pitiful repeat of the previous day, while her brother expressed his disapproval over the situation by throwing himself down on the floor in a miniature fit of rage, kicking Dash in the face on his way down. Dash yipped and skittered backward in a burst of newfound fear of the small little red-faced human.

Audrey, who hadn't made it further than the waiting area, returned, the girl's arms and legs wound around her like tentacles, holding on with surprising strength for her diminutive size.

"We may need a new plan, Mrs. Hall." Siegfried grimaced as he tried to calm the dangerous flailing of toddler legs, while Carmody assured Dash that all was well, and Helen stood well back from the madness, Jimmy bundled in her arms.

"I'll stay home this week," Audrey volunteered. "I were gone all day. It's too much to ask of them to understand why I need to leave again so soon."

"That's terribly unfair for you, Au, Mrs. Hall." Siegfried thanked the chaos around them for covering over his slip of the tongue. "I know church services are important to you."

"I don't know that I have a choice," Audrey attempted over the loud "Mmm Aw" being bawled out in between bouts of crying and sniffling from the child in her arms.

"We could bring them, possibly?" Siegfried offered.

"To church?" Her shocked outburst was loud enough for even the girl to take notice and stop sobbing for a moment.

Siegfried shrugged sheepishly. "They're dressed, and if we hurry, we might just make it in time."

"You're coming, too, then?"

"Of course!"

"They'll need to use the toilet, have their hands and faces washed, tidy their hair..."

"I can get this one ready down here if you can take the little lady upstairs with you. We'll have them both fit to leave in no time at all."

"All right," Audrey agreed, but her tone indicated she believed it would be anything but all right. 

********************

Audrey, of course, was correct, as was so often the case. Siegfried knew she was correct when he suggested the foolhardy plan to bring the children to church in the first place. It would have been an ambitious undertaking if the toddlers had been prepared ahead of time, dressed in their best, and in pleasant, cooperative moods as they left the house. Instead, the children were confused, tired, and rather bedraggled-looking. Instead of being interested in and invigorated by their walk, as they often were when brought outside, both children seemed to vacillate between being somewhat suspicious, looking ready to kick off another tantrum at any moment, and woefully anxious, holding tightly to the adults, and appearing ready to cry at the drop of a hat. Siegfried spent much of the walk berating himself for subjecting Audrey to whatever embarrassment or upset was likely to occur and for not finding a way to calm the children so she could have left on her own without worry.

Their rushed departure and brisk stroll up the hill paid off, and they did, at least, arrive before the services began and were able to find a seat in the back corner of the church, closest to the side door, in case a sudden and swift withdrawal was required. The children were immediately antsy, not wanting to sit still, and casting longing glances at the doors whenever possible. 

Siegfried attempted to distract them with the bright colours of the stained glass windows, the decoratively painted woodwork of the rood loft, and the flickering candles that ringed each of the limestone pillars. He wished, belatedly, that they had found a seat nearby to where one of the charming little mice had been hidden when the pews had been carved, but alas, he could see none from their current location. A story about a little church mouse might have kept the children more interested in sitting through service. Instead, the volume of their displeasure with the situation increased, and before the end of the very first hymn, Siegfried had already determined it best to surrender to the inevitable. He whispered to them that they needed to go outside for a moment and scooped them up as quietly and quickly as humanly possible, while also trying to obscure the fact that they were leaving Audrey behind. He was never so grateful for the community of voices raised in song that kept most of the congregants from discovering their premature departure. 

********************

Siegfried closed the old wooden door of the church behind them, and with one hand firmly grasping one of each of the children's, he started off down the flagstone path. He was aware of the girl craning her head around while walking, his only warning before she stopped in her tracks and looked up at him in alarm, voicing her "Mmm Aw!" to indicate that they had left her beloved Mrs. Hall behind. 

Siegfried mused that he often felt the same way when a stretch of busy hours or days had him separated from his housekeeper rather than spending time at Skeldale with her. The children had been a lovely excuse for him to spend far more hours at home lately than usual, a privilege he knew was bolstered entirely by Carmody's presence. The thought crossed his mind to make time for the young man soon. An hour or so earmarked for the two of them to discuss whatever newest topic of veterinary science might be of interest to the student might be nice. 

Siegfried invented a plausible story, plausible enough for a three-year-old, that is, and informed the children that Mrs. Hall had forgotten her favourite gloves and that they needed to hurry home to find them so that Mrs. Hall would be warm and happy. He hoped his little white lie would allow them a tear-free journey and perhaps even occupy them for a portion of the time they needed to fill before Mrs. Hall returned, without any preferred outerwear having been magically located.

And so Helen and Richard found themselves tasked with entertaining the children while Siegfried searched the house for gloves which did not exist. Helen, who found the plan to bring two recently wailing children off to church to be one fraught with likely pitfalls, rolled her eyes at Siegfried's conveniently undemanding part to play in this ruse, but waved them over to play with her and Baby Jimmy nonetheless. Though as the children "taught" Jimmy the various parts of the body by pointing out their own when asked, Helen allotted most of her mental function to imagining ways in which she might seek revenge later.

Carmody, however, feeling vexed by the loss of what he anticipated being a good hour and a half of blissful quiet, surrounded by only books and slumbering dogs, called out from his chair, "I do wish anything in this house ever made one bit of sense!"

Looking up from her spot on the floor, surrounded by a flurry of jostling elbows, knees, and rounded little bellies, all being pointed at or wiggled as part of the lesson, Helen cast him an incredulous look. "You've been working here nearly a year, Richard. Surely you've given up on owt sensible happening 'round here!"

Looking pained, the student asked beseechingly if his support was truly vital to the task at hand, and with great gratitude for Helen's kindness in pronouncing him superfluous to the cause, Carmody took his latest book and fled the scene before anything else unexpected occurred, causing him to be actually needed.

Forty minutes later Helen had long since run out of body parts and had taken to encouraging the children to make the movements for Pat-a-Cake and Pease Porridge Hot while she supplied the words. After repeating the simple songs nearly a dozen times each, Helen's head shot up in desperation as Siegfried poked his own head back into the room. "Siegfried! Come to take over, have you?"

"I, well, actually.." 

Helen's look was murderous, but even that was minimal in comparison to the volume in which the little girl screeched upon seeing Siegfried again. "Mmm Aw!?" 

"I was hoping she would have moved on from that by now."

"Not a chance, Siegfried, and not a chance you're spending any more time searching for her "favourite gloves", either."

"Well, I did say I would keep searching until I found them," Siegfried hedged.

"Siegfried Farnon, you have two choices. You can either take over playing with these two, or you can change this one's nappy." Helen's smile was fiendish as she added, "And it's a right gruesome one, I'd say."

"Ah, well, seeing as how I'm not adept at changing nappies, perhaps the glove location mission can be put off for the time..."

"Good choice, Siegfried." Helen put out an arm for assistance in extricating herself from the pile of children and swept out of the room, leaving Siegfried to contend with his falsehoods to the children.

"Mmm Aw?"

"She's not back yet, I'm afraid." Siegfried cringed, waiting for the cries he was sure would follow. Instead he was inadvertently handed a small pile of guilt when the child rubbed her hands together, then touched his, looking pensive, her way of asking about the mythical gloves. "I'm very sorry. I did not find the gloves. Mrs. Hall will need to walk home with the gloves she already has with her.

The child walked out to the coat rack, and Siegfried shook his head. "We'll wait for her here. We can make her tea. That will warm her up when she arrives. Would you like to make tea for Mrs. Hall?"

Her head bobbed several times in agreement, and the three went back to the scullery to make tea as slowly as possible, Siegfried fervently hoping the service might run a bit shorter than usual that Sunday.

When the tea was made and Siegfried's pocket watch promised him that Audrey should make an appearance shortly, he led the children through the house to see if she had returned while they had been occupied with kettle and cups.

Having learnt that children loved to repeat things they already enjoyed, he fashioned their search after the previous day's quest for Carmody. Only today Siegfried hunted for the housekeeper in his typical boisterous fashion. "Mrs. Hall! Mrs. Hall!" 

He threw open doors and checked beneath waste paper bins, making the children giggle. "Mrs. Hall! Mrs. Hall!" 

In the sitting room, he carefully lifted every chair cushion and poked about in the kindling basket, expressing disappointment at his shortcomings in finding people. When the children continued to giggle, he stopped his expedition and stood, arms akimbo, and gave a mock glare at the tiny troops.

"Are you laughing at me?" he asked in exaggerated disbelief. "I think I'm very terrible at this game, wouldn't you say? Maybe you'd better help me."

And so they resumed their loop around the house with the girl joining in on the calling of Mrs. Hall's name, with Siegfried's shouts becoming louder and the child's gaining a degree of improved pronunciation.

"Mrs. Hall! MRS. HALL!" Siegfried imagined the smirk Audrey would bestow upon him if she could see them right now, screaming down the house for someone he knew wasn't home. The thought of her face made all of the insanity of the past few hours worth it to the man, as he continued his foolish search.  "Mrs. Hall!!"

"Mi Aw! Mi Aw!"

"Mrs. Hall! MRS. HALL? MIS-SUS HAAALLL!"

Audrey could hear her employer's voice roaring through the house as she scaled the front steps. "That bloomin' man! I'm not even home!" 

As she opened the front door, the sounds of dogs barking added to the ruckus, and as she pushed open the final door to enter the front hall, she nearly walked right into the bellowing man, who came up short before her.

"Oh! You're here." 

"You were expecting me to go somewhere else after church?" 

She peered around him. "Most likely looking for children," he thought, proving what he knew to be true: that the needs of others were at the front of her mind at all times, even when she was nearly run over in her first moments in the house.

She was greeted further by the sounds of paws and feet, mixed with a few "Mi Aw"s, as the children raced around the corner, accompanied by Dash, all of whom converged upon her in a rush of fur and little hands.

"Oh my! What have you all been up to? I see Dash has forgiven all."

"Mi Aw! Mi Aw!"

"Yes, hello, love. My name's changed a bit, innit?"

"Yes, she's making a bit of progress there." Siegfried was about to add "Practice makes perfect," but Audrey's wit was quicker than his reply.

"It's almost as if she's been hearing someone calling it out incessantly." She smirked at him, and he couldn't help but smile, recalling his recent prediction. It was exactly the expression he had imagined, and it made him unreasonably proud of himself for having guessed her reaction so precisely in advance.

********************

With their cherished Mrs. Hall home once again, the children were easily convinced to ease back into their typical routine. Carmody, relieved by the blanket of silence that descended upon the upper floor once Mr. Farnon was no longer traipsing through the halls screaming for Mrs. Hall, decided it was safe for him to return to the sitting room, where he and Siegfried chatted, primarily via veterinary terminology and jokes in Latin. Helen and Audrey were happy to ensconce themselves in the warm kitchen, where the latter worked on the day's upcoming meals. 

The children started off a bit hesitant to move more than a foot or two from the housekeeper, settling down only when she sat to cut vegetables so that they could sit at the table as well. They spilt out their basket of blocks, but she remembered that she had been given a few additional second-hand toys from some of the women present at the knitting party and decided it might be the perfect time to present something new to the little ones.

Conscious of the children's attachment to her after the previous day and morning, she discreetly mentioned her need to leave momentarily to Helen before pulling a chair over to sit right between the children. As soon as she joined them, the girl presented her with a block, which she noticed was the one with the letter "M" and the dog who reminded her of Dash. 

"Yes, that's the block with the sound for my name. Mmmm. Mrs. Hall. You can say my name so nicely, now, can't you, love?" 

The child spun the block around, and Audrey dutifully chatted with her about the cat, the Dash-look-alike, the letter "J," and the colours of the other two sides, which did not have any design.

Glancing over at Helen, Audrey shrugged. "Maybe I'll wait on the others, after all." 

A pat on her arm alerted her to the girl handing her a block once again, and she chuckled to see it was the same one. "Is this your favourite one, poppet? It has our Dash, and a "J" for Jimmy. We'll have to see if there's an "H" for Helen on one of those blocks." Audrey spent a few moments searching for an "H," then an "C" for Mister  C-c-carmody, and when the "J" block surfaced yet again, she finally remembered the "J" also stood for "Jess" and issued an apology to the retriever for forgetting to include her. Jess lifted her head at the sound of her name, but when no treat was offered, nor command given, she nestled back down into the warmth of her spot next to Dash.

"Do you think she forgives me?" The little girl looked tickled as she gave an affirmative nod, then left her seat to go give the dog some attention. 

"Gentle, love!" Audrey stacked a block tower or two with the little boy, as not to leave him feeling left out, then returned to her vegetables. "I hope none of us tire of parsnips because it seems every time I check, we still have just as many as before."

"So long as you don't bake them into any buns, we'll be fine," Helen joked, and the two women laughed, remembering the disastrous swede substitution she had attempted last Easter. The lad joined in even without any idea what it was he was chortling about, causing Helen and Audrey to laugh all the more. 

Chapter Text

After lunch, Audrey worked to catch up on her unfinished tasks from Saturday. She felt a wave of affection for her Skeldale family when she spotted signs of their endeavours to accomplish some of her usual chores. However, a valiant attempt does not always ensure success, and therefore her list for the afternoon remained fairly lengthy.

When she passed the mantle of childminding to Siegfried, she did also pass along the latest toy donations as well, handing over a small box of wooden tops in bright colors. Though chipped and worn from years of spinning by the hands of other children, Siegfried soon showed their small guests how well the tops still spun when given a proper twist of their surprisingly sturdy crowns. A second box revealed a simple hand-carved truck with a dark green cab and bright red bed, along with a small wooden horse, complete with a yarn mane and tail, which stood upon four slightly wobbly wheels.

"Oh, I do like horses." Siegfried shared. Then, looking up at Carmody across the room, he confided, "So does Mr. Carmody! Perhaps we can set up some walls for our horse to jump with some of your blocks, and then we can show him." 

"Oh, the blocks are in the kitchen. I'll get them." Audrey left briefly, returning with the basket in short order, and taking a few moments to watch the trio playing together before resuming her work. As she walked off, she grinned at overhearing Siegfried being immediately interrupted in his obstacle building. "Oh, yes, that's a very nice block. Would you like to add it to our wall? No? Oh, I see, there's a dog on there."  

******************************

Audrey slapped the mop against the scullery floor, giving the space under the old table a second pass after noticing with displeasure that the floor still felt sticky under her feet in the areas near where the children typically took their meals. There were few things as persistent in lasting tackiness as milk, and the children tended to spill at least some portion of that, along with almost every other food or beverage they consumed, each and every time they ate. She was returning the mop to the wringer when she heard her name being shouted through the ground floor for the second time that day. "I'll never finish at this rate," she mumbled to herself, balancing the mop handle against the side of the sink and wiping her hands off on her pinny before seeking the reason for the wailing this time around.

With eyebrows already raised, she entered the sitting room, a slightly aggravated question on her face as she silently presented herself to her employer and their young charges. Her confusion quickly morphed into curiosity when she saw Siegfried's face nearly sparkling with elation. A cursory glance around greeted her with a bashful look on the girl and keen interest from the boy, who held two toys in hand yet played with neither. Even Carmody had put down his latest book and leaned forward, arms on knees, perched at the edge of his chair as he observed whatever it was that was occurring.

"We have something to show you, Mrs. Hall." Siegfried's voice trembled with excitement, and she backed up towards the settee, her hand feeling blindly behind her for the cushion, so as not to take her eyes off of the man and children before her. The very air in the room seemed to pulse with anticipation as she finally found her seat and indicated she was ready for their demonstration.

"Watch," he breathed. He picked up two blocks and held up a side with a cat. "This cat's name is Lulu," he told his audience, and Audrey recognised the name as belonging to a cat they had boarding over post-surgery.

He turned the block to an "R" and pointed to Carmody. "And what is your name, Mr. Carmody?"

The student dutifully provided the answer. "Richard."

Picking up the block with the dog, Siegfried pointed to the "M." "Whose name starts with an "M"? Mine? Mmmr. Farnon. And who else?" He pointed at Audrey. "Who is that?"

"Mi Aw," came the quietly pleased reply.

Siegfried smiled. "That's right!" He turned the block to the dog, gestured towards Dash, and gave the dog's name. 

Then he spun the block to the J. "This side is a "J." For "Jess". And what else is this side for?"

The room was silent. Siegfried bent lower towards the girl. "Is this side for you, too?"

"Gee."

Audrey's eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her lips to keep from reacting audibly and possibly breaking the spell. Siegfried glanced up at her briefly, beaming, and returned to the girl. "Shall we play the game again? I'm Mr. Farnon. That's Mrs. Hall. And that's Richard." 

He patted each dog, happily lying in front of the fire, where they had found sanctuary far away from any splashes from their mistress' cold mop. "And this is Jess, and this is Dash. And what is your name?"

"Gee." Her voice was just a whisper breathed out into the waiting crowd, but everyone heard it. 

Audrey moved down to the floor to join them, extending a hand in request of the block, delighted, yet slightly confused. "Does this block show the letter for your name, too?" 

The girl smiled and took the block into her own small hands, pointing to the M. "Mi Aw." 

"Oh, love, that's very good. I am on that block."

And with that, the girl turned back to her play, showing Audrey how their horse could jump over walls of blocks, while the boy scrambled over to show Mrs. Hall that his truck could drive through the same walls, bringing about good-natured groaning from Siegfried, who exclaimed over how they would have to rebuild due to terrible truck drivers.

Understanding that the child had moved on for now, Audrey reminded the group that naptime was next on her list, sharing a look with Siegfried before she left that both knew meant they'd be discussing this again later. As she walked away, Siegfried heard her let out a belated gasp of part cry and part laughter. 

******************************

The children's return to their cots coincided with Helen and Jimmy's return to the ground floor, and after filling her in on the latest development, the adults sat down to a hot cuppa while trying to unravel the mystery of how the J block and "Gee" fit together. 

"Do you think she's confused about what each letter is called?" Helen suggested. "Maybe her name starts with a J, but she thinks it's called gee instead?"

Audrey shook her head, her brow furrowed. "I don't think so. She's brought me that block many times. She must know by now it's called a jay."

"Maybe she's just mispronouncing it," Richard added.

Audrey remained unconvinced. "I can't help but think we're missing summat." 

Siegfried looked pensive. "I feel as though she was offering "Gee" as her name rather than the name of the letter. She did say her version of Mrs. Hall, when we pointed to the letter M. She didn't attempt to actually say the letter name em."

"Maybe we can start with names that have the sound gee in them." Helen paused. "Margie. Or Georgina." Though Helen couldn't help but shudder at thought that the little one might share her name with Mrs. Beck's awful cat.

"But that doesn't explain the J," Richard debated.

"Perhaps it's her surname that begins with a J," Siegfried offered. "Though that wouldn't explain why she doesn't have any particular fondness for the block with the G on it." 

Their discussion ended when their cups were drained, but as each of them returned to other activities, the conundrum remained in their minds. Helen was helping Audrey inventory the pantry and cobble together a list of meals possible with what foodstuffs they had in their possession and which they were most likely to be able to purchase in the coming week, when the topic of the child's name came up again.

"Do you think she's even old enough to know how to spell her name?" Helen wondered.

"I think she's old enough to know some of the letters and to recognise summat like a name if she saw it often enough. But I don't know that she could pick out the right letters to spell owt on her own."

"Maybe if we encouraged her, she could pick out a few more letters from her name. If we started using the blocks to spell words. You know, "cat," "dog," and the like."

Audrey considered the idea and brought the basket of blocks back to the kitchen table, laying them out to see if all twenty-six letters were represented. "There are twenty-one blocks. I doubt an odd number like that would be the full set. We must be missing a few."

"Each block has two letters. That might help." Helen noted, turning the blocks to be sure each did have an equal number of letters.

"We're missing some letters. Must have only been one each of those. There's no X and no K."

Helen agreed "No Q either. But we do have duplicates of several letters."

Audrey sighed. "There's only one J and one M, so a word or name with both letters couldn't even be made."

"Thankfully, her name's likely not James." Helen winked. "We'll find another way if this don't work out."

"You're right. And I'm not worried. Just got ahead of meself for a minute there."

******************************

"What do we have here?" Siegfried's amused question startled the women, still poring over their block project. He had entered the scullery with both children in tow, and Richard Carmody following a few feet behind. 

"That was a short little rest!"

"Or perhaps," Siegfried teased, "you and Mrs. Herriot were so engrossed in your toy blocks that you lost track of time."

Audrey looked down at her wrist watch, then shot Siegfried a look when he saw that he was pulling her leg. "We were seeing if we had the whole alphabet here or not."

The children were obviously curious about the two adults playing with their blocks and climbed up on chairs to join the fun. Audrey fished out the J block. "Here, love. Your favourite." 

Audrey stroked the girl's hair. "Can you tell us your name, love? Does your name have a J in it?"

The girl turned the block to the J and showed it to Audrey. 

"Very good, poppet." She praised the girl but looked somewhat helplessly at her fellow adults, unsure of how to proceed in helping the child.

"Maybe we could just start guessing." Helen reached across the table and tapped the child on the hand to catch her attention. "Is your name Jenny?" She gave a shrug to the others, knowing it was a long shot, but trying nonetheless. 

The girl canted her head at Helen but said nothing and went back to her blocks. "Couldn't be that easy." She gave a disappointed smile.

"We don't know if her name truly starts with the letter J. She said her name was Gee earlier," Richard pointed out. "If her name starts actually with a G or has a gee sound in it, then we will need to guess differently." 

Helen tried again. "Is your name Margie? Or Gigi?" There was neither a response nor a reaction as the girl sifted through the blocks, turning and sorting them. 

"Is she arranging them in a way that makes sense?" Richard asked from his spot near Audrey's desk. 

"I think she's just putting the blocks with animals aside right now. Nowt to do with letters." Audrey was apologetic for having to disappoint him. "We may not even have the letters she would need to spell out her name if she could."

"Oh!" Audrey abruptly rose from her chair and rushed from the room, calling back. "One moment!" as she entered the passage towards the main portion of the house. She came back to the room at a more sedate pace, finding bemused faces greeting her. 

"I had an idea." She held up a linen pouch. "From our word game." Her smile was hopeful with a sprinkling of self-pride.

"Just need to be sure the little one don't get his hands on any!" She warned, making space on the table and pouring out the letter tiles. 

"It would inevitably be the one thing the chap would decide to eat," Siegfried explained to a puzzled Carmody.

They allowed the girl to play with the letters, however, and Audrey, rejoining her at the table, showed her how to spell Helen, Dash, Jimmy, Jess, and Richard. "Do you know what your name looks like?"

Audrey picked up a G tile and asked, "Gee?" The girl stared at her and went back to her play. "No matter, love. You play." 

The girl played a few minutes as the adults looked on, then patted Audrey's hand, showed her the J tile, and whispered "Gee."

"So almost certainly a J name, I wager." Siegfried mused, stacking blocks with the boy to keep him occupied.

"Perhaps we should try guessing names that begin with J again," Richard suggested. "We know it's not Jenny. I assume it's not Jess or Jessie, or we would have figured it out by now."

Siegfried reached over towards the child, the J block in his hand. "Is J for Joyce?" he tried. "Janet?" She looked at the block and smiled and showed him the matching J tile.

"Is your name... Judy?" Richard attempted. "Jane?" 

"Joan?" Helen piped up. But still no response.

"Sorry, love." Audrey gave Helen an understanding smile.

Helen pressed on. "Josie? June?"

Audrey's eye widened. "Jean?" The girl stopped playing with the tiles and looked up towards Audrey, who repeated herself. "Jean—it sounds like "gee" but starts with a J. Jean?" The girl continued to look up at her interest. 

From the other end of the table, Siegfried attempted the diminutive version of the name. "Jeannie?" 

The child's head snapped towards him, and she smiled. "Gee." She voiced it louder and more clearly than with any previous effort.

"Oh, love, is your name Jeannie?" The girl looked back at her, grinning broadly. "Gee!" she agreed. Audrey pulled her into a hug. "Oh love! I'm so proud of you! Jeannie! What a lovely name you have!"

Helen gestures towards the boy, but Audrey shook her head over Jeannie's shoulder, whispering "later."

Seeing Audrey's eyes filling, Siegfried announced, "I think this calls for some extra reading time, don't you, Jeannie?"

He clapped and whistled, catching the attention of children and dogs alike, and led the group out of the room to fit in some quality pre-tea time with Nutkin and Twinkleberry.

Audrey took the child-free moment to explain to Helen that she didn't want to risk discouraging the child by asking about her brother so soon after she worked so diligently on providing her own name, stopping to dab her eyes, and sniffling occasionally. Carmody, wishing to return to his reading but still uncertain about how to react to a woman in tears, cautiously confirmed, "These are the happy tears I was informed of, right?"

Audrey smiled. "Yes, happy tears. And thank you for your help, Richard I know the children are..."

"A bit of a trial for me?"

"Aye." 

"I've come to appreciate them to an extent." He seemed surprised by his own admission. 

Audrey laughed at the less than glowing compliment. "I suppose we'll be glad for that, at least!" 

Convinced all was well and he could return to his reading, Carmody walked over, gave Audrey a rather stiff one-armed hug, and left, secure in the knowledge that everyone in his new household was currently happy.

******************************

Audrey called the household ("her family," as she often privately thought of them) to the dining room slightly earlier than was their typical Sunday custom, anticipating that the children may be extra tired that night given they had take a shortened nap after a weekend that had held some difficulties.

Siegfried brought grins to the women and children by emphasising Mrs. Hall and Jeannie's names every time he spoke to them. "Mrs. Hall, please pass the parsnips." "Jeannie, do you need something to drink?" "Mrs. Hall, everything is delicious." "Jeannie, don't you agree?"

Helen hid her giggles by turning to smile at Jimmy, cooing in his basket by the table. Richard, however, was still contemplating the details of the name situation.

"Surely her given name would be Jean, not Jeannie, don't you agree? Why would she fail to respond to Jean?

"I don't care if her name is actually Esmeralda, Carmody; if she responds to Jeannie, I shall call her Jeannie.

"But isn't it odd that she didn't respond to her given name?"

"She did respond in a way. She looked at Mrs. Hall, which was an expression of interest." 

"But," Richard began his next point of debate when Helen interrupted.

"She might not even know that's her name. They may only ever call her Jeannie."

"I see. I was never called any sort of pet name by my parents, so I wouldn't know anything about such things." Richard retreated back from the conversation, only to be pulled back by Siegfried.

"Take James Herriot the Third, here. He'll need to be specifically taught his full name, as we all refer to him as Jimmy."

"I suppose that's true, but even so, if a few years from now someone were to call him Jim, he'd probably recognise it as similar, wouldn't he?"

Siegfried held out his hands, palms up in a gesture of happiness at having reached an agreement. "Exactly, Carmody! Which is likely why she did look up when she heard Jean. It was familiar, even if it was not precisely what she was used to hearing."

Richard nodded his head, looking silently pleased to have adequately reasoned out the situation. "I am pleased we solved the puzzle of her name," he added. "Especially given that our confusion was of own making. She was saying j-e-e as in the initial sound of Jean or Jeannie, but we heard that sound and associated it with the letter gee instead, making everything more complicated than it needed to be."

He was quiet a moment. "I guess Mr. Herriot was right. People really are the ones who are the bother in most situations!" The adults around the table laughed, and Richard suddenly felt doubly pleased. 

******************************

Supper and the nightly trip to the animal shed had both been completed, and the bedtime rituals all carried out. The two most senior members of the household, both eager for their traditional chat, had no sooner settled into their armchairs, drinks poured and waiting at the flanking side tables, when the ringing of the phone broke the peaceful stillness of the room.

Audrey grasped the arms of the chair to hoist herself up, but Siegfried gestured for her to remain seated, claiming it was his turn to answer calls. His face was drawn with resignation when he returned. 

"Dobson needs me." 

"I'm sorry. After a quiet day, it would've been nice for you to have a quiet night as well."

Her comment made him smirk, despite his disappointment in having been called into the cold winter night. "Quiet? Did you put this morning out of your mind already?"

"Quiet in regards to calls." She gave him a knowing look. "Which I know you understood."

"How boring would your life be if I readily agreed with everything you said?"

"I'd think you were coming down with summat."

"Why, Mrs. Hall, was that your way of admitting to appreciating my occasionally teasing nature?"

Ignoring his loaded question, she corrected him instead. "Audrey."

Momentarily stymied by the unexpected response, Siegfried just stared at her, slightly perplexed.

"Just because you're leaving don't mean it's not still the time for our nighttime talks, and during our talks, I'm Audrey." Her grin was a seemingly impossible cross between bashful and confident, and Siegfried had a passing wish for a different career, one that did not draw him away from a quiet nightcap with the woman he loved.

Siegfried pushed away the impossible wish and quipped, "We finally have one of the children saying their name, and now I'm forgetting the names we're supposed to be using."

Audrey chuckled. "Best be going—you've got a cow needs seeing."

"Don't wait up...Audrey."

"Be careful out there...Siegfried."

******************************

Siegfried made his way through the house, giving everything a final check before finally heading up to bed after a long day. As he moved through the dining room, his eyes came to rest on Audrey, dozing in his favourite chair. She stirred as he purposely entered the room with steps heavier than necessary. 

"I told you that you needn't wait for me when I'm called out at night, especially not with all of your extra responsibilities right now."

She blinked away her sleepiness. "And I told you that with things as they are, I need to know everyone are safe and accounted for. Least those here in the house."

"Well then, you are now free to clock in a few hours of sleep, my dear, for I am very much safe and accounted for."

She nodded and began to walk by him. Pausing at his side, she reached up to rest her hand on his upper arm, surprising herself with how affected she was by the feel of his bicep under her fingers. She collected herself to the best of her ability and murmured, "I'm very glad that you are. Goodnight Siegfried."

Siegfried stood a moment, watching her leave the room, wondering how long he might continue to imagine that he could still feel the lingering weight of her grasp.

Chapter Text

Monday, 17 February, 1941: 

Skeldale House and its inhabitants awoke Monday morning to the steady patter of raindrops against the roof and window panes. In the bedsit, on the uppermost floor of the house, Helen Herriot's day started before the others, her infant son waking her when the world was still fast asleep and the skies shrouded in inky darkness. She gathered the boy and his swaddling blankets and wearily climbed back into the warmth of her own bed coverings, opening the top of her gown to offer sweet sustenance with which to quell the hunger causing his early morning cries. When his pangs were satisfied, she tucked him carefully back into his cradle and closed her eyes again, grateful for the few remaining hours until daybreak.

One floor below, and an hour later, her dear friend and only fellow woman at Skeldale was quickly silencing the ringing of her bedside clock. Audrey Hall waited a beat, and hearing nothing but silence, took a moment to simply be. She took a few deep breaths, stretched her arms and back, and rolled her neck before finally swinging her long legs out into the cool air of the room. Finding her slippers and dressing gown in the dark, she made her way to the end of the room, to the children who had found temporary accommodations in the typically empty corner of her bedroom. She ran a hand over soft cheeks and tangled hair, whispering tender morning salutations to the slumbering toddlers. 

At the opposite end of the hall, on the same floor, the student vet unknowingly had only a half hour of slumber left. The textbook that had lulled Richard Carmody to sleep the night before lay open on the bed beside him, to be read in every free moment of the new day. He would soon be summoned by his regular morning routine of feeding animals, prepping exam rooms, and checking medication stores. But for now, he enjoyed the final minutes of deep, dreamless repose.

Two doors down, the senior vet and king of the proverbial castle slept on, spending every moment that he could in bed after having been out in the bitter winds of the dales late into the night, seeing to a bovine patient. Siegfried Farnon didn't hear any of the overnight cries of the baby above him, nor the early morning shuffling of feet and shushing of little voices outside his door. He was thoroughly ensconced in a delightful dream in which the woman in the hallway currently starting yet another busy day, was instead spooned in front of him under the eiderdown, his own arms wrapped around her warm, soft body. 

The rain continued to beat its steady rhythm upon the streets and rooftops of Darrowby, waiting to greet the residents with a day of grey and gloom. While back inside Skeldale, two drowsy dogs lifted their heads from their basket, their sensitive hearing picking up familiar footsteps on the staircase. Their mistress and the small visiting humans were on their way to bring light, warmth, and happy chatter to the new day.

********************

Siegfried entered the scullery an hour later, finding the rest of the household already gathered around the table and the object of his recent dreams just starting to dole out breakfast. 

"Good morning, everyone!" He smiled at the group—some of the most important people in his life, all waiting to share their morning meal with him. He felt a strong sense of gratitude in seeing them congregated each morning, as it was five months ago that he faced the terrifying thought of once again being the only human occupant of the house. Carmody wasn't yet living here. James and Tristan were both off to serve in yet another war. Helen had returned to Heston, and the woman he loved beyond reason had informed him she would be leaving as well. 

James and Tristan were both still away, of course, a source of silent concern for him each and every day. But Helen had returned and brought Jimmy into the family for everyone to dote on and adore. Carmody agreed to move in, lightening the veterinary load and giving him someone to share advice and work stories with. They even had two extra guests now, in the form of Jeannie and her brother. Just thinking of her by name made his smile grow. As did his final thought as he surveyed the room—Audrey. She had not left. She had stayed. And in doing so, she restored the life to his body that had very nearly left him in the swift, devastating landslide of dread that had smashed into him as the words of her impending departure left her lips. But that was behind them now, and he had spent five months trying his best not to take any of these people for granted any longer. A vow for which he felt a surge of renewal as he took a seat alongside his created family of friends at the table.

After his general greeting, Siegfried leaned across his plate to speak specifically to the children who were engaged in some sort of game, the rules unspoken and yet still understood—at least by the two of them. 

"Good morning, Jeannie!" The little girl paused in her play to gift him with a pleased smile, which Siegfried knew mirrored his own. Deciding upon an immediate start to his mission of learning the boy's name as well, Siegfried launched into a silly string of greetings directed at the younger child.

"Good morning, Abraham! Did you sleep well, Balthazar? Or is it Cornelius?"

Jeannie looked up at him in confusion, while the boy ignored him completely.

"Perhaps Demetrius? Ezekiel? Ferdinand?"

"How about breakfast?" Audrey interrupted, a bemused expression on her face and a pan in her hand, as she stood waiting at his side for access to the man's empty plate.

"My apologies, Mrs. Hall." Siegfried sat back in his chair, allowing her to spoon scrambled eggs out and nodding as she gestured towards a covered dish with her utensil. 

"Potatoes in there, if you're so inclined."

"Thank you. These eggs look delicious, don't they, Gustav?"

The boy, having had a bowl full of his favourite eggs now placed before him, didn't even look up as he dove into his food with gusto.

"I suppose I shall continue my guesses later." And Siegfried turned his attention to his food at last, craning to see if Carmody, currently in possession of the bowl of perfectly browned potatoes, was saving any for him.

********************

Siegfried made one last pass through the scullery before opening the clinic on the pretext of letting Audrey know that both he and Carmody would be attending surgery that morning. A pretext which she saw clear through, of course, as they had already discussed that very thing over breakfast. She assumed he was checking if she or the children needed anything before he started his day, which she felt was very thoughtful of him. And while that was true to an extent, in actuality, Siegfried has seen Helen through the door of the second exam room as she ascended the stairs empty-handed, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to steal a moment with Audrey, just the two of them (and three young ones, of course), before the beginning of what might prove to be another harried day.

"I told Helen it seems I never have a chance to hold him anymore. First I were away, and then I came home with me hands full." Her smile was still slightly apologetic when the topic of her bringing the children to Skeldale was touched upon, and Siegfried's heart clenched at the thought that after all of these days she still harboured anxiety over the impact her impulse decision had on the household. 

He felt the children were a fine diversion from the near constant topic of war around the village and surrounding dales. And he would miss the mix of playfulness and tenderness they brought to the house once they were returned to wherever it was they truly belonged. Not wishing to delve into such a heavy conversation so early in the day, he chose to fall back on the easy teasing that made up such a delightful part of their relationship.

"I feel as though we've had this discussion before, Mrs. Hall," he smirked before stepping closer to grasp the baby's hand and babble at him for a moment.

"That's because it's still true," she insisted stubbornly. "This is the first time I've held him all week."

"It's only Monday!" Siegfried turned once more to Jimmy. "She's so silly, our Mrs. Hall. Isn't she?"

"I meant a week's worth of days, Siegfried Farnon, and you know it." Her expression was mirthful as she held Jimmy closer and turned her body in jest so as to keep the baby away from Siegfried. She looked up at him over her shoulder expectantly, waiting for his next light-hearted retort.

"What I know, my dear, is that you have certainly held him several times the past several days. I seem to vividly recall a rather long spell Saturday morning, for instance."

"That were a necessity, and he were crying. That don't count. I mean holding him like this, just for a cuddle when he's happy," she answered, sounding slightly petulant, a quality that tickled Siegfried for some reason.

His laugh was low and quick as he manoeuvred himself to Audrey's side and clucked the baby's chin. "I seem to recall his grandmother informing us that it would be beneficial for him to learn that he cannot be held every minute of the day."

Audrey's head snapped up, and she stared at him open-mouthed for an instant before she pitched her return. "You should talk! Besides," she added in a falsely haughty tone, "with you always looking to swoop in to grab him, I weren't holding him very often even before."

Siegfried released a burst of chuckled laughter. "Oh no, of course you weren't." 

"Stop that!" she exclaimed, though there was no real intent behind her words.

"Stop what, exactly, Mrs. Hall?" Siegfried's eyes danced merrily in amusement over their good-natured exchange.

"Laughing at me." The minute degree of petulance was back, hiding just beneath her mock stern glare, and Siegfried had to briefly press his lips firmly together to avoid laughing yet again.

He waited a beat, then, in a far softer tone, insisted, "I wasn't laughing at you. You simply make me happy." 

Audrey's face bloomed into surprised smile and blushed to the roots of her hair, then ducked her head and returned to talking to Jimmy, studiously avoiding looking up at Siegfried, who couldn't help but feel rather gleeful at her obvious reaction to his words.

********************

"Post's here! Bit damp, sorry." Helen held a few rain-speckled envelopes aloft as she returned to the sitting room after answering the knock at the front door. "Summat for Richard. And one for you, Audrey." She reached across the side table to hand the small piece of mail to its recipient, who was listening to the radio while attending to a small pile of darning and keeping an ear open for the children who were playing nicely with their newest toys, the playthings still a novelty.

"Don't look to be from Edward, though," Helen warned regretfully.

She peered across the hall, and seeing the exam room door closed, tucked the envelope for the young vet into her pocket to deliver later, along with what appeared to be two bills for Siegfried.

"Nowt from any of the lads," she announced, having reached the bottom of the small pile of correspondence. 

Audrey's heart went out for Helen, knowing the anticipation the post's arrival brought about each day and the disappointment each time nothing arrived. "I'm sorry, love."  She gave her own opened envelope a little wave, hoping to distract Helen from her postal letdown. "Mine's from Gerald." She sighed. 

"Oh dear. That sigh don't make it sound good."

"I promised to write that day at the station. To tell him how things turned out with..." Her words tapered off, and she motioned towards the children instead. "But then he rang, so I didn't think it were still necessary to write."

"And he disagreed," Helen worked out with a grimace. "What does he say?" Helen took a seat in the closest chair, nearby to where Jimmy was lying in his basket, cooing in happy fascination at his own hands, and leaned in towards her friend, predictably engrossed in the ongoing situation between Audrey and her former beau.

"He says he's writing a week after his phone call. He points out he hasn't heard from me." She sighed again. "And he hopes all is well and that things have returned to what amounts to normal around here."

Helen raised her eyebrows with a smirk. "You can't fault him for his description of this place, but will you write him back to tell him they're still here?" 

"It seems impolite not to answer. But what do I say? He expects everything to be as it was. I can't lie and say that's right. But if I tell him they're still here..." Once again, she let her sentence peter out as she set the letter aside and leaned back, bringing her cupped hands up over her mouth in tired agitation.

"He'll think he was right about it being a bad idea when he reads they're still here."

"Aye. Feels silly to keep having the same disagreement with him when nowt will change either of our minds."

"But you feel bad to ignore it," Helen surmised sympathetically.

"I'd feel guilty. He were always kind to me. To not answer would be an unkindness on my part."

"And he's already called and written—if you don't answer, he may just turn up on his white steed to save you from the lot of us." Helen winked, and Audrey grinned in appreciation of her friend's cheeky humour and her innate ability to know just when Audrey needed a dose of it.

********************

Helen and Audrey were still talking when Helen caught movement out of the corner of her eye and saw the door to the surgery open and an older woman leave, a small cage in her arms. Helen gave the woman a small wave, and seeing the waiting area was currently empty, excused herself to bring the vets their post.

"Here you are. These came while you were with Mrs. Cadman." She handed the letter to Richard and the bills to Siegfried, who scowled.

"I miss being able to hand these things over to your husband," he groused.

"You can always invite Miss Harbottle back." Helen's dimpled grin was wide and teasing.

"Never you mind. I'll take care of the blasted things myself."

"Who's Miss Harbottle?" Richard asked as he turned his own post over and over in his hands before becoming aware of what he was doing and jamming the letter into his pocket.

"A story for another time." Siegfried answered quickly, throwing a look of warning towards Helen, who held up her open hands and took on an innocent expression, before smirking and leaving the two men to their work—or lack thereof.

********************

As the morning hours pressed on, the rainfall did not abate, and the Skeldale family kept themselves busy indoors as much as possible, venturing out into the downpour only to attend to the animals in their care or bring out the dogs, the latter of which asked to go out of doors less often on this morning when each trip left them needing to vigorously shake out a coat of chilled rain and then rush back to their basket near the stove trying to regain their prior warmth.

In the front of the house, Richard and Siegfried found themselves low on clientele, the local villagers seemingly less likely to stop by in the miserable weather unless absolutely necessary, and even the phone brought only a few minor issues their way. Siegfried warned that the reduction in farm trips was the calm before another type of storm, with the farmers saving their calls for when lambing season picked up its pace.

In lieu of a waiting room full of dogs and cats, birds, and tiny beasts, the two busied themselves with the administrative and organisational side of the practice, both of which Siegfried begrudgingly admitted weren't nearly so bad when you had someone willing to engage in interesting discussion while tackling the rather mundane chores.

In the back of the house, the youngest resident continued to be in a lovely mood, whimpering only when the times for his feeds approached and otherwise finding the observation of the world around him, along with the aforementioned new found appreciation for his fists, plenty to keep him content, even when those around him were occupied with other matters. 

Those other matters consisted mostly of laundering his nappies and the baking of a recipe, shared at the latest Women's Institute Meeting, that promised to yield something that should pass for biscuits, the latter of which was moving along slowly as the experimental baking involved the help of the two small children in the house. Whether or not their assistance was truly productive was a conversation the women of the household didn't need to have. The wry looks shared over the heads of the children were all either required to silently agree that while they were spending double the time and making triple the mess, it was still worthwhile to let the little ones participate. If the dozen promised biscuits became only ten, after a few spoonsful were lost to the floor, where Jess and Dash quickly did their part to help in the clean-up, the adults would have to make due with less. If there was an extra load of laundry added to the week's work load, no one would complain. And if the occasional small finger went from bowl to mouth to bowl again, they'd keep the unauthorised sampling to themselves.

********************

As the morning progressed, a few more animals did make their way through the doors of Skeldale, despite the relentless wet, grey weather. And it was in between a wheezy rabbit and a tabby cat with an irritated ear that Helen slipped into the exam room with a tray bearing tea and the four most appealing-looking of the carrot biscuits, which in regards to taste actually turned out better than Helen had expected. Siegfried looked at the clock, surprised to see how much time had gone by, despite it being a slow day thus far.

"I've brought tea and some biscuits for when you have a minute. They're from a new recipe. Bit more cakey than I expected, but not bad."

"You're making me less inclined to try them by the minute," Siegfried joked.

"They're fine. The children loved theirs." 

"In that case, they must be fairly edible; otherwise, the lad would never dream of touching them." Siegfried accepted the tray, setting it down on a newly cleared bit of cabinet top.

"How is everything faring with the rest of the household?" Siegfried inquired.  "Besides the cake biscuits, that is."

"Jimmy's napping, the children are playing, lunch is on the stove, and Audrey is answering her letter from Gerald. 

Siegfried set his teacup back down, trying not to choke on his initial sip. "Gerald?" he spluttered.

"Yes, it came in today's post." She gave Siegfried a knowing smirk and enjoyed the chance to wind the man up a bit. "Maybe it's a belated Valentine."
 
"You're not as humourous as you seem to believe yourself to be, Helen." 

"Oh, that's me told," Helen laughed. "I best be going—I need to mind the little ones so she can focus on her letter."

********************

With the day's lunch simmering on the stovetop, a loaf of bread cooling to go with it, and Jimmy's nappies moved to the overhead rack to rid them of any remaining dampness, Audrey took the relatively peaceful time to pen not only a succinct but polite reply to Gerald, but also a short note each to James and Tristan, and the start of another letter to Edward. She had been sending letters to her son regularly, despite any return correspondence taking longer and longer to arrive in the past several months.

She had been staring at the wall, lost in her thoughts; the first few lines all that had so far made it to the page, when Siegfried appeared by her desk, the tea tray with its empty cups and saucers in hand.

"Ah! I didn't realise you would still be writing to Mr. Hammond," he stammered, fighting the urge to look down at the sheet of stationary in front of her. 

Startled and momentarily confused, Audrey looked blankly at Siegfried before registering the tray in his hands and getting up to take it from him. 

"Gerald? No, I were done with that awhile ago." 

She pointed with the tray towards the children, pushing the truck and horse across the table and over the handles of several spoons, Jeannie vocalising an "Ah-ahh!" sound each time the toys went up and over the bumps in their make-believe road. Helen sat at the far end of the table, perusing an old Woman's Own issue for future gardening tips, while guarding against any toys being pushed with enough force to crash to the floor.

"Seeing as they're still happy with their toys, I took the time to write to James and Tris, and now to my Edward." She looked over at his photo and sighed. "Again. I keep writing, but I haven't heard from him in an age. I wonder if he's receiving my letters or if he's still writing any back." 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hall. I know how difficult it can be waiting to hear from them. I'm sure he is writing, and the letters are simply taking longer to reach us." He offered a smile that he hoped was reassuring, and she gave a weak smile in return. 

"Well, at any rate, it's almost time to put lunch on the table, so if you and Mr. Carmody are free, perhaps we can all eat together."

Siegfried understood the topic was one she felt unwilling to delve into further at the given time, and gracefully accepted the change in subject.

"That sound like a very nice idea. I'll collect Carmody and put out the sign."

********************

Shortly after lunch, the little ones found respite from their busy day of eating, playing, observing, and growing. They were tucked under warm covers, with kisses brushed across their foreheads as their eyelids grew heavy, and tranquil little smiles gracing their features as they nodded off for a spell. 

Audrey and Helen returned to the scullery, where they spent a languid hour sipping hot tea, folding laundry, and enjoying one another's company. The rain had decreased to a cold drizzle, its sound changing to a gentle swish against the glass panes, creating a calming ambience for their conversation.

Richard answered the insistent ringing of the phone and alerted Siegfried that someone was needed out on a farm as soon as possible. The surgery was as clean and tidy as it could ever hope to be, the waiting room still empty, and so the "Surgery Closed" sign was placed back on the front door, and both men set out into the mild shower, beneath grey clouds stretching thick overhead as far as the eye could see.

********************

Quiet, easy times have a dependable tendency to be short-lived, and within an hour the soft rain turned torrential, bringing gusty winds that whipped around Darrowby and the surrounding dales; and the peaceful, relatively carefree work and chatter taking place in the kitchen was interrupted by the cries of first the young boy, then, when frightened awake by her brother, Jeannie as well. By the time Audrey had comforted away the tears of the two in her room, she heard that Jimmy had given up on his nap as well. 

The group returned to the ground floor, where Helen nestled into an armchair with the baby to offer the solace of a warm, loving embrace and the tender nourishment found in the arms of a mother. 

Audrey relaxed into the centre of the settee, gathering a child to each side, humming soft songs to gradually ease the two back into the noise and activity that would come along as they moved into the later afternoon and early evening hours.

Helen and Audrey exchanged relieved smiles as their charges left their tears behind and savoured the gentle cossetting of the women who cared for them so lovingly.

The five had enjoyed but a few hushed moments snuggled in the sitting room when the dogs alerted them to the return of the men from their call out to the Rudd farm. A few moments more, and voices could be heard arguing in the hall. Helen adjusted Jimmy's blankets and cast a glance at Audrey, who hugged the children a bit closer before calling out to the bickering duo. 

"Everything all right?" 

Siegfried poked his head into the open doorway in surprise. "Oh! I expected that they would still be asleep."

"And so you thought you'd see how loud the two of you could be before your arguing woke them?" Helen asked.

Richard's apology from out in the hall was overlapped by Siegfried's contesting that they were merely having a lively debate, which in turn was cut off by the ringing of the telephone. Carmody saw an open escape route and promptly volunteered to answer the call. He returned in short order, an unreadable expression on his face. 

"It's for you, Mrs. Hall. It's the constable."

"Oh dear." Audrey began to extricate herself from her spot wedged between Jeannie and the boy when Siegfried insisted that he would take the call so that she could remain in place.

As Carmody had scurried off to answer the ringing phone, Siegfried had belatedly become aware that he had burst in on a tender hiatus from the normal routine for the five dear people before him, and so in offering to take the call, he hoped Audrey understood the dual nature of his gesture—one of both assistance and apology for his clamorous reappearance in the house.

His conversation with Constable Lamley came with the same brevity they had become accustomed to when hearing from the man. He had received the photographs and would now double back and make new inquiries in the hopes a face might spark memories where mere descriptions failed to find success.

"The pride of the Royal Mail, even during times of war," Siegfried had quipped before bidding the man a good afternoon and replacing the handset and muttering to himself. "They don't seem to ever as quick when someone has posted payment for me, though." 

"Excuse me?" 

Siegfried looked up to find Carmody hovering, waiting to hear any news. Siegfried passed on the message and decided to correct his earlier mistake, inviting the young man to the Drovers to pick up their discussion in a less rushed situation.

Siegfried leaned into the front room once again, and keeping his attention on Audrey alone, much to Helen's continued amusement, shared the reason for Lamley's call, then informed her of his plans to treat Carmody to an ale and pie. She smiled in her pleased agreement with the idea, and peace was restored to the house once more.

********************

"The rain may have stopped, but the wind is still frigid," Siegfried remarked as he and the dogs joined Audrey late that night in the sitting room after their final trip outside.

"I'm glad it stopped before it were time to feed the animals. If we tried to keep the lad in, there may have been mutiny."

Siegfried brought their drinks over and collapsed next to Audrey, realising he had seated himself closer than usual and deciding that was perfectly fine with him, so as long as she felt the same. Her dazzling smile as she accepted her cordial glass, along with his proximity, warmed his lingering chill far better than the fire ever could.

"How were your time with Mr. Carmody?"

"It went very well, thank you. That reminds me of something, however. Would it be terribly audacious of me to enquire about the post you received today?"

"What has that to do with Richard?" she queried, curious, and also a bit amused by his somewhat apprehensive nature in asking.

"He received post today as well," Siegfried explained simply.

Audrey nodded, recalling Helen's brief mention of the letter that morning. "I see." She paused, considering her words. "Gerald wrote asking what were the end result in regards to the children."

"I see." Siegfried sipped his whisky to leave the floor open for her to elaborate if desired.

"I didn't feel right not answering, but I do hope he won't keep quarrelling with me about it."

"Given that the children's accommodations have nothing to do with him, I'm not entirely sure why he's so relentlessly interested."

"I don't know." Audrey shrugged and sighed before changing the subject. "Now, what were all that about with Richard earlier?"

"Yes, I fear our overly exuberant conversation was the unfortunate result of my attempt to press unsolicited advice onto the poor chap, and furthermore to attempt to do so in a fleeting window of time."

"Which one might say just means you were putting your beak in where it weren't invited."

"Which is why I asked him to the pub, so that we might try having the discussion again at a more leisurely pace, and whenceforth I could endeavour to only give my personal assessment of the situation if requested to do."

"And did that work?"

"He was far more willing to share his thoughts—and to consider mine." Siegfried canted his head in deliberation, then added sheepishly, "Probably because I ceased shouting all of my opinions at him." 

Siegfried turned to the woman alongside him with a shamefaced grin.

She patted his arm to soften the eye roll she delivered along with it. 
 
"His parents have written." It was Siegfried's turn to pause. "They are asking him to provide a firm date for his return to London to sit his exams. They issued a reminder that he was invited to stay on to help us only over the holiday period. And now, since we are closer to Easter than to Christmas, they expect an answer from him within a week's time."

Siegfried reached for his glass and gave a small chuckle. "Richard has decided to read that request as having a full week in which to post the letter. I'm not at all sure that was his parents' intent, but I certainly wasn't about to question it."

"Good man. But what did that have to do with your—what did you call it? Your 'overly exuberant conversation' in the hallway?"

"I may have initially indicated that he was a grown man and he could stay wherever he wished for as long as he wished."

"Conveniently forgetting who pays for his schooling, I gather?"

"I should have you present whenever I speak to anyone, Audrey. My conversations would almost assuredly go better with you there to guide me."

"You usually figure it out in the end." She patted his arm a second time, and he leaned back against the cushion and closed his eyes, enjoying their closeness and their time together.

"I shall miss him. Both in and out of the practice." Siegfried's confession was soft, and as his eyes were still closed, Audrey gazed at him freely. She saw fondness and sadness on his face, with a heartbreaking mix of worry and exhaustion as well. 

She wished she could do more to comfort him, that their relationship would allow her to reach out to him as she would to Tris or Helen. Her stomach fluttered at the next thought that swiftly came to mind, pointing out that her feelings for Siegfried were not at all the same as those she held for Tristan and Helen, and making her long for the right to open her arms to him all the more.

Siegfried scrubbed a hand over his face. "When you tell someone you are a vet, you entertain them with your oddest or most harrowing tales. You never mention the countless times you do nothing more than trim a beak or hoof, wash and dress a minor wound, treat fleas, remove a tick, or simply assure a nervous owner that their animal is perfectly well."

He brought his hand down, lacing his fingers together in front of him before continuing. "When you have extra help, those tasks are the ones you pass along, giving yourself a chance to sit and breathe, to rest for even a solitary moment. But when you are alone, those minor complaints take up an enormous amount of accumulated time. Having Carmody step in and remove those cases from my workload these past few months has been more helpful than I could ever express."

"You still ought to try." Audrey's expression was gentle as she offered her own advice.

"I'll be trying my very best, but I'll never keep up once he's gone."

"No, I meant you ought to try to express how helpful he's been to you."

"I just did."

"Not to me." She fought against a second eyeroll she felt coming on fast. "Tell Richard. He deserves to hear all of that."

"Oh." Siegfried's face had taken on a look of mild horror, and Audrey had to give in and laugh.

"Oh, you daft man, it's not so hard to tell a lad that he's done a good job. I've heard you tell Tris or James they've done well. Why not Mr. Carmody?" 

"I'm fairly sure I've never said quite so much to James or Tristan."

"Consider it practice. You know our Mr. Carmody isn't the best with his human skills yet. He won't mind if it's a bit hard for you to say it."

"You always have such wise words for me, Audrey."

"You've got plenty of good ideas yourself, Siegfried Farnon—you just need to decide to give in and do them—like when you invited Carmody to come stay here in the first place." She patted his joined hands, and he grasped hers quickly before she drew it away. 

"Thank you. There are a great many things I have never managed to express to you, as well. I hope you know that—even if I don't find ways to say them."

"I know, Siegfried. I know." She squeezed his hand.

He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles, surprised even as he did so at his impulsive action. Flustered, and without realising he had kept hold of her hand, Siegfried quickly babbled, "I've kept you up late tonight, and after you were up last night as well. We best go, that is, I should let you go...for the night."

Audrey tried valiantly to hold back the ridiculously enormous smile she felt building inside her. She tried to soften her response to a reasonable grin, and focused on keeping her words steady as she answered him. "We'll muddle through; we always do. Goodnight Siegfried."

He released her hand with a soft sigh. "Goodnight Audrey."

Chapter Text

Tuesday, 18 Feb. 1941:

Jeannie was cold. And it was dark. Very dark. When Mrs. Hall put her to bed, the light was there. Now it was gone. Mrs. Hall made her warm with blankets and a pretty quilt with lots of colors. She called it something funny. A lap quilt. Jeannie didn't know why. But she loved it anyway.

Now that was gone too, and she couldn't find it.

She sat up and patted the area around her but only found her brother's arm. He still had blankets. She didn't know why hers were gone.

She didn't know if Mrs. Hall was there. Sometimes at night she could hear Mrs. Hall making sleepy sounds, like the noise when you blow on food because it's too hot to eat. But there was another sound tonight, and she couldn't hear anything else. Just tap-tap-tap-tap on the window.

She didn't like it to be so dark. It was hard to move around. She missed something. Something she could see a little bit in her head if she really tried. It was nighttime light with a special name. 

Twinkle light! The stars and moon were waving at her. Mummy said so.

Mummy!

Where was Mummy? Her eyes got full of crying when she remembered Mummy. One day she was home with Mummy, and then a new mummy came and took them away. She put them on the scary train and brought them to a different house with people Jeannie didn't know. 

Mummy's words were loud and happy. Jeannie liked to hear them. The new mummy's words sounded quiet and scary. The new mummy told Jeannie, "Be quiet!". When she forgot to be quiet, the new mummy slapped her hand. It hurted.

Jeannie remembered her Mummy slapped her one time. Jeannie had seen something shining in the sun out in the street. She wanted to know what it was. It looked like a coin. Mummy used coins at the shops, and Jeannie thought it would be nice to find a coin to use in the shop. She stepped down onto the street with only one foot and Mummy grabbed her arm to bring her back up to Mummy's side, and then Mummy gave her bottom a slap and told her she must never do that. Jeannie cried after the slap, and Mummy hugged her, and told her that the cars and carts and trucks could hurt her much more than a slap. Jeannie felt a bit better after the hug, and she remembered not to go in the street without Mummy.

But the new mummy gave more hurty slaps. Jeannie cried more at the new house. And the new mummy said, "Be quiet!" again and again. There were so many "Be quiets!" and more hurty slaps, too. And there were no more hugs. The new mummy didn't hug the other children either. She was their mummy. She wasn't Jeannie's mummy. She had a different name that Jeannie was supposed to say. She couldn't remember what it was. She never said it. She didn't say anything. She was quiet, so she didn't get more slaps.

She was crying now. She hoped Mrs. Hall would hear her. She needed Mrs. Hall to help her be not so very cold. Mrs. Hall never slapped her. And she did hug her. She would find the blankets and the pretty quilt. She wouldn't use scary words. Mrs. Hall never told Jeannie to "Be quiet!" It was still hard to remember to talk again. And still scary. But she really wanted Mrs. Hall. She knew how to say her name. And she knew Mrs. Hall and Mr. Farnon liked it when she said Mrs. Hall's name, too. "Mi Aw!" "Mi Aw!"

She heard a new noise behind her head. "Mi Aw?"

"Oh, love," she heard. She was still crying, but she also glad to know that Mrs. Hall was there with her. 

***************************************

Mrs. Hall, as she was known to her small charges, had been dreaming of a lamb. It was bleating and bleating, alone in a field, looking for its mother, who was nowhere to be seen. How the lamb and ewe had been separated, Audrey didn't know. Her dream hadn't provided the proper imagery to ascertain that information. It just kept showing her the small, desperately bleating lamb, its knobbly legs trembling as it continued its calls out into the vast emptiness.

As she continued to search the endless field, shading her eyes from the sun's harsh glare with an outstretched hand pressed against her forehead, there was an abrupt shift in the weather, and the field became gloomy, the gathering clouds accompanied by a tapping sound that reverberated around the field. She noticed that the field, in the same instant that the weather had shifted, had become surrounded by walls of windows. She found that her position in the tall grass had changed, and she was suddenly located at one end of the glassed-in field while the lamb was instantaneously transported to the other, still bleating along with the tapping noise.

Audrey opened her eyes to a pitch-black room, the field having disappeared without warning. She had no idea what had happened or what time it was, but as she became more aware of her surroundings, she realised that she had been asleep and that now she could hear sharp taps on her bedroom window. She was puzzled, however, by the continuation of what sounded like the small lamb's plaintive bleating. She blinked a few times to clear the odd dream from her mind and finally recognised the sound as someone crying instead. A fraction of a minute more was all it took for her to determine that Jeannie was the source of the distressful sounds, as the child's little voice, heavy with tears, finally broke through to her. "Mi Aw!" 

"Oh, love! I'm coming. One moment!" Audrey fumbled with sleepy fingers to turn on her bedside table lamp, its golden light casting a soft halo of illumination across the closest portion of the room. She slipped from her bed, forgoing her slippers and dressing gown, and shivered as her body reacted to the ambient room air in contrast to the cosy warmth of her bed. She followed the shadowed outline of her bed as she made her way to the corner where the children were meant to be sleeping on their makeshift mattresses.

She found Jeannie sitting up, hugging herself and crying, her blankets and quilt scattered on the floor. Audrey rushed to collect the young girl, along with her bedding, hoping to soothe her before her cries roused her brother. Audrey pressed kisses to Jeannie's little head and made soft shushing sounds as she sat down in the corner chair, the girl curled up on her lap. 

"Here we are, poppet." She quickly unwound one blanket at a time from the tangle and wrapped them around the girl, then reached over to her own bed for a layer of comfort to wrap around herself.

"You lost your blankets, love. You must be feeling so cold." She reopened her own cover, hugged the child closer to her chest, bringing it back to a close around both of them. "Maybe you knocked your blankets away chasing the dogs in your dreams." 

Jeannie's cries subsided, her tears dried, and her breathing became more even as she relished the feel of her safe, warm spot on Mrs. Hall's lap, with the soft light back again and the woman's heartbeat under her cheek. She wondered why Mrs. Hall was talking about chasing the dogs who didn't seem to even be in the room. But before she could ponder that bit of confusion any further, her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, and all puzzled thoughts about Jess and Dash slipped away.

When Audrey was convinced that Jeannie was well and truly asleep, she carefully returned the girl to her own bed, making sure she was properly tucked into her layers of blankets, and arranged the favoured quilt over the rest. A quick check told her the boy was still fine in that regard, and she returned to her own bed for a few more hours of rest, listening to the sound of sleet clicking against her window panes as she nodded off again. 

***************************************

Carmody came in from the morning feeding of the few currently boarded animals, shaking in the fawn mackintosh he had donned before heading out into the piercing sleet that had greeted the Skeldale family that morning. He was drenched and was already deeply dreading the pencilled list of names that would shortly send him and Mr. Farnon back out into the miserable weather.

"Here you are, Mr. Carmody." Audrey handed the vet a clean, dry tea towel, which he accepted gratefully, wiping away the melted pellets of ice that had pelted his face as he struggled the short distance between house and shed. He took a seat at the table to be immediately presented with a hot cup of freshly brewed tea and a bowl of thick porridge. Neither was anything special. In fact, both were less sweet than he would have preferred, but in that moment he contemplated how fortunate he was to be living here in this house, where someone cared about him enough to anticipate his needs and to try to meet them, not out of obligation but out of simple kindness. He smiled at the woman, and as he thanked her, perhaps more profusely than she expected, he recalled Christmas Day and Mr. Farnon's toast to the "remarkable Mrs. Hall." It was an apt description he felt, and her caring ways would be something Richard would very much miss when he made his return to London.

He was pulled from his melancholy musing by the arrival of Siegfried in the room, who immediately launched into another morning's session of "Guess the Name" with Jeannie's brother.
 
"Good morning, Jeannie! How are you this fine morning?"

Carmody couldn't help but mentally gripe that Mr. Farnon had clearly not had cause to venture out into the "fine morning" thus far, or he'd likely be far less cheerful. However, he kept his thoughts to himself so as to keep enjoying the blessed heat provided by partaking in his morning meal.

Siegfried had moved on to the boy. "And you, young sir, good morning to you as well. Are you feeling well today, Tricki-Woo?"

The boy regarded Siegfried for a moment and turned back to the piece of toast he was mangling.

"Not Tricki-Woo, I take it? How about Dash?" Dash looked up from his place in the basket expectantly, waiting for further direction or some sort of attention. Receiving neither, he shook his head a bit, much like his mistress often did in response to the same man, and lied back down next to Jess.

"Oh, sorry boy!" Siegfried belatedly realised he had confused the poor dog and switched gears with his guessing. "You're not another Siegfried, are you? I do hope not, for your sake."

The boy continued to tear his toast to bits while Jeannie looked up oddly at Siegfried. 

"Is your name Donald, perhaps?" This time, finally understanding what Siegfried was up to, Jeannie shook her head.

"Ah, also no, I see. How about Tristan? Or James?"

Jeannie spared him not even a glance with his last possibilities, turning her attention instead to her food, which, unlike her brother, she began to eat with enthusiasm. When both children ignored him, Helen gave him an amused smirk in their place.

"Okay, the last few guesses, I promise! Is your name Edward?" Audrey, who was placing the last few bits and bobs on the table, graced him with an appreciative smile at his latest attempt.

Siegfried caught her eye, and with a mischievous grin that had her bracing herself for whatever the daft man was about to say next, bent low between the children's chairs and asked in a loud whisper. "Your name isn't Gerald, is it?"

Helen's head snapped up from her own plate, and she stared at Siegfried, wide-eyed in amazement at the man's sheer audacity. Meanwhile, even Carmody paused in his eating, surprised to hear the name of Mrs. Hall's former suitor being used in such a jocular manner. 

Siegfried's eyes returned to Audrey, smiling cautiously, watchful of her reaction. Audrey simply raised her eyebrows and bit back a grin before giving him the exasperated shake of her head that Siegfried was ever so familiar with. The proof that she had taken the teasing as the playful joke it was intended to be triggered a wide grin of his own, and he slid back around the table to seat himself next to the empty place where she would soon join them for breakfast.

***************************************

Siegfried and Richard went over their list and packed their veterinary bags. The morning's icy precipitation and heavy cloud cover concerned Siegfried, who felt it best that the vets attend to the list together, hopefully completing it in good time, so as to return home before the weather became worse.

The two men left via the back of the house, Carmody heading out to the car first, bags in hand, while Siegfried took an extra moment to say his goodbyes to Helen, Audrey, and the children.

"We'll try to get the visits completed as early as possible. We should be back in time for lunch, then we'll hold afternoon surgery hours."

Helen agreed with their plan. "Things often get worse out in the high dales before they do here."

From her place at the sink, Audrey fretted. "It's not too pleasant here already. I've been watching and hearing it hit the windows all morning." 

"We'll use the utmost care, Mrs. Hall, I assure you."

As the door closed behind Siegfried, Audrey let out a long, low sigh.

"They'll be all right," Helen tried to reassure.

"Oh, you're right. I know. I'm just being silly."

"Nowt silly about worrying for someone. We're all far too well-practiced in it these days."

"I think that's why I find meself worrying over even the ones still home. I'm just in the habit of worrying all the time, now." She exchanged a small, sad half-smile with Helen, then took a fortifying breath and turned her attention to the children, still seated in front of their empty places at the table, oblivious to the concern in the air, as they played a wordless version of peek-a-boo with serviettes.

"All right, you two. Mrs. Hall has to do some dusting and hoovering. Time for us to move along. Are the toys in the sitting room, Jeannie?"

Jeannie gave a quick look around the scullery, and spying none of their toys in the room, gave Mrs. Hall a pleased nod. The adults had found that even in just the short while since they learnt Jeannie's name, she already seemed all the more cooperative to do what was asked of her when the request started with the use of her given name. Audrey thought that the poor child probably missed hearing it, and so she couldn't help but be appreciative of Siegfried's continued attempts to learn the boy's name, no matter how much nonsense he might employ in the task.

***************************************

Audrey's continued to issue reminders to herself that Siegfried had driven out to farms in worse weather than this many times before, but her mental platitudes did nothing to quell her nervousness. The war had brought back a level of anxiety within her that she thought she had left in the past. When she first arrived at Skeldale House, she was a bundle of nerves. She had nowhere left to go. No money left to live on. No referrals with which to convince anyone to hire her. No safe home to return to. She had needed the position working for the temperamental veterinarian like she needed her next breath. 

But even upon securing the job, she worried endlessly at first. She had heard the rumours of the women who came before her, only to be sacked in short order or to leave on their own due to the conditions. She had worked in other homes. She wasn't so naive to think that she was safer in the home of a stranger than in her own. She worried that things might prove truly terrible here and that she too would flee. She worried that Mr. Farnon would find fault with her and ask her to leave. She worried Robert would find her and force her to leave. She worried that even if she was allowed to stay on by Mr. Farnon, the people of Darrowby might not accept her. That tongues would wag about the married woman who neither called herself a widow nor spoke of a husband. And on top of all of that, she worried about Edward every dingle day.

As months turned to years, her worries lessened. She had been given no reason to wish to leave Skeldale, or Darrowby. Mr. Farnon seemed happy with her work. Robert never appeared. Her only remaining concerns were Edward's location at any given time and how he was getting on, along with the occasional worry that Siegfried and Tristan might never learn to get along.

But then war arrived again. Twice in as many generations. The Great War ruined her husband; now this war threatened so many more lads, including three so dear to her—including her precious boy. She was not only worried about the lads but also about those they left behind. Helen and the baby, Siegfried, all of the families in the village and dales. 

And with this new wave of wartime worries seem to come so many more. Of course, some, like her concern over the situation with Gerald, were of her own doing. And she brought the concern over the children into the house for everyone to share as well. 

Audrey sighed deeply. Around her lay the forgotten potatoes and shallots she was supposed to be peeling, chopping, and dicing. Her mind refused to stay on her work. It was one thing to be uneasy about aspects of one's life, but losing all track of time to constant agonising over things wasn't like her, and she felt cross with herself.

And yet underneath her annoyance still lurked fear for Siegfried and Carmody out driving in the sleet. So it was with a frustrated grip on her knife that she began chopping away, hoping she could still get lunch on the table in good time. And despite her mental struggle against her misgivings, her mind added the silent hope that everyone would be safely gathered to eat the meal when it was finally prepared. 

Chapter Text

Lunch was made and being kept warm while Helen gave Jimmy a feed and Audrey washed the children for their meal, which she felt she might need to feed them on their own in order to fit in an afternoon nap for the two. It was good to keep busy, and she was glad the children were there in that moment, giving her a never-ending list of things to keep an eye on as they ran about the kitchen while she worked to herd them first to the sink then to their spots at the table. She was having a wordless disagreement with the little one over whether or not he should wear his usual pinny bib and safety tie combination when she heard the sound of the back door opening, a rush of wind, and the stamping of feet.

"Oh, thank the Lord!" A sweeping sense of giddy relief coursed through her, and she let out the breath she felt as though she'd ben holding since they left, beaming at the two slightly snow-covered men, not feeling a care for the fact that they were dripping great puddles onto her floor. 

"I started seeing snow mixing in with the sleet and couldn't help but wonder what the roads were like."

"Unfortunate, but manageable, Mrs. Hall," Siegfried attested. 

"I, for one, am very glad Mr. Farnon was the one at the wheel. Mrs. Pumphrey may be a very good driving teacher, but she didn't pass along any information at all about driving on ice- and snow-covered roads. I fear I still have much to learn." The young man grimaced at the thought.

"Well, you're just in time. Lunch is hot, so leave your wet things for me and come sit down."

Lunch was enjoyed by all, the reserved remnants of bacon lard saved from an earlier breakfast put to good use in adding flavor to the otherwise simple potato soup she provided for the family. Afterwards Richard left to prepare surgery for any afternoon clients who might decide to brave the elements with their pets. Helen helped wipe down the children before announcing she was off to the bedsit to put Jimmy in his cradle and write to James. She got as far rocking the baby in his cot when she realised that she had left Jimmy's clean laundry folded in the kitchen and doubled back to retrieve them.
 
Siegfried was the last to leave the scullery, trying to offer some assistance as Audrey took care of the wet outerwear and floor. He cleared the table of the dishes, and with each return trip to the table, he called out a new guess of the boy's name to the children, who were both kneeling beside the dogs' basket as Jeannie alternated petting Jess then Dash, occasionally trying to tempt her brother to join her.

"Any funny names you have in mind for this batch of guesses?" Audrey walked by him to tuck the mop and bucket out of the way and grabbed a clean tea towel with which to wipe down the wet coats and hats.

Siegfried chuckled as he placed the next stack of crockery into the sink. "Surely the time frame in which I should have been told off for that slight indiscretion has passed by now?"

"Oh, a slight indiscretion were it?"

"It could have been his name!"

Siegfried's eyes twinkled when she pulled her hands up to her hips to pierce him with her patented look of exasperation, the tea towel still dangling from her fingers as she curled her hands against her sides.

More and more lately, he found that he simply delighted in the ways that she reacted to his antics. It was as if the two of them were playing a secret game, in which they both knew the rules without having ever agreed on them, and of which they had decided, equally without discussion, to never mention aloud. It brought him more joy than he could explain to have something like that with her. 

And so he smiled broadly at the woman staring him down and asked, "Should I ask him again to be sure?"

Game or no game, he didn't anticipate her next move. She brought down her arms and, in one swift movement, unfurled her tea towel so that the end of the damp cloth snapped in his direction, just inches from him.

Siegfried tried not to laugh. He truly did. He wanted desperately to keep a mock stern expression, but he lost that fight, and hearty laughter burst forth from him. "My dear Mrs. Hall, you are feisty today!"

"Don't you have summat useful to be getting on with?" Her blazing cheeks gave her away as she pretended not to be astonished at her own cheek.

"Nothing as enjoyable as this, I assure you. At any rate, I dare say we won't be seeing many clients this afternoon."

"Clients or not, I still have things to be doing. Be off with you." 

"Very well. I shall see you all later." He sang to himself as he left the room, pausing only when he noted Helen in the passage, looking on, eyebrows high on her forehead, and wearing a thoroughly incredulous expression.

"Back so soon, Helen?" Siegfried asked blandly as he made his way past her in the stone throughway. 

Helen barely made it through the doorway before interrogating her friend. "What is going on with you two?"

"Nowt but two people being silly to chase away some of the of the constant worrying."

"Siegfried making jokes about Gerald and now you swatting him with a towel? It were more like what I'd expect to see from Siegfried and Tris." Helen shook his head in amusement.

"Teasing me twice in one day, mind you. That were why he deserved the swat," Audrey explained matter-of-factly, turning to the sink to see to the dishes. "Besides, I missed."

"On purpose, surely?" Helen clarified as she gathered the laundry that had resulted in her witnessing the surprising interaction between Audrey and Siegfried in the first place.

Audrey merely hummed in response.

******************************************************

Audrey was sitting down, doing absolutely nothing at all. She was feeling so comfortable in the corner of the sofa, watching the fire, Jess at her feet, and Dash by her side. She wasn't knitting or darning. She wasn't playing or cuddling with the children. She wasn't calming the cries of a baby or listening to the concerns or complaints of an adult. She was just sitting. And it felt rather glorious after days of near constant demands on her time. When the children fell asleep more quickly than usual that afternoon, she took advantage of the few extra minutes to relax as well. And with the men in surgery and Helen doing some cleaning in the bedsit, the one area of the house she insisted Audrey did not have to attend to, Audrey found herself experiencing the most quiet she'd had in an age. 

Her mind flitted to the children as she thought of all of the ways in which the house was typically filled with noise and voices. She had been surprised to see the little one willing to sit with Jeannie and the dogs without an adult there to cajole him. Even if he wasn't speaking and they still didn't know his name, he was showing improvement, and it did her heart good to know that they had been able to help the children while they were here. She prayed every day that when the children left Skeldale it would be to return to their own family as opposed to a children's home or other temporary accommodation, for she feared they would lose all progress if made to live with new strangers all over again. 

She tried to clear her head, annoyed at herself for moving from a single moment's contentment right back into worrying again, and during her only time to rest. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something pleasant. She recalled Helen's interest in being able to garden this year when she was no longer green around the gills or suffering from overtiredness as women who are expecting often do. She had been reading articles in various periodicals and discussing which crops were easiest to preserve, which would last the longest, and which would be most useful. Audrey was picturing a little plot of earth turned over and sprouting the beginnings of a harvest's worth of lovely produce when she heard the ringing of the front bell. She paused to see if either of the vets might answer and was pleased to hear Siegfried's voice greeting whoever was at the door. She recognised the second voice as the visitor came into the house, and she gave Dash and Jess one last pat each before standing and smoothing her skirt. Entering the waiting area, she greeted Mrs. Pumphrey and offered her tea.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hall; that would be most kind." She removed her gloves and hat and handed them to Audrey as she followed her into the sitting room.

"François and I are trying to finish deliveries of extra root vegetables, along with a few other goods, to the church and to a few families we have learnt have need of a helping hand. I have far more than I need thanks to the efforts of the land girls who planted crops at the estate last year." She handed her coat to Audrey as well and sat down, appreciative of the chance to get out of the weather for a minute.

"Tricki became ill in the car, and I had no choice but to ask François to drop me off and continue the deliveries on his own. I was so relieved to see that Mr. Farnon was in today."

Audrey nodded and excused herself to put together a pot of tea. She wished that she had some of the carrot biscuits left to offer as well, but the recipe had made an intentionally small batch in order to conserve ingredients, and the family had quickly finished them all.

She returned to find Siegfried and Mrs. Pumphrey deep in conversation, the latter of the two looking very concerned. Seeing Audrey, she gave her a tremulous smile. "It seems that while I will be leaving shortly to return home, Tricki will be staying with you, Mrs. Hall."

"Oh, I am sorry. I know how you dislike being separated."

"Yes, but one cannot always help such things, can they? Uncle Farnon and Uncle Carmody require a period of observation of my dear Tricki, and it would be unfair of me to keep François out any longer in this awful weather. The roads are fairly treacherous already, and the clouds remain rather ominous, so I fear we will see more of it in the coming hours. I believe it prudent for us to return home as soon as possible."

"You can give us a ring when you arrive home, if you'd like, Mrs. Pumphrey. We can let you know how Trick is doing, and we'll all be glad to hear you've made it home safely."

"That's a lovely suggestion, Mrs. Hall." She reached for the cup being offered. "Thank you for your concern and your hospitality. I always know that my Tricki is in good hands here at Skeldale."

******************************************************

By early evening, the sleet had subsided, but the snowfall had increased, leaving a thin blanket of snow across the gardens, buildings, and roads of Darrowby. Siegfried took a look outside and called for Richard. Jeannie, who had been watching Siegfried's movements from her spot near Audrey's side at the sewing machine, clapped her hands. 

Audrey looked down at the child, then across the room to Siegfried in concern. "Is it bad enough to need both of you?"

"It's rather nasty business out there with this snow falling over the earlier layer of sleet. It's coming down steadily, and I don't have reason to believe it will stop anytime soon. It may be difficult walking out to the shed come morning. We only have two animals out there right now, so I'll have Richard help me bring them both in the house for the night. I'm afraid it will have to be just the two of us, though." He cast a regretful glance at the child, who was obviously eager for her scheduled turn to help feed the animals.

Siegfried sighed and called the girl over to him. "I'm sorry, Jeannie, but I can't bring you outside tonight. It's very slippery outside, and you might fall."

Jeannie may not have comprehended the reason for Siegfried's concern, but she certainly understood that he wasn't going to take her to see the animals that night and her face crumpled. Audrey made to come offer comfort, but Siegfried held up a hand, wordlessly asking for a chance to comfort the child.

"Jeannie. we're going to bring the animals here, in the house. So you can still see them. Do you understand? We'll bring them right here into the kitchen. What do you think about that?"

Jeannie sniffled but nodded, albeit with a slight wariness, as if she wasn't convinced that what she thought he meant was actually what would happen.

Siegfried picked her up and carried her over to Mrs. Hall. "You stay right here, and Richard and I will bring the animals to you as quickly as we can."

"Be careful. I fretted over you driving in this, and it would be a poor do if you wound up injuring yourselves walking instead."

Siegfried wished he could gather her up and comfort her as easily as he could Jeannie. He settled for a smile and to reassure her that they would take the utmost care.

Audrey pointed to the cushion on her desk chair. "Why don't you give Tricki-Woo some nice pets while you wait, love?" Jeannie stroked the long hair of the pampered Pekingese, who seemed to be feeling much better since his arrival at Skeldale. ("Likely his typically over-indulgent diet mixed with being overheated by the mountain of blankets she had wrapped around him in the car," Siegfried had suggested knowingly.)

Audrey continued her work on the battered "Mr. Lion," as Tristan had apparently christened the stuffed toy, who had lost an ear shortly after tea, and the children had been aghast at the development. It was difficult working on the tiny stitches with a toddler trying to climb on you, which is why Helen was now in the front room with the boys, while Audrey worked at her sewing machine table as they waited for what they thought would be Jeannie's time to help Siegfried. 

It was the better part of a half hour before Richard and Siegfried returned with two hay-lined cages, each containing a cat. Siegfried showed the children the brown and tan mackerel tabby and a black cat with a patch of white on its abdomen and a single white stripe down its face, who had been given the name Zebra.

Audrey had stifled a giggle at the name. "It's a bit of a stretch for a creature with just one stripe, innit?"

She then announced that her work was done as well, handing Mr. Lion back to Jeannie, who was pleased as punch with both the lion's successful surgery and the arrival of the cats into the scullery.

******************************************************

Their glasses were empty, the dogs asleep, and the Herriots and children had long since returned to their rooms upstairs. Sitting together on the settee, Audrey and Siegfried had given up any pretence of pressing themselves against at the far ends of the sofa, a field of empty golden ochre brocade between them. Instead they had met in the centre, each straddling two fringed cushions to sit side by side with only inches between them as they had gone over their day, their topics of discussion primarily comprised of the children and the weather. 

And as the night wound down and both knew it was about time for them to take their leave of their quiet time with one another, Siegfried wanted to be sure of one specific thing.

"Audrey, I want you to know that I do apologise if I went too far this morning and afternoon, with my joking over the little chap's name."

Audrey tilted her head and smiled, reaching out to cover his hand with hers. "No, Siegfried. You didn't. I knew you were teasing, and this afternoon especially, when I were so worried for you and Carmody, I were happy for a chance to be a bit..."

"Jovial?" Siegfried suggested.

"I were thinking ridiculous." Her smile became larger, her dimples making an appearance.

"It's always "ridiculous" with you. You never find me patient or careful or adaptable. No, just ridiculous." His own jocular smile belied his intentionally petulant tone as he teased her yet again.

"I were primarily thinking of meself, but you can hardly blame me for including the rest of the household. It's always lively here even before we add half of Darrowby traipsing through with every sort of creature—occasionally loose and running about, too. Ridiculous is probably kinder than what others might call it." 

Siegfried chuckled at her apt description. "Remember the goats!"

"Aye—in me pantry! Though in the end it were James who done the most damage." She joined him in his laughter.

As their laughter subsided, Siegfried noted an improvement he'd noticed over the past few days. "We're doing far better with using our given names during our talks lately."

Audrey patted his arm. "We are. We've done good."

Siegfried gave her a conspiratorial wink. "But do you think it may become difficult to remember the mister and missus during the daytime hours as we go on?"
 
"We'll have to be on our guard, I suppose."

"I've already come close to calling you Audrey a few times," he admitted.

"Oh, I have no doubt it will be you to make the first mistake." She challenged, bumping her shoulder against his in jest. 

"We shall see, Mrs. Hall, we shall see." 

******************************************************

Siegfried walked Audrey to the base of the stairs, intending to check on the cats one last time to see that they were happy in their temporary accommodations. They exchanged goodnights, playfully emphasising their given names. Audrey climbed the first few steps before calling out quietly towards the hall for Siegfried, only to turn and find he was still at the base of the steps, apparently waiting for her to ascend the staircase completely before he moved onto his last task. She smiled at the thought.

"Siegfried, I were thinking about yesterday morning. In the kitchen, when I were holding Jimmy?"

Siegfried came to rest a hand on the newel post. "Yes, I remember."

"I just wanted to say...you make me happy, too."

Siegfried grinned broadly and felt joyful in seeing her respond in kind. "Thank you. I'm very glad to hear it." He gave the post a happy double tap with his outstretched fingers and bid her goodnight once more.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, 19 February, 1942:

Wednesday morning brought about another round of Siegfried Farnon's little game with the young guests at Skeldale House. "Good morning, Jeannie!" He patted the girl's head as she cradled Tristan's old teddy bear, doing a surprisingly close imitation of Helen's rocking technique, then moved on to her brother.

"Good morning, Marmaduke!" He waited a beat and tried again. "Good morning, Wilfred?" When he received no positive reaction from either child, he kept trying. "Wotan? Alberich?" The children regarded him silently, Jeannie looking almost sympathetic to his plight.

Richard Carmody entered the room, unsure if he ought to be impressed by or pitying toward Mr. Farnon's continuing failed attempts with the small boy.

"Ah, good morning, Richard! I can use your help, if you don't mind. The children don't seem to care much for my guessing game, so I have something far more exciting for them to see." 

Siegfried brought Richard and the children to the back door and issued a firm reminder to his two small charges. "You must not go out the door. Do you understand? We are only looking outside right now. We are not going out. You need to stay right here with me." 

Siegfried gathered a fistful of knit jumper in each hand to be sure there were no escapees and watched the children carefully for any acknowledgement of his warning. Jeannie looked up wide-eyed and nodded, while the boy squirmed in place, trying to make sense of his inability to move from his current spot. Accepting that he was not likely to get any more substantial responses, he looked up to Carmody, who was standing by, waiting for his signal. "Now, Carmody."

Richard slowly opened the door, exposing the four people crammed into the back vestibule to a burst of cold air and a blinding blanket of snow. 

Siegfried squatted down to the children's level, excited for their reactions to the white, sparkling landscape the winter storm had created overnight. "Snow! What do you think?"

He looked to the boy, who was straining, trying to edge closer to the threshold. "Do you like the snow?" 

Siegfried received no answer, but the short little arms that reached forward, trying fruitlessly to grab at the accumulations piled around the back of the house, were all the answer he required.

Turning to Jeannie, who was still staring in awe at everything she could see from her vantage point, he repeated his question. "What do you think, Jeannie? I think your brother likes the snow. Do you like the snow?"

She nodded enthusiastically, continually moving her lips but saying nothing. Siegfried decided to take a chance. "Can you say snow, Jeannie?"

He edged the three of them right to the edge of the doorway, leaned his head out into the frosty morning air, and yelled "SNOW!!" 

"Do you want to shout to the snow?" She nodded, and Siegfried called out again. "Snow!"

Jeannie smiled but didn't say anything, and Siegfried called out again. She brought her hands together to clap for him but did not join in. Siegfried hid his disappointment by thanking her profusely for her kind applause, then pointed the two children back into the warmth of the scullery where Audrey was filling glasses and teacups at the breakfast table.

Helen, who had been helping Audrey a few minutes earlier, was tucking an extra blanket around Baby Jimmy in his basket and stopped to shoot an annoyed glance at the man as the little ones returned from their peek outdoors.

"Really, Siegfried? Any reason why we all had to freeze when there's a perfectly fine door at the opposite end of the house?"

"My apologies, Helen. We'll use the other door next time."

"Next time?" Audrey piped up, setting the teapot on the table, and turning to pull bowls down from the cupboard. Nodding towards the back door, which Siegfried had left ajar, she added, "Will you be leaving doors open all day, then?"

Spying the crockery in Audrey's hands, he cautiously asked if she might bring two extra out for him to use. She cast him a long, speculative look. 

"Dare I ask what those are for?" she asked as she turned to the shelf one more time to reach for the additional bowls.

Siegfried answered under his breath. "Snowballs."

Helen scoffed. "The cold air isn't enough, Aud. Now he's going to bring snow in, too."

"Two bowls, if you please," he reminded the ladies before they allowed their conversation to distract them from his request.

"The quicker he gets the bowls, the sooner he'll shut the door," Audrey smirked at Helen, who rolled her eyes at the overgrown child disguised as senior vet.

A few minutes later, Siegfried finally closed the back door, carrying two large snowballs, one per bowl, over to the table, setting them in front of the children, and making exaggerated "Brrrr!" noises.

The boy chortled and began poking a finger into the ball of snow. Siegfried repeated the noise, this time with more gusto, making the word sound more like someone blowing a raspberry. Jeannie giggled and began alternating between patting the snowball with both hands and making the noise herself, cheering Siegfried, who then clapped for her efforts as well. 

"Breakfast is ready for anyone who wants any," Audrey announced pointedly, and Siegfried apologetically gathered up the chilly bowls to be replaced with the warm ones being delivered to the table for their morning meal. Siegfried promised the children they would play with more snow later, and he set the snow-filled dishes into the sink.

During breakfast, Siegfried returned to his name-guessing as the others looked on in a mix of amusement and mere tolerance. "Is your name Bartholomew? No? What about Hezekiah? Ishmael? Barnaby?" Receiving no response as the children ate, he shrugged and vowed to try again later.

After everyone had their fill, Siegfried and Richard let the children help feed the two cats they had boarding indoors with them during the storm, as well as the spectacularly spoilt Tricki-Woo, who was less impressed with the bland meal offered by the veterinarian than the cats were.

"How are the patients today?"

"Tricki is in fine shape, Mrs. Hall. I truly think it was nothing more than a standard case of motion sickness. And our feline friends are doing well also. Later on, I'll let them out of these cages for a spell. I can't imagine Richard and I will be seeing any other patients today."

"It looks deep out there already. And there's still some light snow coming down now."

"Yes, I couldn't even make out where the road was when I looked out earlier. Which means we will likely be keeping these three extra guests a bit longer."

"Poor Mrs. Pumphrey. She won't be happy to be separated from Tricki for an extra day. I'll ring over there later to let her know how he's enjoying his stay."

******************************

Mrs. Pumphrey, however, didn't give anyone at Skeldale the opportunity to ring her, instead telephoning them to check on her beloved Pekingese. Audrey assured her that Tricki was doing very well and enjoying a generous amount of attention from the snow-bound residents of the household.

Meeting Siegfried in the hallway, she shared her conversation with their loyal client. "I told her she needn't try to make it out in this weather and that Tricki will be just fine here with us for another day."

"Quite right, Mrs. Hall."

"And the Women's Institute meeting's been cancelled. So you're free from your promise to watch the children."

"You know I don't mind." Although he wasn't sure the same could be said of the children.

Audrey placed a hand on his upper arm in a consoling gesture. "I'm sure they'll reschedule it. We can't miss our discussion about hay box cookery, after all. And you can still spend time with them today."

"Yes! That reminds me—I have something I want to look for upstairs. I think it must be in some of those boxes we moved around when James and Helen moved into the bedsit. A relic from my own childhood."

"Yours?" Audrey couldn't hide her surprise. She had nothing left from her own childhood, apart from the recipes in her book her mother passed down to her when she married Robert.

"No need to sound so shocked, Mrs. Hall. I'm not as ancient as Tristan makes me out to be. My childhood things haven't turned to dust quite yet."

"I didn't realise you had kept any, is all. I weren't saying a word about your age." She changed her tone and smirked at him. "Though now that you mention it, your things would be a few decades older than Tristan's. Are you sure you want to risk them?"

******************************

Audrey's question, originally made in jest, was reiterated when Siegfried called for her to meet him in his office half an hour later.

His desk had been hastily cleared, piles now teetering on the piano top and bench, as well as on the chair and filing cabinet, and laying out on the empty workspace was a relatively flat wooden box of decent size.

Upon closer inspection, she realised it was a hinged case of some sort, with a lock in front. "What is it?" 

"A gift from my father when I was a boy. It's advanced for the children, I admit, but with assistance, I believe they might enjoy it. I'm sure we can scrounge up a few started drawing pads that Tristan has left lying about."

Siegfried opened the mahogany case to reveal four narrow rows of paint cakes, the names of each hue printed in small lettering beneath each removable rectangle of colour. Below the paints was a long open area containing a cut glass bowl, presumably for water, and an angled, divided china tray one might use as a palette to mix the paints. The last narrow section of case held a half dozen paint brushes of various sizes.

"Siegfried," she breathed. "This is beautiful. Are you sure you want to let them near it? They're so young, and this looks so delicate. And it must mean a great deal to you to have kept it for so long."

"Tristan was always more the artist than I, and mother and father purchased new supplies for him to use when he was old enough. I fear I may have been rather immature in my desire to ensure that Tristan never laid hands on it when he was growing up, so it has spent most its life closed up and ignored. It really ought to be used rather than perpetually stored away."

"Yes, but I'm afraid they may ruin it."

"The paints can be removed, and if it would make you feel better, we can bring out just a few for them to try."

Audrey could see how very much it meant to Siegfried to share his childhood treasure with their small guests. Though her innate practicality would not allow her to hand over the fragile components to toddlers. "Aye, and I'll try to find summat they can use with the paints so you can keep the bowl and tray safe."

"I have full faith you'll come up with the perfect plan." His smile was full of joy and appreciation as he added, "I know it's bound to make a mess, but if this weather continues, it may be another slow day, and this could provide a new discovery to keep them entertained." 

"Might as well make a mess, then." Audrey grinned and ran a finger over the smooth surface of a few of the paint cakes, her arm brushing his as she reached out towards the case. He couldn't help but let out the small sigh of contentment. She couldn't help but look up at him, her face dimpling in reply.

"Oh, and Mrs. Hall?" Siegfried's face was suddenly gleeful.

"Why do you look like you're up to no good?" Her question was suspicious, yet teasing.

"I win." His eyes danced as he made his triumphant proclamation.

"Win what?"

"The challenge you set forth last night before bed. You said that you had "no doubt" that I would make the first mistake in regards to the inadvertent use of our Christian names during daytime hours. But you just called me Siegfried." 

The man was positively jubilant, and Audrey's first instinct was to deny having done any such thing, but she silently played back their last bit of conversation in her mind, recalling how amazed she had been by the paint set when he opened it, and realised the exasperating man was right. He had well and truly won. 

"That's what comes from gloating, I suppose," she admitted sheepishly.

"Ha! May wonders never cease. Who would have ever thought our very own pillar of rectitude would be caught boasting?" 

She rolled her eyes. "I do wonder where you get these ideas. I'm every bit as fallible as the next person, you daft man."

"Ah, see, and humble, too." His smile was initially mirthful, becoming more tender as he continued. "I am truly happy to have us using our Christian names with one another more often. No contests required."

Audrey was touched by his words, though slightly unsure how to respond, and chose to bring the levity back via their familiar banter. "Are you sure that isn't just a way to be sure you can claim it weren't a mistake if you use my name?" Her smirk was playful with a hint of sass, and Siegfried's eyes danced in enjoyment of the jaunty back and forth between them.

"If that's what you want to believe, Audrey, then who am I to attempt to sway you?" 

******************************

"I've an idea."

"Of course you do. Might I enquire as to what this idea is in regards to?"

"Your paint box. I remembered I kept an old bowl that I used to use for the Jess's water. I noticed a chip on the rim one day and stopped using it for her, afraid she might suffer a cut or scratch on it. But I set it aside in case I could ever use it for summat else."

"Waste not, want not. I would expect nothing less from someone as proficient at planning ahead and solving unforeseen dilemmas as fast as they develop. Thank you, my dear."

"You're welcome." Her response was simple and calm, but upon hearing Siegfried extolling her for the second time in an hour's time, the emotions whirling within her were anything but.

******************************

As the family finished lunch, everyone stayed seated, enjoying a chance to take their meal in leisure. With no calls or clients to rush off to see, no meetings to host or attend, and no errands to run, everyone found delight in the unusual opportunity to simply be with one another beyond the intaking of sustenance.

Audrey let the dishes sit, and Helen jiggled Jimmy on her lap. Richard waxed poetic about the lifespan of various parasites, earning a fond eyeroll from Audrey, who was glad the student at least waited until they finished eating to broach that particular topic.

Tricki-Woo was happily sharing the basket with Jess and Dash, the three lazing about in the warmth of the kitchen. And an extra basket had been brought in for the cats to share. The children were playing make-believe with their flatware and tea towels, and Siegfried reverted back to his new favourite guessing game.

"Is your name... Oliver?"

Jeannie looked up from her cloth-covered spoon in mild interest, which Siegfried took as a hopeful sign. 

"Is it Fitzwilliam?" He tried again. "What about Heathcliff?"

"Seriously, Siegfried? Her name is Jeannie." Helen pointed out. "Do you really think her brother might be Fitzwilliam?"

Siegfried reached out to tickle Jimmy under the chin. "Not everyone chooses common, everyday names for their children, Helen. Trust me, I know." 

"Yes, but surely they'd either both be "common, everyday" names or they would both be outlandish."

"Jimmy," Siegfried looked towards the baby, as if they were having a very serious conversation. "Your mother thinks my name is outlandish."

"Go back to your guessing and leave us be," Helen smirked.

"You're the one who interrupted me, if I may remind you." Siegfried turned back to their small visitors and shook his head in mock despair. 

"What other names are there, Jeannie? I fear I'm running out. Is your brother's name Homer?" 

Jeannie shook her head, and encouraged, Siegfried continued his play-acting. "Oh, dear! Now I need to think of another name! This is becoming very difficult."

He scratched his head. "Oh, I know! His name must be...Orlando!"

Jeannie shook her head a second time and smiled when Siegfried clapped a hand to his forehead in dramatic fashion. "What can it be? Is it...Horatio?"

Siegfried kept going with the game for a far longer time than the children's interest typically allowed, continuing to act overly discouraged each time he guessed incorrectly. 

Jeannie started giggling at his theatrics, and the boy finally set down his playthings to watch the bizarre antics of the man, smiling as Siegfried carried on. 

"Oh, my, what could your name be?" He looked to the toddler, trying to keep his attention. "Surely not Puck?"

The other adults had taken to watching the impromptu performance with curiosity, even Richard giving up on his veterinary talk to witness his mentor acting the fool for the benefit of the young guests.

After nearly a half dozen more names, Siegfried was depleting his mental list of highly unlikely monikers and, with false dejection, lamented, "It's just too bad. I think I shall never guess!"

Audrey and Helen exchanged looks across the table as if to silently agree that the man was beyond ridiculous at times. Though secretly, Audrey couldn't help but feel it was rather heartwarming to see him interact with the children, regardless of how daft he might appear in the doing so.

"Whatever shall I do?" Siegfried heaved a histrionic sigh and put his head down on the tabletop.

Jeannie slipped from her chair, walked over to Siegfried's side, and put her hand on his arm, giving it a small, tender pat. "Kee," she whispered.

Siegfried forced himself not to whip his head up in shocked excitement, not wanting to startle Jeannie. Instead, he turned his head to face her and whispered back, "Kee?"

Jeannie nodded, and the room collectively held its breath.

Siegfried sat back up and pointed to the little boy, who was now completely focused on their conversation. "Is your brother's name 'Kee'?"

Jeannie nodded again. Then she went back to her chair and picked her spoon person or animal up again, ready to return to her little game, oblivious to the adults as they strove to remain cool and collected.

Helen started going through the alphabet aloud, adding consonants to the end of "Kee" to see if anything made sense to her. Keeb Keec Keed Keef Keeg, H won't work..."

Richard put out a hand. "Wait, can we go back one, please?" 

"Keeg?" Helen asked. "I've read Keegan as a surname, but I can't think of anything similar for a given name."

"No," Richard interrupted. "Keef."

Jeannie paused in her play to look over at the young vet.

"Keef. That reminds me of a fellow in one of my classes. His name wasn't actually Keef, of course. He was called Keith. But Keef was just similar enough to bring his name to mind. Do you think that could be his name?" he gestured towards the boy.

Siegfried looked to Jeannie, who was still following their discussion with interest. "Jeannie, is your brother's name Keith?"

Jeannie smiled and clapped her hands. "Kee!" She turned and patted her brother's cheek. "Kee!" And the boy smiled back, wide and full, his mouth full of pearly baby teeth on full display.

The room broke into celebration with happy chatter and the adults clapping for both children.

As things settled down, Helen looked pensive. "Audrey—the K block."

Audrey looked at her blankly. "What, love?"

"Do you remember when we looked over all of the blocks? There was no "K." So even if Jeannie could recognise Keith's name, she wouldn't have been able to show us the letter." 

Understanding filled Audrey's features. "And after Jeannie gave us her name, I told you not to ask about Keith's right then, and I put the tiles away, so she never had the opportunity to show us the tile, either." Audrey covered her mouth with her hand as she realised that she might have accidentally prevented them from learning the poor tot's name earlier.

Siegfried was quick to reassure. "She still may not have given us any more information that night, Mrs. Hall. She's not exactly bursting forth with verbal communication. You were probably right to let her celebrate her victory without asking more of her."

Audrey appreciated his kind words. "Well, we know now. I suppose that's all that matters. Thank you, Mr. Carmody, for your help."

As Richard proudly beamed, pleased to have assisted his strange little temporary family, he tried not to think about his parents' request for a set date upon which time he would depart Skeldale House, thus leaving behind all of the kind people gathered around the table.

Chapter Text

"Constable Lamley will be happy to hear we know both names now," Audrey mused as the room settled after the excitement of their success in learning Keith's name.

"I'll go make the call. I neglected to mention that we knew Jeannie's name when he rang about the photographs on Monday. It seems only right I be especially punctual in letting him know of our newest milestone."

Richard excused himself to return to his latest book at the same time that Siegfried left to place the call, leaving Helen and Audrey with the children, and for the first time on this snowy day, the feeling that this was more like any typical afternoon. The women shared the washing-up duties so as to finish quickly, allowing them to bring the children and Jimmy upstairs to sleep for a short while.

They returned to find Siegfried in the scullery, waiting to share the results of his conversation with the constable.

"The connection was very poor. I lost the connection before the call was picked up, and even when I did get through, I was convinced we'd be disconnected again. I'm not sure if it was on their end or ours, but we should be prepared to lose the telephone."

"That'll guarantee an even slower day here. It would have to be dire for someone to come down from a farm in this weather to fetch you," Helen pointed out with a frown.

"We can only hope that there are no emergency situations until this snow finally abates. It's still coming down steadily, more so than this morning."

Siegfried folded the paper and set it aside. "I was entertaining the thought of bringing the children outside for a short spell, but their coats would be no match for the precipitation we're receiving now. Unless it lightens again, we'll have to be content with bringing the snow indoors again."

"Try not to freeze us all next time, will you?"

"Yes, Helen." Siegfried's tone reminded Helen of Jenny when forced to do a task she'd rather not, and the thought of Siegfried pulling a similar sulky face as her adolescent sister had Helen struggling not to laugh out loud at the man.

Siegfried, however, noticed nothing of Helen's efforts; his attention completely shifted to Audrey. Her face had grown as clouded as the day outside, and even as he was considering what might be bothering her, she placed her towel down on the sink's edge and left the room. She walked briskly out into the passage, and to Siegfried's great concern, out into the garden with no protection from the weather beyond her thin cardigan and pinny.

Exchanging bewildered shrugs with Helen, Siegfried set off down the passage in pursuit, and found Audrey just outside the door to the walled garden, leaning against the adjacent wall, where the roof overhang helped keep the falling snow off her slumped shoulders as she hugged herself against the cold.

"Mrs. Hall?" Her name was a cautious question in itself. 

"What did the constable say?"

Siegfried was taken aback, not expecting her to lead off with a question of her own. "I had to leave a message. He'll get back to us when he can. I think we can expect at least a few more days before we hear back."
  
She nodded mournfully. "I can't pretend to mind the delay. Despite the bedlam they've caused, I'll miss them. Even though they haven't even been with us two weeks yet."

"It's felt much longer than two weeks to me." He feared his remark might sound like a rebuke, and quickly added, "Not in a pejorative sense, mind you!"
  
Audrey was glad the whipping wind had most likely rendered her cheeks rosy already and surprised herself by saying exactly what came to mind in that moment. "You've said that to me before." 

Siegfried's mind scrambled to recall when he had mentioned feeling that the children's stay seemed lengthy. 

Seeing his blank look, Audrey tried to clarify. "At a Christmas party once."
  
Shifting his mental gears, Siegfried finally brought back the memory she was referring to, and he fought to keep his own cheeks from broadcasting their rising heat. "You caught me off guard that evening," he admitted, embarrassed to recall his gaffe. 

"I'd never seen that dress before. It was very different from any of the ones you typically wore." He rubbed his hands together, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his fingers.
  
"It were Diana."
  
"Diana?" Siegfried looked back up, his bafflement winning out over his discomfiture.
 
"Aye. She kept telling me I ought to dress up and all this other nonsense." 

Siegfried desperately wished to ask what the other "nonsense" might have been, but settled instead for simply pointing out a fact that had confused him at the time. "But you changed. Later, you were wearing a different dress. I never did find out why."
  
"I didn't feel right in it. I weren't comfortable. I didn't want others seeing me and wondering what I were up to."
  
"I hope my reaction didn't make you think..."

"No," she assured. "I knew you weren't thinking that, but you did notice I were dressed differently, and I didn't want that kind of attention from any others at the party."

They stood quietly shivering for a moment before Audrey returned them to their prior topic of discussion. "Life will be easier once they've been returned to their own home."
  
"I hope it works out that way—that they have a home and a family."
 
Audrey nodded. "I can't bear to think of them going anywhere but their own home." She swallowed back a sob. "I need to know they'll be someplace where they're happy and loved."

"They've been happy and loved here. You've seen to that." 

"It's hardly been just me! It's been everyone."
    
"We're a family here. Families help one another." He smiled softly at the thought.
  
"I made the choice to bring them here on me own. I didn't give anyone else a chance to say they didn't think it were a good idea."

"It was the right choice. We've all enjoyed having them here—even Richard!" He added brightly.

Audrey gave him a shaky smile. "We'll be missing him soon, too." 

Siegfried pressed his lips firmly together, nodding but not trusting himself to try to speak in the moment.

Audrey sniffled and pulled her arms all the more tightly around herself. 

Siegfried cursed himself for not insisting they go in when he first came outside. Two fools standing out in the snow for a conversation!

"We should get in—imagine the chaos if we both come down with something."
  
"I thought you had a robust constitution," Audrey teased, and Siegfried was glad to hear her sounding more like herself again.

"Even I am human, Mrs. Hall. Even I can stumble."

"Well, we can't have that." 

Siegfried opened the door for her, following her into the welcome warmth of the stone-lined passageway. Audrey turned to head for the kitchen. 

Before she reached the doorway, Siegfried made a split-second decision.

"Mrs. Hall?"

"Yes?"

He stalled, putting off what he really wanted to say. "We should have ourselves some hot tea, don't you agree? Then I'll attend to some things in my office."

"All right. We'll come find you once they're awake."

He nodded gratefully. "We still had snow to play with, after all."

"And we wouldn't want to miss out on that." 

"Absolutely not." He stood smiling at her, gathering his courage, until he noticed a flicker of confusion on her face, and she slowly gestured towards the scullery, as if to question if they were done.

He held up a finger and gave an apologetic grin for his clumsy handling of the interaction. "Actually, there is one more thing."

She brought her pointing hand back to her side and canted her head slightly, curious.

"Any time you wish to wear your dress, you should do so. For you. Not for Diana or any guests. Wear it for you."
  
Audrey covered her touched reaction with a gentle scoff. "To wash up in?"

"To share a drink in. To listen to a few songs in. To find some enjoyment in life despite everything happening around us."

She said nothing as she finally turned to leave the hall, but Siegfried saw a real smile spread across her face before she turned her head. He waited a moment before following her, feeling pleased to have shifted her melancholy mood, at least for now.

Siegfried insisted on putting the kettle on for tea, gesturing towards the chair closest to the stove for Audrey to banish the chill from her time outdoors. She took the seat gratefully, assuring a concerned Helen that all was well. "I just needed a moment to clear me head. I've more to be doing lately than I'm used to. I'm not complaining, mind! Sometimes it just does me in for a spell. But I'm fine now, thank you."

Richard returned to the kitchen upon hearing the whistle's shrill call, and the four savoured the chance for quiet conversation as they lingered over their teacups, the dogs and cats all nestled in baskets and beds around the room. It was a peaceful chance to gather strength and calm nerves before the sleeping little ones rejoined them, and they found it a lovely respite from a life that had been extraordinarily hectic of late.

When their cups were empty, their worries temporarily soothed, and their bodies rested, Siegfried asked Richard to call over to Mrs. Pumphrey's once again to let her know that Tricki was in perfect health and would be able to return home as soon as the weather permitted.

While Audrey and Helen washed and put away the teacups and the last remaining dishes from lunch, Siegfried checked over the cats and found them to be in fine form as well. "It seems as if all of our patients will be ready to leave us once their owners feel safe to do so. I'll let Carmody know he has a few more calls to make."

Richard, however, strolled back into the scullery with a look of concern etched on his face. "We seem to have lost our telephone line, Mr. Farnon."

"Ah. Yes, I did worry that might eventually happen. We'll have to hope no one has any desperate need for help until service has been restored." He looked down at the tabby cat nuzzling against his palm. "And it seems as if Percy, here, and the others will be staying with us until we can reach their owners or deliver them home ourselves."

********************

Siegfried greeted the children when they came back to the kitchen, then suggested Helen and Audrey take the baby to the sitting room and leave the children with Richard and himself. Richard's face registered shock at the latest development, and he sputtered in his hurry to question it.

"We're going to conduct a scientific experiment, Richard!" Siegfried boomed cheerfully.

"With children?" Richard's voice registered skepticism, his face, discontent.

"We're going to melt snow, Richard; no reason to fret."

"But that's hardly what one might consider to be a scientif..."

"We'll be comparing the rate of snow melt based on various factors, Carmody. Is that not scientific? I believe it is. Now, snow, please! Four bowls full."

Helen and Jimmy left for the sitting room as Audrey cast an eye over the children, each slouched at the table, their naptime sleepiness not quite dispelled. "Oh, I usually give them a bit of milk and bread or toast when they wake up."

"Never fear, my dear. We'll see to it."

"Only I warm the milk most days, and you have to be careful with it else it'll scald."

"We'll consider that to be our second scientific experiment, then." He turned his head towards the back vestibule and called out, "Carmody! Hurry up with the snow, man! You need to see to some milk next." He turned back to Audrey and grinned as if to indicate that all was well and any fears she previously held had been successfully allayed.

Seeing the uneasy look still present on her face, he added, "You're just down the hall if we need help. Which we won't. Go! Sit down! Put your feet up! Chat with Helen!"

His charming excitement was all that prevented her from commenting that he sounded as if he were giving commands to a dog. Daft man!

Instead she shook her head in the typically beleaguered way she often did when dealing with Siegfried being his eccentric self, and left the room, still rather convinced she'd later return to hungry children and an unholy mess.

********************

For the better part of one blissful hour, Audrey found herself resting in the afternoon for the second time in as many days.

"You're going to get used to this," Helen joked, watching Audrey pick up her knitting, then change her mind, set it aside, and just luxuriate in the act of doing absolutely nothing.

"Never would have guessed that what I needed most in my life right now were a two-day snowstorm." Audrey let her head fall back against the cushion behind her and spoke her words towards the ceiling as she closed her eyes, and slowly rolled her neck from side to side. 

Helen continued to offer Jimmy his feed, enjoying the peace as well and wondering how long it might last.

********************

In the scullery, Richard was wishing for peace himself as he played along with the ridiculous wintery scheme of an overly enthusiastic grown man, while also trying to keep two children even remotely interested in their "experiment". 

They were supposed to be showing the children the difference between a bowl of snow close to the stove and one far away, and of one with drops of water added and another with a sprinkle of salt. "Don't mention the salt to Mrs. Hall," Siegfried warned. "I used less than a teaspoon. Hardly a dip in her reserves, even with rationing."

But the children were too young to care about anything other than eating the snow, tasting the salt, and spilling anything within reach onto the floor. Richard was relieved to see Siegfried thought ahead and did not bring their entire salt supply to the table, opting to bring over just the spoonful in yet another bowl. He wasn't as happy to see the pile of dishware they were accumulating, though, as he assumed it would be he who would wind up washing them. He cast his eyes towards the sink, where the slightly singed pot sat soaking, and sighed. What was wrong with spending a snow-bound day reading?

********************

Audrey and Helen, having finished their late afternoon tasks in the kitchen, headed for the front of the house, where the rest of the household was gathered. They heard Siegfried's laughter as they made their way through the study and dining room. Helen continued through to take a seat in one of the closest armchairs, but Audrey stopped short of the doors, taking in the scene in front of her. 

Siegfried was sitting at the far end of the sofa, with not one but both cats on his lap. The children were jumping up and down in the middle of the sitting room, screeching, almost undoubtedly, Audrey thought, based on something Siegfried had said or done. Tricki was running a wide circle around them, barking in what she believed to be a cheerful manner. Dash was sitting near Siegfried's legs, his tail thumping excitedly, while Jess enjoyed sole occupancy of the basket, her head lifted as she observed the chaotic crowd. 

Her eyes scanned the room to find Richard sitting in Siegfried's favourite chair, which he had pulled as far into the corner of the room as possible. He lowered his book momentarily, and she saw a pained look on his face. She entered the room, offered the young man a sympathetic look, and joined Siegfried on the sofa, sitting at the opposite end, giving Dash an unvoiced invitation to jump up onto the open cushion between herself and Siegfried. The spaniel sniffed at the cats a few times, gave a friendly little bark, and nestled in beside his mistress, happily accepting her long strokes across his back.

"What do we have happening here?" she finally asked.

"Chaos, by the sound of it," Helen supplied.

"Cats and dogs and children should not be allowed in a room all together!" was all the answer poor Richard could offer, his face expressing his feelings about both the noise level of the room and the fact that he kept winding up in the midst of their activities with Siegfried. While he certainly wouldn't say it, he felt rather strongly that his employer became a third child when around the young visitors. And he didn't understand why the man kept insisting Richard "join the fun" with them. There was nothing fun about any of it, in his opinion.

"I'm sure Siegfried adds to it, too," Helen shrewdly suggested.

Richard nodded somberly, appreciative of her understanding of the matter, and raised his own voice to be heard above a particularly shrill spate of barking by Tricki. "It's madness!"

"It's a circus!" And to prove his point, Siegfried shifted the cats to his right arm, cheerfully plucked Mr. Lion up from the side table where he had been deposited, held him aloft in his left hand, and let out a roar, which Jeannie and Keith immediately mimicked. Audrey couldn't help but laugh out loud, bringing the back of her fingers up to cover the full extent of her amusement. 

Siegfried handed Mr. Lion over to the questing hands of little Keith and shifted the cats once again to his left side. Taking a quick look to ensure all other adult eyes were on babies, books, or children, he reached across Dash to gently run his hand across a small portion of Audrey's upper arm, near her elbow. "It's good for us to laugh these days. There's no reason to hide happiness."

She smiled gratefully and lowered her hand, answering as low as possible given the general din. "I were feeling bad about laughing when poor Mr. Carmody looks to be suffering." 

"Oh, he'll be fine. They haven't been this loud the entire time. Besides," he gestured towards Helen; "If Jimmy can deal with it, so can Richard. But, I admit, it may be time to reign them in a bit." He stood, carefully shifting the cats to the empty space on the sofa. "Do be sure Dash doesn't get peckish," he joked before easing himself to the floor and opening his arms to capture the children as they roared past with little lion paws extended in front of them.

Audrey watched as Siegfried settled the children, guiding them unto his lap and picking up the teddy bear and lion toys for Jeannie and Keith, respectively. As she gazed at the sweet trio in front of her, she absentmindedly ran her hand over the spot on her arm that he had just caressed. 

********************

To Richard's great relief, the children became engrossed in a make-believe story Siegfried appeared to be conjuring on the spot, a talent which Richard found intriguing, and with a result he found refreshing—that the children stayed quiet to hear it. And with the children sitting silently, Tricki returned to the basket to join Jess, leaving the room bathed in tranquility. Richard exhaled a satisfied breath and returned to his book, finally able to actually focus on its pages. 

As the calm afternoon inched towards early evening, the quiet stillness lingered, allowing Richard to become so engrossed in his reading he scarcely noticed the passing time until he saw Audrey carefully stand, leaving a dozing Dash behind, still contently joined by the boarding cats, Percy and Zebra, and murmur to Helen that she was going to go work on tea. Helen offered to help after she changed Jimmy.

Early in his story-telling, Siegfried had inched the trio backwards so that he might lean against his recently vacated end of the sofa, while the children, in turn, leaned against him. Now, pleasantly lulled by Siegfried's invented tales of animals who behaved like humans, solving problems up and down the dales, the children were happy to stay ensconced in his arms, even as Siegfried ran out of story ideas and turned to song. He pointed towards Jeannie's bear and asked if she had ever heard of a teddy bear picnic. She shook her head to answer in the negative, and Siegfried told her that there was a song all about just such an occasion.

In stark contrast to the pandemonium Helen and Audrey had entered into earlier, they left the room to the soft timbre of Siegfried's voice singing to the children. 

"If you go down in the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise. If you go down in the woods today, you'd better go in disguise. For every bear that ever there was, will gather there for certain because, today's the day the teddy bears have their pic-nic."

********************

"The snow is falling at the fastest rate I've seen yet," Siegfried announced as he met up with Audrey in the sitting room for their nightly discussion. "I've let the dogs out and locked the doors. I'll check to see that Richard isn't planning to be awake half the night reading when we're done here. I'll be needing any help he can offer in clearing some of this snow tomorrow."

Audrey nodded along as he spoke, her fingers never ceasing their work on a hat she was finishing for Jeannie. "It's the drifting out in the dales that always makes me worry when any of you are out. You can clear paths and roads in towns, but out there..." She trailed off as she recalled winters previous when the snow drifts were such that the vets couldn't get through in the vehicles, and now with Richard having no experience driving in such conditions, she knew her concern would be growing with each falling flake.

"We'll be careful," Siegfried promised. "I'll take Richard with me when I go out. Instead of splitting responsibilities, we'll work together—first in surgery, then on the farms. He may not be accomplished in driving in the snow, but he can help dig out a car if necessary."

Her smile was forced, and Siegfried changed the subject in hopes of easing her fretting before she tried to get some sleep.

"Busy day here today. And we know both of their names now.  Jeannie seems to be trying to say more as well. I really thought she might say "snow" this morning." He pulled his tobacco pouch from his pocket and began to fill his pipe.

"She'll get there." Audrey looked down at her work as she drew close to finishing her project. "She's making a lot more sounds now, I've noticed. When she's playing. She were making shushing noises to the bear this morning. And I heard her giving her broth..." She looked up with a grin and corrected herself. "Giving Keith what sounded like a telling off when I were settling them in for their nap."

Siegfried's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Really?"

"Aye. She reminded me of me grandmother, who never yelled to us children. She always said "Ah, ah, ah!" instead. Keith kept trying to take that little quilt Jeannie likes so much, and she kept pulling it back and saying, "Ah!" quite forceful like."

He leaned back, pipe between his teeth, and chuckled. "Good for her!"

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, with the soft sounds of Siegfried's puffs and the gentle clicking of Audrey's needles adding to the crackling of the fire. Jess and Dash, having joined their humans in the sitting room after their final cold venture out into the garden, snuggled together along with their small visitor Tricki-Woo, enjoying the warmth and the calm.

Audrey broke the silence in soft appreciation of the man seated beside her. "Thank you for earlier. In the garden. I've been caught tearing up more since this war broke out than in all the years I've lived here. And even more since the children have arrived. I don't mean to be so emotional."

Siegfried set down his pipe. "Being upset or even overwhelmed at times is a perfectly natural response to all of the changes and upheaval we've been through lately. And while I am sorry for circumstances being such that you feel the need, you are certainly allowed to cry without apology." 

"I heard that Eva told you that once."

Siegfried shook his head fondly at the memory. "She was a very astute young lady. Although apparently not terribly good at knowing when to keep a story to herself," he teased.

"It's such a different situation having Jeannie and Keith here compared to Eva. Besides Eva being far more self-reliant, she was less inclined to speak up when she was unhappy about something." 

Audrey agreed, regrettably. "She had already been taught that life is as it is, and there's no point in going on about it."

"Yes." Siegfried was quiet a moment before continuing. "Perhaps we teach that to children sooner than we should. These two immediately let you know when they are distressed and feel no qualms about seeking comfort from you, even when they are not necessarily upset. One moment they are playing on their own, and the next they're clambering up to sit by you for a story and a..." 

"Cuddle?" Audrey suggested.

"I suppose that's the word." He teasingly pulled a face. "They may not tell us what's wrong, but they show us what they need from us, with no shame or hesitation."

"These two say less than most, of course." Audrey pointed out, sadly.

"True, though they are making strides. I was surprised, though, to learn when Eva was here that older children can hold their own in discussions with adults rather well. The day you went to meet Edward, I had one of the local students with me; do you remember?"

"Yes, you two sounded as if you had a nice time together."

"We did, and I thought that was based on his keen interest in animals and perhaps a personal high level of intelligence, but Eva showed me that it wasn't just Andrew specifically who could carry out an impressive conversation with an adult."

"And you do enjoy your impressive conversations." She couldn't help but silently wonder if her own conversational skills were enough to meet Siegfried's standards at times.

As if able to read her worried mind, Siegfried smiled gently. "That's part of why I am so grateful for our new nightly tradition. Even days such as today, when I am aware of what has transpired here all day, I still very much enjoy having the chance for the two of us to sit together and talk for awhile at the end of the day."

Her needles paused, the silence allowing her soft words of grateful agreement to be heard. "I feel the same, and I'm glad to hear that you do, too."

Siegfried picked his pipe up again and rested against the back of the sofa, feeling appreciatively comfortable and satisfied with life in those last quiet minutes before retiring for the night.

Chapter Text

Thursday, 20 February 1941:

Audrey opened her eyes, surprised to find it time to start a new day. She had slept the night through, with neither the muffled cries of Jimmy nor the far closer ones of Jeannie or Keith rousing her from her slumber. She stretched and quietly readied herself before returning to her room to dress for the day. Once she was finished, she gently woke the children to help them begin their day as well.

Audrey's second surprise was in finding Mr. Farnon and Mr. Carmody's coats missing from the coat rack as she made her first pass through the house that morning, stoking fires and checking that all was well. The children followed behind her, along with all three dogs who joined the small entourage a few minutes into her route around the house. She had never heard the telephone. In fact, she wasn't even sure if the service had been restored. She lifted the telephone receiver and heard nothing, leading her to wonder if someone had come to the door looking for help. But yet again, she found it unlikely she would sleep through such a thing.

A persistent odd sound caught her attention, and instructing the children to stay with the dogs in the hall, she opened the front doors to find Siegfried and Richard bundled against the wind and continuing snow. A snow-encrusted broom leaned against the front of the house, and she looked down to see the front stairs had been meticulously cleared. Stepping down into the cold, she wrapped her arms around her torso and called out to Siegfried, who raised a hand in greeting and let her know that they would work until they had cleared the vehicles and created a continuous path around the house. Then they would come in for breakfast.

A dog's barking caused her to turn back to the house, where she found Jeannie and Keith being ineffectually herded by poor Jess, whose face was a picture of concern that the little humans had gone off towards the white swirling coldness out of doors. 

Both children had entered the vestibule, and while Keith was being slightly stymied by Jess's attempts to block the children's passage, Jeannie had slipped past the worried retriever and was framed by the exterior doorway standing in her stocking feet peering out into the winter wonderland.

"Ohh!" She smiled, despite the visible shiver Audrey immediately spotted as she bent low to steer the girl back into the warmth. 

"Where are your shoes, poppet? Oh, Jeannie, it's cold. Back inside with you." 

Jeannie tried to turn back towards the front door, peeking around Audrey. "No! Miss All, no!" 

Audrey's eyes widened. She wasn't sure if the child meant to complain about being stopped or if she was attempting to say "snow," but that was the clearest she'd yet to say her name, and it was also the first sentence she'd uttered since they met.

She dropped to her knees and lightly held Jeannie's hands. "Very good, Jeannie!" She gathered her into a quick hug. "What do you want from Mrs. Hall, love?"

"No!"

"Sss-now?" Audrey emphasised the initial ess sound in an attempt to clarify what the girl wanted.

Jeannie nodded. "Ssssss--no!"

"We can't go out in the snow right now. Mr. Farnon is wearing a coat and hat and gloves and a scarf." She tapped Jeannie's torso, head, hands, and neck as she names each correlating garment. "But we're not wearing those things. And look—I see little toes with no shoes!" She tapped the top of the girl's feet, encased in navy wool.

Jeannie reached for the door again, but Audrey continued to guide her towards the rear of the house, despite the girl's repeated exclamations of "no."

"We need to make breakfast, Jeannie. Mr. Carmody and Mr. Farnon will be hungry after working so hard." Audrey took each child by a hand and ushered them to the kitchen, scanning the area for Jeannie's missing shoes as they walked. Jess, along with Dash and Tricki-Woo, followed behind the group. Jess, quietly relieved to have done her job was now free of the self-imposed responsibility to guard the little humans, while Dash and Tricki were just excited by the prospect of whatever morning meal they might be given as they moved towards the room where the food lived.

Audrey decided to distract the children with something of their own to eat right away and brought out the remaining heel of a loaf of bread and a small jar of jam. But Jeannie wasn't to be led astray on her quest to see the snow, and as Audrey cut the heel into slices for the children to share, Jeannie skittered off to try her luck at the back door.

"Jeannie!" Audrey placed the knife on the sink, away from Keith at the table, and set the lock on the door. 

"No! Miss All, sssnow!"

"It's time to eat right now, love. Come back to the table." Jeannie had no interest in returning to the table and continued to try to open the door a few more times before she admitted defeat, slid down to a seated position on the floor, and began to kick at the door in frustration.

Audrey had a flashback to Edward, as a toddler, angry about something that hadn't gone his way and how amazed she'd been by how fiercely his little legs could kick and how painful children's shoes could be when they collided with a parent's shin or wrist. She felt quite thankful Jeannie's shoes were still missing as she tried to slide the girl away from the door. 

"Audrey?" Helen's intonation was enough to let Audrey know that something else must be wrong, and she absentmindedly wiped her hands onto her skirt, forgetting that unlike most mornings, she had not yet tied on a pinny. She looked down to see if she had left visible dust and, finding clean fabric, was glad that at least that one small favour had been granted her.

But when her eyes fell back on Keith, she groaned. He had half a slice of bread in his mouth, but the other three slices she had cut were nowhere to be seen. She cast a glance towards the dogs, but they looked innocent, with no telltale crumbs to be seen. Looking back towards Helen, the young woman pointed down, and Audrey spied a ring of torn bread pieces strewn in an arc around the front and sides of Keith's chair. "Oh, Keith, no! We can't waste food, love! That were for your breakfast, not the floor." 

Bouncing in his chair, the boy pulled the piece of bread from his mouth and held it out to Audrey, chewed-end first, pointing excitedly towards the jam jar with his other hand. 

Audrey blew a breath up across her face and delicately accepted the gummy slice. She dutifully spread a small amount of the jam onto what was left of his bread, placed it on a small dish, and handed it back to him. "Food stays on the table, Keith." She patted the wooden surface. "No floor! When you're finished, you give it back to me. Do you understand?"

Keith said nothing, and Audrey doubted whether he did understand, while also silently bemoaning the loss of the rest of the bread she had on hand that morning.

Helen sat herself down in the chair by the radio with Jimmy, feeling too knackered after a long night with the baby to jump into the bedlam so early in the day. While Audrey may not have heard the youngest Herriot's cries, that didn't mean he wasn't still up for a feed several times during the night. Helen cautiously questioned Audrey from a safe distance. "Dare I ask what's happening with Jeannie?" 

Audrey shook her head, and upon feeling a strand of hair fluttering across her brow, she stopped to fix a pin. "She wants to go outside. She only has the one pair of shoes—and she's even lost those. I don't know how or where. Haven't had a chance to look for them yet."

She looked towards the corner to see that Jeannie had slumped down further to lie flat on her back, still kicking at the door and whinging, though with less fervour than before. "The door's locked," she announced to Helen. "And the men are outside. We'll have to try to keep an ear open over the racket for when they try to come back in."

After one more try at reasoning with the child and feeling flustered and rushed, Audrey wearily announced that she was giving up trying to sway Jeannie from her tantrum. "I have to leave her be. I have a breakfast to be getting on with if it's to be ready when the men came in from shovelling."

Twenty minutes later, Audrey was in her pinny, porridge was on the stove, Keith and his entire surroundings were cleared of crumbs and jam, and the first tea of the day had been brewed. 

Jeannie had given up on her kicking but refused to leave her post at the door. Keith had likewise given up on trying to get his sister to play with him and was now playing peek-a-boo with Helen and Mr. Lion, voiced entirely in roars by the little lad. In between her toddler entertainment duty, Helen sipped a cup, joined by Audrey, who sat at her desk with her tea of her own.

"Oh, this is nice. Fresh leaves?"

"Aye. I do still have some to reuse, but I decided you and I deserved to have a stronger cup for a change."

Helen lifted her cup and gave a tired wink. "To the healing power of tea after sleepless nights and tantrums." 

******************************

The twisting of the doorknob had Jeannie scurrying to her feet before either of the women noticed the sound. As Jeannie resumed her attempts to open the door, a knocking was heard, to which Jeannie responded by knocking back and calling out to Audrey with renewed pleas. "Miss All! Ssnow! Miss All!"

"Did she just say "snow"?" Helen asked, just hearing it for the first time.

"Oh, aye. She's saying "no" as well. Possibly. I don't know if she were saying snow the whole time or if she were occasionally trying to scold me." Audrey's tone was sardonic as she made her way to let the vets back into the house.

The men came in, shucking off dripping boots, soggy gloves, and snow-laden hats. "There's close to three feet out there!" Siegfried exclaimed, toeing off his boots.

Audrey tried to keep Jeannie out of the way by picking her up, but Jeannie wasn't interested and lurched towards Siegfried. 

"Jeannie, you need to let Mr. Farnon take off his wet things. Stay here with me."

"No!"

Siegfried stopped moving, his scarf half unwound, one end still against his neck, the other in his hand, which was hovering around his ear. "What did she say?"

Audrey sighed as she struggled to keep the child, still without shoes, away from the puddles forming in the back room. "She's not terribly fond of me right now."

Siegfried raised his eyebrows and let go of the scarf. He was torn between cheering on the little girl for speaking her mind and not wishing to see her giving Audrey such difficulties.

"Jeannie, you have to mind Mrs. Hall."

"Snow!"

"She is rather unhappy that she does not have the proper clothing to play in the snow." Jeannie squirmed in Audrey's arms, accidentally flailing one hand across Audrey's face, hitting her squarely in the right eye. 

Audrey gasped, quickly brought one hand to her face, and clumsily bent to put Jeannie down. Siegfried, ignoring his snow-covered state, moved forward to pull Jeannie further from Audrey, hoping to prevent any further accidental injuries, while quietly checking to be sure Audrey didn't also require assistance of a medical nature. "Au—Mrs. Hall, are you all right?" 

She was still stooped down, covering her face, and Siegfried was hit with the sickening realisation that she might be suffering more from memories than from any current pain, though he imagined that even a child-sized fist to the face felt fairly awful. The problems with her defunct marriage were ones she left largely unspoken, only vaguely speaking of her husband's early affectionate nature fading and warping over the years. Siegfried always imagined she used those tepid phrases to cover over a far nastier reality, and he was deeply concerned that taking even an accidental blow to the face might have her caught up in her past as she remained near the floor, unmoving and silent.

"Mrs. Hall?"

Jeannie had stopped flailing and fussing and was standing quite still encircled by Siegfried's arm as she watched Mrs. Hall through her own tears.

Audrey held up her free hand to indicate she needed a minute, and after another moment, slowly stood up, reaching for a chair back to steady herself, and still covering the right side of her face. 

Siegfried set Jeannie on a chair, instructing her to stay put, and came to Audrey's side. "What do you need?"

"A tea towel with cold water, please." 

"Here, sit." He guided her to the front of the chair, and behind him could hear Helen, who had put Jimmy down in his cradle and come to assist, running the tap.

Siegfried stayed by her side, accepted the cloth from Helen, and when he spied movement out of the corner of his eye, reminded Jeannie to stay seated. Then he placed the cool towel in Audrey's free hand. "Please let me see your eye before you bring the cloth to it."

"I'm sure it's nowt. Just smarted something fierce for a moment. It were mostly the surprise of it."

"I'd still like to see it. Unless you want me to trudge across town for a doctor, that is." His eyes held a challenging gleam, and Audrey knew that the daft man would do just that if she didn't put his fears to rest.

She lowered her hand, squinting a bit against the light. "See? It's fine. Just sore. I might turn a bit colourful before it's all said and done. But I'm not injured. She's mighty, but not that much." She attempted a small smile that came across as a grimace when the movement caused a pinching pain.

She lowered her voice so that only Siegfried might hear her. "Don't be cross with her, Siegfried." Returning to a normal speaking volume, she added, "She wanted very badly to go out with you and Mr. Carmody."

Siegfried looked at her eye from a few angles and, convinced she was correct in her claims of not being actually injured, stayed in the same position, his face close to hers a beat longer than necessary, captured by the feelings their close proximity brought forth within him. She truly was the most beautiful woman he knew—inside and out.

He cleared his throat. "Thank you for humouring me, Mrs. Hall. I agree that there doesn't appear to be any damage beyond an almost inevitable bruise developing."

"I've got an ointment I can use for that."

"Of course you do." He chuckled and spun, still in a stooped position, to face Jeannie's chair. "Jeannie, you must be careful when someone is holding you. Can you do that?"

Jeannie nodded and fell into Siegfried's open arms for a hug. He whispered in her ear. "Can you say "sorry" to Mrs. Hall?" 

She looked at him solemnly and nodded, and he brought her to Audrey's side. "Jeannie wants to tell you something."

Audrey allowed the girl to climb onto her lap, using her free arm to keep her steady, and lowered the cloth to smile at her. "What do you want to tell me, love?"

Jeannie looked back at Siegfried, who mouthed "Sorry" to her, then leaned her head against Audrey's chest and sighed. "Saw-ee, Miss All."

Audrey kissed Jeannie's head, any soreness she had been experiencing felt immediately diminished by hearing the girl speak yet another new word in such a short span of time. "Thank you, Jeannie."

******************************

The remaining morning hours passed with far less excitement. Richard and Siegfried bundled themselves to head back outside where they joined others in the community in digging out from under the three days' snow accumulation, rendering it far easier for people to move about in the square. 

Having secured Siegfried's solemn vow to play with her later, Jeannie had accepted her fate to stay inside where it was dry and warm until there were more continuous clear walking paths outside, upon which time she had been assured that she could go on a walk to see the snow with both Mr. Farnon and Mrs. Hall. Happy with those future plans, she was content to play with Keith and the cats and dogs, occasionally pausing to ask, "Snow?" to check if Mr. Farnon was finished yet. Meanwhile, it was Tricki who nosed out Jeannie's shoes, tucked under the sofa, much to Audrey's relief, as there could be no walk without shoes.

The men stayed out until lunch, taking only a few short tea breaks to warm up in between. When their midday meal was consumed, Siegfried announced that he had spoken to Percy's owners and offered to deliver the cat to them since he'd be out again, anyway. Zebra, whose home was further afield, would stay with them a little longer. 

After lunch, Audrey decided to let the washing up wait so that they might take their walk before Jeannie and Keith's typical nap hour. Helen opted to stay home with Jimmy and the remaining animals, with strict instructions from Audrey to rest and enjoy the quiet while they were gone.

They roped Richard into their walk as well, and he took possession of the wicker carrying basket, lined with a few old towels, in which Percy made the short trip home. Siegfried and Audrey each took a child by the hand and began their walk amongst the lingering flurries with firm reminders to the little ones to stay on the mostly cleared sidewalks. The children did, however, each receive turns being lifted up and over the snowbanks by Siegfried like little aeroplanes. He dipped each plane low so that they could grab at the snow with mittened hands, earning him a smile from Audrey that he would have sworn helped keep him warm despite the low temperature.

They were, as a group, feeling rather chilly by the time they returned Percy to his grateful family and were all more than willing to get out of the elements when they once again reached the front steps of Skeldale House.

Audrey sat the children near the stove, gave them each a small cup of milk, then tucked them under extra quilts for their afternoon nap, receiving no complaints at all from either of them, so exhausted as they were by their wintery walk.

Chapter Text

"Helen?" Audrey dried her hands after at last finishing the lunch dishes and pulled out a chair. "Everything all right, love?"

Helen looked at Audrey with a start. "Sorry. I were miles away."

Audrey reached out to touch the young mother's arm, curled around a swaddled, sleeping Jimmy. "With James?"

Helen lifted her shoulders with a sigh. "Can't imagine how you ever guessed," she replied ruefully. "I miss him, and the letters come so few and far between."

"That they do. All we can do is keep writing to them. Hope our letters are reaching them and helping somehow."

"Jimmy were eight weeks yesterday. And even I didn't think of it till today," Helen bemoaned.

Audrey reassured her that all mothers face similar instances of missing something like that. "Far too much else to be getting on with when one has a babe in the house."

"I hate how much James is missing." Helen's words were whispered, and her gaze firmly fixed on her son.
 
"He's starting to really have a personality now, and James don't have any idea about it. I try to tell him in my letters, but sometimes I feel badly to keep going on about all he's not here to see."

Audrey shook her head gently. "Oh, love, I'm sure he's thrilled for every bit that you write to tell him. It probably makes him feel like he's getting to know the little chap, too, even if he's not here." 

"He's doing so much. I try to write things down when I notice them so I can remember to write them to James. Finding his hands, the real smiles, his cooing noises, how he seems to really know all of us now."

Helen wiped impatiently at an eye. "I were thinking that Jeannie and Keith have been here less than two weeks, and they know Jimmy better than his own father does. And Jimmy reacts to them, too. They're visitors, and Jimmy's happy to see them, but if James walked in right now, Jimmy would see him as a stranger."

Audrey stood and put an arm around Helen's shoulder, giving a light squeeze. "I know. It's not fair, and I'm sorry it's happening."

"I know I should be happy that so far he's safe. That's what really matters."

"You can't help missing those you love. And thinking about how you'd like them to be with you doing and seeing things. I always wish Edward were here during the holidays." 

Audrey paused a moment, contemplating whether or not to expound any further. "Robert too. It were such early days for us that I couldn't miss much in terms of married life together. So I longed for what I were hoping for our life, instead." 

She pressed her lips together and took a breath. She wouldn't get upset. She needed to be there for Helen. Her and Robert were long past. And the disappointment of never experiencing the life and marriage she had expected was neither here nor there now. She had a household of people who needed her to be strong, to look out for them, and sometimes, to comfort them as well.

****************************** 

Helen had all three little ones in the sitting room with her, keeping them out of the way of Audrey and Siegfried, who were setting up the kitchen table for an artistic venture Helen felt sure was bound to result in some degree of destruction to the scullery. But that was Audrey and Siegfried's problem to sort, for she planned on spending the time in the sitting room with her son and perhaps the radio. Richard was holed up in the exam rooms, doing what, Helen couldn't possibly guess. She only knew that he seemed just as excited to spend time in the surgery when there were no animals present as when there were. 

But for the moment, Helen held Jimmy on her lap, facing out so that he could see Jeannie and Keith, who were making silly faces to try to make him smile. Despite Helen's warning that Jimmy wasn't old enough to appreciate silly faces, they were determined to give it their all.

"Jimmy's not even one year old. He still has to learn about being silly. What about you, Jeannie? Do you know how old you are?"

Jeannie kept up her face-making, though she was slowly transitioning to doing a silly dance instead. Helen wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, but it made the little girl giggle at herself, and Helen thought she'd try her hand at talking with her while she was obviously in a much better mood than she had been earlier.

Holding up her fingers to illustrate, Helen tried to guess Jeannie's age. "Are you one year old, Jeannie?" She held up her index finger. "That's a baby or a very little boy or girl. Maybe Keith is one year old."

Jeannie ceased her dancing and leaned on Helen's leg, interested in this discussion that had to do with her brother and herself.

"Maybe you're two years old. Or maybe Keith is." She held two fingers up. 

"Or maybe Jeannie is three?" Helen added her thumb to her two fingers, and Jeannie grabbed her hand. 

"Jee!"

"Jeannie is three?"

The little girl pointed to herself. "Jee!"

"That's grand! What a big girl you are!"

Jeannie beamed and began manipulating her own fingers to achieve the same method of showing three digits. With a bit of help, she proudly held up her own three while tapping her chest with her other hand.

"You're three?" Helen clarified.

"Jee twee."

Helen was dumbfounded at the improvement Jeannie was showing in only one day, despite her tantrum earlier. "You need to show Audrey and Siegfried that!"

Jeannie tilted her head. "Miss All?"

"Yes. Mrs. Hall and Mr. Farnon. Can you say Mister Farnon?

Jeannie jumped about a bit, mouthing something, and Helen repeated her request.

Jeannie nodded and patted Helen's arm, then walked around the perimeter of the room, still moving her lips but saying nothing. Halfway through a second loop of the room, Audrey came in to announce the kitchen was ready for the small artists.

"Miss All!" Jeannie clapped.

"Yes, love. Are you ready to try painting with Mr. Farnon? We have to be very careful. The paints belonged to Mr. Farnon when he was a little boy." She reached out a hand to guide Keith away from Jimmy.

"Misseh Fahnuh!" 

Audrey stopped and stared first at Jeannie, then Helen. Helen grinned at her reaction. "Ask her how old she is," Helen prompted. 

Audrey's eyes widened further, and she knelt down in front of the little girl and asked her age.

"Twee," Jeannie responded straightforwardly, as if she'd been answering the same question the entire time they'd known her. 

After a beat of silence, in which Audrey could only grasp Jeannie's hands and beam at her, she told the child to wait a moment, walked through to the study, and called out into the hall for Siegfried. "Mr. Farnon! We need you in the front room, please!

It took two calls, but Siegfried finally half-jogged his way to the room, looking concerned.

"Jeannie has something to tell you," Audrey said gleefully, grabbing onto his forearm in her excitement.

Helen laughed at Siegfried's reaction as he scooped Jeannie up and danced her out to the exam room, where he pounded on the door for another witness to her new verbal offerings. "Poor Richard," she mused aloud, "He can never be free of the madness for long."

          ****************************** 

The children eventually made it to the kitchen table, where they were adorned with some of Audrey's more well-worn aprons, and sat down at the table, where newspaper sheets covered every inch of the surface. Audrey had fetched the chipped dog bowl for water and a pile of their oldest flannels, and they had brought out the three rectangular cakes of paint that were closest to full. Siegfried found a started sketchbook Tristan had left in a cupboard and tore out two sheets, placing them down in front of the children along with a paintbrush. He borrowed Jeannie's brush to demonstrate how to wet the brush, then the cake of paint, making strokes of brick red, a rich navy, and a cocoa brown on an extra scrap of torn paper.

Jeannie could hardly sit still for how eager she was to try, quickly took the brush back from Siegfried, and began making swooping arcs of red across her paper. Keith, in an echo of how he typically behaved at the table, tossed his brush to the ground, opting to stick his fingers into the water bowl instead. When his sister brought his attention to her paper, however, he decided that he wanted to make his own art, and before Audrey could help him with the brush, he discovered finger painting all on his own. He put down random patterns of little fingertip dots before realising he too could make lines if he dragged his built-in paintbrush across the sheet of paper.

The children were incredibly animated as they created their masterpieces, Keith calling out a variety of sounds in between toothy smiles and Jeannie calling "Miss All" and "Misseh Fahnuh" repeatedly to show off the latest addition of colour to her canvas. Siegfried took full advantage of her chattiness and began pointing out the paint colours repeatedly, hoping it might reignite some of her dormant vocabulary. She put down a whole section of small blue splotches, with Siegfried repeating "blue" countless times, without any success in convincing her to say the colour name. 

However, his diligent efforts were rewarded when Jeannie put down her brush, held out her water and paint-streaked hands in silent request for help, then, once dried off, pointed to her masterpiece and told him, "Snow, Misseh Fahnuh. Bwue snow!" then giggled, perhaps at the silliness of the very idea.

****************************** 

Audrey let out a heavily fatigued sigh. "What a day!" she proclaimed.

Siegfried found himself in complete agreement. Between the physical toll of the hours spent working outdoors and the ups and downs with Jeannie and Keith, he felt a day full of veterinary work was far easier than this day without it had been. Though it did have its surprising high points. He smiled as he remembered the way in which Jeannie said his name.

"Jeannie was remarkable today." He made a small sound of self-derision, then amended his statement. "Once she moved past her angry hours, that is." He looked tenderly towards Audrey, noting a small semicircular area of pink appearing around the outside corner of her right eye.

She ignored the topic of Jeannie's tantrum and her own minor injury, much preferring to focus on the child's achievements for the day. "She said so much more today. Both of them did well, really."

"Yes, they seem to be showing more rapid improvement since we've determined their names." 

"I think the storm may have helped, too. They like having us all around." She reached out and touched his hand briefly. "That isn't to say owt against how hard you and Mr. Carmody usually work." She would hate for him to feel badly about the days he couldn't be home to help with children, especially given that she had brought Jeannie & Keith into their lives without so much as an advance warning, never mind actual permission.

His smile reassured her that he had understood her meaning, and she felt a sense of gratitude that their years together had created a dependable degree of perception between them. For all his foibles, Siegfried was a constant in her life that she appreciated more than she could say, even if a secret part of her longed for more between them.

"Of course it could be that they are progressing so well because they have been so well cared for while they have been here." It was Siegfried's turn to run a finger along the back of her closest hand, and it warmed her to hear him offer her accolades, even when she wasn't in the least bit sure she deserved any. 

"We're so pleased by their efforts, but I can't help but wonder what someone who knew them before things went wrong in their lives might think if they were to see them right now. They might be appalled by how poorly they seem compared to how they once were." 

Siegfried watched her worry the knuckles of one hand with the other. "If they thought anything of the sort, we would explain what they were like when you found them, and then they too would understand how much they've improved in so little time."

For a while they sat, each lost in their own thoughts, with no discussion between them. They simply sat, side by side, enjoying the quiet moment together, each digesting the busy day's highs and lows, achievements, disappointments, and surprising situations. Unbeknownst to Siegfried, Audrey's mind had even drifted further back, to the previous day. Siegfried's closeness on the sofa reminded her of how he had knelt so near when he tended to her after the accident with Jeannie. And from there she recalled the way he came to check on her after her episode of upset in the garden Wednesday afternoon.

"Did you mean it in the garden yesterday?"

"Ah, Audrey, while I do rather enjoy pretending to see and know all, I fear you have me at a loss over exactly what you're referring to at the moment."

"About me dress," she mumbled, resolutely not looking at him.

Siegfried's heart began to pound. "This is it," he realised. "This is the moment." He knew he could laugh his suggestion from yesterday off, and they could continue on as always, or he could tell the truth. That he would like to spend more time with her. That he would love to have dinner just the two of them, even if just here in their own dining room—so long as when it was over, they'd continue on to the sitting room to share a drink and enjoy some music or continued conversation.

He had imagined telling her just that so many times previously but never could begin to conjure any words he felt might possibly be right to explain his feelings, always feeling aggravated with himself after his invented scenarios. But now, her simple question, so earnest, so vulnerable. Did he mean it? If only words existed to express just how very much he did.

And so, without having time to fully consider or rehearse it, the moment was upon him, and none of the scenarios he imagined truly applied to the current situation. He was going to have to take it moment by moment, on instinct, with the love he felt for her as his only guide.

He held out his hands in invitation, and she tentatively reached out with both of her own. 

"I meant it more than I can even begin to tell you. I enjoy every minute we have together, and if you'd like for us to arrange to spend more time together, aside from talking about household needs, or client calls, or (he chuckled a bit) child management, I would enjoy that very, very much." 

He paused, unsure if he should add the last thing, and when an answer from her wasn't immediately forthcoming, decided to go all in. "And I truly would love to see you in your special dress again, if you'd like to wear it, that is."

Her answer was tentative but hopeful. "I would."

"I'm glad."

"Siegfried, I..." She laughed a short, soft laugh. "I don't know what I want to say."

"Perhaps it might help if I ask you something and you need only answer with yes or no?"

Her eyes were curious as she gave him a nod of assent. 

"Would you like to spend more time together here at home?"

"Yes—very much so."

He paused, gathering his courage before continuing. "Would you ever consider spending time together outside of the house?"

She had to look away. To try and fail to bring her hammering heart under control. To try and fail to hide the blush staining her cheeks. 

He joked to cover his nerves as he awaited her answer. "Preferably when there isn't three feet of snow on the ground." His smile was lopsided and somewhat tense, his eyes pinched in worry over her reaction.

She smiled back at him and voiced her answer around the lump in her throat. "Yes, I would."

He lifted one hand level to her face, then stopped, hovering. "May I?" he whispered.

"Y-yes." She wasn't exactly sure what she was agreeing to. He'd kissed her hand only three days ago, with no pausing to acquire permission. She hoped fervently that she was now assenting to something more.

He brought his hand up to cup her side of her face, drawing his thumb back and forth over her cheekbone. She could feel both the work-roughened rasp of his fingers against her skin, as well as the soft tickle of the cuff of his mustard cardigan as it moved across her face following his touch. She could smell the scent she associated with him at the beginning and end of each day, the clean smell that trailed behind him as he rushed about before going to work or that lingered after him once he had returned home and washed away the odours of a day out on farm visits. Her breath began to tremble with each inhalation in and out.

He moved closer to her, his second hand still wrapped around hers. There was something he needed to know first. Something he had to ask before he could even consider continuing this wondrous path he had just started them upon.

"Do you ever regret staying here?" he forced out, his movements stilling.

"No," she breathed, shaking her head firmly. "Never. Not even once. This is my home. It's where I want to be." 

He visibly relaxed. "I always want you to be here," he declared fervently. Then with a small tremble he confessed further, "I couldn't bear for you to ever go."

"I don't ever want to."

He released her second hand, caught her eye, and held her gaze affixed. "May I?"

This time she was sure she knew exactly what he was asking, though she could scarcely believe it. "Yes—please."

His second hand joined his first, framing her face, and with crinkled eyes glistening with emotion, he brought his lips against hers for the very first time.

At contact, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him to herself almost desperately, clutching at the warmth of his back. As he pulled back slightly from that first soft meeting of lips, she gave a shaky smile as she brought him back to her to instigate their second kiss, fighting to hold back a sob of sweet relief bubbling up within her.

Siegfried threw himself into the second kiss. No longer a hesitant, gentle approach to a woman who might not be ready for that type of attention, but an outpouring of feelings held back for so long, finally offered to a love who very clearly wished to stay in his arms.

His following kisses were brief but numerous, delivered with a firmness he resisted in his first caress across her lips, and landing randomly as he took in how marvellous it was to be so close to her, to touch her, to embrace her. He placed a kiss at one corner of her mouth, then the other, and a sprinkling here and there across her face, between splayed fingers that still held her lovingly in his hands. Avoiding the tender area around her right eye, he ghosted one across her cheekbone, then kissed his way down to her jaw, back up to her temple, before returning to press another kiss centred fully upon her inviting lips. 

She felt herself gasping, despite having plenty of opportunities to breathe; for so much of their interlude, she spent holding her breath as she basked in the feel of his lips against her skin. 

Siegfried's kisses slowed and stopped, but he kept her face in his hands, gazing at her in a way that stole her breath away for a completely different reason. She tried to recall the last time anyone looked at her in such a way, as if she was vital to their life, their world, their happiness. 

Her thoughts kept crashing over one another like waves in a storm—contented ones and worrisome ones, elated ones and unsure ones, embarrassed ones and excited ones. She couldn't calm them enough to focus on which she ought to attempt to express out loud, to find words that might make any sense of her jumbled emotions. She settled on a solitary word. One that signalled safety and security and which almost always made her smile. 

"Siegfried."

He waited a beat to see if she would say more, and she gave a soft chuff of laughter. "I still don't know what to say," she admitted, her shy smile causing him to want to simultaneously wish to find all the perfect words to assure her that all would be well and to also continue to kiss her until neither of them could keep their eyes open a second longer.

While he knew his words were far from eloquent, he opted to offer them. "I know this is rather new." He ran his finger down her cheek to illustrate his meaning. "But I want you to know that my feelings for you have been here for a much longer time."

Her eyes widened. "I thought I were the only one hiding feelings."

His emotions kept him silent briefly, and in that interim he grasped her hand and brought it to his lips in a far more purposeful gesture than he had used a few nights past. "I'm sorry I kept my feelings to myself for so long. I thought it was the right thing to do."

"So did I." Her eyes misted over, and her smile wobbled. 

"Here." He rearranged himself, indicating for her to do the same, allowing her to nestle against his side on the settee. She brought one hand across herself to rest against his chest. Then, questioning her action, she began to draw back her fingers, prompting Siegfried to lightly cover her hand with his own, murmuring into her hair. "This is nice."

She nodded against him, and finding it easier to express her thoughts when not looking directly at him, voiced a question that had been circling in her mind. "Is this, what I mean is," She sighed against him, and he gently caressed her arm. He knew how difficult it had been for him to express the few thoughts he had shared, and he hoped to encourage her. 

"What about the others?" she finally whispered.

He was well and truly baffled at first. "Others?"

"Helen and Mr. Carmody, first of all."

"What about them?"

"What do we tell them? If we keep on, that is. Unless you don't mean for it to be..."

"No. No. I don't have any intention for this to be something kept to these nighttime interludes, if that's what you mean." When he realised no answer was forthcoming, he pulled himself to the side to create a gap between them so that he could see her face again, so that he could fix whatever had desperately gone wrong in this interaction to leave her wondering about the strength and longevity of his feelings for her.

"I love you, Audrey. And I am willing to share that with others in whatever way makes you most comfortable whenever you decide you'd like to do so."

She lifted herself up on one arm and reached towards him with the other, her hand finding his bearded cheek and momentarily closing her eyes as she relished the feel of him, so new to her, yet already so precious. "I love you, too." 

"Then perhaps we can sort the details later?"

She nodded and reached up to kiss him once more.

Chapter Text

Friday, 21 February 1941:

Come Friday morning, Siegfried made sure to be up earlier than usual in an effort to find Audrey in the kitchen alone before the Herriots or Carmody made their way down for breakfast. As alone as she ever was now that the children were staying with them, of course. But with a vocabulary of under a dozen words, Siegfried wasn't terribly concerned about Jeannie giving away any of their secrets.

The first thing he noticed when he saw her, however, was her eye. The outer corner now had an arc of light purple around it, and a smaller dark pink mark of similar shape had now marred the pale skin near the inner corner of her eye, as well.

She looked surprised to see him in the kitchen early and equally surprised by his subdued greetings to her and the children, so different from the overly boisterous way he typically bid their little guests "good morning." But as he stared a bit too long at the proof of her injury, a look of resignation appeared in place of the surprise.

"My eye doesn't affect my hearing, you know." She ribbed him about his uncharacteristic entrance.

Siegfried wasn't so easily deterred from his concern for her and joined her by the stove. "Is it causing you any pain?" he asked in a discreet whisper, not wanting Jeannie to overhear that discussion, whether she could repeat it or not. 

He'd noted yesterday that she had not been crying when he came into the house, but that she was crying as she watched him check Audrey's eye. If nothing else, he was sure that the poor girl realised that she had hurt her beloved "Miss All" and was clearly upset by the fact. He didn't wish for her to be subjected to listening to anyone go on about it today if at all possible.

The children were busy playing with the ball and toy lorry, along with an empty box, some laundry pegs, and a bit of string. They had returned to their play after barely acknowledging his hellos, leading him to believe this was indeed an opportunity to speak to Audrey privately without waiting for their nightly chat.

Siegfried tried to be careful with his words. He didn't want to come across as pitying or prying. With a last look back at the children, he gingerly drew his index finger from her temple to her chin, avoiding the bruising around her eye.

"I'm sorry you were hurt." His voice remained in hushed tones. 

She closed her eyes briefly at his touch, but upon hearing his words, she gave him a gentle reproach. 

"I'm fine. She's only three. I would have covered the marks if it weren't for how hard it is to buy such things right now. I'd rather save what little I have for when I need to go out of the house." 

She paused, seemingly lost in thought, then gave what Siegfried recognised as a false smile.

"Besides, it's nearly as noticeable trying to cover such things as it is to leave them be. Foundation cream isn't always the wonder they claim it to be. Now, on to more important matters. What has you up early this morning? There's no list." 

"I wanted a moment to see you without an audience, my dear." He stepped closer to her, so that there was little space left between them. "May I?" 

His noticeably fixed stare at her lips left no question of what he was asking, though it tickled her that he would be back to seeking permission this morning. 

"Will you be asking me every day, then?" she teased.

"You'll have to wait and see." And taking her light-hearted response as a "yes," he leaned in to capture her lips in a sweet, soft morning kiss. It was over nearly the moment it started, but it made Audrey feel as though a wonderful inner glow had filled her when she considered that this was what life could be like now—starting each new day with Siegfried's kiss. The smile that graced her face as he pulled away created a happiness in Siegfried that no worry over her eye could compete with.

He pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, grinning from ear to ear. He may have stood there with some inane look on his face half the day had Helen not entered the room, looking haggard. 

As Siegfried struggled to bring himself back from his moment of delight, Audrey switched gears effortlessly.

"Oh, Helen—you're up early, too! Rough night, love?"

Helen practically melted into Audrey's armchair and groaned. "He were up for hours, not happy unless he were in my arms. And no sooner does the sun come up, but he's fast asleep."

She closed her eyes and groaned. "I thought we had this all sorted. Sleeping all day, awake all night, always feeding, and now we're right back at it."

"Oh, you poor dear. They do that. They have times when they just want to eat endlessly, and it sets their sleep off summat fierce. You rest today. You needn't be down here when he's finally asleep."

"That's just it—he's finally asleep, and now I'm feeling peckish."

Audrey clapped her hands together. "Well, that's one thing I can help with. Let's start you with a brew."

Siegfried watched Audrey bustle about and consoled himself with the notion that at least he had managed a kiss before Helen arrived. He busied himself checking the food and water dishes for the animals, then looking over the boarding animals, despite the knowledge that they were all perfectly well. Finally he lowered himself to the floor with the excuse that he needed to keep the children occupied while Audrey worked. 

As Audrey brought breakfast to the table, Richard arrived to join the others for their morning meal. She earned a grateful sigh from Helen when she served the new mother first. Afterwards Helen agreed, somewhat guiltily, to go back upstairs to try to clock in a few more hours of sleep. "I hate to leave you with everything on your own."

"Nonsense. The children are in fine moods this morning. The phone's still down. Mr. Farnon and Mr. Carmody will be home. It's the perfect time for you to take care of yourself."

The men made appropriate sounds of agreement around spoons of hot cereal and sips of tea, and Helen left for the bedsit before the rest of the household had even finished their meal.

"Poor girl. I remember how it is. You think you'll never feel well-rested again." 

******************************

"I trust the exam rooms are still in order?" Siegfried confirmed. 

"Yes, I returned everything to the places where I found them. Unless its original location was illogical, in which case I placed it in a location that seemed better suited."

"Better suited, Carmody? What locations could be better suited than those where I already knew to look?"

"I simply categorised like items with like items, Mr. Farnon. I am sure you will be able to locate anything you might need."

Siegfried questioned the young man further. "And the rooms are clean, I assume? You spent enough time in them the last few days."

"Yes, of course. An examination room must always be tidy, and the tools always sterilised and ready for use."

Siegfried sighed. "Very well. Surgery can open, though I doubt you'll see many clients this morning." 
And he stalked off, grumbling under his breath about the wisdom in allowing other people to spend unchaperoned time in his surgical spaces.

Siegfried was correct. Though the blizzard that had raged through northern England the past few days had finally subsided, and the snow had ceased its falling by the previous afternoon, many area locations were still digging out from under the initial snowfall, while others were dealing with drifting that occurred overnight, meaning the early morning hours at Skeldale were indeed quiet ones—at least in terms of the veterinary practice.

Siegfried left Richard indoors to be on hand for anyone who might actually be in need of their assistance while he set off once again to lend a hand to the snow-clearing efforts. His absence meant no one was unnecessarily interrogating Richard about surgical cleanliness, but it did nothing for one other source of noise in Richard's life—Keith.

For reasons Richard had yet to establish, Keith still seemed to enjoy his presence. The mortifying chamber pot incident was long past, for which Richard was distinctly pleased. He doubted the child even remembered it. And the past few days had been mostly devoid of the absurd games Mr. Farnon enjoyed dragging him into, always under the dubious guise of giving Mrs. Hall a break from entertaining the children. Yet, the child still showed a baffling interest in Richard that the young vet didn't understand.

If Richard was present at a time when Keith wasn't actively involved in some sort of play—or secured to his regular kitchen chair via one of Mrs. Hall's aprons—then he inevitably found the child at his side, babbling nonsensical sounds, gesturing incomprehensibly, or hanging on to the young vet bodily. The latter Carmody found particularly troubling given how often the child's hands were inexplicably sticky or, perhaps worse, moist.
 
And so on this particular morning, as Richard settled himself into the book snug, as was his habit when there was nothing imperative demanding his attention, he soon found his treasured reading time invaded by the oh-too-familiar sounds of toddler gabble, followed by the inescapable damp hand plastered over his corduroy-clad thigh.

Richard grimaced, and tucking a bookmark into his text, placed it on the occasional table in hope of protecting it from the same fate as his trousers.

"Keith." He greeted the child somewhat brusquely, not wishing to be cruel but also not wishing to encourage the boy's continued presence. 

Apparently the child's name was all that was required to toddler ears to indicate a willing play partner, for the boy quickly pattered off towards the basket that held some of the children's newly acquired playthings and scurried back with the wheeled horse in hand. Richard couldn't help but thaw slightly. While he logically knew that it was most likely a coincidence, he couldn't help but recall hearing Mr. Farnon mention to the children, on more than one occasion, that Richard did have a fondness for all things equine.

Keith began tapping the horse against his leg repeatedly, and Richard accepted the toy, only to realise that the child was almost certainly attempting to climb onto his lap. He considered calling for Mrs. Hall, but he was well aware that Mr. Farnon would frown upon such an action, a reaction that seemed unfair to Richard given that it was Mrs. Hall who brought the children home with her. But Richard had noticed from the onset of his time at Skeldale an odd dichotomy between employer and employee when it came to Mrs. Hall's place in the home, and while he may admittedly struggle with people, he felt very certain he ought not question why Mr. Farnon often aided the housekeeper in tasks for which he paid her a wage to accomplish on her own, nor why the man was vehement in his directives to Richard and the Herriots not to frequently add any undue burdens to her daily schedule. And with her daily agenda now more overloaded than ever, Richard reluctantly accepted that he was by default the adult in charge of this small human for the time being. 

He bolstered himself with the thought that he did not need to acquiesce to the child's request to sit on his lap, though, surely, and instead started rather stiffly bouncing the horse along the arm of the chair in something he supposed one could call a canter. When Keith seemed not entirely impressed, he added the quietest neigh-like sounds he could manage, fervently hoping that no one might overhear him. The child smiled and smacked those same questionably clean fingers against the chair, making a series of noises Richard thought seemed positive. He gave a forced grin and wondered how long it would take Mrs. Hall to notice one of her charges was missing.

Unbeknownst to Richard, Siegfried had been delayed in his voluntary snow clearing work, having passed through the scullery to dress in his overclothes, and where he had been instantly distracted by the sight that greeted him. Audrey was bent over tending to something that had apparently gone wrong with Jeannie. Their positioning allowed him an angled view of Audrey, wherein he could see most of her profile, but also a tantalising glimpse of her curves, upon which he typically avoided allowing his eyes to linger. It was far from the first time he had walked into a room to find her checking on something in the oven, patting one of the dogs, or picking up random detritus left on a floor somewhere—most likely by himself. Her wool skirt, practical and utilitarian for day-to-day work, suddenly became far more beguiling when stretched taut against her backside as she bent to conduct her task of the moment. In the past, Siegfried would always scold himself if he failed to immediately avert his gaze—and thoughts—from parts of her which he had no business noticing.

But after a few precious hours with her on the sofa, appreciating most fully the few lovely areas available to him—the softness of her cheek, the silkiness of her hair, the firm warmth of her arms around him—he now found it much more of a struggle to respectfully tear his eyes from the contours of her body he still did not dare even consider. 

Jeannie inadvertently came to his rescue, noticing him in the room and using her new skill to inform Audrey of his presence. "Misseh Fahnuh!" 

He cleared his throat and greeted the girl. "Hello, Jeannie. What has happened here?"

Audrey straightened and, facing only him, rolled her eyes at the current predicament. "She asked for a bit of string and cloth early this morning."

"Asked?" Siegfried replied, hopeful that Jeannie had surprised them again with new words.

Audrey's sympathetic face told him the answer before she spoke it. "In a manner of speaking. Mainly "Miss All" and pointing."

"Ah, I see. And that led to a problem, I gather?"

"She has threaded the string through two of her buttonholes in a way that has us unable to unbutton her cardigan."

"Ah! Now I see." Although he truly didn't, for he couldn't understand why Audrey was trying to solve the problem while the child was still wearing the garment. "Can you take it off over her head to work on it?"

Audrey shot him a look. It was the one that said, "There's a story here, but I cannot divulge it right now." He nodded, and she simplified the situation to a short, somewhat tense explanation. "That idea weren't appreciated, and I were afraid I might ruin it if I kept on with trying." 

"Perhaps if we take the case to the exam room? You'll have better light and I have a host of small tools which might make unravelling the knots a bit easier."

"All right, then." She scooched the girl towards Siegfried and turned to where Keith had been playing. "Oh, that boy! Keith? Keith!"

Siegfried looked down at Jeannie and grinned. "Saved by Keith, I'd say." 

Jeannie, not understanding the joke, smiled back nonetheless and reached out for Siegfried's hand.

A few minutes later, Richard was relieved to hear Mrs. Hall's voice filling the hall as she called for Keith. "In here, Mrs. Hall," he yelled out, as loud as he dared, hoping to hasten her arrival. His relief was short-lived. Mrs. Hall entered the room, gave Keith a chastising glance, but then, rather than scold the child for running off on his own, she turned to Richard with a plea upon her face that even Carmody knew meant she was about to ask him something he truly wouldn't wish to do.

"Oh, Mr. Carmody. Since he's so happy with you, do you mind keeping him a moment more? Only his sister has herself in a fix, and Mr. Farnon's agreed to help me sort her."

Richard couldn't bring himself to disappoint the woman who had shown him nothing but kindness since his arrival, and so he plastered a tight smile on his face and nodded. "Certainly, Mrs. Hall. He still appears happy to play with this semblance of a horse." And he lifted the toy in a half-hearted demonstration.

The smile she bestowed upon him in thanks was almost enough to make him reconsider whether damp hands and wheeled horses were the worst things in the world, after all.

******************************

After an hour or so of snow removal with his fellow Darrowby residents, Siegfried made his way back to Skeldale, spreading the word as he did so that surgery would be open for the rest of the day, should anyone have an animal in need.

He found the house relatively quiet as he walked through. The kitchen was empty, though his nose twitched at the strong smell in the room—something pickled, he decided. He found Richard in the sitting room, reading, and enquired about the rest of the household.

"They're all upstairs, Mr. Farnon. Some sort of vinegar calamity."

"Ah, that explains the kitchen," Siegfried mumbled to himself. Though his brow still furrowed in confusion as to the nature of said calamity. He started to ask the young man for clarification and thought better of it, instead asking if there had been any patients so far. "None at all, Mr. Farnon. But I am listening in case anyone should require our help."

Siegfried made a distracted comment of "Good, good," and set off for the staircase at a then sprightly clip, taking the stairs two at a time to reach the first floor. 

"Mi..." Siegfried began to bellow out "Mrs. Hall," as per his usual, but caught himself. "Oh no." He had made his decision about that.

After some rather arduous hours the day before, opting for an early-to-bed plan would have been the prudent choice for two adults to make. However, what one's head practically suggests is not always the same thing that the heart fervently demands, and so any extra hours of slumber were exchanged for extra hours spent wrapped in one another's arms, sharing kisses, shy smiles, and new words of love in front of the dwindling flames until the wee hours of the morning.

During that time they had decided it felt more comfortable for both of them to keep their evolving relationship to themselves for at least a short while until they became more accustomed to their new way of interacting with one another.

Siegfried, however, was the first to prod at that plan, realising it would prevent him from referring to Audrey by her given name in front of the others. He propounded the idea of calling one another Auntie Audrey and Uncle Siegfried, due to Jimmy's relatively recent arrival, expounding upon the recommendation by saying they could claim Jimmy's recent burgeoning personality as their reason for choosing to start using the new names, now.

Audrey, however, felt unsettled by the idea using familial names with Jeannie and Keith present. She feared they might confuse them, just as Jeannie was finally saying their more formal names, and she didn't wish to possibly upset the children's family, who might not appreciate the children being taught to call them aunt and uncle. She had added that if the children did have to return to some sort of children's home, it might make the transition all the more difficult.

Siegfried, despite having referred to himself in such a way to the children a few times at the very beginning of their stay, had voiced agreement with her thoughts, seeing wisdom in her words, as always. However he secretly promised himself that in private moments between them, regardless of the time of day, he would never call her by her ex-husband's name again. He knew it was a slightly ridiculous notion to feel so strongly about, especially since they had only just shared their first romantic feelings with one another. It wasn't as though they were engaged and he was days away from being able to call her by his own name instead. And yet he felt very firm in his sudden desire to avoid referring to her as "Mrs. Hall" when speaking to her himself. He knew he would have to refer to her that way to others, but he did not have to call her by that name himself—not any more. He had waited years for this new privilege and he relished it beyond reason. 

So Siegfried bit back his habitual shout of Audrey's married name as he climbed the stairs and worked his way down the hallway, hearing them in the midst of an unplanned bath. Opening the door partway, he poked his head around the corner of the doorjamb. The children seemed to be past the actual cleaning portion of the bath and were now squealing and splashing around in the few inches of water allotted to them. The smell of vinegar was strong in this room as well, and he spotted a pile of clothing in the corner of the room that seemed to be the likely culprit. Apparently there would be unplanned laundry for Audrey as well. He took in her posture; she was sitting, legs bent at the knee, with her feet tucked against her skirt, against the side of the tub. She had turned at the waist so that her upper body was facing the tub, and she had both arms draped across the top edge of the tub, as if ready to catch a slippery child at any moment. She looked particularly tired, and he chastised himself for selfishly keeping her up late the previous night.

"Vinegar calamity?" he questioned. She startled slightly, then smiled up at him from her weary post on the floor.

"Aye," she sighed, but with no hint of anger in her quiet reply. "I were taking inventory of our supplies. We have a bit less vinegar now."

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked gently. He wished he could send her off for a nap as easily as they sent Helen, but he knew she would never consent to a lie-down midday unless she were fiercely unwell.

She read his mind, as was her way. "I'm fine."

"That wasn't what I asked." Siegfried came into the room fully, leaning against the wall as casually as possible.

"You worry loudly." She gave him a fond look and continued. "But you can take their pickled clothing down for me, if you'd like."

He pushed up his shirtsleeves and began to gather the children's things, including a pair of vinegar sodden shoes, which pointed to Keith as being the most likely source of the calamity. "Is there anything else, Mi...my dear?"

"We'll be done soon, and I'll need to let those things dry until I do the laundry. And I need to get on with lunch."

"Then perhaps it would be a fine time for the children and me to read more about Jemima Puddle-Duck." 

Jeannie, who had been ignoring the adults on the whole, turned at hearing the name of their latest book and grinned. "Duck?"

Chapter Text

Mrs. Pumphrey marked the official return of clients back to the surgery after the blizzard. 

Audrey welcomed her inside. "Tricki is doing wonderfully, Mrs. Pumphrey, though I'm sure he misses you very much. He's probably longing to sit quietly with you after being here a few days." 

Before setting off to collect the prized Pekingese, Audrey and Mrs. Pumphrey spent a few moments discussing the date of the postponed Women's Institute meeting. 

"I thought this coming Wednesday might be a good choice. I realise it's Ash Wednesday, but I thought if people were already coming into the village to go to church, then perhaps it might be good to plan the meeting for a time they're already here. Must save petrol, you know! I should have a firm date for the first meeting with the civil defence officer by then as well. I know you expressed an interest in that."

"I'll be there, Mrs. Pumphrey. I might even see if I can convince Helen to come along."

"Yes, how are Mrs. Herriot and the baby? I suppose the newest Herriot would be Tricki's cousin, wouldn't he?"

Audrey smiled indulgently, but passed on commenting on the Herriot-Tricki family ties. "They're both well. Spending extra time upstairs today. They had a difficult night, and Helen's missing James a bit more acutely right now. Sometimes she needs a break from the bedlam."

Jeannie, who had abandoned playtime with Siegfried when her curiosity over the visitor at the door won out over waiting her turn to plunk at the piano keys while her brother sat alongside Siegfried on the bench playing some made-up song.

Jeannie wandered into the waiting room at that precise moment, and the women shared a knowing smile about the source of some of the bedlam in the house these days. Audrey asked the girl if she wanted to help Mrs. Pumphrey by finding Tricki-Woo and telling him it was time to go home. "I'm promise she's very gentle with him," Audrey assured Marjorie. 

Mrs. Pumphrey was amused by Jeannie's means of locating Tricki-Woo, a style that tickled Audrey both in the immediate realisation that the child was copying Siegfried, and in hearing Jeannie add yet another name to her ever-growing list of spoken words.

"Twicki! Twicki!" Jeannie continued her tiny version of bellowing for the entire length of the hallway, turning towards Siegfried's study, where her call changed to "Miss All!"

"I think she's found him." Audrey led Marjorie through the living and dining rooms, stopping to exchange niceties with Richard Carmody, who was scribbling away notes on what Audrey assumed was the newest corner of veterinary studies had captured his interest. 

"She's made great strides since I last saw her," Marjorie commented as they approached the study.

"They've been here two weeks today, but it's the last several days that they have really shown improvement."

They pulled back the closed velvet curtains and found Siegfried and Keith surprised to see that their audience, previously comprised of only Tricki, had grown quite considerably.

"Jeannie, I am most impressed that you have learnt to say my Tricki's name. Well done!"

Jeannie looked pleased with the praise, though she deflated visibly when Mrs. Pumphrey asked if she could say her name, as well. Noticing her discouragement, Audrey tried to help, stooping to the girl's level and helping her make her way through the unfamiliar name. "It's Mrs. Pumphrey, just like Mrs. Hall. Can you say Missus?"

Jeannie promptly repeated, "Misseh."

Audrey smiled at the better pronunciation Jeannie managed when saying the word on its own. Then helped her break the name down into syllables.

Her efforts, and Marjorie's patience, paid off when Jeannie finally pronounced "Miss Umfee" reverting back to her typical way of using the title with a look of pride on her little face.

Mrs. Pumphrey congratulated Jeannie's efforts, thanked Keith for his concert, and expressed her appreciation to Audrey and Siegfried for their excellent care of Tricki-Woo.

"If you have a moment to walk me to the door, Mr. Farnon, François has a small token of my gratitude. I'm rather afraid my hampers are not what they used to be." In fact, her hamper wasn't a hamper at all, but an open basket with fabric tucked over the contents, but Siegfried still felt a bit like a child at Christmastime as he accepted the gift and felt the decent weight of it. He carried the basket into the house, and Audrey took his place at the door to see Mrs. Pumphrey off.

******************************

Mrs. Pumphrey was just leaving, ensconced with Trick-Woo under plaid lap blankets in the back seat of the Rolls-Royce as François expertly handled the handsome automobile in the snowy conditions, when an older woman bundled up as if about to go on an Arctic expedition rather than a stroll across the village came walking with purpose towards Skeldale.

Seeing her approaching, Audrey waited to hold the door open and ushered her into the waiting area, offering her a seat. "What can we help you with, Mrs..." She trailed off, not entirely certain who it was hiding under the mass of scarves and wraps.

"Oates! It's Mrs. Oates. I'm here for me cat. You've had him for days now. Zebra." She sat heavily upon one of the wooden chairs and began unwinding her layers of scarves as a bemused Audrey left to fetch the cat.

When Audrey returned, the woman had unbundled herself enough to see and be seen and looked to Audrey as she brought Zebra out in his basket. "We've had a nice time keeping your Zebra here, Mrs..."

"My word! What has happened to you?"

Audrey flushed, having temporarily forgotten about her face, and then immediately wondering how much worse it might appear in that moment than it did the last opportunity she had to view her reflection in a mirror. She also briefly mused on the difference between Mrs. Oates and Mrs. Pumphrey, the latter of whom had kindly said not one word about her eye the entire time they had been speaking with one another.

"I'm afraid I've found I'm not as graceful as I once was, Mrs. Oates. Now, your Zebra has been the picture of health these past few days, but if you have any concerns in the future, you know where to find us." She waited for Mrs. Oates to rewrap herself and accept Zebra's carrier, then gratefully showed her out, blowing out a breath as she closed the door behind her.

Siegfried, who, upon returning from the kitchen, approached the waiting area during the women's conversation, felt his heart lurch at the speed in which Audrey had made up her vague lie as well as the ease with which she had delivered it. His emotions warred within him, his fists clenching at his sides while tears pricked at his eyes as his mind conjured circumstances in which she may have honed a skill as grim as inventing stories to explain away injuries. 

He came out into the hall, and with a cursory glance to assure himself they were alone, approached her from behind, speaking her name in the stillness before reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Audrey."

Her hand came up to briefly cover his own, and then with a slight squeeze, she released him and turned to face him, yet another forced smile upon her face. 

"I'm sorry if she upset you. That she made you feel you needed to lie."

"Mrs. Oates likes to talk. I didn't want her going off and nattering far and wide with people about the children behaving badly." She nodded at the end of her response, and Siegfried wondered if she was trying to convince herself that her answer sounded plausible or if she was trying to convince him to accept it and move on.

He had enough pain in his own past to understand that a person speaks of their trauma only when they decide the time is right, and not a moment before. And so he offered her comfort instead of words, opening his arms and feeling incredibly grateful that he could finally do so. She looked around the hall, and when assured they were alone, stepped into his embrace, tightening her own arms around him and leaning against his chest. She stood there for only a few seconds, breathing him in, feeling his heartbeat, settling her frazzled nerves, but when she pulled away from the hug, Siegfried was heartened to note that her smile was genuine once more.

******************************

It was Helen who discovered the phone service had been restored late that afternoon when it gave her a start by ringing as she walked by. She took a message from Mrs. Pumphrey, who apologised for ringing so soon after having been there but asked for one of the vets to come to see to a stray cat she found when she returned home from her earlier visit.

Hers was the first of several calls that began to come in over the evening hours as more area residents realised they had the means of summoning a vet again. Audrey started a list for the next day, which, when combined with the snow in the dales, was likely to keep Siegfried and Richard quite busy.

"Darrowby 2297. Yes, we've been without ours until a few hours ago. He'll be making calls tomorrow, but I can't say when he might make it to you. I'll let him know. All right. Goodbye."

As she set the receiver down for the third time, she started planning out what she might send for the vets to eat and drink while on the road the next day, setting aside some possibilities as she worked on their next meal. She was nearly finished preparing tea when the jangling of the telephone brought her to the phone niche yet again.

"Darrowby 2297. Oh, hello! Do you? I see. Oh, dear. That's awful! Oh, well that's lovely to know, at least. How could that be? I don't understand. Yes, all right. Thank you, Constable. Goodbye, now."

Siegfried came to a stop in the doorway, having once again overheard the tail end of her conversation. She looked up teary-eyed to see Siegfried's face lined in concern, a juxtaposition to the absurdity of the rest of the picture he made, as Jeannie hung on to his neck in a precarious-looking piggyback in which only one of his hands supported her, as his second hand was full of Keith, who he was carrying under his arm like a rugby ball.

"Audrey?"

"It were Lamely. Nowt that can't wait for us to talk later—in private. For now, though, I'm just about to put tea on the table, so we best give these two a wash." She reached out over Siegfried's shoulder to give Jeannie a light tap on the nose, and Siegfried wished he could get away with stealing a kiss as she leaned in so close to his face.

Since they had their two young visitors watching their every move, Siegfried simply accepted Audrey's suggestion as practical and wise as ever and started towards the kitchen with the children still hanging on his person, making alterations to a nursery rhyme as they marched off.

"Wash hands, wash. Mr. Farnon sees a cow. If you want your hands washed, have them washed now. Wash hands, wash. Mr. Farnon sees a cow..."

******************************

In a departure from their typical nightly routine, Audrey was the one waiting for Siegfried to join her as he finished looking over the accumulated list for the next day and deciding which order would make the most sense in regards to saving petrol and in dealing with the snow, layered over the more important factor of any animal seeming to require their attention more urgently.

Siegfried made the short walk from exam room to sitting room, stopping in the doorway to watch Audrey, undetected. She was knitting away, as she had been since the children arrived. When Jeannie and Keith left Skeldale they'd each have new mittens, scarves, and hats to bring with them, along with all of the other items they had been given over their short stay. He admired her focus, her nimble fingers, but more, he admired her giving spirit. Taking the children in, pouring everything she had into them, even as they slept. There were times when he wondered what in the world he had ever done to deserve her entrance into his life. And after the previous night's foray into an entirely new chapter of their intermingled lives, he pondered over it in amazement all the more.

"Are you going to stare at me all night, or will you be joining me? 

He chuckled and sat down beside her. "You're far too clever for me, my dear."

She gave nothing but a hum in response, although he recognised the hum as one she used in agreement, and he enjoyed her ability to be cheeky in the most subtle of ways. 

"Speaking of clever people in this house, I'm not sure the children believed me when I told them we didn't have any animals boarding right now. Jeannie gave me a look that reminded me of you when you're feeling sceptical of something I've suggested."

"I can't imagine what you mean," she smirked. "Besides, since we don't actually have any animals boarding right now, she wasn't so clever after all," Audrey joked.

Siegfried shook his head as he thought over the past few days with the little girl. "No, she really is clever. I keep waiting to wake up one morning and have her start speaking to us in full sentences. We behave as if she's just learning to speak, but I truly believe Doctor Robinson was correct when he predicted it was a case of her needing to get back into the habit of it. The more words and phrases she uses, the more likely it feels that she'll just start talking away one day. At least I hope she will."

"I hope she does it soon, then, or we might miss it." Audrey's eyes were soft and understanding.

"Lamley's made progress?" He tried to sound more interested than distressed, with only a modicum of success.

Audrey set aside her knitting and reached for his hand.

"He said he received our message on Wednesday and started making calls to anywhere he could get through to with the phone outages as they were. He rang all the homes close by a second time, with the children's names, in case they'd received any information since he last spoke to them, or in case the names jogged any memories."

"And did they?"

Audrey released his hand to reach over for a pencil and notepad sheet on the side table, which she quickly skimmed to refresh her memory of the proper order of their discussion. "He said the two homes closest..." She checked her hastily scribbled notes. "...in Ambleside and Kendal, are only for girls, and therefore Jeannie and Keith wouldn't have been sent there together. He did ring them both again, but neither place had any recollection of being asked about taking Jeannie on her own."

Siegfried frowned. This sounded like what they had already been told. "There's more, I take it?"

She nodded. "He started working outward from the lakes and found an orphanage in Lancaster where they apparently stayed one night. That home said the children had been sent there by mistake, but they arrived late in the day, so the home agreed to let them stay overnight and to send them to their proper destination the next day."

"Did he learn the name of the home that was expecting them?"

"The person he spoke to said they didn't fill out any paperwork on Jeannie and Keith since they didn't plan to keep them."

"That seems rather short-sighted doesn't it?" Siegfried had the growing inclination that he was not going to be very impressed by much of what Audrey had jotted down from her conversation. "Why would you move children about the country and keep no record of where they had been sent?" It seemed criminal to his way of thinking.

Audrey's brows were pitched in disgust as she continued. "The Lancaster home mentioned the children having summat "wrong with them", and that they could only take healthy children there. There were other homes that accepted children who were ill, crippled, or disabled. And that they should have been brought to one of those."

She continued to scowl. "I told him there's nowt wrong with Jeannie and Keith! That we'd even brought them to see a doctor, who agreed."

Siegfried placed an arm around her shoulders and drew her close to him, kissing her temple in hopes of soothing away some of her agitation. 

"All the Lancaster home had were their names on a list of children leaving the orphanage the next day, along with the name of the person escorting them."

Siegfried's interest was piqued. "Their full names?"

Audrey's face lifted, and she smiled gently. "Aye. Jean and Keith Buckley." 

"Jean and Keith Buckley," Siegfried repeated. "So they are siblings, just as we've assumed."

Audrey gave a teary nod. "They are, and I'm so relieved."

After a moment of basking in that bit of good news, Siegfried gave Audrey's shoulder a squeeze. "Is there anything else? What about this escort? What do they have to say about the situation?"

"Lamley said the original escort weren't available the morning the children left the home. Summat about an illness. So a switch were made at the last minute, and the new escort was a volunteer from the community, not an employee. They had volunteers who helped regularly, so this wasn't owt out of the ordinary for them. But they did say that this particular volunteer were rather new, having only helped out a time or two before." 

"Is Lamley looking for the new volunteer, then?"

Audrey scowled anew. "The home don't have her name. The name on the list were the original escort, not the substitute. And the matron Lamley spoke to couldn't recall the new escort's name. She were a young woman, and she left with the children in the morning and never came back to volunteer again."

Siegfried rubbed at his face with his free hand, musing over what sounded like a complete organisational disaster to him. "Why would the volunteer bring the children to the Lakes if the homes there wouldn't take Keith?"

"Lamley says that the home says there was no reason for anyone from their facility to be at Windemere Station at all. That they didn't have any children being sent to Ambleside or Kendal. They can only imagine the volunteer somehow made a mistake."

"Even if she did, that doesn't explain her leaving the children alone."

"Lamley agrees. He said the more he hears, the less sense it makes."

She gave his leg a pat, then blushed slightly as she drew back her hand. Siegfried, delighted by her first action, pressed a kiss to the side of her face, high along her cheekbone, in hopes of making her understand he was fine with her gesture. Their silent communication, honed over their years of working and living together, served them well, and she relaxed against him again as she finished passing along Lamley's news. 
 
"He did learn one other thing, though."

"I'm glad to hear it. I was starting to question this man's ability to ever rise in the ranks of his profession."

"Siegfried." She chided him gently.

"It's true! We've practically uncovered more in these past two weeks than he has!" He knew he sounded slightly churlish, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He may never have met the man, but so far, Siegfried wasn't terribly impressed by the constable.

Audrey sighed. "Are you done?"

He chuckled. "Yes, my dear. Please continue."

"The Lancaster home did have the names of the homes that sent children to them that week, and they were both in the Manchester area. She said on account of the bombing a few months ago, there's been a constant redistribution of children from orphanages there. So he's rung the police in Manchester asking their help in finding information about those homes."

She placed her notepad sheet and pencil aside. "We still don't know how long they were in a home, or if they even were in a home, or if summat else went wrong somewhere."

Siegfried valued her optimism, though he personally felt the information seemed to very much point to the children having been in an orphanage of some sort right along. And he dreaded the day when they found out for sure that the children would leave their home at Skeldale to go back to an institutionalised version of a home instead. 

Chapter Text

Saturday, 22 February 1941

Siegfried finished his morning tea while perusing the newspaper, periodically commenting out loud for Audrey's benefit as Richard and the Herriots had left the kitchen already. The children were occupying themselves, having discovered that the baskets Audrey typically kept under the large hutch could be moved, creating an open area they could crawl in and out of, and they were very tickled with their new cosy spot in which to play. Their giggles mingled with the music playing quietly from the radio to form a backdrop for Siegfried's half-interested mumblings and occasional exclamation of surprise or irritation. 

An article on foodstuffs thought to be available in the coming week caught his attention, and he passed some of the news along. "How do we feel about corned beef, my dear?"

She paused in her washing up. "It works well with potatoes and cabbage, and Lord knows there's enough of both of those to go 'round. Why do you ask?" 

"According to this headline, 'Darrowby housewives will be able to get practically their full ration of meat this weekend if they make it up with corned beef!' Goes on to say it promises to be closer to full ration amounts than were available last week."

Audrey turned back to the sink, feeling her face heat at the sound of Siegfried reading out the phrase "Darrowby housewives," as if the term applied to her. She was embarrassed by her own reaction and certainly didn't want him to notice what she perceived as silly nonsense.

She cleared her throat as she unnecessarily re-wiped the sink. "Do they say owt else?" 

"Bananas said to be ripening in Liverpool have apparently all gone to Lancashire. But it seems one should be able to buy cooking pears. No cooking apples, though, as they are scarce and apparently those good for eating completely non-existent. Plenty of carrots, though."

Audrey, finally feeling adequately under control of herself, turned around again and groaned in response to the last statement. "I've got carrots coming out me ears already!"

Siegfried chuckled. "I'm sure you make them look lovely." 

She ducked her head as she blushed once more, wondering if this was how it was to always be from then on, her acting like a young girl with her first ever beau. 

Siegfried continued. "Housewives are encouraged to try more recipes using parsnips, seakale, and artichokes."

Audrey shook her head as he once again acted as if she were included under the "housewife" category, a movement Siegfried took as her feelings on the produce. 

"If you don't like those, they have a few cauliflower," he added brightly.

"What?" She had lost track of what he was saying, but Siegfried was on a roll and scarcely noticed. She counted her blessings and started pulling together items she had prepared earlier for the two vets to take with them on calls, grabbing one of the relocated baskets to keep everything together for easy transport.

"Little to no fish, they say." 

She sighed. "And with Lent arriving, no less."

"Shoppers can expect to possibly find guinea fowl or wood pigeons, though."

"Most times I don't find half what they claim I should," she muttered, fetching a thermos from a cabinet.

"Must all be going to Lancashire with the bananas," Siegfried teased, folding the paper and rising from the table. He then noticed what Audrey was doing. 

"Are you going on a winter picnic?"

"I've made a few things for you and Richard to take with you. It'll be a hard day out there in the snow. Some sandwiches and tea will help. A bit of leftover pie as well."

"Ah." Siegfried grimaced slightly, walking around the table to join her near the small stove. "There's been a change of plan. I'll be going out on my own while Richard opens surgery." 

"But you said the two of you out together would be safer!"

His eyes softened, and he looked sympathetic. "The animals must come first. People have been calling asking about surgery. I need to have someone here. I'll manage the snow. I have been driving in the dales for many a winter, you know."

"You're right. Of course you're right." 

Siegfried saw her words as a cover for her concern and made a decision. "I'll have all possible winter weather tools in the car. Snowshoes, a shovel, and I can even throw in Tristan's old sledge if you'd like." 

"And how, pray tell, would that help?"

"If I was stuck at the top of a hill, of course." He winked, and she grinned fondly, appreciating his attempts to soothe her worries.

"And," he added, "I'll come back for lunch."

Her eyes lit up, but she quickly fell back on her usual ways of pointing out the practicalities of life. "You don't have to do that. Your list is long, and you'll use more petrol."

She plastered on a faltering smile and lifted the basket. "Besides, I packed food for you."

"Save it for lunch. It'll be only you and Helen to deal with all three young ones today. This will give you part of the meal already prepared."

"I suppose that could be helpful. At least the food would be available for you and Richard whenever you have time to eat it."

"That's exactly right. And as for the petrol, I've been coming home for lunch fairly often since Jeannie and Keith came to stay; one more day won't hurt much. I do have some put aside."

She stepped forward and hesitated, and he reached out to draw her to himself. "Thank you." Her voice was soft as she mumbled her appreciation into his neck.

He kissed her as deeply as he dared, given the time and place, and promised to be careful before sliding into the jacket he plucked up from the empty chair back where it hung during breakfast. As he patted his pockets checking for his pipe and keys, he felt a nudge at hip level and looked down to see Jeannie standing alongside him.

She was pointing to herself and saying her own name. "Jee."

"Yes, you are Jeannie," he agreed. 

She shook her head and pointed to him. "No, Misseh Fahnuh." Then she pointed to Audrey and back to herself for a second time. "Jee!".

Bewildered, Siegfried lowered himself to a squatting position to try to work out what the child wanted. He was about to call Audrey's attention to the situation to see if she could decipher the child's intent when Jeannie grinned, threw her arms around his side, and leaned towards his face. 

Siegfried smiled, charmed, though still confused, before noticing that Jeannie was pursing her lips as she leaned towards him, and he let out a low chuckle mixed with a slight groan as it dawned on him that his kiss with Audrey had apparently been far less covert than he had originally thought. He presented his cheek to Jeannie to accept her kiss, then tried not to laugh at the somewhat disgruntled expression on her face at the feel of his beard against her face. 

"Thank you, Jeannie." He patted her on the head and steered her back to her toys and newfound little den, hoping to distract her before she made any more of a production about the whole thing, and promised himself to check his surroundings more carefully the next time he wished to show his affection to a certain dark-haired beauty in his life.

********************

By mid-morning Siegfried was well on his way, planning to attend to the closest farms first, allowing more time for further roads to perhaps see some vehicular traffic, which may make them more passable for when Siegfried reached them—provided more snow didn't just drift right back, of course. It also would allow him to spend less petrol on his return trip to lunch, a decision he would not be swayed from. His gut told him that the children's stay with them was likely drawing close to its end, and with lambing season starting, he would take any advantage of any time to be home that he possibly could. Add to the fact that since he and Audrey had revealed their feelings to one another, he suddenly felt twice as badly about worrying her. Going out at all times of day and night and in all sorts of weather was the way of the country vet, but if he could spare her some concern now and again, he would attempt to do so.

Richard opened surgery half an hour earlier than usual, and the pet-owning residents of Darrowby seemed to be magically aware of the extra availability, as they started arriving almost immediately and kept turning up in a constant stream of small animal aches and pains, bumps and bruises, sprains and strains. It was as if all Darrowby's cats, dogs, bunnies, and birds had managed to do themselves a mischief over the stormy days, and they were finally getting their chance to be attended to by Carmody, who while a bit frazzled physically, was excited by the mental callisthenics of such a busy day in the small clinic. The young vet was in his element running through the catalogue of textbook excerpts he kept in the files of his mind, but despite an eager spirit bolstered by the fortification of a late morning tea break Audrey insisted he take for himself, he was more than willing to put up a sign announcing surgery would be closed thirty minutes for lunch.

Helen and Audrey spent the morning trying to see if Jeannie was willing to try any of the other names in the house, Helen patiently spending her energy on "Helen" and "Jimmy" while Audrey kindly offered up both "Richard" and the alternative of "Mr. Carmody."

Jeannie smiled at the two women as if she knew exactly what they wanted, but she simply didn't wish to capitulate right then.

"I'm not sure we can hold out much hope for Mr. Carmody, given that I don't think she's conquered her Rs yet," Audrey pointed out.

"There aren't any Rs in Helen or Jimmy," Helen pointed out, slightly disappointed, and Audrey wasn't positive, but she could have sworn Jeannie grinned a bit over Helen's gentle exasperation. Perhaps they let that girl spend too much time with Siegfried. She was picking up on his uncanny ability to drive people somewhat mad. The real problem, Audrey realised, was that the very idea of Jeannie picking up on Siegfried's teasing ways made her need to fight a grin from forming on her own face as well. 

"We can ask Mr. Farnon to try," Audrey suggested.

Helen gave a fond roll of her eyes. "Those two really are fast friends."

"He can give it a try during lunch." Audrey tried to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

"He's coming back?" Helen asked in confused surprise.

"Aye."

"He's risking the ire of the farmers if they catch on that he's making them wait even longer to run home midday. Did he say why?"

"I think he's grown used to being home a while each day lately."

Helen shook her head, baffled. "We were snowed in, then. But now people will be waiting for him."

"He's trying his best to be helpful, Helen. He's put the animal first all his life. He's trying to put all of us first for a while the lads are all gone off, and Jimmy is brand new, and the children are here."

Helen nodded, humbled slightly by the idea that she was part of the reason for the change in Siegfried's routine. She couldn't help but be grateful that everyone in the house was trying so hard to be helpful towards her right now. She knew Siegfried was probably concerned about the waiting farmers, too, of course. But as he liked to point out, there was only one of him. Helen made a promise to herself to thank Siegfried for all he had done for her and Jimmy since James had left.

********************

Siegfried returned home from his first calls only minutes after the rest of the household sat down to lunch. "Home as promised, my dear!" he bellowed as he entered, wishing tremendously that he could swoop down and kiss her in a manner that equalled the exuberance of his entrance into the kitchen. But they were not speaking of their change in relationship, never mind broadcasting it via public physical signs of affection, and so he smiled broadly at her and hoped she understood the sparkle in his eye before quickly cleaning up and joining his adopted family at the table. 

The adults at the table filled him in on all he missed while he was away, Richard highlighting a few specific notes of interest from his morning in surgery and Helen and Audrey mentioning Jeannie's cheeky refusal to play along when they tried to entice her to try saying some new names.

"They're simply not asking correctly, isn't that right, Jeannie?"

Helen scoffed, to which Siegfried smirked, while Audrey gave a good-natured roll of her eyes, to which Siegfried gave a warm smile. Richard stayed silent, observing the differing reactions each of the others had to one another. 

Siegfried gestured to Jeannie, teacup in hand, trying to get through his meal quickly without missing out on the enjoyment of bantering with some of his favourite people. "Jeannie, who am I? Can you say my name?"

"Misseh Farnuh," she replied proudly, her own lunch temporarily ignored by the idea of a game with Siegfried.

"And what is your name?" He brought his soup spoon to his mouth while he awaited her answer.

"Jee."

"What's his name?" Siegfried pointed to Keith, who was smacking his hands together, having been ignoring his own lunch all along, a fact of which Audrey was distinctly aware.

"Kee!" She swung her feet back and forth as her enthusiasm in the game grew.

Siegfried leaned in towards Jeannie, bread in hand. "Can you tell me his name?" His voice clearly held a challenge as he pointed his bread bite towards Jimmy in Helen's arms.

"Bay-bee!"

Four faces registered surprise at her answer, then recovering, Siegfried repeated his request. "Can you tell me the baby's name?"

"Jee-mee." Her smile was shy, but her eyes held a gleam that indicated she knew she was about to be praised for her efforts, and the adults did not disappoint.

Richard tilted his head and studied the little girl. "Why does she call herself Jee, when Jeannie and Jimmy are so similar, and she can pronounce Jimmy almost perfectly?"

"She's three years old, Carmody. She's not about to be logical in all that she does."

"Yes, but this doesn't seem like a behaviour that would fall into a category of a logical versus emotional response, does it?"

"Maybe she started calling herself that when she were younger and the name stuck, so to speak," Audrey suggested, hoping to stall any sort of debate before it picked up steam.

"Good point, Mi...as always!" Siegfried congratulated himself on avoiding use of "Mrs. Hall" at the last moment, though he felt the need to avoid Helen's gaze as she looked at him with a puzzled expression. This task of keeping his blossoming relationship with Audrey under wraps was repeatedly proving to be more difficult than he expected.

*******************

Siegfried ducked into the first examination room to gather a few replacements for his bag before leaving to see to the rest of his list. He had fit in one more visit before lunch than he had expected, and now felt pleased facing a slightly shorter afternoon list. He was exchanging a few quick words with Richard when the doorbell rang, and Siegfried volunteered to both answer the caller and to take down the sign proclaiming surgery to be temporarily closed for lunch.

To his surprise, the person at the door was no one he recognised, nor did they have any sort of animal with them. He found instead a somewhat portly man of an age Siegfried estimated to be similar to or slightly older than his own five decades, sporting a thick moustache with a sprinkling of grey mixed through the otherwise dark blond hair. The man was in the navy uniform of a police officer and was in the midst of bending to brush off his trouser cuffs as Siegfried opened the outer door.

"Yes?" Siegfried asked, feeling somewhat apprehensive over what possible reason the man could be on his doorstep.

"Are you Mr. Farnon?" the man inquired.

"I am a Mr. Farnon, one of the two Mr. Farnons who reside here." The man's unexplained presence coupled with the inconvenience of the timing of his arrival brought out the prickly side of Siegfried's personality.

"I'm Police Constable Lamely. We may have spoken on the telephone if you are Mr." He looked down at a small leather bound notebook in his left hand. "Siegfried Farnon."

Siegfried sighed. "I am Siegfried Farnon. Don't ask. And yes, we have spoken. What brings you to Darrowby? You're quite a long way from your area of service."

The man looked back down at his notes. then stiffly announced, "I am here to speak to Mrs. Audrey Hall, to perform an inspection of the premises, and to check on the welfare of the two children being cared for here."

"An inspection? Their welfare?" Siegfried sputtered. 

"My visit is to ensure diligence, Mr. Farnon. We are simply seeking assurance that all is as it should be." 

"Diligence?!" Siegfried continued to parrot the man in flabbergasted shock. "They've been here over two weeks, and suddenly you need to make sure all is well here?" Siegfried was fuming at the nerve of the man to show up after such a length of time. If anything, someone should be inspecting Lamley!

Lamley had the good sense to look chagrinned. "Is Mrs. Hall available? I'd prefer to go over everything just the once."

Siegfried let out a frustrated sigh. "I have a full afternoon of veterinary calls for farmers who have waited days to be able to get through to me. This needs to be a very quick visit!"

"I don't wish to keep you from your work, Mr. Farnon. I can carry out the inspection with Mrs. Hall."

Siegfried scowled at Lamley in a way that would have left most people giving him wide berth. He most certainly would not be leaving the house while the man was still here. Siegfried turned to bellow "Mrs. Hall" through the house, remembered his intention to refrain from the use of that name, and quickly bit back his words. He mumbled an offhand invitation for Lamley to take a seat, gesturing towards the waiting room chairs, and set off across the house to find Audrey, all the warmth and joy from lunch evaporating as he strode down the hall.

Chapter Text

Saturday, 22 February 1941 Continued:

 
Siegfried burst into the kitchen at an aggravated clip, surprising both Audrey, standing at the sink, as well as Helen, who was rocking Jimmy while involved in a serious one-sided discussion about Mr. Lion with little Keith.

"We have a visitor," he ground out.

Audrey slowly turned off the taps, drying her hands as she looked at him questioningly. 

"Lamley." Audrey stared at him, her mind whirling with reasons for Lamley to be here, trying to determine which were most likely given how upset Siegfried seemed to be.

"Why is he here?" She looked across at Helen and the children as if calculating how she might protect them from whatever situation had resulted in the constable turning up on their doorstep.

"Seems we're overdue for an inspection." His voice was low, and Audrey could feel the anger radiating off of him. 

"I'm sorry, Siegfried. He never said a word to me about coming here. I'll take care of it. Do you need owt else before you leave? Do you have your list? Your keys?" There was a wobble in her voice that cut through Siegfried's ire in regards to the police officer waiting for their return, and he tried to limit the aggravation in his voice as he answered.

"I have informed him that my time is limited, but I will not be leaving until I hear whatever it is he has to say." His next words were more gentle yet. "And there is most certainly no reason for you to apologise."

Audrey's smile was weak as she quietly asked Helen if she would watch the children for what she hoped would be a very short while. The sooner the constable left, the better she would feel. For some reason his unannounced visit had her feeling very unsettled.

******************************

"Constable Lamley. This is a surprise." Audrey tried to sound friendly as she approached the officer.

Lamley stood quickly, replacing the domed helmet he had removed as he waited. "Mrs. Hall!" His enthusiastic greeting felt as false to Audrey as her own greeting had been.

"You didn't mention you'd be out our way when I spoke to you." She cringed a bit, hoping she didn't sound as accusatory to the constable's ears as she did to her own. A glance at Siegfried, who raised an eyebrow in her direction, told her that he heard it loud and clear as well.

Lamley stood tall, straightened his jacket and belt, and squared his shoulders. "After speaking to Sergeant Yates, the officer now assisting with handling this situation in Manchester, it was decided that an inspection was overdue. I'll need a tour of the establishment as well as a chance to see the children."

A dozen retorts slammed into one another inside Audrey's head, all clamouring to be released in Lamley's direction, but she pressed her lips together, clamping down on her ability to say anything until her initial wave of indignation had ebbed slightly. In her moment of silence, Lamley canted his head, staring at her rather intently. Audrey felt all the more rattled under his sudden, unexplained scrutiny.

Lamley shot an appraising glance at Siegfried before bringing his attention back to Audrey. "Have there been any problems here recently, Mrs. Hall?"

Confusion filled her as she tried to puzzle out where this question fit in with touring the house and seeing the children. "There's been a blizzard, but nowt else, and even that weren't much of a real problem. We lost use of the telephone, but Mr. Farnon and our assisting student vet, Mr. Carmody, are catching up with clients now that it's back.

The constable didn't stop staring, and Audrey felt her bafflement turning to irritation. She tried to fight against the feeling, knowing that Siegfried was already upset and feeling it was important that one of them retain the ability to be pleasant with the man. 

"Right. I'll go put the kettle on, shall I? Perhaps Mr. Farnon can show you the house, and we can talk over tea once you're done." She hoped leaving a moment might restore her emotional equilibrium so that she could carry on with this visit in a calm and civil manner.

The man agreed to the plan with a terse nod, and Audrey set off praying the walk around the house would go well.

Siegfried, who, between visitors, housekeepers, assistants, and other temporary employees, had his tour speech memorised, launched into it at a rapid speed, starting in the waiting area where they stood and pointing out the examination rooms first.

"Are you the cause of the injury to her face, Mr. Farnon?" Lamley's question came unexpectedly, and Siegfried gaped at him before being besieged by the desire to throttle the man. Knowing that would hardly help his cause, he pressed down on his mounting anger, though the fire of his fury still flashed in his eyes. "No. I am not. I have never lifted a hand to a single soul living in this house. And you are more than welcome to ask every one of them that same question yourself."

Lamley's face relaxed slightly. "What happened, then?"

Siegfried sighed, wishing not to share the truth but knowing better than to try to concoct a lie when none of the others in the house would know to uphold it. "It was Jeannie. And it was an accident." The last thing he wanted was for anyone with the ability to dictate where Jeannie should be living at any given time to think she was in any way a violent child.

"She was struggling to do something, and she swung her arm up in the air. Mrs. Hall was trying to facilitate, and she didn't see Jeannie's arm in time to duck away. It was an accident," he firmly reiterated.

"And if I ask the others?"

"They'll say the same thing."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Siegfried excused himself, thankful for a reason to take a break from conversing with the man. He waved off Richard, who had come out from the exam room, and flung open the door to find Marjorie Pumphrey on the doorstep. "Mrs. Pumphrey! What a lovely surprise. Do come in!"

"Tricki and I are beginning to be here nearly as often as you are, Mr. Farnon," she joked lightly, entering the house for the second day in a row, her arms full as she crossed the threshold. Tricki-Woo was tucked under one arm, and she clutched the handles of a wicker animal carrier in her other gloved hand. Closing the doors, Siegfried offered to relieve his favourite client of the basket, and he peered in through the openings in the wicker to see a thin, rather matted black cat lying inside. 

"Is Tricki ill again?" Richard queried, opening the examination room door and looking back and forth between both the constable and Mrs. Pumphrey as if not sure whose presence was more of a surprise to him.

"No, not at all. Thank you, Uncle Carmody. I'm here about the stray I noticed lurking about the manor. I spoke to Mrs. Herriot on the telephone yesterday, asking someone to come see her today, but since I found myself needing to return to the village today,  I asked François to bring her along so that we might deliver her directly to you. She looks as if she's been on her own for some time, the poor dear."

Siegfried handed the cat across to Carmody, and Mrs. Pumphrey, whose position had until then kept Constable Lamley out of her line of sight, noticed the waiting police officer for the first time. 

"Oh, do excuse me. I didn't realise you were engaged in a more serious matter. I do hope all is well." 

Siegfried made introductions all around, assuring Mrs. Pumphrey that the "animal always comes first" and that Richard would be happy to look over the cat, then explaining the constable's reason for visiting, bringing about a genuine smile on Marjorie's face. "I hope you've come with good news, Constable. I've been fortunate in spending time with the children since they have arrived, and they are absolutely delightful. I wish the very best for them."

Siegfried smiled as the fanciful thought crossed his mind that he could have hugged her right then and there for her perfect timing, praising Jeannie and Keith so soon after he had to admit to the worst instance of behaviour they'd witnessed since the children had been with them.

After a few more words amongst them, Richard and Mrs. Pumphrey shut the first exam room door behind them, and Siegfried picked up their trip around the house, starting with the second exam room instead. He impressed upon the man that the veterinary areas were off-limits to the children, then showed him the opposite side of the house where most of the communal living spaces were located. Lamley's eyes slowed in their perusal at the sight of toys and books in the sitting room and the children's painting attempts propped up against the front panel of the piano in the study.

Siegfried suggested they leave the kitchen for last, since that was where the children were currently playing, and instead led the man to the first floor. Siegfried was relieved that Lamley was pleased with just a cursory glance about the upper hall, not wishing to actually inspect the bedrooms or the bedsit above, as Siegfried was loath to let a stranger into the private spaces of Audrey and the children or of the Herriots. The constable merely questioned where the children slept, seeming satisfied to hear that they had Mrs. Hall with them at night, then added the presence of indoor plumbing to his notes and indicated they could return to the ground floor.

As they made their way through the back hallway, Siegfried explained that the kitchen space was entirely under the control of Mrs. Hall and that a portion of the room was devoted to her own sewing, desk, and relaxation spaces. He added that she kept the children in the kitchen with her much of each day and that they would find them there now, along with the Herriots.

They entered the doorway with only Helen and Audrey noticing them at first. Siegfried quietly pointed out Audrey's end of the room and was midway through introductions with Helen when Jeannie's voice, louder and with an almost strangled quality Siegfried had never heard from her before, rang out across the space. "No! No!" She scrambled to her feet as fast as she was able, running to Audrey's side and clutching at her skirt and pinny in desperation. 

Audrey bent to lift the girl, and Jeannie began sobbing, repeating "Miss All" and "No!" repeatedly.

Audrey held her close, swaying back and forth, trying to calm her as Keith's face crumbled as well; whether due to his own feelings about the officer or in response to his sister's cries, Audrey couldn't be sure. Unlike his sister, Keith didn't move from his spot, instead staying in place, seated on the floor next to Dash, wailing, large tears pouring over his cheeks. Dash whined, rubbing his head against the boy's lap in a failed attempt to help, while Jess moved across the space to stand in front of Lamley and bark ferociously at this interloper who had dared to upset all of her people.

Siegfried sprung into action, barking out orders to Jess to quiet and return to her basket, and while inadvertently using the same tone, firmly suggested the constable leave the room until the children could be calmed. He then gathered up Keith, holding the small boy against his chest, rubbing circles on his back. 

As Constable Lamley retreated into the stone-walled passage, he was met by Mrs. Pumphrey, who had heard the sounds of a distressed Jess and gone in search of whatever situation had caused the dog to act so out of character, concurrently proving her relatively new trust in "Uncle Carmody" by leaving her precious Pekingese with him along with the poorly stray.

She found the three other adults all cradling a child, Helen rocking Jimmy, the only one of the three not currently crying. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I heard barking and worried there might be some sort of problem."

Audrey, still rocking a clinging Jeannie, offered her assumed explanation that the officer had somehow frightened the children. "I don't understand. They don't even know who he is."

Siegfried gently pointed out that children had seen Lamley at Windemere, and they possibly remembered him from the morning they were found at the station. 

"Aye," she agreed, "but I didn't think they paid him enough mind to recognise him again."

Marjorie Pumphrey made her way to Audrey and placed a soft hand on Jeannie's back. "Perhaps they recognise that there was an officer there that day, and now one is here. I don't imagine that wasn't an easy day for the poor dears—aside from your care, of course, Mrs. Hall."

Alfred Lamley tried to keep to the shadowed interior wall of the corridor, listening as the group of adults gathered in the scullery worked together to calm the children. He felt embarrassed to be here at all, sent out on an errand by a sergeant a good two decades younger than himself. Lamley had come late to his current career, but he enjoyed the slow, fairly predictable nature of looking out for the law-abiding citizens in his small pocket of the country. Now, forced by this significantly out-of-the-everyday occurrence to work together with officials in a far more populous locale than his own, he'd been made to feel foolish for his choice to entrust Mrs. Hall with the abandoned tots.

But, after the mix of annoyance and nervousness he had felt upon his arrival at Skeldale House had caused him to make a true fool of himself with the vet, he'd then gone and set off the same children to screaming and crying. He just wanted to bow out of Darrowby as quickly as possible and let that blasted Yates know that the constable, relatively new to his post or not, had been correct in his assessment all along. Mrs. Hall was as trustworthy as he initially believed her to be, and the children were safe and happy while they waited for someone to sort out where they actually belonged. Now, if only said children would stop squalling so that he could pass along a few more bits of information before taking his leave.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Pumphrey and Audrey had the first success as Jeannie eventually stopped crying, though she remained firmly attached to Audrey, her little arms tight around Audrey's neck and her legs around her waist, sniffling with the occasional hiccough. 

"Whatever is the matter, Jeannie, dear?" Mrs. Pumphrey stroked the child's hair as she spoke. 

Jeannie picked up her head, looking around the room in obvious concern. Audrey kept herself positioned so that there was no way the frightened child could catch sight of the officer in the hallway.

"No twain." Her voice was pitiful, and Audrey held her close again, kissing her forehead. 

"It's all right, poppet. We're not going anywhere today." She looked up in anguish at Siegfried, praying that her promise was valid.

Mrs. Pumphrey, catching the wordless exchange between the vet and housekeeper, spoke up, intending her voice to carry out to the corridor. "I am sure that no one would be so cruel as to suggest moving such young children without at least a few days notice. To do anything else would be unconscionable."

Mrs. Pumphey's tone bordered on imperious and made Lamley raise an eyebrow as he leaned against the stone wall, but she caught his eye as she moved away from the child towards the doorway, and he found himself indicating a silent assurance. He agreed with the woman for a start, having no desire to drag two wailing children off with him, and furthermore he felt quite sure she was not a woman who would easily accept not getting her way. And he didn't want yet another person upset with him over this case.

Returning her attention to the Skeldale family, Mrs. Pumphrey looked at the three children present and decided only one of them would likely accept a transition to her arms without further fuss. 

"Perhaps I may be of assistance?" 

She suggested she hold young Master Herriot, hoping that Helen might be able to free Mr. Farnon or Mrs. Hall to see to the banished officer still languishing in the corridor. 

Helen carefully transferred Jimmy to a new set of arms, then, plucking Mr. Lion from the floor, offered to take Keith from Siegfried. They made the transfer, and Siegfried made the constable wait a few moments longer until he felt the children's cries were diminishing at last.

Audrey pointed to the loaded tea tray, a nicety Siegfried mulishly would have preferred to forgo, if for no other reason than offering it might keep the police officer in the house longer; but the look in Audrey's eye told him that being inhospitable was not an option available to him as long as he wished to stay in her good graces. He held back a roll of his own eyes as he picked up the tray, murmuring his gratitude to Mrs. Pumphrey as he left to escort Lamley to the dining room, where he invited the man to a chair across the table, as if he were about to interrogate Lamley instead of the possibility of things unfolding the other way around.

"I'm sorry my visit has upset the children, Mr. Farnon."

Lamley's immediate apology thawed Siegfried's frosty demeanour slightly, and though he said nothing in response, he did give in and pour out two steaming cups, setting one down in front of the constable before taking his own seat.

"I had no qualms in sending the children with your Mrs. Hall that day in the station," he explained, adding, "After years in this profession you begin to form solid impressions of people very quickly." He grimaced at the raised eyebrows his statement brought forth from the man whom he had accused of hitting a woman less than an hour ago, amending his statement immediately.

"Fairly quickly. We all make the occasional mistake, of course. I realise now I was too swift with my earlier questioning."

Siegfried remained silent, giving a stiff nod in response to what he felt was a rather sad excuse for an apology.

"But as for sending the children off with Mrs. Hall," Lamley continued, "my only two concerns were that I could get in touch with you regularly, which she assured me I could, and that she wasn't actually living with the man who was with her that day, since he didn't look very pleased with the idea at all."

Siegfried took a moment to realise what "man" Lamley was referring to, then, for the first time since finding the officer on his doorstep, Siegfried had to stifle a smirk at the man's opinion of Gerald Hammond. Not trusting himself to say anything charitable, he again chose to only nod in reply.

"As I mentioned to Mrs. Hall, we were able to determine that the children likely arrived at the Lancaster orphanage on a train from Manchester. The sergeant from Manchester, Yates is his name, was displeased with how we've handled it locally. He disagreed with the decision to send the children out of the immediate area. I'm on my way to meet with him in person, and it's at his request that I'm here today."

Lamley and Siegfried finished their tea as well as their conversation just as Audrey found them, looking weary and, to Siegfried's eye, emotional. 

Lamley stood as she entered the room, gesturing to the empty teacups. "Thank you, Mrs. Hall. I'll be on my way. I do apologise for the inconvenience of my visit here today. I knew from speaking to you in person that the children would be fine with you, but as I've been telling Mr. Farnon, the sergeant in Manchester wanted further reassurance." 

She took a breath and crossed her hands in front of her, then uncrossed and re-crossed them. "I see."

"There were a few orphanages damaged during the Christmas blitz, and there was a public outcry among the residents that the children hadn't been moved to safety after the city was hit in August. I'm sure the last thing any of the officials in Manchester want right now is for word to spread that after the delay, the relocation of the children then went wrong, too."

The trio started to move from the dining room towards the front door, but Audrey stopped to ask a question of her own.

"Does anyone in Manchester actually have any more information about Jeannie and Keith?" Audrey's expression was plaintive. She cared very little about the public opinion of those in charge. She just wanted to know what was going to happen to the two misplaced children she had come to care for so very much. 

Constable Lamley tried to look optimistic. "I'm off to Manchester myself now, Mrs. Hall. If I learn anything at all, I'll be sure to let you know. I am hoping the sergeant will be more helpful once he's received word that all is well here. He hasn't had the opportunity to speak to you in person as I did, and I believe that may be part of why he's so insistent upon this extra degree of..." The man broke off, trying to avoid belittling the request of Sergeant Yates.

"Diligence?" Siegfried offered pointedly.

Lamley sheepishly nodded. "Yes. Diligence."

As Siegfried firmly closed the green front door after the departure of the constable, he turned to Audrey, standing silently behind him in the small vestibule.

She was clearly shaken by the experience. "They'll need to go on a train again eventually."

"But not with Lamley," Siegfried pointed out. "I think he was the crux of the problem. Jeannie may have made an association between his uniform and the station. Plus, in her mind she may have felt that Lamley gave them to you."

"Aye, in a manner of speaking."

"And if he could give them to you, then she could easily believe that he was here to take them away again, and perhaps back to a station of which she likely has unhappy memories."

Audrey nodded miserably. "And we know they've already been moved a few times, so there may have been other trains and stations. They must be so confused."

Seeing the waiting area empty, and assuming Richard still had his hands full with the unnamed cat and Tricki-Woo, he held open his arms in an invitation which Audrey immediately accepted, grasping him tightly and sighing against him in relief at the feel of comfort she found in his embrace.

Chapter Text

Richard Carmody suggested keeping the malnourished stray at Skeldale for a few days, and so Mrs. Pumphrey left Skeldale with Tricki-Woo alone. Audrey and Siegfried thanked the woman profusely for her assistance during the constable's visit, both feeling grateful for her fortunate timing and her calm, friendly presence during a difficult situation.

Richard and Siegfried decided it would be best to keep the weakened cat indoors under watchful eye until it regained some weight and strength, and Siegfried finally left to attend to his afternoon list, feeling far more subdued than he had been when he had so joyfully returned home for lunch. 

He wasn't the only resident of Skeldale experiencing the shift of mood over the rest of the afternoon and leading up to tea time. Helen, Audrey, and the children were all quiet and somewhat sombre for the rest of the daylight hours. Richard, who missed most of the upset, was briefly filled in by an unusually soft-spoken Helen on her way to return to the bedsit with a hungry Jimmy, planning to have a lie-down of her own after his feed, and as Audrey attempted to coax Jeannie and Keith into a nap by joining them herself.

Carmody spent an odd two hours in a Skeldale House where the only sounds and voices were those of the clients coming and going from the clinic. It was fulfilling from a veterinary standpoint, as always, but he couldn't help but feel a general morosity he was unaccustomed to experiencing since his arrival in Darrowby. He had never been so relieved to hear the sound of Mrs. Hall escorting the children back down the stairs after their restful period as he was that day. The footsteps on the treads, accompanied by excited woofs from Jess and Dash, sprinkled with the gentle lilt of Mrs. Hall's words guiding everyone to where they needed to be, lifted a weight from Richard's shoulders that had been noticeably weighing on him as he helped the various pet owners of Darrowby who stopped by that particular afternoon.

A filling supper taken all together brought back a further degree of the normalcy that had vanished since their last meal, though the children still seemed almost wary, being fussier than usual and reverting back to some of their earlier habits. Jeannie opted not to speak for much of the meal, and Keith returned to his tendency to throw aside the food on his plate rather than eat it.

Audrey spent most of the meal with her mouth downturned and her brows furrowed, watching the children to the point of missing most of the conversation. Siegfried noticed that her attention only left Jeannie and Keith when briefly transferred to her own plate, missing most of the anecdotes he shared in the hopes of lifting the mood. As he ate his fill of their vegetable-heavy meal, he quietly decided to help with the washing-up in order to spend extra time with her, only for the ringing of the telephone to interrupt his thoughts. 

"Blast," he muttered under his breath as he slapped his napkin down on the table, volunteering to go answer the persistent jangle. His face told the tale when he stepped briefly back into the room—the meal was abruptly finished for Siegfried. "Kate Billings rang. She's worried about a cow. She's not one to go to the bother of ringing unless things seem serious, so I don't feel right asking her to wait for tomorrow."

"No, of course not." Audrey's smile was tremulous, and he longed to stay home and keep everyone close; but he was a vet, and he must always attend.

"Send Kate our best," Helen added, and Richard quickly piped up as well, offering to come with—a suggestion Siegfried gratefully accepted. A bit of company might do him good. He smiled at the notion that he would even think such a thing. Things really had changed for him over the past several years. Gone were the days of sacking assistants left and right. Now here he was looking forward to the company of a student he'd known less than a year, yet surprisingly considered to be part of his rather anomalous family.

***********************************

By the time Siegfried and Carmody sluggishly trudged back into the house, shucked off their dirty clothing, and cleaned up to a reasonable degree, the children were already in bed for the night. Siegfried said goodnight to Richard, then found Audrey sitting on the sofa with Dash, while Jess dozed in front of the fire.

"Everything all right?" she asked, concern softening her words beyond even her tired state. 

"Some sort of virus, I imagine. Unfortunately in a calf that has had other difficulties in the past. Kate mentioned that they had a few animals with similar symptoms over at Deightons as well."

Siegfried sighed before continuing with a wry half-smile. "And that's how we found ourselves going to obtain samples from the affected cows in Deighton's herd as well."

He sat down wearily. "Probably nothing much to worry about in normal circumstances, but given the calf has had problems before, and Kate still having the poisoned calves from a few years back in her mind, it seemed best to do all we possibly could to determine what the underlying cause may be, rather than just treating the symptoms."

"That were kind of you."

Siegfried sighed once more. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you with the children, though."

Audrey nodded. "We missed you, too, but we were well and safe here, and the animals needed you."

Siegfried leaned heavily against the back cushion and closed his eyes. "Oh, Kate sent some things for you—some extra cooking apples she still had in storage, a jar of jam, and a small basket of mushrooms. I wouldn't trust just anyone to forage fungi, but Kate Billings is particularly knowledgeable in that regard."

"That were good of her. The apples will be nice to make summat for the children."

"How were they tonight?"

"Tired. Grumpy." She ran a hand over her forehead. "I hope they'll wake up tomorrow feeling more like themselves again."

They sat silently for a while. 

"What would you like to do about church service tomorrow?" Siegfried broached the subject he had been mulling over for the past few minutes. "Are you still willing to try to bring the children again?"

"Oh Lord. Why is it that every Sunday morning since they've arrived has had some sort of a problem?" 

She blew out a breath of frustrated fatigue, then reached over and took hold of his hand, a feeling of grateful relief bubbling up inside of her at the notion that she could finally reach for that support when she needed it. Siegfried, feeling very much the same, raised their joined hands long enough to whisper a kiss across her knuckles, leaving their fingers intertwined as he lowered their arms again.

"We best not. I can't imagine bringing them after today. They were so upset. I'm not sure they'll be at their best tomorrow."

Siegfried stayed silent, giving her time to collect her thoughts, but gave her hand a squeeze to let her know he was listening, that he cared.

"I didn't even talk to them about it—to try to explain what they'd need to do. Perhaps we all should stay home this week. If I leave them so soon after this afternoon, you'll be left with bedlam on your hands."

"You don't need to worry about me. It's the least busy day of the week. I'll likely have nothing else to do, and I can survive anything those two can generate in such a short window of time."

"It don't sit well with me to miss going," she relented. "But leaving them crying for me don't feel right either."

"We'll eat breakfast. Helen, Richard, and I will stay in the kitchen, keeping busy. We'll clean, talk to one another, and play with the children. You just walk out as if you're just going to a cupboard for something. Don't say a word, and if none of the rest of us say anything either, the children will likely not even notice at first. And once they do, we'll tell them you'll be right back and distract them."

"You make it sound easy."

"Your part is very easy. Leave the room, walk to church, and enjoy the peace and prayer."

"Thank you, Siegfried." 

"You're very welcome. Now, while I am loath to cut short our time together, I think we could both use sleep above all else right now."

"Aye. I could sleep by Jess on the floor at this point."

Siegfried chuckled. "I don't think that will be necessary, though I'm sure Jess and Dash would find it amusing." 

They both grinned at the mental image, and Audrey began turning out the remaining lamps.  Siegfried came up behind her and drew her away from her task. "You go upstairs. I'll take care of everything down here."

"Oh no, you've been out, and now..."

"Please. I like the thought of you upstairs getting ready for bed as I putter around offering the dogs their last chance to go out to the garden or checking fires and closing up the house. I can't explain it, but it settles me."

She reached for him, and they shared a soft kiss goodnight. "Thank you for everything you do for me, for all of us. And for sharing that with me." 

"Any time, my dear."

As Audrey ascended the stairs, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of Siegfried tucking the house in for the night as she tucked herself in upstairs, and she felt her cheeks redden as the picture in her mind shifted to her warm under the covers in Siegfried's bed waiting for him to finish readying the house instead. Only now, instead of her inner voice whispering a cynical "Only in your dreams," a kinder, gentler voice whispered. "Maybe some day."

***********************************

"Emergency at Dobson's," Audrey explained as she rapped gently on Siegfried's bedroom door only an hour past when the poor man had gone to bed.

There was a series of gentle rustling sounds mixed with some soft mutterings before Siegfried opened the door a fraction, tying the belt around his dressing gown, and running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. 

"Dobson's?" he double-checked, blinking away the slumber he'd been forced to abandon.

"Aye. Same cow as last time, they said." Her eyes were sympathetic as she watched him resign himself to heading back out into the frigid night. 

"Why didn't Richard answer?"

"Helen and I are up with the children. I were walking by it as it rang."

"Is everything all right?"

"They're all having a rough time at once tonight, is all. Nowt to worry about. You focus on Dobson's cow."

Siegfried groaned and sighed before squaring his shoulders. "I'll get dressed."

"I'll fill you a thermos."

Siegfried nodded in gratitude, turning back into his room as Audrey returned to the kitchen to put additional water to boil and to pass on the latest to Helen.

"I almost feel like we ought to wake Richard out of fairness," Helen groused. 

"Not sure how fair Mr. Carmody would find it."

"Not sure I care," Helen mumbled, slightly churlish in tone, though with a half-hearted smile that indicated that the veterinary student was safe in his continued slumber after all.

Siegfried appeared in the kitchen shortly, stopping to give Jeannie and Kith a moment's attention before donning his outer clothes yet again. Audrey sent the resigned vet off with the thermos of hot, though weak, tea and reminders to take care while driving on post-blizzard roads during blackout conditions. 

The women moved their middle of the night gathering to the sitting room until, having fed Jimmy and rocked him to a near sleeping state, Helen rose to bring him back up to the bedsit, offering to return to help with Jeannie and Keith—an offer Audrey quickly refused. 

"Oh, love. Thank you, but no. Best get some sleep while you can. No use all of us being up all night."

"All right, then. Let me know if you change your mind."

Audrey nodded from her spot on the sofa with the children. Keith, like Jimmy, was nearly asleep, but Jeannie, though obviously tired, was having a difficult time settling. It had taken extra time to put her to bed in the first place, and they seemed to be in for a repeat performance. Audrey had warmed milk for the girl, read to her, rubbed her back, and just sat cuddling her, but Jeannie's eyes refused to stay closed. 

Audrey shifted the children around, placing Keith on an empty cushion where he curled up under a blanket and finally slept, allowing Audrey to draw Jeannie onto her lap. Wrapping her arms around the small child, Audrey sang quietly, starting with songs she remembered her own mother singing to her when she was small, then moving on to her favourite hymns until Audrey herself succumbed to her own fatigue.

She opened her eyes an hour later, confused at first by her surroundings and the warm weight against her chest. She ran a gentle hand over the top of Jeannie's brunette waves, relieved when the child didn't stir. Cautiously craning around to see the clock, she frowned at how long Siegfried had been gone. He had just been at Dobsons' a few nights ago. She couldn't imagine what could be wrong to keep him there for such a lengthy time only days later. Nor did she understand why Dobson didn't call Siegfried during the day. If the cow was poorly, the farmer must be checking on the poor animal somewhat regularly. Didn't he notice an issue when it was still light out?

Audrey couldn't explain why she was so much more concerned about Siegfried going out into the snowy dales with this most recent storm than any previous ones. After eight years she was certainly accustomed to him going out on both night calls and difficult roads, as well as the combination of both. And Siegfried had been doing so for many years before she ever met him, as well. 

She hadn't been this worried even in the very beginning of her employment, when sending her employer out in the dark snowdrifts was new and frightening to her. The first winter blast to hit Darrowby after she arrived at Skeldale had shocked her, and when Siegfried announced he was setting out into the swirling storm one late night, her mind whirled along with the frozen flakes, endlessly questioning what she would do and where she would go if anything should happen to Mr. Farnon. She had worked herself into quite a state before finally remembering young Tristan, off at school, out of sight and temporarily out of mind. She had felt a crush of guilt for failing to consider the poor lad when fretting over her own uncertain future should the worst occur.

She couldn't help but feel there was even more at stake now. Even more people who relied on Siegfried in one way or another. Oh, she had no doubts that James and Tristan could continue to keep the practice running if God forbid anything should happen to Siegfried, but neither of them were there right now, and instead they had three tiny humans at Skeldale to care for. 

Of course, Audrey knew that the biggest reason for the worry weighing her down was that she and Siegfried had only just finally admitted their long-held feelings to one another, and she didn't think she could bear it if they should lose one another so soon after gingerly starting on this new journey together. A journey they still had yet to mention to anyone else. No one would even know how much she had lost. She shook her head, trying to physically force the dire thoughts from her mind. He was fine. She took a deep breath. Dobson was a talker. Even in the middle of the night. And yes, the roads probably did require a subdued speed and focused attention. He would be fine. She just needed to practice patience.

***********************************

Siegfried knew better by this point than to expect to find that Audrey had returned to her room while he was gone. He could hope she did, of course, but he was completely unsurprised to reach the wide doorway of the sitting room and spy the back of her head resting at an odd angle against the sofa cushion. Entering the room, his heart felt a pang at seeing her on the sofa in just her nightclothes and dressing gown, the two children still downstairs with her, both sleeping, bundled under all the available nearby blankets. Jeannie, clutching the small quilt she loved so much, was using Audrey's lap as a pillow, leaving Audrey, with one hand placed upon each child, to nod off sitting up, her head lolling towards one shoulder.

Standing behind the settee, Siegfried drew his fingers across Audrey's forehead, pushing a few misplaced tendrils off her face. She blinked slowly, then smiled in relief to see him home, safe and sound, a welcome that warmed him as no blazing fireplace or late-night drink ever could.

"You're home," she whispered.

"I am. And I even have something for you. Well, for these two, at any rate."

Intrigued, Audrey carefully extricated herself from Jeannie and followed Siegfried to the dining room, keeping an eye and ear open in case the children noticed her absence.

Siegfried gestured towards two small bundles on the table. Unfolding the items, she found a total of four small outfits, slightly mismatched and with noticeable wear, but in sizes very close to what the children actually required. 

Siegfried smiled at her obvious happiness with the hand-me-downs. "Mrs. Dobson expressed her regrets that it has taken her so long to get them to you." 

"Not at all. I'll be sure to thank her next time I see her. This will be such a help! We have so little now that I'm laundering their things constantly just to keep them dressed."

"I'm glad they'll be useful to you."

"Normally I feel for you when people keep paying in goods, but I can't complain about extra food and clothing these days. As long as enough pay with actual brass to keep the bills covered, of course."

He came up to her, removing the small garments from her hands, and kissed her once, twice, and a third time. "The bills are fine, and even if they weren't, coming home to you, like this, makes me so joyful that I doubt I'd care if creditors were ringing the phone off the hook and lining up outside the door." 

"Daft man!"

"Ah, not at all! You see, my darling, the clothing was a gift. Dobson's well aware that an actual bill will still be arriving in the post." He winked, feeling quite satisfied with himself. "If he'd been more diligent in following my advice last time, there likely wouldn't have been a reason for an additional emergency night call at all. He brought this on himself."

Siegfried's echoing of Lamley's earlier locution brought about a groan from Audrey. "I stand by what I said—daft man, indeed," she chuckled softly. 

"Will you accept help from a daft man in moving those two upstairs?", he teased gently.

"Very gratefully."

"Good." And he let their small visitors slumber on the sofa a few moments longer as he easily convinced Audrey to stay in the dining room just a bit longer, initiating a few more kisses before eventually separating for what was left of the night.

Chapter Text

Sunday, 23 February 1941:

Audrey was relieved to see the children acting more like themselves Sunday morning, happily returning to the still relative novelty of their little den under the hutch. Keith had requested to be held a bit longer when he first woke up, cuddling with Audrey in her armchair for a spell, and Jeannie kept pausing in her play, searching for Audrey's location, but overall, they seemed much improved after the distress the previous afternoon.

Audrey, however, despite her words to Siegfried the evening before, greeted Sunday morning with a renewed sense of foreboding over attending church services and was seriously considering skipping mass, hoping the God she believed in would understand. She hoped that since He had led her to these children, He would therefore grant her clemency if she neglected to keep holy the Sabbath Day this once in order to better care for their tender hearts. She didn't ask for any of this to happen, after all. Not that she was complaining; she simply felt it might be best for her to pray here, at home, adding a sincere plea for forgiveness over her decision to remain where she felt she was most needed. And if any other elements were adding to her decision, well, she chose not to examine those too closely, firmly insisting to herself that she was making her choice based entirely on the needs of Jeannie and Keith.

Siegfried managed, once again, to be the next person dressed and down to the kitchen, appreciating the habit's resulting reward of a few extra moments with Audrey before Richard or the Herriots surfaced for the day. Though he now knew he had to be slightly more cautious around the ever-observant Jeannie.

He was surprised when Audrey informed him, in hushed tones, of her change of plans.

"I thought church was sorted." 

Audrey's expression was unfamiliar to him as she reiterated her reasons for staying home—how everyone was exhausted from Saturday's disturbance via the constable. And how she neither wished to bring the children to church with her, nor upset them with her absence.

"Besides," she added. "If Jeannie can recognise Lamley, she can recognise that I dress differently when I'm going out than when I'm staying put." 

"It's still bitter cold outside," Siegfried mentioned reasonably. "I don't see why you need to change at all. Your coat and hat will keep the other congregants from noticing you're not dressed in your finest, if that's your concern."

Audrey admitted that she couldn't find fault with his suggestion. She would almost certainly stay buttoned up in her long wool coat for the entire mass, the church hardly a bastion of heat on these cold winter mornings.

"And if they do notice..." Siegfried began with a cheeky grin.

"So bloody what?" Audrey guessed, unable to fight back a small smile of her own at his response.

"Exactly." Siegfried leaned in. "I'd kiss you, but Little Miss Clever has apparently been keeping a closer eye on us than we may have realised." 

Audrey smiled fully then, placing an appreciative hand on Siegfried's chest. "Thank you. I needed that."

"If nothing else, remember that I love you. That everyone here loves you. And we'll love you the same no matter what you decide about mass or which garb you may don if you attend."

She melted a bit. "Siegfried," she whispered. Siegfried smiled and held an index finger upright, gently asking her to wait a moment.

He looked over at the children and found Jeannie holding up the wheeled horse towards her brother, telling him something in a way the adults couldn't decipher.

"I think we can get away with a stolen hug if we're quick about it." His eyes crinkled in delight at his suggestion.

"How can I say no to that?" Opening her arms, the two enjoyed a very brief embrace, managing to express longing, love, and encouragement in the few seconds they held one another.

As Siegfried loosened his grip, he slipped in a hidden kiss to her hair, whispering, "I can be clever, too."

"Oh yes, outmanoeuvring a three-year-old. Very impressive." Her wide smile softened her playful barb.

"I can't win against anyone else in the house," he teased back. "Excluding Carmody," he added, pointing out the importance of her being aware that at least Carmody wasn't yet able to pull one over on Siegfried Farnon.

Audrey shook her head at his antics, her facial injury doing nothing to quell the potency of one of the regular expressions she brought out on rotation when he behaved in a way that amused her.

Putting a respectable distance between them and dropping his jocular tone, Siegfried came back to the topic at hand. "So is our original plan still in place?"

"Aye." She sighed. "But on your own head be it if it all goes to pieces."

"Duly noted." Siegfried stood tall, hands clapped against his sides as if presenting himself for battle.

"All right then, we best stop going on about it before they take notice."

"Too smart for their own good," Siegfried playfully grumbled, but took a step back from Audrey and lifted his volume nonetheless. "What do we need this morning, my dear? Bowls? Plates?"

And the children continued on quietly in their little nook, blissfully unaware.

***********************************

Although Siegfried believed all to be well in hand, the morning remained neither blissful nor to plan, as Audrey became more and more withdrawn throughout the serving and partaking of breakfast; and when the meal was finished, rather than slipping off to get ready, as was the plan, she began to clear the table and start the washing-up.

Helen, who had been quietly apprised of their intentions, cast a look of concerned confusion towards Siegfried, who changed tack and suggested the children bring Helen and Richard to the sitting room with their toys, promising to join them soon.

When the last footfalls faded in the corridor, Siegfried joined Audrey at the sink.

"Audrey?"

"I changed me mind. Simple as that." She kept her gaze focused on the bowl she held in her hand as she preempted any questioning he was about to embark upon.

"Am I permitted to ask what brought about that change?"

"I've rethought things and decided it's best for me to be here, is all." She paused in her washing, and schooling her features, looked briefly at the man beside her. "You best be going. You promised Jeannie and Keith." She then picked up a dry bowl and walked off towards the pantry with it.

Siegfried followed her into the storage room, once again using only her name to indicate his worries. "Audrey?"

She reached to return the bowl to its shelf and paused before speaking to the wall. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Tomorrow morning I'll be doing me best to be one of the first to see about that corned beef you mentioned. I'll be in my usual clothing, and me eye will likely look worse. Yet, going to church like this... I don't know." She waved her hands and rolled her eyes as if to indicate it was all silly and for Siegfried to forget about it, but he wasn't willing to move on quite that quickly.

"We have time to speak about whatever is on your mind—if you'd like to. There are no children in here."

She gestured to the amount of space two adults took up in the pantry. "We'd have to set them on the shelves if they were." A crack in her voice gave away her false levity.

Siegfried gave her a knowing look, and ignoring her attempt at humour, opened his arms, his face hopeful that his embrace might be accepted and be of some help.

She turned around, her face lined in unease, then stepped forward, immediately resting her head against his shoulder as she grasped him tightly. "Thank you."

"I know it don't make sense to know I'll be out tomorrow and yet not want to go out today."

Siegfried stayed quiet, rubbing a hand up and down her back, waiting to let her collect her thoughts.

"But at church, there are so many people around you, and for such a long time."

"I was under the impression they were meant to be paying attention to the vicar," Siegfried suggested drolly.

"I'll be sure to tell anyone that if I catch them staring."

Siegfried pulled back, running a hand softly along the contour of her face, his following words more serious. "You know that no one here will think any differently if you opted not to go. But I would like to believe that the residents of Darrowby won't think any differently of you if you show up for services slightly less immaculately turned out than usual."

"I've heard people gossip about us taking in the children. Many don't understand. Some disapprove. Those comments won't be made better by me turning up in me workday clothing and with a poorly hidden bruise on me face."

Siegfried gazed at her face, the small area around her eye now purpling, making it more noticeable against her pale complexion despite the bruised area being relatively small given the injury having been caused by such a diminutive hand.

"It's a relatively small area. If you're looking down at your hymnal, most won't see it. And if you arrive just as the services are beginning, you can slip into the back of the church without time for exchanging pleasantries with the neighbours. But it's up to you, Audrey. Only you."

"I've done this before." Her words had become so hushed that Siegfried strained to hear her. "With people inventing their own ideas about me life. And now with the children...and me eye...and next..." She stopped and pulled away from the hand he still held softly against her arm, making her way towards the doorway to the kitchen. Something stopped her. Some guilt over leaving him wondering, worrying. Though what she had to say wouldn't be anything he'd like to hear, either, she was sure.

"I'm the housekeeper, Siegfried," she whispered. "Whatever will they have to say about that? About this? About us?"

Her quaking shoulders gave away her crumbling state before the first cry tore free from her throat, a sound she tried her best to muffle with the back of her wrist, lest anyone else in the house hear. Siegfried took up the few steps between them instantly, passing through the doorframe to be able to face her as he gathered her into his arms a second time. He swayed on the spot with her until she collected herself, an amount of time more brief than he might have anticipated, which he credited to the fortitude and tenacity he always associated with this woman he so adored.

"I love you." He offered no platitudes, no promises of which he had no real control in regards to the behaviour or prattle-laden tongues of those who lived in the village and surrounding farmlands. "I will always love you. And I will unreservedly do anything you believe may be helpful to you. Even if that is nothing more than this."

As he resumed his swaying, she took a deep breath. "This is nice. Thank you."

"Any time, my dear." He kissed her cheek, damp from the tears she had been unable to thwart even by way of her fierce sheer will.

She returned the kiss, bringing her mouth against his, relishing a chance to kiss him properly, and flushing as his deepening of the kiss brought forth a soft moan from her throat as they eventually broke apart. She rested against him another moment to steady herself and then searched his face, seeing the sincerity and adoration in his eyes. "I love you, Siegfried. It were never about that."

"I know." He brushed a finger across her cheek.

"I just felt I left all that behind me. The stares and the whispers. People thinking they knew owt about me life. It's been so long, and yet when I think of facing it again, it feels so soon."

"I shouldn't have pushed you to attend mass. I thought I was being encouraging, but I didn't know the true reason behind your reluctance. Now that I do, I think we could all enjoy a quiet Sunday morning at home if you'd like."

She nodded against him, discouraged by what she perceived as her own lack of courage, yet so relieved by the thought of staying safe and secure inside their home, with only those who cared about her present. "You don't think I'm being cowardly?"

"Not in the least. I can't imagine many terms I'd be less likely to attribute to you."

She took a deep breath. "We should get going. The dishes won't wash themselves, and the children are likely wondering what happened to you."

"I have something I need to get from storage, but I'll check in on them first."

Audrey looked at him, curiosity replacing some of the earlier discontentment in her eyes, a change that Siegfried was quick to notice and be glad of.

"The last time I switched out some of the Beatrix Potter books, I found an old child's book of songs and verses. It also has some short stories, biblical and otherwise. I wondered if you might like to read some of those to the children this morning."

She pressed her lips together and waited a beat to be sure the kindness of the man in front of her wouldn't invoke the tears she'd so recently vanquished. "I'd like that very much."

Siegfried's pleased smile, as he left the kitchen with a renewed spring in his step, blazed as brightly as the winter sun over the frosted landscape that cold February morning.

***********************************

Audrey closed the hardcover book Siegfried had brought down from his bedroom cupboard. The children's attention for the verses and biblical stories was not as long-lasting as their interest in the Beatrix Potter stories they enjoyed with Siegfried. But they had listened for a few, and Audrey did enjoy sharing them with their little guests. Siegfried had a wonderful ability to think of just the right thing when he tried and it warmed her heart to know he cared enough about her to want to make her life better, to try to soothe the rough spots that occur in life.

She gave each child a quick hug before letting them slide off the sofa and return to their play. She ran a hand over the brown embossed cover of the volume, admiring the colourful illustrated spray of roses on the centre panel. She was surprised yet again by how easily Siegfried handed over these treasured keepsakes from his own childhood into the hands of two toddlers. "He really is such a selfless man," she thought fondly.

Siegfried invited the children to follow him to the study to play the piano, allowing Audrey time to herself, as promised. She appreciated the gesture, though she found trying to pray alone in her room made her feel lonely rather than peaceful, and she opted to return to the ground floor after just thirty minutes, noting that if she had gone to church, she would have been home for some time at that point.

She was approaching the study, following the sound of Siegfried's voice as he sang to the children, when she heard the ring of the telephone. 

"Happy days are here again. The skies above are clear again. Let us sing a song of cheer again. Happy days are here again."

"I've got it!" she called out and switched direction, thinking how much she appreciated that he chose to sing something so optimistic, and she hoped that life might imitate art and deliver all of them more happy days in the future.

"Hello, Mrs. Pumphrey." Audrey leaned against the table, lightened by the calm, friendly voice of Marjorie Pumphrey on the other end of the line. There was no emergency. No new ailment. Just a ring to check in on the little stray and on how things were at Skeldale that day.

"The children are well. Thank you. And the cat looks rather lovely now that it's been cleaned and combed. Still too thin, poor thing. But we'll soon sort that."

Audrey listened to the older woman discuss Tricki, as always, and then the upcoming Women's Institute meeting once again. She gently queried about Audrey's well-being, having not seen her at church, as was her habit.

"After yesterday, I thought it best not to leave the children so soon."

Mrs. Pumphrey had made empathetic sounds and offered supportive words of agreement.

Audrey found herself enjoying the conversation and was surprised by the notion that it was almost as if Mrs. Pumphrey had called with the primary purpose of simply having a natter. The idea made her smile. as did the possibility that the women were each bolstering the other that morning. 

By the time Audrey replaced the receiver on its base, the sound of piano and Siegfried's singing voice had ceased, replaced with a happy thrum of mingled activity coming from the sitting room. When Audrey entered the room to find all of Skeldale's current residents gathered together, the thought crossed her mind that the room held all of the people she considered family who were safe in these terrifying times. Her heart held a constant pocket of fear for James, Tristan, and of course, Edward, but it did her good to occasionally remember how many people she cared about and loved were still here with her every day.

Siegfried looked up from his place on the floor playing a ball rolling game with the children. "Are Richard or I needed?"

"Not this time. It were Mrs. Pumphrey—checking in on the cat."

Richard set down the book he had been enjoying. "She only recently had you see to a stray dog, didn't she?" Richard turned to Siegfried, the oft-seen look of inquisitiveness on his face.

Siegfried, still slightly distracted by his play with the children, thought for a moment, trying to recall his last few calls to the manor. "Yes, that's right."

"Does she often take in strays?"

"Oh yes. Mrs. Pumphrey is not one to let an animal suffer, whether that animal belongs to her, someone else, or no one at all." Siegfried gently rolled a ball towards Keith.

"I wonder why so many strays appear on her property. Considering the level of landscaping of the manor grounds, one would think the constant presence of men working would scare off the animals, would it not?"

Helen bent low to roll back the ball that escaped Jeannie's attempted catch. "Farms and other estates see plenty of strays. But farmers are more likely to scare off or ignore strays depending on what type of animal it is and if they're causing any bother."

"While Mrs. Pumphrey would never dream of chasing away or ignoring any animal. She has both the time and the means to keep a close eye on any strays on her property, and she's quick to notice if an animal appears to require any sort of intervention." Siegfried clapped at Jeannie's perfect roll of the ball to her brother.

"How does she know they're there?"

"The gardeners or groundskeepers inform her if they see any new visitors on the property. They are well aware of her enthusiasm for such information."

"But why would they do that if it almost certainly means they will then be asked to capture the animal at some point?" Richard was perplexed by the idea of Mrs. Pumphrey's employees bringing more work upon themselves when caring for the sprawling property and gardens must bring plenty enough responsibility on their own.

"She only asks them to bring in animals who look to be in some sort of obvious distress." Siegfried continued to roll the small ball, alternating between the children.

"She walks Tricki around the grounds herself. When the weather allows, that is," Helen pointed out. "She'd eventually see the animals and ask the gardeners why they never said anything sooner."

"Aye, and would you want to be the person to tell Mrs. Pumphrey you'd been ignoring an animal on her property?" It was Audrey's turn to roll the errant ball back to the children. "There you are, love."

"What happens to the stray animals after you care for them?"

That's up to Mrs. Pumphrey—and the animal in question. Many strays don't acclimate well to life indoors, and so she allows them to return to the relative wild of the manor grounds. She finds homes for any others."

As Richard pondered what he had learnt, Audrey stood to leave. "I'm off to the kitchen. Do you want..." She trailed off, finishing her question silently.

"Richard and I will keep the children and dogs here with us, Mrs. ..." He stopped abruptly, jumped to his feet, and restarted. "Speaking of dogs, I have a new catalogue from Spratts in the exam room. It's chock-full of canine illustrations I think the children will enjoy seeing."

Siegfried rushed towards the door across the hall, grasping the back of Audrey's upper arms as he squeezed past her in the doorway. He realised what he was doing midway through and paused a second, holding on a bit longer than necessary before releasing her to rummage around in his files for the pet supply catalogue.

Helen, watching the scene from her spot in the nearby armchair, stood as well, picking up Jimmy's basket and announcing that she would join Audrey in the kitchen to help for as long as the baby would allow.

***********************************

Helen placed Jimmy's basket down, re-tucked the blankets around him, and leaned in to kiss his cheek before joining Audrey at the table, where a pile of ingredients was already growing as Audrey moved about the kitchen in practiced ease, grabbing this and that from shelves and cupboards.

"I'm glad to see you seem better than you were at breakfast."

Audrey paused in her movements. "I am. Thank you." Her words were sincere and grateful, but with a clear indication that she would not be giving any explanation for her improved mood, changing the subject instead to the call from Mrs. Pumphrey.

"Mrs. Pumphrey said that the next Women's Institute meeting will definitely be Wednesday. It should only be a short one. You could come with Jimmy if you'd like."

"Mmm. It would be nice to get out for a change," Helen considered.

"They're going to be talking about the upcoming civil defence meeting and more about the land girls arriving. Oh, and cooking in hayboxes. I remember some women used to do that in summer," Audrey added conversationally. "Looking to avoid working over a hot stove on a hot day. Not that we see many of those."

Helen, her mind full of the recent differences she had been noticing between Siegfried and Audrey, interrupted the talk of stoves and meetings to bring her observations up again.

"I couldn't help but notice the sitting room doorway's large enough for two people to easily pass one another," she raised her eyebrows at Audrey as she tried her best to peel some of the potatoes Audrey had set in the centre of the table with a greater level of skill than she typically managed.

Caught off guard by the subject change, Audrey wasn't initially sure of what Helen was talking about. "What's that?"

"When Siegfried left for that catalogue he suddenly needed. He felt the need to nearly run you over instead of just walking through on the other side. The side that were totally open I might add."

"Helen, really." Audrey gave her younger friend an exasperated look. "He were in a hurry—just as you said. You know how he is: run about first, think about it later."

"And you called Siegfried by his first name yesterday." Helen added her next item of evidence, watching Audrey's face for any slip.

But Audrey was baffled yet again. "Whenever?"

Helen continued her knife work, pleased to see she was wasting less actual vegetable than usual.

"When Lamley arrived. You apologised for some reason. It weren't your fault, you know." Helen paused in her own interrogation to firmly set that fact straight. Her friend was much too tempted to take on blame she had no part in, and Helen took the opportunity to make sure her feelings on at least this most recent example were well heard.

"I brought them here. The man wouldn't have been pounding down the door otherwise."

"You brought them for a few days. It were Siegfried who said they could stay longer. But that don't make it his fault Lamley turned up, either."

"No, it wasn't." Audrey conceded to Siegfried's innocence, inadvertently including her own in as well.

"So, as I were saying..."

"What's that, love?" Audrey focused on her peeling, making Helen truly work for any insight she hoped to gain from her.

"You called Siegfried by his first name."

Audrey felt unprepared for this discussion so soon after her worries earlier that morning and deflected Helen's observations a second time. "I were upset and nervous, Helen. I had no idea what I were saying."

"It seemed quite natural to me—when you said it. No one else minds if the two of you want to use first names with one another, you know."

Audrey changed the topic altogether, bringing up something she had been considering as a way to raise Helen's spirits. She knew the new mother had been feeling more dejected over James' absence lately. And that she had been feeling more concern over his safety as the war raged on and on.

"I were thinking we should have Jenny and your father over for tea on Tuesday. And Jenny can stay the night. She can attend the meeting with us if she'd like."

"Did you suddenly decide to invite me family for supper just to make me drop the subject of you and Siegfried?" Helen's look was one of a challenge, and Audrey gave a small sigh, realising the subject would be harder to shake than she first anticipated.

"I did not. There is nowt more to say on that subject, and I thought it'd be a nice change of pace to have them over. Let them fuss over Jimmy and give you more time with your sister, too."

"A whole day of Jenny Alderson may be more than you bargained for."

"She's practically an adult now, as she likes to point out. So she can help us on a busy day."

Helen couldn't argue that it would be wonderful to have something different to look forward to. A bit of distraction.

Audrey took Helen's silent musing as a positive sign. "I'll ask Mr. Farnon to stop by with a message while he's out on his rounds tomorrow."

Helen chuckled at the small jab. "What will we have? I hate to add more mouths to feed."

"I saved the basket of food Mrs. Pumphrey brought the other day—we can see what's in there. It'd be nice if we can find summat new that we can share with those we care about."

Audrey's thoughtful nature won out over Helen's curiosity, and her line of questioning was temporarily forgotten as she felt herself feeling a happy anticipation and a touch of emotion over Audrey's generous suggestion.

Chapter Text

"Darrowby 2297." Audrey tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear as she struggled to hoist Keith higher on her hip to achieve a better grasp on the toddler, who she felt was incrementally sliding from her one-armed hold.

"Rob Benson," she reported to Siegfried, as she re-entered the kitchen. "Trouble with a lambing."

Audrey kept Keith in her arms and called for Jeannie, ready to bring the children upstairs for their usual afternoon rest. She planned to read another story or two from the book Siegfried had given them, then spend her quiet time working on some mending she needed to do on their newest clothing donations. 

Siegfried smiled at the interaction between Audrey and Keith and regretfully mused that lambing would be picking up in earnest now. "I'll be gone more often."

His statement was simple, but Audrey could sense the complexities the few words hid. He wouldn't be there to help her as much. He wouldn't get to play with the children as much. He and she would have fewer chances to find a moment alone during the day. And perhaps most importantly, as there was suddenly the feeling of impending change on the horizon in terms of where the children would be living, he would like to have more time to enjoy their remaining time with them rather than less.

Audrey reached out to briefly lay a hand at his wrist. "It's your job. We all understand that, even the little ones."

His expression was wistful as he announced to Richard that they would both attend the call out to Benson's, then left the room to collect the necessities.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted Siegfried as he rummaged through the equipment cupboard, checking off his mental list. The noise caught him off guard, and he stood up abruptly, misjudging his position and banging the back of his head against the door jamb.

"Blast!" He impatiently rubbed his head, slammed the cupboard door, and stalked down the hall. "It's a Sunday!" he groused aloud to the empty space, as if that were enough to convince a particularly concerned animal owner from appearing on their doorstep on the supposed day of rest. But as Siegfried wrenched open the front door, his flurry of irritation turned to a stone of anxiety, which immediately sunk to the pit of his stomach. It wasn't due to an animal that someone was demanding his attention, but rather Constable Lamley, the reason for his presence unknown, yet very much unwanted nonetheless. Siegfried chose not to stifle the groan in response to seeing the man for the second day in a row.

"If you are here for the children," Siegfried began, his voice hushed and raspy, yet shaking with suppressed anger over the very idea.

"No, no! Not at all." Lamley rushed to alleviate the concern of the man in front of him straight away.

"And you don't need to actually see them?" Siegfried continued, eyes blazing at the thought of putting their young visitors through the same upset two days running.

"No. I am only here to pass along the new information we have learnt."

Siegfried begrudgingly ushered the officer into the house, pointing him, with no finesse, straight into the first empty examination room.

"I preferred the days of gaining new information from you via telephone conversations, if I may be frank. They brought far less disruption to our lives."

"I understand, Mr. Farnon, and I feel the same. But I'm on my way home from Manchester, you see, and this was the most information I have had to share so far so I thought it best to stop by in person."

"Yes, yes. However, the issue remains that I cannot have the children being frightened day after day. Mrs. Hall has just escorted the children upstairs for a nap, so if you could please wait here, I will see if Mrs. Herriot can possibly take over and only then will I return with Mrs. Hall. And while I mean no disrespect, when today's conversation is complete, I would greatly appreciate it if you would return to telephonic communication going forward."

"I will be happy to do so, Mr. Farnon."

Siegfried sighed. "At least it's a Sunday. We'll likely receive only emergency calls today, so we may actually get through this uninterrupted."

Through the exam room windows, the jangle of the telephone could be heard. Siegfried rolled his eyes. "It never fails." 

Siegfried walked through the adjoining exam room, using the rear door to enter the hall near the phone niche, where he found Helen at the phone, her eyes widening as she spied Lamley over Siegfried's shoulder.

Covering the mouthpiece, she passed along in a stage whisper. "It's Mr. Sunter. Says it's an emergency." Suspicion tinged her words, and Siegfried scoffed.

"He still hasn't paid me for his last two so-called emergencies." 

Scrubbing his face, he thought over the situation. "New plan for the day, Helen. Please tell Richard he's on his own with Benson and tell Sunter that I'm attending another matter and will be engaged for some time. If it's an actual legitimate emergency this time, then he can call Pandhi."

Helen nodded and made to turn back to the caller.

"Oh, and Helen, would you be at all able to take over with putting the children to bed?" He grimaced, knowing full well how the children cherished their daily routine with Audrey, and feeling very aware that they might not be pleased with a substitute.

He cast a dubious eye towards Lamley. "It will be a brief visit, I expect?"

When Lamley offered only a noncommittal shrug, Siegfried left the man in the closed room and escorted Helen upstairs where a hushed conversation in the hallway preceded Helen taking over the duties of reading and tucking in, with Audrey promising to return shortly.

Once they seemed relatively settled, Siegfried returned to the exam room with a worried Audrey, stopping in the waiting room along the way to grab two additional chairs.

Audrey opened the examination room door, allowing Siegfried to bring in the chairs, which he placed with slightly more force than necessary on the opposite side of the examination table from where Lamley was currently seated in Siegfried's rolling office chair. If Lamley thought being sequestered in an examination room, with a surgical table separating himself from his hosts, was unusual or impolite, he kept that opinion to himself, opting to try to get through this unscheduled meeting without perturbing anyone further.

He didn't dislike these people—not even the abrasive Mr. Farnon, for his gut told him that the man's irascible nature was down entirely to the protective duty the man held himself accountable for in regards to the veterinary student, women, and children under his roof. He couldn't fault the man for not wishing to be saddled with the need to calm the frayed nerves of so many people, and he wished he hadn't been forced to become the cause of such unhappiness the previous day. If hiding away in this odd space would prevent the children from falling to pieces at the sight of him, he was content to stay right where he was until he was able to abscond from the house, hopefully unnoticed, and hopefully without reason for any future visits. 

Lamley withdrew a small leather-bound notebook from an inside pocket. "Firstly, we have heard from the children's home in Lancaster. I wasn't impressed with the information I received when I visited and have been in contact a few times since. I was under the impression I was speaking to the person in charge last time, but I've come to learn she was an assistant to the director. One of my fellow officers spoke to the director directly, and she claims no responsibility for the children being brought or left at Windemere."

"I would assume that came as little surprise," Siegfried responded cynically.

"It did not. They reiterated that the children were not supposed to be there and that they had received no official information about them from Manchester. However, she did say that one of the women who escorted the children from Manchester mentioned that she—the escort, that is—believed the children were supposed to go to a home for children with medical afflictions." He attempted to choose his words carefully, knowing the children's supposed handicaps was a sore spot for the resolute woman seated across from him.

"They just took her word and sent them off to a new location without taking so much as a moment trying to determine if it were true?" Lamley's effort to avoid riling Audrey clearly failed and she slapped her hands heavily on the table as she snapped out her response, the clattering of the table ringing out in the room, causing her to then sheepishly sit back in her chair, embarrassed by her outburst, her hands returning to her lap.

Lamley nervously cleared his throat and looked down at his notes. "The director also suggested that perhaps the volunteer who brought the children to the Lakes saw Mrs. Hall and believed her to be the representative from the next home."

"That's ridiculous! I never saw a soul with them the entire time I were there! Where were this volunteer all the while? They would have had to have stood hiding in the shadows for a full hour before they supposedly saw me, and I don't believe that for a moment."

"Those we spoke to in the station's waiting area that day corroborated your story, Mrs. hall. They all agreed that the children were there alone for quite a long while before you joined them." Reading the scrawled bits he had written down, he cleared his throat a second time before continuing. "A few people we spoke to mentioned wondering where you had been for so long."

Audrey's eyes widened in agitation. "I do apologise. It seems I forgot to pack me magic crystal ball, so I didn't know any earlier in the day that there were two abandoned children being ignored by every other adult in the whole blooming station!"

Siegfried wasn't sure he'd ever seen Audrey so angry, and he looked away and bit down on his bottom lip to keep from reacting to her telling off of the anonymous crowd in the station that day, while unwittingly and concurrently appearing to chide the constable in the room with them right then as well.

"Some of the waiting travellers apparently thought you were their mother."

"They would have never been left on their own if that were the case."

Siegfried heard the catch in her voice as her anger simmered down to something more akin to hurt, and he reached out to squeeze the top of her joined hands. "No one here has any doubt of that."

Lamley nodded. "Right. And we have also heard from two women who escorted other children from Lancaster that day. They said the missing volunteer was called Lilly Winters. We have officers trying to find any information about such a person. The escorts claim she was a lovely girl who spoke of a beau she hoped would soon become her fiancé."

"And did that beau live in the Lakes area, by chance?" Siegfried enquired shrewdly.

"The other women knew nothing more. Because Lilly and the children were headed to a different home, they spent very little time with the main group of children being moved, and the other escorts didn't get to speak with Miss Winters any further. At this point, our thinking is the same as yours, Mr. Farnon. We believe Miss Winters used the volunteer work as a way to leave the Lancaster area without having to secure funds for the purchase of the tickets, and maybe without causing any suspicion—in parents unimpressed by this beau, perhaps?"

"But even if that's so, why leave them alone? How could she do that? Why volunteer to move children across the country just to abandon them? She could have left them at the Lancaster station, where the other women would likely have noticed them."

"We presume she didn't want anyone to find she had gone missing so early in the day. By taking the children with her, she put time and space between herself and anyone who might recognise her or the Buckley children."

"It don't change how awful it were to drag two innocent children into her plans and then leave them all on their own. I'd like to have a word with Miss Winters," Audrey declared vehemently.

"As would we, Mrs. Hall. Unfortunately, although we'll probably never have the full story in regards to why the children wound up where they did; Sergeant Yates and his constables have made some progress in Manchester."

Siegfried sat up tall in his chair in interest. "What have they learnt?" 

He hoped it was something of more substance than the completely utter tosh Lamley had shared so far. What good is a whole lot of gossip and guesswork over a young woman long removed from the situation? Beyond a basic investigative desire, the whys of what Miss Winters did or did not do scarcely mattered any longer. They needed to find out where the children had been before they ever turned up in Lancaster. 

"The children have been in four different orphanages, including the Lancaster home, over a period of less than a month's time."

"Less than a month!" Audrey's shock was audible. "How? Why?" She shook her head as the ability to formulate more detailed questions was lost in the midst of her astonishment, finally forcing out the simple clarification of "Are they sure?"

Her mind revisited their visit to Dr. Robinson, the young physician so sure that Jeannie once spoke as well as any child her age, and Audrey was flabbergasted that the poor girl could have stopped speaking completely in just a few weeks' time.

Returning to his pocket-sized pad, Lamley confirmed the information. "Yes, Sergeant Yates said there has been increased movement in Manchester between facilities for children. They have been splitting up the populations of the larger homes into many smaller ones, sometimes just a few children to each new home. According to what the Manchester police found, the children were brought to a larger home just as they were moving children out of that location. The children were moved to a second home, who believed them to be unable to hear or speak."

Audrey threw up her hands in frustration. "Why does everyone think that? I don't want to seem as if I've owt against Jeannie and Keith being sent to a home with children who do have difficulties. Because that's not it. What upsets me is that no one's paid enough attention to Jeannie and Keith to realise they're wrong about this. That the children do listen and follow direction. How do people not see that?"

Siegfried spoke up gently. "You've forgotten how they were in the beginning—at least for some of us. Maybe not with you. They primarily ignored me when I first met them. Jeannie stared at me but gave no indication she heard anything I said. And Keith wouldn't even look up at me."

Audrey pondered over his words, thinking back to their initial interactions at the station. "They did as I asked right from the start. Aside from boarding the train, of course." She felt a pang at the memories of each time the children had been forced unto a train while with her. She wondered how many more journeys on train or bus they must have endured over the weeks before she found them.

"You were a kind woman who cared for them. That might be enough for a frightened child. Or maybe it was just you. Maybe they intrinsically understood what the rest of us have learnt years ago—that you are always the one who can help."

Audrey smiled gratefully at Siegfried's words. "That still leaves me wondering if there weren't someone kind to care for them in any of the places they were before. And were they already not speaking when they were brought to the first home? And if not, then why?"

She looked across at Lamley and questioned him directly. "Do we know who brought them to the larger orphanage? Or what happened to their parents?"

She blew out a frazzled breath. "I'm sorry, Constable Lamley. I don't mean to keep interrupting."

"We have only the information given to us from the various places where the children stayed. What we do know is that it was an aunt who brought them to the first facility."

"An aunt? So they do have family?" Audrey grimaced and held up her hands in front of her as if in apology. "Sorry," she repeated.

"Yes, an aunt. The sister-in-law of the children's father. According to what she told the person who accepted the children, their father was called up to serve, and shortly after that, their mother became very ill. Their father wrote asking if his brother and sister-in-law would take the children, and they did so."

Lamley turned the page in his book, sighed, and looked sympathetic as he continued. "The home was told that the mother passed away. And that the uncle—their father's brother—had since left for war as well. The aunt brought the children to the first home just after the Christmas Blitz. She told the matron on duty that the burden of caring for the two of them, along with her own two children, had become too much for her and asked them to take the children until their father could return for them."

Lamley hesitated, then added, "She also told them that the children's mother was deaf. We can only guess that when the children did not speak at all, those in charge likely assumed the children were deaf as well."

Audrey nodded, finally having at least some understanding of where the persistent belief had originated.

Lamley closed his book. "Sergeant Yates is contacting the aunt to determine if anything has changed or if she still wishes the children to remain in a home. With each move, less information seemed to have followed the children, and we can't be sure if the aunt even knew the children were being moved out of Manchester."

"Were the children living in Manchester before all of this?" Audrey asked, as Siegfried finally added a question of his own simultaneously. 

"Does anyone have the father's name or a means of contacting him?"

Siegfried and Audrey smiled apologetically as they both launched their questions at the constable at once but were relieved to finally have answers to their latest enquiries.

"The aunt did not give the father's name. Only her own." He reopened his notes to double-check. "Edna Buckley. She listed a village outside of Rochdale for her address. Mrs. Buckley said the children had been living in Manchester before their mother became ill, which is why she brought them back. She felt it would be easier for their father to collect them there."

"I wonder if she ever did tell their father. I can't imagine that would be easy news for him to receive after having lost his wife. Poor man." Audrey's heart hurt for Mr. Buckley, despite having never met him, and for Jeannie and Keith, who lost their mother at such a young age.

"Did anyone inform Mrs. Buckley that the children were being moved?" Siegfried asked, feeling as if the story still wasn't making sense to him. "And how had all information about the children become so completely separated from them by the time they reached the Lancaster home?"

"I don't have an answer to your second question, Mr. Farnon, but the first home insists that they did write Mrs. Buckley to inform her that the children were being moved the first time. They said they received no response and sent a second letter. But they never heard from her again. The other two facilities both stated they never heard from any family of the children at all."

"What happens now?" Audrey asked, concerned.

"We wait to see what the aunt has to say. If there is no family willing to take them or if they cannot locate Mrs. Buckley, then a determination will need to be made of which orphanage is best to take them until their father can be found and is able to care for them again."

Audrey gasped at the thought of them heading back to another orphanage.

Siegfried spoke carefully but clearly, addressing Lamley. "If there is no family able to take them, can they continue to stay here? I realise my expertise is in regards to animals, not humans, but I cannot imagine that continuing to move them from place to place could be in any way beneficial."

Lamley looked only mildly surprised by the offer. "We would have no idea how long a time that might be, Mr. Farnon."

"The length of time is irrelevant to me, and I believe Mrs. Hall and Mrs. Herriot would say the same."

Audrey answered emphatically. "I agree."

"I have no say in that decision."

"You can let officials know that we're willing to keep them on, though?" Audrey's voice held a mix of sheer gratitude to Siegfried and a pleading quality towards Lamley.

"I will do that, Mrs. Hall. You have my word." 

"If... if they do need to leave, will we be told a few days in advance to try to explain?" Mrs. Pumphrey's words from the previous day came back to her.

"I'll do my best. I also think it would go better if one or both of you were the ones to escort them to their next location," Lamley suggested gingerly.

Audrey looked up sharply towards Siegfried, stricken, the idea of her being the one to leave the children with strangers at some far-flung orphanage causing her physical pain.

Siegfried sought her hand once again. "We'll discuss that if the time comes." His expression left no room for argument, and Lamley wisely agreed.

"What about the aunt? They'll not give them back to her, will they? She already gave them up once. What if she changes her mind again? They could wind up anywhere!"

"If she agrees to take them, then I'm certain they'll be returned to her. I'm sorry, Mrs. Hall." 

"Has there been any word of their belongings?" Siegfried asked suddenly, needing to focus on something besides the children's departure far more than actually requiring the information he requested.

"No one can account for any. The first home indicated the children were not sent to them with any possessions, but it could be that they were lost."

"Lost!" Siegfried scoffed. "Or the aunt who couldn't care for Jeannie and Keith found that she could use their belongings just fine."

"Siegfried," Audrey gently chided.

"No, there's something not right here. Possibly a few things. Why truly bring those children to Manchester? It had to be less convenient for her. And the city had just been bombed! Would you bring children there if you had any other choice?"

"Course not."

"Was she trying to save face, telling people she was "bringing them home to Manchester", conveniently omitting that she was dropping them at an orphanage? And why refuse to give the father's name? Then to ignore all correspondence from the home." Siegfried waited a beat and, turning towards Lamley, repeated himself. "There's something not right here; I'm sure of it."

The constable secretly agreed, but had no means of verifying their shared hunch. Instead Lamley stood and adjusted his tunic with a beleaguered sigh. "Mr. Farnon, Mrs. Hall. I will ring as soon as I've heard from the sergeant. I hope to be able to answer more of your questions then."

Siegfried and Audrey found themselves watching the retreating figure of the constable across market Square for the second afternoon in a row. And they found themselves in the front hall holding one another in a desperate need for a comfort a second day as well.
 

***********************************

We really need to give that cat a name," Helen insisted, voicing her opinion on referring to the scrawny feline as "it" or, as was more often the case, "the poor thing.".

The family had found themselves all seeking one another's company that evening after tea, and they gathered once again in the sitting room, along with Jess, Dash, and the unnamed cat, to simply be together. The radio was silent. No crinkle of newspaper or turning of book pages could be heard. No games were suggested, no in-depth conversation started. 

Audrey's suggestion to invite the Aldersons over had been unanimously agreed upon as a lovely idea when the topic came up over supper, and all further conversation about the details of their visit had been sorted, leaving nothing else to discuss on that subject. The lambing at Benson's had gone well, and no one wished to bring up anything to do with Lamley in front of the children.

There was rocking and cuddling of baby and child. Some quiet playing with toys, soft petting or scratching of dog or cat, the occasional murmur of nothing terribly important from one tired occupant of the house to another. 

With no animals currently in the shed, there was still no need to return to the alternating animal feeding schedule with Jeannie and Keith. Instead, both helped to put out food and water for all three animals inside of Skeldale House, attempting to pour and scoop as neatly as such small hands could manage.

Jeannie, her attention now on the black cat resting on the sofa cushion by Audrey, removed herself from the limited entertainment offered by her younger brother and moved to stand by the side of the settee, softly stroking the cat between its ears. "Miss All."

"Yes, love?"

Jeannie patted the cat. "Ellen."

Audrey smiled. "Helen?"

Jeannie nodded, and Audrey tried to clarify what the child wanted. "Do you think Helen's right? Does the cat need a name?"

Jeannie patted the cat's head. "Ellen!"

Siegfried, comfortably reclining in an armchair closest to the fire, chuckled around the stem of his pipe. "I think the cat has already been named. I hope you approve of your namesake, Mrs. Herriot." He winked across the room at Helen.

"Here I was thinking more along the lines of Midnight or Liquorice."

"Or Onyx," Richard suggested, relaxing in the chair next to Siegfried without a book in hand, for what was almost certainly the first time since moving into Skeldale House.

"Perhaps Raven," Siegfried added, enthusiastically. "Once she's gained some much-needed weight, one could imagine her racing across the gardens of Pumphrey Manor with a sleek coat reminiscent of the raven's shining black plumage."

"Audrey ran her finger along Jeannie's shoulder a few times. "What do you think, poppet? Is Raven a good name?"

"Ellen!"

"The true leader of the household has spoken. Ellen it is. I hope you appreciate this great honour that has been bestowed upon you," Siegfried teased.

"Oh, aye. That's me—honoured and grateful."

"Wait till James hears there's now a small Helen to go along with the small James!"

Helen rolled her eyes. "The small James needs a change. Would you like that honour, Siegfried?"

"Oh, I am completely undeserving. Just ask Au-Mrs. Hall." He fought back the grimace he felt trying to appear on his face at his stumble, and both Audrey and Helen raised an eyebrow at him. Spying Richard out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young vet examining a horse figurine, as if mentally comparing it to a live specimen and felt satisfied that the validity of his earlier claim to Audrey had been confirmed—he could, at the very least, still count on Carmody to to remain completely ignorant of his gaffes. 

***********************************

As the Skeldale family dispersed for the evening, and once the children were fast asleep, Siegfried and Audrey found themselves feeling less cheerful than they had been while in the warm presence of the whole household.

"I'm so worried, Siegfried." Audrey's anxiety was palpable, and Siegfried brought his arm up and around her shoulders, inviting her to lean her head against him.

She gave herself a moment to let the solace of his closeness seep into her heart and continued, her voice thick with emotion.

"From the moment I first saw them at the station, all I wanted was for there to be someone out there who loved them. For this to have been an awful mistake. For them to have a family they could return to."

She looked up at him, hoping he understood. His expression spoke of a deep comprehension and a deeper love, and she managed a half smile, though accompanied by misted eyes. 

"I didn't want them to be all that was left of a family or to be unwanted. I wanted more for them. And now we know they have a father at least, but they're still not with family. And that poor man. Off to war, while his children are being shuffled from place to place without him even knowing."

Siegfried sighed. "I find myself angry on his behalf. That aunt! I probably shouldn't admit any of my thoughts about her. You'll surely scold me." 

"I'd be a hypocrite if I did." Her words were delivered with a broken chuckle, followed by a few sniffles before she scolded herself instead. 

"No. It's not fair of me to say that. I have no other children of me own to care for, and a household with four adults in it. She had the exact opposite—four children and no other adults. I'm sure it were difficult."

Siegfried made a sound of derision, and she relented.

"Don't get me wrong. I don't agree with her choices, no matter how little right I have to say so. She should have contacted their mother's family or Mr. Buckley before moving Jeannie and Keith. It weren't right. Someone on their mother's side might have been able to take them, and all of those orphanages and homes could have been avoided." 

Her hands shook as she wrung them in her lap, becoming more agitated as she put her thoughts out into the subdued light of the room. "How could she make that decision without even talking to their father first?"

"I am far too cynical about the entire situation to offer a diplomatic response to that question, my dear. I don't believe that woman was in any manner attempting to make life easier on her brother-in-law by bringing the children back to Manchester. It sounds only as if she was doing her best to put as much space between them and herself as possible."

"I know it's horrible, Siegfried, but I hope you're right. Because I don't want her to want to take them back. I don't trust her if things become difficult again." She felt guilty immediately in saying so. "I don't actually know if she did try any of those things, though, do I? Maybe she tried to contact someone else and they couldn't help. Or maybe there was no one else to ask."

"All we can do is wait to see what happened when Yates contacted her. Once we know more, we can try to find a way to keep Jeannie and Keith safe and happy until they can be with their father or another trustworthy relative again."

Chapter Text

Monday, 24 February, 1941:

"You're up very early, Mr. Carmody!" Audrey looked up from her chopping and slicing with a pleasant, though surprised greeting.

The young vet's face wore the look of a mind weighed down by a load of heavy thinking combined with a hefty addition of self-doubt. Yet he voiced none of that as he approached the table in a slow, almost contrite fashion. "I heard you and the children and thought I'd join you. I do hope that's all right."

Audrey smiled through her confusion over Carmody's unusually sombre morning disposition. "It's perfectly fine."

From their now favourite spot in the scullery, Keith scurried out of the opening at the base of the hutch upon hearing Carmody enter the room, patting the seat of the chair closest to where he and Jeannie were playing, while vocalising happily towards the bewildered student.

"You'll get no peace if you try to sit elsewhere," Audrey nodded in knowing encouragement, continuing to work her way through a pile of mushrooms furnished via Kate Billings' generosity. 

Keith proceeded to bring Carmody the wheeled horse toy yet again, and Richard wearily accepted the oft-used plaything, silently pondering why any adult would opt to purchase a child such an unrealistically rendered version of the animal. It was positively unkind to the entire equine community for such an unsuccessful portrayal of the genus to exist.

Audrey quietly watched the unlikely pair, amused by Keith's enjoyment of Carmody and impressed by how much more easily Richard seemed to deal with the children a few weeks into their prolonged visit. She morosely wondered if they were soon reaching the point when the children, Richard, or all three might soon be leaving Skeldale. The absence of them would be difficult to deal with after having become very accustomed to the presence of both the student and the small guests. Clearing her throat to shake that line of thought, she apologised to Carmody for possibly rousing him from bed early as she prepared the children for the day.

"I'm sorry if we woke you early today."

"Oh no. I was awake. I was going over possible changes to the letter I'm writing to my parents. Their last correspondence requested a reply within the week, and it is exactly one week today."

"I see." Audrey's hands stilled, and she waited a beat to see if Richard had anything else to add to the topic, which she deduced was the source of his broodiness so early in the day. However, it was the sound of Siegfried's jaunty whistling that broke the silence, bouncing off the stone walls of the passage ahead of him.

Siegfried, spying Audrey seated in the chair closest to the sink as he entered the corridor and expecting her and the children to be alone in the kitchen as was usual for that time of day, bellowed out his morning greeting from the far end of the hall. "Good morning, my dear!"

Audrey's eyes widened, and she fought the urge to snap her head up in alarm, trying to instead sneak a glance at Richard while appearing to still be focused on her breakfast preparations. Letting out the slightest of sighs upon finding Richard still engaged in make-believe horse antics with Keith and oblivious to anything else happening, Audrey caught Siegfried's eye as he approached and gestured towards the young vet sitting on the far side of the table, calling out a slightly emphatic "Morning, Mr. Farnon."

Siegfried entered the room fully, noting the extra resident greeting the dawn of day with the early risers of the house, and raised his eyebrows in an inaudible sign of understanding.

Setting down her knife once more, Audrey fished the sheet of paper with the messages taken down over the past day, handing the accumulated list to the senior vet, then returning to the last of her slicing. "It's lengthy today. I'll make up some sandwiches for you to take with you when I get back from the butcher's."

Engrossed in the scrawled notes about the various maladies and mischief the animal world around them had amassed over the past few days, Siegfried offered his absent-minded gratitude. "Thank you, my dear."

Audrey thumped her knife down a third time, glancing over to Richard, still distracted by whatever was on his mind paired with the continual demands for his attention from little Keith. Turning her gaze to the equally absorbed Siegfried, she shook her head in exasperation and tutted privately to herself. Two "my dears" within minutes of one another. Thank goodness Helen were upstairs.

Keith's chortles of glee brought his sister over, her arms full of Mr. Lion and the bedraggled teddy bear as she gestured to her brother about some new game she wished him to participate in, and the little lad pattered off, leaving a relieved Richard to bring his attention back to adults in the room, a minor look of surprise crossing his face as he took in Siegfried's presence at the table.

The young man took in a deep breath and cleared his throat before facing his temporary surrogate parents. He wouldn't ever call them such a thing aloud, of course, and he scarcely dared to think it, but facing a measurable end point to his journey at Skeldale, his heart labeled them as such no matter how overly-sentimental he may have been raised to view such a thought.   

"I will post my letter before surgery opens, if that is acceptable."

Siegfried looked up in confusion from the list, upon which he had been jotting numbers and arrows to indicate the order in which he would tackle the day's work. "Letter?"

"The examination rooms are in order from yesterday, so I don't require much time to ready myself for any clients today. I will be ready for regular clinic hours without any issue," Richard continued.

"What letter?"

"I'm heading over to the butcher's straight after breakfast. That's why we're down here earlier today. I can post it if you'd like."

"Post what?" Siegfried's voice took on a minor maddened quality.

"That would be helpful. Thank you, Mrs. Hall." Richard fell quiet again, seemingly deep in thought.

"Would someone kindly reveal what letter is being discussed here?" 

"Sorry. We were talking about it before you came down. Richard has a letter to post to his parents."

"I'd prefer not to divulge the contents of said letter at this point—before I receive their reply, that is. I hope you'll forgive the secrecy."

"It's your letter, Mr. Carmody. You have every right to keep your thoughts on the matter to yourself as long as you'd like. No one needs to know the contents except for your parents."

Siegfried nodded once at his list, seemingly finding it to be as well organised as was possible. Folding the paper and tucking it into his waistcoat pocket, he added his agreement to the discussion. "Quite right—for the recipients' eyes only."

"Thank you—for understanding. I simply don't see a logical reason to discuss the logistics of my departure from Skeldale until I'm sure an agreement has been reached between my parents and myself. Otherwise I might share incorrect information." Richard continued, his words meant to convince, despite being imparted upon an audience already fully convinced.

"Indeed," Siegfried stated decisively. "We look forward to resuming this conversation at a future time."

Richard nodded in silent appreciation and slowly handed the well-handled letter across table to Audrey, it's softened corners and creases touching the soft spot she held for the young man. She wondered how many times he removed the envelope from his jacket pocket, considering if he ought to start a new draft to change the assuredly carefully deliberated wording or to add some possible detail he hadn't already included.

She smiled kindly as she accepted the post. "Mr. Carmody. If you do decide that you'd like to talk about it, we're all here to listen."

Richard's smile was tenuous, not due to a lack of emotion, but for not the first time since arriving in Darrowby and getting to better know the people who comprised the veterinary practice and home, to the very opposite--a feeling of being overwhelmed by more positive emotion than he was accustomed to ever having the need to process before his arrival at the front door of Skeldale House.   

Siegfried opened the newspaper he had carried into the kitchen with him earlier, and Richard continued his silent musings as Audrey moved her work to the stovetop, where she began filling and juggling various pans in a seemingly effortless manner. She worked quietly for a few moments before interrupting the men with a request. 

"Since you're both up early today, is there any chance I won't have to drag these two along to the butcher with me?" She pointed her wooden spoon towards Jeannie and Keith, who were driving the horse and truck along a road paved with alphabet blocks.

"Yes, yes, Richard can sit with them while I ready my bag for the day."

Audrey's answering expression clearly said "You're winding the boy up on purpose," to which Siegfried returned a gleeful look of his own, which said "Yes, I know!" Audrey rolled her eyes at Siegfried and turned sympathetically to Richard. "Would you mind terribly?" It'll be much easier without them, and I won't be long. Either he'll actually have summat or he won't."

Richard gave his assent so easily that Audrey half wondered if the poor boy really took in exactly what had just been asked of him.
  
"We'll have breakfast early so I can be in line when they open. We'll keep some warm for Helen if she's not down before we eat. I have porridge started, and I'll scramble some eggs. There's toast. And I have the mushrooms from Kate as well. I hope that will suit everyone before a busy day."

"My nose tells me there's bacon involved somewhere," Siegfried's eyes twinkled in a hopefulness that made Audrey chuckle.

"Just the drippings in the mushrooms," she began, then dropping her voice, confided. "And a bit of bacon—but that's just for you, Mr. Farnon. Thought some bacon butties might be nice for you to take along today."

"You didn't need to do that," Siegfried retorted, pleased at the idea but feeling a bit guilty at accepting the entirety of the bacon left in the house.

"I wanted to. You're going to be busy these next few months, and I won't always have much to send with you. So when I have summat, take it, please."

"Thank you, my..."

Audrey flashed him a look, and he snapped down on the end of his statement, amending it to a shorter version with a grin. "Thank you." 

After breakfast, Richard surprised the children by instigating play with them as opposed to the normal routine of Keith having to nearly force the young man to oblige in the nonsensical make-believe of very young humans. With them well engrossed by Richard's talent with the wooden tops, a skill neither Jeannie nor Keith could reliably manage with even the smallest degree of success, Audrey silently excused herself from the room.

When she returned downstairs, Siegfried noted the application of concealer to Audrey's face. Gone was the small arc of bluish-purple around her eye, replaced by a shade just slightly off from her natural complexion despite her attempt to blend it into the delicate skin. And if one were to look closely, it left a somewhat heavier look to that area of her lovely face as well. Siegfried hoped that any other women out this early would be too intent upon securing their meat rations to pay attention to the minute details of one another. He watched her cross the square and then retreated to the front examination room, where he spent the entire time she was gone pretending to fill a bag he had ready to go in the initial few minutes after she had left, Richard's recent organisation and cleaning making it far easier than usual for Siegfried to not only find the tools he needed but also to find them ready to be used with no further maintenance necessary.

Sitting at the table under the front windows, he caught sight of her blue coat out of the corner of his eye and jumped up, the chair skittering off behind him as the wheels briefly left the floor in his haste. He opened the inner vestibule doors and broke into a relieved smile to see her looking rosy-cheeked and pleased.

"How did it go?" Despite his self-confidence in his observation that she appeared happy and well, he felt compelled to seek reassurance immediately, and she chuckled as she found herself having her basket taken from her and hands outstretched to accept her hat and gloves.

"What service! Is this the difference the possibility of corned beef makes around here?"

"Very risible, my dear." He drew his arm through the air of the empty hallway. "Not a soul around to hear me call you that now."

Ignoring his silliness, Audrey pointed to the basket now on his opposite arm as she removed her coat. "It weren't the three quarter ration the paper promised, but close, so I won't be complaining."

She hung the coat and hat, adding her thanks to Siegfried for pointing out the newspaper article. "I'll use it tomorrow while the Aldersons are here, if that suits. I can fill in with veg, of course, and maybe summat from Mrs. Pumphrey's basket."

"Whatever you think best. You do run this place, no matter what I might occasionally grumble to the contrary."

He gave her a moment to put away her hat and gloves, straighten her skirt, and run a hand over the pins in her hair, making sure all was still as it should be after being tucked into her coat and hat. But as she opened her hand to accept the basket back, he gently repeated his earlier inquiry, changing the wording to something more precisely describing his concern. "And how were the various women of Darrowby this morning?"

Audrey felt a familiar warmth upon hearing his question. She felt it more and more in the past several weeks as they shared their feelings and love with one another. It was the polar opposite of the icy feel of dread she so often felt when Robert would question her. When she knew that no answer she could possibly construct would lead to anything but raised voices and the occasional raised hand. When Siegfried asked her something, it was never with the intent to trick or trap her. She could easily accept the queries with the kindness and caring with which they were intended and answer with the knowledge that his questions were based only on his desire to check her well-being and that any truth, good or bad, that she shared in response would be accepted with either a pleased response or a desire to help.

"It were fine," she insisted truthfully. "A few second glances trying to determine what were wrong with me, but no one said owt about it."

"There's nothing wrong with you." He caressed her face and placed a gentle kiss at the corner of her eye. 

"What were different, then," she amended, covering his hand on her face with her own, touched by his gesture, and wishing to bask in it a moment longer.

"I don't want anyone saying there's anything wrong with you, including you. You're marvellous. Amazing. Beautiful. So very, very beautiful."

Audrey blushed fiercely and ducked her head as she stepped forward to embrace him. "Siegfried!" Her protest was gentle, as her appreciation of his words outweighed her humble embarrassment.

Siegfried pulled back to look at her so intently that she felt she might either melt or combust.

"Miss All? Miss All? MISS ALL? MISS ALL?" Jeannie's voice calling through the house interrupted them, and Audrey gave Siegfried's chest a playful pat as she levelled an immediate accusation.

"She learnt that from you!"

Siegfried captured the hand she had swatted him with and gave it a quick kiss, a cheeky look on his face as he admitted his part in the child's imitation of his bellowing. "Guilty as charged."

The two chuckled together as they set off for the kitchen, their mirth changing to concern as they approached the curve in the hall and heard Jeannie's calls morph into crying, surprising both adults.

Audrey rushed ahead and found Jeannie crouched at the end of the kitchen corridor closest to the halls leading to the front of the house, tears on her cheeks, making shushing sounds as if reprimanding herself, a sight that both broke Audrey's heart and confused her, given that the children had been loud many times before, including Jeannie calling about the house for her previously, albeit with Siegfried in those instances.

Reaching back for Siegfried to take the basket, she knelt down to hug the child. "It's all right, love. Everything's all right." 

Richard skidded to the opposite end of the hall, his worries allayed by the return of Audrey. "Thank goodness. Keith got himself into a bit of a mess, and that's when she realised we were the only ones in the kitchen."

Jeannie hiccoughed and cried a bit more as Audrey tried to convince the child that all was well. "I heard you calling my name. You say it so nicely now. I'm very proud of you." 

The girl shifted in Audrey's arms, pressing her face against Audrey's chest and sniffled, then mumbled something that Audrey missed, the words muffled by Jeannie's position.

"What love?" 

"Gone!" Jeannie looked up at her pitifully.

"Oh, love." She smoothed her hand down the child's back, trying to calm her. "Yes, I was gone to the shop is all. Just for a moment. I'm here now. I have to make sandwiches for Mr. Farnon and then would you like to go have a cuddle with our new book?"

Jeannie tearfully agreed, and Audrey eased them both up from the floor. They returned to the kitchen to put away the hard-earned rations and to accept the transfer of care of Keith, whose sleeves were a bit damp from Richard's inexpert assistance in hand-washing, but who otherwise looked completely unperturbed by Audrey's errand. 

"This one seems to have had a fine time," Siegfried mentioned. "Dare we ask why the need for a scrub?" 

Richard's face screwed up in disgust. "He needed to relieve himself then was overly-enthusiastic in pointing out his achievement."

Audrey bit down on her lip, brushing a kiss onto Jeannie's head, both in comfort and to hide her smile. Poor Mr. Carmody! Forever tormented by the chamber pot. 

After a few more minutes on Audrey's lap, Jeannie was willing to get up, encouraged by the promise of helping to make Mr. Farnon's lunch.

Helen and Jimmy made their late entrance to the day just as Richard escaped to surgery, and Siegfried began gathering his outerwear for the day of farm visits facing him, promising that his stop at the Aldersons with the invitation to tea was indeed included on his list. Audrey handed over a thermos of piping hot, though miserably weak tea, hoping the wrapped sandwiches Jeannie presented him with might make up for the unimpressive beverage. He had felt bad to be leaving so soon after the incident with Jeannie and made a show of thanking her profusely for the "best-looking sandwiches he had ever seen" before setting off for the day.

With an apologetic look on her face, Audrey, along with the children, Helen, and Jimmy, issued a very public goodbye to Siegfried, their expressions to one another silently acknowledging that they would have liked a somewhat different farewell after such an abrupt end to their tender private moments only a short time ago. Audrey closed the kitchen door feeling thankful in advance for the promise of their evening time together each day.

Chapter Text

"Goodness," Audrey commented, entering the kitchen with the children in tow. "Mr. Carmody looks to be worked off his feet this morning. Every time I peek into the waiting room, there a crowd. Seems a while since he and Mr. Farnon have both been so busy at the same time."

"Sure sign of spring around the corner. Can't say I mind that. I'm ready to be done with winter. I feel as though I've been trapped indoors for an age."

Audrey rested a comforting hand on Helen's shoulder and leaned down to stroke baby Jimmy's soft cheek. "I'd say this little one has summat to do with that."

Helen's agreement came with a tired sigh, and Audrey decided perhaps a change of scenery might be nice for all of them. She wasn't keen on returning to the square during the busier hours of the day, but a stroll around the green behind the house might be nice.

"Why don't we take a short walk today? Before the children have their lie-down? It may be chilly, but the wind's less. Some fresh air might do us all some good."

"Sounds nice, Aud. I'll take any chance to get out these days, really."

"Then it's settled. We'll eat first, and then when the little ones are sleeping, we can look through Mrs. Pumphrey's basket to plan for tomorrow's tea."

"Oh, that reminds me. Richard had time for a quick brew earlier, and he asked if he might eat his lunch in the examination room."

"We'll drop it off for him on our way out." 

Helen placed Jimmy down in his basket and helped Audrey, and before long those in the kitchen had eaten, Jimmy had been changed, and everyone was bundled into their warmest clothing. Audrey brought Richard's meal to him via the rear door of the back exam room to avoid being waylaid by clients and returned to the waiting group at the rear of the house via the same path.

The walk was short but refreshing, giving Helen a change of environment, even if still very close to home, and providing the little ones with an opportunity to run around until their cheeks were pink, their noses cold, and their little legs tired. Everyone was amenable to the idea of returning to the warmth of home and the chance for a cuddle and time spent under cosy, comfortable covers. Helen returned to the bedsit with Jimmy and even Audrey nodded off briefly in her bedroom chair as she waited for Jeannie and Keith to fall asleep.

Upon waking, she embraced the rare silence of the scullery, empty save for the dogs, who were taking advantage of the same calm to nap themselves. She put on the kettle and brought out the basket from Mrs. Pumphrey, along with the remaining items from Kate Billings, and set them at the end of the table, ready for when Helen returned. She settled in at her desk, letting the peaceful hush of this end of the house aid her in both relaxing and focusing on what needed to be done in the upcoming hours. She made lists, consulted her mother's cookbook for inspiration, and was scanning Siegfried's abandoned morning paper when Helen arrived looking cheerful and enlivened.

"All right, Aud—what do you need to do for tomorrow?" She glanced at her wristwatch and gave a grimace in jest. "After how long I lazed about, we probably have a half hour or less before his majesty wakes up again."

Audrey smiled widely at Helen's happy joking and pointed towards the table. "I made a start on things. All we need to do is dig in and decide what we can make with it all. Along with whatever we can scrounge up in the larder, of course."

The women walked over to the table, Audrey pointing out the cooking apples and jam left from Kate and Helen pulling back the cloth covering the small basket left in appreciation of Tricki-Woo's recent stay and care.

The two women slowly dismantled the compact wicker container, chatting about this and that as they examined the goods they found tucked away.

Helen took the opportunity with the children out of earshot to ask about the scene she walked into that morning, prompting Audrey to give an abridged version of the situation. The women chuckled good-naturedly over Richard's trouble with Keith's toileting needs and expressed sadness over Jeannie's apparent self-chastisement and her unhappy realisation that she didn't know where "Miss All" had gone.

"Poor thing," Helen murmured.

"If I ever learn who frightened that poor child so badly, I'll never forgive them, no matter what the Lord might make of me saying such a thing."

It was Helen's turn to place a soothing hand on Audrey's arm. "I think he'd understand."

As they reached the bottom layer of the basket, they returned to smiles and lighter conversation, seeing it lined with small pouches, all holding everyday ingredients plentiful in the not-too-distant past, but much more valuable in present times, from tea to dried currants, flour to a small amount of extra sugar, the latter earning a grateful exclamation from Audrey.

The basket emptied, Audrey cast an appreciative eye over the pile of welcome goods to add to the Skeldale pantry. From a few tinned goods—kippers that Siegfried had enjoyed from previous more robust hampers, and ironically more corned beef, to some boxed tea biscuits, another pot of jam, and two small canning jars, one with apple slices, the other with pears. A pouch of walnuts and a tin of custard powder rounded off the list of gifted foodstuffs. It wasn't nearly the quantity of hampers past, and the goods were a bit more eccentric in their variety, but Audrey was amazed that Mrs. Pumphrey was able to offer such a token of her gratitude at all.

"We can easily have some sort of pudding with all of this." Audrey took mental inventory of her own stores and threw out a few ideas. "Apple or pear slices with custard? Perhaps with a nice crumble topping? Or scones—if you prefer. We've plenty of jam to offer. They'll all use less sugar than an actual cake."

"Any of those sound grand, Aud, truly. I feel a bit guilty that you're going to share all this with Dad and Jenny, to be honest."

"Don't be silly. Their visit's a lovely reason to make summat special, and now we have extra to make it easier on us. I'm looking forward to it."

Helen grinned. "In that case, I'll leave it in your very capable hands to decide what's best. I'll stick to dusting, setting the table, and staying far from the food."

The food stored carefully away; Helen left to check on Jimmy, returning with both the baby and the post. "I were just coming downstairs when I heard Alice at the door. It's not much exciting, except... for a letter from Tris." She held the envelope aloft in celebration. "Nowt from James or Edward, but at least we're hearing from one of them."

Audrey accepted the small envelope with a look of fondness. "I'll set it aside for Si—Mr. Farnon."

Helen raised an eyebrow but opted to let her friend's near-mistake slide by for the moment as she recalled something more pressing. "Oh! And before I forget, I noticed someone's dropped straw all over the floor out front. Must have been in a cage of some sort. I can sweep it up if you want to take this one."

"Thank you, love, but I'll get it. Then I can check on the other two. I had my chance to enjoy some quiet in here earlier. Now you can have a few minutes."

Audrey made it to the cupboard to fetch the broom and dustpan when her ears picked up the faint sounds of Jeannie and Keith already moving around upstairs. Setting her tools aside, she backtracked to the staircase and fetched the children instead, enjoying the first sleepy moments as they stretched and readjusted to being awake, seeking the warmth of her hugs after moving from their toasty beds to the cool bedroom air and babbling, at least in Jeannie's case, about what she wished to do next with her day.

"Ellen?"

"Helen-the-person or Helen-the-cat?" Audrey asked, trying to straighten the blankets and quilts with two children hanging onto her limbs, and smiling to herself over the ridiculous situation created by naming the act after Helen-the-human.

"M'ow." 

Audrey turned to Jeannie, ready to praise her for a new word, but Jeannie was staring open-mouthed and wide-eyed at Keith, sending a tingle of excitement through Audrey. Could it be?

She sat on the edge of the small mattress and pulled Keith onto her lap. "Miaow? Is that what the cat says?"

Keith's fingers found their way into his mouth, and he grinned around them, making Audrey smile back, despite her failure to determine if it had actually been the boy who made the cat sound.

"I have to do some sweeping, and then we can find Helen the cat and ask her if she can say 'miaow' for us. How does that sound?"

Audrey was pleased to find a bit of a lull in the waiting area when she and the children came to sweep up the straw, which had become widespread over the entire area near the examination rooms. She could hear Richard's voice as he spoke to someone behind closed doors, but the array of mismatched chairs in the waiting area were blessedly empty as she swept around and under each of them, collecting quite a pile of straw by the time she had finished.

She had encouraged the children to play in the sitting room while she quickly cleaned up, but when she went to retrieve the dustpan she had set aside, she found it had moved from the spot on the wall where she left it leaning to the little hands of Jeannie, who had shown up stealthily behind her.

"Are you here to help me, then?" Audrey showed Jeannie how to hold the pan at the proper angle, and she was nearly finished sweeping the tiniest particles into the pan when she heard a shriek from Keith, which she immediately recognised as being very different from the playful versions he usually made. Dropping the broom, she rushed into the sitting room to find Keith cradling his hand in shock, his lower lip quivering.

"What happened, love?" Audrey lowered herself to the floor and found two red scratches across the back of the boy's hand. 

Looking woefully towards the corner of the room, where Audrey noticed Helen the cat perched on the corner of the sofa watching the toddler warily, Keith whispered, "M'ow."

Audrey hugged the little lad, collected Jeannie, and brought the children to the kitchen, where she gingerly washed and dressed Keith's hand, urging him not to touch the gauze she wrapped carefully around his tender skin. Audrey praised the boy's bravery as she finished her work, then asked Helen to keep the children a moment so she could deal with both the cat and the mess she left behind.

Seeing Richard's patient had left while she was away, Audrey filled the student in on the cat's reaction to Keith. "Seems now that Helen-the-cat has regained her strength, she's decided she's not terribly pleased with Keith's attention." 

The thought crossed her mind that Richard probably well understood the cat's lack of patience where Keith was concerned, but Carmody instead showed empathy for the little boy, asking if the scratches had been thoroughly cleaned. Receiving Audrey's assurance that the proper first aid had been administered, he remarked that this particular stray was apparently one who preferred a life free of human cohabitation.

"I understand now why Mrs. Pumphrey allows some of the animals to wander the property unbothered. I shall bring the cat out to the shed, where she will be safe from curious children, and they in turn will be safe from her. I've had to keep a few other animals overnight today as well, so I can bring all of them out while things are still quiet."

"I need to finish cleaning up this floor," Audrey pointed out. "So I'll keep an eye on the door for you until you're back," she volunteered, feeling brave herself, knowing her face was probably showing its injury more clearly again.

Luck was on their side as Richard was able to coax Helen-the-cat into a wicker carrier with ease, so eager the cat likely was to be free of the small humans insistent upon petting her, and the waiting room gained only one client while Richard was away, a burly old farmer stopping by to pick up an ointment for a goat, barely pausing for hellos, never mind to scrutinise any aspect of Audrey's face.

Chapter Text

The children kept close to Audrey throughout the remaining hours of the afternoon, Jeannie, as always, intent on keeping her precious Miss All nearby; and Keith, spending a good deal of time looking sorrowfully at his bandaged hand and returning to a semblance of his attitude from his earliest days at Skeldale, feeling marginally suspicious of even Jess and Dash.

So when the telephone rang out throughout the afternoon, Audrey led a small parade behind her to answer each call, like a mother duck with her ducklings tripping and traipsing behind her everywhere she might wander. One last call, however, caused her to ask the person at the end of the line to hold one moment, cover the mouthpiece with her hand, and call out to Helen to please help keep the children from underfoot.

Once alone in the hallway, Audrey returned to the call, a pinched line forming between her eyes as she gripped the phone cord tightly between whitened fingers. "Sorry about that. Yes, I have time."

She released her iron hold on the cord, tucked the phone under her chin, and rustled around on the table for the pencil and a clean sheet of note paper, pausing, then uttering various words and phrases as she scribbled feverishly, hoping to be able to decipher her own rushed hand later.

"What? But...I thought she..." The crease in her forehead increased as she jotted down a few more lines.

"I don't understand." Her tone reinforced her words, laden with bafflement as she flipped over the message pad sheet and kept scrawling down nearly everything she was being told until finally, with a sigh, she tore the page from the rest of the small book, carefully stowed it in her pinny pocket, and ended the call.

"Thank you, Constable."

*************************

The sound of the door creaking open alerted Audrey to Siegfried's return. She heard it distinctly, even over the intermingled sounds of the kitchen—the gently simmering stew, her bread knife rhythmically hitting the wooden surface with each pass through the warm loaf, the sounds of Out with Romany coming over the wireless, and the chatter of Jeannie and Keith as they played along to their own version of the wildlife discussion with Mr. Lion and Teddy Bear.

"You're home earlier than I expected," she commented, a feeling of slight déjà vu rolling over her from that morning when she made a similar observation to Richard Carmody.

"Yes, I was pleasantly surprised as well." He graced Audrey with a warm smile, slowly shucking off his soiled outer layers and offering hellos to the small occupants of the room. "How did all of my favourite people here at home get along today?" Siegfried queried, pausing in between items to place them aside as neatly as possible.

Realising Siegfried was home again, Keith clambered up from his seat near the radio and rushed on toddling legs to show Siegfried his bandaged hand.

"Helen-the-cat," Audrey explained. "Seems she's lost her patience with the children now that she's feeling better. Took a swipe at him this afternoon."

"My goodness! What a dramatic turn of events. And how are you managing your injury, young man?"

"He were a brave little soldier. Shocked more than owt." She ran a hand over Keith's dark curls. "Do you want to tell Mr. Farnon what happened to your hand, love?"

Siegfried grinned, ready to ooh and ahh and nod at Keith's unintelligible babbling.

"M'ow!" Keith proclaimed, a tone of disgust clear even in his small child's voice, and he thrust his hand towards Siegfried once again in illustration.

Siegfried's eyes twinkled merrily as he sputtered, momentarily speechless before regaining his wits and swooping the young boy off his feet. "Miaow, indeed! Well done, Keith! Well done!"

Not to be outdone, Jeannie joined the happy fray. "Ellen! Po-uh Kee!"

The adults laugh, and Siegfried could easily imagine Audrey referring to the boy as "poor Keith" or "poor lad" in the hours since the incident. "You are the clever one, aren't you, Jeannie?"

After a moment or two of juggling both children inelegantly in his arms, Siegfried lowered them to their feet and pointed towards the small table where the wireless sat broadcasting to no one. "You better see what else Muriel and Doris are learning about today before the programme ends." 

Fondly watching the two go back to their play, Siegfried then turned his attention back to this marvellous woman who, for reasons he could scarcely fathom, actually loved him. He stood in place, a silent audience of one to her unintentional, rather mundane show of gathering soup bowls, bread plates, silver, and linens to set the table for tea, until finally the stretch of unusual quiet from the man caused the object of his affection to pause and try to sort out what the daft man was doing.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing at all. Can a man not rest a moment in his own home after a long day of hard labour?"

She stared at him long enough to bring him perilously close to giving in and chortling with laughter when he decided to feign innocence and resume polite chit-chat, asking after the rest of the household. "And how is everyone else here today, my dear?" 

Her stare lingered a beat longer before she gave a slight, good-natured narrowing of the eyes and picked up the conversation.

"All well and accounted for. Busy day, with only a few small hitches." She gestured towards the children. "including his hand and a cage worth of straw on me clean floors. But nowt to worry about. Go clean yourself up, and take this with you." 

She walked briskly to the desk and came back with a small envelope and a broad smile. "A letter from Tristan. You can take a moment to read it if you'd like. Tea will keep."

Accepting it with a look of deeply pleased relief, Siegfried generously offered to wait for them to read it together later, taking a seat in his mostly clean trousers and asking for more details about the day at Skeldale, eager to prolong the welcome return home he had been gifted just a bit longer.

"Surgery were very busy, but Mr. Carmody seemed to do very well on his own.  We've a few boarders in the shed again. And he were working on those samples you asked him to prepare."

"Good. Good." Siegfried listened intently while absentmindedly brushing the lower legs of his trousers, uselessly smoothing the wrinkled fabric in vain after removing his leather gaiters.

Audrey's next soft words sounded in the relatively hushed kitchen like a bomb in the dark of night over a sleeping village.

"Oh. And Lamley rang."

Siegfried's movements ceased abruptly, and he looked up sharply in alarm. "Again? Whatever for this time?"

"Just more information," she reassured softly. "You get cleaned up. I'll tell you about it later." 

He padded towards her in stockinged feet, pressing in closely so as not to be overheard. "You'd tell me now if there was anything vital, yes?"

She closed a steady hand around his forearm, his lack of coat and jacket allowing the warmth of her fingers to seep through his thin shirt sleeve, a gesture that soothed him even before she answered in words.

"I promise. Really. It were all information about the aunt. No decisions have been made."

He nodded, and she reached up to stroke his bearded cheek. Checking that the children were still engrossed in their toys, listening with half an ear to the tail end of the current broadcast, she reached up to kiss him, her lips firm against him, grounding him as her strong grasp on his arm had done just before.

*************************

Supper was consumed over a series of primarily veterinary stories, interspersed with sporadic "M'ows" from Keith, for which he was repeatedly praised. They shared tales ranging from Mrs. Tatham's suspicious nature in regards to allowing Carmody to treat her cocker spaniels to Siegfried's embarrassing misstep leading to the dousing of a farmer's boots with an entire pail of milk meant for the patient Siegfried was attending to.

"There'll be a discount on that bill," Siegfried smirked dryly.

"M'ow?" Keith asked.

"That's very good, Keith, but Mr. Farnon's talking about a cow. Do you know what sound a cow makes?" Helen asked, ready to supply the proper word.

"M'ow!" Keith proclaimed proudly to the renewed laughter of everyone but Richard, who was baffled by the child's contributions to the discourse around the table that evening.

"I don't understand why he keeps saying it over and over again when we've all heard it many times already."

"He likes the attention, Richard," Helen explained, trying earnestly not to sound patronising in her response.

"Then why does everyone keep giving him attention?"

"We want to encourage him to keep talking, Mr. Carmody."

"Even if he never says anything new?"

"Baby steps, Carmody. Baby steps." Siegfried grinned. "Today's meow is tomorrow's moo."

Richard attempted to turn talk from cow sounds to the substantially less humorous topic of the possible bovine winter dysentery affecting a few local herds, only to have the discussion quickly curtailed by Audrey and its replacement supplied by Helen asking Siegfried about his stop at Heston.

"Oh yes, they'll both be here tomorrow for tea. Jenny was very pleased with the suggestion that she spend the night. I do believe the rest of us ought to acquire our fill of holding young Jimmy before she arrives. I was given the distinct impression that she plans to thoroughly monopolise him while she's here."

"She'll hold him till he needs a changing is all that means," Helen teased.

The meal came to a close with Siegfried quietly asking Helen and Richard to take the children to the front room, volunteering himself as assistant to Audrey in the clean-up, thereby providing an opportunity for her to convey the newest information from Lamley.

*************************

Audrey sat across the kitchen table from a solemn-looking Siegfried, looked down at the notes in her hand, her lips pursing in agitation at her own hurried scrawl. "My notes are a bit muddled, but what I remember clearly is that you were right about the aunt."

Siegfried felt instantly on edge with the mere mention of the woman for whom he had felt an immediate wariness towards upon learning of her existence from Lamley.

"Sergeant Yates—he's the one in Manchester—was able to contact the aunt. Edna Buckley's her name." 

"Their father's...sister-in-law?"

"Aye. She's married to their father's brother. Oh, and we have their father's name now. Floyd. Floyd Buckley. His brother, Edna's husband, is called Stuart."

Audrey continued, struggling to hold back her disgust over some of what she had learnt. "There were more to the story. Some of what the children's home believed weren't entirely true, or even true at all."

"She told Sergeant Yates that the children's mother weren't deaf, after all. She were very hard of hearing, though, so the children were in the habit of being rather loud for her to hear them. Mrs. Buckley claims she worked very diligently to correct that habit." Audrey's mouth was set in a tense line, and she was nearly steaming as she quoted the woman's words. 

"Correct it! The children wouldn't speak at all! I'd like to know how she corrected them, then correct her the same way."

Audrey stood up from her chair, pacing across the stretch of kitchen table in an effort to release some of her irritation as she pieced together her notes for Siegfried.

"She purposely told those people that their mother were deaf. She thought it might reassure them that the children would be well-behaved and quiet. She seems to think the whole world believes children should be seen and not heard." Audrey scowled heavily, her visage a clear sign that she was not one to abide by such ideas.

"Sorry, I should start at the beginning. Mrs. Buckley told Sergeant Yates that when the children's father were first called up, he were able to make frequent trips home. He were driving a truck delivering supplies to bases nearby. But then summat about his position changed, or maybe it were his placement—she didn't seem to know, and he couldn't come home anymore."

Audrey paused and wiped at her eyes. "That's when their mother fell ill. Their father asked his brother and her, Mrs. Buckley, to take the children, and they agreed. Apparently, in the beginning, Mrs. Buckley's niece were able to come stay with them to help. But she had to leave after the holiday season. And then Mr. Buckley—the brother— were also called up, and he left just as the niece were leaving."

Audrey stopped again in her retelling, looked to the ceiling, and took a breath. Siegfried was torn between urging her to sit back down and standing up to join her, ultimately opting to leave the status quo for fear a change would prolong what was obviously a difficult portion of the tale she had been tasked with passing along.

"Lamley said their aunt complained it were too difficult having four children to care for on her own. Her children go to school, and when they weren't home, Jeannie and Keith were always in her way, crying for their mother. 'Howling and caterwauling' were her words, according to what the constable were told."

Audrey pulled her chair back out from the table and deposited herself heavily upon the seat, shaking her head in dismay at the entire situation.

"It breaks my heart, Siegfried. They haven't mentioned either parent even once. Two tiny children who've been taught not to ask for their own parents!"

Siegfried reached his hand across the table, palm up and open, an invitation she immediately accepted, sliding her hand across the wood to interlace her fingers with his.

"We'll broach the subject ourselves," Siegfried promised. "As soon as we know what will happen next. We can at least let them know their father is waiting to see them again."

"We don't know if that will ever happen," Audrey whispered, her heart in her throat, thinking not only of the children's sad situation but also about all of their own lads gone off across air, land, and sea; none of them promised a chance to see their families again, either.

"We can't promise he will return, but we can promise that he'll try his best to see them."

Audrey took hope in Siegfried's words and continued to flesh out the scribbles on the paper she clutched in her free hand.

"Eventually, their aunt decided she couldn't keep them any longer. That's when she decided to bring them to a home. She did confirm that she never told their father. She claims it were to keep him from worrying. He weren't informed that his brother were called up either."

Siegfried pinched the bridge of his nose. "And so she brought them to Manchester. Did she have anything to say about that particular choice?"

"She only repeated the same thing the children's home already mentioned—that she brought them to Manchester because they lived there."

Siegfried scoffed, tapping his fingers on the tabletop in aggravation. "And what of the letters? Did he ask her why she never responded to the children's home when they contacted her about the moves?"

"She still insists she never received any information about the children being moved. Not that I think she would have cared," Audrey added bitterly. She felt a pang of guilt over the uncharitable thoughts that had filled her head more and more often of late. Edna Buckley seemed to bring out the worst in her, which ironically caused Audrey to think badly of the woman all the more.

Siegfried looked haggard as he asked the question swirling around in his mind. "Did they learn if there's any other family?"

"Mrs. Buckley said their mother had family, but none of them were in a position to take on the children, and she refused to give the sergeant any information on any of them. No addresses, not even any names. Thankfully, she were also emphatic that she won't be taking the children back." 

"Thank God for small mercies," Siegfried voiced, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Did Lamley mention what he and Yates are proposing to do next?"

"Their aunt requested that the children be brought back to her and that she'd return them to another home." 

Siegfried looked up in horror, and Audrey released his hand to shakes in indication that he needn't worry. "I told Lamley that we wouldn't do it. We wouldn't give them to that woman. I don't know what came over me, Siegfried, but I just blurted it out to the man."

"Quite right!" 

"Lamley agreed, though, and he said Sergeant Yates already told her the same thing—thank the Lord for that!"

"The blasted woman is still trying to cover her tracks, to keep her secrets. She thinks if she moves the children herself, she can keep up the same subterfuge she's been feeding him all along."

"The sergeant said they will try to contact their father. And he managed to get Edna to give him the name of her niece, so he'll be contacting her as well." 

"Here's hoping she'll be more forthcoming with information." 

Audrey nodded. "I imagine she will. I feel for her, though. Poor girl will probably be terribly startled to be contacted by the police."

"That's assuming she's any better than her aunt." 

"I have to hope someone involved is better, Siegfried. I can't bear it otherwise."

Audrey looked at one last cramped scrawl in the corner of the paper, squinting at the letters, trying to force them to form recognisable words.

"Oh! Right. He asked her about the children's things. Mrs. Buckley said she didn't send any belongings because they'd never get them back."

Siegfried nodded tersely. "I couldn't imagine their father would have packed up Jeannie and Keith and sent them off to their aunt and uncle with nothing. If I sent my children to live with someone else, I'd send all I could to make their care easier." 

His eyes narrowed. "Of course I'd likely post any monetary assistance I could afford on a regular basis, as well. I surmise that's exactly why she's been so ardent in her resolve to keep all of this quiet. She's found herself a convenient way in which to increase her income, and she doesn't wish to relinquish such effortless revenue."

"Oh, Siegfried. How awful. Do you really think that's the case? And then for them to wind up with that volunteer who used them for her own benefit as well. The poor loves."

Despite the tense atmosphere, Audrey's imparting of the information had created in the room, her last words brought forth for Siegfried the memory of Jeannie trying to mimic Audrey's oft-used description of any person or animal in need of care or kindness.

"Jeannie has been parroting us both today—calling down the halls for you, then referring to her brother as "poor Keith."

Audrey smiled as she recalled Jeannie's attempt to reintroduce another word into her verbal vocabulary. "It were very sweet…and a bit funny, the way she said it. I had to try not to laugh."

"They have certainly increased the amount of mirth in this house since their arrival."

"Helpful on days when we hear things like this, innit?"

"Indeed it is." 

*************************

"Siegfried, Audrey, I'm sorry to interrupt." Helen leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, Jimmy in her arms, looking utterly exhausted. "But the children seem to be tiring earlier tonight, and with there being animals in the shed again, I didn't know if you'd want to take one of them out with you."

"Oh, Helen, love, we'll take over from here. Why don't you head upstairs?"

Helen agreed wearily, and they exchanged their goodnights before splitting off at the staircase, Siegfried and Audrey heading for the sitting room, where Siegfried announced both children could help together.

"Is that wise?" Richard wondered aloud. "After what happened with..."

Siegfried cut him off before he could point out the incident with Helen-the-cat. "Ah, ah, ah! Not only do I think it's especially vital for Keith to help tonight, but I thank you for volunteering to come along and assist, Mr. Carmody."

Carmody opened his mouth to debate that suggestion, but Audrey's firm shake of her head behind Siegfried's back caused Richard's shoulders to sag in defeat.

"So, who all do we have out there tonight?" Siegfried asked as the group set off for the shed. "Besides the obvious, please!"

Audrey smiled at the retreating quartet, Richard having abandoned his air of resignation for his typical enthusiasm when speaking about veterinary matters and the children joining in the fervour upon hearing that they were going back to their familiar routine.

"There's a rather handsome Dutch rabbit with a foot injury and a tabby cat with an ear infection. I put a splint on..." Their voices faded out, and Audrey hoped that whatever the future might hold for their little visitors, they would eventually find themselves in a place that regularly made them as happy as they were in that moment, surrounded by people who cared for them.

*************************

Audrey entered the main doors of the living room, surprised to find only the dogs, flanking the fireplace hearth in contentment, with no initial sign of Siegfried. She had expected to find him waiting for her to return for their nightly discussion over a small drink. Lights in the dining room caught her eye, and she meandered through the sitting room to find Siegfried enjoying his pipe and a periodical in the armchair in the corner of the dining room.

"Here you are!" Her voice held a smile that left Siegfried feeling immensely grateful to be the recipient of her affection.

Siegfried pointed towards the table, where the word game board and pouch of letters sat stacked at one corner. "I thought perhaps you'd like to play our game...unless, of course, you'd just rather go to bed." 

He stuttered over the end of his sentence, only aware of their possible second meaning as he heard himself utter them, and hastily corrected himself. "I realise the children have us all tired, I mean."

"Aye, I'm always half asleep by the time they nod off." 

Thankful that Audrey apparently hadn't noticed his gaffe, he switched to what he hoped was a safer topic.

"I opened Tristan's letter. I didn't read it," he quickly clarified. "I was merely checking the length. There's only one page, and since my brother tends to be terribly consistent in his, shall we say, more childish attributes, nearly the entire back of the sheet is a slightly smutty cartoon."

Audrey bit back a chuckle at Siegfried's false aggravation, knowing full well those drawings brought a grin to her face each time a new letter arrived.

"So I believe we can easily read it between turns if that suits you."

"That sounds very nice." She touched the box he had set off casually to the side of the table, as he had been perusing his veterinary journal. "We've only had these out for Jeannie since they've been here," she mused aloud. "It'll be nice to play. Thank you."

With starting tiles pulled, sparkling glasses filled, and Audrey's first word placed carefully upon the checkered face of the gameboard, Siegfried drew the letter from its envelope, and within the next several turns, Tristan's short message of sand and burning sun, camels and fortifying canteens was thoroughly digested by the two quasi-parental figures hungry for any new information about their young man.

Refolding the sheet of standard stationery with care along the original creases, preserving the cheeky illustration, whether he would ever admit to it or not, Siegfried did admit the hurdle he faced each time a letter from his brother arrived.

"No matter how delighted I am to hear from Tristan, I then find myself not sure what to write back. I never know what tone to use. I start with 'We were pleased to receive your letter' or some such nonsense and add 'We hope to hear from you again soon', which is a terribly disappointing reply when one has waited weeks for their next post." He swirled the remaining liquid in his glass in dissatisfaction at his many perceived flaws when it came to his relationship with his brother, his inability to pen a decent letter one of the most minor of his numerous self-assigned failings.

"I imagine he'd like to hear about what you're up to here at home."

"What—lambing ewes and possible bovine dysentery?"

"I seem to recall hearing that it's supposedly the people who are al the bother, so perhaps the owners of the sheep and cows might make for an interesting appearance. Although I had summat closer to home in mind."

A saucy thought sprung to Siegfried's mind that instantly raised his spirits. "That I now spend every waking hour at home searching for any possible opportunity to kiss you?"

"Siegfried Farnon!" She swatted his arm with a laugh. "I were thinking more of the two small guests who have taken over the house."

"I can't imagine Tristan would want to hear about any of that."

"A letter describing his brother on hands and knees fighting to buckle little shoes, button tiny jumpers, and wash dirty hands and faces?" Audrey teased. "The eloquent veterinarian spouting animal noises instead of Latin, quoting Peter Rabbit instead of Shakespeare, and singing nursery rhymes instead of Gilbert and Sullivan? Oh, I think he'd enjoy that very much."

Though privately applauding her wit, Siegfried's only audible response was to harrumph as he studied his word building options, finally choosing and placing four more tiles onto the board, uttering one last thought on the subject. "Maybe you ought to write to him, then."

************************

The two carried on with their game, conversation moving to their Skeldale family, rationing, farmers and neighbours, and the children, always keeping things as light as possible.

As the board filled with tiles and the piles of letters in front of them ceased to put forth any more usable words, their discussion suddenly turned more sombre.

"You didn't cheat—all game long!" Audrey cheerfully congratulated him over the unusual turn of events.

"I thought perhaps you deserved a peaceful game for once. Not much else in life is peaceful right now." His returning grin was rueful.

Audrey sighed at the accuracy of his words. Despite the lovely diversion provided by their word game, her mind kept returning to the telephone call from Constable Lamley.

"I keep thinking of their poor father—and how he'll feel when he hears the news. How do you forgive someone for giving away your children? And lying to you about it over and over again?"

"And without any advance warning to alert him of the problems leading up to the decision, no less." Siegfried's tone was frosty as he reflected on the actions of Mrs. Edna Buckley once again.

"I can't imagine how I'd feel if I handed my Edward over to family for just a few months, only to learn that they gave him away to strangers only for him to go missing, and for me not to know about any of it!"

Audrey's voice cracked and trembled. "Course, who am I to talk? Isn't that exactly what I did? Sent away my boy to strangers, and afterwards I had no idea where he were either."

Siegfried scraped his chair across the floor, bringing himself closer to Audrey as she struggled to regain her composure, and reached forward, arms open. She leaned in to complete the awkward embrace, and he ran his hand soothingly up and down her back. "You did the right thing. He needed to know there were consequences for those kinds of actions. Edward understands your reasons much better now. He forgives you. It's time for you to forgive yourself. You knew where he was when you were first separated. It was his choice to keep you in the dark afterwards. You did the very best you could. Just like Jeannie's and Keith's father did the best he could." 

Audrey sniffled. "You did your best, too, you know."

Siegfried pulled back from their hug, his head canted in puzzlement.

"With Tris," she clarified. "You're always so hard on yourself, Siegfried. You need to forgive yourself for the things you convince yourself you've done wrong. They're both good, brave lads now. In the end, they both want us in their lives, and we can both be grateful for that and be proud of each of them."

Audrey's soft, sincere words paired with the reminder that the lads truly were good solid young men made it hard for him to keep his own eyes dry.

"Thank you. Sometimes I don't realise how badly I need to hear that." He gave her one last squeeze before releasing her, and as he did, he thanked her again.

"Truly...Audrey...thank you."

She held loosely to his forearms and smiled, and with the mutual assurance that each had done their best and that neither deserved the harsh words they often levelled at themselves, both went to bed to enjoy a night of easier sleep than either had experienced in quite a while.

Chapter Text

Tuesday 25 February 1941: 

"We'll keep busy with this list, Richard." Looking up at the student, Siegfried saw a flash of concern cross Audrey's face, and he swiftly added an addendum to his remark. "We shall, of course, return with ample time to be presentable for the Aldersons." He gave Helen a wink, and she rolled her eyes. 

"Oh, aye, Dad and Jenny will be expecting you to be well turned out for them after a day of farm calls, I'm sure."

"Nonetheless, we shall not delay tea; you have my word." Audrey gave him her typical look of slight scepticism when it came to promises about the estimated brevity of any particular veterinary task or visit, and Siegfried returned his attention to his breakfast, lest he react noticeably to how much he adored the woman when she challenged him in those small everyday ways.

Richard set aside his cutlery, finished with his breakfast, but lingering at the table a few extra moments before working up the courage to express a worry that had been plaguing him about the evening's plans. 

"I do hope your father won't mind dining in my company. He wasn't pleased with me when we first met. I could take my meal here in the kitchen if you think that would be better received," he offered to Helen earnestly.

"Don't be silly. That were months ago. Dad knows he were wrong and he trusts your veterinary skills now. You'll eat with the rest of us, same as always."

"Even I realise that trusting a person's education or talent does not necessarily equate to  wishing to spend time with that person."

Helen pats his arm. "It will be fine, Richard. Dad'll be too busy holding Jimmy and enjoying Audrey's cooking to notice the rest of us are even here."

"We'll be seated at the same dining table," Richard pointed out with an air of confusion as to how she could have overlooked this crucial element. "How could he possibly forget we are present?"

Audrey stopped in her clearing of the table to rest a gentle hand on Carmody's shoulder. "It's just an expression, Mr. Camody. Don't fret." Making a show of checking her watch, she suggested Richard move on with his day. "Best be getting ready. Don't want to keep Mr. Farnon waiting."

Turning to see Siegfried still working on his breakfast, no doubt hampered in his progress by his constant pauses to interact with the children, Richard began to share his observations with the room. "It's Mr. Farnon who...

Audrey cut off his retort with a shake of her head. "Go on, be off with you."

As he slowly left the room, Helen and Audrey exchanged glances, both trying to keep a straight face.

"Are you laughing at him or at me right now?" Siegfried asked shrewdly.

"You're the one sitting here dawdling over his tea and toast," Helen pointed out.

Siegfried made a show of standing up and sauntering away from the table, throwing one last remark out as he crossed the threshold into the passageway. "And to think we're inviting yet another woman into this house." He turned back with a gleam in his eye and a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Aye. Just you wait, Siegfried!" As the cheeky vet disappeared around the corner, Helen gave in and chuckled at his antics. 

"He's in a good mood today."

"Perhaps that'll help calm poor Mr. Carmody a bit."

Audrey caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye and shook her head at seeing Siegfried's hat sitting on the kitchen table to her left. Siegfried had mentioned having moved the Rover to the front of the house, meaning he wouldn't necessarily be coming back through the kitchen to notice his forgotten headwear. "I'll be right back," she assured Helen, scooping up the hat and heading off to catch up with Richard and Siegfried before they left.

She found Siegfried sifting through items on the table in the front examination room. "You left this behind," she pointed out, dangling the hat from two fingers. "Ah, thank you, my dear. I don't suppose you also happen to know the secret location of my keys?"

"Siegfried Farnon! There's a hook!"

"Yes, yes, I know. But they aren't there right now."

"That's because you didn't put them there when you came in from moving the car."

"Moving the car!" Siegfried had completely forgotten finding the entire area around the cars and sheds covered in a tricky layer of ice that morning. He had carefully moved the Rover so that he might put down cinder and ash for traction before anyone else needed to venture out onto the slippery patch of ground. "You're brilliant, you know."

"Oh? For what reason this time?"

"For reminding me that Richard's out waiting for me in the Rover, which has the keys already in it," he admitted.

Audrey dipped her head and covered her mouth, trying to at least keep her laughter to a minimum. Siegfried, however, took no such steps to quell his own loud bark, and as he chortled at his own folly, he stepped up close to Audrey and gently removed her hand from her face, allowing the two to share kisses between their chuckles. "Thank you."

"For the hat or the keys?" Audrey's face dimpled with her teasing.

Pulling her back towards him for one more kiss, he held her close a beat longer. "For the most lovely send-off on one's day anyone could possibly ask for. I could happily endure any bother from an entire host of farmers should I start each day with such an enjoyable interlude."

A faint blush tinted her cheeks at his glowing compliment. "You best get started on that bother, then," she smiled. "Mr. Carmody's going to think you got lost yourself."

******************************

Helen entered the kitchen, one arm full of a freshly cleaned and changed Jimmy, the other hand holding a few envelopes and a small book, which she set down on Audrey's desk, freeing both hands to place Jimmy down in his basket. She then plucked the envelopes back up again.

"Nowt we want," Helen reported ruefully, tossing the small pile of post onto the tabletop as if offended by the correspondence that had actually been delivered.

Audrey, who had a list of errands she wanted to get through before the Aldersons arrived, was making her way through a basket of linens in need of folding, Jeannie's assistance early on in the venture making it take longer than it ought.

"I suppose it's greedy of me to want a letter from one of the lads two days in a row," she commented with a sigh.

Helen took a seat at the table to offer more significant help with the folding. "Not greedy at all. We've been waiting to hear from James and Edward for ages."

"Aye."

"Oh, Alice asked me to pass this along to you." Helen stood again, grabbing the ledger book she had left behind on the desk and handing it over to Audrey. "Verna Duggleby asked if you'd take down the notes at tomorrow's meeting. She won't be attending."

"Oh! Did she have the baby?"

"No, not yet. But she's apparently feeling very close."

"She looked very close a few weeks ago when she brought clothing for these two." She lifted her chin in the direction of the children, now busy playing with a small variety of household items Audrey allowed them to have whenever their toys lost their appeal. "Not that I'd tell her that, of course."

"Not if you wanted to live."

"You've been there, Helen. It's amazing what people will say. I looked enormous with me Edward. Daft women would see me on market day and say summat about it. 'Oh, you'll be having that little one any day now!' and I'd know I still had almost a month of Sundays left!"

"They're lucky you didn't run them off with your handbag."

"Don't think the thought didn't cross me mind!"

Both women laughed at the thought. From across the room, Keith joined in, then Jeannie after him.

"Are you two laughing at us?" Audrey teased gently, reminding herself of Siegfried's words earlier and smiling to herself. She covered her besotted grin by crossing the room to give both children a few affectionate tickles on their cheeks. Jeannie nodded gleefully and laughed some more, causing Audrey to restart as well.

"We're one sillier than the other around here." Helen grinned. She missed James terribly and was disappointed each day the post brought nothing new, but the chaos of Skeldale offered endless distractions, some, like the giggles of Jeannie and Keith, even enjoyable; and she was ever so appreciative to be here with everyone.

******************************

Richard Alderson was spending the first half of his day at Heston repeatedly wishing it was time to drive into town to join Helen, Siegfried, Audrey, and the baby for tea. Jenny had been up earlier than was her habit, finished her daily farm chores more swiftly than usual, and had then spent seemingly every moment since pleading with him to head into town early as well. The girl was driving him half mad, and he eventually decided to drop her off at Skeldale house to help with the meal, then make himself scarce until it was actually time to eat.

Therefore, when Helen opened answered the ringing of the bell early that afternoon, Richard gave Jenny an affectionate shove through the door, quickly asked about Helen and Jimmy's well-being, then mumbled something about farmers he needed to talk to before scurrying off towards the Drovers, leaving his daughters staring amused at his rapidly retreating form.

"He said I could come early to help."

"We could use it later if you're up for watching two energetic little ones."

Jenny's excited smile was all the answer Helen needed, and she led Jenny through the house, happily announcing she had found them a childminder for the rest of the afternoon.

"She's a guest," Audrey baulked. "She shouldn't be made to help."

"We're not making her, Aud. She's right chuffed about the children. Isn't that right, Jenny?"

"Yes! I hardly got to see them last time." Jenny gently grimaced at herself, belatedly remembering the stilted atmosphere the day Audrey and the children stopped by with Siegfried. But Audrey, in her kind, loving way, smoothed over Jenny's worries as she immediately began chatting as though nothing unusual had ever occurred.

"I remember what that were like. I were the same. I had younger cousins, and I thought there were nowt better than fussing over them when they visited."

"Oh, aye?" Helen asked, curious for any rare details about Audrey's life before Darrowby.

Audrey, only half paying attention to the discussion as she gathered ingredients and sought out recipes for Jenny to follow along with, made the connection between her cousins' childhood visits and it currently being Shrove Tuesday.

"One year, me aunt and uncle visited right before Lent. It were an odd time for us to have company, but there were summat happening that year that kept them from visiting at Easter. I can't remember what." She trailed off in thought, then, realising her efforts of recollection were futile, shook her head and gave a small shrug. "No matter. They visited early and were at our house for Shrove Tuesday, and I were so happy to be allowed to bring me little cousins to the beach for Skipping Day."

Jenny looked up in interest. "Skipping Day? Were that happening when you were a girl?"

Audrey bit back a good-natured response to Jenny's incredulous tone, though Helen picked up in her stead. "Jenny!"

"What?"

"You make it sound as though she's ninety."

"Sorry, Audrey." Jenny looked thoughtful. "I can call you that now, right? I'm almost an adult. I don't think I still need to call you "Auntie", do I?"

"Audrey's just fine, love."

Jenny beamed, pleased to have her age and some of the changes that came with it acknowledged so easily by an adult.

"And yes, Skipping Day were around when I were a girl—not until I were a bit older, though. Old enough to be allowed to keep an eye on me younger cousins while we were there. I were a bit younger than you, though, and it made me feel very grown-up."

Jenny smiled warmly, a feeling of being understood filling the spots of irritation she nursed over incidents in which she fervently believed her father or sister had treated her as if she was still a small child.

"Did you ever take Edward?" Jenny questioned on, so pleased to feel as though she was enjoying a natter with other ladies; she completely missed the sharp look of warning Helen sent her from across the table.

Audrey's hands, until then in constant motion as she prepped their meal, stilled completely in their work, and a soft look filled her face as she tilted her head momentarily in silent memory. Bringing herself back to the present, her voice was hushed but fond and clear as she recounted one of the pleasant memories from her married life in Scarborough.

"Aye. We did. He were about Jeannie's age. He couldn't skip, of course, but he had a fine time running around pointing at all the people and stalls and twirling a short length of rope about in the air with all his might." She paused a moment, smiling at the mental image of her young son, his rosy-cheeked round face beaming out from the little knit hat he wore tied under his chin, swinging his arm with all the energy he could muster. "He twirled that rope with his whole body. I were surprised he didn't knock himself right off his feet! He had to be carried the whole way home; he were so tired afterwards."

Helen sat silently shocked hearing Audrey even mention her years living in Scarborough. All of the changes in the house had obviously allowed Audrey to feel more open, and Helen, inwardly cursing her persisting overly emotional state, felt moved to near tears to be allowed to hear the precious recollection.

******************************

Shortly after Jenny's arrival, Jeannie and Keith woke from their afternoon nap. Audrey, ever attentive to the sounds of the house, was the first to hear Jeannie's voice calling out for "Miss All". The girl was perfectly capable of traversing the staircase after having been in the house for nearly three weeks, but after awaking from their daily lie-down, Jeannie still insisted on standing at the top of the staircase and calling out for an adult. She did so with cries in the early days, then switched to summoning Audrey by name once she had started speaking again. Audrey would take her daily trek to fetch them with what had become a standing routine. 

"One moment! I'm on me way!" Her words assured the child in advance of her face appearing at the bottom of the steps, a smile always in place to let the little girl know her voice was one Audrey was happy to hear.

Then she'd slowly climb the stairs, asking Jeannie how her sleep had been and how Keith was, gradually bending low as she reached the first-floor hallway, where she would briefly sit at the top of the stairs, pulling Jeannie in close for a quick, comforting hug. They would then walk, hand in hand, the few steps to her open bedroom door to find Keith, who generally stayed seated in his little bed, thumb in mouth, awaiting his post-nap cuddle, which Audrey would always provide along with gentle strokes of little faces and soft words to welcome the pair back into the bright busy world of those awake and going about their day.

On this day Audrey looked forward to seeing their reaction to Jenny's presence in the kitchen. They had been taken with her the first day they met her, and so she hoped they would be all the more excited to see her today, particularly given that they had not been told of the Aldersons' visit on the off chance that it should fall through at the last moment. 

As expected, Jenny had been an instant hit once again, and Jeannie was enthralled to hear Helen explain that this entertaining person was actually her sister.

"Sissah?" Jeannie pointed to Helen seeking confirmation.

"Yes, Jenny is my younger sister, and I'm her older sister."

Jeannie's face broke into a grin as she pointed to herself, poking her cardigan front repeatedly with one small finger. "Me! Me Kee sissah!" Then she pulled Keith over from the table where he stood with Audrey and patted his cheek.

"Kee!" she commanded. "Me sissah?"

Keith nodded sagely, looking every bit like an adult going along with a child's storytelling. "Jee," he agreed, before turning back to the table, seeking out his traditional post-nap cup of milk.

Jenny, unaware of the exact limits of the children's vocabulary thus far, simply chatted along with them, while Helen and Audrey had to each keep from exclaiming with glee at yet another word from Keith and what amounted to an entire conversation from Jeannie.

Chapter Text

Tuesday 25 February 1941 continued: 

"Richard! Come right in." Siegfried enthusiastically welcomed Richard Alderson into the house. "Cutting it close, I see?"

"It were you I saw drive up just now, from my table at the Drovers, weren't it?" 

"Ah, the Drovers. I see. Making sure not to leave yourself at the mercy of the women all on your own?" 

"I don't know what you're going on about."

"Of course not. I, however, have no qualms in admitting that Helen and Au--Mrs. Hall are a formidable pair to deal with day after day, so you weren't wrong to bide your time with all three of them together." 

He opened his arm, gesturing Richard towards the sitting room. "I'm off to make myself presentable, as promised to the aforementioned Mrs. Hall. If you want to wait here, I promise not to give your presence away until I return." He took a lively saunter towards the double doors, stopping to turn back and point across the room. "Feel free to pour yourself a little something while you wait," he offered, earning himself a slow grin from the visiting farmer.

***********************************

Helen sat at the table holding Jimmy, a spectator rather than a participant in the last-minute preparations for the meal. 

Audrey was putting together the filling and topping for the crumble, deftly blocking Keith's chubby hand from reaching into her bowl of apple slices. She kept one hand out as to block his repeated play for her carefully measured ingredients while grabbing a fork to move a few of the extra slices she had set aside to a small plate. "That's all for now. The rest are for later." She placed the slices in front of the small would-be apple thief, cutting them in half one last time before allowing him free rein.

Helen watched Keith attack his apple slices with far more gusto than he typically bestowed on any food given to him—scrambled eggs excluded. It was an interesting turn of events for her, watching the day-to-day behaviour of a child relatively close in age to Jimmy. As a new mother, she found herself wondering what Jimmy might be like at the same age and trying not to allow her mind to revert back to her worries that James might miss everything between now and then and perhaps, even beyond that. She blinked and focused on Audrey's work once more. 

"It'll be lovely having a pud today. Reminds me of when I were young and we'd make summat nice the day before Lent."

"Rationing makes it feel like we've been told we need to give up everything nice every day," Jenny groused from her spot near Audrey's desk, where she was sitting with Jeannie on her lap. The little girl was busy scribbling pictures on bits of scrap paper, which she would then bestow upon Jenny like gifts of fine masterpieces.

"Well, thanks to Kate Billings and Mrs. Pumphrey we don't have to feel that way today. Thanks, Aud."

"You said it yourself--it weren't down to me," Audrey smiled, so pleased at the timing that brought the extra food from both Kate and Mrs. Pumphrey at the same time. By combining the fruit from each of the women, she had enough for a good-sized crumble as long as she went easy on the sugar, which wasn't a problem given the sweetness of the apples. She opted to forgo sweetening the apples at all, using her precious sugar only in the topping.

"You suggested having Jenny and me Dad over. And for sharing the basket items with everyone." 

"I told you, special things are always better if you can share them with those you care about." Audrey firmly repeated her view on the matter, just as she insisted when she first brought up the idea of inviting over the Aldersons, and Helen's responding smile was appreciative. A reminder of how fortunate she was to have her Skeldale family with her while James was away.

***********************************

Siegfried, all signs of all farm visits removed from himself, stuck his head into the kitchen to inform Helen and Jenny of their father's arrival.

"I'll bring this one to see him while he's still awake," Helen announced, cooing to the baby about going to see his granddad. "Are you coming, Jenny?"

"I see him enough, thanks. I'll help Audrey." She grabbed a tea towel and began wiping off Keith's sticky hands as if to prove her worth right where she was, and addressing her next words to Audrey, grumbled, "She forgets I still live with him."

"Sorry. I had no idea he were such a great difficulty in your life." Helen rolled her eyes at the teen and joined Siegfried in returning to the front room, where they found the man more than eager to visit with his young grandson.

"Well, hello there, young man." Richard accepted young Jimmy from his mother and lifted the baby boy as if estimating his weight. "He'll be a right strapping lad before we know it! I'll have him out at the farm in no time."

"Can he be a baby for a few more days, please?" 

"Oh, aye, love. I'll give him a year."

"Thanks, Dad." Helen shook her head and settled into a chair by the fire, noting Richard Carmody entering the room from the dining room behind her as unobtrusively as possible and giving her a brief nod of acknowledgement as he took the chair next to hers. 

The young vet had considered his options carefully and at length throughout the day, and he had come to the hesitant conclusion that staying quiet and unnoticed would be his best way of avoiding the ruffling of any of the elder Richard's feathers during his visit. And he decided that seating himself across the room from the man was a good place to start implementing that tenuous plan. He was pleased to see that so far, Helen was correct—Mr. Alderson had eyes only for the baby with whom he was having a decidedly one-sided conversation. The student wasn't sure of the purpose of such meaningless discussion, but if it kept the farmer's attention off of himself, he would count himself lucky that the man in question clearly didn't feel the same.

***********************************

After a short while of listening to Richard Alderson and Siegfried discussing Jimmy's behaviours, purported talents, and likely future achievements, with only the briefest occasional mention of anything farm- or animal-related, Richard Carmody was desperately relieved when Jenny entered the room and announced that the food was being delivered to the table forthwith. The group slowly moved themselves and re-assembled in the dining room, and Helen made last-minute introductions as they realised Richard Alderson had never properly met Jeannie and Keith but rather observed them through car windows or witnessed them clambering in and out of the vehicle from afar. 

Jeannie seemed confused by yet another person claiming Helen as family, staring quizzically at this man that both Helen and Jenny indicated was their father. Keith, however, neither comprehended nor cared about the familial links between their visitors and the people with whom he was currently residing. He did, however, for reasons the adults and near-adult present did not readily understand, find this new man fascinating, walking right up to him and giving him a pat on the thigh, then knocking against the same leg with his wheeled horse. Richard looked down at the toddler, then to the rest of the room, looking for some explanation behind the child's behaviour.

"Does he normally hit people with toys?" He crossed his arms and stared at the boy, who was wholly unimpressed by the man's show of disapproval.

"Only you, Dad," Jenny supplied, stifling her amused reaction in the face of her father's continued grumbling as Keith gave up on the horse, wandered off, then returned only to start thumping the stuffed lion toy against Richard's leg instead. Richard's legs were saved from further bombardment by Audrey announcing to the tot that it was time to eat. Keith looked mutinous at first, obviously displeased to be asked to abandon his newly discovered person of interest, but Helen saved the day by leaving an empty seat for Keith between herself and her father as the group arranged themselves around the dining table, save for Jimmy, whom she had just placed, once again sleeping, into a basket nearby.

Richard Alderson gave an appraising look at the tot perched next to him, his customary cushion and pinny in place. Helen chuckled at her father's look of unease but came to his rescue nonetheless. 

"No need to look so nervous, Dad. Jimmy's sleeping again, so my hands will be free to look after this one."

Richard's voice was slightly indignant as he corrected his eldest. "I'm hardly nervous of a child. I'd still be holding my grandson if he weren't dead set on sleeping through me visit."

"Is that why you rushed off to the Drovers earlier? Jimmy were asleep when you arrived, and I'm old news?" Helen teased.

"Aye, he were asleep, but I rushed off, as you say, so as not to be stuck in with you lot, gossiping away all afternoon."

From the far side of the table, Richard Carmody spoke up. "Helen believes that men actually gossip more than women." He immediately looked down at his plate, trying not to visibly cringe as he realised he had already broken his vow to keep to himself.

Richard Alderson, however, noticed nothing amiss and answered in the same manner he would have had any of the others had spoken. "Aye. So I've heard."

Carmody, relieved that the farmer seemed unperturbed by his participation, was nevertheless pleased when Helen took over the reins of discussion.

"And you weren't gossiping over at the Drovers?" she demanded of her father, knowingly.

"We spoke of nowt but war and lambing," Richard stubbornly insisted, earning matching eye rolls from both of his daughters.

"Oh, and you two were only talking about cooking, I suppose?"

"We didn't talk about anyone outside this house," Helen insisted, then immediately recalled their conversations and added, "Except for the lads who are away, of course."

Richard scoffed, catching Siegfried's eye as if to say, "Can you believe this claim?"

"It's true. Just ask Audrey." Jenny spoke up, unwilling to accept even a wordless false accusation.

Richard looked over his glass to his younger daughter, seated at his right. "'Audrey'" is it, now?"

"She said I could call her that seeing as I'm nearly an adult. And they've asked me to come along to the Women's Institute meeting as well," Jenny added, her chin jutted out with pride.

"Who's staying with the young'uns, then? You're surely not taking 'em all with you?"

Siegfried gently cleared his throat. "Actually", he began companionably, "Carmody and I will be returning to Skeldale at lunch to mind Jimmy and the children."

"Innit a bit busy a time for a vet to be sitting at home with little 'uns?" Richard's expression was similar to the one he wore when he first learnt about the children staying at Skeldale, disbelief comingled with disbelief at their perceived daftness in regard to the situation.

Siegfried set down his silverware, folded his hands together, and smiled. "Carmody and I were up and out early today, finishing our current list. We'll see to as many new calls as possible in the morning, then we'll return here to open surgery for a short while. We'll take turns managing surgery and the children. When the meeting adjourns, we'll finish up with the clinic, and one or both of us will see to any remaining farm animals in need of care." He reclaimed his utensils, insisting, "Everything is well in hand, Richard."

"The two of you trying to run clinic and watch three of them at once sounds far from 'well in hand' to me."

Sensing this back and forth could go on longer than she wished to listen to, Helen piped up, "I think I might take Jimmy with me, depending on his schedule. Then they'll only have Jeannie and Keith, and the children enjoy spending time with Siegfried and Richard. They even help in their own way sometimes."

"That's right," Audrey agreed. "They help feed and check up on the boarding animals with us each night."

Tea conversation then turned fully to the youngest people present, from the ways in which they were learning to help around the house to their verbal accomplishments; from how they were doing with their meals--Jeannie enthusiastically cleaning her plate and Keith enthusiastically staring at Richard Alderson--to how little Jimmy was dozing away despite all of the chatter.

"I can't believe he can sleep through all of this clinking and talking!" Jenny was amazed by her nephew's ability to sleep right in the midst of a busy and somewhat boisterous meal.

"I've noticed young James sleeps almost all day long, no matter what activities may be occurring around him." Carmody pointed out, causing a grimace from Helen. 

"Aye, he saves his waking hours for at night when the rest of us are trying to sleep." 

"His nocturnal crying is no bother to me," the young vet confided to their guests. "I insert rolled surgical gauze in my ears each night. I find that they provide more than adequate sound blocking when rolled tightly."

"Good for you," Helen grumbled wryly.

"Luckily Mr. Farnon keeps vast quantities of the stuff stored throughout various cupboards all throughout the house, for some reason."

Helen paused in her eating, setting the base of both palms, fork and knife still poised within her closed fists, down against the table's edge, and cast Siegfried a sideways glance. "I'm well aware."

Siegfried's face took on the look of a mischievous child about to utter a word he'd been instructed never to use, right in the midst of guests or perhaps at school or church service. But despite the host of snappy comments racing across his mind, he instead opted to take another bite of corned beef and stayed prudently silent. Though he couldn't help but smirk at Helen as he chewed.

At the opposite end of the table from Siegfried, Richard Alderson was being offered a second helping by an unlikely source. Keith had taken to offering forkfuls of his meal to the elder Alderson, often to the detriment of the tablecloth, as bits of mashed parsnips or corned beef fell from the tines as he thrust his arm out towards the man, accompanied by a little grunt one could only interpret as "Here, for you!"

Richard, unsure how to make the child stop and tremendously unwilling to accept the food-coated utensil from the messy hand offering it, looked to the Skeldale residents for suggestions.

"How do you make him eat it himself?"

"Oh, if only we knew, Richard. He makes Au--Mrs. Hall fret something fierce with his abysmal eating habits."

"Oh, now, lad," Richard started, staring sternly at Keith. "We'll have none of that." He pointed towards the boy. "You fill that fork, you eat it. Go on. Take a bite, then."

Keith looked morosely at the parsnip-laden fork, then back at Richard, pulled a face, then gave in and ate the small amount of mash that managed to make the return trip to his mouth.

"Will you look at that?" Helen exclaimed. "Who knew Dad had the magic touch?"

"I believe Richard is giving you a run for your money where Keith is concerned, Carmody. You may have to forfeit your title as his favourite person." Siegfried suggested.

"I have done nothing to earn such a title; therefore, I have no reason to be disappointed by it being bestowed upon another."

Siegfried shook his head in wonder as Keith picked up the smallest piece of meat he could find on his plate and, pinching it between two fingers, offered it to Richard. 

"No, lad. You eat it," Richard insisted firmly. Keith slowly brought the food to his own mouth, then looked down at the plate and slowly pushed the entire thing away from himself.

"Are you done, then?" Helen asked, moving the plate further in on the table with Keith's nodded response. He then resumed his staring at Richard, much to the amusement of the rest of the party.

Siegfried ruminated aloud over Keith's admiration of both Richards. "They have not one iota of similarity between them. Well, apart from a shared forename, that is. Perhaps that accounts for his interest in you, Richard." Siegfried gestured towards Richard Alderson at the opposite end of the table. "It may be that your name reminded him of Carmody." Siegfried pondered that theory a moment longer and twisted his mouth as he changed his mind. "Though I'm not entirely sure he even realises that you do both share a name."

"You're forgetting the most obvious thing they both share," Helen pointed out, teasingly. "Neither Carmody nor Dad are particularly interested in Keith. Maybe he just likes a challenge." 

The ringing of the phone interrupted their discussion of Keith's preference for the Richards, and Audrey excused herself to take the call. While she was gone, talk turned back to the interests of the adults of the group, rationing and lambing, followed by recent animal illnesses and injuries that Siegfried and Carmody had tackled.

When Audrey returned, entering the room quietly and hoping the ongoing conversation would continue on, so as to save her from commenting on the call, she found that once again, the state of local cows had taken over the supper discussion.

"We'll know if it's dysentery if the symptoms lessen before we even hear back from the lab," Siegfried was explaining. "Sending out the samples was merely a precaution in the of slight chance it is something bacterial instead." 

"Is there nowt I can possibly do to keep this topic away from mealtime?" Audrey bemoaned half-heartedly, taking her seat between Siegfried and Jeannie and trying to cover her discontent with a bit of false scolding.

"You're surrounded by farmers and vets, Audrey. All you can do is hope the cows get well sooner rather than later," Jenny wisely advised. 

Audrey smiled over little Jeannie's head towards the young woman seated to her left. "Sound, practical advice. You'll be a cracking addition to the Women's Institute if you ever decide to join, Jenny."

Despite having a two-year wait before she could join, Jenny beamed at the unofficial recommendation and felt extremely pleased that despite her father's comments about her age at home, the Skeldale adults still felt her time was well spent with the other women enough to keep to their plan to have Siegfried and Richard Carmody share child-minding duties so that she might attend the meeting. 

***********************************

When those at the table could eat not one crumb more , the extended Skeldale family moved from the dining room, parting ways temporarily as the Aldersons relaxed in the parlour, their after-tea entertainment provided by Jeannie and Keith, who were systematically showing Jenny and Richard every one of the possessions they had accumulated in their few weeks in Darrowby. Jeannie kept Keith to a strict turn-taking protocol by exclaiming, "Me!" each time the adults finished admiring the last item showcased by her brother.

Meanwhile, Siegfried volunteered to clear the table, allowing Audrey to focus on the packing up of remaining food. When the table was empty, Siegfried joined Audrey in the scullery, where he found her washing up and offered his dish-drying services, giving him a chance to ask about the phone call that took her from their meal and returned her in a slight, but not imperceptibly quieter state.

"There's no need for you to dry. Go sit yourself down with Richard and the others."

"I thought it might be nice to give the Aldersons a few moments together as a family."

"What? Where's Mr. Carmody?"

"He's off preparing our bags for tomorrow."

"That's normally a morning task, innit?"

"He wanted to straighten the examination room as well."

"He cleaned that room till it shone yesterday. And no one's used it all day today."

"You know Carmody. He likes to be thorough," Siegfried shrugged as he plucked the next clean dish from her hands.

Audrey paused in her work, crossed her arms, and looked at him as if he had just tried to sell her cheese from the moon. "He's hiding, and we both know it."

"And you? Are you hiding as well?" he asked shrewdly.

Audrey was taken aback by Siegfried's sudden change in tack. "I'm doing the washing up."

"Surely it could have waited."

"Says a man who's never tried to scrub dried food off china."

"Says a woman who's never opted to ignore guests to stew in concern over a telephone call," Siegfried challenged.

"I am no..." she began to debate.

Siegfried speared her with a piercing look reminiscent of many of those she used regularly on him, causing her to instantly renege on her unfinished claim.

"Fine. I am."

"Care to share?"

"Not with our guests during what's supposed to be an enjoyable evening."

"I see no guests in here." Siegfried made a show of peering around the kitchen for any hidden guests.

Audrey ignored his antics. "Is this the real reason you're out here with me, offering to dry?"

"Not entirely. I do enjoy having you all to myself. Even if only to help with the washing up. But, yes, tonight I am also hoping you'll tell me what's on your mind."

Audrey sighed. "It were Lamley again. And I were going to tell you--later."

"We're hearing from him every day now. I miss the early weeks when he practically ignored us."

Audrey smiled despite herself at Siegfried's irritated, yet slightly petulant tone.

"Sergeant Yates were able to contact Edna Buckley's niece. Her name's Irene. She's younger than even Carmody, poor girl—being questioned by police when you did nowt wrong."

"May I remind you of our inspection just a few short days ago? We did nothing wrong and quite a few things far above what others would and did do in the same situation."

"We put ourselves in that situation. Well, at least I did, and..."

"We did.", Siegfried corrected firmly.

"We're probably less rattled by such a visit; that is all I mean by it."

"And did the 'poor' Miss Irene provide any insight?"

"Some." Audrey glanced down at her wristwatch. "But I don't know how quickly I can tell you it all, and with Jenny & Richard still here..."

"They're fine for now, and we can explain the situation, sans any details, when we rejoin them."

"Let's sit, then." Audrey motioned to the chairs, feeling suddenly weary. The constable's daily communications were beginning to wear on her. She appreciated that the man felt he should provide updates as he had them available, but she was starting to fervently wish they could go a few days without any such new information.

Siegfried pulled out one of the wooden chairs for her, and once both were seated, took her closer hand into his. She covered his hands with her other one, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles, finding the sensation soothing as she once again was tasked with passing along less than palatable news.

"Lamley says Irene answered all the sergeant's questions, but she needed some persuasion to answer. She didn't want to speak ill of Edna, but she did eventually fill in some of the truth behind Edna's lies."

Siegfried took a deep breath, wondering how much more he could loathe a woman he had never laid eyes on.

"Irene said that Jeannie and Keith's mother--her name were Hazel-- were expecting a baby." Audrey's voice was very hushed, and she gazed at their joined hands as she spoke. "She were very ill at the end, and her sister came to help her. The sister, Mavis, decided Hazel should go to hospital, and that's where she delivered the baby, but she were still poorly after the baby was born. That's why Jennie and Keith weren't sent home at that point."

Siegfried closed his eyes, all too easily able to imagine what Floyd Buckley, the children's father, must have felt when he heard the news of his wife's illness and then later when he would have been contacted again with even worse news.

"Irene told Sergeant Yates that she weren't aware that Hazel had died. That it must have happened after she left her aunt and uncle's house. She's training to be a teacher, you see. That's why she couldn't stay to help any longer."

Audrey wished that they weren't rushing through this discussion. She would have liked to take a moment and make them both a brew. But she felt bad about keeping Siegfried from relaxing with their guests and pressed on, hoping to get through the rest of the message as briskly as possible.

"Irene said she arrived after Jeannie and Keith had already been there a few days and that Edna were already very unhappy with how loud the children spoke and played. Irene said they were louder than  than Edna's own two sons. She said that Edna's husband, Stuart, would tell the children, "I can hear you," to remind them that they could talk more quietly, but that weren't enough for Edna, and she started punishing them."

Audrey removed her hand from atop Siegfried's and covered her mouth, needing a moment to collect herself. Siegfried squeezed the hand still left in his, and stood, bringing his chair closer and pressing a kiss to her temple before sitting again. He wanted to rage against the woman, but he knew that wouldn't help Audrey, and he wanted nothing less than to make this any more difficult for her.

"Stuart were called up and left just after the new year, then Irene left only a few days later. She said she only learnt that the children had been moved to a home in a letter from her aunt. But she assumed Hazel and Floyd were informed of the children's location. She had no idea what became of the baby, if it even survived. She hoped that perhaps it were with Hazel's sister Mavis."

Audrey sniffled and gave a weak smile. "Yates were able to get Mavis's name from Irene. She lives in Huddersfield. So Yates has contacted someone there to try to find her. And Lamley will call again when they know more."

"So, sometime tomorrow, then?" Siegfried suggested with a touch of sarcasm.

"I suppose now that they keep getting new names each step of the way, it's easier to keep finding more information."

"If only any of them had any idea what any of this information will ultimately mean for the children."

"Aye. We can't do a thing about it now, though," she pointed out through her lingering sniffles. "We've a house full, and we ought to be enjoying their company."

***********************************

Upon Siegfried and Audrey's return to the front room, they found the unlikely scene of Richard Alderson sitting on the sofa, both legs serving as building bases for small piles of wooden blocks being built by Keith. Once the toddler had two or three stacks of two or three blocks on each leg, he'd look up at Richard and clap his hands. Richard, maintaining a look of being thoroughly put out by the request, would knock his knees together, scattering the blocks and making Keith chortle with laughter, a sound that pushed away some of the worries Audrey and Siegfried had carried with them into the room, helped by the ghost of a smile the older Alderson fought to keep from his face as the boy's throaty giggles wound down and he began collecting his colourful blocks to start anew.

The adults, including Carmody, who left behind his superfluous chores in the examination room upon hearing Siegfried's booming voice from across the hall, enjoyed a half hour of lively discussion. They took regular breaks to chuckle over Keith's unending delight in his block game with Richard until Siegfried eventually took pity on Alderson and announced that it was time to feed the boarded animals, loudly asking if he ought to take only Jeannie since Keith was busy.

Keith, his stacks only half finished, swooped all of the toys from Richard's lap on his own, uttering a dramatic "No!" accompanied by him racing off on little pumping legs, not to be left out of an opportunity to go out to the shed with Siegfried.

Jenny decided that anything that created such excitement in the children was worth seeing for herself, and when Siegfried barked out the Carmody's name, requesting his assistance, she kindly volunteered to help in the student's place.

While Siegfried kept the younger half of the group busy with the cats and rabbit in the shed, Audrey offered Helen and the two Richards a carefully simplified explanation of her and Siegfried's delay in the scullery, informing them, in the most general terms, of the constable's call and letting them know that they would be contacting yet another aunt next. 

Another half hour passed, and Siegfried and Jenny finally returned with a rapidly tiring Jeannie and Keith.

"How many animals are you keeping out there?" Richard Alderson smirked at Siegfried. "I could have fed half the beasts in the area in that much time."

"Siegfried teaches Jeannie and Keith about the animals while they're feeding them," Jenny explained to her father, whose quirked eyebrow indicated that perhaps this was another area in which the two Richards were actually in agreement.

"Helen-the-cat" is more than ready to return to Pumphrey Manor, by the way," Siegfried mentioned to Audrey. "Perhaps you can let Mrs. Pumphrey know when you see her at the meeting tomorrow?"

"Of course. The cat didn't go after the children again, though, did she?"

Jenny alleviated her concern right away. "No, me, but I were too fast for her. I spent enough time chasing barn cats when I were young to know when they're about to strike."

Audrey smiled, enjoying the presence of the clever young woman. She felt very glad that she'd be with them again the next day. She was finding that she enjoyed having someone Jenny's age in the house. It was the age range that she missed with her own son, but now that her relationship with Edward was back on solid ground, she found that reminders of their lost time didn't always hurt quite as much as they did before. And in this instance, she found Jenny's presence at Skeldale to be both helpful and enlivening.

***********************************

With Jimmy and the children all reaching bedtime, Richard Alderson announced his departure, thanked Audrey for the meal, gave Jimmy one last cluck under the chin and Jenny one last reminder to behave, and made his way to the front door, escorted by Siegfried, Audrey, and Helen. Jenny remained behind with the baby and children, and Richard Carmody returned to his favourite spot in the room--the chair by the book snug, where he settled in with his current veterinary text.

After waving off her father, Helen stopped Audrey in the hall. 

"Thank you for the lovely evening. It really were nice having them here."

Audrey gave a small chuckle. "Keith certainly thought so!"

Helen nodded enthusiastically. "Aye! I never would have expected it! I could barely keep from laughing most of the time. The look on me dad's face when Keith were trying to feed him!"

"That boy--he keeps us on our toes, he does. Speaking of which, we best go save your sister."

"She's having a grand time. It were kind of you to suggest she stay."

"For all of the help she's been giving us, I might not let her leave!"

"You tell me dad that, then," Helen laughed. "I can hear him now—going on about how she's already been shirking her chores!"

***********************************

Jenny and Helen returned to the sitting room some time later, after having worked together to put Jimmy down for his first few hours of nightly sleep. Audrey had only recently finished putting the children to bed as well, while Siegfried had earned himself a full smile when he announced he would tackle the remaining washing up in her absence.

Richard set his book aside for a moment to reflect on the evening with Helen. "I'm very pleased with how your family's visit turned out. I needn't have worried about your father disliking me."

"I did tell you it'd be fine." Helen smiled as she relaxed on the settee next to Audrey. Putting an infant to bed was much easier and more quickly done when one has help, and Helen was quite happy with the situation, allowing her to put Jimmy to bed earlier and return to the main floor to rejoin the others for a longer time than usual. 

"Even if it weren't," Jenny added, "Dad don't like most people, so you'd be no worse off than the rest of the people in town."

"In that case I therefore feel gratified to be better off than the other people he dislikes," Richard insisted firmly.

"Suit yourself," Jenny responded, then looked thoughtful for a moment and continued, "Say, I'll be sleeping in the bedsit with Helen tonight. Do you think you can show me where some of that gauze is you were talking about?"

"Oh no!" Helen reprimanded her somewhat sassy sibling. "You're helping me tonight. I wake up; you wake up."

Out in the kitchen, Siegfried smiled as the sound of laughter rose in volume enough to be heard in the back of the house. Since the war broke out, his heart was often heavy with concern, and he had added the worries of Audrey and Helen to his own even before the children arrived, bringing additional uncertainties with them. But tonight, despite the call from Lamley, had been a chance for all of them to set aside their woes and find enjoyment in the simple aspects of life--friends, family, a shared meal, swapped stories, and laughter.

And as he stood at the sink, shirtsleeves rolled up and soapy to the elbows, doing a job he had so long ago hired the most wonderful of women to do for him, he felt a swell of joy and appreciation for the good things life still offered them, with an image of Audrey's head thrown back in laughter forefront in his mind.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, 26 February 1941:

The sun had yet to show its face as the earliest risers at Skeldale made their way downstairs to start their day. It was to be a day of juggling, as everyone had things to do beyond their typical routine. Audrey wished to attend Ash Wednesday services, Siegfried and Richard planned to set out early on their list, and the Woman's Institute meeting would take place midday. Later in the day Richard Alderson would be returning, not only to pick up Jenny, but based on a discussion from the previous evening, Helen and Jimmy would be going for their first overnight visit to Heston since the baby had been born, requiring some extra time spent packing anything they may need while they were away from home.

Audrey, as usual, was the first downstairs, stoking fires, letting out the dogs, and bringing the stove to life to get a start on porridge that could serve as breakfast for the vets before they headed out to the local farms and then be kept warm for Helen and Jenny when they woke later in the morning. Siegfried arrived shortly after her, as was his recent habit, and he paused to drink in the sight of her. There was nothing remarkable or different about her appearance. Her hair was neatly pinned in the tightly rolled curls she preferred day to day, one of her floral pinnies was tied around her trim waist, a simple brown wool skirt and the long sleeves of her favoured blue cardigan peeking out at the top and bottom of the apron. Siegfried was pleased to note that her eye had completely healed, with no remaining mark or colours left as a reminder of the accidental injury.

And yet seeing her moving about the room as she had done every day for over seven years filled Siegfried with a contentment that made any concerns about the schedule for the day disappear. It would be hectic, and people would likely complain here and there, but he would try to conjure this image during any difficult portions of the day and attempt to keep himself calm remembering the way he felt in that moment.

He crossed the room, whispering a hushed "Good morning" across the silent space. 

She turned to him with a smile that made him change his mind about every single thing he just promised himself and wish he could cancel every call, every plan, every meeting, and spend the day curled up on the sofa with her. But responsibilities were a part of life, and she'd be the last person to allow him to ignore his, so instead of lamenting the day without her, he opted to embrace the quiet time alone with her, pulling her away from breakfast long enough to share a long, lingering kiss that left them leaning against one another in a slow, swaying embrace when it finally ended. 

"We seem to be missing a few small people," he murmured, his arms still encircling her. 

"They were tired after our company last night, and they'll be excited to find Jenny still here today. I thought letting them have a bit more sleep might be good."

"While I admit that I miss their morning greetings, I will say that their extra slumber has created a rather lovely pocket of time for the two of us." He cupped her face in both hands and leaned in for another kiss.

"Fair warning," he mentioned, caressing her cheek. "I did wake Carmody already." 

"I'll keep me ears open," she promised, as she initiated the next slow kiss. As they broke apart, they heard footsteps approaching, and each took two steps back from one another, Siegfried grumbling as he did so.

"Speak of the devil."

"He possibly just saved your breakfast," Audrey mentioned under her breath, returning with haste to the forgotten porridge and toasting bread and calling out to Richard. 

"Good morning, Mr. Carmody. Did you sleep well?"

"We'll be tackling this list shortly, whether he did or not," Siegfried pointed out, unfurling a crumpled piece of paper from his coat pocket.

Shooting Siegfried a look, she turned to Richard and smiled kindly. "Sit yourself down. Breakfast is almost ready, and the list can wait long enough for you to have your fill."

As they tucked into their warm meal, Siegfried and Audrey went back and forth with last-minute reminders, making sure their schedules aligned properly. Audrey repeated her request for the vets to arrive early enough to allow time for the ladies to walk to the church. Richard clarified that he and Mr. Farnon would not be responsible for preparing lunch later in the day but merely serving it, visibly relaxing when given an answer to the affirmative.

Siegfried mentioned the possibility of the boarding rabbit's owner coming by to bring home their pet, then reminded Carmody that they needed to bring Helen-the-Cat back to Pumphrey Manor. 

"Mrs. Pumphrey will be in town for the meeting today. I can let her know, and she can have François stop here to pick up the cat. It'll save you both time, plus it'll save petrol."

"Wonderful idea!" Siegfried exclaimed, patting himself down in search for his pencil and marking out Pumphrey Manor from the list with a flourish. 

They finished eating before anyone else in the house emerged, and as Audrey began her first batch of dirty dishes for the day, Carmody returned to his room to fetch a clipboard of notes he was keeping on the recent bout of bovine illness in the area, with Siegfried asking the student to collect their veterinary bags on his way back. The room was suddenly quiet, save for the clinking and sloshing sounds coming from Audrey's efforts at the sink.

Siegfried noticed that her mood during this private interlude was markedly different from their earlier time alone. "Is everything all right, my dear?" 

"I can't keep my mind off the thoughts of that baby and what has become of the poor thing. It's no wonder Jeannie and Keith are so taken with Jimmy. They had probably been told to expect a new baby, and then one never appeared. Then their mother disappeared at the same time, and we know what happened then. They must have been so confused all of this time, Siegfried." 

Siegfried turned off the taps and opened a tea towel across his hands to gently pat Audrey's hand dry, then setting the towel aside, he drew her into a gentle embrace. "You said that the sergeant has requested that someone contact the sister. They will likely speak to her today. And if things go as they have been, we will probably hear from Lamley again soon after. We can only wait and hope for the best, my dear."

Audrey nodded against his shoulder, then straightened to wipe her eyes. "Thank you."

He pressed one last kiss against the corner of her mouth when, once again, noises at the end of the room caused them to hurry to put space between themselves, expecting to see Carmody returning with the bags. Instead, Helen stood in the doorway, an expression of undisguised interest on her face.

"Good morning," she said slowly, ready to dive into the question on her mind but stymied by the arrival of Carmody rushing into the room, interrupting her as he stumbled by her in the room's opening.

"I apologise, Mr. Farnon. I couldn't find some of my notes. I finally realised I had left them in a textbook last evening." He lifted his hands, a bag in each fist, and issued an assurance. "The notes are now in my bag, and I am ready to leave immediately."

Feeling a swift retreat might be best for all involved, Siegfried raised his hand in a wave, and the two vets left for the morning's work.

As the back door clicked shut behind Siegfried and Richard, Audrey pulled a place setting from the cupboard for Helen. "We've got porridge and toast," she announced.

"You can't think I care about eating right now!"

"You're not hungry?" Audrey avoided Helen's eyes, moving around the kitchen as she spoke.

"Aud! What were happening just now?"

"We were discussing Jeannie and Keith and how I'm worried about the baby."

"And?"

"And Sie...Mr. Farnon..."

"Siegfried?" Helen latched on to Audrey's near mistake immediately. "Aud, has summat changed with you two? You've both been doing the same thing you just did with one another's names for days now. Siegfried made a bigger fuss over Valentine's than ever before. And I just saw the two of you hugging. I've never seen you two hug in all the years I've known you."

"I were upset..."

"That's what you said the other day," Helen pointed out, trying to sound less exasperated around her seemingly skittish friend. "I've been asking you what's happening with you, and you keep telling me nowt, but I don't believe it."

Audrey wrung her hands together, unsure how to proceed.

"We, I told you, the children..."

"Never mind the children, Aud. If you and Siegfried... What I mean is that we'd all be glad to see you both happy. You know that, don't you?"

Audrey couldn't help but smile at Helen's awkward yet earnest kindness.

"We are happy," she admitted shyly.

"Together, right? Or more together than before?"

Audrey's grin grew, and she could only nod at Helen's excited clarification.

"I can't believe you never told me owt was happening!"

"We didn't tell anyone. Not just you," Audrey promised.

"You're happy, though, right?"

"We're happy," Audrey beamed.

"Oh, Audrey! I'm so happy for you!" The younger woman opened her arms. "It's my turn for a hug now!" The women shared a tender hug, and as Helen let go and pulled out a chair, her expression became playful. 

"So would this be the right time to ask if that were a kiss I saw, as well?"

Audrey blushed crimson and ignored the question as she filled Helen's bowl.

"I just need to know if it's all right to be leaving you both alone these days, is all," Helen continued, a chuckle escaping with her teasing words.

Audrey picked her head up, straining to hear what she thought were voices from further in the house. "We're trying to keep this to ourselves for now," she relayed to Helen, pleadingly. "And I think I hear your Jenny with at least one of the children." 

"Jenny can take kids later on, and then you can fill me in on everything." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Including that kiss." She laughed as Audrey's face grew pink once more.

Jenny and both children could soon be heard approaching, and Audrey found herself thinking that it had been a momentous morning in terms of the appearances of the younger generations in the kitchen that morning. 

She met Jenny in the corridor, the young woman's hands full as she carried Keith, and encouraged Jeannie along. "I found her in the hall upstairs, looking a bit lost, so I checked to see if this one were awake as well." Jeanie pulled on Audrey's pinny, then held her arms up to be held as well. 

"Oh, love, were you looking for me?" She brushed the uncombed hair from Jeannie's face, giving the girl a little squeeze. "Today were different weren't it, love? It's all right. Jenny were there to help. Weren't that nice?" 

Entering the kitchen, Jenny and the children greeted Helen, Jenny letting Helen know that Jimmy was still fast asleep.

"Course he is," Helen muttered.

"You could have slept in longer," Jenny pointed out.

"I'm a farmer, Jenny. I'm used to rising early. I need to get back to that. Besides. I were feeling a bit peckish," she admitted her primary reason with a grin.

Sitting down to her own breakfast, Jenny picked up her cup and leaned into the steam rising from her tea. "Mmm. Ta, Audrey. It's been ages since someone else made me breakfast."

Helen gave her a nudge. "I've been married less than two years. It weren't that long ago."

Jenny smirked. "Then it's been ages since someone else made me an edible breakfast."

Jeannie joined in with the laughter that followed, despite having no understanding of the cause of the hilarity.

***********************************

Audrey had planned to forgo any general chores while Jenny was visiting, imagining the group spending time together in the sitting room, visiting and playing with the children. But after the children were fed, and Audrey brought them upstairs to get them dressed for the day, Jenny asked if she could take them out into the garden. The air held a wintery chill, but the sun was shining brightly, and Jenny was eager to enjoy it. And when the opportunity to play outside with Jenny was presented to Jeannie and Keith, they were equally excited by the prospect.

Audrey dressed the children in their coats and the deep red hats, scarves, and mittens she had knit for them, a colour Jenny complimented as she gently helped Keith manoeuvre his mittens over the fading cat scratches on his hand.. 

"I have more of the same yarn—enough for a scarf if you'd like to have it," Audrey offered.

"I'm not very good with knitting. I can sew all right, but I'm all thumbs with knitting needles."

"I'd be happy to help you." Audrey adjusted Jeannie's scarf and proclaimed her ready to go.

"Thanks, Audrey." Jenny donned her own coat, and the children happily followed her outdoors for a chance to run and play in the fresh air.

Audrey was expecting Helen to make good on her promise to tease her about Siegfried while only baby Jimmy and the dogs were with them in the house, but instead the young woman tentatively returned to the topic of Lamley's call the previous evening, asking Audrey to fill in the details she had skimmed over when she had spoken to Helen and the Richards immediately following her conversation with the constable.

"The niece said the aunt were unhappy even before her husband and niece had to leave?" Helen was baffled as to how the same children the entire Skeldale household had come to adore could have caused another woman such upset.

Audrey nodded morosely. "Aye. The niece—Irene—said that her Aunt Edna was a very strict parent. That she kept a very quiet house. Though how she managed that with two young sons of her own, I don't wish to imagine."

"Why did they even agree to take Jeannie and Keith? They must have known adding two toddlers to the house would change things."

"I don't know. Maybe her husband agreed on both their behalf. He's the one who's the actual relation, after all. And Irene said having the children there didn't seem to bother him at all. Nor her, for that matter."

"Good thing if she hopes to be a teacher."

Audrey smiled. "I'm sure she'll do well. It sounds like she were very helpful to the sergeant."

"So do the police think their mother's sister might take Jeannie and Keith?"

"I have no idea," Audrey shrugged wearily. "She may have the baby already. I hope someone in the family does--if the baby survived, and I pray it did. But I don't know if there's anyone who will be able to take Jeannie and Keith yet."

"So we wait, again—for the telephone and the mail."

"Seems to be the way of life these days--waiting to hear any news while praying all is well."

Helen sighed in sad agreement.

***********************************

Jenny's voice called out from the passage as the trio entered the house. "I'm sorry, Audrey, I'll help her change!"

Audrey paused in her mending, seeing a rather drenched-looking Jeannie plod her way into the room.

"What happened to you?"

"There were a washtub in the corner of the garden on its side," Jenny explained, clearly upset that the mishap occurred on her watch. "I didn't realise it had any water in it until it was too late." 

"Is Keith soaked, too?" Audrey asked, setting aside her work and swiftly beginning to remove Jeannie's wet outerwear.

"No, he were the one who pushed over the tub. From behind, though, so he got away dry as a bone."

"Well, there's one bit of luck. Can you fetch me some towels from the linen cupboard, please, Jenny? It's the one with the double doors."

Jenny was back in impressive time, her arms full of towels and her tone full of remorse as she apologised a second time. 

"Oh, love, you can't possibly guess what a child may do in any moment. And it certainly weren't your doing that the tub weren't flipped over properly. We'll get her dry and warm, and she'll be right as rain again."

Things worked out more fortunately than Jenny would have guessed, with only Jeannie's coat and legs being doused with the cold water. Her skirt and jumper still dry, Audrey wrapped one towel around the girl's damp legs and sat her on her lap to rub her cold feet with a second towel. She gave Jenny directions on where to look in her bedroom to find the drawer she had cleared out for the children's things, and before long Jeannie was happily playing in a slightly large pair of knitted slippers, the fit made marginally better by the fresh pair of socks she wore with them.

"Now, we'll just stuff her shoes with rags and set them by the stove. We'll keep putting in new rags, and they'll be dry before you know it."

Jenny offered to take over the task of stuffing the small shoes, while Audrey used another towel to absorb most of the moisture from Jeannie's coat, hanging that to finish drying by the stove as well.

With that minor mishap handled, Audrey suggested they all move to the sitting room, as she had planned earlier. Jenny invented a new imaginative playtime activity for the children, encouraging them to use their toys, along with objects they gathered around the room, to make a pretend village in the centre of the rug. Books stood on end acting as buildings, blocks became the road, and pieces of kindling wood were propped against chair and table legs as trees. Jenny proclaimed the tops to be carousels, and though Audrey doubted either child knew what that even meant, neither Jeannie nor Keith seemed to mind, nodding and smiling along with anything and everything Jenny helped them to create. Once construction on the village was deemed complete, the children pushed their truck and horse throughout the town while Jenny narrated little stories about what was happening.

Helen and Audrey sat back, each with a project of their own, half their attention on their individual tasks and half split between observing the children and Jenny with fondness and the occasional comment between them. Helen was once again poring over plans for a victory garden, hoping to discuss some of her thoughts at the meeting that afternoon, while Audrey worked on the mending she brought with her from the kitchen. The mopping and dusting might wait for another day, but she wasn't one for idle hands, and she could enjoy Jenny's visit just as well while darning and mending as she could with her hands empty.

They stayed contentedly gathered in the front room, warmed physically by the fire and in their hearts by the presence of one another, until late morning, with only the occasional interruption. There were a few veterinary-related calls, including one to add to the afternoon farm visit list, and two instances of someone at the door. The first was the owner of the Dutch rabbit retrieving their pet now that its foot was well on the mend, while the second brought the post containing a package for Siegfried but nothing for Helen or Audrey once again. 

***********************************

Audrey eventually left the Alderson sisters and Jeannie and Keith to continue on without her, as she began to focus on the upcoming change in guard, making sure that everything Siegfried and Richard would need for lunch had been prepared or set aside for the men to easily locate. She had changed her clothing, and while in her room, made sure the children's makeshift mattresses were tidy, with all necessary blankets and pillows, along with the book they had been reading at naptime. With the earlier garden misadventure in mind, she tied a bow of red ribbon around the handle of the drawer which contained the children's things and made sure there was a full outfit of approximately the proper size in the drawer for each child, along with a few extra smallclothes.

She made good time and returned to the parlour to sit with Jeannie and Keith, allowing Helen and Jenny their turn to change as well. Jenny was back downstairs quickly, having left Helen to feed and change Jimmy, whose participation in the outing had yet to be determined. She stood in front of Audrey, posing in a pretty green dress with a softly scalloped collar.

"It were Helen's, so I had to let out the hem as much as I could," Jenny confided with a small smirk.

"You did wonderful work, Jenny. I never would have noticed the change in hem at all."

"I changed the buttons out as well. They were from an old dress of our mum's. There weren't much to save on the dress; she'd worn it so often, but the buttons were nicer than the ones that had been on this one before."

"Really, Jenny, I'm very impressed. We've got a few very talented seamstresses in the Woman's Institute. They'll be very interested in seeing what a lovely job you've done if you wish to share your secrets with them.

Jenny gave a little swish of the bottom of her dress, then chucked at herself. It felt nice to dress up once in a while and even better to hear someone praise her efforts to look nice for a special occasion. 

The clock behind Audrey chimed eleven. "Mr. Farnon and Mr. Carmody should be here any minute. Then comes the hard part of our day--convincing these two they'll be fine here without us."

Chapter Text

The women returned from their Women's Institute meeting, opening the front doors to let in both a swoosh of cold air along with a swirl of spirited chatter as the trio discussed all the various aspects of the meeting that they had found most interesting. 

Audrey, tasked with taking notes for Mrs. Duggleby, was clutching the borrowed ledger to her chest and exclaiming over the news passed along by Mrs. Hirst that the group secretary had indeed brought a new baby daughter into the world that very morning. By all accounts she was a healthy, bonny little thing, newly named Patricia.

Helen, in between agreeing with Audrey over the loveliness of another new baby nearby, was rattling off different plants that kept coming to mind as she contemplated planting seedlings for the victory garden.

Jenny's voice rang out in awe over the idea of young women coming to their tiny corner of the world from far-off cities to lend a hand to farmers, wondering aloud if they might get any help at Heston, and if so, would she like them.

Siegfried's voice entered the mix in a stage whisper from the sitting room doorway. "Would you ladies mind terribly waiting until you reach the kitchen to all talk at once? This is a house with sleeping children, after all."

Silence descended upon the group as Helen stared at Siegfried agog, and Audrey, her voice suitably lowered, clarified in astonishment. "You managed their nap?"

"There's no reason to sound so surprised. I am a capable adult, after all."

Helen scoffed. "A capable adult who has never managed to purposely get any child to go to sleep!"

"I am nothing if not a scholar of life, Mrs. Herriot," Siegfried informed the younger woman with an air of contrived haughtiness. "If I can learn to cure the illnesses of swine, tend to the injuries of canines, and encourage the best in equines, I can learn to convince two tired children to go to sleep without their beloved Mrs. Hall for one solitary afternoon.

Helen narrowed her eyes. "Did you bribe them?"

Siegfried's mouth dropped open in shocked indignation. "I'll have you know I did no such thing!"

"Wore 'em out, then?" Jenny guessed.

"Well, one would likely agree that ensuring a child is suitably tired is a good first step in achieving a successful naptime result."

"Siegfried Farnon, what did you do?" Audrey's eyes twinkled with fondness as she tried to imagine what sort of silly bedlam Siegfried had cooked up in their absence.

Siegfried paused, recalling the children's antics, and was forced to give up on his false airs, as a mischievous grin overtook his features. "Jeannie may have realised that her slippers slid across the tile floor in a manner that was rather fun once a person learnt not to actually slip and fall."

Audrey brought her cupped hand to her face, pressing her index finger against her lips to hide her smile. "And what, may I ask, happened next?"

"It seemed only fair that we offer Keith the same opportunity to learn such a valuable lesson."

"Oh, aye, of course," Helen agreed with a smirk. 

"And..." Audrey prompted, 

"And so Skeldale House hosted its very first hallway skating race event." His grin grew broader and equally more suspicious as he continued. "One might even say it was a smashing success."

Audrey's eyes narrowed. "And what does that mean?" 

"It means the children were half asleep before we made it to the top of the staircase," he bragged.

"And?" She repeated with narrowed eyes, imagining all manner of chaos two small children could conjure up slipping and sliding about in their slippered or stockinged feet.

"And...I may need to see about repairing the umbrella stand."

Audrey looked back into the vestibule, only just noticing the umbrellas all propped against the wall in a corner, along with all of the separate pieces of the wooden stand. "You really are a ridiculous creature."

"I didn't break it! It was Keith!"

"You're blaming a boy just barely older than a baby?"

"I'm not blaming...

Jenny whispered to Helen behind a raised hand. "Is it always like this, here?"

"Oh, you have no idea!"

********************************************

Siegfried and Carmody prepared to leave again, Carmody fetching Helen-the-Cat for François, who arrived shortly after the meeting ended, and Siegfried repacking their veterinary bags for the afternoon's list of calls.

Meanwhile Audrey excused herself to change her clothing, stopping first at the washbasin to gently wash away the ash recently imposed upon her forehead. Traditionally she would choose to leave the mark present for the remainder of Ash Wednesday, but so soon after the upset her bruised eye caused in the household, she thought it might be best to remove the smudged cross, for fear of it confusing the children. She mentioned her plan to Helen and Jenny before the trio went their separate ways, making it clear that she wasn't asking them to do the same, though they both individually chose to do so as well.

Audrey patted her face dry and returned to her room, quietly removing her nicer skirt and blouse and carefully rolling down her better pair of stockings in lieu of the more well-worn outfit she had on earlier in the day. As she returned her nicer things to the drawer and cupboard where they lived, she gradually began to make each movement a bit louder than the last and was rewarded with small movements from the temporary beds at the end of her room. She sat down on the bottom edge of her own mattress to replace her stockings and shoes, singing a bit of a song she remembered singing to Edward as she did so. "Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green. When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen."

Keith was the first to rouse from his slumber, sitting up in his little cot and looking around so quickly that it was almost comical.

"Are you looking for me, poppet?"

Keith pushed away his blankets, the bulk of them landing on his sister, who began to stir under the weight of the double covers, and scrambled to his feet, holding onto Audrey's knee for balance as he lifted one little leg and pointed out his foot, ensconced in a knit slipper just like the ones Audrey had given Jeannie to wear earlier.

Audrey's face broke into an amused smile at the state of Keith's slippers. When the vicar had sent over the first batch of clothing for the children, it included two pairs of the knit slippers, both in the same size, both being a touch too large for Jeannie, making them considerably too big for Keith.

Looking down at Keith's feet now, Audrey saw that someone—and if she were a gambling woman, all of her money would have been placed on Siegfried—had taken small pieces of what she recognised to be yarn from from the balls of leftovers she kept from previous projects and wove them through the slippers, cinching both the toes and the sides of oversized footwear towards the middles to keep them more secure on Keith's small feet. A veterinary surgeon's work performed on a slipper, she was sure.

"Can you walk over to the mirror, love?"

Keith obligingly toddled over to the full-length mirror at the opposite end of Audrey's bed, stopping in front of the wood-rimmed oval mirror to admire the slippers that brought him so much fun earlier in the day. Audrey shook her head in amazement that the unconventional solution worked rather well. She should have known Siegfried wouldn't have let the child play in them if they didn't stay on his feet properly. She thought of all Siegfried had learnt in the few weeks the children had been with them with such affection that it nearly brought tears to her eyes. 

Keith helped her to clear her mind of such sentimental ponderings by giving her an impromptu demonstration of his slippers at work, attempting to slide across the rug in her room, and crashing down towards her when the fibres of the rug and footwear clung to rather than glided against one another. Reaching out to the boy, she just caught hold of him, giving him a hug and reminding him to be careful. Understanding his mistake, Keith wriggled out of her arms, making a beeline for the hallway and stairs. 

"Oh, no you don't!" Audrey caught up with the boy and carried him back into the room. "We need to get your sister, silly boy." Keith ran back, pointing out to Audrey that Jeannie was now awake as well. 

Jeannie's reaction to Audrey's return was similar to that of her brother, quickly running to throw herself at Audrey, hugging her fiercely around the legs. 

"Hello, love! Did you have fun with Mr. Farnon while I were busy?"

Jeannie nodded enthusiastically. With Keith continuing his attempt to leave the room,

Audrey beckoned to Jeannie, and they made a quick trip for the children to use the lavatory before she hoisted the boy up and carried him down the stairs to the tiled hallway, setting him down in a flurry of swinging legs and arms as he tried to escape her grasp in his excitement. The moment his slipper-covered feet hit the floor, he began an exaggerated ski-like motion, trying to slide. When he failed to achieve the desired results, he stamped his foot in frustration, and Audrey bit back a laugh and invited the boy to the kitchen for his usual milk and toast, promising that he and Jeannie could show off their slipper skating skills afterwards.

********************************************

Jenny joined the children at the table, accepting a cup of tea, and watched them dig into their half slice of toast, one of the few things Audrey could be sure Keith would eat fully each day. 

"It's nearly three," she lamented. "Dad'll be here in no time."

"You are welcome in this house as often as you'd like, whenever you'd like. You work it out with your father so that all the farm chores get done, and we'll be happy to have you back at any time." Audrey ran a hand over Keith's sleep-mussed hair as she scooped his empty plate from the table. "And these two would love to see you again, too."

"It's been fun having little ones around. Makes me wish I had some younger brothers or sisters." She grinned impishly. "Maybe I should convince Dad to get married again."

"Jenny Alderson!" Helen's shocked voice rang out as she carried Jimmy into the kitchen. Then, adopting a similar teasing tone to that of her sister, she added, "Just you make sure I'm around when you suggest that, you hear?"

"Meanwhile", Audrey began, collecting Jeannie's plate and putting out cups for herself and Helen. "I'm sure your sister wouldn't mind if you'd like to help out with Jimmy."

"She definitely would not," Helen chuckled, watching Audrey wipe up Jeannie and Keith and set out cushions on the floor near the radio, which she switched on, filling the room with the light, cheerful melodies of Wynford Reynolds and his orchestra. 

She fetched a stack of household papers, used on one side but blank on the other, that either she or Siegfried had deemed no longer necessary to keep  and gave them each a pencil to scribble and draw.

"You draw nicely while I have my tea, then you can show me what you learnt with Mr. Farnon." Patting Keith on the head as she issued a special reminder to the boy. "Paper only, young man. No drawing on me floors." Keith gave a small giggle as he grasped the pencil in his fist and started making circular scribbles across his paper.

"Seems they did really well with Siegfried today," Helen noted. "No crying when we left, and he managed to get them to sleep. I still can't believe it."

Audrey sighed over her first sip of hot tea. "I weren't sure about the idea of leaving without saying goodbye, but I have to admit his idea did work out--this time, anyway."

"Aye. I'd be interested to know what other wild games he invented to keep them distracted the whole time." 

"Oh, summat unholy, I'm sure."

********************************************

Siegfried and Richard had arrived home at a quarter past eleven, quickly washed up, and brought out the makings of cheese sandwiches right away, before the women, who did decide to bring Baby Jimmy along, had even left for mass and meeting. Siegfried had breezily explained that Mrs. Hall had work to do with Helen and Jenny, and made a fun production out of how he and Richard would need a lot of guidance in making lunch, pretending to bemoan whether they could do it properly, then earnestly asking the children if they could help.

Siegfried was rather certain that no cheese sandwiches had ever been made that took quite as long or made such a mess, but the exaggerated task did the trick, and Audrey, Helen, and Jenny slipped out the front door without the children ever noticing. The trick afterwards was to keep them so busy that they never stopped to wonder what could be keeping their precious Mrs. Hall and the Alderson sisters for so long. 

After sticking Richard with the clean-up, he felt it was only right to allow the lad to run the clinic while he took on the mission to keep the children constantly occupied on his own. Siegfried firmly felt that the broken umbrella stand, one smashed drinking glass, the crumpling of a few important papers which he was now trying to flatten under a stack of books in the study, and two bruised shins from the number of times the children crashed into him as they raced up and down the hall were all small prices to pay in exchange for the astonished smile on Audrey's face when he was able to honestly report that there had been no tears over her absence and that the children had even gone to sleep at their usual time.

********************************************

After allowing the children to show off their new talents in the hallway for a spell, Helen and Jenny went up to the bedsit to pack their things for Heston, while Audrey brought the children back to the kitchen. She had just settled the children with their spinning tops, which at least Jeannie was learning to use with some degree of success, when the telephone rang out across the house, then stopped abruptly. Shrugging to herself, she returned to her plan to pack a basket with half of the soup and bread she had prepared for supper. 

She was wrapping the bread in a tea towel when Jenny popped her head into the room. "Audrey, Helen answered the telephone upstairs. She says it's for you. I can watch Jeannie and Keith for you," she offered.

"Thank you, Jenny." Audrey left the kitchen quickly, wondering if it would be Constable Lamley ringing once again, and trying not to let her nervousness show before she escaped Jenny's attention.

"This is Audrey Hall," she spoke into the receiver. She heard the quiet click of Helen giving her privacy for her call right before an unfamiliar voice travelled across the line. She listened intently for several minutes, picking up the notepad halfway through the conversation to make a few short notes. "Thank you for your time." She held the phone against her chest for a moment before replacing it in its cradle, then tore off the top sheet of paper and stuffed it into her pinny. She took a deep breath, plastered the closest thing to a smile she could muster, and strode back to the back room to relieve Jenny of her child-minding duties.

********************************************

"What's all this?" Helen queried upon seeing the gifted meal waiting, pleasantly packaged, at the end of the kitchen table. 

"Supper for you to bring with you," Audrey answered, her back turned to Helen as she heated the soup those at Skeldale House would be consuming shortly.

"You don't need to be feeding Heston and Skeldale, you know."

"When I made it yesterday morning, I didn't know you wouldn't be here, so there's more than we need. And the bread will go stale if it isn't eaten soon."

"Surely you can send it out with Siegfried and Richard tomorrow," Helen rebutted, uneasy with the idea of Audrey feeding her entire family two days in a row.

"Please, Helen. It would make me happy if you would take it."

Something in her friend's voice caught Helen's attention and sparked instant concern. "Is everything all right, Aud?"

"As fine as it can be these days. No need to worry," Audrey insisted, finally turning towards Helen and working up a tenuous smile to try to put the younger woman at ease. "But take the basket, please."

Helen relented, feeling as though there was something off, no matter how much Audrey denied it, but accepted the basket in the hopes of offering her some sort of consolation for whatever worries were plaguing her.

********************************************

Audrey ushered the children away from the scullery door, where they had waved goodbye with great enthusiasm at Richard Alderson's truck well past the point that anyone in the vehicle could have possibly still seen their little hands.

Closing the door behind her, she drew Jeannie and Keith back into the warmth of the kitchen, where the vegetable soup was gently simmering away. "Look at us, all on our own! Whatever shall we do?"

Keith began trying to skate across the kitchen floor, and Audrey gathered him up in her arms. "Not in here, love. There are too many things to bump into."

Peeking at the stew on the stove and finding all was fine, she settled into the armchair near the radio, picking up the book of verses from Siegfried from the hutch along the way, and pulled both children onto her lap, adjusting their positions until everyone was cosy and comfortable, and she read and sang to them both, drawing comfort from having them close, as they waited for the men's return.

********************************************

Though tea consisted of nothing more than the vegetable stew and leftover bread, Audrey had taken extra care when setting the dining room table for the five people in the house that evening, changing out the tablecloth and bringing some of her favourite serving pieces out of the hutch and cupboard to use. The vets and children, however oblivious they may have been to her aesthetic efforts, were more than pleased with the flavourful stew, hearty despite the lack of meat.

Less pleasing, at least to Carmody, was the behaviour of one of the farmers they had dealt with that afternoon. "I don't understand why he bothers to ring for a vet at all if he's not going to do any of the things we suggest!"

Siegfried, seated at the end of the table with the children on either side of him, made a show of enjoying a hunk of potato before leaning forward, gesturing with his empty spoon as if about to impart some great wisdom, then answering in song. 

"Oh, don't the days seem lank and long,

When all goes right and nothing goes wrong?

And isn't your life extremely flat,

With nothing whatever to grumble at?"

Richard stared blankly at Siegfried, who simply grinned in return, prompting the student to look to Audrey for assistance. She cast a sideways glance at the silly man she so loved before offering assurances to Carmody. "Don't let his cheery behaviour fool you. He complains about the very same thing himself."

Jeannie had stopped eating to listen to Siegfried sing, and he turned to her and continued his carrying-on in a sing-song voice. "It's rather fun to be cheerful, isn't it? I think I shall cheerfully try your stew. What do you say? Is that acceptable to you?" He hovered a piece of bread over Jeannie's bowl. "Shall I go for a try? Then you can try mine, and we can see whose is better."

"Were you paid in ale at any of those farms today?" Audrey asked Richard dryly.

"He's been like this all afternoon!"

"What can I say? A midday break to invent new sporting events does a man good." He reached over to nudge Keith's elbow. "You liked that, too, didn't you?"

At the far end of the table, Audrey cleared her throat, fighting against the sudden feeling of her last bite of bread turning to stone in her throat. Over the continued laughter between Siegfried and the children, her moment of distress went completely unnoticed.

Chapter Text

Shortly after tea, Siegfried walked into the kitchen with Jeannie and Keith, announcing to Audrey, who was finishing the washing up, that they were going out to the shed to see to the two cats they now had boarding over.

"I'll help. These can wait." She stopped what she was doing and dried her hands.

"I think I've learnt to dress them for the weather by now, my dear," Siegfried teased, misunderstanding her intent as he helped the children into their coats, Jeannie's now well dried after her garden mishap. "If her shoes are not fully dry, I can carry her as she is."

"They should be dry. They weren't terribly wet inside to begin with, really." She fetched the small shoes, lifting the bar strap to check the inside from heel to toe, then helping Jeannie put them back on. "What I meant is that I'd help bring them to the shed," she clarified.

Siegfried, surprised but pleased by the change in routine, paused in his efforts to finagle Keith's arm into its sleeve. "That would be lovely. What brought about this change? It's certainly not the weather out there!"

Audrey helped hold Keith still and gave Siegfried a marginal smile. "I thought it might be nice to see what you three get up to out there."

"Oh, well, we won't let you see the normal mischief then, of course," Siegfried joked, feeling a sliver of concern when his silliness didn't bring about anything more than the same pinched expression. 

****************************************************

With only two cats in the shed, the visit was more play than work, with Audrey opting to keep to herself, leaning against a table in the corner of the small space and watching Siegfried and the children. It was clear they all adored one another, and her heart was both full and pained watching them, though she intentionally plastered a smile upon her face any time Siegfried would look up at her between his interactions with Jeannie and Keith. It was Jeannie, however, who noticed that her favourite person, Miss All, wasn't actively participating in the fun and took Audrey by the hand, pointing towards the two open cages.

"Cats, Miss All!"

"Yes, poppet, I see them. They're lovely, aren't they?"

Jeannie tugged at her hand, and she gave in and joined the little group in "ooh"ing and "ahh"ing and patting the soft purring creatures. Even Keith was bravely scratching the neck and shoulders of one of the duo, following Siegfried's instructions, which kept his hand away from any teeth or claws.

After half an hour passed, they brought the children back to the house and started the bedtime routine. Siegfried stealthily returned to the kitchen once Audrey and the children had disappeared into the upper corridor, finishing her work for her as quickly as possible, relieved that there were only a few items left, as his technique was noticeably more plodding and tedious than hers.

It turned out that he had plenty of time to finish the chore, however, as Audrey was gone longer than usual. On any other night he might have guessed that the children were being resistant to the idea of sleep, but tonight his concern pricked once again, and he wondered if it was she who needed the extra minutes of reading and cuddles before letting the little ones go off to dreamland.

****************************************************

By the time Audrey returned, Richard had issued his "goodnight" to Siegfried and went off to the sanctuary of his own, albeit borrowed, room. Siegfried had set off to briefly put out the dogs, then returned to pour two small drinks before Audrey joined him at last. Siegfried took a seat near the centre of the sofa, gesturing to Audrey that she might join him there if she wished.

She had barely seated herself when she admitted the source of her lacklustre smiles all evening. "Sergeant Yates rang today."

"Yates? That's unusual."

She nodded. "The officer in Huddersfield spoke to Mavis, their mother's sister."

Siegfried was silent, waiting for what he expected was going to be unwelcome news. Despite her valiant attempts, Siegfried had seen the change in her that evening, beyond even the quietness he had noticed the previous evening. And the possibility that another telephone conversation was to blame was high on his list of imagined reasons for her subdued mood.

"She's made a request."

"A request of us?"

"Aye." Audrey's eyes filled, and she blinked to clear her vision, dabbing at her face with a handkerchief she extracted from one of her pinny pockets. "She wants to know if we'll keep Jeannie and Keith for one more week."

Siegfried felt the breath catch in his throat, and he inhaled deeply through his nose before repeating quietly, "One week. Then she's willing to take them?"

"In a manner of speaking." Audrey turned to look at him, grabbing his hand and following his lead in taking deep, even breaths to help get her through what she needed to convey. "Siegfried, Edna told more lies than we knew--worse lies." Her words shook as she uttered them. "Their mother's alive, Siegfried, and she knows nowt about this whole mess. The poor woman still thinks Jeannie and Keith are with Edna."

Siegfried's jaw dropped. Of all the things Audrey could have possibly said to him, nothing close to this scenario ever crossed his mind. He scrubbed his free hand over his mouth, then tried to speak, his words tumbling out, then failing him. "What? Where is the mother now? How could...?"

"Hazel", Audrey reminded him of their mother's name. "She's in hospital--again. Summat about an infection." Then suddenly remembering one shining bit of good news amongst the untruths and secrets, and blurted out, "The baby! Oh, Siegfried, the baby's all right. He's a boy. Neil. His name's Neil. And he's only a few days younger than Jimmy. He's with Mavis right now."

"Has their moth--Hazel, been in the hospital right along?"

"No, but she's been poorly." Audrey sniffled, wiped her eyes, then fished the notepaper from her pocket. "Mavis said Hazel went to hospital in December and again in early February. She's been in hospital the entire time the children have been with us, it seems. But she'd been unwell since before Neil was born and a bit afterwards, too."

She closed the paper in her fist, tapping the top of her thigh with her closed hand, as she worked to silently compose herself. "She's doing better now, though. The doctors think she will be able to leave in a day or two. Mavis said she'll come back to stay with her again until she's feeling stronger. That's why Mavis asked for a week—to get Hazel settled in first. Yates said we'll hear back in a day or two with more information."

Audrey stopped, set down the notepaper, and reached for her glass, her mouth suddenly feeling parched. "Edna's been sending letters—telling her all is fine and asking for them to send money. Just like you said from the beginning." She sniffled again.

Siegfried squeezed her hand, sorry to have guessed correctly in this situation. "I hoped it wouldn't be the case. I would have liked to have been proven wrong, my dear, I assure you."

Audrey drew her legs onto the sofa and leaned against him. "I know."

Siegfried released her hand and wrapped an arm around her before lacing his fingers through hers once again, and the two sat quietly for a spell before Audrey broke the silent stillness once more.

"They're going to go home to their mother, Siegfried." She paused a moment before continuing. "I can't tell you what a relief that is to me--to know that they have parents who love them."

She turned slightly, nestling against him more.

"I'll miss them terribly, but I'm still so relieved. They deserve to be together. None of this was any of their fault. It's not right for a mother to be separated from her children, Siegfried. It's not! I know!" She looked down and shook her head, then wiped at her eyes again. "I can't imagine how she'll feel when she hears what has happened. It will be a terribly long week for her."

"And a terribly short one for us," Siegfried stated somberly, pressing his cheek against the top of Audrey's head.

"We'll love them even more a week from now," she pointed out, holding onto his hand tightly.

"Undoubtedly." Siegfried, too, was glad for the children. Glad for their parents. Glad to see the weight of the unknown lifted from Audrey's heart. All provided that Audrey was correct in her assumption that Mavis and the children's parents were kind, loving people--the polar opposites of how Edna Buckley had thus far been described. Yet he knew that no matter how good Hazel and Floyd and Mavis might be, and how glad for the family they may be, it would still be incredibly difficult for him and Audrey to see the children leave their temporary home here at Skeldale.

Audrey's voice, soft and sincere in her benevolence, interrupted his thoughts. "I hope Mavis will be able to convince Hazel that the children are safe and happy at the moment. I don't want her to worry all week."

"I'm sure she'll feel that Mavis wouldn't have asked us to keep them if she hadn't been convinced that Jeannie and Keith were doing well here." 

"When I first suggested bringing them here, I thought it were only going to be for a few days. Even when we realised they would need to stay a bit longer, I thought since I knew they'd be leaving, I could care for them and not start to love them. I were wrong. I think a part of me loved them right from the beginning."

"I remember that first day, coming home and seeing the two of them sitting at the table. What a sight they were that evening, too." He smiled despite his sadness. "I'll miss them too, darling."

Audrey looked up at him, and Siegfried cradled her cheek in his hand. "If there is anything I can do to help make this any easier for you, I will."

Audrey grasped the hand against her cheek and held it against her face. "You already are."

Audrey leaned her head against him once again, quiet at first, but after a few minutes, the shaking of her upper body against his told him that she had finally given in to her tears.

Siegfried tightened his hold around her, pressing his face against her hair as she released the flood of emotions she had been holding back all day, his own eyes filling as he rocked her slightly. Eventually she quieted, and a while later her breathing evened out, signalling to Siegfried that she had fallen asleep. He pressed soft kisses against her head and let her sleep peacefully in his arms for a spell before waking her to go upstairs. And like the extra time Audrey had spent with the children before they went to bed, Siegfried knew that staying here with her a while longer was every bit as much for his own comfort as for hers.

Chapter Text

Thursday, 27 February 1941:

Siegfried yawned as he made his way down the staircase Thursday morning. His sleep had been fractured, waking often and taking far too long to recapture after each interruption. The final time he found himself staring at the ceiling, still before hearing the jaunty jangle of his bedside clock, Siegfried decided that enough was enough. He was far better off starting his day early than continuing to drive himself half mad attempting to acquire additional sleep.

At the base of the staircase, he found the house to be absolutely silent, with not even the movement of the dogs breaking the stillness. Siegfried was surprised, for while the time was earlier than he was typically up and about, it was shortly past the time Audrey usually began her daily trip through the house, waking up fires and dogs alike.

A quick, quiet loop of the main rooms proved correct his hunch that he was alone downstairs, and as he reached the staircase again, he paused, his hand on the curve in the bannister, contemplating his next move. A quick nod to himself indicated his decision had been made, and he climbed the stairs, walking straight ahead to Audrey's closed door. He raised his knuckles to gently rap upon the wooden barrier when he first heard a low hum of voices from within the bedchamber. He pulled back his knuckle and tapped at the door with his index finger instead, quietly calling out Audrey's name through the solid impediment blocking his way.

"Audrey? May I open the door?"

Her answer was affirmative, though surprised, and Siegfried could hardly blame her. Until the children arrived, he never so much as knocked on her door, and he certainly never actually entered the room.

Now here he was requesting entrance into her private space first thing in the morning, at a moment when she might not be completely dressed and ready for the day. Knowing she wished to keep their newly transformed relationship quiet, he listened intently to be sure there were no sounds of movement from down the hall or in the bedsit above him. Easier if the others simply remained ignorant of the fact that this unusual situation ever occurred. He then shook his head at himself, as he remembered that the bedsit above him was currently empty. It would be a strange day without Helen or Baby Jimmy present, and it was starting off odder still.

He turned the knob slowly, inching the door open and peering in cautiously, despite having gained her permission. As the room was revealed to him, his heart filled and cracked simultaneously as he spied Audrey in the armchair by her bed—already neatly made, he noted. She also appeared completely ready for the day, from her hair, pinned in its typical daily arrangement, to her practical shoes and favourite cardigan. The children were dressed as well, though both in their stocking feet.

But instead of heading downstairs early, as was the routine they maintained most days, on this morning Audrey had them both seated on her lap, an arm around each child, each of whom were nestled against her chest. Siegfried could see no book or toys and realised the low murmur he had heard was likely Audrey singing or reciting some sort of nursery rhyme, simple hymn, or children's song to Jeannie and Keith as she tried to prolong the soft, gentle time they spent together in the small room each morning. With Helen and Jimmy away and the day's call list of a reasonable length and noncritical quality, there wasn't any great rush for her to begin breakfast as there might be on other days.

For Jeannie and Keith, the extra time was likely unnoticed or else simply accepted as a slower morning with more time to gently awaken. But he knew for Audrey it was much more. It was the first morning in which they would wake with a ticking clock eating away at the minutes they had remaining with the children. Sixty minutes per hour, for the twelve or so hours the children would spend awake, deducting their nap, before returning them to their beds for the evening.

Those hours seemed so long in the first few days, when the children were confused and prone to whinging or crying multiple times a day, with the adults around them possessing no means of understanding what the little ones wanted or needed. Now, Siegfried knew those dozen hours would go by in a whoosh of speed, for Audrey, because she stayed so busy each day, and for Siegfried because he was only afforded a fraction of that total time to be home, actively engaged with the people whom he considered family. His heart silently acknowledged with a pang what his mind already knew—that the day would pass quickly, and before he knew it, he'd be staring down the start of the last day Jeannie and Keith would spend here. His schedule for the day was already set, but he vowed on the spot to alter things in the upcoming week if possible to allow him more time with Audrey and the children.

Audrey tilted her head in question, and he attempted a genuine smile, realising he had been standing there, still partially hidden behind the door, staring at them silently the past minute or two.

"I woke up early today," he spoke in a half whisper. "And I could hear voices in here." He left out finding the ground floor empty, not wanting Audrey to view the fact as a complaint when it was nothing of the sort.

"We're taking our time a bit today. I..."

"I completely understand," he cut across her words, not wishing to cut into her time with the children. He gestured towards the interior of the room. "May I?"

"Of course."

Siegfried entered the room, closed the door behind him and stopped by the chair, placing a hand atop each of the children's heads, trying to memorise the feel of their hair beneath his fingers. "I don't want to interrupt." His words sounded hoarse as he spoke them.

He leaned against the corner of the walnut dresser directly to the left of the bedroom door, just a few feet from Audrey and the children.

"I will be going out the first half of the day today. Then Carmody and I will switch at lunch." He felt the need to fill the silence as he stood there, feeling out of place in the one room of his own home that he hadn't considered as belonging to him in nearly a decade.

"I wanted to remind you," Audrey began, seeing an opportunity to discuss something she remembered during her own hours of wakefulness overnight. "There's that civil defence meeting tomorrow."

She pressed a kiss onto Jeannie's head, then repeated the affectionate action with Keith. "I'm not sure if I should go now, though."

"It's something you wanted to be involved with. You told me so yourself. It will not be any problem..." He paused, his next words heavy with emotion. "I will be--very glad--to stay with them."

"I weren't sure if it would mean making changes to today's plans."

"No, today's schedule will stay the same. And I will be happy to work tomorrow's schedule around the meeting."

The two finished cementing the plans for her to attend the meeting, Audrey silently relieved to have a possible extra duty to keep her busy once the children returned home, and Siegfried silently relieved to ensure he'd have at least one more pocket of time to spend with them on his own.

*******************************************

After a short while longer, Siegfried left Audrey's room, aware that although she welcomed him to join the group, his presence was interrupting whatever songs or rhymes Audrey may have been sharing, and the children started to become restless because of it. He was apologetic as he offered to go fetch Jeannie and Keith's shoes, still down in the scullery, giving the trio time for one more song and cuddle before their temporary family properly began the start of their final week together.

Audrey helped Jeannie with her shoes, but as Siegfried fit Keith's pudgy feet into his shoes, Siegfried noticed the sole coming loose at the front of the left shoe.

"I fear we may be facing one more day in slippers after all, my dear." He pointed out the broken threads and the small gap starting to show along the toe box. "It will only get worse if we leave it be. I don't want him to trip because of it. I can drop it off with the cobbler before I start my rounds."

He paused, debating adding his second thought. Catching Audrey's eye, he saw that she knew full well that he was holding something back, and so he relented, trying to keep a mild expression as he spoke the difficult words. "Plus I wouldn't want to send him off with a shoe in need of repair."

Audrey reached out to place a hand on his arm, rubbing her thumb back and forth against the tweed sleeve of his jacket. "Thank you. You're a good man, Siegfried. You show that to all of us in so many ways."

*******************************************

Despite the late start, with Siegfried's help breakfast was well underway by its normal time. The addition of Carmody to Skeldale House meant that the organisation of all things veterinary was at an all-time best, leaving Siegfried more time in the morning to do things other than hunting down the necessary implements of his trade.

And thus the dogs had gone out, the fires had been attended to, and the blackout curtains opened as the morning light gained its strength. Siegfried moved on to keeping the children occupied as Audrey scrambled eggs, happy that their stock of eggs was once again healthy enough to support breakfast for the group. She had set out egg cups for the adults but felt extra pleased to be able to serve Keith's preferred variety to the children that morning.

Richard had yet to join them in the kitchen, and Audrey took the last opportunity to speak to Siegfried alone to fill him in on one other bit of news from the previous day.

"There's summat else I forgot to tell you yesterday—what with all that happened afterwards."

Siegfried looked up from his place at the table, where he was occasionally leaning down to spin tops across the floor for Jeannie and Keith.

"Helen knows. About things being—different—between us. She guessed yesterday morning."

Siegfried's response was gentle. "Do you feel that's a problem? I know you wanted to wait, but are you truly upset for her to be aware of the change between us?"

Audrey hesitated, not wanting Siegfried to feel her reasons had anything to do with him—with them. "There's been so many changes this past year. The lads all off,  Jimmy being born." Her gaze landed on Jeannie and Keith, who were giggling at their mostly poor attempts to spin the tops on their own.

"Not to mention the recent madness I've brought to the house." Her words carried a fondness, and Siegfried was quick to reassure her on that point.

"A very welcome madness, I would say."

She gave a misty nod. "I just weren't sure another change were a good idea to throw at everyone right now."

Keith grabbed at Siegfried's pant leg, offering up a top, which Siegfried accepted. "They'll get used to it." He leaned over and set the top twirling across the kitchen. "Oh-ho! A good one!" he congratulated himself before returning his attention fully to Audrey.

"I worry what those outside the house will think." She grabbed at the front of her pinny, bunching the loose fabric in her hands as she spoke. "Both about you and me, but also bringing back people's minds to what I did to Gerald, too." Her words dropped in volume with her self-recrimination. "He were a nice man, and I didn't treat him very kindly in the end."

Siegfried spun two more tops, telling the children it was their turn to try again, and walked over to join Audrey at the stove, tucking one arm around her as she transferred the children's eggs to a small serving bowl. "You were in shock over the departure of someone else you cared about. You were trying to fix a problem, not create one. Anyone who thinks differently doesn't know you very well."

She turned towards the table to set down the bowl, covering it with its lid to retain the heat, and doing so lost the soothing presence of his arm around her waist.

Siegfried spoke softly as he followed her movement to the table, placing his hand on her shoulder, replacing the comfort she had briefly left behind.

"Not to mention that you had no way of knowing that any other possibility existed. And that was entirely my doing; I could have told you the truth so much sooner."

"I still knew how I felt about you." She turned around, biting at her bottom lip as she reflected on the not-so-distant past. "To a degree, at least. But I didn't think those feelings would ever...I just saw myself alone someday. But that weren't a good enough reason to marry a person."

Siegfried drew her into a short, tender hug, then released her to allow her to return to the stove, his hand remaining on her back this time as they took the few short steps together, in a sort of domestic dance. "Neither of us had the courage to speak up about our feelings--no matter how strong they were or were not at the time."

"We were both trying to protect one another," Audrey wisely clarified. "And I want to protect all of you now. I've already heard comments about the children."

Siegfried bristled at hearing her mention that for a second time. No one outside their home had any right to voice opinions on them bringing Jeannie and Keith into the house. "You never mentioned who exactly."

"Never you mind. I just know there will be more talk."

"We've discussed how I feel about that."

"'So bloody what?' again?" She glanced at him with a small smirk, and it brightened his mood enormously to know that he could still bring her a measure of amusement even in the midst of a difficult situation.

"Precisely. But Audrey, if it upsets you, then that's a very different story."

"It's not only me, or you. I don't want Helen or Richard to have to hear people's opinions, either."

"Helen will spare no one her own opinion on the matter, and in no uncertain terms. And Richard, well, I doubt he'd be able to work out what they're even talking about."

Audrey sighed and reached for a ladle to remove the eggs. "You're probably right. For now, though, breakfast is nearly ready. Would you mind bringing the children to the table?"

As she removed the eggs from the simmering water, she watched Siegfried scoop up Jeannie and Keith, one at a time, and "fly" them to their chairs, the children squealing with delight, and she thought that for this week she had far more important things to worry about than the opinions of a few gossipy villagers. "So bloody what?" indeed!

*******************************************

Richard left the kitchen after breakfast to ready the examination rooms and check on inventory in the dispensary before opening surgery that morning. There had been an atmosphere he could not pin down in the kitchen that morning, with both Mrs. Hall and Mr. Farnon seeming to be affected by it, but he could not ascertain the precise mood nor its cause. He decided that it must have to do with the Herriots being at Heston and put it out of his mind.

Siegfried, meanwhile, was still at Skeldale, despite his wish to leave early that morning. He needed to stop at the cobbler's before attending to his list, and he wished to wedge in a stop at Pumphrey Manor, despite it not being one of the calls assigned to the vets that day. His excuse would simply be to check on Tricki-Woo and Helen-the-cat. Though his true reason for visiting was to forewarn Mrs. Pumphrey about the children's imminent departure before she saw Audrey the next day. He was very pleased to see how well Audrey and Mrs. Pumphrey got along and worked together in recent months, but he feared Audrey might be upset if faced with discussing the latest news about Jeannie and Keith in the moments before or after the Civil Defence meeting.

But at that point Siegfried was still at home and aggravated to be so. He returned to the kitchen in a huff, clearly searching for something.

"I thought you were gone already." Audrey's voice held confusion as he came briskly into the room, casting an irritated eye over every corner and surface.

"Yes," he mumbled, distracted and still searching.

"Is there summat I can help you with?" She began to rise from her seat at the table where she and the children had resumed play with the wooden tops after she had given them a wipe down from being used on the floor earlier.

"No, carry on. I'm fine." The obvious searching continued.

"What have you lost?"

"What makes you think..." Her expression caused him to cut off his act of innocence. "Keith's blasted shoe! I had it with my bag, and now I can't find it anywhere."

Audrey took the three steps past Siegfried, plucking the boy's shoe from the top of her desk, where it sat in clear view next to the small lamp that lived there, just inches from Edward's framed photo.

"I thought maybe you were planning to take it later."

He gratefully accepted the missing footwear. "What would I do with you?"

Audrey smiled wryly. "Spend half your life looking for things, I suppose."

Siegfried gave a short chuckle and bestowed a quick kiss on Audrey's cheek.

"Kiss! Kiss!" Jeannie's gleeful voice called out from the table behind them, and Audrey rested her head against Siegfried's shoulder to muffle her giggle. "We've been caught out—again," she whispered as her laughter subsided.

Siegfried made one last detour to give Jeannie a soft kiss on her cheek, followed by one for Keith, so as not to let the lad feel left out, before finally leaving for the morning's tasks, whistling as he repeatedly tossed the small found shoe into the air and re-caught it.

"He's a silly one, our Mr. Farnon, isn't he?" Audrey asked the children as he left.

"Siwwy," Jeannie agreed.

Audrey smiled and returned to her seat. "He's silly when he's happy, and you both make him very happy. I hope you know that."

Jeannie simply grinned and handed over another top, to which Keith clapped his hands with enthusiasm.

Audrey thought about her daily tasks as she sent the colourful toy skittering across the tabletop, mentally rearranging when she might accomplish things and marking some items off her list entirely. Dusting and mopping would be done when she could get to them, but for the week ahead, it was activities such as spinning tops and extra cuddles that would become her priority.

Chapter Text

Thursday, 27 February 1941 Continued:

Richard was experiencing a calm morning in surgery. There had been a single client waiting at the door with a sneezing schnauzer when the student first opened the clinic, and two others waiting patiently in their mismatched chairs when he bid the schnauzer and its human goodbye. He had incorrectly surmised that the day might be rather busy based on those three immediate patients, but afterwards things slowed to a trickle, each case being relatively straightforward, and the people, for a change, causing very little bother. 

In the background, Skeldale House was quieter than usual as well. Its two loudest residents, Jimmy and Siegfried, who both, for reasons unfathomable to the young man, had an equal penchant for random squawking at all hours of the day and night, were both away; and Mrs. Hall seemed to have abandoned her normal routine, which often had her and the children moving through the house cleaning, gathering, sorting, and chatting with anyone else who might be about. Richard hadn't seen her or the children since breakfast, and he was enjoying the unusual serenity the combination of  events had created.

It allowed him time to think, study, and read between seeing clients, disinfecting instruments, and straightening the examination room, and it suited him right down to the ground. He mused to himself that he would gladly spend his entire veterinary career in surgery if only all days were guaranteed to be so quietly peaceful and if, of course, horses could come into the clinic, which, alas, they most certainly could not.

As he cordially escorted another owner and animal to the front door, the waiting area once again empty, indicating a lull between Darrowby residents and their pets, Richard noticed the postwoman approaching the house. Richard, hopeful that the lab results he was awaiting might be included in the small number of envelopes in her hand, waited at the door for her arrival. Her name lost to him—Alice or Joan, he could never recall which postwoman was which—he issued a perfunctory greeting as he eagerly accepted the short pile of correspondence. He immediately began rifling through the few envelopes even as he hastily thanked the woman and headed indoors. And there, at the bottom of the stack, was exactly what he was hoping for! Thrilled to see lab results, he walked through the doorway to the front room and set aside the rest of the post, unsorted or even truly viewed, on the console table, tucked under the bronze bear statue for safekeeping, and then walked back towards the exam room, promptly forgetting any other mail ever existed.

***********************************

Audrey and the children, as Richard Carmody had noted, had spent most of their morning thus far in the kitchen, Audrey choosing to do only errands and tasks that dealt with the feeding of the family when the children were awake. After breakfast they had played together for a spell before Audrey allowed the children to entertain themselves while she looked over her meal plan for the rest of that day and the following, making alterations based on who would be home, what food she had on hand, and avoiding any unnecessary trips out to shop for additional ingredients. With Keith shoeless, the children couldn't go out that morning, and with Helen not here to watch them, Audrey couldn't go out on her own, either.

When she had crafted a working menu that she felt was satisfactory, she moved on to making bread, as she would need it for a few meals as well as for the post-nap titbit the children had come to view as routine. Audrey made the task feel more like an amusing activity by allowing the children to believe they were assisting with the kneading, a task that both children enjoyed immensely. Keith found pressing the dough down after it had proofed to be the most hilarious thing he had ever seen. Poking at the soft dough bubbling up over the top of its bowl first with one finger, then enthusiastically with both hands, giggling all the while.

Jeannie preferred perfecting her own kneading technique that mostly involved rolling it into a ball, then lifting it as high as her arms would allow and dropping it back onto the flour-dusted table with an amusing plopping noise and a fine poof of flying flour which rose up with each landing. Jeannie, a bit more cautious at first, looked nervously towards Audrey the first time the flour came up into her face and apron. Reassured by Mrs. Hall's eyes twinkling with mirth and a smile that filled her face, Jeannie continued with increased merriment, lifting her arms higher and dropping the dough with more force each time.

Their folly would create bread not quite up to Audrey's usual standards, and necessitated additional cleaning of most surfaces in the scullery. However, Audrey found that her little helpers were willing to do their part with that as well, and though it made the task take three times longer than usual, the room was eventually put to rights with both Audrey and the children having had a surprisingly nice time accomplishing the desired result.

***********************************

While life was ticking along in a slow, hushed state at Skeldale, Siegfried was experiencing a less sedate day out in the dales. He had revisited the farms dealing with the possible Bovine Dysentery, along with three other specific calls that had come in asking for his attention, a number of stops that would have more than adequately filled any typical morning in the life of Siegfried Farnon. But given that he had left the house a bit later due to the time wasted searching for Keith's shoe, then took the time to drop off said shoe, and given that he still wished to see Mrs. Pumphrey and pick the repaired shoe up again, Siegfried was feeling a great deal of pressure to get through each visit as quickly as possible.

The animal always came first for Siegfried, and he would never sacrifice a thorough examination to allow for what amounted to a social call to Pumphrey Manor, but that didn't mean he felt the need to waste time at any of his stops. With rationing in effect, farmers' wives were far less likely to slow him down with repeated offers of refreshments, but rationing did nothing to stop farmers with the gift of gab from latching onto Siegfried, reluctant to let him go until they had filled him in on their latest war news, current personal woes, or, loath as Siegfried was to admit it, the very gossip Helen had teased her father about just a few days earlier. 

Siegfried finally shook off the last farmer on his list and made his way to Pumphrey Manor as fast as he dared. François opened the front door with carefully hidden surprise, inviting the unsolicited vet inside and alerting his employer to her visitor.

As Siegfried awaited the manor's owner joining him, he mused on the differences between the grand house and his much more humble abode. It wasn't the scale of the space or the impressive quality of its furnishings and décor that had captured Siegfried's attention, as he had spent many accumulated hours within the manor's opulent walls. It was the quietude of the space that existed in a place that could hold so many and which had done so for many an event in the not-so-distant past. It reminded him of the way he had felt at home that morning, and his eyebrows drew together in sympathy when he pondered the fact that aside from the staff and Tricki-Woo, Mrs. Pumphrey must experience that kind of silence fairly often. It wasn't a situation that he envied; the very idea of being left at Skeldale alone day after day filled him with dread.

Mrs. Pumphrey's delighted call of "Mr. Farnon!" and her entrance with Trick wedged safely into the crook of her elbow pulled Siegfried from his thoughts before they could become any more morose.

Siegfried began his call with polite queries about Tricki-Woo's well-being, earning the pleased response of "Very well, thank you," then moving on to asking after Helen-the-cat, learning that the former patient had refused the offer to spend time inside the house upon her return and disappeared off into the surrounding wood, presumably to find comfort in her usual haunts amidst the property. Mrs. Pumphrey politely enquired about the other residents of Skeldale, asking how young Mr. Carmody was getting on, if Mrs. Herriot was still admirably coping with new motherhood, and how Mrs. Hall was continuing to balance the management of the house and day-to-day visiting clientele along with the care of their temporary charges.

"The children are actually a topic I was hoping to discuss with you, Mrs. Pumphrey."

Intrigued, Marjorie Pumphrey listened with regretful understanding as Siegfried gave an abridged outline of the calls they had received over the past two days and the newly imposed timetable for the children's departure, ending with the request that Mrs. Pumphrey do what she could to keep the topic from coming up at the meeting the following day.

"Of course. I can only imagine how difficult this is for all of you. It's clear that you are all very fond of the children and they of you."

While on the topic of the children, Siegfried gingerly broached the topic of any gossip Mrs. Pumphrey may have heard, taking pains to ensure the woman understood very clearly that he was in no way insinuating that she might be behind any such talk.

"Oh, Uncle Farnon, we are living in a small farming community during a rather miserable winter. The days are cold and dismal, the work is long and dismal, and the war is frightening and dismal. When something new occurs or someone new arrives, people latch onto it with both hands. And the area gossips; they unfortunately cling to it with their teeth as well."

Mrs. Pumphrey paused to set a wriggling Tricki down on the floor. "One might hear all manner of tittle-tattle bandied about, I fear. The majority of it is completely fabricated balderdash, naturally. For gossip isn't gossip if it's dull."

She gave Siegfried a resigned smile. "I'm sorry to hear that your Mrs. Hall and the children have become fodder for their small talk. I can assure you, however, that no matter how they may go on about the current situation with children, the people of Darrowby who know Mrs Hall know her to be a kind, caring woman who would do all that she could for any member of this community. I do hope that she realises that."

"Thank you, Mrs. Pumphrey," Siegfried replied simply, touched by his client and friend's words about the woman he so adored. "That means a great deal, or it will, I'm sure...when I pass it along to her, that is."

Mrs. Pumphrey smiled at him, amused by his sudden stammering. Perhaps the women gossiping about the children were missing the bigger picture. But they certainly wouldn't be hearing that from Marjorie Pumphrey.

***********************************

Siegfried heaved a sigh of relief as he finally reached Market Square. His visit with Mrs. Pumphrey, as every other visit that morning, had run longer than anticipated, and he really needed to collect Keith's shoe as quickly as possible and get himself home again.

He pushed open the old wood door of the shop, which, despite its weight, created only a soft swish across the worn floorboards. With no bell, his entry was nearly silent, and the young woman at the counter, engrossed in work of her own, did not initially notice her most recent customer.

The young woman, who Siegfried would have guessed to be older than Jenny Alderson but younger than Tristan, perhaps about the same age as Audrey's Edward, was perched on a stool at the front counter, a project spread out in front of her. To her left she had a used calendar, from which she had clipped off the borders from each page, cutting them into narrow strips. To her right sat a wooden box with dividers, and in front of her was a cardboard box full of a tangle of cords, laces, threads of all weights, and what appeared to be long strips of leather. She would draw out one strand from the knotted conglomeration, measure it, record its length on a strip of paper, then wind and label the piece before sorting it into the divided box.

With a look of resigned boredom on her face, she completed a full rotation of her chore without noticing Siegfried's presence. When she finally looked up, her bland expression didn't change as she offered a dull "hello".

"Good afternoon," Siegfried replied, trying to infuse some cheerfulness into their interaction. "I'm here to pick up a shoe repair. I was told by Mr. Meggens that it would be ready by midday."

The girl rose from her seat and sighed. "Your name?" she asked in a tone that clearly showed no interest.

"Farnon. Siegfried Farnon."

A look of mild curiosity passed over her as she turned to rummage through the wall of cubbyholes behind her. 

The clerk turned back towards Siegfried slowly, her look of confusion upon first withdrawing the diminutive bundle from its spot morphing into a look of comprehension as she placed the brown-paper-wrapped shoe on the counter between the elements of her work, and she muttered under her breath, "That rumour's true then."

"And what rumour would those be, exactly, Miss...?" Siegfried's cheerful demeanour fizzled and evaporated like a drop of water on a hot stove.

The young woman's face blanched as she answered, as if she hadn't realised she had actually spoken her thoughts aloud. "Meggens. I'm Harriet Meggens."

"Your father owns the shop?" Siegfried clarified, a small memory tickling his brain--word of a young man by the name of Meggens joining the RAF. Siegfried's imagination filled in the likely situation: a young man, working alongside his father, learning the family trade, goes off to war, leaving only a younger sister to help their father in the shop each day, regardless of her complete lack of interest in the business.

At her affirming nod, Siegfried asked, "And does he know you gather and pass along rumours about his customers?"

Two things happened in the next moment. Mr. Meggens entered from the back room, calling out a friendly greeting to Siegfried, while Harriet began sputtering, claiming that she "paid no heed to local gossip, honest!"

Meggens stopped a few feet from Harriet and Siegfried, his genial smile falling into a concerned frown. "I would certainly hope you don't," he directed towards his daughter, then asking Siegfried "What is happening here?"

"Harriet was about to fill me in on exactly what rumours she's been hearing about me or my household."

Mr. Meggens looked genuinely appalled and immediately offered apologies along with the offer of a refund of the repair fee.

Siegfried opened the paper-wrapped bundle, pleased with what he found as he inspected the careful work. Mrs Pumphrey's earlier words circled in his head as he turned the shoe over in his hands. He imagined that spending all day in a cobbler's shop was hardly a scintillating way for a girl of Harriet's age to spend her time. The bits of information she overheard day-to-day were likely worth gold to a woman who spent all day sorting scraps of leather and remnants of thread. And no doubt she learnt the art of trading information from women older than her, who ought to know better.

He rewrapped the shoe and smiled at the cobbler. "I agreed to pay you what I believed to be a fair price for work I was seeking. The sole has been repaired with what I can easily see is quality workmanship and done in short order, just as I requested. I see no reason why I shouldn't still make that payment."

Meggens thanked him, and Siegfried carefully tucked Keith's shoe into his jacket pocket. "Perhaps, however, it may not go amiss to have a discussion about whether or not idle gossip has a place in your shop." And with that, Siegfried gave one last nod to the cobbler and to Harriet and took his leave, feeling he had a clearer understanding of Audrey's concerns about the village gossip.

***********************************

Lunch felt odd without Helen or Jimmy present. There had been meals without the Herriots now and again since Jimmy had been born, when the baby's schedule abruptly changed, and Helen had slept in or had been forced to take lunch or tea later than the rest of the household. Though in those cases they knew the young mother and babe were right upstairs, sometimes even hearing the wails of young James Herriot III as he waited to be made clean and dry or his belly made full.

Richard regretfully felt the same atmosphere he did earlier at breakfast time. Mrs. Hall seemed distracted, seemingly staring off into space or gazing at the children as they ate heartily in Jeannie's case or poked at their plate in young Keith's. Siegfried often began a story, only to drop off midway through, an annoying behaviour that only Richard seemed to notice. He attempted to bring some semblance of normalcy back to the meal, offering up anecdotes from his own day, only to have them fall flat, vexing the young student. How many times since the holiday season, when he moved into Skeldale, had he wished for the house to fall under any degree of silence, for the constant chaos to abate? But at this second oddly muted meal of the day, Richard was wishing Siegfried might rant about his day, the children might make noise for no discernible reason, or that Mrs. Hall might say anything at all.

When the meal had concluded, the young vet was relieved to take up his bag and the remaining call list to leave the house for the afternoon, hoping the time out in the dales might clear his mind and that some time together might help Mr. Farnon and Mrs. Hall sort whatever it was that had them both so uncomfortably quiet.

Chapter Text

"No Ellen, Miss All? No Bay-bee?" 

It was after lunch that Jeannie first expressed her observance of the fact that Helen and Jimmy had not made an appearance downstairs all morning long. She had been quieter than usual at lunch, looking around the table in silence as she ate her fill. Audrey belatedly realised the little girl must have been mulling over the situation as she ate her meal.

Once they had all finished eating, Richard left for the afternoon's calls, and Siegfried took over in surgery. With the room empty aside, from Mrs. Hall and her brother, Jeannie started wandering around the perimeter of the kitchen, looking in the larder, checking by the back door, and walking out into the corridor before returning to Audrey with her question about Helen and Jimmy's current whereabouts.

"Oh, love, Helen and Jimmy aren't home right now. They're visiting Jenny."

"Ellen?" 

"Yes, Helen's gone right now. But she will be back tomorrow."

"Jee-mee?"

"Jimmy will be back tomorrow, too."

Jeannie pouted over the turn of events for a short while as Audrey finished the minimal washing up and invited the children to the sitting room to play before their nap.

Keith was content to push the horse and lorry across the parlour rug in what looked to Audrey to be some sort of imagined race or chase. But Jeannie brought both the basket of blocks and her favoured quilt over to Audrey and climbed into her lap, sorting through the blocks until she found one which she proudly presented to Audrey.

Audrey smiled to see that even after a few weeks, it was still the "J" block that Jeannie handed to her. "It's your favourite, innit? J for Jeannie. And for Jimmy. And for Jenny."

She drew her arms around the girl, and the two made simple words, Audrey pointing to which block she needed, allowing Jeannie to hand them to her. "Now we need an "H", love. That one right there. Yes, very good! Now, see what we have."

Audrey pointed to the four blocks they had lined up in a row. "D, A, S, H. Do you know what that says?"

At Jeannie's shake of the head, Audrey whispered, "It's one of our friends," and she pointed towards the dogs lying peacefully together, keeping their keen eyes on the goings-on of their people. 

"Jess?" Jeannie whispered her answer as well.

"Try again, poppet. If it's not Jess, then it must be..."

"Dash!" 

"Very good, Jeannie! It does spell Dash!"

From his place on the floor, Keith clapped for his sister, truck and horse still in hand, then flopped forward onto his elbows and forearms, looking up at Audrey and Jeannie and laughing at his own antics.

Audrey cherished the time with the children, doing nothing more pressing than playing games and singing little songs, but inevitably nap time came along, and right on schedule, Jeannie began to cuddle more than play, and Keith began to rub at his eyes.

"Come along, you two. We'll play again later."

Upstairs Audrey had to once more convince Jeannie that Helen and Jimmy truly were not home, as Jeannie bypassed both Audrey's room and the water closet to stand at the bedsit door, knocking away, but receiving no answer.

Realising Jeannie's continued belief that the Herriots were upstairs could put naptime off to a late start, Audrey briefly brought her to the top of the bedsit staircase so she could see for herself that the space was empty. "Tomorrow, love. They'll come home tomorrow, I promise."

***********************************

With the children drifting off to sleep, Audrey worked to finish as many of her usual daily chores as possible while on her own. As she cleaned, she contemplated the silent house. By habit, she had closed the sitting room doors as she began her work, though the surgery was far less boisterous than usual, with patients and their owners coming and going one at a time, all with a calmness she would have welcomed any other day. But with Helen and Jimmy away and the children asleep, Audrey found the silence made her feel unsettled. It was far too easy to think ahead, imagining the children home again, Richard back in London, and a day when the Herriots no longer lived here. Her mind brought forth the memory of Siegfried's remark when Helen had announced her plan to move back to Heston in the latter months of the previous summer. "And then there were two, eh, Mrs. Hall?"

There had been just the two of them off and on for many years, yet it never seemed so still then. Siegfried had been more tumultuous in her earlier time at Skeldale. The years had mellowed him in that regard. Oh, he could still be eccentric, sometimes bombastic, and occasionally temperamental, but the passage of time had healed some of his grief, the steady presence of James by his side had quelled some of his more mercurial leanings, and Jimmy's birth had turned him into what he would quietly admit to considering "soft", being sure to swear her to silence about such a remark.

And now the arrival of Jeannie and Keith had brought out his playful side, his silliness, but also his gentleness and his guiding nature, attributes he often expressed more towards animals than people. And so as she dusted and polished, a part of her looked forward to hoovering just to add some background noise to cover up the worrisome introspection that had tears threatening yet again, as Jeannie and Keith's looming departure and the possibility of a future empty house filled her thoughts. 

As she moved over to the console table, swiping at her eyes with annoyance at her heightened emotions the past few weeks--months, if she were honest--the lads being away and the debacle with Gerald joining the rest of her contemplations--she came across a small pile of post. Baffled by its placement, she plucked it up, checking the postmark on the first few and surmising that they must have arrived that day, though she never heard the post arrive, nor had anyone mentioned it.

She reached the bottom letter, and as her heart sped up, she lost the fight against the tears. Running her finger over the H.M. Ships postmark, then the dated initials on the censor stamp, she moved to the closest chair and sank into the cushion, picking at the edge of the gummed flap, too impatient to wait to read it at her desk or to utilise a letter knife to open it neatly.

"Dear Ma", it began, and the tears spilt over her cheeks at the relative novelty of reading loving words penned by her boy mixed with the illogical temporary freedom from worry his letters always brought her, as if their existence on the paper in her hand guaranteed his continued safety at that very moment.

***********************************

Jeannie woke up earlier than usual and walked out into the hall to call out for Mrs. Hall, as was her habit. However, on this day, she received no response. She dawdled at the top of the staircase a moment or two, calling out a few more times before sitting down heavily and waiting, a worried frown on her face. After a moment which felt far longer to a small child, she decided she would have to find someone on her own, and rather than standing, opted to slide down the staircase on her bottom, a decision that started off fine, then grew somewhat frightening as she picked up speed, but which ultimately felt quite exhilarating when she arrived at the bottom step in one piece and without having garnered any scolding faces or stern words in response to her adventure. She almost climbed back up the stairs to have another go when she recalled the reason for her trip to the ground floor in the first place and began searching for Mrs. Hall.

Turning left, she passed the second examination room, which sounded quiet to her, through its closed door. She walked down the back hallway to the dispensary door, which was also closed, as per Siegfried's new precautionary rule, and Jeannie knew she wasn't to go in there. She didn't hear anyone in the small space, anyway, so she continued on, hoping to locate Mrs. Hall in the kitchen.

When she found the kitchen empty, save for the dozing Jess and Dash, Jeannie started to become upset. Skeldale House was a large, winding space for a small child to navigate on their own, especially when they were uneasy over their routine being broken and feeling a bit peckish as well. And all the more so when they had already had people in their short lives go missing, with no understanding of where those people had gone or why. Her chin wobbled a bit, and she would have likely begun to cry in earnest right then had it not been for Jess, who sensed her upset and had forfeited her warm quiet place next to Dash to pad over to Jeannie to offer comfort, nuzzling against the child's side until Jeannie wrapped an arm across the dog's back and gave her a half-hearted hug that did become rather soothing after a moment or two.

Fortified by the attention from her four-legged companion, Jeannie gave Jess a pat and left the kitchen to resume her search. She made her way back to the staircase, where she paused before turning towards the front of the house. The waiting room, as had often been the case that day, was empty, but Jeannie could hear Mr. Farnon in the front examination room, speaking to someone, along with the bark of a dog. She was considering knocking on the exam room door, like Mrs. Hall had taught her, but was distracted by noticing that the doors across the space, leading to the sitting room, were closed. Jeannie could only recall those doors being closed when Helen or Mrs. Hall or even Mr. Carmody were in the room. Jeannie rushed over, knocking on the door, but her soft taps on the door went unheard by the room's sole occupant, and her small shoulders slumped in despondent defeat.

She left the parlour doors and hesitantly made her way back down the hall. She didn't want to knock on Mr. Farnon's door. She wanted Mrs. Hall. Mr. Farnon had a strange person and strange dog with him, and Jeannie didn't wish to see anyone new right then, as she became increasingly unhappy with her current situation. And even at only three, she was old enough to know that if she asked Mr. Farnon for milk and bread with jam right now, he would tell her she had to wait. She just needed to find Mrs. Hall.

She remembered there was another way to get into the front room and carried on with her roaming, reaching the spot where both the office and dining room doors were in front of her. Peeking into the office, she saw no one but Vonolel playing in his cage. Normally she found Vonolel to be rather interesting, but right now the little rodent held no comfort for her, no matter how sweet and soft he might be, and she continued through the open red curtains into the dining room, heartened to see the doors between the dining and sitting rooms were still open. But her relief was short-lived when she finally spotted Mrs. Hall sitting in a chair, her face in her hands, and her shoulders gently quaking.

Jeannie had been on the cusp of crying throughout her search of the house, and now, seeing the one person she expected to help her to feel better crying themselves made her feel afraid. She crept from the dining room, her own tears finally making their appearance, and hurried back through the twists and turns of rooms and halls until she once again was facing the closed examination room door where she could just make out Mr. Farnon's shadow through the strip of obscured glass she was just tall enough to reach. There were no longer any voices or noises in the room, and the relief of Mr. Farnon being available to assist her brought more emotion forth from the small girl, and she sobbed as she began her tiny assault on the first examination room door.

Opening the door to the strange sound in the hall, Siegfried was shocked to find Jeannie sitting on the floor outside surgery, bawling. He quickly knelt and opened his arms to the child, rubbing her back.

"Jeannie! What's wrong? Where's Audrey?" The name tumbled forth, despite it being the incorrect version to use with Jeannie.

"Mrs. Hall," he corrected. "Where's Mrs. Hall?" 

Between her cries, Jeannie pitifully passed along her discovery, pointing behind the two of them to the drawing room doors. "Miss All's cwying!" 

Immediately concerned, Siegfried stood, carrying Jeannie against him as he took the few long strides necessary to cross the waiting room and open the double doors obscuring Audrey from his sight.

Chapter Text

Audrey startled as she heard the door being pushed open with intent by the worried pair, and as she wiped her face, not wishing to be caught weeping, she noticed Jeannie's obvious upset. She stood quickly, moving to Siegfried's side to check on her.

"Oh, love!" She placed a hand on Jeannie's cheek and looked to Siegfried for an explanation.

"I believe she came looking..."

"You's cwying!" Jeannie interrupted, turning to look worriedly at Audrey while still clinging to Siegfried.

"I'm all right, Jeannie. I'm so sorry I made you cry."

Audrey put out her arms, offering to take the girl. "You woke up very early today, didn't you?"

Mollified, Jeannie accepted the transfer between her caretakers, patting Audrey's cheek and verbally requesting the milk and bread she felt she had been waiting an awfully long time to receive. "Eat now, Miss All?"

"Of course you can." Audrey smoothed a hand over Jeannie's sleep-mussed hair and gave her a soft squeeze. As she made to leave the room, Siegfried placed a hand on her arm to pause her progress.

"Are you all right? I can take her with me if you need more time."

She smiled gratefully but refused gracefully. "You've got surgery. Besides, there were nowt wrong." She adjusted her hold on Jeannie and reached for the plain but precious envelope sitting on the side table, holding it up briefly before sliding it into her pinny pocket. "A letter came from my Edward. I think he may have been close to home. I were just happy. And so relieved."

Siegfried's returning smile was tender, with a good deal of his own relief. For as much as he worried for his brother and longed for any piece of correspondence from the lad, he also felt a surge of gratitude each time Helen or Audrey received a letter from James and Edward as well. "Surgery's quiet right now. I can assist if you'd like."

Audrey was pensive for a moment, then nodded as she made up her mind. "Might be best to wake Keith now, too, then. Let them eat together and both be ready for sleep at the same time this evening."

"Will do. We gentlemen shall join you lovely ladies in short order."

Audrey chuckled as the group dispersed. The day might be an odd one, too quiet, with a dose of tears along with the knowledge that change was on the horizon, but through it all, Siegfried was there, running errands, checking on her wellbeing, offering to help, making her smile. In moments like this one, she asked herself how she had ever ignored her feelings for this man for so long.

***********************************

With Keith's shoe returned to them, Audrey took the children out to the garden to play awhile, bundled up as always against the cold winter air.

Jeannie and Keith ran excitedly about the walled space, upending every pot, pail, and crate, then stacking them, sitting upon them, and occasionally attempting to jump over them; the latter activity being wildly unsuccessful much of the time given the rather low level of precise jumping skill they each possessed.

Audrey, for the most part, allowed them to play on their own: to explore and investigate, to teach themselves the basic concepts of trial and error and cause and effect. She stood with her back to the house simply watching them play--both to ensure their safety and to satisfy her own curiosity as to what they might think of next.

When her Edward had been this young, he had no equally convenient playmate as a sibling can be, and so if he found something interesting, he stuck with it until he grew tired of it. But with two children, the play was often sporadic and unpredictable, as one discovered something new and immediately pulled the other away from their previous activity to show them their newest revelation. She smiled to herself remembering how that was poor Mr. Carmody's biggest complaint against the two when they first arrived. He didn't know what to expect from them from one moment to the next. He was better with them now, though, she mused. Siegfried had been correct in thinking that it would be good for the student to widen his study of people, even if he were unlikely to deal with children with any regularity.

A quarter hour had passed when Audrey became aware of whining from the corridor behind her. She opened the door to find Dash standing on his hind legs, front paws up on her plant ledge, trying in vain to see out the pebbled glass window panes.

"Dash! You daft beggar." She opened the door to let the energetic dog out into the garden, where he made a beeline to the already spirited children, who cheered at the sight of him.

Jeannie and Keith delighted in chasing Dash around the garden, running in circles, and over and around the obstacle course they had inadvertently created earlier, until Dash finally turned the tables on the duo and chased them for a spell, their giggles and his playful woofs filling the air and bringing with them a dose of frivolity the day sorely needed.

It was Audrey who first felt the need to escape the low temperature and occasional winds that swept through the garden. Having been mostly stationary as she kept an eye on children, she lacked the benefit that physical exertion offers a person when out of doors on a cold winter afternoon.

Her desire to return to the warmth calling to her from the scullery coincided with Keith trying to sit atop Dash, giving her a ready excuse to bring to a close this segment of playtime. "Keith, love! Dash isn't a horse!"

She rushed over to help Keith dismount from the unfazed dog. "All right, you three. It's time for us to go inside. You can brush Dash, and I need to see about tea." She took each child by a hand and gave a little whistle as they started for the house. "Come along, Dash!"

***********************************

Audrey sat down to tea, thinking that after such a strangely hushed day, she would even welcome mealtime discussion of cows if it meant having things feel a bit more like usual in the house.

But surprisingly, the bovine conversation was a short one. Richard and Siegfried discussed the lab results, noting that they did indeed show no sign of bacterial infections, and they made plans to inform the affected farms the next day.

However, Richard did take the opportunity the quiet table afforded to speak at length about a call he had attended for a donkey with a respiratory problem, lamenting over yet another issue that resulted in the taking of all manner of samples not fit for description at most supper tables.

"And so we must await results again!" His frustration was palpable as he sighed and stabbed another chunk of potato.

"Much of veterinary work involves waiting, I'm afraid," Siegfried agreed ruefully. He caught Audrey's attention and gave her a wry smile, pleased to share the silent joke at his own expense in regard to his dubious ability to wait patiently for things in life.

When Richard's ramblings turned from the donkey's noisy breathing and general agitation to vivid descriptions of its nasal discharge, Siegfried noted Audrey's resigned grimace and interrupted Richard's recollections to share that Audrey had received a letter and to enquire about Edward's well-being.

Delighted with the new conversational topic, Audrey cheerfully shared a synopsis of her son's short correspondence. "He says he's been very busy. He's been learning and doing new things. Couldn't tell me what, of course. But he said he were sorry for not writing sooner. Not that he needed to. I'm just happy I've heard from him now."

She paused in her retelling to reach to her left, pulling the plate of remaining food from Keith, who had begun to drag his fork through it as if he was creating some sort of artistic endeavour. "That's enough of that," she gently chided before returning to what she had been saying.

"The days are tiring, and he don't always have owt new to report. But he sounds pleased with whatever work they have him doing. Even if it's just temporary."

"And what was it you said earlier?" Siegfried queried. "About him possibly being closer to home soil?"

She grinned broadly. "According to the dates, it arrived much sooner than his most recent letters before this. I'm glad to think that maybe he were closer to home for a while. Maybe he still is."

Siegfried slid his hand across the corner of the table and covered hers briefly, offering her an encouraging smile. It had done her a world of good to finally receive the letter, especially now. And it did him a world of good to see her so happy to have received it.

***********************************

By the end of supper the cold, crisp air and extra exercise had caught up with the children, and Audrey had suggested the men care for the boarded animals on their own that night, as Keith's head had began to droop right there at the dining table. The little ones headed off to bed at an earlier hour, and Audrey and Siegfried had gratefully found their nightly time together therefore arrived earlier as well.

"It's been so quiet here without Helen and the baby." Audrey leaned against Siegfried on the sofa, weary from a day that to a casual observer would have seemed simpler than most, yet the change from routine had rattled Audrey in a way that was distinctly unusual for her. 

"Not once Carmody started in on that blasted donkey," Siegfried commented, his lips close against her hair as he spoke.

"We'll miss him and his donkey talk when he returns to London."

Siegfried slipped his left arm between Audrey and the back of the settee to give her an approximation of a hug. "Has he mentioned anything specific about those particular plans to you?"

"Not a word."

Siegfried sighed. He wasn't looking forward to losing Carmody, but now wasn't the time for him to dwell on that.

"We made it through an entire day with no calls from Lamley or Yates today. There's one small success." Siegfried paused and looked intently at Audrey. "You didn't take any calls from either of them today, did you?"

"Even the telephone were quiet today," she confirmed.

"Siegfried," she began, hesitant to bring up a difficult topic. "We'll need to tell Helen and Richard."

"Yes. I've been considering that throughout the day. I believe it prudent to tell them both tomorrow. I am not as certain as to whether it's best to tell them separately or together. I rather hoped you would have some advice on that point."

"I'll tell Helen. She's likely to take it harder than Richard. He's likely to have more questions. Might be best if you give him the news."

"I knew you'd have wise words for me." This time he placed a kiss upon her crown, followed by two more until she looked up at him with a soft smile and offered her lips instead, an opportunity Siegfried was not about to refuse.

The two sat together, holding hands, each lost in thoughts of their own, contemplating the discussions they'd each agreed to embark upon the following day.

Audrey remembered an earlier discussion from a previous night when they had briefly considered eventually telling the children that their father was missing them and wanted to see them, despite not specifically knowing either point to be true. Now their assumptions had been proven correct, and furthermore now they knew that their mother was waiting to see them as well.

"What about Jeannie and Keith? What do we tell them?"

Siegfried searched for an answer. "That raises the question of what they might actually be able to comprehend." He scrubbed at his beard with his free hand. "And I'm not sure I know the answer to that."

"Jeannie didn't understand "tomorrow" when I said it to her after lunch. She were looking for Helen and the baby. I told her they'd be home tomorrow, but an hour later she were looking for them again."

"We don't know the exact plans for their return to their mother yet. Perhaps tomorrow we should stick to informing Richard and Helen, and if we hear from anyone with further instructions, then we can decide how to explain the situation to Jeannie and Keith."

Audrey nodded, and Siegfried gave her a gentle squeeze, unsure if her silent answer was because no words were required or due to another struggle against tears.

Chapter Text

Friday 28 February, 1941:

"Eggs, Miss All?" Jeannie pointed to Keith, who was spooning up porridge from his small bowl, only to immediately tilt the spoon, allowing the cereal to drop back into the vessel with a satisfying plopping noise.

"Not today, love. Keith will need to eat what we have."

Jeannie sighed, as if she were thirty rather than three, turned to her brother, and shook her head somberly at him. With an expression that well-mimicked those which Audrey often wore when feeling exasperated with Siegfried, the small girl corrected the younger boy. "No, Kee. Eat!"

Audrey smiled across the table to Siegfried at this new development. Jeannie had been leading the way for the children right along and occasionally expressed unhappiness with her brother's actions via reactions of her own—a frustrated shriek or by moving herself bodily away from his grasping hands or kicking feet. But this was the first time they heard her verbally telling the boy what to do--and what not to do.

"It's three weeks today," Audrey mentioned in passing, thinking about how different the children were now than on that fateful morning at the train station.

"You'll have to be sure to point that out to Helen and Jimmy when they return. After all, it's an anniversary of sorts for all of us." Siegfried turned to Keith and made a show of enjoying his own breakfast, trying to encourage the boy to actually consume some of his own.

"Surely it's not a celebratory event? Richard questioned. "Don't anniversaries need to be much longer periods of time in order to be deserving of recognition?"

"It's an acknowledgement, or a reminder, Carmody, of everything we've achieved here these past three weeks."

"Me twee!" Jeannie reminded them all with a grin between bites of toast.

"Yes, you are, love. And you are very good at eating your breakfast."

Jeannie turned back to Keith. "Eat, Kee!" she directed once more, this time somewhat pleadingly, apparently wishing her brother to earn similar accolades from Mrs. Hall.

Keith looked at his sister, held his loaded spoon aloft as if considering actually eating it, then poured it out at the last minute with a self-pleased grin.

**********************************

The list of calls for the day was not as onerous as the previous day's had been, and Richard and Siegfried had worked out their schedule in the hopes that the call quantity would go mostly unchanged throughout the day. Richard would go out on the calls, most of them quite straightforward thus far, while Siegfried opened surgery.

Audrey's meeting in regards to upcoming civil defence opportunities was to be held after lunch, and Siegfried hoped that either Richard might have time to return to Skeldale for that period of time or that the surgery workload might be light enough for him to simply close it for an hour.

Plus, Audrey pointed out that the timing might overlap with when the children would be sleeping, making things easier yet. She reminded Siegfried that Helen had not yet decided whether or not to attend, thinking it might be more prudent for her to stay home with the children, as she had no plans to volunteer for anything at the meeting herself, attending mostly out of curiosity and to keep Audrey company. Siegfried insisted Helen should go, though he sheepishly added that if she were able to take Jimmy along, he wouldn't complain. The idea of nappy changes while trying to keep Jeannie and Keith in one piece sounded daunting to take on by himself, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it.

When Richard excused himself to prepare for the day, Siegfried invented a need to follow the young man, babbling on about "checking that all is as it should be" and "no harm in offering additional wisdom while Mr. Carmody is still with us", earning an eye-roll from Audrey.

She turned to Jeannie. "What do you think Mr. Farnon is up to now?" To Jeannie's shrug, Audrey smiled. "Poor Mr. Carmody."

"Po-uh Misseh Cah-mady," Jeannie agreed.

**********************************

In the main examination room, "poor Mr. Carmody" was indeed confused by his mentor's actions. After all, he had plenty of practice packing a veterinary bag by now. He had a successful afternoon's work with the bag he packed just yesterday.

He was even more baffled when the older man pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, pausing a moment before saying anything at all.

"Mr. Carmody, I have nothing of a veterinary nature to tell you. I do, however, have something of a household matter to share."

Carmody stood behind the examination table, silently waiting for further discourse, aware that whatever it was that Mr. Farnon was about to impart upon him, it must be something grave, for the vet was hunched forward, elbows on knees, gazing at the floor as if it might offer the words the man needed to speak.

He eventually looked up again and, with a sorrowful expression, spilt the news of Jeannie and Keith's aunt requesting their return to her home in what was now six days' time.

"I am aware that the children's stay has not been an enjoyable time for you, Richard, but I ask you to please keep your relief at their departure to yourself, because..." 

Siegfried broke off for a moment, and Richard noted that he was now methodically rubbing the thumb of one hand over each individual digit of the other. When he reached the last finger on one hand, he switched. When Richard was sure that it was up to him to find something to add to the conversation, Siegfried finally finished his thought.

"Because their leaving is going to be extremely distressful to Audrey." He paused again, taking a deep breath and looking at Richard with an expression the student couldn't recall ever seeing on the vet's face before.

"And I don't wish for any of us to do or say anything to make it any more difficult for her than it has to be."

"I've never heard you call her that before," Richard noted, stating the thing that most stood out to him from Mr. Farnon's subdued and staccatoed speech.

Siegfried looked blankly at Carmody. "Call...what?"

"You called Mrs. Hall by her given name. Audrey." The syllables felt odd even in Richard's mouth as he voiced them for the first time.

"Did I?" Siegfried hedged, then resigned to having been caught, capitulated. "Yes, well, that was in error. I apologise."

"I see no reason for you to apologise. It is her name."

"Yes, but it's one I would normally only utilise in private conversations."

"This is your home. Wouldn't one's home be considered private?"

"I meant private as in when only she and I are in a room together. We wouldn't wish to make anyone feel uncomfortable."

"I don't understand why calling someone by their name would make others uncomfortable. Certainly it should only be of interest to the two of you."

"Technically speaking, I am Mrs. Hall's employer, and therefore society can deem such familiarity as inappropriate, something that is of concern to Mrs. Hall."

"But Mrs. Hall refers to everyone here as family."

Siegfried smiled softly. "Very true. And all the more reason to be sure that we are careful with her feelings." 

"About the children or her name?" Richard felt that their conversation was making less and less sense, whereas Siegfried, who after yesterday felt he was better understanding Audrey's worries about their relationship and how others would view it, suddenly felt that perhaps the world needed more people like Richard Carmody instead of the Darrowby gossips.

"Both, Carmody. Both."

**********************************

Helen and Jimmy returned to Skeldale via the scullery door, Helen hoping to avoid being stopped by any waiting clients who might want to fuss over the baby. "Hello!" she called out, struggling with the door while juggling Jimmy and their belongings.

"Oh, love! Let me help." Audrey pushed away from the table where she had been serving the children an early lunch and relieved Helen of the two bags she was carrying, setting them down on the closest chair.

Helen passed Jimmy to Audrey next and removed her outer layers, as Audrey did the same for Jimmy, cooing at the boy as she worked ties and tiny buttons. "Hello, you two. Eating early today, I see."

Jeannie looked up from her plate and smiled. "Ellen!" Then, realising Jimmy was with Audrey, she stood up her chair and clapped her hands. "Ji-mee!"

Helen looked impressed. "That's an improvement," she mentioned, hanging her coat on one of the hooks in the back vestibule.

"Aye, she's been making strides." Audrey placed Jimmy's things down on top of the bags and nestled the baby into her arms, swaying and murmuring to him. "We missed you and your mummy. Yes, we did."

Handing Jimmy back, Audrey moved towards the kettle. "How were your day away?"

"It were...nice."

Audrey was surprised to hear such a lukewarm response and looked towards Helen questioningly. "You don't sound half sure."

"It were tiring. I didn't realise how hard it would be to change location. Everything's different. The mealtimes, the people, the goings on. Plus our room were right there next to Dad's and Jenny's, so every time he woke up, I felt awful."

"I'm sorry. It'll be easier when he's a bit older."

"I'm not in a hurry to try staying again, I can tell you. If they want to see him, they can visit here. At least for another few months."

Audrey set out a cup for Helen. "That sounds perfectly reasonable."

Ready to move on to a different topic, Helen asked, "Who's here with us today? Besides these two," she smiled, nodding her head towards Jeannie and Keith, who, with Audrey's help,  had moved from the table to their little play spot under the hutch.

"Sieg--Mr. Fa--Siegfried." Audrey blushed, forgetting it was now perfectly acceptable to use his first name with Helen.

Helen had been thinking about Audrey and Siegfried while she had been at Heston. After the busy day they all had Wednesday and then being gone all day Thursday, she was looking forward to the chance to see the two together again, now that she knew that all of her earlier observations of the two had meant something was afoot after all.  She had also been waiting for a chance to tease Aud--just a little, mind you – and Audrey's stumbling over Siegfried's name was the perfect opportunity.

"So, tell me, were Richard an adequate chaperone while I were away?" Helen looked expectantly towards her friend, expecting a chuckle, eyeroll, or lightly embarrassed smile in response, but was surprised to receive a smile that looked forced and a bit tense.

"Is everything all right?" Helen asked, her mind spinning. The children looked happy and fine, so her mind went to Audrey and Siegfried, thinking her question was a poorly timed one. Had they argued? Or worse? "You and Siegfried haven't changed your minds?"

"No!" Audrey, put an arm out to touch Helen's hand as she rushed to reassure her. This time she did offer a small but sincere smile. "No, love. We're fine."

Audrey craned around in her seat to check that the children were engrossed in their play and lowered her voice considerably. "Sergeant Yates called."

"Yates? He's...the one from...Manchester?" 

Audrey nodded and peered over her shoulder again. "Hazel Buckley is alive."

Helen's eyes widened to saucer circumference. "What? How in the world?"

"She's been poorly. She were with her sister, and then she were in hospital. She had a baby boy just days after you had Jimmy. Then she were with her sister again, and then back to hospital. She should be leaving today or tomorrow. Her sister, Mavis, asked that we bring the children back to her house in Huddersfield this coming Wednesday."

Helen gasped. "So soon?" She felt like she had just taken a fall that had knocked the breath from her chest, and she sat gaping at Audrey, hoping she has misunderstood. Surely they'd need more time to be ready to send them back.

Audrey nodded, trying to keep her own emotions in check so as not to alarm Jeannie and Keith, especially after the previous afternoon when Jeannie had found her crying.

"Is she even able to care for them now?" Concern filled Helen's hushed words.

Over at the hutch, Jeannie had become aware of a change in the room. She stopped her play and cocked her head, anxious about the sudden lowered volume behind her. After checking that Audrey and Helen were still there, she turned back to her teddy, though with less enthusiasm. 

"She's at Mavis' house for now, and she'll be staying there until she's well enough to return to Manchester. Mavis has a daughter who will help her for a while."

Helen leaned forward, keeping her voice low. "So, why in the world did the children's home think she had died?"

Audrey narrowed her eyes. "Edna", she spat out quietly. "She lied to them. Told them that hoping it would make them more likely to take the children without any fuss."

"Did Edna talk to their parents about moving them?"

"No! Mavis said that Edna kept writing as if nowt had changed and that the children were still with her and were doing fine."

Jeannie was still quiet, not at all convinced that all was well with the women in the room. Then Mrs. Hall and Helen said a name she had heard before, though not since she'd been here. A name she had forgotten-- "Edna". It was the name of the new mummy. The other people at the new house didn't call her that very much, so she had forgotten it. The big girl there called her "Auntie", and the boys called her "Mummy". The new Daddy called her "Birdie", but Jeannie didn't know why. Birds were pretty and nice and sang songs. The new Mummy wasn't like that.

But now Helen and Mrs. Hall were talking about that new mummy. Jeannie didn't want them to talk about her. She scared Jeannie. Jeannie didn't want any more "Be quiet!"s and hurty slaps. She was crying before she could even lift herself from her spot on the floor, sitting upon the extra cushions Audrey had brought out to the kitchen to keep her and Keith off of the cold ground.

"Miss All!" She pulled at the woman's pinny, and Audrey turned to her in concerned surprise.

"Jeannie, love, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Jeannie didn't answer but clung to Audrey, whimpering. Audrey looked to Helen in confusion, but Helen could only shrug in response. 

******************************

"Helen is bringing Jimmy. Jeannie and Keith have eaten already, and I've left summat aside for you when you've the time. They're asleep now, and Helen and I might be back before they wake up." 

Audrey's tone was kindly practical as always, but her words shook slightly in their delivery as she passed along the current situation to Siegfried before she and Helen left for their meeting.

"I take it the morning hasn't been easy?" Siegfried asked gingerly.

"It's been more difficult than I expected. I thought, what with Helen and Jimmy coming back, and the news of the children leaving not so new..." She trailed off and shrugged. "It were more...painful than I thought it'd be having to tell Helen. I thought she'd miss them a bit, of course. But I thought she might be relieved to have things go back to how they were, too."

"With only the baby to care for," Siegfried supplied. "And having more of your time and attention available to her."

He placed his palm warmly over the hand with which she held the railing, recalling the day the children arrived, when the two of them stood in this same spot discussing the surprise addition of two small children to the house. He had stood across the hall from her that day, wanting so fervently to reach out in some way to assure or soothe but held back, afraid it wasn't his place. 

Now, three weeks later, with the end of the children's visit in sight, he stood close beside her for their conversation. Now, three weeks later, he held her hand to offer comfort. Now, three weeks later, he was no longer afraid for her to know of her place in his heart. And he felt as sure as the ground's existence beneath his feet that it was because the children came to stay with them that such a profound change had occurred in such a short time.

If Siegfried hadn't already loved Jeannie and Keith for themselves, he would have adored them solely based on the recognition that the way in which his relationship with Audrey had unfolded during the children's time at Skeldale was completely due to their presence in the house. The nighttime discussions that started off as a way to discuss the children, but which led to so much more. His choice to allow Carmody free rein sooner than he might have otherwise, which allowed him to help Audrey with the children more often, giving the two of them additional time with one another during the day. Seeing her emotions burst forth through the sturdy walls she kept around her in a way they never had before, making it impossible for him to withhold a caring touch or supportive word.

Audrey's response shifted his thoughts aside to ponder over at another time.

"But she were upset. And then Jeannie were upset and I weren't even sure why. Unless she could hear that we were...sad or worried. Though we were whispering, so..." Audrey trailed off as if she had been thinking out loud towards the end and simply switched to silent thoughts partway through the sentence.

Siegfried gave her hand a gentle pat. "We're all going to have adjustments to make." He took a breath and squared his shoulders back before adding in a louder, more deliberately carefree manner, "But right now, my dear, you better collect Mrs. Herriot and the babe if you don't want to show up late for the first official civil defence meeting."

She gifted him a small smile, appreciating his change in tone as his attempt to bolster her spirits before she had to leave. "Well, we can't have that. What sort of impression would we make?"

******************************

However, when Audrey met Helen on the first floor, where the young mother was carrying an armful of fresh linens. Helen gave a tired smile as she let Audrey know that she had changed her mind. "Jimmy's out of sorts, Aud. I think we'll stay here. I hope you don't mind." 

"Course not." 

"It'll be good to be home awhile. Say hello to others for me, will you?"

Audrey nodded silently, and Helen regarded her friend a moment. Hearing no sounds of protest from Jimmy upstairs, Helen lingered in the hall a moment longer, trying to determine Audrey's mood. "Jeannie and Keith lie down easily for you?"

"Yes. I were worried about Jeannie, but she seems fine now."

"That's good. And I'll be here to help Siegfried if they do wake up."

"Thanks, love."

"Are you all right?" Helen asked for the second time in the short while she'd been back, deciding to get straight to the point, rather than continue to make guesses as to the source of her friend's current quietness, which seemed more than simply avoiding waking the slumbering children nearby.

"I can't help but think that they're looking for their mother sometimes, waiting and waiting and wondering when she'll come back for them. If they were older, I could tell them exactly what were happening. But now..." Audrey shrugged. "It hurts me to think of them away from her and so confused as to why."

Helen shifted the linens to one arm, giving Audrey a friendly hug. "You'll be explaining the best that you can in a few days. And for now, at least, they're settled."

"Right." Audrey gave a quick dip of her head in agreement. "I best be going, then." And leaving Helen to return to the bedsit, Audrey returned to the ground floor to let Siegfried know of the last-minute change in plan and set off for the meeting on her own.

******************************

Audrey opened the front door slowly, taking note of the "Surgery Open" sign and making sure she wasn't inadvertently setting loose any local pet waiting to be seen. The meeting had been longer than necessary, though shorter than she expected. The gentleman presiding over the meeting, a Mr. Bosworth, had only a few new topics to cover but clearly enjoyed having the room's attention, drawing out his points far more than needed. She then had her own somewhat frustrating private discussion with the man, followed by a much more pleasant one with Mrs. Pumphrey, leading her to check her wristwatch as she returned home, unsure if the children would now be awake or not. She had been gone long enough for them to possibly be up and about, but she wasn't sure if at least Jeannie might sleep longer after her crying jag earlier. Her own heart ached at the thought, and she tried to clear her mind and put on a happy face as she entered the house.

Peering through the vestibule, she found the waiting area empty, save for a small coat deposited on one of the chairs. The exam room doors were closed, and she could make out the shadow of someone rather short inside, but with no indication that Siegfried was in the room as well. Her curiosity was immediately answered by a minor racket coming from the direction of the far hallway. Pocketbook still in hand, Audrey rushed down and around the staircase to find Siegfried standing in the doorway of the dispensary, a tin in one hand, as he rubbed his forehead with the other, muttering a string of words Audrey chose to ignore hearing. At his feet the tiled floor was littered with the splintered remains of a small wooden crate, some packing straw, and a circle of shattered glass glittering all around him, both in the dispensary and out into the hall.

"Stay where you are!" she commanded, disappearing briefly from whence she came, then reappearing shortly, her coat, hat, and pocketbook replaced with a two brooms and a dustpan.

Siegfried reached out for the full-sized broom, only to be rebuked. "No! Don't move! Else you'll carry that glass all over the house."

Duly chastised, Siegfried stood stock still. "I apologise, my dear. The box must have been right at the edge of the shelf, and I caught it with my elbow on the way out. They were all empty bottles, at least," he added with a sheepish grin.

"Small mercies," she mumbled as she swept all around him, depositing the collected shards into the nearby pedal bin. She held out a hand for him to wait a minute longer and swapped out the large broom for a small whisk broom to try to loosen any glass from the laces and broguing of his shoes. "There. That'll do for you. I'll fetch me mop to get whatever small bits might still be about on the floors."

He stopped to reach out for her arm as he passed by. "Thank you, my dear. I'm sorry I've welcomed you home with an immediate calamity."

"It's hardly the first time," she smirked. "It's no bother. Get on with you—I saw you've someone waiting in there."

"Henry Medford and his dog."

"Henry Medford? Shouldn't he be in school this time of day?"

"Apparently he brought the dog into school with him after lunch, and when instructed to bring it back home, he decided to take a rather scenic route. Along the way the dog had an altercation with a wire-wrapped fence post. And now he's here and likely in no hurry whatsoever to leave and face either his teacher or his parents."

He took the additional step necessary to press a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you for cleaning up my mess, once again."

"I'm used to it," she grinned.

"Henry can wait another minute or two. Tell me, how did the meeting go?"

"Oh Lord, the head warden'll be a tough nut to crack, but I've volunteered nonetheless. So he'll have to get used to me and me to him."

"My, my. This sounds like a conversation worthy of a sit down, don't you agree? After I send Henry off, of course."

Audrey weighed her options. The children were unlikely to stay asleep long enough for her to do any real work before they began clamouring for her attention. And the waiting room was currently empty.

"Only if you've time."

"I'll close down surgery if that's what it takes, my dear."

"All of Darrowby will be talking if you keep doing that."

"Not at all. I'll simply blame Jeannie and Keith." The words had no sooner left his mouth than he wished he could turn back time and take them back. It was certainly not the right time to be making jokes about the children, and the flash of sadness that crossed Audrey's face had him cursing himself internally.

"New plan," he announced suddenly. "We'll take this discussion to the kitchen, where you'll sit, and as soon as I've given Henry his ointment, I'll make us both tea."

"That's not..."

He waggled a playful finger her way. "My mind is firmly set, my darling. Off you go." And he extended his arm out in front of him to invite her to walk ahead.

"Oh, but the floor!"

Siegfried sighed. A month ago he would have said to shut the door, and they could fuss over any leftover bits of glass later. But with two small children in the house, he knew she was right in wanting to make sure there were no tiny pebbles of glass left to pierce a young tender foot. 

"Right. Of course. You make tea. I'll mop."

Audrey kissed his cheek. "You are a kind, thoughtful man. And one I would easily trust to make a pot of tea. But I think it best I do the mopping, thank you very much."

******************************

With a notice to "ring bell for veterinary services" placed on the front door, Audrey and Siegfried were enjoying their few minutes of peaceful sipping.

"What's this warden's name, then?" 

"Bosworth. And he's the head warden. And very proud of that fact. Reminds you every five minutes." She smirked over her cup. "He wanted volunteers for patrolling at night. Making sure people are following blackout procedures. But when I volunteered along with some of the other ladies, he complained he weren't getting more male volunteers."

Siegfried barked out a surprised laugh. "Does the fool forget where half our men are right now?"

"Aye. Only a quarter of the room or less were men at all. Mostly it were the Women's Institute members with an occasional husband who were dragged along."

Siegfried imagined the scene. "And were any of the men present under the age of seventy?" 

"Maybe a few," she smiled. "But most weren't looking to sign up, no matter how much Bosworth went on about the importance of the roll." She sipped her tea thoughtfully. "It's a good time for me to take on summat new. By next week's end I'll be at sixes and sevens trying to fill the hours of both day and night."

Siegfried swallowed his last sip of tea, along with the lump in his throat, pained more than he could possibly let on by the idea of her roaming the house at a loss without the children's daily routine keeping her overly occupied all day long. And when he thought of her filling her evenings out there in the dark, patrolling the Darrowby streets on her own, as he sat in the silent, still house with only the Herriots off in the bedsit and Carmody reading in is room, the lump reformed, larger and more painful than before.

Audrey looked up from her own tea abruptly. "Jeannie's calling." As she set down her cup and pushed away from the table, Siegfried strained to make out the little voice calling from upstairs, impressed at how easily Audrey had heard the girl.

He stood as well, wishing to be part of the post-nap reunion, only to hear the telephone's shrill ringing calling out over Jeannie. "May I go to her, please? It will be a surprise for her to see me arrive to answer her call." Siegfried's face was solemn and slightly pleading, and Audrey easily acquiesced to his request, agreeing to answer the phone while he collected the child.

"Darrowby 2297."

As Audrey made her initial greeting, she watched Siegfried sit briefly at the top step and Jeannie clamber onto his lap for a hug before the two set off to fetch Keith.

"Oh, hello, Constable."

Chapter Text

There had been no time to discuss Lamley's call in the moment. Audrey had ended the conversation and immediately joined Siegfried upstairs to offer assistance and alert him to a client now seated in the waiting area. Siegfried gave each child a fond pat on the head, telling them he had more animals to attend to and allowing Audrey to trade places with him.

A questioning look from Siegfried before he walked away was answered with a calm nod from Audrey. It was all the two could exchange in regard to the officer's call until an opportunity arose for a private discussion later.

For the rest of the afternoon surgery kept Siegfried busy while the house and family kept Audrey occupied. Siegfried, with no idea what had transpired during the conversation between Lamley and Audrey, spent the afternoon distracted as a result, appearing more eccentric than usual to the locals.

Meanwhile, Audrey, who had the advantage of taking the call and not being left to imagine what the constable had to say, was instead left with the disadvantage of endlessly running the information through her head with no way to share it with anyone. Her own consequent distraction caused Helen to take note, and so with the briefest of whispered words about the existence of said call, coupled with Audrey's assurance that all was well, Helen became the next person caught up in the ripple effect of having to wait to hear the specifics of whatever information Lamley rang to impart.

***********************************

Siegfried and the children were playing in the front room when Audrey called them all in for tea. As Siegfried helped Jeannie and Keith set aside their toys for later, the front bell rang out, and Siegfried left to answer, the children following behind him into the entry like little ducks. 

When Siegfried entered the dining room with both children a moment later, Audrey reached out for Keith, ready to settle him into his chair.

"Mr. Bosworth is here to see you." His expression and tone indicated that he had already formed an unfavourable impression of the head warden. "I'll see to these two,"  he added, far more tenderly.

A look of surprise overtook Audrey's features as she let go of Keith's arm, allowing Siegfried to scoop up the small boy as she sighed and set off toward the parlour. Jeannie made to follow her, and Siegfried immediately called the girl back, asking her to sit down at the table. Unlike her brother, Jeannie had a keen appreciation for anything Mrs. Hall offered her to eat, and she scrambled up onto the chair that had temporarily been designated as hers.

"Jeannie was not a fan of his uniform," Siegfried muttered out of the side of his mouth as Audrey made to leave the room once again. 

"I can't imagine why on earth he's even here." She mumbles before she hurried to the hall, already annoyed with the man for interrupting her family at mealtime, then more so in learning that he had worried Jeannie when the poor girl had already been having a difficult few days. Logically she knew the man hadn't intended to frighten the child, but that didn't make her any less cross about it.

Audrey entered the main hall with purpose, her words lacking their usual warmth as she greeted the man she had disagreed with only a few hours earlier. "Mr. Bosworth. I weren't expecting to see you again today."

Bosworth's mouth twisted as if he had tasted something bitter. "I informed all of the volunteers that I would be scheduling training sessions at today's meeting, Mrs. Hall. Perhaps you were not listen..."

"I heard you say that, Mr. Bosworth. Quite clearly. I did not, however, hear anything about those visits being conducted this very day."

Bosworth straightened himself, tugging on his hem and cuffs for no apparent reason, and Audrey stifled the urge to roll her eyes. "There is a war on, Mrs. Hall. We have no time to waste. If you are not able to see me, I can strike your name..."

"I am perfectly able to see you, Mr. Bosworth, but a bit of forewarning would have been nice."

"Neither disobedient resident nor passing bomber will forewarn us of their actions, will they, Mrs. Hall?" Bosworth's sanctimonious tone echoed in the entry.

"If they did", Audrey bit out, "then you wouldn't be looking for additional volunteers. You do still require more volunteers, don't you, Mr. Bosworth?"

Bosworth looked as if having to agree with her was physically painful. "Yes, indeed I do."

"Then I suggest we get on with the business of scheduling my training so I can get back to the business of me life."

Bosworth took on a triumphant grin. "Yes, about that—I couldn't help but notice the man who opened the door..."

Audrey interrupted him for a third time. "Mr. Farnon. He owns the house and the veterinary surgery. I keep house here." A slight tightness bloomed in her chest as she introduced herself as his housekeeper for the first time since things between them had changed, or at least been acknowledged. And it did her opinion of Mr. Bosworth no favours that he was the reason she was forced to describe herself as such in that moment.

Bosworth straightened himself once more, standing fractionally taller, irritated by being repeatedly interrupted by this woman who insisted on volunteering. He had been able to convince a few of the ladies who had followed her lead to repeal their apparent wishes to act as air raid wardens. But this Mrs. Hall was giving him a run for his money, which he did not appreciate.

"Yes, and I couldn't help but notice that when Mr. Far-non"—he split the name in the middle with an exaggerated enunciation and air that rankled Audrey—"answered the door, there were two rather small children with him."

"Aye?" Audrey had no idea what difference that could possibly make to the man's training schedule.

"I cannot possibly have volunteers who are hampered by the raising of young offspring, Mrs. Hall. It is a situation that is bound to lead to last-minute schedule changes, and we simply cannot have that."

Audrey pushed back against her instinct to rail at the man, instead taking a small breath and delivering her words in an almost syrupy-sweet tone. "Perhaps you weren't listening, Mr. Bosworth," she said, smiling as she parroted his earlier words back to him, "but I am a housekeeper, not a nanny. My evening hours are my own, and I may volunteer away as many of them as I might wish, without any fear of scheduling problems."

There was no reason in her mind to divulge the true nature of the children's presence in the house to Bosworth, and so if he left with the wrong impression about Jeannie and Keith, she scarcely cared. If the man paid any attention to the chatter among the nosier village residents he'd have heard all about "the bedraggled, abandoned children the housekeeper at Skeldale House had drug home with her without anyone's permission" or the hushed questions about "the strange police constable who turned up in town two days running, most assuredly due to said children".

In a few days they'd be gone, as would the gossip she had fretted over the past few weeks. She suddenly wondered why in the world she had ever cared at all. The gossip over the children hadn't changed a jot about the day-to-day care for them nor her love for them, and now as they were leaving, she finally realised Siegfried's "so bloody what?" was exactly the right response to those who pried their noses in where they didn't belong. And Bosworth's nose had no business in the private lives of anyone at Skeldale.

"I do hope that to be the case, for I cannot have my wardens seeking last moment substitutions due to difficulties with child minding."

"There will be no such difficulties, Mr. Bosworth, I assure you. So can we please schedule me training now?" 

***********************************

"And then the blooming man scheduled me training more than a fortnight from now. What were the point of banging down our door within hours of the meeting if he didn't wish to offer me the training till halfway through next month?" 

Helen raised her eyebrows. "I'm sorry I missed the opportunity to have witnessed that conversation."

"As am I," Siegfried grinned, the mischievous waggling of his eyebrows causing Helen to hide a muffled laugh behind her hand. 

"As if you weren't all listening to every word," Audrey scoffed fondly.

Audrey had returned to the dining room, where both the meal and her family sat waiting for her. Jeannie and Keith were in their chairs, both busy attempting to untie a series of loose knots that had been tied into their napkins as Richard, Helen, and Siegfried sat pretending they hadn't been listening to the entire conversation. 

"Whose idea were that, by the way?" She gestured towards the knotted napkins that had been abandoned on the table once the food was finally served, even Keith more willing to eat nicely after being made to sit and look at the serving dishes for what felt like half an eternity to such a young boy.

Siegfried's eyes twinkled. "We needed a quieter activity."

Richard piped up with the specifics. "They had been banging their silverware together again before that. Mr. Farnon's suggested activity was a vast improvement."

"And it let you hear what were being said in the hall too, I imagine," Audrey pointed out shrewdly. "

"Well, I'd say it helped us to hear you more clearly. " Neither of you were particularly soft-spoken in your interaction," Siegfried smirked.

"You try talking to the man and see how you fare."

"Point taken, my dear. Point taken." 

Neither Richard nor Audrey seemed to even notice Siegfried's added term of endearment, but Helen heard it and smiled to herself. The Bosworth discussion had been the first light moment Helen had seen between Audrey and Siegfried since returning home to Skeldale, and she couldn't help but wonder how preoccupied she must have been these last weeks to have ever believed Audrey when she had repeatedly denied anything happening between them. As she watched them from the far end of the table, she hoped that their blossoming relationship would be a comfort to them both in the difficult coming days.

***********************************

As their evening hours together as a family unit wound down, Richard and Helen were attempting a game of draughts as they waited in the parlour for Siegfried and Audrey to rejoin them. Audrey had promised to return shortly, having left to bring empty cups and saucers back to the scullery, while Siegfried had excused himself to answer the telephone. Keith was busy running his toy truck over a road of blocks, and Jeannie was captivated by the fact that young Jimmy was in a particularly cheerful mood, offering up wide, open-mouthed smiles, making happy shrieks, and showing off his tiny pink tongue to all, which made Jeannie laugh in delight.

After removing two of Richard's pieces from the board, Helen spoke to Jimmy in a sing-song voice. "Smile for Jeannie, Jimmy." She held the boy up at a slight angle on her lap to face Jeannie, kneeling beside her, making exaggerated happy faces of her own at the baby. 

"Oh, that were a good one! Now smile for Mummy. Can you smile for Mummy, Jimmy?" She turned the baby towards herself and gave him a beaming grin, which he returned with a pleased cry of excitement. "Yes, you love your mummy, don't you?"

Helen turned little Jimmy back towards Jeannie to repeat the game, but instead of taking her turn to smile at the baby, Jeannie looked to Helen with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Ellen? Ji-mee Mummy?"

Helen shifted Jimmy to open her arm for Jeannie to cuddle against her side. "Yes, I'm Jimmy's mummy." 

Jeannie gazed down at Jimmy, touched his face gently, then returned her attention to Helen. "Ellen bay-bee?"

"Yes, Jimmy is my baby. And I'm his mummy. She repeated the information carefully, casting a worried glance at Richard over the game board.

Jeannie's face fell, and she stepped back from Helen's one-armed embrace, standing forlornly between the two adults, her eyes on Jimmy nestled safely against his mother's chest. "Jee mummy gone." Her eyes filled, and she sat down heavily on the floor, turning her face into the small quilt she had puddled alongside her on the floor as she cried.

"Oh, Jeannie, come here." Helen attempted to gently lift her one-handed when Keith, watching from his block road, stopped what he was doing and joined his sister in crying.

Richard removed his hand from where he was about to make the next game move and stood quickly. "I'll get Mrs. Hall."

***********************************

Helen was attempting to hold onto both children and Jimmy, all three of whom were currently upset, when Audrey rushed in, Richard tailing her at a more sedate pace.

"I'm so sorry, Aud. We've mentioned me being Jimmy's mother before, but tonight it suddenly upset her. Then Keith joined in as well. Though I'm not sure he has any idea why she's crying."

Siegfried, off the phone with an aggravating farmer, came back into the front room blustering about "...maniacs who do nothing they're instructed to do, yet expect miraculous recoveries!" The rest of his complaints fell away as he took in the scene in front of him—Helen standing and rocking Jimmy in one corner as Audrey sat huddled on the floor trying to soothe Jeannie and Keith at once. Resting a gentle hand on Audrey's shoulder, he quickly stowed away his annoyance and, in a hushed voice, asked how he could help.

Recalling Helen's comment about Keith crying simply because Jeannie did and not due to anything else, she gestured to the boy, silently communicating that she'd appreciate if Siegfried could take him. With a nod, Siegfried knelt beside the morose group and gingerly unpeeled Keith from Audrey's side, prompting an immediate but temporary increase in the child's wailing, which began to wane rapidly once Siegfried's words made their way through to the little lad. "We'll go say "hello" to Vonolel, shall we? He would like that very much. We must dry your face first, though, don't you think? Yes, we should." 

By the time Siegfried had wiped the boy's face with a clean handkerchief and settled them both at his desk in the study, Keith's cries had ceased, giving way to only the occasional sniffle. "It is sad when someone we love is sad, isn't it? Yes, I agree. I feel quite sad myself. But Vonolel always helps me to feel better." 

In the parlour, Richard sat in the armchair closest to the abandoned draughts game, feeling helpless as he worried over the state of the household. He hadn't had the chance to share his feelings earlier that day when Siegfried announced the children would be leaving, but he found that in thinking on the matter over the course of the day, he determined that he too would miss them, despite the absolutely alarming talent they possessed for throwing the house into chaos at any given time. As he watched a perfect example of the sort of bedlam of which could so easily create play out in front of him, he mused that he had begun to expect them to stay indefinitely, thinking that it would be he who would leave Skeldale first, saying goodbye to the version of Skeldale that included them. Now he would have to adjust once again to the childless Skeldale – albeit one with an infant, a version he had only spent one month acclimating to before Jeannie and Keith arrived. He found the discovery of these feelings were at odds with what he thought about himself previously, and he added a baffled malaise to his feeling of incompetency as he watched Helen and Mrs. Hall struggle with Jimmy and Jeannie.

Helen had walked out into the hallway and was pacing the tiled floor with Jimmy, cooing quietly, trying to distract him from Jeannie's crying while still being able to keep watch for any indication that Audrey required her help. 

Audrey, meanwhile, rocked Jeannie on her lap, making soft shushing sounds. As Jeannie's cries subsided to hiccoughs and sniffles, Audrey was unsure what to do next. Given what Helen had passed along under her breath before leaving the room, Jeannie had just spoken of her mother for the first time—just hours after Audrey had explained to Helen that she felt Jeannie was too young to understand what was happening and that it was too soon to tell her that she'd be returning to her mother. Now she wondered if it was best to continue to say nothing on the subject if Jeannie was indeed calming down on her own, or if she should try to assure Jeannie that her mother was waiting to see her and Keith again. 

Suddenly every inadequacy Audrey had ever felt as a mother was flooding her mind, making her question why she ever thought it was sensible for her to take on the responsibility of two more children, even if she had thought it would only be for a few days. 

Jeannie may have been calming down, but she hadn't forgotten what upset her in the first place. As she sat, wrapped in both her quilt and Audrey's arms, she caught sight of Helen in the hallway with Jimmy, and she twisted in Audrey's arms to withdraw an arm from her quilt. 

"Ellen", she pointed. 

"Yes, poppet, I see her."

"Ji-mee's mummy."

"Yes, she is."

"Jee's mummy gone."

Audrey agreed, her heart broken for the girl in her lap. And with the slew of painful self-recriminations over each perceived past misstep with Edward swirling around her current concern for Jeannie and Keith, she felt her ability to come up with any sort of soothing words to share with Jeannie to be sluggish, even stalled. "Your mummy's gone right now, love," she began, trying desperately to formulate how best to explain. "But she..."

"Keith and I are going to feed the animals in the shed," Siegfried's voice, loud and overly buoyant, interrupted Audrey, and she raised shocked eyes at him, not expecting his boisterous return to the room.

"I don't think we're ready..."

"Me! Me, pwease!" Jeannie, her face still tear-stained, struggled to extricate herself from her little cocoon; and shocked by the child's sudden wish to run off, Audrey hurried to help unwrap her from her quilt.

"I stand corrected," Audrey murmured, surprised and confused.

"Should I not bring them with me tonight?" Siegfried asked, realising he had blundered, despite Jeannie's willingness to assist in the task.

"No, no, let them help. If it makes them happy, then they should go."

Audrey watched Siegfried escort the children through the dining room, wondering what she should have done differently and still feeling so pained by the situation—no matter how rapidly Jeannie had seemed to recover upon hearing Siegfried's offer to feed the boarding pets.

***********************************

"They're ready for story time," Audrey announced quietly, returning to the sitting room with Jeannie and Keith, who were freshly cleaned and cosy in their nightclothes.

"I think that's a good time for us to go," Helen decided, and she issued "goodnights" to all on behalf of herself and Jimmy. Richard, silently lifting his book in explanation, followed behind the Herriots.

Meanwhile, Siegfried seemed distracted, pacing around the room. "Has anyone seen my cardigan?"

"You were wearing it earlier. Did you take it off before you fed the animals?"

"Ah, yes! Of course. It'll be in the kitchen." 

"I'll fetch it. You three can get started."

Audrey left and returned, the well-loved cardigan in hand, only to find the children watching Siegfried as he continued to canvas the room. "What now?"

"The book! I've lost the book. I chose a new one for tonight—The Tale of Ginger and Pickles.

"I might have seen it on the sideboard. I noticed summat out of place as I walked through." Once again she walked off, only to come back with the missing possession in hand. "Anything else?" she asked wryly.

"No, thank you. We're all set now, aren't we?" He looked to the children, and they patted the cushion between them on the sofa in happy answer. Settling down between them, he ran a hand over the small book's cover, then frowned and looked up sheepishly to see Audrey standing before him with her arm extended. 

"Glasses?" The spectacles he had just realised were missing were sitting neat and tidy in the palm of her hand. She smiled at him knowingly, and he couldn't help but look at her rather adoringly. She really did know him like no other.

"Thank you, my dear. I believe we truly are ready now." He adjusted his arms to allow him to cuddle the children and still flip the book pages, cleared his throat, and began.

"'Once upon a time there was a village shop. The name over the window was "Ginger and Pickles". It was a little shop just the right size for Dolls...'"

***********************************

Mrs. Hall said it was bedtime. Jeannie didn't want to go to bed yet. Keith was very tired and he went to sleep so fast. But Jeannie had felt sad and scared that day, and she wanted to cuddle with Mrs. Hall for a while more. She was rocking Jeannie in the nice chair in their room. The chair didn't move, but Mrs. Hall moved instead. Mummy had a chair that moved. It was Mummy's favourite. Jeannie felt very sleepy, but her head was filled with things she didn't know, and she couldn't stop wondering about them. Jeannie wondered if Mrs. Hall knew where her mummy was right now. 

Mrs. Hall talked about her mummy. No one had talked about Jeannie's mummy in a long time. Jeannie didn't know where she was or why she was gone so very long. The new mummy with the different name that Jeannie forgot again—she took Jeannie and Keith away from home and she didn't like it when Jeannie asked about Mummy. She used scary words and told Jeannie to "stop asking so many questions". Jeannie did stop asking, even though she still wanted her mummy very much.

Then the new mummy brought Jeannie and Keith to a much bigger house with so many children and so many ladies, but none were her mummy. The new mummy with the different name told Jeannie and Keith to be good at the big house and "for goodness sake, do be quiet!" Jeannie was scared there with so many people she didn't know, and she didn't talk to anyone. She didn't want so many people using scary words with her. No one talked to Jeannie very much either. They just pointed, and pushed or pulled Jeannie and Keith from one place to another.

One day Jeannie heard two of the ladies with the funny dresses say something about her mummy. They said she was gone. But they didn't say where she had gone or when she was coming back. Then Jeannie never heard anyone talk about Mummy again until today. Mrs. Hall knew about her mummy! That made her feel not so sad. If Mrs. Hall knew about Mummy, then she could find her. Mrs. Hall found things for Mr. Farnon all of the time. She was very good at finding! She wished Mrs. Hall would say more about Mummy.

She wondered if Mrs. Hall would be mad if Jeannie asked her. Mrs. Hall didn't get mad like the new mummy did. She mostly always had smiles, and she was warm and soft. 

Jeannie looked up at Audrey and untucked a hand to touch her face. "Miss All?"

"Yes, Jeannie?"

"My Mummy?"

"Your mummy, love?"

Jeannie shook her head up and down because she couldn't make any more words right then. Something was sore in her neck, like she swallowed a piece of bread that was too big. 

"Oh, love. Soon. You and Keith will see Mummy again soon. She loves you so very much and she's waiting to see you."

The painful lump in Jeannie's throat had suddenly felt all better and she wriggled off Audrey's lap and rushed over to the slumbering Keith before Audrey could stop her. She had to tell Keith the good news! Jeannie placed her hand on Keith's cheek the way Mummy used to wake them up, calling his name. "Kee. Kee!" 

Keith opened bleary eyes, his face scrunching in discontent at being disturbed, only to close them again immediately as Audrey approached.

Audrey straightened the blankets, promising Jeannie they'd tell Keith all about their mummy in the morning. The girl relented, going back to the chair with Audrey and closing her eyes as she once again leaned up against Audrey's chest, warm and content.

She used to sit like this with Daddy, too, she remembered. That was before things changed. He used to be home every night for tea, then he'd play with Jeannie and Keith and cuddle with them before bedtime, just like Mr. Farnon. But then he went away and only came home for tea sometimes. And he wore different clothes that Jeannie didn't like. Those clothes meant Daddy was going away again. Then he stopped ever coming home for tea and nighttime cuddles. Jeannie didn't know why and when she asked Mummy, it made her sad. She didn't say so, but Jeannie could tell. 

But now Mrs. Hall said Jeannie would see Mummy. Maybe she'd see Daddy, too. Mrs. Hall makes things better. Jeannie could believe that Mrs. Hall could bring Daddy and Mummy back. She could fix anything. Jeannie wanted to ask Mrs. Hall more about Mummy and Daddy but she was too sleepy to ask any more questions right the. She needed to close her eyes—just for a little while.

Chapter Text

Audrey found Siegfried waiting for her on the sofa, pipe in hand, and sherry glasses filled in preparation for their evening ritual. These talks each night were so different now from when they had started, each of them then seated in their own chair, a valley of empty space between them as they discussed the everyday running of the house around the two temporary visitors they assumed would only be with them a night or two.

Now, as she sat down right beside him on the sofa, her right thigh and hip sliding against his as she settled herself. The warmth of his body against hers was a change that she would retain, even after the children returned home, and while that difference wouldn't make it hurt any less to say goodbye to Jeannie and Keith, it would at least make it somewhat more bearable to have these last few nights of discussions revolving around them.

She accepted her glass, taking a sip before handing it back. "Mrs. Pumphrey pulled me aside after the meeting today," Audrey began their nightly conversation.

"Did she?" Siegfried was the picture of innocence as he finished enjoying his pipe.

"Yes," Audrey's expression showed quite clearly that she easily recognised his act of innocence as just that—an act—and she smirked as she continued her tale. "She told me that a certain someone let her know about the children going home." Her smirk fell away as the reality of her sentence hit her own ears.

"I hope you don't mind." Siegfried set the pipe aside, aware that in just an instant both of their moods had shifted.

"No," Audrey answered simply, honestly. For she found that she didn't mind at all. She was actually quite relieved. "She asked me to let her know when we have a firm date for their return to Hazel. She'd like to stop by with summat for the children to take with them."

"That's very considerate of her."

"She did seem to enjoy the few times she were able to see them these past weeks."

Siegfried thought on that for a few seconds. "I suppose I never considered that with her having no children of her own, she might appreciate the opportunity to spend time with other children on occasion."

"She also asked that if…" Her heart clenched at using that word—"if"—so small, so seemingly insignificant, but in this case it held the difference between a feeling of hope and one of despair. She began again. "If we hear from the Buckleys in the future, she'd like it we let her know how the children are getting on."

Siegfried took up her hand, and she immediately began to run her thumb over his in an attempt to comfort them both to some small extent. "I'm sure that if we ask them to write us a line or two on occasion, they would be willing," Siegfried offered.

Audrey nodded, and he continued, hoping to reassure her. "If nothing else, we can encourage it by sending a card come the festive season."

Audrey nodded again, and feeling a further sense of moroseness settling in over her, changed the topic abruptly. "Mrs. Pumphrey helped me with Mr. Bosworth today, too."

"Did she?" Now Siegfried was intrigued. His first impression of Bosworth was that the man was a buffoon simmering in his own false sense of self-importance. He reached for his glass, handing hers back to her once he had drained half of his own.

"She told him he'd be daft not to let me sign up. Said a few other nice things, but then in private she told me that if Mr. Bosworth knew all that takes place in a given day at Skeldale, he'd know I could handle any misbehaviour from Darrowby residents."

Siegfried smiled, musing over the idea that he and Mrs. Pumphrey each had their own set of personal peculiarities about them, and perhaps that was why they got on as well as they did. The fact that the older woman viewed Audrey's wrangling of the chaos of Skeldale House and its inhabitants as a positive virtue in her unwritten resume was all the proof Siegfried needed that Marjorie Pumphrey was a wise soul indeed.

Meanwhile, sherry in hand, Audrey recalled her conversation with Mrs. Pumphrey, going over the bit she opted not to repeat to Siegfried.

"If you can keep your Mr. Farnon in line, I imagine there's little in this world that you can't accomplish if you put your mind to it."

Those were Mrs. Pumphrey's words to her, with the emphasis on "your Mr. Farnon" being entirely her own. Mrs. Pumphrey's face had sparkled with a cheerful smile as she said the words. Not the cloying smile of a gossip who thinks they have unearthed a juicy titbit, but the smile of a knowing friend who is pleased for the person they are speaking to. Perhaps there was at least one person outside of Skeldale House that wouldn't be appalled to know that she and Siegfried were no longer simply friends. It did her heart good to think of it.

***

Realising Audrey's story about Mrs. Pumphrey had come to its natural close, Siegfried accepted her glass from her, set it aside, and brought up a question her retelling of her post-meeting conversation had brought to mind.

"You mentioned Mrs. Pumphrey asking to be told when we have a firm date. Was the perchance something Lamely passed along when he rang?"

"He assumes it will still be the fifth of March—Wednesday. That were one week from when Mavis requested we keep them one more week. But he said he'll ring if that changes." She reached over to pat their joined hands. "It won't be any earlier, though," she assured him, feeling some solace in that promise herself. The days were already going by too quickly.

"Did he offer any other new information for us?" Siegfried stood and crossed to the drinks cart, pouring out two more small glasses of sherry and returning to the sofa. 

Audrey raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise at the second glass but accepted it nonetheless. It was unlikely to be an easy night. Perhaps Siegfried was right in doubling their usual tipple. 

"Hazel's been told about what's happened with Jeannie and Keith. She asked that we be told that she's grateful to us for looking after them." She gave Siegfried a watery smile. "But she were shocked, of course. How could she not be? According to Mavis, she couldn't believe that such a thing had happened—or so many different things, really."

"I could hardly blame her. Her sister-in-law's behaviour has been appalling." Siegfried's tone left no room for any uncertainty about his feelings in regard to Mrs. Edna Buckley.

"Oh, Siegfried. Mavis told them that Hazel had been wary of sending the children to Edna right along. But Edna did tell one truth. Hazel and Floyd truly didn't have any other family able to take Jeannie and Keith right then."

"And Mavis couldn't keep them with her?"

"Mavis and her daughter—Freda, she's called—both have to work, so there wouldn't be anyone at their home to stay with Jeannie and Keith."

Siegfried rubbed a hand over his mouth. It did him a degree of good to know that Hazel and Floyd had felt that Edna was their only choice and not a placement they actually preferred for the children. However, he was still confused as to the current situation with Hazel, Neil, and Mavis.

"But the baby is with Mavis now, isn't he?" 

"Aye, now he is, but for a while he were in hospital with Hazel. He weren't doing well without her, it seems. And now Mavis's been able to change when she works a bit, so what with that and a few neighbours' help, it's been working well enough, even if it's not ideal."

"Apparently Mavis had been in Manchester for a short while trying to help Hazel before she were first hospitalised, too. But then she had to go home again because of needing to work. Mavis were there at Hazel and Floyd's house when Stuart and Edna came for the children, though. Mavis took the children's ration coupons to the store in Manchester where they were registered to buy food to send with the children to Stuart and Edna's house. They had sent small gifts for their boys as well."

"Which Edna accepted and kept happily, I'm sure," Siegfried seethed.

"Aye." Audrey sighed sadly. "Floyd, Hazel, Mavis, they all tried to make it as easy they could for Edna, and this is how she treated him—how she treated the children. I can't understand it. I'm not even a relation to them, and in such a short time I love them so much."

***

After a moment's quiet, and a few more sips of sherry each, Audrey patted his forearm, ready to relay the rest of her discussion with the police officer to Siegfried. 

"I asked Constable Lamley if he could find out a few things for me. I should have asked last time we heard from someone, really. But I didn't think of it then. I were so shocked last time."

"It certainly has been one surprising revelation after another with these two." Siegfried's voice was soft in his agreement, and Audrey once again took his hand into her own, giving it a squeeze in appreciation for his understanding.

"I want to know how old they really are. It's summat I've been wondering right along. Dr. Robinson helped with his guess, but that's all it were—a guess."

"An educated one, at least," Siegfried tried to smile. 

"Aye. He were a nice man. I should remember to send him an update soon." The physician had suggested they send word via Mrs. Pumphrey and Nurse Naylor, in a repeat of how the appointment had been made; but Audrey thought she might like to write him a letter, taking the time to properly thank him while providing the news of Jeannie and Keith's successes since the appointment and of their reunion with their family.

"What other information did you request?" Siegfried's reminder drew her back from her silent thoughts.

"I wanted to know if they've been to Mavis' home before. If it will be someplace familiar to them." She sighed deeply, thinking of how many times they had been moved recently. They'd have their mother at Mavis', which was the most important thing, but she still hoped that they would finally be going to a place that they actually recognised as well.

"We'll send their things with them," Siegfried suggested. "It might help them better cope with another move," he continued, as if he had been reading her mind. 

"Mmm. I hope the visit to the doctor will help them be less frightened about getting on a train again, too."

"They boarded a train, had a pleasant time, then returned to a familiar place. It certainly may have lessened their fear a bit—at least of travelling with us." He frowned a moment, realising he wasn't actually sure it would be he and Audrey travelling with the children this time around. "Do we know what they are planning in regards to moving the children yet?"

"Lamley asked if we'd be available to help transport them, and I said we would, but I don't know if they mean for us to take them the entire way or not. I hope so. I'd like to meet Hazel."

Siegfried's forehead creased in concern. "I'd like to be sure they arrive where they are intended to arrive."

Audrey's eyes widened, that particular worry having not yet occurred to her. "I hadn't thought of that. I'll let the constable know we'd like to bring them the entire way."

"I think that would be best for everyone."

***

Audrey nodded and handed back her twice-emptied glass, thoughts of the children's past travels now filling her thoughts. Siegfried placed her glass on the end table besides him, and drained his own remaining mouthful of sherry. He noticed Audrey lost in thought, and as he resituated himself on the sofa, he drew his index finger over her wrist before rejoining their hands once again. "Are you all right, darling?"

"I were thinking about the day I found them. Gerald..." The squeeze of his hand within hers was apologetic this time, and she glanced over at him to be sure he understood. The soft look of affection he offered in return reassured her, and she continued.

"He wanted to go for tea, but I wanted to check on the children. He kept telling me their mother must be around somewhere. I remember telling him that maybe she left them sitting in one spot, but then they moved, and now she couldn't find them. Gerald thought I were being silly. But I were more correct than I ever could have imagined.

The poor woman did leave them someplace, and they did indeed move, but they hadn't moved on their own, and she weren't even trying to find them because she didn't know there were a need to. She would have returned home from Mavis' and only found then that her children had gone missing."

Audrey grasped Siegfried's hand even more tightly, trying to draw strength from him as she finished putting her thoughts into words. "I know how it feels to walk into a house and look around and realise your child's not there and they ought to be." Her words ended in a broken sob.

Siegfried gathered her into his arms. In all the years he'd known her, she'd been so brave, so stoic in the face of the difficulties between her and Edward. So rarely showing her grief, and even less often showing tears. But now, it was as if all of her pain, so carefully gathered and tidied away out of sight of anyone else, was spilling out of the space in which she had been trying so desperately to contain it. For Siegfried, there was nothing to do but to hold her until the pain finished pouring out, knowing full well that once it had, she would carefully pick up what was left of it and methodically stack it back up inside herself.

Siegfried knew that the first home she entered without her son had been Dorothy's. He fervently hoped that Skeldale would be the home Edward would someday return to and, in doing so, would finally allow her to scoop up a portion of her remaining pain and release it for good.

Siegfried felt her move away from his shoulder, and he loosened his hold on her, watching as she wiped her eyes, looking a bit abashed at her outburst of tears.

"Sometimes the old pains of life sneak up on us when we least expect them." His words held the sound of one who had often experienced the very thing they were referring to.

"Edward's childhood were like me marriage—so different than how I expected it to be. Edward's earliest years were as I imagined—and very much like the days Jeannie and Keith have spent here with us. Only there were more errands with Edward—and far fewer animals." Her grin wobbled but still held mirth as she considered the bevy of animals that had made their way through Skeldale over her years there.

But by the time he were old enough to go to school, things had already changed, and they only got worse after. I wanted him to have a childhood of happiness, of learning new things, of feeling loved by those around him. Being able to give that to Jeannie and Keith for this little while felt so right to me, and yet I feel bad, guilty, that I couldn't give it to Edward for very long. He deserved better."

Siegfried gently wiped away a lone tear that traced the contours of her cheek. "It wasn't your fault that you couldn't offer that life to Edward. Life had changed for you, too. You can't offer what you no longer have, Audrey. It's not possible. You did your best. And Edward understands that now, as well."

"I'm so grateful for that. So relieved he wanted to see me that day at the station. For the rest of me life I'll never stop being so, so grateful for that day. And I know I'll be grateful for having had Jeannie and Keith in me life, too. But right now, it's hard thinking of them leaving. I know it's going to be painful for everyone, and I just can't help but blame meself."

She covered her face with her hands as the tears found their strength again, and she apologised for their return as well as the hurt she felt she had brought to her family. "I'm so sorry." Audrey's words trembled as she uttered them.

"There's nothing for you to apologise for. You've done nothing wrong." Siegfried's response was heavy with sorrow at her self-admonishment.

"I brought heartache to this house, Siegfried! Everyone is hurting because of what I've done."

"You have brought nothing but joy to this house, to all of us." Siegfried felt himself becoming choked up. In the past, such a feeling would have precipitated the rushed need to excuse himself from the room, or to dismiss everyone else from the room, instead. But that was no longer an option—not when Audrey was involved. From the moment he decided to finally embark upon this journey with her, he promised himself not to close her out of his thoughts and feelings, as if she had no right to them, as if she were an outsider—an employee. She deserved the truth from him, even when it was difficult and emotional for him to share it with her.

"Right from the start, Audrey, you've brought joy to this household. When there was absolutely none to be found here, you brought it to us. And now is no different from all of those years ago. You still bring joy to us, to me, every day."

Siegfried drew her as close to him as possible in their seated positions and held her to himself tightly, the feel of his arms filling and smoothing some of the many painful cracks she carried within her for nearly two decades of her life.

"We will miss them. We will. But we are all better for having known them, and we have you to thank for that, Audrey. To thank, not to blame. Never to blame."

He pulled back to cradle her face in his hands. "I love you." His voice cracked as if he were an adolescent again, and he attempted to smile about the failure in his speech, though the mistiness of his eyes gave him away just as clearly. And so he resumed their embrace and murmured near her ear. "I have no words to tell you how much. No words could possibly explain what you mean to me." 

And though her own words failed her completely, Audrey clung to him, hoping that the fierceness with which she held him would convey her feelings in place of her missing words.

Chapter Text

Saturday, 1 March 1941: Early Morning:

When Jeannie opened her eyes again, she was tucked into bed, and Keith was next to her, still sleeping. Nighttime was over, and the room was full of light. Mrs. Hall was kneeling by her side, giving her shoulder a soft shake. That's how Mrs. Hall liked to wake them up. It made Jeannie's whole body do a little jiggle in the bed, which always made her smile. She liked that Mrs. Hall had a special way to wake them up. Mummy had a special way, too, but hers was different. Mummy woke them up by putting her hand on their cheeks and giving them little pats. That made Jeannie remember that Mrs. Hall said Jeannie and Keith will see Mummy and Daddy again. Jeannie smiled at the thought, popped up in bed, and hugged Mrs. Hall with all her might. 

"Mummy, Miss All?"

"Soon, love. You'll see your mummy soon."

Jeannie reached forward and gave Audrey's cheek a soft pat, then turned to Keith and pat his cheek as well. "Kee! Kee!"

******************************

The family enjoyed breakfast together, and when the meal was over, the vets each set off on their earliest tasks for the day. Siegfried had decided to hold a less formal surgery today, opting not to put any "open" or "closed" signs on the door or to post any specific hours. He felt if someone had an animal with a real need to be seen, the lack of a notice that the surgery wasn't open at all would encourage them to ring the bell. But if someone were stopping by for a visit  more of a social nature than a true urgent animal medical matter, they might take the lack of signage as a reason to wait for Monday. 

So rather than waiting in the examination area or dispensary for clients, Siegfried and Richard looked over the short list of calls that had accumulated since the previous afternoon between them, deciding Richard could handle the very few farm visits necessary by that point in the morning. Siegfried would perform organisational and, begrudgingly, administrative duties—only the most pressing of the latter, however—to remain in the house as much as possible during the children's rapidly dwindling days at Skeldale.

******************************

In the kitchen, the radio played softly as Audrey finished the washing up and Helen tried to pacify a mildly cranky Jimmy. Jeannie and Keith were back in their favourite little den, Keith leaning against his sister, his two first fingers in his mouth, as she held one of Helen's periodicals on her lap, carefully turning the pages filled with illustrations of seeds and plants one might like to include in their victory garden.

"It's nice of you to let them look at that. A bit brave, though, maybe," Audrey added ruefully. "Might want to keep an ear open for owt sounding like paper being torn," she warned.

"I am," Helen promised. Looking pensive, Helen, in a repeat of the previous morning, lowered her voice to question Audrey about the children. "The constable rang yesterday, again, didn't he?"

Audrey turned to face Helen, drying one of a small stack of small bowls as she answered. "He did. They'll most likely be going home Wednesday. The officers would like Siegfried and me to help in getting them to Huddersfield."

"Where Mavis lives?"

Audrey nodded. "Hazel will probably leave hospital tomorrow, and she'll be going straight to Mavis', too. And they've told her the story of everything that's happened with the children now."

"I can't imagine she took that well."

"That were why they felt it best to tell her while she's still in hospital. In case the shock of it all caused her more trouble."

Helen gazed sadly at Jeannie and Keith, so small and so unaware of all their mother had been through. "Was that all he had to tell you?"

"For the most part. I did ask him a few things I'd like to know. Their ages most of all." She looked down at the dry bowl in her hands. "I know it probably seems silly to still care now, so soon before they leave, but it's summat I've wanted to know since I first saw them at the station."

"Don't sound a bit silly to me. So he'll ring back with the answers?"

Audrey nodded. "And with more travel plans." She sighed and turned back around to face the sink.

Helen wasn't sure how to help Audrey as the time approached for the children to leave. She knew how much her friend would miss them. She'd miss them, herself. And she decided that was likely the best thing she could tell Audrey in that moment. To let her know she wasn't alone. "I'm going to really miss them." Audrey turned back to look at the younger woman again. "When they first arrived, you were so apologetic—worrying about not being able to help me as much." Helen continued to jiggle Jimmy against her as she spoke, his grizzling abating some as she did so.

"I were worried—having to ask you to help me instead of the other way 'round. And you have been helping me so much. I can't thank you enough, Helen."

Helen smiled gratefully. "Having them here has been helpful to me, too. I had no idea what I were doing with Jimmy. I'd start to feel like I knew what to expect, and then he'd wake up and act like a whole new baby, and I were back to the start with him."

Audrey nodded in understanding, recalling the trials of those early weeks of mothering an infant herself.

"Then these two came, and I were so distracted by them that I didn't have time to fret so much. They showed me that I could take care of Jimmy on me own." She looked up from Jimmy to Audrey with a look of slight panic on her face at the possibility of being misunderstood. "Not that I don't appreciate every time you and Siegfried take him so I can have a lie-down, or a wash, or a meal on me own. Because I do. I really do!" She nodded rather ferociously with her last points, making Audrey smile, despite her sadness.

"We love helping with him. We'll be annoying you with it soon. You won't be able to get in a cuddle for yourself."

Helen pretended to hold the baby tighter to her chest, turning in her chair as if holding him away from the teasingly greedy arms of Audrey. Then relaxing in posture, but becoming more serious, Helen continued her thoughts on Jeannie and Keith.

"Not only has their being here shown me I could care for Jimmy, but I could care for them, too. We had three young'uns, all different ages; no idea what any of them wanted. But I were able to care for them. I feel so much more sure of meself now. I'm grateful for them. And I'll miss them—crowding around trying to pet Jimmy like a cat. Bringing him toys he can't even hold. Looking to fill my lap the very moment I finally get him down for a sleep." Helen broke off, offering a bittersweet smile.

As the radio programme ended and an announcement made of the upcoming selection by the BBC's Scottish Orchestra, Helen's thoughts turned to James. "It's so strange thinking they'll go home and James won't ever have even known them. Tris, too, for that matter. They'll neither know this life we've led all month." She gave a short, soft huff of breath. "It feels longer than a month. As if it can't be right that such an important time for us went by in such a short time."

Audrey put down her tea towel, the last of the crockery returned to their proper cupboards, and sat at the table beside Helen and Jimmy. "I can't believe how fast this last week is going by. When February began, I'd never have guessed I'd spend all month taking care of any children other than Jimmy. And now, it's March already, and it seems the time flew by."

She sighed deeply, and she and Helen sat quietly for a short while, watching the children and listening to the radio until the first overture's more sedate initial pace picked up after the first minute or so.

As the music became more lively, the women watched as Jeannie set down the magazine and started bouncing on the cushion with her brother in their own joyful little seated dance, smiles on both their faces.

"It's been an important month," Audrey decided, "for us and for them. We helped them to stay together and in one place, but you're right—they helped us, too, I think."

"I don't feel so in over my head anymore," Helen agreed, happy to feel the truth of those words as she spoke them.

"You're doing a wonderful job with him, Helen. You really are."

"I've been thinking about his christening. I don't know what to do."

"About James?" Audrey correctly guessed.

"How long do I wait for some miracle that allows him a bit of leave? How long can I wait to christen him? Is there a rule about that? And if James were to have leave, how little notice could we give and still be able to have the christening performed while he were home?"

"These are questions best asked of the vicar."

"I know. I haven't been able to bring meself to ask. I don't want to think of having it without James, and I'm afraid once I ask, the answers will make it more real that that's what's likely to happen."

"I know, love. I'm sorry." She gave Helen a pained smile. Even happy occasions were difficult during war. "Would you like a brew?"

Helen accepted the offer, and Audrey stood to fetch the kettle as both Siegfried entered the room and as the overture hit its stride, the music becoming all the more buoyant and joyful, drawing Jeannie and Keith from their play spot and onto their feet to bounce and sway in the open area of the kitchen. Siegfried chuckled. "I see we have The Merry Children of Windsor here." 

Audrey held the kettle aloft in question as he made his way around the table to join the children. He nodded with a smile and leaned low, his arms open in invitation, scooping up first Jeannie, then with a bit of juggling, Keith as well, twirling them around and about until the triumphant end of the piece, and bringing a dose of laughter to a room so recently filled with an air of melancholy.

***********************************

The mood of the house continued to vacillate throughout the day, however. One moment the children were playing happily; the next, they were quiet, clinging to the nearby adults, all of whom seemed too quiet themselves, the very fact of which likely sparked the children's bouts of discontent in the first place. Some instances of childish play came along and made the same adults smile, only to make them misty-eyed half an hour later. Even Baby Jimmy seemed to cry and whimper more today than he had in several days.

When a knock at the door signalled the arrival of the post, it did nothing to raise the spirits of the residents living at the address scrawled and typed out on the various envelopes. Richard, home from the few morning calls, visibly blanched when Siegfried handed a piece of small cream-coloured correspondence his way, then scurried off in a rush, without a word to anyone, then , or later, about its sender or content. Siegfried grumbled as the rest of the stack proved to be full of nothing more than bills and unsolicited letters from companies hoping to sell him veterinary supplies. While Helen and even Audrey, despite having heard so recently from Edward, both still sagged upon hearing there was nothing from any of the lads.

Adding to Siegfried's frustrations, calls kept coming throughout the morning and early afternoon, constantly spaced such that Richard would have no sooner left or no sooner returned when another call would come in, with each farmer seeming to feel their animal's problem really couldn't wait, even if both Richard and Siegfried often disagreed with those claims once the animal had been attended to. 

"Absolutely barking mad!" Siegfried had bellowed to no one in particular, stomping down the hallway a quarter hour after Richard left to check on a ewe at the Calverts. "Now Handshaw claims he has a cow in need of care, and it cannot possibly wait. You wait; I'll drive out there for something that could have waited for Monday, never mind an hour from now when Carmody is available again. Blasted farmers!"

Helen, seated closest to the opening of the sitting room, raised her eyebrows at Siegfried's last gripe, calling out to him in annoyance. "Excuse me, but one of those blasted farmers lives here. In case you forgot."

"Yes, yes, I don't mean you, Helen!"

Keith, who had been sitting at Helen's feet with his little lorry, witnessing the irritated back and forth between the adults, set down his toy and began to cry. "Now see what you've done," Helen shot back, picking Keith and his toy up from the floor to try to ease the boys' tears.

Siegfried deflated in the hallway, the vexation on his face melting into guilt-laced sorrow at having upset Keith. He moved forward towards Helen, arms open, asking for her to transfer Keith to him, but the boy turned his head away from Siegfried and buried his face into Helen's shoulder, causing Helen to spear him with another pointed look. Coming into the room after the initial outbursts, Audrey and Jeannie were baffled by the scene unfolding before them. "What's happened here, then?"

"Ask Siegfried," was Helen's churlish response, still throwing silent daggers Siegfried's way as the boy continued to cry.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset him." Siegfried sighed, and with a despondent glance at Audrey and Jeannie, hoping they wouldn't also be angry with him, he left to gather his things and head out to Handshaw's.

Keith's tears were short-lived, and by the time Siegfried returned from a call so far from being an emergency that Siegfried might have laughed if he wasn't in such a miserable mood to begin with, the boy was once again happy to see the man, a change which lifted Siegfried's spirits for at least a short while.

However, Jeannie, who had been pleased with the mention of her mother early that morning, seemed to grow confused as the day wore on, and by the time dinner was over and the children's afternoon nap was looming, she had taken to wandering the house as if looking for a lost plaything. She finally walked over to Audrey and leaned against her leg heavily. "Mummy?"

"Soon, love. You'll see her in a few days."

"No Mummy now?"

"No, love, she's not here now." And for the second time in as many days, Jeannie took her turn crying. As Audrey brought the girl onto her lap, she wondered if it might have been better if they had been asked to return the children to Mavis immediately. Each day since they had learnt that the children would be leaving seemed to have been spent mostly in sadness. With the rest of the current day and then three more full days left, Audrey felt her own sense of guilt over the idea that Jeannie and Keith might end their time at Skeldale in tears every day.

Chapter Text

Audrey sat at her desk, a sheet of paper upon the blotter in front of her. With both the Herriots and the children sleeping, she took the opportunity to begin making a list of things that needed to be done and packed before their journey to Huddersfield midweek. Siegfried entered the room to find her writing out a list of which belongings she wished to send along with Jeannie and Keith.

"Carmody's gone up to Benson's."

"Is he still as quiet as he's been?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Whatever were in the post, it weren't summat he were looking forward to receiving by the look of things."

"For his sake I hope he can keep the contents of his letter out of mind while he's helping with the lambing. Benson won't hold back if he feels Richard is making a hash of things."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. He's always keen to do his best."

Siegfried pointed towards her paper. "I actually came seeking you out, my dear—to see what it is that has you busy right now."

"A list—of what I want to send home with the children." She held up her paper, and Siegfried saw a detailed account of all of the clothing that had been donated to the children since their arrival, some with ticks by them, others with small Xs. Below the clothing were a few lines of toys listing the ball from Rudds and the donated playthings that had been given to Audrey at the knitting party she had attended shortly after the children arrived. Siegfried felt a heaviness descend upon him as he considered how long ago that meeting felt, despite being only a few weeks earlier.

"You're missing all of the toys we gave to them," Siegfried pointed out.

Audrey looked up at him in surprise. "But they're Tristan's."

"He won't mind." Siegfried's words sounded woolly, soft and blurred at the edges with emotion.

Audrey wasn't so sure. The bear and Mr. Lion had looked very well-loved to her. "Siegfried, I don't want him looking for those someday and finding them gone. The animals look very oft-played with."

He was touched, as always, by her thoughtful concern for his brother but sought to reassure her. "I left the toys I knew he loved best stored away." Siegfried let out a small chuckle. "There was a knit lamb that was his favourite. Our mother washed that lamb so often it's almost miraculous that the yarn didn't simply disintegrate from all of the laundering before he outgrew it."

Siegfried shook his head and chuckled again, with a bit more gusto. "She used to regularly unstitch the pathetic animal, remove its inner pouch of sawdust, then scrub the thing within an inch of its life. Then she needed to hang it to dry." Siegfried paused to pull a chair from the table to join Audrey at her desk.

"Well, it looked rather ghastly all emptied flat and somewhat sodden, and when Tristan saw the carcass of his beloved lamb hanging from the clothesline, he claimed our mother had killed his "Lamby" and began bawling."

Audrey's face softened into an understanding look of pity for both the youngest Farnon and their poor mother, faced with a sobbing child.

"Yes, exactly," Siegfried agreed with her unspoken empathy. "After that unfortunate incident, our mother used to always peg up a pillow slip over the lamb when she hung it out to dry, to hide it from Tristan. Of course then he'd simply search the entire house all day looking for the blasted thing!" 

Siegfried laughed in earnest recalling the stories his parents would regale him with about his young brother searching high and low, calling out "Lamby! Lamby!" as if the toy might answer from some unknown hiding place.

"And I take it Lamby is stored away still?" Audrey looked to confirm.

"Yes, along with a few other favourites. Tin soldiers, a train set, and a sizeable collection of various cows. He was rather obsessed with them at one point."

"A lamb and cows," Audrey observed. "Sounds as if he had a bit of vet in him from the start."

Siegfried smiled, his eyes a touch watery at the thought. "Yes, I suppose he did."

Clapping his hands together to dispel his show of emotion, he continued. "But, the point is, there are plenty of other toys in storage, including some he much preferred over the bear and lion. And there are several other sets of building blocks, too, so no worries about sending those, either."

Siegfried sat in silent thought for a moment. "We'll keep the Potter books, though. That was a gift Father and Mother were very proud of. The watercolour set as well. They may keep the children's book of songs and verses, though. That was mine, and I have no qualms with them taking it home with them." 

He fell quiet again. "Perhaps we can take a walk, the children and I—and you, if you'd like—over to the bookshop. We might pick out a few other books for them to bring home."

"That sounds very nice." She placed her hand briefly upon his own, which was resting on his knee. Siegfried felt a warmth spread through him at the contact, and as he left the kitchen a few moments later, summoned by the ringing of the telephone, he found a renewed sense of good-naturedness with which to answer the next farmer calling for his assistance.

***********************************

While Audrey may have had faith that Richard was keeping his mind on the sheep at Benson's farm, Siegfried was finding it hard to do the same at Kitson's, resulting in multiple attempts to help a struggling ewe free an oddly positioned lamb, leading to Dave Kitson giving Siegfried double the sort of grief he predicted Richard would receive had he been equally distracted. 

"Yes, yes, it took a while, but both are in good condition, which is what matters," Siegfried insisted.

"Seems if your time is summat I have to pay for, then you ought to be taking summat off for how much of mine you've been wastin'. It's only fair."

"Your bill will be posted next week, Mr. Kitston. Good day."

On the drive home, Siegfried's mind worked through his current list of worries on an endless loop. The children's departure was weighing heavily, of course, as was the feeling of dreadful certainness that he would soon lose Richard Carmody as well. The young man had already stayed longer than anyone intended.

The welfare of Tristan and James, along with Edward, were always in the back of his mind. His worries for them both in the present moment and for the uncertain future they faced provided all were fortunate enough to make it home. Would they make it in one piece, and even if they did, could they cope with the return to everyday life after what they had endured? Robert Hall as well as Siegfried's friend Maurice were just two of the many men he had known or heard of who came home physically unscathed but mentally scarred beyond the ability to press on, the brutal past eventually catching up with them, in one tragic way or another.

And finally, as was always the case, his musings came around to Audrey. She had so much responsibility in her life and had done for so long. And now, with the children leaving, he feared she'd take on more than she should in hopes that keeping busy would keep away the loss of Jeannie and Keith from their lives. She'd already signed up for the warden duties, a choice that concerned him even before he had the misfortune of meeting Mr. Bosworth. He would never dream of saying a word against her desire to do her part, but the nights would be difficult for him when their evening talks were replaced with sitting in the parlour alone, watching time pass as he waited for her safe return. Looking out over an empty straight stretch of lane before him, far enough from home to make him feel dejected for the time he was missing, yet not far enough to give him time to shake his melancholy mood, he hit the heel of his palm off the steering wheel hard enough to cause himself to curse and wince, then mentally berated himself for his own stupidity. 

***********************************

Siegfried returned to the house to find Richard out on yet another farm call. "This is ridiculous. Was it an emergency? Some of these farmers should be waiting so that we aren't running out for one call at a time. They know this!"

"They all insisted they needed to be seen right away," Audrey shrugged. "It's just one of those days."

"You have no idea." Siegfried gave a grumbling account of Kitson's haggling, only to be interrupted by the ring of the phone once more. "I'll get it!" He stormed towards the telephone, complaining under his breath. 

Audrey, just starting to prepare tea, looked across the kitchen to Jeannie and Keith, who, while not actively upset, were looking towards the adults with concern on their small faces. "I know, loves. Things have been a bit of a mess here today. But he's not cross with us."

"He's certainly cross with whatever poor sod he's talking to now." Helen joined the group with the baby in her arms and a shake of her head at Siegfried's foul mood.

"I'll go check on him. If you don't mind," she gave a tilt of her head in the direction of the children.

"If you're willing to stick your head in the lion's mouth, I'm perfectly happy to stay here with these three." Helen turned Audrey's armchair around to face the area where Jeannie and Keith were slowly returning to their play, sank down into the cushioned seat, and plastered a cheerful smile on her face. "What are you two up to, eh?"

In the hall, Siegfried was testing the sturdiness of the telephone as he finished his call with an aggravated slam.

"Bloody Mr. Sunter," Siegfried groused, stomping the few steps away from the table towards the equipment cupboard, groaning as if the physical release of his annoyance could change the request that had just come across the line. "We all know his emergencies never amount to a damned thing."

Audrey waited a beat before following him, trying to give herself a chance to think of something supportive to say. Nothing came to mind quickly enough, for she was still standing near the staircase when ringing filled the space once more.

***********************************

"Darrowby 2297. Hello, Constable. Yes, thank you. They're doing well." 

Audrey briefly wondered if it was considered a white lie to say Jeannie and Keith were currently "well", but thinking back to the memory of the two of them huddled together crying at the train station, she firmly decided that comparatively, "well" was certainly within the limits of truthfulness.

"Really? That is good news. Oh, I see. Well, that's understandable. Yes, of course. If she has any other questions, we're happy to answer them. Oh, I am glad to hear that. Yes, please." Audrey quickly scribbled herself a note. "We'd like to travel with them the whole way. The trains make them nervous, and we'd like very much to meet their family. That would be very kind of you. No, nothing right now. We'll speak to you then. Thank you."

She replaced the receiver, tore the paper from the pad, and studied the few words written as if attempting to commit them to memory before folding the sheet and slipping it into her pocket. She covered the short distance from the phone niche to the entrance to the main hall and found Siegfried standing just beyond the doorway, waiting for her to finish. 

"I thought you were off to see Mr. Sunter."

"It's always best to let Sunter wait a bit. Reminds him that he's capable of doing so." He pointed past her towards the phone. "Lamley?" he correctly surmised.

"He were calling mostly to answer me questions. Jeannie and Keith have been to Mavis' before, though only once for Keith and likely only once that Jeannie would remember." She sighed. "It's not ideal, but I did doubt that they would have visited very often given all that's been happening in the last few years."

Siegfried barely tipped his head in acknowledgement, waiting as patiently as possible to hear more about the call from the officer.

"And he gave me their birthdates!" A true smile suddenly graced her face, and Siegfried couldn't help but shake his own dismal mood at the sight of it.

"Oh, yes? So how close was our good Dr. Robinson with his guesses?"

Audrey pulled her note from her pinny. "Jeannie were born on thirtieth of July, 1937. So she were right about three and a half when I first found them. And Keith were born the third of May, 1939. So he'll be two before long." Her mind filled with ideas of gifts she might send to each child when their birthday arrived.

Siegfried, however, was thinking back in time to the young physician's estimates of their ages and feeling he did fairly well. "He were slightly off about Jeannie. I seem to recall he felt she was closer to three."

"He did say her lack of speech at the time made it difficult for him to guess her age properly," Audrey reminded him.

"It seems hard to think back on the days when she wouldn't say a word."

"She's using more and more words now. Before all this," she gestured to the phone. "I were thinking we'd eventually get to hear how she used to speak before we met her. Now we'll have to be happy with the improvement she has made." She nodded quickly and repeatedly, trying to convince herself that Jeannie's improvements, however modest, were enough to soothe the ache in her chest.

Siegfried silently cursed himself for what he perceived as his words that chased away the smile she wore only a few minutes earlier, then asked if Lamley had provided any other new information.

"He said Hazel had asked some questions of her own, but he and Yates were able to answer them all." She ticked the answers Lamley had mentioned off on her fingers as she spoke. "That the children are in good health. No illness or injury. They've been together right along. And that they've been here with us for most of February."

"Fairly basic queries," Siegfried commented.

"Yes, I imagine once she knows they are well, (There was that word, again, she briefly thought.) she may have more. I told the constable we'd be happy to answer owt she thinks of."

"Yes, of course."

"And one bit of truly good news for all of them. Mr. Buckley's been given a short leave to allow him to sort the situation. He'll arrive at Mavis' home Monday, and then he'll have five days to help Hazel settle back in and to be there to see the children."

"Is Hazel still in hospital, then?"

"Yes, but she's supposed to leave tomorrow if all goes as planned."

Siegfried sighed. He was glad for the Buckleys—all five of them. They would finally be reunited, three of them meeting the newest member of the family for the first time. He just wished that their happiness didn't bring with it such a fog of sorrow and gloom for his own household.

"I did talk to the constable about us bringing the children the full way to Huddersfield. He says they'll work that into their 'movement plans'. Made it sound like a military manoeuvre more than a trip with two small children."

"We've made a trip with those two before. He wasn't far off," Siegfried pointed out. "I've hauled less luggage back and forth for a semester of school than we had to carry to keep those two clean, fed, and happy for a half day's travel." 

Audrey raised her eyebrows. "We'll be bringing everything they own with us this time. Our hands will be full in more ways than one."

***********************************

With Siegfried on his way out towards the Dales for what Audrey desperately hoped was the final time for the day—for all of their sake, Audrey was able to focus on preparations for tea—or so she thought. The kitchen she returned to was not as quiet as the one she left, with Jimmy wailing in his mother's arms and Helen looking exhausted as she rocked and swayed and shushed the little mite, followed closely behind by Jeannie, who detoured towards Audrey when she entered the room.

"Jimmy cwying!" She announced unnecessarily, her perfected pronunciation of Jimmy's name lost amidst the raucous cries of the baby.

"I hear that, love. Helen is trying to help him feel better."

Helen managed a smirk as she responded, "Bit like you with Siegfried, then?"

"Oh, I think Siegfried might be louder," she grinned, cheered a bit by the joke at his expense and pleased to now purposely use his given name with Helen.

Jeannie was not interested in the attempt at levity by the two women. "Why Miss All? Why Jimmy cwying?" 

"We don't know Jeannie." Helen sat down, patting Jimmy gently in her arms. "Babies can't tell us why they are crying. And sometimes we can't guess."

Jeannie walked over, her hands clapped over her ears, and looked down at Jimmy's red scrunched face.

"Jimmy eat?"

"He already ate, but thank you for the advice." Hellen exchanged an amused smile with Audrey, the little girl's sweet concern touching even in the middle of Jimmy's crying.

"Would you like a break, Helen? I can hold him for a while before I need to get to tea."

"No thanks, Aud. You have enough to be doing. If he don't calm down soon, I'll take him 'round to the front of the house."

"There's no need to leave on our account, love. We're none of us done in by a baby crying." 

Jeannie carefully uncovered one ear and brought it gently down to Jimmy's cheek. "Is all wight, love. No cwy. Is all wight."

Helen looked up at Audrey and found that she too was watching as Jeannie parroted her own typical words of comfort to the baby. Audrey's smile was bittersweet as she saw Jeannie shrug in response to her efforts having no effect, clap her hand back over her uncovered ear, and walk over to Audrey, once again risking the removal of one hand to wrap an arm around Audrey's leg. Audrey ran a hand over Jeannie's head. "I know, love. It's still being a rather rough day, innit?"

Chapter Text

With Helen walking laps around the house with Jimmy, his unhappiness being broadcast via an undulating wave of whimpers and cries, Richard Carmody was welcomed home by the somewhat downcast Audrey, Jeannie, and Keith. But if Audrey had any worries that their lacklustre mood would put a damper on the young vet's spirits, she needn't have been concerned, for Richard arrived at Skeldale just as quietly morose as when he left it.

"Is Mr. Farnon out again?" He asked immediately upon removing his outerwear.

"He is. Been a busy day for him. And you." She stopped to study the lad. "Is everything all right, Mr. Carmody? You've been very quiet today."

Jimmy's cries grew closer and louder, and Audrey wryly added, "You've been about the only one quiet."

"I'm not sure I know how to answer that question right now," he answered, looking uncertain if his reply would be accepted or understood.

"Has it got summat to do with the letter you received in the post?"

He nodded solemnly.

"Whenever you're ready to talk about it, we're all willing to listen. But if you need time to think it over, then we'll give you that and leave you be."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hall." He pointed in the general direction of Jimmy's cries and grimaced. "I think I'll try to make it up to my room for a while."

"Be brave. He's just a baby. And he's with his mother. Nowt for you to be concerned about."

As Richard left the room, Audrey sighed. A rough day, indeed.

***********************************

Once the pie for tea had been put into the oven and Helen and Jimmy had returned to the bedsit, the latter of the two finally asleep, Audrey brought the children into the sitting room to play a while. Siegfried had yet to return from Sunter's "emergency", and she hoped that when he did, he might have a few moments to calm himself before seeking out her or the children.

Jeannie and Keith were having themselves a very welcome break from the moodiness of the day, having discovered that the antimacassars from the back of the chairs made wonderful props to add to their own version of peekaboo. After a few proper rounds of taking turns hiding their faces, then each yelling their own version of the word, an impressively correct version from Jeannie, and a shorter, yet still surprising, "Boo!" from Keith, as they uncovered them again, the game had fallen apart. It was now a chaotic mix of giggles and screeching "Peekaboo!" and "Boo!", usually at the same time, and without ever bothering to cover or uncover their faces, the lace antimacassars becoming more of a decorative head-covering than an actual tool in the game.

The two laughed and spun about until they both fell to the floor in dizzy little heaps, red-faced and thoroughly happy at being permitted to carry on with their play.

Needing a rest from the bedlam, Keith flopped down on his belly to push around the wheeled horse, and Jeannie climbed up onto the closest armchair, kneeling so as to look over the small collection of decorative items on the nearby side table. There was a low stack of books, a small horse figure, and a metal picture frame all set upon a doily so as not to scratch the tabletop.

Jeannie spotted the doily and reached for it, starting to pull the doily towards her, along with everything that was placed on top of it. Audrey noticed her actions just in time to gently direct her away, steadying the framed photograph that had wobbled precariously as Jeannie tugged at the doily beneath it.

"We must be very careful with the photographs, Jeannie. They are very precious to Mr. Farnon. Do you understand?"

Jeannie pointed to the young blonde in the frame. "Pwetty."

"She is very pretty, yes. And Mr. Farnon loves her very much, so we need to take very good care of her."

Audrey allowed Jeannie to help return the frame to its rightful place and was about to suggest something else for the girl to play with when Siegfried cleared his throat from the doorway.

"Hello, everyone," he greeted softly. "The kitchen smells delicious, but I didn't see anyone cooking. I thought perhaps the faeries had made something to eat." He walked over to Jeannie and chucked her under the chin. "Did you see any faeries?"

Jeannie giggled. "Miss All."

"She's a faery?" Siegfried gasped delightedly. "That explains everything! I always suspected that she was magical."

Jeannie giggled again, her laughter catching her brother's interest, and he abandoned his horse to come see what fun his sister was having. Finding nothing happening at all, he was about to bring a toy to Mr. Farnon instead when he spotted the discarded antimacassars and gleefully pointed them out to Jeannie. Jeannie caught on immediately, and she commanded Siegfried to "Cwose eyes!" Siegfried felt closing his eyes was probably the best chance he had of not misting up at hearing her use more new words, so he clenched them closed dramatically, asking Jeannie to be sure he had done a proper job.

There was a moment of activity around him, punctuated by Audrey's gentle voice as she offered whatever assistance was needed. It was her voice again that then instructed him to open his eyes. He opened his eyes to find absolutely nothing, the children no longer in front of him. Jeannie's giggles as he asked the empty space, "Wherever did the children go? Did they disappear?" led him to their new spot, sitting side by side on the sofa with the cloths on their heads, the lace edge covering their eyes, each child grinning from ear to ear from underneath the decorative edge.

"Weady?" Jeannie asked.

"Ready for what?" Siegfried wondered aloud.

"Peekaboo!" "Boo! Boo!" Jeannie and Keith answered simultaneously.

Siegfried laughed a full, deep laugh that made the day's plethora of poorly timed emergencies, both actual and imagined, fade away. And as the children then showed him the game they had invented earlier, Siegfried joined Audrey in standing behind the sofa, enjoying their antics.

His smile was beaming, and his eyes softly crinkled as he watched them run in frenzied circles, the antimacassars flapping about on their heads, and laughing as though nothing in their little lives had ever gone wrong. That they hadn't lived through such turmoil in the past few months. That they weren't two tiny children who had been separated from their family.

He turned to look at Audrey, who was watching the children through bright eyes of her own. After a difficult few days, it was a balm on Audrey's soul to see them acting like any other children--children who had never been subjected to a moment's upheaval in their short lives.

Siegfried ran a hand along her lower arm until his fingers tangled with hers, and he brought her knuckles up to his lips. "Look at them," he whispered. "Look at the happiness you've given them."

"They made up the game," she corrected.

"And you allowed it. You bring joy to all of us, Audrey, just as I told you. And it's not just them. I came home as miserable as when I left. Maybe more so. I wasn't lying when I said the first thing I noticed was the wonderful smell in the kitchen. But then I found you with Jeannie. So kind, so loving--towards her and towards me."

He looked at her so intently, and she recalled her conversation with Jeannie about Evelyn's photo right as he had entered the room. His expression changed as he recognised the realisation in her own features. It wasn't the pained and far-off look of lost love he typically wore on the rare occasions he spoke of his late wife. This current look of adoration on his face was strong and present and very clearly meant just for her.

***********************************

"I have decided it would be nice for all of us to attend church services together tomorrow morning," Siegfried calmly announced over the table at tea.

"Everyone?" Audrey asked in surprise, as Richard Carmody nearly choked on his pie in his rush to clarify his own inclusion in the statement.

"Surely not me?"

"Everyone", Siegfried insisted firmly. "We're a strange and temporary sort of family, but we are a family, nonetheless, and this is our one chance to go out into the world as a full unit."

"Or we could take a walk together," Helen suggested practically.

"The children would enjoy that," Audrey agreed. "They weren't very fond of church the last time we tried to take them with us."

"We failed to prepare them last time. We'll talk it over with them, bring a few things for them to look at, plus there will be more of us since we'll all be attending."

"Yes, but we'll also be bringing along a baby, who spent most of the day today unhappy."

"I am sure that four adults can work together to cope with three children."

"Are you sure about this?" Audrey asked.

"I am," Siegfried confirmed simply, then abruptly changed the topic as if the matter was well and truly settled. "I'm thinking of buying myself a camera."

Helen canted her head and opened her hands in front of her in question. Siegfried was eccentric, she knew, but he seemed to be particularly odd at the moment. "What?"

"A camera, Helen! To take photographs."

"Yes, I do know what a camera does, thank you. I'm a bit confused about why you suddenly want one and why we're talking about it right this minute when we were in the middle of talking about church."

Siegfried waved his hand, fork clutched between his fingers, a few bits of carrot escaping it and rolling to the table then floor, catching Audrey's eye resulting in her raising her brows in vexation. "We're done discussing that," he declared around a mouthful of pie.

"What?" Helen sputtered a second time, looking at Audrey with a look of confused pleading, as if only she might make sense of the madman's ramblings.

"Siegfried", Audrey began.

"We haven't had a working camera in the house in years. Father had one, but it stopped working at some point, and I don't know if it's even still here." Evelyn had owned one as well, but he had given that one away to one of her nieces, and even if it were still in the house, he'd prefer to start fresh with one that wasn't linked to anyone he had lost.

"It would be nice to have a working model again. Capture some day-to-day moments," he concluded.

"Yes, but about mass, Siegfried," Audrey tried again.

"The children will be fine. I promise you," he assured her.

"As if he can control their behaviour," Helen murmured to Richard, who nodded sagely in agreement.

"Mr. Stockhill ran an advertisement in the newspaper," Siegfried continued. "Apparently he has a selection of previously owned, well-cared-for cameras for sale. They've been thoroughly tested and cleaned and are ready for someone else to use them. He's billing them as a way for customers to 'try an exciting new hobby at a reduced cost.'"

"None of us are worried about the cost of a camera. We're worried about the children at..."

"Yes, the children are the main reason I thought to buy one right now. We can take photographs of them with all of us before they leave. And you can send photographs of Jimmy off to James, Helen."

"Siegfried!" Helen snapped.

"Yes, Helen, I know. You have concerns about church."

Siegfried leaned forward to catch Jeannie's attention. "Jeannie, would you like to come along to church with Mrs. Hall and Helen and Jimmy? And Mr. Carmody and me, too."

She looked at him blankly, and he added, "We'll all go together tomorrow. We'll listen to stories and sing songs. Does that sound nice?"

Audrey rolled her eyes at Siegfried's attempts to make church services sound far more like playtime than they actually were.

"Yes!" Jeannie responded enthusiastically.

"There you go, then," Siegfried stated, as if her blissfully ignorant answer was all any of them needed.

***********************************

Jeannie was proving difficult to calm that night. As the night before, Keith was already in his makeshift bed, wrapped up warm and cosy in a variety of spare blankets, his tousled dark hair all that was visible from under the collection of bedclothes. But Jeannie was finding it hard to sit still. She moved from the chair, cuddled with Audrey, to her bed, then up again, finally attempting to peer out the curtains kept carefully closed to keep all lamplight from seeping out into the dark of night outside.

"We need to leave the curtains closed, love," Audrey gently corrected.

"Yittle stah," Jeannie whispered, pointing to the covered window.

"Come here." Audrey sat on the far side of her narrow bed, pulling Jeannie onto her lap. "Tell me about it?" she invited.

"Twinko twinko," Jeannie added in a small voice, her eyes downcast, her words dejected.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star?" Audrey brushed the child's hair from her face as the Jeannie looked up to nod. Audrey sang the first few lines of the nursery rhyme, pausing as the words "How I wonder where you are" passed her lips, and gave Jeannie a gentle squeeze.

Jeannie looked hopeful as she gazed at Audrey. "Mummy?

Audrey grew despondent at her inability to tell the child anything other than her repeated, yet meaningless answer of "soon", and hearing movement in the hall, carried Jeannie to the door to find Helen heading for the washroom.

"Helen, when you're finished there, would you mind sitting with Jeannie one moment? I've an idea that might help her better understand when she'll see her mother."

***********************************

The knock at the doorframe was a welcome reprieve from the paperwork Siegfried chose to tackle as Audrey put the children to bed. He would have liked to help, but it seemed rather late in the match to change the rules of play, and so he remained downstairs, not wishing to interfere with Audrey's well-established routine. Besides, unlike the other morning when he entered Audrey's room first thing in the morning, today Helen and Richard were both present at home, awake, and moving about. And he didn't wish to make Audrey feel embarrassed if anyone should notice him in her room with her, even if just to tuck Jeannie and Keith into their covers for the night.

"Are they asleep already?" Siegfried asked, astonished, upon seeing it was Audrey framed in the doorway.

"Hardly. I came to see if you have any of those calendars the salesmen leave behind that I might use for Jeannie."

"I'm sure I do." Siegfried began to sift through a pile on his desk, a bit bemused by the request.

As if reading the question in his tone, Audrey expounded on her humble behest. "I need to find a way to show her how much time there is between now and when she sees her mother. I don't know how else to try."

Siegfried, having gone through three separate perilous stacks around the room before promising that he surely had an extra in one of the examination rooms, stopped in front of her before leaving the study to steal a kiss while they were alone. She paused a moment, alone in the room, to close her eyes and savour the lingering feel of his beard against her face before setting off behind him.

***********************************

"How did it go?" Siegfried enquired when Audrey arrived, minus any straggling children, in the sitting room.

"I explained we'd mark off a number every night before bed. And I circled Wednesday. She seemed to grasp the idea, but only time will tell. She may wake up expecting to immediately mark another day."

"We'll keep them busier during the day. It may keep her mind off things. They can use my old paint set again before they go. And we'll take that walk to the bookshop."

"And we'll all go to mass together?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes."

"It won't be easy keeping them happily occupied."

"I know."

"Care to share why it's so important to you? Most times I can't get you to come along on your own."

"I want to let everyone see that you made the right decision to bring Jeannie and Keith home with you that day. I want them to understand what the children mean to us before they have to return home. That they are a part of the family, no matter how short they stay may have been."

"Oh, Siegfried. That's a lovely reason. Thank you."

As a quiet lull fell over their conversation, Audrey stared across the room towards the fireplace mantel and her framed photograph of the children, which she had relocated to the sitting room after a short spell living on her bedroom dresser.

"What's wrong?" Siegfried asked, noticing Audrey's far-off look.

"I should have ordered an extra photograph of the children like you did for me. I'd like very much to bring summat nice to Hazel."

"We are bringing her children to her. That ought to count for something," Siegfried pointed out dryly.

"She's been through so much, Siegfried," she chastised him gently for his poor attempt at humour, then pointed towards the photo. "I were wondering if Mr. Stockhill would have time to make one more copy of the photograph of the two of them together."

Siegfried redeemed himself by admitting that he had already had a similar thought and had, in fact, purchased an extra portrait of each child to give to their family. "Siegfried Farnon!" Audrey gave him a look of exasperation that turned lovingly appreciative as he told her the story of his visit to the studio before Valentine's Day, as well as his thoughts on using the hinged frame he had noticed when emptying the cartons previously stored in the bedsit.

"It's not too ornate and still in very good condition. I think it would work well for their photographs."

"You're a very good man," Audrey declared, touched by his kindness and thoughtfulness. "And I love you for it." She punctuated her feelings with a kiss, and as Siegfried gladly reciprocated, he felt a welcome release of the day's moodiness, replaced with the joy of holding Audrey in his embrace and relief at ending a difficult day on a much happier note.

Chapter Text

Sunday, 2 March 1941:

Siegfried breezed into the kitchen Sunday morning feeling more optimistic than he probably had a right to be. He did acknowledge that to himself but found that he simply didn't care about any possible difficulties with his plan. He was completely enamoured with the idea of his entire family all attending mass that day. He couldn't explain it beyond some sort of male hubris. Part of it, he knew, was a chance to prove the naysayers and gossips wrong. Jeannie and Keith were delightful; and those at Skeldale House had been privileged to meet and care for them, and now he wished for an opportunity for other people to see that. Privately, he also wished for people to see Audrey as the true matriarch of the house. She had every right to make decisions for the household because her decisions were far more likely to be good for everyone involved than his ever were. And lastly, though he wouldn't admit it, turning up with an entire group around him made him feel a bit like a peacock strutting its feathers. All of these wonderful people liked him, cared for him, and wished to be with him. And he was forever grateful—and proud. So very proud of every one of them.

He knew Helen and Audrey were right to worry about how the children and Jimmy would behave, but his gut was telling him they could handle it. And he was choosing to trust his gut. In that moment, however, his gut, along with the rest of him, was confused. Audrey was in the kitchen, spreading jam on toast and cutting it into quarters for Jeannie and Keith, but Jeannie and Keith were nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning." He continued to glance around the room. "Is Helen down already?"

"Not yet." She answered with a smile which showed a flash of amusement he immediately noticed and felt joy in seeing.

He stared at her a moment, waiting to see if she would offer an explanation for the missing children, but she continued fixing their breakfast as if they were right there at the table as they should be. "Have you possibly misplaced anyone this morning, my dear?"

"Misplacing things is your job, love."

He paused in his return banter, enjoying her quick comebacks, but even more so marvelling over the fact that he was quite sure she had never graced him with her oft-used term of endearment before, and it sparked a fierce flame of affection towards her for him to hear it.

When his hesitation caused her to look at him oddly, he quickly rebounded with, "Fine. I give in. Where are they?"

"Feeding the animals." Her voice held a touch of glee, which Siegfried found to be contagious. 

"And to think it took Tristan over two decades to do the same thing on his own."

Audrey swatted at him. "Behave."

"Behave? I am behaving. You're the one being cryptic."

"I don't see how. You asked where they were and I told you."

"They're in the shed feeding the actual animals?"

"Aye," Audrey answered in a somewhat distracted tone as she set two places at the table for the small assistants. 

"And am I to assume they're out there with Carmody?"

She gave him a pointed look. "Well, I didn't send them out on their own."

"Did you ask him to take them out with him?"

"I didn't ask him a thing. He suggested it all on his own."

Siegfried cast her a suspicious glance. "That seems terribly unlike him."

"Mmm," she hummed her agreement.

Exasperated, Siegfried wondered if it would be easier to march out to the shed and ask the young man what he was doing rather than to continue to attempt to pry the reasoning out of Audrey. She must have taken pity on him after his second spate of silence, because once the table was completely set for the children's meal, she walked over to him, bestowing a kiss on his cheek. 

"He has a proposal for you. He hopes that since he's out there feeding the animals, with the children, on his own, you'll free him from owt to do with keeping them quietly entertained at church. Said he felt his going at all were a favour to you as is, so it would be unreasonable of you to expect him to mind the children while we're there."

"Oh, he does, does he?"

"I thought it sounded very fair. And it were nice being able to put together a quick bite for the children in peace before we have to get them ready to go to church." 

"Yes, well, I suppose it did make things easier for you, which I'm glad to hear."

"So maybe you can go thank him and bring in the children when you come back?"

"That sounds perfectly acceptable."

"And I'm glad to hear that." She offered a second kiss and waved him off towards the back scullery door, still smiling as he walked off.

***********************************

The children enjoyed their toast, and then it was all hands on deck as the adults scurried to ready themselves, two small children, and a baby for church, having none of them ever undertaken such a thing before. There was a bag of nappies and fresh clothing for Jimmy should it be required, the book of verses Siegfried had given the children, their two soft toys, and a heap of tiny coats, hats, mittens, bonnets, booties, and scarves to be put on and over wriggling little arms, legs, torsos, and heads. 

Richard had volunteered to take out the dogs, putting his side of the "no child minding" proposal into practice right from the start. Helen had Jimmy completely dressed for the outdoors when a certain odour let them know that she would need to undress and begin again. And Jeannie and Keith, who seemed to forget all about what church was like last time, were running around the house in excitement over an outing with the entire household.

"They're in for a sorry surprise," Richard had mumbled under his breath. Audrey, working Keith's outerwear onto him as he repeatedly tried to dance away, thought that Siegfried might be in for a sorry surprise as well.

***********************************

The walk to the church had been a pleasant one. Helen pushed Jimmy's pram, while Jeannie and Keith marched along, each holding the hand of Audrey and Siegfried, respectively. Richard followed reluctantly behind at the end of their little parade.

Richard aside, there was a fair bit of chatter as the adults pointed things out to the children along the way, and all went smoothly until they turned onto the path to the church building itself, when Jeannie stopped moving of her own accord and had to be picked up and carried by Siegfried, who passed Keith's hand over to Audrey. Siegfried began to remind Jeannie all about the hidden mice he had spoken to the children about over breakfast, promising that if they were one of the first to arrive, they might be able to sit near to one of the small carvings.

He steered the group to a pew near to both an exterior door and to one of the fanciful church mice. Helen cast one more look of uncertainty his way before sighing and entering the narrow space, followed by Richard. Audrey entered the pew next, settling the children between herself and Siegfried, and began to remove mittens and unwind scarves, hoping to signify that they would be staying indoors for a while.

Siegfried purposely opted not to immediately point out the nearby mouse, saving that distraction for when needed, and need it he did, for they had sat less than five minutes when Keith made his first attempt to leave the pew, squeezing his plump little body between Siegfried's left leg and the back of the pew in front of them. Alas, with only one more leg to move past to make his escape, he was plucked up by Siegfried, who held him firmly on his lap. Mass was only just about to start, and he wasn't about to go chasing errant children so early in the services.

Pulling Mr. Lion from his coat pocket, he handed it to the young boy, whispering that Mr. Lion wanted him to sit quietly for a while. Siegfried's idea of "a while" was far longer than Keith's interpretation of the phrase, and he made several attempts to free himself from Siegfried's clutches before Siegfried quietly reminded the boy about the small mouse hiding nearby, keeping an eye on the little boy and watching for good behaviour.

Jeannie, by and large, did better, happy to hold the teddy bear and cuddle with Audrey during the spoken portions of the mass, and perking up each time the congregation sang, even if she could not sing along. Though she had been distracted a few times by Keith's desire to leave, occasionally attempting to leave Audrey's side to join him. 

Siegfried spent a chunk of time with both children on his lap, showing them the pictures in the verse book they had brought along, guiding them through a game he had invented on the spot, helpfully dubbing it "The Whisper Game", which involved the children closing their eyes while Siegfried chose a picture in the book, then upon his whispered word, opening their eyes and trying to locate the image that correlated with the word he had given them. Their answers, however, were all required to be given via the silent touch of their finger to the book's page. 

When the game grew stale, he and Audrey took turns trying to wheedle another few minutes of quiet from the impatient children, then another, and yet another, through various means. Siegfried took turns holding each child close to the aisle, letting them see if they could spy the carved mouse from their spot, promising that when the service was over, they could go see it up close, but only if they behaved nicely, of course. Audrey held them close, revisiting the finger rhymes they often enjoyed during their stay, but offering abridged spoken portions, whispered close to their ears so as not to disturb those around them. Countless times her fingers formed a church and steeple, the children quietly waiting to see the people inside and the vicar going to say his prayers.

Helen, at the far end of the Skeldale group, felt doubly grateful for how things progressed during the mass. Jimmy slept the entire time, allowing her to hold him close and enjoy the familiar pace and protocol of the service, and due to having her arms full, she remained blissfully removed from all child-wrangling required by Jeannie and Keith. While Richard beside her sat pleased that his agreement to be left out of anything related to child management allowed him to simply sit and think, though not as pleased with the topics his mind kept presenting to him to ponder.

In the moments in which Jeannie and Keith were content to sit quietly, either on the wooden pew or a soft lap, Siegfried found his mind wandering away from the words spoken from the pulpit. He had wished to attend mass that Sunday, as a full family unit, and he mused if they had chosen another church, even a single town away from the village and dales they traversed each day, and sat among people unknown to them, that any one of those faithful strangers assembled who happened to gaze upon their little group would likely have smiled pleasantly at the lovely scene of an extended family attending services together.

The thought brought a smile to his own face as he looked across at the sea of brunettes surrounding him, thinking that if such a thing were true and they really were a couple attending mass with two of their grown children and their small grandchildren, then the entire gaggle present would have possessed their mother's dark locks. A bittersweet feeling engulfed him as he surmised that it was too late for him to create a dark-haired family with Audrey now. He'd waited too long to admit his feelings to himself and far too long to admit them to her. He wasn't truly even sure if she would have welcomed a second motherhood had they found a romantic relationship with one another sooner. But for him, without a son of his own off to war or a daughter safe at home, all he could wish for as he sat in a pew surrounded by people who would mostly leave him was permanence, legitimacy, and formality. He had only Tristan, officially, and even Tristan was bound to want to move out eventually. But beyond Tristan, Siegfried wished for a family that wouldn't leave him to return to their own family, or for further studies, or, in time, for a larger place of their own. He wished for a family that he could keep. 

Chapter Text

On the walk home from the church, Jeannie decided that Helen needed assistance in pushing Jimmy's pram and eagerly volunteered for the task. Audrey silently asked Helen if she was all right with that arrangement, and Helen nodded, feeling surprisingly refreshed after the service.

Keith, meanwhile, wished greatly to hold Richard Carmody's hand for the return journey, and Siegfried, pointing out that mass was now over, stated that he and Richard's agreement had come to an end, freeing Keith to accompany his favourite student home, whether Richard liked it or not. 

"He could use to be distracted if you ask me," Siegfried leaned close to mumble under his breath to Audrey.

"Poor boy. I do hope he'll tell us what he's been mulling over."

Straightening up before they might be caught out discussing the young vet, Siegfried recalled another matter he had not yet found a moment to ask Audrey about.

"How did things work out this morning in regard to the calendar?"

Checking to see that Jeannie was engrossed in her pram-pushing duty, Audrey slowed her pace and answered in a hushed voice. "She didn't say a single word. I don't know if she understands that we'll only use it before bed or if she forgot all about it." 

"Either choice is superior to her crying, leading me to officially declare your idea a resounding success."

"Well, if you declare it 'official', then it must be." She bumped his elbow with hers and grinned. Siegfried offered his arm, and the two finished the walk home quietly linked, watching the younger members of their family with amusement as they ambled towards Skeldale House ahead of them.

***********************************

They were barely in the door, having shed their outerwear and just started settling as a group in the sitting room when the peaceful calm of their walk erupted into the house's usual bedlam. Young Jimmy decided he was ready for a fresh nappy and a feed, and he wanted both to be offered immediately. Helen, with the good-natured expression of a woman who knew a baby's happy silence could only last so long, set off for the bedsit. 

She had no sooner left the room when Keith, who had insisted he didn't need to visit the facilities only moments before, suddenly stood up from his play, the look of surprise on his face crumbling into tears as he began to feel the newly sodden nature of his short trousers. Audrey assured him that she'd have him set to rights in no time and escorted the sniffling child off to the first floor.

Jeannie, unsettled by her fellow small humans taking to crying one after the other, nervously climbed up onto Siegfried's lap, where he unsuccessfully tried to recall the proper words and movement of the finger rhymes that kept her so engrossed with Audrey during mass. He opted instead to read to her from a book on caring for one's pets, showing her sketches of a beautiful array of dogs, cats, rabbits, birds, and guinea pigs, stopping for an extra long time on the pages devoted to rats. 

Audrey and a much happier Keith returned in the midst of Siegfried's long-winded and almost entirely one-sided conversation about the superiority of rats amongst the common pets of the British population. Richard, who had kept his face buried in a book of his own during the minor calamities, resurfaced when he heard Audrey's voice, wondering if it might be the right time to share the news of his post from the previous day.

Clearing his throat, he got as far as "I wonder," when there was a small squeal of displeasure from Jeannie as she made to leave her spot next to Siegfried on the armchair and return to playing with her brother.

"What is it, love?" Audrey, who had only just sat back down, immediately stood again to see to the girl. 

Jeannie touched her hair and grimaced. "Ow! Ow! Miss All!" Audrey gently examined the chunk of hair that Jeannie had been absentmindedly twirling as Siegfried read to her, finding that a section of her shoulder-length locks had become entangled with the blue ribbon Audrey had tied around her hair before church. "Oh, poppet, what a mess we have here. It's no bother, though. Don't worry. I can help you fix it." 

Jeannie reached her hand back up towards the odd feeling of her hair pulling against her scalp where it was twisted and knotted, and Audrey gently drew her hand away. "No, love. We need to get a comb and brush, then I'll untangle it for you." 

Siegfried was out of his chair before she could even ask, asking where he might find the items she required. She sang to Jeannie to distract her while they waited, and once Siegfried found the necessary tools, Audrey began to gently use the pointed end of her comb to pick the ribbon out from the knotted strands of hair. As she began to work, she looked up at Richard apologetically. "I'm sorry, Mr. Carmody. Were you saying summat before all of this?" 

She nodded down towards Jeannie, who sat frowning as she leaned against Audrey's chest. The girl trusted Mrs. Hall to make things better, but she was still concerned about how wrong her hair seemed to be and how it hurt when she tried to touch it. So far Mrs. Hall wasn't making it hurt, but she still held a strong look of worry on her little features.

Richard looked uncomfortably towards Mr. Farnon and Mrs. Hall. He had been ready to broach the topic, but now, he felt discomfited by yet another passing crying spell. "I wondered it might be a good time to discuss the letter I received in yesterday's post, but perhaps we best wait for when the children are sleeping." He nodded vigorously at his own excuse to put off the conversation.

"The children are quiet now, Carmody. And there's no time like the present!"

Audrey shot Siegfried a warning look from the sofa. Removing the comb from between her teeth, where she held it momentarily, she turned to Richard. "We're happy to listen any time you'd like to tell us about it, Mr. Carmody." Her fingers moved rhythmically but gingerly over Jeannie's head, and the girl had leaned more fully against the woman after the first few pain-free moments allowed her to relax as Audrey continued her delicate work.

He contemplated fleeing. He could easily hide away in his room and read for hours. There was no surgery for him to cover, and it was unlikely there would be many emergency calls given how many they dealt with the day before. But then he'd have to keep mulling it over, dreading the very conversation he was considering postponing in that moment. 

His mind made up, he squared his shoulders and spoke out clearly. "I've received word from my parents again. In their last letter they expressed concern that I hadn't returned to my formal studies yet."

Siegfried grabbed the arms of the chair to keep from looking as calm as possible. He knew in a general sense that Richard's time with them was growing shorter, but it didn't mean he expected it to end right now, nor did it make it any easier to listen to Richard discuss plans for leaving Darrowby.

"Their recent letter was a written proposal for the scheduling of my return. I feel it prudent to accept their proposal, as to argue against it may have a negative effect on my continued education."

Audrey slowed in her removal of the ribbon from Jeannie's hair. "I see."

"And what timeline have they proposed?" Siegfried managed to ask in a somewhat normal tone of voice.

"They have proposed I return home prior to Easter break. We don't celebrate, of course, but school will be out of session. I can inform the school of my plans, go over my studies again on my own during the holiday break, and then return to sit my last exams."

Richard looked down at his lap, where he had been nervously opening and closing the front cover of the book he held. Realising what he had been doing, he placed the text on the side table nearest his chair. "I know that the timing is not ideal," he began. "But it does give me all of this month to assist with lambing," he rushed to point out earnestly.

Siegfried managed a sad smile. "I greatly appreciate the assistance for as long as you can offer it, Carmody, and I understand, of course, that you need to return home. I've kept you longer than anticipated already." 

"And perhaps while I am still here I might also assist you in securing a new student to come to Darrowby during the summer months." Richard's voice took on an air of excitement at the prospect of helping his mentor. "They can help with the workload while receiving a supplement to their own education just as I have."

"I don't think that will be necessary." Siegfried forced his words out, trying to maintain a grin, as Audrey answered at the same time.

"That sounds like a very good idea. It would be kind of you to look for another student willing to travel here."

They each looked at one another with mild annoyance and spoke atop one another again. 

"You can't keep going on your own!" 

"I have no need for another student!"

Audrey put down the comb and glared at him. "We can discuss this later," she suggested, looking pointedly at Jeannie. 

"I think I shall study in my room for now," Richard decided. As he stood to gather his books, the telephone rang out, and Siegfried stalked off to answer.

When Richard made his way to leave the room, shortly after Siegfried's departure, Audrey pinned the young man with a firm look and a proposal of her own. "You go ahead and start looking for a student." She paused and considered Siegfried's nature when it came to such matters. "Or maybe two or three— who might be willing to come for the summer months." 

"But Mr."

"I think your idea is a very good one, and I'd like it very much if you went ahead with it. Mr. Farnon needs the help and that's all there is to it. I'll talk to him about it if you are able to find anyone willing to enter a similar arrangement as you originally had."

Richard gave a nervous nod and headed towards the hall; Audrey called out to him. "We'll miss you, Mr. Carmody. No new student could possibly take your place."

Richard headed upstairs, mentally reaffirming to himself that Mrs. Hall was truly the one in charge of the entire house and how good it felt to hear her kind words towards him. He would miss her unwavering support when it came time to take his leave.

***********************************

Siegfried found only Audrey and the children in the sitting room when he finished his call.

"Are you needed somewhere?" 

"No. No, it was Mrs. Pumphrey. She was wanting to know if I'd be in surgery on Tuesday. She'll be in the village and wants to stop by."

"Is Tricki all right?"

"Oh yes, she didn't specify exactly why she wants to drop in, but I take it that it's more of a social call."

"That's a relief. We know how she feels when Tricki isn't well."

"That we do." He gestured towards the empty armchair Richard had recently vacated. Carmody gone upstairs?"

"Aye. I think it were hard on him to have to tell you that he'll be leaving."

"It was difficult to hear it. I knew he had to leave eventually, of course. I was even thinking about it earlier this morning, yet I found the actual announcement to be unexpected nevertheless." 

"I know. I'm sorry, Siegfried."

"Yes. Yes, well, it's hardly fair of us to keep him here forever. Now, how is the great hair debacle coming along?"

Audrey accepted that Siegfried was no longer able or willing to discuss Mr. Carmody's departure, and her heart hurt for him having to lose yet another young man from his home. Giving him a soft, knowing smile of empathy, she moved on to the new topic along with him. 

"Just fine. The ribbon's been rescued." Siegfried noticed the length of blue now safe in Jeannie's hands. "And I'm working out the last knots now. She'll be free to go play again soon."

Audrey gave Jeannie's leg a comforting pat and continued her work.

"About that frame we discussed," she reminded him. "Did you remember to fetch it for me? I'd like to see if it needs cleaning." 

"Yes, I'll see to it," he agreed, though he purposely opted not to go find the picture frame immediately, a new idea forming. He'd need to find time to visit Mr. Stockhill at his photography studio the next day to see if he might put his plan into action on time.

"That's the first I've seen that ribbon, I believe." He steered the conversation away from seeking out the frame.

"Yes, it were mine when I were a girl." She put down the comb and surveyed her work, gently running her fingers over Jeannie's scalp looking for any remaining tangles.

"Is it?" The idea of seeing something Audrey wore as a child tickled him, and he wondered if this was how she felt each time he brought down books or toys that once belonged to Tristan or himself.

"It were mixed in with some other mementoes I keep in a box. I noticed it recently and thought it might be nice for her to wear to church." 

Finding Jeannie's hair free of any knots, she carefully ran a brush through the child's hair. "It's all better now, love. I'll put the ribbon away and you can go play."

"That reminds me. I'll bring out the watercolour set for this afternoon if that fits into your plans for the day."

"Me plans are for all of us to enjoy one another's company. Nothing more. The paint set sounds like a lovely way to spend part of the day."

***********************************

After the children's lie-down and Sunday dinner, Siegfried brought out his watercolours again, along with a larger quantity of paint colours this time. Jeannie was beside herself in anticipation as she watched Audrey ready the table, fill the chipped water bowl, and wrangle the children into her old aprons once more. And when she saw Siegfried lay out not just three but six paint cakes on the table, she clapped her hands in gleeful excitement.

"Do you know what colours these are?" Siegfried asked her, trying to rein in her enthusiasm just slightly so that Audrey could finish transforming her workspace into a studio space for the young artists.

"Sometimes it's difficult to tell until you add the water. The cakes of paint look much darker than the colour you'll see when you touch your brush to the paper."

"Sorry to interrupt," Audrey began, surveying the table, "but we don't seem to have paper yet."

"Oh, yes. Siegfried turned in a circle, his comical exaggeration as he recalled where he left them making Audrey bring hands to hips, shake her head and smirk, a stance which Jeannie immediately copied.

When Siegfried found the stack of papers on top of Audrey's desk and turned around to present them to the children, his face broke into a beaming grin to see the two of them standing there, one so much like the other, despite the obvious difference in size and age, and lack of any actual familial bond. 

Trying not to laugh, he handed the papers to Audrey. "I thought they could paint on the back of this pile of old correspondence. It's all nonsense I found cluttering up my desk." 

"That 'nonsense' don't have owt to do with bills, do they? Only I were going to send some home with the children, and I don't want to give away owt you might wish to keep more private."

"They are almost entirely cover letters that came with catalogues and pamphlets I never asked for in the first place. Companies think if you're a veterinary surgeon that you'll buy every new tool and remedy they come up with! They clearly don't understand that some veterinarians appreciate and maintain an array of older tools and a working dispensary that both work perfectly well without all of the new frippery they're constantly peddling."

Ignoring his impromptu rant, Audrey thanked him. "In that case, thank you. Do you still want to show her the colours?" she reminded him.

"Oh, yes!"

Siegfried showed Jeannie and Keith the paints he had chosen for them, giving each cake its initial splash of water. Choosing a scrap of paper much smaller than the ones the children were going to use, he presented them with a dark crimson red, deep orange, golden ochre, mossy green, bright blue, and a brown so close to black that only the labels still affixed to the compartments of the kit allowed him to know the difference. 

The children were delighted and painted their way through their small allotment of papers. Jeannie in particular seemed to have improved in her artistic endeavours, drawing things that were recognisable as simple shapes, then finally creating what was undoubtedly a very primitive person. Made of nothing more than a wobbling blue circle with a number of lines radiating from it, whether hair or limbs, Siegfried wasn't entirely sure, the circle had been further detailed with two dots for eyes and an enormous curved line for a smile. 

"Look at this happy person," Siegfried commented, peeking at her latest endeavour. 

"Miss All", Jeannie grinned, pleased that her hard work was being both appreciated and correctly identified.

"She looks as beautiful as ever. Well done, Jeannie."

Looking over the child's head to Audrey, who was helping Keith to fill his last sheet of paper with a series of vertical lines in all colours, he caught the twitch of her smile and the pinkening of her cheeks as she attempted to pretend she wasn't flattered by his comment. When he continued to stare her way, she finally relented and looked his way, slightly embarrassed by the compliment but also quite touched. "Thank you," she whispered.

Once the children had been cleaned up and the table returned to its normal state, Siegfried helped Audrey peg up the paintings to finish drying. When he reached the drawing of Audrey, he held it up. "I believe that this one," he proposed, "should stay here with us." 

Audrey, looking at the wide smile Jeannie portrayed her with, could manage merely a small one at the moment, and her answer came only as a misty nod. 

Chapter Text

It was later in the afternoon when Siegfried met Audrey in the hall after answering a call from a farmer requesting a visit the next day, this time about a horse. She had just returned to the ground floor after getting her bedroom ready for the night, a task she preferred to finish during daylight hours to make putting the children to bed easier in the later hours of the day.

"A welcome moment to ourselves," Siegfried whispered, taking the opportunity to lean in, hoping for a quick kiss, having only managed to secure one actual meeting of the lips all day so far. While he certainly welcomed and appreciated the kisses she occasionally planted on his cheek, he didn't include them in his admittedly frivolous mental log of daily kisses between them.

A high-pitched screech filled the air, startling them both, and they paused, listening to the background sounds of Richard and Helen having a louder than usual conversation as they tried to discuss various farm animal incidents Helen recalled from her childhood growing up at Heston mixed with the noises and shrieks of Jeannie and Keith at play.

Audrey gave a soft chuckle as they pulled away from one another. "Sounds like far more than four people and a baby in there. It's the kind of volume I expect when you're involved," she smirked.

"It's a fairly mild afternoon, considering. I could suggest they all take another walk, and then it will be quiet here—even with my presence," he teased with a wink. 

"Siegfried Farnon—I don't want to be ousting them from their own house just so we can have a bit of quiet."

"I, for one, often want to oust them from the house," he joked.

"You do not. You love the house being full."

His eyes sparkled and crinkled as her words played right into his hands. "Not when what I really want is to kiss the most beautiful woman I know during actual daylight hours."

She ducked her head and shook her head fondly. "You daft man. You've kissed me during the day several times before, including today, if I recall."

"Only several?"

"I didn't keep count. What word would you prefer I use?" She laughed at the silliness of the entire conversation.

"I'd prefer we have the house to ourselves so I could kiss you without risking smart comments from Helen, scientific facts about kissing from Richard, or requests for her own kisses from Jeannie."

*Well, there's no one out here now, and you've wasted all this time without a single kiss."

"You're absolutely right, my dear—as always." And with his second attempt, they were able to share the eagerly awaited kiss without interruption.

He pulled away, running a hand down the length of her arm. "Much better," he breathed near her ear as he pulled back, a look of mischief in his eyes. "Why were we bickering, again?"

"How should I know? I ask meself that question three times a day!"

Siegfried barked out a laugh. "I do truly adore you, my dear. No," he corrected, brushing one more kiss across her mouth, "my joy."

Her dimples deepened as a smile of recollection filled her face, remembering his repeated comments of late about her bringing joy to the household and to himself; all she could think to do was to lean in and kiss him again.

***********************************

Audrey was back in the kitchen after their final meal of the day when Siegfried peeked in on her after taking yet another telephone call. He had been playing a lively game he couldn't quite explain with the children, as Helen and Jimmy looked on. The baby had been consistently happier this day than he had been Saturday, making Helen more relaxed and bringing Jeannie and Keith's attention back to the baby over and over as he smiled and cooed at them.

"Will you be able to sit with us for a while?" He regretted that she needed to spend time away from the rest of the household with so few days left with the children. "Or would you like me to bring the children in here?"

"I won't be long," she promised. "I've only a bit of the washing up left to do. You could always go feed the animals now," she suggested. "A bit early, but then we'd all be free at the same time. Well, except for Mr. Carmody."

They heard movement at the door, and Richard returned from the only urgent call of the day, the few other calls they had received becoming the start of Monday's list.

"Speak of the devil!" Siegfried grinned to Carmody's confusion.

"Hello, Mr. Carmody," Audrey greeted warmly, hoping to gloss over Siegfried's indication that they had been talking about the poor boy. "How were things at Mr. Slavens's?"

"All well in hand, thank you."

"Richard," Siegfried began, feeling a degree of guilt for arguing about Carmody's possible successor earlier, rather than saying something more meaningful to his current assisting student. "Earlier today, when you were telling us about your parents' proposal for your return to London... Well, you see... I'd like to thank you—for all of your assistance since James left and for the work still facing us this month, as well."

Siegfried pressed his lips together and nodded a moment. "It would have been tremendously difficult for me to have tried to handle it all alone. And I would have been less fortunate for not having had the opportunity to meet you." Looking up at Audrey, he added, "We all would have been."

"Thank you, Mr. Farnon. And thank you for allowing me to be here. I have learnt a great deal—and not just to do with animals. I shall regret it when it is time for me to leave." His face was drawn and sombre.

"When that day does arrive, I would be pleased to drive you to the train station if you'd like. We can have one last veterinary discussion on the drive. I'll even let you choose the topic."

Richard perked up at that idea. "That sounds very enjoyable." 

"Oh, and Richard, one more thing. As is always the case, Mrs… Audrey was correct in stating that my situation would be much improved if I might find a student even half as capable as you to assist me in the future."

He glanced up again at the woman he credited with all of his best decisions in life and offered a smile of deep appreciation before continuing to address Carmody.

"And so if you believe that there may be another student well-suited to our... unique practice..." He felt certain he heard Audrey cover over a soft snort at that point, but when he cast another look in her direction, she had turned away from them, drying a bowl with suspicious vigour. "Then by all means please do offer them my address so that they might contact me with their interest."

"I will not let you down, Mr. Farnon." Richard gave a firm nod, and as he left the room, Audrey turned back towards Siegfried and sighed. 

"Who would have guessed how much we'd come to appreciate that boy?"

"Indeed." Siegfried gazed at the small pile of dishes still left to be dried. "Would you like help with those?"

"No thank you. You go play with Jeannie and Keith. Helen and Jimmy can only entertain them for so long."

***********************************

Audrey had settled the children into bed that night with considerable ease, Jeannie remembering her countdown calendar on her own, but to Audrey's great relief, not crying at the mention of her mother. She had only touched the circled square representing Wednesday and asked, "Mummy?" When Audrey confirmed that the child was correct, Jeannie went to her own bed without upset or any need for the extra cuddling she had requested the previous few nights.

She had closed her bedroom door carefully and walked downstairs, her heart feeling lighter for having been spared the girl's tears. She found Siegfried in an armchair by the front window, one of the pair she and he used to habitually choose for themselves before they had made the move to sitting alongside one another on the sofa for their nightly discussions instead. 

He made no indication that he had noticed her arrival, his hand draped over the side of the chair, absentmindedly stroking Jess, who was curled up next to him, and looking upwards towards the blank ceiling as though he was miles away from the cosy sitting room. Audrey wondered if his mind was still on Richard Carmody's scheduled departure or if perhaps he was thinking of a much closer date, such as the one circled on the small calendar up in her bedroom.

"You're deep in thought." 

He startled slightly in surprise, and Jess, realising the lovely rhythmic pets she had been receiving had abruptly ended, stretched and padded off to resettle in front of the fire.

Audrey moved closer and was about to issue a slightly amused apology for making him jump when Siegfried, his mind still filled to bursting with his previous thoughts about Audrey, their funny little family, and his feelings while at church earlier that day, blurted out exactly where his deep thoughts had led him.

"I was thinking about how very much I would like to marry you."

"What?!" Audrey's hand flew to her mouth in shock at the words she just heard. "Were that a proposal?" She gasped out from behind her hand, not at all sure she could believe he truly meant what he had just uttered. 

"No," Siegfried began and immediately shook his head at his error as he saw bitter disappointment fill her eyes. "Not officially!", he corrected. "It's a statement—about a wish—a secret wish. One that I have been holding close to my heart for what feels like a very long time. A wish I would like to stop hiding—rather immensely, actually."

He noticed that her second hand had joined the first, covering her mouth completely, but her eyes now held hope, a hope that encouraged him to continue.

"I know my saying this may seem sudden and possibly too soon, but if at some time in the future, you find that you agree with my wish, then I hope you will give me a sign so that I may ask you properly."

She slowly dropped her hands and walked over to him, a gentle smile forming on her face. This dear, sweet man. How had she gone so long not realising that the way he looked at her was love? That the way he touched her hand was longing? That in his silence he hid such a desperate wish for them to be truly together?

And moreover, how had she been so blind to how very much she loved him in return? She so completely believed that his love for her was an impossibility that she pushed any sprouting shoots of her own love back down into the proverbial soil each time they tried to unfurl their tender leaves to the light of day.

But now, she had been encouraging that small seedling in every way possible, and it was growing strong and beautiful and at a rate she would not have believed achievable; as if that precious beleaguered plant had been growing all along, despite her poor treatment of it, its leaves and stem curled around itself underground, aching for the sun to bring a bright healthy green to its pale buried parts. And now Siegfried had finally helped her to push away the clouds of disbelief, the storms of guilt, and there was nothing but glorious warm sun filling her, allowing her love for him to flourish at last.

She held out a hand, and he stood to join her. "I have summat for you," she whispered.

He looked at her quizzically, as her hands held nothing but his own.

She leaned in and kissed him, the soft sign of affection quickly progressing to more as she came in for a second grazing of lips, her mouth opening against his, welcoming him to take more from her.

When they needed to part, she leaned her forehead against his and whispered. "Siegfried."

"Yes, my darling joy?"

"That's what I had to give you."

He pulled back and touched her face. "You have my very enthusiastic gratitude, my dear." 

"Do you know what it were?"

"I believe it was a few very wonderful kisses. Am I wrong in that assumption?"

"You're right, of course, but it were also summat more."

He nearly forgot to breathe in that moment but then realised one cannot speak if one does not draw breath, and so he took in a welcome gulp of air. 

"What else was it, then?" he desperately clarified.

"It were your sign, Siegfried."

She was nearly lifted off her feet with the suddenness of Siegfried's arms pulling away from her hands and wrapping themselves firmly around her middle, pulling her to him as he kissed her with a passion that nearly brought her to tears. And the thought reappeared in her mind that she could not understand how she had failed to notice the depth of this man's love for her earlier.

As she mused over the situation, she was surprised by Siegfried seeming to pull away from her until she realised he was backing up to sit in his chair again, then bringing her with him onto his lap, a position that made her blush, but which she immediately decided was her new favourite place to be.

"Audrey," he took in her face as he spoke the words he had long believed would forever remain in his dreams.

"The love I feel for you is one of the strongest, most enduring things I have in this world. I would very much like to share that, and everything else I have, with you—my home, my heart, my life, my name—for the rest of my life. Would you please give me the honour of sharing that love with you as your husband?"

Her voice failed her at first, and her tears could no longer be abated. She nodded desperately and then managed to produce a soft yes, which Siegfried rewarded by returning them both to their feet, clutching her to his chest and swaying in place with her. And it wasn't until she brought her emotions under control that she could offer a full sentence of acceptance. "I'd like nothing more, Siegfried."

He tightened his embrace, and she both felt and heard the words he mumbled against her temple as he kissed the edge of her hairline over & over again. "I love you, my darling. My joy." 

She gently pushed her hand against his chest to slightly loosen his hold on her. Swiping the hand across her eyes, she beamed at him. "I love you, too." 

"The ring!" He unexpectedly exclaimed inches from her face. "I forgot the blasted ring!" For a tender moment to swiftly switch to an outburst so typical of Siegfried caused her to dissolve into giggles, the sound of which made him join in the jocularity, laughing briefly before asking her with mock seriousness, "What's so funny, future Mrs. Farnon?"

She beamed at the moniker and the thought of someday soon truly bearing the name. "You really are ridiculous."

"A man shouldn't propose without the ring!" He insisted vehemently.

"I don't care about a ring." No ring could ever mean as much as simply knowing that he wished for them to live out the rest of their days as man and wife every bit as much as she did.

"But I already have it! I've been moving it all around the house, staring at it, dreaming about giving it to you. And now, when I actually need it, I don't have it with me!"

"Where is it now?" She chuckled again, still finding humour in his sudden preoccupation with a ring to present to her. 

He stared at her blankly for half a second, in which time she vividly imagined them being forced to tear apart the house for half the night until they located the missing symbol of his proposal, then thankfully cried out, "My desk! I left it somewhere on my desk!"

"Come on, then." She led him across the room by hand, through the dining room, to his study, grinning in delighted fondness as he shifted about all manner of papers, books, ledgers, photographs, and random bits and bobs, trying to unearth a drawer hidden behind the collected trappings of his life, which he opened and proceeded to rifle through, muttering to himself as he did so. 

Ridiculous indeed, she thought, biting down on her lip to keep from laughing at the silly, wonderful man.

"Ah! Aha! Found it! I found it!" He spun around and pulled her to him, one arm around her waist, and one held between them, ring box in hand, level with their beating hearts. "Here it is," he now whispered, as if they were about to feast their eyes on a rare treasure. "It belonged to my mother." He looked up suddenly, concern on his face. "I hope you don't mind that."

"Not at all. I love the idea."

His smile stretched from ear to ear. "It was an anniversary gift from my father one year. Their twenty-fifth, I believe. I came across it one day and immediately thought of you. Would you like to open it?"

She nodded, emotional, but also suddenly a bit shy as she reached to lift the small hinged lid.

Inside was a delicate gold band with tiny scrolls cut into either side of where the stones were set, and it was that decorative detail she noticed first, for she thought the soft curlicues were lovely.

She then noticed that there were three small stones. The centre diamond was round, flanked on either side by matching marquis cut stones, each set on its side, rather than vertically. All three were set low against the band, the overall profile of the ring being quite flat, allowing it to sit close to the hand of the wearer, a perfect choice for someone like her, who kept her hands busy at all times. She would be able to wear it without fear of snagging it on clothing or linens or knocking it against anything in the house. 

And yet, even with a practicality suited so well for its new recipient, the combination of stone shapes in conjunction with the intricate scrollwork made the ring stand out and demand attention to its individual details.

Audrey was immediately enamoured. "Oh, Siegfried, it's beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it. I'm so very glad." He brought his arm around to use both hands to gently remove the ring from its box. "My mother didn't wear it very often, so it's still in pristine condition, although I did bring it to a jeweller in Brawton to check that it was in good repair with no loose stones."

"Thank you, Siegfried." He held it aloft so that she might allow him to slide it onto her finger, but as she began to unfurl her hand, she quickly closed her fist and brought it back towards herself again.

"It's not summat Tris might want someday, though, is it? Only I don't want any hurt feelings."

Oh, how he loved this woman! Her heart was always thinking of others. Even in a moment that was meant to be completely about her.

"My mother had a few lovely rings that Tristan can have some day if he wishes—a few far more grand in first appearance than this one. In fact, I don't know if Tristan would even recognise this particular ring given how infrequently our mother wore it and how young he was when she passed away. I promise you that he is more than welcome to every other piece of jewellery she ever owned."

He saw relieved acceptance wash away the concern that graced her features a minute ago, and he added, "He will be so pleased for you to have it. I'm absolutely sure of it." 

"Thank you," she breathed.

His voice thick with emotion, he held out the ring. "Then I think it's long past time for this ring to take its rightful place."

She slowly extended her left hand to accept the ring he still resolutely held aloft, waiting for it to grace her finger. Once the ring was finally in place, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles, then brought her hand between them to gaze upon her new adornment. "It looks beautiful on you. Like it was meant to be there." He brought her hand to his lips a second time. "Thank you." He struggled for a moment to keep speaking. "Thank you for agreeing to become my wife. You have made me the happiest of men, my joy." 

She smiled through her teary eyes and found that once again the best and only answer she could offer in return was a kiss of her own.

Chapter Text

Monday, 03 March, 1941:

Siegfried grunted as he woke, torn from an extremely pleasant dream by the unwelcome ringing of his alarm clock. He groaned and rolled to his side, reaching about in vain for the infernal timepiece. "Blasted thing!" Of all the times to be roused from his slumber! Years of nightmares and nights spent thrashing about in bed or staring blankly at the dark ceiling above him for hours on end. Those days he welcomed the ping of hammer against bells that ushered in a new day and signalled the end of yet another miserable attempt at sleep.

But on this day the morning came too soon. His dream had been sweet and seductive, and he wished to grab hold of it firmly before it disappeared from his consciousness, to slip back into the warmth of his bedclothes, and to hope to slide just as easily back into the midst of the marvellous make-believe he had been forced to leave behind by the dawning of the new day. But that wasn't how his life worked. He had animals to attend to, and Audrey would be wondering where he was.

Audrey! He had been so keen to keep a grasp on the glorious fantasy of his dream that he momentarily forgot about the glorious fantasy that had so recently become his reality. Audrey. Beautiful, clever, kind Audrey had agreed to be his wife! His wife! And she was just one floor below him right that very moment. He didn't know when he had last washed and dressed so quickly, despite the bit of extra care he took to be sure his hair and beard were particularly tidy. 

He was about to sprint from the room when a glint from his bedside table caught his eye. Evelyn. Sweet Evelyn. Agreeable to his wildest ideas and steady enough to support him as he followed through with them. He ran a finger over her image behind the glass. "I still love you," he whispered to the facsimile of his young wife. "I hope you know that. I hope you understand. I hope you can be happy for me. But mostly, if such a notion exists, I hope that you'll look after her. She's taking on living with me in a whole new capacity. She'll need more patience and strength than ever."

He smiled at the cherished face of his first true love. The pain of her loss was still with him. He knew it always would be. But Audrey had helped ease the severity of that pain over the course of the years she had spent living and working with him. She had sanded over the sharp edges of it. And now alongside the remaining softer ache of grief was the warm, glowing fullness of a heart that had stretched to make room for a second great love. There was a bit of fear mixed in, but he tried not to dwell on that. He was going to marry Audrey, and this was the first morning he could greet the new day saying such a glorious thing to himself, and for that he was immensely grateful and overwhelmingly joyful.

***********************************

"Good morning, my bride-to-be." His greeting was quietly gleeful, and Audrey spun away from her current task immediately, noting the cheer in his tone and meeting him halfway to share a quick kiss. He still had his hands at her waist, his mouth next to hers, enjoying their moment of closeness when it was broken by Jeannie and Keith's persistently loud requests for his attention.

"Misseh Fahnuh!" Jeannie called out repeatedly from the opposite side of the room, where she waited impatiently for Siegfried to say his hellos to her and Keith.

Siegfried chuckled against Audrey's mouth. "I'm afraid your turn is over, my dear."

With one last press of her lips against his, she smiled magnanimously. "I'll be burning our breakfast if my turn lasts any longer."

"We certainly can't have that." Siegfried stepped back but captured her left hand before he let her return to her task, rubbing his fingers against her bare hand and placing a very deliberate kiss upon the base of her ring finger.

While Siegfried turned his attention to Jeannie and Keith, planting requested kisses on little foreheads and keeping them happily occupied, Audrey finished breakfast preparations. Besides the porridge, she had a few eggs she scrambled solely for the children. She had calculated that if she saved eggs today, she might offer a larger breakfast for everyone tomorrow, then still have some left for just the children again before their journey on Wednesday. The thought of bringing the children home was one she tried not to dwell on, and as she reached for a spoon and caught sight of her left hand, she purposely focused her thoughts on the feel of Siegfried's kiss on her empty finger and of the wonderful events of the previous night.

She and Siegfried had stayed up later than was prudent, talking about the whens and wheres of their now-impending nuptials. Of course, they wished the lads were all home to celebrate with them, but they ultimately didn't wish to wait so long as that. They would write to Tristan and Edward right away but had decided to withhold their news from Helen and Richard until after Wednesday, at which point Helen could alert James of the news. Audrey and Siegfried both agreed that they wanted the children to be the focus of the household in their remaining few days in Darrowby, plus they felt that everyone might use a bit of shared good news after the children had returned to their family.

Therefore Audrey's ring finger remained bare, her new ring stowed safely away in its box, wrapped in a bit of crocheted lace that had been made years ago by her mother, then tucked carefully into one of her bureau drawers. It was the part of their decision that caused her the most hesitation. 

She didn't truly feel that Helen or Richard would terribly mind hearing their news on Thursday rather than Monday, and the children wouldn't understand the news even if they were to be told. But the ring, for as much as she had insisted that she did not require its existence less than twelve hours earlier, had captured her heart the moment she saw it and immediately solidified itself as the very symbol it was meant to be—a tangible sign of Siegfried's love for her. And not wearing it gnawed at her slightly. 

While the thought of wearing the already cherished band out of the house and thereby inviting the opinions and questions of others made her stomach churn with nerves, the very idea of having been given such a precious gift meant the world to her. Its value for her was entirely composed of its meaning, the metal and stones no more than pretty trappings surrounding the ring's far greater significance, and she ached to slip on the delicate representation of their love, which had been silently ignored for so long and only just recently been brought out of the shadows to flourish and bloom.

She caught herself looking down at her empty digit several times in the short while she'd been awake, and she chastised herself for the sudden habit, knowing the clever Mrs. Herriot would be the first to notice her odd new obsession should she keep on with it.

***********************************

Over breakfast Siegfried and Richard discussed the division of labour, a conversation that had become routine over the past few months. This morning Siegfried announced that he wished to change the plans that they had tentatively agreed upon the evening prior. Originally Siegfried was slated to see to the list of calls while Richard opened clinic, but Siegfried, reflecting upon Richard's announcement of staying only one month longer, saw the notation about Mr. Malham's horse and decided to suggest a change, knowing Richard would appreciate the chance to take on an equine complaint.

"It sounds very much like hoof thrush, though I will give the animal a thorough examination to verify or refute that belief, of course," Richard mused aloud. "I'm looking rather forward to this call. Thank you, Mr. Farnon."

As the young man crossed the room, Siegfried called out to him. "Richard!"

"Yes, Mr. Farnon?"

"The list is relatively short today. Take your time with Malham's horse. No reason to rush through the visit you're likely to enjoy the most."

Richard smiled as he left, unusually pleased with the last-minute change in the day's plans.

"That were a kind gesture, sending Richard out to see to the horse."

"You know what I have to say about that."

"Don't tell anyone?"

"Precisely."

"Thank you, Siegfried."

"Yes, well, he only has a month left. I am simply making sure that we focus on the fact that he is specialising in equine science after all. It would be remiss of me to neglect to send him on any pertinent calls."

Audrey smiled knowingly and deftly moved back to discussing the day's schedule. "Oh, Helen, I were thinking of going into town to bring these to Mrs. Duggleby." Audrey crossed the room to her desk and held up a few pairs of small baby booties. "They were the first thing to go missing when my Edward were small."

Helen smiled at the tiny footwear, thinking about how much Jimmy had grown from those first days when his feet and hands had seemed impossibly tiny.

"I'll go when those two are sleeping." Audrey dropped her voice to the barest whisper on her final word and pointed to where Jeannie and Keith had resumed their play after eating. Then, returning to her typical volume, she added, "Is there owt you need while I'm out?"

Helen looked thoughtful for a moment. "Actually, it's Jimmy's powder that's just gone missing for me. I thought I had a spare, but I can't find it anywhere. But I wouldn't mind going out meself, really." She fidgeted a bit and looked to Audrey, hopeful. "I were going to take Jimmy with me, but maybe, if you'd like, I can stop by Verna's for you—if you don't mind me leaving Jimmy here with you, that is. Don't want to take a chance of him waking the new baby."

"I don't mind at all. You know I never turn down a chance to have a cuddle with him."

"Are you sure? I was going to go this morning, what with the powder canister being almost empty. So you'll have all three."

"I'll be perfectly fine. But speaking of the older two, would you mind asking Mrs. Duggleby if she'd like back the clothing she sent for them when they first arrived? She may have changed her mind now that the new baby is actually here."

Helen nodded, and Siegfried stood to leave. "I fear I must be setting off, ladies. I have an errand of my own to see to before I open surgery."

Audrey looked at him quizzically.

"My mission to procure new photographic equipment! You didn't forget?"

Helen smirked across the table at Audrey. "How could we?"

"Just so you remember, you're supposed to be finding me the extra photographs and frame for Mrs. Buckley," Audrey instructed.

"It is on my personal list for the day," he promised before briefly stopping to see Jeannie and Keith, then crossing back to drop a quick kiss on Audrey's cheek. "Have a lovely day, ladies."

Audrey blushed at receiving the slight show of affection in front of an adult audience, despite it being comprised of only Helen, and she gave his arm a teasing swat. "Go on with you. Shoo. You'll have people waiting while you're off poring over cameras."

Helen chuckled watching the two interact, delighted to witness their relationship change into something that was clearly making them both very happy. She wondered if this was how Siegfried and Audrey felt watching her and James in the early stages of their own courtship. She hoped so, for it was a lovely thing to appreciate the good fortune of people you cared for so.

***********************************

Siegfried walked out into the square, feeling glad for how the morning had worked out. Audrey had agreed to keep an ear open for any clients who might arrive for surgery before hours, and with her assistance secured while also being secure in the knowledge that the exam rooms were in perfect order thanks to Carmody's efforts, Siegfried paid an early call to the photographer, happy to find the man already at work despite the young hour. After a careful perusal of the advertised cameras and a series of detailed questions to the proprietor, Siegfried selected an apparatus he was happy with in style, function, and expenditure. 

He also took the opportunity to enquire if Stockhill might be able to develop two additional copies of the photograph of Jeannie and Keith together before end of day Tuesday, hoping to be able to add one of those to the gift for Hazel Buckley. With more than a fortnight having passed since he made the decision to give his copy of the children's photograph to Audrey for Valentine's Day, Siegfried had grown all the more fond of Jeannie and Keith, and he decided he'd like to have a print of his own again, after all.

More than satisfied with having achieved such an early sale on account of his recent advertisement, Mr. Stockhill cheerfully promised to have the work done by the next morning and reminded Siegfried that he could return to the store to have the film from his new camera developed as well.

Siegfried gave a nod of acknowledgement, contemplating with a touch of humour how Audrey would likely baulk if he were to suggest partitioning off a corner of the house somewhere to create a darkroom, much as he thought he might enjoy the process of creating the photographic images as it  reminded him a bit of his work in the dispensary. Only instead of creating medicines by carefully measuring out special ingredients, one creates a photograph by swirling paper in a variety of special baths. Yes, Siegfried could imagine immersing himself in such a task quite easily. But even as the idea of him holed away in a darkroom developed in his mind, another thought crowded in, edging out the daydream of being some sort of photographic mad scientist. 

This new thought came to life from the developed photograph he had been imagining himself creating—the lovely figure of his beloved Audrey lifted from the paper to take full bodily form in his mind. He was to be married, and soon. He had precious little freedom now for such a time-consuming new venture, the animals of Darrowby keeping him almost constantly busy. But very soon, he'd have something, someone, far more enticing than the magic of photo developing to return home to. For the first time in almost a decade, Siegfried would return home each day to his wife. The very idea quickened his pulse. Oh, yes, he would certainly be bringing his finished film back to Stockhill to develop. Siegfried Farnon would soon have far more enjoyable ways to spend his time at home.

***********************************

The morning sped along in a flurry of hours spent tending to the small animals of Darrowby. Siegfried had only just stowed away the new camera, a recent model complete with its box and all accompanying paperwork, in a desk drawer to look over later in the day, when the first clients had arrived, and the pace had been steady ever since.

And yet later still, as Audrey walked past the doorway to Siegfried's study, she had done a double-take at seeing the owner of said space seated at his desk during a time in which she expected him to be busy in an examination room.

"I thought you were in surgery."

"I'm taking advantage of the only peace I've had all morning to look for proof that I have, in fact, billed Mr. Cranford for my last few visits. Multiple times, I might add. Though he denies ever having received any of the numerous invoices I have posted."

"Oh dear. Well, maybe while you're searching you'll come across that frame for Hazel Buckley. I'm running out of days to get it put together for her."

"You shall have it in time, my dear." 

"You don't know where it is, do you?"

Siegfried feigned insult. "I most certainly do," he insisted, truthfully for once. He knew exactly where the extra photographs were, after all. he was simply procrastinating in order to surprise her with the extra print to include with the gift. But his habit of tossing his belongings to the wind, with no particular care to where they may flutter down and land played well for him in the moment, and so he took advantage of her understandable suspicion. 

"Vitnery?" A voice called out from the front of the house, and Siegfried leapt from his chair and clapped his hands together, happy for the interruption. "Ah! I must be off!" Squeezing past her in the doorway, he laid a gentle hand on her cheek as he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth before he rushed away. And though slightly exasperated by the constant state of his desk and the apparently misplaced items for Mrs. Buckley, she couldn't help but be tickled by the habit he seemed to have adopted of bestowing a kiss upon her every time he entered or left a room. 

***********************************

Another hour or so passed, and Siegfried gladly placed a sign out indicating the surgery was closed for the midday meal. He was on his way to the much-needed respite when yet another knock sounded throughout the front hall. He answered with some trepidation, hoping it was not any sort of urgent issue, only to find a neighbour standing on the front step, not with animal in need, but with a small packet of misdelivered post in their hand and the speculation that perhaps someone new had delivered the post on their lips. Siegfried accepted both the correspondence and their added apology for not bringing it over to Skeldale sooner in the day, bid them good day, and closed the door with a sound thump and a sigh of relief. 

He made haste to the kitchen both in hunger and in hope of putting space between himself and the front door, approached to hear Helen and Audrey apparently discussing Helen's outing that morning.

"...offered me a brew! I didn't accept, of course. I remember what those first few days were like. All you want to do is sleep!"

"Too right! Did you get to see the new babe, then?" 

"I did. She's as precious as can be. Patricia Evelyn, they've called her," Helen stressed the middle name slightly as she passed along the news.

"Oh, how lovely," Audrey responded softly. From his spot in the corridor, where he had found himself unwittingly eavesdropping on those in the kitchen, Siegfried didn't need to see Audrey's face to know she wore an expression of kind sincerity. He thought back to how gently Audrey had spoken to Jeannie about Evelyn's photo, and now to the fact that a woman who never knew his wife had coincidentally given her youngest child her same name. And he wondered if such things were in any way possible; then perhaps Evelyn had been trying to show him that she approved of his love for Audrey even before he asked. The thought comforted him, despite his typical disbelief in such things, and he began to whistle to alert the women that he was approaching.

Siegfried made his appearance to find the entire family present and settled in to eat, with even Richard having returned from his short list of farm calls. Siegfried brought the small stack of belatedly delivered post to the table to distribute before everyone began to eat, pleased to see James' familiar scrawl on the top letter addressed to Helen, and felt grateful for the small twist of fate that allowed him to offer her the always eagerly awaited latest word from her husband.

He flipped past two pieces of veterinary-related posts, neither of which were payments; he noted with an internal roll of his eyes, then found a small buff envelope with tattered edges, multiple creases, and a censor mark addressed to Audrey.

"Edward again. It's so soon!" Her excitement came with a puzzled air as she took in the mangled look of the envelope. "It's marked earlier than the last one."

"Must have gotten lost along the way," Helen suggested. "Why don't you read yours first? Then I can share what James has to say."

Audrey nodded with happy anticipation, carefully picked open the gummed flap, and removed the single folded sheet within. After skimming over the brief contents, she looked up at the faces, awaiting any news she might share. "He were telling me he had summat to look forward to in the coming weeks. Must be the new things he mentioned in his more recent letter." She sighed a smile across her face as she turned to Helen. "Your turn. Go on."

Helen tore into her post quickly, finding a longer missive than had greeted Audrey. She scanned over the first few paragraphs, comprised mainly of words about how much James missed her and the baby. He went on to describe meals that still could not hold a candle to those made by Mrs. Hall, a sentiment that Helen quickly read aloud for Audrey's benefit, and one that Siegfried echoed with a "Hear, hear!"; and complaints of beds less comfortable, if one could believe, than their own even in its collapsed state. The last comparison drew a chuckle from Helen, which she neglected to explain to those gathered at the table.

As she reached the bottom of the first page and began the second, however, her chuckle turned to a gasp of shock that brought every set of eyes at the table her way, and those old enough to understand the perils of being in a state of war held their breath momentarily in tense expectancy.

"He's coming home! James is coming home!"

Chapter Text

"He's coming home?" 

"Why?"

"How long will he be here?"

The questions piled up atop one another as Helen's eyes skittered back and forth down the page in search of the answers. When a second gasp escaped her, and her hand flew to her mouth, Audrey gripped the tabletop and uttered a silent prayer, for what she wasn't quite sure, considering that whatever had brought forth the gasp had already occurred.

"He's coming home for good." Helen's eyes were wide, and there was a slight tremble to her words. "He's had surgery! For a hernia!" 

"A hernia!" Siegfried echoed. "What sort of hernia?"

"What sort of surgery?" Carmody added.

Audrey cast an exasperated look at both men, though she kept her tone gentle in her reproach. "I think that would be up to James to share if he wishes, don't you? Only he didn't write to either of you about it."

Siegfried had the good grace to look chagrined. "My apologies, Helen. Audrey's right, of course."

Richard looked unhappily resigned to being left in the dark, knowing better than to argue once Mrs. Hall had called for the end of something.

"Miss All? Eat?" Jeannie's small voice cut through the silence as the adults waited for Helen to continue.

"One moment, love."

"Miss Aaall." Jeannie whinged. "Eat now!"

Audrey glanced over to see Jeannie sitting in front of her empty plate, her lower lip extended in a pitiful pout before the girl decided to hopefully tack a belated "Pwease" onto her demand.

Audrey patted the small girl's head and quietly plucked a slice of bread from a plate in the middle of the table, spreading a thin layer of butter upon it before placing it onto Jeannie's own small plate. She nodded towards Helen to let her know she could continue if she wished and repeated the same action on Keith's behalf as well, hoping it would help them both sit quietly a few more minutes.

Helen resumed her synopsis of the letter from James, a sound of slight despair in her voice. "He don't say owt about the details. He just says he's had surgery, and he's been recuperating for the last several weeks. Weeks! And he never told me!"

"He didn't want to worry you," Siegfried defended gently.

"I'm worried now!"

"What else does he say?" Audrey tried to keep her words soft and calm, hoping to move Helen along to a portion of the letter that might offer some assurances. "Does he say how the surgery went or how his recovery's coming along?"

Helen returned her attention to the papers clenched in her fist. "He says he's feeling well. But bored. Eager to be allowed to do more things." She skimmed ahead and let out a soft, short laugh.

"He says he helped diagnose a commander's dog recently, so he's had a bit of excitement while he lies about the place."

"That sounds like the James we know, don't it?" Audrey encouraged.

Helen smiled. "It does."

"Does he say when he'll be home?" Audrey pressed on.

"He just says the first half of March."

"That could be any day, then," Richard pointed out. "I'll get to see him before I have to leave. Perhaps we'll have time to discuss all I've done in his absence. We didn't have an opportunity for that when he was home before."

"Well, he were a bit preoccupied with his new son," Helen retorted wryly.

Richard sighed in dejected agreement. "Yes, very much so; I noticed."

Audrey covered her smile with her hand as Helen did nothing to hide the rolling of her eyes before suddenly brightening. "We'll be able to plan the christening!"

"Oh, a spring christening—that will be lovely. And I can help with owt you need," Audrey promised.

"Perhaps after Easter. James will surely be feeling himself by then, don't you think?" Helen glanced around the table, then sagged as her eyes landed on Carmody. "I'm sorry, Richard. You'll be gone by then."

"That's all right. I'm not very good at church. Or at special events, really."

Audrey gave him a look of fond understanding. "Then we appreciate that you were willing to go to yesterday's service all the more. Thank you."

Richard nodded, a bit overzealously, pleased to have made her happy.

Siegfried, who had been quiet for the past few moments, suddenly blurted out "This is perfect! James will be here for the wedding!"

"Wedding?!" Helen and Richard exclaimed in simultaneous shock.

Audrey's jaw dropped open, and she stared down the table at her previously secret fiancé. "Siegfried!"

Siegfried sat stock still in his own surprise at having accidentally let the proverbial cat out of the bag. Then with a twinkle in his eye, he broke the short silence. "Well, that's one way for me to be sure to be the one to tell people good news for a change."

"I have no idea what you mean," Audrey insisted, her eyes sparkling with the same mirth seen in his.

Siegfried stood slightly and leaned to his left to place a kiss on Audrey's temple, whispering an apology for his blunder as he did so.

Audrey flushed once more due to their audience, as did Richard, who cleared his throat awkwardly and turned towards the dogs as if mesmerised by them.

Helen, still a bit fraught from James' letter, teared up as her initial astonishment melted away.

"Oh, Helen, love."

Helen waved away her concern. "Don't mind me. I'm a right mess these days. I'm just so happy for you both!"

She sprang up from her chair to offer a brief hug to Audrey and then to a touched Siegfried. "I heard you're a hugger now," she informed him with renewed levity.

Siegfried's look of bafflement made her grin. "I get the occasional letter from Tris, too, you know!"

Siegfried barked out a laugh. "Leave it to my brother to find a way to poke fun at an old man from thousands of miles away."

"Oh, I don't think you're that old," Audrey soothed with a smirk of her own.

"Yes, thank you, darling. Your tone makes me feel so much better about things."

Helen and Audrey laughed together, and Siegfried narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance. "I'm to be ganged up against all the more now, aren't I?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Audrey agreed.

"And I for one am going to enjoy it immensely," Helen joined in.

Richard looked back up from the dogs cautiously. "I don't understand anything that's happening here," he admitted, the sudden teasing and laughing a stark change from the tearful anxiety of the beginning of their lunchtime conversation.

"I'm getting married, man!"

Richard gave Siegfried a somewhat pained look. "Yes, I understand that. But not the rest."

"The women rule the house, Carmody. That's all."

"Oh. Yes, I noticed that early in my stay here."

Siegfried raised an eyebrow and shook his head, causing Helen and Audrey to begin to laugh all over again.

Jeannie and Keith, their bread slices consumed, or mostly consumed in Keith's case, began to giggle along with the adults, and for one shining minute, the entire household set aside thoughts of who was coming, who was going, and for whom they were worried, and enjoyed the light cheerful moment.

***********************************

Their enlightening meal complete, Audrey returned to the laundry she had started that morning, with Helen helping to keep an eye on Jeannie and Keith until both the children and the Herriots returned to their bedrooms for a lie-down. She already had Jeannie and Keith wearing some of the most worn and ill-fitting of their donated wardrobe, wanting to keep their nicest things clean for when they returned to their parents. 

Siegfried had returned to his work as well and was in the midst of dealing with a client who had returned with the same cat, suffering from the same rash, for the third time in just over a week. He was dour-faced as he crashed through the rear exam room door with far more force than necessary on his way to the dispensary for yet more ointment that he felt quite sure was either being applied with a neglectfully laissez-faire approach or was not actually being applied at all.

Despite his irritated rush, he caught a slight movement in his peripheral vision and looked sharply to his left. The sight stopped him dead in his tracks and calmed him all at once. Audrey's legs appeared on the uppermost treads of the staircase as she made her descent after settling the children to sleep. And Siegfried's expression brightened as he watched her descend the rest of the steps with a joyful countenance. 

She was so beautiful to him. She likely had no concept of how many years that thought had been flitting through his mind each time he laid eyes upon her. And now, since they had finally confessed the extent of their feelings for one another and embarked upon this wonderful new relationship, he found himself thinking it all the more.

As she stood between the staircase and the telephone table, glancing at him with a questioning smile, he contemplated whether he should tell her that right now when the jangling of the telephone cut through the peace. She picked up the receiver, and he moved forward to stand in the doorway to the hall to see if it would be someone in need of a vet.

"Yes, this is she. Oh, Sergeant Yates. It's unusual for us to hear from you."

She cast him a baffled look and shrugged her shoulders, and he leaned against the doorway, ready to settle in for the duration of the call.

"We're fine, thank you. Mr. Farnon is here with me now. They're sleeping. That's completely understandable."

She covered the mouthpiece and whispered, "Mrs. Buckley has more questions."

"What do they do during the day?" Audrey echoed the officer for Siegfried's benefit. "They spend most of their time with me. They play with one another, and Jeannie is eager to help when she can. They like spending time with the Herriots' baby, too," Audrey added, thinking of Neil and hoping it would reassure Hazel that the children would be pleased with their new brother.

"Afraid? No. I wouldn't say so. Not now. Confused at times. Keith were a little nervous of the dogs when they first arrived, but they're old friends now." 

And with a gleam in her eye, Audrey muttered dryly, "And poor Jeannie were upset when you sent Constable Lamley over here." Siegfried felt a sense of smug pride in Audrey's last answer. She'd given information to make a worried mother feel better but didn't pass up the opportunity to get in a jab at the irritating Sergeant Yates.

Her face fell at whatever Yates said to her next, and Siegfried hoped the man hadn't reprimanded her for her answer.

"No! No one is punishing the children for owt here. Please make sure she knows that. I don't want her to worry. Besides, the children have been perfectly lovely."

"Aye, we've told them. I doubt Keith understands, but Jeannie does."

"One moment." She opened up the notebook and grabbed the pencil. "Yes then, travel details. Chaperones? I hardly think... Lamley? But as I said, the children aren't very fond of... Yes, I... And yourself? I don't think that's really necessary. No, I'm not trying to tell you... It's just very out of the way for each of you." 

She put down the pencil and rubbed at the crease that had formed between her eyes. "Another officer in Huddersfield? Couldn't one of the childrens' fam... Constable Tetlow, yes." She picked the pencil up a second time to scratch the new name across the paper. 

"Sergeant, please, if you might reconsider Constable Lamley. The children are not fond of the trains to begin with, and as I said... Yes. Perhaps you can just speak to him about it. Yes, I understand that! Yes. Fine. We'll see you then."

She offered no further farewell as she tossed the notepad and pencil to the table with an aggravated sigh and replaced the receiver. She stood facing the wall, head bowed, both hands grasping the front edge of the table, taking in deep breaths, and Siegfried moved forward hoping to offer comfort after what sounded like a frustrating conversation.

Sensing his approach, she looked up at him, her eyes swimming. 

"My darling," he began, opening his arms to her.

"I know," she sniffled. "I know how it is to have to live knowing your child's wellbeing rests in the hands of strangers. She's worried we might punish them, like Edna did. We'd never. I told him that. But it just makes me remember what it were like then—with Edward." She choked back a sob, and he clutched her more tightly to himself. 

After a moment, she was able to continue. "I knew there were no chance my boy would be treated with any care or kindness. I can only imagine what they put him through. It's a miracle he even speaks to me now."

Siegfried raged silently at Yates in his mind. The man had sent Lamley all the way here to inspect, to investigate. Lamley had seen them with the children; caring for them, comforting them. He had reported back to Yates. Surely the man had enough insight so as to have reassured Hazel Buckley on his own, sparing Audrey such a line of questioning.

And now, if he had correctly interpreted Audrey's side of the conversation, the sergeant was insisting on coming along on Wednesday. Siegfried would be forced to make nice with the man who was likely making the trip solely to take full credit for sorting the entire business. 

Siegfried ran a gentle hand up and down Audrey's back, whispering words of support to her, though with his mind still full of recriminations against the Manchester police officer, the lines of Siegfried's handsome face clenched into a deep scowl as he tucked it hidden against her shoulder.

***********************************

Audrey was working through her lingering agitation as she grated her way through a pile of carrots and swede meant to help fill sandwiches come tea time when Richard entered the kitchen and hesitantly asked if he might join her. She answered in the affirmative, though bemused by his silence as he took the seat across the table from her and simply sat there looking pensive. Audrey, carrot still in hand, spoke quietly. "All right if I keep working?"

Looking surprised, as if he had forgotten he wasn't alone in the room with his thoughts, the young vet nodded his head vehemently. "Yes, yes. Of course." He then turned taciturn once again, quietly pondering on his own, lulled by the rhythmic swish of the root vegetables across the flat plane of Audrey's metal grater as she deftly reduced each carrot in turn to a pile of short, flat slivers of bright orange.

Then, as if they had been speaking at ease and at length right along, Carmody suddenly blurted out the question he had been working over in his mind. "I don't know if I am still to abide by your request to invite a student to work here over the summer months." 

Audrey stared at Richard in surprise, and he hastened to add, "Since James is returning." Will Mr. Farnon still need the help? Will he still be amenable to it?"

Nodding along with her newly formed understanding of Richard's train of thought, Audrey reassured the young man who had become so much more than a visiting student. "Yes, you absolutely should. After all, it was James who invited you in the first place. He planned on it being you, Mr. Farnon, and himself."

"That is true. Had he not been called up, there would have been three of us here this entire time."

"If we bring in another student, it'll give James the chance to have a student to take under his wing again. He were looking forward to being a mentor to you before he had to leave."

She was quiet in her own thoughts for a moment. Setting down a stump of a carrot and pushing aside the grater and bowl, she stretched out her forearms, folding her hands on the tabletop between them.

"James thought he were going to be flying war planes. He's done all that training. And now he's being sent home before he's had the chance to do what he signed up for. It might be even more important for him to have summat new to occupy himself with now that he's being sent home. He may not be up to all of it at first, mind. We're not sure if he'll have any more recuperating to do when he arrives home. But eventually he'll feel better, and he'll like to have a student here, I'm sure of it." 

Richard nodded. He had not thought of James in all of this. His thoughts had been only on what Mr. Farnon might think. He thanked the woman across the table from him and set off, firm in his continued belief that Mrs. Hall was truly wise in all matters.

***********************************

Siegfried had closed surgery early, not unaware that he had likely done so more in this past month's time than since... He paused a second in making the mental comparison. He had closed early many times during Evelyn's illness. He'd often opted not to open at all as well. He'd cancelled visits at the last minute and gone entire days refusing to answer the ring of the doorbell or the telephone. To his way of thinking, there was no choice. She needed him, and he would not shy away from her needs, even when in possession of the extremely viable excuse of having so much other work he could be doing.

Lately he had been altering surgery hours for far more pleasant reasons. And today, he closed early only in the face of an empty waiting area, yet he still felt a bit of luxury in doing so. The front door had ceased its relentless pattern of opening and closing by late afternoon, with only an occasional patient being brought in for him to examine and treat. He had taken advantage of the lulls to check on Audrey, relieved to see that with the return of the Herriots and the children to her domain, her mood had picked up again, and she had set aside her concerns for Wednesday so as to still enjoy the rest of the present day.

And so he saw no reason to continue sitting in place, hearing nothing but the faint sounds of the other residents of the house drifting by the open examination room door. After an expeditious cleaning and disinfecting of the room to ready it for use the following day, Siegfried took great delight in sauntering out to the scullery, eager to see any of his self-created family who might be gathered there.

Chapter Text

The kitchen, as it turned out, was currently in a mild state of bedlam, as every person residing under Skeldale House's roof was in it, though a few were in the midst of leaving.

Carmody, having spilt ink onto his jacket while refilling a fountain pen, was listening intently to Audrey, who was explaining her every step in trying to release the stain from the garment. The two stood huddled around the sink, surrounded by an array of tools gathered for her clever use. Bicarbonate of soda, a kettle of hot water, a bottle of surgical spirit that Siegfried knew full well had been permanently "borrowed" from his own supply at some point, along with a selection of blotting cloths and small brushes, cluttered up every inch of the wooden drainboard not covered by Richard's favourite tweed. 

Helen was sitting at Audrey's desk, jiggling Jimmy on her knee, whose sweet coos started to lean towards sounds of unhappiness, whether at the tumult in the room or something more typical, such as the need to be fed or cleaned. As the thought crossed Siegfried's mind, Helen stood and began picking up the few baby belongings nearby before making a feeble attempt to let the others know she was heading up to the bedsit. Siegfried gave a half-hearted wave to indicate that at least someone had heard her.

Jess and Dash were jostling for position in front of the small stove, apparently of the same confused mind that thought that perhaps there was some trick they were missing at the sink where Audrey and Richard were so intently preoccupied. Dash let out the occasional bark for attention, but his mistress knew him too well, and she was not fooled into believing he had any pressing need as she kept her focus singularly on the task at hand.

The wireless was playing in the corner of the room, with Jeannie and Keith sharing Audrey's armchair and playing on the occasional table, which had been emptied of everything but the radio and a lamp to give the children more space for their collection of toys and trinkets. Half a minute was all it took for Siegfried to recognise that it was the children's hour broadcast and that it was a nursery rhyme he was hearing vying for his attention amongst the surrounding clamour of people and dogs. And from the same corner came the occasional outburst as the children exclaimed rather loudly at one another their interest or displeasure as they attempted to share, or rather at times, refuse to share, their belongings.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked above the din.

Only finally noticing him, Audrey accepted his offer with appreciation, rattling off a short list of things needing doing. Siegfried nodded and crept over to the corner to the surprise of the children, who likewise had not been aware of his presence in the room. He warned them about impending tea time and the need to wash up, then got to work setting the dining room table at Audrey's request. 

Siegfried whistled for the dogs, letting them out into the walled garden, then, returned to the children, who despite the advance notification, still put up a feeble protest when Siegfried returned to usher them off to the washroom. However a whispered promise seemed to appease them, and with a quick switch of the radio to a quiet instrumental piece, Siegfried beckoned to their young guests to follow so that he might help them clean up before their meal. He was about to lead the children into the stone-walled corridor when he stopped abruptly, performed an about-turn, and returned to the sink where Audrey continued her magic on the unwanted ink. She looked up in confusion, wondering if one of her requests had already slipped his mind.

"You've forgotten summat?"

"Yes, my dear. I did." He stilled her hands a moment and deposited a quick kiss upon her cheek, as Richard stood, eyes darting around the kitchen for someplace else to look. 

Siegfried's soft smile to Audrey as he pulled back from her personal space turned to a smirk as he glanced over at Richard. "You're here for another month, Carmody. You're bound to grow accustomed to it eventually."

As he made to leave, something caught his eye, a glint of light from an unknown source, and Siegfried scanned the area where Audrey was working on her impromptu project. When his eyes landed on the object that had caught both the light and his notice, his smirk turned back into a full-fledged smile, for sitting safely on the windowsill above the sink, Audrey's new ring was twinkling away, waiting to be reunited with its new owner once her hands were no longer utilizing substances of potential harm to the precious possession. 

***********************************

By the time Siegfried and the children arrived in the dining room, their time upstairs lengthened by more than one of them requiring some degree of dry clothing after an exceptionally zealous washing of hands and faces, the cause of which Siegfried refused to divulge when Audrey's raised eyebrow asked the questions of "Where have you been?" and "What happened with their clothing?" without her needing to utter a single word.

"We're clean, dry, and ready to enjoy our meal, my dear. What could be more important than that?"

Audrey harrumphed with a roll of her eyes but said nothing more, glad she had left only the few pieces of clothing she wasn't keen to pass along to the Buckleys in the children's shared bureau drawer. Noting Helen entering the room with a refreshed young Jimmy and Richard's return in a new jacket, she gestured to the food she had already brought to the table. "Good. Everyone's here." But as they settled around the table and began filling plates, she cast Siegfried a pointed look. "You've two things that need explaining now."

"Two?"

"I saw you whispering summat to them." She nodded towards Jeannie, who was bouncing in her chair waiting as Audrey placed a half sandwich, cut smaller than those meant for the adults, onto her plate, and Keith, who was giving his full attention to his feeble attempts to untie the apron he wore. As usual at mealtimes, he would have much preferred to go play than to eat whatever it was that he saw on the table. He liked bread just fine when it came with a bit of jam, but these sandwiches looked highly suspicious, and he didn't fancy being presented with one. 

"When you helped them get ready for supper," she added, straightening Keith in his chair and placing a quarter sandwich in front of the lad, resulting in the plate being pushed away immediately. A month into the conundrum of feeding a finicky child in the midst of rationing, Audrey had moved past her early days of fretting endlessly over his daily sustenance intake, secure in the knowledge that he was indeed eating at least some amount of food each day and had been deemed healthy during their visit to Dr. Robinson. She'd not fight the child. He could try the sandwich or not. Instead she silently set a small bowl in front of him, this one filled with chunks of boiled potatoes, placing a small fork down along with her second and final offering.

"Can a man have no secrets at all?"

"Not if it were some promise I need to be aware of," she pointed out shrewdly.

"All right, yes. It was a promise."

"Bribe, you mean?" Richard cut in.

Silencing Richard with a look of his own, Siegfried assured Audrey that he had the situation handled. "I told them that I would put music on for them again after tea. I'll bring them into the parlour so we'll all be out of your way."

"We dancing, Miss All!" Jeannie added, then looking down at her plate, emptied of the half sandwich she had been given, added, "Moah, Miss All?"

Audrey cut a second half sandwich into quarters, placing one more on Jeannie's plate. "Don't forget your potatoes," she added. Then with a smirk that brought out a trace of her right dimple, she turned back to Siegfried. "Dancing?"

Siegfried took a moment to savour his own meal. "The day of your knitting party, I learnt that our young charges are formidable dancers. And," He dropped his voice to a stage whisper and smiled. "It tires them out rather splendidly."

***********************************

"On my way!" Audrey called through the hall and open doorways between herself and Siegfried, who had just bellowed her name. She'd told him only minutes before that she would be in presently, her after-tea washing and straightening nearly complete; but Siegfried's patience was as it always was, and apparently he was quite keen to show off what one constitutes as dancing when involving children of little over one and three years. 

She heard the scratch of the needle followed by the first introductory notes, of which a cymbal featured twice almost immediately. She turned the corner in the dining room right in time to see Keith's face light up with each surprising metallic crash.

As the song's instrumental portion played on, Jeannie was already twisting and swaying in place, eager to get on with the dancing she was promised.

"Just in time, my dear! Choose a partner. They are both eager and accomplished in the fine art of the dance." He winked over the head of Jeannie, who beamed at the accolades bestowed upon her performance, even if the tone may have meant more to her than the words.

Audrey took Keith's small hands in her own and bent awkwardly to swing arms with the young boy, and he stood primarily in place, lifting and stepping as if in a march to absolutely nowhere. Glancing over at Siegfried, she smiled to see him in a similarly stooped position attempting to dance with Jeannie, his task made more difficult by the fact that she was flitting about like a little bee moving swiftly from flower to flower, even occasionally pulling her hands back from Siegfried's to swoop her arms like wings.

As the cheerful prelude gave way to even sunnier lyrics, Siegfried mimed various portions of the songs or gave an exaggerated shake of his various limbs to go along with the words being sung, making Jeannie laugh and attempt to do the same.

"Grab your coat and get your hat.

Leave your worry on the doorstep.

Just direct your feet

To the sunny side of the street."

Keith giggled each time his sister did, and before long Audrey's dance partner was spending equal time as an audience to Jeannie and Siegfried as to dancing himself. She'd take each opportunity to stand back and observe the two as well, catching Siegfried's attention and prompting him to suggest a trade in partners. Audrey twirled Jeannie around as Siegfried hoisted Keith up into his arms and attempted a one-person tango across the room.

As Pat O'Malley continued to serenade them with the happy, carefree tune, and Siegfried and Audrey took turns twirling about with Jeannie and Keith, Siegfried could almost believe that the sunny side of the street was real and that he and those he loved might stroll upon it, feeling the glorious rays of light and optimism upon their faces.

He could pretend the war was almost over. That soon, not only James but also Tristan would be home again. That Edward might finally come to visit his mother. That Floyd Buckley might return to his young family. And that Siegfried might bask in his new role as husband to Audrey.

At one point when Audrey and Siegfried made to trade their small dancing partners once more, the children opted to grasp hold of one another instead, spinning around in circles in a way Audrey felt would surely lead to an inevitable dizzy collapse.

But in those brief few moments, Siegfried reached out his hand, pulling her attention away from the giggling children. His smile had a chuckle pulling at it, and his eyes were dancing with laughter as surely as Jeannie and Keith were dancing with one another. But the invitation was real. Not in any way how he would have ever imagined his first dance with Audrey to play out, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

It didn't matter that she wore a pinny and he patched trousers. That those dancing around them were children playing rather than fellow adults performing dance steps to perfection. That their surroundings were neither a decadent ballroom nor a handsome dance hall, but a comfortable room where quilts and cushions lay scattered across the chairs and sofa. Dogs barking in the background filled in for polite applause, and children's toys littered the floor in place of any lavish decorations. And among all this chaos and silliness, Audrey and Siegfried stepped into one another's arms to sway together in some approximation of a dance for the very first time. And it was more wonderful than anything Siegfried had ever conjured in any of his dreams, be they during his waking hours or when deep in slumber. For this moment was real, and therefore it was marvellous.

***********************************

The dancing, as promised, did tire the children, although Siegfried had forgotten one other key point from his afternoon spent caring for the children on his own, that being that it also made them hungry. A change was swiftly made to the regular routine, sending Richard quietly to the shed to feed the animals on his own as Audrey heated a bit of milk and brought out the few remaining sandwiches she had put aside earlier.

Keith threw his upper body across the table in dramatic response to being presented the vegetable spread sandwich yet again, but watching his sister plough through her first quarter, then hungrily reach for another, Keith decided to at least try a bit. His first nibble wound up spat out immediately, however, and with a doleful look towards Mrs. Hall, who simply raised her eyebrows in his direction, he peeled open the sandwich to investigate further. With no chastisement brought forth by the kindly woman, he scraped the filling from the sandwich and quelled his hunger by eating through one slice of the empty bread with minute bites, interspersing individual carrot shavings he carefully plucked from the vegetable filling he had dumped onto his plate. 

When he eventually finished his tedious food consumption, Audrey ushered the children to bed, thinking that when they met the Buckleys on Wednesday she'd have a question of her own. "What on earth was the secret to making that child eat?"

***********************************

"And you!" Audrey good-naturedly scolded Siegfried as they sat together on the sofa for their end-of-day tradition. "Telling our news after it were your idea to wait!"

Siegfried let out a jovial huff of amusement. "I don't know what I enjoyed more—the looks on Helen's and Richard's faces or the one on yours."

"You were right. You deserved a chance to finally be the one to give out good news." She grinned in recognition of her history of blurting out happy goings-on over the years. "Though I did manage to keep quiet about the baby when Helen were expecting," she pointed out proudly.

"Oh, so it's only my thunder you enjoy stealing!" Siegfried beamed at her, letting her know that he wasn't actually cross over her past instances of impatience. 

On the contrary—aside from the initial fleeting disappointment at missing out on delivering previous special happenings in his own way, he secretly thought her almost childlike inability to keep quiet about any notable gift or information she believed would make someone else happy was another of her wonderful qualities. It spoke of how much she cared for others—that her greatest joy came from the look of pleasant surprise or cheer on the face of someone other than herself. He knew, on a more sober level, that it probably also spoke of an inability to give out any large gifts, physical or otherwise, to her loved ones on her own. Once she came to Skeldale, she was suddenly able to be part of moments of happy surprise due to them being financed by his wallet rather than her own.

"I truly didn't intend to tell everyone tonight," he added, more earnestly. He didn't want her to think he purposely went back on their mutual decision.

She nudged his arm with her shoulder. "I know. I'm well aware of how those things can just come tumbling out of a person!"

Siegfried reached for her hand, proudly displaying her new ring once again, and pressed a kiss upon it. "We are apparently quite the matched pair, my joy. At least in that one way. Whoever would have guessed?"

"I think we're matched in many ways. Just not in the leaving of one's clothing all over the house."

Siegfried chuckled and joined in the fun. "Or in the screaming across the house for the person whose help you desperately require?"

"Aye. And the losing of all one's earthly possessions." She sighed happily, took a sip of her sherry, and looked up at him fondly. "We're matched in the more important ways. We love our family, no matter how odd it is."

"We like to help others. Though in my case the others tend to be more animals than people." 

She shook her head at his self-deprecating smirk. "You help plenty of people. Or have you forgotten the five others living in your house right now? And that's not even including me. And you helped me most of all."

"Oh, my love, I think you and I are completely matched when it comes to helping one another. Or, more likely, you've done more for me..."

"No," she corrected vehemently. "No, you were right with the first bit. We're matched," she insisted firmly.

He lowered his face to press a kiss on her cheek. "I am exceptionally pleased that you believe that to be true."

And with that first gentle brush of his lips across her face, their words slowly fell away, replaced entirely by kisses. Their smirks and nudges gave way to gentle caresses. Their laughter softened into pleasant sighs. After a while, how long neither could say, Siegfried pulled away from their kisses, pressing his lips to her forehead one last time. They both smiled, aware that they needed to pause in their enjoyment of the moment. Their hearts still racing, their breathing still coming out in soft pants, Siegfried shifted his position to wrap an arm around her slim shoulders; she shifted hers to rest her head against his strong chest. Their heart rates slowed and their breathing evened out, becoming synchronised with one another's, their chests rising and falling in unison.

They spoke quietly about the highs of the day. Audrey was still overjoyed at receiving the waylaid letter from Edward, and both were ever so pleased for Helen and Jimmy to have James coming home. And for that moment, they opted not to mention any lows.

Unable to completely resist the temptation of holding her so close, Siegfried offered yet another kiss to the side of Audrey's face. "I love you." The words brushed across her hair. 

She smiled in delight, a short bubble of hushed laughter preceding her words as she reached out to him, running her hand across the side of his face, letting it drift back into his hair. "I love you, too, Siegfried."

Chapter Text

Tuesday, 04 March 1941:

"Audrey, my darling, it's time to wake up." She felt his breath across her ear as he whispered to her, and it sent a shiver through her body despite being tucked under numerous covers.

"Must we?" she asked, a touch of a sultry whine to her voice that she barely recognised in hearing herself say it to the man spooned behind her. "I'm so comfortable just like this." With her eyes still closed against the early hour, she illustrated her point by wriggling a bit under the warm bedclothes to press herself more firmly against Siegfried's chest.

"Audrey? Are you awake?"

She slowly opened her eyes, ready to tease the silly man for asking such a daft question. She had just answered him, so obviously she was awake. Only as she blinked away the last of her night's sleep did she realise that it was she who was being daft, as she was, of course, alone in her own bed. The gloriously inviting form of Siegfried's body vanished along with her dream of sharing the night with him. She stretched and mourned the dream for a moment. It had been a delicious one. One that she would have felt guilty about months ago. But now, with her new ring adding a pleasant weight to her finger, she felt no remorse at her nocturnal imaginings of how it might be when she could finally go to bed with her new husband each evening.

There was a soft tapping noise that jostled her from her thoughts. "Audrey?"

"Siegfried?" Her clock hadn't even rung yet. "One moment," she called out softly, slipping from bed and into her dressing gown, pulling it tightly around her to try to preserve some of the warmth of sleep as she went to her door, opening it slightly.

Siegfried was in the hallway, donned in his own dressing gown and slippers, a sheepish look on his face. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Is summat wrong?"

"No!" he assured her, looking a bit uncomfortable, as if his reason for being at her door at such an early hour seemed foolish even to himself after standing there tapping the last few minutes.

She tilted her head in question, a tender smile on her face, and she adjusted her grip on the door to lean against it slightly. In doing so, Siegfried caught a glimpse of her ring and smiled. It was the difference that gave him the courage to go to her door so very early. He had knocked on her door only a few mornings ago, but only after he knew she was awake and well into her morning routine. But this morning, when he woke before his own alarm, thinking of her and the children, he found himself wishing desperately for them to be awake as well so as to prolong their last day together. And so he had reassured himself that waking her now that she was his fiancée was somehow more acceptable than it would have been to do so previously.

"I wondered if I might convince you to start your day early and that perhaps I might be here when the children wake."

Audrey's heart felt both joy and sorrow in seeing the earnest look on Siegfried's face. She knew that he might not say so as often as she but that he would miss Jeannie and Keith terribly. "Let's both get dressed for the day; then we can wake them together."

***********************************

"Jeannie, love, it's morning." Audrey gently rubbed her hand along Jeannie's shoulder and upper arm until the girl opened her eyes, smiling to see "Miss All"'s friendly face looking down at her. She pushed her covers down and wriggled herself into a seated position, brushing her hair out of her face with the back of her dimpled hand before she finally noticed Siegfried behind Audrey. He had moved Audrey's armchair as close to the children's sleeping area as was possible in the narrow room and sat leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees as he watched Audrey gently invite the children to welcome in a new day.

"Misseh Fahnuh!" She scrambled up, tripping over the hem of her nightgown in her hurry. 

Audrey caught her with a chuckling reminder to the girl to "Be careful!"  Jeannie happily made her way to Siegfried, climbing onto the chair with his assistance to have an early morning hug. Siegfried had no sooner closed his arms around her when she shook herself loose of his embrace, slid down his legs and returned to Audrey's side to help wake her brother, who was taking far longer to return to wakefulness, scowling a bit at his sister when her incessant calling of his name finally annoyed him enough to open his eyes.

Sensing they might begin the day with an argument if she didn't intervene, Audrey ran her hand along Keith's rounded face and quietly pointed out that they had a visitor, pointing out Siegfried still perched in the armchair. Keith's eyes widened and his face broke into a smile much as his sister's had, and he thrust his arms out towards Siegfried, who obliged by stepping forward and reaching past Jeannie and Audrey for the small boy. After a quick cuddle, Audrey took both children to use the toilet, returning in record time. "Had I known having you in here would make them go through the motions so quickly, I'd have had you waking them up since the first day," she joked.

Siegfried took turns keeping the children entertained as Audrey helped them to dress, once again in the clothing least suited to sending home with them. As Jeannie sat on Audrey's bed, pulling on her socks, she noticed the calendar lying on top of the low bureau. "Mummy?"

Siegfried looked up with concern from where he was helping to buckle Keith's shoes. Audrey smoothed her skirt and took a seat on the bed beside Jeannie. She pointed to the empty block for Tuesday, attempting to help her understand. "This is today, love. Tuesday. Today you're here with Mrs. Hall and Mr. Farnon." She pointed to the next circled block. "This is tomorrow. Wednesday. Tomorrow we'll bring you to Mummy."

She pointed to Tuesday once more. "Today. Here with us." She moved her finger to the next block. "Tomorrow you see your mummy. Do you understand?"

Jeannie pointed to Wednesday. "Ah-mahwoh."

Audrey nodded.

"Mummy," Jeannie added firmly.

"Very good, love." Audrey pulled the small girl to her side and closed her eyes, telling herself to fully experience every hug or cuddle over the remaining hours she had left with them.

***********************************
 

Siegfried had announced to great fanfare that this morning the children could come along for the early feeding of the animals boarding in for observation for a change. And though it took longer than the act of feeding and checking on the patients combined, he insisted on helping the children into their outerwear on his own, fumbling with each button, fastening, and tie until eventually both children were warmly dressed for their short trip outdoors.

Audrey had dialled in the cheeriest music she could find on the wireless and got started on what would be the most robust breakfast she had made for the family in ages. She had only the slightest amount of bacon left of their current rations, along with two small sausages and the remaining boiled potatoes from the previous day. Retrieving the tin of corned beef that had been included in the hamper from Mrs. Pumphrey, she started on a corned beef hash, slowly frying the meats to bring out as much flavour as possible. 

Once the hash was well in hand, she moved on to scrambling eggs enough for everyone while still retaining enough for the children for their final morning. She added a jar of her canned tomatoes, toast, and tea to finish off the meal, placing the last of their started jar of jam on the table for Jeannie and Keith. Looking into the small basket from Mrs. Pumphrey, still set out on the table, she was reminded that there was a full jam jar included in those offerings as well, and entering the pantry, she noted that they had also received a few more recently in lieu of payment. 

With the children leaving, she knew they would resume a much slower pace of consuming the preserves. Holding the jar from Mrs. Pumphrey, with its lovely label adorned with small blossoms, and noting the unopened box of biscuits still available as well, she stowed the basket behind a few other items on a high shelf, with the thought sparking that it might be nice to send a few small things home with the children. She took quick inventory of her basic ingredients and realised she could easily make up more of the carrot biscuits the children had enjoyed earlier in their stay. She had plenty of flour at the moment, and the recipe called for next to no sugar. She could make enough for the children to eat on the journey, with some extras to leave behind. 

Siegfried and the children had returned from their trip to the animal shed as Richard came downstairs, delivering the news that the Herriots were also awake and would be down shortly. Siegfried noted the pleased expression Audrey wore as she set the table, knowing they'd all gather together for breakfast that morning.

Breakfast was a joyful affair. Keith was delighted with his pile of eggs and was even persuaded to try some of the hash, though once the few bites were gone, he shook his head quite emphatically against offers of any more. He did, however, pat an egg-coated hand against Audrey's to ask in his own way for a refill of eggs on his plate, and she was pleased as punch both to see him happily eating and to be able to fulfil his wish, discreetly wiping off the back of her hand before resuming her own breakfast.

Siegfried and Richard made plans to handle the day as they did the previous, with Siegfried in surgery and Richard on calls. Helen was glad to report that little Jimmy had slept well that night and was in a very good mood that morning as well. To prove her point, the baby sat propped against Siegfried's chest, thoroughly enjoying the gumming of his small fist, as Siegfried proved rather adept at navigating the consumption of their special breakfast one-handed. Helen took enjoyment in pointing out that was because nothing required cracking or cutting, but Siegfried insisted it was a rare and innate talent, pleased to see that his nonsense worked exactly as he hoped as Audrey shook her head and mumbled over his antics, a beaming grin firmly in place the entire time.

Jeannie, as always, consumed every bite given to her, and not for the first time, Audrey marvelled at the difference between the two young siblings. Jeannie happened to look up as Audrey gazed her way, and seeing the kind woman smiling at her, bounced in her seat and waved across the table. "Miss All! Kee eat!"

"Yes, love, he certainly is!"

Chapter Text

Breakfast ended, and Richard set off for the exam rooms to check his supplies for the day, with Audrey calling after him to be sure to pick up a few sandwiches she put together for him with the leftover food from breakfast. There wasn't a crumb of anything left after she wrapped up the small lunch for the student, and it made her feel pride to see that even now she could occasionally still put together something everyone truly enjoyed. Thanks, in large part, of course, to the contribution from Mrs. Pumphrey. Having been perusing what was left in the basket earlier, she already had an idea for something special for Siegfried later, too. He was fond of the tinned kippers Mrs. Pumphrey liked to include, and she had a few ideas for ways she might serve those to him later.

She, Helen, and the children could make do with bread and cheese, and perhaps the remaining tomatoes, though she knew that would likely be just bread and jam again for Keith, to be sure. 

Helen left to feed and change Jimmy, and Siegfried casually spoke up from his place on the floor where he was playing with the children. "I won't keep full hours today if I can avoid it."

"Siegfried, are you sure? You'll be gone all day tomorrow."

"Yes, but Richard will be here barring any emergency."

"I feel as though we've caused you to cut back on your hours so often this past month."

"Well, then... It will be one thing we'll..." He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "We'll no longer worry about that—starting Thursday." His words were soft, and his sentence came out fragmented.

Audrey nodded sadly. "We'll leave after breakfast tomorrow. Everything we do with them from here on out today we'll be doing for the last time." She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, then scolded herself aloud. "It's not time for me to be weepy now, is it? I've far better things to be doing." She forced a smile and turned back to the washing up, trying to work through it as quickly as possible, her new ring twinkling on the windowsill as she worked.

Richard came back through as she was finishing, list in hand, asking Siegfried a few last-minute questions specific to the various farmers he'd be seeing over the course of his day. Audrey pressed a thermos and wrapped bundle into his hands. "Enjoy it while we have it."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hall." He took two long strides towards the back door and stopped, turning to face Siegfried, Jeannie, and Keith. "Goodbye, children. I shall see you for tea." Jeannie and Keith looked up at the young man and waved enthusiastically. "Bye!" Jeannie called out, to be joined in short order by Keith, who clambered up onto his pudgy legs to wave some more while shouting, "Bye! Bye! Bye!" much to the surprise of everyone assembled.

As the Vauxhall could be heard driving off, Audrey exchanged looks of amazement with Siegfried over what they had just witnessed from both Richard and Keith. "It's as if I don't recognise either of them anymore!"

Siegfried grabbed Keith around the waist and pulled the boy to himself, giving him a playful squeeze for a job well done. "I think they're both growing up, my dear."

***********************************

The doorbell sounded before surgery had opened for the day and even before Audrey and Siegfried had left the kitchen. "I'll get it," Audrey offered, hoping to successfully request any clients come back a little later.

But it was Mrs. Hirst from the laundry who appeared on the doorstep.

"Oh, hello," Audrey greeted in surprise, typically only seeing the older woman at Women's Institute meetings or community events. 

"I heard from Verna Duggleby that the children are leaving tomorrow. I'd been working on a second set of underwear for each of 'em and wanted to bring 'em over before they go."

After hearing a conversation at the knitting party the previous month about the children's lack of clothing and a particular need for undergarments, Mrs. Hirst had knitted a set for the children early in their stay, asserting that it was her way of thanking Audrey for the ride to Pumphrey Manor. Audrey had no idea the woman had begun working on another set, and she smiled in true gratitude.

"I'm sorry they weren't done earlier," she had added as she handed the small paper-wrapped bundle over.

"Not at all!" Audrey assured. "Their mother will be so touched. As I am. Thank you, Mrs. Hirst."

Jeannie, who had followed behind Audrey like a little shadow, joined Audrey, who peeled back one corner of the paper to show the girl the delicately knit items. 

"See the lovely things Mrs. Hirst has brought for you and your brother?"

"I wear?" Jeannie asked, touching the top vest, which had been finished with a thin stripe of pale butter yellow ribbon woven through the scoop collar and tied with a small bow in front. Audrey was surprised to see that the woman had used up a special notion for a garment that would not be seen, to be worn by a child she did not know. 

"Not now, love. You're dressed already. You can bring them home with you tomorrow."

"Mummy?"

"Yes, love, when you go home to Mummy."

"Oh, bless her," Mrs. Hirst said, bringing a hand to her chest as Audrey steered Jeannie off to the parlour, where she could hear Siegfried and Keith had relocated. 

"Yes, it will be a big day for them tomorrow." Audrey felt it was the safest comment she could make and be sure of the ability to utter it without a tremble in her voice.

"I shall let you get back to your preparations, then." 

Audrey thanked her again, and the women made their farewells. Audrey ducked her head into the sitting room to let Siegfried know she'd be right down and brought the kind gift to her room, tucking it in with the children's other clothing in their new spot in her wardrobe. She'd need to find some way to pack everything so that it could be easily carried, but she'd see to that when they were sleeping. Right then she wanted nothing more than to join the children and Siegfried in the front room. She'd ask Siegfried if they had any luggage they could spare then.

***********************************

The temporary family had another hour of quiet playtime, eventually joined by Helen and Jimmy, before Siegfried regretfully brushed himself off, fetched a few items from his study, and left to open surgery.

Siegfried had scarcely left when a knock at the door sounded out across the front rooms of the house. "What now?" Audrey wondered aloud, getting up from her spot on the sofa. 

"Let me," Helen offered, handing Jimmy over to Audrey, who was more than happy to accept her tiny charge.

Helen was puzzled to find Miss Dent, the school teacher, bidding her good morning. "I wanted to stop by before the school day started," she explained, handing over a small pile of goods, which Helen flipped through, finding two started writing pads and a somewhat battered pencil tin. She looked up in confusion, and the young woman recognised her lack of explanation, adding, "How silly of me. I spoke to Mrs. Duggleby yesterday, and she mentioned that the children will be taking a lengthy journey home tomorrow. I realise they are young, but I did have these few pads I could spare, given how few sheets each has left, and some old pencils. I wish I could offer more, but we're rather at a loss for a plentiful source of new supplies of late." 

Concerned, Helen clarified, "Are you sure you won't be needing these, then?" 

The young teacher lowered her voice. "Only my older students use the writing pads, and I can't hand out pads with only three or four pages remaining to a few and give full pads to others.  And I still do have a number of them saved from before the war. I try to keep that quiet, though, else the children are apt to be less cautious with how they treat them."

Helen smiled in understanding and thanked the school teacher. "It were right kind of you to bring them."

Returning to the sitting room, she gestured with the small stack and commented to a curious Audrey, "Mrs. Duggleby told Miss Dent about the children going home. She sent summat to occupy them a bit on the trip."

"Mrs. Hirst were here while you were in the bedsit earlier," Audrey shared, "She heard about them leaving from Mrs. Duggleby, and came over with a few things, too."

Audrey accepted the small gifts, returning the baby to his mother, and placing them out of reach on a high shelf. Turning back to see Jimmy and the children all still currently content, she suggested it might be a good time to tackle the making of the carrot biscuits.  

"Sounds good to me," Helen agreed. "What about you lot? Who wants to make biscuits?"

Jeannie wasted no time scrambling to her feet, accidentally kicking away a few of the tops she had been attempting to spin across the floor. Keith slid down from the pouf, where he had been lying on his belly, waving his arms as if he were swimming through air, and happily followed behind the others on their way to the scullery.

Chapter Text

As Siegfried saw to his first arrivals in surgery, Audrey worked through the extra steps necessary to bake with two very young children, gathering extra tea towels and aprons, bringing all crockery and utensils she might need to the table ahead of time, and then fetching the ingredients.

She set to scrubbing a small bunch of carrots, which would become the main component of their biscuits, noting her ring still sitting on the ledge from earlier. She told herself that she needed to get better at remembering to put it back on after she worked in the kitchen, but for now it was safest where it was.

She cut a few thin sticks of carrot and set them on a small dish, telling the apron-clad children they were the only things on the table they may eat as they worked. As expected, both children grabbed a few, giving her time to grate the amount necessary for the recipe, with some extra in case of any mishaps. 

Helen bounced Jimmy on her knee, chuckling as the children lived up to her exact expectations, Jeannie starting right in on eating the carrot sticks she clutched in both hands, while her brother attempted to stab the tabletop with his, chortling in surprise when the end of one piece snapped off, and he quickly returned to the action, trying to replicate the result.

"That were a good idea," Helen pointed out, impressed by how quickly Audrey was moving through her task while Jeannie and Keith kept themselves completely occupied with their miniature pile of carrots. 

"I do remember a few things from when Edward were small." Audrey smiled. "Best to keep them busy until it's time to pour and mix."

As promised, Audrey allowed the children to dump in cups, spoons, and bowls of ingredients. All went well until Keith dove into the plate of grated carrot, squeezing the shredded bits through his fingers. Startled by her brother's fast movement, Jeannie bumped into the petite pitcher of water, knocking it over, and Audrey accidentally caught the edge of the bowl containing the extra flour she had out as she reached to lift the paper recipe from the oncoming wash of water. She wiped a hand across her brow, then looked down at it realising that she'd likely just smeared water and flour across her forehead.

Before she grabbed a tea towel to wipe her own face, she noticed Keith patting his hair with his carrot-covered hands.

"Oh, Keith! Whatever is your fascination with these?" Audrey asked, thinking of how he picked the same bits from his sandwich filling only the night before. She was just beginning to sort boy from vegetable when Siegfried arrived in the kitchen, followed inexplicably by Mrs. Micklethwaite from across the square, who found everyone but the Herriots wearing some degree of biscuit ingredients.

Audrey stood up from her crouched position in front of Keith, quickly brushing her hands off on her pinny. "Mrs. Micklethwaite! Hello." Her words dropped off in confusion as to what possible reason had brought the woman into her kitchen.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the woman began.

"Not at all, seems all I do is cook carrots anymore," Audrey quipped. "Just a bit neater when I don't have any assistance."

"I can see that," Mrs. Micklethwaite murmured, trying not to be obvious as she scanned the mess before her. "I've no children of me own," she continued, silently thanking her stars for what she now felt was probably a blessing in disguise, as she wasn't sure she'd be able to cope with her own scullery looking such a fright with any regularity. 

"But I heard from Mrs. Duggleby that the little'uns are going off to stay with relations, and I thought extra linens could come in handy for anyone facing sudden guests. I were going to donate them to the church, since they're not as tidy as they once were, but this seems as good a place for them to go as any," she concluded.

She took a half step forward towards Audrey, thought better of it, and with a somewhat pained look on her face, turned to offer them to Helen instead.

"Oh, yes." Helen shifted Jimmy and accepted the small bundle.

Audrey and Helen both thanked their neighbour, and Siegfried saw her back out again. "Half of Darrowby will be hearing about the state of this kitchen by midday," Audrey predicted, returning to Keith to at least remove the carrot from his hair.

"I underestimated how many people Verna Duggleby could share the news with in such a short time. She has a newborn baby! Who would have guessed?"

"I would have thought she'd be busy talking about the baby," Audrey agreed, ruffling Keith's hair, satisfied there were no more carrots hiding between the dark waves.

"Maybe after six you're less excited by talk of who the baby favours and how well they feed and sleep?" Helen supposed.

"I wouldn't know," Audrey stated, finally done wiping down Keith. "I think I'm fairly happy discussing those things even now." She reached over to tickle Jimmy's cheek. "I know I'm always happy to talk about this little one."

"Thank goodness! Otherwise I'd drive you spare with all my chatter about him."

"Not a bit!" Audrey grinned. "It were still kind of Mrs. Micklethwaite to bring over summat." 

Helen looked at a pile of linens. "I'll say. These are lovely." She ran a finger over the embroidered flowers and swirled designs that decorated the folded pillowslip on the top of the pile. "They don't look nearly as worn as I expected."

"She does keep a very pristine establishment. Poor woman likely didn't know how to react walking in to this."

Helen and Audrey shared a chuckle before Audrey sensed Jeannie was growing impatient and beckoned for the children to join her in taking turns grasping the long wooden spoon to mix up what would eventually be batter—if they managed to keep some of it in the bowl.

They had reached the point of spooning the mixture onto a metal sheet when Siegfried returned, thankfully, with no further Darrowby residents in tow.

He instead had his new camera in hand, as he explained that patients had been sporadic so far and that he had been reading up on his newest possession. "Later today I'd like to gather everyone in the sitting room to try my hand at it."

"Hear that? If you sit still for Mr. Farnon on the sofa later, he'll take your photograph," Audrey explained. 

Siegfried held up his camera. "I'll be needing your best smiles," he warned. 

Jeannie and Keith, confused about the timing of the request, both smiled broadly. With flour dusted across their noses and carrot shards clinging to their little hands, Siegfried felt a lump in his throat as he wished the lighting in the kitchen was better so that he might capture this version of their images on film. 

He silently hoped that the Buckleys might agree to allowing them all to see one another again some day in the future. Perhaps when they returned to Manchester. Perhaps when this war finally came to an end. He wondered if Jeannie and Keith would even remember him by the time that occurred. He shook the morose thought away, recalling his other reason for seeking them all out.

"If things continue as they are today, I thought the children and I might take that trip to Handley's earlier in the day. When you're done here, perhaps? I'll have them back in plenty of time for lunch."

"That sounds very nice."

"Would you like to come along?"

Audrey smiled ruefully. "I'd love to, but there's a lot to be done today, and I can get through more of it if I let the three of you go off on your own."

Siegfried offered a soft, smiling nod of understanding, though he felt sorry to leave her behind. Glancing to Helen, holding a now sleeping Jimmy, he extended the offer to her as well, but she likewise declined.

"I'll put out a sign, but if anyone arrives while we're gone, can either of you please let them know that I'll be open for afternoon hours and that I may even fit in a few more this morning if they wish to wait for our return?"

Audrey, in turn, asked Siegfried to place the few pieces of luggage he had mentioned having available into her room before he left, and he departed once more, leaving the group in the kitchen to continue with their baking. As the first trays were ready to come out and cool, Audrey fetched a small tin she could fill for the Buckleys—and Mavis and her daughter, the latter two Audrey felt bad to admit she often forgot when thinking of the children returning to their family; despite it being their home the children would be heading to at first.

As the small cake-like biscuits cooled, Keith pointed at them repeatedly. "Mmmm," he hinted strongly.

"Kee wants one, Miss All," Jeannie pointed out sweetly, making Audrey grin, as her earnestness in bringing the fact to Audrey's attention couldn't possibly be less necessary, with Keith's "mmmm"s becoming more and more pronounced. 

"I'm packing them to bring with us tomorrow," Audrey informed the two children. "You can both have some then."

"Ah-mawoh?" 

"Yes, love."

"We see Mummy ah-mawoh?" 

"Yes, love," Audrey repeated. "You can give some to your mummy tomorrow."

Jeannie turned to Keith, patting his cheek and passing along the news that they would see their mother the next day.

Keith, who likely didn't understand, sighed at his sister, pointed to the biscuits yet again, and resumed his requests.

Audrey shook her head at herself as she removed two biscuits from the rack and placed them on plates in front of the children. "One each is all. Do you understand, Keith? Just one."

Keith beamed and nodded so enthusiastically that Audrey chuckled at the sight of him. Oh, how she would miss them. She blinked away her sadness, swearing to herself that she would save her tears for when the children were not with her.

Chapter Text

Audrey, having done most of the washing up while the biscuits were baking and cooling, quickly tidied away the rest of the kitchen while Siegfried got the children ready for their trip to the bookshop—with some much-appreciated assistance from Helen.

When the excited trio left the house, Audrey, who couldn't decide which of the three was most looking forward to the outing, despite the children having no idea where they were headed, decided to pack the children's things. She felt she could tackle the task much more quickly if she accomplished it when the children were not underfoot.

She opened her desk drawer to collect the children's artwork, noticing her bare finger as she did so. "Oh, me ring!" 

Helen, who had set Jimmy down in a cradle to finish his nap, was relaxing in the chair by the wireless, a small stack of well-thumbed-through periodicals beside her, chuckled at her friend. "Not used to it yet?" 

Audrey smiled in agreement as she retrieved the piece of precious jewelry then left for her bedroom, stopping in the sitting room to fill a basket with the children's toys.

***********************************

In her room she found the three pieces of luggage that Siegfried had mentioned earlier stacked neatly on her armchair. She transferred them all onto her bed, opened—a sturdy travel case, a smaller valise Siegfried had said once belonged to his mother, and a basic carpet bag. 

She deposited the toys, minus the teddy bear and Mr. Lion, who would stay with the children on the journey, adding the children's clothing and art to the bed until the eiderdown was nearly hidden by the assorted items she had spread out on top of it. Giving everything an appraising glance, she hoped to fit everything, including the items for their parents, into just two of the cases or bag, given that they also would have their travel basket to carry, and they each still needed a hand or arm free for Jeannie and Keith.

She sighed, chastising herself for procrastinating when she had a short span of time in which to finish her task. She decided to start with the toys, fairly certain that if she were to use the carpetbag, she would have ample space for both their playthings and the gift and food for Mr. and Mrs. Buckley.

She reached across the bed, picking up the small crate that housed the wooden blocks. She felt there was a chance they might already own blocks, and with this set missing a few pieces, she hesitated in packing them. A small corner of her heart needed to pretend that the children might visit again someday. And if so, it would be nice for them to still have something here to play with. Plus leaving them out would save space and make the bag lighter. Having convinced herself, she set the crate on top of her bureau, where she had set aside clothes for the children to sleep in that night and the outfits she had reserved for them to wear the next day, which now included the new items from Mrs. Hirst. 

Returning to the bed, she picked up the small box that held the tops, frowning to see one of the smaller tops had gone missing. With no time to look for it now, she placed the lid on the box and packed it as is.

The small ball given to them by the Rudds joined the tops, but as she picked up the next two items, her chin began to quiver. She wrapped the wooden truck up with one of the more worn knit rompers and placed it into the bag, then cradled the wheeled horse against her chest a moment, as images of Keith playing with the beloved toy filled her mind. She picked one of the other clothing items the children had used only the very first night, when they had absolutely nothing to wear besides what the vicar had sent. The gown had been too large for Keith and a bit short for Jeannie, but for now it would protect the favourite horse on the journey to its new home. She couldn't bear for Keith to find his little horse friend broken upon their arrival.

On top of the toys she placed Siegfried's child's book of songs and verses, touched that the man was willing to pass his own childhood possession to the children. Looking at the amount of space left in the carpetbag, now that she had held the blocks back, she tried moving the items to the valise, nodding to herself that the space left was adequate and that they could use the smaller piece easily. 

The next few items she placed on the flat surface of the thus far empty larger case, The paper hearts from Valentine's Day and a selection of the children's painted masterpieces fit well without the need to fold them. She picked up Jeannie's work of "bwue snow" and set it aside to give to Siegfried, recalling how happy he had been with her new words that day. She kept one of Keith's fingerprint creations as well, planning to store it with the painting Jeannie had dubbed "Miss All," which was still tucked away safely in her desk.

She picked up the patchwork lap quilt that Jeannie had loved from the very beginning and brought it up to her face; the first few tears she could no longer fight soaking into the treasured fabric squares. Collecting herself, she placed it on top of the artwork, hoping Jeannie wouldn't mind it being missing when she went to sleep that night. 

She was left with the clothing. She marvelled at how much they had accumulated in the short time the children had been here. The tiny items were each offered up by local families, some given directly to them, others via anonymous donations— some by way of the general church donation, but several others through a collection specifically for Jeannie and Keith by one of the midwives.

As she fitted jumpers and blouses, short trousers, and nightgowns in the case, she felt a warmth towards the Rudds and Crabtrees, the Dobsons and Dugglebys. She rolled the small things into the pouches that lined the two short sides of the case; the socks and booties, knickers, pants, and vests fitting easily into the spaces created for an adult's larger garments.

With the bed finally empty of everything but the luggage, she closed and latched the travel case and valise and stood them up alongside her dresser. She picked up the carpetbag to return it to storage, and as she did so, she glanced across the room to the little makeshift beds at the end of her own. She dropped down into the armchair, the carpetbag slipping from her fingers as she pressed her open palm across her mouth, attempting to muffle the sobs she felt about to burst forth. She wept freely for several moments before finally feeling able to take a few deep breaths and bring herself back to a state of near calm, wiping her eyes and standing once again. 

She retrieved the carpetbag and set off down the hall with it, taking a detour to splash some cold water on her face. She stopped briefly back into her room for the blocks and paintings and returned to the ground floor, setting the toys in the sitting room where the teddy and lion were still cuddled together on a chair. She then set off for the kitchen to put the artwork in her desk and to hopefully get a start on the preparations for lunch without any further breakdowns. The last thing she wanted was for Siegfried and the children to come home and find her in pieces. Keeping her mind on lunch and not on what lay ahead would prove to be one of many challenges of the day.

Chapter Text

"To market, to market, buying books, oh such fun! Home again, home again, market is done!"

Siegfried improvised on the traditional rhyme as he helped his young charges up the steps to Skeldale's front entrance, once again impressed that Audrey journeyed halfway across the country with the two of them alone. He was ready to slip off to his armchair and collapse after keeping the two children safe and well-behaved long enough to choose new books at Handley's and then to quickly check in with Mr. Stockhill. Siegfried had been thrilled to hear that the photographer had finished the requested prints already, and he slid the envelope with the photographs in between the books he had purchased for Jeannie and Keith.

Stooping low to speak to Jeannie, he asked, "Can you say, 'We're home again, home again, Mrs. Hall!'"

"Ome agin ome agin Miss All!"

Siegfried beamed in delight, truly impressed at how easily she repeated the silly words. "That's marvellous! Now, when we open the door, you'll say that to Mrs. Hall, yes?"

Jeannie nodded, and Siegfried opened the front door, immediately bellowing for Audrey. She met them in the main hallway, having left her work on lunch behind in the kitchen, and found Siegfried helping them to remove their coats. 

"She's here," he announced in a loud whisper.

"Ome agin, ome agin, Miss All!" Jeannie proclaimed proudly.

"You're home again, home again?" Audrey correctly guessed. "I'm so very glad! Did you have a nice time?"

"We certainly did," Siegfried enthused. "The children have things to show to you."

He ushered the children into the front room, where they all greeted Helen and Jimmy, and after secretly slipping the photographs onto a shelf, he produced the stack of books they had purchased together.

"My goodness!" Audrey exclaimed. "So many! No wonder I had so much time to do me work."

Siegfried grinned. "We actually made two stops. But I'll tell you about that later."

She gave him an intrigued glance, but he just smiled and returned to the topic of the books.

"These two proved very talented at choosing a fair stack of books in a remarkably short span of time." His eyes twinkled as he untied the string securing the books so that the children could show off their new possessions. "They proved a great deal slower at walking to and from, though," he confided wryly.

"Oh, of that I have no doubt."

Jeannie and Keith climbed onto the sofa, wedged between Siegfried and Audrey, and excitedly showed the new books to Audrey and Helen as Siegfried provided commentary.

"Peter Rabbit. It seemed only right to send them home with their own copy."

Audrey ran her hand over the cover, remembering the first night Siegfried read to the children before bed, reaching across to hand it to Helen, who admired it, then placed it on a nearby table.

"And a second Potter book that we haven't read yet so that they'll also have a new story to hear."

Jeannie bounced on the cushion as she handed over "The Tale of Johnny Town-Mouse."

"Very nice."

Keith handed over the next book, tossing it wildly over his sister's lap, inciting a fit of giggles from both, and Siegfried indicated that Audrey ought to open the front cover of the small book. Audrey immediately saw why this book had come home. The line of six puppies across the title page would have likely been enough to capture the children's attention, but on the preceding page was a full-colour illustration of two dark-haired children, an older girl and a younger boy, looking at a book together as a circle of fairies danced around them. Audrey understood instantly why Siegfried had felt compelled to buy this otherwise nondescript collection of stories and verses.

Next came a lovely copy of Aesop's Fables, followed by a book with a plain cover embossed only with the name "Golden Knight." It was only when Audrey opened the book to investigate further that she found the full title of the book, "Golden Knight and Other Horse Stories," and passed it along to Helen with a knowing smile.

"Did you leave books in the shop for anyone else?" she teased.

"You'll be pleased to hear that I opted against purchasing a book about insects and amoebas that had tempted me based solely on the fact that the author bore the same surname as they do."

"Oh, I am impressed, then."

"It was far too advanced for them as well," he confided. "But there is one more that I hope will be useful now." Siegfried silently handed the last book to Keith, who plopped it gracelessly on his sister' lap.

Jeannie looked at the book, then passed it along solemnly. "Twains, Miss All."

Surprised, Audrey accepted a slim colourful book called "My Book Of Trains," looking up at Siegfried with renewed interest in his commentary. 

"I thought it might help. There's even a chapter about animals who work on the railway," he stated, directing his last comment towards the children.

"And I may have let it slip that there will be trains involved tomorrow," he added towards Audrey, regretfully.

"We were going to need to tell them eventually. Probably better to do it earlier." She tapped the book. "This were a very good idea. Might help it all seem more interesting than...a less positive alternative." 

She passed the final book to Helen while giving Siegfried a concerned look, both recalling that the trains brought forth nothing but fear and tears previously. 

But in sticking with her commitment not to show upset in front of the children, she plastered a smile on her face and was about to excuse herself to the kitchen when the doorbell rang out once again.

"Normally I'd guess that'd be for you, but there's no telling today." Audrey made to answer the door as Siegfried crossed over to the exam room to be sure all was ready for him to see clients again.

***********************************

Audrey opened the door and smiled warmly, inviting their latest visitor into the house immediately. "Hello, Mrs. Pumphrey. Hello, Tricki."

The women exchanged pleasantries, with Mrs. Pumphrey confirming what Siegfried had told Audrey a few days earlier, that Tricki-Woo was well and that this was indeed a social call. She also indicated that François had a few things to bring inside, and so Audrey ushered in the man and his small pile of burdens as well.

A sudden squeal from the sitting room brought a smile to Marjorie Pumphrey's face. "Oh, splendid! I did hope the children would be awake when I came by. I was hoping to have a chance to see them."

"Well, certainly come in, then," Audrey invited, leading the way into the parlour where Helen was overseeing all of the smallest Skeldale residents.

"You do have your hands full, don't you, Mrs. Herriot?"

"Come say hello to Mrs. Pumphrey," Audrey requested as the children looked up in interest at their latest caller. Seeing Tricki, Keith, who was far less wary of animals in general after nearly a month spent living at a veterinary clinic, quickly scampered over to pet the dog. "Gentle, love," Audrey reminded him.

Jeannie came over and smiled shyly at Marjorie, then took her turn showing Tricki-Woo some attention.

"I know the children had playthings here and that they may have some where they are headed, but I did bring something for each of them if that is all right with you. They are from the small collection I keep at the manor. I see fewer children these days, so we won't miss them."

"That's very generous of you, Mrs. Pumphrey."

She opened a box which she had brought into the room with her from François's stack and presented a small cloth doll with rosy cheeks and dainty red lips to Jeannie, who accepted the toy with both hands, wide-eyed as she took in the soft dark blond hair under a light blue cap and the matching light blue dress with red buttons. "Pwetty!" Jeannie exclaimed, holding the doll close to herself.

"Can you say 'thank you' to Mrs. Pumphrey?" Audrey prompted. "Fank you, Miss Umfree." And the girl went back to hugging her new friend.

Keith, not wanting to miss a trick, was clinging to Audrey's skirts, making excited noises as he waited his turn. He clapped with glee when Mrs. Pumphrey withdrew a stuffed dog from her box. With long brown fur and a black nose and ears, the dog grinned at its new owner, who grabbed it and immediately galloped around the room, flying the dog through the air like a bird.

"I'd say they were both very well-received," Audrey congratulated, thanking the older woman once again.

"I also have a few items for you to bring to their parents, if you are amenable to that idea." She pointed behind her to François, who was hovering in the waiting area, just outside the parlour doors, a small wicker hamper and a wrapped parcel still in his arms.

"If you can take those, Mrs. Hall, perhaps we can set them down somewhere?"

"I'll get them." Siegfried's voice came from behind François, and he accepted the two packages while Mrs. Pumphrey immediately released her employee to go off on an errand while she continued her visit. She followed Audrey into the dining room to discuss what she had brought with her, carrying Tricki-Woo along as always. The children, happy with their new toys, stayed with Helen, as Siegfried followed the two women in turn, carrying along the latest items they would need to take along on their journey.

"Oh dearest me!" Mrs. Pumphrey exclaimed in amazement, watching as Audrey reached out to take the parcel from Siegfried and set it down on the dining room table. "Am I correct in thinking that congratulations are in order?"

***********************************

Chapter Text

Audrey stared at Mrs. Pumphrey for a second in utter confusion before she caught sight of her left hand in clear view, her ring still proudly displayed, as she had seen no reason to remove it for the simple task of heating soup and preparing sandwich fillings.

Now, flustered to have their news out so soon and without any warning, Audrey, cheeks blazing, stammered trying to find something to say while also attempting to hide her distress at the unexpected turn of events. "Oh! I didn't... We...No, I mean...I weren't planning to tell anyone quite yet."

Mortified to feel her eyes welling and not sure where to look or where not to, Audrey turned quickly away from the woman, only to spy a concerned Siegfried still standing, hamper in hand, in front of her. She spun away from him as well, afraid her gaze would give her suitor away, not sure what their esteemed client would think of the latest development should she realise the full truth of the situation.

Marjorie Pumphrey wasn't sure why what certainly appeared to be an engagement had Mrs. Hall so agitated, but reaching out a hand to touch Audrey's elbow, she apologised nonetheless for upsetting her. "I must apologise, Mrs. Hall. I assumed I was commenting on a happy occasion."

"No, it is!" Audrey rushed to face their guest again, assuring her that all was well and explaining her desire to wait to share the news due to the children's impending departure. "And the gossip," she added in little more than a whisper, her mind whirling back to Mrs. Hirst's and Mrs. Micklethwaite's visits, and gratefully recalling that her ring was absent from her finger in both circumstances.

Marjorie thought back to her discussion with Siegfried the previous week about Mrs. Hall's concern with the village's rumours and tittle-tattle, as well as her inclination that perhaps there was something brewing between her favourite veterinarian and his long-time housekeeper and friend.

"You and your fiancé's secret is safe with me," she promised. She looked up from Audrey to give Siegfried a knowing glance, and he nodded, a proud smile overtaking his features despite his worry over Audrey's upset.

"I wish you both the very best. You certainly both deserve every happiness together."

Audrey looked up startled from where she had been worrying her ring, twisting it in circles as she collected herself.

"I must admit that I have occasionally wondered if perhaps one day the two of you would realise how well suited you are for one another. I'm ever so pleased that you have!"

Audrey sniffled, relieved, yet still feeling flustered, and apologised for her behaviour, pinning it partially on exhaustion, mixed together with regret at their time with the children coming to a close.

"Oh my dear, it is me who was to blame. I became so excited for you both that I lost my sense of propriety in waiting for such news to be announced."

"No, no," Audrey insisted. "It's a bad show to be crying over congratulations."

"Perhaps, the two of you will indulge me by allowing me to be the first to know when you are ready to share your news with others, and then I shall offer my official best wishes."

Audrey made to apologise yet again, but Marjorie, surmising such a thing was forthcoming, quickly pressed on. 

"I consider you and I to be friends, Mrs. Hall. And I believe that no apologies are required between friends when one is having a day that is more emotional than others. After all, you have all been ever so kind to me on some of my similar days." She turned to nuzzle Tricki-Woo's face. "Haven't they, Tricki? Yes, they most certainly have."

"Thank you, Mrs. Pumphrey. Thank you." 

Behind Audrey, Siegfried, wearing a sentimental smile, nodded his gratitude to Mrs. Pumphrey as well.

"However, I do know of at least one other person who may turn up at your door today. I saw your neighbour, Mrs. Ingledew, as I was arriving. She inquired about Tricki's well-being, and I did mention that I was here to drop off a few things for the children. She seemed to think that was a nice idea, so there is the possibility that she may also stop by."

Audrey nodded, her lingering embarrassment and disquiet preventing her from entirely comprehending what Mrs. Pumphrey was trying to tell her.

"My suggestion, my dear, if you do wish to keep your lovely news quiet for a while longer, would be to remove that beautiful ring before answering the door to any additional visitors."

Comprehension dawned on Audrey's face, followed swiftly by a smile of true pleasure at hearing Mrs. Pumphrey's compliment towards her ring. "I suppose I'll put it back into the box again. I don't want for the children to be overshadowed by our news, and I don't want to have the whole village talking about it when we come home tomorrow, either."

"Again?" Mrs. Pumphrey enquired, her interest piqued. 

"We attempted to keep it quiet from Helen and Mr. Carmody. One of us found that to be a more difficult undertaking than they had imagined." Audrey's eyes regained their usual twinkle as she gently teased Siegfried.

Marjorie chuckled. "Would that someone possibly be a local veterinarian?"

"Guilty as charged." Siegfried's broad grin proved he felt no remorse for his so-called crime at all, and Marjorie chuckled warmly, so pleased to see the happiness between two of her favourite people.

Prior crisis averted, she cheerfully proclaimed, "Now, then, shall we get started in looking at the things I have brought for the children's family? I'm eager to see if they meet your approval, you knowing more of their situation than I do."

The women opened the small hamper together. "It's some items that were pulled from the manor's larder. Plus I have also been speaking with a few neighbours and members from the Women's Institute since our meeting on Friday. And several of them added very small amounts of anything they felt that they had a bit extra of in storage. There are a few tinned goods, plenty of root vegetables, of course, but also a few apples, eggs, and even a bit of cheese."

"This was such a lovely thing for you to do, Mrs. Pumphrey, truly."

"I must say, Mrs. Hall, that the women I spoke to, after having heard a greatly abridged version of Jeannie and Keith's story, were heartbroken that a series of such misfortunes should befall two sweet young children, and they considered you to be rather heroic in your choice to bring the children to a place you knew they would be safe until the situation could be rectified." 

Marjorie gave Audrey a soft, yet somewhat pointed look over top of the hamper as they reloaded the few goods they had removed.

"I have been very touched today, looking back on everyone who sought to help the children since they have been here."

"People are primarily good, I believe," Mrs. Pumphrey began. "The problem is that they seem to forget to show that from time to time." The women exchanged wry smiles and moved on to the second package.

"This is a collection of a few small things I hope they'll find helpful. Some haberdashery items and household essentials since I know the poor dear hasn't been home to purchase anything in some time. Mr. Farnon mentioned that they had sent food and sundries to the relatives who first were caring for Jeannie and Keith, so I thought perhaps they might be lacking in those things at the moment. I do hope they won't be offended."

"No, I'm sure they won't. I'm sure it will all be very helpful."

"I'm glad to assist in any way, though I have the greater community to thank for much of this. And I am so very glad to see the children again."

"We can go back in with them for awhile if you'd like." Audrey offered.

Marjorie looked to the Pekingese still cradled in her arms. "What do you say, Tricki? Shall we visit our young friends for a few minutes longer?" She was silent a moment to allow Tricki to answer.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hall. We'd both like that very much."

Chapter Text

Lunch came and went, served on time, despite the visit from Mrs. Pumphrey partway through the preparations. Siegfried had begrudgingly returned to the surgery, which was busier in the early afternoon hours, making him feel slightly better about missing the time with the family, as did the fact that the children, tired earlier than usual after their walk to the bookseller and photography studio and the further excitement of so many people stopping by that morning, went for their daily nap immediately following their meal.

Audrey blew out a weary breath as she surveyed the kitchen table. Cleared of all signs of lunch, it was now laden with more items for her to pack for the next day's travels. With Helen off in the bedsit for a while, Audrey took advantage of her short spate of privacy to scrub a hand over her face. No matter how pleased she may be for the Buckley family, parents and children alike, she was finding the boxing and bagging up of Jeannie and Keith's possessions along with the many accoutrements needed for a day of travel with two young children to be exhausting—more so emotionally than physically.

With one last sigh she gave herself a silent talking to and shook off her sadness to get on with the things that needed doing. She stood a few of the new books along one side of a handled basket, along with the paper and pencils from Miss Dent, then set in the tin of carrot biscuits and a currently empty thermos. She added a few flannels, then several rolled tea towels to act as substitutes for the remaining food items she would add in the morning, leaving enough space to keep the towels themselves in the basket as well. 

With the addition of Mrs. Pumphrey's gifts, the other food she had planned to bring would no longer fit into the valise, but she gathered the rest of the new books and the teddy bear and Mr. Lion to bring upstairs to pack in the space instead. Now that the children had new soft toys from Mrs. Pumphrey, she surmised they would be more excited to take those along on the journey than the old friends they had been playing with all month.

She returned to the kitchen in a sombre mood, glad to see Helen and Siegfried were both still busy in their own corners of the house, so that she could indulge in her sadness in peace. She had brought out the carpetbag once again, hoping to make the gifts for Hazel and Floyd Buckley fit into that rather than carrying a hamper, no matter how small, and yet another parcel.

The bag full, she looked to her list and huffed in annoyance to be reminded that she still didn't have the frame and photographs for Hazel. That man!  She briefly considered marching into surgery to remind him yet again while she was certainly in the right sort of mood to tell someone off, but she couldn't actually bring herself to do it. She knew the current situation was every bit as painful for him as it was for her, but while she could hide away in her misery, Siegfried didn't have the same privilege. She wasn't willing to make the day more difficult for him to momentarily let off steam, which she knew wouldn't ultimately make her feel any better.

Instead she sat at her desk, pushed her list aside, and drew out a fresh sheet of stationery with matching envelope, on which she scrawled "Mr and Mrs Buckley". Writing the brief letter to the Buckleys, including their phone exchange and postal address, and expressing her feelings of affection for their children, her regrets at the problems the family had recently faced and her well-wishes for their future had proven rather cathartic, and as she sealed the flap, she was already hearing words and phrases flit through her mind for two more letters. 

Opening her drawer, she drew out two more envelopes and sheets of writing paper, addressing them to "Jeannie" and "Keith", respectively. When she finished their letters, she left the envelopes open so that Hazel might read them and decide when, if ever, she felt was an appropriate time to tell the children the story of the month they unexpectedly spent in the home of a country vet. On a narrow strip of paper, she wrote a few lines explaining those thoughts to their mother, then wrapped the paper around the two small notes for the children, tying them all together with a bit of twine.

She added "write Dr. Robinson" to her list as a reminder to provide the update she had promised the young physician when he had so kindly seen to the children and allayed some of her concerns at the time, then she leaned back in her chair deciding what task she ought to see to next.

Her answer was immediately provided by the ring of the telephone.

***********************************

"Hello, Constable Lamley. Yes, all is well."

She pulled the receiver over to the staircase and sat down, not normally her custom, owing to the possibility of anyone or anything tearing through the house at any time without a bit of notice. But with everyone else occupied, and given how tired she was, the chance to sit through the call was too much of a temptation to ignore.

"Yes, I spoke to Sergeant Yates about that, and I told him that I'm not sure it's a very good idea. You know how the children reacted when you visited."

She rested her head against the railing as she listened to the officer on the other end of the line. 

"So he didn't change his mind, then? I don't see why he feels the need. We've travelled with the children before. Once on me own, if you'll recall."

She sighed, uncaring of the fact that her reaction would be heard by Lamley. Luckily he couldn't see the rolling of her eyes as well. "The sergeant don't care is what you're too polite to say." 

She sat shaking her head as she listened to Lamley's feeble attempt to explain Yates' requirements for the day.

"We're all supposed to be travelling less! That's what they keep telling us. Don't clog up the railways! Now we're dragging extra people with us for no reason and likely making the entire journey take even longer, what with us having to keep stopping to find waiting officers at every station." 

She knew she was ranting at an officer of the law, but in that moment she was fully embracing Siegfried's personal motto of "So bloody what?" She was irritated by the impracticality of it all and more so by the concern that the added chaperones would result in them delivering sobbing, terrified children to their parents, a worry she pointed out to the constable.

"I don't want Jeannie and Keith to be upset for the entire trip, and I certainly don't want them to be crying when their parents finally see them again."

She paused to listen once more, lines of agitation pinching the skin between her furrowed brows.

"That's very kind, and we would be happy to accept, but that's going to mean we'll all need to leave all the earlier, chaperones included."

She transferred the receiver to her left hand, leaving her right free to rub across her cheeks, brushing away the few tears of frustration that had taken advantage of her upset to make another appearance. She was quickly becoming just as aggravated with her emotional state as she was with the Manchester sergeant as she continued to listen to Constable Lamley try to make excuses for the man.

"I don't see why he needs to be there at all. It's one more person travelling for no good reason. We can just meet the Huddersfield officer when we arrive at that station."

Her shoulders sagged, realising nothing she said would change the situation. "Fine. Yes, I suppose that might help to a degree. It'll mean yet more time needed at the station, though. Yes. Yes. We'll see you then. Good day, Constable."

***********************************

When the doorbell sounded a short while later, Audrey partly expected it to be Mrs. Ingledew, feeling glad that she had indeed tucked her ring back into its box when she went upstairs to fetch the carpetbag. But instead she found a cheerful Jenny Alderson waiting outside.

"Jenny! You've no idea how pleased I am to see you."

"Dad's here, too, but he's talking to Mr. Dobson for a minute." The young girl reconsidered. "Or an hour. You never know when farmers get together." Her grin was cheeky, and it was just what Audrey needed in that moment.

"Come on in, we can have a brew if you'd like. Though I can't promise how long we'll have peace. The children should be awake soon."

"That's all right. I'd like to see them."

The two had not yet reached the kitchen when Jeannie's voice calling for Miss All could be heard. Jenny grinned. "I'll go!"

"They'll need..."

"I remember," Jenny insisted, turning around and heading towards the staircase.

Audrey was pouring out the tea by the time Jenny returned with the children, Jeannie skipping ahead and a drowsy Keith in her arms.

"Miss All!" Jeannie called out as she began climbing up onto one of the kitchen chairs.

"Hello, love. Careful, there's hot tea."

"We eat?"

"Of course, poppet. I have it all ready for you." She placed a small plate with the usual bread and jam in front of the child, then turned to ask Keith if he was hungry, too.

Once both children were settled, the doorbell rang again, and Jenny offered to answer that as well, returning shortly with her father and a basket in her hand.

"I forgot this in the truck," Jenny mentioned, placing the basket on the table in front of Audrey. 

Audrey suggested everyone move to the sitting room, and she gathered a tray to move the tea.

Richard gruffly warned they could only stay a brief while but sat down and accepted a tea nonetheless and also accepted the ball from Keith when the toddler brought it over to his friend in excitement. Richard leaned forward to roll the ball back to the child, adding a roll of his eyes for the benefit of Jenny and Audrey, who didn't believe his supposed discontent one bit.

When the tea was gone, and the adults had talked about this and that for a spell, Jenny offered to clear up along with Audrey, following her back to the scullery.

Jenny gestured to the basket still on the table and opened it to produce a half loaf of fresh bread and a bit of bacon and cheese. Audrey was shocked, particularly by the bacon, and tried gallantly to refuse. 

Jenny, an Alderson through and through, wasn't about to back down. "It'll be nice for you to have summat to eat on the train. Besides, it was a good excuse for Dad to bring me to see them before they have to leave," Jenny added quietly. She offered a sad smile along with her confession of her true reason for wishing to bring the goods to Skeldale.

"You could have visited without giving up any of your rations, love. Why don't you take them back with you? At least the bacon and cheese."

"No, please. We want you to have them."

"All right then. Thank you. We best get back to the children, then. Lord knows what Keith might be doing to your poor father by now."

Jenny laughed in hopeful anticipation of what nonsense Keith may have roped her dad into, considering the idea to be another good reason to enjoy their short visit.

 ***********************************

The group gathered in the sitting room had grown to include Helen and Jimmy, the visit lasting longer than anticipated, and the Aldersons were starting to say their goodbyes when they heard Siegfried's voice offering final instructions to a client followed by his footsteps across the empty stretch of the waiting area.

"Hello, hello!" He greeted.

In the corner of the room, Richard Alderson stood up from his armchair and walked towards the vet, eager to be sure Farnon's appearance wouldn't prolong their time at Skeldale. He considered the folk here to be friends, but he also was a man with a farm to run. Audrey called out her gratitude once again, and Helen and the children waved as Jenny and Richard took their leave, with Siegfried walking them to the door.

Siegfried strolled back into the sitting room and, without a word, walked past everyone gathered, through the dining room, and into his study. Audrey and Helen exchanged bemused shrugs, but Jeannie followed after him, calling out his name. He returned a moment later, Jeannie's hand in one of his own, and his new camera in the other.

"You're taking photos now?" Helen asked incredulously.

Siegfried opened the box, lifting it out and extolling its pristine condition once more, ignoring Helen's remark.  "It's clearly been well cared for. I feel very fortunate indeed to have found it at such a discount when it's practically new!"

"What about surgery?" Audrey asked.

"Closed again briefly, and yes, I'm taking the photographs now. We're all here. It's the perfect time." Jess and Dash wandered into the room, looking for their pack of humans, and Siegfried extended his open hand towards them as if to say, "See? Even the dogs are here!" before throwing open all of the window coverings in the room and switching on all of the lamps.

"All right, we'll start with one of all of you together since young Jimmy is currently content." He suggested Helen join Audrey on the sofa and instructed Jeannie and Keith to squeezethemselves between the two women.

"I'm in me pinny!" Audrey complained.

"And I've been having a lie-down, Siegfried. I'm wrinkled from head to toe." Helen gently patted her hair, grimacing at the disorder her hand discovered.

"You both look lovely. I want a photograph that shows how life was while the children were here. And this is exactly right!"  

With further directions to sit still and smile, Siegfried took two photos and then asked Audrey to stand a moment so he could attempt one with just Helen, Jimmy, and the children. He continued on, taking a few with Audrey and the children, then the children on their own. He even attempted one of the children with the dogs, though he already knew that one would likely be nothing but a blur of limbs and tails when it was developed.

Helen placed Jimmy in his basket and asked Siegfried to teach her how to use the camera, bringing a somewhat gleeful response from Siegfried. "Oh, so now you're interested after all!"

"I thought it'd be nice to have one with you and Audrey both in it," she responded dryly.

Softening, Siegfried thanked the young woman. "That would be rather marvellous, Helen. Thank you."

After she attempted two, hopeful that one might turn out well, Audrey stood, allowing Helen to try again for a photograph of Siegfried alone with the children.

"Speaking of photographs," Audrey reminded Siegfried once again of her need for the frame and prints of the children.

"They have been found and gathered, my dear. I even placed the photographs into the frame."

"Oh, well, thank you...although...I were going to clean the frame first," she admitted.

"I thought that you would, which is why I did that as well." Siegfried's smile was proud and grew when he saw the surprised appreciation blossom on Audrey's face.

"It was the least I could do after making you wait so long," he added.

Jimmy's cries sent Helen off to change the little one, and Siegfried, looking down at the camera, asked Audrey if she'd like to sit for the remaining exposures. "Might as well finish the roll while they're in good spirits. You can even take off the pinny if you'd like."

She smiled at his concession and gladly removed the apron, calling Jeannie and Keith to come sit with her once more.

Siegfried tried not to shake the camera as he held back his chuckles over the exaggerated little grins from Jeannie and Keith, and as he came to the end of the roll, he released the children from their poses, watching them slide down from the cushions, happy to return to their blocks and ball.

As Audrey began to stand, he asked her to wait a moment, and she stilled, confused.

"Will you sit another moment? I didn't use the last of the film after all.

Her sceptical face told him that she knew full well he purposely sent off the children early, but with a little laugh and her typical fond shake of the head, she resumed her seated position. Siegfried gave the camera his total concentration as he centred and focused the image of the woman he so loved in the camera's viewfinders. And as he took the final photograph, he looked up at her over the camera with complete adoration in his eyes.

"Thank you, my joy."

Chapter Text

Tea was a joyous affair. Audrey had issued a last-minute invitation to the Aldersons, though was secretly relieved when they politely turned her down. It would have been more than a touch difficult stretching the food she had planned to serve, but primarily she was simply looking forward to a meal with just the members of her unusual little family that evening. 

Jeannie and Keith had been in continued good spirits after a day of enjoyable out-of-the-ordinary happenings. They had heard a chapter from their new train book already, cuddled with the new toys from Mrs. Pumphrey, and gleefully charged the front door late in the afternoon when Mrs. Ingledew did indeed make the visit that Mrs. Pumphrey had predicted earlier. 

She had offered up some extra eggs with an amused look in her eye, the Ingledew family hens a continued joke between the two households, as well as a cake of soap for the children to give their mother, and a jar of Mrs. Ingeldew's well-admired tomato soup for the family. Audrey had tucked the soup and soap in with the increasingly large gift for the Buckleys and happily added the eggs to those she had saved for the next day's breakfast. 

Tea ended with a surprise pudding from a ration-friendly recipe Audrey had copied from the newspaper, which used the custard powder and pears still left in the hamper from Mrs. Pumphrey. Audrey offered up small servings in petite coloured glass bowls she rarely had reason to use, and Jeannie had immediately clapped, knowing something special when she saw it. Keith, being Keith, was wary of the unfamiliar food at first, though the little chap was clearly curious about whatever it was that his sister was so incredibly happy with. He had accepted a spoonful to try from Audrey, his tiny eyebrows rising comically high on his softly rounded face when the sweet taste of the treat registered. 

"Me! Me!" he exclaimed, hitting his little palms on the table in excitement. 

"I believe that's a new word for him," Richard pointed out, and Audrey's face glowed with happiness as she agreed with the observation.

******************************

The nighttime routine carried on mostly as usual, although with the adults all spending more time together than they typically would. Both Richard and Audrey joined Siegfried and the children to feed the animals one more night, staying in the shed longer than required. And everyone had stayed in the sitting room afterwards to listen to Siegfried read another chapter from the train book. When Siegfried announced that he was going to help put the children to bed, Helen and Richard stayed on in the parlour, waiting to have a chance to discuss the next day's plans once Jeannie and Keith were asleep.

******************************

Siegfried stood in the doorway of Audrey's room, quietly observing the previously unknown to him bedtime routine, though altered slightly by the next day's travels, something Jeannie pointed out with a frown to Siegfried. Opening the bottom drawer of Audrey's bureau, where she and Keith used to store their clothing, she pointed to the currently empty space. 

"All gone, Misseh Fahnuh."

He smiled gently at the little girl. "All gone," he agreed. "Mrs. Hall packed it for you. See?" He pointed to the travelling cases beside the dresser.

"Here, love." Audrey walked over, running her hand over Jeannie's head. "I have your nightgown." She picked Jeannie up for a quick hug. "You'll be with your mummy tomorrow, and you'll have all of your things with you." Jeannie was quiet for a moment as she cuddled against Audrey, and Audrey wished she could know what the small girl was thinking.

Once the children were ready for bed, Audrey brought them both back to the bedroom, and Jeannie reached up on the bureau top, looking for their calendar. Audrey handed it to her, and she pointed to the empty Tuesday block.

"This is today, Tuesday. It's over now." Her voice failed her at the end, producing a whispered finish to her words. She retrieved a pencil from her bedside table and handed it to Jeannie with the best smile she could muster. "Would you like to mark today over?"

Jeannie's scribbles crossed out Tuesday, a noticeable difference after the short line of neat Xs used by Audrey the previous few days, leaving only the circled block for Wednesday left unmarked.

Jeannie touched the pencil to Wednesday's block. "Ah-mahwoh?" 

"That's right, love. When you wake up in the morning tomorrow it will be Wednesday, and we'll be going on a lovely trip.

"A twain?" the girl asked, not convinced a train could be part of a 'lovely trip.'

"Yes, just like the ones in your book, remember?"

Jeannie looked up at Siegfried. "Twain to Mummy?"

"That's right, Jeannie." He wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't come.

******************************

Siegfried returned to the front room while Audrey remained on the first floor a few minutes longer to rinse out the children's smalls and hang them up overnight. Spying the ball on the floor near the sofa, Siegfried bent low to move it aside, noticing something under the sofa as he did so. A reach around under the furniture turned up a small wooden top. Siegfried closed his hand around the toy and slipped it into his cardigan, the slight feel of extra weight as the top dropped to the bottom of the pocket an unexpected comfort to him.

******************************

Audrey returned with pages from the notepad from the telephone table in hand, her notes from Lamley written out on them.

"Bus leaves at seven forty from the square. We'll take that to Skipton, where we're supposed to meet Constable Lamley." Audrey's tone left no need for interpretation. Her aggravation was written all over her face, and it dripped from her words as she continued. "The whole thing is ridiculous. We can get there on our own!"

"We'll all be ready to help in the morning, Aud," Helen hoped to help calm Audrey. "We'll have an early breakfast, and you'll leave all the clearing up to me."

"And I'll walk with you to the bus, to help with the luggage," Richard added.

"Sounds as though we have a well-laid-out plan," Siegfried said, relieved by the truth in his statement. "The children are asleep early tonight. I advise we all try to do the same."

Helen nodded and crossed the room, stopping at the sofa where she opened her arms to Audrey, enveloping her in a quick hug. "Don't let him get to you, Aud. Everyone knows who's done all the caring for Jeannie and Keith, and it certainly weren't Sergeant Yates." With one last understanding smile, Helen set off for the bedsit.

Richard added his own goodnight, and the room became very quiet, as only Siegfried and Audrey remained.

******************************

"I don't think Jeannie really understands," Audrey said softly, gently bumping against Siegfried's side as she returned to her seat beside him. 

"Understands?" He questioned, slightly surprised by the shift in discussion.

"She knows they're going to see their mother, but she doesn't know what that really means. I were upstairs wondering what she might be expecting."

She looked up at Siegfried, her eyes already full of unshed tears. "Surely she thinks they are going to their Manchester home? How will she feel when they arrive at Mavis's instead?"

She grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed. She knew this final night's talk would be the most difficult of them all, and she needed the feeling of being physically connected to him as they discussed the day behind them and the one upcoming.

"We can only hope that being with their parents is all that's really needed and that the location won't matter."

"And what will they think once we've left? Will they be confused?" The tears spilt over her cheeks. "I don't want them to look for us and not find us, Siegfried."

He held her close. "I know. We can only hope that the Buckleys will be willing to keep in touch. Then we can truthfully tell the children that we'll write them."

Audrey stayed in his arms, silent as she prayed fervently that such an agreement come to be.

******************************

Wednesday, 05 March 1941

Audrey found sleep hard to come by that night, and when she woke yet again in the small hours, she decided to give her tired body a rest from the ironically draining task of chasing sleep. As she rounded the bend in the hall, a soft murmuring told her she wasn't the only one in that predicament. Siegfried sat in his armchair, leaning forward just enough to rub Jess's head, apparently discussing the secrets and mysteries of life with her, given his serious tone and visage. His pensive expression softened to a pleased smile when Audrey's slight footsteps caught his ear, and he looked up to see her framed by the doorway in her dressing gown and slippers.

"I see I wasn't the only one for whom slumber proved elusive?" He sagely guessed.

"I were afraid I'd wake the children with all me tossing and turning."

A quip about them both possibly sleeping better with company fizzled on his tongue before he even considered uttering it, knowing now wasn't the right time for such teasing. Instead he gestured to the sofa, rising to move over to the larger seat himself. As they settled in next to one another, with virtually no room between them, Siegfried noticed Audrey's ring back on her left hand where it belonged.

"Your ring is back."

"No reason to be hiding it tomorrow. We won't be seeing anyone we know. And I'll be in gloves even if we do meet anyone as we're leaving."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm glad to see you wearing it again."

"I actually have a question about that." She sat up a bit and turned to look at him. "You said you brought it to Brawton to have a jeweller see to it."

"I did," he confirmed, curious about her question.

"Whenever did you have time for that? You've been home more than ever these past weeks."

"You've caught me out, my dear. I brought it to Brawton a rather long time ago. I knew I wasn't ready to give it to you yet, but somehow knowing it was ready to give to you made me feel more hopeful."

She leaned in, caressing the side of his face, her thumb rubbing his cheek through his beard, before she leaned further, touching her lips to his. When they separated, her eyes were soft and loving. "Oh, Siegfried."

"You have it now. That's what matters."

She nodded and adjusted her position to nestle against his side. 

"It were quite a day, weren't it?" She changed the topic, not wishing to become weepy over regrets of time wasted. Siegfried was right. They were together now, and that was the important thing. 

"I haven't seen so many different people in and out of this house since before the war!" She added. 

"And bearing gifts, no less."

"Yes," Audrey agreed, clearly touched. "For all the gossip, in the end, Mrs. Pumphrey were right. People are primarily kind. Makes me feel a bit less worried about our news becoming common knowledge."

Siegfried laced his fingers between hers and brought her hand up to brush a kiss across her knuckles. "That's very good to hear."

"Mmm." Siegfried felt as well as heard her hum, and the two sat quietly together enjoying the calmness and the closeness.

***********************************

Audrey blinked awake, momentarily confused. She felt the warmth of Siegfried's chest against her cheek, and she gingerly sat up, trying to ease the crick in her neck from having dozed off at such an angle. The fire was dying out in the grate, and Jess and Dash were both asleep in front of the remaining glow of heat. She heard something in the distance and was startled to realise it was birdsong, meaning more time had passed than she originally imagined. Less cautiously she turned her body to search out the face of the grandfather clock behind them, shocked to see it was only an hour earlier than she normally greeted the day and only a quarter hour before she planned to wake that busy morning.

"Siegfried!" she hissed out, giving his arm a shake.

"Hmm?" was his drowsy answer.

"Siegfried, we've nearly overslept. You need to wake up. We've a bus to catch this morning!"

Siegfried opened his eyes and stared at her a moment, waiting for his brain to catch up in wakefulness. "What?"

"We fell asleep down here! Me clock's set to go off in a quarter hour. I need to get upstairs before the children wake up alone."

"We slept here the rest of the night?" He clarified.

"Yes, you daft man. We need to be getting on with things. We've a list a mile long."

Siegfried stretched his neck, first to the left, then to the right, silently calculating that he had clocked more consecutive hours of sleep on the sofa than in his bed. "I'm awake, my dear. Let me get dressed, I'll rouse Carmody, and then I will help with your lengthy list."

"That would be very helpful. I'll see if Helen's awake once I'm dressed as well."

Siegfried grasped her hand as she started to pull ahead of him in her rush from the room. "Audrey."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"For helping me to finally get some sleep last night."

She blushed brightly in the still mostly dark room. "I better thank you, too, then." 

A thought crossed her mind, and she stopped once more in her attempt to leave the room. "Siegfried? Just one thing."

"Yes, my joy?"

With memories of a gentle scolding once given to a young lad and his accidental overnight guest, she gestured between herself, Siegfried, and the sofa-turned-shared bed with a wry smile.

"Tristan can never find out about this."

Chapter Text

Wednesday, 05 March 1941 Continued:

***********************************

Audrey sat on her bed for a moment, taking in the stillness of her room before she woke the children. She had climbed the narrow steps to the bedsit first, letting Helen know the time, then freshened herself up and dressed. There was nothing left to do but wake the children and get them ready to go downstairs, but she was giving herself one minute first. One minute to hear the soft sounds small children make when they sleep. One minute to watch the rise and fall of their blankets as their breathing took on the deep rhythms of slumber. One minute to imagine the feel of their hands inside hers. The last one was of particular importance to her as she faced bringing them to their parents. She wanted to be sure she could look back and remember the feeling of holding them in the days and months and years to come.

Convinced she could conjure mental facsimiles of the reality of caring for them, she sighed and set her face into a cheerful smile before kneeling down to gently shake their little shoulders awake one last morning.

Keith had woken in his usual manner, with hair that looked as though he had slept with a small animal nested inside of it and a face screwed up with its typical morning scowl, before he gave in and decided to be happy with being awake again. He was particularly excited that he was given the chance to wake his sister that morning, opposite of the way things normally occurred, and he shook Jeannie's shoulder with an enthusiasm that left Audrey hoping it wouldn't accidentally upset his sister. But Jeannie woke up as pleasantly as ever, and after a minute of hugging both her brother and Audrey, she scrambled out of bed trying to reach the calendar page on Audrey's dresser. "Mummy?"

"Yes, love. Today we go see Mummy."

***********************************

The Skeldale residents came together to create a calm, peaceful morning, a welcome contrast to the last time Audrey and Siegfried had travelled with the children, when everything seemed to go wrong the morning of their trip.

Everyone had dressed and gathered in the kitchen without issue, even going as far as to bring the travel cases down to the back door before their morning meal. It had been Siegfried's doing to gather the luggage after finding the small wooden top still in his cardigan pocket when he moved the garment to the back of the chair in his bedroom. The pocket had clunked against the wooden arm of the chair, and Siegfried had been ready to go slip the toy into the carpetbag when he had a different idea instead.

One top wouldn't be missed by the children, but as he quietly opened the now empty bottom drawer of Audrey's dresser, he tucked the tiny top into the front corner of the drawer for her to find when she decided to start using the space for her own belongings again. He gently closed the drawer and fetched the bags to cover his absence downstairs, hoping the keepsake would bring her a degree of happiness some day.

***********************************

Back in the kitchen the children were excited. As Audrey surmised, they may not have known exactly what to expect from the day, but they knew they would be seeing their parents and that it was therefore a very special day. Richard, Helen, and Jimmy were entertaining them while Audrey boiled or scrambled nearly every egg in sight.

"Good morning!" Siegfried called out, determined that a jolly demeanour would be his best tool in keeping his spirits high throughout the day. "I have two cases and the bag, my dear," he announced, stacking the luggage up on the chair by the radio. "We just need the basket."

"In the pantry. Best leave it there till we're set to leave, else someone get to it what shouldn't."

"Right-o!" He agreed before turning to greet the children.

"Jeannie, Keith, you're both looking very smart this morning!"

Jeannie, dressed in a brown and navy plaid short-sleeve dress, spun around happily before pointing over to Audrey's desk chair, where a small slate blue cardigan from the Crabtree girls had been put aside for after the meal.

"A very lovely addition, Miss Buckley. You and Mrs. Hall have chosen wisely."

Jeannie pulled Keith over to show off her brother's clothing as well.  The dark grey short trousers were a bit large, though sported buttons that attached to his tan striped shirt, helping the situation considerably. His moss green jumper was draped across the chair with Jeannie's cardigan, so if any of their breakfast should wind up on their clothing, at least there would be another layer to cover over any stains. 

Keith's ensemble was not quite as well coordinated as his sister's, but it was the best-fitting things he had that were also in good repair, and Audrey felt both of those attributes would be important for what could be a long day. The boy would be presentable while also being comfortable, which she hoped would keep him happier.

Looking around the room, Siegfried noted that Audrey had been busy beyond meal preparation, for all of their outerwear had been laid out on the hutch, from coats and mittens to his hat and Audrey's pocketbook. On the first shelf, sitting between crockery, were the doll and dog from Mrs. Pumphrey, ready for their train journey as well. 

***********************************

The reality of the day was there plain for all to see, even if the inhabitants of the house had continued carrying on primarily as usual. Keith had meandered back to Richard, who, with a textbook in hand, kept attempting to read a few pages, only to be interrupted by the toddler. Siegfried imagined that the first few times Richard's frustrated reactions had been genuine, but now it brought a broad smile to Siegfried's face to see that Richard was clearly being intentionally melodramatic in both his fleeting reading attempts and in his slamming down of book upon table each time Keith tapped the young vet on the leg and gleefully shouted something that, to Siegfried, sounded suspiciously similar to an "all right?" 

"I'm reading now!" Richard announced loudly.

Keith watched Carmody for a moment or two, mischief twinkling and sparkling across his little face. Then the pat to the leg was repeated, followed by an "Ah yite?" and a spate of giggling, which grew in intensity as Carmody once again smacked the text on the breakfast table with an extremely beleaguered sigh. 

"I am not all right. I am trying to read." Then he picked up the book once more and turned his back to the child, thus restarting the game.

Siegfried looked over the heads of the young and grown men to catch the eye of Audrey, who was clearly amused by the theatrics.

Meanwhile, Helen, with Jimmy on her lap, was allowing Jeannie to teach Jimmy new words, a ploy so brilliant that Siegfried quietly groaned for not having thought of it earlier in the children's stay. 

"Can you teach him to say this?" Helen asked, pointing to her teacup.

"Jimmy, you say tea?"

Jimmy cooed at the attention, and Jeannie giggled. "Siwwy Jimmy."

"Maybe try...this word," and Helen pointed to Jeannie's dress. 

"Jimmy, you say dwess?"

Audrey, seeing his reaction and noting that everyone else was distracted, snaked an arm around Siegfried's waist and leaned in against his side. "She weren't ready before, Siegfried. She's only saying the words now because she's ready now."

Siegfried acknowledged the wise truth of her words with a kiss to the top of her head and a whispered "Thank you."

The game likely would have continued until Audrey had to interrupt with breakfast had they not underestimated Jeannie's observational skills.

She pointed to Siegfried and began to jump up and down, chanting. "Me kiss! Me kiss!" much to the delight of Helen, who looked up in time to see Audrey pulling away from Siegfried.

"She's like a little air raid siren, but for kisses."

"Ha, Mrs. Herriot. Ha." With an eyeroll towards Helen, Siegfried obligingly bestowed a kiss to the top of Jeannie's head, along with a pat for good measure. "Good?"

"Kiss Kee!"

"Yes, Siegfried. Mustn't forget Keith." Helen chuckled as she tucked Jimmy into his cradle.

Siegfried walked over to give Keith's head a kiss and pat as well, successfully bringing an end to the book game with Carmody, the timing of which was perfect as Audrey announced that breakfast was ready.

As she tied an apron around Jeannie to protect her dress, she gave the girl a quick hug and words of encouragement. "You did a wonderful job telling Jimmy so many new words. I'm very proud of you."

Siegfried grinned at Richard. "And you, Mr. Carmody, did a wonderful job of inventing a new game for Keith. I was highly impressed."

Richard looked at the senior vet sceptically, not sure if he was being teased, until Helen came to his rescue.

"He means it, Richard. He's really impressed. As am I." She grabbed a second apron to assist Audrey in preparing Keith to eat.

"Do you remember their first day here? You ate alone in the other room rather than be near them?"

Audrey looked slightly pained at the reminder, and Siegfried took her free hand as she came around with his boiled egg. "But look here," he gestured. "Eating and playing with them with no fear. Seems to me that we've all seen some personal improvement this past month, wouldn't you agree?"

"I know I have," Helen insisted. "I feel as though I've had a speed course in parenting. And found I'm not as bad at it as I feared."

"You're a marvel, Helen," Siegfried assured her, his voice thick with emotion, and he nodded a smile her way before taking a deep breath and gesticulating wildly while exclaiming with gusto about his egg as if it were a new and amazing meal offering. 

Helen and Audrey exchanged knowing smiles, and Audrey took her seat, stifling a chuckle as her gaze next landed on Keith, who was attacking his scrambled eggs with his usual fervour.

"I'll never serve an egg again in me life that'll receive the sort of excitement of these one right now." 

Siegfried winked at her. "Is that a challenge, my dear? Because you know that I do enjoy a challenge."

"He'll be composing songs for his poached eggs next," Helen predicted.

"I don't know that I wish to hear that." Richard's blunt reaction brought chuckles to the table, even from those too young to understand the reason for their laughter.

***********************************

Breakfast complete, Helen insisted that Audrey leave the clearing and washing in her capable hands. "I'm fine with the cleaning, Audrey. It's just the cooking that's the problem."

Audrey eventually acquiesced, and everyone spent a bit more time together in the kitchen before the hour inevitably came for them to prepare to leave. Once the four travellers were ready, the bags, baskets, toys, and cases accounted for, and everyone bundled up against the cold March wind, there was only a slight excess of time left to cross the square to await the bus.

Helen pushed Jimmy in his pram, Richard carried the two cases, and Audrey held onto the travel basket and carpetbag. Siegfried had lifted Keith up, holding him against himself with his left arm, while holding Jeannie's hand with his right. It was cool and crisp out in the relatively quiet square. Few people milled about, and Audrey was relieved that no one paid them much mind as they gathered together to wait for the bus.

As Helen reached the spot where Siegfried had stopped their brief march from the house, she stopped the pram, asking a startled Richard to hold onto it for a moment.

"Me?"

"You only have to keep it from rolling off. You don't have to actually handle the baby." She smirked at Audrey, relieved by the temporary levity that teasing Richard brought to the situation.

Her grin slipped and wavered as she approached Jeannie and Keith, who were standing with Siegfried playing some sort of stomping game, Keith giggling as he shook in Siegfried's arms as the vet did his own stronger stomping along with the smaller ones Jeannie accomplished on her own. 

"Can 'Ellen' get a hug, then?" She asked, crouching low beside Jeannie. Jeannie dropped Siegfried's hand and wrapped her arms around Helen's neck. 

"You'll be very good for Siegfried and Audrey on the trip, right?"

Jeannie nodded and patted Helen's cheek. "Bay-bee Jimmy?"

"He's asleep, but I'll tell him you said goodbye, all right?"

"Bye Jimmy!" Jeannie called out nevertheless.

Helen chuckled. "Well, maybe he's sleeping, then."

Siegfried passed Keith over, and Helen gave the boy a quick squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. "Be a good boy," she whispered, handing him back to Siegfried in haste and returning to the pram. 

"I best head back," she explained to Audrey. "In case he wakes up. Can't have anyone crying. Poor start to a trip." Her forced smile was met with one of heartfelt understanding from Audrey, who reached out her hand to rest briefly on Helen's shoulder as the younger woman left, slowly making her way back to Skeldale House, turning back on occasion to see the group gathered in the market square "one last time," then "one last time" again.

***********************************

There was a shuffling of goods and children as the bus door opened. Siegfried held the children back so that Audrey could board first, then allowed them to walk down the short aisle to find her on their own, a task made easy by the small number of riders already situated inside. Then, accepting the cases from Richard, he thanked the young man for all of his help and boarded the vehicle himself, where he and Audrey quickly rearranged both people and possessions. Siegfried sat in one seat, both children with him, as Audrey neatly arranged herself and their belongings in the seat across the aisle so that they could easily switch things as the trip progressed if need be.

The children immediately squashed together on Siegfried's lap, wobbling wildly as they both attempted to kneel on his legs in order to wave out the bus window to Richard, Jeannie calling out "Bye-bye, Misseh Cahmady!" while Keith just shouted "Bye!" repeatedly to anyone who would listen, including the few additional passengers who boarded the early morning coach along with them.

In the aisle side of her seat, Audrey turned away from the scene, staring down at the bus floor, biting the inside of her cheeks as she focused on each breath in and out, the only way she could ensure that she wouldn't be the first member of their travelling group to cry that day. Despite her best intentions, a few tears escaped as her mind replayed images of Richard over the past month, first terrified, then tolerant of Jeannie and Keith. And despite their rocky start, her heart embraced the knowledge that the student vet now stood out on the cold cobbled square, despite his assistance no longer being required, but having chosen to wait for the bus to pull away, waving with real sincerity to the two small children so enthusiastically sending their last farewells back to the young man through the pane of glass that separated them.

Chapter Text

The bus left Darrowby Square promptly at 7:40, the children remaining with their faces pressed to the window until they could no longer see Carmody in the distance. Jeannie gave up on waving first, sliding down off of Siegfried's lap, spinning herself around, dangling her legs from the seat into the aisle, and smiling endearingly at Audrey.

"I have bikkit, Miss Hall?"

Audrey discreetly dried away any hint of moisture from her eyes even as a chuckle escaped her lips. "Oh, Jeannie. We made those biscuits to bring to your mummy and daddy, remember? We can't be eating them now."

Not to be deterred, Jeannie crossed the narrow valley between the rows of seats and squeezed past Audrey's legs to reach the travel basket. "Eat?" She requested again, patting it hopefully.

"We just had breakfast. How can you be hungry already?" She pulled Jeannie up onto her lap and pointed out the window to distract her. "What do you see out there, love?"

Across the aisle Siegfried employed the same tactic with Keith, relying on the changing scenery to keep the boy from becoming bored. As the familiar businesses disappeared and the homes began to dwindle, the vista outside the bus windows became filled with endless swaths of rolling green, crossed with lines of grey rock, older than anyone who had ever touched or built with them. Siegfried drank in the views, never tiring of the beauty of the area he was fortunate enough to call home. He could have happily appreciated the changing landscape for the entirety of the trip. The small lad on his lap, however, distinctly disagreed, beginning to whinge and straining to leave their shared seat.

With the majority of their bus trip ahead, followed by two more journeys of greater length to come, Siegfried began to create miniature stories to go along with the views as they moved through the countryside. A copse of trees hid a rat, waiting about, hoping for someone to walk by and drop a tasty morsel of food. Grazing cattle or sheep would spur a nonsensical yarn about talking farm animals or the recitation of a suitable nursery rhyme recalled from his own childhood or Tristan's. Where, between two rows of stone walls, a line of saplings had been planted in a long line, Siegfried told a story of a future when those small saplings would grow into an impressive shaded arch across the road, and trained dogs might climb the trees, while talented cats hung rope swings from the branches, hoping to swing high enough to catch some birds.

A glance now and then to the seat opposite theirs showed Jeannie had also moved on from the view outside and was once again enthralled with Audrey's inventory of finger rhymes. Siegfried caught Audrey's eye, and the smile they shared brought a surge of joy and amazement at all that had happened between them this past month.

When the scenery stopped providing the visuals for his tales of frogs and fells, cows and crags, sheep and stone walls, and another peek across the aisle notified him that Jeannie was becoming fidgety in the opposing seat, Siegfried began a story of a boy and girl. They were well-behaved, brave little souls who liked to smile and laugh and who were on a long journey to reunite with their parents. Their names were quite coincidentally Keith and Jeannie, of course, and Siegfried explained how they had to take a bus, two trains, and finally a short walk to reach the end of their expedition. He repeated an abbreviated version of their timeline over and over throughout his work of thinly veiled nonfiction, ending each few lines of story with "a bus, a train, a train, a walk. By the time houses began to populate their view in greater numbers, even Jeannie was correctly reciting their itinerary for the day.

"Bus, twain, twain, walk! Bus, twain, twain, walk!"

***************************************************

Audrey checked her wristwatch as the houses of Skipton gave way to a busy market area, and the bus turned towards the railway station. They had made perfect time, and as of yet, the children had been happy, despite the lack of "bikkits". She chuckled to herself at the image of Jeannie's pleading face in her mind's eye.

But behind Audrey's moment of laughter was worry. They had reached the point in the day where the journey would become more complicated and possibly much more difficult. They still had two separate train rides ahead of them, and no matter how cheerfully Jeannie might have been repeating Siegfried's little saying about their journey ahead, Audrey knew Jeannie might react differently when faced with the reality of the massive mode of transport.

On top of that, they had to meet two different officers, one of whom Jeannie had already found to be an upsetting figure. Not to mention that they no longer had Richard there to help them with the children's numerous belongings and the gifts for Hazel and Floyd Buckley. 

As the bus slowed to its stop, she looked over to see Siegfried still giggling with the children. 

"Siegfried," she reached across the aisle to touch his shoulder, a feeling of peace overtaking her, despite her concerns, as she realised that she was free to call him by his name, to touch him. The few passengers who had boarded the bus with them in Darrowby were strangers to them, and so she had no reason to hide their affection behind the titles and roles that had applied to them until so very recently.

"How shall we do this?" Her voice dropped lower, her face pulled into an uneasy frown. "We have all of this to carry, and we need to have a good hold on the children. They've tried to pull away from the train before. What if we lose track of them?" 

Recognising that her first trip alone with the children was likely still difficult for her to forget, that their trip together to consult with Dr Robinson wasn't much better, and sensing that her concerns were building into something closer to panic, Siegfried tried to look confident, as if he had already worked out a plan of action to prevent any such problems. "We will not allow that to happen."

He turned to the children and told them it was time to leave the bus and that they all needed to stay close to one another. He hoisted Jeannie into his arms and held Keith back to let the other disembarking passengers leave ahead of him. He then instructed Keith to allow Mrs. Hall to carry him, handing her the largest case once Keith was safe and secure on her opposite hip, her arm wrapped tightly around him.

"You go first, my joy," he smiled warmly. "We'll be right behind you." 

He picked up Audrey's basket and asked Jeannie if she could help carry it. 

"Hold it right up against my coat, see?" With Jeannie leaning against his chest, the basket awkwardly wedged between them, and one of her hands clenched tightly around the rim, Siegfried was able to grab the handles of the smaller case and carpetbag, holding them together in his free hand. 

It was difficult making his way between the seats to the front of the bus, and the driver called out impatiently with a reminder about timetables needing to be kept. Siegfried bit back a sarcastic reply, instead smiling at Jeannie. "Whatever did our Mrs. Hall pack for us in all of these bags?" he asked with feigned wonder.

Her knuckles nearly white with the effort she was exerting to keep hold of the precious basket, she grinned gleefully back at him. "Bikkits!"

**************************************************

Siegfried and Jeannie stepped off the bus, immediately spotting Audrey holding Keith, who was eagerly attempting to release himself from the cage of her arms. 

Siegfried gestured to an empty bench, and they appreciatively staked their claim, placing their baggage at their feet and relaxing their grips on the children, cuddling them closely instead.

"Eat?" Jeannie asked immediately.

"Eat?" Siegfried asked with an intonation of astonishment. "Whatever happened to your breakfast? Oh-ho, did Dash eat it?"

"No! Jee eat it."

"Then where did it go? Did it make a wrong turn on its way to your stomach?" Siegfried grasped Jeannie's foot and looked at her shoe carefully. "Did your breakfast go to your foot?" 

"No!" She laughed, and Siegfried turned to see both Audrey and Keith watching their antics happily, a sight that warmed him and encouraged him to continue with the silliness while they waited for any sign of Constable Lamley.

Audrey was regretfully forced to inform the girl that they would have to wait until they were on the first train to eat. Jeannie turned back to Siegfried and, although he had heard every word of the discussion himself, helpfully repeated the verdict back to him.

"Miss All say eat on twain." She sighed and leaned against him a moment before turning to look at him again.

"Kee no like twain," she informed him, a quiver to her bottom lip as she spoke.

"What about Jeannie?" Siegfried asked softly. "Does she like the train?"

"No," she pouted miserably.

Siegfried held her close and rocked gently back and forth. "We'll do nice things on the train. We'll have our book about trains to read. And," he added, drawing out the word, "we'll get to eat."

Jeannie nodded.

"And we'll all be together just like on the bus. The bus ride is finished, so now we have the train, train, and walk left. Then we'll see your mother and father."

"Mummy?"

"Yes. The train brings you closer to your mummy."

No sooner had she relaxed back against Siegfried's chest than he felt Audrey stiffen beside him. Looking sharply around them for the source of her discontent, he spotted Constable Lamley walking down the platform.

Chapter Text

"I'll go," Audrey suggested. "I started this whole situation in speaking with him, after all." She sat Keith down on the bench by Siegfried and told the children she'd be right back.

Keith was content to sit with Siegfried, but Jeannie, having just been assured that they would all be together for the journey, became agitated when Audrey left. Siegfried hugged her, hoping Audrey's conversation with Lamley would be brief and that Jeannie wouldn't notice the man. Siegfried's good fortune on the bus, when the children were happy and easily entertained, seemed to have run dry at the station, however, for Keith immediately attempted to shimmy off the bench and give chase after Audrey, and Jeannie noticed Lamley just as quickly, calling out to Audrey in a tearful voice. Siegfried scooped up Keith so that both children were perched on his lap, a move that the Siegfried of a month ago would have had no idea how to implement, yet one that the current Siegfried performed without a second thought, even in a moment of stress. After a swift, no-nonsense-allowed command to Keith to sit still, he attempted to calm Jeannie's concerns.

"Mrs. Hall will be right back. We'll all still go on our trip together. Train, train, walk—remember?"

Jeannie sniffled and hiccoughed in response. 

Siegfried noted that Audrey had manoeuvred herself and Lamley so that the officer was no longer visible to him and the children, hidden behind a brick column on the platform. Hopeful that would help his cause, he continued to talk about their travels.

"Miss All?" Jeannie asked, not distracted a bit by Siegfried's chatter.

"She'll be on the train with us, I promise." Siegfried looked up and saw Audrey walking back. "Look," he pointed out to the children. "Here she is, now."

Jeannie made to get down, only to stop when she noticed Lamley still in the background. Audrey came and sat beside them, giving Jeannie's knee a comforting pat.

"It's all right, love. Constable Lamley is going on a train today, too. But you and Keith are staying with me and Mr. Farnon until we get to see your mummy and daddy."

"Twain, twain, walk?"

"That's right."

"Eat?" Jeannie asked anew.

Audrey smiled at her persistence and held out her hands instead, taking the children to relieve any pressing needs and to wash their hands and faces before eating. They returned to find that Siegfried had already purchased their tickets and was waiting, surrounded only by the carpetbag and basket.

"There actually are some conveniences in having a police escort," he pointed out with a wry grin. "Turns out the chap's rather adept at guarding one's possessions for them. And I was able to convince him to carry some of the luggage, too." His eyebrows waggled, pleased with himself for using the chaperone forced upon them to solve two issues at once.

Audrey gave a low chuckle at Siegfried's mirthful pride in making Lamley's presence work to their advantage, at least in some way. "In that case, I've promised these two they can look in the basket."

"Oh, well, I wouldn't wish to stand in the way of peering into your basket of marvels, now would I?

Audrey was prepared to relent, allowing the children to share one of the sandwiches she had packed, but to her surprise something else caught Jeannie's eye.

"Dog! Kee, dog!" Tucked between the wrapped foods and the side of the basket were the two soft toys from Mrs. Pumphrey, and Jeannie extracted them both with glee, handing the dog to her brother and hugging the little doll to her cheek. Thoughts of food and fears of Constable Lamley both forgotten, Jeannie bounced on the bench, petting the doll's shoulder-length hair. "Fank you, Miss All!" 

***************************************************

When their train arrived, Lamley agreed to board after the family and to stay out of sight of their compartment in hopes of making things easier on the children. Audrey was still a ball of nerves as Siegfried asked Jeannie if she wanted to walk or be carried. She decided to hold Audrey's hand, and Audrey held it as tightly as she dared. She and Jeannie entered the passenger car first, with Siegfried left out on the platform alongside Lamley. Siegfried was carrying Keith, who, when not distraught over his sister's upset, seemed to bear neither animosity nor fear towards the officer at all, allowing Siegfried the opportunity to ask the constable a question that had been nagging at him over the past few weeks.

"Did you ever find the young woman—the one who left them at Windermere?" 

Lamley looked abashed. "'Fraid not, Mr. Farnon. We believe Lily Winters was a false name, and not knowing the name of her supposed beau or where she'd come from in the first place, we've no else way of finding her."

Siegfried sighed and nodded. "I assumed that was the case. Best put it behind us if there's nothing to be done for it. It does infuriate me, though, that no one involved in this debacle has faced one iota of consequence for their actions."

Lamley expressed his agreement, and he and Siegfried boarded the train, the constable offering to keep the two travel cases with him, then finding a seat further down the car from where Audrey had settled herself with Jeannie.

Siegfried and Keith entered their compartment and as the children greeted one another as if they'd been separated for weeks rather than moments, Siegfried quietly passed along the galling lack of information about Miss Winters to a relatively stoic Audrey.

"Hardly matters now, I suppose," she sighed, though inside she still secretly wanted a chance to tell that girl what she thought of her ill treatment of two tiny children who were already confused and frightened. She pushed away her ire with the unknown woman, wishing to focus only on her remaining time with Jeannie and Keith, who had both turned their attention back to their toys from Mrs. Pumphrey, waving them into one another's faces and giggling, the temporary crisis outside the station completely forgotten.

The train ride from Skipton to Leeds unfolded in a surprisingly and blissfully uneventful manner. Once the constable was hidden away from her view, Jeannie relaxed, enjoying playing with her new doll, lifting the toy to let it look out the windows and making up her own little stories to tell to the soft toy. Audrey and Siegfried watched her with fond smiles, happy to hear her speaking so much more now, and tickled to see her mimicking Siegfried's behaviour as she told her made-up tales. Keith was happy to take a turn sitting with Audrey, walking his dog across his lap, onto the seat, and then  across Audrey's lap as she sang quiet songs to the boy.

A quarter of the way through the first train voyage of the day, the children suddenly remembered that they had been promised food once aboard, and they clamoured for something from Audrey's basket. Jeannie settled on with a sandwich of elderberry jam, while Keith was pleased to the point of applause when presented with a boiled egg. After everyone was clean and the compartment seat wiped free of crumbs of yolk or bread, Siegfried read to both children from their train book off and on, typically when there were lulls in the scenery, which changed with far greater frequency and drama on this stretch of their journey. 

Audrey let the three of them enjoy themselves, often watching from her own bench seat as the trio crammed happily together on the seat across the compartment from her. As glad as she was for them, she was having a harder time keeping her own emotions steady. One moment she, too, was very happy; the next her mood would fall, and she would spend a few minutes trying her best to hide her sorrow each instance it reared its head. 

As the train stopped in Keighley, Audrey felt a new rush of emotion thinking of meeting her Edward there, finally making the start on mending their relationship. Any melancholy she felt, thinking of her son's current precarious location, was soon washed away by Jeannie's confusion over the porter's announcement of the current station. "Kee? Kee, Miss All? Kee?"

"It's the name of the town, love, and the railway station. It is like our Keith's name, though, innit?" 

Jeannie was wholly unconvinced that they weren't talking about her brother, and she rushed to hug him and pat his cheek as though he'd done something particularly gallant to have earned such recognition. Watching the two hugging and smiling, Audrey said a silent prayer of thanks that the children were doing so well on the journey. It was the last bit of time she and Siegfried had left with them, and it meant the world to her that Jeannie and Keith were mostly happy during the final hours in her and Siegfried's care.

They proceeded through Keighley, and during one last stretch of green before their next destination, the persistent farmland caused the children to grow fidgety again. Siegfried resorted to putting on a sort of pantomime using Miss Dolly and Mr. Dog for a variety of characters, which brought a delighted smile to Audrey's face, followed by a fit of giggles, which she tried to subdue behind her hand. 

The farmlands shortly returned to clusters of homes, this time the congestion of buildings, vehicles, and people growing consistently until the porter finally gave the call for their station, and once again their group disembarked their current means of transport.

Chapter Text

Constable Lamley stayed out of sight until Siegfried and Audrey had the children safely settled on yet another bench at yet another railway station, then discreetly approached them, their luggage in hand. He left them to locate Constable Tetlow, the Huddersfield officer who was slated to escort the Farnon contingent on the final section of their journey. Once Tetlow had been found and introductions were made, Lamley took his leave, secretly pleased to receive words of genuine appreciation from Audrey for his part in unravelling the mystery of the children's situation and family, but more so for agreeing to allow Jeannie and Keith to temporarily stay with her at Skeldale in the first place.

"You'll never know the wonderful difference they've made in all our lives. Thank you, Constable."

He offered his goodbye, tipping the brim of his helmet slightly towards Siegfried, who stayed with the children a distance from the officer which Jeannie deemed agreeable.