Chapter Text
As the night wore on, as the dancing continued and the music got louder and the drinks didn't stop, Carmody found himself wishing for a breath of fresh air; he made his way to the main doors and opened them, greeted by an onslaught of pelting rain which had him immediately closing the doors again. His fringe was damp, but he couldn't tell if it was from sweat caused by dancing or from the rain; he turned on his heel, spotting Tristan emerging from the dance hall and passing down the corridor towards him.
"Richard!" Tristan called, approaching; Carmody met him in the middle. "Are you alright?"
"Just wanted a breath of air, but it's raining outside - heavily," Carmody replied.
Tristan glanced over his shoulder with eyes which yearned for a break from the party.
"Would you like to head home?" he asked, glancing at his watch. "It's getting late, anyway - I think it'll wrap up soon."
Over Tristan's shoulder, the doors to the dance hall opened and closed, from which emerged a couple holding each other by the waist slinking away into a dark corner; the music was showing no signs of quietening down.
"I wouldn't be so sure," Carmody sighed - a sigh which turned into a yawn, and he said, "I'm happy to drive - I only had one drink."
"That would be for the best - I've had more." Tristan's red cheeks gave him away. "Shall we let the others know?"
After saying their goodbyes to Siegfried, Audrey, James and Helen, Tristan and Carmody returned to the main doors of the hall - as soon as Carmody opened the doors, he was pelted once again by a sheet of rain so dense it almost hit him horizontally. They pulled their jackets up over their heads as they ran across the car park, to the Ford, where Carmody jumped into the drivers seat and slammed the door behind him.
"God - I've not seen rain this bad in... I don't know how long!" Tristan patted down his hair, which was covered in the front in a fine mist. "Are you sure you're alright to drive in this?"
"I am - have to learn some day!" Carmody huffed, wiping water off his face and pushing his fringe back from his forehead.
Carmody took it very easily on the narrow and winding roads, finding it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet in front of the car. The engine was not short of complaints as he frequently mismatched the gear to the speed, causing it to splutter almost half to death more than once - Tristan gave him patient and gentle guidance as far as he could until, after a drive which had gone on much longer than needed, Tristan quite suddenly said:
"Richard - I think we've gone the wrong way..."
Carmody frowned, keeping his eyes on the dark road ahead, raindrops making his vision blur and fizz: the windscreen wipers were struggling to keep up. "What? How's that possible?"
"We must have missed a turning somewhere - it just isn't possible that we're still not home yet!"
"Will I turn back?"
Tristan didn't answer; Carmody glanced over, keeping a tight grip on the wheel.
"I don't know, I... I'm afraid if we go back, we'll end up getting even more lost." Tristan sucked in a slow breath through his teeth. "No, I say let's stick on this road - I'm sure the right turning will show up– CAREFUL!"
Tristan reached over and grabbed the wheel, stopping Carmody from hitting a brown mass in the middle of the road; Carmody reacted fast enough to break harshly, but not fast enough to disengage the clutch, and the engine spluttered to death.
"Damn!" Carmody swore, yanking up the handbreak. The headlights had gone out, and for a moment they were bathed in darkness, until Carmody revived the engine and the lights flickered on once more, identifying the brown mass on the road as a pig lying on its side, facing away from them.
"Oh, God!" Tristan gaped.
"Did I hit it?" Carmody cried.
"No, no - we would have felt it if you had. What is it doing in the middle of the road like that?! Who let it out?"
"It might have escaped," Carmody said. "Shall we take a look?"
Carmody once again pulled his jacket up over his head, stepping out the car and immediately feeling his shoes fill with water as a muddy puddle squelched beneath him. He met Tristan by the side of the pig, as Tristan crouched at its head to test for any signs of life: he gently cradled the pig's snout, peering its eyes open with his fingertips.
"It's alive," Tristan said, "I think its looking at me - but what could have happened to it?"
"She, Tristan," Carmody replied, inspecting the pig's abdomen, "and she looks pregnant to me."
Tristan gently replaced the pig's head back down, and surveyed its abdomen, gently stroking down as far as its back legs.
"I think you're right - I can feel the piglets moving inside her," he said.
Carmody stood back up, surveying the landscape as best he could, but the rain kept him from seeing further than the car headlights shone, and he couldn't make out any signs of life on the hills around.
"What'll we do? Who does she belong to?" he asked.
"She has a tag - but I don't think it matters, I don't think we have time to find her owner," Tristan said - right on queue, the sow cried out in pain, a horrible noise which filled the pit of Carmody's stomach with dread. Tristan shuffled down to the sow's hind legs, where he inspected the first piglet, already pushing through; he looked up at Carmody with a pained expression and said, "It's coming out the wrong way around - poor thing must be exhausted, she's struggling to push!"
"What do we do? I've never delivered pigs before!" Carmody's voice was frantic, distressed by the awful cries of the sow, the unrelenting rain, the headlamps which blinded his vision.
"Get my vet bag - I left it in the back of your car just in case of emergencies," Tristan replied. "I need antiseptic and a scissors to cut the umbilical cords - and any blankets or towels in the car too. But leave some in the car - I'm going to deliver them, and I'll give them to you to put them in the car, to keep them warm."
While Tristan focused on the delivering the piglets, Carmody arranged a bed made from their own suit jackets to keep the piglets secure on the back seat of the car - one by one, he took them from Tristan, tiny and slimy and squirming and crying, and scrubbed them clean using a cloth rag. They worked in synch: Tristan shouting for Carmody every ten or fifteen minutes as a new piglet was delivered, while Carmody kept them warm and dry inside the car. The first piglet proved the most challenging, and came out the weakest - more than once Carmody feared it might not make it, but he had little time to worry as the next piglets kept coming, until a bundle of nine little creatures were cozied up next to him in the car.
"Richard!" Tristan called.
Carmody had become weary, at least two hours having passed since this debacle had begun - in that time, the rain had begun to ease off, but he was soaked through to his skin. Tristan was in an even worse state: as Carmody crouched beside him on the road, he noticed Tristan's blue fingers and chattering jaw as he felt around the sow's stomach for any more piglets.
"I think she's done," he said, his voice weak. "Do you think that - together - we can lift her into the boot of the car?"
Carmody grimaced at the thought, but nodded slowly. "I see no other option - we can't leave her here, and we need to find her owner."
Between the two of them - Carmody lifting from the sow's head, Tristan from its hind legs - they managed her into the boot of the car, despite her struggles and complaints at being disturbed. Being in no fit state to drive, and being caked in mud and blood and soaked to the bones, Tristan remained in the back, taking care of the piglets, while Carmody turned the car back and re-traced the road as best as he could remember.
When, at long last, Carmody pulled in to the back yard of Skeldale House, Tristan remained in the car, barely able to move with exhaustion, while Carmody darted inside to find Siegfried, Audrey, Helen and James assembled around the kitchen table, looking each as worried as he'd ever seen them.
"Richard!" Siegfried shot up from his chair. He looked Carmody up and down, and in this moment, Carmody realised the state of his own clothes: muddy knees, shirt and waistcoat covered in spots of blood and afterbirth, hair dripping water onto the floor and into his eyes. "What on God's green earth happened to you? Where's Tristan?"
"In the car– we..." Carmody gulped a breath. "We got lost - took a wrong turning somewhere and we found a sow lying in the middle of the road - I almost would have hit her, if Tristan hadn't stopped me - she was in active labour, so we had no choice but to stay and deliver the piglets there–"
"A sow?" James asked. "In the middle of the road?"
"She must have escaped - maybe the storm frightened her," Helen offered.
Carmody nodded dumbly, feeling so cold he was struggling to string words together.
"Where is the sow now?" Siegfried asked. "And where's Tristan?"
"In the back of my car," Carmody replied. "The two of us managed to lift her into the car, but I don't think Tristan has the strength to lift her into the barn."
Between James and Carmody, they managed to bring the sow into the barn - who had recovered some of her strength and managed to walk, with gentle direction from James - while Siegfried and Helen bundled up the piglets into a wooden crate to carry them inside.
Tristan and Carmody hovered in the barn door, watching while Siegfried and James settled the piglets in next to their mother. One by one, they found a nipple to suckle on, and before long were resting comfortably in the warmth of the barn. Helen brought out a pan of scrap vegetables from the kitchen for the sow to chew on, and filled a trough of water for her to drink from.
Siegfried looked up over his shoulder, smiling softly at the two men.
"You've done your bit, now - go and get some rest, the two of you," he said. "And well done to you both. We'll take it from here."
Neither protested: Carmody grabbed their blood-and-afterbirth covered jackets from the car, leaving them with Audrey for her to clean (he felt slightly guilty about this - although she just patted his arm and assured him she'd seen far worse over the years), and slowly, silently, made their way upstairs.
Tristan's teeth chattered loudly all the way upstairs and into their room - his figure hunched over as pulled off his tie, dropping it onto the floor at the foot of the bed, and he kicked off his muddy shoes into the corner of the room. Carmody, meanwhile, fetched two bath towels from the bathroom and began drying his hair with one of them.
"I've never seen rain like that!" he remarked.
Tristan was struggling with his waistcoat buttons, his fingers trembling with the cold - Carmody threw his towel over his shoulder and stepped closer, reaching out to steady Tristan's hands.
"I'm fine– I can manage it–"
"Tristan, you're shaking," Carmody insisted. "Come here - let me help you."
He clasped both of Tristan's hands between his own, blowing warm air on them, rubbing his fingers to bring them back to life - Tristan's hands were almost purple with the cold, and he melted into Carmody's touch, his body swaying a little closer.
"Feeling unsteady?" Carmody asked.
"No. I'm fine." Tristan shook his head. His teeth continued to chatter, though he clenched his jaw to suppress it. "I'm just– so cold."
"Well, let's get you out of those wet clothes for a start," Carmody replied.
Tristan didn't protest as Carmody gently undid the little buttons on his waistcoat, which dripped drops of water as Carmody added it to the pile of mucky clothes on the floor. He hesitated a moment before starting on Tristan's shirt, glancing up to meet his gaze for a moment, as if to ask permission, which Tristan gave with a curt nod. One by one, Carmody unfastened each button carefully, trying desperately hard not to think about the many times he had fantasised about this moment (although, in his head, it involved less muck and blood) and when he was done, he stepped back an inch, letting Tristan peel the shirt from his wet skin.
Carmody threw the second bath towel around Tristan, bringing it up to his neck, clasping his hands on his shoulders.
"Better?" Carmody asked.
Tristan nodded. "Better... Oh, I feel disgusting - I must look a mess..."
His eyes glanced to the mirror in the wardrobe door, and Carmody side-stepped to block his view.
"Don't worry about it - you look fine– just..."
"What?" Tristan asked flatly.
"Muddy." Carmody's face broke into a giggle, and a small smile crossed Tristan's lips. "No - but seriously... You look fine. I'll go run you a bath, alright? And you can warm up and wash all the muck off yourself."
"What about you?" Tristan asked. "You might not be covered in muck, but you're soaked through."
It was true - Carmody's clothes clung uncomfortably tightly to his body and he was desperate to get out of them as quickly as possible.
Instead, he smiled patiently and replied, "I'm fine - I'm not half as bad as you... You were out in the rain for all that time without a break - I was in the car for most of it. Let me take care of you, Tris."
Carmody felt a strange shift in the air, and he felt certain Tristan must have felt it too. Memories ran through his mind of all the times Tristan had allowed him to cry in his office, to offload all of his academic stresses, to play the piano to soothe his nerves - and now, it struck Carmody as odd how he was the one to take care of Tristan, not vice versa.
An unexpected reversal.
A small part of him hoped it might remain this way.
Carmody ran a bath for Tristan to freshen up, and Tristan returned the gesture; after Carmody had returned to their room, much refreshed and no longer stinking of afterbirth, he found Tristan, still awake, sitting up in bed with a book.
"You're still up?" Carmody asked, crossing to the wardrobe to grab his pyjamas. "I thought you'd be out like a light."
Tristan doggy-eared the page he was reading and laid the book down on the bedside cabinet. "I wanted to make sure you were alright, too. And to say thank you - for earlier."
Carmody smiled to himself, while he tucked into the adjoining cupboard to change into his pyjamas - when he emerged, he hung up his bath towel on a rack in front of the fireplace, which Tristan had lit, giving the room a cozy, yellow glow.
"It was quite the adventure, wasn't it?" he grinned, hovering at the foot of Tristan's bed.
"It was... you were an excellent assistant, by the way." Tristan smiled softly. "I just hope we find her owner."
"That's tomorrow's problem," Carmody replied. "And let me also say well done to you, too - for keeping your cool the way you did. I know I couldn't have done that."
"Oh, don't be so harsh on yourself." Tristan motioned to the end of the bed. "And sit down, if you'd like."
Hesitantly, Carmody perched on the edge of the bed, diagonally opposite from Tristan, twisting his neck backwards to meet his gaze. The flickering flames from the fire danced on Tristan's skin, which had returned to its usual warm peach, his cheeks tinted a little pink.
"What did you think of your first Wisteria Ball?" Tristan asked.
Carmody chuckled: "Gosh, I'd almost forgotten that's how the night started... I enjoyed it - I thought Rhonda was an interesting character... and Florence was lovely to talk to."
"You danced for a while with her," Tristan said,
"Jealous?" Carmody teased; Tristan shook his head, smiling. "Yes, well... once we got to talking, we found we had a lot in common."
"Yes... I always felt that way too with Florence," Tristan mused. "We were never really allowed to see too much of each other as children - her father and Siegfried were in college together: both top of the class, both vying for first place - and then Pandhi wasn't happy when Siegfried moved to Darrowby, and took over the practice from the previous owner, and suddenly he had competition... So me and Florence never saw much of each other as children, and their feud unfortunately trickled down to us, so we were never too close... bar one respect."
"You share your attraction for your own sex," Carmody said.
Tristan nodded, now fiddling with his fingernails. "Apart from one other person, Florence was the only one I knew as a boy who was like me in that way. Despite all of the animosity between our families, we always sort of... had a kind of kinship because of it."
"Florence and I clicked because of that too - almost immediately," Carmody said.
"Oh? What did you talk about?"
Carmody hesitated to repeat every detail of their conversation, especially the portions which pertained directly to Tristan; instead, he said vaguely, "Just, you know... it was refreshing to talk to someone who understands me."
"I know what you mean." Tristan hummed. "We need to stick together, people like us. I know, inside this house, it's safe - even if we do keep quiet in front of the children, and that's only because they're not old enough to understand, and they might let it slip by accident - if word got out, I'm sure you know what that would mean for me, and for the practice..."
"I know," Carmody replied.
A frown lingered on his forehead for longer than he intended, and Tristan asked softly, "Everything alright?"
"Nobody here knows about me... not even Audrey," Carmody replied. "On my first morning here, she even asked me if I had a girl waiting for me back in London."
Tristan chuckled. "Well, she hasn't seen you in such a long time - she's still re-learning who you are as an adult, I'm sure... but, you know, just because they all know about me doesn't mean that they have to know about you, too. If you don't want them to. I haven't said anything to anyone."
"No, no, it's not that - I just feel dishonest, like I'm hiding a part of myself from them all while they've all been so welcoming to me."
"You don't owe anybody anything," Tristan replied. Carmody nodded slowly, his lips pursing - Tristan gently asked, "Are you afraid of how they would react?"
"People have reacted poorly before... my parents - when they found out, especially my father, they were... well, safe to say, I saw very little of them after that," Carmody said. "And I've just gotten used to the idea now."
"Oh, Richard - I didn't know that - why did you never say?" Tristan asked.
Carmody melted; he brought his legs up onto the bed, sitting with his back against the bed post so he was facing Tristan. Tristan passed him across a pillow, so as to cushion his back against the wood.
"Because, I suppose... we never talk about these things," he said. "These things that other people don't understand."
"I'll confess - I've been in a strange state of mind since returning here," Tristan replied. "It almost feels like Darrowby before the war, but there are so many men who used to walk these streets who are gone now... shopkeepers, farmers' hands, postmen, bankers - all called up, all killed, and... I survived. And it feels wrong. So if I have been a little, perhaps, reclusive - I apologise."
"Oh, no, Tristan - don't worry - I understand - I felt the same way when I moved back to Camden," Carmody replied. "You feel as if the ground beneath your feet has shifted, and you fear it'll never go back to the way it was. Because it can't. The war changed everything - us, our communities, our country... the whole world."
"This is getting very philosophical for–" Tristan glanced at his alarm clock and groaned "–three in the morning."
Carmody chuckled softly, looking down at his lap for a moment, before glancing back up. "Shall we call it a night?"
"Let's." Tristan nodded. Carmody didn't move. "And let's not leave it so long until we talk about these things again."
"Agreed," Carmody replied, smiling.