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It was her own fault, Audrey reflected, as the cold bit deeper into her bones. She called Siegfried stubborn, but she was just as stubborn as him. And on this occasion they had butted heads and she, as she so often did, had won. She would allow him victories when they pertained to his work, his practice. Less often when it was people, their home. And she would never let him win when it regarded her own person and her job outside Skeldale.
More fool me, she mused. Should have let him win this one, Audrey. She huddled further into her coat and the scant shelter of the stone wall. Her bike, useless, wheel bent in two, lay next to her. Snow was piling up on everything. And she was so very, very, cold now.
“You’re going out?” He’d looked at her sharply when she came downstairs, neat and trig in her ARP uniform.
“I have my rounds.” She settled her helmet on her head and pulled on her thick winter coat.
“Absolutely not, Mrs Hall.” He gestured to the curtained windows. “The weather – it’s going to snow.”
“There’s no sign of it,” she retorted.
“The farmers know,” he said firmly. “You mustn’t go out.”
“I appreciate your concern, Mr Farnon. But I have a job to do.” She buttoned her coat determinedly.
He slipped round her and stood in front of the door. “I won’t let you.”
“Mr Farnon!” She was torn between frustration and laughter as he spread-eagled himself against the door frame. “You’re being ridiculous! Either you stand aside and let me go and do my vital war job, or we can have a brawl and then I will go and do my job.”
“I’d like to see that,” said Tristan from the doorway. “Go on old chap. My money’s on her.”
Audrey rolled her eyes at the lad. His brother glared. Audrey tapped her foot impatiently. “I’m due out, Mr Farnon.”
With a sigh, he subsided. “Go on then,” he said, stepping away from the door. “But please,” he put out a hand to her as she passed him. “Be careful.”
“I’m always careful, Mr Farnon.” She smiled at him and slipped out into the cold night air.
It had started to snow, of course. She’d been on her way back, at least. And it hadn’t been coming down so thickly. But then she’d skidded, lost her balance on a patch of ice. Crashed the bike into the wall and ricked her ankle.
She drew her arms out of the sleeves of her coat and huddled them into her body, pulled her coat over her knees so she was tucked up into a ball. Keep the extremities warm, she thought to herself.
She tried to shuffle her feet to keep them warm, but the pain in her ankle made her gasp. She curled herself even tighter and tried to ignore the cold biting and prickling into her.
Mr Farnon was going to be absolutely infuriating if she got home.
The fight between Mrs H and his brother had amused Tristan. He always enjoyed seeing his brother butt up against someone else and Mrs H could hold her own. He hadn’t thought anything about it when she went out on her rounds. Not until Siegfried stood, worried, at the window, tweaked the curtain aside and Tris had seen the flakes swirling down.
Siegfried watched the clock, and Tristan watched him.
“She should be back by now,” Siegfried said. His face was pale.
“She’s only a minute late,” Tris pointed out, always the optimist to his brother’s pessimist.
“Something’s wrong,” Siegfried said. “I can feel it.”
It had been a long time since Tristan had seen his brother so worked up. Worry slid into his own heart. “You really think she’s in trouble?”
“I know so. I’m going to find her.”
Tristan didn’t hesitate. He loved her like he’d loved their mother. “I’m coming with you.”
They took the Rover. “I should have driven her,” Siegfried said. “God, I should have driven her, what was I thinking?”
They knew the route – Audrey had shown them earlier in the year. In the bright summer sun, it had been lovely. Now in the dark and the snow, it had a very different aura.
They drove out of Darrowby, up through the narrow winding lanes. Siegfried grappled with the car while Tristan stared eagerly out, looking for any sign of their errant housekeeper.
Finally, they reached a dip, full of snow. “I can’t go through that,” Siegfried said. “It’ll never make it.” He gritted his teeth. “We carry on on foot.”
They’d put on their winter coats, scarves and hats before they’d left but even with them, Tris was unprepared for the way the wind bit him. For the first time, fear truly gripped him.
“Get moving!” Siegfried shouted.
They scrambled along the stone wall, avoiding the deep snow in the dip, and struck out together. Tristan followed his brother. He found himself irresistibly reminded of the carol – in the bleak midwinter. In his masters steps he trod, indeed! If he hadn’t been so desperately worried, he might have whistled it.
Finally, finally, Siegfried gave a shout. “She’s there!”
They scrambled the final metres and Siegfried fell to his knees next to the cold bundle of their housekeeper. She was huddled over, eyes closed, still.
“She’s not-” Tris couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“Breathing,” Siegfried rapped out.
“Thank God.”
Siegfried clambered to his feet then bent and lifted the prone body.
“Let me help,” Tris demanded.
Siegfried shook his head. “I’ve got her.”
Carefully and swiftly, they made their way back to the car.
“You drive,” Siegfried said, as he lifted Mrs Hall into the back seat. He passed Tristan the keys and Tris took them dumbly. “Get a move on, man!”
With cold, shaking fingers, Tris turned the ignition. He glanced into the back seat. His brother had wrapped himself around Mrs Hall and was rubbing her back. He swallowed. Put the car into reverse and sped backwards as fast as he dared until there was a wide spot in the lane. Then he turned and drove like the devil to Skeldale.
It hurt. Everything hurt. Pain was screaming through her fingers and her toes. But she was somewhere soft, somewhere warm. If it wasn’t for the pain, she’d think she’d died and gone to heaven.
She forced her eyes open. She was in her bed and in the chair by her side was Mr Farnon.
She opened her mouth to speak and managed only a croak.
“You’re awake!”
Never had she seen such relief as she did then in Mr Farnon’s eyes. He dropped to his knees by her bed, found her hand and gripped it tightly.
She stared at him, his dear face, the one she’d thought she’d never see again, when she’d finally lost her battle to stay awake.
“I’m sorry,” she managed. “So sorry.”
He bent his head over their joined hands and pressed his forehead to them. When he finally raised it, there were tears in his eyes. “I thought I’d – we’d lost you.”
“Was – a fool.”
He didn’t disagree. Instead he pressed a kiss to her hand. “Yes,” he said simply.
“Will listen… next time.”
The pain was fading and she was so tired. Her eyes were drifting shut but she knew for certain this time that she would open them again. But one thing remained. “Please – don’t go,” she whispered.
He smiled at her, heartbreakingly tenderly. “Go to sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”