Chapter Text
It was nearly into March that James cottoned-on to something. He didn't quite cotton-on to the correct something, but, by that point, the accuracy of the situation wasn't really important.
And, with hindsight, maybe the first person he voiced those hypotheses to shouldn't have been Siegfried, but the words were out of his mouth before he’d really given them full thought because, right in front of him, seemed to be pretty conclusive evidence that he was correct.
He and Siegfried were sitting by the window of The Drovers, directly opposite the bar, with an ale and a whisky and a farmer pestering Siegfried for advice on a sow. James had yet to be tagged into the conversation which was fine by him, so he kept quiet on the other side of the table and tried to not make eye contact.
This avoidance meant that he saw when the door opened and in walked Mrs Hall and then Richard Alderson. She thanked Richard with a smile, which wasn't unusual; what was, however, was the smile that was on Richard’s face. Not that James had never seen him smile, far from it - he smiled at Jimmy and Rosie, he smiled at Helen and Jenny, he smiled when new lambs and foals and calves were born healthy and latched on quickly, he’d even smiled at James twice in the six years he’d been in his son-in-law… (Usually when James had fallen over…) But he’d never smiled that smile.
The smile Richard was giving to Mrs Hall while they were at the bar was, well, lighter. Easy. He said something that she seemed to have one-upped in response in a way that had his head droop and shoulders shake with laughter. Laughter. Richard Alderson was laughing.
James’ eyes narrowed in thought because he was struck by how much time Mrs Hall and Richard had actually been spending together, now that he thought about it.
There was the time Mrs Hall had ‘just nipped up to Heston Grange’ with a fresh loaf she’d made, knowing Richard and Tom were working overtime to fix the barn roof after the snow.
Or the time they’d found her in Skeldale with a needle and thread to Richard’s overalls because he’d ripped them nearly in half when snagged on a dodgy gate.
Or the time James had gone to Heston with a treatment for a sheep and found Mrs Hall at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and two empty plates stacked before her. She’d said she’d been dropping Rosie’s teddy off, and maybe she had been, but Richard had come from the other room and called her Audrey, and that was what had really started his suspicion.
And seeing them laughing at the bar had just seemingly confirmed all of his suspicions.
Siegfried had finally appeased the farmer about his sow and turned back to James with a harrumph, taking a large mouthful of whisky to save his grumble until the farmer was out of earshot.
“Siegfried…?” James asked, eyes still on the bar area. “Do you think…?”
“Do I think what?”
“I don't know… do you think Mrs Hall and Richard…?”
“What about them?”
“You don't think they’re…seeing each other, do you?”
James knew in that instant that he had messed up. The air changed; it was like it suddenly became a tangible thing that he wanted to scoop out of the way so he could breathe. James squirmed in his seat, wanting to backtrack and calm Siegfried, feeling as if he was suddenly sitting next to a ticking time bomb and that he had just honed its sights onto innocent and unsuspecting parties. “Siegfried, I- I mean- There’s nothing-”
“-Oh hello!” Mrs Hall smiled, walking over with Richard in tow. “Didn't see you two lurkin’ over here in’t dark.”
“I’m just leaving actually,” Siegfried said in a low tone, standing up and moving around them in a wide circle. “Please, take my seat.” And with nary a ‘goodbye’, he was gone.
“What’s gor’into him?” Mrs Hall asked, concern pinching her features as she watched after him, and then through the windows as Siegfried stalked and stomped across the square.
“Oh, erm, I don't think he feels too well,” James said, still squirming.
“Well, I did tell him about going in for thirds at tea, but he struggles to resist me roast potatoes sometimes.” She sat down with a smug smile and looked to Richard as if they’d recently had just that conversation.
Richard tipped his drink in confirmation, shoulders jerking in a silent laugh.
James had no idea what to think.
Siegfried, however, could think of little else. He burst through the doors of Skeldale House and moved straight to the drinks cabinet, pouring a whisky, necking it back and pouring another, then bracing his hands on the surface.
Mrs Hall and Richard?
Mrs Hall and Richard?
Losing her to Gerald had been one thing, losing her to Edward another, but Richard?
Since when? When did they start? Why hadn't he seen? He'd been spending time with Dorothy but surely he'd have noticed. And surely Dorothy would have noticed! Did Dorothy know? Did Helen? Why hadn't Mrs Hall said anything?
What if she left again? Well, Heston Grange wouldn't be too far away. She'd be a grandmother to Jimmy and Rosie. But he'd rather liked being a godparent alongside her, the uncle to her aunt.
He knocked back another mouthful of the whisky and pulled the chair out from the head of the table to sit down with a thud. He’d been spending more time with Dorothy, had he missed the signs? Was everything to change? Again?
He sighed, a tonne weight settling deep in his belly.