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laceandsilkhandkerchiefs · 1 month ago

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[PART 3] we can but hope -> a/c/g/a/s ; james. [3/?]

i'm back!! with more of this!! added: misery, snzs, contagion implication, and married couple sickbed romance 🫶 [ PART 1 ] [ PART 2 ]

After finally getting Candy back up on her feet, settled in her stable and administered all the treatments and medication she’d need to at least keep her ticking over until the next morning, a brief stint in front of Heston Grange’s fireplace for all involved to dry off and warm up a bit felt well-earned. After decisively directing James down into one of the two battered, but comfy, old armchairs right by the hearth, Helen went off to bring Jenny back in from where she was still determinedly flitting about outside.

With all the adrenaline starting to wear off, he watched the flames flicker in front of his face in a growingly drowsy daze, letting the heat coming off them start to thaw him out from the outside in. Whatever capacity he’d found within himself to get to this point, to get through the day, to see to Candy, and avoid letting anyone down in the process, had quickly expired.

He felt like a tyre someone had let the air out of, then replaced that air with rock hard cement.

“hhiH’IHDTZZSSSsh’uh!” He suddenly pitched forward into a hastily produced handkerchief, biting back a groan as the strength of the sneeze reverberated through his head.

“James,” Richard, who’d come in and dropped down into the opposite armchair, said in lieu of a blessing. His voice was as evenly stoic as ever, but infused with a solemn, unmissable sincerity that always caught him off-guard to be on the receiving end of. “Thank you, for this. For today.”

His father-in-law was a man of few, but choice and oft-impactful words, and a man James had expended a lot of energy over the years trying to impress. The novelty of actually managing to do so never quite wore off whenever it happened.

“Of course,” he replied quietly with a respectful nod in return, ruined only by the words being muffled behind the hankie he’d been quickly trying to finish dabbing his nose dry with. “Family cobes first.”

With that Helen came rushing back in with Jenny close behind her, both of them red-cheeked, frizzy-haired, and soaked to the skin, their warring voices shattering the thin illusion of peace.

“I’m sleeping out with her in the stable tonight-”

“In that thunderstorm?! You are not, lest you actually want pneumonia for your trouble.”

“You don’t even live here anymore, it’s not up to you. Dad, tell ‘er…”

“Eh, excuse me-”

Richard huffed out a long-suffering sigh while James looked on, amused at the bickering.

“For the love of God, would you’s both give over and come sit down!”

They both stopped in their tracks. Turning to each other, they shared a furtive look, suddenly united in their attempts not to giggle at their dad losing his temper, argument immediately forgotten. To a mere mortal it would be terrifying, Richard Alderson raising his voice. Maybe to James it still sort of was sometimes. But for the two of them he had the sneaking suspicion it may have been a daily occurrence growing up, one they were near impervious to by now.

Jenny went to sit on the rug at her father’s feet, right up close to the fire, as Helen moved with the intention of perching on the arm of James’s chair. With her closer though, he couldn’t miss how hard she was shivering, plagued now with persistent sniffles from the frigid chill outside. God, she must’ve been freezing. Before he knew it, he was on his feet.

“Here, you-”

“Don’t be daft, sit where you’re at.” she quipped as she reached his side, gripping his shoulder and pushing him back down into the chair, before drawing a compromise and settling herself down sideways into his lap.

James immediately welcomed her weight and the warmth of her on top of him, her wet clothes of little concern when his own were equally as saturated. He slipped his arm around her, letting his broad palm come to rest safely in the dip of her waist. Regard for propriety fading further and further away by the second, though, he was powerless against the urge to let his head, so bloody heavy again, sag against her chest.

Looping an arm around his neck, Helen let her fingers slide up into the hair at the nape of his neck, lightly scratching away at his scalp with her nails, his eyes closing with the sensory pleasure of it.

“If you keep doing that I’mb going to fall asleep here,” he warned, under his breath.

Not missing even a beat, Helen shrugged, eyes soft as she looked down at him. “Why not have a doze for five minutes? You’ve earned it. Then we’ll go home, I think, if we’ve done all we can do for Candy tonight. Yeah?”

There had been several points during the day when James reckoned he’d never wanted to be home, in his bed, more than that exact moment, but he could now say with some degree of certainty that this moment took the cake. Truly nothing on earth sounded better, and he agreed with a quiet, but emphatic, hum.

At some point Scruff came skittering in from where he must’ve been hiding out from the storm and curled up at Jenny’s side, affectionately bumping his head up under her hand. Quiet descended upon them as they all seemed to collectively take a breath and process what’d happened, that the panic was over and it was all okay now.

Intent on taking Helen up on the offer, James let his eyes slip closed, even if it was just for a five minute period that he didn’t even end up reaching before his tired, raw sinuses once again revolted.

His eyes fluttered open again reluctantly, before promptly slamming shut.

“S’hhuh… s-sorry- huH’EHGTXS’st!” He jerked forward as far as her body would allow, crushing the sneeze into submission by sheer force of will against the side of a clenched fist, conscious of just how close she was, the handkerchief lost somewhere between, under, or around them. It wasn’t sufficient though, and each stifle that tumbled out after was more thick, miserable, and unsatisfied than the last, the lingering tickle refusing to abate with how little relief it was being granted.

“haH’EHGXT’yuh!......hhh’IHDTX’sh!...hhh’IH?.......hihhH’AEHDTXSs’sshue!”

The last one was particularly harsh, and succeeded in sending him off on an impromptu coughing fit that really nailed the coffin shut on what was left of his dignity, if you asked him.

Helen’s fingers gave a particularly sympathetic little scratch where they’d barely moved from the back of his head, and she sighed. “Bless you. Might that be our cue to go, d’ya think?”

Letting out a heavy, conciliatory exhale, defeated and maybe somewhat ready to admit it at last, he nodded. “Aye, sdnfff, if you’re ready.”

She dipped her hand right into his jacket pocket, pulling out his car keys before heaving herself up. “Shall we, then?”

By the time they made it back to Skeldale the sun had set into a muted dusk breached only by the thunderstorm raging on upon its backdrop. They crept in the back door, intent on making a quick getaway upstairs after abandoning their muddy wellies in the entryway, but stopped up short when they found Mrs Hall at the kitchen table rather rigorously kneading some dough, an anxious crease to her brow in her concentration. Her head snapped up at the sound of the door, the rigidness of her frown easing immediately.

“Oh, you’re back! How’s-” she said, cutting herself off as she took in their jointly sorry state - both still pervasively damp from head to toe, bedraggled, and covered in muck. James in particular maybe more than a little worse for wear. It was redundant, she knew fine well ‘what’, but still she couldn’t help but ask, “What the hell’s happened to the two of you?”

“Candy should be fine. Thadkfully just a mbild ligament sprain and got a bit of a fright…” James started, accepting the fact that they were going to be waylaid.

“...which unfortunately had to be dealt with out in the middle of our top field in that downpour,” Helen supplied in addition, slipping her coat off before gesturing for his as well to put away.

Mrs Hall offered her a brief, reassuring smile, though her scepticism evidently didn’t lurk far from the surface. “Well, I am glad your Candy’s alright, but you don’t half look like you’ve been through the wars, in any case. Get up them stairs now and get those wet clothes off, before you’s catch your deaths-”

“hhuH’EIHHDZSSS’h! hhH-” Having groused in the car on the way back about the simply unusable state his last handkerchief was in, James clumsily threw his hands to his face just in time to catch the ragged, throaty sneeze.

“Well, before you do, Helen, love. He’s clearly already there.” Mrs Hall spared him a sympathetic glance, almost as a salve for the teasing. “Bless you.”

Helen chuckled and instinctively tilted her head upwards, expecting to meet his eye, find him laughing along. But his hands still hovered close to his face, his swollen, painfully red nose flaring anticipatorily.

“Sorry, I- hhhH? I… thi’hhhdk I’mb off againd- sdnff… ehH-” he stuttered out, breathy and distinctly annoyed at the thought of another fit, eyes rolling skyward as an irritated tear escaped from the corner of one.

“hh’AEHDZSSSH’huh!” Rough and drenching, he gripped his hands tighter to him. Conscious he was now making a show of himself and felt… yep, yet another bloody sneeze coming, he stepped away in the direction of the door to the hall, Helen’s concern-filled gaze following him as he went.

“Ehh’H-… excuse mbe… h’AEHT’SSSHIEW!”

He managed to cross Siegfried on his way out, who dramatically winced at the display as he joined the others in the kitchen.

“hhH’EHTCHUHH’hh!” they all heard distantly from halfway up the stairs.

“Oh dear. And here I was hoping reports of young James’s malady had been greatly exaggerated,” Siegfried said, glancing over his shoulder in the direction he’d came, then back again at Helen, like it just suddenly struck him that he’d not seen her in a couple of days. “Evening, Helen.”

“Siegfried,” she nodded as Mrs Hall brushed past her then, swiftly and wordlessly taking the two coats out of her arms before she even knew they were gone. A protest sat on the tip of her tongue, but died with the other woman’s brief but reassuring grip on her upper arm as she passed by. “Good trip?”

“Excellent, actually. Very informative, very productive all around. Shame about that blasted weather, though.” Briefly out of Mrs Hall’s immediate eyeshot, he chanced his arm and snagged an errant steak piece from the plate of them left sitting on the table amongst the other dinner components. ‘Oi!’ she’d scolded, without even needing to have seen him to have known what he was up to.

“Aye,” Helen smiled wryly, glancing down at herself. “Tell us about it.”

“I’ll tell you what as well,” he offered as he chewed, “It was made even more excellent by the fact I could go on it knowing the practice was safe in your husband’s very capable hands.”

Mercurial as Siegfriend Farnon was, bare-faced, unprovoked praise was by no means easily won, in a way that made anyone who worked under him crave it all the more. Clearly, for whatever reason, he’d come home in rather a good mood; maybe he was happy to see them despite how he’d deny it if she implied as much. She just wished he’d told James that directly to his face.

Still, Helen welcomed the pride as it warmed her chest in his stead.

“It was,” she agreed easily, not needing to be reminded of how hard he’d worked in Siegfriend’s absence. “Suppose I’ll hand it back on his behalf now though, along with the list of tomorrow’s farm visits. If you wouldn’t mind adding Heston on there, only James said Candy’d need looked in on in the morning after today’s escapades.”

“Yes, yes indeed. Of course. Mrs Hall filled me in,” he affirmed distractedly, already eying up the plate again, his gaze darting between it and the door the woman in question had just stepped through. “I’ll even do you one better and take Tristan with me; leave James with free reign of the surgery tomorrow and with some peace and quiet around here.”

Helen had been drifting towards the door, intent on making for the stairs herself, when the comment stopped her up short, eyebrows pulling together. “Tell me you’re joking?”

“What have I said?” he replied, confused expression suddenly mirroring her own. Mrs Hall reentered the room and, having caught him red-handed, stormed over to swipe at Siegfried’s arm, pointedly moving the plate over towards the stove. ‘There’ll be none left for the dinner at this rate!’

Helen just stared at him in disbelief, waiting for the penny to drop. It took a couple of seconds, but eventually his expression melted into a disbelief of his own.

“Surely you aren’t saying he doesn’t intend to work because of a cold, are you?” he scoffed through a huff of laughter, ringing with dismissal.

She’d known Siegfried Farnon a long time now, and liked to think she had his card well-marked. She knew it wasn’t coming from an unkind place necessary, or even intended to be uncaring or unfeeling, not really. It was simply that he’d work in that kind of state himself; wouldn’t think twice about it. He would also probably bite the head off anyone for daring to suggest he do otherwise. He automatically expected the same of others, especially those he liked to think of as having been made partly in his own image. Those he respected.

Luckily, James has more sense.

Said ‘sense’ standing at five foot two inches and currently going toe-to-toe with his boss across the kitchen table.

Helen’s back straightened all the same, her voice coming out firm and unyielding.

“He’s exhausted,” she said simply, like she was throwing the four syllable explanation down on the table between them. Like she didn’t need to go on, but would regardless. “He’s running a temperature, and I wouldn’t let him drive earlier he was so ill and out of it, never mind potentially operating surgical equipment on peoples’ pets. He’s not working tomorrow.”

She saw his resolve soften in the face of her own, though the challenge in his gaze, the tension in his jaw, hadn’t eased completely.

There was only one real way to end this, she suddenly recognised, regretful as she was for having to be pushed to it. Smirking suddenly through a short, if maybe slightly exaggerated sigh. “What, you’re really so past it now you can’t cope for one day here without him anymore? My, how the mighty have fallen…”

His face lit up in immediate indignation. “Now hold on minute-”

Helen shrugged. “Suppose people go a bit soft ‘round the edges in their old age, don’t they? Start to slow down.”

By the look on his face, and his lack of response beyond a clipped ‘Alright, fine’ before quickly changing the subject, Helen had the distinct feeling that she’d just won.

She and Mrs Hall met eyes then, and they shared a look.

Men and their egos. Often irritating, occasionally useful, but always so bloody predictable.

—--------------------------

Eventually, Helen finally managed to escape away upstairs, trying not to trudge or let her footsteps drag with the effort she was suddenly all-too-aware she was expending, each step draining what energy she had left little-by-little, the two sets of stairs she had to conquer suddenly feeling like a mountain.

She found James sitting on the edge of their bed half-dressed, his long legs bare, but with what looked like a dry, freshly laundered undershirt on. His pyjama top hung off his shoulders open and unbuttoned as he mopped at his face an equally fresh, dry handkerchief. She stopped on the stairs up into their bedroom, just for half a beat, and couldn’t help but steal a private, slightly indulgent look. At this point, they knew every inch of each other back to front and six ways to Sunday, no real coyness or modesty between them to speak of anymore, the honeymoon and the happy, enthusiastic, weeks that followed more than seeing to that.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t still a little novel, though, seeing him like this; getting access to that private part of him, the vulnerability in it. That of James especially, so buttoned-up and pristine as he was despite his profession, rarely a hair out of place on any given day. It’d struck her from the very first moment in which she’d seen him undressed just how different he looked out of his clothes than in them, in the best, most intriguing kind of way. Long, firm lines, toned by all that running he did, hidden every day beneath starch white shirts, ties, and woollen vests.

He looked up, bleary-eyed, when the one creaky floorboard near the top of the stairs squeaked under her foot and gave her away. Lowering the handkerchief, he offered her a tired half-smile, despite how the illness so evidently weighed down his features, that she couldn’t help but return, warm affection pooling low in her stomach.

“Sorry about the abandonmbent down there,” he croaked out, a little sheepish as Helen came to stand between his legs, pushing his fringe back off his forehead with her fingers as he tilted his head up to look at her. “I was just…”

Sick? Tired? Fed up?

Even just from that gesture, not even needing to see the damp flush that sat high in his cheeks, she could feel the heat radiating under her palm.

“You’re alright,” she dismissed quickly, voice soft, as she started doing up the buttons on his pyjama shirt. “I clearly found my way back alright.”

He chuckled then, deep and rough. “Any craic with Siegfried? I probably shouldn’t have just pushed on past him like that.”`

“Not really, other than the praises of yours he was singing,” she smiled slyly, the pride she’d felt rising once again at the recollection. “For how well the practice has been run in his absence.”

James rolled his eyes, fighting to school his expression into modesty. He never did quite know how to take a compliment. “Come off it.”

“No word of a lie!” she insisted, his hands rising to rest on her waist then as she finished up with the buttons, then looped her arms around his neck. “I’ll tell you what else, he’s even told you to take tomorrow off, get some rest, see if you can kick this thing.”

Okay, one little minor fib for the greater good, he’d be none the wiser.

James looked sceptical, however. “Siegfried said that?”

Urging herself not to respond too quickly, she doubled down. “Yep. So, you’d best do as you’re told.”

He looked caught somewhere between disbelief and a wearily wistful desire to simply accept it at face value. Quickly, the latter won out, perhaps helped along in no small part due to-

“hhUH’AIHDTZZSSh’yue!” He’d made a desperate grab for the handkerchief once more and caught the harried sneeze deftly in its folds. The sniffle that followed was damp and miserable, the congestion compact and intransigent, packed in so tight scarcely anything seemed to shift so much as an inch with the effort of it. It sounded like he was having to work for each laboured breath.

Helen winced at the viciousness of it. “Bless you,” she said as James huffed out a groaned out ‘Thadk you…’, standing up and stepping out from her grasp as he bent down to finally retrieve the pyjama bottoms from where they’d fallen to the floor.

“I know you only had one last night, so it may feel like overkill, but another hot bath might not be a bad idea; could help open up your head a bit,” she broached, it suddenly now being her turn to tilt her head up to look at him, now that he was standing over her.

“Are you trying to say I smbell, is that it? Because that, you can just tell mbe outright, I probise it’s okay,” he tried to joke, though it came out weak and watery.

“More that you sound like you can’t breathe.”

That hollow, drowsy expression took over again, stealing any of the light that’d tried to creep into his face.“Hodestly, I’mb so knackered I just wadt to get into bed. I’d probably end up falling asleep in there anyway…” he admitted tentatively, reaching to take her hand in his and finding it ice cold to the touch. “Christ, Helen, you’re freezidg!”

Suddenly, the thought of the shivers she’d been wracked with earlier after coming in from the rain herself came crashing back into his mind, adding context to her pallid complexion, the way her teeth were clenching every now and again against the urge to chatter.

She looked momentarily surprised that he’d noticed, maybe even surprised that she herself hadn’t. James scooped up both her hands in his palms and brought them to his mouth, blowing hot air, trying to at least get a little bit of heat into them.

“You absolutely should, though. Get yourself into a hot bath, that is.”

Helen shifted from foot to foot, never a total natural when it came to receiving that kind of caring regard, despite how freely her husband gave it. She dipped her head just for a moment, deflecting his gaze. “What, are you saying I smell now?”

Sensing her hesitance, he pretended to think about it. “Aye, actually, ndow that you mbention it…” he smirked lightly, though quickly gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. “That and the fact that you’ve defiditely caught a chill out there id that,” he finished, tone soft as he nodded towards their window where it was being hammered by rain.

Remiss as she’d be to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. A hot bath did sound bloody heavenly right now.

He seemed satisfied when she eventually accepted, rewarding her with a peck on the forehead before pulling back the duvet and climbing into bed as she gathered up a pair of pyjamas to change into, and the oversized woollen socks from the previous night.

“Helen…” he called as she made for the stairs. She spun around, and found him holding a book plucked from his nightstand. “Does ‘doing as I’mb told’ include readidg?”

The teasing smirk wasn’t far from his face or his tone, and so she responded in kind. “So long as you’re in bed, you can do as you please.”

The bath was just as heavenly as she’d imagined. Helen’s mind wandered easily as the steaming hot water enveloped her body, melting away the tension she hadn’t quite noticed building up in every nook and cranny throughout the day, along with the aches that came with it. She thought about a great many things, but was unable to fret too long on any one individual thing in the water’s relaxing, lavender-scented embrace.

She thought about Candy, the injury, how her dad and Jenny would be coping with it all, and how damn relieved she was that everything turned out alright. Which inevitably led to thoughts of her mum, wistful, maybe a little sad, and a promise she’d made to look after them all when it became clear her mum wouldn’t be there to do so herself.

She thought about James, worried about the state he was in, but all the same how immeasurably grateful she was for everything he’d done earlier on. Not even for just dropping everything to come out, and for seeing to Candy so diligently, but for just being so… steady when she needed him to be. Firm and reassuring when she felt untethered in all the panic; a rock to be grabbed onto in a roiling sea. It seemed to be the way of them, she’d thought with amusement. One in a flap and the other taking charge.

When all of that had been well-parsed through, she looked ahead to the next couple of days. It being the time of year that it was, she’d been spending quite a bit of time up at Heston, and had promised Audrey a hand with some of things that needed doing around the house among other administrative things for the surgery. She’d also somehow been roped into volunteering on the planning committee for the village’s upcoming Harvest Fair (suppose that’s what she got for daring to be newly married and so very much mistakenly assumed to be some sort of lady of leisure).

Each breath of the hot, humid air only deepened the sleepiness pulling at her eyelids, though. Y’know what? Maybe James had been onto something about fearing falling asleep in here, she’d thought with a start when she caught herself starting to drift, clearing her throat for perhaps the hundredth time as she moved to sit up a little straighter.

It was a chore to will herself out but she just about managed it, conscious of the water starting to cool and how close tea likely was from being called. She’d left her pyjamas on the radiator as she had James’s the previous night, which made emerging from the warm cocoon of the bathroom all the more visceral, a chill racing through her and threatening to settle in as she made her way back up to the bedsit.

“If Skeldale has one thing going for it compared to Heston Grange, it’s that bath. Bloody lovely, it is…” Helen said, half to herself, as she ascended the stairs. A smooth, creamy enamel clawfoot so deep she had no trouble submerging herself up above her shoulders, it didn’t even compare to the one back home that’d likely been there since before she was even born, possibly even outdating her dad as well, who knows?

Briefly glancing up, she found James turned on his side with his back to her, arm outstretched with the book still held open between his fingers.

Her tired brain automatically supplied his expected ‘Oh, aye? I’m flattered’, so much so she didn’t even think when it hadn’t actually come.

Getting to the top, she threw her wet clothes from the day down into the pile James had started with his own, before the sight of one of his jumpers hanging on the back of a chair nearby caught her eye. It was one he’d worn a couple of days ago, and was probably still just about too clean to need washed.

“James? D’ya mind if I wear this?” she asked as she picked it up. She probably could’ve just worn a jumper of her own but, right in that particular moment, his for some inexplicable reason just looked like the single softest, warmest, most comfortable clothing item in the world and she couldn’t resist.

However, she was again met with silence.

“James?” she repeated with intent, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, before turning around properly and moving to her own side of the bed to inspect. She found him fast asleep, hair mussed against the pillow, the open book still stubbornly in-hand, gulping in and heaving out stuffy, open-mouthed breaths, just short of what could be considered snoring but probably not far off.

Her lips twitched a little as she leaned down and carefully slid the book from his loose clutches, marking the page before setting it aside.

She randomly remembered the Chapmans then, and that night up in the high dales on Christmas Eve that set her on the path she’d walk now for the rest of her life; the path she could thankfully say with the gift of hindsight she was supposed to be on. Annie had talked about all that love could endure when you were with the person you were meant to be with. The fondness that shone in her face, even after all the years she and Bert had spent together, when she came back into the living room at one point and found him nodded off, snoring in his armchair despite all the excitement.

Helen had been ashamed of herself at the time for thinking it, but it rose unbidden without her consent before she was able to suppress it again; put it back in the padlocked box she’d fashioned for such concerns. A question as to whether, 40 years from then, she’d find Hugh’s snoring in any way charming or not.

Her heart encumbered suddenly with a now-familiar weight, she knelt down on the mattress and pressed a ghost of a kiss to James’s warm temple, not keen on waking him but needing the affection to go somewhere before it all spilled over.

She had to clear her throat once again at what she assumed to be the result of the random swelling of emotion. Doing so however, alongside a particularly raw, scraping inhale of his own that had her glancing down, properly taking in the pale hue of his colouring, dark circles and gleaming red nose, produced a startling phantom ache emerging from the thickness that rang with foreboding.

Oh.

Oh, bollocks.

She huffed out a sigh of acceptance, before throwing the jumper on.

“I’ll take your silence as your peace being held, then,” she murmured under her breath. “...and the jumper as compensation for giving me reason to need it in the first place.”

There was a soft knock at their bedroom door, and it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to work out who it was before Helen even opened it. Tristan either didn’t bother knocking, or would knock as a warning and bound up regardless, and Siegfried hadn’t stepped foot up here since the day they moved into it.

When she did open the door, the soft lamplight bleeding in from the hallway cast a warm glow around Mrs Hall’s face.

Helen had thought it might’ve been a bit more vexing, living in close quarters with so many other people as newlyweds, initially sceptical as she was about the idea of the bedsit and living at Skeldale more generally. She’d found something so surprisingly comforting about it now, though. The house never being silent, so often full of laughter and energy, always having someone around when you didn’t want to be alone or needed a bit of help. Having people to lean on; community. A family. It’d made the transition between leaving her old life and stepping into her new one a much softer landing.

There’d likely come a day in the not too distant future when they’d rather have a place of their own to build together rather than just a space carved out for the two of them here. But for right now, especially with everything that was going on in the world and the uncertainty they faced, Skeldale suited them just fine.

“Just wanted to pop my head in, let you know tea’s ready whenever the two of you are,” said Mrs Hall.

With the sound of a well-timed snore emanating from above her, Helen mustered up a tired smile. “It’ll just be me, I’m afraid. He’s out for the count an’ all, poor ol’ thing.”

A shade of motherly concern passed over Mrs Hall’s face, but she nodded all the same. “An early night’s probably the best thing for him,” Mrs Hall agreed. “We’ll keep some aside, just in case, though. It’s only stew.”

“Sounds good,” she affirmed, quickly clearing the grit from her voice as it went froggy towards the last syllable. “Long bloomin’ day,” she sighed offhandedly, closing the door behind her before they made for the stairs.

Mrs Hall hummed with agreement and followed her pace, though her gaze lingered on Helen’s face for an extra beat as they went, brow furrowed as she studied it, like she was looking for something. As soon as she felt the weight of it and turned, though, Audrey had already looked away.

“Don’t be bothering about the mucky clothes, by the way” Mrs Hall said as they reached the dining room. “Leave them at t’ bottom of the stairs and I’ll throw them all in the machine to be washed in the morning.”

“Aud, you don’t-”“Don’t be silly. Takes all of five minutes and there’s a load to do anyway,” she insisted, a hint of a knowing smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, agreeing, “Long bloomin’ day.”

#every chapter of this has been so good #i love this #rebagel #favorite fic #snzfic

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