The Other Sister, Part 15
Title: First Priority
Rated: T
Edith/Various
(300) word ficlet, part 15 in the Other Sister series
When the crispness in the air suggested it was late afternoon, Edith heard an automobile pull up. After the distinctive creak of its door, the crunch of boots on gravel indicated the driver had approached.
For a moment she contemplated making an effort to greet her visitor, but then decided they would soon enough call out. “Do you need some assistance, ma’am?” she imagined.
Only when long minutes went by and she’d heard no such cry, nor the motor’s ignition signalling any departure, did she raise herself up onto her elbows and look around.
Tom sat a few feet away, absentmindedly plucking blades of grass from the ground.
“How did you know where to find me?” she asked.
“George Sykes called Mrs Owen. He’s quite worried for Betsy.”
She frowned. “Betsy?”
At Tom’s gesture, Edith glanced over her shoulder. Betsy, it seemed, was a dairy cow sharing the field into which she’d stumbled.
“I don’t think she’s particularly unsettled by my company, considering I haven’t heard her once.”
“I’m sorry about Strallan,” Tom rasped.
She turned away, to watch Betsy grazing.
Later, Tom spoke again. “Edith, are you ready to come home?”
“I always come second,” she said softly instead of directly answering. “Second to my parents, second to Patrick, second to John--” Tom never asked who this John was, despite his knowing nothing about John Drake. “Second to Sir Anthony, second to Michael.” She turned back and held Tom’s gaze. “Second to you.”
Tom looked down at the grass.
“Everyone except--"
“Sybbie,” he finished for her. “You’re the only mother she’s known.”
Edith rose and dusted off her clothes.
“Will we drive home together and get Joe to collect the other motor later?”
Tom expelled a sigh before standing also and offering his arm. “Yes, let’s go home together.”
Rated: T
Edith/Various
(300) word ficlet, part 15 in the Other Sister series
When the crispness in the air suggested it was late afternoon, Edith heard an automobile pull up. After the distinctive creak of its door, the crunch of boots on gravel indicated the driver had approached.
For a moment she contemplated making an effort to greet her visitor, but then decided they would soon enough call out. “Do you need some assistance, ma’am?” she imagined.
Only when long minutes went by and she’d heard no such cry, nor the motor’s ignition signalling any departure, did she raise herself up onto her elbows and look around.
Tom sat a few feet away, absentmindedly plucking blades of grass from the ground.
“How did you know where to find me?” she asked.
“George Sykes called Mrs Owen. He’s quite worried for Betsy.”
She frowned. “Betsy?”
At Tom’s gesture, Edith glanced over her shoulder. Betsy, it seemed, was a dairy cow sharing the field into which she’d stumbled.
“I don’t think she’s particularly unsettled by my company, considering I haven’t heard her once.”
“I’m sorry about Strallan,” Tom rasped.
She turned away, to watch Betsy grazing.
Later, Tom spoke again. “Edith, are you ready to come home?”
“I always come second,” she said softly instead of directly answering. “Second to my parents, second to Patrick, second to John--” Tom never asked who this John was, despite his knowing nothing about John Drake. “Second to Sir Anthony, second to Michael.” She turned back and held Tom’s gaze. “Second to you.”
Tom looked down at the grass.
“Everyone except--"
“Sybbie,” he finished for her. “You’re the only mother she’s known.”
Edith rose and dusted off her clothes.
“Will we drive home together and get Joe to collect the other motor later?”
Tom expelled a sigh before standing also and offering his arm. “Yes, let’s go home together.”