The four of them stumbled into the cottage, laughing, leaving a trail of wet foot prints and clothes on the floor, and Sam ushered his children to wash their hands.

"I'll tell Nana you're here," Viola said and headed to the stairs.

"We aren't staying for long," Sam said. "Lily has her piano class in Abernathy at six."

"I'll finish cleaning the snow and go," Rhys said.

Viola nodded and went upstairs to call Mable.

They had tea with the children, and Viola could see why Rhys would be worried for his brother's family. The three of them showed all signs of living in a troubled household. After they were gone, Mable said she wanted to lie down again. Viola could see that the dark mood Sam was in had affected the old woman.

Viola decided a walk would be the best to settle her racing thoughts. She pulled on her Sorels, bundled up in her hat, scarf, and warm mittens, and set to re-introduce herself to Fleckney Fields. The village was the largest in the county, and Viola felt curiosity rise. She walked swiftly, looking around. She met two women she'd sort of known all those years ago, and they exchanged phrases that were becoming her normal interaction now, the 'aren't you Viola Holyoake?' and 'yes, I'm taking over Dr. Singh's practice' sort of thing. She then stopped for a short polite chat with an elderly gentleman who was cleaning snow near the village post office. Her feet carried her along the picturesque streets, and then onto the road leading to Fleckney Woulds, the county town. She tended to go for long walks whenever a chance presented itself, and she was enjoying the safety and the calm of the countryside immensely.

She texted Nana to explain her long absence - and to check on her - and received an answer that Mable was having Rhys over for dinner. Viola texted back that she would be back by bedtime.

When she reached Fleckney Woulds it had already grown dark, and she realised she was starving. It was an unusual feeling, and she patted her pockets trying to remember if she had her wallet on her. She didn't, and she sighed. She never had cash in her pockets, considering it rather untidy. She could walk to the surgery, of course, and pick up her second card - but that would mean another twenty minute walk.

She looked around and saw she was on Oak Street. She could just walk to the Oak and Shield, she suddenly realised. The landlady - Mrs. Owens - still remembered her, as Viola had found out the last time she'd been here a few months ago. And after all, all things considered, Viola was a Holyoake, no one would doubt she'd pay her bill later.

The pub was crowded, and the noise and the delicious smells hit her right by the door. She froze, suddenly unsure whether this had been a good idea.

"Viola!" a male voice came from the booths.

Viola looked and smiled.

"Viola Holyoake! Blimey!" James Whitlaw shouted, jumped from his spot, and walked up to her in long confident strides. "It is you, isn't it?"

"Evening, James," she said.

"Blimey!" he said again. "I've heard the rumour, but I thought people were off their onion to think you'd come back here!"

Viola laughed softly.

"And yet, here I am," she said.

"Wow," he drew out. "Join me for tea?"

"I don't have my wallet with me," she said, and he barked a throaty laugh.

"Well, my treat then," he said and pointed at his table with a wide inviting gesture. "Not every evening I get to have a pint with a beautiful woman."

"Why do I suspect that's not true, James? Ah, right, because I've known you for fifteen years," she said, and he burst into loud guffaws.

"I don't have dinners with women, Viola. It sends the wrong message," he said and moved a chair for her.

She took off her mittens, her hat, and started unwrapping her scarf.

"Mrs. Holyoake!" Mrs. Owens called to Viola, approaching their table.

"Oh look, the landlady herself is coming to greet you!" James exclaimed.

"Mrs. Owens," Viola said with a polite smile. "It's Dr. Holyoake - but for you, simply Viola."

"Ah, I've heard you're joining Dr. Fenton in his surgery," the blonde landlady said and handed Viola a menu. "And here you are having dinner with James Whitlaw. Are we going to lose all the fit men in the county to your charms?" She laughed and shook her head.

Viola was prepared for such conversations - unlike running in one of said fit men in the kitchen this morning - and she gave Mrs. Owens a calm smile.

"I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime," she said. "I think my second marriage and second divorce had staved me off romance forever."

Mrs. Owens' eyes lit up, and she headed back to her counter to grab a pint for Viola - and share the gossip with everybody in the kitchen.

"Wow," Whitlaw drew out. "Second divorce? Seriously?"

Viola lifted her eyes off the menu and gave him a sardonic look. He hadn't changed much in the ten years she hadn't seen him. His blond hair was cut shorter, and there were a few more stones of weight, but his boyish charm and his beaming smile were still there. There was a reason why some had believed then that she'd been having an affair with him. He had the same build as Rhys and the same unwavering confidence. He was sunnier and easier to like, while Rhys was always the more intense one. They'd grown up together and had worked together then - before James couldn't stand Rhys' temper anymore. She could see now that James hadn't grown out of his cocky playful attitude.

"I'm a difficult person to be married to," she said and went back to reading her choices of sides.

"I find it hard to believe," Whitlaw said gallantly, and Viola laughed.

"I don't see a ring on your finger, James," she said without looking up at him. "I don't think you get to judge."

"Did you choose another hard tosser the second time around?" he asked and took a sip of his lager. "Maybe it's your choice of men that's the problem."

Hani was the opposite of Rhys in every way possible - but Viola wasn't going to explain herself.

Mrs. Owens stopped by and put Viola's brew in front of her. Viola ordered steak and veg, no sauce - and leaned back in her chair.

"So, how have you been, James?"

She took a sip of her ale and squinted in pleasure. She rarely allowed herself beer, staying away from the carbs - but she realised how much she missed Mrs. Owens' local beers. She'd just run an extra kilometre the next day, she promised herself.

"Pretty rad," James answered. "Got a crew of my own these days, you know, building projects and renovations. Got a few lads working with me. Remember Ethan Harris? He works for me now. And a couple of others."

"Ah, I keep forgetting how much time has passed," Viola said with a shake of her head. "Last time I remember, Ethan Harris was at school, and his brother Frank was around ten."

"Frank drives his Da's tow truck these days," James said with a chuckle. "I suggest turning to a side street when you see him, though. He's been known to leave a few dents on people's cars."

"How are your brothers?" Viola took another sip of her beer and licked her upper lip.

"Kit's in Abernathy these days, and Tom– He's with Ma and Da," James said and took a large gulp of his lager. "I'm staying with them too for now, but there's this terrace cottage in Fleckney Fields I'm looking into refurbishing and buying. Except, the landlord is a pillock."

Viola hummed politely. Mrs. Owens called her, and Viola got up to pick up her food.

When she was back, James had finished his beer and went to fetch another. They ate, and he caught her up on the news of mutual acquaintances.

"So, you'll be like Dr. Singh then, taking patients in the surgery and all that other stuff he did?"

Viola nodded and popped the last piece of her steak in her mouth.

"That's rad," he said and smiled at her. "I'm pretty proud of the job we've done in your office actually. Hope you like it. Do you want me to give you a lift back to the surgery?"

"I'm staying with Mable Holyoake for a few days," Viola answered and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Oh wow, and how's this working for you?" he asked with a laugh. "You've only been back– what? A couple of days? And you've been sucked back into the fam already!"

Viola didn't answer and just smiled at him calmly.

"Well, if anyone can stand up to the Holyoakes, that would be you," he said with a chortle. "Still, you know people will gossip, right?"

"It's Fleckney, James," Viola said. "People do nothing but gossip here."

He got up and pulled out his wallet from the back pocket.

"Let me know how much I owe you," Viola said.

"It's supposed to be my treat, Viola," he said, somewhat taken aback.

"Like you said, we don't want to give people the wrong idea, James," Viola said, getting up and pulling on her jacket. She added just enough steel in her tone - and he nodded and went to the counter to pay.

***

She was climbing out of James' van, when he popped up near her.

"Let me walk you to the door, at least," he said with a roguish grin.

"As opposed to what, James?" she asked with a small laugh. "It's not like I'm going to invite you in for a drink."

"Perhaps, once you're done visiting with the old lady," he said with a wink.

They started slowly walking towards Mable Holyoake's porch.

"Sure," Viola said nonchalantly. "Since I'm going to be Fenton's lodger, perhaps, he'll fancy a drink together, ménage a trois style."

James snorted and stopped at the bottom of the steps.

"I'll pass," he said.

Viola unlocked and opened the front door and looked at him over her shoulder.

"It was properly good to see you, Viola Holyoake," he said. "Despite your continuing resistance to my charms."

"Good night," Viola said with a laugh, walked in, and closed the door behind her.

There was a small light in the drawing room. She took off her jacket and boots, and walked in.

Rhys was asleep on the sofa, stretched in all his massive length. An afghan was thrown over him, and Viola assumed Mable had just covered him and left him to rest. His right arm was bent behind his head, and the left hung off the sofa, the knuckles of his hand touching the floor. Viola studied his face. When he slept, the perpetual frown was gone from his face, his strong features softened. She saw his long thick lashes laying shadows under his eyes, and the relaxed line of his curved lips. His dark curls were scattered on the armrest of the sofa. Viola took a few careful steps back, and turned to leave.

"Was that James Whitlaw dropping you off?" he asked behind her, and Viola whipped her head.

His eyes opened slowly, and he furrowed his eyebrows. Suddenly Viola saw red. He had no right to ask! And in this judgemental tone! Anger - and she herself was surprised by how annoyed she felt - boiled up in her chest.

God, it's been a bloody long day, hasn't it?

"I don't think I'm going to validate your question with an answer," Viola said in an even voice, turned around, and went upstairs.