Viola stopped, pressed her hands into her knees, and folded in half, breathing heavily. It was one of those 'not good for running' days. She'd felt it from the start, but of course had continued pushing herself harder. She'd landed on her weaker left ankle awkwardly twice by now, and now her side had stitched. To continue being stubborn right now would simply lead to an injury. She should've given up a kilometre ago. She could always add more gym time if she wanted - instead of trying to end herself in. She straightened up with an irritated groan. What's wrong with you today, Viola?

"Dr. Holyoake, Dr. Holyoake!" a voice called her from her left.

Mrs. Groggin, an old lady, one of the WI members, and a fifth of the Fleckney Fab Five, as they were jokingly called in the county, was hurrying her way. The five elderly ladies were in charge of all the social life in the county and ruled it with five dry little iron fists.

"How fortunate it is to run into you!" the lady said and giggled. Ah, right, 'run.'

"Good morning, Mrs. Groggin," Viola greeted her.

"Good morning, good morning!" Mrs. Groggin said, and threw Viola's givet an appreciative look. "You're so stylish, Dr. Holyoake, even during physical exertion."

They'd exchanged about a dozen of the same empty pleasantries when Mrs. Groggin finally launched into her attack.

"I don't know if you still remember the social calendar in Fleckney, but you see, Dr. Holyoake, the Winter Festival is approaching," she said, and Viola nodded.

"I do, Mrs. Groggin. I'm really looking forward to it. I have many fond memories of it," Viola answered.

"And perhaps, you'd consider joining our team of volunteers?" Mrs. Groggin said innocently. "You see, Dr. Fenton never does, and our dear Snezha is one of the supervisors during the public baking contest. We'd like to see the surgery better represented in the events."

Viola smiled sincerely.

"I'd love to, Mrs. Groggin," she said. "To be honest, I was hoping you'd find me a spot to apply myself. Now that I'm back in Fleckney, I want to be a part of all its festivities."

"Oh but it's simply wonderful!" The old lady rubbed her hands. "Do you still dance?"

"Pardon?" Viola asked.

She didn't lie. She had hoped to be fully submerged into festivities, which were what the county did best - but she didn't expect her uni time hobby to be dug up so abruptly.

"You used to do ball dancing, didn't you? You see, our annual Winter dance is the least popular event, and we were hoping you could look into it."

"Oh, of course," Viola said. "I gladly will. Who is in charge of it at the moment?"

"Mrs. Small," said the old lady. "But she'd rather help with the book fair. We currently don't have a book shop in Fleckney Woulds, and we're bringing in stalls from the neighbouring counties. Young Johnny Holyoake is helping us. Mrs. Small has always been fond of the boy."

'Young Johnny Holyoake,' Rhys' cousin, wasn't young at all, Viola thought in amusement. Nor was he a 'boy.' He was Viola's age - and owned one of the biggest publishing houses in the country. Understandably, neither of the Holyoake men was an adult in the eyes of the old darlings of Fleckney. They remembered them as actual boys.

"I will gladly stop by after work tomorrow," Viola said. "I'm taking a personal day today."

"Oh that's lovely!" Mrs. Groggin exclaimed. "Our Headquarters are in Mr. Bjornsson's manor. He's renting out the East Wing to all sorts of committees and clubs in the county. We're obviously treated as guests," Mrs. Groggin said proudly.

They exchanged more niceties, and Mrs. Groggin headed in the opposite direction from the surgery. Viola started running back, but then gave up and switched to walking. Something dully hurt between her ribs.

***

She took a shower, changed, and styled her hair. When she was going down the stairs, she glanced at her watch and chuckled. That would be exactly the time she would need to open the surgery. It had only been a couple of weeks, but she'd already settled into her routine, it seemed.

When she was outside, she saw Fenton unlock the entrance door to the surgery, and she gave him a wave. He opened the door and stuck his head out.

"Morning, Viola."

"Morning, Alan."

"Am I at least allowed to congratulate you?" he asked.

"No, thank you," Viola said with a laugh. "And thank you so much for asking for my perm–"

"Viola!" he interrupted her, raising his hand seemingly in warning.

She should've listened. Instead, she continued moving without looking - and slammed into a person. She turned, looked up, and met Rhys' blue eyes.

"Oh hi," she exhaled, straightening up.

His hand was on her shoulder, steadying her, and he immediately took it off.

"Morning," he said. "Happy birthday."

"Um– thank you," she answered bleakly, and pulled a polite smile on her face.

"See you tonight, Viola!" Fenton shouted and disappeared inside, closing the door behind him.

"Plans for tonight?" Rhys asked, and pointed at the surgery with his eyes.

"Of course not," Viola muttered, but then told herself to stop being so nippy. "I just live with him, remember?" She gave out an awkward chuckle. "We run into each other near the bathroom."

Rhys gave her a look from his raised left eyebrow.

"So, no plans for today then?"

Why is he asking? She shook her head.

"I see someone doesn't know you don't celebrate your birthday," he said and pointed at the two large bouquets on the step of the surgery.

"These are mine," she said.

"Obviously," he said. His tone was sharp. "And he knows your taste. Those are your favourite carnations, aren't they?"

"No, you don't get it." Why are you explaining yourself to him?! "I ordered them. They are for– Mum and Da," she finished quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Vi," he said, his voice grew softer.

"I always visit them on my birthday," she continued, looking under her feet.

"Do you need help getting them in your car? It's baltic out," he asked, and she nodded.

He picked up one of the bouquets and carefully carried it to her Panda. She followed with the second one.

"They are beautiful, Vi," he said, settling the flowers on the backseat. He had to bend significantly to fit.

"Ta," she said quietly. "Oh Rhys, it's so rude of me," she muttered and straightened up. A curl fell out of her bun, and she brushed it off her cheek. "Did you want something? Were you looking for me? Or Alan?" she said. "You were on your way to the surgery."

"I was looking for you. Wanted to see if you'd like to get away for your birthday," he said and resurfaced out of her Panda.

"Oh," she said. He stood in front of her, calmly watching her face. She tucked the curl behind her ear. "That's– awfully nice of you."

"Vi?" he asked, tilting his head. Just as before. Then, in the kitchen. With the same warm expression in his eyes. What's happening?

"Why?" she asked quickly and scrutinised her face.

"Because I wanted to spend a day with you. Thought you might want it too." And again with a shrug! As if what he's saying is a given.

"Why?" she asked again. This time her confusion finally seeped into her tone - you sound like a child, Viola - and he suddenly grinned.

"Because you hate your birthday, and we used to have those day trips on this day. And you always said it made it tolerable."

Viola studied his face. These were all very good reasons - but they didn't explain him standing in front of his ex-wife and asking about her plans for the day. They weren't even friends! And he'd almost kissed her a week ago.

"After they passed away, I started visiting their graves on this day. My Mum loved the carnations too," Viola said and looked aside, hoping he couldn't see the trembling of her lips. "I suppose making this day even sadder is my new way of getting through it," she said in an acidic tone.

The pain between her ribs was back, and she drew a slow inhale discreetly.

"Do you want me to go with you?" he asked softly.

Oh god, please, yes!

She slowly turned to him. "Are you sure? It's hardly a day trip to Bristol," she said sarcastically. Why did you bring up that particular destination?!

He barked a throaty laugh.

"That was a good trip," he murmured.

"Only for you. I still see it in my nightmares," she said in a fake dischuffed tone.

"You were never one for public displays of affection," he said.

She chuckled and shook her head. "It wasn't a 'public display of affection,' Rhys. We got caught copping off in a side alley. And yes, I'd love you to go with me today," she added.

"Let's take my car then," he said. "Easier drive. And the flowers will be safe."

She nodded again, and opened the door again, to pick up one of the bouquets.