,

***

Viola laughed shyly. "Perhaps," she said and took a sip of her tea.

"Perhaps?! Vivi, you've gone mental! Last time almost killed you!" Yola shook her raised index finger from side to side in her usual dramatic gesture. "No, no, you're clearly forgetting what it was like last time - and I'm here to remind you, Vivi!"

Viola cringed. There was a lot to remind her of, to think of it - and of course Yola wouldn't hold back. Tact simply wasn't among Yolanda's many merits.

"Should we talk about your ED? The hospitalisation, the nervous breakdown, the fact that you didn't bleed for three years afterwards?" Yola was raising her voice. "I never liked your second husband, but at least he left you in a better shape than he'd found you. Vivi, I watched Rhys Holyoake suck life out of you for five years, three of which you didn't sleep or eat, tending to his broken heart! And don't give me the sappy story of how he lost his parents! We all lost people! I buried my parents, my brother, and two husbands! But I didn't leech on those close to me and turn them into walking corpses. And then after the divorce, you decided to swap one debilitating habit, called Rhys Holyoake, for another, and threw yourself into school and work, and ended up with anorexia induced heart problems! And do I need to remind you of the psychological effects of being married to a man like him?! Your low self-esteem, your body image issues, and your complete inability to verbalise your emotional needs!"

Yola made a low angry noise in her throat and slammed her palm into the table.

"Are you done?" Viola asked in a calm voice.

Yolanda glared at her.

"You drive me insane, Vivi!" she growled. "How am I supposed to have a row or to argue with someone like you?!" Yola grumbled and plucked a piece of roti. She twirled it in her fingers and huffed air out. "Tell me it's none of my business! And that you know better! And - everyone's favourite - that he's changed! Or maybe tell me it's just sex, because he's a bloody human equivalent of the Impossible Cake!"

Viola smiled at Yola softly and shook her head. "How long have we known each other, Yola?"

"Sixteen glorious years," Yola grumbled. She threw Viola a dark look and sighed. "Yeah, yeah, you don't argue or defend yourself. You're too dignified and compassionate for it. Bugger that!" She threw the bread back on her plate and wiped her hands. "I'm just worried for you, Vivi. And I can't stand the tosser! Here, I said it! He's everything I hate in men! He's so white, male, and heterosexual that if he develops any sort of a progressive outlook, shows any empathy, or buys into sex positivity, the universe will implode!"

Viola snorted.

"Vivi, you're the cleverest person I've met in my life - when it doesn't concern your personal life," Yola said and leaned to Viola over the table. "First, you sacrifice everything for one bloke. Then you marry a fanatic for whom any woman would be the second choice after his medical crusade. And then you lock yourself away and decide you want to be a village doctor. In a village where your ex-husband rules the coop, so there's no way anyone would try to nob you. Which you desperately need, Vivi! When was the last time you had a nice satisfying bonk?"

"You know I won't answer this question," Viola said.

"I know! You won't answer any questions! You're Viola Holyoake!" Yolanda made her 'tssssss' noise and rolled her eyes. "You don't lose your shit, and you don't explain your choices to anyone."

Viola chuckled and gave Yola an affectionate look over. With surprise, she realised that, unlike all the previous wonderful sixteen years that they'd been friends, the woman's meddling and questioning and loudly discussing Viola's private life in public hardly bothered Viola.

"Yola, I don't know if Rhys changed," she said quietly. "It's hard to tell, really. It's been so long, and human memory is imprecise. But what I do know is that I have changed. And–" She tucked a curl behind her ear and looked into the distance. "Everything you're so forcefully reminding me of is true," she said. "He wasn't good for me then, nor were many other things in my life. And now– I don't know how to describe it, Yola." She sighed and met her friend's eyes. "He puts me at ease."

"That's not much," Yola said. "How's that supposed to compensate for the years of misery?"

"There's nothing to compensate for. He wasn't responsible for the years of my misery. No one was. I was ill, and now I'm in recovery," Viola said. "And it is a lot. I'm never at ease. I'm never just content. I never want to wander a market or eat galettes." She laughed. "It's all very new. It just started a couple of days ago. At the beginning I felt we were falling into the same trap, as if the ten years had never happened, but then– I don't know, Yola. I don't know why I feel so safe and warm near him, but I do. And– maybe, I just don't want to question it."

"Well, that's a shocker!" Yolanda exclaimed. "You question and overanalyse everything!"

Viola shrugged and chuckled.

"I still don't like him," Yola said stubbornly.

"That's alright," Viola answered lightly. "You're mostly going to deal with John and other Holyoakes in the future anyway."

Yola's face dropped. They still hadn't talked about what happened in the tearooms with Sam, but Viola could see Yolanda wasn't ready.

They finished their meal, discussing Yolanda's shop, and then decided to separate. Yola was going back to the market to chat with Fiona Holyoake, since she had some idea they needed to discuss. They agreed to meet at the Oak and Shield at six to have dinner before the beginning of the karaoke night.

***

Viola entered the flat and found Fenton at the kitchen table with a large cup of tea and some thick volume in his hands.

"Hiya," he said without lifting his eyes off his book.

"Hello, Alan," she said and bit her bottom lip.

Fenton raised his eyes. There was his usual disgruntled frown on his face. His short, sandy coloured hair was disheveled on one side of his head, as if he'd stuck his hand into it and ruffled it.

"I realise none of it was your fault," he grumbled, "and it was one big misunderstanding, but I'd appreciate if you felt horribly guilty."

Viola chuckled.

"I do, Alan. I feel awful," she said, her voice shaking from laughter.

"Yeah, I can see that," he answered sarcastically. "Would you like some tea?"

"I'd love some, thank you," she said.

"Sit then. I'll make you a cuppa," he muttered and rose to pour water in the kettle.

Viola threw his back a surprised look and took a chair across from his.

"Do you want to hear the best part?" he asked, putting the kettle on a hob. "A bouquet of some blue flowers got delivered to you a couple of hours ago, and Mrs. Tomlin commented that your 'anonymous' admirer had made a better choice than your humble servant. Apparently, you hate lilies."

He turned to Viola. She gave him a shy look, and he barked a throaty chuckle.

"I'm sorry, Alan."

"Well, I should've asked, right?" he said with a good-natured shake of his head. "So, are you back with Holyoake then?" Before she opened her mouth to answer, he raised his hand and added, "Just so I know whether I should continue making an idiot of myself. Because, you see," he said and gave her a small smirk, "if you're dating your ex-husband, or just don't fancy me at all, that's fine."

"I'm not dating Rhys," Viola answered slowly. "Not– officially."

"Pardon me, Viola, I'm an old man, and desperately out of practice," he said, and Viola pressed her lips stifling a giggle. "But what exactly is 'officially dating?'" he asked, sardonic sparks dancing in his green eyes.

"As in, we haven't gone on a date," Viola answered.

"Ah, so him and I are sort of both stuck in the starting gate," Fenton said. He took out a mug and threw a tea bag in it. "That is, of course, if I'm eligible."

Viola threw him a look, amused by his horse race metaphors.

"Alan, I will be honest with you," she said softly. "Dating of any sort, official or not, wasn't part of my plans when I moved back to Fleckney. I felt I was quite done with romance."

He poured hot water in her mug and put it in front of her. He then took cream out of the fridge and handed it to her. She couldn't help but smile flattered by how observant he seemed to be of her habits.

"Viola, I'll be just as honest with you," he said, sitting down, "and tell you that's a load of rubbish. You're a somewhat attractive woman with a tolerable personality." The mischievous twinkle in his eyes told her that in this case his famous misanthropy was nothing but a flirty pretence. "You couldn't possibly expect men to leave you alone. Not that it means you have to date, but you surely can if you feel like it."

Viola laughed and took a small sip of her tea.

"I do feel like it," she said quietly and looked at him over the rim of her mug.

"Viola, I've been profoundly humiliated today, so take mercy of this yokel, and tell me if I'm also at the post," he said in his usual - charmingly - grumpy tone.

Viola giggled and gave him a look over. He withstood her scrutiny with a calm expression on his face - and she took another sip of her tea and licked her bottom lip.

"Yes, Alan, you can strap on your blinkers," she said, and he chuckled.

"Good," he deadpanned and picked up his mug. "Also, I've gotten you a present, and it would be awkward to try to return it, so I'm glad you didn't tell me to sod off."

"What sort of a present?" Viola asked.

He rose silently and walked out of the kitchen. Viola shook her head and sipped her tea. He was back a couple of minutes later and placed a beautiful cardboard box in front of her. It was decorated with an elegant paisley pattern and tied with a red string. Viola untied it and lifted the lid.

"Oh Alan," she exhaled, put the lid aside, and cautiously took out Fiona Holyoake's chaffinch mobile.

She held it by the wooden cross, and the birds rocked gently.

"I swear I'm not a lurker," he said. "I saw you stop by Fiona's stall when I was picking up breakfast pastries from the Cornflower & Sparrow. I'm never buying my Chelsea buns at Miss Rosa's again," he said in fake mournfulness, and then chuckled. "Fiona mentioned you properly liked it, so–"

"Thank you, Alan," Viola said and looked at him. "I really, really like it. And– thank you."

He gave her a nod. Viola carefully put the birds back into the box and picked up her tea again.

"I think I'll hang them on my window," she said and threw her mobile another tender look. "Do you happen to have a hammer and nails?"

"I have a full toolbox," he said, and Viola snorted.

They drank the rest of their tea in comfortable silence.