the delicious wolves

8: clever not beautiful

1930

Things were good. Days turned into weeks, into months, into a year. Time seemed to slip away for the two lovers. At the beginning things were somewhat difficult. When Pat finally returned to his home he felt guilty, but then the next day he pushed his guilt aside and had never missed Will so much. Shortly after he travelled to Bournville.

The two went back and forth spending weeks at a time at each others houses, and sometimes the two would both travel up to Birmingham to visit Sam, for which he was always grateful of (especially seeing his most recent child, Daisy, had been born, and he desperately needed a break from the chaos). Diamond was happy that Pat finally seemed happy, Estella was happy that she didn't have to fight with Will constantly and was given time to herself, and Will and Pat were happy because they could finally be together.

Fred, now almost four-years-old, was becoming fonder of Will every day and would more often than not call him 'uncle'. Sometimes Fred would go with Pat to Brand Hall, Will's luxurious cottage, and Will would take him out on a boat. To Will, it felt like the three of them were a family, but there were always days when he was left alone with Estella and her nagging.

"You don't take your life seriously." "You're ignoring your duties." "You're ignoring me." "Why is Pat suddenly around all the time?" "If he's going to come, why can't he come and leave his brat at home?" "Are you seeing someone else?"

Nothing new, and far too old. There was a time, when they had first been married, that Estella was a content woman, but years of neglect had made her bitter beyond her years. She was only twenty-eight, and there were moments when she'd be looking at something beautiful like a garden or a painting and beauty would shine through her eyes and she seemed happy once more... but there were also times when her thoughts were bent on bitterness and her age seemed to have doubled.

"Can it go faster than a horse?"

Fred looked up at Will with interest, he was staring at the motor car Will had excitedly pulled up in. Cars were still rare, and the child's eyes had nearly popped out of his head when he saw Will park in front of their house that summer morning. Will had come to pick up Pat, since they were setting off to Brand Hall that day.

"Way faster than a horse. Faster than a bullet even!"

"A bullet from a gun?" Fred asked, his mouth gaping open.

Will laughed. "You can only shoot bullets from guns."

"Do you have a gun too???"

"Hm, I do actually. Fred, your da's war friend, gave me a pistol some time ago that I have been wanting to give you," Will leaned in. "But your mother says it can't be yours until you're a lot older. If she had her way though-"

"Will," Pat's voice cut him off, Will leaned back innocently.

"That's all for today then, next time maybe I'll tell you about the gas," Will winked at the boy.

"Will," Pat said a bit more forcefully. "I don't think you ought to be telling him about that."

"Why daddy?" Fred asked. "What's a... gas?"

"It's nothing that you or anybody else will ever have to worry about ever again. We made sure no one will ever use chemical weapons again in war."

"I'd hardly say we had a hand is banning weaponized gas," Will chuckled. "I don't remember being invited to Geneva last year."

"Oh honestly," Pat rolled his eyes. "It's the royal we. We the nation of Great Britain. Neither of us single-handedly defeated the Germans."

"Well I certainly took out my share of krauts."