andhiswife | The Tale You Tell

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The Tale You Tell

It's been a difficult week.

That's actually an understatement. But she can't let the full weight of it settle on her, not when she's out in public like this. So for as long as she's out here, doing some shopping, it's just been a difficult week.

She's told Baz and Simon about her situation. They'd offered to give her time off, but that wasn't what she wanted. The Gardens are one of the few places where she doesn't feel like climbing the walls. There's too much else going on, too many other things that require her attention. It's everywhere else that's the problem. Her apartment is too quiet and too empty and too immaculate; she can't even justify housework anymore because everything that could possibly need doing has already been done thrice over.

And she knows she has friends who would help her, who would be happy to provide company or distractions or whatever she needed. But that would require telling them. Repeating the story wouldn't make it any more real than it is already, but the thought of burdening anyone else with it -- and how could something this heavy not be a burden? -- turns her stomach. So much so that she's been politely deflecting the invitations she's received, rather than try to face anyone.

She'll say this for texting: it makes it easier to lie.

The thought of food rather turns her stomach, too, but she's getting groceries, anyway. Even if the chief appeal of cooking is making a mess that she would then have to tidy up, it's still a necessary chore. Her clothing is starting to hang a bit looser than it ought to, and she doesn't want to make new garments for what she knows, distantly, to be an impermanent state of affairs. So, groceries. She can do this.

[Find Greta looking terrible either at or en route to a grocery store, or on her way back to Candlewood. Closed unless we've spoken; hmu if you still want in.]

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Greta looks awful.

It's a terrible and uncharitable thing for Demelza to think given what she knows of Greta's situation, but she sees her friend, sees how thin she's gotten, and she can't seem to help herself. There's nothing at all she can do to better the situation and she knows Greta had asked, but she still rather wants to belt whoever it is that told her all these details of her life. It may not fix things, but Demelza thinks it might make her feel better.

But her feelings are not the focus now and they shouldn't be.

Garrick is trotting alongside her when she crosses the street to meet Greta and his tongue lolls, his tail wagging, and she can't help but hope perhaps the sight of a dog so happy to see her might lift her mood a little.

"Hello," she says, offering Greta a small smile as Garrick noses impatiently at her fingers.

Some of the tension leaves her shoulders when she realizes it's Demelza. There's no need to feign normalcy for her, or to account for her current state (which she knows must look rather dire). She can just be. Which only goes so far when you don't particularly want to be what you are, but at least it's easier than trying to be what you're not.

"Hello. And you, Garrick," she adds, dropping into a crouch and letting the dog sniff at her face. Animals don't require her to account for herself, either. Maybe she ought to get a dog. She's never had need of one before, and she still thinks of pets as something that ought to have a purpose, or do a job. It's odd to think of spending money on a creature for no other reason than the joy it might bring.

Or it was odd, anyway. Now, she thinks she sees the sense of it. Or maybe she just sees how bringing joy might be a job in and of itself.

"Were you just taking this one for a walk?" she asks, glancing up at Demelza as she ruffles the dog's ears. She doesn't want to think that she's interrupting anything especially purposeful (in large part because she doesn't want to acknowledge that checking up on herself might be a task worth pausing one's life for a few minutes).

Garrick's tail wags furiously when Greta drops onto his level, his entire back end swaying from side to side as he snuffles happily at her cheek and her hair before sitting back and letting out one of those great big dog sneezes that Demelza can only be grateful he's had the foresight to aim toward the ground instead of straight at Greta's face.

"Yes, I thought I ought to take him, sometimes he do get so restless in the house and tramples all over everyone. He would go everywhere with me if he could, but when I was working at Tintern, it wasn't allowed and when he waited for me outside, sometimes people would be cruel to him."

It might be different at Green Gardens, though, and she considers speaking to Baz and Simon about it. They might welcome her gentle and yet protective dog, who would only ever lie about and let the children crawl all over him, but would stand against anyone who tried to hurt them.

"Are you headed home or would 'ee like to walk with us for a bit?" she asks.

The sneeze is a near miss, but so enthusiastic that Greta can't help chuckling. "Bless you," she says, giving Garrick another pat before straightening.

It's no great surprise that a dog used to country living might feel cooped up in an apartment, and it probably shouldn't shock her that people were cruel to the poor creature when he tried to wait for his mistress. She doesn't often see dogs left outside shops here, but it does happen, and she's never seen one molested before. You'd think people would be used to it, and not bother them. She frowns at the thought of anyone bothering Garrick, who's proven himself to be nothing but sweet -- and perhaps a bit ridiculous. Too good a dog to bite someone, even if they deserved it.

"I'd be surprised if he wasn't allowed at the Gardens," she ventures. "So long as he doesn't torment the cats. It's not as if he'd be the only dog." Cu hasn't garnered any objections. And that Garrick would be good with the children goes without saying. "You could ask, at least."

She considers the offer for a moment, wondering -- and rather hating her own suspicion -- if it's charity, or an excuse to keep an eye on her for a bit, assessing her emotional state. As if she could blame anyone for the latter; as if she wouldn't do the same, if their roles were reversed. And if it is the latter, she'd only make things worse by refusing.

More to the point: she doesn't much want to refuse. There's no great rush to return to her apartment, and the prospect of spending time with Demelza is far less daunting than trying to navigate a conversation with someone who doesn't know what's going on. "A walk sounds lovely," she says, her smile a little worn-looking, but still genuine.

"I've thought of asking Baz and Simon if they'd mind. Garrick'd be wonderful with all the children, I d'think he's far too smart to ever be cruel to a helpless child, but if someone were to come onto the grounds and try to hurt 'em..."

She trails off and looks at her great, sweet dog, thinks of the way he'd snapped at her father, and she reaches out to finger his ear, showing Greta the place where he's missing a bit of it. The wound has long healed, but where there should be the tip of his ear is instead a jagged edge, the bit that's missing having clearly been torn off by a dull weapon of some kind.

"He used t'try and get between me and my father," she says. "That bit of his ear there, that's when I gathered him up and left. Twas bad enough that my father hurt me, but I'll not allow a soul in the world to lay a hand upon my dog. I only mean t'say I think if someone were to try and hurt the children, Garrick'd make sure no harm came to them."

She smiles when Greta says she'll join them and tucks her hand into the crook of Greta's arm like she once would have with Verity. "I'm that glad for the company. Garrick is sweet, but he's a poor conversationalist."

Greta frowns at the dog's damaged ear. She'd noticed it before, but hadn't thought much of it; there are plenty of innocuous ways a dog might suffer such an injury. That he was defending Demelza from her father -- and Greta knows all too well what sort of damage he was willing to inflict -- is both moving and awful.

Awful, too, is the thought of anyone trying to hurt the children at the Gardens. It honestly isn't something that had occurred to her before now. It's a grand estate, and she might imagine someone getting it into their heads to try and rob the place, perhaps, but to hurt children just for the sake of it?

She ought to know awfulness has no limits, but it's still unpleasant to be confronted with a particular variety that she'd never considered.

Her expression softens when Demelza takes her arm, a familiar gesture that she doesn't see or receive so often here. It's fallen out of fashion, it seems. But it's perfectly natural coming from Demelza, and Greta automatically reaches over to pat her hand.

"Maybe I should get a dog," she muses, looking at Garrick with newfound appreciation. "We only used to have cats round the bakery, and..." she trails off as her brain catches up with her mouth, reminding her that she'll never see that bakery again, and she has to pause for a moment, look away, and gather herself before she can speak. "... Well. It might be nice."

"Never ask Ross if he thinks you ought to get a dog, because he will tell you they're awful and stinky and full of crawlers, but he secretly loves Garrick almost as much as I do," Demelza says as they walk. Garrick trots out ahead of them, sniffing at trees and benches as they pass, leading them toward the park, as it is his favourite place, where he's able to chase squirrels without too much protest from anyone else, so long as Demelza finds them a more quiet corner, away from others.

"But I thinks dogs are wonderful," she continues. "They're kind and patient and when they're well loved, they give such love in return. The first few weeks being in Darrow were so hard, but twas not only because I was away from Ross, but Garrick, too."

She smiles then and adds, "Don't tell Ross I said so."

She thinks it's a wonderful idea, Greta getting a dog, and she thinks she would very much like to help her pick one out, a dog to be there for her when she needs company and when people just won't do. Because people simply aren't the same, they don't possess the same level of patience that dogs have, nor the unconditional love, no matter how kind they try to be.

If Demelza notices the little wobble, she mercifully ignores it, and Greta's smile comes a little easier for it. "I won't ask Ross to advise me, then," she says. Her own opinions on the animals is far less ironclad. Even within the Village, there was a variety of dogs doing a variety of jobs. Once, as a girl, she'd watched a shepherd send their scruffy creature zipping across a field using nothing but whistles, and been half-convinced it was some sort of magic.

Here in Darrow, they mostly just seem to be for companionship, which is... well, it's rather reassuring, considering that's what she'd want one for. It's a little odd to think of just going and getting one and not needing to justify it.

"The apartment is rather quiet. Especially after coming from the Gardens. Which can be a relief, sometimes, but... to a point," she says, lifting her shoulders in a gentle shrug. It's too quiet, is the thing. And she knows she has friends she could visit or invite over, but it's hard not to feel like an imposition. They have their own lives to worry about, and their own joys that she doesn't want to sully with her unhappiness.

You can't impose on a pet, though. It's not as if a dog would have anywhere else to be.

"Your secret is safe with me," she adds, glancing over at Demelza with a flicker of a grin. Then, her gaze going a bit distant as she considers the possibility: "Where does one get a dog?" All the dog owners she knows had their animals before Darrow got to them, and the city was kind enough to bring their dogs along afterwards -- or even at the same time.

"Oh, there are shelters," Demelza says, terribly pleased that Greta seems to truly be considering this. With everything Greta has been through, with all she's learned of her story recently, Demelza truly thinks it's better for her friend not to spend too much time alone and yet, at the same time, she can understand why she would want to. A dog, though, is a wonderful compromise. A dog can give Greta affection and unconditional love, as well as fill the empty spaces of a home, all while being completely undemanding beyond food and walks and love.

"I learned about them after someone threatened to take Garrick there if I didn't leash him, but they can't do that, because I have the proper license for him and I would just go get him and bring him home," she says, feeling rather smug about that. She has done her research and she's following most of the rules, even if she does know Garrick ought to be on a leash, but he hates them and he'll never wander off, so Demelza doesn't see the point.

"There are so many unwanted dogs and rather than let them run around as strays, they're brought to these shelters where people can go and adopt them and bring them home," she says. "I could show 'ee where they are if you'd like."

Perhaps not right at this very moment, not with Garrick, but any time Greta would like, Demelza will be happy to take her. Garrick needs a bit of a run, but even if she wants to go today, Demelza will take her dog home and go with Greta, all without telling Ross what they're doing, for he'll surely disapprove and roll his eyes at them.

Greta hums thoughtfully. There's clearly more to dog ownership here in Darrow than there would be back home, but she doesn't find that very daunting. Demelza seems more than happy to help, and Greta's already picked up a few things just from spending time with her -- and perhaps even moreso with Sam. She knows she'd have to gather a few things before she'd be ready to bring a dog into her apartment: food and water dishes, a leash (because while Garrick does fine without one, she wouldn't presume a dog she'd just bought would follow her obediently and not dart out into traffic), toys and things for it to chew on, a bed of some sort.

A few weeks ago, it all would have struck her as too much bother. Now, the thought of having a specific list of things to do is a comfort. She knows she could use the distraction. Dwelling on her own sorrows isn't just depressing; it's also gone on long enough to be boring. She can almost feel herself waking up a little at the prospect of getting a dog, precisely because of how much it would entail.

"I'd like that," she decides. "Perhaps not today, though. I'd have to pick some things up, first, like food and a leash and so on. And I don't know anything about getting a license -- is it terribly complicated?" She curls her arm around Demelza's shoulders and gives her a brief squeeze. "I might pester you mercilessly about this," she adds in a good-natured warning.

Though she might not have noticed it when she was still a child herself and caring for all her brothers, Demelza knows now she's the maternal sort, that she likes being of use and helping people to better understand certain aspects of their world, even when she might not understand everything either. There's a wonderful give and take, she thinks, when it comes to learning and teaching, and she loves doing both whenever the opportunity presents itself. That's part of why she enjoys being a mother so much and part of why she loves her work at Green Gardens and a very big part of why she enjoys meeting all the people who now call Darrow home.

So when Greta says she might be pestered mercilessly, all Demelza can do is smile, because that sounds wonderful as far as she's concerned. And Ross has long ago adjusted to her social nature and to all the friends she tends to bring home.

"Oh, not terribly complicated. I d'believe most shelters will supply you with the papers you need to fill out, but if they don't, all you do is visit City Hall and tell them you've adopted a dog and must purchase a license for him or her. Then it's only a bit of writing and a fee, of course, and they'll send you a tag your dog must wear at all times, especially when out and about. Tis the only reason at all Garrick wears a collar now and I know he's supposed to wear it at home, too, but I can't force that on him. I suppose I'd get a fine if someone were to arrive at my dog, but I tend not to worry about that."

If they give her a fine, then they'll give her a fine. She just finds it silly that the dog is supposed to wear their tag at all times. It isn't as if she always carried her ID when she moves from room to room in her own home, after all.

Marvin and Cu both wear collars all the time without objection -- without even seeming to notice them, really, aside from scratching at them on occasion. Greta can only assume most dogs from Darrow would be accustomed to such things, and that she wouldn't be subjecting them to something odd or unusual.

Besides, a collar seems like a fair trade for being in a home instead of a shelter. The more she thinks about it, the more she suspects she'd end up spoiling the creature in her own way. She's rather looking forward to it, and this might be the first time in the past week that she's looked forward to anything. Or anything specific and concrete and attainable, anything more solid and less elusive than 'not feeling so awful.'

"That doesn't sound so bad." Demelza's no fool, and has been here much longer than Greta has. But they're from similar enough circumstances, and Greta likes to think that if Demelza's managed to grasp one of the more inexplicable aspects of Darrow living, there's hope that she can, too. "But leave it to Darrow to make everything about paperwork," she adds with a wry smile. "There really is no escaping it."

"There are papers for everything," Demelza agrees. "Except money. Money is all stored in my little cards now." Which isn't entirely the truth, she knows she can still possess physical notes if she truly desires it, but many have warned her against it, pointing to thieves, and so she must admit that the cards certainly are better for money in that regard.

That's been the most difficult adjustment for her, she's found, even more difficult than vehicles or the flats in which they live now. There are times when she still feels as if everything costs far too much and yet, at the same time, as if she must be endlessly wealthy, for she's never seen such a high number when it comes to currency in her entire life. Even Ross, who had been considered terribly wealthy at a time, had never had such a sum.

It pleases her to think that George Warleggan probably had not either.

"But it isn't too terribly difficult to decipher," she says. "Even I managed and I sometimes still struggle with my letters. A friend of mine helped a little, but I imagine if I can do it, you'll have no problem at all."

Greta bobs her head in acknowledgment. She was hesitant to use her card much at first, worried that she'd spend more than she had if she couldn't see what she was doing (despite the fact that, even after accounting for the different kinds of currency, she is wealthier now than she's ever been in her life). But the card is faster. No one's scolded her for using banknotes, and she's never tried to pay for anything with a pile of little coins or anything obnoxious like that, but the implicit social pressure to get on with things quickly is still there.

This does mean she'll have to double-check her balance before she goes and spends a kingly sum on a dog. But she's been living well within her means; her stipend covers the basics, and there's the money she's making at the Gardens on top of that. So long as the shelter doesn't expect thousands of dollars from her -- and she can't imagine any dog would go for that much -- she should be fine.

"Well, and I'll have you to help me," Greta points out with a fond smile. Demelza's already been a great help to her over the past week, and whether Greta strictly needs assistance with getting a dog doesn't matter; she'd welcome it. And she can't help thinking it'd be more enjoyable for Demelza than the help she's given so far: handling the more boring chores at the Gardens and offering comfort and support whenever Greta loses her composure. She appreciates it more than she can say, but she knows it hasn't exactly been fun.

"I'll have to do some shopping, and probably a bit of reading, as well. But once I'm ready, I'd love some help picking someone out."

"I'd be honoured to help 'ee," Demelza says and she knows a dog isn't going to fix everything, it's not going undo the pain that's been caused by learning her fate, but they are wonderful creatures and she thinks the company of a dog might truly help where other things will be unable. Unconditional love of that nature is so rare and Demelza thinks if there's anyone who needs such a thing right now, it's Greta.

There's more to caring for a dog now than there had been back in Cornwall and although she knows it, has experienced it with Garrick, it still sometimes seems odd to her. She'd been instructed that she ought to buy Garrick a bed, though after she'd bought it, he had sniffed at it a few times, then flopped down on the floor beside it. Julia tends to sleep on it more often than Garrick ever does and yet it seems as if all over dogs love their beds. Demelza had come to the decision that Garrick is, like her, simply out of his time.

"You must think about what size of dog you'd like, I think," she says thoughtfully. "Though I think you also ought to be prepared to have your mind changed quite swiftly if one particular dog captures your attention."

"Nothing too big," Greta says, thinking aloud. "I suppose I'll have to keep it on a leash for a while, at first, and I don't fancy being hauled about." She's seen some dogs in town even larger than Cu, and though she hasn't been in the proverbial dog market for more than a few minutes, she already knows she's not after what might as well be a pony.

Then again, she wouldn't want something too small, either. Any dog she gets would have to be able to withstand the affections of all the children in her life. Jordan and Saoirse are both dog savvy, and it's not as if Marvin is that big, either. But she's also seen dogs small enough to practically fit up someone's sleeve. "It ought to be large enough that you can tell it's a dog at first glance, though," she says with a wry smile. "I wouldn't want something too small to play with Garrick. Or to weather children's attention."

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The Tale You Tell

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