kind of want to make a poldark (taylor's version) playlist that chronicles ross and demelza's relationship through taylor swift songs (i made the same thing with jamie and claire from outlander months ago) but sadly i think it's just going to be songs like tolerate it, you're losing me, etc. 😭😭
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“Well then,” Prudie said and set a steaming cup of tea down next to Demelza. She’d come to do this most afternoons (with only a little prompting) while Demelza worked on a new piece for The Post or chipped away at Dr. Enys’s manuscript. This attention was mostly given because the woman wanted company and not because she anticipated her mistress’s needs.
“Hmm?” Demelza asked absently while she banged away on the typewriter keys, then paused to check her spelling of Streptococcus.
“Easter’s so late this year, Mister Ross’ll miss the daffs,” Prudie lamented.
Demelza had collected a cheering yellow bunch and put them on the dining room table so she could see them while she worked. The crocus bulbs from weeks earlier had since been returned to the earth, just as she’d promised she’d do.
“Oh they might linger on, they’re hearty blooms for sure,” Demelza laughed. “All the spring flowers are really, they are required to be. And even if Ross misses the daffodils, there’s always bluebells. Come Prudie,” she said and rose to her feet. She tidied her papers and put the cover on The Companion. “Let’s go out to the garden while the sun shines. We have much to do to get this place in order before Ross arrives.”
“I'd say it's someone else’s arrival we should be worryin’ ‘bout,” Prudie huffed.
“Yes, well…in good time,” Demelza said.
“You keep sayin’ that but time do have a way of creepin’ up on a body!”
Prudie was right but since Demelza had more urgent pulls on her purse like fixing the leaking roof, it was best to put nursery furnishings out of her mind at present. Afterall, what did poor folk do, those who had more babies than bank notes?
Needs must…
When Demelza was a girl, the neighbours across the stairs kept their baby in a bureau drawer set on the floor. It served perfectly well as a cot until the little fellow grew big enough to climb out. Then it seemed he never slept again but ran amok forevermore chasing the birds--and rats-- that dwelled in their dingy courtyard.
His name was Tommy, wasn't it? And he’d be seventeen by now, she thought to herself. I wonder if he’s joined up and now chases Wehrmacht soldiers.
Odd that she remembered the neighbours but had no recollection whatsoever of where her own brothers had been stashed as babes--she only remembered them older, all sharing one messy, stinking bed, wrestling and laughing well into the night.
“We’ll think of something,” Demelza shrugged. She’d talk it over with Ross, though she hated to ask him for anything.
“Come, let’s finish our garden work before it rains.”
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