Part of a series, involving Dr Clarkson, devised by Lavender and Hay and myself. Not to be taken too seriously!
Dr Clarkson got back home, sat down, and groaned. It had been a long day. Too long, and too troublesome. As well as having to tend to patients at Downton he had had two call outs to the country, and they were both cases he'd had to drive back to be able to treat. It just wasn't practical, he thought to himself, ideally I'd begin treating the patients while driving back. I need… I need a driver!
. . . . .
Tom Branson was not having fun. He'd dropped Sybil off at her nursing course, and was feeling thoroughly disheartened. What more could he do? Was there someone else? Was her new fascination with nursing pushing away the feeling he thought she'd had for him?
Trying to compose himself he went into the kitchen. To his surprise he found Dr Clarkson sitting at the table, apparently waiting for someone.
"Ah. Branson. I've been meaning to speak to you."
This added to Branson's surprise. Why would the doctor want to speak to him? Was it about Sybil? But surely he'd go to Lord Grantham for that. Was this about Thomas?
"I have a job proposition for you." Clarkson continued, and stood up. "I would like you to drive an ambulance for me. I've spoken to Lord Grantham and he is prepared to spare you for three days a week."
Branson made to answer, but was cut off by Clarkson raising a hand. "Now, I know you don't want to fight, but I was rather hoping that you still might want to do your bit. Assisting the hospital would be a good way to do this. Who knows, when Sybil returns maybe she can help too." Dr Clarkson attempted a light joke, unaware of the current Sybil situation.
Branson thought hard. True, he did feel slightly bad for not joining in with the war effort, and driving an ambulance was definitely non-violent. And Sybil might approve of this…
"I'll do it." he said, before he could change his mind.
"Excellent. Would you be available tomorrow?" Clarkson asked. Branson nodded, not being able to find the right words.
"Thank you." Dr Clarkson picked up his hat and left, whistling to himself.
. . . . .
Isobel Crawley had just been to visit the hospital. As usual the sights she saw had shocked her deeply, but she put on a brave face and helped out where she could. For some reason though, Dr Clarkson seemed out of sorts. Normally he dreaded hearing the phone ring, as it normally meant a call out to a far off patient, but today he kept giving almost longing glances towards it.
She shook her head. Men and their toys, she thought, no woman will ever be able to understand the-
Her stream of thought was interrupted as she was thrown roughly to the ground. Turning round she found Dr Clarkson lying on top of her. Wondering whether to object or not she was spared the bother by him suddenly jumping off. Glancing wildly around he absently held a hand out to help her up. Taking it, she was amused to hear his mumbled apology.
"Sorry, I didn't see you… I stumbled- I've just received a phone call… I need to go… Branson should have the ambulance here any minute now… "
"Ambulance?" Isobel tried to ask, but was cut off again, this time by the sight of Branson careering round the corner in a shambolic ambulance. Skidding to a halt, he jumped out and opened the door for Clarkson to get in. Briefly stopping to tip his hat to Isobel he hurried back into the car and drove off.
While some part of her should have been worried or annoyed at getting knocked to the ground by Dr Clarkson, Isobel couldn't help but admit that the whole experience had been somewhat… intoxicating.
. . . . .
Often when he'd had days off work, when Thomas Barrow returned to work he always felt like he'd never been away. Not this time though. Everything had changed, everything was different. People in the street treated him differently- they saw his uniform and nodded respectfully, or rushed over and asked if he had heard any news from any of their loved ones.
From what he gathered, the major talking point in town was of the ambulance. Some regarded it with fear- it was known to drive faster than should be allowed and often arrived at unexpected moments. Others regarded it in awe, recounting tales of how it had heroically come to those ill or wounded.
Before he went to Downton Abbey itself, Thomas paid a visit to Dr Clarkson at the hospital. Upon entering he was hit by a series of flashbacks- of the trenches, of the bodies, of his own hand getting shot through. Taking a breath he headed on, until he found Clarkson.
He was running down towards the door, pulling on his coat and grabbing at a bag.
"Thomas!" he exclaimed. "Good to see you. Must dash, I've had an urgent call from the Browns. I'm taking the ambulance." Thomas just stared at him dumbfounded.
"Come." The Dr commanded imperiously, and led Thomas to where Branson had pulled up outside.
"What's this about then, Tim?" Thomas asked as he followed him to the ambulance.
Clarkson shot him a look. "Don't get cocky just because you're a war hero now- it's still Dr Clarkson to you. And even if it wasn't, you know that Timothy is my middle name." He smiled, letting Thomas know he was joking.
"Alright- Dr Clarkson, what's this ambulance about?"
Clarkson simply smiled, and gestured towards his vehicle. "I'll show you."
A few hours later Thomas was finding it hard to decide what scared him most- the fact that Branson drove the ambulance like a man possessed, or the fact that the afternoon spent driving about in the ambulance was the most fun he'd had in years.
Bloody hell, I must be going soft, he thought as he made his way up to the Abbey, then will I be allowed to drive next time?
. . . . .
Sybil Crawley had just finished her nursing course, and was waiting to be picked up by Branson. She was unsure how to act when she saw him again- should she carry on as if their conversation had never happened? She wished she'd said different things; her mind wasn't in the right place at that time, and she badly wanted to turn things back.
Looking back at the clock in the courtyard, she wondered where he was. Already twelve minutes late, which was most unlike him.
Suddenly an ambulance came into view, and pulled up next to her. To her surprise, Branson jumped out, and smartly saluted.
"Sorry I'm late m'lady- Dr Clarkson was called out and I had to drive the ambulance."
Shaking her head, trying to figure out what was going on, Sybil smiled.
"No, it's fine, it's… good for you." She finished, hopping into the passenger seat.
"Very good m'lady." A hint of his old smile was on Branson's face as he climbed into his seat.
"I wonder- how efficient are you at driving this?" Sybil asked.
"Very efficient." Branson replied, and they hurtled off.
Settling back into her seat, Sybil marvelled at the turn of events. When this war's over, when it's finally over- that's the man I'm going to marry.
. . . . .
Dr Clarkson got back home, sat down, and smiled. It had been a good day. A very good day.
The idea of Dr Clarkson's middle name being Tim caused a fair bit of amusement to myself and other people I could mention.
I wanted to put a Miss O'Brien point of view in here, but I couldn't really make it work. I feel terrible writing a Downton story without her, but it had to be done.
Please review if you have the time, and please read Lavender and Hay's Dr Clarkson/Isobel story!