Long time, no speak! I lost my Tom and Sybil muse last year, but it's since bothered me that I stopped writing in this fandom so abruptly. Following Allen Leech's apparent departure from the show, (although I'll stick my neck out and predict that he'll return for the Christmas special finale), I decided to write two more pieces – one period, one modern, as my goodbye to Tom.
This comes from the same universe as last year's 'A Mother's Love' with Ellen Branson travelling from Dublin to Liverpool to meet Tom and Sybbie before they sail to America. The title comes from 'Romeo & Juliet'. I hope you enjoy it.
"I can see her, I can see her, Daddy look!" Sybbie pressed her nose to the carriage window as she jabbed a finger towards the glass.
Tom peered over his daughter's head and raised a hand in greeting towards the fleeting image of his mother on the platform before the train shuddered past and a cloud of steam obscured any further view.
"She didn't wave at us" Sybbie turned her head towards Tom, her lower lip protruding.
"She didn't see us love, it's harder to see inside than out. And we were moving. Come on, let's get out and wave again. She'll be looking for us."
Tom reached towards the overhead rack for the two suitcases which would serve them during their short stop in Liverpool. Their trunks, filled with all he felt they would need in their new life, had been sent on ahead. It had been no easy task. His ambition for a new, independent life balanced uncomfortably against his desire to hold on to items of sentimentality from Downton Abbey and the Crawley family. His daughter's family, his beloved wife's family. His family too now; their departure was not a denial.
A porter opened the carriage door and he stepped out, turning back to carefully lift Sybbie down on to the platform, before he leant back to retrieve their luggage. His mother's voice emerged from behind and with it came comfort of long-held familiarity and affection.
"Hello there Sybbie dear, well haven't you grown my love? Just look how tall you are!"
Ellen Branson bent down to kiss her granddaughter, who was squirming whilst leaning her weight from one foot to another. The little girl's excitement at their reunion was entwined with inhibition. It was nearly two years since their only meeting, although the two had grown close during the few days Ellen had spent in Yorkshire.
"I'm nearly five now" she said and stood tall, as if hoping to gain an additional inch.
"I know you are. You look very grown up, indeed you do." Ellen stood back up, hands clasped around the handle of a bag which had seen better days and held her cheek out to be kissed. "Hello Tom love, I'm glad to see you both."
"I'm glad to be here." Tom replied. "I'm very happy you've been able to come over and see us before we leave."
"Well who knows when we'll have the chance to see each other again?" said Ellen. It wasn't meant sharply but the reality felt stark. As happened so often, Tom felt the heavy weight of his decision, while the familiarity of what they were leaving behind pricked at his heart like an untended rose.
"We'll be back for a visit before too long, I'm certain of it, Mam. It's not forever."
Sybbie's thumb rose to her mouth as uncertainty returned to claim her. Today was an adventure – a train journey and meeting Grandma again – but it was encased with the knowledge that she would not return home afterwards. Ellen recognised her anxiety and patted Tom on the arm, keen to deflect the conversation.
"I know that. Come on, I'm not the only one come to see you both. Let's go and see who's here, shall we?"
Sybbie looked immediately brighter. "Is it Uncle Kieran?" She had met her godfather at his wedding eighteen months previously.
"It is indeed. And do you know who else might be with him?"
"Has he brought baby Joseph?" Sybbie began to skip with excitement. She loved babies and took a great interest in the Irish cousins she had never met.
"He has. And your Auntie Grace is here too. They're waiting for us outside the station so we can all go and have a cup of tea together. Won't that be nice? You'll meet your new cousin before you travel so you can remember him when you're over in America."
"George is my cousin as well." Sybbie explained. "He's not coming to America with us. He has to stay at Downton Abbey with Marigold." Her words brought forth another wave of insecurity and her voice quivered. Tom fought back feelings of guilt as he took his daughter's hand and squeezed it.
"My, we're going to have lots to tell them about when we write our first letter home."
It was still home until another surpassed it.
Tom's reunion with his brother was short lived. The two had not been close since childhood but circumstances had brought them both to England and blood ties maintained a loyalty which would have otherwise disappeared. They shared little in common besides family and experience in the motor trade and although each topic created sufficient conversation to guide them through an hour in a teashop, there was no burning desire on either side to prolong the experience. Kieran wished to return to his garage before closing and baby Joseph began to fret, despite Sybbie's best efforts to entertain him by making silly faces and tickling his toes. The brothers parted amicably and promised to keep in touch but Tom felt a sense of relief after Kieran had left, satisfied that he had been given the opportunity to say goodbye, but more at ease once only his mother remained.
Ellen had agreed to stay in the hotel with them for their last night in England. She travelled over from Dublin three days beforehand and would remain for another two to help Grace with the baby. After tea was complete, they travelled by taxi, choosing to avoid the bustle and excitement of the docks until the following day. Sybbie was relaxed in Ellen's company once again and Tom didn't want to unsettle her any earlier than necessary by pointing out the great vessel which would transport them from one life to the next.
They ate in the hotel, a modest establishment which offered good, plain cooking and comfortable rooms. It was incomparable to anything the Crawley family would choose, but Tom was determined to leave those ways behind. Life in America would be simpler and more informal, beginning with a second class passage across the Atlantic. He was grateful for his rise out of the working class and wouldn't have wished his own childhood on his daughter. Love had been plentiful in the Branson home but his parents were scarred by exhaustion and city grime. Ellen ensured that her children weren't hungry, but Tom was never fully satisfied either in belly or in mind. He had experienced life from two extremes and was content now to take the middle ground.
"Well that was very good, very tender. Thank you." Ellen remarked as their plates were taken away in the dining room. The waitress, a pretty blonde Irish immigrant with an eye for opportunity, watched them curiously from the serving hatch. Tom's accent still betrayed his roots, yet his manner and clothes offered a stark contrast.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Mam." Tom smiled and Sybbie fidgeted in her seat beside him. She was not accustomed to eating at the table with adults and was struggling to concentrate. Tom observed her dilemma and signalled to the waitress to bring over something sweet. Sybbie's eyes grew wide with delight at the ice cream placed before her before she reached for her spoon and began to eat, her mind now focussed on the task ahead.
"And you've everything you need for the journey tomorrow?" Ellen asked.
"There's nothing more I can think of, no."
"Only I could go out early in the morning for you if you've a need for anything."
"We're fine Mam, thank you. We'll be well taken care of on board and I've things to keep Sybbie amused."
They discussed the practicalities, but none of the sentiment within. Tom was mindful of Sybbie's anxiety and torn by his own contrasting emotions about the journey. Ellen told him the news from home – long-forgotten neighbours and his sisters who he had not seen for five years. Tom feared he may never see them again.
They put Sybbie to bed. She was delighted by the novelty of both the location and Ellen's vivid storytelling, begging her for 'just one more please' until dusk merged into moonlight outside the window and Tom insisted she rest.
"Do you want to sleep, Mam or may I come next door and chat to you for a while?" His body felt weary after their journey, but he was unwilling to succumb to sleep. He felt transported back to childhood, filled with a desire to stay close to his mother and delay their parting. An image appeared of his farewell to the Crawleys earlier in the day – Cora's tears and his consequential guilt. He couldn't face another so soon.
"Of course Tom, love. Come in and keep me company. I'd like that."
Tom sat on the edge of his mother's bed, allowing her to take the only armchair by the fire. He stared into the flames, aware of lamplight creating long flickering shadows up the wall. Like Rose and her friends dancing away, he thought and smiled. He would see her and Atticus in a few days, they were coming to meet them in New York. Familiar faces to help bridge their first step into a new life.
"I've a parcel for you to give to Brendan." Ellen interrupted his train of thought with mention of his cousin and he started. "If you don't mind carrying it on board with you?"
"Of course not." He smiled. "There's nothing perishable? Only we'll not see him for two more weeks yet."
"I don't think so. It's from your aunt, not me. Only letters and clothes I think. She's been knitting at great speed – a sweater for each grandchild."
"He'll be very grateful, I'm sure."
"I hope the two of you will get on." Ellen looked so abruptly troubled that it made Tom laugh.
"Mam, we're both grown men now, you've no need to worry."
"But you were never friends, the two of you. Always fighting and the like."
"He's offered me a job. A good job. I don't think he's holding any childhood grudge."
"You had a good job and yet it wasn't enough."
There, she's said it he thought. Now we can talk about it. He was glad, they shouldn't part with thoughts and concerns unspoken.
"I know you see it as a step backwards…"
"I understand you want to be your own man, Tom. Don't think I don't."
"But I'll have a chance to build up the business on my own terms."
"With Brendan…"
"He wants to leave that side of things to me. It's why he wants a partner to come in with him. He's taken it as far as he can, but he's not a businessman."
"And you are?"
Tom frowned at her implication of doubt. "I've learned a new business on the estate. I've proved I can adapt with hard work. I've proved it to myself as much as to anyone else. I believe I can do it again and I know far more about motorcars than I ever did about sheep and crop rotations."
Ellen met his eye and a smile emerged. "Then I have no doubt you'll do a grand job, love."
He felt his shoulders sag as he realised she was on his side after all. "It wasn't an easy decision. They all mean a lot to me. We, we…" He thought hard. "…we didn't have the easiest start together, but we've come to care for each other. Love each other even. They're the nearest thing I've got to family after you and Sybbie."
"Sybil would be very proud of you." Ellen spoke with such tenderness, as if anticipating the torrent of emotion it might unleash. But the passage of time had evened his senses a little, like a well-worn road with only an occasional, unexpected pot-hole to negotiate.
"I hope so" he said and allowed himself a fleeting image of her before it dissolved into the shadows on the wall and he felt a different kind of anguish. With each month and year that passed, it became more difficult to see her clearly, or to hear her voice. He had photographs and memories, but there were times in which no matter how hard he tried, her features became indistinguishable. He saw her shape but the details quickly faded. Sometimes it felt as if he was losing her all over again.
"I kept Sybbie with her family." he said, swallowing hard. "She knows them all, she'll remember them. As she will you. I hope Sybil would think I've done right by her."
"Well you knew her far better than me, but I believe you're right. But they'll miss you sure enough. Cora said so in her letter."
It still felt odd to Tom that his mother and Cora had corresponded over the past two years. In his mind he kept his two families separate and despite his mother's visit to Yorkshire, still couldn't blend the two. There were occasions when he spotted his mother's handwriting on an envelope passed to the Countess at breakfast time by Carson and felt oddly indignant. Ellen wrote to him far more frequently than his mother-in-law, but nevertheless the image always jarred.
"And I'll miss them too. All of them. But we'll be back. I'm not setting myself a date, but once we've got ourselves established, we'll come back over for a few weeks. And there's talk of the family visiting Cora's mother next summer so the parting won't be for long. But Mam…" He leant forward and rested elbows on his knees. "…when we come back, will you come over to Yorkshire again and see us?"
"Of course I will, love. I'm quite the traveller these days, you know!" Ellen laughed and it disguised Tom's subsequent hesitation.
"You know Mam, if you ever wanted to join us in America, have a new start yourself…" He stopped as soon as his mother shook her head. There was never any doubt in his mind about her answer but he wanted to lay the offer down.
"Not while your sisters are close by, Tom. I can be a help to them and even Kieran doesn't feel too far away now that I'm used to the crossing." Ellen rose from her seat and moved to sit beside him on the bed. "I love all of my children equally, but I would prefer to be in a position to help four rather than one."
"I know, I just wanted to give you the possibility."
She lay a hand gently over his. "You left home a long time ago, Tom. I always miss you but I'm used to your absence. You're right that I was worried about you giving up all that you had, but only because I wasn't certain you were in the right mind to be doing so. Seeing you today has pushed those thoughts away because I can see you're different from when I saw you last."
"Different?" He frowned. "In what way?"
"You're in a different stage of grief now. You're able to let go a little and that's important. For Sybbie as well. She needs to be her own woman and there was a danger that Sybil's family would see her only as a shadow of her mother. It's natural of course, they want to hold on to the memory of their daughter. God knows, I understand a little of what they're going through."
Tom squeezed her hand at the thought of an elder sister he didn't remember and the pain of Ellen's bereavement which would never wholly pass.
"There was a time…" he began "…when I thought that by leaving both Ireland and Downton, I'd be leaving Sybil behind and I couldn't bear that. I needed to be where she had lived and been happy. I thought that a house and a family who also loved her, would somehow bind her to us."
"I know, love…"
"And I thought that it was the best way for Sybbie to be close to her as well and I don't regret staying as long as I did. I think it was best for us both at that time."
Tom turned to meet his mother's gaze head on. "But I've realised that by moving on, I don't have to leave her behind. She can come with us. Every time I look at Sybbie I see her – in her face and her laugh."
He sighed, an all too frequent lament for what might have been, had fate not been so brutal and let Sybil live. "Sybil didn't want to spend the rest of her days at Downton, she wanted a different kind of life and she wanted that for our children. A life with purpose and meaning, not fancy clothes and charity work - trying to hold on to a way of life that's now outdated. I care very much for Mary and Edith and I wish both of them only happiness, but my hope now is that Sybbie will take her mother's values as well as mine and have an independent, fulfilling life. She's the luck to have been born when she was, with the vote and all…"
"Sure I never thought I'd see the day" Ellen murmured.
"Things will change further, I'm sure of it. She can do anything she wants, God willing. In America she won't be the granddaughter of an Earl, or the daughter of a chauffeur, or be bound to the past at all. We'll take Sybil with us and forge our own way. I think it's time."
Ellen looked at her son and her heart constricted with pride. The most independent of all her children, the one on whom any injustice weighed heavy. She had once feared for him working in England, although part of her had been relieved to see him leave. Dublin held its own dangers for such an articulate young man who felt disadvantaged by his birth.
Nobody could have predicted the twists and turns his life would take – the surfeit of love, hope and loss all entwined within a few short years, over before he could take stock of what he had achieved. Ellen understood the cycle of grief only too well. She had buried her parents, three siblings, her husband and a daughter. The burden of it can bury the strongest of men, or weigh him down so heavily that nothing else has a chance to bloom, For a while she believed she may have lost him to a different kind of life and had wished only that there was something she could offer which might compete. Now he faced a new chapter and while there was sadness – the loss of Sybil which would never leave him and another long distance parting – mostly there was hope.
Not ordinarily a woman prone to unexpected emotion, Ellen felt her eyes moisten and her throat contract. She wrapped her fingers around those of her son.
"Yes love, it's time."