Sometimes, All Your Christmases Come At Once
"Could you bandage Lieutenant Fox's arm and stomach wounds please, Thom- I mean, Sergeant Barrow?"
"Yes Lady Syb- I mean Nurse Crawley." Thomas gave his usual sneer at her slip up, adding sarcasm for good measure.
She turned away. Snooty cow, he thought, not seeing her embarrassment. As the youngest daughter of Lord Grantham, she still thought she outranked an ex-footman, even though he now managed Downton Abbey convalescent home for officers.
Lieutenant Fox was sitting up in the bed by the window. He had dark gold, wavy hair and a tentative smile.
"Right sir," said Thomas briskly, now accustomed to bandaging men of all shapes and sizes. "Let's do your arm first shall we?"
He rolled up the pyjama sleeve to reveal a freckled, perfect limb spoilt by the deep gash in the forearm.
The Lieutenant winced as Thomas carefully picked off the old bandage.
"Did they cut something out of this, sir?"
"Yes- ouch! A pen knife."
"A what?" Thomas paused, trying not to smile.
"Yes. The explosion threw me against a dead body: for some reason he was holding a pen knife."
"Strange. Maybe he'd lost his bayonet." Thomas smirked to himself but was surprised when Fox chuckled.
"The absurdities of war."
He was friendly. Normally Thomas thought of friendliness as weak but it didn't seem so with this man, it was more like confidence.
They sat in silence for a while, Thomas busily re-bandaging the arm.
"Right, sir. I was told you have a stomach wound too?"
"Yes." He struggled to take off his pyjama top with one hand, so Thomas assisted, used to dressing and undressing Lord Grantham. And the Duke of Crowborough that summer. Now why had he thought of him after all this time?
Fox sat there with the old, blood stained bandage round his stomach, waiting patiently, his body thin and colourless after the weeks in bed. Thomas gazed at him for a minute, then collected himself and looked round the room. All the other patients were either asleep or being attended to by nurses, so hadn't noticed. He must pull himself together.
"Right, let's get this off then." Thomas picked at the end of the old bandage roughly.
"Steady on old chap," Fox twitched under his assault.
"Sorry." He did it more gently, glancing at his victim's face to judge if he was hurting him. It was a shock to look into the most unusual eyes he'd ever seen: a deep blue-green colour, like jade. Oh, he could fall into those eyes.
"You don't want to rip my skin off at the same time I hope."
Thomas chuckled as he continued the un-bandaging. Fox gasped with the shock of air hitting his wound after it had been protected for so long.
"It's alright. Let's just leave it awhile to breathe." Thomas pulled the pyjama jacket round the thin, freckled shoulders and allowed himself to pat one of them reassuringly. "I'll come back in an hour to re-do it."
"Oh." That was definitely a look of disappointment on the Lieutenant's face, but Thomas strode away. He was probably just bored and wanted someone to talk to, it didn't mean anything.
x-x-x-x
He returned to see a nurse about to re-bandage Fox's wound and his heart sank as they were chatting away in a friendly manner. He was just about to go to another task, when Nurse Crawley bustled up to the bed.
"I'm sorry, nurse, this will have to wait. We need your help with a new patient."
Thomas stepped forward.
"Ah, Sergeant Barrow, could you take over here?"
Without a backward glance, Sybil Crawley drew the other nurse with her towards the hall.
"Nice to know your place around here," said Thomas as he sat down on the bed. "Now. Where were we?"
He held the end of the bandage against Fox's back and the soldier flinched.
"Cold hands!"
"Sorry." Thomas breathed on his hands to warm them and began winding the bandage round carefully. Fox really needed feeding up. "Are you cold? You're shivering."
"No, no, I'm fine. Hold on." He turned and got a pillow to put on his lap. "There, that'll make us more comfortable. You can put your elbow on it while you're doing that."
"Right-o." Thomas was a bit confused by this but he'd seen far too many strange things during the war to worry.
Fox watched him as he worked. At first, he had thought the tall, dark, handsome Sergeant Barrow's eyes were cold but it hadn't taken long to notice they weren't. Just guarded. Wary. His defined cheekbones draw attention to lips fuller than expected, suggesting there was more to this man than indifferent soldier.
"It's a lovely day, the first for ages. I wish I could go out for a walk."
"Why can't you?"
"Nurse Crawley said I wasn't ready yet."
Bloody Nurse Crawley, thought Thomas. Thinks she's the manager instead of me.
"You are ready. A turn around the grounds won't do you no harm."
"I won't be allowed out on my own. Come with me?"
Thomas paused in his bandaging.
"Alright then. When?"
"When she's not looking." Fox grinned wickedly. Thomas guessed he did that a lot when he wasn't wounded, as it suited him.
x-x-x-x
So a couple of hours later, Thomas brought an overcoat, helped Fox put it on over his pyjamas and they slipped out of the front door into the sunlight.
"Shall we be even more naughty and go away from the house?" suggested the blond Lieutenant. "Somewhere less boring."
"Alright. There's a lake in the woods, it's very picturesque."
They set off in that direction. Every minute Thomas expected a female voice to call him back: don't abscond with the foxy Lieutenant! He suppressed a laugh.
Approaching the lake slowly due to Fox's difficulty walking, the water glittered in the sunlight, rainbow colours rippling hypnotically, never the same twice.
"Oh, you're right. This is beautiful."
Thomas grinned at his open mouthed surprise.
"Just the place to bring my sweetheart."
Everything fell into place in Thomas's mind and he caught his breath.
"So. You wanted to find somewhere to propose to your sweetheart. This is a good place, you could have a picnic with her and there are rowing boats, you could row to the island, and-"
"Shush! What are you talking about?"
"I- I thought you meant, I-" He swallowed.
"I've never had a sweetheart, have you?" Fox's teal eyes couldn't have looked more innocent.
"No- yes- well, I could have but-"
"Spit it out, man. Have you or haven't you?"
"Well, they killed themself before anything happened." He wanted to talk about Edward; he hadn't talked to anyone about him. Not even Miss O'Brien, his closest confidante. But she was hardly a friend.
"Bloody hell. Why?"
"Depression, I reckon."
"That's awful. You poor chap." Fox patted his arm. "What was her name?"
Thomas paused.
"Edward," he blurted. "Damn!"
"So, your nearly sweetheart was a man." Fox's expression was unreadable.
"Yes. I'm not saying anymore, I shouldn't have said that, I-"
"I knew it! I knew I wasn't the only one! Sorry." He grinned. "But I've never liked women."
"What were you talking about sweethearts for then?"
"I wanted to know if you had one, you idiot."
"Oh." Thomas thought of poor blinded Edward, lying there lifeless, blood drenching his sheets, the floor and the bed and turned away trying not to cry.
"What happened?" asked Fox, hobbling round to look at him.
So Thomas hesitantly told the story, stopping every few minutes to collect himself. When he worked at the local hospital, he and Edward had begun forming some sort of bond, there hadn't even been time to find out what sort. Then Dr Clarkson had insisted Edward leave and go to a distant specialist institution for blinded servicemen. Losing his sight, his position in his family and the budding relationship with Thomas had pushed him into despair and he'd finally admitted defeat by slashing his wrists in the night.
"That's bloody terrible. Come here." Fox put his arms round him and hugged him. "Oh, ouch. Bloody wounds."
Thomas was half laughing, half crying but a gradual sense of calm took over. He put his head on Fox's shoulder, breathing out in relief.
"There, there. Come on, let's walk round." He put his hand through Thomas's arm and set off on the lake path. "I know you're Thomas. My name's Guy. As in: 'penny for the.' "
Thomas laughed.
"That's better."
x-x-x-x
That day, and all the other days they went to the lake, they talked. Guy's family lived nearby; he was the youngest son of a self-made man and they owned a large farmhouse and stables.
"No one minds what I do; I usually look after the horses outside. I don't care for fancy dinners and coming out balls. And I need to get healthy again; I'm a shadow of my former self."
"You don't look like a shadow to me."
They exchanged glances.
x-x-x-x
One day they couldn't get out for their walk before late afternoon. They didn't have a set time for walking- to avoid suspicion and questions- but just went when they could.
The sun was setting like a new penny, orange and glowing as it sank over the lake. Pink clouds surrounded it like gossamer, lighting the sky with streaks of fire.
"Red sky at night, shepherd's delight," said Guy.
"You what?"
"It means we'll have good weather tomorrow."
"Whatever you say."
"It's beautiful anyway, despite your sneering."
He thumped him on the arm, but it turned into a caress, then a stroke of his cheek and Thomas rubbed his face on Guy's hand like a cat. Guy stepped forward and kissed him, gently, tentatively.
Immediately, there was a shout, like someone apprehending a robber.
"Christ, it's the 'no kissing' police," muttered Thomas, hurrying his collaborator into the woods as they tried not to giggle.
An argument broke out further round the lake, the angry voices carrying clearly through the still air.
In the leafy hideaway, however, they weren't interested in what was happening outside. The heavy army jacket and overcoat were far too inconvenient, so they soon came off. Guy had filled out so much after the rest, home cooked food and fresh air of the last few months, his body now had the defined muscle Thomas assumed it had normally. Someone working on a farm would need muscle, wouldn't they? Guy appreciated Thomas's hard, broad body with tufts of black chest hair, his sensuous lips which were now pressed to Guy's mouth, his neck, all over. He was still injured though, so Thomas was gentle but after so long wanting each other, passion sparked between them.
Time flew by. The last thought Thomas had before they cuddled up and went to sleep was that he'd kissed and been kissed, touched, stroked more in those few hours than in the rest of his twenty eight years put together.
x-x-x-x
He awoke in the dark, and Guy's body felt cold. A sudden fear gripped his heart and he shook his lover's arm. Fortunately he stirred and mumbled something so Thomas breathed again. He didn't want another dead sweetheart.
"Shit!" He realised how late it was and hustled Guy into his pyjama top and overcoat, then put on his army jacket.
"Come on, we've got to get back." He helped him walk to the Abbey, the path appearing sinister at this time of night. Animals' eyes glittered in the undergrowth, a fox yelped and Thomas shivered.
"Where have you been?" demanded the venerable Dr Clarkson in the doorway, his normally red face even more flushed.
"We forgot the time," mumbled Thomas.
"Lieutenant Fox is on the way to hypothermia! Get him to his bed at once!" The doctor's moustache bristled with anger.
Thomas wanted to argue- he'd never forgiven him for the Edward situation- but took the sensible route and did as he was told.
"Sorry," he whispered as he put Guy back to bed. "Think I've made you ill again."
"Don't be silly. That was the best afternoon of my life."
They grinned at each other.
"By the way, your hair's on end, you'd better sort it out."
Thomas quickly smoothed down the wiry black mop which took so much Brilliantine to control every morning.
"Really Sergeant Barrow. You should know better than to keep a patient out til all hours…" Nurse Crawley rambled on while the two culprits just gazed at each other, trying not to laugh.
"No more trips to the lake in the evening then," said Guy when she'd gone.
"Not in the evening, no." Thomas winked at him and said goodnight.
x-x-x-x
So they went to the lake in the mornings instead for the perfect passionate interludes to break up the daily routine. Luck seemed on their side as they were never apprehended or questioned: there was too much going on at the Abbey with the stream of convalescing soldiers.
But as autumn drew on, the evil day came, as it had to: Guy was well enough to go home.
"It's only up the road. You can visit," he assured Thomas.
"What'll your parents think? A servant coming to visit a gentleman?"
"You're hardly a servant. They'll just have to get used to it."
It all happened in a rush. Major and Mrs Fox came to fetch their son, all tailored clothes, expensive cologne and silk handkerchiefs. There wasn't time for any proper goodbyes between the blond Lieutenant and the dark haired Sergeant.
"New money," muttered one of the nurses to Thomas. "All airs and graces. Not proper aristocracy."
He moved away before he 'accidentally' trod on her toe.
x-x-x-x
So, life returned to normal. Thomas overseeing the Abbey, helping the wounded, fetching and carrying. The only good things were the letters. The Duke of Crowborough's letters had been too fancy, making allusions to things Thomas knew nothing of, but Guy's were straightforward, affectionate, about his family and seasonal duties on the farm. Such subjects were reassuring: Thomas hadn't really fitted in with his own family but always felt like an outsider.
A letter in early November letter was different, scrawled as if written in excitement.
Dearest Thomas
My father wants a valet! I'll recommend you. Can you come and visit to meet him? Please, please do, we'd both get what we want if you worked here.
Being wanted. Addressed as 'dearest'. It was all foreign to him. As he stood smoking a cigarette near the outbuildings, a smile curled round his lips.
x-x-x-x
He went to Guy's farmhouse not hopeful, not believing it would all go right, it never did for him.
"Barrow? Come in man," barked Major Fox, standing in his morning room. He had Guy's golden hair fading into white.
"What's your experience as a valet?"
"Two years for Lord Grantham, sir."
"Why are you not his valet anymore?"
"He got a new one. Then the war came along and I volunteered for the medical corps."
"The medical corps? Why not the regular army? What sort of a man are you?"
"I wanted to help people." That wasn't the reason and Major Fox looked him straight in the eye, but Thomas's gaze didn't waver.
"Why do you want to leave your post at the convalescent home now?"
"The war's ended. I'm not needed there anymore." It was hard to remain civil under the volley of questions.
"Hm. I'll let you know in due course." He waved his hand dismissively so Thomas drew himself up to his full height and stalked out.
x-x-x-x
"Sorry about father," said Guy as he walked Thomas to the front gate. "His bark is far worse than his bite. Hope he didn't put you off."
"It'd take more than that to put me off. I've bandaged your wounds remember."
"Oh ha ha, very funny. I think he liked you. He likes people that aren't submissive."
As the day was cold there was no one around, so Guy gave him a quick kiss before he set off towards the road.
x-x-x-x
When Thomas returned home, he felt like visiting his old colleagues. He should speak to Miss O'Brien; he hadn't seen her for ages, so he slipped into the house silently. It was nice to see its unchanged familiarity: Mrs Patmore bustling round the kitchen making a Christmas cake; Mr Carson's deep tones echoing from the hall; Daisy flapping around like a loon.
"What do you want?" said Mrs Patmore as Thomas lurked in the doorway. "Hope it's not feeding, I haven't any spare."
"That's a nice welcome."
She tutted. "Go on then, have some of that soup, it needs using up."
"Oh, thanks!"
A bird warbled loudly outside the window and Thomas felt a sudden rush of elation. He grabbed Mrs Patmore's hand and her waist, and waltzed her round the kitchen very fast.
"Get away with ya!" she gasped, hitting his arm with a wooden spoon. "What's this in aid of?"
"Just- the weather's grand, the war's over, Christmas is on its way-"
She gave him a knowing look.
"Aha, someone's in love. Who's the lucky lass?"
"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."
"What's going on here?" boomed Mr Carson from the doorway.
"Oh! Nothing."
"Just a flying visit. Sorry, Mrs Patmore. Don't know what came over me."
"Oh! That's quite alright." She re-arranged her hair and cap coyly.
He patted the butler on the arm as he squeezed past him, wondering why he'd bothered visiting. O'Brien wasn't even there: anyway, what did he want to see her for, the sour faced cow? It wasn't like she'd rejoice in his happiness, was it?
"What's got into him?" asked Carson after he'd left.
"I think he's fallen in love." Mrs Patmore was a romantic at heart.
"God help the poor girl." The butler uncorked the wine disapprovingly.
x-x-x-x
Thomas couldn't believe the words in the letter. He read them over and over again in disbelief.
Thomas Barrow esq.
I would like to employ you as my valet, subject to good character references from your previous employer.
Yours sincerely
Reginald Christmas-Fox, Major
Employed as a valet in Guy's house? Christmas-Fox? He had to sit down abruptly on his bed in shock.
x-x-x-x
It was true though, because he was summoned to meet the Foxes again.
"You'll do, Barrow," said the Major, shaking his hand as Guy grinned in the background. "You can start as soon as I get your references." He swept out of the room, almost knocking Thomas over.
"Don't know what you're smirking at," he said to Guy. "Christmas-Fox?" He raised an eyebrow.
"I never use my full name. It's too silly."
"You don't say." He laughed. "How the hell did that come about?"
"My mother thought that when father made his money, we should have a double barrelled name. Christmas was her maiden name."
"Rich people, eh? You always do what you want."
"Yes, we do." Guy stepped up to the new valet and kissed him passionately, pushing the door shut with his foot.