Beach blues, or why being polite isn't always the best option.

Mrs Patmore observes her colleagues after the day spent at the beach, and realises things are going pear-shaped. She decides to intervene.

Because I agree with Chelsie Dagger; there can never be too much post-beach scene stories!

~o~

On their way back home everyone felt drowsy, the result of a day spent in the sun, and inhaling the fresh salty sea air. Some of the maids actually fell asleep in the train. Next to her, Daisy was dozing peacefully. It was a shame really, Mrs Patmore thought, how some of these young girls hardly ever left the house, and thus seldom enjoyed a bit of fresh air. The men at least sometimes had outdoor chores.

Mrs Patmore herself had enjoyed a blissful day of leisure, not something she was used to. Sitting comfortably in a beach chair, leafing through a magazine, enjoying the sunshine on her face and treating herself and Daisy to an ice cream, she thought she could get… No, she could not get used to this. However lovely it had been for a day, she preferred having something to do. Or was it because almost all of her life she had been used to always having something to do?

Mrs Patmore didn't know and decided it wasn't important anyway.

On the bench across from her, Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes were having a polite conversation.

'I'm so sorry you got your skirt wet, Mrs Hughes. I hope you're not too uncomfortable.'

'Not at all Mr Carson, thank you. It's only around the hem, it will dry soon enough.'

Mrs Patmore groaned inwardly. Surely they weren't going back to being polite? After their paddling the waves together, holding hands, she had been sure something between them had changed at last. She felt the corners of her mouth curl at the memory; it had been the sweetest thing she'd seen since she had caught Mr Barrow playing with Miss Sybbie one afternoon. Miss Sybil Branson was obviously able to make Barrow show another side of himself, a sweet, gentle and caring side.

~o~

Breakfast the next morning did nothing to improve Mrs Patmore's hopes. Although she had breakfast in the kitchen with her own staff, there wasn't much that escaped her notice.

Good morning Mrs Hughes. And you Mr Carson. Have you slept well? I did, thank you.

She thought she noticed the slightest bit of awkwardness between them as well, no doubt caused by Jimmy and Paul's cheeky grins when they entered the kitchen together.

It did not bode well.

Three days of close observation later, Mrs Patmore decided she had to intervene. If anything, things between the two had become even more polite and she felt they were drifting apart instead of closer. Now, Mrs Patmore would never have called herself a matchmaker, good heavens no! But sometimes one just had to act.

So in the quiet hour after lunch, when she knew Mrs Hughes was working on her books and ledgers, she prepared a tea tray and entered the housekeeper's sitting room after a short knock.

The woman was surprised. 'Mrs Patmore, what can I do for you?' she asked smiling.

'Have a cup of tea with me,' the cook answered. She put the tray down on the side table and started preparing them both a cup.

'Well, I always love a cup of tea, but I don't see how that could help you with anything,' Mrs Hughes said, a bit confused.

Mrs Patmore's eyes grew soft.

'I believe it might help you,' she said gently. When she saw the housekeeper's blush, she knew she had hit the nail right on the head. It was also obvious she wasn't happy. Mrs Patmore made sure the door was closed and sat down beside her friend.

'I thought you'd done it, Elsie.'

'Done what?'

'Defrost Mr Carson,' Mrs Patmore explained. 'The two of you on the beach…'

'I thought so too, but it looks like I didn't,' Elsie said, giving Beryl a sad smile.

'Why don't you tell me about it dear. It might ease your mind,' Beryl said.

Elsie sighed. 'I don't know what to do anymore, Beryl. He was so kind to me at the beach, cheerful almost, and even on the train back home he became the Butler again, all starched and ironed. Frosted, like you say. And the past few days…I'm sure you've noticed or you wouldn't be here. He is behaving so polite, Beryl. It makes me think…'

With an impatient gesture she wiped a tear from her cheek.

Beryl waited for her to continue. She may wear her heart on her sleeve most days, but she also knew when to remain silent.

Another deep sigh.

'It makes me think he regrets it,' Elsie whispered, eyes full of worry. 'You know, that he regrets taking my hand and is afraid he put silly ideas in my head by doing so, and he wants to make sure I know he doesn't…he doesn't want that and he is pushing me away by being so polite and correct it makes me want to scream.'

Only two more tears were wiped away, but Beryl could see how confused and unhappy her friend was.

'Oh Elsie, you're wrong about that, I'm sure,' she whispered and took her hand.

'How can you tell Beryl? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like he doesn't want me.'

'I can tell because like you said, I notice a great many things. And I can see past his starched and polite butler ways. I know, Elsie, ' she gently stroked her friend's cheek.

'I'm so confused,' Elsie whispered, 'and I hate myself for it, behaving like silly teenage girl.'

'You don't have to be the sensible one each and every day,' Mrs Patmore told her sternly.

She gave her a sad smile. 'I suppose you're right. Still, if this situation lasts another week I might actually start to scream.'

'That would be nice,' the cook said with a grin.

Elsie chuckled. 'Thank you Beryl, for cheering me up.'

~o~

'Are you all right Mrs Hughes?' Mr Carson asked the next morning. Even he had to notice the dark circles and her pale face, Mrs Patmore thought.

'I am well Mr Carson, thank you.'

Good heavens!

The silly woman still thought the butler was pushing her away and seemed to have decided to push back. Immediate action was needed.

So in the quiet hour after lunch, when she knew Mr Carson would be either busy polishing the silver, or in his office working on his invoices and ledgers, she prepared a tray of fresh brewed coffee and entered Mr Carson's office after a short knock.

He was at his desk indeed, and jumped at her arrival.

'Mrs Patmore, I am busy! What are you doing here!'

'I am bringing you a cup of coffee,' the cook answered.

'I say, that's very kind of you. Thank you, Mrs Patmore,' he said as gentle as possible, wanting her to leave his office.

But she didn't take the hint. She put down the tray on his desk and prepared them both a cup.

'There you are Mr Carson. Lots of milk and one lump of sugar, just the way you like it.'

'Mrs Patmore, I am busy! I have no time for…'

'However, I prefer my coffee without sugar and just a few drops of milk. And I need to speak to you, Mr Carson!' Mrs Patmore told him and sat down in the visitor's chair.

'What the…' he started to rage.

'I am not leaving Mr Carson, so you might just as well sit down, enjoy your coffee and listen to what I have to discuss with you,' she said, looking very determined.

'Oh all right then,' Mr Carson sighed. 'Pray tell, what on earth is so important?'

~o~

TBC! If you want it.

Please tell me what you think, love george