"William!"
At the sound of the shrill voice, Thomas stops in his tracks, his heart sinking. This is just what he doesn't need. Two children fighting over toys or whatever else they found to argue about, when he is already in a hurry. Carson has all the staff working harder than ever, and the last thing Thomas wants is to be caught up in the middle of a petty argument between an eight year old and a seven year old.
He debates walking right past them and pretending that he can't see them, but somehow he doesn't think it would work. Heaving a heavy sigh, he rounds the corner and is instantly met with the sight of little Sybil Branson running down the corridor after her cousin.
"William, give it here!"
Laughing, William disappears from view, leaving Sybil staring after him, her face screwed up in a frown as she slows to a halt.
"Is everything alright, m'lady?" Thomas asks her, and he feels rather ashamed of the fact that he is nervous. He doesn't have a clue how to deal with children, having rarely had a reason to be around them. He had never had any younger siblings or cousins, and couldn't recall ever having exchanged two words with Sybil Branson, although he has seen her around the house plenty of times. From what he has seen and heard, she is, as Mrs Hughes put it, 'a bright young girl, and a kind one,' and, 'a spoilt brat,' according to Mrs O'Brien. Thomas hadn't paid much attention to this – Mrs O'Brien didn't seem to like many people, unless she felt that there was something to gain from being their friend.
"I'm fine," says Sybil, flashing him a quick smile. Thomas can instantly see the resemblance to her mother – she looks exactly like her namesake when she smiles. "William took my doll, that's all."
"Would you, err, like me to help you get it back?" Thomas suggests tentatively, feeling rather foolish.
Sybil's smile grows, her resemblance to her mother increasing. Thomas feels his chest tighten.
This young girl in front of me is the daughter of the woman who had always been so kind to me.
He is slightly ashamed that he has never thought of it like that.
"No, I don't really mind," says Sybil. "He'll give it back eventually."
Thomas nods. "That's…good." He can feel his cheeks heating up – for once in his life, he doesn't have a clue what to say.
Sybil doesn't seem to think that there is anything strange in his behaviour. "Yes, he always takes my toys, but he returns them when I stop asking him about it. Daddy told me not to ask him for them back, because he's only taking them to annoy me."
"Well, that's probably true, m'lady-" Thomas begins.
She shakes her head vigorously, black curls bouncing on her shoulders. "Call me Sybil," she says, and he is momentarily taken-aback at how firm her voice is. "That's my name."
He can't help smiling. "Of course, I shall call you Sybil from now on if that's what you want."
Sybil beams up at him. "What's your name?"
"Mr Barrow," he tells her, until he catches sight of the questioning look on her face. "Thomas."
"So, can I call you Thomas?" she asks, her brown eyes wide and enquiring.
"I'm sure that will be alright," says Thomas, feeling himself slowly begin to relax. She isn't too bad, he thinks, in fact, she reminds him strongly of Sybil.
Well, she is her daughter.
"I'm supposed to be with Granny now," says Sybil suddenly.
"Oh, well, you'd better go," Thomas says at once, not wanting to be the one accused of keeping her talking. However, Sybil shakes her head.
"No, I'm usually late and she doesn't really mind. I never want to go, but I haven't told her yet because I don't want to upset her." She peers up at Thomas, her face suddenly anxious. "Do you think I would upset her if I told her I didn't like it?"
"Like what?" Thomas asks automatically.
"Oh, she talks to me about being a lady," says Sybil, and the scorn is clear in her voice. "I love Granny though, and I like spending time with her, but I'm not interested in things like that. I like animals more – do you like animals?"
"Yes, I love them." Thomas is well aware that he is not being entirely sincere when he says that – he doesn't mind animals, but he doesn't love them – but he feels unkind somehow contradicting Sybil, who is looking very enthusiastic.
"What else do you like?" she asks him.
Thomas searches frantically for something to say. "Well, I like…walks? Walks in the countryside." He has no idea what makes him say that, but he thinks that it might be because his mind is still lingering on animals and nature, after Sybil's earlier comment.
"I like walking too," says Sybil brightly. "I sometimes go on walks with Daddy – I always run ahead and pick flowers and climb trees, it's fun!"
Thomas can easily imagine her doing that, and he feels his heart skip a beat as he imagines Sybil Crawley doing exactly the same as a girl. He suddenly finds himself incredibly thankful that he had met and was talking to Sybil Branson. It was like having a conversation with a younger version of her mother.
"Who are you friends with?" Sybil suddenly asks him, and he jumps slightly at the question, his mind full with memories of Sybil and him working at the hospital together, and her kindness when one of the soldiers had died and he had felt as though it was his fault.
"Err, not sure really," he replies, feeling a little uncomfortable. He is well aware that he isn't popular downstairs, and wracks his brains to think of someone who he can call a friend. "There's someone called Jimmy…"
"Jimmy?" says Sybil curiously.
Thomas nods. "Yes, he's a good friend of mine. Err, who are you friends with?"
"You," says Sybil promptly.
Thomas blinks a few times, unsure whether he had heard her correctly. "Sorry, who?"
Sybil laughs. "You!" she repeats. "You're nice."
Thomas suddenly feels a warm glow spread through his body as he smiles at Sybil, his smile even wider than before. "Well, you are also my friend," he tells her, and she looks delighted.
"I-" she begins, but is interrupted by Mrs Hughes, who comes hurrying down the corridor.
"Lady Sybil…oh." Her voice trails off as she looks at Thomas and Sybil.
"Thomas and I were talking!" Sybil beams. "I've made a new friend!"
Mrs Hughes looks slightly bewildered at first, but as her eyes travel over to Thomas, her expression softens. "Well, I'm very pleased," she tells Sybil. "However, your Granny is looking for you."
Sybil sighs and nods, turning to leave before glancing back at Thomas. "Would you like to come and have dinner with us tonight?"
Thomas fights to keep the smile off his face. "I don't think I'd be allowed," he tells her solemnly.
Her face falls. "Why not?"
"Well, I don't live in the same part of the house as you," says Thomas, choosing his words with care. "I have my dinner in a different place to you and your family. But I would have loved to have joined you for dinner if I could." He can feel his face burning, but judging by the smile on Mrs Hughes's face, he guesses he's said the right thing.
"If you can't join us, that's fine," says Sybil agreeably. "I'll see you soon."
"Goodbye," says Thomas, and she waves at him, before skipping off, down the corridor and around the corner.
Thomas can feel Mrs Hughes's eyes on him as he turns away to continue on his way. But she puts her hand on his shoulder, stopping him and forcing him to look at her. He can see the approval on her face.
"I'm glad you've made friends with her," says Mrs Hughes quietly. "She's a lovely girl. And so like her mother."
Thomas nods, his throat suddenly tight. "Yes. She is."
A/N: I know the ending is a bit cheesy! Hope you enjoyed it though, and I would appreciate it if you left a review :)