London, June 1926

It was one of those ridiculously hot summer days that were even more unbearable in the city than in the countryside. The Crawley family had decided, that after a few years of absence from the London seasonal life, they would return this year for a few weeks of parties, receptions and balls for young women who were introduced into society. The custom was on the lapse, it seemed – or maybe the Crawley's just weren't as involved in the whole thing as they once had been. With their daughters and even Lady Rose now married and with children, there wasn't much need for them to arrange any of the gatherings.

Instead, Lord and Lady Grantham had decided to enjoy their time in the city mainly as guests to the balls for other people's daughters. They had even decided against bringing the whole staff with them to Grantham House, unlike the previous London seasons. Thomas had stayed at home, as had Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes and the maids who lived in the village. Thus they were only a small party of servants in London – Mr. Bates, two hired maids from the city, as well as Andy, Daisy and herself.

Tonight, Lord and Lady Grantham had planned for dinner in some restaurant and then a party at a friend's house, leaving the servants with a free afternoon without the usual preparations. Phyllis had thought about what she could do with her free time until she remembered that Joseph had told her about the Victoria & Albert museum which apparently was worth a visit if she believed his words. As she knew how keen Daisy was on museums and learning in general, she had asked the younger woman if she liked to accompany her to which the assistant cook had instantly agreed. Andy had joined them, too, as he hadn't wanted to stay behind. Only Mr. Bates had, quite true to his character, preferred the cool and quiet of the downstairs to a walk in the bright, hot sun.

About halfway to the museum it had become rather obvious that Andy's sole reason to come with them was to spend more time around Daisy. In a moment when he thought that Phyllis wasn't looking his hand had cautiously slipped into Daisy's who seemed to enjoy the closeness for once. So, when they had arrived at their destination, Phyllis had suggested for them all to split up and meet again by the entrance two hours later. She suspected the young couple would rather be on their own, probably paying less attention to the art around them than to each other, and she wasn't keen on spoiling the outing for them. She was neither their chaperon nor in any position to judge them. Not when she knew from her own experience what a reckless infatuation could make people do.

Unless the man she had wanted to impress once though, Daisy was a sweet, honest girl without any bad intentions. She wouldn't use Andy with his cute habit of following her around for her own benefit or lead him on for selfish reasons. It was clear to see that the girl liked Andy the way he was, she wouldn't try to change him or ask him to give himself up so that she could love him.

Phyllis was not even halfway through the second exhibition hall when she stopped in her tracks, irritated by her own musings about the past. Why were her thoughts drifting back to that time, anyway? She hadn't spent a minute thinking of it in months, not since she decided on leaving it all behind her for good. Or rather, not since she had finally allowed herself to take her friendship with Joseph Molesley one step further.

Maybe it was London or maybe it was the unusually long amount of time she was away from home – away from the man she loved – that involuntarily brought back memories from another lifetime.

It was silly, really, to think of it all now, when she should have long gotten used to spending time in London whenever her Ladyship had business to attend to in the city. They had stayed overnight or even for a few days more times than she could count, so Phyllis guessed that it was truly more the prospect of four full weeks away from Joseph that made her so sentimental. The absence and long distance were already taking their toll on her – and she was only one and a half week in …

Faintly, she noticed someone bumping into her when a murmured 'sorry' reached her ears. No wonder, as she had been standing still in the middle of the hall for more than 5 minutes already. The way her gaze had drifted into nothingness must have come across as rather strange to any by-passers. It was a busy day at the museum as apparently other people had wanted to escape the hot sun in favor for the cool halls of the old building as well.

It was by no means crowded and yet, Phyllis suddenly felt like she was suffocating. The walls were no relief from the outside warmth anymore but steadily became more and more constricting to her mind and lungs. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, head spinning and making her dizzy. Joseph's face appeared before her, his eyes shining with typical enthusiasm from whenever he talked of things he was passionate about. Like always, the expression reminded her of a small child on Christmas. In her head, he was telling her about all the bits and pieces she should see, not leaving out a single piece of information about the items. Like a teacher, through and through, who never tired of history and art, his forte subjects. The memory was such a vivid one that Phyllis could almost get lost in it completely. That was until the moment became too intense for her to bear; everything about this place reminded her of Joseph, and of the painful fact that he wasn't there with her. Until at last, her only thought was to get out of there as soon as possible.

Once outside, Phyllis audibly sighed and slumped down on the stairs in an altogether unladylike manner. The warm air relaxed her lungs that had felt icy before. Slowly, her level of breath returned to a normal one.

'Get a grip on yourself', she thought to herself 'You're a grown up woman and not some lovesick adolescent'. How ironic that the last time she had been in love, she had indeed felt more like a foolish girl than anything else.

From the beginning on, she had never quite grasped what it was that Peter had seemingly seen in her – he had been tall and handsome and charming enough to turn the heads of most of the younger maids in the house on Ovington Square easily. Phyllis had never considered herself very pretty, but when he had come to sit with her one evening about a week into his work there and told her that she was special, she had believed him.

Of course, she had been nothing more than an opportunity for him, a way to get what he wanted.

Among the servants he hadn't been known to be very reliable or ambitious to climb the latter in service, soon he had built up a reputation that rather unnerved most of the other servants, they were annoyed by his constant talk about making a better life for himself one day. Not Phyllis though, she had hung onto his every word, thoroughly convinced that she would have a place in that better future, too. And for that, she would have done everything … no, had done everything; only to be betrayed and tossed aside in the end, left to despise herself for her foolishness.

In hindsight, she wondered how she could have fallen in love with that man in the first place when he had had none of the qualities she was looking for in a man. Peter had been selfish, self-assured and rather presumptuous towards those he thought beneath him. To say that Phyllis wasn't proud of having been a part of his nasty behavior was an understatement – even after all that time she felt disgusted at how he had treated their fellow workers.

flashback

The room was only dimly lit despite the bright summer day. No sunshine would ever find its way through the small basement windows of the servants' hall of Benton House. Not that Phyllis minded much; the summer in the big city was uncomfortably hot and stiffy and the cool radiating from the stone walls around her offered a comforting alternative.

It was early yet, maybe an hour before the upstairs tea would have to be served, when Phyllis was sitting at the small table close by the window, cleaning a set of Mrs. Benton's jewels. Peter was sitting across from her, entertaining her with stories about his previous job at one of the big theatres where he had been checking the tickets at the entrance. He always had a funny thing or two to say about the visitors or about the plays he and the other employees had been allowed to watch in secret from the back of the room. It was always interesting to hear about such a completely different world than hers and it kept her mind off the tedious daily routine tasks.

„I wish I could take you once", he smiled over the table, absentmindedly playing with one of the already polished rings, „But here, we barely ever get enough time off to go to the park on the other side of the street, let alone anywhere further."

Phyllis smiled back. They had put that little idea into their heads to be able to properly go out together, even if it was only for one time. Peter had mentioned it first a few weeks ago when he had jokingly told her he wanted to treat her to dinner in a restaurant. Of course, they had both known that such a thing wouldn't be possible but Peter had taken a habit of mentioning it from time to time and Phyllis enjoyed the bit of daydreaming.

He was right though, they rarely had time to themselves even inside the house. And then, there was also the old butler who was known to be rather traditional.

„They would never give us both an evening off to go to the theatre or such. If nothing else, Mr. Brown would make sure of that. And please, stop fidgeting with that ring, I've just cleaned it", Phyllis said, bending over the table to try and snatch the ring out of her companion's hold. She would be able to touch his hand for a moment and at the same time look innocent enough if someone were to come in. However, Peter managed to pull his hand away and out of reach, grinning mischievously. The pair went silent, him watching her casually and her getting back to work, occasionally sending a shy glance in his direction.

„Don't you ever get tempted?" he asked after a while, causing her to look up in surprise.

„Tempted? What do you mean?" Phyllis asked, blinking her eyes a few times.

„The rings, the pearls, everything … Don't you ever think that she's got so much she wouldn't even notice if something was missing?"

„What? No!" Phyllis replied in a high-raised voice, shocked by the insinuation, „Of course not."

„Relax", he tried to calm her down. It wouldn't do to catch anybody else's attention. Even though they were the only ones in the room one never knew who was just around the corner. „I just meant, one of these is probably worth more than we could ever spend on one evening. Isn't it unfair?"

„It's what we do. We should not forget our place but be grateful for what we got."

„For now. That doesn't mean I want to stay in this house forever", Peter objected. He had slouched quite a bit in his chair, obviously disheartened by the words that had brought him back down to earth.

„I know", Phyllis tried to reassure him, not looking up as she was busily scrubbing any strains from the silver earrings in her hand, „We'll find other jobs one day, and then we'll live in our own little place with no one to order us around."

„I wish there was a fast way out of it", he sighed in reply, finally letting go of the sparkly ring. For a moment he looked almost defeated until Phyllis heard someone moving behind her. The intruder was having quite an effect on Peter, for he sat up straight, alert, immediately.

„Oh, is it you two dreaming of a better life again?" the cook, Mrs. Morris commented in her typical sarcastic voice, not caring to hide her amusement. She was a slanky woman in her fifties who had been in the Benton household almost as long as Mr. Brown himself and who wasn't very popular among the younger members of staff as she tended to spoil the fun whenever there was some.

„At least, we're still having dreams. We all know that you will rot in this house", Peter spat, then got up and marched out of the room.

Phyllis looked after him for a moment and then turned towards Mrs. Morris, „I'm sorry, I'm sure he didn't mean it", she tried to apologize on his behalf.

„No, I'm sure he does", Mrs. Morris murmured in reply but Phyllis had already left to follow Peter. She caught up with him right by the stairs where he was leaning against the banister, casually smoking a cigarette.

„Why did you apologize to that one?", he asked in a dangerously low voice. With his free hand, he grabbed Phyllis's upper arm, pulling her closer towards him. Within minutes he had gone from that carefree, joking person to someone intimidating, unreasonably mean. Phyllis never knew quite what it was that made his mood change so easily from one moment to another; just that whenever it happened, she did best not to disagree with him. But she was also a naturally friendly person with a natural need of an agreeable environment which often conflicted with pleasing Peter.

„I was just trying to be friendly. There was no need to be rude."

„She was making fun of me. No one makes fun of me, do you understand that?" He replied, his voice full of disdain for the cook. When Phyllis nodded, her eyes never daring to meet his, he continued, „You don't need her, anyway. You don't need any friends here. You have me, that should be enough, don't you think?"

The meek nod he received in return apparently was enough for Peter to go and resume whatever he had to do. Only when the sound of his footsteps had faded, did Phyllis dare to touch the spot where he had grabbed her arm. It was hurting like hell, most likely to become a bruise soon. She was glad that she was alone in the dark, deserted hallway.