AN: Apologies for the long absence, in regards to everything, not just this fic! Have moved country for the year and currently have no internet at home. Last year I had internet, just no laptop! Anyway, this is a little October treat for anyone who is still reading my work!
Enjoy
"Aunt Mary?" the little girl interrupted, just as Mary began to read from George's favourite story book. "I don't really like fairy-tales. Can you tell me a real story?"
"A real story?" Mary questioned. Sybbie was older than her own son by just enough that her niece's questions often surprised her.
"Yes. My favourite is the one where Mammy snuck out of the house to tell Da about Uncle Matthew and William when they got hurt in the war, but then she got locked out and had to spend the night with Da. He doesn't like that story though. He says he worried the whole time that someone would knock on the door and find Mammy there. Da prefers stories about Mammy learning to bake. He drank seven cups of tea one morning, just to stay in the kitchen while she was there." Sybbie took the blank look on her aunt's face for a lack of ideas, so continued. "You could tell me the one where you called Uncle Matthew a sea monster." She blinked her blue eyes expectantly.
Mary's head was buzzing. What had Tom been thinking, to fill his daughter's head with such tales! She couldn't think of her poor sister yet, but today she was faced with her childhood likeness, telling her things that she didn't even know about Sybil.
"Umm, yes, okay. Well, I didn't like the fact that Matthew would inherit Downton Abbey."
"And you didn't even want to have dinner with him!" The little girl added excitedly.
"No, I didn't. So at dinner I told the story of Andromeda and the sea monster, to test him I suppose."
"But he knew the story so it was very awkward."
"Yes." Mary laughed. "It was. And I found your uncle very good looking, which made me hate him even more, to start with."
Sybbie giggled. "Mammy says the Crawley girls have always liked blonde men!" Suddenly her demeanour changed. "I miss Mammy. She says she can't come here in case George sees her and is scared."
"Are you ladies still up talking?" Matthew asked, casually leaning in the doorway. Sybbie sat up straight.
"I'm not a lady. I'm good Irish working class stock." She said proudly. "Or that's what granny Branson says. I don't really know what it means." Mary got up and left the room.
"It means you are a very special girl. Night night Sybbie."
"Good night, Uncle Matthew."
~X~
Mary tried to wipe the tears away before her husband saw that she was crying. As usual she wasn't able to hide from Matthew.
"What is it?" He asked gently.
"Sybbie was talking about her mother. Tom seems to have been telling her all sorts of stories."
"Oh Mary. The girl needs some stories of Sybil. It wouldn't be fair otherwise."
"I know darling. It's just difficult. Especially since she looks so like Sybil!" Mary sighed, and changed the subject. "How's George?"
"He was asleep before you even took the book." Matthew reassured his wife, as she left her dressing table and climbed into bed beside him. She was still thinking about what Sybbie had said.
"Tom couldn't possibly have known about the first dinner you had with us!" She exclaimed after a while.
"What?" Matthew mumbled.
"Sybbie asked about the Perseus and Andromeda story. Branson wasn't even our chauffeur back then."
"Maybe Sybil told him. Or maybe Edith told Sybbie. Go to sleep Mary."
Possible. But the thing for blondes? That had been a private joke between her and Sybil when Sybil was still in single digits. And the little girl said 'Mammy said' no, 'says'. Could Sybbie really communicate with her mother?
'Mary, you're being ridiculous', she told herself. Sybbie probably had imaginary conversations with her mother. Mary blushed. She'd been rescued by enough imaginary (blonde) princes at the same age! It was only natural for the little girl to try and compensate for the loss, and coincidental that she'd said something that Sybil had actually said. Mary decided to have a word with Tom when he was back from London, and settled down against the pillows.
~X~
"Da!" Sybbie rushed past Mary to greet her father.
"Hello darlin'" he smiled at her lovingly. "Thank you Mary for keeping an eye on her, and I'll have a word about the stories."
"Good evening Tom. See you tomorrow for dinner."
"How was it?" Tom asked his daughter once the door was closed. She wrinkled her nose.
"They're not as fun as Aunt Edith."
Tom laughed. "And Mary says you were telling stories about Mammy?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. She was telling me such boring stories that I… Oh!" Her eyes were wide as she realised her mistake. "Mammy's our secret." She whispered to her father.
"Because?" Her mother's voice joined in.
"Because Aunt Mary doesn't know we're still a family!" Tom and Sybil looked at each other, their hearts melting and going out to the little girl bouncing along between them.
~X~
#FLASHBACK
Tom was sitting on the nursery floor. Sybil had gone to London on 'haunting matters' as she called them and Sybbie was in a bad mood. He was surrounded by animal figures in an attempt to get Sybbie to talk. It wasn't going well. She'd tried eating the horse, but didn't have any further interest.
"You're as stubborn as your Mammy." He told her, and started putting the figures back in the box.
Her eyes suddenly went wide, her tiny hand outstretched. "Mmm." Tom spun back round. "Mmammee." He stood there, staring at her. Isobel had said speech was often spontaneous.
"Tom. Tom, she can see me." It was somehow beyond a whisper. It was eerie, but Tom turned round again. His wife was standing in the doorway, directly in the line of the toddler's fingers. He looked at them both, the women in his life and a grin spread over his face.
"Her first word!" He picked Sybbie up and took her over to where Sybil was standing, now with an equal smile across her pale features.
"Oh Tom. We're a family again!"
~X~
Sybbie was happily telling her mother how stupid her cousin was and all the things she'd got up to with Uncle Matthew, but her little hand tightened her grip on Tom's. She'd adapted brilliantly to having a ghost for a mother. True, she didn't know any different, but Tom had seen the hurt in her eyes whenever Mary hugged George to her. They'd had a heart to heart one night, and he'd told her how much he missed real Sybil too, and being able to hug her. But they were lucky.
"I thought you would have to grow up not knowing her, and at least you don't have to do that. You'll just have to hug me twice instead!" He'd joked. Sybil wasn't there. He figured she was giving them the moment, but was probably listening. And afterwards Sybbie did hug him just that little bit longer.
"Da! You're not even listening!" his daughter told him off with a slight pout.
"Sorry darlin'. What did you say?"
"Can we go to the park?"
"Providing we don't stay too long. Mrs Hughes will be…"
"Race you!" The little girl ran off. "But not Mammy. She cheats!" She called over her shoulder.
Tom smiled, watching Sybil laughing, as her daughter ran towards her, and not for the first time thanked God for allowing Sybil to come back to him. For letting them be a family.
