Chapter 2

Robert didn't remember waking up, but the next thing he knew he was staring into the warm eyes of a fiery, glowing, childlike spirit. It resembled a young girl in a white nightdress, with long blond hair and no shoes. She seemed so petite that the slightest breath of wind could overthrow her.

Robert took a deep breath. "You must be the first spirit."

Her voice was soft and gentle. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"Past?"

"Yes. Your past."

Without another word, the spirit reached out and joined hands with a reluctant Robert. She led him to the wide open window, the curtains flapping so lightly in the gentle night air. Snowflakes fell silently in onto the window sill.

It soon became very apparent what was expected of him. "Ghost, I cannot fly! I'm just a man!"

"Then you have little faith in mankind. Men have accomplished far greater things than flying," murmured the placid phantom. With that, they rose together and shot right out the bedroom window. The estate grounds and the surrounding fields passed beneath them in a blur. Freezing snowflakes blasted into Robert's mouth and against his face, giving him no choice but to close and protect his fearful eyes. He had to be dreaming.

When at last they seemed to slow, and the blasting became tolerable, he awoke into a word very different to the one he stood in moments ago.

"Spirit, why have you brought me here?"

They stood outside what seemed to be an abandoned school in the countryside. There were no children running about, or class bells tolling. It was almost eerie.

"This is your old school. Come inside, there's someone we should see."

Wave after wave of nostalgia rushed over Robert as he treaded the familiar floorboards. It had been nearly 50 years.

Inside a dark, dreary classroom sat a young boy with his back away from them.

"Is this boy trespassing? Hello? Boy!" shouted Robert, trying to catch the solitary child's attention.

"He can't hear you," the youthful ghost said softly. "We are invisible to the people in the past."

Robert rushed to the end of the classroom, eager to see more of this mysterious child. He stood just a foot in front of the reading child, and gaped at what he discovered.

"It's me! It's me as a boy!"

The spirit nodded, pleased with Roberts self-discovery. "Yes – this is Master Robert Crawley, aged 12 and a half."

Robert leaned in close to the boy, peering at his youthful face. He had changed drastically over the years, but the eyes remained the same.

When he spoke Robert's voice was somewhat apprehensive, as though he feared the ghost's answer. "Why is he all alone here?"

"You were often here alone during the holidays. Your family were far to busy to bring you home to Downton for Christmas."

"But…" Robert seemed almost childlike, "But I was their eldest! I was just a boy!"

The young Robert, oblivious to the figures standing just in front of him, turned the page of his novel.

Suddenly, causing all three of them to turn around, the door swung open and in tottered a beautiful woman, clad elegantly.

Both young and old Robert said the word at the same time. "Mother!"

The boy ran forwards and embraced his mother, before he remembered himself and stood back politely. The Dowager Countess, who was always one for airs and graces, seemed to forget herself too, and pulled her beloved child back into her arms.

"Mother, I missed you so much," young Robert whispered, tears threatening in the corners of his eyes.

"You and I both, Robert," she said warmly, rubbing his back. She suddenly straightened up, fearful a random passerby might witness her unladylike display of emotions. "Now hurry along and get your things. Then we can get out of this ghastly place."

Older Robert, with tear filled eyes, noticed the scene suddenly start to fizzle out. The specter reached his hand and led him on through the darkness.

oOoOo

At the end of the tunnel of blackness, they found themselves in a strange climate – humid for nighttime, yet still a sharp crispness in the air. Robert had experienced such a climate only once before.

"The Boer War? You must be joking!"

The childlike spirit ignored his comment and continued on, where the lights of a camp could be seen ahead.

Robert remembered the particular Christmas he was reliving. They had spent the day drinking and smoking, and had a game of football around the camp. The next day they would be back fighting again.

He and the Ghost of Christmas Past made their way towards a small campfire, where a group of soldiers sat together, some having a smoke to pass the time. Robert as a younger man sat in their midst.

"I'd love to be tucking into a nice Christmas dinner tonight," noted a clean shaven officer to his left.

That was met by large approval and hearty laughs.

An older man across the fire grinned. "Our cook used to make enough turkey and ham for a kingdom."

"Well, there's no such thing as too much turkey and ham."

A short, young looking man spoke up for the first time. "Thinking of home…it makes you think, doesn't it?"

The others just stared, waiting for him to continue.

"You know, about this war. We're doing the right thing aren't we? The reason we're out here is for our loved ones at home."

A big, burly man clapped him on the back. "Too right, son! We're doing this for England!"

Older Robert moved closer as he noticed his younger counterpart begin to speak.

"I'm sorry, but has no one else thought of the expenses? I heard that this bloody war will have cost Britain hundreds of millions of pounds!"

His comrades stared at him blankly for a few moments, and then continued talking among themselves.

Older Robert found himself looking down at his feet, mumbling awkwardly to himself. "I suppose I never was one of the popular ones…"

"Perhaps always a little too interested in finances," suggested the spirit.

Robert shook his head, brow furrowed. "Bah! Money makes this world spin!"

Without warning, the Earth really did start to spin, and he found himself being pulled into a tornado and whisked through the sky.

oOoOo

They plunked down into a new world, this one more familiar than the ones before. Looking around from the armchair he had landed in, Robert recognized his drawing room. The curtains were drawn open, which was a rarity these days.

A slightly younger Robert sat at his desk, writing a letter, as usual. It was a cold Christmas, but not a white one.

Robert's wife Cora appeared in the doorway, and the older Robert almost doubled over in shock.

"You find it surprising to find your wife in her own home?" asked the ghost.

"Ex-wife," corrected Robert, "And yes, I do. I had almost…almost forgotten all about her."

"Robert," said Cora, attempting to draw his attention away from the desk for more than a second.

"Hmm?" he grunted.

"Robert, its Christmas! You've been in here all day!"

He still didn't look up. Perhaps if he had, he would have noticed she was wearing her traveling cloak.

"Can we discuss this over dinner, Cora? I'm very busy."

"What happened to you, Robert? What happened to that boy I knew?"

"I don't know, ask Carson."

"Listen to me Robert!"

"Cora, as I've said –"

"– Yes, I know you're busy! Too busy to notice my existence, let alone the girls! Too busy to spend Christmas with your family! Yet somehow, you have enough time to dally with a housemaid!"

This time Robert did look up, and he saw everything. He saw the pain on her face, the years of frustration etched into her skin. He saw the dulled eyes, which had been disappointed too many times. Then he saw the cloak.

"Cora…what are you –"

"– I'm leaving, Robert. And I'm taking the girls with me. Take your money, take your maid, have it all! Because you never were one for sharing were you?"

He watched from the front door as she and the three little girls loaded into the car. With one small wave from his youngest and a slamming door, they were removed from his life forever.

With that he turned back inside and continued to write his letter.

The older Robert stood, letting tears fall freely. "Remove me from this place, spirit. I can't bare it."

"As you wish."

Robert landed with a thump on his bed. The room was still a mess, but he was home, and that's all he cared about. Lying back, he let sleep wash him away.