Touches
Hey guys!
To sweeten your start into a new week, have some Thommy.
Enjoy.
Chapter 7
The last few days have been rather busy for me. Not really unusual. But the fact which is rather special is that I'm not bothered by it in the least. Maybe the day has come and I'm finally growing up. Well let's see how long it'll last. For the next week some guest are going to stay at the Abbey, some Count of something. Didn't really concentrate on all the details.
And as always old Carson is in uproar and because of him everyone else needs to be as well. Servants are scurrying in every direction trying to straighten the house for Whatshisname. With all the chaos going on and the effort being made one could easily think that the family's living in a barn and they are about to welcome the King coming to visit. But nooo, this house is a huge household where it's ALWAYS clean. Sometimes I really don't understand the expectations of people.
As I'm just crossing paths with Anna hurrying around me I see her laden with linens and as I am in a good mood I actually offer to help her. A doubtful look is crossing her eyes as if I want to make fun of her.
Wow, I'm not THAT lazy, am I? - That she actually freezes in scepticism the one time I'm actively trying to be nice?
I'm looking at her expectantly, hoping to get an answer rather today than in a few weeks. I incline my head a little to spur her on, making her snap out of her…state.
Of course, she accepts. And because of this I find myself weighed down with about twenty-five sheets or even a dozen more. They are rather heavy and I try to make my way cautiously down the stairs. The problem is that I'm only able to see white in every direction I look as the linens are effectively obscuring my vision.
One step at a time, I make my way down, scolding myself for never having counted the stairs. But I'm not that pedantic, even if it would have been helpful in this situation.
I hope no one sees me doing this.
I really wonder how Anna does it? I mean, she's a woman and not as strong or good oriented as I. As I reach the last landing before being downstairs I take a deep breath again and try to motivate myself – nearly got it, Jimmy-Jam. And it's hard not to let these motivating thoughts be bullied by some meaner ones, telling me: That's exactly what you get when you're doing more than necessary and try to be nice.
My brooding is interrupted by the teasing voice of Thomas.
"Whoa, wait a second, where do these sheets want to go with you James? Are they trying to abduct you? If so don't be afraid of them. Just stump two times with your foot on the ground if you need help and I'll save you."
I can nearly see the grin plastered on his face but as I'm not one to turn away a good joke I do just as he's asked – stomping my foot on the board of one of the steps. His feet are resonating on the stairs coming towards me, I try to go forward but somehow the fabric of my trousers catches on a nail or something similar. It makes me lose my balance and I take a tumble down the stairs.
On instinct I try to turn around – why I can't say in retrospective.
The next thing I remember is lying on the ground of the stairs. I'm afraid to open my eyes, pinching the lids together in fear of any injury I might have sustained. After some moments I realise that sadly I can't keep doing this – avoiding reality. So I softly open my eyes and just as carefully try to move my toes, every one of my fingers, and just as I'm about to continue my inventory on my legs Alfred comes out of the servants' hall. His eyes are landing on my pitiful figure and he freezes. "Do you need help?" He manages slowly.
"Just hold your breath and go away" come the scathing words from…under me. Oh my goodness I fell ONTO Thomas. I can't believe it and in this second would love to seep into the ground from shame - never to be found again.
As this thought flits through my brain I realize that while thinking about it I still didn't move an inch. And with this I scramble to my feet, suddenly not caring anymore of aggravating any possible injury I might have sustained.
My blue eyes dart over Thomas' form, looking for any way I'd be able to help him. Not finding any, I'm just standing there uneasily. "I'm soooo sorry, Thomas. Did I hurt you? Do you need help? Do you need a doctor? Should I call Carson?" I ask him in fast succession.
He looks irritated. "First it would be helpful if you'd drop those sheets and help me up."
And only just in this moment I realize that in all the surprise of the tumble down the stairs I didn't let go of these damn linens. I feel a searing heat creeping up my neck taking possession of my ears and cheeks. I drop the sheets without a thought and hurry to grab Mr Barrow's hand to hoist him up.
He stands shakily and rubs his hand over the back of his head, bringing it back in front of his eyes as if to see if he's bleeding. Out of instinct and without accepting any objection from him, I grab his shoulders and spin him around, slightly standing on my tip-toes I let my hands card through the black pomaded strands of his hair to feel for any wound. There's a small bump forming just over his neck, but being the careful person I am, I examine the rest of his head as well. Better to be safe than sorry.
He coughs lightly to get my attention again.
Grabbing my arm with his gloved hand and he's actively stirring me away from his hair. "You know, that I'M the one with a medical training, don't you?" He asks seriously and I see that he seems to struggle with his composure somehow. I wonder why…
Well he HURT his head because of me, might be reason enough, Jimmy-Jam.
I still can't seem to stop touching him, brushing off the front of his livery which got dusty from the floors – well apparently it isn't as clean as I thought. But again he ends my actions, this time by taking a step back.
My mouth is dry as if I've just swallowed a sheep and I can't make my mind work in forming an apology for my clumsy behaviour – once again.
"I…I…I..." and this is all I've got. "Did you fall on your head or was it me?" Thomas retorts dryly. Not that this is helping my speech in any way which might have gotten lost between my worry for him and him brushing me off. I hope it's still lying on the ground somewhere where I'll be able to find it later on.
I look at him, my eyes wide open. My lips quivering but no noise's coming out. Speechless. I think that's got to count as a first for me.
But eventually I see a slight grin forming on his face and Thomas is actually taking pity on me. Letting me off the hook. "Come on, grab those sheets and let's get ourselves sorted out."
He steers me into the servants' hall, it feels like he's poking a finger into my back but I may be wrong.
Thomas indicates to me to just leave the linens on the table and sit. And this I do. I sit at the end of the table which is the place closest to where we're standing at the moment. I try to observe every feature of his face and notice some kind of realisation flitter over his expression, his face falling a little. The careful mask he's normally wearing has been absent for the whole time.
Thomas takes a chair and puts it closer to mine. Now he's doing it. Letting his gaze fly over me as if trying to detect something. He takes a deep breath and begins to speak, he looks uneasy.
"Are you okay?" His voice is so soft that I nearly don't hear it. "Did you hurt yourself falling down the stairs?" He inquires some more. I'm still not able to answer, letting one of my hands graze my thigh as a way to raise some kind of composure. Is he going to sack me? The thought alone hurts my head, and the fact that he'd be the one doing so would be even worse, somehow.
His eyes follow my hand and a slight redness covers his cheeks. Even though my brain is short circuiting me at the moment I try to analyse him. He seems…embarrassed? Does he have inappropriate thoughts in a situation like this? Is that the only way for me to stay on? I ask myself and feel dread filling my tummy.
My eyebrows shoot up the second he reaches out to touch my hand and carefully lets his thumb stroke over the knuckles of my fingers. I try not to flinch to make my emotions obvious but the instant this thought crosses my mind I notice that it's not necessary to wince. The impulse just…doesn't appear. He reaches out again and takes my other hand which is lying on the seat beside me.
Apparently I scraped my hands on the grounds and they are bleeding.
Didn't even notice that in the scare of me having injured Thomas.
Silently he lays my hands down again and leaves the room, I don't follow him with my gaze but hear his steps moving away. Just seconds later he strides back in with his hands full. He doesn't say a word and just shows me that it's necessary to clean the wound. Sensibly he starts dabbing the blood away with some cotton he required, making me cringe as soon as the alcohol comes into contact with the rawness of my skin.
Next he appears to put some ointment onto them until he finally wraps them with some gauze, doing the same with my other hand. When the gauze is tucked in tightly around my right hand I see him hesitate lightly. As if some kind of battle is going on inside him. I tilt my head a little trying to understand what's going on inside him. Short of turmoil his gloved hand comes together in a tight fist- him using that much force that I anticipate to hear the cracking of his knuckles. The sound never comes.
Instead the rough skin of his thumb tenderly – where did this word come from? – strokes over my fingers one last time until he lets it drop suddenly as if scalded. He stands up just as soon and mumbles something about him informing Mr Carson that I should only do light duties for the rest of the day and disappears.
Blinking repeatedly I feel like some kind of bubble just burst around me and launched me back to reality. Still feeling lightheaded and as if my head was padded in gauze – not my hands – I make my way up to my room for a nap. Maybe that will make me right again.
Meanwhile, the sheets lay forgotten on the table of the servants' hall.
This evening, because after waking up from my nap, it already is evening, I feel a little more comfortable again and more like me.
I still don't want to contemplate what Thomas must think of me now after I've been so clumsy the last weeks – him being the person in the spotlight along with me. I only hope that I didn't hurt him seriously in the process. Thinking about the bump on his head covered by soft hair again and the way he flexed the fingers of his injured hand after the cricket match.
I change back into my livery and make my way down the hall, and down the stairs in direction of the servants' hall. Somehow I can't help but realize that I'm taking these steps more carefully than normally. As I'm about to enter our dinner room where a loud buzzing of voices can already be heard I feel a sensation like dread settling into my being. I hope I'm not in for too much of trouble for having neglected my duties after my fall.
I take my seat at the table coming to sit beside Alfred. Quickly I'm able to note that my fear was not needed as Alfred begins a one-sided conversation with me about the "fabulous" – his word, not mine – chocolate mousse Mrs Patmore made this evening for upstairs. And I've never been so happy before to hear him drone on endlessly about cooking.
Apparently Thomas spoke to grumpy Carson and like this spared me a punishment for my foolishness. Thanks for that, dear Thomas, my savior once again.
Just as Ivy and Daisy come in to serve our dinner Alfred suddenly changes the direction of our talk to our half-days. "Would it be possible for you to change your half-day with me? It's my dad's birthday and I'd really enjoy visiting if you don't mind swapping. Yours will be only a day later" he tries to persuade me. Normally, I'd make a sarcastic comment asking how he could ask me something like this just two days before said birthday. But somehow I'm not in the mood to be grumpy or mean to him – maybe I DID hurt my head – and like this I tell him that I didn't make any plans yet and couldn't care less. And yes, that I wouldn't mind taking his day off instead. A huge grin covers his face and for a second I hope dearly that he doesn't try to hug me out of elation.
Meanwhile Ivy must have paid attention to our words as she concludes that we share our half-days, and asks me in front of everyone if I'd like to go to the cinema with her. And again, normally I'd have just said no, not caring about her feelings or everyone around us noticing. But I'm still feeling generous and decide to spare her the embarrassment. She beams at me and dreamily leaves the hall.
I guess this will be the week of me doing something good.
I let my eyes trail along the table to note if anyone might like to comment on my ordeal but everyone's immersed into their own conversations. The only negative reaction to this occurrence seemingly being my own. Well and apparently Thomas' as well as he quickly averts his eyes the moment mine settle on him. Nonetheless I'm able to notice a small sorrowful look crossing his features.
Well good work once again, Jimmy-Jam, I remind myself.
I guess I can't make everyone happy today, my knuckles suddenly throbbing again as if in remembrance of a touch.
