In which Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes discuss the latest gossip, and Mary meets with Matthew.
"Good morning, Mr Carson," Mrs Hughes greeted as she came into the porter's lodge one morning, tugging off her scarf and coat and hanging them up behind her.
Mr Carson jerked slightly when she spoke, clearly pretending that he hadn't been nodding off at his desk. "Oh, good morning, Mrs Hughes," he said in his usual grumble. "I trust you slept well?"
"Very well, thank you, although not as well as you did, I dare say!" This earned her a patented Carson glare. "I'd better let you get home and rest – was it a particularly busy night?"
"The usual," said Mr Carson. "Thomas Barrow's friend – I forget his name – came to play in the chapel again. I must admit, it's most irregular, but I do enjoy having some more music about the place. Adds to the ambience."
"I think his name's Jimmy," Mrs Hughes supplied.
"Well, then, I shall call him James. He has seemed in a funny mood the last few days, as has Barrow; have you noticed anything?"
"Well, I'm sure you heard that he and Mary Grantham broke it off over the Christmas holidays?" said Mrs Hughes, with an air of conspiracy.
"Didn't everyone?"
"Well, I more than suspect that, somehow, Jimmy had something to do with it. Maybe not directly, and he may not know it, but he was almost certainly a contributing factor."
Mr Carson looked shocked at this revelation. "You mean… you think that perhaps he and Mary - "
"Not him and Mary," Mrs Hughes smiled knowingly. "Well, you'd better be off. Don't want you nodding off again!"
"Of course," said Mr Carson, standing up and adjusting his jacket. "Well, I will see you this evening, Mrs Hughes." And he left the office, still contemplating Mrs Hughes' words.
When Matthew went into the pub that evening, it didn't take him long to spot Mary, sitting at a small table in one corner and talking on her phone. She smiled when she spotted Matthew, waving her over as she finished her conversation.
"So, it's all set? All official? Oh, that's wonderful! I can't quite believe it; the future Mrs Bates! Well, of course; no, no, not at all – listen, darling, I have to go, but congratulations again and again and again! And I'll talk to you later about the cake, you absolutely must go to Daisy, no one makes them like she does. Nonsense, I'll pay. No, we won't worry about all of that now; you go and be with your fiancé. Alright? Yes. Bye!"
She hung up, slipping the phone into her pocket. "My friend Anna," she said in way of explanation. "She got engaged over the Christmas holidays, which all of us saw coming, but anyway. How are you?"
Ignoring the question, Matthew said, "So, your friend got engaged and you became single. What an eventful holiday."
"Yes, thank you for the reminder," Mary said wryly, giving him a piercing look over her drink so he knew that she was joking. "But I'm happy for Anna, truly; she deserves every happiness, and John gives her that. I'm not going to let my own personal life get in the way of that."
"But I have to say, you don't seem particularly cut up about it, and Thomas doesn't either. I think that if I'd broken up with you, I'd be absolutely devastated."
"If you'd broken up with me?" Mary raised an eyebrow. "A bit premature, perhaps?"
Matthew blushed. "I only meant that if I'd been in a relationship with someone for two years, it might take me more than a few days to go back to being friends; that's all."
"Of course. That's all."
"Do you always twist everything that everyone says?" Matthew said, exasperated.
"Only when it suits me. I told you, Thomas and I are fine; nothing to concern yourself with. It was actually quite a relief, to tell you the truth. We were both glad to go back to being friends. Easier all round."
"Whatever you say," Matthew sighed, resigned. "I can't help but feel, though, that there's more to all this than your telling me. Not that you're obliged to tell me, of course; it's your life and you don't have to tell anyone, least of all me. It just all feels a little… odd."
There was a long silence between them as Mary contemplated what to say. She went to speak a couple of times before thinking better of it, eventually finding the words that she needed.
"The thing is, Matthew," she said slowly, carefully placing each word, "The thing is that it's not just me. It's Thomas as well, and I – if there was anything odd about it, that would be between us. I hope you understand."
"Oh, no, of course," said Matthew hastily. "No, I understand, I – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."
"It's already forgotten," Mary smiled. "Now it's my turn to pry. We've only spoken about me, which is usually how I like it, but everyone likes a change now and again. How are you?"
"Can't we go back to talking about you?" Matthew winced. "In all honesty, things aren't – they aren't great at the moment. My mother is still very ill, she – she started her second dose of chemotherapy a few days ago, and she's all – all out of sorts. She keeps taking all these new experimental drugs," he laughed humourlessly. "That's her through and through; I think she feels that by being a test subject, at least she's doing something useful in her hospital bed."
"And you?" Mary asked. "How are you doing."
Matthew shrugged. "Alright, I suppose." He looked down at his hands, hiding the tears that were starting to gather in his eyes. "Can – can we talk about you some more, now? You do it so well, and it's a marvellous distraction," he said, laughing weakly.
"Gladly." They shared a smile before Mary continued. "Did I tell you – Edith has joined the university newspaper in Cambridge, but from the way she talks you'd think she'd invented the concept! Every day I get drowned in messages where she's telling me about how well her article was received, or the merits of an advice column, or how wonderful the editor is. She sent me a copy of a rather pointed article about how Oriental Studies 'wasn't a real subject'. Where she gets it from, I don't know."
Matthew looked as if he might have had his suspicions, but didn't say anything.
"All I hear every time we talk – not by choice, you understand, but my parents insist on group calls – it's all 'Laura this', and 'Laura that'. I wouldn't be surprised if we had a happy announcement through the post any day soon. Happy for Edith, anyway; I wouldn't wish her on anyone, least of all this poor Laura."
"Surely Edith can't be quite as bad as you say she is? I find it hard to believe that she's quite that awful."
"Judge for yourself." Mary smiled at Matthew's confused expression. "The race, week after next. She's competing in the women's team for Cambridge."
"And you're competing in the women's team for Oxford," Matthew said, realisation dawning. "Well, that will be a race to remember!"
"Certainly." She had a certain look on her face which hinted to Matthew that perhaps he should make a note to never cross her.
Mary shook her hair out slightly, as if to rid herself of any thought of Edith. "I almost dread to ask the question, but how are your politics coming along?"
"Oh, that," Matthew laughed, nervously. "I… I may have a slight confession on that note."
"Oh, really?" Mary looked intrigued at the prospect. "Do tell!"
Matthew cleared his throat. "I – well, I think I might have mislead you as to quite how involved I am in university politics. I have a membership, and I go along occasionally so I know most people there, but… well, it's never felt like much more than a duty."
Mary's face lit up with the new information; whether it was the facts themselves or simply the fact that she was now in possession of them, Matthew couldn't tell. "Really? So you're not a socialist after all, then?"
"No, I wouldn't quite go that far." If anything, he seemed relieved that she'd caught on so quickly. "I would certainly describe myself as more left-wing, but I'm not particularly active in political circles. At least not to the extent of people like Tom Branson, anyway."
"Amen to that," Mary said, lifting her glass as if in toast, and they laughed as they drank to it. "So, the first time we met…"
Matthew shrugged. "I'll be honest; you're really quite amusing when you're all riled up. And - " he went a brilliant red, and his voice lowered to an embarrassed mumble, "You – you looked nice, and I wanted a reason to talk to you."
For once, Mary was speechless. She gaped a few times, searching frantically for words but none came to mind. Eventually she managed to force out, "Oh."
They sat in loaded silence for a few, very long minutes, neither knowing what to say.
"So - " Mary stammered out. "So, when you invited me to talk about politics with you - "
"Yes," Matthew whispered, somehow managing to blush even harder.
"But - "
"I know, you were with Thomas and I shouldn't but I – I couldn't bear the thought of just… letting you go."
"So now, you want to - "
Matthew said very frankly, "I – I don't know." He cleared his throat, looking as if he was hating every word that came out of his mouth. "I mean – well, I want to, of course – although only if you want to – but you and Thomas have just broken up, and… well, I really have enough going on at the moment, I think. Not that – I don't want you to feel - "
"I understand."
"I – good, well – um – I'm sorry. For… for all of this."
Before she could decide against it, Mary reached across the small table and took his hand. "Don't be."
She cleared her throat, taking her hand back under the pretence of smoothing out her skirt. "We will just have to be the most marvellous of friends; that's all there is to it."
Matthew smiled despite himself. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you're right. It's – it's all a funny business, isn't it?"
"You can say that again!" Making a show of glancing at her watch, Mary stood up sharply. "Well, I – I really must be off. But it – it was lovely – really, um, very lovely – to talk to you. We, we must do this again sometime. And I'll – I'll see you at the race, if I don't see you before then." She looked doubtful for a moment. "You will be at the race, won't you?"
Matthew tried his best to smile. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
And he was so busy gazing into his own pint of beer, wondering if there really was something wonderful at the bottom of the glass, that he didn't notice Mary hastily wiping her eyes as she left.
I hope you enjoyed!
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