Chaos
"Mum, are you out here?" Riordan called.
Sybil straightened from pulling weeds between the flowers on the bomb shelter and called, "I'm here."
She came around the unsightly lump of earth to see Riordan standing just outside the door with a young dark haired woman.
"Hello, darling," she said kissing her son's cheek. "We weren't expecting you till later."
"We caught an earlier train. Mum this is Janine."
"How do you do?" Sybil said. "Riordan has told us quite a bit about you in his letters."
"I'm quite well, Mrs. Branson, thank you," she replied. Her cultured accent rivaled Sybil's own.
"Let's go in," Sybil directed. "I'm afraid I don't have any tea. Blackberry tea is all I have."
"It will do," Riordan replied.
"Your father won't be home for a few hours yet."
"You certainly have a lovely home, Mrs. Branson."
"Thank you, Janine. It's somewhat too large for just the two of us at the moment. It's been in my family for four generations now."
Riordan had written that he wanted them to meet his girlfriend Janine. She was the grandchild of an Earl, the same as himself. He had met her while she was studying at Oxford. He was bringing her with him for a week visit to London in early July 1940.
"I have something to tell you, Mum," Riordan began. "I wanted to tell you first."
"Something you think your father won't like?"
"You know how he feels about the military."
Sybil nodded her head in reply as she took a sip of her blackberry tea. They were seated in the library with Riordan leaning against his father's desk.
"I'm going to interview with the Judge Advocate General's office this week. Uncle Evelyn arranged it. I'm returning to school early. I'll study through until Chirstmas. If everything goes well, I'll take the bar then and receive my commission in January."
"You've thought this through?" Sybil asked slowly.
"I have. I want to serve my country. This is the best I can do to satisfy my own and Da's wishes. I'll be assigned to London if everything works out."
"Then I support your decision," Sybil replied.
"I've made a few other decisions as well," Riordan said with a sigh. "Janine and I are engaged."
"Oh, congratulations," Sybil replied. "When did this all come about?"
"Last month when she graduated," Riordan said smiling at Janine. Janine was looking at him and beaming. "There's something else." Riordan paused. "I've decided to leave the Catholic faith and become a Protestant. As it stands I am Evelyn's heir and a future peer. It will make things easier with Janine's family too."
Sybil had converted years previously in private to overcome the obstacles with her children's baptisms. She understood only two well the difficulty of walking with one foot in two different worlds.
"I understand only too well, Riordan. I have never been fussy about faith. I converted to keep peace. I can't begrudge you doing the same. I will support you when you tell your father."
They visited for a time until Sybil went down to prepare the evening meal. She asked Riordan to remove the dust covers from the furniture in the dining room.
"I think we'll have a proper family meal to celebrate your engagement," Sybil said.
That evening over dinner Riordan told his father of his decisions. Tom had started to protest until Sybil reminded him of the decisions she herself had to make in the early part of their life together.
"They were our decisions Tom. They were the right ones for us. Riordan needs to make his as well," Sybil told him quietly laying her hand over his.
"Your mother is right as always," Tom said taking Sybil's hand in his. "You've obviously thought this through. You do what you think is best."
That summer Jay came home and asked if he could have the use of one of the family cars. He was part of a group of engineering students that had been asked to work on a project in a remote part of Scotland. He and the three other students would be given extra fuel rations by the war department. It would make things easier if they had their own automobile. He was not at liberty to discuss what they were working on.
"You'll keep it in good order?" his father questioned as he handed him the keys to the family car. The other car was a sportster Tom and Sybil had purchased back in the 20's. Tom had chosen top quality cars and obsessively kept them in top running order. Jay had spent many hours in the garage with his father tinkering with the two automobiles. He knowledge of engines rivaled Tom's own.
"Of course, Da," Jay said flashing him a smile so like his own.
"You won't let anyone else drive it?"
"Oh Da, stop worrying."
"You won't get any ideas about joining the military like your brother will you?" Tom asked suddenly. When they were young Jay always followed his brother's lead.
"No, the work I'm involved with now is a lot more important. I can't talk about it. I'm glad now you talked me out of joining up last year, though."
"You're a bit like your mother, stubborn to a fault when you get an idea in your head. Just don't let it push you down the wrong path."
"That's the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"
"Just a bit," Tom replied with a chuckle.
In early September Tom developed a case of indigestion that just wouldn't go away.
"It must be the rations," Tom said. "I have the worst case of heart burn." He was rubbing his chest against the pain.
"Did you take a stomach powder?" Sybil asked him.
"I did. It helped a bit. It was hurting yesterday too."
"Go and rest for a bit," Sybil said. "I'll finish the washing up."
Sybil was just hanging up the tea towels when the first wail of the air raid sirens could be heard. She ran to get one of the boxes of supplies that were still sitting in the dining area. Tom came out of the bedroom, grabbed the other box, threw their gas masks on top of the pile and headed out the door to the shelter behind Sybil.
"Oh, the cat," Sybil said. She ran back to the house to get the cat.
"Sybil leave the damn cat," Tom called after her.
He ran after her to find her heading back out with the cat under one arm and a jug of milk in her hand. By the time they were in the shelter they could hear the sounds of the anti-aircraft shells bursting in the air. They had just switched on a flashlight and started to unpack one of the boxes when there was a loud banging on the door to the shelter. Tom opened the door a crack to see the family from next door with their two children huddled by the entrance.
"We didn't know where to go," the grandfather said. He was a retired Lord who had his daughter and two grandchildren staying with him while her husband was serving in France.
A few minutes later there was another knock and two women from down the street with an infant showed up as well. The racket in the shelter was deafening. The children were crying, the baby wailing and all of the adults were talking at once. Buttons let out a loud screech when someone stepped on his tail.
"Stop!" Tom said holding up his hands. "Lord Blackwell, you and your family sit on the bed. Everyone else find somewhere to sit while we get organized."
Everyone shuffled around in the tight space until they were seated. Tom was on the old kitchen chair, the three women were squashed together on the bench and Lord Blackwell and his family were on the bed. The children were still whimpering but things were slowly settling down.
"Now my wife and I were just looking through the supplies. We'll finish doing that and then we can get settled a bit," Tom said. He had no idea how they were going to manage with six adults and three children squashed in a shelter meant for six people, but they were here now so they had to make the best of it.
"Are there any cuts or scraps?" Sybil asked the group when she pulled the first aid kit out of the box. Everyone shook their heads no. She found some tin cups and poured a small cup of milk for each of the children to help calm them down. Once she got the box emptied she put the cat in the box and put him under the bed to stop him from getting stepped on further. She had to bite the insides of her lips to keep them from trembling. The sounds of the flack exploding in the air and the faint sounds of louder explosions that could only be exploding bombs could be heard in the distance.
She handed two of the blankets from the boxes to the group on the bed. Then made a bed of rolled up blankets on the table for the baby. It was cool in the shelter as it was underground so she distributed blankets to the rest.
"We brought the children back to London this summer from my Aunt's," Lady Grace, Lord Blackwell's daughter commented. "It's been quiet. We didn't see the need for them to stay in the country."
"I fear there will be many others in the same situation," Sybil said. "Are you feeling alright Tom?"
Tom was rubbing his chest and wincing slightly.
"Just indigestion. A little too much excitement, I think."
It turned out the other two women had husbands serving together in the navy. They were living together to cut expenses. It wasn't long and the baby fell asleep in its nest of blankets.
"She's sleeping," Sybil said when she looked at the infant. "Perhaps the children should try and do the same.
It was five hours before the all clear sounded and everyone headed back to their homes. Sybil let the cat out of the box before she caught up to Tom. When they got inside she noticed he was sweating and gasping for breath slightly. By the time she got him undressed and into bed she knew it was more than indigestion. She made a few telephone calls until she found one of the surgeons she worked with who was not on duty at the hospital who could come over. Their regular family doctor was busy with the current crisis as were the other three doctors she had called.
After he examined Tom, he asked Sybil to speak with him in the kitchen.
"How long has been complaining of chest pains?"
"Almost a week now," Sybil replied. "We thought it was indigestion."
"He's experiencing angina. His heart rate is irregular and there is a pronounced fluctuation on one of the valves. You would only notice it if you knew exactly what to listen for. My diagnosis is that he's having a mild heart attack. The only treatment is complete bed rest for the next six months, oxygen if the symptoms worsen and sedation. I have some sedatives with me I can leave with you. I'll write out a note for his employer. Your husband is seriously ill. He shouldn't be working."
Sybil slowly sank into a chair in the kitchen. She was shocked that she hadn't realized the situation was a serious as it was. Little was known about heart attacks, except that they were almost always fatal.
"You don't think he's going to die, do you?" Sybil asked the doctor. They had worked together long enough she trusted him to give her the truth.
"No, I don't think the episode is severe enough to be fatal," he replied. "Even if he is feeling well enough in a few days to be up and about, I would caution against over exertion or the next episode will most likely have dire consequences."
The doctor wrote out the letter for Tom's employer and a prescription for more sedatives.
"Good luck, Nurse Branson," he said before he left.
"Good night. Thank you for coming," Sybil replied as she closed the door and leaned against it. She sighed. What was she to do? She felt an overwhelming desire to run home to Downton and cry on her mother's shoulder. She pushed herself away from the door and squared her shoulders.
"We're going home to Downton," she said aloud to the empty hallway, "and Tom is going to get better."