A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, etc., for the last chapter. As of the last chapter, this story has surpassed all my other stories in all the stats (chapters, words, reviews, favorites and alerts) that this site keeps. I want to thank everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and alerted here, and liked and reblogged on tumblr. Your support is greatly appreciated and it keeps me going, especially during those late nights when I'm trying to finish off a chapter to send to my betas or getting ready to post here. Thank you so much!
I want to especially thank my wonderful betas: Tripp3235, mswainwright and _livingfree (on Twitter). Without these wonderful people, who listen to me gripe and have the patience to slog through chapter after chapter despite their busy lives, the quality of every aspect of this story would be much poorer indeed! :)
Disclaimer: Not mine. All Downton Abbey characters belong to Julian Fellowes and ITV. I'm just playing with them.
Chapter 25
Soon after Tom settled into his desk at the office on Friday morning, Mr. Connolly came by to see him. Mr. Connolly's boisterous tones resonated ahead of him and Tom could hear him as he talked with one of the other columnists down the hall. When Tom heard Mr. Connolly say, "Thank you, Mr. O'Sullivan. Just make sure you have that column by Wednesday. I've got to see Mr. Branson now," he knew that he was next on Mr. Connolly's list.
"Good Morning, Mr. Branson," said Mr. Connolly as he stopped beside Tom's desk. Tom was perusing through the morning edition, just making notes by hand. He was still not used to using the typewriter yet for anything before his final copy.
"Good Morning, Mr. Connolly," said Tom as he rose to greet him.
"Sit down, my boy," Mr. Connolly sat on a clean corner of Tom's desk and waited for Tom to sit before continuing. "I have good news. There's already talk around town about your column this week. I heard it. Some of the reporters heard it. Even a few of the delivery boys heard it. People are excited by it and that's what I want to hear. It's an excellent sign for a first column. Good job."
"Thank you, sir."
"How is next week's coming along? What is it about?" asked Mr. Connolly.
"Next week's is on the efficacy of the Dáil Éireann, sir," said Tom, gathering his notes. "I wrote most of it already. I'm just reviewing the morning editions to see if there are any reports of when the next one is and what might be on the agenda. Did you want to see it before I submit it to the editors?"
"That's all right," said Mr. Connolly as he rose to stand. "I trust you've run the idea past the managing editor already?"
"I have, sir," said Tom. "He thought it was a fine topic."
"Keep up the good work then," Mr. Connolly walked down the hall to talk to another member of the staff.
That evening when Tom sat down with Sybil after finishing the dishes, she said excitedly as she handed him a letter, "I heard back on the nursing position at the clinic this morning. You won't believe what the clinic is about."
Wednesday, May 7, 1919
St. Mary's Hospital,
Dublin, Ireland
Dear Miss Crawley,
I received your application for the position of nurse at the new Langford Clinic The clinic is being built and run from an endowment given by the Duke of Langford for the treatment of women. Based on the description of your experiences during the war, I would be very interested in interviewing you for one of the positions on Wednesday, May 14th at ten o'clock in the morning at St. Mary's on the third floor. Please bring your nurse's apron and cap as there will be a practical portion of the interview. As well, please bring any letters of reference with you.
As you know, we will not be opened until September, but we have chosen to start seeking out applicants now in order for the successful ones to be able to attend a week-long training course at Trinity College in Dublin, the week of July 21st with an examination at the conclusion. As this course is a requirement for working at the Langford Clinic, you will be compensated for your attendance. If you are unable to attend the course after you have accepted our offer, your position will be forfeit. If you are unable to pass the examination, you will be given another opportunity to take the course in January and pass it then.
Please write to advise if you wish to continue the interview process. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Dr. S. Byrne.
Tom read the letter before looking at Sybil. "A clinic for women. Sounds like an opportunity tailored for you."
She looked up from her needlework before replying. "I was quite happily surprised by the revelation. I hope that it won't be too difficult to pass the examination. I have never taken one before."
"I'm sure that you'll do fine," said Tom with a smile. "You did fine on your training in York."
"York was different," said Sybil, returning to her needlework to avoid Tom's gaze. "It was a two-month course and there was no examination. This is a one-week course. Just as I'm getting to know the location and the people, I'll have to take the examination."
"Well, if an applicant is working currently, they may not be able to take more than a week off to go," said Tom. "They have to take that into consideration, but I'm sure you'll pass with flying colours."
"I suppose," said Sybil, laying down the piece of Cathleen's dress that she had just finished and looked up at Tom.
"If you think you need help, I'd be happy to help you study." Tom then took her hand in his to calm her.
"Would you?" asked Sybil. She gave his hand a loving squeeze before picking up the next piece that required work. As Tom could not see Sybil's dress before the wedding, Sybil spent most of her time when Tom was home working on Cathleen's, while Mrs. Branson and Cathleen worked on Sybil's in Mrs. Branson's room.
"What is a husband for if not to help?" asked Tom with a smile.
"I'd like that very much," said Sybil with a shy smile.
"Speaking of help," said Tom. "Is there any sewing I can help with? I don't like having idle hands while everyone else is busy."
"If you are so keen, I need to take out this line of stitches here," said Sybil, pulling out a set of fabric that had been sewn together from the pile beside her. "I sewed it wrong this morning on the machine and I don't like to take out stitches, so I have been leaving it to the last."
"Do you have the stork scissors?" asked Tom as he reached for the piece. "I'll take it out for you."
"Here," said Sybil, handing him the special scissors from the sewing box. "Thank you. Taking stitches out is my least favorite thing to do after darning."
While Tom started to carefully cut out the stitches in the seam, he asked, "Where is St. Mary's?"
"I understand from your mother that it is on the other side of town," said Sybil as she continued to work on her piece. "She said it used to be called Royal Victoria Hospital?"
"Oh, the Royal Vic," said Tom, squinting to see the white thread on white fabric.
"I'll have to take couple of buses to get there," said Sybil. "Perhaps you can show me the bus routes on Saturday when we're out looking at tables."
"We can do that," said Tom. "Will you be writing back to Dr. Byrne soon?"
"Tonight after you've gone, so it can be mailed tomorrow."
They continued to work on the pieces until it was too dark and Tom left to go back to Ciaran's.
On Saturday morning, Tom and Sybil headed out to look at five table and chair sets on which they had received replies from their inquiries off classified ads, some of which had other pieces such as a welsh dresser. The first and third ones were nowhere near the description given and had been taken from consideration by the time they left the premises. The second and fourth ones were possibilities but not quite what they had wanted. When they reached the fifth destination in the early afternoon, the woman, Mrs. Murphy, who answered the door of the flat was quite cordial.
She showed them in. "This is the set that I had advertised," pointing to the immaculate mahogany table, chair and welsh dresser set in the room. "It's not typical Irish furniture. My mother had brought it over from America when she married my father nearly fifty years ago, but now that she will be moving in with my sister, we need to sell it. It comes with eight chairs in total and has two other leaves that you can add to enlarge it."
"It's beautiful. If I may be so bold, why are you not keeping it in the family?" asked Sybil.
"Both my sister and I prefer oaken furniture," said Mrs. Murphy.
"As your mother is moving in with your sister, are there other pieces that you were looking to sell?" asked Tom on an inspirational whim.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," said Mrs. Murphy with a smile. "There's a small desk that also came with my mother from America made of the same type of wood as the dining set. If you would come this way, it's in the bedroom."
They followed Mrs. Murphy into the bedroom, before Tom asked the next question. "Is there a chair to go with the desk?"
"Yes, but it is not made of the same wood and not in as good a shape as the other pieces. We had considered taking it with us, but if you're interested, we can sell it." Once they were all in the bedroom, Mrs. Murphy pointed to an exquisite rolltop desk and the mismatched chair that had seen better days. "Here they are."
"How much are you asking for the desk and chair?" asked Sybil, examining the desk.
"Five quid."
"Could we have a moment to discuss things between us?" asked Tom, looking up at Mrs. Murphy.
Mrs. Murphy smiled. "Of course, I'll be in the other room."
After Mrs. Murphy left, Sybil said, "What do you think of both the desk and the dining set? I forgot this ad included a welsh dresser as well. I know that it's not oak, but my grandparents in America have mahogany furniture and Mama often talks about how beautiful and durable it is."
"I think they both look very nice," said Tom. "They've both been kept in pristine condition. Almost too nice for our humble abode."
"Do you think you could work on this beautiful desk?" asked Sybil, looking at him.
"Without a doubt," said Tom with a smile. "This is probably the nicest desk I have ever worked on. My desk at the office is rather old and beaten."
"The dining room set was listed at £25 but it sounds like she's not been able to get rid of it," said Sybil as she contemplated her offer. "Do you think it fair to ask for £25 for both if we offer her £12 now and the rest when we pick them up in a week?"
"I'd say quite equitable, but I presume you will start off lower and let her bring you up to this price?" said Tom, looking at the desk in more detail.
"You know me well," said Sybil with a smile. "Shall we?"
Tom nodded and followed Sybil back out into the main room.
"Mrs. Murphy, I was wondering if you would take £20 for both the dining set and the desk and chair?" asked Sybil.
"Not sure I could go that low, but how about £28 for the two?" suggested Mrs. Murphy.
"We'll offer you £25 and pay you twelve today as a deposit and the remainder when we come to pick them up?" reoffered Sybil.
"So long as you pick it up within the next ten days, I'll take your offer." Mrs. Murphy smiled as she felt she had gotten a better bargain.
"Excellent! We'll pick them up next Saturday" said Sybil, taking £12 out of her pocketbook and giving it to Mrs. Murphy. "Can you draw up the agreement between us and to indicate that we've given you a £12 deposit for the items?"
"Of course," said Mrs. Murphy as she took out a pen and paper from a drawer and started writing their agreement.
Tom and Sybil looked at one another and smiled. A few more pieces of furniture to fill their home. The rest can wait until after they were married.
After completing the business at Mrs. Murphy's, Tom and Sybil decided to visit a jewelry store in the neighbourhood. As they entered, the proprietor nodded to them as he was attending another couple.
They looked at the wedding bands and claddagh rings in the display case and Sybil saw a very pretty band of gold and silver that caught her eye that she pointed out to Tom. Though he liked the look of the ring, he wondered with the intricate inlay, how much it would cost. It wasn't that Tom didn't want to get the best ring for Sybil, but the last time they saw such a ring, it was three times what they budgeted for such an item.
Eventually, the other couple finished their purchases and the proprietor came to see them. "How may I help you?"
"We'd like to see a couple of rings," said Tom with a smile. "That one and that one."
"Of course," said the proprietor as he took out the pretty band that Sybil liked and a claddagh ring Tom liked. "This gold and silver one is a work of art as the band of silver is entwined with the gold to create this dazzling effect. This claddagh ring is beautiful, too, as my partner put such detail into the heart and the crown."
"How much are they?" asked Sybil.
The proprietor took down the ring numbers and then consulted a book. "This gold and silver beauty is £100 and this claddagh ring is £40."
Sybil blanched at the prices which were at least over twice the prices they saw in their neighbourhood for something similar. "Thank you for your time."
As they got on the streets, Tom asked, "What's the matter? Usually you're not that abrupt."
"Did you not hear the prices he quoted?" asked Sybil as she took Tom's arm.
"Yes," said Tom as he looked at her. "This is an Anglo neighbourhood. The prices are bound to be higher than in ours."
"At nearly three times the price?" asked Sybil, incredulous.
"The wages earned here are higher and hence the cost of goods is commensurate," said Tom. "Were you not aware of this?"
"It never occurred to me that they would be this widely disparate within a city," said Sybil. "I was aware that the cost of goods in London differed from Yorkshire, but I always figured it was due to the distance from London to Yorkshire. It never occurred to me that it would be so different depending in which part of the city it was purchased."
"Which is why we've been looking for goods mainly in our neighbourhood," said Tom. "It's one of the cheapest neighbourhoods to live in Dublin."
"Let's head back to your mother's then," said Sybil. "At least I won't be so shocked by the prices there."
After dinner, Tom headed out to O'Reilly's. He had agreed to meet the gang there for his night of carousing. When he arrived early, Joe was already there.
With his mug of brew, Tom sat down beside Joe. "Do you spend your Saturdays here now?"
"Hello Tom," said Joe. "I just wanted to be here before anyone else. Cathal can't make it. His missus isn't feeling well and the little ones are sick, so he's out. But Des and Gavin should both be here shortly."
"Too bad about Cathal," said Tom, taking a swig. "But it's understandable."
"So, how did the dinner go with Molly?" asked Joe. The entire gang knew Molly as they all went to the same school and Tom had confessed his worries about Sybil's reaction to Molly the last time they had gotten together.
"Much better than I imagined," said Tom. "Sybil was not only polite, but helped Molly sort out what her late husband died of."
"So what was it that he died of?" asked Joe. Joe had always been curious about the causes of death.
"Infection of the gut lining, I think," said Tom. "Sybil knows more about this than I do."
"What does Sybil know more of than you?" asked Gavin, who just arrived and sat down on the other side of Tom.
"What Iasan Hayes died of," said Joe, looking into his mug.
"How did the dinner with Molly go?" asked Gavin. He was a broadly built man with curly blond hair and blue eyes.
"I was just telling Joe that it went very well," said Tom, looking at Gavin who had a heavily bandaged right arm. "What happened to you?"
"Got burned at work because he wasn't careful," offered Joe. Gavin worked at a foundry that made rivets.
"I was careful," said Gavin. "It was the idiot manager's fault for letting Mike carry the molds when they were still hot. Mike wasn't watching where he was going and he brushed past me, hitting my arm. At least they're letting me work in the office until it clears up or Gael would have my head for losing my wage. Can't lift much more than a beer with this arm."
"Happy you can lift beer, though," said Tom with a smirk as he gave Gavin a clap on the back.
"Where's Des?" asked Gavin, looking around. "He's usually here before me."
"Not sure," said Joe, shrugging. "Told me when he left last night that he'd be here. I'm sure he will be here soon."
"What's the plan, Joe?" asked Gavin. "Are we going to check out the live peep show near the docks? Haven't been there since you folk took me out before my wedding three years ago."
"Yes, we are," said Joe with a huge grin. "We'll head there after dark when the show starts and then we're heading over to Murray Road to have more to drink. First, let me buy you some whiskey, Tom." Joe waved at Big Paddy. "Two whiskeys over here."
By the time they were ready to head out to the peep show, Tom was already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol his friends were buying him and in a pleasant mood. Des had shown up about a half hour ago with a black eye. When asked, he said he had walked into a door. As they got to the docks, the peep show was just about to start. Joe managed to get them a booth and soon Tom was whistling and hollering at the performers on stage with the rest of the patrons.
When they finally left the peep show after midnight, Tom found everything to be funny from all the alcohol that flowed in his veins and could barely stand up. Joe and Gavin decided that Tom had enough while Des was up for more drinking, so they went to one bar on Murray Road before taking Tom back to his mother's. They didn't know where Ciaran lived and Tom was too drunk to tell them. Des left them before they got on Moran Road when he and Tom got into a drunken argument over Tom marrying an Englishwoman and Tom insulted him by alluding that his wife gave him the black eye, so it was up to Joe and Gavin to get Tom home.
While Joe and Gavin helped Tom navigate the two flights of stairs up to Mrs. Branson's flat, Tom decided to burst out in song, off-key. With the dark hallway and Joe and Gavin being half drunk themselves, they couldn't figure out which key to use to open the flat door, so they knocked until they heard someone coming and then left Tom sitting against the front door still singing.
The whole flat was awakened by the loud banging on the front door and Mrs. Branson led the way with a candle while Sybil and Cathleen each held a broom and Connor followed behind with a hurley in case it was an intruder.
As they listened to the singing, Cathleen looked at Sybil and said, "It sounds like Tom singing."
"It does," said Sybil as she listened more carefully.
"Hush girls," said Mrs. Branson as they advanced toward the front door.
When they got there, Mrs. Branson handed Sybil the candle and unlocked the door while keeping the chain on. Tom's weight pushed the door to open as wide as the chain allowed and his arm fell through the crack.
"Hush Tom," said Mrs. Branson. "Before you wake up the rest of the building with your wailing." Mrs Branson was able to push Tom's arm back out the door, but she was unable to push the door closed with Tom's dead weight against it.
"Oh, hello Ma," said Tom, slurring his words in his inebriated state. "Don't you like my song?" He then giggled.
"No, I don't," said Mrs. Branson, not amused even in the slightest. Turning to the others, she said, "Help me push the door closed."
Sybil put the candle on the floor, away from the door, and leaned the broom she had been holding against the wall before getting in place to help push. Even with Sybil, Cathleen and Connor all pushing, there wasn't enough leverage to push the door closed. Meanwhile, Tom bursted into another round of boisterous song.
"Hush, Tom," hissed Mrs. Branson. "Do you hear me?"
"Yes, Ma," said Tom, who was slightly morose now that he didn't have an appreciative audience.
"Now sit up so that we can open the door and let you in."
"But the door is open," said Tom, confused. "I can see you."
"Sit up, Tom," said Mrs. Branson.
"Ma, can't you push the door closed and then undo the chain thing?" asked Tom.
"I can, if I can close this door!" said Mrs. Branson in a tone that normally would brook no opposition, but it didn't cut through Tom's inebriated state.
"Why can't you close it then?" asked Tom, still confused by his mother's inability to close the door.
Sybil looked at Mrs. Branson, who was quite angry at this juncture. "Let me try."
Mrs Branson nodded and moved out of the way for Sybil to talk to Tom.
"Tom, darling," said Sybil, who had trouble with the term of endearment. "Can you please sit up so we can close the door and let you in?"
"Hello, Sybil," said Tom. "You're so pretty. Can I give you a kiss?"
"Only if you sit up, so we can close the door," pleaded Sybil.
"All right," said Tom as he slowly sat up.
"Push," said Sybil and the four behind the door gave it a shove and it closed.
Mrs. Branson then took off the chain. "Please move out of the way in case he's leaning on the door again. I don't want any of you hurt by the door opening."
Sybil, Cathleen and Connor diligently moved out of the way. Connor picked up the candle and then Mrs. Branson opened the door. The door swung open quickly from Tom's weight and his head landed on Mrs. Branson's slippered foot which cushioned his fall.
"Hello, Ma," said Tom with a grin. "Why are you so tall?"
Mrs. Branson ignored him and moved her foot from under Tom's head and he fell the inch and a half onto the wood floor. "Girls, help me move him out of the doorway, and Connor, shut the door."
After they had gotten Tom out of the way, and the door closed and locked, Mrs. Branson said, "Connor, go light the candles in the kitchen and main area. Cathleen and Sybil, help me drag him to the sofa."
Once Tom was on the sofa and they could see him better, it looked as though Tom was only drunk. Mrs. Branson barked out another set of orders. "Cathleen, crack a couple of eggs in a glass, scramble them and add some of the water left in the kettle. It ought to absorb some of the alcohol to help keep the after effects of too much drink at bay. Connor, go get the blanket and the spare pillow from my closet. Sybil, do you think Aspirin will help with a headache?" Meanwhile Tom started babbling.
"It should. Why?" asked Sybil, who wasn't sure why Mrs. Branson was asking as she had not encountered drunkenness much before.
"With as much as he's had to drink, he'll get a walloping headache if we don't try to prevent it," said Mrs. Branson. "He's going to church in the morning regardless. Can you get the Aspirin from my room? It's on the dresser."
"Of course," said Sybil.
Mrs. Branson then took Tom's cap and shoes off and with Sybil's coaxing, they were able to get his jacket off and a pillow under his head. After covering Tom with a blanket, Mrs. Branson sat on the chair beside the sofa that Connor brought. "Take this tablet with this and drink it down."
"Why, Ma? I feel fine," said Tom with a giggle.
"Just drink it, Tom," said Mrs. Branson.
"I didn't get my kiss from Sybil yet," protested Tom.
Mrs. Branson looked over at Sybil. "Do you think you can manage him from here?"
"I think so," said Sybil with a nod.
"All right then," said Mrs. Branson as she handed the Aspirin and the glass to Sybil. As she got up, she said, "Just make sure you blow out all the candles before you go to bed. Cathleen, Connor, let's leave them and go to bed. We have Mass in the morning as well."
Sybil nodded, took the glass and the Aspirin from Mrs. Branson and sat down on the chair. Looking at Tom, she said, "Please take this Aspirin and drink this down."
"Only if I get a kiss now and a promise of a kiss after," said Tom as he grinned at her.
"Very well," said Sybil as she rolled her eyes and leaned down to give him a quick kiss. Sybil wrinkled her nose as Tom smelled and tasted of alcohol. "Will you now drink this?"
Tom nodded, took the Aspirin and drank down the whole glass before puckering up for his second kiss. Sybil took the empty glass from him, put it on the coffee table and leaned over for a second kiss. Tom held her down and gave her a slobbery, drunk kiss before letting her go.
"You're so very pretty!" said Tom with a sigh as he reached for her braid. Seeing her expression, he added, "Are you angry with me? I love you, Sybil."
"You are so very drunk," said Sybil, trying very hard to keep her tone neutral. "Get some sleep and we'll talk about this in the morning."
"Don't you love me?" asked Tom with a pout.
"I love you, Tom," said Sybil. "Now get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning."
"Goodnight, Sybil," said Tom, satisfied that he got what he wanted and rolled over.
"Goodnight," said Sybil. She then took the dirty glass and washed and dried it. After blowing out the candles in the kitchen, she left him a note about taking more aspirin if he had a headache in the morning before blowing out the remaining candles and heading back to bed.
A/N2: It would appear that Sybil has an interview with a women's clinic. Sounds like it's up her alley doesn't it? They also got a few more pieces of furniture at a decent price. So what do you think of drunk Tom? Did you expect any less after Joe promised a night of carousing? ;)
As always, please feel free to point out any typos and grammatical errors. Sometimes no matter how hard you or your betas look, these things get missed. As always, I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter good or bad, so please do review. :)