CHAPTER 1: AFTER

Summer 1925

Thomas Barrow's Room

"NO!" Thomas Barrow roared as he awoke from the depths, but his tongue was thick and his rage stuck in his throat.

"I'm almost finished," assured Dr Richard Clarkson.

Thomas ordered his arms to take hold of Dr Clarkson and heave the intruder into the wall, but his limbs were defiant. His mind stumbled. Had Dr Clarkson come to watch him sleep? It was daylight. Why was he freezing? Was it winter? He tried to focus his mind, but each thought faded into nothingness before he could seize it. Something about a warm bath ... something about never waking up ... "NO!" choked Thomas as panic seized him. "I WON'T WAKE UP!"

"Did you say something?" asked Dr Clarkson, rolling down his sleeves.

There was something Thomas was supposed to say ... something urgent ... something his mum had told him ... no, not his mum ... she had been gone for years ... yet he had seen her ... he was certain he had seen her ... her warm smile ... her laughing eyes. Had he been dreaming? He remembered red water ... red water ... and there she was ... a lovely glimmer with hair that flowed to her waist. Was it Mum? There no pompadour, no shirtwaist.

Bates. The apparition had spoken and said something about Bates. Bates and Anna. Perhaps if he saw them, perhaps then he would remember. "Bates and Anna. Bates and Anna," Thomas pleaded.

"Yes, we know," replied Dr Clarkson evenly. "You've been asking for them. Baxter went to find them as soon as we understood that you weren't asking for a banana." He slipped into his coat. "Barrow, you've suffered a considerable loss of blood. You must remain in bed, drink as much tea as you can manage, and eat everything Mrs Hughes brings you. She's speaking to Mrs Patmore now." The doctor continued in his matter-of-fact way, "I'm not going to report your error in judgment to the police, but I can't untie you until I'm confident that you're sensible."

Untie me? Thomas looked at his arms and saw that they were tied to the bed frame and that his wrists were bandaged. The red water ... he remembered now ... a warm bath makes the blood flow ... he had read it in a detective story. How could they have found him? He had chosen the time so carefully. He was never supposed to wake up. WHY WAS HE AWAKE?

Elsie Hughes bustled in the door carrying a tray and set it on the bedside table. "It's a relief to see your eyes open, Mr Barrow. Here's an elixir from Mrs Patmore to revive you. Doesn't it smell delicious?"

Thomas could not bring himself to look at Mrs Hughes. She must think him an abysmal coward.

The Servants' Hall

John Bates could not believe what Phyllis Baxter was saying. "What could Barrow possibly want with us?" he thundered. Baxter fell back as though she had been slapped. Embarrassed by his outburst, Bates composed himself. "I apologize for raising my voice, Miss Baxter."

Baxter knew that Bates was not a callous man. "I don't know what he wants with you. I know he's harmed you in the past, but everything's worked out for you, hasn't it? What does Mr Barrow have now? Nothing."

Bates settled his gaze on Anna Bates, who sat quietly at his side. He rested his hands protectively on her shoulders. "My wife is expectant. You can't ask me to subject her to more of such an appalling act ... and by a man like Barrow."

Baxter knelt next to Anna and made her case, "I've known Thomas Barrow since he was a boy. His sister and I were close friends. His father couldn't accept what Thomas was, and he couldn't change it. He came to loathe the boy and humiliated him at every turn. Thomas was thirteen when his mother died, and he ran away. He's trained himself never to let down his guard. He's an isolated man. He has no friends and now the threat of no job and no home. It's too much for him."

Baxter stood and appealed again to Bates, "He's never belonged. He's been trying to turn things around. You know he has." Bates hesitated. He had witnessed Thomas's recent attempts at friendship, but he had been stubborn and held tight his grudges against the man.

Anna stood and took Bates's arm. "You know we're going, Mr Bates. Let's not keep him waiting any longer."

Thomas Barrow's Room

"Here are Bates and Anna to see you, just as you asked," Mrs Hughes announced cheerfully.

Anna tried to match Mrs Hughes's breezy tone, "I hope you're feeling better, Mr Barrow. Is there anything you need?"

Thomas stared, unable to unscramble his thoughts. He knew he wanted them there, needed them there, but he could not remember why. What had mum said ... what had she told him to say?

Bates approached Thomas intending to make some casual remark, but when he saw Thomas's colourless face, he was shocked. For a moment, it seemed Dr Clarkson had bandaged the wrists of a dead man. When he saw that Thomas had been tied to his bed, he was filled with shame. Bates had chosen to be cruel to this man who had been trying desperately to change his ways. Deliberately cruel. A behaviour he arrogantly decried when he spied it in others.

Anna gave Bates a reproachful glance. He knew she was waiting for him to say something, but pleasantries were not going to suffice. Thomas would soon make another attempt to end his misery. Bates was certain of it. Someone needed to make a connection with the man, but how? Thomas lived apart, encased in a shell of his own making ... a shell that hardened with every syllable he uttered, with every phony, self-satisfied smirk. The shell had to be cracked, but Bates was not the man to do it. No, he was not the man for the job.

Thomas stared at Bates who was towering over his bed. "My mum ... I'm supposed to ask you ... I can't remember!" A tear slid down Thomas's cheek and dissolved the last of Bates's resolve.

Bates handed his cane to Anna and sat on the bed. He wiped Thomas's tears with his handkerchief and smoothed the man's mussed hair away from his eyes. He leaned forward to speak privately into Thomas's ear. He was shaken by the iciness of Thomas's skin ... skin so cold it was almost blue. Bates let go of his shock and spoke with an easy calm, "Everything's going to work out, son, I promise. When you're strong, we'll have a long talk. For now, we're going to take care of you, and you're going to let us. There's no cause for you to worry."

Bates untied Thomas's right arm, and Dr Clarkson immediately untied his left. It was Bates's nature to set things right, and others generally followed suit. "He's shivering," Bates remarked casually so as not to upset Thomas.

Dr Clarkson was unconcerned. "That's to be expected. He'll warm up with some hot soup and tea. Be careful that he doesn't burn himself."

Bates stood and looked at the others, who were staring at him agape. "Would you please help Mr Barrow to sit. I believe he'd care for some soup." Leaning against the bed for support, he removed his coat and handed it to Anna.

Mrs Hughes and Baxter flanked the narrow bed and scooped Thomas into a sitting position. Bates leaned the pillow against the iron headboard and slid himself between the pillow and Thomas. He eased Thomas back against his own chest.

While Anna tested the temperature of the soup, Bates pulled up the blanket around Thomas's shoulders, carefully slipping the bandaged wrists underneath. Then he reached his arms over the blanket and held Thomas close. "I'll warm you."

Thomas, still shivering but cognizant enough to be deeply embarrassed, blurted, "You're treating me like an infant!" He glanced up, expecting to see a ring of annoyed faces but was disappointed.

Mrs Hughes smiled. "I'm glad you're getting back a bit of your own, Mr Barrow."

Dr Clarkson headed for the door with Mrs Hughes. "I'll explain to Carson that Barrow mustn't be left alone. Perhaps Mrs Crawley could take a turn. She does love to be of assistance," he remarked wryly. "I'll check back tonight."

It was Baxter's half-day, but she excused herself to start on Anna's duties. "Anna should stay off her feet when she can."

Anna offered a spoonful of soup to Thomas. Thomas had always counted himself lucky to live in a house with a cook as capable as Mrs Patmore, even if he never said so. He closed his eyes and savoured the hot mouthful. He was certain that he had never eaten anything as comforting as Mrs Patmore's bone marrow soup. It was flavourful and rich, and when he swallowed, it soothed his parched throat and warmed him from the inside. Thomas sighed and surrendered to Bates's warm chest and arms. He could not remember when he had felt this comfortable. He made short work of the soup. "A taste of heaven," he murmured.

"You should know," Bates chided gently, but only he understood his little joke.

Anna smiled. "Mrs Patmore will be pleased to hear such a fine compliment."

Thomas was startled. Had he said it aloud? Something was not right. Bates and Anna were not his friends. He had no friends, merely people who were not yet his enemies.

Why were Bates and Anna behaving this way? Why had he needed to see them? He wanted to remember ... but he was so comfortable ... he only wanted to close his eyes and sleep.

Was Bates trying to make a fool of him? Was Bates going to mock him later in front of the entire staff? Thomas tried to break free from Bates's hold but barely had the strength to lift his head. "I am not a baby! I won't have the likes of you pity me," he snarled. "Release me, Mr Bates!"

Bates was alarmed. Already, Thomas was slipping back into that confounded shell of his. If only he could make one crack. One little crack. He had to shock Thomas ... knock him off balance. Bates held Thomas tightly. "You're my baby until you're strong enough to sit up on your own. Accept it." With that, Bates planted an audible kiss on Thomas's cheek.

The tiniest bit of colour crept up Thomas's pale face and over his ears. What was happening? Had he died? Was this Hell? Was Bates his personal Satan?

Anna was stunned. Was she sitting with not one, but two, madmen? She knew her husband well, but who was this lunatic? She looked at poor Thomas. Gone was disdain. In its place was utter bewilderment.

"You must drink some tea," commanded Bates. "Anna, please bring Mr Barrow a cup of tea, not too hot."

Anna stirred the tea a bit to cool it before holding the cup to Thomas's lips. Thomas drank the tea obediently without comment.

Bates slid from behind his patient. "You're not shivering now. Help me, Anna. I think Mr Barrow needs to rest a bit." With Anna's help, he lowered Thomas to the pillow and tucked the blanket securely about him. Satisfied that Thomas was as comfortable as could be expected, he sat on the edge of the bed.

Thomas wanted them to go. Leave me alone. Leave me in peace. Get out! the voice inside his head screamed.

Mrs Isobel Crawley burst in the door accompanied by Mrs Hughes, who was carrying a fresh tray of tea and biscuits. "I'll take charge now. You're to go and have your lunch," she instructed as she began to rearrange Thomas's sparse furniture into a more efficient sick room. "Mrs Hughes, if you could locate a few extra pillows and sheets and as many towels as you can spare, that would be helpful."

"I'll see what I can do, milady." Mrs Hughes set down the tray and hurried out but not before advising Bates and Anna to get their food while the getting was good. Bates stood and started for the door.

"Don't go!" Thomas did not mean to say it, he did not know why he said it, but he said it all the same, and he said it once more for good measure. "Don't go!"

Bates turned back and smiled. "I'll be back in a bit," he promised as Anna helped him with his coat. "I believe Mr Barrow would feel more comfortable with another man in the room, Mrs Crawley. I'll come back after lunch to see what help I can offer." He gave Thomas a wink, and he and Anna were out the door.

With the door shut behind them, Bates leaned against it heavily and sighed. "I refused to see his desperation, Anna. I too busy being smug."

Anna gave his hand a squeeze. "You're doing what you can now. That's what matters. Let's eat, John. I'm starving!"

Bates hurried to keep pace with his pregnant wife.