CHAPTER 8: MORE THAN A WEE BIT

The next day

The Abbey

"My mother always said I was an incorrigible show off," confessed Thomas when Anna thanked him for the previous night's entertainment.

"That may be, but you're good at it. Mr Bates and I were hoping you would join us for Sunday dinner."

"You're kind to invite me, Anna, but you must know that I have no way to reciprocate."

Anna laughed. "That's a relief, because Mr Bates and I have no way to sing and dance for you! But please don't think we're inviting you to entertain us," she added quickly.

Thomas looked down at the floor. "Why are you inviting me?" he asked quietly.

Anna was not prepared for that question. She thought for a moment. "It is odd, isn't it? We've never been friends," she answered honestly. "But Mr Bates and I would like to know you better before you leave Downton."

Thomas looked up. "It was rude of me to ask. I would be pleased to come to dinner on Sunday. May I bring anything?"

"Yourself is plenty."

"Anna ... I hope I didn't embarrass you when I asked about..."

"... my condition?" Anna smiled at Thomas' uncharacteristic shyness on the subject. She had always thought of Thomas as a man of hard edges, but at this moment, he radiated a guileless charm that she found adorable. "You may ask me anything you like about it. I'll do my best to answer."

Thomas had keen powers of observation which had proven to be invaluable when manipulating others. Now, he began putting his talent to better use. Whenever he encountered Anna during the course of a day, he observed and delivered exactly what she was needing ... a box from the top shelf ... a compliment on her change of hair style ... a barley sugar to tide her over until dinner ... admiration for her expert mending of Lady Mary's favourite hat.

"He's enchanted by your pregnancy," Bates told Anna. "He has a soft spot for children. It's the one chink in his armour."


Sunday

The Bates Cottage

A servant's life left little time for socializing. Sunday dinner at the Bates cottage was possible today because Lady Mary was still on her honeymoon, and Lord and Lady Grantham were attending a christening in Ripon.

Bates and Thomas walked to the cottage together. Bates was looking forward to a midday respite, but Thomas was anxious. Today was the day he would discuss making amends with Bates and Anna as his mother had instructed. He knew that confessing his misdeeds could very well end their friendship.

When they arrived, Anna abandoned her pots only long enough to greet them. Thomas presented her with a sack of Mackintosh's Toffee. "John said it's your favourite."

"She'd eat the whole sack right now if you weren't here and insist she were eating for two," Bates teased.

"Mr Bates, I suggest you behave yourself if you expect to be fed today," Anna scolded as she returned to her preparations.

Thomas was careful not to eat too much. He knew the leftovers would be Monday's supper. He asked Anna how she became such a good cook. It seemed that so many maids did not know the first thing about cooking.

Anna was flattered. "Mostly from my mother. And from my first job. I was a tweeny, so I worked a bit in the kitchen."

Thomas laughed. "My little sister was a tweeny at her first job, but she was a terrible cook!"

"Is that the girl in the photo in your room," asked Bates.

"Yes, her name was Florence, but we called her Flossie. She was beautiful, wasn't she?"

Bates laughed.

Thomas took offence. "You don't think so?"

"Oh, she was beautiful all right." Bates winked at Anna. "She's the spitting image of you, little brother!"

Thomas blushed. He knew he was a handsome man and would be the first to say it, but hearing Bates say it was another matter. It made his heart pound.

Thomas continued, "My mother tried to teach Flossie to cook, but she wasn't interested in domestic duties. She would follow me around, and the boys would tease me about my little shadow. I didn't care. I was proud of her. I taught her to play cricket. She was good at it, too. Good enough that the boys let her play with us." Thomas glowed with the memory.

They were done eating, and Thomas would have to report back to Carson soon. He could stall no longer. "I need to discuss something with you ... both of you."

Anna looked at Bates, and Bates nodded.

"Is this about your dream? The dream about your mother?" Anna asked.

"Yes." Thomas did not know that Bates had told her about it.

"May I speak first?"

"Of course, Anna." Thomas was confused. This was not how he had practiced it.

"First, John and I have one question. Is there anything you have done that could still cause us harm?"

Thomas thought carefully before answering. "No. I can't think of anything."

Anna smiled. "That's a relief. In that case, John and I have decided that we don't want to hear what you have to say."

"But Anna, I must make amends."

Bates smiled. "You'll make amends, little brother. We'll see to that."

Anna explained, "Thomas, we've learned to recognise your hand in things over the years. We could make a good guess as to what you have to tell us. But to give us details now ... we're afraid it would colour our opinion of you to no good purpose."

Thomas could not believe what he was hearing. They were letting him off the hook. They truly wanted to be his friends.

"How am I to make amends?" Thomas was willing to do almost anything.

"Thomas," Bates replied, "you'll have to be patient. We don't know yet." He patted Thomas' shoulder sympathetically. "Patience isn't really your strong suit, is it, little brother?"


A few days later

The Abbey

Thomas looked forward to spending the rest of the day alone with Bates. A couple of days earlier, Bates had purchased a second-hand cradle and asked Thomas to hide it from Anna in his room. The next day, he asked Thomas to hide sandpaper and shellac. Today, Anna would be occupied with last-minute errands before the return tomorrow of Lady Mary. She did not expect to be back at the cottage until late that night.

Today was Bates' half-day. He asked Carson if Thomas could take his half-day too. Carson did not see much point in arguing over the services of a suicidal under butler who would be employed elsewhere soon enough.

When Thomas completed his morning duties, he changed his clothes and slipped out with the cradle and supplies. In the cradle, he carried sandwiches that he had wangled from Mrs Patmore. By the time he arrived at the cottage, Bates had changed, and the two set straight to work refinishing the cradle. They hoped to complete three coats before Anna returned.

It was a hot day, and the two worked outside in their vests. First they sanded. When Bates was satisfied that the cradle was free of sawdust, he opened the can of shellac. Before he could dip a brush, Thomas stopped him. "You'll contaminate it."

Thomas' father had hired out the woodwork for most of his clocks, but he tackled some of the less intricate cases himself with young Thomas as his assistant. Thomas understood the process. He explained to Bates that they must pour a small amount of shellac into another container. Bates appropriated one of Anna's baking pans. Thomas poured only the required amount into the pan and showed Bates how to apply it in the direction of the grain. Bates admired Thomas' skill. Then the two men went inside to eat and escape the fumes.

Thomas was learning to push aside his attraction to Bates. He was beginning to appreciate the Bates that everyone else knew and respected. The steady, kind, contemplative Bates. Still, it annoyed Thomas at times that Bates had so much power over him, that the sound of his voice could still make his heart race. Thomas watched Bates set out their lunch. Bates had the start of a middle-age paunch, but he wore it with a confidence that Thomas found irresistible. Thomas had always kept himself fit and trim, not so much out of vanity but because he thought he did not have much to offer people other than his good looks.

Bates sat, selected a sandwich, and stretched out his long legs as was his habit at home. "Thomas, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Thomas smiled. "As long as I may withhold my answer."

Bates did not know quite how to ask. "I'm not trying to insult you, Thomas. This fellow, Valentino ... is he the sort of man you fancy?"

Thomas almost spat out his mouthful of sandwich. "Why would you ask me that?"

Bates shrugged.

"So you're asking me what is my ideal man?" Bates nodded. Thomas could see that Bates was not being unkind, only curious. "Let me ask you, John. Before you met Anna, would you have described your ideal woman as a tiny blonde maid who barely came to your shoulders? Do you think she would have described her ideal man as older, married, and lame?"

"You're right. I can't imagine what Anna saw in me."

"John, I didn't mean it like that, honestly. I only meant, what's the use of trying to decide what we want. Our hearts won't pay any attention."

"I know what you meant." Bates took a long drink of water. "Your heart doesn't play fair with you, does it?"

Thomas smiled, "No, it doesn't. I've given it quite a talking to, but it won't listen."

"I don't like to think of you being alone, little brother."

"Then don't think of it," Thomas answered simply.

The two finished lunch in silence, each absorbed in his own thoughts. After they cleared the table, Bates headed for the door. "Let's see if the first coat is ready to sand."

"No, John, we sand after the second coat."

Bates applied the second coat under Thomas' tutelage. Then he and Thomas returned indoors, ate what remained of their sandwiches, and napped in their chairs. When Thomas awoke, he turned to see Bates sleeping soundly, his head resting on the table, only a couple of feet away. He gazed at Bates, admiring the grey that was beginning to show at his temples and the appealing shape of his mouth. How easily Thomas could have reached out and touched him. He wisely resisted the urge. Instead, he stepped outside and examined their handiwork. He sanded the imperfections and applied the third coat.

When Bates awoke and inspected the finished cradle, he knew Anna would be pleased. He suggested they head to the Grantham Arms for a pint while the last coat dried. "I haven't been to a pub with a mate since my soldier days."


That evening

Grantham Arms

"A pint," Bates told the proprietor, "and a pint for my little brother," he added clapping his arm around Thomas' shoulders.

The proprietor observed Bates and Thomas as he served them. "I didn't know you two were brothers. Don't know how I missed it. You look so much alike."

Bates and Thomas laughed amiably. Bates drained his mug and asked for another. For every two or three mugs Bates downed, he offered a refill to Thomas. Thomas could not bring himself to refuse. Not when Bates had called him mate.

Thomas could not recall ever seeing Bates with a beer before that evening. Thomas, himself, had never been one to drink to excess. He preferred to remain in control of his senses. He tried to line his stomach by filling it with the pickled eggs on the counter, but the mix of eggs and alcohol did not sit well. He could not imagine what possessed Bates to overindulge, and he resented this unpleasant ending to his perfect day.


That night

Near the Bates Cottage

As they approached the cottage, Thomas fell against a large tree and held on. "I drank too much. I can't walk properly."

Bates observed Thomas and hypothesised, "I can't walk properly when I'm sober; therefore, I should be able to walk properly when I've been drinking." This theory made so much sense to Bates that he demonstrated it by tossing his cane onto the grass and strutting down the pathway. He took two steps before his bad leg gave way, and he fell flat on his back.

Bates lay on the path staring at the moon and began to sing. "My sweetheart's the man in the moon. I'm going to marry him soon." He sang as he rolled over onto his belly. "'Twould fill me with bliss just to give him one kiss, but I know that a dozen I never would miss." He sang as he struggled onto his feet, "I'll go up in a great big balloon, and see my sweetheart in the moon. Then behind some dark cloud, where no one is allowed..." He finished the song on his feet with his arms outstretched. "I'll make love to the man in the moon." He glanced about for his cane. "Little brother, where's my stick?"

Thomas released the tree and dropped to his hands and knees. He crawled to Bates' cane. "Here it is."

Bates held out his arm. "Would you be so kind?"

Thomas sat on the grass and held up the cane. After several attempts, he was able to hook it over Bates' extended arm.

Bates strolled to the cottage and unlocked the door. Thomas crawled after him. When he spotted the cradle, he forced himself to his feet and managed to carry Anna's gift into the cottage. Once inside, he lay the cradle and himself on the hard floor. "What time is it?"

Bates looked at the clock with unfocused eyes. "I have no idea."

Thomas rolled onto his back. "Can't you tell time?" he demanded impatiently.

Bates put his ear to the clock and listened. "How can I tell you the time when the clock won't tell me?" Bates thought he had made a profound observation. He retrieved writing paper and pencil and sat at the table to record it, but he could not remember what he had said that was so clever, and the pencil lead broke. "Drat!"

Thomas groaned and sat up. "I need water."

Bates brought Thomas the pitcher, sloshing water onto the floor. "It'll dry when the sun comes up," he assured Thomas.

Thomas accepted the pitcher and stared at it, not sure how to proceed. He lifted the vessel and poured water from the spout to his mouth. He gulped, coughed, and sputtered, gulped, coughed, and sputtered.

Bates sat in his usual chair, stretched out his legs, and contemplated his kingdom. "Thomas, there is nothing better for a man than a home, a job, and a pregnant wife," he proclaimed.

"No?"

Bates took pity on Thomas. "What a shame. If you were a real man, you could have all these things too."

Even in his inebriated state, Thomas was stung. He pushed himself to his feet and stood, swaying, in front of Bates. "I am a real man."

Bates smiled benevolently. "Of course you are, little brother. No one ever said you weren't."

"You said it." Thomas felt a familiar venom rising in his throat. "So, you have a pretty little wife who loves you. You haven't stopped talking about her all evening. Do you really think she loves taking care of an aging cripple?

Bates was confused. A moment ago he and Thomas were chums.

"So Anna's going to have a baby, and you haven't stopped talking about that either. What makes you think it's your baby?" Thomas hissed.

Bates stood, steadied himself, brought back his arm, and with all his weight, slapped Thomas' across the face knocking him to the floor.

Thomas lay on the floor stunned. He took hold of a chair to help himself to his feet. He stumbled to the corner where Bates' cane was propped against the wall. He grabbed the cane, turned and lurched toward Bates. He swung the cane handle down on the little cradle they had so lovingly refinished that afternoon. He swung the cane again and again, screaming, "NO!" with each thwack until the cane snapped in two.

Bates had never seen Thomas behave violently. Thomas' weapon of choice had always been his brain. Bates was trying to absorb what had happened when he felt Thomas' hands around his throat.

Bates and Thomas were the same height. Bates was heavier and more powerful, but Thomas was younger, had two good legs, and had consumed considerably less alcohol. Thomas pulled Bates off balance and pinned him to the floor. Bates saw the savage look in Thomas' eyes and felt Thomas' hands tighten around his throat. "Thomas! No!" He tried to throw Thomas off, but Thomas was seated on his chest, and he could not find any leverage. "Thomas! Stop!" he pleaded. Thomas' hands tightened, and Bates clawed at them. He tried to speak but had no air. His arms and legs flailed. Finally, his body went limp.

When Thomas realised that Bates had stopped struggling, he released his hold. He slid off Bates' chest and sat heavily on the floor. He turned to Bates. "You bastard!" Bates did not move, and Thomas was seized with the horror of what he had done. "John! No!" he cried as he grabbed hold of Bates' shirt and tried to shake him awake. "John, please! I'm sorry!" Thomas pressed his fingers to Bates' wrist and felt a pulse. "John, please, please wake up!" he begged as he slapped Bates' cheeks.

Bates moaned. His hand went to his throat as he winced.

"Thank god!" Thomas cried.

Bates opened his eyes to see Thomas' face. He gasped and pushed himself away from Thomas. "Get out! Get out of my house!"

At that moment, Anna opened the door and saw the two bedraggled men on her floor. "Oh my god! What happened here?"

Thomas looked down. "Anna, I..."

Bates interrupted. "My cane snapped, and I took a tumble."

Anna looked at the broken cane and saw the cradle, which had survived Thomas' beating. She could smell the fresh shellac. She thought the cradle was lovely but perhaps that moment was not the best time to express her admiration. She looked at Thomas. "And what happened to you?"

Thomas looked at Bates who said, "Thomas tried to help me up, but I pulled him down instead."

Anna looked from Thomas to Bates and back again to Thomas. "Well, shall we have a go at it together?"

Thomas stood with difficulty and kept his eyes to the ground. He and Anna helped Bates to his feet. "Mr Bates, have you been drinking?"

Bates answered quietly, "I may have had a wee bit."

"It appears that you have had considerably more than a wee bit, Mr Bates."

Thomas muttered that he had better leave. He stumbled out and closed the door behind him. He sat and leaned against the cottage wall. He pulled his legs in tight and wrapped his arms around them. He gazed up at the moon, and then he dropped his head to his knees and started to cry. "I ruined it, Mum. I ruined it."