CHAPTER 23: THE ITCH
Early the next morning
The Servants' Hall
Bates arrived early on his first morning back to work and found Thomas sitting alone in the servants' hall. He knew that Thomas would be giving the newspaper a quick glance for anything that might affect the family. Thomas liked to be prepared.
When Bates stepped into the hall, Thomas leaned back in his chair and gave him the once-over. "Are you up to snuff, Mr Bates?"
"That I am, Mr Barrow."
Bates had walked to the village the day before when he was supposed to be resting and purchased a duplicate key to the cottage. Now he handed the duplicate to Thomas. "This is for you. It's to the cottage."
"In case of emergency?"
Bates lowered his voice. "No, little brother. Anna and I want you to know that you're always welcome in our home. Always."
Thomas turned over the key in his hand. He pulled one end of the double Albert chain from his waistcoat pocket, unclipped his pen knife, and replaced it with the key. "We should get on with it, don't you think, Mr Bates."
"I do, Mr Barrow."
Thomas stood, slipped on his coat, and headed for his pantry. He stopped and turned to Bates. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again.
Bates smiled. "You're welcome, Mr Barrow."
Thomas nodded, turned, and began his day.
That Friday
It was not long before Thomas had good use for the new key in his possession. During their morning meeting in the library, Lord Grantham asked Thomas if he had any use for the sofa and chairs in the drawing room. Lady Grantham was replacing them. "She says they're drab and impersonal. It seems only yesterday that she said they gave the room warmth and character!"
"We could use the chairs in the servants' hall, but with Your Lordship's permission, I'd like to give the sofa to Mr and Mrs Bates. They have some chairs, but a husband and wife should be able to sit side-by-side in the evening in their own home."
"Why, Barrow, you're a romantic! Certainly they may have the sofa."
Thomas wanted the sofa to be a surprise, and Lord Grantham gave his word not to spoil it.
Andy asked Mr Mason for the loan of the second-hand truck he had purchased recently. Andy and Mr Mason had spent one harrowing morning learning to drive the monstrosity by trial and error. Fortunately, Mr Branson got wind of it and gave them a lesson.
Thomas delivered an excessive number of shoes and other items needing repair to the boot room so that Bates and Anna would be detained there, and Baxter promised to keep an eye out in case they strayed. Thomas, Andy, and Billy, the hall boy, tied canvas around the sofa to keep it clean and loaded it onto the truck. The three of them drove merrily to the cottage where Thomas opened the door with his key.
"There's no room for it," declared Billy.
"Of course there is." Thomas had already planned where he was going to move the furniture, and the three of them executed his new arrangement with dispatch.
"It's smashing," observed Andy once the sofa was in place and unwrapped. "They're going to love it, Mr Barrow."
That night
When Bates and Anna arrived home with Timothy, they thought they had stepped into the wrong cottage.
"It's the sofa from the drawing room!" Anna gasped. "Lady Grantham is making some changes, but ... how did it get here?"
"How do you think?" Bates was delighted. He sat in the centre of the sofa and spread his arms across the back. "This is Thomas' doing!"
"Look, Timothy. It's the emperor on his peacock throne."
"It could be the emperor and the empress." Bates patted the cushion next to him.
Anna handed Timothy to Bates and sat gingerly. She stroked the sofa's fine fabric.
Bates sat Timothy on his lap and kissed his cheek. "The emperor, the empress, and the heir to the throne."
That Sunday
The Bates Cottage
Thomas and Bates walked to the cottage together to enjoy Sunday dinner with Anna and Timothy who were waiting there. At Anna's insistence, Thomas was arriving empty-handed, although he felt it was unfair that he not contribute something to the meal.
Anna was sitting on the sofa and draped herself with a shawl when the pair arrived. As always, Thomas ignored Anna's suitcase by the door. He knew why it was there and thought it unwise to comment. He walked straight to the cradle, but it was empty. He looked about the room, but there was no Timothy. "Where's the baby?"
Anna smiled. "He's under the shawl, silly."
"Are you playing a game?"
Bates laughed, hooked his arm around Thomas' neck, and pulled him to the door. "Let's go outside for a bit."
"Why?"
Bates pulled Thomas out the door. "Let's sit on the bench."
"Did I do something wrong?"
Bates laughed again. "No, little brother. Anna's nursing. We'll give her a little privacy."
Thomas felt foolish. How could he not have realized? Anna and Bates must have thought him an oaf. He followed Bates down the path to the bench.
Anna did not like the smell of smoke inside the cottage, so Thomas took advantage of the moment for a cigarette. He held out the pack to Bates, but Bates shook his head. Thomas lit up and leaned back on the bench. It was a crisp day, and the two men turned up their coat collars. The street was deserted. The other residents were inside their own homes readying for their Sunday dinners.
Bates glanced at Thomas, and his eyes settled on Thomas' left hand, which was relaxed on the bench next to him. Bates pick up Thomas' hand and examined the flesh-tone, fingerless glove that Thomas wore to hide his war wound. Thomas could see that Bates was only curious about his wound, but it felt as though they were holding hands. He glanced about quickly to be certain they were alone.
Bates peeled off the glove and examined the scar on the back of Thomas' hand. He traced the scar with his finger. "Does it hurt?"
Thomas shrugged. "Sometimes more than others. But my grip is poor, and I can't trust my fingers to do what I tell l them."
"How did it happen?"
Thomas had never told another soul that he had caused his own wound. It would be easy to tell Bates that he did not want to speak of it, and that would be enough for Bates. Why were the words sticking in his throat? Why had it become so damned important to him that he be honest with Bates no matter the consequences? "Were you ever in a trench, John?"
"No, the Boers used trenches in South Africa, not us."
"I couldn't take it, John. The shelling and the snipers, the overflowing latrines, the mud, trench foot, trench fever, lice, and rats as big as cats. We were surrounded by shallow graves. The rain would wash up the bodies, and the rats would have a feast. It had been more than two years since I enlisted, and I had to get out."
Bates nodded.
"I waited until dark and found a secluded spot. I held my lighter above the parapet to draw fire."
"You could have lost your hand, Thomas. You could have bled to death or ended up with gangrene."
"I know."
"You were a brave man, little brother."
Thomas was incredulous. "John, you don't think I was a coward?"
"What did I say? It isn't as though you did it on the first day, Thomas. You tried to do what was expected for as long as you could stand it. Then you did what you thought you had to do to survive." Bates turned over Thomas' hand and looked at the scar on the palm side. "When I think of what could have happened to you ..."
Thomas wondered at Bates' boundless empathy. It was easy to see why someone like Anna adored him.
Bates tugged Thomas' sleeve up to expose his wrist and touched that other scar. His voice hardened. "Does this one hurt?"
"No."
"Well, it should!"
Thomas knew that cutting his wrists was the one thing that Bates found difficult to forgive.
"I'm sorry, Thomas. I shouldn't have said that." Bates pulled the glove back onto Thomas' hand. "Anna doesn't need to see this."
Thomas crushed out his cigarette, and Bates stood and grabbed his cane. "I'm starving." He started up the path. "I'll peak inside and see if it's safe."
Thomas, Bates, and Anna enjoyed their dinner while Thomas held Timothy on his lap. Thomas did not know much about babies. The nannies kept too close a guard until the Abbey babies were able to toddle. He flooded Anna and Bates with questions.
"When will he sit up on his own?" "Soon." "When will he start laughing?" "Any time now." "When will he walk?" "Around his first birthday." "When will he say mummy and daddy?" "After he walks, I think." "When will he eat what we eat?" "When he has teeth." "When will that be?"
"Enough, little brother," Bates chided. "Timothy is our first baby. We don't have all the answers."
"Speak for yourself, Mr Bates," interrupted Anna. "I'm a mum now and have a great many answers."
Bates grinned. "Is that so, Mrs Bates? And I suppose you could teach me a thing or two."
"I suppose I could, Mr Bates." Anna stood to clear the dishes, but first she whispered something into Bates' ear that made him chuckle, and he kissed her twice.
Thomas felt a certain self-satisfaction when Anna and Bates behaved freely in front of him. They were a private couple, and he knew they would never be so open in the company of anyone else.
Bates moved to the sofa, where he took his place on the centre cushion and spread his arms along the back. "Thank you for this, Thomas."
Anna removed her apron. "I'll let the dishes soak. Now, Thomas, I expect you to pay for your meal with a Charleston lesson."
"I'm game if you are." Thomas handed Timothy to Bates.
While Thomas moved the chairs and the table out of the way, Timothy had a few things to say to Bates. He cooed and grabbed hold of Bates' hair. Bates gently pulled Timothy's hands away. "Careful, Timothy. I don't have enough to spare." Bates repositioned Timothy on his lap to give him a front-row seat for the proceedings.
"The Charleston's quick, Anna, but we'll slow it down."
"Right."
First, Thomas showed Anna the basic Charleston pattern. Anna managed that easily enough. Then he had Anna stand in place and twist her heels in and out. "Put your weight forward, Anna, on the balls of your feet." Anna followed Thomas' example. "That's it! Now we'll put it together." Thomas demonstrated the basic Charleston pattern while twisting his heels in and out with each step.
"What do I do with my arms?"
"Don't worry about your arms, Anna. Use them to keep your balance. Come on, give it a try." Thomas took Anna's hand. "We'll do it together, slowly." They began together with Anna fixed on Thomas' feet. "Look up, Anna. Now, you've got it! Let's speed up a bit." They danced a little faster and then faster still.
Bates held his hands in front of Timothy and clapped a rhythm. "You're doing it, Anna!"
Thomas paused. "Now, you're ready for the arms. You can swing your arms together or separately. Remember, you're a wild woman!"
"But not too wild, Anna," added Bates.
"No heckling, please," scolded Thomas as he removed his jacket. "You can do the Charleston either twisting your feet or kicking."
"Show me with the arms."
Thomas demonstrated, carefully angling himself to make room for his long legs to kick. "See, you can swing your arms to opposite sides or the same side or even straight up." Bates enjoyed watching Thomas dance. He was a graceful man. Bates had done his share of waltzing and two-stepping before he had been wounded, but he was a bear of a man. Thomas was a gazelle. And there was something else. Thomas let down his guard when he danced.
"Do what I do, Anna," instructed Thomas. Anna copied Thomas for as long as she could and then collapsed in laughter on the sofa."
"Nicely done, Anna. When you practice, imagine you're wearing a fringed dress." Immediately Thomas turned to Bates. "I said imagine, John. I didn't say she should wear a fringed dress." Bates nodded appreciatively.
Thomas returned his attention to Anna. "Watch. Here's the fringe." Thomas rested his hands on his hips and spread his fingers. "Snake hips." Thomas walked across the room, stepping forward first on his right foot as he rolled his right hip forward and then on his left foot as he rolled his left hip forward. His hips moved in a figure eight as he walked, and he swayed his fingers back and forth as though they were fringe.
Anna laughed. "Oh, I could never do that!"
"No, she couldn't," echoed Bates with mock sternness. "Show us something else, Thomas," he urged.
"One more. The itch."
Anna made a face. "Oh my. What can that be?"
Thomas began the Charleston and then he twitched and touched his head with one hand and his lower back with the other as though he had been bitten simultaneously by two mosquitoes. On the next beat, he twitched again and touched his shoulder and the opposite leg. On the next beat, he twitched and touched the back of his neck and Timothy's chin. Timothy laughed, and everyone froze.
"He laughed," exclaimed Bates.
"Do it again, Thomas," begged Anna.
Thomas twitched twice and on the third twitch touched Timothy on the nose. Again, Timothy laughed ... not a shy giggle, but a hearty laugh. Thomas continued, and each time he touched Timothy, he elicited a fresh squeal of joy.
At last, Bates took pity on Thomas. "Have a seat, little brother, or he'll keep you going all night. We have to head back to the Abbey soon anyway."
Thomas sat on the sofa and gazed at Timothy. "It's amazing, isn't it? One minute he's a baby, and the next minute he laughs, and he's a person!" Anna and Bates knew what he meant.
Thomas carried Timothy as the three adults strolled to the Abbey. Thomas had been so excited about Timothy's laughing that he forgot to check his hair after dancing. When he removed his hat at the Abbey, he was oblivious to his unkempt state until Mrs Hughes asked him if he had been caught in a typhoon.
"Why didn't you tell me, Mr Bates?" Thomas muttered.
Bates widened his eyes, innocently. "I like it that way, Mr Barrow. You're a wild man!"
