CHAPTER 30: THOMAS BARROW'S HOLIDAY
One week later
The Library
"Are you aware that you haven't said anything, Bates?" asked Lady Mary. She could not recall the last time Bates had asked her for a private word, if ever, and she knew the topic must be of importance to him. Yet the man had stood before her in silence for what seemed to be an eternity. "Are we to play charades?"
Bates was startled when Lady Mary spoke. He was absorbed so completely with the task of framing his concerns without upsetting Lady Mary's sensibilities that he had forgotten they were in the same room. "I beg your pardon, milady. I wish to speak to you on a sensitive subject, and I'm uncertain how to begin."
"I hope nothing is amiss at home."
"Not at all, milady. I'm a fortunate man. I'm here to speak on behalf of Thomas Barrow who is unaware of this conversation."
Lady Mary tensed. She hoped she was not about to hear of a new indiscretion. "And what has our Mr Barrow done now?"
Bates saw the irritation in Lady Mary's eyes. "I'm not here to lodge a complaint, milady. On the contrary, I assure you that Mr Barrow has devoted himself to the service of your family."
"I'm well aware of Mr Barrow's accomplishments. I'm surprised that you feel you must bring them to my attention."
Bates was becoming annoyed with himself. He was not accustomed to floundering. "I don't mean to try Your Ladyship's patience. I didn't expect difficulty choosing the right words."
Lady Mary was baffled. Bates was usually the Rock of Gibraltar. She could not imagine why he was hesitant. "Surely you don't find me too formidable for ordinary conversation, Bates. You have more intestinal fortitude than that."
Bates decided to forge ahead without revealing his specific purpose. "Very well, milady. I'm here because I'm concerned about Mr Barrow's well-being."
"Is he ill, Bates?"
"No, milady. But I'm concerned that he will become ill if he doesn't take a holiday."
Lady Mary wondered if the concern that Thomas would become ill was a euphemism for would become suicidal. That would explain Bates' reluctance to speak. She was fond of Thomas, but it was not sensible for Downton Abbey to have a butler who belonged in an asylum. Lady Mary stopped herself. She was jumping to conclusions. What did it matter? She knew she shared Bates' compulsion to protect Thomas. "Mr Barrow manages this household and is free to arrange a holiday if he likes."
"That's the problem, milady. He doesn't like. He's determined to prove himself to you and Lord Grantham, and his determination has drained him. He can't see that his dedication is at cross purposes with his success."
"And so you expect me to foist a holiday on the man?"
"That is my hope, milady."
"Forgive me, Bates, but this doesn't seem to be the delicate subject you promised. As usual, you are feeding others pap and keeping the interesting titbits to yourself."
"As a rule, I find that saying the least possible is the most prudent, milady."
My dear Ivor,
I have received your kind letter of the 23rd in which you wrote of your desire to help our boy find his place. I take this opportunity to write and let you know how touched I am by your generosity. I hope my letter finds you in good health and spirits.
Thomas received your invitation the day after our employer insisted he take a week's holiday. Your timing could not have been more opportune. He is excited to visit you, although he is anxious that your friends will perceive him as a rube.
You should not underestimate Thomas. He is a veteran of the trenches and no innocent. However, I am relieved that you intend to protect our boy from those who would take advantage of a man who leads a more cloistered life, as you put it.
My heart wants Thomas to find a happier path, but I confess that if that path takes him away from Downton, it will be my heart that suffers. Still, I must do what is best for him and am gratified that we share that desire.
I accept your friendly invitation to address you as Ivor and expect that you will return the favour by addressing me as John.
Your grateful servant,
John Bates
P.S. It is unfortunate that Lord Grantham felt it necessary to be harsh with you when he told you of my wife and child on your train ride to London. I can say only that I have known Lord Grantham from before the dawn of this century, and that he truly is a kind soul. But he and I are men of another time, and he can be rigid when the tenets with which he was raised are tested. I pray that you will forgive his zealousness in guarding my welfare.
Allow me to assure you that I was not insulted. Rather, I marked the event in my mental diary: "Ivor Novello, that movie star with the chiselled face, flirted with me today and gave me his card. I will treasure it as a keepsake of an exhilarating moment in my life."
Ten days later
Ivor Novello's Flat
Thomas was not accustomed to being a guest and hoped he would not embarrass Novello or himself. Novello's chauffeur, Morgan, carried Thomas' bag from the car to the Strand Theatre building, operated the rickety lift, and opened the door to the flat on the top floor. He stepped aside so Thomas could enter first. Thomas glanced about the room and saw an assortment of visitors in an assortment of dress. He had not expected a crowd. Then he heard Novello's voice exclaim, "Thomas Barrow, at last!"
Immediately, Novello was standing in front of Thomas. "Welcome, darling Thomas." He clasped Thomas' face and kissed him on the lips, took his hand, and pulled him into the room. "Come. I'm in the middle of something."
Novello halted in front of a scowling young man who was leaning against a piano and taking a long drag from a cigarette in a holder. The young man continued, as though Novello had never left his side, a diatribe on the dangers of being too comfortable in one's work. From what Thomas could gather, he was chastising Novello for agreeing to play The Rat in a second movie. Novello nodded contritely. He was still holding Thomas' hand and began to swing it back and forth. Suddenly the young man stopped speaking and turned sharply to Thomas. "Thomas Barrow? I know who you are! You're the butler who snubbed our dear Ivor! You know what that means, don't you? It means that you and I are best friends." The young man turned to Novello. "Ivor, he looks exactly as you described. How unlike you not to exaggerate."
Novello dropped Thomas' hand and put his arm around Thomas' shoulders instead. "Thomas, this is an acquaintance of mine. I've tried to shake him, but he is forever showing up at mealtime on the pretext of borrowing a cigarette. His name is ... give me a moment, I'll think of it ... oh yes, Noël ... Noël Coward, that's it, isn't it? He's the world's greatest playwright. You only have to ask him."
"It's true, Thomas. You've seen my work, of course."
Thomas could not believe that he was meeting the playwright and actor about whom he had read in the newspaper, but he was determined to remain calm. "I'm afraid I haven't had the misfortune." Thomas had meant to say 'good fortune,' and when he realized his error, he froze.
Coward and Novello looked at each other and burst into laughter. Coward took Thomas' arm and started for the door. "I'm taking you home with me right now."
Novello was still laughing. "Noël, there's no need to terrify the man. Let him go. You have no idea the hoops through which I had to jump to get him here."
Coward turned back to the room but did not release Thomas. "Quite right. Just because you've charmed a guppy, Thomas Barrow, doesn't mean you're ready for Moby Dick. Do you wish to swim back to the little fishes?"
"I wish to see the lifeguard," replied Thomas, which elicited fresh laughter.
Novello gestured to Morgan. "Morgan will save you, Thomas. Morgan, please show this fine gentleman to his room. Noël, he's only just stepped off that dreadful train from Yorkshire to London, and we haven't given him one moment to shake off the cinders."
Coward released Thomas' arm. "That is a dreadful ride. Forgive me, Thomas, for I am a lout."
Novello stepped between Thomas and Coward and put an arm around each. "I believe there's another reason Thomas must forgive you, Noël, or have you forgotten?"
"Certainly not. Thomas, I confess that I'm the dastardly villain who brought Philip to the party where he met Ivor and spread those ghastly rumours about you. I brought him because I was courting his wife's money for a new play. He refused me because his wife refused him, so, I despise him thoroughly and am your loyal friend for all time."
"Heaven forbid!" interjected Novello.
"May I remind you, Ivor, that if you and Philip had not met, Thomas might not be here now."
"Noël may be right, Thomas, and we may be in his debt, a thought too horrifying for words."
Coward reached out and grasped Novello's wrist. "Speaking of horrifying words, dear Ivor, let's discuss your most recent attempt at writing, shall we?"
Novello winked at Thomas and turned his attention to Coward. Morgan whisked Thomas away to his room while Coward let loose his passion-fuelled critique.
Thomas was relieved to have a brief respite from the insanity of Novello's parlour. He looked about the room Novello had assigned him and was pleased. The room was comfortable and well-appointed and would make a welcome retreat from what he anticipated would be a challenging week. "Is it always like that?" he asked Morgan, tilting his head towards the parlour.
Morgan smiled. "Not always, but often enough. But it's always that way between Ivor and Noël. They're professional rivals, you know, but they're also close friends."
"Are they?" Thomas thought it must be exhausting to have a friendship like that. "Morgan, I hope I can count on you to advise me while I'm here. I don't spend my days with artists and intellectuals as you do. I'm only a country butler."
Morgan shook his head. "You're not a butler, Mr Barrow. You're the butler. You're the butler who refused Ivor Novello. Everyone knows who you are!"
Thomas felt his knees buckle, and he sat down hard on the soft bed. This was going to be a challenging week.
