CHAPTER 41: THE MAN WITH NO TROUSERS
On the Road to Downton
Sunday evening
"My stomach's grumbling. I don't think I'll last 'til Downton. Do you mind if we pull off and eat?" asked Thomas. "Doncaster must have a fish and chips shop."
Morgan laughed. "Please do. We don't want a repeat of Friday night."
Thomas smiled sheepishly. "No, we don't."
Thomas had chosen not to let his holiday be ruined by Friday night's mishap, and Morgan was relieved. He knew that Thomas was sensitive and tended to take these things too seriously.
Everything had been fine when Morgan arrived at the flat Friday after the staged exit from the Savoy Grill. He was ravenous and knew Thomas must be too. They hadn't had a bite to eat since their noon breakfast. Morgan found Thomas, Novello, and Bobbie sitting in their shirtsleeves, waiting for delivery of the meal Coward had promised to order for them. Novello was smoking, and Bobbie and Thomas were sharing a bottle of wine. Morgan poured himself a glass and topped up the others before sitting down. Thomas was rhapsodizing about the Savoy and absently filled his empty belly with wine as he spoke. Novello, Bobbie, or Morgan refilled his glass whenever one of them noticed it was empty.
At last, dinner arrived. Bobbie laughed as he opened each container. "Caviar, borsch, piroshkies, Russian potato salad, beef stroganoff, and honey cake. Noël's determined to carry this prank to its death."
Thomas and Morgan piled their plates and tucked in, washing down each bite with more wine. Suddenly Thomas pushed back from the table and groaned. Novello was sitting next to him. "Is something wrong?"
Thomas stood unsteadily. "I'm dizzy!"
Immediately Novello was at Thomas' side, supporting him. "Do you want to lie down?"
Thomas tapped Novello's mouth. "Shush, Ivor, not in front of Bobbie."
Novello observed Thomas' unfocused eyes and wobbly stance with keen disappointment. He didn't like drunkenness. He turned to Morgan. "Have you two been drinking? He's stewed!"
"Only this wine. I poured him a couple of glasses, that's all," replied Morgan.
"So did I," added Bobbie.
"There you have it. I did too." Novello wrapped his arm around Thomas' back to provide more support. "I should have paid better attention."
"I filled my glass twice," corrected Thomas, holding up two fingers. "I've had two glasses!"
"No, darling. You've had four times that. It's a good thing Lloydie isn't here, or you'd be comatose by now."
"Then Lloydie should stay home!" declared Thomas.
"Morgan, could you help us please?" asked Novello.
"Yes, Morgan. Ivor needs your help!" commanded Thomas. "I'll help you, Ivor," he assured Novello as he leaned against him heavily. Morgan abandoned his dinner and draped Thomas' arm around his neck. Thomas smiled. "Hullo, Morgan."
"Hullo, Thomas," replied Morgan. Morgan and Novello walked Thomas to his room and sat him on the bed. Morgan knelt and removed Thomas' shoes.
"That's kind of you, Morgan. Isn't Morgan kind, Ivor?"
"Very kind," murmured Novello as he unbuttoned Thomas' shirt.
"See Morgan, you're very kind. Very kind Morgan. Very kind Arthur Morgan. Very kind Arthur Walter Lionel Morgan."
"He knows your full name," noted Novello as he slipped Thomas' arms out of his shirt.
"Why shouldn't he?"
"Yes, Ivor, why?" Thomas took hold of Novello's shoulders and shook him rhythmically. "Why, why, why?"
"Morgan, I don't know your full name, and you work for me. Thomas met you Sunday and already knows your full name and your favourite food, I might add. What do you think that means?"
"Yes, Morgan, what does that mean?" Thomas demanded.
Morgan shrugged. "I have no idea."
Thomas pulled Novello close and whispered. "We don't know, Ivor. You'd better tell us."
Novello sat on the bed next to Thomas. "It's plain to see. Don't you have eyes, Morgan?"
"Barney Google, with the goo goo googly eyes," sang Thomas loudly.
Morgan removed Thomas' socks. "I don't understand what you're telling me."
Thomas plopped his head onto Novello's lap, still singing, "Barney Google had a wife three times his size."
"Good lord, Morgan, can't you see that he fancies you?"
Morgan laughed. "You're joking."
Thomas laughed too. "It's true, Morgan! The joke's on you!"
"He's drunk, Ivor. He doesn't know what he's saying."
"Morgan, does Thomas know your situation?"
Morgan was mystified. "What situation?"
"He means you're situated on the floor," explained Thomas. "Sit next to me, Morgan."
Novello offered Morgan a hand and pulled him to his feet. "I mean your situation with Vi."
"Who's Vi?" asked Thomas.
Morgan was exasperated. "I may have mentioned it. Someone must have told him. This is all nonsense." Morgan turned to Thomas. "I need your trousers, please, Thomas."
Thomas took hold of his waistband. "Give me a kiss first."
Morgan glanced at Novello who smiled faintly. "I don't think my wife would like that, Thomas," Morgan responded gently.
Thomas laughed. "I don't want to kiss your wife!" Then he grew quiet. "Ivor, help me up." Novello helped Thomas to sit. Thomas pressed his hands to his head as though he were trying to push his thoughts in order. "Morgan, are you married?"
"Yes, I'm married."
"To a wife?"
"Yes, Thomas, I'm married to a wife. Her name is Vi."
"You don't know her full name!" Thomas snapped his fingers. "That means you don't fancy her! That's right, isn't it, Ivor?"
"For christ's sake, Morgan, say her full name," ordered Novello.
"Her name is Violet Lucy Eatwell Morgan."
"You do fancy her!" accused Thomas.
"Yes, Thomas. I fancy my wife. Now may I have your trousers?"
Thomas took hold of his waistband again and flung himself face down on Novello's lap. "No! They're my trousers! Go away! I don't like you now."
"They're not your trousers," Morgan replied evenly.
Thomas turned his head to Morgan. "They're not?"
"No."
"Then what's he wearing?"
"Who?"
"The man with no trousers."
"There is no man with no trousers."
"Is he dead?"
"Who?"
"The man with no trousers."
"I don't know."
"That's awful! Did he have children?"
"What? No!"
"He died with no children?" Thomas cried. "I don't have children. None of us has children. What will we do, Ivor! I can't bear it!"
Morgan stood, bewildered, while Thomas sobbed. Novello stroked Thomas' hair. "Finish your dinner, Morgan. I'll get the trousers for you."
Morgan returned to the table but could still hear Thomas wailing.
"What's going on in there?" asked Bobbie.
Morgan shook his head. "Thomas is crying because a man with no trousers died with no children."
Bobbie chuckled. "I'm not going to ask. Poor boy. I'll bring him a Bromo."
Morgan ate with little appetite now. He should have noticed that Thomas was drinking too much, let alone on an empty stomach. But that other thing! What was he supposed to do when he met people? Say, 'Nice to meet you. I'm married, so please don't fancy me.' He was shocked ... not because Thomas had taken a special liking to him, but because it had happened while they were in the company of Novello, a man with greater charm, not to mention looks. He supposed he should feel flattered. He did feel flattered. But he knew Thomas was going to hate himself in the morning. He hoped Thomas wouldn't hate him too.
Bobbie returned to the table with an empty glass and the trousers. He plunked a few coins on the table. "What's that?" asked Morgan.
Bobbie grinned. "Thomas insisted I take the money in his pocket to buy flowers for the funeral."
"The funeral?"
"For the man who died with no trousers." Morgan knew he shouldn't laugh, but he couldn't help himself. Bobbie sat across from him. "Ivor's staying with him until he falls asleep. I've never known Ivor to be so solicitous." Morgan had to agree.
Bobbie sent Morgan home with a large piece of honey cake for Vi. Morgan stopped on his way to return the borrowed trousers to the Savoy. He wished Thomas would take a job at the hotel but didn't think it was likely. He was certain that after years of being in service, Thomas would refuse an entry-level job, even if it were offered by Santarelli himself.
When Morgan arrived the next day to take Novello to the theatre for the matinee, Thomas was secluded in his room.
"I think he's embarrassed to see you, Morgan. I brought breakfast to his room," reported Novello.
"You're quite the nurse," teased Bobbie.
Novello shrugged. "I can't help it. I feel protective of him. You'll talk to him, won't you, Morgan?"
"As soon as I drop you," Morgan promised.
When Morgan returned from the theatre, he found Thomas dressed but still in his room, packing clothes for his trip home the next day. The door was ajar, but Morgan knocked anyway. "May a married man enter here?"
Thomas grimaced and continued to pack. "I behaved badly. I'm surprised you're willing to speak to me."
"So you remember what happened?" asked Morgan.
"I remember enough."
"You take these things too much to heart, Thomas."
Thomas sat on the bed. "You're not disgusted by me?"
"Thomas! How could you ask such a thing?"
Thomas stared at his shoes. "Morgan, did I ... make advances?"
Morgan chuckled. "Not really. You only said that you fancied me. Oh yes, and you asked me for a kiss. That's not so terrible, is it?"
Thomas looked up at Morgan. "I didn't know you were married. I thought you were like Ivor and Bobbie and me."
"That's my fault, Thomas, not yours. It never occurred to me that I should tell you. I'm surrounded by good-looking, accomplished men. No one especially notices me."
"I noticed you, Morgan. I thought we were friends and perhaps something would ... I don't know ... blossom. I'm sorry for embarrassing you."
"I'm not embarrassed, Thomas, but there won't be any blossoming. I've had a fine time with you. We're still friends, aren't we? Let's not waste your last day in London moping about. What would you like to do? You've been in the paper again, and Bobbie says three hotels have telephoned offering you tours."
"Morgan, why haven't you had a day off this week? Is it because of my visit?"
"Well ..."
"What would you be doing today if I weren't here?"
Morgan laughed. "On a hot day like today, I'd probably drive to the beach and throw myself in the Channel. In the summer, I keep my swimming suit in the car."
"Then that's what we'll do!"
Bobbie gave Thomas one of Novello's old swimming suits, and Morgan drove Thomas to Brighton Beach. On the way, Morgan delivered Santarelli's message, trying to recite his words exactly.
"Do you think he meant it, or was he only being polite?" queried Thomas.
"He ran after me to the street on a busy Friday night. That's a lot of bother only to be polite."
Thomas leaned back in his seat. "The States. Can you picture me as an American?"
"Why not? Of course, you'll have to learn the native language," Morgan joked.
"OK!" replied Thomas with the only American expression he knew, and they both laughed.
Thomas and Morgan spent the afternoon swimming, eating ice cream, and visiting the Aquarium. The beach was as crowded as any London street, but Thomas said he enjoyed getting away from the city grime.
During the drive home, Morgan kept his promise and taught Thomas to park parallel to the street. Thomas wanted to know how to change a tyre, so Morgan showed him how to use the jack. Morgan had been working with motor cars since he was a boy and knew his business. He raised the bonnet and talked about the dynamo and the spark plugs and the gearbox. He turned to see if the student was understanding the professor and found Thomas hanging on his every word. "You know everything!" Thomas gushed.
Morgan laughed and patted Thomas on the shoulder. "We should get back. Ivor won't appreciate being abandoned at the theatre."
Morgan dropped Thomas at the flat. Thomas opened the car door but paused before climbing out. "Vi is a lucky woman, Morgan. A very lucky woman."
