CHAPTER 55: PERSONAL CORRESPONDENCE - FEBRUARY 1927
John Bates
23 February 1927
Downton
My Dear Ivor,
It's 3 a.m. Forgive me for dispensing with the rigmarole of letter-writing pleasantries. I'd rather get down to brass tacks and tell you of the extraordinary day I've had that will end with the writing of this letter.
As always, my day began before dawn. Anna and I were preparing to leave for the Abbey. You have no idea what it takes to ready a youngster as energetic as my toddlekins. I was gulping down my morning tea, without which I'm a bit of a bear. I almost tripped over Timothy, who was playing with my shoelaces, and spilled the tea down my shirt. That bit of spilled tea nearly altered the course of our lives. We were running late and Anna was impatient. She and Timothy left for the Abbey while I changed my shirt.
It was a blustery day here, and as I neared the Abbey, the wind took my hat. You may recall that a pretty piece of the River Swale runs behind the house. The wind carried my hat to the embankment, and as Old Ram and I picked up pace to collect it, I caught sight of the coat Timothy had been wearing when he left the cottage. The coat was caught in some low-lying branches, and one sleeve was dragging in the water, a horrifying sight. I panicked and headed down the embankment to find my little family, but several days of rain had made the steep slope muddy and slick. Old Ram stuck, and I lost my balance. I slid straight down the slope into the river. The shock of cold water unhinged me for a moment. The weather had made the current stronger than usual, and it carried me a few feet before I recovered my senses. Thankfully, I was able to reach up and grasp the end of a low tree limb. I tried to stand and walk out but my foot caught in a tree root, and the current pushed me down. There I was clinging to a branch with my bad leg caught and the freezing current trying to drown me. I was convinced that Anna and Timothy had drown already and told myself that I may as well let go and join them.
Still, I clung to the branch and fought the current and the dead weight of my clothes. I looked down the river for Anna and Timothy. There was a bend that formed a swimming hole where the water was calmer, and I thought perhaps the current had carried them there and released them. But I couldn't find any sign of them, and my hands were growing numb from the cold. I couldn't hold the limb much longer.
I heard a voice above the wind and looked up the embankment. I saw Thomas screaming for help, but it was early in the morning and no one was about. He was pulling off his clothes, and I realised that he intended to save me. I cried out begging him to save Anna and Timothy. He yelled to me that they were in the house. Thomas had come to retrieve Timothy's coat. There you have it. My attempt to save my little family had been nothing more than folly and was about to cost me my life.
I was losing my grip on the tree and shouted to Thomas that my foot was caught. He jumped in the water in his underclothes upstream of me. I heard him yelp when he hit the frigid water. As the current carried him to me, he shouted that he would release my foot and the current would take me to the bend where I could swim to the edge and walk out. I lost all courage and screamed that I couldn't swim! I could hear him cursing. He caught a branch and shouted that, no matter what, I must not take hold of him, or we would both drown. He didn't wait for my answer. He was under the water, and I could feel him wrapping his arm around my leg. I desperately wanted to take hold of him but forced myself to heed his warning. It seemed an eternity before he was able to pull my foot from its shoe. By then, the cold had taken command of my body. Thomas kept hold of me. He pulled my back to his chest and turned us so that the current carried us feet first to the swimming hole. He held me tightly and kept me afloat while he sputtered. I knew I was saved and would see Anna and my toddlekins again.
We were met at the edge of the swimming hole by Andy, our part-time footman, who had heard Thomas' screams on his way to the Abbey and came running. Thomas floated me out of the water to the blessed ground. He eased me out of my overcoat, turned me over with the rolled up coat under my belly, and forced me to unswallow the river.
The next few hours were a blur of faces and voices. I was in pain from the cold and shivering uncontrollably. Thomas was shivering too, but that didn't keep him from taking charge. I found myself in his pantry, which was in the nearest part of the house. Thomas had me wrapped in blankets like an Indian papoose, and I was lying on a mattress that Andy had carried down from the servants' quarters. Minnie, our parlourmaid, brought me hot soup, as there had been a rift in my friendship with tea. Thomas was determined to keep the incident from Anna until my condition improved. The dear man didn't want Anna to be shocked for fear it would affect the baby.
By lunch almost all was back to normal. The shivering had stopped, the mattress was gone, and Thomas was working at his desk. The only clue to the morning's misadventure was my mode of dress. While my clothes were drying, I was clad in Lord Grantham's own pyjamas, robe, and slippers, at His Lordship's insistence. One of the gardeners had recovered Old Ram, and it was a comfort to have the stick at my side again.
Minnie brought Anna to the pantry. I told Anna what had occurred, and she flew to Thomas and covered his astonished face in kisses. She called him sweetheart, but I understood the sentiment and wasn't too jealous even though she gave him more kisses than me!
After lunch, Lord Grantham, himself, came to the pantry and escorted me to his dressing room, where he insisted I rest for the next few hours as our local doctor had recommended. When the doctor came by later to check on me, His Lordship summoned Thomas, Andy, and Anna to the dressing room. He wanted a full account of the morning's mishap. Anna explained that on their walk to the Abbey, Timothy had slipped out of his too-big woollen coat, which he hates wearing, and the wind snatched it. I told how I had seen the coat but no Timothy and how I had landed in the river. Andy described Thomas' rescue of me, which he had witnessed while running from the road to the river. I asked Thomas why he hadn't gone back to the house for help instead of risking his life. He mumbled that if he had taken the extra time, the freezing water would have incapacitated me, and I would have drowned. The doctor agreed with Thomas' assessment.
Lord Grantham shook Thomas' hand and proclaimed him a hero. There was a time when that kind of praise would have fuelled Thomas' swagger for weeks. Now he only shook his head and replied that His Lordship would have done the same. "The same and failed," His Lordship answered, and that was the truth of it. To his credit, His Lordship had a temporary fence installed immediately to prevent another accident.
Before Thomas left the room, he informed me sternly and in front of Lord Grantham, no less, that I was learning to swim that summer. I argued that I was too old to learn and that swimming wouldn't have saved me because my foot was caught. I had always thought of myself as having the upper hand in my friendship with Thomas, but the tables had turned. Thomas would hear none of my excuses. I was learning to swim, and there was to be no discussion. Lord Grantham was amused by our exchange and quipped, "Pooh's told you what's what!"
You and I both know that our boy is too sensitive. He can handle a crisis as well as any man, better than most, but will fall to pieces afterward. Minnie, who serves in the dining room, told me that Lord Grantham toasted Thomas at dinner and that the entire family, down to the old Dowager herself, pounded the table in honour of his bravery. She reported that Thomas turned pale but remained gracious. At our own dinner in the servants' hall, the staff applauded, but Thomas politely asked that we not make so much of it. I was relieved to see him eat his dinner, as he tends to lose his appetite when he's out of sorts.
When my little family was ready to leave for the night, Anna marched us into the pantry where she informed Thomas that he was not to work late but to come home with us. If I had extended the invitation, he would have debated the point with me for an hour, and I would have lost. But our boy won't argue with Anna when she speaks to him in that maternal tone women know how to summon. The three of us walked to the cottage, and Thomas carried my sleeping toddlekins.
Anna had assigned Thomas a cupboard shelf at the cottage on which to store bedding and pyjamas. Once or twice a month, when he finds it unbearable to be alone, we discover him in the morning asleep on our sofa. If the cottage were larger, we would have him live with us. Tonight, Anna paid him special attention and made hot cocoa to help him sleep.
I was exhausted and had fallen asleep soon after we arrived but was awakened an hour ago by Anna's flailing about. She tosses and turns when she's pregnant. A husband likes to say these things, "My wife tosses and turns when she's pregnant." It makes us feel as though we understand something about pregnancy when, in truth, we haven't the vaguest notion. Anyway, I was chilled and decided I wanted some tea. Yes, tea and I have come to terms. After all, it wasn't the tea's fault that I almost drowned, or so the tea claims.
When I lit the lamp in the parlour, I discovered Thomas huddled in a corner of the sofa, wide awake. I knew better than to ask what was wrong. I made the tea and offered him a cup. As we drank, Thomas began to ramble that he had almost lost me that morning and couldn't bear the thought of it; that he didn't want us to come to the States with him because he would be consumed with fear for our well-being; that he wanted to live a solitary life. (The things we say in the wee hours.)
I asked Thomas if he intended to live the rest of his life as a hermit. Then our boy began to cry. He told me that when he jumped in the water that morning, he knew he had only a few minutes before the cold water immobilised him. What if he had failed? I pointed out that I was sitting with him now because he had succeeded. I promised him that, as long as I lived, I would never forget the risk he had taken for my sake. My promise didn't seem to bring him comfort. He confessed his fear that he would be a failure in the States. He could bear the consequences for himself but not for Anna and me. So that was the heart of it. He was terrified of leading my little family into ruin.
I reminded Thomas that Anna and I want better opportunities for our children and that we had carefully considered our options. We expect to experience failures in the course of our American adventure, but we want to share the risk with him and help each other. Before Thomas could respond, Anna opened the bedroom door. The baby had started kicking. She placed my hand on her belly so I could feel, and after a few moments, there it was. The solid kick of a future footballer.
You know what babies are to Thomas. Anna asked him if he wanted to feel, but he replied that he had better not. I knew he was concerned that I wouldn't like it. I told him that if Anna said it was all right, then it was. He tentatively offered his hand, and Anna placed it on her belly. You should have seen the look in our boy's eyes when the baby kicked - pure wonderment.
Then Thomas did something that shocked me. He placed his cheek where his hand had been. I was about to pull him away when he began talking to the baby. He spoke about Timothy and Anna and me and how Timothy called him Pooh and how he didn't like that and how we were all moving to the States. Anna became excited. She told me that the baby was answering Thomas with little kicks. The baby and Thomas were having a conversation. Thomas raised his head and declared that the baby was a girl. I asked him how he knew, and he replied solemnly, "Because she was flirting with me."
You've been patient with my babble. Writing this letter has helped me sort out all that has happened, and it comes down to this: Our boy is a modest hero, I'm learning to swim this summer, my new baby is a flirtatious female footballer, and we're all moving to the States. I only hope that Thomas doesn't expect me to swim the Atlantic to save the fare.
I apologise for my flippancy. I'm overcome.
Your friend as always,
JB
