CHAPTER 109, BATES, AGAIN

Tourist Third Promenade Deck
RMS Olympic

A moment later

Bates could not outpace the memories that trailed him about the deck. He dropped into a chair and allowed his visit to Thomas' bedroom play like a motion picture against a backdrop of night sky and ocean.

"I know what you're thinking, John."

"That's unsettling."

"You're thinking my room's too austere."

"Perhaps."

"Lady Mary allowed me to borrow my attic things. Why should I throw away money on atmosphere? We'll need every penny when we leave for New York."

"That's prudent." Bates knew better than to suggest that Thomas was free to spend his money as he wished. Instead, he teased, "You've allowed yourself one extravagance, haven't you?"

Thomas' brow furrowed as he scanned the room. "What?" he demanded.

"The fan."

"Oh." Thomas shrugged. "The hum helps me sleep. I learned that in Paris."

"Then it was money well spent."

"I'll have no trouble selling it when we leave."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, mon loulou."

If they had been with the family, Thomas would have pretended to throttle Bates for daring to utter the borrowed endearment. In the privacy of his bedroom, he only waggled a finger and exposed the hint of a smile.

Bates was drawn to a grouping of framed photographs on the chest of drawers. "These make the room friendlier." He picked up the familiar picture of Thomas' mother and sister. "I can remember when this was the only photo you had. It's not so lonely now, is it?" Bates set down the picture and chose another. It was a picture of Thomas on his knees teaching Timothy to hold a cricket bat. "This is my favourite."

"That's a good one, but here's my favourite." Thomas picked out a photo of Timothy walking atop a broad stone wall at exactly the right height for the Dowager to hold his arm. The pair was strolling in their Sunday togs and appeared to be having a weighty conversation.

Bates peered over Thomas' shoulder. "They certainly are fond of each other. I'm afraid it'll be hard on the old lady when we leave."

"It will," agreed Thomas. "Perhaps she'll want to come with us. She could be our maître d'hôtel."

It may have been the need for a release from his mounting anxiety, but the thought of the Dowager braving Americans on their native soil struck Bates as hilarious. He erupted into laughter.

Bates' laughter only primed Thomas' theatrical pump. "I can see her pointing to the Statue of Liberty with that stick of hers. My dear, your excessive height is nothing less than exhibitionism. Leave it to the French."

"Stop it," gasped Bates. "We'll wake the whole house."

"You'll wake the whole house." Thomas tidied the photos. "What's the matter with you?"

"You must have hit my funny bone." Bates sat on the bed, and his giddiness subsided. "It'll be daylight soon. You'd better tell me whatever it is you don't want Anna to hear."

"I suppose we should get down to it." Thomas sat next to Bates. "John," he began and took a preparatory breath. "I'm worried."

"You're always worried about something. What's different?"

"It's my sanity, John. I'm worried about my sanity."

For one brief moment, the world stopped spinning. Bates studied Thomas' face but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "You seem sensible enough to me."

"It's what Dr Clarkson said last month when he was taking off my cast. You were there. He said that the ... the trauma, that's the word ... that the trauma of being kidnapped could make me relapse. And only last June, he said it was unlikely."

"It's still unlikely. Isn't that what he said? Unlikely, but not impossible. He was only saying that you should let us know right away if you have any symptoms."

Thomas dropped his gaze to his shoes.

"Thomas! Have you been having symptoms?"

Thomas shrugged.

"What kind of answer is that?" Bates caught himself and closed his eyes for a moment. Anger would only make Thomas withdraw. He calmed himself and opened his eyes. Returning his gaze was the boy in Churchill's painting that hung from its new home opposite the bed. "Pooh, has the boy been talking to you?"

Thomas looked up. "What boy?"

Bates nodded towards the painting.

Thomas turned to see and began to laugh. "You mean, the boy in the boat?"

"I'm glad you think it's funny."

"It is funny, you old goat." Thomas gave Bates' cheek a tweak but was not rewarded with a smile. "It's odd, isn't it? I can remember him having perfectly ordinary conversations with me. He invited me to help him row. He advised me. He argued with me. Now he's only paint on a canvas."

"If it's not the boy, then what is it?"

"Nothing much. If it weren't for Clarkson, I don' believe I'd be worried."

"Tell me."

"I've already told you. You asked me how I learned so much about swimming."

"Swimming."

"It's difficult to explain, John. When we were in Paris and you forced me to tell you about Northcott ... "

"Forced you? I thought I encouraged you."

"When you encouraged me to tell you about Northcott, I began to feel a change. Not that day. That day, all I could feel was embarrassed. But the next day and the day after that and the day after that, each day I felt a bit ... lighter."

"I'm glad. I can remember thinking I had made things worse."

"No, things were getting better, John. Much better."

"And now?"

"I'm sliding back." Thomas grasped the frayed sleeve of Bates' robe. "It's the old paranoia, John. I can feel it snapping at my heels. And I struggle sometimes to eat."

Bates watched Thomas finger the sleeve. "I should have seen it. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I am saying something."

Once again, Bates held his frustration in check. "Shall we ring Clarkson in the morning?"

"If you think we should, then I won't stop you."

"I'd like us to be in agreement, Pooh."

"It's only that ... "

"What?" Bates struggled to keep his tone even. "Talk to me."

"When you asked about swimming, I knew I had to tell you the rest."

"Swimming again?"

"Swimming again."

"You want to tell me now?"

"I want to try."

"Should I turn off the lamp? Do you want to lie down?"

Thomas gave Bates an indulgent smile. "Not this time, John. This time, I'm ready."

"All right, little brother. If you're ready, I'm ready." It was a lie, of course. The last thing Bates wanted was to hear more of Thomas' childhood suffering. It made him feel helpless, and he could not bear that feeling. But he owed it to this man to listen.

"You remember why I stayed?"

"You mean because of your sister?"

"That's right. For as long as Northcott was alive, I never considered running away. I believed he had a legal right to replace me with Flossie."

"I remember."

"Northcott kept me isolated, but he was persnickety and had Alfie teach me the finer points of service. I didn't see Alfie often, but when I did, he urged me to learn everything I could. You won't be a page forever. I looked up to him and tried to do as he said. I know you think I was stupid to trust him."

"I never said that, Pooh. You were a boy in a desperate situation. You needed a friend."

Thomas continued to toy with Bates' sleeve. "That's right. But it was more than that. Alfie and I were ... you understand. He was as different from Northcott as he could be. He was patient and kind and affectionate. Even knowing what I know now, I believe he truly felt something for me. If it weren't for him, I don't believe I ever could have let another man touch me."

If it weren't for him, you never would have found yourself in Northcott's clutches, thought Bates, but he kept that bit of logic to himself.

"I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to disgust you."

"Pooh, what are you saying! Men with men, it's foreign to me, but I'm hardly disgusted."

Thomas stared at Bates a moment. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"What does swimming have to do with Northcott?"

"Don't make me lose my train of thought, John."

"Go on, then."

"Northcott never held a conversation with me or called me by name. He gave me orders, and I obeyed. I was never permitted to speak to the other boys. It didn't matter; I never saw them. Except once. One day, the valet fell ill, so I helped Northcott dress for dinner at the big house. He ordered me to the boot room to fetch the shoes he wanted. On the way, I passed two older hall boys who were trimming wicks. No one else was about, so I thought I'd say a friendly word. The boys weren't so friendly; they beat the tar out of me. I tried to defend myself, but they were too big for me."

"Why on earth?"

"I lived apart from the other boys. They accused me of thinking I was better than them. They said I was Northcott's favourite." Thomas stood and began to pace. "They called me words I had never heard. Even now, I'd be ashamed to repeat some of them to you."

"The shame was theirs, Pooh, not yours."

"Even so." Thomas picked up a pencil from his writing desk and tapped it rhythmically against his hand as he walked. "The housekeeper, Mrs Fooks, happened to come along. She was a terror, but she saved me. She marched the three of us upstairs to Northcott, and he sacked the two boys on the spot. He sent me back to the cottage by myself. I was terrified that the boys would be waiting for me, but they must have been escorted off the grounds. Northcott showed up when I was taking my 9.00 bath, something he never did. He wanted to see for himself that Mrs Fooks hadn't exaggerated my condition. He took one look and announced he was going out-of-town for three days. He didn't say, but my injuries turned his stomach. I could tell." Thomas returned to the bed and sat. "Before he left, Northcott did something that surprised me. He gave me a book. It was an American book, The Call of the Wild. He made a point of saying it was only a loan. He said I was to stay in bed, and the book would give me something to do. As far as I knew, that was the only time he ever considered whether or not I had something to do, when I wasn't doing for him, that is."

"Bully for him."

"Northcott's doctor saw to my injuries. I hardly noticed. I was going to have three days without Northcott, and I was ecstatic. Alfie brought me my meals, and he'd slip away at night, too. We'd kiss and make love and cuddle afterwards, and then we'd lie on our bellies and read the book together. I was in heaven ... for three days anyway."

"And after that?"

"One day with Northcott was like another. I thought I could live with it. It wasn't going to be forever. Most days I accompanied him on his visits and to dinners at night. He had me wear the most ridiculous page costumes; they were humiliating. I had to stand behind his chair the entire evening wearing those abominable things. He never told me whose estate we were visiting or what event was being celebrated, and I didn't dare let him catch me looking about. My eyes were glued to him and his damned hand signals."

"Hand signals?"

"I didn't mention them last time?"

Bates shook his head.

Thomas sighed. "Northcott was a master of hand signals. They were so subtle, no one ever knew. He taught me new ones every week."

"What sort of signals?"

Thomas shrugged. "The first signals he taught me were in case someone addressed me. Answer yes; answer no; keep silent; say something flattering about Northcott; that sort of thing. There were signals that meant I should walk behind him; in front of him; stay where I was; fetch his stick; fetch his hat; fetch his gloves. I had to write them down to keep track."

"How many signals did he have?"

"About sixty. He never wanted to speak to me in public."

"Why not?"

Thomas considered the question. "Theatre, I suppose. He was creating an illusion that I could anticipate his every whim, that I was the perfect servant. He wanted to be envied."

"And he still came to the cottage at night."

"Most nights. It was dreadful, but I learned to ... I sort of left my body ... in my mind, I'd be somewhere else. But I couldn't let him catch me. If he suspected, he'd leave without a word, and the next night there'd be hell to pay. But if he was particularly satisfied and feeling generous, he'd loan me another book. Those books saved me. I think I would have lost my mind without them."

Bates scooted closer and draped his arm about Thomas' neck.

"John, please. I'm all right."

"I know, Pooh, but I'm not." The pair sat in shared silence until Bates quietly released his hold. "You still haven't come to the swimming."

"The swimming ... that was the summer after my 14th birthday. One night at the end of his nightly visit, Northcott suddenly asked if I could swim. I told him I could float, and I could dog paddle as well as most. He asked if I could manage in water over my head, and I told him I could. The next morning, he ordered me to his sitting room where he told me that I would be meeting an acquaintance from his youth. He warned me that I was not to use our hand signals in the presence of this man, and I was to address him as Coach and never ask his name. I didn't know what to think."

"Why no hand signals?"

"I don't know. Northcott wasn't in the habit of explaining himself to me."

"Was this new man like Northcott. I mean ... did he take liberties with you?"

"No, never." Thomas chuckled. "Now that I think of it, he was a bit like Mr Carson."

"Mr Carson!"

"The same eyebrows and booming voice. Tall, too."

"Why did Northcott introduce you?"

"I only know what Coach told me. He said he was training his son to be an Olympic swimmer and needed another boy to train alongside him – a boy who'd give his son a run for his money. That's how he put it. Someone who'd bring out his son's competitive side. Don't ask why he chose me or how he even knew about me. I don't have the answers. Anyway, he said he'd try me out the next day to see if I had the stuff."

"Did you?"

"What?" Thomas ran his hand through his hair.

"Did you have the stuff?"

"Don't rush me, John. Damn it, where was I?"

"He said he'd come by the next day ..."

"That's right. The next morning, Coach brought me a swimming costume. I'd never seen clothes that were made only for swimming, but that was only the beginning. Coach and Northcott took me through the hedge gate at the rear of the big house. I had never been beyond the hedge. We passed two tennis courts, one on each side of the path. Then we walked through another gate, and there it was."

"What?"

"The swimming pool. I knew what a swimming pool was, but I had never seen one myself, and this one was grand. Coach had me get in the water, and Northcott sat under a canopy and read."

"And you had the stuff?"

"Yes, John. According to Coach, I had the stuff. If truth be told, he was the one who had the stuff. He was precise and exacting, and he had no end of patience as long as he believed I was doing my best. And I was doing my best. It was hard work, but it was a pleasure too. Coach worked with me for five straight mornings and prescribed a training diet that Northcott allowed me to follow. I learned a proper stroke and built up speed, and the next week, he brought his son, Twig."

"Twig? What kind of a name is that?"

"Twig told me that when he was four, he climbed a ladder onto their stable roof. He fell off and his arm snapped like a twig, so that's what his father called him. He said he couldn't remember much about it, but that's the story he'd always been told. Coach and Twig. Those were the only names I ever knew for those two."

"How did you get along?"

"Twig and me? Famously. He was two years older and taller, but that didn't bother him. He said anyone was better than his five sisters." Thomas laughed at the memory. "Twig was a natural athlete, but he didn't love swimming the way I did. Coach was strict during our training, but afterwards, he was just another chum. The three of us ate lunch together and spent an hour or two roughhousing before they left. Northcott ate separately under his canopy and pretended to ignore us. I've always wondered why he tolerated Coach. When I had the chance, I asked Alfie, but he didn't know."

"Was Twig like you?" asked Bates, using their familiar code. Like Thomas meant homosexual, and like Bates meant not.

"No, he was like you, but he was great fun. They both were. Sometimes we'd play cricket after eating, and sometimes they brought bicycles, and we'd race. I found out that Coach had seen the first Olympics in '96 when the swimmers had to compete in open water. He decided then and there that he was going to earn an Olympic medal. He competed in 1900 and '04, but came home empty-handed. He was going to try again in '08. After that, it would be Twig's turn. I don't think Twig was keen on it, but he never said so."

Bates stood and stretched his legs. "And all the while, Northcott was coming to you at night, and you said nothing to Twig and his father."

Thomas looked up reproachfully. "I couldn't ... Flossie ... "

"I know, Pooh. I'm only trying to put myself in your place, to understand how it was for you."

"That was nothing."

Bates returned to the bed. "What do you mean?"

"Swimming came to an end when Twig had to go back to school. Our last day together, Twig gave me a cricket bat. Coach gave me a copy of Treasure Island and some physical culture magazines. He said the book would keep me out of trouble, and the magazines would keep me in shape for next summer."

"They were good friends to you."

"I thought so at the time. I read only a little of the book every night to stretch it out as long as I could. I studied the magazines and tore out all the exercises to make my own bodybuilding program. I exercised every night after Northcott left me. That was my mistake, I suppose."

"How a mistake?"

"Because Northcott liked boys, not men. I was developing a bit of muscle, and if that weren't bad enough, I was sprouting up. I grew several inches, and that infuriated him."

"Did he expect a 14-year-old boy to stay the same size forever?"

"Not only did he expect it, he was determined to make it happen. He began to reduce the size of my meals."

"Christ!"

"I didn't understand what was happening at first. He began by eliminating the afters. No custards or pie. I thought it was a punishment and didn't let it bother me. Then there was no meat on my plate. Then no eggs. Then no bread. But I did my exercises every night. I wanted Coach to be proud of me. By spring, Northcott had my meals pared down to milk and a dish of vegetables. Once a day, there'd be a potato or porridge or soup."

"No one spoke up on your behalf?"

"I don't think anyone realized at first, and I refused to see it. I found out later that the cook, Mrs Ward, had been filling my basket the same as she always had. Northcott tossed out most of the food on his way to the cottage."

"But when summer came and Coach and Twig returned, they must have seen something was wrong," insisted Bates, "when they saw you in your swim clothes."

Thomas fell silent. Once again he took hold of Bates' sleeve.

"What happened, Pooh?" Bates asked gently.

Thomas took a deep breath before continuing. "I was fifteen when they returned. I had made myself believe I was lean and strong. I couldn't wait for Coach's reaction."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. He and Twig just stared at me. Then Coach ordered us to wait outside so he could speak to Northcott alone. Twig was too kind to say how bony I'd become. He talked about school and playing on the cricket team while we waited. When Coach came out, he was alone. He said that he and Twig had to leave, but he'd be back as soon as he could to take me away from that hellhole. Those were his exact words."

"What happened when he came back?"

"He never came back. I never saw Coach or Twig again."

Bates was shocked.

"Why, John? Why did they leave me there without a word?"

"I don't know, Pooh. Perhaps they ..."

"No! Let it alone!" Thomas stood and opened and refastened his robe, carefully smoothing the fabric. He checked himself in the mirror and combed his hair.

"Is that the end?"

"No." Thomas took a cardboard box from the foot of his wardrobe and set it on the writing table. "Do you know what's in here?"

"I've seen the box, but I never opened it. I didn't want to pry."

"No, not you." Thomas removed the lid, revealing a biscuit tin in the shape of a house and a book with a green silk cover. He took the book and handed it to Bates. It was Treasure Island. "Read the inscription, John."

Bates pulled his glasses from his robe pocket and opened the book.


To my good friend, Thomas,

When you're made to walk the plank, swim.

Coach


Thomas returned the book to the box as he quoted from memory, "Chapter 1. The Old Sea-Dog at the Admiral Benbow. Squire Trelawney, Dr Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted ... There was a time I could recite the entire book, but I have no need of it now."

"But you had need of it then?"

"Memorizing was a distraction from hunger. My stomach was empty, and I couldn't convince myself otherwise. Not after Coach and Twig deserted me. I remember Alfie taking me to the tailor to be fitted for one of those horrid outfits. He cried when he saw me undressed, but the tailor had his fee and chose not to notice my condition. Alfie happened to have some barley sugars in his pocket and gave them to me. He always carried them after that and slipped them to me whenever he had the chance."

Bates gave Thomas' robe a slight tug. "You carry barley sugars. I've seen you give them to Anna."

Thomas did not comment. He sat next to Bates but seemed faraway. "I had the misfortune to grow another couple of inches that year. Northcott celebrated my sixteenth birthday by taking milk from my meals. Until then, I had managed. Without milk, I withered to nothing. That's when Northcott invented the big lie."

"What was that?"

"He told people that I was a charity case, that I was mentally deficient, and that I refused to eat. Wherever we went, his friends felt sorry for him. I was the villain. I dared to be ungrateful for his kindness."

"I don't know how you stood it, Pooh."

"Who says I stood it? I no longer had the strength to exercise or the concentration to memorize. Every night after Northcott left, I prayed to God and my mother to send Coach back to me, but he never came. I laid there at night, counting my ribs and crying myself to sleep. I began to lose sense until one night I finally crumbled. I fell to the floor and grovelled and begged Northcott to give me food. I slobbered over his boots and told him I was dying."

"And he relented?"

"Relented? He pretended it never happened. He told me he was attending a particularly splendid party the following night and to be ready in my blue suit with the ostrich feather hat. I'm certain he knew how I hated that thing."

"Did he want you to die?"

"That's how it seemed. I was convinced that I wouldn't survive another day, so the next morning, I prepared for my death. I wrote a note explaining that Northcott had starved me and that my refusing to eat was a lie he created to protect himself. I hid the note in the clothes I was to wear that night. I believed that if I died in public, then my body would be taken to a proper mortuary and undressed. The note would be found, and my sister would be saved. Then I wrote a letter to my sister and begged her to forgive me for running away from our father. I wrote that I loved her and that it was unbearable to me not to see her again in this life ... dramatic stuff for a 16-year-old. I hid that note in my shoe."

Bates was overwhelmed by the silent tears that began to fill Thomas' eyes and spill onto his cheeks. There was no sobbing, no loss of control ... only the grief that the boy and the man shared for their sister.

"John, I need a moment. Please."

Bates nodded and escaped as quickly as he could. He followed the corridor to the bathroom where he took refuge and pressed his fist to his mouth. When he was confident he had command of his emotions, he found Thomas' facecloth and ran it under cold water. When he returned to the bedroom, Thomas was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. How young he seemed.

"Let me." Bates wiped Thomas' face with the cloth, and Thomas submitted. "It's unbearable, Pooh. It's unbearable that Northcott never suffered for his crimes against you."

"They were crimes?"

"Certainly they were crimes. What did you think?"

Thomas shrugged. "John ... ?"

"Mm?"

"If you had known about me, about what was happening to me, then you wouldn't have deserted me the way Coach had, would you? You would have been my white knight."

For a confused moment, Bates felt unsure whether he was talking to the man or the boy. When he saw the glimmer of hope in Thomas' soft blue eyes, he knew how he had to respond. He sat close to Thomas. "If I had known how you were being treated, I would have charged that house on my fiery steed and vanquished that devil."

"Then what?"

"I would have pulled you onto my horse, and we would have galloped out together in triumph. And you would have been a page no more."

"I would have been squire to Bonnie John, and you would have taught me to be a knight."

"That's right, Pooh. And you wouldn't have grown to be Terrible Thomas, you would have been ... "

" ... Thomas Treadswell."

The two men laughed at their little game. Then Thomas turned in towards Bates and leaned against his chest, allowing their cheeks to press together.

It was uncharacteristic of Thomas to be the one to initiate physical contact between them, and Bates respected the impulse. "I'm here now, Pooh," he whispered. "That's what counts, isn't it?"

Thomas nodded and hid his face in Bates' shoulder.

Bates sat quietly with his arms about his little brother while his mind frantically sorted through the details of the night's story. As soon as Thomas lifted his head, Bates blurted, "How did you survive? How is it you're still here?"

Thomas chuckled. "Haven't you always said I have nine lives?"

"Don't joke, Pooh. You're going to tell me, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm going tell you." Thomas closed his eyes for a moment, and Bates imagined him reconnecting with his younger self.

"I was in bad shape. It hurt to move, and I was dizzy, but I was determined to meet my end in public. I managed to dress and checked that the notes were in place. Northcott preferred a carriage to his car for parties, and I was expected to ride as I always did, on the footboard. Getting up there wasn't a problem. Cornie, the first footman, always pulled me up. Hanging on was a different story. I was afraid that if I fell off and died on the road that Northcott would have me scooped up and buried on the estate, and no one would ever see the notes. I was losing my hold when Cornie gripped his hand over mine. I heard him say something to Ollie, the second footman, and Ollie did the same. When we arrived, Cornie helped me down. Then he told me that I should eat something and stop torturing everyone."

"So even the servants believed Northcott's lie."

"Only Alfie knew the truth, but he kept it to himself."

Bates held his tongue.

"Once I was inside among the guests, I accepted my fate. I obeyed Northcott's signals and waited for the worst to happen. I was standing behind Northcott's chair in the dining room, trying to imagine the contents of the dishes from their aromas, when the lights seemed to dim. The last thing I remembered was a woman's shout."

"You collapsed?"

"I must have. I woke up in a different room and opened my eyes to the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She had long silver hair, and it was wound up in ribbon as though she were a Greek goddess. Her dress was silver, too, with rose trim. I asked her if she was an angel. Before she could answer, I asked her to take me to my mum. When she hesitated, I began to blubber and begged her to take me to my mum. That's when I heard Northcott's voice and knew I wasn't dead."

"He was telling the woman the big lie, wasn't he?"

"That's right, but I don't think Northcott fooled her. She wanted to see for herself that I would refuse to eat, so she asked me to take a sip of milk. Northcott signalled me to refuse, and I began to wail. That must have been a shock to him. Until that night, I had always obeyed his rules. When she prompted me again, he signalled me to accept. She helped me sit up and held the glass herself. Then she told Northcott that she wanted to speak to me alone. He refused to leave, of course, but she asked, Why? Are you afraid of what he'll say about you? What could he do but leave? On his way out, he gave me his favourite signal, the one that ordered me to say something flattering about him."

"Did you tell the woman the truth?"

Thomas shook his head. "I had a plan for dying, but I hadn't died. As far as I knew, Flossie was still in danger. I told the woman what a wonderful employer Northcott was. I don't think she believed me. I was still bawling. She asked me if I would like to work for her. I repeated what a wonderful employer Northcott was. I remember she laughed, and I thought she was even more beautiful. She fed me a few bites of blancmange and told me she couldn't feed me more without instructions from her doctor. She had sent a footman to fetch him."

"Did she take you away from Northcott?"

"No, John. I've told you before. I was with him until I was seventeen."

"I remember. He choked to death on ..."

"... on a grape."

"He got off too easy. So he took you back to Edenby?"

"He promised to follow the doctor's instructions and to consult with his own doctor the next day. Before we left, the woman told me that she had a French lad working for her who was about my age. She thought we could be chums. He could teach me French, and I could improve his English. I told her again what a wonderful employer Northcott was. The woman leaned forward and told me to whisper in her ear what I was truly thinking. You have to understand, John. I was weak and couldn't think, and I was still terrified that Northcott would take his revenge on Flossie."

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her that she was an angel my mum sent to protect me. It felt like the truth."

"It still feels like the truth. What happened with Northcott?"

"He kept his promise. The woman's doctor had me wrapped in blankets, and Cornie carried me to the carriage. I rode inside with Northcott. I'd never done that before. We were almost home when, out of the blue, Northcott said that he had never meant to harm me, that he had only wanted to stop me from growing. That was the only attempt he ever made to apologize."

Again, Bates kept a tight rein on his emotions.

"I was surprised when Northcott had Cornie carry me into the cottage. He asked me if I needed Cornie's help to ready myself for bed. I remembered the notes I had hidden in my clothes and said I could manage. Northcott surprised me again when he had Alfie bring me a late supper of eggs and cocoa. The next day Northcott's doctor examined me. He told Northcott how close I came to dying, and I guess that put the fear of god into him. He followed the doctor's orders to the letter. For three weeks, I lived like a king, and Northcott left me alone."

"And then?"

"The doctor told Northcott I was well, and he didn't check on me after that."

"And Northcott?"

Thomas shrugged. "Things went on as before."

"I thought the doctor put the fear of god into him."

"He did. That's why he allowed me a glass of milk with every meal and an extra glass before a visit or a dinner."

"Generous."

"What?"

"So he was still starving you?"

"Let's say he kept me trim."

"What about the woman ... your angel."

"I never saw her again. Some angel."

"She was your angel, Pooh. She saved you, didn't she?"

"She left me to Northcott's mercy, the same as Coach."

"Northcott was a liar and a manipulator. Who knows what he told them."

"They should have known better!"

Bates placed his hand on Thomas' knee. "Listen to me, Pooh. You were a boy when these things happened, but you're a man now, and you can understand that Coach and Twig and your angel were ordinary people who didn't have extraordinary insights."

"You don't believe they deserted me?"

"I don't believe they believed they deserted you."

"What could he have told them?"

"Whatever they needed to hear."

Thomas fell silent.

"You're exhausted, Pooh. It's no wonder, but there's still time for you to get some sleep."

"Not yet." Thomas stood and pulled the biscuit tin from the box. "I need to tell you one more thing."

"I don't know if I can hear one more thing."

"John, please, I ..."

"It's fine, Pooh. I'm a bit tired, that's all. Come and tell me."

"Perhaps I should wait until ..."

"No. It's your first night in this house, and I want you to start off right."

Thomas nodded. He opened the tin and held out the contents to Bates.

"Mrs Patmore's ginger nuts! No wonder you didn't care if I took the last one."

"These are different."

"They're not Mrs Patmore's?"

"They're Mrs Patmore's all right, only she gave them to you, and I stole mine."

Bates laughed. "You stole them? You're the butler. You only have to ask."

"But I didn't ask."

"I'm tired, Pooh. Out with it."

"I've been stealing food since my first day at the Abbey."

"That's not news." Bates stretched. "I knew you stole wine, and I ... "

"That was different! I stole wine to sell for cash, and ... and I haven't done anything like that since before the war!"

"Don't get excited, Pooh. There's nothing surprising about a lad wanting to hoard a bit of food because he was starved as a boy. We all want to feel secure."

"But that's the thing, John. I have no need to steal now, but I can't stop myself. I've tried, but if I go to bed with the tin empty, then I end up scavenging Mrs Patmore's kitchen in the middle of the night."

"You know how to stop."

"No, John, I don't!"

"You're going to make me tell you?"

"Please, John. You can't imagine how humiliated I feel."

"I think I can," Bates responded quietly. "This compulsion to steal will end when you confess it to Mrs Patmore."

"You expect me to tell Mrs Patmore that I've been stealing from her for ...," Thomas calculated in his head, "for SEVENTEEN YEARS?"

"Better late than never."

"Oh shut up, you old goat." Thomas sank onto the bed with the tin on his lap. "She could have me sacked."

"I doubt that would happen, but it could."

"Is that the only way?"

"That's my opinion. Do it tomorrow; I'll come with you."

Thomas nodded and reached for the tin's cover.

"Wait!"

"What?"

Bates reached into the tin and took a biscuit. "They are my favourite."

Thomas covered the tin. "All of a sudden, I can't keep my eyes open."

"You've unburdened yourself. You're going to sleep well tonight, Pooh ... what's left of the night." Bates pulled the covers back from the bed.

Thomas settled between the sheets. "You gave up a night's sleep for me," he murmured as his eyelids fell shut.

"We do for each other, mon loulou."

Thomas waggled his finger without opening his eyes.

"It's brass monkey weather out here!"

The words jolted Bates, and Old Ram rolled off his lap onto the deck. He looked up to see Thomas wrapped tightly in his coat.

"I didn't mean to startle you." Thomas rescued Old Ram and handed the stick back to its master. "Did you think I was a mermaid?" he asked, unsmiling.

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"I will as soon as you stop calling me mon loulou."

"Ah. Then never."

Thomas did a poor job of hiding his apprehension. "You've been out here a long time."

"I've been stargazing. Come. Keep me company."

Immediately, Thomas perked up. "One minute."

Bates watched as Thomas hurried down the passageway and return carrying two blankets. "Where did you get those?"

"I've been on this ship for three days, John. I know where everything is."

Bates laughed appreciatively. Thomas was going to have no difficulty mastering New York.

Thomas covered Bates with one blanket and nestled under the other in the next chair. He chatted happily about the night sky, about the Americans he'd met on the ship, about their plans for New York. He jumped easily from one topic to the next.

Bates struggled to stay in the conversation. He was feeling peckish and wondered if the men playing cards in the lounge had any food.

"Have you?"

"What? Sorry, the waves are too loud. I couldn't hear."

"Have you and Anna discussed the photo?"

"The photo? You mean ... yes, we've agreed to go along with it." Bates pulled off the blanket and swung his legs off the chair. "It's not right, Pooh, your having to masquerade as something you're not."

Thomas shrugged. "I'm used to it. Besides, what choice do I have? People will wonder why a tall charmer like me isn't married."

"You mustn't forget modest."

Thomas laughed. "People love to gossip about newcomers, John, so we'll give them something to gossip about."

"I suppose. You're making it hard on yourself, using Minnie."

Thomas shrugged. "It's the truth isn't it? And what has a more truthful ring than the truth?"

"That's why Anna and I agreed."

"And now that she's marrying someone else, there's even more heartbreak and romance."

"Stop it, Pooh. I'll have none of your bravado."

"Sorry."

"I think it's time we went back to the cabin. I don't want the toddlekins to wake Anna."

"Right." Thomas stood and folded the blankets. "You'll see, John. Minnie's the best choice. I'll set out her photo, and you'll whisper about a broken engagement and how she ruined me for other women, and people will eat it up."

"So long as you don't eat it up."

"I won't, John. I've had my sulk. I'm done now." Thomas yanked Bates' hat down over his face.

Bates lifted his hat in time to see Thomas jump up and tap the overhead as he ran down the passageway to return the blankets. Bates laughed, as he always did, at his little brother's antics.