***chapter 37***
One Year Later
Strange to think exactly one year ago today he stood at this very spot by the lake prepared to take his own life. So much had changed since then. Even the day was kinder. Unlike the frost of the previous year, summer lingered into autumn and a small breeze riffled playfully through his thick, dark hair while a timid sun gently warmed his face. He looked down at his wavering reflection, at the cloud shadows floating leisurely through the placid water. Remembering.
Thomas was torn in two. He couldn't leave Branson to drown and nor could he leave go of Sybbie. She might well go further away from the lake if he told her to, but she was very young and very scared, her eyes wide at the sight of the man thrashing helplessly and swallowing water being swept further away, and she was more likely to cling to him as she clung now in sheer terror. And so, because he couldn't abandon a child nor leave Branson to drown, he yelled for help, hoping by some miracle someone was near enough to hear. And someone did.
Suddenly Phyllis Baxter was by his side. As she had always been when he was a boy, there to support him when his father beat him, when he and his sweetheart Paul needed somewhere to hide, when his sister Kate needed a confidant and friend, she was there just when he needed her most. And, odd how such thoughts will assail us in unexpected moments, he realised then his anger and desire for vengeance stemmed from his aching need for her when she was gone. He would always need her.
Not without guilt at the puzzled hurt in the little girl's face, he forced Sybbie's tenacious hold from himself and Phyllis took her into her own arms, trusting him, giving him the strength to believe in himself because she believed in him. And then, just when he was about to dive into the lake, young Vinnie appeared from nowhere and made the situation a thousand times worse by plunging in before him, the stupid lad obviously imagining he could perform some kind of heroic rescue, though it was obvious from the way he was already floundering near the edge he was not a confident swimmer, nor even a swimmer.
But to Thomas's relief, someone else was there now, pulling Vinnie to safety, and before he could process why Tom Branson was on land pulling Vinnie out of the lake and yet Tom Branson was drowning, he had dived into the icy waters, all thoughts of suicide fled, knowing only he had to try and save the man from certain death. Then came only blackness.
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They said he almost drowned. That his chest had to be pumped, that he was not expected to survive, that the whole of Downton Abbey spoke in whispers and wept with sorrow, and then wept anew, fresh tears of happiness when finally he began his slow recovery.
Only Miss Baxter ever knew the irony that he had gone down to the lake to take his own life and instead saved someone else's. And when he confided in her everything that led to his intended suicide, the belief he may have killed John Bates and his wife and unborn child, the fear of being cast out from Downton Abbey, the only place he had ever thought of as home, the guilt that many years ago he may have caused the deaths of Kate, Paul and Ben by infecting them with diphtheria, the relief of having someone to talk to washed over him, soothing and cathartic. Because he wasn't as strong as he'd always believed. He did need people.
They said he was a hero.
But he had no memory of saving the drowning man, of reaching Aiden in time. Aiden Branson. Tom Branson's twin brother. Only Lady Sybil ever knew of him before and Lady Mary learned of him that morning when Tom took a telephone call about "urgent business in the city he must attend to".
Like Kieran, Aiden believed their brother to have betrayed his roots and sold his soul to the capitalist enemy. Furious that Kieran had finally drunk himself to death and drinking heavily after his pauper's funeral, beside himself with grief, he telephoned Downton Abbey to accuse his twin, who had known nothing about Kieran's death because neither of his estranged brothers ever responded to his constant attempts at a reconciliation, of taking land from the backs of workers and food from the mouths of the poor, the call that had sent Tom racing to be by his side to console his brother and pay his last respects to Kieran, little Sybbie determinedly tagging after her beloved Daddy.
But though he agreed to return with Tom to Downton Abbey and meet the people he unjustly held responsible for his poverty, Aiden was a hard nut to crack, bitter and resentful at having been treated like a leper all his life because of his homosexuality while his twin was heterosexual and loved. Though when he looked back in the clear light of day, Tom had never made him feel an outcast; it was own jealousy that did, he admitted sheepishly to Thomas. The pair had become good friends. More than friends.
Something was growing between them, something slow and precious and beautiful, something they felt was always meant to be. He never spoke aloud about what was in Thomas's mind that day by the lake, but he knew. It was in his sympathetic brown eyes. More than once, when the world grew too cruel for "men like himself" it entered his, he told him, the only thing that stopped him being the knowledge that if he was unsuccessful and found out he would be jailed.*.
Tom Branson's uneasiness with his homosexuality made sense now, Thomas reflected, when alone later. He wouldn't go as far yet as calling Tom a friend but they had a greater understanding. And he began to realise that at Downton Abbey he had never been disliked for his homosexuality but for the way he treated others. Downton Abbey had long accepted him for who he was. And he'd made friends here. Especially with the children.
There was a mutiny in the nursery ranks because they were not being allowed to see him. In vain did their parents explain to Sybbie, George and Marigold that doctors said Mr Barrow was very ill and they would be be able to visit him eventually, but not until he looked and felt much better.
They NEEDED to see him NOW, Sybbie, the leader of the revolution, declared, and she firmly put forward the strikers' demands ("We will NOT move until we can go and see Mr Barrow".) She had "lots and lots to tell him and so did Marigold and George" and George, who had donned his soldier hat, added it was "very, very important" he spoke with Mr Barrow and they should let him "because they were both soldiers". And in a pre-planned move, the trio stopped in the middle of their morning walk to hold hands in their determined little circle.
In the end, their parents were forced to relent and one early afternoon three children wearing appropriately grave expressions, having been sternly warned that their friend was still very sick and they must promise to be very quiet, entered his room as quietly as children are able to, which was of course somewhere between pattering footsteps and marching thuds. Within minutes, all promises of being quiet forgotten, they were swarming on his bed to proudly show him the get well card they'd made for him, to play Ludo - not very successfully, it must be said, as even with the board placed on a tray the counters still slid everywhere - and to laugh uproariously when Master George shook the dice in the cup so enthusiastically that he accidentally tumbled off the bed. So delighted was he with the amused reaction of his appreciative audience that it seemed he may have discovered his vocation, for he deliberately tumbled off the bed several times more until they were all crying with laughter.
As predicted by his doctors in the early days of his recovery, fifteen minutes was enough to tire Thomas out and Lottie, who being older and considered more responsible, had been awarded the privilege of visiting him two or three times already, was therefore despatched to collect the three. Not many people could have persuaded Sybbie, George and Marigold to be parted from their Mr Barrow, but Lottie was little more than a child herself and as well as relating to the children more easily she was, too, a "very good friend of Mr Barrow's" as she liked to boast to the other servants.
It was remarkable how much Lottie had grown in confidence since the morning she brought Master George to his mother and grandmother. She was no longer maid-of-all-work, but instead helped out with the children and aspired to be a nanny herself. Vinnie, who was "walking out" with Lottie, as the older servants called it with fond smiles, recollecting their own courting days when very young, had a new job as well. Or, at least, he had his old job – just – but under threat of losing both this and Lottie if he didn't stop disappearing for forty winks whenever it suited him, he had become a (slightly) more sensible person in the last twelve months and there was a (slim) possibility he may be promoted to senior boot boy, Mr Carson forecast. Vinnie's penchant for telling tall tales had not entirely left him, but those tales were somewhat diluted these days and when the other servants teased him about entertaining them with one of his stories he would good-naturedly oblige and everybody happily took them with a pinch – nay, a large dose! - of salt.
Believing he had accidentally killed Anna was the wake-up call he needed and he never again wanted to experience "life on the run as a dangerous fugitive", he confided in Little John Bates, who only stared up at him in bemusement from the pram Lottie was pushing as if studying a highly unusual species. But when Vinnie told John Bates Junior his nickname meant there was a possibility he may be related to one of Robin Hood's merry men and he might well grow up to be seven feet tall** , though he kindly added he should bear in mind this was only a theory, Little John's lips quivered and he wailed (whether perhaps at the idea of being related or not or being seven feet tall or not remains unknown), prompting Lottie to angrily declare she hoped he would fare better with their own children, at which they both blushed beetroot red and Lottie all but ran away with the pram while Vinnie suddenly remembered an "urgent chore " Mr Carson required him to finish and raced away as fast if his very life depended upon its completion.
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Knowing how fond he was of children, Anna brought Little John to see Thomas as soon as Dr Clarkson allowed it.
"He has a middle name. Thomas," she remarked, after they had been talking for a while, smiling at how quickly her baby son had settled in Thomas's arms and gurgled happily whenever he spoke..
At first, he didn't understand. "What name did you choose then?" He asked idly. The little chap smelled of baby soap and powder and made him ache for a child of his own. Something that could never be.
"Thomas," she repeated. "His middle name's Thomas."
"After a relative?" He enquired idly, still concentrating on the infant, watching fascinated as Little John's eyes fluttered closed in sleep, marvelling at his peace and contentment. He'd never known that. Not after Mam died. All he remembered was Dad's beatings.
"No. After you."
He looked up in astonishment. "Me?! Why? I'm not anyone... I'm not anyone special."
Anna laughed. "I never thought I would ever hear our Mr Barrow say that!"
"I'm not that Mr Barrow any more." He gently stroked Little John's soft golden curls. Everyone had commented in surprise and delight on how he'd been born with a full head of hair the same sun yellow as Anna's.
"I'm glad you're not," Anna said softly. "I'm glad you don't push people away."
"Got no bloody choice, have I? Stuck here for the world and his wife to wander in any time they feel like it." But she would have to be deaf not to notice the words were laced with humour and he was pleased to be part of the Downton Abbey community he had rejected for so long. He hesitated. "Look, Anna, the name, I'm flattered and all, but is it wise? What does Mr Bates have to say about it?" Thomas hadn't seen John Bates since the wine cellar incident. Apparently, he'd gone with the "accident" story. Unless the head injury caused memory problems – and there was no suggestion that it had - he must have known. He was shielding Thomas. Again. What the hell did the man want, a sainthood?
"It was his idea. He'll explain when he sees you. We'd like you to be part of our family, Thomas, John and I," Anna said.
And knowing how proud he was and how embarrassed he would be if he knew she saw his emotion, she held out her arms to retrieve her sleeping son. "I'd best go. It's nearly time for Little John's feed. After all, we need to make sure he grows up to be seven foot!" She had heard about Vinnie's theory from the other servants. Lottie, who was quite a chatterbox these days, had told them in fond amusement of her sweetheart's latest, appropriately enough, tall story (minus her embarrassing "our own children" gaffe) and in turn Anna had related it to Thomas.
And, rising, she left him to his thoughts.
*Shockingly, in England and Wales until 1961 (not sure about Scotland and Ireland), just six years before homosexuality was decriminalised, attempted suicide was actually considered a criminal offence for which people could be prosecuted and imprisoned. I can't even begin to imagine what anyone suffering from depression must have gone through.
**Little John, one of Robin Hood's Merry Men, was seven feet tall.
A/N: I am on holiday in three weeks and as I never write when I am away the next update will be in five weeks instead of the usual four.
