A/N: Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews!


New Normal

Chapter Five

June 23, 2014

Mary awoke to a knocking at her bedroom door. Light was streaming in through her window. She didn't respond immediately, dimly aware of her surrounding. What time was it?

The knocking started again. Mary, who was stark naked, immediately panicked. "Just a minute!" She called out, rolling out of her bed. She scrambled over to her dresser... before realizing she didn't even know what time it was. Mary checked her phone, gasping when she saw it was 12:02 in the afternoon.

There was no time to worry about buttoning up blouses and zipping pants. Mary hastily fastened her bra on (not the muddy one from last night, that was currently in her laundry hamper), threw on a pair of clean panties, and reached for dress without a zipper. There were no important meetings so only Thomas would see her...

"Are you decent?" Tom called out from behind the door as Mary dragged a brush through her unruly hair.

Mary cursed under her breath as she caught a snarl. "Yes!"

The bedroom door swung open, revealing Tom in his pajamas. They were the same as the ones from last night, apart from the shirt, which he had replaced. George was in his arms. "Someone wanted his Mama and Uncle Tom wasn't a good enough substitute," he said, bouncing her squirming son in his arms. It took a moment before noticed her. "You're awfully dressed up."

"I'm late for work! Why didn't you wake me up?" Come to think of it... "Why aren't you at work?"

"I called in," he answered. "I was up most of the night, worried sick about you. I was about ready to call the police."

Mary resisted rolling her eyes. It was sweet that he worried... thank God he hadn't. She tried to imagine the sirens blaring as they pulled up to the barn, only to find her and Charles wet and covered in mud.

"You slept through your alarm, so I knew you were too tired," Tom continued, "So I texted Thomas and told him about your misadventures. He promised to let you know about anything important and email you the relevant things."

Mary stopped brushing her hair. "That was completely unnecessary." Now she was annoyed, practically slamming her brush against the counter. George whined and wriggled in Tom's arms, so she reached for him.

"You were in no fit state to drive and neither was I," said Tom. "I actually thought about waking you and driving you in, but realized that it would be dangerous for both of us. Considering you're your own boss and mine doesn't care where I work as long as everything's in on time, I figured this was the best thing to do."

Come to think of it, Mary would have been mortified if Tom had barged into her room to wake her, considering her disregard for pajamas last night. Still, she couldn't help but feel irritated. "I can't slack off just because I'm tired."

"You were exhausted," corrected Tom. "Even I could see it. You put in plenty of hours devoted to the estate yesterday. You need a day off."

Mary wanted to argue with him, but George was in her arms and she was still fighting the tiredness from yesterday. "Fine," she grumbled, sitting down on her bed. The ache in her feet eased.

Tom didn't seem pleased but said, "I'm going to make some lunch. Cheese toasties okay?"

Mary nodded, pulling George close. Her son gurgled, placing a hand in his mouth. She wondered if more teeth were coming in now...

During lunch, Tom informed her of his evening... and the woman he had met there. Sarah Bunting was a primary school teacher who had gone to the event and managed to captivate his attention. Mary listened with interest, nodding and eating her sandwich intermittently before turning to George and offering him some baby food.

"So," she said slowly, "do you think you'll see her again?"

"Probably not." He smiled sheepishly. "I forgot to get her number."

Mary smiled back at him. "What a shame," she said, unable to muster up enough enthusiasm.

"What about Charles? Do you have his number now?" Tom asked, leaning across the table.

"As a matter of fact, I do," she said. "I promised to treat him to some dinner as a thank you." When she noted his amused expression, "He's not as bad as I thought."

"That's a relief," said Tom. He paused before asking, "Do you like him? I mean... like that?"

Mary wasn't sure how to feel about that question... but the answer wasn't an outright no. "I don't know how to feel about him, to be perfectly honest," she admitted. "He's just a friend for now. That's all he could be." She hesitated. "What about Sarah? Do you like her?" It occurred too late to Mary that they sounded like a couple of children talking about their crushes on a playground.

Tom shrugged. "She was exactly my type on paper. But... I don't know. It seems almost impossible to think of anyone but Sybil that way."

Mary knew what he meant. No one could compare to Matthew in her eyes. "Do you think we'll ever feel that way again?" She asked, offering George another spoonful of food.

Tom contemplated for a moment. "Would you think me horrible if I said that I hope we don't?" Mary shook her head but Tom still clarified, "Sybil was special to me. She was the first woman I ever really loved— it was that all consuming kind of thing you only ever think you'll read about or see in a movie. But it was real for us. And I know you didn't approve at first, but the truth is we made each other happy." His eyes were far away. "And if I meet someone else and feel that way... I'm worried I'll forget what it was like with her. Does that make any sense?"

"Perfect sense," answered Mary. She wasn't stirring her coffee anymore. Instead, it was in her hands, the warmth seeping through to her skin. "I hope we don't, either," she said, not sure if she would regret what she was about to say. "We lost the most important person to us. Imagine if we found somebody like that again and then lost them?" She saw the pain invade his eyes, partially wishing she had said nothing and glad to know she wasn't alone. "I don't think I could bear it a second time."

"Nor I," Tom said. He paused, scrutinizing her before stating, "We understand each other," and meeting her gaze. He let out a self deprecating laugh. "God... why'd I ever listen to Edna when I had you?"

Mary wasn't sure what he meant by that. So she asked... and he explained everything. How he had gone to a pub one afternoon after work with some colleagues and meeting a pretty girl. She would walk over flirt with him, making her interest in him clearly known. He had brought her home one evening after one too many while her and Matthew were away on an anniversary trip and Sybbie was with her grandparents, only to break down and cry when he saw the picture of Sybil he kept on his nightstand. He told her to go home and never once went back to that pub. He told her his shock at learning she was working for his mother-in-law, trying to be friendly until she obtained his phone number.

"My God," breathed Mary, sickened by what she heard. He had thought far more optimistically of that woman than she deserved. "Tom, why didn't you say anything?"

"I was embarrassed... and ashamed," he admitted. "You were Sybil's sister..."

"I'm also your best friend," she said seriously. "Don't ever feel like you have to hide anything from me. Ever."

Tom smiled. "I know that now. But I wasn't as certain then."

Mary wished that hadn't been the case. Still, she wouldn't judge him too harshly. He had been the victim in all this... and she knew what it was to blame herself for something out of her control. "I'm surprised you didn't want the restraining order after all." The idea that she knew where they lived was more than a little disturbing to Mary, especially with George and Sybbie.

"We have locks on the doors."

"Still."

"Well, she's gone now. So we won't have to worry about her anymore."

That was some small relief. Mary only hoped she would stay far, far away from him.


August 2, 2014

It had taken some time to coordinate a time for the date— the date that wasn't a date. Nevertheless, Mary felt like it was a date. She was certainly going to the same effort she would if she was going on a date. Her hair had been curled, her mascara applied, she had picked out a little black dress... the final touch was bright red lipstick.

"Mama," George babbled from her bedroom. He was laying on her bed, contenting himself by crawling across her mattress. Mary was keeping a close eye on him. Tom and Sybbie were out grocery shopping but Tom was going to watch George once Charles appeared.

When Mary heard the insistent knocking at the front door, she frowned. She checked the time on her phone. It was only 6— he wasn't due until 6:30. Perhaps he was running early... "Let's go downstairs, George," Mary said, picking up her son. She suddenly could remember if Charles knew about him or not... He hadn't come up in their conversations yet.

Mary was shocked to open the door and reveal her sister. Tears were running freely down her face, smearing her make up. "Edith!" she cried out, alarmed at her appearance— both on her doorstep and in general.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's my house," answered Mary, offended. "What's the matter?"

Edith looked hesitant. "I can come back later—"

Mary sighed, holding George in one arm and using her free hand to grip her sister's wrist. "Come in," she ordered in the least welcoming tone possible. In fact, Mary was aware she sounded downright menacing. Nevertheless, it worked. Edith entered the house, sniffling. Mary closed the door behind her.

"Why are you dressed up?" asked Edith, using a paper towel to wipe her eyes and her smudged mascara.

"I had dinner plans." Mary used the past tense, figuring Edith's appearance at her doorstep didn't bode well for her evening out. "I take it you came here looking for Tom?" When Edith nodded, Mary asked, "Can I help?"

"I don't know," Edith answered, taking a seat at Tom's spot at the dining room table. It was generous to call it a dining room, considering it was just the empty space between the kitchen, closet, living room. "You usually don't want to help me."

Edith's pity parties were never something she wanted to indulge in, even when she didn't have something planned. Still, Mary figured if she was showing up at her house, things were dire... even if she was looking for Tom. Mary let out a sigh and held George out. "Will you hold him? I need to make a call." Edith merely nodded, accepting George. Mary briefly wondered if this was the first time she had held her nephew.

Explaining to Charles was difficult. "I am so sorry," she said inside her bathroom. She checked under the door to make sure Edith wasn't listening in. She had been known to do so before... she spoke candidly once she didn't see any feet in the gap between the floor and the door, she continued with, "I was really looking forward to it but a family thing has come up."

"A family thing?"

"It's not an emergency," she said with a wearily sigh. "My sister showed up bawling her eyes out. She never comes to me for anything so I know it must be bad." She bit the inside of her lip. "Can we reschedule?"

"Of course we can."

"I'm so sorry," she apologized again. "I feel so awful... you've come up all this way..." Charles lived in London and was making a special trip up to Yorkshire expressly for the dinner.

"I'll be alright, Mary." She tried to ignore the

fluttering in her stomach at the sound of her name in his voice. "I'll survive. I promise." He paused. "Will next week work?"

"We've a huge bazaar to plan... But you are more than welcome to come," she said, realizing that she wanted to see him, regardless of dinner or not. "Will you be busy the day after that? Maybe we could go on Sunday?"

"Alright. Sunday it is. That sounds good to me." She thought she detected the smile in his voice.

When Mary re-emerged, Edith was bouncing George on her lap, still looking sad but nowhere near as much. "So," Mary said, collecting her son from Edith's arms, "do you want to tell me everything now or wait until Tom comes home?"

Edith looked uneasy, biting her dry lips. "I don't know how to say it."

This air of mystery was infuriating. Nevertheless, Mary figured snapping at her wouldn't be effective. "I won't judge you," she offered, not sounding terribly genuine, but fairly confident Edith couldn't have done anything terribly scandalous.

That seemed to do it. Edith took in a shudder breath. "I'm pregnant," she said, looking up at Mary through red rimmed eyes.

Mary almost dropped George. Once she realized she was losing hold of him, she quickly recovered. "You're what?" She asked, heart still pounding in her chest with the rush of adrenaline that came from almost dropping one's child. When Edith repeated her news, Mary felt only slightly more stable. She walked over to George's high chair, setting him in it before taking her seat at the table. "God... It's Michael's?"

"Yes, of course it's Michael's!" exclaimed Edith, aghast. "God, Mary, how many men do you think I've been sleeping with?"

Truthfully, up until now, Mary had chosen to believe her sister wasn't sleeping with anybody. She certainly had preferred that to whatever this was... "Does he know?" Mary asked.

Edith's lower lip trembled. She didn't seem able to speak before nodding. A sob escaped her.

Mary didn't quite understand the reaction. What was so awful about this? Michael has always seemed like a stand-up gentleman, very courteous and caring. He certainly seemed to like Edith... "What is it? Has he said something awful?"

Edith shook her head, tears in her eyes. "He wants nothing to do with me anymore," she all but wailed. Her shoulders were shaking, now covering up her face as she wept in earnest.

Mary wasn't one for comforting people but even she knew Edith needed someone. She rose from her chair. She stood next to Edith's chair, patting her shoulder. "There, there," she said unconvincingly, not certain she was really comforting her sister, but not content to sit back and watch her cry. Edith didn't seem to be noticing her attempts, at any rate.

The door opened, revealing Tom and two bags full of groceries. "They didn't have the wine you liked, sor— Edith?"

"Are there anymore groceries?" Mary was eager to escape the situation as quickly as possible, through whatever means of groceries.

Tom nodded, silently questioning her. "There's one more bag in the car... and Sybbie, too, of course." She left Edith's side, walking to the door when Tom reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her. "What's going on?" He murmured.

"She showed up here crying. She can tell you the rest," said Mary, still unable to quite process the fact her sister was pregnant and her supposedly loving boyfriend had no interest in their child. "Needless to say, I'm not going out with Charles tonight. I've canceled."

"I'm sorry," Tom said quietly, letting go of her arm. "I know you were looking forward to it."

Mary smiled wanly and shrugged. "We've rescheduled. I'll be fine." She walked out the door, ready to collect her niece and the remained of the groceries.

Sybbie was fast asleep in her car seat when Mary went to fetch her. She lifted her out, cradling her gently as to not disturb her. It took some maneuvering to open the door with a two year old and groceries, but somehow she managed. Sybbie only began stirring once they entered the house... likely because of the great fuss Edith was making. Oh, well... at least she had a short nap.

"I don't understand," Tom was saying, holding one of Edith's hands. "What do you mean Michael doesn't want to be involved? It's his baby, too!"

"It's not as a simple as that," Edith sniffled. Mary frowned, carrying Sybbie over to the table. "It's hard to explain but... well," she glanced nervously between the two of them before admitting, "He's married."

Mary felt her jaw drop. Married? "Did you know?" she demanded, all sympathy forgotten. "Before he knocked you up?"

Edith scoffed, narrowing her eyes. "Oh, please— like you're one to talk about fidelity."

Mary flinched, remembering the maelstrom of rumors that surrounded her, how Edith had ruined Mary's favorite lipstick to write the words DIRTY SLUT on her locker as if they lived in a teen drama instead of the real world. At once, she felt incensed. "You have no idea what you're talking about, so keep your mouth shut!"

"Fighting with each other isn't going to get any of us anywhere," Tom said diplomatically before Edith could respond, yet casting stern looks at them both. He turned back to Edith, now no longer holding her hand. "Edith, did you know he was married?"

Mary watched her sister nod reluctantly. She felt sickened. "He... He said he was going to leave her. That he was looking to divorce her."

Mary couldn't resist scoffing. "Edith, this isn't a rom-com. This is real life. Married men who cheat on their wives cannot be trusted."

"Well, I know that now," she said, wiping away her tears. "And I wish I'd never started up with him, but..." Her eyes began growing watery again. "Now I don't know what to do!"

"Well, you have two options," Tom said levelly. "Are you going to keep the baby or not?"

"I want to keep it," said Edith, blinking back more tears. "I was actually going to— going to get an abortion just this afternoon but— I set up an appointment and everything and no one was ever going to know, but... but then I couldn't do it!"

"Have you thought about adopting the baby out?" suggested Tom.

Edith shook her head. "There's already enough children out there who need homes. I don't want to— and I want it. I want to raise it." She wiped her eyes. "I suppose I'll just have to accept that Papa won't approve... but then again, I've always been a disappointment to him."

Mary bit the inside of her lip. Edith had always had an inferiority complex; the typical middle child, stuck right between two independent sisters that managed to attract attention no matter what they did while she did her best to be responsible and live up to her parents expectations. With Mary and her boyfriends and Sybil and her political rallies, Edith hadn't been given nearly the same amount of attention in spite of her attempts to be a dutiful daughter. It was hard to blame her for thinking like that.

"He'll get over it," said Tom, offering a smile. "Take it from someone whose been there before."

"If he puts up a fight, I'll defend you," Mary found herself saying. "It's 2015; if you want a baby, why shouldn't you have one? Besides, you're a grown woman. Who cares what Papa thinks?"

"I do," insisted Edith. "He's my father. And I want my child to know their grandparents, just like Sybbie and George do!"

"He won't cut you out," Tom told her. Mary agreed; there was no guarantee Papa would take the news well, but he wasn't about to do anything to lose Edith. "Not over something like this."

"But what about my job? I can't work for him anymore!" Edith said, referring back to Michael.

"Work somewhere else... or start up your own magazine, like you've always talked about. You've more than enough money for that now," suggested Mary.

Edith sniffled. "I know I have plenty of options... but I just feel like I don't know what happening next. My life isn't the same anymore."


"You didn't have to do that," said Mary, helping Tom set up the couch with sheets and some pillows. Knowing it was getting late for Edith catch the train back to London, Tom had nobly offered her his bed in a show of chivalry.

"Of course I did. She's pregnant," Tom reminded her, as if their entire evening hadn't been consumed by it.

Mary supposed it would have been in bad taste to make Edith be the one to sleep on the couch and Mary certainly hadn't been willing to offer her own bed up... but Downton was practically down the road. Edith's childhood bedroom, like Mary's and Sybil's, was practically a shrine to them. There were countless bedroom there for her to stay in that didn't involve kicking anyone out of their own bed.

"I'm sorry about your date, by the way."

"It wasn't a date," Mary replied automatically. "But I'm sorry too. I hope he doesn't think I'm rude."

Tom shook his head. "Choosing the spend an evening comforting your sister instead of having fun speaks highly of you, I think. I'm sure you'll be rewarded for your good deed in some way." It sounded as if he were teasing her.

Mary scoffed. "I don't know if I'd make the choice again. I was next to useless trying to comfort her. It was all you."

Tom smiled before flopping down on the couch. "Well, thanks. For the compliment and helping me set all this up."

"Of course." Mary was halfway to the stairs. "I won't even say I told you so when you wake up with a stiff neck and sore back tomorrow."

He laughed. "Goodnight."

"Night," she echoed before climbing the darkened stairwell.


August 9, 2014

The appearance of Tony Gillingham at the bazaar was a shock for Mary, who had been contenting herself in the tent eating cake with Charles. "I've just seen a friend," she found herself saying, rising to her feet. "Will you please excuse me? I'll be back in a minute."

"Of course," said Charles.

Mary gave him a grateful smile before weaving through the crowd of people. Tony was over by oak tree, hands in his pockets, and in a brown suit. Oddly enough, it complemented his features nicely. "I wasn't expecting to see you here," she said with a smile, hoping things were alright between them. They hadn't spoken to one another since the disaster about leaving Mabel for her. "How are you?"

"Much better, now that I've seen you." Tony met her eyes, smiling. "Your mother invited me and I wanted a chance to come see you. In person. I think we communicate much better that way than over the phone."

"Tony," began Mary, "I'm so sorry, but I'm not ready to move on yet. It hasn't even been full year since Matthew passed..."

"I know," he interrupted. He offered her a smile before saying, "And I understand. And I respect that." Tony took in a deep breath before saying, "I've actually come here to tell you some news. This is exclusive, so you can't tell anyone," he said, in almost a teasing tone, before dropping the bombshell, "Mabel and I aren't marrying after all."

Her jaw dropped. "Oh my... I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he said with a shrug. "I'm not. I was the one who made the choice." Tony leaned against the tree. "It wasn't the life for me. For ages I was this secret she hid away and I had to sit back and watch her flirt with other men and be in PR relationships to boost ratings for her stupid show." There was more than a trace of bitterness in his voice. "And then suddenly I was thrust in the middle of it all. Paparazzi following me to work, media people trying to get ahold of me to know all these trivial things like Mabel's favorite kind of ice cream... I couldn't take it anymore. So I broke it off."

It sounded like a stressful life. Mary no longer felt envious of Mabel's lavish lifestyle if that was the sort of pressure on her. "Well, I am sorry. Really. I wish it could have worked out."

Tony smiled sadly. "Don't feel too bad for me. You see... I meant what I said, Mary. I'm always thinking about you." She was stunned by his forwardness. "I haven't felt like that with Mabel in ages. I should have broke it off then, before I proposed. It would have saved her a great deal of heartache. But you... you're different. I don't know why, but you are." Before Mary could reiterate her feelings for Matthew, he hastily said, "I know you aren't ready to move on. I respect that. So I wanted you to know that... that once you are ready to take that step, I'll be waiting for you."

Mary blinked, stunned by his admission. "I'm afraid you may have to wait quite a long time," she told him.

Tony smiled. "Good thing I'm a patient man." He quickly turned serious. "I mean it, Mary. No matter how long it takes. Next month, next year... whenever."

She was astonished. What was so special about her? "You barely know me," she insisted.

"And yet I already feel so strongly about you. I'm not much one for fate, but... I can already imagine spending the rest of my life with you."

Mary was relieved when she heard someone approach them. It was Charles, Mary's plate of cake in his hand, but he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he was looking right at Tony. "I thought it was you!" He exclaimed before smacking his good naturedly on the arm. "How've you been?"

"You know each other?"

"We went to school together," clarified Tony before returning the smile and shaking his hand. "How do you two know one another?"

"Charles saved my pigs from a terrible end," Mary told him, glancing back and forth between them with uncertainty. The two men exchanged greetings, asking one another what they had been up to and how life had been treating them.

Things only turned awkward when Charles asked, "How's Mabel doing? Congratulations on the engagement, by the way. I know I told her, but—"

Charles knew Mabel? Mary felt as if she was spinning when Tony sadly said, "We've actually called things off."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. How awful," Charles said genuinely. Mary wondered if he would be as sincere if he knew Tony had done so with Mary in mind.

Tony shook his head. "We weren't a good fit anymore."

"Really?" Charles cocked his head to the side. "When I ran into Mabel the other day, she acted like everything was fine. Actually... come to think of it, she seemed happier than I've ever seen her. Did something come up?"

"Just the pressures of show business. I'm not meant for her kind of life," Tony said uncomfortably, glancing at Mary.

Charles smiled sadly. "Few are. I'm sorry. Truly."

"I'll be alright," Tony assured him. "But I'm afraid I need to go. I have to be back in London soon." He glanced back over to her, their eyes locking. "It was nice to see you again, Mary." There was still that promise in his gaze.

"How do you know him?" Charles asked as she finished up her cake, a few minutes after Tony had departed.

"He's an old family friend. We've only just recently reacquainted." She licked the icing off her lips. "How do you know Mabel?"

"Practically the same way. My sister was best friends with her in primary school. They keep in touch, though." He smiled. "She's actually been on the show a couple of times. They meet up for lunch and there's a whole camera crew hovering over them, watching as they eat their salads."

Mary smiled, amused. "What's she like?" She asked, hoping that she wasn't as nice as she had heard. Knowing she had played a minute part in someone else's heartbreak didn't set right with her, but perhaps the guilt could be assuaged by learning some hideous fact about her...

"Big fan?"

"Just curious."

"She's rather feisty... she almost always has the right answer for everything... She can be a little cool when you first meet her but she is nice once you get to know her." Charles smiled ever so slightly, studying Mary out of the corner of his eye. "She reminds me of you, actually."

Mary felt even worse than she had before.


August 28, 2014

One week had passed since George's first birthday. A celebration had been held with family and their closest friends, much to her son's delight. Mary had very hesitantly invited Charles, who had not only gladly come but brought a gift as well.

As happy a time it was, Mary couldn't help but think of Matthew. He should have been here...

The following week had been hell. Matthew had officially been dead for over a year. Their son's birthday would always be the cruel reminder that he wasn't going to be there for all those important milestones, that Mary would never be able to grow old with him...

To make it even worse was that his birthday was rapidly approaching in two days. He would have been twenty nine... only he would be twenty seven forever, a tragically short life just when it had really begun...

Thomas understood why she had grown so reticent, why cups of coffee were either drunk without thought or left untouched. He didn't trouble her with the bookings for upcoming school visits or bother her with silly, trivial questions. He handled things silently and efficiently, just as she liked it. After being her friend for several years, Thomas understood Mary's standards perfectly.

She was practically dead on her feet when she stumbled home, glad that Tom had already picked up the kids. Mary has purchased an almost indecent amount of alcohol for one person and a pint of ice cream she refused to share before staggering into the house... but she was quickly startled by the woman sitting at her dining room table.

"Who are you?" Mary demanded, horrified by the stranger sitting in her spot. She had auburn hair, was looking down at her phone, and wore a pair of thick, black glasses.

"I'm Sarah," she said, glancing up with a frown. "Who are you?"

"I'm the owner of this house. Please explain to me why you're doing here." Mary was already pulling out her phone, ready to call 999 if absolutely necessary.

Sarah frowned again. "Are you Mary, by any chance?" Automatically thinking about a stranger digging around in her mail, she began hastily began dialing, just as Sarah said, "I'm here with Tom. We're going on a date?"

Mary was glad she hadn't hit the call button. She let out a sigh of relief, glad to know an absolute freak hadn't broken into her home. "You could have just said, you know," Mary said, stuffing the phone back into her pocket.

"I thought Tom would have told you," Sarah said. "Doesn't he inform you on the things going on in his life?"

Mary didn't appreciate the tone this woman was taking with her. "Of course he does. It just slipped my mind." He had mentioned it shortly after George's party, asking her to look after Sybbie and George. Mary had been hopeful things would go well— after all, it seemed rather romantic, losing touch with a pretty girl only to bump into her at the grocery store. It hadn't occurred to her that Tom's date would actually come to their house. "I thought he was picking you up."

"I know how to drive myself. Why would I need him to drive me?" asked Sarah, cocking her head to the side. She acted as if Mary was completely dense... which she did not appreciate.

"It's better for the environment to carpool, for a start," Mary said in that faux cheery tone she liked to adopt when speaking to someone she found extremely tiresome. "And you know Tom— he loves his car. I figured he'd want a chance to show it off."

"Actually, I didn't know that." Mary couldn't help but smile, pleased she had disarmed this irritating woman. "What's so special about it?"

"Don't you think that's a question better suited for Tom?" countered Mary. "It will give you something to talk about on your date."

Sarah's eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't worry. I don't think Tom and I will have trouble coming up with things to talk about." She almost made conversing sound indecent. "I'm more interested in his political opinions than his car, anyway."

"That's right. You met at that fundraising event for the liberal MP."

"Yes... the one you were supposed to be at."

Mary's short nails were digging into her palm. So far, Mary had found no redeeming qualities about this woman. Who did she think she was? "I was busy that evening. I was sorry I missed it."

"Were you really?" asked Sarah. "What issue were you looking forward to hearing about?"

Mary shrugged. "I didn't have any issue in mind, particularly. I just felt bad abandoning Tom, that's all." Speaking of Tom, where was he? She had a pint of ice cream that she wanted to devour and a woman she wanted gone.

Sarah's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Oh? So you don't like to be informed on what our political leaders are doing?"

"I do, but I'm not interested in it like some are."

"Who do you vote for, then?" she asked offhandedly.

Mary's jaw clenched as she fixed her with a cool look. "I fail to see how that is any of your business."

"It's not," agreed Sarah. "I'm only curious... I just find it hard to believe your views and Tom's mesh well together. I would imagine it would lead to a disharmonious atmosphere when you have to live together."

Mary didn't tell her that they actually agreed on a number of issues. She didn't hold the same view on socialism as he did, but when they weren't focusing on economics, they were similarly aligned. "We like living together. It's proved a wonderful arrangement for us both. Nobody has to live here," she said, fixing Sarah with a cool look.

"Mary!" Tom began walking down the steps, his footfalls loud and causing the stairs to creak. He was dressed in a white button up and jeans, hair done immaculately. Mary couldn't help but think he cleaned up rather nicely. "Good, you're home. George was cranky, so he's taking a nap. If you wake him up in about an hour, he'll still go to bed for us. Oh, and Sybbie is watching a movie on the iPad. Neither of them have ate dinner yet."

Mary nodded. She hadn't either... She supposed demolishing the pint of ice cream wasn't going to be a satisfactory dinner. She would need to make something... in all likelihood, her and the children would be eating sandwiches. It was one of the few things she wouldn't burn. "Anything else?"

"Don't think so," said Tom, offering Sarah his arm. "We should be home before eleven, I think, at the latest."

"We?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. She hoped it sounded more teasing than judgmental— Mary wasn't about to shame Tom for seeking out some companionship, not even on a first date, but she questioned if he really wanted to spend it with that woman in particular.

"I mean I," Tom said hastily, glancing at Sarah. Twin splotches of color appeared on his cheeks. It was actually rather endearing... Mary found herself smiling. "I meant I. But Sarah'll be dropping me off."

"I'll be sure to have him home before curfew," said Sarah, making an attempt for humor after the awkward proceeding. Mary supposed it must be rather embarrassing to be essentially turned down before even going out on the date.

Had Sarah been more pleasant before Tom came downstairs, she might have played along. "I'm not his keeper," Mary said instead, as though she were shocked such a thing could be insinuated. "Go out and have a good time, Tom. You deserve it."

Tom beamed. "Thanks. I'll be back in a while."

"It was nice meeting you," Sarah called out over her shoulder, clearly for Tom's benefit. Mary suspected Sarah liked her just as much as she liked Sarah— which was to say not at all.

"Likewise," Mary replied. When the door closed, the scowl she had been holding back found its way onto her face. She skulked to the kitchen, shoving her ice cream into the freezer, and opened the fridge, trying to find something suitable for dinner.


"'Nother bite?" Sybbie's bright blue eyes peered up her. They weren't like Sybil's— they were closer to Tom's, but like her mother's, they were impossible to resist.

"Your Daddy might get mad at me," said Mary. When Sybbie continued to pout, giving Mary a sad look, she sighed. "Oh, alright. One more bite." She took the spoon from her niece's hand, making sure to get a piece of cookie dough on the spoon, before handing it to her.

"More, Mama?" George was looking at her with wide eyes of his own.

"You're lucky you're both cute," said Mary with a sigh, replenishing his spoon with a small scoop of the vanilla ice cream. How could she have ever thought she could get away without sharing it, especially when she lived with the world's most adorable children? They made it so hard to say no.

Mary took one last spoonful for herself before reaching for the lid. "All done for all of us," she said, rising to her feet and hurrying to the freezer. If she ate anymore, she would no doubt lose control.

"One more?" George asked, toddling after her into the kitchen. He was only in his nappy, spoon still in his hand.

"No more," said Mary. When he stared up her blankly, she said, "It's all gone."

George dropped his spoon on the floor, letting out a wail. "Damn it," muttered Mary, before remembering she wasn't supposed to curse in front of the children, now that they could speak. "Oh, shit." She winced again before picking up her son and his dirty spoon. "It's alright, George. It's okay. We can have more ice cream tomorrow." She doubted he would even remember this tomorrow, which was why she even bothered to say it.

"Want now!"

"You can't have anymore now." She glanced at the time at the clock. Bedtime had been fifteen minutes ago... "Sybbie," she called out, looking into the living room where her niece was attempting to climb on the back of the couch. Immediately jumping to the worst case scenario (which included Sybbie falling off, cracking her head open, getting a concussion and requiring stitches, then explaining to Tom how his daughter came to be injured in her care), Mary ran across the room. "Sybbie, no!" She cried out, guiding her niece back to the couch. "It's time for bed, both of you."

George screamed and cried and Sybbie reluctantly followed Mary into the bathroom, where she helped them brush their teeth. At one point, George ripped his toothbrush out of his mouth and threw it on the floor, all while yelling, "Want more now!" Thankfully, by the time they made it to the bedroom, George was running out energy. He was practically asleep by the time Mary lowered him into his crib.

"Right," breathed Mary, studying her now sleeping son. She turned to find Sybbie, standing near her bed. "It's your turn now. Thank you for being so patient."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you were a very good girl when George was upset," said Mary, helping her out on her clothes and into her pajamas. "You waited your turn." Sybbie seemed to ruminate over that. "Do you like your big girl bed?" Mary asked before helping her into the bed itself. It was a twin sized mattress and the bed frame sat low to the ground, in case she were to fall out in the night. Tom had fretted so much the first couple of night, basically building an extra bed made of pillows, stuffed animals, blankets, and a sleeping bag to cushion any potential falls. It had been sweet, watching him fret like a mother hen.

Sybbie nodded. "Where is Daddy?"

"He's out with Sarah tonight." She wasn't sure if Sarah had met the children yet or not.

"I want to say night night to Daddy." Poor Sybbie looked so sad... Mary was sure she missed him. "When is he home?"

"He'll be home in a little while. But you need to go to bed."

Sybbie was close to tears now. "What if I promise to send him up to give you a goodnight kiss?" asked Mary, resting her arms on Sybbie's bed. When that suggestion didn't seem to be enough, Mary sighed. "Hold on."

MARY: Can you call me really quick? It'll only be for a minute or two.

Mary distracted Sybbie with a bedtime story before Tom finally called. "Hello?"

"Is something wrong?"

"No... but someone missed their father and wants to say goodnight to him before she goes to bed." Mary's lips twitched. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

She handed the phone over to Sybbie, only hearing one side of the conversation. It was rather sweet... Sybbie still seemed confused but at ease by the time the call was over. "There. Do you feel better now?"

Sybbie shrugged her shoulders. Mary supposed it wasn't the same as having the real thing... it was something they probably needed to work on. "Goodnight, darling," Mary said regardless, leaning down to kiss both of her cheeks. She usually only kissed one, but figured she deserved an extra one tonight. "Sleep tight."

"Night night, Mary. Love you," Sybbie said sleepily.

"I love you, too." Mary smiled before shutting off the lights. The night light turned on automatically and she closed the door behind her.

Half an hour later, Mary sitting in front of the television and watching the end of The Notebook. Why she was torturing herself by watching it, Mary had no idea. The end took on a whole other meaning after having lost one's spouse... Mary dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex. It only took her a moment or two to realize she wasn't alone.

"What are you doing down here? You're supposed to be in bed."

"Why are you crying?" asked Sybbie, stuffed bear tucked under her arm and looking at Mary with those wide eyes.

"I asked first." Mary sat up before pulling her onto her lap.

"Are you sad?"

"A little," admitted Mary. "But I'm okay. Sometimes it feels good to cry."

"I don't like crying."

"I don't, either," said Mary, wiping her eyes again. "But sometimes we need to." She looked down at the little girl. "Why are you awake? It's awfully late for little girls like you."

"I want to see Daddy."

Mary sighed. She was as stubborn as both her mother and her father— a lethal combination, if ever there was one. "Very well," said Mary, letting her sit on her lap. "We can wait up for him."

But by the time Tom had come home, Sybbie was fast asleep and the movie was over. "What's she doing?" he asked upon seeing Sybbie in Mary's arms. "I thought..."

"She wanted to wait up for you," whispered Mary, careful not to disturb her. "She didn't quite make it. I didn't see the point of forcing her back in bed, not when I knew she would come back down a few minutes later."

Tom smiled down at her before taking her into his arms. Sybbie didn't even stir. "She's wonderful, isn't she?" Mary nodded, tired herself, but unable to refute what he was saying. Sybbie was a darling.

"Are you okay? You like you've been crying..." Tom trailed off. "Shit. I forgot it was coming up."

"This is thanks to the acting talents of Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams, actually," Mary said, gesturing to her face. "But... a little bit because of Matthew."

Tom seemed torn, glancing between his daughter and her. "I'd give you a hug, but—"

"I'm fine, Tom. Get her to bed. You can tell me about your date in the morning." She smiled before saying, "It'll do me good to take my mind off of things."


A/N: A couple quick things about this chapter:

1) I like Michael Gregson and his relationship with Edith so I hated making him a villain here, but I felt like this was the easiest way to translate the story to the modern day.

2) Keep in mind Mary isn't necessarily the most reliable narrator, especially when it comes to Sarah Bunting! I've had a lot of fun writing their interactions, as Sarah is a fun character to write and gets under Mary's skin so easily.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!