Everything had moved since the last time he'd had to buff a pair of shoes. He searched the cupboards until he remembered at last, it proved quite the feat around his widening stomach. Eventually, he found the things he needed, so hung up his jacket, rolled his sleeves and tied his apron. Over the sink, he splashed and scrubbed off the mud that was caught in every tread. Luckily these weren't an ordinary pair, or else dirt would be soaked even into the stitching.
He'd worked up a little bit of a sweat scrubbing so hard. Clean, the wellies sat to dry on a towel.
He moved through the few shoes that wait in the queue. Thomas brushed clean, dried, polished and buffed. It was a workout, but he was determined to get the job lot done tonight. Carson had popped his head in once or twice, not saying anything, which went unnoticed. Thankfully, Carson missed the times Thomas had snuck out to the bathroom, or else the boy might have been accused of slacking off.
Butt incredibly numb, having finished the last shoe. He shimmied off the stool and sighed. His back ached from a lack of lumbar support. Not only that, but his stomach also growled miserably. Despite the hard work, he felt far from satisfied. The combination of things had put him in one of those hormone-induced frustrated moods.
"Ah, good. You've finished." Carson prodded in. A lack of response or rather a lack of a pleasant response told him not to press the boy. For that reason, he only took a quick glance over everything, "fine work. You may be excused."
Thomas nodded, somewhat surprised that his resting pregnancy face was enough to make Carson entirely uncomfortable. If that were the case, and he hoped so, then finally it had some advantage. He hung up the apron and grabbed his jacket. He had the goal of relaxing in mind and knew of the perfect place to do so. Right in front of the- by now- lit fireplace, in the only comfy chair. Dinner service would be commencing soon, so that dream would be all his.
That's where he could be found while everyone hurried around him. Forbidden to help, he sat leisurely in his chair. Before long he was fast asleep, shoes off, feet propped on a stool. His nap went uninterrupted for over an hour, before Mrs Patmore woke him up, yelling at Daisy. She'd dropped a pot onto the floor, and it had dented on impact.
"It slipped, I'm sorry." She cried in defense.
"Honestly, girl! Where has your head been today?"
"It's not like they can't afford a new one anyway."
"That's not the point. Lay the table, will yer?" She shoed her away.
Thomas stood up and stretched, "Here, give me half." He offered. Daisy had to stop herself before saying anything untoward encase she'd be in for another grilling. Instead, she gave Thomas a wad of placemats. After distributing them at every chair, Thomas laid the bread bowl and helped take platters to the table. Dinner looked great; cottage pie, roast potatoes, boiled vegetables. A hearty meal, no doubt cooked with love.
"Thank you, Thomas," Daisy commented earnestly. She appreciated the help, especially since Thomas offered to carry the particularly hot food, no questions asked.
"Don't mention it." Doing his part made him feel useful, more so than the mediocre tasks he'd been doing all day.
Staff piled into the sight and smell of fresh food, a reward for a hard day's work. The table was mostly quiet as everyone ate, but that hadn't lasted very long. As it seemed, most of the drama had subsided. In fact, mostly everyone had questions to ask. Although the others were still uncomfortable, it was nice not to be ignored.
People asked questions like, "how long you got left?" and "how's it going to come out?" His favourite had been from Daisy who just asked, "is it weird?" such a vague question made him laugh because of course the whole experience was weird and for many different reasons.
"I'm sorry for the way that I acted, it was wrong of me." Daisy apologised, "I didn't know at the time, that this wasn't your fault." She said innocently. Thomas clenched his jaw and exhaled, "Oh, I'm sorry. Were we not supposed to know? Only Mrs O'Brien told us-"
At lunch, everyone sat at their leisure around the table. Mrs O'Brien was mending the buttons on a blouse, Mr Mosley reading the newspaper and the others playing a game of cards. Daisy arrived with a fresh pot of tea topping up cups around the table, listening in on the gossip of the day.
"Are we all going to sit around and pretend last night didn't happen?" Alfie asked, throwing himself into a chair. "It's bloody disgusting. Maybe I ought to sell him to the police." He threatened.
"I know, can't have something like that happening under this roof." James echoed.
"That's enough, both of you. Neither would be saying such a thing if you knew…" She teased, looking up from her work. She made eye contact with them all, luring their attention before returning to her sewing.
"There's more to this twisted story?" Alfie questioned.
"I don't think it very nice to engage in such gossip." Mr Bates added, looking up from his newspaper. Whatever Thomas had going on his life right now would surely not be eased by the spread of personal gossip such as this. His moral high ground was not shared among the others who were all desperate for a good story.
"It's not for me to say, I've already said too much." She teased.
"Oh, tell us, please," Daisy begged, putting down the pot and taking a seat, becoming physically closer to the conversation. "Please?" she lived for gossip.
"Let's just put it this way, our proud Thomas wouldn't have brought this on himself?" She revealed after a lengthy and awaited pause. She pretended not to be interested in their responses but took a sly look anyway. They all seemed vaguely confused, but it was Daisy's small gasp that made her grin, the lights were on, no need for an explanation.
"You mean to say that he was," Daisy lowered her voice, trying to be discreet over the dinner table, "attacked?" She phased over the word, seeing it as indecent for a lady to say. Attacked, for better use of the word, was less grotesque.
"Suppose he deserved it, for what he is." He spat confidently.
"What a vile thing to say, Alfie! Heaven forbid that something happens to you." Daisy yelled, slapping her ginger friend across the arm forcefully. She'd never been so disgusted. Alfie's face dropped, Daisy's opinions meant a great deal, and now he felt ashamed.
"So, he's really a victim? Who'd have thought." James scoffed, shuffling the deck in his hands. He still resented Thomas after the spat of indecency, and frankly had little concern for his welfare.
"Yes, he is. You'll do well to remember that fact." She lectured.
"Remember what?" Mrs Hughes asked from the doorway when nobody responded her eyes shifted around the room. The purposefully distracted faces had her inquisitive.
"Never you mind Daisy," Thomas was skeptical about the sudden behavioural change. "I'll say this loud enough for the others." He stood up to make his announcement. "As it's common knowledge by now, courtesy of Mrs O'Brien, I can confirm the rumors to be true. I don't want to talk about that particularly dark time in my life, so I would like to ask that nobody bring it up again."
"I'm sorry, Thomas," Daisy whispered awkwardly.
"No need, it was only a matter of time."
"I just want to let you know that I will never excuse your deviance, who you keep company with goes against all of the morals my religion has taught me." Daisy reached to Alfie's arm, trying to pull him away from saying something he'd likely regret, "Having said all that, nobody deserves to go through what you have, and for that, I think you're very brave."
Thomas was shocked by Alfred's revelation. Alfie had been little but silent about how much he resented Thomas for his sexuality, but this was unexpected. What Thomas could have counted on was Alfie never speaking a word to him in protest. Actually, Alfie touched him, and it inevitably had him welling up.
He coughed, "Yes, well…" he stuttered embarrassingly.
"Leave him alone Daisy, you've still got a lot to do." Mrs Patmore scolded.
As the others came back from their duties, the air in the room had become increasingly tense. "Thomas, it's getting late, you ought to go to bed. I'll expect to see you at the same time tomorrow." Although, Carson had no arranged challenges for tomorrow but would have to make something up before the morning. In such a grand house, there had to be something to do or clean.
"Suppose you're right. Pleasant dreams." He bid fictitiously.
"What exactly happened here exactly, and this time I'd like a response." Mrs Hughes asked.
"Just talking about Thomas's situation. 'Bout what happened..." James answered, having been the only one brave enough to speak through the silence.
"I don't suppose that it's any of our business. I don't need to remind you all that what happens in this house, stays in this house, understood?" Her telling off was followed by a sorrowful chorus of yeses.
Thomas was tired, more so now he'd gotten ready for bed than he knew. Seemingly the child growing within had other plans. Relentless punching and kicking had him tossing and turning. At several points in the night and into the morning he cursed aloud, becoming frustrated the longer he was awake. His child had been asleep for most of his waking hours, and now was apparently a convenient time to blow some steam.
He kept checking his alarm clock, counting down the time he had left to sleep. 7 hours and 32 minutes, 6 hours, 5 hours and 15 minutes, 4 hours...3...2 and a moment of sweet bliss transpired, and Thomas fell straight to sleep. To be rudely woken by the annoying chime of his clock only an hour and twelve minutes later.
No amount of cold water would bring him back from the brink of death. Instead, he slumped into his gear and trudged into the kitchen. He filled a kettle up with water and placed it on an empty burner, in a clean cup he spooned a couple of heaps of instant coffee. Although it made him a little lightheaded, the morning called for a boost of caffeine.
"What do you look like?" Thomas jumped, he hadn't heard the old cook coming, despite her size and the sound of her shoes. He'd just been so unaware.
"Thanks, just what I needed to hear." He quipped sarcastically.
"You look positively dead. Sit down,"
"If I sit down, I won't get back up." On account of his size and his complete lack of apathy.
"Poor thing. Hungry? Fancy a spot of breakfast? Bacon, sausages-'
"No egg." They followed in unison. While Mrs Patmore sparked a hot flame, Thomas placed some bread into the toaster. He enjoyed a massive breakfast, one fit for the family upstairs. Seldom did he ever get to enjoy such luxuries. Yesterday he had quality soup and fresh bread, and today a fry-up, only now pregnancy was serving him well. At the beginning the baby hated porridge, he couldn't stomach the stuff, instead, he lived off of toast and preserves. After a while, his appetite grew too large to turn down food...apart from eggs, never eggs, be it boiled, fried, poached... He wasn't entirely sure what turned him off exactly, but he did retch at the very smell.
"Ah, there you are." Carson looked away uncomfortably, Thomas had been sitting with a hand rubbing his stomach. "I have a big job if you're up to it?"
"What would you have me do?"
"Count the stock, everything that's on the shelves in the storage space."
"That all?" He scoffed sarcastically. The storage room was ceiling-high with every fine thing that the Crawley family had acquired in the last few hundred years. It'd take days to count each and every object. Stock counts on this scale are usually done by Carson over the span of a week, or in a few days with some trusted hands.
"Whatever you don't finish today will roll into tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. A thorough job cannot be rushed."
"You're the boss."
"I think you'll be needed this," he pulled the thick logbook out from behind his back. A prized possession that he'd never considered parting with before this morning. Thomas held out a hand to receive the book, it's surprising weight had him reach out with the other hand to prevent it from falling to the floor. "A single item out of place, you shall inform me at once." With a tightly clenched jaw, he released over the keys.
"Don't you worry, Mr Carson. I'll have this done in no time." A bluff, so he didn't look so pathetic. It would take him at least two days to finish everything if he worked day and night. He prepared for his new life as a shut-in on the walkover.
He spent hours and hours in the storeroom when he missed lunch, Daisy brought him in some sandwiches and tea to keep him going. Endless numbers and shiny surfaces were making his brain melt. Running on very little sleep, it was inevitable that he'd start to succumb. Yawning and restless foot-tapping turned into aching muscles, and soon he couldn't heave his heavy body out of his chair. One thing led to another and before he'd even realized, he was fast asleep. Head resting in the crook of his elbow and stomach wedged under the table.
There was no telling when exactly he'd fallen asleep, but it wasn't until Anna came looking for him which woke him up. "Thomas." She whispered gently rubbing a shoulder, "I've come to collect you, it's time for supper." She spoke calmingly. "Thomas..."
"Mnn?" He woke, confused, and dazed. The whites of his eyes pink and his bags puffy, he was somewhat well-rested.
"Are you alright?" She asked.
"'m fine...just dozed off." He rubbed his eyes forcefully, blurring his vision. "What time is it?"
"Dinner time, good thing I came to find you. Don't think you'd have moved till morning otherwise." Thomas failed to pull himself up from his chair. It seemed like the awkward sleeping position had made his back seize up and he could no longer move. Anna watched stifling a small giggle. It wasn't until Thomas threw his head forward in anguish and sighed that she offered a hand. "Let me." She looped Thomas's arm around her neck and hoisted him forward.
"I feel so pathetic." He winced, cracking his spine to relieve some of the pressure.
"Don't say that everyone needs a little help now and again, especially when they're having a baby." She knew Thomas wouldn't take the sympathy, "let's go before the others eat without us."
Thomas made sure to lock up before leaving for dinner, "I'll be right behind." He announced before making a detour to the bathroom. He did his business and splashed his face with some cold water, wiping away the crust round his eyes and drying his clammy complexion. He fixed his hair in places and straightened himself out before decidedly being fresh enough to leave.
As again, the moment he walked through the door the room became quiet. For some, it was still quite the shock and he didn't mind so much anymore.
Having eaten dinner and already having slept, he continued on with his task. He promised himself that he would stop at a reasonable time and give it his full effort to catch a few hours' sleep. It would be a risky game, falling into a cycle of sleeping during the daytime