A/N: bit late, but here is part 3. Did I say that there would be 3 chapters ? Well, turns out I'm wrong and there is at least one more before we get this story finished ! It's taken on a life of its own !

Boxing day, 1940

Breakfast was a subdued affair after the jollity of the evening before as everyone knew that George would have to leave shortly afterwards to catch a train. Mary was uncharacteristically quiet at the table, sipping her coffee and trying hard to put a brave face on it. It wouldn't help George if she dissolved into a puddle. Matthew was being his scrupulous calm and stoical self, trying hard to behave as this was any other morning with his family sat round the table.

The Earl and Countess planned on driving him to the station themselves, so at just before ten o'clock, Mary was pulling on her gloves in the saloon. Sybil stood beside her, her heart aching for her sister and feeling guilty that Patrick was not yet in the same situation. It wasn't exactly safe where Nora was, but in Sybil's mind it was no more dangerous than being at home. She couldn't say that about night flights over the continent in a bomber.

"Don't forget Edith and Anthony are coming for lunch with Emily and Felix," said Mary. "We should be back by then, but just in case they're early…."

"Go," said Sybil, gently pushing her sister towards the door. "Don't worry about that. We can cope with Edith and Anthony for half an hour if you're late back."

Tom came to stand beside her as they followed the three Crawleys out onto the drive where Matthew's car stood waiting. He was going to drive them himself.

"Is it wrong to be glad its not Patrick ?" she whispered as she watched George climb into the back.

"Maybe," he said, "but I'm glad too."

Edith and Sir Anthony arrived at lunchtime and stayed for the afternoon with their children. Edith, like Mary, was keen to see her younger sister safe and well. Neither she nor Anthony ventured very far from Loxley these days and their time and energy was taken up with running the estate with a dwindling and ageing workforce. Sybil couldn't help but notice that Edith seemed to be thriving and full of energy, but Anthony looked tired and somehow shrunken into himself. He had aged over the last year and she thought for the first time in her life that the gap in their ages seemed significant. Emily and Felix were away at school and were excited to spend time catching up with their cousins. Ted was not with them as he had recently started at agricultural college. Sybil knew that his studies were an unspoken source of tension between Edith and Mary. Before the war, George had planned to study Law, like his father, and Ted had been mad keen on going to Oxford to study history. But then when Ted left school over the summer, Edith had let it be known that he had decided on further study in agriculture in order to equip him to take over the management of the estate when the time came. As an agricultural student, he was in a reserved occupation and therefore wouldn't be called up. Mary couldn't help but wonder how much his mother had influenced his decision. Sybil, as ever, could feel for both of her sisters in this situation. She only hoped that it was the right thing for Ted.

In the end, Sybil was extremely proud of both her sisters. Mary had been pale and quiet when returning from dropping George at the station and had retired to her room for an hour before lunch. When she came out she was more herself and greeted the Strallans warmly, if not effusively , and asked after Ted. In return, Edith said he was fine and left it at that for the entire luncheon, instead asking after preparations at the Dower House and how Sybil's family were faring in London. After lunch it was obvious that Anthony was fading, so the family returned to Loxley shortly after.

"Do you think he's ill ?" asked Sybil, a concerned wrinkle appearing between her brows. "He seemed to tire so easily."

"Darling, he's outlived Papa. We've known him for so long we forget he is an old man."

"I suppose so," said Sybil sadly. "I do hope he's alright though. I would hate to see Edith widowed."

"This war is making many women a lot younger than Edith widows," said Mary rather pointedly. "If Edith loses Anthony, at least she will be well set up."

"I'm not sure that will be much help," said Sybil. "I know a comfortable house wouldn't help me if I lost Tom. To lose the man you have lived half your life with ? The father of your children ?"

"I suppose not," sighed Mary. "I couldn't bear to lose Matthew."

But Sybil knew she was thinking about George.

After the Strallans left, Tom wandered out to the garage to find his daughter. Nora had bonnet up on her car, a small Austin that she had saved up for and bought second hand, then spend countless weekends fixing up. It was so old it needed constant care and attention, but she loved it and the freedom it gave her. At lunch she'd mentioned something about the engine knocking and had excused herself from lunch with her aunts to go and have a look at it. As Tom approached the garaged he could see her slim form bent over the engine, the sleeves of her overalls rolled up to her elbows and her hair tied up in a scarf.

"Want a hand ?" he smiled.

Nora looked up, a slight wariness in her gaze. She loved her father dearly, but was fiercely independent when it came to her skills as a mechanic.

"I thought I might learn something," he said, almost in apology

Nora gave a wry little smile, so like her mother, and pointed into the garage.

"There's an overall in the office."

Father and daughter fell into an easy rhythm. Tom was careful to let Nora take the lead - it was her car, after all - he just made suggestions which may or may not be followed up, handed her tools and acted as a second pair of eyes. His daughter was a good mechanic, able to combine logic and real instinct to tune the recalcitrant engine.

"They've taught you well - here, let me," he said, offering to take the wrench.

"Thanks, Da, but if you tighten that nut I'll never get it off again," she smiled, giving the said nut a good tug herself. "I think that's done it. I'll run Mama into the village later and see how it goes. She wants to visit Aunt Isobel."

Tom nodded.

"She wants to see how she is." Isobel had been laid up over Christmas with a bad cold. "Will you stay ?"

"I think so," she said. "I haven't seen Aunt Isobel in an age. And it can't be fun being cooped up on your own over Christmas. George popped in after church yesterday. She was awfully pleased to see him."

"She'll be pleased to see you too," he smiled.

Nora slammed the bonnet shut and picked up a bit of rag to wipe her hands.

"Da - there's something I ought to tell you."

Tom stopped, and then put the wrench he was holding down on the bench very carefully before looking up at her.

"I've got a new posting. As a dispatch rider. So I'll get to learn about motorbikes as well as cars."

At first he said nothing, but his face hardened and his lips formed themselves into a thin line. It was a look Nora had seen in many times in childhood, most usually when she had done something that she shouldn't and was about to incur her father's wrath.

"Motorbikes."

She nodded, waiting on tenterhooks for the coming explosion. But it never came. Instead he rubbed his face with his hand, as if he could simply rub away the all the worry.

"That sounds dangerous," he said. "Careering about the countryside on one of those machines. They're a menace ! Have you any idea how many accidents involve motorcycles ?"

"Da - "

"I give you a week before you lose control of it and end up underneath it"

"Da ! I'm perfectly capable…"

"Why you ? You're an excellent driver. Why didn't they just leave you on the convoys ?"

At this, Nora looked at her feet a little guiltily.

"Well - "

Tom's eyes narrowed.

"Did you ask for this posting ?"

"Not exactly, Da, you see - "

"What do you mean, not exactly ?"

"Well, I was asked if I wanted to try out for it"

"And you said yes"

She nodded.

"Good God, Nora, could you not just try and keep out of harm's way ?"

"I don't think it will be any more dangerous than the convoys, in fact, I think it will be safer if we get air attacks because -"

But Tom wasn't listening.

"Don't you think your mother and I have enough to worry about ? Can't you at least try and stay safe ?"

She snorted, her derision written all over her face.

"Safe ? Safe ! Da, there's a war on ! No one's safe ! Look at you and Mama and Patrick, living in a city that's being bombed every night ? Have you any idea what its like listening to that on the wireless and knowing you're all there and could have a bomb dropped on you any minute ?"

"Nora - "

"No, Da - I know you worry about me, but I'm doing my duty. I'm fighting for what we all believe in, all the things you and Mama taught us to care about. There is no need for you and Mama to stay in London. You could do what you're doing easily enough from Downton and I wouldn't have to worry. So don't lecture me on staying safe !"

With that she turned on her heels and stormed out of the yard in the direction of the house.

"Nora !"

"Shut up, Da ! Just shut up !"

Stunned, Tom watched her walk away from him and turn the corner, out of sight. He felt his heart plummet into his boots. Sitting down on the running board, he put his head in his hands and wept.

He was still trembling a little as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, putting the tools Nora had been using back in their rightful places in the garage. It felt comforting to be back in this space, where so many other emotional and highly charged conversations had taken place. He and Sybil had always held the old garage in great affection and it was a place they still visited when they were in Downton. The sound of footsteps on the concrete behind him made him stiffen. He wasn't quite composed enough to face any of the servants yet. Whoever it was sniffed.

"I'm sorry, Da. I shouldn't have stormed off like that."

He turned round, and there was Nora, still in her overalls, her eyes wet and red-rimmed, somehow looking very small and vulnerable. It took him two seconds to close the gap between them and sweep her into an embrace.

"Oh, Nora, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have lost my temper. But we worry about you -"

"I know," she whispered into his shirt. "But I worry about you and Mama and Patrick too. It's horrid hearing everything that's going on on the wireless, knowing that you're in the middle of it. I just wish you lived in the country," she said, pulling back and wiping her nose on her handkerchief. "It would be so much safer."

"Our work is in London, love," he said. "You know that."

Nora sighed and wrapped her arms around him again, burrowing into his chest. Right at this moment she felt very young and small.

"I hate this war. I hate that everyone I love is so far away and that I don't know what's happening to them."

Tom squeezed his daughter harder and placed a kiss on the top of her head, just as he had when she was a little girl. They stood there, father and daughter, holding on to each other and contemplating the world in silence. She tilted her head and looked up at him.

"Can we go into Ripon tomorrow ? Just you and me and Mama ? I love Quin and Patrick and the twins, but it's my last day and I want to spend some time with it being just us."

Tom smiled and let go of her.

"I think that is a splendid idea," he said, and arm in arm, they wandered slowly back to the house.

A/N: One more chapter...