Under his years of tutelage with Mr Carson and in the years since his promotion to Butler of Downton Abbey, Barrow had begun to believe there was no crisis that he could not handle with relative grace and, if not aplomb, certainly self control.
But all at once, he was one to test his limits. Inside, his insides turned over at the idea of any harm coming to his little stalwart friend, George Crawley, and to cap it all here was a woman who had been known to him for more than twenty years going into labour in his gallery.
"Missing?"
John's head jerked up at the distress in Barrow's voice. For just one second he caught a glimpse of the utter panic behind Barrow's facade. Goodness, had Thomas finally learned to genuinely care for someone's wellbeing after all these years?
With a quick shake of his head, Barrow took charge and got himself back under control.
"They can't have gone far. It's a big house, but they've got little legs. Now Mrs Bates, can you stand?"
A low keening groan indicated that she could indeed stand, but would need more support than was currently available to even attempt walking.
Thomas calculated quickly. He and Miss Greyson were probably strong enough to support her, but the house needed to be alerted to the missing children, and Bates would not leave his wife in this state, and would not be the fastest messenger.
"Miss Greyson," he said quickly. "Could you go and wake the doctor? And find Lady Mary?"
She nodded and hurried away.
Thomas met John's eyes.
"Can you support her, while I fetch a chair from in there?"
Barrow nodded to the nursery. John nodded his ascent. Bracing his leg, his arm around Anna's waist, he held her up against him as she struggled to catch her breath. Barrow reappeared in a few short moments, dragging a padded chair with him. Anna sank down into it gratefully, trying to catch her breathing. Thomas closed the door to the nursery behind them.
"Where is she..." moaned Anna. "Where's my baby..."
"She won't have gone far. George probably wanted to show her something in the house. We'll look for her, we'll find her..."
"Anna...? Anna what's happening...?"
Isobel and Dr Clarkson, clad in dressing gowns and slippers, came hurrying around the corner.
"Oh my dear, Miss Greyson said..."
"She's gone Isobel, she's gone and... I can't ... find...heruuuurrrrggggh"
Anna's face scrunched up in pain as her insides churned once more. John clasped her hand tightly, rubbing her wrist, explaining in an undertone.
"Josie is missing from the nursery. Along with George. And Anna is..."
"So I see," said Dr Clarkson, taking command. "Now Anna, we'll find the children, but we need to get you back to bed. We'll send out a search party, right away, won't we Barrow..."
"Absolutely Doctor. I know every corner of this house, all of George's hidey holes. They won't have gone far."
Isobel flashed a look of gratitude toward Barrow, he was saying all the right things.
"I'll go now," he said, his light tread headed for the stairs. "I bet he's gone to the kitchen to show her the refrigerator..."
"Alright dear, back to bed time for you. Slowly does it, let's go now... Just put your arm around me, and the other around Isobel, that's a good lass, easy does it..."
In no time at all, Dr Clarkson had Anna on the move back to her own room. Every so often the stopped to let her rest in the chair, which John brought on behind them. He was torn with anxiety, desperate to stay with Anna, who was in obvious pain and probably in premature labour, while also wanting to find his daughter. Hopeless and helpless in either situation he was distraught.
Luckily, the Doctor had also been an officer, and immediately recognised a soldier in need of orders.
"Mr Bates... you know this house. We're possibly going to need more towels. And linen. You know where Mrs Hughes used to keep them? Fetch them please."
Away went John, glad to have a task that was both useful and within his remit.
"Isobel ... please ... find her... find... Josie..."
"There dear, it's alright. They'll all be out looking for her..."
"Isobel?"
The sound of her husband's voice made Isobel look up. He spoke quietly as yet another pain wracked Anna's stomach.
"Isobel... she needs someone she can trust to go find the children. She trusts you..."
"Won't you need me here...?" Isobel did not like the thought of being dispensable to the present emergency.
"Not as much as she needs you out there."
"But won't you need a nurse? A midwife? Someone to help if she begins to... "
The door banged open, as John clattered back in, his arms stuffed with materials.
"I found a stack of towels... and some old linen... And I found a maid, she's fetching us some hot water."
"Excellent John, then we should have everything we need for all eventualities." Dr Clarkson smiled at Isobel gently. "I have help. He is her husband, and this is 1929 my dear... times change, and we must all do what we can do best. John can sooth Anna better than you, and you can search this house far more quickly than him..."
"Isobel..." Anna's voice was barely more than a gasp, her face beaded with sweat and lined with frantic worry. "Please ... find her..."
"Isobel, nothing will Anna faster and more effectively than the return of her child. Please."
Isobel gave Anna's hand one final squeeze.
"I'm on my way dear. Barrow's right, they can't have gone far. I'll have her back to you before you know it."
...
Downstairs in the kitchen, the floor was cold and made odd noises under Josie's boots. All of the tables and chairs seemed twice as big in the dim lights and there were huge unfamiliar objects, the likes of which she had never seen in her Mumma's kitchen, or in Mrs Patmore's. It was enough to make even the bravest little adventurer feel a little fearful, but while George was holding her hand she felt brave enough to go on. He knew this place. He had been in this kitchen hundreds of times, he told her, helping to make cakes. Well, stir cakes. And lick the bowls afterwards. That part was very important.
"Mrs Patmore lets me do that."
"She used to let me do that too."
They grinned at each other, another common bond cementing their friendships.
"Come on, the back door is this way."
George knew where the key was. He had see Mr Barrow lock the door with it a hundred times while he followed him around at the Abbey. He tugged open the stiff little drawer in the wooden table in the passage way and removed the big iron key with a brown paper label attached.
He slid the key into the lock and turned it, the well oiled mechanism moving smoothly and easily. No rusty or stiff locks were permitted in this house. Mr Carson would never have allowed it, and living in constant fear of an inspection during one of his tours, Barrow had never left the standards fall.
The door swung inward, revealing a magical white carpet. The snow was deeper than a foot now, spread smooth and evenly across the court yard.
"Oh!" Josie gasped. "What is it?"
"It's snow. Haven't you seen snow before?"
"I thought it was just bits in the sky. I've never seen it on the ground like that."
Having lived in the salty air of Whitby, Josie had only ever seen snow flurries, never a thick white carpet like this.
"I'd better go first," said George, pulling his hat on firmly. "You hold onto my belt and walk behind me in my tracks.. The snow is bigger than your boots."
Slowly, they shuffled out into the yard. Pausing for a moment, George reached back to pull the door closed behind him. It wouldn't do to get snow all over the kitchen passageway, and the flakes were still falling fast. Bracing themselves across the cold, the two children set off, George leading the way towards the stables.
Behind them, the flakes whirled and settled, silently filling up their tracks.
...
"Isobel... Isobel what's happening?"
No sooner had she arrived downstairs than Isobel was accosted by Mary, who had heard the commotion from the drawing room, where she, Henry and Tom had been enjoying a final night cap.
"Mary dear, I'm sure its nothing..."
"It doesn't sound like nothing with all these running to and fros..."
"Milady..."
Miss Greyson and Mr Barrow rounded the corner.
"Milady we were just..."
"WHAT is going on?"
"Mary, Anna's gone into labour and..."
"Oh dear heavens, are you sure? Is the doctor with her? Isn't it still dreadfully early for..."
"Mary dear, do listen. Just for a moment, do listen."
Brought down to earth by the seriousness in Isobel's face, joined by her husband and brother-in-law, Mary handed over her glass to Henry and finally paid attention.
"Go on. I'm listening."
"Anna went to say goodnight to Josie. But Josie wasn't in the nursery. And neither was George."
Mary's face turned pale.
"Now I'm sure," Isobel ploughed on, "that George has just taken Josie to see something, probably trying to cheer her up if she was worried about her dear mother, but Anna took a fright from it, and she's having pains."
"Oh dear God..."
"She can't have gotten far, I was only gone for a few minutes to rinse the mugs and let you know they were settled, I thought they were asleep..."
"It's alright Miss Greyson, nobody is blaming you. That cheeky boy has just taken his friend on an adventure."
"Indeed," interjected Mary. "And he shall be told, when we find him, that the middle of the night is not the time for such adventures. I'm all for high spirits, but he has gone a little beyond the line this time. Barrow, can we organise a search?"
"Certainly Milady."
"Where could they have gone? What's caught George's attention recently? Have there been changes in the house?"
"The attics have been emptied out Milady, he could have gone to show her the Dowager's old ball dresses..."
"That's a point, she was rather taken with her own dress tonight..." a pang of ridiculous guilt shot through Isobel's heart.
"Alright, Tom could you take the attics? Thank you dear, where else?"
"I'll go and check the library, maybe he's gone to find some of his favourite books..."
"Good thinking Henry, thank you. Right where else?"
"The kitchen? The new refrigerator was installed last week, Milady, George was awfully taken with it..."
"And knowing him, he would like a snack I'm sure..." interjected Isobel.
"Alright, let's spread out. Isobel, can you search the drawing room where we had the party? I didn't see him sneak in, but you never know... I'll go and search the bedrooms, in case they've made a den. Barrow, could you search the downstairs rooms? You know every hidden corner down there..."
"I'll go back to the day nursery in case they've gone back for another ride on the rocking horse, and check the night nursery again. "
"Yes Miss Greyson, and stay there in case they come back. Wouldn't do to have those scamps back in bed while we run around after them, would it? Right, come along everyone, let's have the second hunt of the day..."
The little gathering scattered to look for the errant children.
...
For the first ten minutes or so, Barrow was amused. Master George was a little scamp. He felt sorry for Mrs Bates, to be sure, but she was in the best of hands with Doctor Clarkson, and that big husband of hers would move mountains to make sure she was alright. He knew, he'd seen him do it. But as fifteen minutes stretched into twenty, amusement flaked away into annoyance, and finally into concern. As room after room surrendered to his methodical search, and no child was found, and no shout of triumph came from upstairs, the minutes raced by and his seeking became more frantic.
"Barrow? Any luck?"
"Not yet Mrs Clarkson. No joy above?"
"Not yet, but they're still looking. It's such a big house..."
"And almost as big down here as up there..." In frustration Barrow gave one of the chairs in the servant's hall a shove aside to look under the table.
"That's what I thought. So I've come to help."
Despite his slight annoyance at her interference, Barrow was grateful for Mrs Clarkson's intuition and observation.
"Where's left to look?"
"Nowhere that I can think of, that's the blood... I mean, that's the blasted problem."
"Don't worry Barrow, if there's a time to swear, tonight is it. Right, let's think. Not in the pantry?" Barrow shook his head. "Larder? Servant's hall? Boot room? Where else could they be?"
"I was sure they'd be down here, there's nothing George likes more than a snack."
"Except his horses."
In that moment, the two seekers locked eyes. The same words were whispered in unison, falling from their lips, drops of enlightenment.
"...in case they've gone back for another ride on the rocking horse..."
Horses.
"The stables!" they exclaimed in unison.
Racing towards the back door, Barrow saw the key in the lock and knew instantly that they had hit upon the solution. He had tucked that key away in the desk drawer after the party.
"They've gone outside," he called back to Isobel, reaching the door and wrenching it open.
The force of the blizzard stopped him. The snow had picked up its intensity. Isobel could just make out the tracks that lead away from the door, small indentations heading in a wobbly path across the courtyard.
"Look... they went this way! Barrow, we've got to tell the others... Barrow?"
Barrow's expression was one of dismay. Children hiding out in the house was one thing. But out here in the snow? In their pyjamas? In the pitch black? Slamming the door, he turned back inside, throwing on all of the light switches as he did so.
"You go. There's no time," he pushed roughly past Isobel, reaching for his overcoat, hung up next to the door. Snatching up a torch, he yanked the drawer open, pulling out spare batteries and stuffing them into the pocket. "I've got to start looking. Now. They could be anywhere."
Isobel could feel the panic rising in her throat.
"I'll come with..."
"No!" Barrow almost shouted at her. "Fetch the others. We need everyone out here. Torches, lights, as many people as possible. It's freezing out here, and they've been gone half an hour..."
The urgency of the matter finally hit home to Isobel.
"Right. Yes of course. I'll ... I'll go now."
Without another word, Barrow wrenched the door back open and pushed out into the snow, pulling it closed behind him. Out of the window, Isobel saw his torch light flashing across the snow, lighting up the dancing snow flakes, and heard him calling...
"George! Josie! Georgie it's Barrow, where are you?"
She raced back through the downstairs rooms to find the others and assemble the search party.
...
The snow was colder than anything Josie had ever known. Her toes felt frozen, even beneath their three layers of socks and sturdy boots. By luck more than judgement, George had managed to lead them down the right path to the stables, where luckily the stable door was turnedaway from the force of the blizzard. The snow was lesser under the eaves, as they kicked their boots against the side to loosen the snow clumps. Reaching up, George pushed up the bar enough to open the door and ushered Josie inside.
At least inside it was warm, if slightly smelly. Josie had become accustomed to the smell of animals but still, the rich aroma inside the stalls was a stark contrast to the fresh and pleasant scent of the Abbey nursery.
"George, I can't see..."
"Hang on, just stay still, while I get the lamp..."
With practiced fingers, George struck the match and lit the lamp, turning down the gas so that they could see, hanging it safely onto the hook on the wall. The grooms had told him many times that he must never leave a lantern on the floor in the stables, where there was the risk of the hay catching fire.
"Better?"
"Yes."
"Come on... Garnet's this way."
George was now tall enough to see over the stable half door, but Josie needed to stretch on tiptoes to see. George, spotting the problem, dragged over a large wooden bucket and up-ended it, helping Josie to climb up onto it so she could see.
"That's Garnet?"
"Yes, best pony in the world."
Garnet turned sleepily to face the light, recognising his master's voice. Giving a soft whinny, he trotted over, allowing his velvet nose to be petted and stroked. George showed Josie how to pat him gently.
"He wants a carrot, but I haven't got any. I'll bring him one tomorrow."
"Oh he's so pretty..."
Josie was enraptured, especially when the little beast snorted softly into her palm, tickling her hand. She giggled.
"Do you want to see Pearl too?"
Josie nodded, climbing down from the bucket, allowing George to drag it over to the next stall. Pearl was a spirited little thing, a hand bigger than Garnet, and as feisty as her small mistress. She was beautiful to look at, her dappled grey coat shimmered in the light, but she was not so amenable to being petted without the promise of a treat, and by someone other than her groom or mistress.
"No leave her now..." George caught hold of Josie's hand. "See how her ears are back? She's had enough, she wants to go to sleep."
All of a sudden Josie yawned.
"I'd like to go to sleep..."
George smiled. She was only a little girl after all. And she had seen the ponies now, he had kept his promise. Maybe it was time to go back inside to the warmth.
"Come on then, let's go."
Unfortunately at that moment, a gust of wind caught the stable door and flung it closed, banging it into the door frame. The force of the impact jolted the bar loose and it slammed down on the outside with an horrific crash. George, pushing against the door, realised the terrifying truth. They were shut in. And he could not reach the latch, nor had he got the strength to use it to raise the bar again.
They were stuck. Until someone came to find them. And nobody knew where they were.
"George... what's happened?"
"Um..."
"George?"
"Josie... we might have to stay her a bit longer."
"Why...?"
"It's the snow," said George quickly, unwilling to admit how serious the problem was. "It's a bit thick, and we need the wind to blow it away, so we can get back to the house."
"Oh..."
"So we should stay here."
"Won't it get cold?"
"Course not! The horses are toasty warm."
"But we're not horses."
"No... but people can stay warm in stables too." Inspiration struck as George looked around him. "Like Jesus, and his Mummy Mary, and Joseph. Jesus was born in a stable, and they looked after him there, with a donkey nearby. I know, I saw it in a big picture in Donk's big bible."
Josie knew the story. She had been told it herself.
"Did that happen in the winter?"
"It happened at Christmas. And this is the day after Christmas."
"Oh." George's logic could not be argued with. This much as all true.
"Look here... there's a blanket. It smells a bit horsey, but we could hide under that. That will keep us warm." George pushed open the empty stall door, pulling the rug off the side and nudging Josie towards the fresh clean hay. "If we just stay here for a bit, the snow will be gone, and we can get back to the house."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
"I'm so tired George..."
"You have a sleep then. I'll stay awake."
Oh brave words, from such a brave little boy. But in no time at all, George was as sound asleep as Josie, tucked up into the blanket and hay, his arm around his little playmate.
...