I'd eventually let John in, but I'd refused to come back downstairs, partially out of embarrassment. It was the middle of the night and John had fallen asleep next to me. His breathing was peaceful, but it seemed as though he were frowning in his sleep. No wonder the lines on his face were more defined these days.

I was feeling restless and for no particular reason I stole downstairs. As I neared the foot of the stairs I saw a male figure hunched over the dining table, smoking a cigarette. I meant to retrace my steps and return to my room, but unfortunately for me the bottom stair squeaked and Jeremiah turned around. I stood there frozen for a moment, before Jeremiah offered me the cigarette packet.

"Betty told me you smoked," he commented.

I began to walk towards the proffered packet almost without my own volition. I love to smoke when I'm stressed. I lit it myself with shaky fingers and took a long drag, before sitting awkwardly on a chair next to Jeremy's. Smoking again was like being reunited with an old friend. I remembered all the evenings I'd spent smoking with O'Brien and bitching about the rest of the staff at Downton and felt an unexpected pang of nostalgia.

"She likes you, you know," Jeremiah stated. "Betty," he added for clarification. "To be honest I'm a little surprised".

"Thanks," I said dryly.

Jeremiah ignored that. "She was very close to our mother. She didn't talk to Pa for almost a year after finding out that he…had been unfaithful to our mother"

"Oh," I didn't know how else to reply to that. Silence filled the room before I couldn't stand it anymore and broke it. "I'm sorry about what happened at lunch," I blurted out.

Jeremiah looked surprised. "You're sorry? It wasn't your fault Thomas. In fact, Betty was nearly in tears…"

"Well, it wasn't her fault was it?" I interrupted sharply. "She's not the one who stormed out of the room because she's afraid of a little noise. She was in the war too and so were the rest of you"

"Thomas, it's hardly the same," Jeremiah informed me. "You were on the front line. You saw things that the rest of us didn't have to see. Besides, it's not as if we're unaffected. We all have our little triggers. For me, it's the smell of coffee".

"Coffee?" I asked dubiously.

"I was drinking coffee at an air base when my commanding officer came and told me my brother Nathan had died at sea," Jeremiah explained in a carefully controlled voice. But I could hear the emotion underneath and knew from experience how hard it was to talk about these things. "I can't smell coffee without thinking about it. I don't keep it in the house and if I'm staying at a hotel I don't go down for breakfast in case they serve it".

"I'm sorry," I told him, once again not knowing what to say. I hadn't technically lost anyone in the war. I hadn't had many people to lose.

"You know," Jeremiah said, looking down at his cigarette, "he was the only one of us that didn't secretly smoke? He was a lot like our father, but more absent. He was sort of dreamy and intellectual. He didn't really fit in with the rest of us as kids".

"I would have liked to have known him," I said. I wished it more for John's sake than my own; I knew he would have liked us to meet and that the loss of his two younger sons had cost him more than he liked to admit.

"You would have liked Ruben too," Jeremiah informed me. "He had this little mischievous grin that the girls kept going on about. He was a bit of a womanizer, but he was a lot of fun".

I recalled the pictures of Ruben on the mantel piece; in every one of them he had the same cheeky expression. I'd always assumed Jeremy would have been the heartbreaker of the family, but perhaps Ruben had given him a run for his money.

Jeremiah took another drag on his cigarette and looked down at the fob watch with Mary's picture in it, which I now realised was lying open on the table. "Mary seems lovely," I said honestly.

Jeremiah's face, which up until then had been serious and sombre, broke into an instant grin. "She's not always easy to get on with," he said stroking the face behind the glass inside his watch, "but I love her. I always think myself lucky that Betty introduced us that day"

"That's right they were in the women's air force together, weren't they?" I remembered.

Jeremiah nodded. "Betty used to hate me visiting, all the other women….well they kept pestering her to introduce me to them," Jeremiah's tone was slightly smug at this, but it was counterbalanced by a little bemusement. "Mary was the only one, apparently, who didn't ask. So naturally Betty introduced us," Jeremiah laughed. "She thought I was a bit of an arrogant prick to be honest. I was so concerned that she didn't like me that I tried to make her like me. Then we discovered that we actually had a lot in common…but I should really stop talking about her. According to Betty I'm positively sickening when I get going," and here Jeremiah cut off and looked down at his watch for the second time.

"Are you waiting for something?" I questioned.

Jeremiah sighed and rubbed his temples. "Betty went to see her lad at the hospital after lunch and she hasn't come home yet. Sometimes she stays the night, but she didn't tell us whether she would be or not. If she hasn't told me what she's doing I wait up. I don't like the thought of her standing outside on this street, after midnight. We're hardly in a protected area".

"Who is 'Betty's lad'?" I asked curiously. This was the second time I'd heard him mentioned.

"His name is William. He used to court Betty before the war"

I visibly flinched at the name William and Jeremiah raised a questioning eyebrow. "There was a man called William working at Downton," I reluctantly explained. "I….I found his corpse" that was the short version of the story anyway. Jeremiah nodded understandingly, accepting the simpler side of the truth, before elaborating on Betty's William.

"He went crazy after serving on the front lines. He's delusional half the time and doesn't recognise her, but Betty insists on seeing him every day. I don't think she'll ever love anyone else"

I felt a pang of sympathy so strong tears built up behind my eyes. I cleared my throat to prevent them from spilling over. "I might leave you to wait up for her," I said, perhaps a little too abruptly. I felt as though I'd stumbled upon a private portion of Betty's life; one she might not have wanted me to know about. "Thanks for the cigarette and the talk," I added clumsily, before mounting the stairs. I wanted him to know that I did appreciate his acceptance. The situation was probably stranger to him than his demeanour expressed.

"Cigarettes and sympathy," he joked lightly. "Good night Thomas"

"Goodnight," I answered, feeling relieved that I hadn't ruined Christmas unalterably.