Thomas and the boy were sitting opposite each other at the small table in Mrs Hughes's room. Two cups of tea and a teapot were between them. The tea was still hot, but neither of the two men drank from it.
"What are you doing here, Jacob?" Thomas eventually asked with a husky voice. He mouth felt unusually dry.
"I was looking for you," the boy answered, before they relapsed in silence. Thomas's voice was gone for the moment, but his eyes were roaming restlessly. Jacob had changed. Now, he was almost as large as Thomas, but thinner; too thin. His hair was dark brown and dishevelled. His lips were firmly pressed against each other, but his silver eyes were showing his uncertainty. The grey had become darker over the years, Thomas thought.
"You are 14 now," Thomas said realising slowly how many years had gone by.
"Yes, and you are 23, Tomasz." They looked each other deep in the eyes, before Thomas broke off the eye contact.
"Don't call me that," he said finally.
"But it is your name, isn't it? The name mother gave you, the name she and I have always used." Thomas could feel how his heart missed a beat.
"Yeah, but that was a long time ago. Mother died ten years ago. You can barely remember her," Thomas said rubbing his cold hands together.
"That is not true," Jacob hissed, "I remember her. Her smile, her brown eyes and hair, her scent; she always smelt of camomile," Jacob sighted and looked down at his hands, "And I remember the night she died, and the night you left. Tomasz, why did you leave so fast?"
"To support you and father. You needed money. Therefore, I went into service. And here I am. Downton has been my home for the last ten years."
"We both know that this is not the whole truth. So, why did you really leave? One week after mother died. You could have worked with father as a clockmaker." The only answer Thomas gave was silence.
"I know that you and father had an argument that night. And I know what he did to you. The …"
"ENOUGH!" Thomas ran a shaking hand through his hair, "I just cannot visit you. Okay? This is all you need to know." He wasn't prepared for this. Why was his past haunting him? He took the cup of tea, and drank slowly. Even though the tea was cold by now, the liquid felt warm in his mouth. He could feel its way to his stomach. He shivered as he put the cup on the table. His body was out of control, his heart threated to burst.
"Tomasz," their eyes met again, "I am not here to quarrel with you. Quite the contrary, I've missed you, and I wanted to thank you for all the money you've sent us."
Thomas smiled sadly. The past ten years, he had sent two-third of his salary to his father and Jacob, but he knew that this wasn't enough; that he needed to be a valet to give his brother a better life. But maybe it was too late now.
"You did leave school early, didn't you?" Thomas asked, suddenly changing the topic.
"Why do you ask that? It doesn't matter now."
"For me it does. I've sent the money so that you could attend school, that you could have a better life than me; far away from service and unprofitable work," Thomas could feel a headache developing. "Why are you here, Jacob?"
"I need your help," the boy admitted, "I know, you have already done a lot, but I don't know what to do anymore. Father has started drinking again. At first, it hasn't affected his work as a clockmaker, but little by little he's neglected it. So I tried to do his work," he smiled lopsided, "But I couldn't keep to the deadlines. The customers got angry with me, and now there are hardly any customers left," he swallowed dryly, "But there's more to it than that. Father gambles. As far as I know, he has debts. 15 Pounds."
Thomas's eyes widened in shock.
"15 Pounds? This is half of my annually salary," he exclaimed, "I don't have so much money left. Actually, I have no money left; just three or four pounds." Thomas looked his brother in the eyes, searching for words unsaid.
"It's not enough," Jacob said resigned, "They will come and destroy our shop. They will destroy us." His voice struggled to sound steady.
"Who will come?"
"Father's debt collectors; they have threated use, more than once. If they destroy our shop, father and I, we will be unemployed, and soon homeless. And all the things you have done for us would have been for nothing. I am ashamed, Tomasz, because I couldn't prevent it. I've failed." Jacob closed his eyes, while trying to keep his jar from trembling. He was exhausted, and cold.
"Jacob," Thomas whispered and laid his hand on the bony shoulder of his brother. He could feel the thin frame shivering, "I will help you. I can't promise anything, but…," he trailed off, "Just let me think everything over."