I'll warn you now, there is a Lot of Sybil/Branson, not a lot else!

As soon as her mother had gone Sybil sidled up to Branson, who was still staring at the water.

"At some fascinating political meeting?" she asked him, glad to be alone.

He smiled out into the darkness, "no, I'd gone home." He turned to look at the girl standing beside him. She shifted uncomfortably; she hadn't meant to distract him from anything quite so personal.

"Do you miss it?" her tone was a little more serious.

"Sometimes," he shrugged "why?"

She shook her head. "No reason." She paused. "Tell me about it." He obliged. His voice was animated as he spoke of the fond memories. They chatted for some time before Anna appeared.

"Her Ladyship said to say goodnight, milady. Will you be needing me now? Lady Mary and Lady Edith have already retired for the night."

"Oh, Anna, not yet, surely?"

"Milady, it's almost eleven o'clock and we've all got an early start in the morning." Sybil could hear that Anna was more than a little anxious to get some sleep herself.

"Okay, I'll undress myself. You get some sleep; I'd prefer to stay here a little longer."

"But…"

"Anna, I can manage." Sybil tried to reassure her.

"Yes milady, of course. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Anna." Sybil turned back to Branson.

"I don't get the option of getting some sleep then?" He smirked at her.

"Did you want to?"

"Not really. It's quite pleasant out here." He added.

"Tom? Where are you skiving off to on the 25th, if you don't mind my asking?"

He laughed at that. "Oh, Sybil, you wouldn't approve!"

"Why not?" she said indignantly.

"Well, when you came to my cottage to teach me French, you did not like my choice of reading material. I noticed earlier, in the very magazine you discarded, an article for the first Grand prix since 1914. When I was little I use to dream about going to one. Now I'm just a few miles away. There is no chance I'm missing that opportunity!"

She laughed. "Oh, Tom," she leant in so that her forehead was resting on his shoulder. "I only disapprove when you are meant to be learning French." She pulled back again. "A grand prix is car racing, am I right?"

"Yes, yes it is." He draped his arm around her shoulders. They stood together in the night air.

"Have you ever driven in one?"

"What, a grand prix?"

"Yes."

"I wish!" he paused for a while. "Sybil, to drive in these races takes a lot of time, effort and money. Not to mention a car!"

"You could use one of our cars."

"Do you honestly think that your father would let me borrow, and potentially destroy one of his cars?"

"Hmm, maybe not!" She paused. "Tom?"

"Yes"

"Will you help me with this infernal hoard of pins?" He raised an eyebrow at her suggestion, but followed her into the main body of the ship, after glancing around to make sure no-one observed them. The war had helped to relax certain protocol but some rules were still firmly in place. Once they were in her cabin and the door was closed she sighed.

"I wish I could just drag you down here in broad daylight and for nobody to give two straws." He laughed at her simple way of explaining their complicated situation.

"Yes, I wish that too."

She stood contemplating the idea, then seemed to shake herself out of it. "Anyway, you're here to help with my hair." She started pulling the pins out. Tom came to stand behind her, he gently copied her action. A lone curl tumbled down her back having been released from its hold. His fingers followed the trail from the back of her head to her neck.

"Oh, Tom." She sighed at his touch. He now had both hands on her shoulders and was placing kisses on her neck. She spun around and pressed their lips together. His hands played in her hair, as hers were roaming his torso. They had grown closer during the war but nothing much had happened between them, however much they both wanted it to. Any moments they had together were treasured.

The next day Anna had a hard job of waking Lady Sybil and had an even harder job of trying to dislodge a lot of hairpins from her tangled hair. At least once they were off the ferry; Sybil could rest on the train to Paris. Branson had a harder job trying to stay awake whilst driving.

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