Thank you so much for your positive reactions to the opening chapter!
The bright glare from her laptop screen illuminated the corner of Sybil's otherwise dimly lit living room, drawing her eyes repeatedly in its direction through the gloom. During her last visit to Cardiff, her sister Mary had chastised her for leaving the device almost permanently open and on display, but Sybil's opinion was that anyone who went to the trouble of breaking into her flat was almost certainly likely to find it by rummaging in a drawer or wardrobe and damaging her property in the process. Life was easier for all concerned if she just left it out and could access it at her convenience.
She wasn't certain whether she wanted to go anywhere near it in her current state of mind, however. It was half past eleven, she had drunk the best part of a bottle of wine over the course of the evening and the most sensible decision would be to down a large glass of water and go to bed. However, Sybil was rarely drawn to the simpler options in life and her natural curiosity meant that at this precise moment, all she wanted to do was type the words 'Tom Branson University of Swansea' into the laptop's search engine and indulge her teenage passion by exploring its results.
For a few minutes she diverted her mind by playing with her cat, Samson who was indignant at her long absence for most of the day and evening and demanded her undivided attention, digging his claws gently into her knee if she paused for more than a few seconds. Sybil had never intended to own a cat and sometimes she worried that she was falling into a stereotype - 'unmarried woman in her thirties, living alone, sustains more successful relationships with animals than men'. However, she had been persuaded, or indeed pressurised into taking him on after a colleague's divorce resulted in a move to a flat in which pets were forbidden.
"I'll have to give him to the cats' home!" she had wailed in despair, glancing desperately in Sybil's direction. "I don't know anyone who will take him on. He needs to be an only pet and he's not good with children, so I'll never see him again!"
Sybil was instinctively sympathetic to the desperate plight and her heart had been strategically wrung as she assured her grateful colleague that she would take on the responsibility and offered regular visiting rights. The woman moved to Wrexham with her new boyfriend six months later and Sybil hadn't heard anything from her since. However, within days of moving in, Samson had wound his way into Sybil's affections and it was difficult to remember having ever having lived in her flat without him.
He swiped the back of her calf with his claw in protest as she stood up and began to walk across the room to her laptop, its unremitting glow reminding her once again of Gwen's earlier challenge.
"Ungrateful creature" she muttered fondly as she extracted herself from his grasp. "Come and sit on my lap instead." Samson offered only a fleeting glance of disdain, coming to the conclusion that her attention had been diverted elsewhere and with a flick of his tail, disappeared into the kitchen. Within seconds she heard the familiar sound of the cat flap closing as Samson commenced his nightly hunt and she pulled a face in anticipation of a grisly discovery on the mat the following morning.
As she sat at her table and stared at the screen, her mind travelled back twenty one years to the arrival of Tom Branson in her class at Ripon Grammar School at the start of her second academic year there. At only twelve years of age, he exuded a confidence beyond his peers and displaying both academic and sporting prowess, was soon in popular demand by staff and pupils alike. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he avoided joining in with the occasionally cruel, but mostly jesting comments casually thrown her way – 'Creepy Crawley', or 'Lady Sybil – likes to dribble', were the two most popular renditions, but while he didn't actively defend her against such declarations, she always felt that he looked awkward at the nature of their exchange.
By Christmas, all the girls were in love with him and most of the boys wanted to be his best friend. Sybil only confided her crush to her friend Anna, who loyally declared that she would refrain from fancying Tom herself, provided that Sybil promised to avoid any feelings of partiality towards John Bates in the other form. At least two girls in their class declared that they were 'going out with him' at some point during the first year, although Sybil hadn't noticed any visible signs of affection from him. Tom was friendly and kind to everyone, so it was easy to imagine that he had an attachment to you by mistaking an affable grin or teasing whisper for something more profound. Certainly Sybil tried very hard to be objective when Tom looked at her intently, tipping his head to one side while she stammered her way through a sentence, blushing furiously at his attention. Her stomach performed frequent somersaults when he turned around in class and, on seeing her serious observation of his antics, gave her a wink or a cheery smile.
His father was a civil engineer, managing the build of a large pharmaceutical factory near York, its promise of 400 local jobs eagerly awaited in the region. He had been enticed from Ireland on a two year contract, but once planning permission had been achieved for the second phase of the project, Tom had confidently declared that they would remain in Yorkshire until he concluded his schooling. His elder brother was in Edith's class, studying for his GCSEs and as time passed, each boy spoke with an increasingly mild Dublin accent, interspersed with occasional Yorkshire pronunciation.
Although shy by nature and lacking in confidence about her appearance, Sybil had a small group of good friends and was happy at school. Her instinctive curiosity and inherent sense of injustice meant that she was outspoken at minor disputes between her classmates and unafraid to speak up in class. On one occasion towards the end of Tom's second year at the school, she had been later than her friends in returning to the playground after lunch and had witnessed John Bates being once again picked on by two boys from the year above. John had curvature of the spine, which left him with a mild limp and although he was vocal in self-defence and defiant at any suspicions of pity, he was subject to occasional cruel jibes. Sybil could see from a distance that he was making efforts to ignore the bullies, but when one of them reached out to push him and John had to reach out suddenly to steady himself against a wall, her fury was ignited.
"Leave him alone!" she yelled at the top of her voice, running towards them and wondering as she did so, what was likely to happen if they disregarded her plea.
"What are you going to do about it?" sneered one boy "d'ya fancy him then?"
"I just don't like bullies! What's he ever done to you?" She glared at the boy, who she recognised as the son of one of her mother's associates in the WI – somebody Green, she couldn't remember his first name.
"Stay out of it Crawley" his friend muttered.
"No I won't!" she replied defiantly, meeting his eye and ignoring the shaking of John's head as he implored her to move away.
"Well then…" Green sneered. "Perhaps I should do something to make you…" and he reached out to grasp Sybil's breasts, still underdeveloped but finally held in place by the recent purchase of her first bra.
"Get off me!" she hissed, narrowing her eyes as Green's flashed with irritation and he stepped forward for another attempt at intimidation.
Suddenly, she was aware of a shadow to her right and looked round to see Tom Branson crashing into Green, shouldering him into the wall and showing a hitherto unseen expression of aggression.
"Don't you dare touch her!" he said with menace and for a moment Green appeared likely to surrender quietly, before gathering his final shreds of hostility and raising a fist towards Tom.
"I'll get you for that!" he threatened, spitting at Tom's feet.
Tom didn't reply but held his gaze with defiance until Green conceded defeat and indicated with a nod of the head to his friend that they should depart. As he walked away, he turned suddenly, making a cutting sign to his throat and pointing at Tom, who offered no retaliation.
"Are you OK?" he asked Sybil with concern and she nodded hastily, glancing at John who appeared more irritated than grateful at the interruption.
"I'm fine. He wouldn't have hurt me, really. He's all words, but thank you anyway."
"He's a tosser!" Tom said with feeling and Sybil instinctively grinned in agreement. Tom's face broke into a wide smile to mirror hers and for a few seconds, until a concerned Anna appeared at their side, Sybil was unaware of anyone else in the playground.
From that day onward, Sybil's devotion to Tom reached new heights. It wasn't that she had needed to be rescued or required a gallant knight in armour, she was quite confident that she could have dealt with Green's menacing behaviour without assistance. Yet she knew that most boys would have interrupted with only a hesitant and joking concern – 'ah, come on - leave her alone, she's alright', rather than with the full force of outrage which Tom had displayed.
They were bound by their shared experience and exchanged knowing smiles and nods over the coming weeks and months, leading Sybil's imagination to become increasingly elaborate as she scrutinised every comment he made to her and secretly imagined what it would be like to kiss him. She had no experience of kissing beyond fond greetings from her parents and descriptions in 'Just Seventeen', however she had once witnessed her sister Mary kissing Anthony Gillingham before she emerged from his car outside their house one evening. Her subsequent flushed cheeks and quiet air of satisfaction indicated that it was a sensation with which Sybil would like to be better acquainted.
Her opportunity finally arose at the end of year disco. She and Anna agonised over their outfits, made clumsy attempts to paint their nails and re-applied lipstick immediately on arrival after Sybil's mother had insisted that she wipe off her first attempt. For the first half an hour, there was an awkward division of boys and girls across the still empty dance floor, but she smiled at Tom and felt quietly elated when he leant across to say hello after she crossed over to the drinks table.
Returning from the toilet mid-evening, he emerged from the main hall as she had been about to re-enter and greeted her with a beaming smile.
"Um, so what are you going to do all summer then Sybil?" he asked, appearing unusually nervous and rubbing the side of his thigh with a hand.
"Oh, nothing much really…" she replied, wishing she could entertain him with more enthralling prospects than reading numerous books in the garden and a two week family holiday in Scotland. "And you?"
"Er, I'm not sure. I'm still waiting to find out if we're going back to Dublin for a holiday, Mam and Dad seem a bit vague about it. But I'm hoping to be around, um…if you…you know…" he tailed off and Sybil's heart leapt at the sudden realisation that he might possibly be contemplating a mutual arrangement. A classmate walked past them, eyeing their exclusive discussion with narrowed eyes and Tom suddenly looked around him awkwardly.
"I want to ask you something…" he muttered and his feet shuffled slowly away across the foyer. Sybil turned around in curiosity as he nodded towards a nearby darkened corridor with his head, reaching forward to push open the door and turning once again to face her in the gloom.
"What is it?" she whispered, a combination of excitement and fear overwhelming her as she faced the prospect of either the most thrilling or disappointing moment of her life to date. All of her expectations were met as Tom suddenly lurched forward and his lips clumsily met hers. Their adolescent smooch was incomparable to the confident caresses that Sybil had witnessed on screen, nor did it match the air of elegance her sister had seemed to portray, but it was thrilling nonetheless. Neither of them knew what to do with their hands and in fear of overstepping any invisible code of conduct, left them dangling by their sides without purpose. It didn't last long and they both looked away with embarrassment at its conclusion, but in a moment of unprecedented bravery with the opposite sex, Sybil reached out to briefly hold his hand and was rewarded with a reciprocated squeeze.
Tom followed her back into the disco and they parted with only a knowing smile, their secret safe at least until Sybil confided in Anna while they later waited outside for her father to collect them. The next day during morning break, Tom proposed a summer trip to the cinema but the following morning, Sybil's dreams were shattered when he announced his family's unexpected return to Ireland.
For most of her teenage years, Tom Branson had represented the pinnacle of romantic desire against which no other boy could even begin to compete and it was a further two years before Sybil experienced her second and far less remarkable kiss. However, time gradually reduced her passion and the feelings of disappointment and regret which she held tightly for several years, eventually resulted in a fond sequence of memories which elicited little more than an occasional wistful smile. Boys grew up into men, Sybil committed her heart and body to others, and although none had ever delivered long-lasting happiness, their shared experiences had been more tangible than anything Tom had provided. She remembered him fondly, although in truth scarcely at all during recent years and was alarmed by how affected she had felt by seeing his photograph earlier that evening.
Feelings of teenage anticipation and excitement resurfaced as she reflected on the fact that he had remained an impeccable enigma within her mind. Their fleeting liaison had ended so abruptly that they had experienced no opportunity to tire of one another, nor learn that their shared characteristics may be more limited than first imagined. Tom would certainly not be a flawless man, yet in Sybil's mind he retained a teenage innocence and irreproachable manner. Contacting him now might crack the image of perfection she had retained for nineteen years. On one hand, this would enable her to mentally classify him with other disappointing objects of desire collected throughout her life, however there was something rather comforting about having a 'real' person scaling the pinnacle of faultlessness, competing only with the image of actors, rockstars and an occasional sportsman as her image of excellence.
Sybil glanced again at her computer screen and before her mind had even reached a conclusion, her hands reached out to type his name. Within seconds, a link appeared to the university website and closing her eyes in silent self-reproach, she clicked on it.
The photograph was more formal than the one she had seen earlier on his Facebook profile, but he retained the same easy smile and she could see evidence of early laughter lines forming around his eyes. Glancing below, she read his brief biography with increasing curiosity.
Dr Tom Branson – Senior Lecturer in History and Politics
BA History and Politics (Trinity)
MA International Relations (Oxford)
DPhil International Relations (University College Dublin)
Dr Branson has joined us from University College Cork in order to implement our MA programme in International Relations, also establishing new undergraduate modules in Irish Politics and British-Irish Relations. He is currently undertaking a research programme jointly funded by the Welsh Assembly and the Irish Government entitled ' The European Union and its significant others'. He was the inaugural winner of the Ellen Grainger Award for outstanding research in 2009 while at the University of Cork.
Sybil felt momentarily overawed by his achievements, before reflecting that Tom was unlikely to be able to converse easily about the merits of psychological monitoring or resuscitation techniques. He hadn't displayed any indication at school that he might follow an academic path, however nor had she picked nursing as a career option until she was sixteen, so their respective professions proved how they had each developed since their formative years.
Impulsively, she clicked on to the university email address displayed with Tom's name and began to rapidly type.
Hi Tom, I don't know if you remember me from your brief time at Ripon Grammar, but I've been reminiscing about my school days recently and using the power of the internet to see if I can find out what people are up to. Strangely enough, I'm just down the road in Cardiff, working at Velindre Hospital as a critical care nurse. I've grown to love Wales and hope you are enjoying your time here too. Hope life is treating you well. All the best – Sybil Crawley
She pressed send before she could re-read or reconsider, shook her head in disbelief that she had succumbed so easily to Gwen's teasing suggestion and wondered whether she was ever likely to receive a reply.