Thank you for all your lovely comments. So many of you have an idea about what the possible 'complication' might be - let's see if you were correct!

Gwen's final shift as a single woman took place two days later and Sybil had submitted a request to work alongside her. Amongst the usual hectic responsibilities of their day and the frequent pauses for congratulation by staff and patients alike, Sybil only teased her friend with hints of what had taken place during her evening out. If Tom had been disappointed that no invitation inside was forthcoming, then he gave no indication. They had made no firm plans to meet again, but neither could be in any doubt about their mutual expectations.

Finally, as the shift drew to a close and Gwen was bestowed with gifts and good wishes to send her on her way to matrimony, the two friends walked alongside one another through the staff car-park. Struggling to make herself understood from behind the large bouquet of flowers she was carrying on Gwen's behalf, Sybil finally shared her excitement at the turn of events – her grin partially obscured, but unremitting nonetheless.

"I don't want to appear smug, but…" Gwen laughed in a sing-song voice.

"…I know, I know, it's all your doing! Thank you, oh wonderful one, for pushing me to contact him!"

"You're welcome! So when are you seeing him next?"

"Soon…nothing fixed yet. Where do you want me to put these, then?" Sybil indicated her head towards the now open passenger seat door of Gwen's car.

"Just over b'there on the back seat, ta. Well you should sort something out, Syb! Don't hang about!"

"There's no hurry. I said I'd ring him after your wedding."

Gwen swung around to face her friend, her arms still clutching a large tin of Celebrations and a wide beam stretching across her face. "D'you want to bring him, maybe?"

Sybil shook her head. "Don't be silly…"

"…honestly, my cousin Rob's pulled out. Officially because of an unexpected work trip, unofficially because my aunt's read him the riot act about being civil to Gareth and he can't face it. We've got to pay for his place anyway, it's well annoying. Go on, ask him!"

Sybil stalled, torn between contrasting desires – on one hand the opportunity to see him again and have him by her side as she celebrated her friend's happiest day, on the other the nagging sensation that it was too soon. Having known one another so many years ago, it was easy to imagine that their absence from one another had been only brief and that they shared mutual ease and compatibility which in truth had not yet been earned. His presence by her side would mean an unexpectedly early public declaration and she didn't want to frighten him away.

"Um…"

Gwen spotted the hesitation and despite her unadulterated happiness, understood her friend's apprehension. "Well he's very welcome if you'd like to ask him. Only can you let me know by the morning because I'll have to re-print the seating plan?"

"I'll think about it. He's probably got plans, anyway."

"Maybe. But why not ask and just leave it to fate? It seems to have worked for you both so far!"

ooOoo

After almost an hour's deliberation, she finally worked up the courage to ring and ask him. It wasn't the idea that he might not be able to come that worried her, only that he might be free and yet not want to attend.

"Do you have any plans on Saturday?" she asked in as light a tone as she could muster. He had sounded delighted to hear from her so unexpectedly soon and she hoped his upbeat pitch wasn't going to abruptly switch to something more conciliatory and uncomfortable.

"A pile of essays to mark and errands to run. Why?"

"Oh well don't worry if you've got things to do…"

"I could discipline myself into doing some of it on Friday night if you're about to make me a better offer. I thought you were going to a wedding, don't tell me it's off?"

She laughed. "No, it's all running at full throttle. But that's why I'm ringing. There's been a late guest cancellation and Gwen wondered if you would like to come?" She paused only momentarily before hurrying to conclude. "Don't feel obliged if you don't want to, it was just a thought."

His voice sounded upbeat and teasing. "What have you told her about me, then?"

"Well this and that, you know…not too much, I promise!"

"I love a good wedding actually."

"Really?" It was tempting to disbelieve him, to feel the need to reiterate the point that he shouldn't feel compelled. However, something told her to hold back and that Gwen was astute – fate would take its toll one way or another. "Well the only thing is that I'd have to meet you there because I'm going to be at Gwen's house in the morning."

"Are you a bridesmaid?"

"No, she's only having their little nieces, but I'm kind of supervising them and just being there for all the preparation really. I'm not on the top table or anything so I'll be with you at the reception. It's just a morning responsibility."

Half an hour later and feeling light-headed with relief, she received his text.

Hotel full so have booked B&B nearby. See you outside church at 1.45 – T x

ooOoo

Sybil squeezed Tom's hand as they waited for their turn to pass along the official receiving line. There were smiles and platitudes to the proud parents and an awkward grimace from Jonathan's brother and best man Ieuan who, aware that Sybil was friendly with his ex-girlfriend, was uncertain about her previous knowledge concerning Rosie's duplicity.

"Hello Mrs Williams!" she beamed at Gwen, leaning in for a kiss. "Congratulations again! This is Tom."

Gwen reached up and enveloped Tom in a hug. "I'm so happy to meet you!" she declared with a delighted beam. "Sybil's first love!"

Sybil spotted a twitch of amusement in his expression. "And she was mine" he replied solemnly. "Congratulations to you both – lovely service." They were preparing to pass further along when Gwen suddenly threw out her arms to make an unexpected declaration.

"Just think! This could be you two in a couple of years' time!"

Sybil froze and regardless of the occasion, glared at her friend. Tom appeared startled - his eyebrows twitched while his face wore an uneasy smile. The new groom attempted to make eye contact, his own expression one of mortified discomfort.

"Over emotional" he mouthed, waving his arms around in an awkward fashion. "Ignore her!"

Suddenly Tom grinned and patted Gwen, oblivious to any wrong-doing through her romantic allusions. "You'll be the first to know, I promise."

Sybil pulled him away from the crowds and closed her eyes with embarrassment. "Sorry about that…"

When she finally looked at him again, he was laughing. "It was funny! How many glasses of bubbly did you give her this morning?"

"I do apologise…" She felt self-conscious, aware as she spoke that she was sounding like an English version of her mother.

"Don't! Did you think that I'd believe you'd put her up to it?" He was teasing, but she couldn't contain the blush spreading across her face. "That I'd think this invitation was the first part of an elaborate ruse to get me up the aisle?"

With relief, she expelled a laugh. "No…"

"I've got far too much admiration and respect for you than to believe something like that Sybil, I can assure you!"

"Well that's nice to hear! Still, I wouldn't want you to think that…"

"…I don't think anything, Sybil. I can see that she's just over excited and wants everyone to share in her blissful state of matrimony. I'm glad you invited me. Honestly, I'm happy to be here with you."

Her discomfort was allayed and he wrapped an arm comfortably around her waist as they accepted drinks, while Sybil introduced him to colleagues who were also in attendance. Tom was easy company and chatted comfortably during the meal with those on their table – two nurses from Sybil's ward and their partners, a pair of Jonathan's friends over from Australia and Gwen's longstanding German penfriend with her husband and young daughter.

"Do I correctly surmise…" Tom murmured into her ear as they stretched their legs after the speeches had concluded "…that your colleagues don't know much about your family background?"

Sybil swung around to face him with a look of alarm. "Don't worry, I didn't say anything." he reassured. "I guess it's more of a hindrance than a help within the NHS?"

"It's an irrelevance." she replied. "Gwen knows, but nobody else does, at least I don't think they do."

"I think it's very admirable if you've never tried to use it to your advantage. I'm sure it can still open doors if you want it to, even though I fundamentally believe that it shouldn't."

Sybil nodded. "My sisters have made the most of it. Edith wrote a column in The Lady for a while, although she doesn't anymore and now mostly writes under her married name. But it gave her a foot through the door into a very competitive industry, so while I don't agree with her choice, I can understand why she did it. And well…Mary doesn't care, I think."

"Is she a social climber?"

"No, but she puts the future of Downton at the forefront of all her ambitions. That's why she went into event management in the first place. Because she'll be in charge of the estate in the not too distant future – Dad will retire in the next few years and she'll take over the running of it, even if she doesn't officially have ownership at that point. As she's already discovered, being Lady Mary Crawley appeals to suppliers and contractors, on the whole. She's got far grander plans beyond the simple events and public opening that happen now."

Tom tipped his head with interest. "Such as?"

"Corporate events. She says that's where the money is, not just weddings and such."

"Don't you worry that she'll sell its soul?"

"No, I trust her. She loves it more than any of us, she's grown up knowing that it will one day be hers and she's spent her life planning for its future. And she follows my parents' ethos that it should be a local industry, supporting the village and environment. Almost everybody who works there, lives locally. If it was taken over by some huge hospitality company, they would inevitably employ the cheapest possible labour –it would be full of young, hard-working Eastern Europeans who come over here for a couple of years and then go home again. It would destroy local livelihoods."

"I hadn't realised that your parents have such a social conscience, I must admit." Tom scratched his head and looked uncomfortable.

"You thought they were just privileged aristocrats, intent on preserving their heritage for tradition's sake and their own benefit?"

Tom attempted a weak smile. "Well they produced you, so I knew they must have some good points…"

"But you disapprove in principle…come on, I know you do. You said yourself that you're a socialist!"

Tom sighed. "I disagree with the concept of nobility, yes. Not necessarily the inheritance of wealth. I'm not a communist and the basic principle remains the same really whether it's your father bequeathing Downton Abbey to Mary, or someone else leaving their kids a hundred quid. It's taking somebody else's earned money, but it's always going to happen - I get that. I object to your father having a seat in an unelected chamber though and being in a position to assist in governing the country."

Sybil nodded. "So do I in all honesty and it looks as if it will probably change sooner rather than later. But he does take the responsibility seriously. You may not agree with the policies he votes for or against, but he does a tremendous amount of research on every topic and doesn't treat his vote lightly."

"So he should! He's in a position of huge influence – of undemocratic supremacy. I should hope he lies awake thinking about the responsibility of it all!" He touched her arm lightly and she recognised it as a gesture of appeasement. "Anyway, as I said before, I've followed his voting record and I know that he's considered positively liberal in some circles!"

"Look how we first met" she grinned. "He sent his children to a state school!"

"Albeit a selective one."

"Yes, but my Granny was appalled at the time, she didn't speak to him for a week after Mary passed the 11 plus!"

He laughed. "I'm going to confess something to you now. My parents, who are also strong socialists, really struggled with their decision to send us to a grammar school for those two years. It was against their fundamental principles, but they were persuaded by friends and family that swapping countries and schools would be less disruptive for me and my brother if we had a stronger academic experience and so that's why we went there." He cleared his throat and appeared momentarily embarrassed. "I remember hearing them talking downstairs one time, soon after we'd arrived and my Dad said – 'There's even a bloody Earl's family there!' "

Sybil turned to face him. "Does it bother you? What's happening between us now? That our fathers are poles apart?"

Tom leant towards her and she revelled in the soft sensation of his lips meeting hers. "It didn't bother me at fourteen and it doesn't bother me now." With a fleeting grin, he waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner and whispered. "Who knows? Maybe one day they'll meet?"

And once again, Sybil was aware of the beguiling senses of promise and possibility, entwined within words and another gentle kiss.

As the evening neared its end, the guests concluded with the seemingly obligatory rendition of 'Delilah', sung at any Welsh gathering – its volume thunderous, arms swaying in unison, an amalgamated cackle at the appropriate point. Sybil was comfortably drunk - not enough to stagger or slur her words, but sufficiently intoxicated to feel light-headed with contentment and increasing desire.

"You know…" she murmured into Tom's ear as she wrapped her arms comfortably around his neck and he responded happily in kind. "You don't have to go all the way down to that B&B. I have a very nice room upstairs."

Immediately she felt his hold on her stiffen and pulled sharply away. The embarrassment reflected in his face was sufficient to fulfil a wave of mortification and she stumbled over her words in an attempt at remorse.

"I…I'm sorry. God Tom, I didn't mean to…oh shit...I…"

"No, I don't mean it like that…" he replied in haste, his face twisting into another expression of discomfort.

"Sorry, I'm fuelled with alcohol. It's too soon, I shouldn't have…"

"Sybil, it's not that!" His tone held such urgency that she stopped her babble and stood motionless before him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's just…I haven't been entirely honest with you."

In an instant, the bubble was burst. She felt a swell of anger at his implication and a sickening sensation as she considered that she had been taken for a fool. The nagging sensation of ambiguity which she had up until now ignored, bubbled to the surface – his frequent weekends away, a vague explanation about his recent weekend in Dublin, his desire for close proximity to Ireland – suddenly it all made sense.

"Can we go somewhere so that I can explain?" he pleaded and made an attempt to hold her hand, which was swiftly rebuffed.

Her instinctive reaction was to walk away. She had been in this situation on a previous occasion and had no desire to listen to his pathetic justification or weak platitudes. However, it was Gwen's wedding and she didn't wish to create a scene, nor cast any hint of shadow on her friend's happy day.

"Outside" she hissed, snatching her wrap from a nearby chair and forcing a smile at a nearby colleague as she walked by.

They passed the smokers on the patio, moving around the side of the hotel and standing in its shadow. The sky was overcast and Sybil could no longer see the expression on Tom's face, hearing only his heavy sigh as he attempted to speak.

She could hardly bear to listen, her twinned sensations of humiliation and hurt were enhanced by alcohol and she was determined to have an outlet for her fury.

"There's someone else isn't there?"

"Well, sort of - yes..."

"You utter bastard! What, did you think you'd have a bit of fun with me for a while and now you're having cold feet? Does she know about your new bit on the side or is she…"

"It's not another woman!" he cried and Sybil opened her mouth in astonishment.

"You're gay?" she screeched. He certainly didn't kiss as if his attraction to women was secondary.

"No!" His response was emphatic. "Not that there's anything wrong with…"

"Then what?" she interrupted with increasing frustration.

"I have a son."

The declaration was so unexpected, so wholly undeserving of her resentment that she was incapable of any appropriate response. "Oh…"

"I should have told you from the start."

"Yes…" and then in a more subdued tone. "…You should."

"But I didn't expect this…" He stepped forwards, the emotion now apparent in his expression as he approached her through the shadows. "…to fall for you again, for us to get together and maybe have something. I thought I was going for a coffee with my teenage sweetheart, a girl who I believed had lost interest in me the moment that I moved away, who had effectively rejected me. I thought it was going to be a one-off catch-up and I arrogantly decided to present myself in the best possible light. Somehow, being a part-time father as a result of a failed relationship didn't seem to fit that bill."

"You could have told me another time…after the café, we've seen each other twice since." she said, waspish accusation running through her voice. She wasn't prepared to offer forgiveness quite so easily.

"Yes and I nearly did. I wanted to. When we were in the restaurant the other night, it was on the tip of my tongue when we were talking about Ireland and then you changed the subject and I was just having such a great time with you that I didn't want to change anything. Then of course I hadn't expected to come to this wedding but I didn't think today was the best time either. I've been promising myself that I would tell you the next time we met…before it went any further."

"Like sleeping together you mean?"

"Yes. And I don't want you to think that I don't want to, it's just that I…"

She interjected once again. "What's his name?"

"Joshua. Josh. He's five and a half."

"And who's his mother?"

"My ex-girlfriend, Eddie."

"Eddie?" Her mind was still racing and reverted momentarily back to her earlier presumption about his sexual orientation.

"It's short for Edna, which I realise makes it sound as if she's unlikely to be under the age of eighty-five, but she's actually only thirty-one. Her parents were retro before it became fashionable to be so. She hates it, hence Eddie. Sybil, I'm so sorry. I know I've fucked this up. You're understandably angry and I've made it sound as if I'm ashamed of him, which I'm not. He's wonderful. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me in my whole life."

"So where do they live? In Ireland, I presume? That's why you go away so often?"

"Yes and why I only ever considered Swansea or Liverpool as possible UK bases. I go back every second weekend. They live in Kilkenny and every other Friday, I finish lectures at lunchtime, get the afternoon ferry and if it's on time and I don't get stuck behind a tractor en-route the other side, I can be there before eight and see him before he goes to bed. Then I come back late on Sunday night."

She could feel her anger beginning to subside, although his duplicity left her uncomfortable.

"So what, you stay at their house? Is it your house too? How does it work?"

"It's Eddie's house. We never lived together. I met her in Cork, we were together for about five months and then split up. Then we saw each other again one night with mutual friends, got drunk and…well had what I suppose you'd call break-up sex."

"Was she trying to trap you?" She wanted to inflict a wound of some form.

He sighed and she watched the cold air exhale from his mouth. "She has always strenuously denied that. But I have to confess to having my doubts. Anyway it's irrelevant now, she fell pregnant and that was that – it's a dual responsibility, I felt that from the beginning. There was never any doubt that I would support her. I think she hoped that we might try and make a go of it, but I knew it wouldn't work. The things which had driven us apart in the first place would never go away. But I always wanted to be involved, to take responsibility and I have been from the beginning. She came from Kilkenny originally and went back to live with her parents just before he was born. Then when Josh was eighteen months or so, she got a job as a primary school teacher, which is what she was doing when I met her, and soon after they moved into their own house. I mean, obviously I help financially, but it's her house. I just stay on the sofa-bed while I'm there."

Sybil frowned in an effort to appreciate their arrangements. "So you pretend to be a family every other weekend?"

"No, we do the odd thing all together, but mainly I encourage her to have a break while I'm there – go out with her friends and things while I babysit. I take him up to Dublin to see my parents quite a lot as well, so I'm not always there."

"I see." Her mind was spinning with a multitude of questions, but she felt suddenly exhausted and her desire for further explanations was quenched for the time being. The sounds of guests departing could be heard at the front of the hotel and voices on the patio were depleted.

"I realise this changes things, Sybil…"

"I don't know, Tom. I'm in a slight state of shock and I'm a bit drunk. I'm sorry, I don't think I can really think about it in detail right at the moment."

"I really like you Sybil. More than anyone for a very long time."

Her sigh was loudly audible – a frustrated desire for things to be less complicated, yet she knew deep down that she didn't want them to part ways. Her attraction to him wasn't lessened, she was angry at his dishonesty rather than his situation.

"I like you a lot too. Too much probably, considering how little we've known each other."

"Will you go away and just give it some thought?" he asked pleadingly. "Mull it all over at least, before you send me packing? I want to be with you, but I mean, I don't know if you even like children!"

"Of course I do!"

"Not everyone does."

"Well I do. I adore my niece and nephew, I love being an auntie. I've always thought that I'd probably like to have my own one day, but anyway it's not so much about that, is it? It's about the fact that you have this huge responsibility away from here. I don't know if you really have time for me as well."

"I'll make time if you want me to, I promise. But I realise that I'm a less attractive prospect than I appeared half an hour ago."

She gave a rueful laugh. "I still find you very attractive, that's half the problem."

"But the thing I need to explain, Sybil – and I realise that I'm possibly talking you out of any positive decision from my point of view – is that he's always going to come first."

"Yes." She understood, at least she believed she did. But she wasn't a parent, she had never experienced the unconditional bond that her sisters discussed, unified by motherhood in a way that no other experience had previously brought them together.

"I never planned on being this type of father, you see." Tom continued slowly. "I always imagined being there at breakfast time, putting my children to bed, being in love with their mother. So I feel that I've already fundamentally let him down from the beginning and I can't ever make that any worse than it already is."

"Of course."

"So what I'm asking…" he shook his head and paused for a moment. "…yes, I'm basically asking if you will have a relationship with me but for you never to be my first priority. It doesn't sound very desirable, does it?"

She didn't reply and had no idea what the ideal response to that question could be without appearing either superfluous or servile.

"Right, well I think I should probably head down to that B&B and leave you to have a final drink with the happy couple."

She nodded and saw sadness reflected in his eyes. "I'm really sorry to have spoiled your day, Sybil."

"You haven't" she conceded, feeling suddenly sympathetic to his plight. "I've actually had a wonderful day. The last half an hour has been utterly unexpected, but overall it's been lovely." She watched him smile, a flash of hope mingled with his contrition.

"But yes, you're right. You should go to the B&B and I should go and see Gwen and Jonathan. I need to sober up tomorrow and just think it all through." She paused and offered him a weak smile. "That isn't an outright rejection, I promise. I just need to consider it with a clearer head. But I'll ring you. If not tomorrow, then on Monday and we'll take it from there."

He leant towards her and laid a soft kiss upon her cheek. "Thank you" he said before slipping his hands inside his trouser pockets and walking slowly away into the shadows.