Apologies for the little hiatus from this story. I wanted to push my other one ahead a little, but now it's my intention to alternate between the two each week.

Sybil moved confidently around Eleri's tiny kitchen, navigating its dated, dark wooden cupboards and the sticky lino on the floor - a bewildering pattern of swirling stripes with interspersing orange dots, which was difficult to imagine had been anybody's choice of will. The bowed branches of the willow tree in the garden swayed in the breeze, its gentle brush of leaves reminding Sybil of beaded curtains she had witnessed at the back of shops as a child. Not the type of shops which her parents had inhabited of course, but those she had visited when the prospect of accompanying Mrs Patmore on local errands had seemed an exciting treat.

She gathered cups, saucers and sugar, peering inside the fridge to check there was enough milk and all the while, eyeing the Victoria sponge which was sitting aloft a flowery plate nearby.

"I've made a cake!" her friend called out from her living room and Sybil gave her customary reply.

"Oh you didn't need to go to all that trouble…"

"It was no bother, lovely!" They conducted the same charade on each occasion – Sybil expressing surprise and humility, Eleri delighted by such reticence and an opportunity to spoil her. She was of the firm belief that Sybil needed fattening up and that nourishing those she cared for was the best way to express her affection. Sybil, on the other hand, had needed to ration the portions fed to her during the early weeks of their acquaintance. She had gained nearly half a stone during the first three months– Eleri insisted on parcelling up the vast majority for her to take home. Finally it crossed her mind that it wasn't necessary to consume it entirely by herself and now her colleagues greatly looked forward to Sybil's subsequent shifts.

"Here we are!" Sybil smiled as she set down a tray on the small table beside Eleri's chair. Like many of her generation, her friend did not care for teabags and had particular ideas about how her tea should be served. She had been delighted when Sybil first visited and set everything out so carefully – milk served in a jug, sugar in a bowl, teapot with adjacent strainer.

"Lovely to see someone young still do it properly" she had declared and Sybil had been amused by the way that skills learned through her aristocratic upbringing had transported so seamlessly into a 1970s bungalow in Cardiff.

Eleri poured their drinks. Her disability meant that walking was difficult – she made her cakes sitting down at the kitchen table and Sybil knew that even the act of obtaining ingredients from the cupboard proved problematic and painful. Yet she enjoyed the opportunity to play the part of hostess and Sybil always proved suitably grateful for her efforts.

"You're looking very happy today" Eleri observed as she handed over a cup and saucer.

Sybil laughed. "Do I not usually, then?"

"Of course love, but you look particularly cheerful. Glowing even. Have you seen your young man today?"

Sybil tipped her head with a coy glance. "I have, Eleri, yes."

She had given her friend only the sketchiest details about Tom and would have avoided the topic entirely if it hadn't been that Eleri asked almost relentlessly each week whether or not she had met someone 'nice'. She had declared herself heartbroken when Sybil split up with Damian. Despite only having met him once, she had fixated upon the possibility of the pair marrying and frequently claimed to be at a loss to understand why such a lovely young woman hadn't yet been snapped up. Sybil loathed to lie and so had shared the news of meeting Tom once again after so many years, glossing over many of the details and avoiding any subsequent mention of his son.

"Did you go anywhere nice, love?"

"Down the bay"

"Oh lovely. Bet it was a bit windy today though. Did you have a walk about?"

Sybil hesitated before sharing any more information. She wasn't certain how Eleri would react to Tom having a child – whether she would judge him harshly for his circumstances, or if she might attempt to pinpoint Sybil's role for the future, before Sybil had even come to her own conclusions. Housebound and lonely, Eleri had plenty of time on her hands to mull over the minutiae of Sybil's life. Estranged from her sons by distance and circumstance, her affections were now concentrated on her young friend and although she made concerted efforts not to interfere or provide unsolicited advice, there were times when her comments inadvertently betrayed the level of her interest and concern.

Born and bred in a South Wales mining town, Eleri had moved to Cardiff after the closure of the local mine in the early 1980s. Her husband, already by then in his mid-fifties, had been fortunate to find employment at the docks, but a lifetime of manual work, combined with a heavy smoking habit, meant that he only enjoyed a year of retirement before his premature death. Their elder son, disillusioned by the obliteration of the local mining industry, had emigrated to Canada with his young wife and although he telephoned regularly, had only been able to afford to bring his family over to the UK on two subsequent occasions. Sybil wasn't certain about the circumstances relating to Eleri's younger son, knowing only that he had moved to the North East and was often absent for several years, only getting in contact or arriving unexpectedly on her doorstep when he was in need of money or concealment. Years of nurturing her family had only rewarded Eleri with solitude and her developing poor physical health meant that she had become increasingly isolated from anyone in the local community. Her elder son had contacted the befriending scheme from Canada, expressing his concern and asking whether they could do anything to help. Now Sybil had also arranged for Eleri to be picked up and taken weekly to a local community centre where she was provided with lunch and an afternoon of companionship, as well as persuading her son to contribute towards a tablet so that she could speak to him, her grandchildren and recent great-granddaughter on Skype. The quality of Eleri's life had improved immeasurably in the last couple of years and her gratitude towards Sybil's contribution was frequently expressed.

Taking a deep breath, Sybil explained Tom's position and the circumstances relating to meeting Josh for the first time earlier that day. Eleri watched her carefully, only an occasional eyebrow twitch giving any indication of a reaction.

"Well…" she said finally, picking up her cup of tea and allowing herself a brief sip. "He must think a lot of you, Sybil."

"I hope so."

"To introduce you to his son already."

"You think it's too soon?" asked Sybil earnestly.

"I couldn't say, dear. It sounds as if he's being very careful not to make any great assumptions."

"No, Josh doesn't know that we're…you know…going out."

"But perhaps it was some kind of test."

Sybil frowned. "I don't think so, I don't think Tom's that calculating. He doesn't give that impression anyway."

"When I was a child, men who had lost their wives would be quite upfront about wanting a new mother for their children."

"But Josh doesn't need a new mother. He's got one. Who he lives with the vast majority of the time."

"Perhaps Tom wants someone to share the load with while he's here. Children are hard work – all those nappies and mess."

Sybil giggled. "Eleri, he's not far off six. He's way beyond nappies."

Eleri blinked, rheumy eyes watering, her mind reverting to the story being told.

"Ah yes, of course."

"It is all moving on quite fast though. Sometimes it worries me."

"I thought you liked him, lovely? Mind you, you were very keen on Dami…"

"…I do" Sybil interrupted swiftly, anxious to move on from her ex and Eleri's continuing fascination with their now defunct relationship. "That's what worries me - how much I like him and how quickly. I can't help but feel that it's all going too well and that something's bound to go wrong."

"Like finding out that he has a child by another woman you mean?" Eleri's voice remained gentle, giving no hint of judgement.

Sybil gave a wry smile. "Well that seemed only a very minor hiccup in the end. Oh I don't know!" She threw her hands up in the air in an exaggerated fashion. "I've been burnt too many times, I think. I'm imagining the worst."

Eleri nodded. "It's different for you women these days. I married the second man I ever kissed."

"Oooh, who was the first?" Sybil teased.

"Roy Price. He married my friend Carys in the end. He and I had a couple of kisses around the back of the village hall, but he was a bit too rough and ready for my liking. He spat a lot as well, I never liked that. There's no need. She had a lot of trouble with him over the years, God rest her soul."

"Because of the spitting?" Sybil couldn't help but ask with an increasing smile of amusement.

"No, because of his fists."

An awkward silence permeated the room while Sybil took in this implication.

"Anyway…" Eleri continued blithely. "Are you going to invite Tom to your grandmother's party?"

Sybil struggled to retain the tea in her mouth. "Er…no, I don't think so."

"Oh, I thought you might."

"It's a bit soon to subject him to that, I think."

"But not too soon to meet his son?"

Sybil remained silent. She had never shared details of her family's title with Eleri, sufficing only with the names of her sisters and a vague explanation about her parents having their own events company. Any implication that these all took place within the family's ancestral home had been carefully omitted. It was therefore difficult to adequately explain how her grandmother's forthcoming 85th birthday lunch would offer more ceremony and formality than in most other families.

"I expect your Granny would love to meet him." Eleri pressed and Sybil stifled her instinctive urge to expel a hearty guffaw.

"Mmmm" she replied with a non-committal air.

"And your parents. Although did they know him when he was a boy, when you were at school together?"

"Not really, no."

"I expect they worry about you."

Sybil felt immediately defensive. "Well they don't need to! I'm very independent, I don't need a man to be happy, they know that."

Eleri seemed unconcerned by the strength of her reaction. "I know dear but I'm sure you'd make your Granny very happy if you took him along."

Sybil scratched a non-existent itch on her leg with discomfort. "It's going to be just immediate family really. You know, quite intimate."

"I just thought that if he's trusted you to meet the most important person in his life, then you might want to take him to see the most important in yours."

Sybil opened her mouth to deliver another deflective reply, before thinking better of it and remaining silent.

"Who knows how many birthdays your Granny might have left?"

"Oh she's got the constitution of an ox!" laughed Sybil, glad of an opportunity to diffuse the atmosphere with an attempt at humour.

There was only a bare hint of a light sigh. "I'd want to meet him…if it was me."

Sybil felt instantly ashamed. Eleri had met her Canadian grandchildren in the flesh only twice and had no detailed knowledge of another granddaughter about whose existence her younger, wayward son occasionally hinted. Despite this division, she never displayed bitterness or resentment at her legacy – delighting in whatever information was shared and proudly displaying photographs on her mantelpiece. It was unlikely that she would ever meet her grandchildren's partners, nor share any further memorable celebrations with either of her offspring. She must find Sybil's reticence bewildering, especially in light of her willingly choosing to meet Tom's child. When Sybil reflected further, her reluctance to offer the same level of familial trust seemed almost cruel.

"Maybe you're right" she murmured. "I'll think about it."

ooOoo

Sybil perched upon a bar stool in Tom's kitchen, watching him skilfully chop mushrooms and strips of peppers while oil in the nearby wok began to sizzle in anticipation.

"Oi!" he joked, spotting Sybil's fingers dart out to take a piece of pepper. "Hands off, Crawley!"

She flashed a grin before taking a deliberate bite, still chewing when Tom came over to stand before her, leaning in for a swift kiss.

"Mmm, pepper mouth…lovely" he teased.

Sybil pulled a face, her expression then swiftly mirroring his smile of contentment. "So all was well when you took Josh home then?"

"Uh-huh" he replied, tipping his ingredients into the wok and taking a swift step backwards while tiny droplets of hot oil leapt violently into the air above. "No problems. I think he had a great time here, but he was happy to go home again, which is understandable."

"So do you think he'll want to come back over again in the summer?"

Tom gave his dish a thorough stir before turning to face her. "He says he does. Yeah, I think hopefully it will be a regular thing now during the school holidays and he'll think of this place as his second home. I loved having him here, it made me feel like a proper full time parent for the first time."

Sybil nodded, encouraging him to elaborate. "I mean, it was definitely harder work than just sweeping by for a couple of days, particularly because he wasn't surrounded by all of his own toys and so wanted to be entertained a lot of the time. But I knew that beforehand. I wanted to have a better idea of what Eddie goes through week in, week out and I think it's important for Josh to know that Daddy has to nag sometimes too, or has to do domestic chores. Normally I'm just there at his disposal for thirty-six hours. But although I was on leave, there were still things I needed to do – you know, sort out laundry or whatever – and he had to occupy himself for a few minutes. I think it's healthy for both of us in the long run to spend longer periods of time together."

"He didn't get homesick then?" Sybil asked the question with caution, feeling as if she was dancing a delicate jig around both Tom and Eddie's feelings and wary of striking the wrong note. "He's still very young, if he hadn't been apart from his mother for more than a night before…"

"He missed Eddie of course, but we spoke to her every evening and he seemed quite enthusiastic about the prospect of coming over and going camping in July."

"Sounds fun" Sybil replied politely, shuddering silently at the concept.

"I'm going to have him the second week of July. Irish schools finish earlier than over here, so I thought we could go down the Gower before it gets too busy."

"Oh it's beautiful down there!" Sybil enthused. "Lovely beaches, you'll have a great time."

"Have you been camping?"

Sybil shook her head. "I've been to the Gower for the day several times, but the one time I stayed down there, I was in a B&B."

"No I mean have you ever been camping, full stop?"

"I went to Guides camp when I was about twelve. That was quite fun, but since then, no."

"Too posh to camp, eh?" he cast as a gentle tease and Sybil took the bait with a vociferous defence.

"I am not too posh, no. I'm perfectly capable of sleeping in a tent, but the situation hasn't really arisen since. I certainly don't need luxury, I've stayed in some real dives over the years. But I don't own a tent and I've never really wanted to shell out for all the equipment so…"

"I understand if you can't face it, it's not for everyone…"

"It's not that I can't face it, Tom. I've never had friends who have been into it, so it's not really been an option."

"All those shared toilets and showers."

"Ugh, do you actually have to share a shower with someone?" Sybil asked in horror and Tom began to laugh.

"You're so funny. It's probably your aristocratic roots."

"Oh rubbish, it's got nothing to do with that!" They weren't actually arguing, but she was ever so slightly rattled by his mockery although simultaneously impressed that he was comfortable enough with her to attempt it.

"Do you think you might feel a pea under your inflatable mattress?" It was said gently, accompanied by a smile and then a jovial wink. He appeared to have sensed her mild offence and was attempting to back down.

"I'm not going to answer you any more, you believe what you like!" She folded her arms firmly against her chest, but flashed a grin to prove that they were on an even keel once more.

"Come with us then."

"What?"

"Come camping with me and Josh in July. As you said, it's beautiful and we'll have a great time."

"Unless it rains…"

He began to chuckle. "If you can't cope with a bit of rain…"

"Fine, I'll come! In fact, I'd love to!" She nodded her head vigorously in an attempt at self-persuasion.

"Really?" Now it was Tom's turn to look doubtful. "I am only teasing you, you know. I don't want to make you do something you're not comfortable with."

"I'll be perfectly comfortable, I can sleep on an airbed, it's no problem."

"I don't just mean the airbed. I mean coming away with me and Josh. A morning in a museum and a pizza is one thing, but…" The sentence remained unfinished, but its implication was clear. This would be the next big step towards Josh understanding that their relationship was borne on more than just friendship.

"I want to" she assured him, standing up from the stool and walking towards him. "Honestly. But I've got a big question to ask you as well."

"OK…let me just throw these prawns in the wok, then ask away."

She waited. "Would you like to come up to Downton with me next month? It's my grandmother's 85th birthday and we're having a big family lunch. You can say no, but I've already worked out that it's not a Josh weekend so I thought I'd ask. It'll be quite formal, everything always is with her."

"I don't mind that, do I get to dress up in a bow tie?"

Sybil expelled a guffaw. "Really, do you like doing all that?"

"Sure. But then I've never had many opportunities to. You, on the other hand, are probably sick of it all."

She shrugged. "I don't do it very often any more, but yes I resented it a bit when I was younger. It's just family for this lunch. My parents, sisters, their husbands and children, my aunt. So you see…"

He tipped his head to one side in that familiar manner which made her adore him even more than usual. "It would be your official declaration that I'm your boyfriend?"

"Yes. I just need you to be honest and tell me if you're ready for that."

"I'm ready" he replied without any hesitation at all.

ooOoo

"That was delicious!" Sybil declared, setting down her knife and fork and leaning contentedly back in her chair.

"Thank you. Now I've cheated with pudding, I'm afraid. I went to M&S. Some chocolately gooey thing that I thought you might like."

"Mmmm" she replied, before an old memory resurfaced and she smiled in reminiscence.

"Do you still like Penguin biscuits?" she asked casually as he stacked their plates and began to stand.

He wore an expression of baffled amusement. "Um…I can't say I was ever that bothered either way, really. Why do you ask that? Did I once say I did?"

"Do you not remember our school trip to Beamish?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"And we all started our packed lunches on the coach."

"Before we got to the end of the road, that's compulsory on school trips isn't it?"

"And our cook…" she blushed momentarily, anticipating another teasing swipe which never arose. "Anyway, I had this thing for Kit-Kats, still do in fact. They're my absolute favourite, but we were hardly ever allowed to have them as children – my father was a bit of a sugar tsar. But Mrs Patmore, our cook, had bought some – I'd seen them in the pantry so I'd asked if she would put one in my lunch box for the trip as a special treat. But when I opened it up, she'd given me a Penguin instead."

"Were you devastated?" he asked with a grin.

"Well these things seem extremely important when you're thirteen. Do you really not remember?" she pressed and he stood motionless for a moment.

"It's starting to ring a bell. Did we swap?"

"I obviously voiced my disappointment quite loudly because you suddenly turned round, held out a Kit-Kat and told me that you loved Penguins so we could exchange."

"How gallant of me!" he laughed, carrying the dishes out towards the kitchen.

"But now you're saying that you weren't that bothered."

He returned to the doorway and leant against its frame, eyes crinkling with amusement. "I fancied you Sybil, I expect I was trying to get into your good books. It's kind of coming back to me now."

"I had absolutely no idea, you know. Only at the very end of your last term, did I begin to wonder if there might be something, that my crush might not be entirely unrequited."

He gave a throaty chuckle. "Oh no, it had been far longer than that!"

"Was it because of me trying to defend John Bates?"

"No, no. I reacted to that dickhead Green so violently because I already fancied you." He paused momentarily and looked towards the ceiling with narrowed eyes. "Although I'd like to think that I'd have defended any girl who was being grabbed like that."

"You always seemed in such high demand, I never imagined that I stood a chance."

His face crinkled with amusement. "I don't remember being in high demand!"

"Well Ellie McPherson told me that she went out with you for a bit in Year 8."

"Who?" he said and the lines in his forehead became prominent as he made an effort to recollect.

"You know – tall, blonde, very good at tennis? Played for the county and was always going to win Wimbledon. Although she didn't, as you might have noticed. I think she's a PE teacher in London somewhere now."

"I don't remember her at all. So I'm quite certain that I didn't go out with her."

"And everyone knew that you snogged Sarah Bunting at Alfie Nugent's party."

"Ah!" Tom raised his right palm aloft. "Let me clarify that! Sarah Bunting snogged me at the party. I didn't actually have much choice in the matter, as I was on a chair and she sat on top of me."

"But you weren't actually complaining?"

"I was a bit stunned to begin with. Why weren't you at that party, by the way?"

"I wasn't in with the in-crowd, don't try to change the subject!"

"I'm telling you, she pinned me down and practically devoured me."

Sybil began to snigger, enjoying Tom's efforts at self-justification. "I bet you enjoyed it really!"

"Not particularly. But everyone was watching and I realised that it probably wasn't doing my image any harm. So I played along."

She expelled a gusty laugh. "You played along!" she mocked. "Sarah was full of it! 'Oh Tom really likes me, he wants to see me again at the weekend.'"

"I never ever said that. She asked me out the following week and I said no. She wasn't my type at all. I tried to let her down gently, but well…perhaps she was just trying to save face."

"She always did have a big gob on her." Sybil said with a dismissive grin.

"So what about you?" Tom held out a hand to pull her up off her chair before wrapping his arms firmly around her waist. "I never heard about Sybil Crawley snogging anyone. I would have been wild with jealousy of course and challenged them to a duel outside the gym."

A girlish giggle escaped Sybil's lips as she found herself once again mentally transported back twenty years. 'Tom Branson really fancies me!' she wanted to shout loudly to anyone who might care to listen. "There wasn't anyone." she said gently. "You were the first."

She felt his hold on her soften marginally, his expression of surprise clearly visible. "Really? Ah bollocks, I wish you'd been my first."

His regret was evident and Sybil felt stirrings of sympathy for his teenage self, caught up with misguided efforts at fitting in and boosting his ego . "Rather than the mouthy Sarah Bunting you mean?"

He looked immediately embarrassed. "Ah, she wasn't even the first I'm afraid. I kissed a friend of my cousin the summer before, back in Ireland. Shauna Donaghue. She was fifteen and I was only thirteen. I'm not quite sure how I managed that, if I'm honest."

"I told you that you were in high demand!"

Without warning, he pushed her gently down on to the nearby sofa until Sybil found herself horizontal, her head raised on a nearby cushion. "I'm going to make it up to you!" he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and Sybil found herself giggling once more.

Fleeting recollections of her rivals for his youthful affection flashed through her mind, interwoven with a childish sense of satisfaction. 'Tom Branson really fancies me!' she thought smugly. 'And I'm going to shag him tonight. So I win!'

But then another pressing thought crossed her mind.

"What about pudding?" she asked. Tom gently lowered his lips to her collarbone and she let out a soft gasp of satisfaction.

"Later" he muttered.