A cold call is only ever welcome in the middle of the night. When the shrill sound of a telephone slices into otherwise peaceful slumber, dragging its incumbent into abrupt consciousness – heart beating rapidly, clumsy hands shaking – a misguided sales effort would feel heaven-sent. Irritating and badly timed, but its recipient could then relax back into the pillow with a wry smile, a still trembling hand placed over the heart and a fleeting glance at their bed-fellow. "Bloody sales call" they could mumble, or perhaps "wrong number." Sleep would soon encroach once again, a short-lived restlessness might prevail while limbs ease comfortably back into place and nerves are restored to their previously peaceful state. No real harm done.
Sybil leapt out of her warm bed and in the midst of sleep-ridden confusion, began to half-run towards the bedroom door. A few steps in, realisation struck that the sound was her mobile ringing on her bedside cabinet. Turning on her heel, she felt herself wobbling like a drunk on skates and slammed a hand down hard on to a chest of drawers for balance. Tom was now stirring with rapidly blinking eyes, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Sybil had momentarily forgotten his presence, fixated only on the jarring noise and willing it to only be a nuisance.
MARY – the letters were illuminated through the gloom and Sybil's stomach lurched in anticipation. There would be no easy reprieve. The hammering within her chest only intensified as she sat down, slid a finger across the screen and lifted a shaking hand to her ear.
"Hello?"
Her sister's voice was shuddering and inaudible, her unexpected frailty made apparent in the form of jarring, gasping sobs. Sybil felt a sharp chill cross her body and reached out to tug the discarded duvet to her chest.
"Sybil, it's Dad!" Mary gasped and an abrupt silence prevailed. Sybil heard the sound of deep breaths and waited for her sister's composure to take hold.
"What's happened?" she whispered and listened to her own fear. She saw a dark shadow moving across the wall, heard the rustling of material behind her. Tom reached across the bed and placed a hand lightly on her back in silent support.
Mary took a deep breath and Sybil heard a soft hiss of air pass through her sister's teeth. She sat up straight and Tom removed his hand, leaning back and giving her space.
"He's had a heart attack, Sybil. A massive one."
Sybil felt bile rise in her throat. "Is he…?" She couldn't articulate her darkest fear.
"He's on a life-support machine. He's alive. At the moment, anyway. It's not looking good."
"What happened…when?"
"He got up apparently." Mary's voice was even now, she had imparted the worst. "Keeps waking up in the middle of the night and pacing about. It's stress, all these problems running Downton. Mum was aware of him walking but she was half-asleep. Then he just fell on the bed. Right over her legs."
"Oh God." An image flashed across Sybil's mind of her parents' bedroom, her father lying immobile and her mother trapped beneath him. Her head bowed, she kneaded her brow with trembling fingers and felt Tom's fleeting touch once again.
"He's in York General, you need to come, Sybil. As soon as you can, in case…" There was no need to conclude, the implication was starkly clear.
Sybil cleared her throat, holding threatening tears at bay. "Of course, I'll come straight away. Are you in Glasgow?"
"No, in Manchester thankfully. I got back last night, one of my occasional Friday working from home days. Matthew's just waking George up, we're going to leave in about half an hour."
"And Edith?"
"I'll ring her now."
Sybil closed her eyes and felt another wave of anguish. "I'll come as soon as I can."
"Good. I'll see you there. I'll let you know if there's any change."
"Tell him!" She half-shouted her plea through the gloom of first morning light. "So he knows I'm coming!" She clasped a hand over her mouth, unable to clarify – so that if the worst is going to happen, he tries to hang on for me.
"He's unconscious, but yes I will." Mary paused and then spoke quietly before hanging up. "Provided I get there in time."
Sybil sat immobile on the side of the bed, clasping her phone to her chest. The heat of Tom's body provided no comfort as his arms slid around her shoulders and he fumbled across the covers to sit beside her.
"Is it your Dad?" he asked gently and drew her close when she nodded dumbly, unable now to express any emotion.
"He's had a huge heart attack, they don't know if he's going to pull through. I have to go to York."
"Of course" He squeezed her shoulders once again and dropped a soft kiss to the side of her head. "Oh God, I'm so sorry Sybil. Right, what do you want me to do, shall I look up train times for you?"
She nodded and whispered thanks, her mind racing at what needed to be done, thoughts clouded by fear and misery. Tom held out her dressing gown and guided her into the kitchen.
"Let me make you a cup of tea" he murmured, pressing his hands gently down on to her shoulders, encouraging her to sit again. With a firm shake of her head, she stood up, moving determinedly back into the bedroom and lifting a small case from the top of her wardrobe. Those few seconds of inactivity had conjured up alarming mental images of her father's incapacity. The idea of him lying vulnerable in a hospital bed made Sybil's stomach lurch violently and she brought a hand across her mouth.
The thought which had lain nagging at the back of her mind leapt suddenly to its forefront and an abrupt sob escaped.
"I haven't made up with him" she gasped and placed her hands over her face in anguish. Within seconds she heard the sound of Tom's footsteps on soft carpet and felt his arms envelop her.
"I haven't made up with him!" she repeated and realised with a jolt that she had never told Tom the full extent of their dispute at Downton. "We argued. I implied he was a hypocrite after he criticised you over Josh. Threw his affair back in his face…oh God!" Tears fell unhindered now, she couldn't hold back as the full implication took hold. "What if that's the last image of me he has?"
Tom looked puzzled, still coming to terms with her tale of self-rebuke. "But you've spoken to him since, haven't you? I've heard you on the phone to him? You sounded alright, joking about cricket and the like?"
Sybil gripped his arm with an increasing sense of panic. "But what if it's the last time he saw me? I should have sorted it out with him on the phone, I shouldn't have just left it open and festering!" She could feel herself shaking at the prospect of not having an opportunity for redemption. Her earlier self-righteousness over the subject matter was now immaterial. She couldn't bear to consider the possibility of their final time together being tainted by ill-will.
"Now listen…" Tom's tone had altered and he sounded stern. "You can't think like that. He loves you, Sybil, you know that. I've only met him once and I could see it. Now okay if you've had a row then you can sort it out with him when he's better but he'll not be thinking badly of you, I'm sure of that."
Sybil sat down heavily on the bed and in doing so, brought Tom unsteadily down beside her. "I need to get there" she whispered, her head turning from one side to the other as she quickly assessed what she needed to pack. Another wave of terror swept over her and she came to a sudden halt, gripping Tom's arm tightly and laying herself open with her appeal.
"Will you come with me?"
She watched his face freeze with discomfort and felt her heart quicken its beat with the anticipation that he was going to deny her.
"I can't…" he said slowly and his expression displayed rapid snapshots of emotion – disappointment, distress, embarrassment, finally ending in resignation. His voice lowered to little more than a whisper. "…it's my weekend with Josh. I can't…" She watched him offer a silent plea and looked away.
"Sybil, please. I'm really sorry. If it was any other time, of course I would, but…"
She stood up and pulled the belt of her dressing gown tightly around her waist. "Well it's not, is it?" she said sharply. "It's now."
"I can't let him down, he's expecting me. He wouldn't understand!"
She felt overwhelmingly nauseous but couldn't prevent herself from making a final plea. "I wouldn't normally dream of asking, you know that." She paused until he met her gaze once again. "My father might die today, Tom. It's not a normal day."
She watched him swallow and his face began to flush. He looked down towards the floor and she understood that there was no contest.
"Right, well I need to pack. Excuse me please." Her voice was laced with condemnation. In her single-minded grief, there was no room for compromise.
"He's six, Sybil!" He made a final petition for empathy. "If he was sixteen, he might understand. But at this age it'll just look as if I'm choosing you over him and I can't let that happen."
"Of course not" she replied icily before moving into the bathroom and pulling the door firmly shut behind her. Once alone she sat on the toilet seat and let her head drop into her hands, emitting a series of sobs in dual distress. Although she had never forgotten Tom's early pledge to his son, she couldn't help but wish that for once, at her lowest ebb, her needs could come first. In truth she understood his decision - in many ways it made him the man she loved – but the terror she felt at the potential loss of her father outweighed any usual rationality.
When she emerged from the bathroom, red eyed but resolute, he was waiting for her in the hallway.
"I've looked at the train times." he said quietly, avoiding her gaze. "The first one's at six forty which will get you into York at half eleven. Change at Birmingham." She nodded wordlessly and moved into the bedroom to finish packing. Tom followed, coming to a halt in the doorway and clearing his throat.
"I've worked out the timings and I could drive you to Birmingham so you'd still make the same connection."
Sybil's head jerked upwards and she stared uncomprehending. "What's the point in that?"
"So you're not on your own the whole way" he said evenly. "I can cancel morning lectures and still get back for the afternoon ferry."
Sybil was not feeling in any way charitable. "To make yourself feel better, you mean?"
He gave a deep sigh and she saw his eyes briefly close. "Sybil…" It was said pleadingly but he didn't elucidate. She threw clothes roughly into her bag, aware of his continued presence, his eyes bearing down on the top of her head. Tears were beginning to brew once again and she held her breath to contain them, the dull ache in her stomach a reminder of her fears for the day ahead.
"The offer's there. I want to help you if I can." He moved away into the kitchen and she exhaled loudly, brushing an escaping tear from her eye and blinking rapidly while she zipped the case shut.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, one hand scrolling through his phone, the other clamped to the top of his bowed head. She wondered if he was going to present her with another compromise, but there was only silence.
"There's no point in you coming to Birmingham" she said firmly. He gave a single nod of his head, an act which expressed nothing, yet implied the end of everything.
"As you wish"
Sybil felt a niggling seed of doubt taking root within her self-absorption. "You might get stuck in traffic, it's Friday. Then you would miss the ferry and it defeats the whole point. Anyway, I'm not exactly feeling very talkative, I won't be good company."
She heard the soft ghost of a sigh as he rose from the table and placed his phone in his trouser pocket. "I wasn't after a morning of riveting company. I just didn't want you to be alone all the way, that's all."
She hesitated but before she had a chance to concede, he had reached for his car key. "Right. It's nearly six. I'll take you to Central Station now so you've plenty of time to buy your ticket."
After that there didn't seem anything left to say.
ooOoo
Her father was lying under a network of tubes, his pallor mottled and grey, eyes closed. Cora sat with her back to the door, her hand resting over his. Sybil peered through the window, trying to take stock of her emotions before she entered the room. Her grandmother sat on the other side of the bed, her expression of anxiety tinged with bewilderment that nature was not following an orderly schedule.
"Sybil" Mary's voice made her swing around. Despite the gravity of the situation, she flashed an instinctive smile at her sister who was carrying a cardboard tray of hot drinks. Mary bent down to place them on a nearby table and the sisters embraced. Sybil felt tears spill within the comfort of her arms, their traditional roles reverting as Mary soothed her with soft words and a gentle rub to the back.
"He's still alive, Sybil. Nothing's changed, but it hasn't got worse. They say the longer he stays stable, the better chance he has…"
Sybil nodded, fully aware of the statistics, and rubbed her snotty nose with a hand.
"Oh please…" Mary frowned and produced a handkerchief from the pocket of her trousers. The absurdity of her sister's sense of decorum under the circumstances made the corners of Sybil's mouth twitch and she gasped, aware that laughter and tears were competing on equal terms.
"What's so…?" Mary looked momentarily perplexed before glancing down at the handkerchief screwed up in Sybil's hand and offering a smile. "I don't let George get away with it, so neither will you!"
"Is he at Downton?" Sybil asked.
"Yes, Matthew dropped me off and took him straight there. We'll probably swap over for a bit later, depending on what happens here."
"Is Edith here yet?"
"Not yet, she'll be about an hour I think. I expect Michael will do the same and take Esmé to the house." The mention of their sister's domestic situation seemed to provoke Mary's curiosity.
"Tom's not with you, then?"
Sybil shook her head and looked back towards the door of their father's room. "It's his weekend with Josh so he couldn't come."
"Oh of course" Mary gave a swift nod and turned her attention back to the drinks. Sybil watched her with narrowed eyes, searching for hidden meaning but found none. Her sister believed his decision was wholly acceptable.
They entered the room and Cora rose to greet her youngest daughter. "Hello my darling, thank you for coming so quickly" she whispered and while her eyes glistened, she gave the impression of being calm.
"Don't get up Granny" Sybil said softly, walking round to kiss her grandmother on the cheek.
Violet stared at Sybil, frowning with incomprehension. "This is quite wrong" she said firmly and Sybil shook her head, uncertain whether or not the statement was aimed at her.
"It should be me, it's not his turn Sybil!" Violet reiterated and turned to fix her gaze back on her son. Regardless of age, no parent expects to bury their child. Life's rhythm had missed a beat and for the first time in her life, Violet was floundering, unable to comprehend the sequence of events nor grasp hold of an appropriate solution.
Cora recognised her mother-in-law's disorientation and wanted to spare her the prospect of public distress.
"Shall we take a little walk around the corridor, Violet and keep our circulation moving? We've been sitting in here for ages and I think Sybil might quite like a moment with Robert on her own?"
Sybil smiled gratefully at her mother and placed a hand on Mary's arm. "Just a few minutes, that's all" she whispered.
Mary nodded. "Of course. I'll just ring Matthew and check in."
As the door closed softly behind them, Sybil turned to look at her father, distress rising once again. She silently willed him to open his eyes and her mind raced with the thought of all that she wanted to say.
"Dad…" she croaked, sitting down on her grandmother's recently vacated chair and gently wrapping both of her hands around his left palm. Dappled by the onset of liver spots, it remained soft to the touch – the sign of a man who had never worked with his hands. Sybil was mentally transported back to her childhood when holding his hand had been a daily pleasure – exploring the estate, walking to the village primary school, or simply curled up on his lap. Struggling to hold her composure, she kissed his knuckles, then rested them gently against her bowed head, wondering if an adulthood of agnostic belief gave credence to a hastily concocted prayer. She wasn't certain how long she stayed immobile, but she became aware that Mary might soon return and focussed her mind on the last visit to Downton.
"Dad, I just want to tell you that I'm so sorry we argued when I brought Tom home. I know you only want the best for me and you were just being you." She came to a halt and couldn't prevent an unexpected laugh from escaping. "Look, you were quite rude, but I'm not going to go on about that now while you've got no right of reply, but I shouldn't have…" She paused, considering how best to express herself. "…anyway, I shouldn't have gone over old ground. But whatever was said, we should have sorted it out before I left, or talked about it on the phone. I love you and you love me and you gave us your blessing so that's all that matters in the long run."
She felt tears pricking at her eyelids once again and a rising swell in her throat. Knowing how her father always felt awkward at uninhibited displays of emotion, she raced to conclude.
"Just don't die, Daddy, please!" She kissed his hand again, surprising herself at the instinctive return to a childhood term. "You've got so much to be well for and you know we all love you, so get fighting and come back." She gazed at him with increasing desperation and rubbed a thumb along the back of his hand. "Please" she whispered and was certain that she felt a flicker of pressure from her father's finger.
ooOoo
They took shifts through the afternoon and night, relieving each other from the agony of willing Robert to wake and offer the reassurance they all craved. Sybil drove back to Downton with her mother in the late evening. Each took a bath but quickly abandoned any attempt to otherwise rest, finding the solitude and their magnifying fears too alarming. They forced down a snack prepared by an anxious looking Mrs Patmore who had remained in the house long after her working hours had finished, finding solace by preparing food for the family. Carson hovered at the edge of the dining room while they ate, ashen faced and visibly anxious, but refusing all suggestion that he retire for the night and rest. Sybil reflected on the Crawley's curious bond with both members of staff – neither family nor indifferent employees, driven by mutual needs for each other's services and inexorably bound with affection.
Tom telephoned, first from the ferry and then again at Eddie's house, after Josh had been tucked up in bed. Sybil ignored his first call, mentally excusing herself with the idea of bedside etiquette, but finally relented when she was back at the Abbey. He made no reference to their dispute, but neither did he end with his usual devoted platitudes.
"At least there's been no deterioration, that's good news to an extent. I'm thinking of you all, let me know if there's any change either way." He sent love to her mother but made no mention of it towards Sybil. She tried not to dwell on this and knew deep down that she deserved nothing better. Yet the implication stung nonetheless.
She was musing on their situation early the following morning, when the hospital canteen opened for business once again. She sat pale and hollow eyed with Edith, clutching mugs of tea and picking unenthusiastically at a pile of limp and undercooked toast. Tom had sent an early morning text and she replied briefly, relaying the lack of further news, unaware that her nose was wrinkling with dissatisfaction while her thumbs flew across the screen.
"Have you and Tom fallen out?" her sister asked and Sybil started at the surprise of any conversation beyond their father's peril.
"Um…" she scratched her head and placed the phone on the table beside her plate. "…well I'm feeling a bit pissed off with him because I asked him to come with me for support but he wouldn't."
In isolation, her explanation sounded justified, but it was clear that Edith already had surmised the bigger picture.
"Because it was his weekend to go back to Josh, that's why though, isn't it?"
"Yes" Sybil met her gaze and lifted her chin defiantly. She had a fair idea of how this conversation might now progress. Tired and emotional, she had evaded a fight with Tom but was prepared to let Edith take his place.
"But you knew he'd have to put Josh first when you started seeing him! There's no point in being arsey about it when it gets inconvenient."
Sybil glared across the table. "I'm not being arsey…" she began but Edith swiftly cut in.
"Yes you are. He hasn't done what you wanted him to do. He's put his son first, like any parent would and you don't like it."
Sybil sat straight-backed and placed both of her hands on the table. Edith's stance immediately softened and she leant forward to take one of Sybil's hands in her own. Wrong footed, Sybil remained silent. Her middle sister was not usually prone to outward displays of affection.
"He has to Sybil, regardless of what's happened to Dad. You can't let a child down, it's the worst thing you can do. Especially when his time with Josh is limited. I don't want to sound patronising but you just can't fully understand how it is until you become a parent. I didn't before I had Esmé. But I'm telling you now, I'd put her before Michael in a heartbeat. I love him to distraction but it's a different kind of pull. It's nature, you can't change it."
Sybil broke eye contact and filled with discomfort, glanced across the canteen to where a bored looking employee was limply wiping a cloth across the stainless steel counter.
"You'll look back and understand when the two of you have your own child" Edith added and this confident assumption made Sybil discharge a derisory snort.
"Well I don't know if that's ever going to happen now!"
Edith shook her head and gave Sybil's hand a further squeeze. "Oh please don't throw it all away, Sybil. He seems so right for you."
The first indication of proactive support from a member of her family made Sybil instinctively smile, all thoughts of their disagreement conveniently banished. "Really? Do you think so?"
Her sister broke into a broad beam. "Absolutely! You seemed so happy and relaxed together when you came up for Granny's birthday. It was lovely to see you looking so settled and especially with someone that we can all actually like."
Sybil's smile turned to a suspicious frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh!" Edith threw her hands up in the air and her lips puckered. "Seeing that I'm so exhausted and beyond protocol, I'll just be honest with you. You've been out with some real arseholes, Sybil."
Her mouth dropped open at her sister's unexpected honesty and as if inspired by the reaction, Edith ploughed on. "I mean, that Damian…" She leant suddenly forward as if to impart a secret. "…you're not likely to get back with him, are you? Only I always remember telling Mary how much I disliked Charles Blake after she'd split up with him and then she went back out with him for six months. It was so embarrassing!"
Sybil thought back to their elder sister's excruciating condemnation towards Edith when Charles briefly reappeared at Downton and her mouth twitched.
"I can absolutely promise you that I'll never get back with Damian."
"Good because he was a self-satisfied twerp and the one before him wasn't much better. Honestly, Sybil you've had some appalling taste in men over the last few years."
"Say it as it is, Edith" she murmured, secretly amused. "Don't hold back."
Edith grinned. "I'm just saying that I thought Tom was lovely and so, so right for you. Don't be swayed by Dad's poor judgement on the day. Remember that Michael was briefly married years ago and Dad gave him a hard time over that. It's all soon forgotten once he's satisfied that his daughters are loved and happy. That's all he wants."
Sybil blinked, having forgotten Edith's own family battle several years previously. She and Michael presented such a strong unified front that it was difficult to believe that he had ever once made a youthful commitment elsewhere.
"Don't throw it away, Sybil. I know it won't be easy with Josh and his mother, but I think you'll regret it for the rest of your life if you let this ruin it. Cut him some slack."
Weary with lack of sleep and thrown off kilter by Edith's uncharacteristic confidences, Sybil asked the question before it had even fully formed in her mind.
"What happened with you and Tom's brother?"
For a short while, it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room as silence prevailed and any background noise seemed to evaporate. Edith's face darkened. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came.
Sybil felt abruptly wracked with guilt but they couldn't now revert to ignorance. She pressed on, but in a gentler tone.
"Did something happen on your geography field trip?"
Edith lifted her elbows onto the table and placed her head in her hands. "I've spent twenty years trying to forget it" she mumbled and Sybil found herself leaning forward, straining to hear.
"Well you're going to have to tell me now."
Edith's hands parted and her anxious face appeared. "Don't tell Tom!" she pleaded.
"I won't. I mean, he's guessed that something happened but I won't tell him the details if you don't want me to, I promise."
Edith's head drooped once again before she took an audible breath and met her sister's gaze.
"We were put into pairs and nobody was with their friends. I mean, I hardly knew him! He was nice enough, I'd say hello to him if I saw him about in Ripon but we weren't friends." There was a pause. "I didn't fancy him or anything!"
Sybil remained silent, appreciating that her trust was now at stake. She was intrigued, but determined not to betray her sometimes emotionally remote sister. So often the outsider in their gang of three, she had rarely confided in Sybil.
"And so I was paired with...him"
"Kieran" Sybil pressed and her sister nodded, eyes darting around the room, her discomfort evident.
"And he asked me to show him the estate, said that I must know some secret areas and that we'd have the best set of results at the end. You know, I was rarely top at anything, so I was quite inspired by that thought. And it was a chance to show off, I guess."
Edith slowly sipped at her mug of tea and Sybil nodded, impatient to learn more.
"So we went down to the small thicket behind the lake. You know, not the main wood? It was a bit boggy so I guessed that nobody else would wade through it. We had this check-list of things we were meant to test – soil sediments and all that stuff. I was never really all that enthusiastic about geography to be honest, but I thought it might be a good spot. And it was dry once we got in there and…" She turned towards Sybil with narrowed eyes. "It's a bit magical down there really - very quiet and detached from everything else."
"Yes" Sybil encouraged her to continue. "I know what you mean"
Edith groaned suddenly and once again, her cheeks began to flush. "Oh God, I don't know what came over me, it's just so mortifying…." Her hands began to cover her face once again but Sybil leant forward to pull them away. She held her sister's wrists firmly and met her gaze.
"Don't be embarrassed, Edith. How bad can it be? Did you have sex with him? Is that what's eating you up?"
Edith shook her head and pulled her arms from Sybil's grasp. "Not quite, but everything else I guess. It was like we were both overtaken by some kind of mystical force."
Despite the lead-up, Sybil's eyebrows shot up. She had expected something less startling, believing in all honesty that Edith's embarrassment was likely to have been misjudged.
"What does everything else mean?" It was their most personal conversation to date, but she couldn't retreat at this point. She raised her mug to her mouth and waited.
"Well use your imagination, Sybil. He gave me my first ever orgasm anyway…" Sybil had just taken a sip of tea and sat paralysed, the drink swilling in her mouth. "…well, the first one that wasn't self-administered."
Silence pervaded until Sybil heard a strange noise and realised it had come from the back of her throat. Edith seemed finally released from any humiliation now that the truth had been told and flashed a fleeting smile of satisfaction.
"I'd swallow that tea if I were you, Sybil or you're going to choke." Sybil did as she was told and sat motionless, her mind racing.
"What happened afterwards?" she asked hoarsely and Edith shrugged her shoulders.
"Nothing. I was prepared for utter humiliation, I thought he'd tell everyone that I was easy but he didn't. In fact we avoided one another and scarcely ever spoke again. It was like we'd been put in some kind of trance and we both then tried to forget about it."
"You didn't let on when I told you that I'd lost Tom's address…" Sybil reminded and Edith looked instantly guilty.
"I had no idea that you were keen on him. I was absolutely horrified when I realised that you'd had some kind of relationship with a Branson as well."
"In fact, you were completely unsympathetic …"
"I was so relieved that they were leaving!" Edith shook her head and threw an apologetic glance. "I felt utterly mortified whenever I saw him so I was delighted to know that I wouldn't have to see him again." Edith smiled and glanced at her hands before once again meeting Sybil's gaze. "So imagine how I felt when twenty years later, you suddenly announced that you'd met Tom again and started dating him. I'd put all that embarrassment at the back of my mind and then…"
"But why does it still bother you?" Sybil interjected, shaking her head. "You're happily married and so is he. What does it matter? You were sixteen, people experiment at that age. You didn't get pregnant, no harm was done."
"You didn't do that at sixteen!" Edith said firmly. "I remember you telling me how innocent you still were after you'd finished your GCSEs."
"No…" Sybil admitted with a shrug. "But I started going out with Larry a year or so later and I can tell you that it didn't take long for me to start experimenting after that."
Edith gave a dismissive smile and Sybil reached forward to grasp her hand. "Honestly, Edith. It's not important! He never told anyone either, from what I gather. Tom asked him about you and he didn't let on. He's probably as embarrassed as you."
Her sister sighed and gave a weak laugh. "Well if you and Tom get married then I guess I'll have to bite the bullet and see him, won't I?"
"Hmphhh!" Sybil felt her earlier personal affront rising once again. "Well I don't know if that's going to happen now anyway."
Edith sat straight backed and her eyes narrowed. "If you're going to try and compete with his son, you're going to lose, Sybil. But it won't be down to a lack of his commitment to you."
Sybil stared unblinking at her sister and in a fleeting moment of clarity wondered. 'When did Edith become so wise? And why haven't I noticed before?'
The new touchy-feely Edith re-emerged and she squeezed Sybil's hand once again.
"Don't be an idiot, Sybil. Life's too short."
A/N: Thanks for your comments and support as always. I'm about to be swept up with Easter family commitments and then we are going away for a few days, so I won't be able to post next week. I'll be back on 1st May and then will try to crack on weekly until this story is finished. The current plan is for 19 chapters in all, so only 5 more to go (unless one unexpectedly lengthens).