Sybil knew, simply by the manner in which Tom held himself, that something was wrong. They were so in tune with one another's emotions nowadays that, despite an upbeat smile and tender, indulgent kisses since he walked through her door, she could tell that there was a burden weighing on his mind.

It was almost two weeks since he had returned from Ireland and three days after Josh had felt strong enough to return to school. The university term had recommenced and they were each busy with professional responsibilities. But she had seen him twice, despite a brief visit to Yorkshire in the meantime, and he had shown no previous indication that he was troubled. Sybil's journey to Kilkenny had brought them closer together, her earlier doubts as good as banished. There were times when she felt wholly consumed by the very thought of him – his familiar smell, the feel of his broad shoulders, that slight of head which she found so endearing, the touch of his skin upon hers. So she was quite confident that she hadn't missed any significant evidence of unease until now.

"What's wrong?" she asked during an unusually long silence while they ate bowls of pasta in her kitchen. "I know something's worrying you."

Tom placed his fork carefully down on the edge of the bowl and bowed his head.

"I can't do this anymore" he said quietly and Sybil felt as if she had been lifted from her seat and shaken violently by a great force. Unable to proceed with any rational thought or speech, she sat paralysed, staring at him with incomprehension.

Their empathy with each other was mutual and sensing her fear, he reached out to place a hand gently over hers.

"It's not to do with you." He shook his head with a mournful expression. "Never with you."

Her next words were unsteady; her inbuilt insecurity had taken force. "Then what?"

Tom placed his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands. "With Josh. I just can't be in a different country from him anymore!"

She understood. She had anticipated this moment only a few months beforehand, had known that his priorities would one day collide. Josh's illness was undoubtedly at the heart of his dilemma. Regardless of how well he had recovered, the concern over his condition had taken root and grown – nagging doubts about what if. She offered no resistance, knowing it was futile. All she wanted was to hear the solution.

"So what are you going to do?"

For a short while he didn't move, using his hands as a mask and making his expression unreadable. Eventually he took a deep breath and sat up straight.

"I have to move back to Ireland, Sybil" he said gently. "I think I'm going to start looking for jobs, even if it means taking a step backwards for the time being."

She nodded her head, willing tears not to emerge. It was unclear where she fitted into this change of direction, if at all.

Tom continued, giving her hand a squeeze. "I mean, nothing's going to happen before the summer, I'll see my second year out." The fleeting pause before he then shook his head, felt tortuous.

"I mean, I missed his nativity play! It's not just him being ill, it's missing out on all the little things. There's going to be more and more of them as he gets older – sports clubs and school plays and while I'm over here, I'll only ever see the occasional one if it fits in with my weekends. He asked me yesterday when I could come and watch one of his swimming lessons and I had to say that I just didn't know. I'm never there on a Wednesday in term-time, there's no way I could be from here. I've finally realised that I can't do it. I thought I could, but I can't." As he wrestled with the delivery of his news, Sybil felt her stomach twist with anxiety. There was still no mention of her.

In an effort to salvage her pride, she cleared her throat and withdrew her hand. "Well I can understand how difficult it must be. You've got such a close bond." She looked down at her bowl and half-heartedly pushed a piece of fusilli from one side to the other, feeling miserable.

"I know I have no right to ask you this…" Her head shot up to meet his gaze. "…but I will anyway or I'll never forgive myself. Would you ever consider coming with me?"

So immense was her relief, that she gave a short, spluttering laugh, which Tom understood to mean only affront.

"I know it's a total nerve to even suggest that you'd give everything up because of my son, but…"

"Yes!" she cried and he sat motionless, his mouth hanging open.

"Really?"

She laughed again, this time with the full force of her delight. "Yes, really! God, I thought you'd decided to give me up as some kind of self-sacrifice for moving back."

"It's just such a tall order…"

"But people do it all the time, Tom! For jobs, or family or whatever. It's pretty rare for both people in a relationship to have the same change of direction at the same time. Somebody usually leads and the other follows. And you're the one with the biggest responsibility elsewhere, so it was never likely to be the other way around. I'd already come to terms with that in my mind."

"But to move away from Wales, from Britain…it's a big ask. Your family, your job, your friends…"

Her mouth twitched. "Are you trying to talk me out of it now?"

"No!" Once again his hand enclosed hers, as if doing so could prevent her from changing her mind. "Definitely not."

"Well I'd already given it some thought, to be honest. I had an idea that you might want to go back one day – not yet, I'll admit, but at some point. I love my job but I've been there a while now so a change would be no bad thing. And obviously I'd come back over. Not as often, I don't need to go and see my parents every fortnight in the long run. Provided Dad keeps getting stronger and it seems as if he's out of danger, then I'll start scaling those visits back." Thoughts of the alternative scenario were brushed aside, she could not bear to face them after her father had made so much progress.

The delight on Tom's face caused her to break into an excited grin and she leant forward across the table to kiss him.

"I'm fairly good at making friends…" she added. "I've moved before. And Gwen's got new priorities now. She'll probably have a family soon, so it wouldn't be quite the same any more. I'll come back to visit, we won't lose touch.

In the midst of her enthusiasm for the idea, Tom's slow descent to his knees seemed incongruous. Why did he feel the need to pretend to beg, when she had already agreed?

"I want to do this properly then" he said and she frowned, still uncomprehending.

"Well I say properly, but I haven't actually got a ring."

Realisation hit her with full force and before she could stop herself, she squealed loudly, clasping a hand over her mouth to contain any further sound. Tom raised one knee from the ground and took her hand.

"Sybil Crawley…" She could scarcely see him through sudden tears. "Would you…"

"YES!" she spluttered with a half-laugh.

A tiny frown crossed his face. "I haven't actually asked yet" he said.

"Sorry!" Tears were trickling down her cheeks now, but she shook her head and made an effort to look composed. "Go on."

"I have loved you for over twenty years…"

"Liar" she said and he laughed.

"I have! Maybe I didn't think about you every single day, but I certainly have in the last eleven months. Anyway, you have made me the happiest I've ever been in my life and I don't ever want to be parted from you again." He flung his arms out wide as if about to burst into song. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" Sybil repeated at the same volume as before, flinging herself off the chair towards him and knocking him over in the process.

They half-lay on the kitchen tiles, legs entwined, kissing and giggling, each on the verge of nervous hysteria.

"Well…" Tom said finally. "This evening's gone better than I anticipated."

Sybil was curious. "Was that spontaneous or had you thought you might propose beforehand?"

"I decided I would if you showed any indication of wanting to come to Ireland. I just wanted to lay out the facts first."

"You laid them out too thickly" she chided. "I thought you were planning to leave me behind."

He pulled a face and kissed her again. "Sorry, what an eejit. I was so bloody nervous that you'd say you wouldn't come."

"I'd go anywhere with you, I think."

He looked abruptly serious. "Really? Because there's an interesting job available at the University of Damascus…"

Lightly she swung at him with the back of her hand. "Maybe not anywhere. You're on your own there, I'm afraid."

"Talking of being afraid. Do I need to officially ask your Dad for your hand?"

Sybil screwed up her face, incredulous. "Really? What do you think this is, 1914? Of course not!"

"I just thought that as he's a man of tradition…"

"And I'm a woman who's lived on her own since the age of 18. I don't need his permission to marry anyone! I'm sure Matthew and Michael didn't ask." She reconsidered this confident declaration and screwed up her nose. "Actually Matthew probably did, but that doesn't mean you should. We'll go and tell them together."

"I hope it doesn't give him another heart attack." Sybil gave him a stern look. "Seriously, Sybil! I got the impression he wasn't very happy about you being with someone who already had a child."

She was thoughtful for a moment. "I'm pretty sure he's changed his mind, but listen Tom - can I ask you something?"

"Of course" He was smiling, but with it came a trace of tension.

"I want to have a baby." She placed a hand on his chest. "Not immediately, but at some point. Last time we broached this subject, you had some doubts. How do you feel about it now?"

He held her gaze and the taut line of his shoulders lifted. "I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have any worries. About what it would mean for Josh and how I'd juggle two children in two different locations. But if I conjure up an image of us with our own child, which I have done now and again, then it gives me a good feeling. So yes, we should try and do it, definitely."

Sybil felt a swell of emotion and leant her head on his shoulder while she gathered her thoughts. She felt the gentle brush of Tom's hand along her back and closed her eyes, giving thought to how her life had changed over the course of a year. They were still on the kitchen floor, having shuffled across to lean against cupboard doors, and both of their heads swung in unison at the sound of the cat flap opening. Samson came to a halt with only his front feet emerging from the door, green eyes watching them curiously.

"Hello Samson" Tom said cheerfully. "We've got some news for you. How would you like to become an Irish cat?"

Memories of Josh's visit resurfaced and Sybil felt a pang of anguish. "He can't" she said and a wave of sorrow chipped away at her happiness. Tom instantly understood.

"Well if they get used to each other…" he suggested with forced optimism. "It doesn't mean it'll happen again."

Sybil shook her head and guilt began to wash over her. "It's not fair on either of them."

Samson arrived fully into the kitchen and clearly unnerved by the unusual circumstances before him, walked stiffly out of the room, his tail rigidly erect.

"What do you want to do about him then?" Tom asked gently.

"I'll have to try and find a home for him, I guess. I'll ask at work. I don't know…" she trailed off sadly.

"Well we're not going anywhere for a while. We've both got to get jobs first. So let's give it some thought, eh? We don't need to be hasty."

Not wanting to spoil their celebratory mood, Sybil smiled and stood up, brushing imaginary dust from her trousers as she made a concerted effort to divert her thoughts. A bottle of Prosecco, recently gifted by a friend, was sitting nicely chilled in the door of her fridge. But even as she reached for it, she couldn't help but think how thin the line was between compromise and capitulation.

ooOoo

A sense of long-earned loyalty meant that Tom was loathe to share Eddie's confidences, although he readily acknowledged that their forthcoming marriage now gave Sybil a greater right to more information about Josh, even if she was not directly involved in the decision making process. He was therefore hesitant before admitting that Eddie had wept when she first learned of their engagement. Not, as she was subsequently clear to stress, because she harboured any romantic attachment of her own, nor that she disapproved of his choice – by tacit understanding, her explicit opinion about Sybil was neither requested nor delivered. Her tears represented the loss of an unconventional arrangement which had achieved harmony and stability for their son - change brings uncertainty and fear to those who feel they have the most to lose. She greeted the declaration of their intended relocation to Ireland with a surprising sense of detachment; they wouldn't be in Kilkenny, the day-to-day dynamics would be unaltered. Her priority was reassurance that Josh would not feel excluded by the change of circumstances. She wanted him to feel as welcome in their home as he was in his own, something Tom was adamant would never change.

On the other hand, Josh appeared wholly untroubled by the announcement, fixated mostly on their eventual move to Ireland, something they tried their best to play down while the logistics and timeframe remained unsettled. They delivered the news during his Half Term visit to Swansea, waiting until he was reacquainted with the place, an enjoyable afternoon all together at the marina behind them.

"Where will it be?" he asked curiously and his face lit up upon learning that the occasion would now provide an opportunity to visit Downton Abbey.

"Cool! Can you show me that hiding place you talked about, Sybil?"

The mental check-list of possible concerns seemed superfluous as Josh chattered enthusiastically about his expectations of turrets and forests – both of which had to be drastically scaled back – but Tom was determined to proceed.

"So Sybil will be your step-mother, Josh, but it's only a name really. Mammy will still be the one in charge."

Josh grinned. "She's the big boss!" he declared.

Tom affectionately rubbed his son's shoulder. "That's right and don't you forget it! And I'll still be talking to Mammy all the time – on the phone and when I pick you up. If you've got anything going on, we'll still be the ones dealing with it together."

"Okay" He gave a shrug of indifference which indicated that he expected nothing else.

"But when Sybil and I have a new house together, then it will be as much hers as mine so we'll have to make a few rules together…"

"Like don't walk through the house with muddy shoes on, don't throw toys about, sit nicely at the table…" Josh began to recite familiar instructions and Sybil smiled at his earnest compliance.

"Exactly" Tom said smiling. "Probably only the kind of things that Mammy likes you to do at home and I like you to do here. But it will be Sybil's house as well so you'll have to listen to her if she asks you to do something in it, does that make sense?"

Sybil quickly interjected. "And you can always come and talk to me about anything as well. Sometimes it's good to have another person around to listen." She was eager that her role was perceived as being beneficial, rather than acting as a barrier between his parents.

Josh nodded solemnly and then opened his mouth before shutting it swiftly once again.

"What is it? Come on darlin', ask me anything you like. What's on your mind?" Tom urged, leaning forward and patting Josh's hand.

"Are you going to have a baby?"

Tom sat back in his chair and the two of them exchanged a brief glance. "Well we hope to, yes. Not for a while yet but one day. How do you feel about that?"

Josh wrinkled his nose in thought. "I hope it's a boy."

"Right." Tom seemed momentarily thrown by his declaration.

"Then I can play football with him, that'll be cool."

"Well it would be a while before he could….well anyway, you'd like to be a big brother, would you?"

Josh shrugged his shoulders. "Sure"

"That's good." Tom was smiling, drumming his fingers across the table.

"You'll need to have some sex first."

"What?!" Tom sat abruptly upright while Sybil fought back the mouthful of tea which was threatening to make a turbulent exit through her nostrils.

Josh appeared impervious to the reaction of the adults before him, reaching for a pack of felt tipped pens nearby and opening it up. "Yeah, Diarmuid at school says you have to have some sex to make a baby."

Tom cleared his throat with unease. "Well that's right, Josh. You do, but…."

"So have you got any yet or will you wait until you come back to Ireland?" Carefully, Josh selected a green pen and began to write his name on a piece of paper.

Sybil glanced over at Tom, whose cheeks were beginning to flush with discomfort. "Right, so what exactly did Diarmuid say?" he asked, tipping his head to one side with narrowed eyes.

Josh looked up, displaying visible concern. "Daddy…" he said slowly, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward conspiratorially. "Do you want me to ask him where you get it from?"

The corners of her mouth twitching with amusement, Sybil stood up, patting Tom gently on the shoulder. "I think I'm going to leave you to it. This is a parent's job. I'll be in the living room."

She withdrew from the kitchen and pulled the door behind her. There was plenty yet to learn about the dynamics of step-parenting and she held no illusion about the difficulties ahead. At times it felt as if early on, their relationship had relocated to a parallel universe, in which the experience and knowledge of several years had been condensed into one, returning them back into real life with a jolt. She became well versed with school holidays and parenting schedules before she had learned Tom's favourite brand of coffee, or shared confidences about past mistakes and future dreams.

Who can ever identify why we fall in love? The appearance and qualities of one person which rise above those of all others in our path are indeterminable. When requited it causes soaring happiness, though in doing so never strays far from the threat of despair. Ask any elderly couple for the secret of their success after their marriage has lasted the passing decades and you'll receive a multitude of replies – tolerance, patience, sex, a deep-rooted friendship, shared family and friends. But above all else they will talk of love. For what else matters as we reach our inevitable end than to know that love prevails?

Twenty years beforehand, Tom had disappeared from her life, swathed by flawless memories. Over the past twelve months he had proved fallible, but in doing so had restored her belief that above all else, he was thoughtful, kind and honest – traits she hoped would be inherited by Josh as well as any child they might have of their own. His parenting skills were already well established, her own would develop over time. For now, however, she felt content to make the most of the advantages her position afforded, even if it did mean leaving Tom with a trickier conclusion to the conversation than he had earlier anticipated. She hesitated for a moment and cocked her ear towards the kitchen.

"Right, well the thing is Josh…" Tom said firmly before coming to a halt and clearing his throat loudly. "Okay, what I mean is …"

With a smile, she left him to it.

A/N: Although I'm choosing to leave the story at this point, I'm fully aware that their tale is ongoing. I could easily write another around their marriage and the challenges that another child will bring into the mix, as well as the ongoing sensitive relationship with Eddie. Perhaps one day I'll come back to this universe, but for the time being, I'm simply going to offer a short epilogue which will give you a snapshot of their future. Same time, same place, next week?