Okay, so this is the chapter where Thomas and Sybbie's friendship really, properly begins to develop. For all of you long-time followers who are clutching at your heart strings due to Tom's TB, do not be sad! All will be revealed in time… (cue suspenseful music) Thank you all so much for all your support, and I love reading all your reviews. You guys are amazing!
"Hello?" Thomas tapped his knuckles gently against the polished wood of the wardrobe's door. The soft thud was quiet enough for him to catch the small sniff that followed. It was muffled, almost to the point of inaudibility, by the thick mahogany. But Thomas heard it.
"I know you're in there," he sighed, "so there's no point in pretending that you're not." Had he said he was not relieved to have found the girl, Thomas would be lying. However, he found crouching upon the carpet, talking to a wardrobe somewhat less than endearing.
For a time, all within the wardrobe was silent. Then;
"There's no one here."
The protest was quiet, its voice uncertain, and Thomas let slip a small grin. "Really?" he murmured solemnly, struggling to keep the laughter from his tone. "Well, if no one's there, the wardrobe must somehow have taught itself to speak, then." The storage facility gave no reply.
With a sigh that wavered somewhere between amusement and exasperation, Thomas sat back the wall, his arm pressed against the old wardrobe's towering body.
"The doctor says," he began carefully, ignoring the guilt that stabbed at his chest, "that your father is going to be alright. It's nothing that a little aspirin and a solid sleep won't cure." He hated lying to the child – truly, he did. But what other choice did he have? After a moment, the wardrobe gave another sniff.
"R-Really?" it asked, tentatively. Thomas' heart ached. He nodded all the same, shortly before realising that Sybil could not actually see him.
"Yes," he assured the girl. "Dr. Clarkson is certain that Mr. Branson will make a full recovery." Leaning close, he tapped once more against the smooth, simple wood. With a sigh, Thomas lowered his voice.
"Now, why don't you come out of there?" he suggested gently, his hand resting lightly against the door. "Everyone's worried about you." He could almost hear the shake of her head. Thomas sighed once more.
"If you come out," he ventured, lowering his voice even more, "I promise to never call you Miss Branson again."
That struck a chord. The offer was too great to resist. However, being the bright mind that she was, the child seemed determined not to let the valet get away with the upper hand.
"What will you call me?" Thomas thought for a moment.
"Miss Sybil."
Silence.
"Sybil. Just Sybil."
Thomas chuckled. "I can't call you 'just Sybil', Miss Branson –,"
"You said you wouldn't call me that!"
"You haven't come out yet!"
From within the wardrobe, Thomas heard a huff. Laughing now, he fell back against the wall. It was rare thing, for Thomas Barrow to laugh. Especially of late. But somehow, despite all her quirks and antics, this child seemed to bring out the best in him.
Just like her mother.
Thomas heard the door creak. Looking down, he saw two dark eyes, peering at him from within the wooden box. He smiled at the girl. But she continued not further.
"Do I... do I have to... go back just yet?" she asked, quietly. Thomas shook his head.
"No, you don't," he told the child. After a moment, one arm, and then another, emerged from the wardrobe. Sybil Branson sat before him, all red eyes and a wet nose. Despite himself, Thomas retrieved his neatly pressed handkerchief. He offered it to the girl, who took it gratefully.
"Thank you," she whispered, burying her face in the soft linen.
For a moment, all was still. Thomas watched the girl as she sat, face still hidden within the handkerchief. She was trying to cry. Thomas turned away.
"I'm sorry," came the soft mumble. "I... I didn't mean to w-worry everyone." Turning back, Thomas found the girl staring at him. Her gaze was miserable. He offered a small smile.
"You don't have to apologize to me, Miss Sybil," he assured her, and her face lit up at the fulfilment of his promise. "Anyone would have been upset. He is your father, after all."
With a sigh, Miss Sybil settled upon the carpet. She held the handkerchief in her hands, as though it were something special. And for a moment, Thomas though that maybe he didn't hate children all that terribly.
At least, not this child.
"I... I hide here, sometimes," Miss Sybil confessed. Turning from Thomas, she gazed up at the old wardrobe, with a look of fondness. "When I'm sad, and Papa's busy, or I just want George to leave me alone... or I just want everyone to leave me alone, I hide here. And no one's ever found me." She gazed at him. "Except for you."
"I won't tell anyone, Miss Sybil," Thomas heard himself say. He started, just for a moment. Why shouldn't he, he wondered? She's thrown the entire household into panic, after all.
"I won't tell anyone," he promised again, and the girl nodded, still clutching the handkerchief.
"Thank you," she whispered.
For what seemed an eternity, they sat in silence. Thomas could feel it looming down upon them, threatening to overwhelm. The walls seemed suddenly too close; the light shining through the dusty windows seemed suddenly too bright. Clearing his throat, he climbed to his feet.
"We'd best be off, Miss Sybil," he told the child. She nodded quietly, and followed his lead, walking without protest from the room.
As the pair made their slow way down the silent hallway, the strangest, most unexpected thing happened.
Sybil Branson took Thomas' hand.
It was his left hand; his gloved hand. As her small fingers brushed the long healed wound, ever disguised by the tawny leather, Thomas stiffened. He longed to pull his hand free, and was about to, when he caught sight of Miss Sybil's eyes.
She wasn't watching him, as she normally did. The girl simply stared ahead, with a distant, unseeing gaze. A part of Thomas wondered if she even realised she held him.
And so, he let her be. On they walked, in silence.
That night, when Sybbie Branson all but crawled to her room, there was one last birthday gift awaiting her. It at upon her bed, small and sweet, and all wrapped up in crisp, brown paper. Despite her sadness, the little girl brought the package to her nose. She loved the smell of brown paper, although she'd never tell. They'd all think her extremely odd. But she did. And so, she held it a moment longer.
With a sniff, she climbed into bed. Sybbie found herself a little apprehensive about what lay within that fresh-smelling paper. She had received so many gifts that day; some wonderful, and some for which neither Sybbie nor her father could deduct a purpose. Yet, she'd had been thankful for each and everyone.
With another sniff, Sybbie pulled at the simple string. It fell away with ease, as though whoever had wrapped it knew how tired she was. Placing the length upon her blanket, she removed the paper.
And smiled.
Inside, rested a book. It was an old book; well-loved, it seemed, and most certainly not new. But Sybbie didn't care. Upon its cover, a wonderful image smiled back at her. Animals – a badger, a mouse, a mole, and a frog – sat around a lovely little picnic, in a flowering field by a sparkling river. Sybbie's smile grew wider.
"'The Wind in the Willows'," she read. Excitedly, she examined the wrapping once more. But there was no note. No name.
No one to thank. Sybbie sighed, for it was such a lovely present. She didn't care that it wasn't new. She so wanted to begin to read the beautiful little book, but as she sat in bed, gazing at the wonderful picture, the first yawn captured her breath. Unwillingly, she fell back against her pillow, the Wind in the Willows clutched to her chest.
And very soon, Sybbie was asleep.
He'd not told her.
Perhaps he should have, but he hadn't. Sitting alone with a cup of tea, Thomas sighed.
The room he'd found Miss Sybil in... the wardrobe in which she sought refuge...
It was her mother's.
But of course, he'd not told her that.
Next chapter will arrive soon, and hopefully I will answer some of your questions. However, may be a slight delay, as I am heading to the Blue Mountains this weekend! 2 degree mornings – yee-haw! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you all for the next exciting episode ;)
