Thomas could feel Phyllis loitering at the servant's hall entrance. There was no mistaking what she wanted to talk about. He wasn't in the mood to delve into that subject again. Thomas knew what he wanted: to leave the talk of his father and family firmly in the past where they belonged. He had a new family now. If any of them really cared about him like they claim to, then they'd stop trying to reconnect him with his old one.
Sitting alone at the head of the long table, he purposefully took a slow sip from his cup. After a hectic past two days and having survived the tedious lunch of various members of the local clergy two days before, he reckoned he owed himself a little time to himself. Despite the constant chaos, he seized the opportunity to relax when the rare quiet moments at Downton Abbey arose.
"Join me," he said in a slightly sharp tone, his eyes fixed on the magazine.
Phyllis cleared her throat, stepping forward and taking a seat down from him. "Are you busy?"
"Depends."
"I just … I'd like to talk to you about what we spoke of on Monday. I really think you should—"
Thomas threw the magazine down onto the table, straightening himself up in his chair. "I'm too busy for that." He pushed back his chair and stood. A hand on his arm stopped him. "Phyllis," he warned.
"You only get once chance to say goodbye properly Thomas," she breathed.
Thomas sighed, surrendering and sitting back down while running a hand over his face. "Richard got two," he mumbled into his hand, thinking about Richard's encounter with the ghost of his first serious love, Jack Firth last November. Admittedly, that was a rarity.
"What?"
"Nothing. Look, I know you mean well, but I've made up my mind. I owe him … them nothing. They gave me nothing, you see."
"But if you regret it?"
Thomas narrowed his eyes at her. "Have you been speaking to Richard about me?"
Phyllis looked away.
"Knew it."
"Thomas, I was concerned, and he is, too."
"His situation is nothing like mine. He understands me in most ways, except for that. He does not know the agony of being abandoned by those who should love without condition. It was wrong of him to talk about me."
"Don't blame him, Thomas." Phyllis reached forward again. Thomas withdrew his arm from reach. "I raised the subject."
"Chris would know. He'd understand. I bet if you spoke to him about me, he'd side with me, even though his father is well and truly alive, unlike mine."
The tap of footsteps on the stone floor behind him tensed Thomas' shoulders. He swung round to be greeted by Mr Bates holding a pair of His Lordship's shoes in one hand. "Your father has died? Thomas I'm sorry."
Thomas winced. He didn't doubt Mr Bates's sincerity of his words strangely, but all the same had worked hard to keep his father's death a secret from everyone at Downton. It wouldn't be for much longer. "Your timing is as ever inconvenient." Thomas stood sharply, meeting Mr Bates in the eye. "Don't trouble yourself with giving me sympathy, Mr Bates. I don't need it. He was nothing special anyway."
In a swift motion, he left the room, headed straight for his office, and forcefully closed the door.
Everyone would know now, and he didn't want to be there to hear them discuss it.
He couldn't block out their voices in the stillness of the darkened room. "How long have you known?" Mr Bates asked Phyllis.
"I found out two days ago, but I suspected something was up before."
"Those letters? They were from his family?"
Thomas clenched his fists and glared at the door. He heard Mr Bates sit down.
"Yes, from his sister. She's been persuading him to attend the upcoming funeral. Mr Barrow is refusing to go. He believes she wants him around for appearances, and I can understand his perspective, but I think he should still be there."
"Thomas is stubborn, Miss Baxter. He won't budge if he's set his mind on something. I can think of only one person capable of getting through."
"Mr Ellis has tried."
"In that case, I think you'll have to admit defeat on this one. Even though your intentions were good, sometimes it's best to let people make their own decisions."
Thomas sat heavily at his desk, turning away from the door. He was doing the right thing. He owed them nothing. If he had died, they wouldn't have come to his funeral … would they?
A flurry of doubt churned Thomas's stomach.
No. No, they wouldn't.
…
"Have you got it?" Chris asked, shooting an alarmed look down at the bag David had slung over his shoulder.
David gave him a blank look.
"The bottle?"
"Yes."
"And the spare one? I don't know how long we'll be out for. Helen will not forgive me if her son gets hungry."
"And the spare one, yes." David squeezed Chris' arm in reassurance. He'd been fretting ever since they'd left his cottage, the three of them setting off after lunch to the farm – their destination after a walk along roads and paths that were high enough not to be covered with impassable mud. "Chris darling, we've had a good day so far, nothings gone wrong, you've been great with him, and I think he likes us." David smiled down at the baby boy in the pram, huddled up under several blankets and sleeping deeply.
Chris frowned, his focus on the ground as he steered around bumps and potholes in the road. "It might have been best we have stayed at home. I never told Helen we'd take him out and she might not be keen on the idea of him going to the farm. Supposing he picks up some illness?"
"Chris, your nephew will not be rolling around in the dung heap. He won't leave our sight."
Chris was silent. Loose stones cracked and skidded out from under the wheels. A gang of sparrows squabbled in the hedge to the right of them, darting out in alarm as they approached. "How do we explain ourselves if someone sees us? It's not a usual sight: two men pushing a pram with a baby."
"Easy. We tell the truth. Your sister is visiting. She needed someone to look after her child for the day. You are family, so you volunteered."
"I didn't volunteer."
"No, but that's not a necessary detail."
"What about you being here?"
"Everyone knows you don't always manage so well with walking, so I'm here to help with that – to take over if you need me too, which is true."
Chris took one hand off the pram, rubbing his eyes one by one. The pram jolted, one of its wheels caught in the ditch, causing it to wobble. Alerted by Chris's sharp intake of breath at his momentary lapse of concentration, David took control, pulling the pram back away from the edge of the road and onto smoother ground once more.
"Thanks."
"No harm done. I'm here, just like I've been all day. You can lean on me a bit, you know?"
"I know." Chris sighed. He looked exhausted, due to worry, most likely. "Sorry if I've been uptight."
"A bit?" David quipped, pleased to see his poke of fun at Chris's expense had its desired effect.
Chris broke into a smile, albeit a tentative one, for the first time since they'd set out. "We have waited on him hand and foot like the King himself," he said, looking down at little Chris, whose only response to the jolt was a tiny smile. "I'm almost envious. He has it so easy, not a care in the world. All he has to do is sleep and look adorable, and we adults fall at his feet. Tell you what, he could conquer worlds with that power."
David laughed, glad to see Chris allowing himself to relax. "We should tell him to make the most of it. We've got something out of it too, though. The little smiles, him sleeping on our laps in your living room … when he grabbed my finger and wouldn't let go."
"He'll be calling you his Uncle David before you know it," Chris said.
David's breath hitched.
"Sorry I—"
"No! No, I'd like that." David leaned closer and spoke in Chris's ear. "You know I would."
"You've been wonderful, more than always. I needed your help here." Chris's eyes twinkled at him. "I don't just mean with the nappy changes, you've a skill there."
David rolled his eyes. "You are only complimenting me there, so you don't have to do it. Accept all the aspects of looking after your baby nephew, Chris, not just the pleasant ones!"
They neared the main track down to the farm, David holding open the gate, closing it firmly behind them so Hector didn't chase the flock of chickens down the road and halfway into the village like he did once when he was a puppy. Crossing the yard, which was thankfully clean enough following rain overnight, a rhythmic mechanical sound that sounded to David like someone using a poorly oiled spanner grew louder as they approached the barn. Larry would be working, and it got David wondering what his reaction would be to a baby. Larry didn't strike him as someone with much experience with children, though if anyone could surprise them, it would be Larry Ferroland.
A crash followed by the sound of tools clattering to the ground, accompanied by a string of curses from Larry, came from the barn. "Go ahead," Chris began nodding to the pram. "We'll be right behind you."
"Thanks." David hurried across the yard and pushed open the door to the barn to reveal a motorcycle lying on the floor, a workbench on its side, and tools scattered all over. Larry, with his back turned, was busy lifting the motor bike upright again. "Need a hand?"
Larry looked over his shoulder. "Your timing is absolute perfection, David. Take the other end, will you? She's heavier than she looks."
"Ready?"
"On three. One, two … three."
With a grunt, the two men rested the bike upward again. David took a step back, wiping dirt off his hands on an old cloth. "This must be a well-hidden secret. I never knew Matthew had one of these beauties."
"Didn't look so immaculate earlier. I've spent most of the morning fixing a few wrongs with her, and the afternoon tidying her up, polishing the chrome so she looks cleaner than Lady Grantham's dressing mirror!" Larry wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "I was so close to being finished, but then I turned around to have a sip of tea, misjudged my footing and knocked right back into her. Now I need to check for scratches."
"Oh Larry, you shouldn't be such a perfectionist."
"I have to be. It's written into my bones, David." Larry spread his hands in his innocence. "You're wrong though, it's not Matthew's. Earlier today, I struck up a conversation with the postman down at the station. He used to ride a motorbike, but today he was on a push bike. I joked that the post office must be cutting down, tightening their belts, but he told me he's waiting for it to be fixed. When I offered it surprised him, but I gave him my word that I knew what I was doing, and now we find ourselves here because of my exceptional powers of persuasion." Larry took a few more sips of his tea, taking care to avoid the bike this time. Leaning back against the wall, arms folded and looking mighty pleased with himself, he added, "Thanks to me, Downton's post will now be delivered quicker and in style."
David looked behind him to the open door, wondering why Chris was taking so long to join him. A baby's cry from outside provided him with the answer. "I'll be back in a second." He met Chris at the door, his forehead creased with worry.
"I'm not sure what I've done wrong. One minute he was fine, then the next … Maybe it's too cold?"
"Is he hungry?"
"That's what started him off. I fed him like Helen showed us, and now …"
"Well, who's this little fella, then?" Larry asked from behind David. "I must say, Chris, you kept this a secret. I always took you as being only into men. If you like both, then that's fine by me, but I would never have guessed that you—"
"He's not mine, Larry!" Chris hissed, "and keep your voice down, will you?"
"Come on inside," David said, ushering them back into the barn.
"He's my sister's child. I'm Chris's uncle," Chris explained over the wailing baby.
Larry's eyes widened as he slowly nodded to himself. "Ah, I see. Yes, that makes sense. He's named after you?"
"I was surprised too when I found out," Chris said. I'd tell you more, Larry, but I need he needs to settle … somehow." Chris gave David a deflated look.
Larry cleaned his hands in a pail of water and dried them off on his shirt under his overalls. "I can't think what could be so bad to make such a fuss like this young man," Larry spoke gently to the baby, whose face had grown bright red and scrunched up in his tears. "You're not hungry?"
"That's what started it," Chris repeated.
"May I?" Larry asked, indicating to Chris to pass the child to him.
"Really? You sure?"
"Trust me."
David, equally surprised at Larry's eagerness to take a crying baby from them and make it his problem, exchanged a look with Chris, who nodded. "You need to hold him like—"
"I know," Larry said with an effortless calm that David couldn't help but be envious of, as he held little Chris, supporting his head, holding him close to his chest and shoulder, whilst giving him gentle rubs and pats on the back. David couldn't hear what Larry whispered into the baby's ear, but whatever it was, it seemed to work as Chris's nephew grew calm again.
"But … How did you—?" Chris asked.
"Wind."
"What?"
"He had been fed, and he had wind. All sorted now, the little guy burped right in my ear, the rascal." Larry said with a far-off smile. "I'm glad that's all that came out of him, but there we go. Sorted." He handed the baby back to Chris.
"You never fail to surprise us, Larry," Chris said, echoing David's thoughts.
"Good. There would be no fun otherwise," he replied with a wink.
Chris settled little Chris back into the pram. "But how did you know? Forgive me, but you don't strike me as being someone with lots of experience with children."
"I don't anymore admittedly, but when I was younger, still a boy really, I helped mind the neighbour's children. It wasn't a well-off neighbourhood and sometimes both parents had to work. I earned a few extra shillings for my mother and I by keeping an eye on them. Times were hard, and it all counted." Larry looked out into the yard beyond, distant in his private memories for a moment.
"I didn't know that."
"Few do. What's the past stays there, doesn't it?" Larry's voice carried a tinge of sadness as he spoke. "Seb knows, though. He would have loved to have … Doesn't matter." Larry clicked his fingers. "Anyway, I've got a bike to polish scratches out of." With that, Larry's usual self-assured cheerfulness had returned, one that David thought could be a mask for something more times than he'd realised before. "You pop in and see Matthew; he'd love to see your nephew, both of you."
"We will. Thanks Larry," David said, turning the pram around.
Larry gave a mock salute, one that only confirmed David's suspicions. "Any time."
As they left the barn and approached the farmhouse, Chris slowed their pace down. "It would have done Larry's troubles with Sebastian good if he'd been here to witness that with Larry. Might have softened things between them to see Larry so gentle, putting others before himself, you know?"
David nodded, hands in his trouser pockets as they walked. "I was thinking the same. He's still hurting. Underneath it all, it's plain as day to see."
Larry had made it clear since his time had started on the farm that he was serious about changing his ways and mending his relationship with Sebastian, but it was a trouble to know how to help them, if Sebastian refused to have anything to do with his partner.
…
"Here you go," David said as he carefully passed Chris, who had his nephew on his lap, a steaming mug of coffee.
"Thanks." Chris took the mug with both hands, taking a couple of sips to reduce the amount of coffee to a more manageable level, and set it down on the table next to him. His nephew was sound asleep again, lying on top of his legs, feet on Chris' knees. Little Chris had been wide awake on the walk back from the farm, his blue eyes wide with inquisitiveness, keenly taking in the new surroundings. Chris privately wondered whether he would remember any of their time together in years to come. He doubted it, as no one seemed to remember their time as an infant.
David sat down on the chair in Chris's living room, placing one arm around the back of him, gently pulling him in close as they snuggled up to one another. Chris closed his eyes, taking in a moment of perfect stillness between the three of them.
"How long do we have until your sister returns?" David asked.
"Not long, ten minutes maybe?" Chris guessed, not wanting to open his eyes to look at the clock. He'd enjoyed the day, but now he was exhausted and happy to remain exactly as he was. He tried to stretch out his bad leg to ease the stiffness that had built up.
"You need a hand?"
"I'm fine … actually, can you take him a minute? I'll be fine, just need to stretch."
Between them, they lifted the sleeping baby into David's arms, careful not to wake him and risk a disturbance to their perfect moment. Chris pulled up a soft blue blanket Helen had brought along for her son and tucked it in around David's arms. Mesmerised by how peaceful little Chris was, he ran his index finger over his head. He'd never have guessed those years before he'd spent cold and alone in a dark prison cell that anything like this would have been possible for him.
He felt David watching him. Before he turned, he could already feel his gentle smile.
"What?"
David lifted his chin as their eyes locked, gifting him a tender kiss. "Just that I love you."
Chris ducked his head and smiled. "Oh, is that all?"
David's soft lips brushed against his forehead, pulling him back into their intense gaze. Moving closer, with caution so he didn't squash little Chis between them, he rested his hand on David's shoulder as they met again. Further slow, drawn-out kisses drew his hand up to the back of David's neck. Their noses brushed. David's still windswept fringe tickled Chris's eyebrows whilst a spot on his back warmed up under David's hand.
A floorboard creaked, and Chris was vaguely aware of a door squeaking on its hinges.
"Oh my god!"
They flew back from one another at the sound of the voice. Chris's heart plummeted at the sight of Helen standing in the doorway, her hand clasped to her mouth, shaking her head slowly.
"Helen, I … I can … please." He stood, holding his hand out at arm's length as one would to reassure a frightened animal. "Please, just—"
Helen's expression darkened. She took a step forward. "What are you? What is going on?"
Chris opened his mouth to speak. Little Chris cried somewhere behind where he stood. There was nothing he could say.
He had no words.
