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No matter how hard Thomas gripped the banister, his hands would not stop shaking. He needed the cigarette he had left on his bedside table more than he had ever needed it before, but the pockets of his dressing gown were empty. Inside the pocket, Thomas rubbed the waffled material with his thumb, back and forth, for some meagre form of comfort. It did nothing. All he felt was the black hole inside carve out more and more of his feeling. The numbness didn’t spread; it devoured.
Thomas bowed his head, hair falling over his eyes. If only’s ran around his head like a merry-go-round. He might have just been a lowly field medic, good for not much, but he would have known something was wrong with Lady Sybil sooner, surely. Carson had muttered something quietly about her confused final hours. He would have known that meant infection or distress. He would have done something.
The second he heard footsteps pad up behind him, Thomas straightened and sniffed his tears back, even if it didn’t do him any good. His nose was blocked, his cheeks burned with the salt of the tears streaking over his skin. Blearily, he accepted the hand on his shoulder and the silence. The scent of soap and old aftershave lit up the edges of his senses, however.
He looked over his shoulder at Jimmy and blinked blankly. Brow furrowed, Jimmy stared ahead for a moment before he met Thomas’s confused gaze. The lines across his forehead deepened. Thomas opened his mouth to say he would be just fine in a moment, that it didn’t matter and Lady Sybil wouldn’t have cried like a child if he had died, but he didn’t get to. Jimmy let go of his shoulder and moved to stand in front of him. Thomas stood in shock as Jimmy’s arms came up and embraced him in a tight, nearly shaking hug.
Jimmy didn’t release him and try to play it off as a joke. Thomas’s eyes widened. Not knowing what else to do, the clean, powdery smell of Jimmy’s skin blooming against his nose, Thomas hugged him back. Just a few hours ago, he had caught a snippet of discomfort when he had given Jimmy’s shoulder a firm squeeze to, he had hoped, show his appreciation for Jimmy. He regretted the move the second he let go and moved swiftly on, schooling his features to show the world that nothing was wrong. That Jimmy was gone. Now, Jimmy anchored him to the ground.
He didn’t know for how long Jimmy held him while tears rolled down his face, when Jimmy finally let go and shoved his hands in his pockets. Yet, still, Jimmy looked at him softly. Thomas had never seen Jimmy soft before. His golden curls were fluffy from recent cleaning, his tanned skin pink at the tops of his cheeks. Even his eyebrows tilted gently as he appraised Thomas. Sniffing, Thomas looked down at his feet.
‘Y’shouldn’t have done that,’ Thomas croaked, ‘Someone might’ve seen.’
‘I don’t give a toss if Lord Grantham himself saw.’
‘Well… thank you.’
‘Your grief speaks well for her,’ said Jimmy, ‘I know nobody ever wants to hear that. I’ve been where you are, Mr Barrow, and I’m sorry you’re there now.’
‘She was kind. Kinder to me than I deserved.’
‘Than you deserve? What does that mean?’
He almost laughed, but misery wrenched him back. Thomas dragged the heel of his hand under his eyes and tried to clear his vision.
‘Not many people have been kind to me in my life,’ he breathed, ‘She was one of the few.’
‘She didn’t deserve to die like that.’
‘Someone that good don’t deserve anythin’ so horrible.’
Jimmy looked to the side. Thomas followed his gaze to the open doorway to the servants’ hall, where he could see Mrs Hughes embracing Daisy. He scowled. Daisy had barely known Lady Sybil.
‘M’not goin’ back in there,’ Jimmy said, ‘Feels like I’m intrudin’. D’you want a smoke?’
‘I don’t have anythin’ with me.’
‘I do, c’mon.’
But before they could walk away, Thomas looked up to see Mrs Hughes in her quilted dressing gown, more put together than anyone in that room yet listless in her eyes. He and Jimmy stopped to let her pass. She almost ignored them completely until she stood right in front of Thomas and raised her weary gaze to meet both of theirs.
‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ she said, ‘The sweetest spirit under this roof is gone, and I’m weeping myself. Are you boys alright?’
Anything resembling a coherent answer choked in Thomas’s throat. He snapped his head up, however, when Jimmy grasped his shoulder once again and squeezed it firmly.
‘Did you know her well, Mrs Hughes?’ Jimmy asked.
The heat of Jimmy’s hand made anything else difficult to focus on. Thomas turned his head and stared at it.
‘For her whole, precious life,’ Mrs Hughes answered.
‘Like Mr Barrow, then.’
Mrs Hughes tutted softly and Thomas registered what Jimmy had said, looking to her. He had no clue what he must have looked like, but she stepped forwards and grasped his hand, holding it tightly in both of hers.
‘Oh, Mr Barrow – I know you knew her very well.’
‘Th-thank you, Mrs Hughes.’
‘We should all get some sleep,’ she said, letting him go, ‘though I do not know how, on a terrible night like this…’
As she walked away towards Carson’s pantry, Thomas stared after her, and watched her disappear through the rectangle of dim light emitting from the room. Jimmy whispered encouragement to move on after a few moments and he pulled himself from the spot.
Their slippers splashed up small puddles and sent stones skittering into the blackness. Thomas followed and stopped where Jimmy told him to, leaning against the damp brick wall that led away from the house. He thanked Jimmy quietly when Jimmy placed a lit cigarette between his fingers, grateful for the first drag filling his lungs.
It took far too long to notice Jimmy’s shoulder pressed against his own. Dragging himself from the void in his mind, Thomas turned his head to look down at Jimmy, who looked up at him. Jimmy looked tired, which was rare. His usual bravado had taken the night off. The though might have made Thomas laugh on any other night. Instead, he simply looked away again and smoked.
‘Never pegged you for someone who cared so much,’ Jimmy said.
That, oddly, did make Thomas smile, despite himself. Sighing out a stream of smoke, Thomas rubbed his temple and stared ahead at some rain-slicked stones on the path.
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me,’ he replied.
‘Well, I know that now. I’d wager none of that lot do.’
Thomas shrugged. ‘If anyone in there cares about me, I haven’t heard it.’
‘Do you mind what they think?’
‘I do. I mind what everyone thinks.’
‘What about what I think?’
By now the tears had dried in the sharp cold air. Thomas frowned through smoke as he took another drag. Beside him, Jimmy looked serious, scrutinising the shadows ahead. Thomas shifted around to lean his shoulder against the wall. They were stood close enough for Thomas to make out faint moles decorating Jimmy’s face and the fine lines around his mouth.
‘Should I care?’ Thomas asked, ‘Would you like me to?’
‘I dunno, I was just wonderin’.’
Jimmy’s nonchalance snapped something deep inside Thomas. Huffing, Thomas turned back again and sucked at his cigarette. He narrowed his eyes. It bubbled up inside like lava. Thomas sucked in his cheeks and blew out smoke.
‘Perhaps I do care what you think,’ he said, ‘Maybe I’m gettin’ soft in my old age or maybe I’ve just realised life’s too short because Lady Sybil shouldn’t’ve died at twenty-four years old, but I do care what you think – more than I can say.’
Thomas smoked with a shaking hand as the weight of the night pressed down on his shoulders, the aftermath of his words exploding out of him settling around like ash. He hadn’t meant to cut himself open; he hadn’t even known Jimmy’s opinion mattered so very much, but now he saw it. The truth was obvious.
The gravel interspersed between the cobbles crunched as Jimmy pushed off from the wall. He moved and stood in front of Thomas, his cigarette flicked away, hands in the pockets of his dressing gown, as he stared bewildered at Thomas.
‘Mr Barrow… I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this – do you have a crush on me?’
There was no point denying it. Thomas looked desperately at Jimmy as he waited.
‘Would it be so awful if I did?’
‘Is that why you keep touchin’ me?’ Jimmy asked, his voice spiking in octave.
‘I was tryin’ to – to work you out before I did anythin’, before I said anythin’,’ Thomas burst out as Jimmy began pacing with his hands on his hips, ‘For fuck’s sake, I didn’t intend to tell you like this. I’m sorry.’
Suddenly, Jimmy stopped and huffed loudly. Thomas stood from the wall, throwing his cigarette away. Not knowing what to do with his hands as he waited for the axe to fall on his neck, Thomas thumbed the seam edge of his glove.
He dared not breathe at all as Jimmy pressed the heel of his hand to his temple and dropped it again, shaking his head. When Jimmy swung around to face him again, he flinched, unable to stop himself. Jimmy cocked his head and stilled.
‘What was that for?’ Jimmy asked accusingly.
Thomas swallowed. ‘You could do a lot with what I’ve told you.’
‘Are you sure you’re not just sad about Lady Sybil and actin’ stupid?’ Jimmy pressed on, moving closer, ‘Death makes people do stupid things.’
‘It isn’t anythin’ to do with Lady Sybil except that I couldn’t forgive myself if somethin’ happened to you and I hadn’t told you how I feel,’ Thomas said, ‘You don’t have to like it, I understand that. But I’ll be damned if I don’t try for once.’
Jimmy chewed his lip. His fingers curled on his hips. A lump formed in Thomas’s throat and he forced himself to look away. Surely, there were no more tears left inside him to keep weeping? Thomas pulled his dressing gown tighter around his body and cleared his throat as the silence expanded. Defeat it was, then. He could accept defeat even if it felt like his insides were crumbling all over again.
Of course, he knew he was lying to himself by the time he reached the back door and told himself he had to leave so they could move onto pretending this scene had never happened.
‘Mr Barrow, don’t tell anyone about this.’
Hand on the doorhandle, Thomas looked over his shoulder at Jimmy, who stared cautiously right at him. Somehow, Jimmy looked smaller, vulnerable. It tugged at Thomas’s heart and he did nothing about it.
‘I wouldn’t do that to you,’ he replied.
‘And… and we’re still mates, aren’t we?’
‘Yes, Jimmy. We’re still mates.’
‘Good. M’sorry about Lady Sybil, Mr Barrow,’ Jimmy said, wringing his hands, ‘I really am.’
Thomas nodded and offered a weak smile, which was all he could manage.
After moving silently through the lingering mourners and trudging upstairs to his bedroom, Thomas finally lay down in his bed. Blood rushed in his ears as he stared up at the ceiling.
Thomas covered his mouth with his hand before the first sobs could shake his body. Squeezing his eyes shut, tears flowed as though they had never stopped. Muffled whimpers permeated the air and died before they could wake anyone on the corridor. If Jimmy had come up and gone to bed, Thomas didn’t hear. Burying himself inside his mind, he turned over and cried into the pillow.
He was losing everything he cared about in one night.
Lady Sybil would never know how her softness had saved him. Jimmy was going to play charades until resentment caused him to drift away or rat him out.
Morning came too soon, empty and airless, pale sunshine streaming in only to reveal how grey his bare room was. He found himself dressed and ready at the door with little memory of how he had it there. Thomas steeled himself as he wrapped his fingers around the doorhandle. The thought of having all those eyes on him, the man who had escaped from the room in grief, made him want to go downstairs, walk out the back door and never return.
And somehow, he did walk down all those stairs and sit himself at breakfast. Thomas stared blankly at his bowl of porridge. He set down the spoon he had been holding without eating for some time and picked up his small cup of tea instead. Jimmy sat beside him, but Thomas couldn’t bring himself to look. On the other side of the table was Anna, who minded her own business, and Alfred. He thought vaguely that he might try to talk to Anna later. She, at least, had known Lady Sybil more than most.
‘Cheer up, Mr Barrow,’ came Alfred’s voice. Thomas lifted his head as Alfred scoffed at him. ‘A long face won’t solve anything.’
‘Leave him alone.’
Thomas turned to stare at Jimmy, who glowered at Alfred. He flicked his gaze to Anna, who stared too. Jimmy gripped hard on the teaspoon he was using to crack open eggs, but had stopped.
‘He knew Lady Sybil better than any of us,’ Jimmy snapped, ‘I’d say your grief speaks well for her, Mr Barrow.’
He remembered those words from Jimmy’s mouth as though they were tattooed through the air. Stunned, Thomas didn’t have a second to think as, without another word, Jimmy reached over and covered Thomas’s hand with his, looking him in the eye. Jimmy squeezed his hand quickly and withdrew it again, taking another stab at his boiled egg.
Thomas forgot to breathe for a moment and took far too long to remind himself that everyone around the table was now watching the both of them. He wanted to look to Anna to see if he was dreaming, but he couldn’t make himself take his eyes off of Jimmy, eating as though nothing had happened.
‘Thank you for that,’ he managed to mutter, ‘Thank you.’
As the morning progressed, he would find Jimmy shirking Alfred’s presence wherever he went, and snapping at the lummox for every minute reason he possibly could. He also stuck to Thomas as though he were glued.
Thomas had his own duties to attend to, split between quietly standing by in the tension between His Lordship and Her Ladyship, meeting with Carson over funeral arrangements, and snapping at misbehaving hallboys when no one else would. Whenever he descended back downstairs, Jimmy would inevitably appear. If he nipped outside for a smoke, Jimmy followed a moment later. Stopping for a cup of tea, or to pop into the kitchen, saw Jimmy by his side.
He was stubborn about it. Jimmy flirted with Ivy, which at least made Thomas smile at Ivy’s naivety to not see how Jimmy was playing with her. Just as Jimmy was finally shooed off by Mrs Patmore, Jimmy flashed Thomas a quick grin before he dashed off. Thomas followed him with his gaze and sighed heavily.
‘Mr Barrow,’ said Mrs Patmore, dusting her hands off as she walked up to stand beside him, ‘is there any chance you could intervene with that boy?’
‘I am not his boss. I can’t tell him who to amuse.’
‘If only he would bark up the right tree for once.’
Thomas raised an eyebrow and looked doubtfully at her.
‘And what are you implying, Mrs Patmore?’
Mrs Patmore smiled wryly and shook her head, bustling back to her work. Thomas frowned as she pounded a lump of dough into the table and dusted it with flour.
‘You are clever enough to know, Mr Barrow, and you’d better do something about it soon.’
Disturbed, Thomas walked to his next tasks and tried to push her words out of his mind.
Thomas sat himself in the servants’ hall, soon joined by Miss O’Brien, who he could not be bothered to acknowledge when she sat opposite him, and got to gluing the sole of one of Lord Grantham’s shoes back on at the heel. The thick, beige paste he brushed on would dry slowly once he squeezed the two pieces together. He wondered if it was bad enough to need clamping to hold it all together, but he did not have long to think. Hands shoved in his pockets rather unbecomingly of a footman, Jimmy strode into the room and around the table. He dropped into the chair next to Thomas like a sack of potatoes without once removing his hands from his pockets, slumping back as though he had lifted a finger all day, but Thomas kept that jibe to himself.
‘What’re you doin’?’ Jimmy asked.
‘Somethin’ you’ll have to do if you ever want to get ahead enough to be a valet,’ Thomas explained, not caring that Miss O’Brien’s blood would be boiling to hear him openly favouring Jimmy, ‘I’m sticking it back together. It’s coming away, but there’s no wear in it.’
‘How’d he manage that?’
Thomas smirked as he set the glue aside and started pushing the sole to the heel.
‘I wonder that every time I have to mend his shoes.’
‘We should find a new cobbler,’ O’Brien butted in. Thomas didn’t look up. ‘Don’t you have something to get on with, Jimmy, or has Mr Barrow saved you from responsibility?’
Inside, Thomas bristled, but he kept his expression neutral as he held the sole to the shoe, pressing firmly with his thumbs. Beside him, Jimmy huffed and crossed his arms.
‘Carson wants me an’ Alfred to polish the silver, but he told us to wait for him.’
‘I hear you’ve been bothering Ivy.’
‘More like she’s botherin’ me,’ Jimmy snorted.
‘I thought you liked Ivy?’
Thomas clenched his jaw. He shouldn’t have to listen to this.
‘I don’t mind her,’ Jimmy said brightly, ‘she’s just not my type.’
‘Well, well. I dread to think what your type is.’
Jimmy chuckled and pat his pockets for a cigarette, or so Thomas assumed as he picked up the shoe to store in the boot room. He wasn’t going to sit through another second of it.
Yet, when the door shut behind him and Thomas placed the shoes on a shelf to dry, it opened and shut again. Inevitably, the smell of smoke followed. He turned around and smiled thinly at Jimmy, who really shouldn’t have been smoking in the boot room and held a glass ashtray to show to meant it somehow. Thomas didn’t have the heart to scold him. Instead, he gestured to the door.
‘I could use some fresh air,’ he said, ‘D’you have much longer before you’re needed?’
‘Not too long. Don’t want anyone walking in on us, though.’
‘Oh?’
‘What Miss O’Brien was sayin’ just then, she’s been whisperin’ shite like that to me ever since I started. Makes sense now.’
Thomas clenched his jaw again and looked off.
‘It certainly does.’
‘Ivy’s not me type, though, that weren’t a lie.’
The tension eased. Rolling his eyes, Thomas smiled and perched on the edge of the boot room table.
‘You might as well break it to me,’ he said, ‘What is your type? Not kitchen maids, I assume?’
‘Not even close,’ Jimmy chuckled, ‘I prefer older, darker hair – someone who knows their way around.’
Thomas raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, that’s bloody depressin’.’
He hadn’t meant to say it quite so frankly. Immediately, Jimmy started laughing, and Thomas couldn’t help smiling to himself at the ridiculousness of it all. As he fished out his lighter to suggest they go outside to escape for a short while longer, Jimmy walked over and positioned himself right next to him, their hips touching. Thomas stared only a moment as Jimmy placed the ashtray down and snuffed out the last of the cigarette.
‘I don’t mind you, Mr Barrow,’ said Jimmy after a minute, ‘I don’t know if I understand it, but I don’t care or I don’t mind – whatever. I reckon it means you have good taste.’
‘Charmin’ young man, you are.’
‘I do it very well, if I say so myself.’
Thomas smiled. ‘For what it’s worth, thank you, and thank you for this mornin’. That was kind.’
‘Alfred’s a prick and I know what it’s like.’
‘What do you mean?’
Jimmy sniffed and shifted around a bit.
‘My Father died in the war, and my Mother died of the flu not long after it ended.’
‘Blimey. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s Jimmy contra mundi, these days.’
‘Don’t be daft, there’s people here who like you. I know too well what it’s like to be lonely, though.’
‘It is depressin’, isn’t it?’
‘Seems like we’re quite the pair,’ Thomas chuckled softly.
They looked at each other at the same time. Jimmy’s cheeks rounded as he grinned. His hair remained perfectly curled and roguishly tousled. Thomas smiled and looked down at his lap, where he flicked his lighter on and off. He didn’t see Jimmy swoop in until it was too late.
Jimmy caught him in a plush kiss with cool lips and a quick intake of breath that set his brain on fire. It was over just as rapidly as it started, Thomas just tasting a hint of sweetness and smoke on Jimmy’s mouth before Jimmy broke off. Thomas pulled away and stared. Even Jimmy looked shocked at what he had just done.
‘I just wanted to know what it was like,’ Jimmy blurted.
The right words wouldn’t materialise. Throwing his caution about smoking near the leather side, Thomas snatched a cigarette from his picket, stuck it in his mouth, and lit up. The first drag did little to calm him.
Then, Jimmy turned the world upside down again as his hand darted out and covered Thomas’s, lying on his lap. Thomas’s head snapped up. Soft blue eyes stared into his with a million questions burning inside.
Thomas pulled his hand out of Jimmy’s and threw his arm around Jimmy’s neck, pulling them both into a deep kiss with its own gravitational force sinking them together. He slipped his tongue over the seam of Jimmy’s lips, and Jimmy let out a muffled moan. Their bodies shifted like puzzle pieces locking together. Jimmy’s pillow mouth gave up his sweet taste and opened to Thomas like a rose.
Jimmy grabbed Thomas’s lapel just as Thomas slipped away. Faces an inch apart, Thomas licked his lips as his mind tried to catch up to what was happening, searching Jimmy’s eyes for answers. Jimmy in turn moved closer. Their lips brushed and noses bumped. Thomas could almost taste him again.
‘It’s easier than feelin’ sad,’ Jimmy murmured.
‘I’ll make you feel better than you’ve ever felt in your life, if you let me.’
They burst into another kiss, and another, and more and more until Thomas could barely breathe. The bouquet of small and frantic kisses filled his mind. Thomas moved his free hand to cup Jimmy’s face and held onto his cigarette with the other as the heat of it burned down. Smoothing his hands down Thomas’s body, Jimmy sighed, and Thomas peppered his lower lip.
Jimmy hopped off the table. Thomas gasped out of the kiss and let Jimmy snatch the cigarette off him. He stared into nothing for a few seconds before he snapped himself out of it and stood, walking right up to where Jimmy smoked. He didn’t hesitate in cupping Jimmy’s face in both hands. Already, Jimmy’s blue gaze slipped down to his mouth.
‘This life isn’t easy, Jimmy, but I swear I will make it worth it,’ Thomas said quickly, his words rushing him like a waterfall, ‘I won’t let anythin’ happen to you, I’ll look after you no matter happens. Give me a chance to show you.’
‘I – I don’t know,’ Jimmy said in a small voice.
‘It’s alright,’ Thomas whispered, ‘Everything’s alright. It’s only us.’
Jimmy looked up. His eyes were round, his frown uncertain as Thomas silently begged.
‘I want to feel like that all the time,’ Jimmy said slowly, ‘If anyone finds out, I’ll kill you.’
‘It’s us now. Us and them. They don’t matter, none of them do,’ Thomas said earnestly, ‘and I’d never let anything bad happen, not to you.’
‘You keep sayin’ that, but –’
‘But nothin’,’ Thomas interrupted, drawing closer, ‘You’ll always be safe with me.’
‘D’you promise?’
‘I swear on my own life.’
‘Then… then I want your mouth,’ Jimmy said. He grasped Thomas’s wrists. ‘Now.’
There was no time. Thomas held Jimmy’s face, a low moan escaping as Jimmy kissed – ferociously. It was inelegant and clumsy, and Jimmy tugged at Thomas’s bottom lip with his teeth, but it was utterly perfect. Jimmy’s large hands smoothed around his waist and curled, his fingertips pressing into Thomas’s back, pulling their bodies together. Thomas deepened the kiss, prizing Jimmy open.
The tiny gasp he coaxed from Jimmy’s lips could have knocked Thomas over. He could not help but smile as he lapped Jimmy up. He needed to hear that sound over and over for the rest of his existence.
Chasing it, Thomas moved as Jimmy moved, standing with Jimmy and pushing when Jimmy pulled. Throwing his arms around Thomas’s neck, Jimmy whispered for more.
Thomas let the kisses slip to Jimmy’s jaw and paint the curve of his neck in every ounce of affection he could muster. He would carve out his heart for Jimmy if he asked. Jimmy arched into him. A thousand, million, sparkling explosions fired through Thomas’s body. There was nothing else that mattered in the whole world than the feeling of Jimmy’s plump lips opening for him.
It pained Thomas to stop and lift his head, but he did. The sight of Jimmy’s mouth swollen from kissing and cheeks blushing raspberry pink was almost enough for Thomas to lock the door and take Jimmy on the boot room table. He swallowed thickly, running his thumb along the top of Jimmy’s cheekbone. With bright and wide eyes, Jimmy stared back at him.
‘Will you meet me in the yard tonight?’ he asked. Jimmy nodded.
‘And then what?’
‘I’ll show you the whole world if you want me to.’
Gaze sinking to Thomas’s lips, Jimmy grabbed Thomas’s lapels, licking his own lips.
‘Show me anythin’. I need more.’
Convincing Jimmy to go and get on with his work, no doubt with Carson already searching for him, was a slow, arduous progress. Jimmy spun around just as Thomas went to open the boot room door and grabbed his shoulders. The kiss knocked the wind out of Thomas’s lungs and sent him to heaven. Work slipped from his mind for a few more precious moments.
As he had done all morning, Jimmy stayed close. Thomas witnessed snippets of his interactions, barking at Alfred and sweet-talking Ivy for leftover biscuits, though he did watch Ivy sulk away from Jimmy after they spoke in hushed voices in the door of the servants’ hall while Thomas happened to be smoking in the room. Jimmy shot him a relieved glance after that. It took all Thomas had not to smile like an idiot for the rest of the day.
Yet, the day wore Thomas down like any other and by the time they all sat around the table at dinner, he was forcing himself to keep his eyes open. Swallowing yawns and feeling the aches in his hand, Thomas ate his dinner without contributing to the solemn conversation. He dunked a torn off piece of bread into the stew and ate slowly but ravenously. In eating, his mind wandered to Jimmy sitting two seats down on the other side of Anna. It then took him a few moments to realise that Anna was talking quietly to Jimmy.
‘How are you, Jimmy?’
‘Fine. Just fine.’
‘It’s a strange time to start a new job. I’m so sorry about that, but I hope you’re getting on alright.’
A pause. Thomas chewed on his last hunk of bread and picked up the spoon. He narrowed his eyes as he began spooning vegetables into his mouth.
‘Did you know Lady Sybil?’ Jimmy asked.
‘I did. She was kind and far too young. Life can be very cruel.’
‘Mr Barrow said somethin’ like that.’
‘Has he been good to you, Jimmy?’
Another pause, but Thomas did not even dare to lift his gaze from his food as Anna lowered her voice. His nerves prickled.
‘He has been,’ Jimmy said quickly, ‘He’s been as good as anyone.’
‘That is reassuring to hear.’
‘Why?’
‘Mr Barrow can be a little difficult. I would keep on his good side.’
‘Mr Barrow isn’t difficult,’ Jimmy snapped.
‘Maybe that is wrong of me to say, I only mean to make sure you know what you’re doing.’
‘He’s alright, Mrs Bates. I’m not worried about him.’
Thomas almost froze as Jimmy retorted and clunked his spoon in his bowl. He risked a look in their direction and found Jimmy scowling into his stew, chasing carrots around it. Between them, Anna sighed, turning back to her own food. Thomas tore his gaze away and smiled to himself. He could hardly wait for later.
Sympathy got him a small tray to take outside. Thomas thanked a teary Daisy and walked down the dimly lit corridor, his gaze catching on the stairs where he had cried the night before. He wondered briefly if anyone else knew he had been so upset. Quickly, he pushed those thoughts aside. One day, he would stop caring what they all thought.
He smoked a single cigarette as he waited, enjoying the cool breeze freshening his eyes and lungs, in contrast to the indoors, heavy with grief. The night was an old friend. Thomas blew out a stream of smoke, tipping his head back. The stars had provided him light and the black sky cover for many a hidden encounter. Its indifference was oddly reassuring.
There was not long to wait before the doorhandle of the back door turned. Sat at the table, Thomas grinned, feeling his eyes crinkle. Evidently, Jimmy hadn’t expected him to prepare a cup of tea and biscuits at the bench for their secret meeting. Shivering and pulling his coat around his body, Jimmy crunched over the gravel and sat down, glancing over his shoulder. Thomas reached across the table and gently touched Jimmy’s arm. It took a moment before Jimmy tore his stare away from the back door.
‘Nothin’ will happen,’ Thomas said quietly, ‘Everyone’s gone to bed and if anyone comes out, we both couldn’t sleep. Nothin’ more to it.’
‘I told you, O’Brien already thinks there’s somethin’ funny about you.’
‘Jimmy, that witch has known about me since I was a hallboy. I’m not scared of her.’
Jimmy’s mouth pressed into a grim line as he gave a sharp nod and looked at his tea. Not normally one for fidgeting, Thomas withdrew his hand and began to pour the tea from the teapot, but his toes wriggled inside his shoes. The sound of their breathing and the glugging of water were the only sounds filling the air.
‘Thank you for meetin’ me,’ Thomas said as he set the pot down.
‘Yeah. S’nothin’.’
‘Is somethin’ the matter?’
Jimmy shrugged. He picked up his teacup in both hands but didn’t drink. Thomas’s stomach twisted and tightened.
‘Jimmy, if I’ve done somethin’–’
‘You haven’t,’ Jimmy interrupted, ‘I just have a lot to think about.’
‘I could try to help?’
Eyebrows pushing together, Jimmy put the teacup down and leaned forward on his elbows, still not looking Thomas in the eye.
‘Miss O’Brien should scare you,’ Jimmy said, ‘and she doesn’t, but I do?’
‘Jimmy, you are hardly a frightenin’ presence.’
‘But you were scared I’d dob you in last night. Don’t deny it, Mr Barrow, I saw.’
Sighing, Thomas crossed his arms on the table. Jimmy glared at his tea.
‘Prison scares me. You do not,’ Thomas said flatly.
‘Used to think you weren’t scared of anythin’, until yesterday,’ Jimmy mumbled.
‘Well, I must disappoint you, then. I have been a coward all my life,’ Thomas said, and Jimmy finally snuck a glance up at him. Thomas smiled. ‘You make me feel a little braver.’
‘Because you don’t want to lose me like you lost Lady Sybil.’
The way Jimmy said it so frankly and openly threatened to bring tears to Thomas’s eyes. Smiling again, Thomas nodded, scooping his teacup into both hands. The first sip burned his lip. Thomas smoothed his thumb back and forth over the rim of the cup. After hiding, Jimmy’s gaze now wouldn’t leave him. When he flicked his own stare up again, he lost himself in those blue eyes.
‘You’re my only friend. Of course I don’t want to lose you,’ said Thomas.
Slowly, Jimmy sank down so that his cheek rested on his arms, looking out into the dark night. Thomas resisted reach out and stroking Jimmy’s hair.
‘I miss my Mum and Dad,’ Jimmy muttered, ‘Fuck, I wish I could ask them about this… and you. It’s not fair.’
‘Death rarely is.’
‘Did Lady Sybil know about you?’
Thomas smiled sadly at the memories those words brought up like a spell. He would never forget Lady Sybil finding him and sitting with him in silence on the cold floor until he couldn’t cry anymore.
‘I don’t know, but I suspect she did,’ he said, ‘There was a young officer I was fond of in the war, when this place became a convalescent home. He was gas-blind and took his own life because he couldn’t cope anymore. Lady Sybil knew I was devastated. Never asked, never made me tell her anythin’. She was a strong young lady… I wish I could have done somethin’.’
‘Quite the pair, you said, didn’t you?’ Jimmy muttered, ‘M’startin’ to see why.’
Thomas abandoned his tea and got up. In a moment, he sat beside Jimmy. As Jimmy started to cry, whimpering his arm, Thomas stroked his head and said nothing more. Tears began to cloud his vision. Blinking them from his eyes, Thomas tried at first to hold it back and give Jimmy the silence he deserved. His throat swelled and burned instead.
Jimmy looked up as though he read Thomas’s mind, lifting his head with tears streaming down his face. Thomas smiled quickly and huffed a laugh, but it crumbled.
‘Will it hurt like this forever?’ Thomas asked shakily.
‘It never stops. I’ll always miss them.’
Shifting closer, Thomas leaned over and kissed Jimmy’s forehead. As he pulled away, Jimmy moved again, tucking his head into Thomas’s chest. Thomas shut his eyes, bowing his head.
‘Don’t go anywhere, Thomas, because… I can’t lose you either.’
‘I won’t.’
He didn’t know how long they sat outside in the cold, or when the moon began to shine through the heavy clouds in the sky. It didn’t matter. Thomas brought his arm up to hold Jimmy against his body. They were a pair now.