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William lived, and they all loved him.

Through his sickly paleness, sweat clinging to his pores, William welcomed everyone into his tiny bedroom in the attics, smiling widely as Daisy ducked down to kiss his cheek. The staff cooed. Mr Bates made a gentle joke that he should bring up a bottle of champagne to celebrate William’s miraculous recovery. A genial titter of laughter danced, Mrs Hughes reiterating that they were all so pleased, and Carson telling William not to fret about returning to work. Standing on the other side of the cot where William sat to Daisy, Mrs Patmore gave Daisy a kind look. Rosy sunlight filled the room with relief, as though it too knew that the world had turned right again, because the prodigal son was safe.

Thomas only went as far as the doorway, leaning with his arms crossed and exchanging nothing more than a polite nod with William before other more important interactions flooded William’s attentions. That was fine by Thomas, although he itched for a cigarette. In opposition to him, William wore soft flannel pyjamas, while he remained a medic in green uniform, tunic squared off at the shoulders, buttons shining. Where William received a gentle step back into reality, Thomas felt the tug of his duties demanding him to return.

As he turned from the gaiety and walked towards the door separating the men’s and women’s bedrooms, he wondered briefly if they would welcome him like that if he almost got himself blown up too. He knew the answer to that question right as it came to be. Smiling wryly to himself, Thomas descended and fished into his pocket for a cigarette. Of course not. William was the bloody sun.

***

The rain slick cobbles reflected and refracted the light blooming out from the window in the back door. No longer splashing with rain, the Downton Estate settled into a sleepy hush, the wind reduced to a whisper and the low hum of the activity indoors muffled. Above the towers that loomed over the courtyard, dense black clouds blanketed the sky. Not a single ray of moonlight penetrated there.

Fingers wet, Thomas shivered so hard that he pinched his cigarette between his fingers, tension spreading through his body as it tried to warm itself up in vain. It was late. He should’ve been in bed ages ago, but his head wouldn’t stop going, hammering poison until he couldn’t take it anymore. Thomas flicked the wheel of his lighter again. Finally, it caught. His fingertips absorbed the meagre heat as he stuffed the lighter back in his coat pocket and wondered what the fuck he was supposed to do.

His job, his precious, beloved job that he’d grasped onto for well over a decade, wrenched from his hands just like that. Jimmy’s anger at the press of his kiss to his plush lips numbed Thomas from the inside out as the frigid temperature worked the other way. He’d shoved Thomas away and shouted loud enough to rouse Carson from sleep. Thomas had lied and watched Carson watch him, entirely unconvinced.

Thomas tried to shake those moving images off, but there was no point. He had dug this grave and it just kept getting deeper. Walls of soil grew up around him. Back pressed against a brick wall, Thomas sucked in a lungful of smoke and lingered in the sensation of heat inside. He couldn’t just stay here. Just like he’d sputtered out in Carson’s pantry office, he needed to make plans. There had to be something he could reach into the dark for.

Thomas looked towards the path leading away into the shadows and under the arch of the stables, eventually twisting around the abbey before it gave way countryside. At least, that’s what he knew it would do. The night covered everything clear, the trees blocking his view. Thomas pursed his lips. He couldn’t stay here, and not just long-term. His brain plucked and picked and scratched at plan after plan, but none of it seemed viable. He needed action and he was paralysed.

So, he walked. They didn’t need him anyway. Thomas pulled his coat tighter around his body as he left the abbey in his wake, only for it to flap open again, letting the cold in. He stalked the crunching path, staring up at the trees looming over, hooded figures judging his every move. Shivering, Thomas snatched a cigarette and his lighter once more from his pockets.

Thomas didn’t pause for long outside the Bates’s cosy cottage, catching a only glimpse of their figures around a small table. Lost in love, Anna smiled and laughed. The back of Mr Bates’s head nodded as they spoke. Gut twisting, Thomas wrenched himself away before the ache could turn to nausea. Logic told him he shouldn’t languish in the longing, but he couldn’t help himself. His fairytale, his hope, dashed by his own stupidity, was clearer than the moon finally peeking through the clouds. Thomas blew out a stream of warm smoke and watched it spiral up to the sky. Funny how crisp and plain it was even now.

Eyes stinging, tears gathering, Thomas blinked and sniffed, deciding he would walk down to the village. At least there he could get a drink, or smoke by a warm fire. He might be able to think.

Yet, when he arrived, Thomas stood outside the pub door listening to happy voices drifting out from inside, mute as he stepped aside for some disgruntled regular trying to get past him. He wasn’t one of them. Never before had he seen how stark the line was between he, the skulking shadow, and the rest of the world. It was one thing to stand on the outside at Downton in his self-imposed isolation, where even the likes of Anna Bates with her loving smiles for her husband, treated him with open contempt, or avoided him completely. Thomas backed away from the door. It was rather another to know he existed in a lone cell while humanity went on as though he didn’t exist at all.

Thomas refused to let himself choke as he wandered aimless through the village. He wouldn’t give the world that much. By the time he realised he should stop this madness, if only to snatch what meagre sleep he could before the house awoke, Thomas stumbled through the forgotten graveyard in the woods that few villages frequented now, an old church abandoned and swallowed by brambles. Pale morning light painted everything around him, from stones to the overgrown grass and his own skin, turquoise-grey, draining Thomas of his resistance. The more he walked, the more he fell apart. Stopping at the very edge, steadying himself on a crumbling stone wall, Thomas bowed his head and let the tears fall.

Nothing to pray to, no loved ones to visit and ask for forgiveness. The dewy air remained cold and froze Thomas’s blighted hand. Thomas felt his lip wobble. He wasn’t the formidable Mr Barrow anymore. All that he’d spent years building toppled. Thomas shook as he tried over and over to light a bloody cigarette. He’d been a fool to think a walk through the entire night could reveal any truth. There was no plan. He was just a stupid little boy who’d gotten himself in far too deep.

***

He couldn’t look at William as he stood in the doorway to his bedroom, the boundary line broken not by his own wishes. This one sanctuary he had from all the others where, lying in bed in the wee hours of every morning before he donned his livery, Thomas could be himself unhindered, robbed from him by the pure innocence of William.

And yet, it was somehow even worse than Thomas could have ever imagined, as his life fell apart around him. In a pinstriped shirt, no tie and no waistcoat, sleeves rolled up to bare his arms, glove forgotten, he sat on the edge of his bed, staring ahead while William spelled out to him in no uncertain terms what he knew. It was everything. Everything.

‘Don’t you want to know how I found out?’

‘Does it matter?’

Silence. Thomas pursed his lips.

‘Mr Barrow… Thomas, you’ve given up.’

There was no mystery as to how William must have found out. He should have known Mrs Hughes wouldn’t keep her mouth shut, no matter what else might break if she told the wrong person. Or, perhaps, it was as he had long suspected; that some people just knew and kept it quiet. He was the thing in the shadows everyone saw but quickly ignored.

‘You’ve heard of the phrase ‘To know when you’re beaten’?’ Thomas murmured, unable to muster up the energy to force any venom in his words, ‘Well, I am beaten. I am well and truly beaten.’

‘I don’t accept that.’

‘It’s not for you to accept.’

The real mystery was why William was still standing above him, not leaving, and why he came in in the first place. At last, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped, Thomas dragged his gaze from nothingness to William’s face. Frowning, confused and determined, William stared back. After all this time, William had never stopped being naïve. One day, that would be the thing that hurt him the most.

‘What if I spoke to Jimmy and made him stop this madness? I could reason with him, he’s not as stupid as he makes himself out to be,’ William started, ‘Or give me something to use. You always have something on someone.’

Thomas sighed, ‘Jimmy didn’t think of this for himself.’

‘How?’

‘Miss O’Brien has had it out for me for years. D’you see?’

‘But, what if-?’

‘There’s nothin’ you nor I can do,’ Thomas said, a soft smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as he regarded William and wondered if it would be for the final time, ‘You should be happy. I’m goin’. You get what you’ve wanted since we got here.’

William paused.

‘You’ve never been kind to me,’ said William.

‘Justice prevails.’

***

He wasn’t a hero. He liked his friendship with Daisy, the most he could hope for in their marriage, and he liked his work. All he wanted was to get by and settle down to live a quiet, normal life. Nothing about him was extraordinary. No amount of darkness tempted him a jot, apart from once as a junior footman when he watched Thomas Barrow smoking in the servants’ yard and wondered what it might be like to take up smoking so that they had something in common.

Then, of course, the years of unrelenting bullying dashed those thoughts one by one, until William lost it. The day his fist connected with Thomas’s cheekbone was one of the worst of his life. He regretted the punch the second his knuckle cracked against bone and spiralled alone in his bedroom, convincing himself he had become just like Thomas.

Taking the steps down from the attics steadily, in no rush now that he was secure in his role as first footman who Carson trusted, William considered what he’d learned from Thomas. If he went to Jimmy, was he punching, but for Thomas instead of against him? Was it just as wrong when Thomas had once ground him so far into the dirt that he cried at night?

William took the final step and walked into the servants’ hall, smiling at Daisy, unable to ignore the pang of guilt that reverberated through him whenever he looked at her. Their marriage was a marriage of friendship. He’d intended to love her and save her if something terrible happened, but in the end, they both knew she was trapped. As Daisy rushed off back to the kitchen, William held in the rising, burbling well of sorrys.

‘Where have you been, William?’ Mrs Hughes asked, as she swept in behind him, ‘Mr Carson needs you upstairs.’

He glanced across the room at Jimmy. Though he sat at the piano William once loved to play, Jimmy did nothing but scowl, warping his pretty face.

‘I went up to see Mr Barrow,’ said William, loud enough for Jimmy to hear it, ‘I’ll go find Mr Carson now, thank you.’

Mrs Hughes gave him a stern nod and surveyed the room before she left. William huffed, straightening his shoulders, about to march out behind her when he halted in the doorway. A smattering of tinkling, aimless notes jumped and fell through the air. He turned to see Jimmy leaning on his elbow on the edge of the piano, head in his hand, the other jabbing at the keys. Gone was the sour expression, replaced by distance.

William walked over. What he was walking into, he didn’t know, but something nagged at him with every step.

‘Alright, Jimmy?’

Jimmy stopped playing and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring up at him.

‘What’s it to you?’

William blinked, stunned and unable to hide it fast enough from the way Jimmy was scanning his features. He’d known Thomas to say that exact thing when Thomas was snapping, fighting when there was no fight.

‘I’m only asking,’ William muttered quickly, ‘You’re not yourself.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Well, you’re normally flirting with anything with a pulse or you’re with Thomas.’

Jimmy shot to his feet, and William startled. Red rage rushed to Jimmy’s face.

‘You shut up about that, d’you hear?’ Jimmy hissed.

‘I know what happened,’ William shot back, ‘so don’t start with all that barking, you won’t do yourself any favours by kicking off at everyone.’

‘You don’t know nothin’,’ Jimmy snapped.

‘Think about what you’re doing, Jimmy. Think about who’s been in your ear,’ William said, lowering his voice as he stepped closer to Jimmy, who looked more puzzled by the second.

‘Why don’t you… why don’t you shove off?’ Jimmy mumbled as he pushed past William, ‘Where the bloody hell’s Alfred?’

He let Jimmy go, shaking his head as he went off to his own duties. Jimmy was never going to listen to him.

Thomas didn’t come down for dinner. The vague excuse and obvious lie that he wasn’t feeling well drifted downstairs, but nobody so much as looked up as the comment flitted around the table. William stared at each person who he’d worked with for years, more than ten at this point, amazed. One of their number who had toiled for just as long as they had was on their way out the door. How could nobody notice?

He eyed Jimmy as he ate his stew, who once again glared around as though he was searching for a reason to bite someone’s head off. When Mrs Hughes quietly confirmed what William thought he’d seen and heard that night, shocked into silence as Thomas was pushed out of Jimmy’s bedroom, she called Jimmy vain and silly. That seemed about right, but William added angry to that list. Just like Thomas, Jimmy seemed to think the world was out to get him, only Jimmy had the outgoing charm to stave it off sometimes. Not now. William looked back to his meal before Jimmy spotted him staring and wondered why he’d gotten involved in this mess. The look of loss on Thomas’s face, eyes rounded, the pale light of the day washing him out, bothered William. It was like seeing the wolf that had bothered the sheep shot at last. Once you saw it lying on the ground, breathing its final breaths, the big threat of the wolf dissipated.

Somehow, he would corner Jimmy again, somewhere he knew they wouldn’t be overheard. That was his mistake before. William thanked Daisy with another smile as she took his plate after everyone had finished, and she returned it. If there was a chance that he could fix things, he had a duty to try.

Thomas could usually be found outside smoking if one couldn’t pinpoint him anywhere else, and luckily Jimmy had also taken up the habit. William righted his livery as the door shut behind him. Jimmy brought the cigarette to his mouth, pacing up and down the cobbles. As he lifted his head, he swore, crossing his arms again. William pushed himself on. It was the right thing to do.

‘Since when are you on the side of Oscar Wilde?’ Jimmy snipped without looking William in the eye.

‘I’m not on anyone’s side, I just don’t think what you’re doing is fair.’

‘And what about what he did to me?’

‘Mr Barrow is a smart man, he knows it was wrong.’

‘I don’t have to listen to this,’ Jimmy said suddenly, flicking his half-finished cigarette into the shadows, ‘I’m off.’

William watched helplessly yet again as Jimmy walked away from him back towards the door. An idea popped into William’s head; what would Thomas do?

‘Haven’t you noticed how Ivy won’t entertain you anymore?’ William called, ‘Or how Daisy’s fed-up with you hanging around the kitchen? Don’t you think there might be a reason Carson still prefers Alfred?’

Jimmy stopped. He turned his head a few degrees, the light pouring out from the glass in the door illuminating his face in a golden-yellow outline.

‘I’d like to know why you care so much,’ Jimmy said.

Licking his lip, William moved towards him. It was now or never.

‘Let Thomas have his reference and this all goes away. You’ll look understanding instead of… of petulant, which is what you look like now if you ask me.’

Jimmy’s fists opened and closed. William held his breath. Though he’d got Thomas in that fight many years ago, Thomas had got him too. He remembered how the bruise throbbed.

‘He’d still have to leave, wouldn’t he?’ Jimmy said as though reassuring himself.

‘I suppose he would.’

‘And it doesn’t mean I understand or I forgive him or… or that I want anythin’ to do with that.’

‘It makes no difference to me if you do or you don’t.’

Jimmy looked at the back door.

‘Maybe I’ll have a word with Mr Carson.’

***

The bat cracked against the cricket ball.

Thomas ran, catching a fleeting glance of the fielder scampering for the ball. It arched high in the sky, white cutting through the blue, leading the Downton team to victory.

‘Well-played, Barrow,’ said Lord Grantham, grasping Thomas’s hand and shaking it firmly.

‘Thank you.’

‘Excellent innings.’

Lord Grantham beamed at their success. The applause rose inside Thomas. He smiled and nodded his thanks once more before Lord Grantham moved on, leaving Thomas in the sunshine. Thomas tipped his face to the sun. For one sweet moment, he basked, a sunflower baked in summertime. His cricket whites warmed his skin. He relished in pride and allowed it to fill him up.

Opening his eyes, Thomas strode towards the tents at the edge of the playing field. The whole affair was just for Lord Grantham to showboat to the villagers. Even so, his muscles ached pleasantly, his lungs breathing clean air. Thomas thanked Ivy as she handed him a bowl of strawberries drenched in double cream and sugar. He was almost distracted enough by the first delicious mouthful not to clock Carson and Lord Grantham talking.

Eyebrows animated, ready to take off, Carson puffed about something, but he was too far away for Thomas to hear a single word. Thomas snorted, his gaze drifting. Beyond the men locked in serious debate, two men in dark clothes walked across the grass together from a motorcar parked at the perimeter, stopping beside Lord Grantham. Thomas frowned slowly. Carson and Lord Grantham exchanged a pointed look. A moment later, Lord Grantham strode off and Carson appeared to placate the two men, raising his proud head.

Nothing about the men signalled who they were, yet despite the jolly atmosphere, the longer Thomas watched, the tighter the knot in his stomach grew.

‘What d’you reckon that’s about?’

Thomas bit back a sigh, glancing only once at Willam, who didn’t play on account of weakened lungs.

‘No idea and not my problem,’ Thomas muttered.

‘Hope not. I think this place has had enough drama for all our lifetimes.’

He was almost impressed at the backhanded comment from William. Thomas itched for a cigarette, covering it with another strawberry.

‘Whatever drama I’ve brought with me will be gone soon enough,’ Thomas said flatly, ‘Daisy’ll be looking for you.’

‘Yeah… yeah, I should go and find her.’

‘Trouble in paradise?’

He could feel the shock rolling from William in waves.

‘That’s a thing to say,’ William blurted.

‘I’ll give you some partin’ advice,’ Thomas said, not quite knowing why he was saying anything to William at all, ‘Look after Daisy. She’s smarter and braver than you are, and she knows what she wants while you’re flounderin’. Get up to her speed, quickly.’

‘I… well, I knew that. Daisy was always too good for me.’

‘So, do somethin’ about it.’

As William mumbled on about Daisy, taking a few seconds to realise Thomas wasn’t listening anymore, the scene changed. Thomas set the spoon in the now empty bowl. Alfred, out of nowhere, joined the men and was lead away just as quickly as he arrived by Lord Grantham, leaving Carson with the strangers. Thomas’s lips parted, a frown pushing his eyebrows together, stiffening him inside. There was not visible reason for them to be there, but perhaps that was the whole point.

‘I can see those men too. Who are they?’

Thomas couldn’t bring himself to look away as William spoke.

‘I recognise them,’ Thomas murmured as the realisation sank over him, ‘They’re bobbies.’

‘Why would the police be here?’

‘How would I know?’

He wanted to walk right over and interrogate Carson. He wanted to surreptitiously wander around the back of the shed where Lord Grantham and Alfred had disappeared into. Out in the open like this, he would be seen. He was trapped.

‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ said William, ‘It’s not exactly crime to play cricket.’

Thomas hummed his reply but paid more attention to the nipping feeling that he was missing something obvious.

***

‘I’d like it,’ Thomas said quietly, hearing the hoarseness rasping the edges of his voice, ‘if we could be friends?’

His ribs ached, but not as much as his heart, uttering words he meant with every fibre of his being yet knowing this, even this, would never be enough. But it had to be enough. Thomas tried for a weak smile. Nervous and gripping the edge of his seat, Jimmy nodded slowly. His blue eyes flicked up to meet Thomas’s. As soon as they exchanged a single look, something heavy left Jimmy’s expression. His shoulders lowered, a smile curving his full lips and tugging once more on Thomas’s heart.

‘I think I can manage that,’ Jimmy breathed, smoothing his livery over his thighs.

Sunshine filtered through the glass up above Thomas’s head and warmed the back of his neck. He sighed audibly, sinking into the pillows.

‘Thank you, Jimmy. Thank you.’

The low smile twisted into a cheeky grin. Thomas tilted his head to one side as Jimmy relaxed a few more degrees, stretching his legs out as though he were a little lord in a salon.

‘You’re hard to be cross at, anyway,’ Jimmy said, not meeting his gaze.

Thomas snorted, ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d said no. That would’ve been depressing.’

‘Nice to know I make such a difference to your life.’

‘Oh, yes. Ray of sunshine. Light of the world.’

Jimmy chuckled and got up, grabbing the newspaper from the side table. He sat and snapped it open, pouting as he perused the pages. Folding his arms, Thomas waited. He would wait for anything Jimmy had to say. Sticking his tongue between his teeth, Jimmy leaned forward on his elbows and flicked to the back of the paper.

‘The cricket looks like a disaster,’ Jimmy chirped, ‘Blimey. A big disaster.’

‘Isn’t it always?’

‘It wasn’t a disaster last summer when we played.’

Smirking, Jimmy looked down at his lap. Thomas dropped his own gaze. A comfortable quiet settled like snow.

Just beyond the bedroom door that stood ajar, the staircase creaked, and the hints of voices rising from the bowels of the abbey reminded him that they were not in their own world. He wished that they were. Thomas took a deep breath and pushed that lone thought to the recesses of his mind, focusing on Jimmy scanning the paper. What he wished didn’t matter anymore. Better to make the most of what was right in front of him.

‘Jimmy, can I say one more thing about what I did?’

Jimmy wrinkled his nose.

‘It’s in the past.’

‘I owe you something I haven’t given you yet.’

Jimmy raised his head and his eyebrows, folding the paper, chucking it aside. He shrugged, a smile crossing his face.

‘What’s that?’

‘I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.’

The smile returned, stronger this time, not vanishing like smoke into the air. Jimmy sat up a little, clasping his hands in his lap. God, this ached. Thomas tried to smile convincingly. A lifetime of this stretched out ahead.

‘Ta,’ said Jimmy, ‘You up for a cuppa?’

‘That’s music to my ears.’

Just as Jimmy went to stand, and as a bloom of giddy butterflies rose in Thomas’s chest, the floorboards just outside the bedroom creaked. They both looked up to see William pad into view, looking at Thomas warily. William opened his mouth and started to enter, when he halted on sight of Jimmy. Confusion creased his smooth oval face.

‘What’re you doin’ up here?’ asked Thomas.

‘Just came to check on you, after what happened,’ William said slowly, ‘I wondered if you’d like a cup of tea or some food?’

‘Blimey,’ Thomas said, feeling a smirk spread across his mouth as he folded his arms, ‘Never thought I’d see the day when all the men of Downton were waitin’ on me.’

Immediately, Jimmy snorted. Thomas glanced over.

‘Yeah, it’s what you’ve always dreamed of.’

Thomas gawped at Jimmy as Jimmy started laughing at his own joke. On the edge of his vision, he saw William frozen, but the sound of Jimmy’s laughter overtook everything. The corner of his mouth tugged and he didn’t care that he felt heat spreading up his neck. Thomas tore his gaze from the chortling, curled over form of Jimmy to William. Even William, in all his seriousness, started to grin.

Looking down at his hands, now clasped loosely in his lap, Thomas smiled only to himself as he realised that Jimmy wasn’t entirely wrong; here were two people who should hate him. For some reason, at least one of them didn’t.

‘Alright, very funny,’ he said eventually, turning to Jimmy, ‘I s’pose I deserved that.’

‘That was slightly cruel, Jimmy,’ said William.

‘Shove off the pair of you – Mr Barrow’s a grown-up, he can take it,’ Jimmy snickered, ‘I’ll end the jokes there, shall I?’

‘You will if you don’t want to spend the next month in hell,’ Thomas shot back.

‘I’m quakin’ in my boots, Mr Barrow.’

‘Are you always like this?’ asked William.

‘Worse,’ Jimmy said happily.

***

‘What do you think?’ William asked.

Daisy rammed the heel of her hand into the dough, her face flushed, wisps of hair escaping her hairline. Warm sunlight softened every edge and line. William thought she was beautiful like this.

‘I’ll have to see,’ Daisy said, out of breath, ‘I can’t just up and leave like you can, Mrs Patmore needs me.’

‘It’s only a picnic, Daisy, we won’t be gone for very long. Ivy would step in for you.’

‘I didn’t say no, I said I’d see,’ Daisy snipped.

‘Are you cross with me?’

‘No, I’m just busy. I’ll ask Mrs Patmore later, alright?’

William walked away from Daisy teetering on the knife’s edge of two fates; one, that he should have said something, and the other that he was missing something blatantly obvious. Smoothing down his uniform, William mentally shook himself and nipped to the mirror at the bottom of the stairs, grabbing the brush to flick errant flour particles off the black material. His reflection frowned seriously, lines permanently carved between his eyebrows. The colourless clothes of the tired valet in the glass made him look even more serious.

Despite distancing himself, he could still hear Daisy in the kitchen. He knew he tried too hard, he knew it was pointless, he knew, he knew, he knew… William huffed and smoothed down his waistcoat. He knew all too well it was his fault.

William hated thinking about the war, and he hated thinking about how close he’d come to death lying in the cot upstairs, fading in and out of consciousness until at last his grip on life strengthened. In the panic leading up to his leaving, asking Daisy to marry him seemed like the best idea in the world, ensuring her safety, showing her his love. Pushing rings onto each other’s fingers the day they all thought he would die filled him even now with light.

He hadn’t expected to carry on and neither had she.

A picnic was not going to make up for what he once thought was right. William moved from the mirror and prepared to go and find Jimmy. It might give him a chance to see Daisy smile, thought. He might have a chance to explain.

‘Mr Mason?’

He turned to see Mrs Hughes and smiled when she did, offering a polite nod to her as she paused beside him. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to people calling him the name others called his own father.

‘Can I help, Mrs Hughes?’

‘I wondered if you might take up a cup of tea for Mr Barrow, if you have a moment, that is,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘He’s awake now, apparently. I still can’t quite believe thugs would accost a man in broad daylight.’

If she weren’t Mrs Hughes, William might have thought she didn’t believe the whole sorry event had happened at all. William pressed his mouth into a tight line. He knew exactly who would say something like that and mean it.

‘Terrible, isn’t it?’ William said, ‘I have time, I’ll go now.’

‘Thank you, William. Did you have a nice time at the fair?’

At those memories, he smiled.

‘Yes, I did,’ he said, ‘Daisy and I played the hoops, she won.’

She’d linked arms with him. For a while, it was like before the war, when Daisy stopped listening to Thomas, friendly and sweet.

As Mrs Hughes left him to it once more, William started back towards the kitchen. He paused before the doorway. Nerves crawled inside and he glanced over his shoulder to the stairs leading up to their attic bedrooms. Perhaps he could ask Thomas first what he wanted, then deal with asking Daisy to make up a tray.

***

Gone for good. Thomas smiled up at the sky, smoke twirling like ribbon; like a streamer of celebration. Miss O’Brien was gone, shoved out of his periphery. No more watching the shadows for an attack or wondering when he would enact her wrath enough for her to start spreading his secrets.

What a beautiful day.

Thomas tilted his face to the cold February sun. Winter used to fill him with longing for the unforgiving heat of summer, but now he would always remember this as the season that pushed O’Brien out into the frozen tundra.

The back door creaked and Thomas closed his eyes for just a moment, drawing out his peace for as long as he could before a throat cleared to cut right through the delicious silence. Thomas blinked up at the blue sky, then over to his right. Uneasy, determined to look him in the eye, William approached. Thomas sighed heavily and took another drag. He didn’t care if his disdain showed. Nothing was going to spoil his day.

‘I sent a Valentine’s to Daisy.’

‘So?’

‘She thinks it came from Alfred.’

‘Are you tellin’ me your own wife doesn’t know your handwriting?’

‘I got her one of those typed ones, as a little joke,’ William said, sounding pained.

‘Kitchen maid leaves perfectly respectable valet for a footman with half the wages and half the spine. I can see it splashed on the papers now.’

‘That’s not funny, Thomas.’

‘What I find funny is how you’ve already decided Daisy would do a thing like that,’ Thomas said, gesturing to the house with his cigarette, ‘Bit unfair on her, in’t it? Just tell her it was you.’

William frowned at the cobbles underneath their feet. Shaking his head, Thomas carried on smoking and urged William in his mind to pack it in.

‘I love her, you know. Everyone acts like I was just doing the right thing – doing my duty, but I love Daisy no matter what you think.’

‘I don’t think anythin’.’

‘Yes, you do. I’m not stupid,’ William muttered, while Thomas drew in a full lungful of smoke, feeling the warmth crackle. ‘How did you get Jimmy to forgive you after you fell out?’

Thomas snorted, smoke coming out of his nose.

‘Jimmy’s not my bloody wife.’

‘Stop teasing me and help.’

Thomas sighed, ‘I did somethin’ for him and then I said I was sorry. It does not take a genius to work out how to apologise.’

‘Well… what would I do?’

‘As I said, work it out.’

He went to go inside, flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it with the toe of his shoe, reminding himself that nothing was going to ruin his good mood if he could help it. Behind, William said nothing, but Thomas felt those big puppy eyes pressing into the back of his skull.

‘Don’t overcomplicate it,’ he said over his shoulder, ‘Just tell Daisy how you feel.’

‘Is that what you did with Jimmy?’

‘Now that is none of your business.’

Despite his tone, clipped with the intention of scaring William off, Thomas smiled to himself as he walked from the yard. Pulling the door open gave way of waves of heat and the smell of cooking, making his mouth water. Already he heard the tinkling piano, tugging at his lips, forming a wider smile before he even entered the servants’ hall to see Jimmy wasting time. With a contented sigh, Thomas walked up behind him and leaned on top of the piano. Jimmy’s hands moved across the keys with ease, as though this were easier than breathing. He looked up at Thomas, smirking knowingly.

‘You’ve got that face on.’

‘What face?’

‘Like you know somethin’ good,’ Jimmy said, ‘Spit it out.’

‘Alright. I just had William askin’ me for relationship advice.’

‘You’re jokin’.’

‘Wish I was, and I don’t know what I did to deserve his moping.’

‘I reckon he’s one of those blokes who thinks women are from Venus. He acts like Daisy’s a different species to him, for fuck’s sake.’

‘And you never have, of course.’

‘I’m a gentleman and I have respect for the ladies.’

Thomas snorted, ‘As I said – of course.’

‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear y’sarcasm,’ Jimmy said primly, ‘Anyway, O’Brien’s gone. Doesn’t get much better unless Carson tells us we’ve got a month off – fancy a drink to celebrate?’

‘Followed by a trip along the French Riveria.’

‘How romantic, Mr Barrow.’

Inside, Thomas winced. He smiled wryly down at Jimmy and fished around his pockets for a cigarette to have something to distract himself with.

‘Careful,’ he warned.

‘I don’t mind a bit of romance, me. I’m romantic as well as gentlemanly,’ Jimmy teased, reaching over for Thomas’s elbow and pushing it, ‘What do you say?’

It was sad how vividly the images came to him of Jimmy basking in sunlight next to the water, and he with a glass of white wine in one hand, a cigar in the other. Thomas bit back every joke he could have made about the dream and instead cleared his throat, sliding down a stern mask.

‘I say if you don’t get back to work soon instead pissing around on the piano, there’ll be even more polishing silver in your future.’

Jimmy stood from the piano bench already chuckling at some private joke. Thomas offered a raised eyebrow and a tut when Jimmy swanned around the table, sliding his hands uncouthly into his pockets. Biting back a grin, Thomas nodded to the door where Jimmy’s real work lay. Ignoring his urging, Jimmy glanced around as if checking who was about, finding no one. Just when Thomas was about to admonish him again for laziness, Jimmy took a jaunty step up to him with a mischievous blue glint in his eyes.

‘That a promise, Mr Barrow?’

‘You’re really askin’ for it today,’ Thomas said, knowing he was missing something obvious, not willing to give in, ‘Off with you.’

‘You gonna make me?’

‘Jimmy Kent, I have the power to have you sacked.’

That obvious, golden smirk, the glinting in Jimmy’s eye dared him to do something about it. What that was, Thomas was too afraid to ask or even hope for.

***

‘William!’ Daisy laughed as the football bounced past her, pushing up a fan of sand, ‘You’re worse than I am!’

Sheepishly, feeling himself warm even more under the blazing sun, William hurried towards her for the ball before it was lost to the sea. Catching glimpse of Daisy’s hair whipping in the wind, face flushed and dress forming to her legs from the pressure of the air, nearly took William’s breath away. He said nothing though as he scooped the ball from the salty water, cold around his ankles. Daisy rolled her eyes when he threw ball up with a twist in his wrist, causing it to spin, and hurried back for him to kick it over once again.

William wished he had the nerve to tell Daisy how the mere sight of her stole the air from his lungs. Exhausted from playing around, they retreated to the blankets laid out on the sand, chucking the football to Alfred and Jimmy who instantly started bickering. William sighed and handed Daisy a bottle of pop.

‘D’you think they’re friends really?’ he asked.

‘I think so. Jimmy gives him a hard time, but they were thick as thieves last year.’

‘I couldn’t have a friend like that.’

‘You and Jimmy get on, don’t you?’

‘Sometimes I can’t tell,’ he said honestly, ‘He’s not a bad lad, just…’

‘Like Thomas?’

‘A little, yes.’

Daisy smiled down at her lap.

‘Well, we’re the best of friends so you have one at least,’ she said.

‘That’s the greatest prize I could hope for.’

Daisy turned her face to meet his gaze, glued to her. Strands of hair slipped across her forehead. Eyes squinting in the bright light, she grinned and shuffled close to his side, their shoulders bumping.

‘Will this always be enough for you?’ she asked.

There had to be a bigger, brighter, more brilliant word out there for dumbstruck. A broad smile stretched into William’s cheeks. He nodded quickly and sat himself up properly.

‘You’ll always be enough.’

Daisy scoffed, ‘You can be so soppy sometimes. Don’t you want children? A family?’

They’d never talked about those things when they were wide-eyed and naïve during the war. William swallowed thickly, rushing around inside his head for the right thoughts to attach to the right words. Slowly, he brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them.

‘I’d only want all that if you wanted all that,’ he said, ‘Do you?’

‘Not now. Maybe one day.’

‘You’d be a good mother.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘I know so. I’ve never seen someone get Jimmy and Alfred to stop arguing like you do.’

Daisy giggled. ‘Mr Carson should let me be the underbutler.’

William smiled to himself, gaze drifting down past his bare toes to the sand fading into sparkling water. While Thomas ruled with fear and strict lines, Daisy, he imagined, would have a little more fairness about her; although he knew he wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of Mrs Mason the underbutler. Picturing Daisy in that black and emerald green uniform, he found his smile burning in his cheeks. Beside him, Daisy sighed and said something about how warm it was. He knew her favourite time of year was the spring, when out in the servants’ yard you could just about hear the new lambs, but Daisy liked the summer for its endlessness too.

He shouldn’t have been daydreaming about his wife when she was right next to him. William blinked himself back onto the beach and watched as Thomas broke off from the game of football he must have joined only briefly for him not to have noticed. Thomas walked over the sand to Miss Baxter, but with their backs to William, he couldn’t hear or tell what their conversation was. Somehow, he got the feeling it wasn’t good. What Thomas had over Miss Baxter, he had no clue, but Miss Baxter seemed frightened of Thomas. Then again, Miss Baxter seemed a little frightened of everything except her sewing machine.

‘I should see if Ivy’s alright,’ Daisy said after a moment, ‘That American lad wants her to go with back with him.’

‘Really?’

‘She might say yes if I’m not careful and then I’ll be down a kitchen maid.’

‘You mean, Mrs Patmore will be down a kitchen maid.’

‘Ivy works for me too, in a way,’ Daisy protested.

‘I’d help you out in the kitchen if I could.’

‘Have you ever cooked?’

‘No… but you would be a very good teacher.’

Daisy laughed, ‘Don’t be daft.’

‘I’m not! You would be a good teacher. It’s the student that might be the problem,’ William teased back, gently nudging her with his elbow. Daisy nudged back, smirking. ‘I might not be able to cook to save my life, but I can buy you an ice-cream, if you fancy one?’

‘Yes, please. Help me up?’

William stood first and held his hand out to Daisy. As she was pulled up, she hopped into place by his side and gave his hand a firm squeeze before she let go again, asking him if he’d seen an ice-cream parlour on their way here. Nodding, William answered that he had, and that there’d been a man on the beach not too far away selling them from a cart.

It took a while to notice that they were apparently not the only ones in search of a rare treat. Breaking from the water, trousers rolled up to their knees and waist coats unbuttoned, Thomas walked ahead with Jimmy, oblivious to anyone else watching them. They couldn’t be heard above the wind blowing from the sea, but they laughed and chatted just like he and Daisy. William watched quizzically as Jimmy shoved Thomas’s arm. Instead of snapping or shutting up like a clam, Thomas laughed in return, shaking his head.

A few places behind in the queue for the ice-cream cart, Daisy eventually fell quiet again beside him, her arms folded as her gaze drifted to the blue water. William followed it, imagining what it would be like to go out on a boat. He’s father had been too busy raising a boy and a farm to take William to the beach, but that hadn’t been his fault; it was just the way of life. William trailed off from the sea to, once again, Thomas and Jimmy standing ordering their ice-creams. Thomas dug his hand into his pocket and handed over change without hesitation, while Jimmy took dainty glass bowls from the ice-cream man.

‘Did you know Jimmy asked me once if it was alright that he played the piano?’ Daisy said out of nowhere.

‘Why’d he ask that?’

‘It was when Jimmy first started, before whatever made them fall out,’ she continued, ‘I said I didn’t mind, but it’s not as if the piano belongs to you or something.’

‘No… no, it must have been there years before we began working at Downton.’

‘Thomas never played, did he?’

‘Not that I know of,’ William said, not quite able to tear his gaze from them.

Thomas looked down at Jimmy and smiled, eyes crinkling. William knew that look because Thomas had worn it many times around Jimmy and Jimmy alone. Smiles like that, where happiness creased up his skin and showed his teeth, were not just for anyone. He also knew it because he was sure he felt lines spread around his own face when Daisy made him laugh, or whenever something good happened to her that brightened his days.

‘Would you ever learn to play the piano, Daisy?’ he asked.

‘Me? You’d teach me?’

‘Why not?’ he said as he finally lowered his gaze to meet Daisy’s, ‘I’d like to.’

***

Jimmy shut the door to the butler’s pantry with the hand tucked behind his back. Thomas heard the lock click, which forced him to look up from the clipboard in his hand and into Jimmy’s liquid blue gaze.

‘What did you want to talk about?’ Thomas asked, ‘You’ll have to be quick, I’ve got to meet his lordship in the library.’

The distance closed. Jimmy snatched the lapels of his livery as their mouths crashed and the clipboard clattered to the stone floor. Hands to Jimmy’s hips, body flush, panting into Jimmy’s mouth as Jimmy stole the breath from his lungs, Thomas opened up and let Jimmy in. Jimmy moaned, stepping onto his toes, Thomas arching over him, a hand slipping into Thomas’s hair and tugging. A switch flickered back and forth. Jimmy pushing his hips, grinding against his thigh, turned everything on. Thomas pushed Jimmy until he hit the door with a thud.

Yet, the more Jimmy grasped for him, the more Thomas had to push down every desire currently sizzling along his nerves. He smeared his kisses along from Jimmy’s plush mouth to that square jaw to the hinge, trailing down to Jimmy’s quickened pulse and mouthing him there for a few glorious moments as Jimmy melted. Jimmy’s fingers went from clawing to begging, pawing at Thomas’s chest. Thomas broke into soft chuckles and buried them in the curve of Jimmy’s neck.

‘Sshh,’ he whispered, ‘You can’t just pull me away every time you feel like it, love.’

‘This is only day one, I’ll pull you any time I want.’

Thomas lifted himself and cupped Jimmy’s beaming face, blushing pink in spite of his bold words. Chuckling again, because every second of this strange new world brought out laughter in him at all turns, Thomas dipped his head and captured Jimmy’s mouth in a slow kiss. Like Jimmy’s hands wanting and pawing at him, Thomas adorned Jimmy, decorating his lower lip with purpose and a lulling warmth – or at least, he hoped. Jimmy raised his arms and wrapped them around Thomas’s neck, tipping his head back for more.

Only day one.

He prized his mouth from Jimmy’s with nothing but regret. Head thumping softly against the door, Jimmy pulled back and smirked up at him. A single wave fell loose over his forehead. Flushed cheeks hinted at moments just before. His full lips tugged, smile widening, seeing something in Thomas. Thomas wished he knew what it was, but at the same time, it mattered less and less with each second he spent with Jimmy in his arms. The fact that Jimmy was there at all was everything.

Jimmy reached up and patted his cheek, feigning sympathy. Thomas raised his eyebrows for an answer, but Jimmy never gave it.

‘Day one of this,’ Jimmy said, ‘Day one of your new job. How’s does it feel, Mr Butler?’

‘It’s certainly a day of firsts, Mr Valet.’

‘You can’t steal my joke.’

‘I just did. I’m your boss, I can do whatever I want.’

‘Apart from resist my charms.’

Thomas chuckled, ‘I’ve never wanted to do that.’

Jimmy grabbed him again and planted a firm kiss on his lips, giving Thomas another pat.

‘Good boy,’ said Jimmy.

‘It’s almost as if you want to be sacked on my first day…’

The boyish smirking and playful shoving as Thomas tried to reorder himself rewound the clock of the flecks of silver through Jimmy’s hair. Thomas picked the clipboard from the floor and ruffled Jimmy’s hair from behind, causing Jimmy to swear, swatting him away as he rearranged his sweeping curls, walking out of the room ahead of Thomas. He cut a fine figure in black, opting for the wide lapel that was fashionable. As though reading Thomas’s thoughts and feeling himself being admired, Jimmy glanced over his shoulder as they walked down the corridor to the servants’ hall. Silver glinted in an arch of curled hair. His rosy lips curved into a smile, not a smirk, and somehow Thomas could hear Jimmy’s voice from the night before telling him, at long last, that he was loved.

Thomas thought about stopping Jimmy before they came upon anyone, pulling him to the side and kissing the shell of his ear, but the chance was snatched from him at the sound of William’s voice in the servants’ hall.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Mason,’ said Albert, as Thomas and Jimmy started to round the doorway, but Thomas paused them both, placing a hand in front of Jimmy. Jimmy began to smirk.

William pulled himself up to his full height and examined Albert’s livery. Keen and insisting he was ready, Albert had only been a footman for a week. He was generally quick, if sometimes requiring a nudging to remember tasks that Thomas foresaw becoming a problem if the boy didn’t grow up a little. Thomas too ran his gaze over Albert and found no obvious faults. He glanced back to William, who lifted his chin and gave Albert a stern look.

‘That’s fine,’ said William, ‘but you’re late when I say you’re late.’

‘Yes, Mr Mason.’

‘Off you go before you get in trouble with Mr Barrow.’

Eyebrows shooting up at the warning, apparently a bad one, Albert hurried off towards the kitchen, where already Thomas could hear Daisy’s voice admonishing Albert yet again for lateness. Beside him, Jimmy snorted and patted Thomas on the arm, muttering that he had to hurry off. Thomas reached out for Jimmy’s hand to give it a squeeze, and revealed himself from his observation place to William. Straightening his livery, William gave him a nod and huffed, his gaze trailing after Albert.

‘Careful,’ Thomas said, ‘you’re startin’ to sound like me.’

William immediately frowned and turned his attention back to Thomas. Long gone was the lanky footman with a puppyish roundness to his face. Now he filled out his uniform, as great a presence in the house as an oak tree.

‘I don’t think so, Mr Barrow,’ he replied.

‘How late was he?’

‘It wasn’t too bad,’ William admitted, walking up to Thomas, standing by his side where they could both see Albert looking nervous in the kitchen, ‘If we’re firm with them now, it will help them later.’

‘A touch of fear always helps.’

‘He’s not scared of me… is he?’

‘Don’t be daft. You’re as frightenin’ as Teo.’

William was not the type to roll his eyes, only acting as though Thomas hadn’t said anything. Grinning to himself, Thomas tucked the clipboard under his arm and readied himself for saving Albert from Daisy’s wrath.

‘I take it things went well with Jimmy?’

Thomas paused. He turned. William looked at him with raised eyebrows, expecting an casual answer to a question that almost stopped Thomas’s heart.

‘What’s it to you?’ Thomas said without venom.

‘The walls are thin,’ William replied, looking somewhat pained.

Thomas felt his smile return. He breathed a laugh before he answered.

‘I think you’ve got your answer,’ he said, ‘and don’t be crass, Mr Mason. It’s not very becomin’ of an underbutler.’

‘Just keep it down so I can sleep.’

He walked away with a laugh in his lungs.

William took his orders nodding and ease, no biting back or wimpering fear. It was odd to think of those days. Deference took place of reluctance, but they weren’t scratching each other’s eyes out for the lead in the race that, it had taken Thomas many years to realise, didn’t exist.

Of course, it made a difference when you won, or so Jimmy said.

Jimmy knocked on the doorframe to the kitchen. Thomas tore his attention from Mrs Patmore’s rage over incorrectly piped pastry, lest she rip into the new kitchen maid who looked like a rabbit already trapped in the jaws of the fox, to Jimmy’s quick nod of acknowledgement.

‘Mr Branson and Lady Mary are back,’ Jimmy said, gesturing behind, ‘I’m off to sort him out. S’it just the three for dinner?’

‘Yes, it should be,’ Thomas smiled. ‘Thank you.’

He lingered on Jimmy; he couldn’t help it. Jimmy’s eyes crinkled as he grinned back, eyebrows wriggling as though they were part of a secret joke. As he turned, Jimmy caught a shaft of sunlight on his cheekbone. Thomas swallowed and looked down before he made a fool of himself from smiling so much, clearing his throat, resetting his expression.

‘Paradise found, Mr Barrow?’

Mrs Patmore looked far too smug. Thomas raised an eyebrow ands thought about saying nothing. On the edge of his vision, Daisy smirked up at William.

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mrs Patmore,’ he replied.

‘Oh, I very much doubt that.’

‘Everyone seems to know something I don’t today,’ Thomas said.

‘Tho- Mr Barrow?’ came Jimmy’s voice from the corridor.

‘Mr Kent?’

‘Lady Mary’s asking for you in the library.’

‘Right,’ he breathed, ‘Duty calls.’

Thomas couldn’t be absolutely certain that he didn’t hear William whispering and chuckling on his way out, and something small inside told him he should give William a reminder of what he was capable of if something happened to ruin his paradise. That could wait. Thomas searched the empty corridor for Jimmy and found nothing, until a hard cough snapped his gaze to the open door of the boot room. Leaning on back on the table in the middle of the room, obvious and seductive, Jimmy beckoned with the tip of his chin. Thomas tilted his head, looking dryly as Jimmy, but walked towards him nonetheless and shut the door behind.

***

‘I do hope you will find happiness, Barrow,’ said Lady Mary, seemingly, maybe, earnestly as she looked up at him, firelight flickering over her pale face, ‘I truly do.’

‘I have, my lady,’ he said, ‘Thank you.’

She looked quizzical, only for a fleeting moment, before rising from the sofa with her hands clasped in front of her. Time had frozen Lady Mary still; a moving glacier changing yet unchanging, new haircuts alongside the solid belief that Downton Abbey was hers. Regarding him with distant respect for the years they had grown up not alongside each other, but two animals watching the other hunt, Lady Mary raised her chin in dismissal. Thomas bowed his head and the task was done. He asked her once more if she needed anything, and she did not. He was free.

Thomas walked out of the library as his shoulders untensed, sinking slightly. He was free. Warm amber light from the fireplaces and the buzzing electric lamps filled the great hall. Tomorrow, he would have to inform Lord Grantham, but for now, at last, his time was his own. Three months’ notice would fly by.

Biting the inside of his cheek against a grin, Thomas moved quickly, striding across the hall to the grand staircase and climbing swiftly. His knees complained, but he didn’t mind. The aches and pains would have to wait until he found Jimmy.

Coming down the hallway with a soft and serious frown furrowing his brow, fingers playing invisible keys, Jimmy didn’t see Thomas at first, lost another world. Only when he stepped out of the shadows and into the evening light of the sconces did he look up and break out into one of his famous smiles. Jimmy’s walk quickened to an unprofessional rush up to Thomas, eyes bright and expectant. They met under an arch of the gallery, hands placed on the stone, fingertips not quite touching.

‘I did it,’ Thomas said, feeling his voice brimming with excitement, ‘I actually did it.’

‘So… just me now,’ Jimmy breathed. He licked his lips. ‘I know they won’t know, but… well, who cares – we’ll be off.’

‘We’ll be off,’ Thomas repeated slowly, ‘You can still change your mind, love. Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Don’t be daft, old man, I’m goin’ wherever you go.’

The crescent of Jimmy’s smile made Thomas’s knees weak, even now. Nodding, Thomas glanced around for any signs of life, and darted forwards before he could think better. His lips pecked the top of Jimmy’s cheek and Jimmy leaned in.

‘How’re you going to tell Mrs Hughes?’

‘That’ll be worse than this. I s’pose I’d better do it tonight before the gossip begins,’ Thomas huffed, ‘Let’s go down. Tea and bed?’

‘Music to my ears.’

Thomas smirked and guided Jimmy towards the nearest baize door with a hand pressed to the small of Jimmy’s back. They made their way downstairs to the quiet settling in for the night as they passed other members of staff retreating to bed. Jimmy closed the door behind them as Thomas poured two small glasses of red wine and huffed as he sat in the chair behind the desk. Before he could push the second glass across for Jimmy, the man himself crossed over and, after planting a kiss to the top of Thomas’s head, situated himself in Thomas’s lap. Thomas sighed and smiled, and let Jimmy get comfortable. Jimmy lifted his glass and clinked it against Thomas’s.

The wine slipped down smoothly. Jimmy tipped all of his back in one, while Thomas sipped contently, closing his eyes as Jimmy wove his fingers through his hair and began scratching gently.

‘We’re on our way,’ Jimmy murmured, ‘Wasn’t this s’posed to be a cuppa?’

‘Wine is special and today is a special day, don’t complain.’

Jimmy pressed another kiss to Thomas’s temple. Thomas rubbed Jimmy’s back.

‘I’d never complain about wine.’

‘Good boy.’

‘How was the shop this morning?’

Thomas smiled down at his half-empty glass as a new fizz of excitement, not felt in many years, rose up his throat. Those run-down rooms, crushed together and dank where the lights no longer worked, the landlord showed him weeks ago now brimmed with promise.

‘I swept the back room,’ Thomas said, ‘We’ll go down together next half-day and sort the front of the shop – I bought lightbulbs.’

‘And you still think Lord Grantham’s gonna want business?’

Thomas snorted, ‘I know it, all the old families will. Times are changing. Clocks cost money to maintain. Why not let old Mr Barrow take them off your hands?’

‘Oi, only I’m allowed to call you old,’ Jimmy grumbled, ‘If you do it makes me old too.’

‘Ah, we can’t have that can we?’

They met each other’s eyes at the same time, the crinkles around Jimmy’s eyes, the bags under them, and the tiny creases at the corners of his mouth all pushing into place as he grinned just like a cheeky schoolboy.

Just as Thomas was about to touch Jimmy’s square jaw and draw him in, a knock sounded at the door. Swearing with annoyance, Jimmy dragged himself off Thomas’s lap, glaring at the door as though it had called him short. Thomas chuckled, patting Jimmy’s arse as the moved to sit on the edge of the desk facing away from Thomas.

‘Come in,’ Thomas called out.

The doorknob turned and William’s head popped around, eyebrows high and enquiring. Thomas laced his fingers over his middle, leaning back in the chair.

‘Yes?’

‘Have you told them?’

‘Yes,’ Thomas siad with a growing smile, ‘Lady Mary knows, nobody else yet. I’ll get to the others in the mornin’.’

‘How did she take the news?’

‘Fine, I s’pose. Stop lurking around the door, d’you want a glass?’

William stepped inside and shut the door behind him as Thomas stood to retrieve another glass from the cabinet behind his desk, filling all three once more. Jimmy, always wary of William, drank his straight away without a cheers and sat up a little straighter, despite the fact that he remained perched on the desk. Smiling to himself as he sipped, Thomas rounded the desk and sat beside Jimmy, their hips flush. Opposite in the chair where new footmen were usually interrogated, William sat and sighed wistfully.

‘Are you ready to the be the butler?’ Thomas asked.

‘Do you think I am?’

‘Probably,’ he replied honestly, ‘as long as you want it.’

William frowned. ‘Then, I’m ready.’

‘Good, because m’not doin’ this for longer than I have to.’

Jimmy snorted and nudged Thomas with his elbow.

‘D’you reckon I could?’

‘God, no. You’d either burn the place down or get so bored you’d go missing and I’d have to come to find you.’

‘You’re underestimatin’ me, Mr Barrow.’

All three men raised their heads at the second knock of the evening. Thomas tutted, but William beat him to opening the door to Miss Baxter, her kind and yet somehow always mournful smile framed in the warm light of the corridor behind her. Clearing his throat, pushing himself to brighten, Thomas stood at her entry.

‘How can I help?’ he said.

‘I only came to say that everyone else has gone up and I’m about to go too,’ she said quietly, glancing at William and Jimmy, ‘Are you celebrating?’

‘There’s always somethin’ to celebrate, Miss Baxter,’ Jimmy chirped.

‘Ignore him,’ Thomas said, ‘There is, in a manner of speaking. Come in, please.’

‘This sounds rather serious,’ said Miss Baxter as she closed the door.

‘It isn’t,’ Thomas said, smiling, ‘I’m leavin’. I’m renting a flat with a shop below it, and I’m goin’ to start a business.’

Miss Baxter drifted to the chair where William sat and gripped the top of it loosely, brow furrowed.

‘What sort of business? Where?’

‘Buyin’ and sellin’ clocks and antiques. It’ll be in Thirsk, not far,’ he said gently, ‘I’ve thought it through, Miss Baxter – I’ve thought it through for a long time and it’s time to go.’

Her fingers tightened and loosened their hold on the chair like the contractions of a breath before her hand fell back to her side. Miss Baxter began to smile. Not noticing the air lodged in his lungs at first, Thomas felt inches of tension leave his shoulders.

‘Well, that was unexpected,’ she said, ‘but I’m so happy for you, Thomas. Congratulations.’

‘Unexpected?’

‘You’ve been here as long as I have,’ said William, nodding towards him, ‘Seeing you leave will be strange.’

‘I can think of a few who might throw their own celebration when I’m out the door,’ Thomas said pointedly, allowing the hint of a smirk through to show he was joking – if only partly.

‘Do you have to be unkind?’

‘You lot wouldn’t have it any other way,’ Thomas chuckled, ‘Don’t tell me otherwise.’

‘In a way, perhaps,’ she said, ‘Goodnight, Thomas. And good luck.’

‘Thank you. Goodnight.’

He lingered on the back of the door after she left.

‘I’m bushed,’ Jimmy announced, snapping Thomas out of his momentary reverie, ‘See you upstairs?’

‘Of course.’

Jimmy hopped from the desk and waltzed past William, throwing a wink over his shoulder just before he too shut the door, signalling a very good night for the both of them. Biting the inside of his cheek, Thomas allowed himself a small smile and covered it with a final sip of his drink.

‘We should be goin’ up too,’ he said, ‘We’ve got another busy day tomorrow.’

William stood, placing his empty glass on the desk, but he didn’t move to leave. Instead, he stared pensively. Thomas huffed.

‘What is it?’

‘I’m not sure I’ll be the butler for very long,’ William said quietly, ‘My Dad’s getting on, he needs more help at the farm these days.’

Thomas nodded. He’d allowed William all the time he needed to pop over to see his aging father, something he had never had to experience himself, whether that was a blessing or a curse.

‘That doesn’t matter. Andy’s more than capable, or the family will finally realise the world is movin’ on from all this,’ Thomas said, gesturing up to the invisible house above their heads, ‘Your life is yours, you do what you want with it.’

‘That’s what you’ve always done.’

‘I’ve certainly tried to.’

William lifted his gaze. His oval face hadn’t changed much over the years. Thomas saw flickers of the meek boy who’d suddenly lashed out at him in William’s baby-blue eyes.

‘As we’re here, I’ve got news too,’ William said, clearing his throat, ‘Daisy said it was alright to tell you, given what will happen. We’re having a baby.’

‘What? Really?’

‘Yes, really,’ William breathed, ‘I can’t believe it still.’

‘Blimey… Blimey, congratulations.’

Thomas held out his hand. To his relief, William took it.

‘I mean it,’ Thomas said, ‘You’ll be a wonderful father.’

‘I hope so.’

William smiled and Thomas felt the subtle weight of time settling down on his shoulders.

After checking the back door for the last time, Thomas was the only person left downstairs. He poked his head into the kitchen, bathed in indigo shadows, and found that there was indeed no one else. Not that it would have stopped him, but the solitude gave him peace and ease as he slipped in to make the cup of tea he’d promised Jimmy. Each step let the weariness he felt back in inch by inch, until he was covering yawns in the back of his hand by the time the two teacups were ready to take up.

Like a blossom in spring, Jimmy’s rosy cheeks bloomed as Thomas handed him a cup. Sat under the blanket in only his underclothes, Jimmy looked every part a pampered lordling, teasing Thomas as he too undressed. The bed creaked and groaned as Thomas shuffled around to get himself comfortable beside Jimmy, picking up his cup from the bedside table and holding it to his chest. Jimmy sighed, slouched down and resting his head back against the curve of Thomas’s shoulder. He slurped his tea loudly through the silence.

The urge welled up inside Thomas suddenly. He craned his neck to look down at Jimmy’s gold curls flecked with silver.

‘I love you, Jimmy.’

Jimmy snorted, ‘Love you too, old man.’

Thomas reached around Jimmy and laced his fingers through Jimmy’s hair.

‘You might love me less once I tell you what William just told me,’ he said, ‘Daisy’s havin’ a baby.’

‘Crikey. Oh, bloody hell, does this mean I’m gonna get all his work?’

‘No, you lazy tart,’ Thomas laughed.

Jimmy grinned and rubbed his cheek against Thomas’s chest, a request for him to start stroking through his hair, sighing as he relaxed again. Obliging was easy enough. Thomas let his cheek fall to rest on the top of Jimmy’s warm head for a moment before he started his toil.

‘I s’pose we’ll have another kiddo runnin’ around,’ Jimmy mumbled, ‘We’ll be overrun soon, y’know. When are we starting?’

‘Firstly, we will be long gone by the time they take over, and secondly, why don’t we start now?’

Jimmy lifted his head. Thomas darted forwards with a peck to his temple.

‘How many?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Twenty.’

‘Well… that’ll keep us busy for a while. Better get started.’

Plucking Thomas’s teacup and straddling Thomas’s lap as he set them aside, Jimmy smirked proudly as he pinned Thomas’s hands to the pillow.

‘Go on,’ Thomas chuckled, ‘Do your worst, love.’

***

‘Why do clocks tick?’

‘The mechanism keeps time,’ said Thomas, opening up the small glass window of the clock in hand, his tools laid out neatly before him, ‘and it also makes a noise so we can keep time too.’

‘But why?’

‘It’s called an escapement mechanism. See – here, this swings with the balance wheel,’ Thomas said as he turned the clock over to show the innards at the back, ‘and that makes it tick.’

‘Can I hold it?’

‘If you’re very careful…’

Thomas smiled as he eased the small clock into Louis’ hands, pudgy and small, and chuckled as Louis kicked his feet. Short for his age, which Thomas was sure wouldn’t last long, Louis was a shy but eager boy, always barrelling through the door of the shop when Daisy dropped him off for the day and slowing right before he reached the till as though running would shatter whatever Thomas happened to be working on. His wheat coloured hair and big brown eyes gave the impression of a young faun. He grinned up at Thomas and leaned back as Thomas came up behind the stool where he sat.

‘Heavy, in’t it?’ said Thomas.

‘Hmm…’

‘Let me take it off you before you drop it,’ he said gently, ‘How about some of that apple juice from the fair?’

‘Yes, please.’

Thomas reached out as he lay the clock back down and squeezed Louis’ small shoulder.

‘Good boy, you keep an eye on the shop for a moment.’

He looked over his shoulder to see Louis crossing his arms and frowning intently out at the empty shop. Grinning to himself, Thomas dusted his hands off and set about in the tiny kitchen just behind  the desk for the glass bottle he bought last weekend.

As customers trickled in and out, Thomas allowed Louis to play behind the counter until, at last, the sun began to sink into the late afternoon. Orange light flooded the shop through the summer dust coating the windows, given music by the bell tinkling above the door. Wincing as his back ached, Thomas stretched and stood from the stool he had been perched on whilst he tidied the counter. The pain, and even the delighted calls of Louis, faded just a little as Jimmy walked into the shop, turning the shop sign to closed as he went.

‘Hello, Louis,’ Jimmy chuckled as Louis ran up to him, tugging on his jacket sleeve, ‘Has Mr Barrow been good?’

Louis nodded vigorously.

‘Have you been good?’

He shook his head.

‘As you should,’ Jimmy announced, ruffling Louis’ hair, ‘Got to give Mr Barrow somethin’ to do, don’t we? What time are they comin’?’

Thomas smiled at Jimmy, who absently placed a hand on Louis’s head. Jimmy smiled back, eyes crinkling as Thomas mouthed his hello. No greeting kiss today, but Jimmy smiling like that, like they’d just fallen in love yesterday and there was all the time in the world, was just as good.

‘Shouldn’t be long,’ Thomas replied, ‘D’you want to take him while I pop the oven on? I’ll warm up the pie.’

‘Oh, pie, my greatest love,’ Jimmy sighed contently, ‘Yeah, go on. Right, Louis, show me what you’ve been up to, then.’

Glancing over his shoulder as he left Jimmy and Louis to their fun gave him the perfect picture frame of Jimmy lifting Louis up onto his hip. That ache would never leave him. Thomas turned around, lingering for just a moment more. As Louis jabbed his finger at every clock he and Thomas had pretended to examine as though they were patients, Jimmy’s reactions grew to stupendous, ridiculous lengths, setting Louis into a fit of giggles.

Thomas looked down and smiled to himself, listening to Jimmy ask if Louis had tried the apple juice, before he padded away to the stairs that led to their flat.

By the time he was done eyeing up the large rectangular pie in its dish, glowing gold in the oven, Thomas detected a sudden rise in chatter from downstairs as voices piled in. He stood up straight, a hand pressed to the base of his back, waiting a moment for the low ache to pass. Thomas cleared his throat and turned to leave the kitchen, passing the mirror by their front door where he paused to adjust his tie. He grinned despite himself, the grey man in the reflection intimately familiar, yet, on occasion, still a shock to see. The top of his head fought on to remain black, though Thomas could tell it was fading, while the sides of his head had quickly paled to a steely grey some time ago.

When Jimmy was feeling romantic, he sometimes told Thomas he looked like a film star. Thomas begged to differ. In his brown suit, seams taken out for the thickening of his waist as his body slowed down, with all his aches and pains, he certainly didn’t see what Jimmy did. Jimmy on the other hand should have been on a stage. Thomas smoothed down his waistcoat, tilting his head as he listened to Jimmy call his name. Ever since they’d met, Jimmy had been the centre of his attention, which was almost the same.

Thomas left the door to the flat open as he descended once more, the voices growing louder, and Jimmy’s laughter pushing a smile into his cheeks. The short hallway before the shop gave him a moment to gather himself before he entered. He couldn’t look too happy to see them.

William’s broad smile as he picked up his son matched his broad stature. Daisy made him look even bigger, though, Thomas knew, she was the authority. He’d never make that mistake. Folding his arms over his chest, Thomas walked over, smiling at Louis. Giggling, Louis kicked his legs and leaned into William.

‘Probably good as gold, he always is – I’ve only just got in,’ said Jimmy, turning to Thomas as he stood beside him, ‘Louis was good, weren’t he?’

‘Better behaved than you,’ Thomas replied. He nodded to William. ‘Afternoon.’

‘Mr Barrow,’ said William, ‘Thank you again.’

‘I keep tellin’ ya, it’s not a problem. We’re happy to.’

Thomas slipped his hand along the middle of Jimmy’s back. William’s gaze dipped and rose again. He smiled at Thomas with a nod.

‘Are you sure you won’t stay for tea?’ asked Jimmy, ‘There’s pie.’

‘Thank you, but maybe next time?’ said Daisy, happy but exhausted, and Thomas could sense all she wanted to do was get away and collapse at home.

‘Course,’ Thomas said, ‘Not to worry.’

They saw William and Daisy out together, relaxing as the three turned from the shop to walk away. Thomas draped his arm over Jimmy’s shoulders and planted a kiss to his lined temple.

‘Funny pair, aren’t they? Always thought that,’ Jimmy murmured.

‘How so?’

‘It’s like they’re best friends, not husband and wife.’

‘Well, you’re my best friend.’

‘I’ve never even seen them hold hands.’

Thomas chuckled, ‘How twee of you. If it works for them, it works, don’t it? They’re happy.’

‘I bet they’re havin’ the same conversation about us right now…’

Jimmy sighed and wrapped his arms around Thomas’s middle as they watched a moment longer. Louis spoke animatedly to Daisy, stretched out from William’s arms, wrangled into Daisy’s as though his parents were a playground. William laughed about something, patting Louis’ back, smiling around at Daisy. They made a perfect picture.

Thomas looked down from the scene to Jimmy. Not as perfect as this one. Leading Jimmy away, he gave Jimmy a rundown of the business of the day, the customers that came in just to nosy around to the old lady who cooed over Louis. In turn, Jimmy told him he’d seen Andy in Ripon, only stopping for a quick chat before he had to rush onto his next piano lesson; every rich child in the area seemed to have their exams at the same time of year, leaving Jimmy to dart from house to house.

It was rare that Thomas thought about Downton anymore. Their lives seemed so full and busy that there was little room for it, and so the memories of Daisy scolding him and William trying to talk to him in the servants’ yard petered out in Thomas’s mind. Putting on oven gloves, Thomas grinned at the steaming pie he’d warmed up, earning moans from Jimmy telling him to hurry up. Together at the round little table in the kitchen, dominated by the pie, they ate.

But they only got so far. Just as Thomas scooped in his last mouthful, Jimmy’s hand came crawling into his lap, cupping around his crotch, eyes gleaming and keen. Leaning back, Thomas gave in. Straddling his lap, pushing down their pains for now, Jimmy held Thomas and kissed him slowly, hands exploring like it was the first time. It didn’t take long for Thomas to become achingly hard, Jimmy’s nudging into the soft underside of his belly. He knew he wouldn’t last long after he’d coaxed Jimmy to bed.

Thomas kissed a trail from Jimmy’s jaw, down his next, to the round of his shoulder as Jimmy lay panting beside him, half-dressed because they hadn’t managed to rip off their clothes before they spent. Just as Thomas lifted his head to tell Jimmy he loved him, Jimmy captured him first in a kiss, causing the world to fade into the background once more. Thomas smiled into Jimmy’s mouth and let himself be taken on the plush waves of kissing Jimmy’s lips. He wondered if he had the energy for another go in a while, after a restorative cup of tea. It didn’t matter either way. Thomas wrapped his arms around Jimmy and pulled him flush. They had time.