Chapter Text
-
Mummy was such a liar.
“You are going to have so much fun, George” , she had said at the railway station. “And you will meet so many new friends you aren’t even going to remember us by the end of the week” . And Granny and Donk had been just as bad. They were all “Make sure you will not forget us, darling" and "Have fun” . That was what they had all tried to make George believe about school, that it was fun . Now he knew they had tried to take him for a fool. All that talk about new friends and exciting adventures, all lies. Where were those new friends? And what about those adventures? George sure wasn’t seeing any. Just awfully many strange boys and scary teachers with squeaky, scratchy voices.
Mr Barrow and Sybbie were the only two people George could trust in this world, it was clear now. Sybbie had never once wished George luck or said he should have fun in his new school. Sybbie had just crawled next to George in his bed on his last morning home and whispered in his ear “It’s not fair” . And when George had asked Mr Barrow why he could not just go to the village school like Sybbie, Mr Barrow had shrugged and said “You tell me, maybe the village school only teaches four different kinds of curtsies instead of five ”. George hadn’t really understood the comment, but it had sounded terribly clever and quippy, just like everything Mr Barrow usually said.
So here he was, far away from his only two confidants on earth, sitting in front of a desk next to a total stranger, listening to a boring teacher drone on about something dull. George Crawley was going to turn eight this Autumn and his life was already full of suffering and pain.
And then he heard a whisper that changed everything.
“Hey. Do you want to watch me eat eight beetles?”
George met the eyes of the boy who was sitting next to him in class. There was a twinkle in those warm brown eyes and the boy was grinning wide enough to sprain his cheek muscles. The boy edged his hand closer to George. It was balled into a fist and when the boy loosened his fingers, George could indeed see beetles. He looked at the boy, puzzled.
“I’m Freddy”, the boy whispered, “and if you come to the yard after the last class today, you’ll see me eating eight of these. There are a bunch of boys going to watch me do it.”
George had so many questions. For some reason the only question he found himself able to ask was: “Why eight?”
Freddy looked at him like George had just asked him why dogs couldn’t fly.
“Because I have caught eight of them”, he explained. George made a slight “oh” sound like the answer had given him every bit of information he had needed.
Intrigued more by Freddy’s passion than the exciting prospect of seeing someone eat eight bugs, George went to the yard after the last class, looking for a group of boys. There wasn’t any, at least there wasn’t any group Freddy was a part of. Instead George found Freddy sitting alone, leaning against the wall of the school building.
“Nobody came”, Freddy sighed sadly. He was cradling his fist in a way that suggested that the beetles were still residing there. “I told everyone to come and see. I have never found so many beetles in one morning. Most of them are still alive! It would have been exciting!”
George didn’t really know how to make Freddy feel better, but he noticed that he really wanted to do that. He suckled his lower lip and sat next to Freddy, pondering his options. Then it hit him and he smiled, nudging Freddy gently.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” George asked. “ I want to see you eat them.”
Freddy’s face lit up. “You do?”
George grinned and nodded his head excitedly.
They ended up splitting the beetles between the two of them since George too wanted to try what it felt like. It was disgusting and when they went back to the school building, they were both grimacing and trying to spit the awful taste out of their mouths. George was sure he never wanted to eat another bug again.
But he had a friend.
-
“I hate this place”, Freddy sighed on the third day of their friendship. George nodded emphatically. They had snuck out together and now they were lying on the moist grass staring at darkening clouds above and getting their school uniforms nice and dirty.
“I’m sure Daddy didn’t even want to send me here”, Freddy huffed, “but Gran thought I should come here because Daddy went here too, so it’s all her fault.”
“My Mummy said this was going to be fun”, George mumbled sourly. “But the only fun thing here is you.”
“At least Daddy didn’t lie like your mummy. He just said that sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do”, Freddy said and rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand why I couldn’t stay home. We already had Miss Godwin teaching my sisters, why couldn’t she teach me too?”
“Same here”, George moaned. “I wanted to go to the same school as Sybbie, but I think they don’t have enough curtsy classes.”
“What?”
“Something Mr Barrow said. He is very clever so he knows these things”, George explained. He was very proud of how he pronounced Mr Barrow’s name nowadays. Mummy had taken George up to London to see someone who was “a pony artist”, even though George had not seen any pictures of ponies in the man’s office. The pony artist had said that George spoke normally for his age but he had given George some exercises to make Mummy happy. And now George knew so many ways to say the letter R that he was glad he had met the pony artist. These days George took particular pleasure in rolling his Rs in a way that Granny Violet had said sounded “horribly foreign”.
“Who is Mr Barrow?” Freddy asked. “Is he your father’s friend?”
“No, I don’t have a father”, George replied, but then he realized that Mummy would be sad if she heard him say a thing like that. “Or I do, but he lives in Heaven.”
“Oh, I see”, Freddy said solemnly. “I’m sorry. Fathers are much more fun than mothers.”
George had no idea how to respond to that since he didn't know enough about fathers to comment on such matters, so he just said: “Mr Barrow is a butler.”
“Our butler’s name is Templeton”, Freddy said. “But I do not think he is very clever.”
“Why?”
“Because he is old and has ugly whiskers.”
George could not argue with that reasoning. “Mr Barrow is old too, but he doesn’t have whiskers. Even though Mrs Hughes says he acts like a cat among humans.”
“How old is he?”
“I don’t know, maybe twenty or so.”
“That is old”, Freddy mused. “Why do you think he is clever?”
“Oh, he comes up with all these amazing pranks.” Now George got excited. “Before I came here he and I and Sybbie stole an entire plate of biscuits. And it was his idea, not ours!”
Freddy listened, his eyes wide. “He sounds like the best butler ever.”
George was giddy . “He is! And I haven’t told you even half of it! Like, I do not remember this because I was so small, but I heard Granny once say that when me and Sybbie were babies, there was a nanny who was mean to Sybbie so Mr Barrow threw her out.”
“What?” Freddy was perplexed. “Did he fight her?”
“I guess”, George said, shrugging.
“Can butlers do that?”
“I suppose they can”, George considered. “Or maybe that’s just Mr Barrow.”
Freddy nodded understandingly, clearly marvelling the heroic deeds of Mr Barrow. George was beaming with pride. Mr Barrow was his best friend and he was so happy to tell his new friend about him.
“Is Sybbie your sister?” Freddy asked.
“No, she’s my cousin.”
“I have cousins too. I like Lizbeth the best. Gran said I should marry her when I grow up.”
“That’s weird.”
Freddy laughed and pushed himself up to a sitting position. He looked at George and grinned widely. It was a strange grin that revealed a missing tooth and dug two deep dimples in Freddy’s cheeks. George had known Freddy for three days and he was pretty sure that grin was the best thing in his life now.
“Do you miss Sybbie?”
George shrugged. He did, but he didn’t really want to talk about it. “Do you miss your sisters?”
“I miss Mel”, Freddy admitted, “but not Gussie. She never wants to do anything nice, she just draws all day and is stupid and mean.”
George liked to draw too but he left it unsaid. He really didn’t want Freddy to think he was stupid or mean because of that. Sybbie didn’t like drawing as much as him. She liked it for a little while but often she started making it a play instead of just drawing. If she drew fish, she soon wanted to draw a shark to eat all the fish, and then she obviously had to draw a mermaid to kill the shark. Usually that meant Sybbie’s drawings ended up looking like a mess that didn’t actually portray anything in particular.
George did miss Sybbie.
-
“Miss Sybbie! Miss Sybbie, where are you?”
The secret door that led to the servants’ staircase closed behind Sybbie as she snuck in. Nanny Adams kept calling her but obviously hadn’t noticed where she had escaped. Sybbie smirked and descended the stairs. She waved her hand at Anna, who cocked her eyebrow at her.
“Miss Sybbie. Shouldn’t you be with Nanny?”
“She sent me to take a message to Mr Barrow”, Sybbie lied smoothly, throwing in an endearing smile to sweeten the ruse. “Is he in his room?”
Anna totally fell for it. With a smile on her face she replied: “He is in his pantry, yes.”
“Perfect.” Sybbie marched to the familiar door and knocked on it before going inside. Mr Barrow was sitting by his desk, reading a book. As he saw Sybbie, he put the book down and smiled. Sybbie closed the door behind her and sat down in a chair in front of Mr Barrow’s desk.
“Are you hiding from Nanny?” Mr Barrow asked with a smirk.
“Are you hiding from Mrs Hughes?”
“Touché.”
“Too what?” Sybbie frowned and cocked her head.
“Nevermind that.” Mr Barrow leaned forward and smiled conspiratorially. “Tell you what, if you won’t tell anyone that I’m avoiding work, I will not give you away to Nanny.”
“Deal.” Sybbie grinned. “Do you still have biscuits?”
“Now, biscuits cost more.” Mr Barrow tutted, but Sybbie saw that he was already opening his desk drawer to take them out. “If I give you one, what will you say to anyone you may encounter when leaving my pantry?”
Sybbie wailed dramatically, moving the back of her hand on her forehead. She sighed, with theatrical pity thickening her voice: “Poor Mr Barrow, why must he work all the time? He is so terribly tired from slaving away all day long, but he never complains.”
Mr Barrow laughed and handed Sybbie a biscuit. Sybbie hoped Mr Barrow would say something similar to what he said whenever Andy or one of the hallboys did something he liked, something like “good lad” or even “atta boy” , but she wasn’t awfully disappointed when he said nothing. She wasn't a hallboy, after all. Mr Barrow took one biscuit for himself as well and closed the drawer. Sybbie sniffed the treat and hummed happily. They had pinched these biscuits together with Mr Barrow and George. It was over a month ago now, but they were still crispy and delicious. Mr Barrow had pretended to have something very important to discuss with Daisy while George had distracted Mrs Patmore by being adorable. Meanwhile Sybbie had stolen a whole plate of these wonderful tasty treasures. They hadn’t even got caught since it had been a shooting weekend and Mrs Patmore had made enough baked goods to feed an entire army. Sybbie kind of thought that the plate was rightfully hers since she had been responsible for the actual stealing, but she didn’t mind Mr Barrow keeping them in his desk drawer, not as long as she could easily get them.
“Now, you mind telling me why you’re scaring Nanny with your disappearing act?” Mr Barrow asked, taking a bite of his biscuit. Sybbie shrugged, chewing for longer than it was necessary to so she could savour the delicious chocolate flavour.
“Is it because of George?” Mr Barrow guessed. It was a good guess, George had been gone for a month and Sybbie hated that she was beginning to get used to it.
Sybbie shrugged again. “I think so.”
“You think so?”
“I don’t know”, Sybbie huffed and bit into her biscuit again, chewing and talking at the same time: “He was the only one I could play with. Johnny and Caroline are tiny babies and I have to do everything when we play together and it’s exhausting ! I wish I could be in school all the time. Did I tell you that me and Jack and Eileen found a huge frog yesterday? It was disgusting .”
“How different our school experiences are”, Mr Barrow hummed. Sybbie didn’t ask what he meant, she was too invested in her own frustration.
“I like being in school. I can play with everyone. No one calls me Miss Sybbie there”, Sybbie said, then she made a face. “Except for Mr Molesley.”
“I will tell him not to do that”, Mr Barrow said. “I’m technically his boss, after all.”
“Thank you”, Sybbie said while munching somberly.
“Don’t you like being called Miss Sybbie?”
Sybbie shrugged.
“If I had a penny every time you shrugged today, I could start planning for my retirement.”
“I don’t know”, Sybbie muttered. “It feels weird. I don’t think I minded it before going to America. I don’t remember, really. But now I’m older and I’m in school and I know how much nicer it is to be just Sybbie.”
Mr Barrow nodded. “Would you like it if I called you just Sybbie? Not in front of other people, but when it’s just the two of us? And maybe even when your father is around, I can not see him being bothered by that.”
Sybbie smiled and nodded.
“Good”, Mr Barrow said. “How do you like your biscuit, Sybbie?”
A mischievous twinkle lit up in Sybbie’s eyes. “It’s very tasty, Thomas.”
“Cheeky”, Mr Barrow chuckled but then he luckily did just as Sybbie wished he would do and said in a scolding tone: “It’s Mr Barrow to you .”
Sybbie giggled joyfully. She was just about to tell Mr Barrow more about the frog she had found yesterday when she heard a knock from the door.
“Quick, hide that'', Mr Barrow whispered pointing at Sybbie’s biscuit while sneaking his own under a stack of papers. Sybbie couldn’t think of any good hiding place so she just stuffed the biscuit in her mouth, causing Mr Barrow to let out a silent chortle. He stilled himself and cleared his throat.
“Come in.”
Sybbie was too focused on chewing and swallowing the biscuit to turn around and see who it was, but she saw Mr Barrow standing up from his chair. But maybe it was not anyone from Sybbie’s family, maybe it was Mrs Hughes.
“Ah, Barrow. I see you have company. Is this a bad time?”
Oh no, it was Aunt Mary. Sybbie swallowed the rest of the biscuit so quickly it hurt a bit.
“Of course not, my lady. She just lost Nanny Adams somewhere so she came here to ask for help”, Mr Barrow lied like a professional. It was amazing, what a great liar Mr Barrow was. Sybbie wanted to be just like him when she grew up.
“Well that explains it”, Aunt Mary said, but was obviously not that convinced. “I have to admit, this doesn’t seem like the most hard-working search party.”
“We do what we can, my lady”, Mr Barrow said, smiling slyly. Aunt Mary laughed and closed the door behind her.
“I was hoping to ask you something, Barrow”, Aunt Mary said. “You do remember I am going to visit Master George next Saturday for his school’s visitation day, right?”
“I do”, Mr Barrow said. There was sadness in his smile, Sybbie thought. He missed George too. “In fact I was wondering if after you return you could tell me how he is. You know how fond of him I am.”
“That’s just the thing”, Aunt Mary said and smiled. “Mr Talbot can not join me and I was thinking whether you would like to accompany me. To see Master George.”
Mr Barrow looked puzzled. “Me, my lady?”
“I know he would be delighted to see you”, Aunt Mary said.
“If you are certain, my lady, I would love to visit him”, Mr Barrow said.
“Wonderful! That’s settled then. Now I must go upstairs, Anna will be waiting for me”, Aunt Mary said and opened the door. Before stepping outside she looked at Sybbie sternly. “But I know for a fact that you haven’t ‘lost’ Nanny Adams. Please return to her, the poor woman is in a state.”
Sybbie groaned.
-
“Mr Barrow!” George shrieked and ran right in the man’s arms, embracing him tightly. He could not believe it was truly him . George wrapped his arms around Mr Barrow securely and held on as the man lifted him up and hugged him.
“I’m glad to see you missed your mother, George”, Mummy chuckled, but she didn’t seem angry. More like she was pleased with herself.
“I knew you were coming”, George mumbled into Mr Barrow’s jacket, too invested in hugging the man to even look at Mummy. “Mr Barrow was a surprise !”
“Well I’m happy I am a surprise and not a disappointment, Master George”, Mr Barrow said and lowered George down. George was sad that there were so many other boys around, he would have wanted to give Mr Barrow a kiss on the cheek but now he didn’t dare to. Instead he hugged Mummy quickly and started telling them about the school. Mostly about things he and Freddy had been up to.
“So is this Freddy your best friend here?” Mummy asked.
“Yes! He’s somewhere here with his daddy, but we have to find him. You need to meet him”, George gushed. “Especially you, Mr Barrow! I’ve told him all about you!”
“All about me?” Mr Barrow smirked. “Heavens, what does that child know?”
George laughed and continued to tell Mr Barrow and Mummy about the past weeks and how he could not wait for the Christmas break. It would be a long break, a full month or so. It was shorter for some students but George was confident Mummy and Mr Barrow would keep him home as long as they could.
“Some boys can only stay home two weeks because their parents are so busy. But me and Freddy both…” George rambled when he saw something that made his face brighten. “There he is! Freddy!”
George grabbed Mummy’s hand and dragged her to see Freddy, who was currently pulling at his daddy’s coat and pointing at George. Freddy’s daddy looked up from his son with a smile but as he laid his eyes on something behind George, the smile turned into a smirk. The difference was a small one but George recognized it – he had known Mr Barrow for long enough.
“Daddy, this is George”, Freddy said, bouncing slightly while making the introduction. Freddy’s daddy smiled at George and nodded.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance”, Freddy’s daddy said. It sounded very adult and fancy. George wanted to use that as well the next time he met someone new. Freddy’s daddy was very handsome. He had a very cute nose and he was leaning on an embroidered walking stick that made him seem interesting and mysterious. His smile was warm and kind, as were his eyes, which were very similar to Freddy’s golden brown ones.
“You too, Freddy’s daddy”, George said and snickered when he noticed how funny the words sounded together. Freddy’s daddy laughed heartily.
“Why don’t you call me Philip”, the man suggested and winked. “Not many people do, but my son seems to have taken a shine to you, so I will allow it.”
Philip. It was a nice name, fitting for a prince or something. George smiled and nodded. Philip raised his gaze and he smiled at Mummy.
“Lady Mary, I must admit I am rather astonished. What a coincidence”, Philip said. “It seems our sons have found kindred spirits in one another. How do you do?”
“Duke. How nice”, Mummy said with a wide smile and took Philip’s outstretched hand to squeeze it. A duke ? Almost a prince, then, if George remembered these things correctly. “It seems ages ago since we last met. How long has it been, ten years?”
George frowned. Mummy was using the same voice she used when talking to people she didn’t really like. George recognized that overly cheery voice, usually Mummy talked like that for a while and after the person was far enough not to hear her, she would say something mean about them.
“I believe it’s closer to twenty, actually”, Philip laughed, his eyes flickering slightly to Mr Barrow. Mummy seemed to pick up on that.
“You probably remember Barrow. I believe he looked after you during your stay at Downton.”
“Oh, of course, Barrow”, Philip said, wincing playfully as if embarrassed. He spoke to Mummy again: “You must forgive me, I am terrible with names and faces.”
“No need to apologize, Your Grace”, Mr Barrow said stiffly. “You knew me as Thomas, after all.”
Mummy eyed Mr Barrow confusedly. Even George could understand that Mr Barrow had done something weird. Mr Barrow was his friend, but he was also a butler , and he had spoken to a duke without being spoken to.
“Ah, yes”, Philip said and smirked. “Thomas. I remember.”
George glanced at Freddy who was also looking at him. Their eyes were full of questions.
“He is ever so fond of my George, you see. That is why I brought him with me to see him”, Mummy said. “You know how children of families like ours are with our servants.”
“I know”, Philip chuckled. “I am the same with my valet. He’s like a second father to me.”
“That is funny, I think of our former butler the very same way”, Mummy said. There was a more friendly tone in her voice and for a moment George felt less strange about the whole conversation. Then Mummy suddenly seemed to spot someone in the crowd. “Crikey, is that Kathleen Topping with her son? Excuse me just for a moment. We came out together, I’m dying to have a proper catch up with her.”
And just like that Mummy walked away. George watched after her and wasn’t quite sure what to do. Could he and Freddy just start talking now? It would probably be the best option, it wasn’t like a duke would start chatting with Mr Barrow.
“So you are the butler who threw a nanny out with his bare hands”, Philip sneered softly. George blinked at Philip, who was looking at Mr Barrow right in the eye. It was a strange look. Like Philip knew Mr Barrow instead of just remembering him.
“I am a man of many talents”, Mr Barrow responded. He had coldness in his eyes. George recognized that coldness, he had seen it before and also heard cutting remarks that often came with it. It was what the servants called Mr Barrow’s “mean streak”.
“Oh, I remember”, Philip said, his eyes sweeping Mr Barrow from eyes to the tips of his shoes and back to eyes. “Congratulations on your promotion.”
“Thank you. Even though I have been a butler for almost four years now”, Mr Barrow said. “Congratulations to you. You found your heiress after all.”
“Thank you. Even though I found her fifteen years ago”, Philip remarked. “You would love New York, Thomas, a place of wonders if there ever was one.”
“I have been to New York”, Mr Barrow snapped. His jaw was so tense George was afraid it would cause Mr Barrow headache.
“Of course you have.” Philip smiled. “With Grantham, right? You made a fine valet, I’m sure of it.”
“And I’m sure you make a fine husband, Your Grace”, Mr Barrow hissed. The two of them were focused on each other in a way that was both interesting and a bit embarrassing. It kind of reminded George of what it felt like watching Mummy and Henry kiss – like he was seeing something he was not supposed to see. George and Freddy glanced at each other, and like from a common agreement Freddy slapped his forehead like he had forgotten something.
“Daddy, I needed to show George something in my room”, Freddy said. “Can we pop in there quickly? We’ll get right back.”
If Philip or Mr Barrow seemed reluctant to be left unsupervised, George and Freddy didn’t care.
-
Freddy closed his room door behind them and turned to George. There was a golden glimmer in his brown eyes as he looked at his friend. He could not believe something like this could actually happen. He wasn’t sure if George had understood what had happened, though.
“So”, Freddy started slowly, “your Mr Barrow knows Daddy.”
“Yes”, George admitted and grimaced, “and they hate each other.”
Freddy hummed but he wasn’t so convinced. He didn’t think that was hatred. He had an inkling about what it was but he didn’t know if George knew of such things. Freddy was only eight years old but he knew of something most boys of his age didn’t know of; he knew of men who liked men instead of women. Daddy was a man like that, even though he had never told Freddy about it. Gussie had explained it to him, when Freddy had wondered about some friend of Daddy’s who had often visited them and then suddenly stopped. “You know, Daddy doesn’t like Mommy like he should” , Gussie had explained. That wasn’t news to Freddy, Daddy had explained it to him already. And Freddy didn’t like Mommy that much either, she was never any fun. “But he liked Mr Ehle. But he doesn’t like him anymore, and that’s why Mr Ehle isn’t coming back.”
The way Daddy and Mr Barrow had spoken to each other really sounded like they had liked each other once upon a time. That they had liked each other very much.
“I don’t think they hate each other”, Freddy said and shifted his weight from one foot to another. How would he tell about his suspicions? “But I’m afraid you won’t understand it.”
George looked wounded, just like any child when someone implied they didn’t know everything. Freddy tried to ignore it and continued.
“You know, sometimes people like each other so much”, Freddy started, “that when they can’t be with each other anymore, they end up seeming like they hate each other? Because they are angry and sad and miss each other?”
George looked Freddy in the eye and huffed. “I know what a divorce is, Freddy.”
Freddy blinked. Well now he was confused.
“You know, when people are married and they do not want to be married anymore”, George explained, obviously savouring the fact that Freddy hadn’t known and now George was the one doing the explaining. “My Aunt Susan and Uncle Shrimpie are divorced. They can’t even sit at the same table without arguing.”
“So you agree”, Freddy said cautiously. “You also think Mr Barrow and Daddy might have been… Married?”
George wrinkled his nose. “Two men can not be married.”
“But they can be together”, Freddy countered. “Like boyfriends .”
“Ah. I had never thought about that”, George said. He looked as if he was deep in thought. “But how?”
Now they were back in Freddy’s area of expertise. He smiled proudly and announced: “There are men who don’t like women at all, and they want to have boyfriends instead of getting married.”
“But isn’t your daddy married?”
“Mommy and Daddy are more like friends. They just wanted to have a family because they like children so much and that’s why they are married”, Freddy explained. At least that was what Daddy had told him when he had asked why he and Mommy didn’t ever kiss or tell each other that they loved each other like couples in books did.
“That’s weird”, George said but then he clearly instantly understood that saying something like that about someone else’s parents was not very nice. “I mean… I guess it is kind of fun, being married to a friend.”
“I think so too”, Freddy agreed.
“But… Mr Barrow has never had a boyfriend”, George mused. “Maybe he isn’t like that.”
Freddy did know that having a boyfriend was something Mr Barrow would probably not tell George about, but he didn’t really want to say that. Mostly because Freddy was not really sure why it was something one should keep a secret, he had simply sensed it because Daddy had never told him about it and Daddy did not usually lie to him. So keeping it a secret was probably important.
“Maybe he isn’t, then”, Freddy said, shrugging. “That’s too bad, though. It would be nice if Mr Barrow was Daddy’s boyfriend, if he’s as clever and neat as you’ve told me. And that would make us, like, almost brothers.”
“But even if they really were divorced, I’m sure they wouldn’t want to be boyfriends again. I know Aunt Susan and Shrimpie wouldn’t”, George remarked.
“You might be right”, Freddy admitted. “I just find it funny. Being so angry at someone you used to like. It feels like something that could be fixed. So maybe it depends on the person?"
"Maybe."
"And I think Daddy may be a bit lonely", Freddy sighed. "Since I'm at school now and Gussie is getting older and Mommy isn't home much."
"That's sad." George's voice had gone more quiet, as if he was slipping deep in thought. Then, suddenly George said quietly: “Mr Barrow has never had a girlfriend either.”
Freddy laughed. They still had hope, then.
"So", Freddy said, "should we get back and check that they haven't killed each other?"
"Or kissed each other", George joked pointedly.
-
“Mr Barrow?”
“Hm?”
George hesitated. He wanted to ask Mr Barrow something but he wasn’t sure how. Mummy had gone to talk with the teachers and left him and Mr Barrow together in George’s room. His roommate was somewhere with his own parents so there they were, just the two of them, sitting on George’s bed. George still vaguely remembered that there had been a time when Mr Barrow hadn’t sat at all. He still would stand up whenever Mummy was around, but George was glad that he sat with him so his feet didn’t start hurting.
“Are you lonely?” George finally asked. Mr Barrow seemed confused so George continued: “Since I go to school now and everything.”
Mr Barrow let out a short laugh and said: “Do not worry about me, Master George. I still have Miss Sybbie back in the Abbey, don’t I? And you’ll soon be back for your break.”
George could have been encouraged by that but he noticed that Mr Barrow hadn’t exactly answered his question. That was suspicious, wasn’t it? “Do you have other friends? Other than me and Sybbie?”
“You know I do”, Mr Barrow said, lifting his eyebrow. “Mrs Hughes, Miss Baxter, Mrs Patmore…”
“But are they nice to you?”
“Blimey, what is this, an interrogation?” Mr Barrow laughed but he seemed tense. George frowned but he dropped the subject. Or at least he’d let Mr Barrow think he had dropped it, actually he simply altered his strategy.
“Have you ever wanted to get married to someone, Mr Barrow?” George asked. Mr Barrow didn’t seem any less tense.
“What brought this on?”
“I don’t know”, George lied. “You are my friend and I want to talk to you.”
Mr Barrow totally bought it and didn’t question George anymore. He hummed and looked at George’s closed room door as if thinking of something – or someone – that was behind it. Interesting. “Maybe I did. Not anymore, really. I think it isn’t for me.”
Well that was sad. “Wouldn’t it be nice, though? To have someone who likes you so much. Like Mrs Hughes and her husband or Johnny’s parents?”
“I suppose it would be”, Mr Barrow mused and shrugged. “But I wouldn’t know.”
-
“We need to make them boyfriends”, George announced. Freddy looked at him confusedly from the bed he was sitting on. George had stormed into his room after the visitation hours had ended and was now leaning against the door as if to keep other people out.
“What?”
“Mr Barrow and your daddy”, George said. “Mr Barrow is lonely. Your daddy is lonely.”
“And they are divorced”, Freddy added, mostly in order to show George that he hadn’t forgotten the new word he had been taught.
“They might be. And if they aren’t, they soon will be”, George announced but corrected himself quickly: “Together, I mean. Not divorced again.”
Freddy grinned but he realized that there was a hole in George’s plan. “But how do we make them boyfriends?”
George chuckled as if he knew all the answers to the world’s problems. He sat next to Freddy on the bed.
“Don’t you worry about it, Freddy”, George giggled. “We’ll wait until it’s almost our break. Then we will strike. They will not know what hit them.”
Freddy liked the sound of that.
-