Work Text:
Mrs Patmore was ill, and had been sent to bed with Daisy’s assurance that she could manage the dinner.
And although she was quite capable of doing so, Thomas could see she was a little frantic just now.
“D’you need a hand?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. “I know where everything’s kept, I can pass you ingredients and such.”
“Do you mean it?”
He nodded.
“I’ve got nothing else to do, I’m not needed upstairs till we serve dinner.”
“Then I’d be very glad of some help, thank you.”
She fetched another apron, and tossed it to him.