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When Thomas had woken up that morning, he’d hardly expected it to be anything other than a normal day. All he had to look forward to was that Richard had said he’d be in York next week in his last letter, and Thomas had been counting the days before they could meet again.
Life as a butler was surprisingly boring for the most part; Thomas had expected more of a fuss after watching Mr Carson bustling around for the last 20 years or so. Not that he didn’t have enough work, he did, he was constantly on paperwork or checking supplies or ordering the servants about on their daily tasks, where his intervention was required. And he always went to bed exhausted.
For the most part, he was exactly where he had always aimed to be, a high-ranking position in a worthwhile job, secure in most aspects of life, with enough savings, with people who, unbelievably, cared about him, and even a romantic relationship spanning a decade – something he’d never thought he’d have. He should have been completely content in his life. He had nothing more that he wished for and his life was, at least for the time being, complete.
Except he couldn’t be content. Like an itch that he couldn’t scratch because he couldn’t locate it, an annoying feeling crawled into the back of his mind constantly. Like he was slipping away and there was nothing he could do about it. They say when a man reaches a certain age, he starts to look back at his life for the first time, and realises that he’s wasted his best years. Maybe Thomas was at that age. But… that wasn’t it, not really. Part of it was, he knew, but there was something else too.
Sometimes when he was looking over the expense ledger or making the itineraries for the next week, his mind would wander from the sheer repetitiveness of the job.
I’ll be doing this for the rest of my life, he’d think, I did this last week, and the week before that, and I’ll do it for the rest of all the weeks in my life, until I die, just like this, while allocating the downstairs food budget. And they’ll carry right on, with a new butler, and new footmen and housemaids, until nobody even remembers that I existed.
It was a morbid thought, and it set his heart racing and made him feel like vomiting. The first time he’d thought it, he’d managed to brush it off, but as time passed the thoughts got more frequent until Thomas constantly felt haunted by their shadow. He felt a desperation like he hadn’t felt for years – he had to do something, but he could hardly think what. He didn’t know what he even wanted to do.
The others didn’t notice much, save for Daisy, who kept asking him if he was alright and offering him cups of tea. He was grateful – he’d learnt to be – but a million cups of tea couldn’t fix his particular predicament.
When Andy handed him the letters for the day that morning, he rifled through them to see if he had any personal mail. He was a little shocked to find one from James Kent- someone he hadn’t thought of in a long time. It wasn’t absolutely out of the blue, Thomas and he had maintained correspondence for some time after Jimmy had left, but it had fizzled out for the most part. After that it was just a Christmas card from him once every few years, and even that hadn’t come in for the last couple of years.
For all that Thomas had staked his heart on their strange friendship all those years ago, their connection had almost disappeared as soon as Jimmy was out of the gates of Downton. Thomas had secretly hoped for a long time after that that the man would make plans to meet up, have a drink and a laugh like they used to, but it took forever before he even received Jimmy’s first letter, and a paltry one at that. And with all that Thomas had going on at the time, he could barely be bothered to make an effort either.
So it was with no small amount of surprise that he discovered as he read the letter over breakfast, that not only was it longer than any letter Jimmy had ever sent him, Jimmy was travelling up to the village that weekend, and expressly requested to meet with him.
Thomas was surprised, but glad, and sent a quick reply agreeing.
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Thomas was glad to discover that the next few days passed by pleasantly without too much mulling over his existence, but rather focussing on excitement at the prospect of seeing an old friend again.
As Saturday rolled around, Thomas took the day off and made his way to the Grantham Arms, not knowing what to expect, but his stomach rolling with an oddly familiar nervous energy that he’d experienced all the time when Jimmy had been around. The pub’s setting which hadn’t changed, combined with the nervous anticipation at seeing Jimmy, felt like time travel back to 1923. Thomas made his way around, but couldn’t find Jimmy, until he saw the man waving at him from a corner table.
Thomas was shocked to find that he barely recognised Jimmy, and felt a little foolish for expecting the golden beauty of Jimmy’s 25-year-old self all along. This Jimmy had lines around his mouth, hair greying a little, and a tired, sunken look about his eyes, and rings around it, like he hadn’t slept in a week. But the moment he caught Thomas’ eye and grinned, all of it vanished, skin glowing golden again, and his eyes becoming the half-moons that Thomas had spent countless nights dreaming about, all those years ago.
It seemed even time could not take away the natural good looks that Jimmy had always been so proud of.
Thomas walked over and Jimmy got up and shook his hand vigorously, still grinning uncontrollably.
“Thomas, old pal! How are ya? It’s been too long.”
Thomas grinned back, “You can say that again. Haven’t heard from you in so long now, I imagined you were off gallivanting halfway across the world like ya always said.”
Thomas took a seat, for the first time noticing a little dark-haired boy sitting next to Jimmy, crouched low in his seat, making him look small.
“Ah well, haven’t done much gallivanting I’m afraid,” Jimmy said looking away, “Been a bit… preoccupied.”
He chuckled uncomfortably.
Thomas shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, happens to the best of us, nothing to be ashamed of.”
Jimmy looked up. “Of course not,” he said a little defiantly, before falling silent again.
Trying to avoid any awkwardness, Thomas nodded at the boy next to him, “And who’s this?”
Jimmy perked up as he shifted to put a hand on the dark-haired boy’s head.
“This is my son, Danny,” he said, before turning to the boy with an uncharacteristically warm look. “Danny, this is Mr Barrow I told you about, d’you remember? Say hello.”
“Hello, Mr Barrow,” the boy said shyly.
“Hello there, Daniel,” Thomas extended a hand for him to shake. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said in a mock serious tone and smiled as the boy giggled and shook his hand.
“And between you and me,” he said and leaned in, “You can call me Thomas, if you want.”
The boy looked at his father unsurely for a moment, but ducked his head and replied, “Alright… Thomas. And you can call me Danny,” he added in a hurry and made a face, “I don’t like Daniel.”
“Fair enough, I think we’ve got ourselves a deal,” Thomas gave a business-like nod as the child giggled again.
Jimmy wore an affectionate smile throughout the interaction, and Thomas didn’t know Jimmy could even look like that. How much had he changed in the years they’d been apart, Thomas wondered vaguely.
“So, now I’ve met your son, what else have you been hiding from me?” he asked, lighting a cigarette and offering Jimmy one.
Jimmy waved away the cigarette. “Ah I’ve got another one. Another boy, I mean. And a daughter too,” he said.
Thomas’ eyebrows went up. “Bloody hell, you’ve been busy, haven’t you?” he snorted, “Jimmy Kent, family man. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“It weren’t all as rosy as it sounds,” he said a little bitterly before hurriedly turning to his son. “Danny- uh- why don’t you go up to the room while I catch up with Mr Barrow? See if Tom’s awake yet, yeah? Make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble.”
The boy nodded as he left, giving Thomas a “It was nice meeting you Mr Ba- Thomas” and a parting smile.
“He’s very polite,” Thomas remarked.
“He is, isn’t he? He’s a wonderful lad.” Jimmy looked chuffed.
“Are you sure he’s yours?”
“Oi!” Jimmy pretended to look offended but chuckled all the same.
The two men ordered their drinks and settled in.
“So who’s Tom?”
Jimmy blinked for a second. “Ah yes, I was telling Danny. Tom’s my oldest – just turned 13 last week. He’s a handful, that one. Gets into trouble wherever he goes. He’s got all the girls in school after him, too,” Jimmy added with a sly smirk.
He proceeded to take out a cigarette and light it.
“I try not to smoke in front of the them,” he said in way of explanation when he saw Thomas’ questioning look.
“Anyway,” he continued, “He reminds me a lot of myself at that age, y’know?”
Thomas wanted to laugh at the expression on Jimmy’s face, what with him pretending to look and away all nonchalant like he was stating a fact- and not blatantly showing off at the first chance he got. But the expression itself was so painfully familiar that it only made a tight feeling appear in his throat.
He settled for a wistful smile and a pull on his fag instead.
“Hang on a minute – did you say he’s 13?” Thomas’ eyebrows narrowed as he tried to do the math. “So he was born in… 1925?”
Jimmy flushed. “1925, yeah.”
Thomas stared. “You left Downton in ’24, if I remember right. Blimey Jimmy, what happened?”
Jimmy hung his head and let out a sigh of a man who had resigned himself to his fate long ago.
“What happened was I was vain, stupid boy, and I thought I could do anything and not face any consequences-like.” He took a long drag of his cigarette.
When he saw that Thomas was expecting more, he continued, “Mr Carson gave me a good reference when I left - you know that – and I found work quite quickly to be honest. And good work, too, footman to the Lord and Lady Capelle, in Wiltshire,” he said, and took a gulp of his drink that had just arrived. “But I bungled it up. Of course I did.” He sighed again.
“I- I wanted to be valet, see, and I was desperate for it, and you’d even trained me for it. But I thought I needed something to give me the upper hand over the other blokes, just to be sure y’know…” Jimmy stubbed out his cigarette and put his head in his hands.
“I knew their daughter - Charlotte – she had her father’s ear, and he wouldn’t deny her nothing. So I tried to go the same way with her as Anstruther. Honestly didn’t mean to go that far – but well… you remember how I was.” He seemed to try to smirk about it but the lingering shame turned it into more of a pained grimace. “Her mother caught us, going at it in her bedroom when everyone was in the hall listening to the King on the wireless.”
“Jesus, Jimmy,” Thomas breathed out, “I don’t even know what to say.”
“No, I know. I was a fool who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Made the same mistake twice. In the same year, too,” he flinched at his own words. “I have no excuse, really,” he muttered.
Thomas knew it had been more than a decade since these events happened, but Jimmy looked so full of anguish that Thomas desperately wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be alright.
“So ya got kicked out?” he asked instead, lighting a new cigarette.
“’Course I did,” Jimmy replied, “Immediately, and with no reference, obviously. And I thought that was the end of that, but,” Jimmy glanced up and met his eyes, “Clearly it wasn’t.”
“Right. Clearly,” Thomas echoed. It was all starting to make sense now.
“They left little Tom just lying at my doorstep after Charlotte gave birth – don’t ask me how they knew where I lived. They just left him there with a thin blanket and a note tucked in. They didn’t even bother with a basket, d’you know? They’re only shiny and posh on the outside, those bastards.” Jimmy flushed red in anger.
“Uh Anyway, it was… difficult at first - hard to find a stable job when you’re saddled with a newborn. I wasn’t even sure he was mine for the longest time, really,” he snorted, “But it became obvious soon enough.”
“Things got better eventually, though. We moved around a bit and then I met Jenny – my wife, got married, had Danny and little Emily and,” he shrugged, “settled down, I suppose.”
Thomas felt winded. It seemed the time after Jimmy left Downton, the time that he considered his darkest since the war, had seen Jimmy suffering equally as much, his own fault or not. It was overwhelming information to him, because he’d always assumed Jimmy lived a happy little life somewhere far away.
“Why didn’t ya write, Jimmy? You know I’d have done anything I could to help if I knew the state you were in,” he said, forgotten cigarette burning away in his fingers.
Jimmy refused to look at him. “I thought about it, really I did, but I could never face you after all that, y’know,” he mumbled to the table.
It was understandable, Thomas supposed. When he’d received Jimmy’s first letter, it was well into 1925, and it had felt more like a courtesy that an attempt to keep in touch. But knowing the circumstances now, he could see that maybe Jimmy really had tried to keep in touch as best he could.
“Did you- were you in love with her?” he asked hesitantly. He wasn’t sure how much Jimmy would be willing to talk about times he’d surely rather forget.
The other man glanced up. “Who?”
“Tom’s mum.”
Jimmy looked at him like he was daft for even asking. “Of course I didn’t. She was vapid and sheltered and silly as a housemaid. Besides, back then I wasn’t even sure about who I wanted- ah – I was, I mean, who I was.” He cut himself off abruptly. “That is to say- I didn’t. Love her.”
Thomas nodded slowly, feeling a little bewildered at the response he got, while Jimmy seemed to bury himself in the pint he was sipping, somehow going slightly red.
It made Thomas sad to think that his first real friend at the house, the first person who had known his inclinations and chosen to be with him regardless, who had shown Thomas acceptance without asking for anything in return, had gone through so much suffering in life. There was nothing to be done now, but maybe a change in subject to something else would avoid his friend feeling any worse.
“So, was it your idea to call him Tom?” he asked around a newly lit cigarette.
Thomas had meant the question casually, to have something to talk about that seemed relatively safe. Evidently Jimmy didn’t take it that way, as he coughed and spluttered on his drink that had gone up his nose.
“Bloody hell,” Thomas cursed as we went around to pat Jimmy on his back. “You alright, Jimmy?”
“I’m fine,” the other man rasped as Thomas went back to his seat, “Sorry, drink just went in the wrong way.”
Thomas nodded.
“Erm anyway, I named him Tom, yeah. It’s, y’know, it’s an alright name. Bit of an impulse, really, didn’t give it much thought,” the nonchalant Jimmy-face was back, and this time Jimmy wouldn’t look at him, choosing to light himself a cigarette instead.
“Don’t you get any ideas, Mr Barrow,” Jimmy smirked in that infuriating way that made him feel foolish, “that he was named after anyone we know.”
It was a classic Jimmy deflection technique.
The offhand manner had irritated Thomas massively in the past, especially when Jimmy was actively avoiding something that had to be dealt with. He would pretend there was nothing to talk about, and make him feel daft for wanting to. He preferred not to think of those times, and it was easy to pretend none of it had even happened.
Except it had, hadn’t it?
On one of those several nights that Thomas spent teaching Jimmy about fabrics and stain removal, Jimmy had produced two bottles of gin and whisky, suggested that they “Sod the training for tonight and get sloshed instead.” And they had proceeded to finish both bottles, lie drunk out of their minds, side by side on the cold floor of Thomas’ room. And Jimmy had balanced himself on his arm, grabbed Thomas face and kissed him, muttering “Thomas... God, Thomas…” like a prayer.
Thomas had woken up alone, lips bruised and near naked, with almost no memory of the previous night, or why he was in bed - tucked in his duvet like someone had taken the trouble to ensure he was warm - and not on the floor. And although Jimmy pretended that that night had never happened, Thomas knew it had, because his body remembered even if his mind forgot.
He eventually gave up on trying to talk to Jimmy about it - the lack of response only made to annoy him further each time - but took care not to drink too much around him either.
“If you say so, Jimmy, I weren’t implying anything by it.” he replied coolly and watched as the smirk tightened, and the condescending look in his eyes faded to something like vulnerability… but it vanished in an instant, when the other man looked away.
There was a time when he would’ve watched Jimmy’s every micro expression attentively, but now Thomas knew he was too old for these never-ending games.
Jimmy cleared his throat. “Tell me about you, Thomas, how’ve you been doing?” he asked with a genial smile.
“Oh I’m quite alright, been butler for some time now, although the house isn’t what it used to be with the reduced staff. And Carson kicked the bucket some years ago,” he said, “So did the old lady. Lady Mary remarried, and Miss Sybbie and Master George are going to University soon. The Bateses are still nauseatingly perfect. And… Daisy’s married again, to Andy, the footman that came after you.” Thomas looked around trying to think of what else he might tell Jimmy about.
Sitting there, with a drink in hand, in the afternoon light with Jimmy opposite him, he was struck by the strongest feeling of déjà vu, as if he was reliving countless half days he’d spent over three years, just like that, in the very same pub, with the very same man, talking about the very same people. Knowing that they all had changing lives, were growing old and moving on, while he sat there like he had a million times before, brought back the same gnawing desperation that he’d avoided for the past week.
To make it worse, for the first time in almost 10 years, Thomas’ mind reminded him of the fantasies he used to entertain, of exactly this, sitting opposite Jimmy talking with a pint in hand in a boring pub on a mundane afternoon.
Except Jimmy wouldn’t be a long-lost friend he was meeting for the first time in forever; he would be the man who stayed with him through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, loving Thomas and letting Thomas love him the way he had always wished. Thomas wouldn’t be listening to stories from Jimmy’s past from a decade ago; he’d be listening to him rant about an idiot shop-boy who couldn’t find what Jimmy wanted that morning, or how Jimmy suspected the butcher was charging them more than he should. He wouldn’t be a late spectator to any of Jimmy’s bad experiences in life; he’d have been there, first-hand, experiencing them with Jimmy and holding his hand as he made it through.
Thomas mentally shook himself. There was a reason he got over Jimmy Kent, and it was that the Jimmy-of-his-fantasies did not exist. At least, not in the Jimmy that he knew.
He looked over at the man opposite him when he felt a hand on his arm that was resting on the table.
“I want to know about you, Thomas,” Jimmy said with a strangely earnest expression, his eyes flicking, searching Thomas’. “Are you happy?”
It had been moments like this, that had come every once in a while back then, that had kept Thomas’ fantasies alive. The dreams had seemed almost within reach, as if, if Thomas pulled back a veil, they would come true because Jimmy-of-his-fantasies was who Jimmy really was, and everything else was just an elaborate act.
Thomas was suddenly tempted to break down and tell Jimmy everything that had happened, how much and long he had suffered, unable to carry on in life, especially a life without Jimmy in it. How far he’d gone in his desperation to not feel that way anymore. And how, even after everything, life and its miseries continued as though nothing had changed.
But he knew what Jimmy was asking, and he wished he didn’t. That even after 14 years of separation, he understood Jimmy perfectly because everything about him was etched into his mind.
Smiling gently, Thomas extricated the hand Jimmy hadn’t moved from his arm, “I am, Jimmy, I am.”
Thomas watched as a rare flash of open pain showed on Jimmy’s face before it slowly melted into a sincere smile, “Good. I’m glad to hear it,” he said, “Truly, I am.”
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They chatted about this and that for another couple of hours, Jimmy told him about his family and his work, Thomas told him about all that had happened in Downton since he’d left, the Royal visit, and meeting Richard. It was truly freeing to talk to a friend like this, knowing that he wouldn’t be judged or have to hold his tongue, or have to worry about hurting the other’s feelings.
After reminiscing a bit about the times they’d spent in town when their half days had lined up, Thomas finally asked him the question that he’d been skirting around the whole afternoon.
“What brings you here, Jimmy? I'm more than glad, of course, to meet you again, but why now?”
Jimmy hesitated.
“It’s for Danny. I suppose I wanted him to meet you.”
When he saw the confused look on Thomas’ face, he continued, “He- well, he’s like you, I think.”
“What do you mean?” Thomas’ frown deepened, “Or rather, I should ask, do you mean what I think you mean?”
“Erm yes.”
“Y’know,” Thomas began, “if it’s something stupid like you saw him holding hands with a boy once, or he’s having trouble with the other boys at school, you need not worry yourself too fast. They usually turn out normal enough,” he said with a dismissive glance, and leaned back on the chair to look outside.
Jimmy’s fist banging on the table snapped his attention back to his face, to see that the man’s eyes had turned fierce in a way he’d never seen before.
“I’ll have you know that that I’m not here for you to reassure me, Thomas,” he spat, “because I'm not in the slightest bit worried about Danny. I think he is the way he is because I caught him kissin’ a boy in Tom’s year. But I’m here because I want him to know that he’s not alone, or wrong or not normal.”
Thomas stared at the man in front of him, cheeks flushed and eyes blazing, and knew instantly why Jimmy was here.
This was not Jimmy Kent, ex-colleague and friend from long ago. That person had ceased to exist, possibly the moment he’d opened his door to his newborn son. No, this was Jimmy Kent, a father who’d do anything and everything in his power for his children, no matter what the cost.
And it must have cost him quite a bit, too, to put aside his pride and his own feelings, to contact a man and revisit the past he’d consciously chosen to leave behind years ago, because it was in his best interests. All for the little boy upstairs, who had no idea how lucky he was to have a father like him. But Thomas did know. And he understood what Jimmy wanted.
“You're right,” he said in a contrite tone, “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to him if you want.”
Jimmy looked guilty.
“Thomas I- I’m sorry as well.” He went from guilty to vaguely remorseful as he looked at him. “Truly, you know I am,” he said, and Thomas knew he wasn’t just talking about the outburst just now.
Before Thomas could reply, however, Danny, and an older boy that he recognised as Tom came in through the front door. Jimmy immediately straightened, “What’re you two doing out of the room? And hang on- did ya both just come in through the front door? I thought I told you to stay upstairs! Jesus Christ, Tom, why can’t ya do what you're told for once,” he sighed and got up.
“Why d’you think it was me? Danny was the one that dared me to climb down the pipes through the window,” Tom argued.
“You climbed down the pipes?”
Danny shoved Tom’s side and piped up, “Tom ya big fat liar, I told ya to stay in and not to make dad angry and ya know it- ”
Thomas watched, a little overwhelmed, as all of them began speaking at once, Tom shoving Danny back as they began squabbling among themselves but noticed that Jimmy managed to get the situation under control with the practiced ease of one used to settling these quarrels on a daily basis.
Thomas must have looked obviously overwhelmed as Jimmy chuckled and said, “You think this is bad, Thomas, you should see when the little girl gets involved.”
Both boys nodded solemnly.
“Yeah,” said Tom, “Emily’s a right bully.”
“And she hits really hard for a six-year-old, and we can’t even hit her back coz she’s a girl,” Danny scoffed beside him.
“Right, that’s enough. And you,” Jimmy said, taking Tom’s elbow, “will be sorting everyone’s things, clearing the room and packing everyone’s bags for tomorrow, and I’ll be watching, mind. So ya can’t half-arse it like you do. And Danny,” he continued as Tom groaned, “you can stay here and chat with Mr Barrow for a bit if you want, or you can help Tom upstairs.”
Danny quickly slid into the seat opposite Thomas.
“What? How’s that fair? Danny was out too!”
“What’s that lad? You want to make the beds in the morning before we leave? That’s very kind, I’m sure the innkeeper’s wife will approve.”
Thomas could hear arguing until both of them had gone upstairs.
Opposite him, Danny was swinging his legs and looking around until he caught Thomas’ eye.
“Hello Thomas!” he said, still sounding a little hesitant.
“Hello again Danny, how did you and your brother like the village?” he asked.
Danny smirked, “It were only me looking at the village ya know, Tom’s just ogling every lady we came across.”
Thomas laughed, “Alright, what about you then? Any of our fine ladies catch your eye?”
He pretended to fiddle with his pocket watch as he surreptitiously watched the boy shift in his seat, uncomfortable. He straightened up to look him directly in the eye.
“Alright,” Danny said, seemingly coming to a decision, “I’ll tell you.”
He motioned Thomas to lean close and whispered, “I’ve got someone back home. His name’s Peter and he’s not a girl.”
“Ah I see,” said Thomas, and motioned him to come close again. “I’ve got someone as well – His name’s Richard, and he’s not a girl either.”
Thomas sat back and watched as recognition bloomed in the boy’s face, giving way to excitement at the prospect of finding someone like him.
“Really?” He asked, and Thomas nodded.
“I- Does my dad know? About you, I mean”
“He does.”
“Christ Thomas, I- I didn’t even know he had friends like you - ah - like me, that is. Like us,” he stammered. “He- He caught me and Peter in the alleyway near the library, and – well - he didn’t beat me or anything for it, but he looked mighty unimpressed, I’ll tell you that.”
“Yes, I can imagine how that felt, but y’know as far as the whole thing with fathers goes, you've got quite lucky with yours. My father caught me too, when I was about 14, with the postman’s son. And my father was nowhere as kind or accepting as yours. I won’t tell you how that went, I think you know already,” he said and the boy flinched.
“I know bit, yeah, because Peter’s father’s like that. He’s always hiding from him,” Hurt flashed on Danny’s expressive face and he looked away.
He suddenly looked up, “Is that why we’re here? To- to meet you? My dad said that he had business in Downton, but he hasn’t left the pub once since we got here. And we’re leaving on the first train tomorrow.”
“You're a smart one, aren’t ya?” Thomas smirked at him.
The boy grinned, obviously proud of himself, “I am,” he beamed, “Tom’s the family dunce. And Emily- well, we don’t know about her yet.”
They snickered a bit, and Thomas asked, “Say, have you told anyone else about this?”
Danny shook his head. “No, but I think the boys at school know. They called me a girl and beat me up one day. Not too badly, though, so nobody at home really asked about it. Besides,” he blushed, “Bertie kissed it better.”
Thomas felt a small smile spreading on his own face, “Well, maybe it’s best you don’t tell anyone about your affair with Bertie, at least for now. Not even your mum or your brother.”
Danny nodded in agreement.
“But you should know that it’s all perfectly normal, even if people try to tell you it isn’t so, alright lad?” Thomas said, “Take it from a man who’s been that way for all his life and suffered through the worst of it – if you play your cards right, you’ll get where ya want to be, no matter how you choose to live your life.”
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Thomas woke early to walk to the Downton Railway Station and see Jimmy and his sons off. Jimmy stood from the bench on the platform where he’d been sitting, and came to shake his hand when he saw Thomas approaching.
“Thomas! I didn’t expect to- ya didn’t have to- ” he started, but Thomas shook his head.
“It’s no matter, Jimmy, I'm only glad to have met you after all these years,” he said through a tight-lipped smile. “And its been a treat meeting your boys, too. And Jimmy,” he continued sincerely, “Danny couldn’t have asked for a better dad.”
Jimmy ducked his head and smiled bashfully at the compliment. “I do try, Mr Barrow.”
“And thank you, for everything,” he added sincerely.
His mouth opened and closed awkwardly, like he was internally debating himself if he should say more. He rejected Thomas’ offer of a cigarette again, glancing back at the boys sleeping on the bench.
“I just- ” he began abruptly, staring at the cement-grey platform, “I suppose I wanted Danny to not be afraid, when he grows up. And not- not spend a lifetime running from himself. I know what it’d mean to him, meeting someone like him who’s much older and seen more of life, and to know that- that being the way that he is, it doesn’t matter really, if he just learns to be brave,” Jimmy bit his lip and met Thomas’ gaze, “Like you, Mr Barrow.”
Thomas was about to reassure Jimmy, and say he needn’t worry about Danny at all, that Danny would be just fine, he had a better start in life than most boys like him – when the shrill sound of the train whistle cut him off.
Thomas glanced back at the bench, to see that the boys were jerking awake and gathering their suitcases. Jimmy shook his hand again and they hurriedly exchanged goodbyes as he rushed to usher the two boys onto the carriage. Danny spotted Thomas and came running, a sunny smile on his face and arms extended.
Thomas knelt down with a grin of his own, and hugged the boy as he whispered, “Thanks Thomas,” into his ear.
As Thomas pulled away, he watched as anxiety clouded Danny’s face, “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” he asked in a small voice, “Do you promise, Thomas?”
Thomas suddenly felt like he’d been slapped, a swirl of sensations suddenly flooded him like a memory from a dream he’d long forgotten.
Warm breath on his lips, one hand caressing his cheek as the other gripped his gloved palm. Smooth skin, and toned muscles underneath his fingertips where they lay splayed on Jimmy’s back. His blue eyes, narrowed, inches away from Thomas’, corners of his mouth turned down, and his expressive face twisted in anxiety – the exact replica of his son’s expression now, saying exactly the same words.
“You won’t tell anyone, will you? Do you promise, Thomas?”
“Of course, Jimmy, anything.”
“Of course, Danny, anything,” he muttered in a daze, and cleared his throat.
“I’ll keep your secret,” he tossed the boy a conspiratory smile, “if you keep mine.”
The boy’s eyes widened and he nodded vigorously, and with another grin, turned back and ran to join his father and brother on the train.
Thomas waved them off as the train began to move, and Jimmy and both boys waved back through the window. Looking at Tom next to him like that, Thomas smiled to himself as he understood what Jimmy had meant when he said it became obvious that Tom was his – other than a slightly longer face, the boy was exactly like a younger version of his father.
Jimmy still looked tired and his eyes seemed to have more rings around it than the previous day, but Thomas suspected it was the result of their conversation than his responsibilities. He’d caught glimpses of the way Jimmy glowed with pride and happiness when he talked about his children, when Jimmy thought he wasn’t looking, and Thomas was, for the first time, glad that things had turned out exactly the way they had.
Even though for the longest time he’d felt annoyed and frustrated – at Jimmy’s careless actions and cowardice, his own helplessness when it came to loving him, their circumstances and the world around them, and everything else that seemed to stand in the way between him and a future of happiness - he realised that everything had turned out well in the end, even if it was not the way he’d have wished for.
He knew, that even if all his fantasies and hopes had come true, Jimmy would never be as happy as he was now, because fatherhood clearly suited Jimmy, and had given him the direction he’d needed so desperately in life.
Talking to Danny left him feeling strangely absolved, like his life was no longer meaningless. His existence mattered, to someone, and not because they had any relationship or history linking them.
It mattered because everything that he had now, that he’d spent a lifetime in obtaining, was an example- with the power to affect the way that someone he barely knew would look at his life going forward. It was the closest Thomas would get to leaving his legacy without children, and it was so much better.
Thomas realised with a start that he’d gone to bed the previous night, and woken up that morning feeling lighter than he’d felt in ages, with the desperation and the gnawing feeling gone, replaced only by a contentment he had never thought in all his younger years that he’d have.
He didn’t know how long he stood in that sleepy platform, and only moved from his place when the next train came chugging in. He unconsciously smiled as he remembered that in just another week, he’d be on a train like this, on his way to York to meet Richard.
He turned, and began to walk back to the Abbey as daylight coated the streets and the shops began to open for another day.