A/N: My contribution to batesessecretservice's Secret Santa Exchange over on Tumblr. I asked both the blog and my Secret Santa if it would be okay to post early and they said yes, so here we are. miss-ute, this is for you! :) This part very loosely plays with the prompt, an unexpected gift.

All I can do is apologise for the extreme length of this. The whole three parts were intended as a oneshot (and that is how it is for me on Word), but I figured posting a oneshot in the range of 50,000-60,000 words would be a bit extreme...I can totally understand if it's a daunting/unwanted prospect, but I didn't want to keep splitting it into small chunks as it's really not how I read it. I hope some of you enjoy it anyway.

annambates thoughtfully made the cover size more suitable for FFN. Thank you! :)

I've tried not to delve too deeply into the army stuff as I don't know much about it and my reading just confused me. I'm pretty sure I've screwed up the time home allowances somewhere along the lines, but poetic licence...?

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

Passing Through A Screen Door

April

As was predictable with the English weather, it was another cold day. Frost had settled early in the early hours of this grim April morning, and had tenaciously hung around the picturesque Yorkshire countryside ever since. It would make a very pretty picture, but for Anna Smith it had lost its aesthetically pleasing quality when her poor old motor had sputtered and died at half past seven, leaving her shivering in the minus temperatures while she waited for the public bus service. Her mood had not been improved by the countless shouts from the school children on board as to why she was there, thinking that they were clever and original. She loved her job, but this morning she was in no mood for cocky children who seemed to think they were untouchable outside the school gates.

By the time she arrived, the beginnings of a headache was starting at her temples. The screaming and yelling on the bus had done nothing to improve her mood. She had a newfound respect for bus drivers. They were saints to put up with that. She'd never been more relieved to push open the staffroom door, the warm heat washing over her.

"You look like hell."

Anna turned in the process of taking off her coat, arching an eyebrow. "Kind as ever, Mary, thank you."

Mary Crawley shrugged elegant shoulders. "I'm a plain talker. What's wrong?"

"The car wouldn't start," she said grudgingly. "I had to catch a bus."

Mary shuddered, as if there could be no greater punishment in the whole world over. "You poor thing. Why didn't you call me?"

"Because you live on the other side of town." The posh side, to be more precise, where every home had a sweeping lawn and a perfect fence, like the American Dream brought to Yorkshire. Anna had a tiny flat with a boiler that was constantly on the blink, and a landlord too lazy to fix any of the multitude of problems. It was amazing how a town could have such a vast wealth gap between its residents.

"Well, I'll give you a lift home."

"Are you sure you're not afraid of being robbed at knifepoint?"

"Gracious, you're touchy this morning."

Anna scrubbed her hand down her face. "I'm sorry. It's just…it's one thing after another at the minute, and I can't seem to catch a break. I don't know why I said that." To be fair, it wasn't an entirely misplaced jab. Mary often refused to come anywhere near the other side of town because she had an innate belief that anything nice would instantly be stolen. Even so, it was a low blow, especially to her best friend.

Waving her apology away, Mary said, "I know what will cheer you up."

"What's that, then?" she asked wearily, moving over to the kitchen area to make herself a much needed cup of coffee.

Mary's eyes were gleaming. "It's career day today."

Anna groaned, spoon clattering out of her hands. "God, I'd forgotten all about that. How is that meant to cheer me up?"

Career day was notorious amongst the teachers, for trying to pin some of the more unruly kids in a room while they learned more about their life options was very much like World War Three.

"Yes, but hear me out. Papa has been put in charge of the army dispatches for today. I asked him to send along a couple of the hunkiest soldiers he knows for the event. It might be a nightmare, but at least we'll have some eye candy."

"Where's the eye candy?"

Anna rolled her eyes with a smile. How typical, Ethel Parks appearing the moment a man was mentioned. The younger woman threw her things down, hitching herself up onto the counter. Her skirt, borderline inappropriate, rode up further, making Joseph Molesley, who was standing nearby, choke into his tea.

"Mary was talking about this career day," said Anna, taking note of the disgruntled look on her friend's face.

"Oh, I'd forgotten all about that," said Ethel, her eyes lighting up. "Does Mary know someone who is coming? Is he hot?"

"Her papa is in the army. She's asked him to send along a couple of attractive soldiers, apparently."

"That is an excellent idea."

"I was thinking more of Anna than of you," Mary snapped.

If Ethel was offended by the other woman's tone, she didn't show it, simply shrugged. "I prefer policemen and firemen, anyway."

"Why?" Anna laughed. "They're all men in uniform, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but I've had a soldier once. Look how that worked out."

She had a point: Major Charles Bryant had made her swoon with his attentiveness, taken her to bed, got her pregnant, and left her high and dry. She was now a single parent raising her son alone. She tried to do her best by him, but she struggled.

"Policemen and firemen are sluttier, anyway. How often do you get an army stripper? I had a policeman on my twenty-first, my friends organised it for me. He gave me quite the present at the end of the night, too, if you get my drift."

Typical Ethel. Anna shook her head, amused, before turning to Mary, who looked decidedly less so. "You don't really need to bother with these men. I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

"Who says it has to be a relationship? Soldiers are posted all over the world at a moment's notice. You could love him and leave him. It's ages since you even had a date with someone, never mind anything more. I'm depressed for you."

"Not everything's about sex," said Anna.

"It's a bloody waste not to use it, though," said Ethel, snaffling a chocolate digestive from the packet left out on the side. "We're in our primes right now. We ought to be out for everything we can get. If you're not interested, maybe I'll give them another go."

Anna shook her head with an exasperated smile. "You two are impossible. Really, I'm fine as I am. When I'm ready for things to change, don't worry, you'll be the first to know."

"Spoilsport," said Ethel.

She only shrugged; no matter what her friends might think, it was true. Right now, she was content with the way her life was. She enjoyed her work with the children, and didn't feel as if she needed anyone else to complete it. In time, of course, she hoped she would find someone to share her life with, but right now her job came first. And that job entailed a lot of hard work and dedication, both in the academic side and in the pastoral side. In a town like Downton, many of the children had little, and it was important to her that they felt like they saw someone to trust in her. Her last boyfriend hadn't been able to understand that. It was why they had drifted apart in the end; that, and the fact that she had caught him with his trousers down with someone he had worked with in Leeds. What had made it all the more unbearable was the way he'd whined and pointed all the blame back at her, complaining that he hadn't felt loved or wanted, and Sarah Anderson from Human Resources had had a convenient shoulder to cry onto—as well as a convenient bed to fall into. Anna had been furious, then anguished—they'd been together almost five years, and that was all the love Steve had shown her—but there was one thing that she had not been prepared to do, and that was suffer fools gladly. She had refused to soften through all the phone calls and texts, ignored the gifts he had tried to lavish on her, and had thrown herself with greater dedication into her work. Leo, her fat cat, was the only man she needed in her life right now.

The bell rang for registration. Teachers sighed and downed the dregs of their drinks. Anna did the same, snatching up her handbag.

"I'll see you period two," she said to her two friends.

Mary made a face. "This is going to be hell, mark my words."

When the bell rang to signal the end of the first period, Anna's year seven class scarpered like rabbits escaping the fox. They were always on tenterhooks for the last five minutes, many of them already trying to pack up. Ordinarily she would not allow that behaviour to slide—she liked her reputation of being firm but fair—but it was a Friday, the last Friday before the Easter break, and she wasn't really in the mood for staring at a forlorn face all through morning break, so, just this once, she pretended not to notice. Her next period should have been cleared thanks to her class of year tens that were being forced to the career day, but she had been tasked to supervise for the next hour, along with a few of the other teachers who had also had their classes cancelled. She would rather have spent the time ringing round local garages to see if anyone could fit her car in for repairs, but she supposed that that would have to wait. Duty called.

The hall was already a hive of activity when she arrived. Chairs had been set out in long rows, as was usual for a formal assembly, and they were reluctantly being filled by teenagers who looked as though they'd rather be anywhere else. Although, she supposed, many of them were probably trying to console themselves that a day of dossing was better than actual lessons.

She located Mary and Ethel, united in this unsavoury task. Both were sitting with barely concealed expressions of boredom on their faces. Anna wasn't sure that that was a good example to children who already lacked discipline. Still, she slid into her seat between them.

"Has everyone arrived?" she whispered.

"I've seen the policeman and the fireman," said Ethel at once. "And let me tell you, they are both fine. I'm not sure how I can choose between them. Maybe they'll be open to a threesome."

"That's disgusting," Mary said grumpily.

"Oh, don't pretend you're whiter than white," said Ethel, her patience seeming to finally wear thin. "You've been seeing four different men since your split from that Matthew."

Mary's brown eyes widened, and she whipped round to face Anna with a ferocious growl. "I told you not to tell anyone!"

"I didn't," she shot back. "I thought you knew me better than that. I never tell other people's secrets when they've been entrusted to me."

"Yeah, as if it was Anna," said Ethel. "It was your cousin Rose I heard it off."

Mary's face was as dark as thunder. That storm would be most horrendous when it broke. Privately, Anna thought that Mary was foolish to trust Rose in the first place. She was a nice girl, but young, and she had the same wildness that lived in Ethel. It was no wonder the two of them had hit it off.

Before the argument could escalate further, Charles Carson, the school's headmaster and their boss, took to the stage. The hall, now filled, fell silent at once. He was the kind of man who demanded respect, grudging or not, and he'd been exactly the kind of man needed to turn the school around.

Clearing his throat, he began to make a speech about the importance of career day and how it sometimes shaped the course of someone's life, so they all needed to take this seriously and not squander such a golden opportunity. Anna's attention drifted a little, taking in the faces sitting behind Mr. Carson on the stage. It was easy to pick out the policeman and the fireman, togged out as they were, and she idly spent the rest of the speech trying to pick out where the others could be from based on their appearance. Which was terrible—weren't they preaching not to judge a book by its cover?—but Mr. Carson's lectures did tend to last for a long time. The woman on the front row was probably from a bank, based on that pristine black and white suit. Her eyes wandered further along. Hang on a second. Wasn't that…?

At the same time that her eyes latched onto him, Mary let out a long, suffering breath and muttered an expletive that made the students around them turn to look at her with over-elaborate outrage.

"What is it?" hissed Ethel from her other side.

Mary's pallor was a deathly white, perfect for Halloween. It didn't seem that she'd be capable of answering for a while, so Anna lowered her voice as far as she could and answered for her. "The blond man in the middle of the second row…that's Matthew Crawley."

"Is it?" said Ethel, craning her neck for a better look. "He's fit!"

"And off bounds!" Anna said firmly. Mary and Matthew were not together, and her best friend pointedly refused to show any interest in what her ex was doing now, or admit that she missed him so much that it was tearing her apart, but Anna highly doubted that she would be okay if Ethel started to put her feelers out. She was one of those enviable women who could bamboozle a man with her sex appeal without him being quite sure what had just happened.

"What's he doing here!?" groaned Mary, apparently paying no attention to the whispered conversation going on around her.

"I expect Havel and Carter have sent him along to talk a bit about getting into law," sighed Anna. "Mr. Carson did say he wanted as many law enforcement services to come along as he could get, to show the kids that staying on the straight and narrow can be very rewarding."

"But him! Of all the people they could have sent, it had to be him!"

It certainly was bad luck. Anna wondered how she would feel if Steve turned up here unexpected. It would certainly have her on the back foot, which she hated. Then again, she wasn't in love with Steve. Not anymore, if she had ever really been in love with him in the first place. Mary, on the other hand, was clearly still head over heels for her ex, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

On the stage, Mr. Carson's speech finally came to an end, to half-hearted applause from the students. He raised his hand for silence.

"In your tutor groups, we have organised for you to listen to half an hour speeches from each of the businesses who have sent a representative today. Please use them to gain as much knowledge as you can about each particular area. There's no need to be shy. No question is a stupid question. They're here to help you make informed decisions about the future. Now, we'll just let them go and get themselves ready for five minutes, and then we'll send you off…"

There was a scuffle of chairs onstage as everyone stood and began to file down into the hall. Students stared at them as they passed, as if they were alien lifeforms, but Anna paid little attention; she was rather preoccupied with Mary, who had sunk so low in her seat she had practically disappeared.

"Don't let him see me!" she hissed, and Anna dutifully tried to shelter her, keeping her back facing away while she sensed they had all passed. Mary poked her head out like a mole from underground.

"I don't know what you're making such a fuss for," said Ethel, idly picking at the sleeve of her cardigan. "I've bumped into loads of my exes before. No big deal."

"Never mind that," Anna said, cutting across before Mary could make a scathing retort. "At least you won't be entirely taken by surprise. You know he's here now. You can prepare for if you bump into him at any point."

"I don't think I can."

"Look, you might have to. It could happen anywhere. If the kids get one whiff that there is any tension, it'll be round the school in thirty seconds flat. He's in your territory. He's here to help the children, not to see you. Speak if you have to, and keep it polite. It's more likely that you won't have to interact with him at all. The chance of you getting his class is low all things considered, and you can avoid him at break times. There will be plenty of people you can surround yourself with there. Maybe you can keep the hot soldier your papa sent along company."

"But he was supposed to be for you."

"And I'd happily sacrifice him for you."

"Oh, charming, you'd sacrifice him for her, but not for me?" Ethel moaned.

Mary sniffed, looking almost watery-eyed. "You really are the best friend I could ever have hoped for."

"All right, that's quite enough of that." Anna stood, squeezing her shoulder. "If you carry on much more I won't recognise you. Now come on, we've got some talks to sit in on."

Mr. Carson, as organised as ever, had actually drawn up timetables with every teacher and every talk they were sitting in on throughout the day. Bemused, Anna took hold of her copy, scanning the order of classes. The rest of this period…she swore internally. Christ, that was not a good sign. Matthew Crawley. She glanced across at Mary's, wondering if she had been lucky enough to escape with her year ten period that afternoon. She had. She half-wished that they could change places. Facing the awkwardness didn't much appeal to her, either.

Mary's eyes widened when she saw Anna's own paper. "Oh, hell."

"Hell is right," Anna agreed. "Bloody unlucky that, isn't it?"

"Whatever he tries to ambush you with, don't tell him a thing. I don't want him to know anything."

"As if I would," she scoffed. "Sisters before misters, isn't that what they say?"

"Usually in a different context," Ethel said dryly. "And that's a load of bollocks anyway. I know which one is going to be shagging my brains out."

Ethel and her need to make everything about sex, Anna thought fondly. "Who did you land with?"

"The fit fireman," she said with a lecherous grin. "I'm just gutted I only have one year ten class. Still, it's only year sevens this afternoon. I could always slip out to see the police officer while they're painting their own takes on Picasso. What about you? Don't you have the bottom set English class as well?"

"I do. Mr. Carson has drafted me in for the fit fireman and the army guys fourth period. Sounds like there's going to be plenty of eye candy there." In the shock of Matthew springing up like an unwanted spectre, she had completely forgotten to scope out the army men. She wasn't entertaining idle fantasies about inviting one back for a drink and a tumble in her bed, but there was no denying that a pretty face certainly brightened the place up.

The students began to filter out, signalling the end of the conversation. Mary clutched at her wrist.

"Good luck," she said.

"I'm going to need it."

"Fill me in on every detail at break, won't you? Catalogue everything."

"Yes, milady." She mock-saluted, then slipped away, with a heavier heart than she was letting show. This was not something she was relishing. She almost dragged her feet to the classroom, her stomach swooping with sickness. Then again, why should it? He wasn't her ex. His breakup with Mary had not been pretty, but there had been no animosity on Anna's behalf towards him. Things would be awkward given how close she was to Mary, but they didn't have to be antagonistic. She could nod, smile, say hello, and keep out of it. She was there to watch, not to participate.

It still took a huge amount of courage to propel herself through the door. Matthew looked up as soon as she entered. Those piercing blue eyes sparked with unease, but not surprise. He had obviously clocked her and Mary there, and she couldn't tell whether he seemed more relieved or disappointed that it had not been Mary to waltz through the door with her usual regal and self-entitled air.

Fortunately, with the kids all around them, there was no opportunity to do more than nod in acknowledgment of each other. Anna settled herself in the furthest corner of the room and tried to melt into the background.

The talk went smoothly. Matthew had always been the kind of man who could get anyone on side, and it was clear that all the kids were engaged with what he was saying, even the more nervous amongst them. When it came to opening the floor, it wasn't like pulling teeth; many of them had thoughtful questions to ask about pursuing a career in law.

The bell for break time signalled too soon. Prepared, Anna leapt to her feet, ready to be the first out the door in the hopes of avoiding Matthew entirely, but before she could take more than a step, he called, "Miss Smith? Could I have a word?"

Many of the students stared, curiosity alive in their faces. Not knowing what else to do, and certainly not with an audience, she stammered, "Um, yes, of course." When none of the students moved, she snapped, "Well, come on, then. Usually we can't keep you in a classroom a second longer than required. Break time is ticking down."

With sidelong glances at each other, they sloped out of the room. Anna closed the door on the last boy's heels, taking a deep breath as she turned to face her best friend's ex. He shuffled awkwardly with the papers he'd spread out on the desk, probably to give himself something to do rather than really needing to straighten them. She folded her arms across her chest. She would not be the first one to speak. He was the one who had wanted to keep her here.

When he caught on, Matthew cleared his throat and said, "It's been a while."

"It has." Six months, to be precise. Mary and Matthew had had their splits before, but never one that had lasted this long.

"How have you been?"

"Fine, thank you."

"The school seems to be doing well."

"It is. Mr. Carson is doing a fine job of turning it around."

"With all of your help, too. They seem like great kids."

"Most of them are. Troubled and misunderstood for the most part. They just need that reassurance that someone is listening and wants to help them get where they want to be."

"You were always fantastic at that part. Mary was forever praising you." He cleared his throat again. Anna waited. They'd got to the subject he'd been aiming for. "How's Mary?"

"She's well," she said guardedly.

"That's…that's good to hear. I heard on the grapevine that she was…that she was seeing someone else."

Rose's blabbing mouth had indeed been speaking the truth: Mary had been seeing a number of men in rotation over the last six months, unable to settle. Matthew could be referring to any one of them. It didn't help that she couldn't glean from him any indication of who he thought it was; all of Mary's men were tall, dark, and handsome, the polar opposite of Matthew's golden head and baby blue eyes.

"I think there have been a few dates," she said carefully. Dates. Could infer more than one person, would likely lead him to believe that it was multiple with the same person.

"I see. Is she…is she happy, then?"

If Mary was happy, she would have settled by now instead of prowling restlessly from one man to the next, not interested enough to commit, needy enough to be unable to let any of them go. The problem was, Mary had only seemed grounded and happy with Matthew. He had brought out a softer side to her that was both rare and who she really was. She'd lost some of that when they had parted ways, and whatever she felt now was a pale imitation of what she'd felt with him.

Still, this was dangerous territory, and Anna did not want to make the wrong move.

"Look," she said flatly, "no offence, Matthew, but I'm not Mary's babysitter, nor am I her mouthpiece. If there's something you want to know, I'd suggest asking her yourself."

"I would, but I don't know how she feels," he argued. "She might hate me now, and you know what her temper is like."

"I highly doubt she hates you, Matthew." It was clear that the opposite was true. She might find it easy to share her body with other men, but her heart…no, that was exclusively his. She glanced pointedly at her watch. "Look, I really need a cup of tea before my next lesson. I can't promise that she'll speak to you, but maybe she will. She does hate to be predictable. But if she thinks that I've been talking to you on her behalf, she really will kill me."

Matthew managed a weak smile at that. Anna left him fumbling with the key to lock the room behind him and made her way to the staffroom. It would not do if they arrived together.

Mary pounced on her before she'd even stepped over the threshold, like a predator ambushing its prey. "Where have you been!?"

"Where's Ethel?" she asked, ignoring her.

"Chatting up the policeman and the fireman at the same time, what else do you expect? Now, stop dodging the question. Matthew's been interrogating you, hasn't he? What have you told him?"

"I haven't told him anything, don't be so daft! I just said that if he really wanted to know the answers to all of his questions, then he should put them to you and not to me."

"Oh, God, you are joking, aren't you? I can't speak to him!"

"So dodge him," Anna said exasperatedly. "Find those fit army men and surround yourself with them. Maybe he'll think twice about approaching you when you're with someone who knows how to use a gun."

Mary's lip quirked reluctantly. "I'd say it was a good idea, if only the army men were here."

"What do you mean, they haven't turned up?"

"No, of course not," said Mary. "I mean they've not turned up to the staffroom. So much for being my knights in shining armour."

On cue, the staffroom door opened. They whirled around in unison; Mary stepped behind her as if that would somehow shield her from Matthew Crawley's gaze, despite the fact that Anna was a good head shorter than her best friend.

It was not Mary's ex. Two uniformed men ducked down into the room. Anna breathed a sigh of relief. The army men.

"Here we go!" she said brightly. "Now you do have your fearsome protectors!"

But Mary groaned in apparent despair, slumping forward. "Oh, come on!"

Anna frowned at her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm going to swing for Papa! Look at what he's sent! That young boy there is exactly that—a boy! He's so baby-faced he hardly looks a day older than fifteen. I'd feel like a cradle robber even holding his hand. That's not going to convince Matthew."

Anna resisted the urge to laugh. Strange as it seemed sometimes, Mary was only twenty-two herself, not even a full year into her first as a teacher. There couldn't be much between her and the baby-faced young man, a couple of years at the most. It was easy to forget that Mary was so young, given her shrewdness and self-confidence in what she was entitled to. Hell, she herself sometimes felt the younger of the two, despite the six year age gap.

"Well, the other is definitely older than us," she noted, then giggled at the expression on Mary's face. "He's usually the type you go for. Tall, dark, handsome…"

"You are joking, aren't you!?" said Mary. Anna was about to ask why—older or not, there was something about him, she could feel it just from that second of his entering the room—but before she could say anything, her friend continued, "That's John Bates!"

"Oh?" she said in surprise. "You know him?"

"Of course I do! I've known him all my life long. He's Papa's best friend. Oh, I'm going to swing for Papa. I told him to send someone hot, so he sends a boy and a bloke I practically look on as an uncle? Unbelievable."

"You can hardly expect your papa to know much about hot men," Anna laughed. "He did his best. Think of it this way: if Matthew sees you with an uncle figure, maybe he'll run for the hills. That's almost as bad as a father."

"Papa and Matthew still get along," said Mary miserably. "And I'm sure John likes him too. No, this is a complete disaster. I'm going to have to hide."

"There's barely five minutes left. Matthew hasn't even appeared yet. And if you know this John that well it would look really rude if you didn't speak to him. Just go and say hello. I'm here with you."

"I really hate that you're such a do-gooder," Mary muttered sullenly, but allowed herself to be propelled through the crowd.

John Bates' gaze instantly found them as they made their way towards him. He grinned broadly. It was a very lovely smile, warm and welcoming, the kind of smile that made a person feel safe.

"Mary!" he greeted affectionately. "Robert said you'd be here. How are you?"

"Fine," she murmured.

There was a short, awkward pause. Mary didn't seem concerned about conversing further. Anna repressed a frustrated sigh. Typical. As soon as something didn't go her way, she sulked.

After a moment John's eyes strayed towards her, and he offered her a hesitant smile. "So, I'm not sure how much Mary has told you, but I'm John Bates. It doesn't take a genius to work out, but I'm in the army."

He held out his hand towards her, and she took it. His fingers were slightly rough, incredibly warm; he dwarfed her own. More than that, there was something there. A spark. It jolted down her spine; it took her every inch of self-control not to pull away like some silly schoolgirl touching her crush for the first time. She peered up into his dark eyes, half-afraid nevertheless. Had he felt it too?

If he had, there was no sign of it. He gave her another close-lipped smile that made lovely deep crinkles appear around his eyes.

Fighting off the urge to look down, she said, "I'm Anna Smith, head of English."

"English, eh? That was the subject I fancied at school. I actually studied it at university. I might have pursued it further if I hadn't made other choices."

"You have good tastes, Sergeant Bates."

They were still gripping each other's hands. Aware that Mary was practically drilling a hole in her head with her shrewd gaze, Anna dropped it, clearing her throat, a little off-kilter. God, where had that come from?

John merely shrugged. "This is Private William Mason," he said, motioning to the lad beside him.

"Nice to meet you, Private Mason," she said, offering her hand to him too. There. Nothing out of the ordinary about it.

"Just William, please," he replied, pinking.

"I didn't know Papa was sending you," said Mary, an accusatory edge to her tone, as if it was their fault that they didn't live up to the expectations she had set in her own mind. "I was under the impression we'd be getting something…else."

John's eyes twinkled. He seemed to know exactly what Mary wasn't quite saying. "I was coming up to the area today, and Robert didn't see the point in disturbing anyone else when I would be on the doorstep. And he thought it would be good for the kids to see someone who had risen through the ranks, give them a taste of ambition and what they might be rewarded with if they worked hard. And William here is only just out of school himself, really. He's a good representative of their age group."

"I think Robert's thinking is spot on," said Anna, ignoring the glare her friend shot her. "The kids here need that sort of thing. They're a good bunch, really, but they just need a bit of guidance. I think they'll be interested in hearing what you have to say."

"The first lot responded pretty well, actually, didn't they, Will?" said John.

William nodded. He seemed a bit awkward in his surroundings, tall and gangling and nervous. Anna offered him a smile.

"Well, I'm certainly looking forward to hearing you speak," she said.

John's eyebrows rose. "I didn't realise you were coming along."

"The first half of period four, straight after lunch."

The bell rang. The teachers stirred back into life, hastily downing the rest of their cups of coffee and cramming the remains of their biscuits into their mouths. Anna hadn't even managed a drink. It would be a long time until dinner, especially with the boisterous class of year eights she had. No longer the babies of the school, they always felt they could play up. They were probably Anna's least favourite year to teach, but the timetable gods had conspired against her. So far, she had fared more successfully than some of the others. Poor Joseph Molesley had been subjected to cruel character drawings and rolled up paper thrown at his head.

Even then, she was glad when the bell sounded for dinner; the genius of Twelfth Night had been lost to the majority of them. It would be nice to take a brief break to listen to John Bates and William Mason talk about their experiences before she tackled poetry with her year twelves.

She found Mary sitting in the back corner of the staffroom, picking morosely through her salad. She slipped into the seat opposite her, pulling out her own packed lunch.

"Still avoiding Matthew, I see?" she said, indicating how low she was in her seat.

"I'm hoping he's avoiding me," Mary said. "I haven't seen him in here yet."

"I wouldn't blame him, with the scowl on your face. You look ready to kill whoever approaches."

"It's my greatest weapon," she said sardonically, then groaned. "Oh, God, help us."

Anna turned, expecting to see Matthew Crawley approaching after all, but it was only Ethel. She was grinning manically.

"Scored," she announced as she flopped down on Anna's other side.

"Who with?" Anna asked in amusement.

"Oh, with both Darren and Josh," she said. "Darren is the policeman, and Josh is the fireman."

"So how are you going to decide which one to go for? Is one beating the other yet?"

"Not yet," she said. "Darren is better looking, but I think Josh has a bit of a bad boy edge, and I like that."

"It's not always a good thing, though," Anna warned. That was precisely what had attracted her to Charles Bryant. Someone steadier would probably be a good influence on her, but she would have to come to that realisation on her own terms.

"And what about you?" asked Ethel, popping a crisp into her mouth. "Are those army guys fit? I haven't seen them yet."

"Mary doesn't think so," she said. "One of them is her father's best friend. The other is a bit young."

"Hmm." Ethel pursed her lips in mock-contemplation. "That throws something else into the mix. Older men are usually great in bed. They've got a bit more experience and by that point they're so grateful to you for shagging them that they'll do absolutely anything for you. How young is the other?"

Anna shrugged. "Maybe about twenty, twenty-one."

"And he has the virility of youth. You'd be at it at all hours with someone like that. Tough choice."

"There's no choice to have," Anna giggled. "Private Mason is too young for my tastes."

"So you'd go for the great sex with experience."

"I never said that. I just made an observation. I wouldn't really be interested in a toyboy."

"Ah, but you said that Mary doesn't think they're fit. You made no mention of yourself. What does that tell me?"

"It tells you nothing, other than I'm not biased against Sergeant Bates just because of how close he is to Robert."

"Keep telling yourself that," said Ethel.

"Can we change the subject?" Mary asked grumpily.

"If you want. Are you going to watch that prison documentary tonight?" said Anna.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ethel muttered, and dived into her phone.

"What?" said Anna. "If Mary stopped being a grouch…"

The voice behind them cut her off. "Hello."

All three of them whirled around in unison, Mary's face darkening further.

Matthew.

He stood behind them as if he wasn't quite certain that he hadn't walked towards the gallows. As unpleasant as the situation could turn out to be, Anna had to suppress a snort of laughter; she had never seen a more terrified man. Mary was going to eat him alive.

"Do-do you think we can talk?" he said.

"Be my guest," said Ethel.

"No," snapped Mary, shooting her a venomous look. "There's nothing left to say."

"I think there's a great deal more to say." Matthew's voice quivered, but he stood tall. "Please, Mary, let's go somewhere we can talk."

"No," she said again.

"Very well. I'll do it here, in front of everyone."

"You will not!"

"Watch me. I won't stand by silently, not anymore."

May glowered, but Anna touched her knee.

"Go," she murmured. "Just hear him out."

"Why should I!?"

"I'm not saying you have to do anything. But isn't it better to do it in privacy rather than in front of us all? You don't want an audience, trust me."

Mary looked as if she was going to stubbornly resist, but she must have seen the determined look in Matthew's eyes that let them all know that he wasn't bluffing, for she jerked her head.

"My classroom," she said tersely. "Five minutes. I'm timing."

Matthew nodded, waiting while she rose. She swept across the room like a storm cloud, a gulf between their bodies. For a brief moment, Anna felt sorry for the young man.

Ethel punched her arm as soon as they'd gone. "What did you do that for?"

What did you do that for?" she retorted reproachfully, rubbing the sore spot.

"Oh, come on, that was going to be the best entertainment the staffroom has ever seen! I had the popcorn ready to go!"

"You know something? You can be so bloody insensitive sometimes," said Anna, and refused to speak again until the bell rang to signal the start of the afternoon. Ethel flounced off without a backwards glance. Mary and Matthew had not returned. Anna wasn't sure if that should worry her or not. She had visions of Mary murdering him and hiding his dead body somewhere on the grounds.

"Can I walk with you, Miss Smith?"

She jumped, and she spun around to find Sergeant Bates standing behind her. She flushed as Ethel's candid words about an older man's sexual prowess slipped inadvertently into her mind. Christ, what was wrong with her?

"What?" she squeaked.

He chuckled. "You said that you're sitting in on our next talk. I was wondering if you'd walk with me now. William has gone ahead to make sure everything is in order. He's better at the technology side than I am. Bit of a dinosaur, I'm afraid."

"I'm sure you're not," she said, pulling herself together. "Yes, of course we can walk together. Sorry, I was miles away then."

"Thinking about Mary and Matthew?" he asked as she gathered her things together. "I saw them leaving."

"How well do you know them?"

"I don't know Matthew very well, but he always seemed like a fine young man on the occasions that I met him, and Robert loves him like a son. He was in a mood for weeks when they broke up."

"How much do you know about it?"

"Not much. I didn't ask too many questions. I prefer not to get involved in those kinds of things, and I had enough on my own plate." He did not answer her questioning look, and Anna thought it best not to press.

"I wish I could have had that luxury sometimes," she said instead. "But it comes with the territory of being Mary's best friend."

"Do you think there's any way back for them?" he said. The air was brisk as they stepped back outside, and they hurried around the quad, dodging between the masses of students as they surged towards their next classes.

Anna shrugged. "God knows."

They fell into a comfortable silence the rest of the way, and he gave her a little smile as they parted at the classroom door. Anna took her place at the back, settling down to observe as twenty curious boys and girls waited to hear the next talk in this career day.

"Good afternoon, everyone," John began. "I know it's always difficult to concentrate after a good feed, so we'll try and keep this as interesting as possible. We don't want to put you to sleep. My name is Sergeant John Bates."

"And I'm Private William Mason."

"We're not here to try to get you to sign up to the army. We're just here to give you all the facts. Most of you will probably leave here thinking that you'd rather do anything else in the world but this. Maybe one or two of you will decide you've found your calling. Don't worry, we're not going to ask you for a raise of hands."

"We're not here to throw statistics at you, either. I think the army, maybe more so than any other kind of job, is all about a personal calling. Of finding that something inside that just clicks. Sergeant Bates and I are going to tell you our own personal stories."

They made a good team, Anna thought. Flowed well around each other, had a good, strong energy. It was clear from the way that the kids were sitting that they were engaged with the dynamics, no mean feat against how difficult they could sometimes be.

"I guess we'll start with me," said John, clicking a button on the laptop. The welcoming first slide of the presentation disappeared to be replaced by a photograph.

Laughter rose up.

"Yes, I know," he said good-naturedly. "I look bloody awful. In fairness to me, everyone looked terrible in the eighties."

"You look like a bad porn star, sir!" one lad hollered. The laughter swelled again.

"That 'tache is the worst thing I've ever seen!"

"What's with the long hair?"

John took the banter with a smile. Anna stifled her own smile behind her hand. It wasn't the most flattering picture she had ever seen. The John Bates in the photo couldn't be more than seventeen. His hair tumbled in thick curls down to his shoulders, and his facial hair was impressive for someone so young. He was dressed in some leather disaster. Anna determinedly tried to focus her attention on his face, because those tight trousers left nothing to the imagination, even in black and white. He looked moodily out, perhaps a tribute to Jim Morrison.

Still, it was easy to see, even from such a ridiculous picture, just how he had matured into the man he was today. He might have been enough for her seventeen year old self to feel the very first stirrings of interest had they been around at the same time.

She consciously stopped herself from thinking him handsome, as he stood there before her in real time, soulful eyes twinkling. It was just Ethel's stupid words, putting ideas in her head. It was because of all the stupid sex talk, subconsciously making her realise just how long it had been.

"So, this was me," John continued. "Back then, I was just leaving school. I went on to university, to study English, as it happens. I got my degree, and then I was stuck. I wasn't really sure what else to do. I hadn't given it enough thought. And then life happened. I needed something stable, if not secure in terms of my life. I had moved from Ireland as a child, then from Scotland down to London, so I was not a stranger to the nomadic lifestyle. Joining the army was my chance to see the world and try to make it a better place at the same time. So I enlisted."

He clicked again, and the picture dissolved into another, this time of John with a group of other young men. All seemed to be dressed in fresh, crisp uniform, baby-faced, innocently ready to take on the world. Anna spied Robert Crawley to John's left, a curly mop of hair beneath his hat, a wide, toothy grin in contrast to John's solemnness. John had short hair now, and was clean shaven. It certainly suited him better.

"My story is a little different," said William, stepping forward. Now the picture of John was replaced by one of a gangly young lad who did not seem to fit into his school uniform. "Unlike Sergeant Bates, I didn't go to university. In fact, I failed my exams. I felt stupid. I felt like a failure. I felt as if all my prospects had slipped away from me. I couldn't get the job I wanted because it required qualifications. My parents tried to encourage me down another route, into the manual labour sector. I went with it because I felt it was the least I owed them, but I wasn't really happy. It wasn't what I wanted to do. Which was when I saw the advertisement for the army. I had never really given it a thought before, but it stirred something in me."

The picture changed again, transitioning to one of William standing tall and proud in his new uniform; now he really did seem to fit.

"I'd never been away from home before," he continued. "But I grew into it. I became a new man. I felt like I belonged. The army doesn't care if you come with a PhD or nothing. Every man is only worth what he brings to the table, and by the end of training, you're surrounded by men who are brothers, who would lay down their lives in a heartbeat for you. It's a humbling thought."

"What's the training like?" asked one of the boys, Jace.

"The hardest thing you'll probably ever do," answered John. "It's gruelling. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. Sometimes you'll wonder what the hell you're doing. Sometimes you'll want to hate those above you because they can treat you tough. It's those very things that will show you what you're really made of. Work hard, and there's no limit to what you can achieve."

"You'll see things that you never thought you'd see and do things you'd never thought you'd do."

"Is it hard to fit back into civilian life?" asked Jessica.

"It depends. It can be very difficult. There have been times when I've been at home and I've felt so disconnected from everyone around me. That's probably the hardest thing of all, your loved ones not being able to truly understand just what you've seen and been through. Sometimes you feel so alone, and don't feel yourself again until you're back with your comrades."

How often did they feel like that, Anna wondered. Both men seemed confident and composed here, but were they masks to hide their true feelings? She'd seen enough of war simply through the TV on the evening news, reports of deaths and destruction seemingly every day from Afghanistan. It was almost unbearable for her to think about it now; God knew how much more difficult it must be to live with it every single day. And how must it be for those families left behind, fearing every day when they turned on the telly that they would see their son's or husband's or father's face staring out at them, gone forever?

"Have you ever killed someone?" asked Billy, rather tactlessly. All eyes were riveted on the two army men.

"There's no getting out of that, no matter how much you might want to," John said slowly.

"Must make you feel good, though, wiping out the bad guys!"

"It's not always as simple as that," said William. "Things aren't just black and white. You're doing something wrong if you ever feel good about wiping out another human life. We're doing our duties, but it's not easy."

"I realise that we're running out of time now, so we'd better summarise," said John. "The army really is a fantastic prospect for anyone from any walk of life, man or woman. It's the chance to do some good in the world and maybe even help to bring peace to conflicted land. It gives you the chance to travel and gives you the chance to push yourself to the limit. The work is often varied and exciting. It is far from easy, but if you can hack it, the rewards are huge. And we're always looking for young, dedicated new recruits. You guys could be our future."

"Do you have any more questions?" William asked the room.

Several hands shot up at once. Anna watched as the two men worked their way around them, speaking baldly about their own experiences. The kids would appreciate that. Most were more worldly than any fifteen year old should be.

"What about the uniform?" asked TJ when it was his turn, ever the class clown. "Does it help you score all the hot chicks?"

Peals of laughter rang out at that. Typical. It had been going so well.

But rather than get flustered, the two men only grinned.

"I don't know anything about that, I'm afraid," said William. "I already have a girlfriend."

"Did you not meet her when you were in the uniform?"

"Oh, no. We were together before I joined the army."

"That sucks," said TJ. "What about you, sergeant? Did you pull all the fit birds?"

Instinctively, Anna's eyes flitted down to John's left hand. No wedding band glittered there. Of course, that didn't mean anything. Not every couple got married these days.

"I'm a bit past my sell by date in that respect, I'm afraid," he said good-naturedly.

"Bet there are some MILFs out there who'd want you, though!"

"I have no idea what that means, but I'm going to take it as a compliment."

"You should, sir. It means—"

"All right, that's more than enough," interrupted Anna firmly. "If that's the end of the sensible questions, then I think we should leave it there. There's only a minute left, anyway."

A chorus of groans rang out, students pleading to stay and hear more.

"No," she repeated. "You've got to hear the fire brigade's talk next. Now, come on, time's up."

The kids dragged their feet with many sullen looks. Anna ignored them, waiting for the last one to pass before turning to address the two men.

"Thank you so much for this," she said. "It was very, very interesting, and very inspiring too."

John cast her a boyish grin that made his eyes crinkle. "I'm glad you think so. I take it that you enjoyed it too?"

"I did. Very much so."

They held each other's gazes for a moment, until a bang from William startled them. Shaking her head, Anna turned away, moving towards the door so she could catch up with the rest of her class.

She had a feeling that John Bates was staring after her as she went.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and soon the bell for home time was ringing. Thank God. She'd almost forgotten about her car troubles in the events of the day, but still needed to get it to a garage. At least it was the Easter break. She had a bit of time to sort out her affairs.

Collecting her things together, she made her way towards the staffroom, where she had agreed to meet Mary. Passing teachers wished her a good break, and she returned the sentiment, already thinking longingly of the days of lie-ins she had in front of her.

Mary was nowhere in sight when she arrived, so she loitered about, waiting. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Fifteen. Just where was she? Mary was not usually one for hanging about when school was finished, much like the kids themselves. She made small talk with Joseph Molesley as he sat in the corner finishing up some marking.

Five minutes after, the door opened. Sure it would be Mary, Anna turned with a beam.

It was John.

"Oh, hello," she said.

"Not who you were expecting to see?" he chuckled. He had a huge backpack thrown casually over one shoulder. "I just popped in to say goodbye."

"Goodbye. It was lovely to meet you."

"You too. Take care of yourself."

"I think I should be the one saying that to you."

"I've done okay so far."

She giggled. Before he could go, she said, "I don't suppose you've seen Mary around, have you?"

"Mary?" he frowned. "Yes, I have. She left with Matthew."

Anna's eyebrows shot up. "With Matthew!?"

"That's what I thought too. Make what you will of that. Did you need her for something?"

She sighed. "She was supposed to be giving me a lift home. My car broke down this morning. I suppose I'll just have to catch the bus." That was the last thing she wanted.

Joseph's head popped up at once, like an eager puppy's. "I'll give you a lift!"

"No, no, that's fine," she said hurriedly. "I'll be all right on the bus."

"I don't mind."

His face was bright with hope and anticipation, and she felt an uncomfortable prickle at the back of her neck under John's shrewd gaze. She did not want to encourage Joseph, nice as he was. "No, really. You're in completely the opposite direction to me. I'll see you after the holidays."

Joseph looked crestfallen, but she tried not to notice. Gathering her things, she bid both men another goodbye and hurried out of the room.

She'd barely made it halfway down the corridor before there were footsteps behind her, and she cursed inwardly. Why did he have to be so tenacious? Why did he always make her feel like a bitch when she let him down gently?

"Joe—" she began, then stopped short.

John. He gave her that same boyish grin, hitching his backpack up higher.

"I was wondering if you'd concede to me giving you a lift," he said.

"No, thank you. I couldn't possibly. I can't put people out of their way."

"How do you know if you are? You don't even know where I'm going."

"Trust me, it's not going to be where I am."

"Which means it's towards the less desirable end of town."

"How do you make that out?"

He shrugged. "Am I wrong?"

"No," she conceded grudgingly.

"As it so happens, that's the way I'm heading too. I'm going to see my mother. We've both just moved to the area from London."

The news surprised her. "Have you? And you've moved into the less savoury end of Downton? That must be quite the difference."

He had the grace to look abashed. "Well, we're not staying there. It's just while the last few bits from the old house are brought up. I'm hoping we can be moved in before I go back to Afghanistan. It would ease my mind."

"I'm sure it would." She hesitated a moment. "I'd still think it an impertinence to accept your offer."

"You shouldn't. That's the whole point. I offered. I wouldn't have if I didn't want to. Please don't feel pressured into saying yes, but I can't imagine much worse than the bus service. It's never on time and then three turn up at once."

She couldn't deny the truth of that. She hesitated a moment longer, weighing up the pros and cons. She had never got into a car with a strange man before. It was a message imprinted on the female population's brains, such was the nature of the world. Even benign men could turn into monsters, pull off their masks.

And yet there seemed to be something innately trustworthy about John Bates. He was Robert Crawley's best friend, for one thing, and despite her thorny exterior, Mary clearly thought the world of him. He had a soft smile, kind eyes, a gentle manner. Sometimes they were dummies, but there was an instinct within her, something that called to her.

"All right," she said.

John smiled at her. "Can I take your bag?"

"No, that's okay. I've got it."

He nodded, and together they made their way towards the exit.

"Where's Private Mason?" she asked as they walked.

"He's gone on ahead," said John. "He lives over in Pickering. He's anxious to get back home. He's a brilliant young lad, but he does get homesick."

"That's only natural."

"Oh, of course. And he's very close to his parents. This is the first time he's ever been away from home. Here we are."

They'd come to a stop by a Ford Discovery. John unlocked it and threw his things in the back. Anna clambered up into the passenger seat.

"I've never been in anything this big before," she commented.

"Sorry. I've got so used to driving the army lorries that I can't manage anything smaller. Mother hates it because she can hardly get in."

"I know the feeling," she said, and he shot her an amused, sideways glance as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Give me directions," he said as he started to pull off.

They drove in silence for a few minutes after her confirmation of a right turn and to carry on straight.

"So," she said, "how did the rest of the afternoon go?"

"Great, thanks. I'm surprised we got so much engagement. Although we'll have to wait and see if it really does inspire anyone."

"I think it will. I think you gave them a glimpse of another life."

"It's not completely glamorous, I hope they know that."

"If anyone knows that, it's our kids. Most of them have had plenty of troubles in their times."

"It must be rewarding when they go on to achieve great things."

"It is. Very rewarding indeed. Turn left here."

"Are you from Downton yourself?" he asked as he followed her instructions.

"No, I moved here as a teen. I started babysitting for the Crawley girls to earn extra cash, and my friendship with Mary bloomed from there. She's younger than I am but you wouldn't know it."

John chuckled. "I didn't get to do it often, but Mary made me feel like the child when I looked after her, never mind me being a fully grown adult. Do you think it's a good sign, that she and Matthew have gone off together?"

Anna shrugged. "I hope so. She's been miserable without him. Keep that one under your hat."

"On my honour."

"But she's stubborn. I'm not sure how easy it will be to sort things. I can believe she's digging a hole to hide his body as much as I can believe they're talking things through."

John snorted. "He's a braver man than I am, Gunga Din."

They lapsed back into silence, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. How was it that she could feel like that around someone she had only just met? She'd grown and fought past the things in her childhood, but even then she still felt like a deer in front of a wolf when alone in the company of a man she did not yet know.

There was something about John's gentle demeanour that was different.

"Now right, and we're there," she said absently, then felt compelled to add, "don't expect much. It's not exactly Beverley Hills." Steve had never wanted to visit her in the flat. He always said that he couldn't leave the car because he was sure it would be hotwired overnight. He'd been insisting almost daily that she move in with him at the end, probably going back to that same home to screw Sarah Anderson in the bed that he'd been intending she share full time. Mary, too, always turned her nose up. A job like the army would pay a decent stipend, as he'd said himself, enough to afford more than a pokey flat on the poorest fringes of the town. She did not want his pity—or worse, to see disgust flicker across his face.

But John gave no indication of discomfort as he turned into the dilapidated cul-de-sac. As he turned off the ignition, he said, "Here we are, milady."

"Thank you so much for this. I really appreciate it."

"Not at all. Glad to be of assistance. Can I carry anything for you?"

"No, I can manage." Anna fumbled for the door handle, pushing it open. She clambered out with less grace than she'd wanted. He grinned at her.

"Goodbye, Anna," he said. "Perhaps I'll see you around sometime."

There was a look of disguised hope on his face. Anna felt her heart stutter. "I'd like that. Very much. How much longer until you go back?"

"I've got another ten days. It'll be enough time to get Mother settled into the new house, I hope."

"I don't suppose you'll have much time for anything else. Are you seeing the Crawleys?"

"Probably not much this time. I'll see Rob as soon as I go back to Afghanistan, and the others know I'm busy with this move." He hesitated. "But I will probably go out in the evening to get my bearings when the work is done for the day. I don't know the area at all, and I would like to have some sense of it before I come home for Christmas."

She brightened. "You'll be in England for Christmas?"

"Yes. My first one home in six years. I can hardly wait, to be honest."

"I love Christmas. All that good food and drink is heaven to me, never mind what it'll be like to you."

"I don't drink, but you're right. I'll feel like a king at a feast when I come home."

There was a closed-off look on his face, and although she was curious to know more about this man, she knew better than to pry into the past if it was a place that he didn't want to go. God knew she knew what that was like.

Reverting back to the original topic, she said, "Would you like a tour guide on your explorations? I know Downton and the surrounding areas very well, even if I do say so myself."

John blinked at her. For a moment, she thought she'd done the wrong thing. But then a tentative smile broke out across his face.

"That would be lovely," he said.

"Great. Here." She rummaged in her handbag and brought out a pen and a scrap of paper, scribbling her number across it. "Drop me a line, and we can arrange something, if you'd like. I have no real concreate plans for these holidays, so you wouldn't be intruding. That's if you want the company, of course. Please feel free to tell me to take my hook."

He took the proffered paper. She noticed his fingers were shaking slightly.

"That would be lovely," he repeated.

Anna tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Great. Thanks again, John."

"Not a problem. Bye, Anna."

She raised her hand in farewell and crossed the street to her bottom floor flat. He waited until she'd got herself in before he made to go. Anna watched until his car could no longer be seen. Then she turned away, wondering what had come over her to make her act so boldly, wondering what it was about John Bates that seemed to reach inside and speak to her.

She hoped she was given the opportunity to find out.

In the end, John Bates took her up on her offer to show him about the place. Anna ignored the little spark she felt inside herself as she read the text on her phone, his confirmation that he would love a tour guide. She was being silly. It would be nice to have a friend in him, that was all.

And he was a friend. She felt that she could call him that, even in such a small space of time. She showed him all of the local hotspots: the park, though it was more of a drug addict's haven than a child's idea of heaven; the best pub, the Dog and Duck, though of course he did not drink; the local shops, though they did not boast much—they had to travel further afield, to Ripon or Thirsk or the nearby city of York if they wanted anything more substantial.

On that Easter break, Anna found herself spending more time with him than anyone else. At the Crawleys' Easter celebration, she was locked into conversation with him for the whole afternoon, and they slipped out early together to get something more substantial than Cora's picky canapés. Eating fish and chips on a local park bench decorated with used needles at their feet, they spoke about anything and everything. John offered up a few more details of his nomadic childhood, and Anna found herself confiding in him about her own unconventional one. Not the details. Never those details. But enough so that he knew there was a kinship between them, that she could be trusted. She wanted him so desperately to trust her.

That meeting on the bench led to more texts, more meetings. A trip to the cinema because he hadn't been in years and had forgotten what it was like to sit in the dark and forget the world's troubles for a while. A meal out, just to indulge in the simplicity of it. Sitting on the wall outside her dilapidated little flat, heads tilted back as they pointed out the constellations they could see through the smoggy clouds, at peace under the open space.

He was good company. He was kind, he was gentle, he could make her laugh like no one else had for a long time, not even Mary.

How was it possible for a friendship to bloom so quickly?

And yet it had. And she didn't want to question it.

Those ten days passed far too quickly. On that last night, at the winding down of another Crawley gathering, she wound her arms around him, pressed a kiss to his cheek that made her tingle, and whispered, "Stay safe."

"I will," he replied. "And I'll be back at Christmas. I'll see you then?"

"Yes," she said. When she got home, she turned her calendar to December and circled the twenieth in large red circles, hoping that through some miracle they could pick up where they had left off.

She needn't have worried. Almost three weeks later, a letter in an unfamiliar hand landed on her doormat. Curiosity piqued, she opened it.

John.

John had written to her.

She wrote back. They filled those months without verbal communication with words instead, seamlessly interacting as if they had been doing it for a lifetime. His words made her laugh. She sought to do the same. There could be so little reason to smile out there in the middle of a bitter conflict. If she could do anything to bring him even a brief moment of respite, she was willing to do it.

The little ember that had flickered inside her heart stuttered.

Plumed into life.

Anna would not acknowledge what it meant. Not yet. Not aloud. Not in such a short space of time. But she knew all the same, in the deepest crevice of her soul, in the tiniest corner of her heart.

December

The twentieth of December came and went. She'd received a text from John to say that he was home safely, but that was it. She suspected that he was exhausted, and was spending a couple of days recharging his batteries. Anna couldn't blame him for that. He'd need it.

On the twenty-third, just as she was pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail so she could start some Christmas baking, there was a knock on the door. She frowned. She wasn't expecting any visitors.

When she pulled it open, her heart swooped and almost stopped. The most wonderful sight of all was before her eyes.

"John!" she yelled, her voice echoing in the empty street. "Oh my God! Oh my God!"

He laughed as she threw herself into his arms, almost lifting her off her feet as he swept her closer. She squeezed him tight, relishing his solidity, his strength and broadness almost overwhelming.

"Hello to you too," he teased.

"Why didn't you say you were coming, you silly beggar?" she demanded.

"I wanted to surprise you. Did I?"

"This is the best Christmas surprise I could have wished for!" She squeezed him tighter, turning her head into his neck so she could breathe in the scent of his skin. He always smelled so good, of cigarette smoke and musky aftershave and something undeniably masculine that she couldn't put her finger on.

"I don't even think my mother greeted me with such enthusiasm," he said. "I'm flattered."

"Do you want to come in?"

"I don't want to interrupt you."

"Does it look like I'm doing anything that can be interrupted?" she countered, gesturing down at herself.

"You look gorgeous," he replied, and the sincerity in his voice made her flush. Made her heart beat just that bit faster.

"Now who's being charming?" she babbled. "Come on, you."

He followed her over the threshold, toeing off his shoes. There was a light dusting of snow in his thick, dark hair, and his nose was bright red. He shrugged off his thick overcoat and scarf, and Anna took them and placed them in the cupboard to air off.

"Do you want a drink?" she said. "I bought some gingerbread latté to fit in with the season."

"Gingerbread latté? That sounds revolting."

"So you want an ordinary tea?"

"No, I want to try one. I'm intrigued."

She giggled. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be five minutes."

He nodded, settling himself down on her sofa. He looked almost too big to be there, filling the whole space. She lingered on him for a moment, before turning away, a sudden lump in her throat. God, she had missed him. How was it possible to have missed someone as much as she had missed him? He had imprinted himself on her heart so quickly, like a footprint in the fresh snow outside.

Composing herself, she made the lattés and grabbed a packet of chocolate biscuits shaped like reindeer. John rose to pluck one of the mugs from her hand, smiling.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome. How have you been?"

"Tired. I pretty much slept the first day away. Yesterday I went Christmas shopping with my mother. She loves piling the plates high at this time of the year."

"That's lovely. I love a good Christmas dinner. I thought you might have been going to the Crawleys'."

"No. I wanted a quiet Christmas with my mother. I've said I'll go up for the New Year's party, which I'm dreading already."

"Are you not a partier, then?" she teased.

"God, no. If I had it my way, I'd sit with a good book all night. That sounds terribly dull, I know."

"As an English teacher, I love the idea. Besides, I suspect quiet evenings are hard to come by."

"That they are. What are your plans for the New Year?"

"I'll be going to the Crawleys' too, so I'll be seeing you there. And perhaps we could organise a couple of days to do something together before you're expected back at the front? Unless you're already spoken for. I know you're going to be in popular demand."

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," he said, filching one of the chocolate reindeer from the packet. "I expect you're going to be with your family at Christmas?"

Anna's breathing hitched. It was the one question she always dreaded. At the time of the year for goodwill and peace on earth, people always assumed there were joyous family times for everyone. Not so for her. It was never so. She'd been twelve on the last Christmas where she had been truly happy with her family. She hadn't spent Christmas with her mum since she had turned eighteen and had declared herself old enough to make her own decisions. The awkward phone conversations were bad enough. Usually, she spent Christmas with Mary's family, de facto Crawley as she almost was, but something had stopped her this year. Robert and Cora had the happiest of happy marriages. Mary and Matthew were back together, Sybil had her Tom. Edith had just found someone after her last relationship, and this one seemed like a keeper. She had no wish to feel alone in the crowd, surrounded by so many happy couples who had found their other halves.

She refused to wallow on Christmas Day—that simply wasn't who she was—but this year, just for one year, she longed to be able to do as she pleased, to sit inside and watch cheesy Christmas films, to probably drink far too much sherry, and to let her mask slip. Just for once, she didn't want to have to be constantly strong.

At last, she admitted, "No, I'm not going home for Christmas. I'm staying here in Downton."

She was relieved when he didn't press for more information; usually, people wanted to know what her family was doing that meant they couldn't be together for the holidays. An expensive cruise around the Mediterranean, perhaps. A skiing trip. Not a stepfather's filthy wandering hands and a fiercely wielded kitchen knife.

"Are you going to the Crawleys', then?" he asked.

Reluctantly, she shook her head. "Not this year. I was rather fancying a quiet Christmas alone. I'm sure you know how raucous their dos get."

Now John did frown at her. "Alone?"

"There's nothing wrong in it, you know," she said, more defensively than she had intended. I'm not going to be moping. And I have Leo for company."

On cue, the fat cat waddled into the room. He stopped short upon seeing John, his tail flicking, as if he was trying to weigh up whether he was trustworthy or not. John chuckled.

"I never meant to imply anything," he said. "I'm sorry if I caused offence. And I quite agree, cats are very good company. Mother has one, and she wouldn't be without him. I swear she thinks of him as more of a son than she does me. To be fair, he is there for her more than I am."

"Don't say that," she protested. "You're doing such a courageous service for the whole country."

"I was only joking. Not a very good one, I'm afraid. I bet you haven't missed my self-deprecation one bit."

"I missed all of you, John Bates."

The words were out of her mouth before her brain could register how stupid they were. They seemed to thicken the air until it was possible to choke on it. Leo meowed anxiously, winding round her legs. She hefted him up into her arms, burying her face into his fur to hide her face. Christ, what had she said that for?

John cleared his throat, draining his mug. Probably to give him time to plot his great escape.

He surprised her, therefore, with his next words. "I actually came round to ask you what you were doing for Christmas to see if you would like to spend it with me and Mother."

"What?" she said softly.

He shifted, a little uncomfortably. "Well, I would never have wanted you to undo any plans to see your friends and family, but I thought I would see anyway. And now you've told me that you'll be spending it here…well, Mother and I would love to have you if you'd like to join us."

Anna blinked. Spend Christmas with John and his mother? To share that special day with him, probably laughing and joking, falling into the easy rhythm that seemed solely reserved for when the two of them were together? It sounded heavenly.

Dangerous.

She did not dwell on that.

"What about Leo?" she asked tentatively. "It's kind, but I couldn't leave him here on his own all day."

"Bring him too," he said promptly. "I assure you, Tiger—yes, I know—doesn't have a nasty bone in his body, and he's an old man now. I doubt he could drag himself into a fight even if he wanted to. I don't know what Leo is like with other cats…"

"Soft as a brush," she said, scratching him behind his ears. He started to purr loudly. "And a total wimp. He'd be no good as my great protector, I tell you. I had a mouse in here once, and it chased him."

John snorted. "Then they'll get along spectacularly. Don't feel pressured into saying yes if you'd rather do your own thing. We wouldn't be offended. But the offer is there should you wish to take it, and we'd be delighted to have you."

"A-All right," she stammered. "That sounds wonderful. What time should I come?"

John's face absolutely lit up at her acceptance. "Anytime you like. No time is too early. Just come when you're ready. And don't worry about bringing anything. We've got everything we could possibly need."

"Okay," she managed. John put his mug down and stood up, stretching to his full height.

"I'll see you on Christmas Day," he murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss against her cheek. Her whole insides twisted and turned like live snakes. It cost her every inch of self-control she had not to turn her head and let him catch her mouth instead. When he pulled back, he scratched Leo behind the ears, making him trill happily. "See you, mate."

Anna dropped him into the armchair and followed John to the door, leaning against the doorjamb as he replaced his outer layers.

"How was your gingerbread latté, anyway?" she said.

"Bloody awful," he responded cheerfully. "See you soon, Anna."

"See you soon," she echoed, leaning against the door as he stepped outside into the snow that was coming faster. She watched him disappear into the bleak afternoon, unable to stop the grin that grew as the happiness inside expanded right across her chest. There he went, her very own angel sent to save her.

Shaking her head at her own maudlin sappiness, she shut the door with a bang and ventured back into the warmth of her little sitting room. Leo trilled at her reappearance, flopping over onto his side like an overstuffed king.

"I know, darling," she said absently, moving to stroke his round tummy. "I know."

Anna was up at the crack of dawn on Christmas Day. After showering and washing her hair in all of the most expensive products she owned, she tramped back into the bedroom to find something suitable to wear.

It proved to be a difficult choice.

Items were brought out and dismissed, held up again, dismissed again, until she had the entire contents of her wardrobe scattered all over her room. Leo roamed on the strips of carpet just visible beneath the explosion, having the time of his life as he chose various garments to sprawl out on briefly before something else caught his attention. At last, she settled on a woollen, wine coloured dress that came to just above her knees, reasoning that it was the right colour for the season and wasn't something that would give Old Mrs. Bates a heart attack or give any indication that she was out to snare her son. She matched it with a pair of thick black tights and a crimson necklace, adding a pair of pretty ruby droppers from her ears. She kept her make up conservative, how she preferred it anyway, and added several spritzes of perfume for good measure.

Even then, it was only just past eight. Anna fidgeted nervously. John had said that she could come any time, but that was rather taking the mick. What could she do to pass the time?

After pacing the floor and watching the clock only made her more nervous than ever, she finally decided to put her time to good use. John had said she didn't need to bring anything, but she did not like the idea of turning up empty-handed. She had already put out a couple of bottles to take alongside the last minute gifts she had purchased as a thank you. She would like something to go with them.

Tying an apron around her waist, she set to work. Gingerbread was always a safe bet at Christmas. Leo twined around her legs as she worked, begging futilely for scraps, and by half past ten she had a large stack of neatly decorated biscuits, shaped like all manner of Christmassy symbols. Now was surely an acceptable time to drive across town. That way, she could assist with the Christmas dinner instead of leaving it all to the hosts. Once she was kitted out in hat, scarf, gloves, and coat, she made her way outside.

It took her two trips to get everything loaded into the car, Leo stored carefully on the front seat in his carrier. The snow was turning to slush on the roads, and she drove slowly across town, mindful of any lethal ice patches that could be lurking.

Twenty minutes later, she pulled up outside a modestly decorated house, lights dancing warmly in the windows. She pulled behind John's Discovery on the driveway. She eased Leo out, deciding it would have to be made in two journeys again, and crunched up the driveway. Taking a breath to steady herself, she raised a hand and rang the doorbell.

John's shadow appeared a few seconds later. Her heart palpitated as she watched him unlock the door through the frosted glass, and then he was standing before her. She burst into peals of laughter. She couldn't help herself.

"What on earth have you got on?" she said.

He gave himself an unamused glance. "Mother insisted."

He was wearing a garish red Christmas jumper, decorated with Christmas puddings. It was one of the worst monstrosities she had ever seen.

"It certainly fits Christmas," she said. It was the only compliment she could think of.

He snorted. "I look like a mad man. If any of the guys could see me like this they'd have a field day. Promise me that no matter what you do, you won't tell Mary about this. I'll never hear the end of it."

"Scout's honour," she said. She'd never been in the scouts, but the sentiment was there.

"Thank you. And I'm so sorry I've been so rude and not invited you over the doorstep yet. Please, come in. Give Leo here."

"I've got some other things in the car," she said, handing the heavy carrier over gratefully.

His eyes widened. "What else could you possibly be bringing?"

"Just a few bits and bobs. Take Leo through. I can manage them on my own."

He nodded uncertainly, and she traipsed back to her car, gathering the rest of her things. By the time she'd done that, John had followed her down the drive, his eyes anxious.

"You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble," he said.

"Hush, Sergeant Bates. I wanted to."

"We didn't invite you over for that. We just wanted you to have a nice time."

"I know that, silly beggar. Since you're here now, you can carry this." She thrust the container of biscuits at his chest, and he caught it, blinking in bemusement. She waited for him to turn back up the path and followed him.

"Mother!" he called when they were both over the threshold and had kicked their shoes off. "Anna is here!"

"I figured as much when you left the front door wide open and let all the cold air blow through!" was the reply, in a thick Irish accent. "You've gone and made the place as cold as the Arctic, Johnny."

John looked pained, glancing down at her. "I told her not to call me that while you were here. She never listens."

"I think it's rather cute," she teased.

"It's not cute. It makes me sound like a ten year old boy. She's just never grown out of the nickname."

"Well, you always will be her little boy," Anna said in amusement; these days, there was nothing little about John Bates.

"What's all this?"

At that moment, a little old woman appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Her grey hair was scraped back in a bun, and she was wearing another Christmas jumper over her robust frame, hers decorated in dancing snowmen, another glaring monstrosity that couldn't help but bring a smile to Anna's face. It was clear where John's looks had come from; he might be a Bates, but his features were all his mother's. Identical sets of dark eyes, wide, lovely cheeks, the high, delicate brow. Definitely the look of the Irish, and very aesthetically pleasing at that.

Those dark eyes were appraising now as Mrs. Bates looked her up and down. Anna tried to stand taller, though still standing next to John, she felt as if she was in a giant's shadow. Perhaps she should have left her heels on for the introductions. She felt John's hand, warm and comforting, at the small of her back, barely ghosting across her.

"Mother," he said, "this is Anna Smith. Anna, this is my mother, Margaret."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Bates," she babbled, trying to shift the things in her arms around a little so that she could offer her hand. Mrs. Bates took it, the faintest hint of suspicion in her eyes.

"Margaret, please," she murmured. "How do you do, Miss Smith?"

"Anna, please," she returned quickly. "I feel like I'm still at school otherwise. It's so lovely to meet you at last. John has spoken a great deal about you." It wasn't entirely accurate. John was quiet at the best of times, and he hadn't offered up too many details about his life before he'd come to Downton, but it was clear that he thought the world of his mother, who had raised him alone. That was a good testimony as far as Anna was concerned, especially in comparison with her own.

"That's interesting to hear," said Margaret, "because Johnny hasn't told me a thing about you. I thought he was just being his usual irritating self. I keep telling him that women aren't really keen on mystery, but it goes straight in one ear and out the other with him."

Anna giggled uncertainly, not sure how she should feel about the fact that John seemed reluctant to talk about her. On the one hand, it could mean that he might not think that their bond was as important as she thought it was. On the other…

Maybe he was reluctant to talk about it because it meant something more. Because he felt something for her but was wary of upsetting the balance and uncertain of how she might feel.

Her heart flipped.

"Mother, that's enough," he said now, rather sharply. "Don't start. Why don't we go through to the sitting room? We can't stand in the hall all day."

Undeterred, Margaret simply shrugged and disappeared. John turned to her.

"Sorry about that," he said. "You must think me a right prick now."

"Not at all."

"You must be wondering why she seems to think she knows nothing about you, though."

"Maybe a little," she admitted.

"She does know, she just thinks I must be hiding something from her. I don't usually have any women friends, and certainly none that are your age. And now her curiosity is piqued more than ever."

"Why?"

The smile that touched his mouth made his eyes crinkle and dance. "Because you're beautiful. And you really do look stunning today."

Her heart flipped again. He thought her beautiful. Beautiful and stunning. It had to mean something. Surely.

"Johnny, stop keeping Anna in the cold hallway and bring her in here!"

"Yes, Mother!" said John in the long-suffering tone of a son who was always happily bossed around by his mother, and bowed. "After you, milady."

She dipped in a curtsy. "Thank you, kind sir."

He was beautiful too, she thought to herself as he followed her into the hot room. So, so beautiful. Ugly Christmas jumper and all.

Thankfully, any latent initial awkwardness melted away in the first half hour. Margaret fell instantly in love with Leo's cute face, complimenting her on how well he looked.

"Probably too well," Anna said dryly. "He's a lazy thing. He finds it too much effort to play with his toys."

Tiger sniffed around cautiously at first, and Leo kept sticking his paw through the wire mesh to say hello. When Tiger had sniffed it and deemed him safe, they let Leo out to explore his new surroundings. They made small talk about their cats' histories, and bit by bit Anna could see Margaret loosening up and warming to her. She counted it as a victory.

"So, Johnny says you teach English?" she said, taking a sip of the sherry that she had poured for herself.

"That's right."

"Have you always worked at Downton?"

"Yes. It was where I went to school. I always wanted to come back and make a difference, and I'm proud to say that I achieved my goal."

"A noble goal indeed. How long have you worked there now?"

"Nearly four years. I think I've finally got used to not calling my old teachers 'sir' or 'miss' whenever I speak to them. What about you? John mentioned you were a seamstress when you were in Ireland."

"It was nothing very exciting, but it meant I could work from home and look after my son."

"No, I bet it was exciting, creating something from scratch like that. I wish I could do something like that."

"It wasn't always lucrative. Most people prefer garments that are in the shops nowadays. But we got by. You've certainly got an eye for fashion. You look lovely, dear."

"I'm afraid I don't own a Christmas jumper."

"We'll have to sort that out for you."

Which implied she might become a regular feature. She sneaked a glance at John, hoping to gauge his reaction, but he was suitably blank. One sign, that was all she needed…

He did say, "Anna is very lucky to have escaped."

"Nonsense. Christmas jumpers are perfect to get in the spirit of it. Did he tell you that I've spent the last six Christmases alone?"

"Don't make me feel bad," he protested. "You know I'd be here with you if I could, but the army doesn't work that way."

"I don't mean anything by it, I'm simply proving a point. I intend to make the most of it while I can. I have you here, and the jumpers are perfect. That's all I mean. You've indulged your old mother, haven't you?"

"To the cost of my masculinity," he muttered.

"I disagree," said Anna, biting the side of her cheek to stop herself from grinning hard. "I don't think there's anything more masculine than a son doting on his mother. It's a very sweet sight."

"I like this young lady," Margaret announced. "I don't know what on earth you've found to like about this great lummox, but I'm glad you've found something. I feel like we're kindred spirits."

"I'm going to check on the progress of the dinner," John sighed.

Anna stood. "I'll help you."

"Don't be silly," said Margaret. "You're the guest."

"Please, I insist. I hate doing nothing, especially when others are putting themselves out of their way for me. Let me be useful, please."

"Honestly, Anna, it's fine. I'm the one cooking dinner today. Mother is having a well-deserved day off. You should enjoy it too."

She shook her head stubbornly. "I'm sorry. I just can't sit by while other people do all the work. It makes me feel terribly guilty. At least let me set the table for you. You can tell me where everything is."

"You're not going to back down, are you?" said John with a resigned chuckle.

"I'm afraid not."

"I like that. A fire for the benefit of others. You're like an angel, Anna."

"I don't know about that," she protested, flushing under Margaret's words. She couldn't miss the significant look that the older woman shot her son, as if they were having a very important nonverbal conversation that she was not privy to the details of.

"Follow me, then," said John. She shadowed him into the kitchen, where the heavenly, Christmassy odours were emanating. He pulled out a table cloth for her—one of the paper, disposable varieties, covered in hollies and bells and candy canes, more endearing garishness—and she set about smoothing it out. He directed her to the plates—Margaret had special ones for Christmas, one with a Santa in the middle, one with a snowman, and one with a penguin—and the wine glasses while he deftly checked on the progress of the turkey and debated whether it was time to turn on the veg. He was so adorable, fretting over every minute detail. She sidled up behind him, taking the two-pronged fork from his fingers and sliding it into the turkey breast.

"That's nearly done," she announced. "I'd definitely put the veg on now."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, shooting her a lopsided grin.

"Is there anything else I need for the table?"

"The table setting is one of Mother's favourite things. When I was a boy, she always tried to spice it up a bit so it didn't feel like just an ordinary day. We never had much, but she always tried to lay on a spectacular feast. She's carried on the table tradition even now. I got it all out yesterday. Here."

He showed her where he had stored the other things, crackers and sparkling party stars to scatter across the table, and various other trinkets. They'd have to be careful not to knock any of it over.

"This angel takes centrepiece," he told her. "For how much she enjoys the commercial side of it, she's still a devout Catholic at heart, and she likes to remind us of what Christmas is supposed to be about. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," she said at once. "I'm flattered that you wanted to include me in the first place."

"Well, you're better about it than I am. I think it nearly killed her when I turned my back on religion entirely. I was supposed to be her good Catholic boy, but it never quite worked out that way."

"But you respect her wishes. There's nothing wrong in that."

"I took her to the Catholic Church in Ripon for Mass this year, since it's been so long since I was last here for Christmas."

"There you go, then. That makes you a good son, which is much better than you just being a good Catholic boy."

"Don't let Mother hear you say that," John teased, but Anna wasn't worried. She knew Margaret would agree with her.

Half an hour later, dinner was ready to be served. John refused to let anyone help now, dishing everything up with enthusiasm if not finesse. Soon their plates were piled high, probably with too much for everyone to finish.

"We always pull the crackers first," said Margaret. "It was always Johnny's favourite thing, sitting at the table with the paper hat on his head. He used to say that it made him feel like a king at a feast."

John's cheeks flushed red. "Mother, really."

"I think it's sweet," Anna cooed. "No need to be embarrassed, Sergeant Bates."

"Let's get this over with, then," he grumbled. "Mother, do the honours."

They pulled the first cracker together. There was no question of who would win; John's arm barely flexed as he moved. With a crack, the cracker split, leaving John with the bigger end. He fished out the joke and the paper hat, moving to place it on her head, a huge grin on his face.

"There we go," he said. "Perfect."

"Get away with you," she said. Your turn, Anna."

"I'll try and go easy on you," said John with a cocky grin.

"No need to worry. I'm stronger than I look."

"We'll have to see about that."

He offered her his cracker with a half-raised, challenging eyebrow. She grasped the end of it firmly, testing the weight before they pulled. Her muscles strained as she tugged it backwards, but it was John who came away the victor once more. His grin was entirely too smug.

Entirely too kissable.

Anna cleared her throat, dropping the useless end as if it had scalded her, afraid that the others would be able to read her feelings in her eyes.

"Here's one for you, milady," John said, and she glanced back up to find him offering the paper hat to her like the crown bearer at a coronation. It looked so delicate in his large hands, but he was handling it with such tenderness. With a lump in her throat, she leaned in towards him, giving him access to her head.

The paper crinkled as it went down over her head and she shivered involuntarily as his fingers caressed her ears as he adjusted it. How she wished his hands would slip further down, move to cup her cheeks, draw her close for a kiss—

"Looks like you or I will have to give John his paper hat," said Margaret.

Anna jerked away, aware of the way that her gaze had drifted to his lips, wondering how they would feel upon hers, wondering how they would taste. She had to pull herself together. Now was not the time for any of that.

Margaret gestured to the cracker by her side, and Anna picked it up in a daze, offering her the other end. She could feel John's gaze on her, and it made her tingle all over.

"Three, two, one, pull!" said Margaret. It snapped.

Anna came away holding the larger end.

"Old age," said Margaret. "Saps all of your strength. Now, get that hat on his head before our dinner goes completely cold. There's nothing worse than cold sprouts."

"Do the honours," John murmured, inclining his head towards her. Anna stood and stretched across the table, pushing the hat down onto his head. She twined her fingers briefly in his hair, thick and silky, and fantasised once more about what it would be like to use that leverage to bring his mouth across to hers.

Her daydream was shattered in the next moment by Margaret's throat clearing, and she blushed, quickly sitting back in her heat. John's gaze slowly slid from hers, as if the magnetic connection had been lost.

"Right, let's dig in," he muttered. Anna had never been more grateful to snatch up her knife and fork.

Conversation was sparse for the first few minutes, but bit by bit Margaret coaxed them back into the fold. They chatted happily about the memories of their own respective Christmases, though Anna was careful never to mention the ones after her dad's death, and Margaret talked a little about what her Christmases were like now, with John away for so many of them.

"I can't deny it, it's hard," said Margaret. "To us, Christmas is about family, but John is the only family I have, and he's not here to be with me. I could never begrudge it, not when I know what he's doing out there, but the older I get, the more I miss him."

John shifted uncomfortably. She caught him.

"Johnny, really," she said. "That's what he's like, always taking the whole world onto his shoulders. I think he'd apologise for every problem the world has ever faced if given half the chance. He knows I understand. A job is a job. I always used to go to my neighbour's house at Christmas when I lived in London. She always took good care of me."

"And I hope you know that you'll always be welcome with Leo and I when John is away in the future," said Anna. "I would like that."

Margaret eyed her shrewdly. "What about your own family?"

She tried to keep her tone neutral. "I don't see much of them these days. You know what it's like. I usually spend the holidays with Robert's family if they're not too busy."

"John mentioned that you're good friends with Mary. It's wonderful, seeing how people's lives entwine. I'm rather surprised we haven't met sooner."

"I like to think that we cross paths with the important people in our lives at the moment when we need them the most. Does that sound corny?" Probably. But Anna believed it anyway. Mary had come into her life at a time when she had been struggling. Steve, as much of a dick as he had turned out to be, had been her first everything, and had showed her that she could move past the things in her childhood that had tried to weigh her down. And then John had stepped into her life, had made her see that she was ready to move on even when she'd thought that she was content with her life.

Margaret glanced across at her son. "No, I think it sounds very lovely indeed. And I hope that we can spend a bit more time together. It will be nice to have one of John's friends close by who misses him too. Robert is always where he is. I'm glad he's got someone with him who is always watching his back, but he doesn't really have someone over here."

"That makes me sound like a hermit," John said. "I'm not. I just prefer to spend my time with the people I like the most. I have a selective group of friends rather than a carousel of them."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with that," said Anna. "In fact, I live by the same principle in many ways. I'm usually the tagalong for Mary in social situations."

"But you must be very popular in your own right," said Margaret. She looked at her with those dark eyes, as if they were piercing right through her and reading all of her secrets. "Do you have a boyfriend, Miss Smith?"

John almost choked on the gulp of water he had been taking. "Mother! You can' say things like that! Anna's private life is absolutely none of our business."

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, it's just a question. I'm showing an interest, that's all."

"There's showing an interest and there's being impertinent. Anna, you don't have to answer anything."

She shrugged. "I have nothing to hide. No, I don't have a boyfriend."

"See?" said Margaret triumphantly. "She doesn't mind. For all I know, she might have had a lovely chap working away for the holidays, like you usually are. Though I am surprised you're single, dear. You're so lovely, it doesn't seem possible."

"I don't mind. I've got a lot to be thankful for right now."

"Yes, it'll all come together in time. You know, Johnny is single too."

"Mother!" John sputtered, looking mortified.

"What? I'm just stating the facts."

Anna tried to keep her face composed as his mother gave him an exasperated look, as if she was tired of his constant complaining and policing. She had thought that there probably wasn't anyone special in his life, but at times it had felt presumptuous to hope. For all she really knew, he just saw her as a good friend, and was extending a friendly hand to her with his invitation. There were plenty of serving women overseas. He could have had someone still over there, eagerly awaiting his return. War experiences bound soldiers tightly together, she knew that.

But maybe now she could dare to hope. Maybe all of this was building up to something more, testing the waters to see how kindly they would take to him. Testing to see if it was worth the chance of drowning. She could hope for that. The world had tried to beat the hope out of her over the years, but she hadn't let it succeed. People had to hope and dream. Otherwise they had nothing.

She sat back in her chair, listening contentedly as John and his mother continued to argue. Maybe, just maybe, one day she would belong to this scene properly.

It was her new secret hope. Her longed-for dream.

They took a break after they'd eaten to let their dinner settle. Margaret suggested that they open gifts. There were only a few under the tree. Margaret picked them up and handed them across to her son, who looked mildly discomfited that they had an audience in Anna.

"Here you go, dear," she said.

"Well, this one is for you," he replied, handing it right back. "I hope you like it."

"It's from you. How could I do anything else?"

Anna pretended to be interested in the flashing Christmas tree lights as the older woman ripped the paper off, to reveal a selection of famous brand creams. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh, Johnny! These are lovely! But how much did they cost you? I told you not to spend a fortune!"

"Christmas is supposed to be about giving. I want to give you the best," said John, looking even more uncomfortable as she swooped in to kiss him on both cheeks. "There's your other one. I wish I could have got you more, but there wasn't enough time."

"Nonsense. Having you home is the greatest gift I could ever had received." She opened the second to reveal an old, ornate necklace, with a deep emerald in the middle.

"To remind you of home," said John. "I know you've missed Ireland over the years. I'll take you back someday."

There were tears in Margaret's eyes. "Thank you so much, my darling boy."

Anna averted her attention entirely, not wanting to intrude on such a cherished moment between mother and son.

In return, John was given a bottle of aftershave, and a new, top of the range shaving kit because, in his mother's words, she couldn't stand that bloody awful beard that he grew when he was on his tours. It grew in far too quickly, she complained, and made him look like a bear.

When that was done, Anna said shyly, "I've got something for you as well."

"You shouldn't have done that!" Margaret exclaimed.

"I wanted to. I would have felt terrible coming here otherwise."

"But we didn't get anything for you! Now I feel terrible."

"Please don't. Your hospitality has been so lovely. And besides, they're only small gifts."

Margaret took hers first, gasping when she saw the fancy liqueur chocolates beneath the wrapping. "These are lovely."

"I'm glad you like them," said Anna.

"I do. I have to confess, I am partial to these."

"Now you," she said bashfully to John. He took his gift in fingers that trembled just slightly. Anna waited with bated breath, praying he would like it. Again, it was only something small, but she hoped that he found it personal.

"You told me that you'd never read any Barrett Browning," she said when he had unwrapped it. "I thought you could read it while you were away, if you ever get a minute, and then you could tell me what you thought. I hope you like it."

"It's wonderful," he breathed. "Such a thoughtful gift. I shall treasure it. It will remind me of you."

"Well, give the lass a hug," said Margaret.

He moved towards her, and moments later she was enveloped in his arms. It was a brief embrace, but a proper one, tight and meaningful. In the few seconds that her arms were around him, Anna could appreciate the strong muscles in his back, the thickness of his forearms, the warm, spicy scent of his skin that made her feel heady. It felt like solace. Like finding home.

God, how she wanted to keep it.

After they had pitched in to tackle the pots, they moved back into the living room. With endearing enthusiasm, Margaret suggested playing Charades, another Bates family tradition. John refused, saying he had been embarrassed enough for one day, but between them, they cajoled him into capitulating. Anna couldn't remember a time when she had laughed so hard, John's disgruntled expression never leaving even through his performances. The time simply flew by.

At seven, just as the first wave of soaps was due to start, Anna stood.

"I'd better get going," she said.

"Oh, no, you don't need to leave yet!" Margaret protested. "Please, stay longer."

"I wouldn't want to outstay my welcome," she said.

"Don't be silly, you never could. Do you watch that period drama?"

"I do," she said hesitantly.

"Well, so do I. It's my favourite thing. Please, stay and watch that with me. John won't be very good company for it. He hasn't seen any of the other episodes and won't have the foggiest what's going on. Who's your favourite? I like that housemaid and that valet. Oh, I hope they find happiness. They deserve it."

"Oh, yes, they're lovely," Anna said eagerly. "I hope they finally get together."

John groaned good-naturedly. "And here was me, hoping you would be my ally."

"There, that settles it. You can go home after that period drama. John will make sure you get there. Now, budge out of the way, son, I need the armchair so I can actually see the TV. You don't mind the great lummox sitting next to you, do you, Anna?"

The sofa was small, the kind of chintzy, old-fashioned thing from the sixties. It would be a very tight squeeze with John's broad form folded next to her. It would probably be impossible not to feel him next to her.

"I don't mind," she managed.

"Excellent. Now, hurry up and move, John. That pub owner there has got his wife and another woman pregnant at the same time, and the missus finds out tonight!"

"Happy Christmas," John said dryly.

The soaps passed quickly. They weren't her cup of tea, but they were enjoyable for Margaret's gasps of shock and John's constant sighing and eye rolling. To punish him, Margaret sent him into the kitchen to make hot chocolate and fetch the biscuits Anna had baked before the period drama started.

It was a decent episode, but with John's close proximity, she was finding it difficult to concentrate. His arm was stretched out along the back of the sofa, and she kept imagining it dropping down to rest on her shoulders. She would snuggle against his side if she felt brave enough…

Halfway through the episode, rasping snores reached her ears. She glanced to the side to find John completely out of it, his head tipped back against the settee.

Margaret tutted. "We're never going to hear the rest of this now."

"He must be so exhausted."

His mother's eyes softened at that. "He's always been a bit of an insomniac. I don't think the army has helped with that. Every now and then he just completely shuts down like this. I expect it's the good food and the warmth."

They certainly had had good food, and it certainly was warm. Anna could see why the flickering lights would have made him sleepy. They were making her eyes feel rather heavy too. Her early morning was catching up with her.

On the screen, the housemaid was telling the valet that she loved him. He was resisting her, but it wasn't for very long. Their faces moved closer, then merged into one as their mouths met in a uniting kiss.

It followed her into her dreams as Anna closed her eyes completely.

Something heavy landed on her.

Anna woke with a yelp, her eyes flying open. It was pitch black, there was something heavy and warm against her, something warm and heavy over her, and a thick purring in her ear. Where was she?

It took her disorientated mind a few seconds to catch up. She was in John's house.

How the hell had this happened?

"Wha—?" came a gruff, deep sound from beside her, and she pulled away from John, glad that he couldn't see her burning cheeks. She had been sleeping slumped against him. Shit.

The heaviness on her chest lifted. Leo. He had woken her. She tried to push herself upright, but before she could get away from him entirely, John's eyes blinked open sleepily.

The moment their eyes met gave Anna the jolt she needed to push away. Leo hit the floor with a disgruntled mew.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I must have fallen asleep."

John rubbed his palm over his chin. She could hear the soft rasping of his growing stubble. He looked so very, very beautiful, with his hair flopping over his forehead and into those dark eyes.

"What time is it?" he said. "Where's Mother?"

"I don't know," she said. "Do you think she's gone to bed? It's got to be past eleven, otherwise the show would have still been on."

"She's covered us with a blanket," he said, sounding drunkenly amused. It was tucked tight around them, keeping them warm together.

"I'm so sorry—"

"Stop apologising. There's nothing to be sorry for."

Anna fought her way out of her blanket trap, pushing herself back to her feet. "I should get going."

"You can stay here, if you'd like. I can take the sofa, and you can have my bed."

The thought of sleeping in his bed, of burying her nose in his pillow and breathing in his scent, waking with it all over her body in the morning, was almost too much to think about. God, what she would do for that. But it wasn't right. If she got into his bed, she wanted it to be because he was following her there.

"No, that's okay," she said. "I ought to get Leo back."

"Then let me make sure you get there all right."

"You really don't have to do that. It's late. I'll be absolutely fine."

He was already getting to his feet, smoothing his unruly hair back down. "Not a chance."

"But how will you get back home?"

"I'll walk. It's not very far."

"That's hardly fair," she protested. "Stay here, where it's warm. You can get to bed."

"I wouldn't sleep a wink until I knew you were home safely. I'd rather see you to the door myself and know you were safe."

She could tell that he wasn't going to relent. It was pointless to keep going round the houses. "Fine, if you really want to."

He smiled at her. "I do. Get Leo in his box. I'll fetch our coats."

Leo went in happily, and soon they were in Anna's little car. They had to sit and shiver while the windscreen cleared.

"So, you can't've been enjoying the show too much if you fell asleep through it," John teased as she finally put the car into reverse.

Her cheeks burned anew, remembering what it was like to awaken with her face buried in his chest. "It's not that. I didn't even realise I'd nodded off. I was up at the crack of dawn, and I don't think the heat and full tummy was helping. I'll have to download it tomorrow."

"I don't blame you. It looked bloody dreary to me."

"Oh, no, it's lovely. The costumes are so pretty and I love all the relationships between all of the characters."

"And that housemaid and valet most of all?"

"Yes."

"And what makes them so special?"

"I suppose it's how right they are for each other. Have you ever looked at two people and just known that they were perfect for each other?"

"I'm a bloke. We're always told that we're about as romantic as teaspoons. Maybe Robert and Cora would fit that bill. Cora is a saint for putting up with a man like Rob. I don't know how she manages it. I live with him and it makes me want to scream. Maybe that's it. She sees him for four weeks out of the year. It doesn't give her enough time to lose her patience with him."

Anna rolled her eyes. "Well, it's so easy to connect with these characters."

"He looked as if he was quite a bit older than her."

"What does age matter?"

"It does to most people."

"Not to me. Love is based on how well you get on with each other, and how much that person makes you feel safe and loved and happy, not how close they are in number of years."

He made a non-committal noise. She chose to ignore it.

"The valet believes that he's not deserving of the love the housemaid feels towards him. He tries to push her away, but she never lets go. I admire that tenacity."

"Perhaps there's a good reason he feels like he shouldn't be loved. Maybe there are things that can't be atoned for."

"He's made his mistakes, but I don't believe there are many things that can't be atoned for. Some, yes. But not everyone has committed those kinds of crimes. Sometimes you just need love to show you the way."

"And sometimes a partner deserves more. A whole person, free from guilt. It would only shadow everything eventually."

"But if they can be made to see it's worth taking the risk, worth fighting for…"

"Do you always try to look for the good in people, even when they don't deserve it?"

She glanced at him, into those kind eyes. "With some people, it's not hard."

"What happened to those two, anyway?" he said, moving his gaze away.

"Love prevailed tonight."

"A fairy tale ending."

"Not quite yet, but they're on their way." Her hand twitched on the gearstick, repressing the urge to move across and touch him. No more words were spoken until she pulled up outside her flat.

"Well, here we are," she said, trying to inject some brightness into her voice. "Thank you for seeing me home."

"You're welcome," he said, then took a deep breath. "Can you wait a moment?"

She paused in the middle of taking off her seatbelt. "What is it?"

"Mother said that we hadn't got you anything, but that isn't quite the truth."

"What do you mean?"

He shuffled in the confined space, bringing out a neatly wrapped package. Anna's heart rose up to throb in her throat. Despite the cold temperatures, her palms felt sweaty.

"I didn't want to give it to you in front of Mother," he said, dipping his head boyishly. "She'd only have made it more than it is. You know what she was like earlier. I didn't want it to be an uncomfortable situation for the both of us."

"Of course," she said. What should she make of that? That he didn't feel what she did? Don't make it more than it is. It was too late for her. She'd already started to cut open her chest, was waiting for a sign to hold her heart in her hands for him to take possession of it.

Or maybe he just needed a little push, like the valet.

John handed the present over to her. It felt hard and smooth beneath her hands. She couldn't see much in the limited light, but she tore it open anyway. A slim volume fell out. She squinted to see the title under the streetlight. The Complete Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

"Great minds think alike," he said softly. "This is my favourite volume of Burns' poetry."

It was such a lovely, personal gift. He was prepared to give her that intimate insight into himself. Surely that had to indicate that what they had, unspoken for now, ran deeper than friendship. Surely.

She ran her fingers reverently over the cover. "I shall treasure it, John. Thank you."

"You like it? Truly?"

"Truly," she whispered, and without thinking about it too much, she leaned across and brushed her lips across his cheek. His breath hitched. She wondered what he would do if she turned his head with her palm and guided his mouth to hers. Would he pull away? Submit?

It wasn't the right moment to find out. She pulled away.

"I'd better get inside," she said quietly. "Thank you so much for a wonderful day, John. And thank your mum for me. She's a wonderful person."

He nodded, and they shuffled out of the car. Anna gathered her things together, and John thrust his hands into his pockets. He did not move until she waved at him through her front window, reassuring him that she was safely inside. He raised his hand in acknowledgement, and she watched him go once more, pressing her palm to the freezing glass, wishing there were no barriers between them.

They texted each other several times over the next couple of days, but did not manage to see each other for very long. A coffee at the local tea shop was all they could manage, but the broad light of day had not changed what she had started to realise on Christmas Night.

She loved him.

He consumed her every thought. He was there when she closed her eyes. Sitting there across from her, in arm's reach, was the most exquisite torture she had ever known.

No one had ever made her feel this way before. Not any passing crush. Not even Steve, who had shared a significant part of her life. Had she never really been in love before? Had Steve been comfortable because it was the first time she had felt safe around a man? Security and love were two very different things, she was finding out.

John was not safety. Not least because he was not grounded in one place. Every day Afghanistan was on the news. It would be so hard to carry on when he was gone again, praying daily that he was safe, living in constant fear until he returned to her.

Love was about the way he made her feel. The way he made her laugh. How they could sit in silence together and never be more content. Read each other's thoughts. Feel at home together.

There had been charged moments between them before. Moments when she was almost sure that he felt what she did. She just needed to give him one more push. One more push, and he might be hers. It would be worth the risk.