Thomas bent down and opened the oven door with his oven mitt clad hand; pulling the hot ceramic dish out and setting it down on to the stovetop before shutting the oven door with his hip and letting out an exhausted huff as he leant back against the stove. He whipped off the apron from his front and blotted the sweat off his brow with it, glancing up as a smile blossomed across his face to see the precious little four-year-old Danny standing over the pram and poking his six month old baby brother, Alfie's chubby cheeks with his finger.
Danny and Alfie were Thomas' world; after losing all his living relatives in the war and the Spanish Flu pandemic, the boys were all he had left. He loved them with all his heart and couldn't imagine a world without them. He loved the way Danny's soft blond hair bounced whenever he ran around, he loved the way Alfie would giggle whenever he played peekaboo with him. He loved how Alfie would smile when his little brother would kiss him on the cheek and how Danny would be so protective of his baby brother. They were Thomas' life and he loved them like they were his own.
"Daddy?" Danny turned towards his father, calling out to him softly.
"Yeah, buddy?" Replied Thomas with a loving beam blossoming over his face.
"Is it Sunday?" The little blond toddler asked, his eyes big, innocent, and teeming with curiosity as they always were.
"No, kiddo. Why'd you ask?" Thomas's eyes twinkled with a perplexed look about them as he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the little lad to reply.
"Then why you make cottage pie?" The tiny toddler inquisitively, earning him a hearty chuckle from his dad.
Thomas' parents migrated to Canada from England in search of new opportunities and a new life; but inside their homes they still remained very much English. They didn't have much and most of their savings went into paying for their crossing; but no matter what Thomas' mum always made cottage's pie on Sunday after church. Though it wasn't quite the more traditional Sunday Roast, it was all they could afford at the time so like many immigrant families who toiled in a new land, they made do.
Even as the family became settled and money seized to be so much of an issue for them with his dad's secure job at the mine and his mum's tailoring business flourishing, the Wilson's continued to have Shepherd's Pie alongside a nice roast, sides, and Yorkshire puddings. Thomas took over the tradition since he was the only one left to do so, but rather than shepherds pie he opted for a cottage pie since he thought it the best fit for anyone; Alfie was at the age where he could only be fed the mash on top whilst Danny was a picky little lad and utterly loathed the taste of lamb. As for Thomas, he was happy so long as his boys were happy.
"Well you see, bud." Thomas walked over and scooped the little boy up in his arms, kissing him on the soft baby cheek. "Dr Dunmurry is coming to dinner with us and since he's from England like your Nan and Grandad, I reckoned this would be a nice way to welcome him." Thomas started, immediately realising the toddler's mind had wandered; he was quite accustomed to this, Danny's focus like many a two year old wasn't easy to keep his attention for long.
"Who is Dr Dunmurry?" Danny blinked his inquisitive brown eyes up to meet his father's warm gaze.
"You met him earlier today, kiddo. Remember?" Thomas furrowed his brows at the little boy who simply shook his head confusedly in response. Thomas' eyes shifted over towards the little baby in the pram; his eyes bright blue, wide, and alert as can be. A smile crept across his face as he watched the little baby reach his tiny hands out towards him making adorable little baby noises as he did so.
Thomas smiled wide, his handsome dimples on full display as he set Danny back down and reaching down to pick Alfie up out of his little pram. He tutted as little Alfie began to grow fussy in his arms, his teary blue eyes staring up a into Thomas' eyes as precious baby hands began grasping at the fabric of Thomas' dress shirt. He always did that when he was hungry.
"You're hungry, eh bud?" Thomas said sweetly, feeling a warm sensation deep within his chest as the little baby seemed to answer back with his little baby gibberish; he knew better than to think Alfie could understand what he was saying, but regardless he loved his little interjections and reactions to things.
Thomas set Alfie down into his pram once again and walked back up towards the stove; warming a bit of water in a saucepan and scooping the appropriate amount of powder out of the tin of baby formula to prepare Alfie's milk. Transferring the warm baby milk into a glass bottle he walked back up towards Alfie's pram and pulled his chair up close; setting the bottle down onto th table before scooping baby Alfie into his arms with his head supported in the inside of his elbow. He tested a bit of the milk on his skin to ensure it wasn't too hoard before giving it to the wee baby nestled in his arms.
His face lit up as he watched his little baby's tiny hands gravitate to grip onto the side of his bottle. Thomas always felt so proud that his little Alfie was so strong and big. He'd missed Danny at that age since he was away fighting for King, Country, and Empire in France during the Great War; but when it came to Alfie he didn't want to miss a second of it.
"Erm... Hello..." Thomas felt his heart leap in his chest as he heard the a soft, angelic voice beckon from the doorway. He glanced up to see Henry standing awkwardly across the room, his body language clearly reading discomfort as he glanced down at his formal trousers and tails in contrast to Thomas'
"Hi there. Come on in" Thomas flashed him a polite head nod, his eyes travelling up and down the handsome dark haired boy's slender body and pretty face; he was dressed so smartly whilst Thomas was wearing his usual casual shirt, trousers, and braces.
His dark hair was parted neatly and his clean shaven face looked even more radiant though only the dim, warm, glow of gas lights illuminated the room. Henry had a white shirt and white bowtie on that contrasted from his black dinner jacket with satin black lapels; perfectly tailored against his toned, slender body and hemmed short in the front with tails in he back.
"Daddy, are you sure it isn't Sunday?" Danny asked his father softly, his innocent toddler eyes noting how Henry was dressed rather smartly for a quiet family dinner. Henry blushed bright red realising his mistake as Thomas shot the toddler a stern paternal glare with the slightest tinge of amusement.
"It would appear as though I'm quite overdressed." Henry muttered embarrassedly. For many of the English upper class at the time, it was still common to change into dinner jackets and tails for even quiet family dinners; no matter who was in attendance everyone changed when the dressing gong sounded. But that wasn't very common in the lower rungs in the social classes; and what young Henry had so inconveniently overlooked was that he wasn't meant to be Lord Henry Aldringham, the son of a Duke. Here in Fir Creek he was merely Dr Henry Dunmurry, an average, working class country doctor from a small village in Hertfordshire.
"No! No um.. Not at all." Thomas shook his head vehemently as he glanced down at himself and his very casual attire. "Come! Sit! You must be starving, supper's ready!"
"Thank you so much for having me." Henry walked over towards the old wooden table in the kitchen; glancing around as he took in his new surroundings. The kitchen was rather simple yet cosy with the warmth of the oven permeating about the room along with the simply aromatic smell of food in the air. He could only assume this was what kitchens looked like for common folk; prior to this he'd never been to a middle class household, he'd priorly only assumed it to be similar to be like the downstairs kitchens at Aldringham Manor or Aldringham House but that clearly wasn't the case.
"Hello, Danny." Henry smiled brightly as he sat himself down in the old wooden chair right across from the little blond toddler.
"Hewwo." the little boy stared down into his lap bashfully, his soft blond hair falling down into his face.
"I hope you like cottage pie." Thomas said as he grabbed a pair of oven mitts and picked up the ceramic baking dish off the stove, bringing it over and setting it down onto the dining table.
"I do, rather. And it smells absolutely heavenly, might I add" Henry's breath hitched in the back of his throat as the heavenly smell from the dish wafted towards him, sending him back to when he was a child and would sneak downstairs to the servants hall. "Do you like cottage's pie, Danny?" He asked the little boy, hoping to gradually get past his shy outer shell but only as the toddler felt comfortable.
"Mhmm." Danny nodded, his gaze remaining downcast; Henry glanced up with a smile as Thomas seemed to be glaring at Danny's impoliteness, but Henry gave the handsome blond a reassuring nod that no harm was done. He knew that children took time to understand people and a child need not be forced to be comfortable with an adult; trust is something that should develop on it's own.
Thomas silently placed the serving spoons inside the dish and within Henry's reach, his eyes silently gesturing between Henry and the spoons indicating for him to serve himself as the young Doct stared at him wide eyed blinking confusedly. Henry had always served himself, but there was always a footman who held the platter on his left side allowing him to do so. It can't be terribly difficult. He internalised his thoughts. Just lift it up and plop it on the plate, simple.
Henry flashed Thomas a forced grin, shrugging his shoulders with an awkward chuckle as he reached forward to take the serving spoon and scooped up a hearty helping of the pie; the aroma-laden steam from the hot dish making Henry's mouth water. Thomas' eyes narrowed at the strangely awkward and clearly uncomfortable demeanour shift in Henry's body language; though he chose to ignore it.
Henry took a fork full of the ground beef and mashed potato topping as he elegantly took a bite dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin as he felt his breath hitch in the back of his throat; his eyes beginning to water from the memories form his past flooding his mind. Thomas glanced up to see Henry staring off into the distance, a look of discomfort clear about him in his almost unnaturally tall and perfect posture that seemed off to the inquisitive young constable.
"I... Hope it's to your liking?" Thomas asked as he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin.
"Oh, yes! yes, it's lovely. Terribly sorry. I just... It reminded me of home is all..." Henry shook his head vehemently with a forced wide smile.
What he said was absolutely true, it did remind him of home, but perhaps not the way most would assume. Growing up the upstairs meals always differed from the downstairs meals; the Aldringham's were often served quail, duck, pheasant, and other such more extravagant luxurious dinners whilst the downstairs staff often had more normal, more 'common' meals. Shepherd's pie, toad in a hole, bangers and mash, and the sort; things that the Henry and his family would likely never be caught dead eating. When Henry was only about ten years old and ever the picky eater Henry would often fake ill to avoid dinner and instead sneak downstairs to the kitchens where Cook would grudgingly give him some of the servant's dinner upon his request. His favourite being cottage and shepherd's pie.
"So where is home, for you?" Thomas asked nonchalantly, though Henry felt his heart beating through his chest at the prospect of having to regurgitate his rehearsed lies.
"Hertfordshire." Henry said softly.
"Oh! That's not far from where my parents are from. Bedfordshire." Thomas smiled warmly as Henry felt a surge of anxiety overcome him though he hadn't the slightest clue why. It wasn't like Thomas was from the same town, Bedfordshire was the next county over; but nonetheless it hit a bit too close to home for an already anxious liar that was Henry.
"It's a terribly small town called Aldringham. A village, rather. I doubt you'd have heard of it." Henry stammered with a chuckle to hide his anxiety though it rather did the opposite, one might note.
Thomas hummed with a nod as he continued to silently eat his dinner; much to the benefit of Henry's blood pressure the interrogation stopped there. They finished their dinner not long later and it was soon bed time for little Danny. Thomas excused himself to go tuck Danny in, leaving Henry alone in the kitchen watching the little baby in the pram sleep soundly.
The little baby was perfect in every way; his calmly shut eyelids, his snow white skin, his adorable little hands and feet that stirred ever so slightly as he slept. From what Henry could tell he had the thinnest dark black baby hair growing atop his little head and the few times he'd seen little Alfies eyes they appeared blue. He looked different from Thomas, while Danny on the contrary was the handsome officer's spitting image.
"He's perfect isn't he." Henry heard a familiar voice sound next to him as he flinched ever so slightly, glancing to the side to see Thomas standing right behind him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."
"It's quite alright." Henry whispered as he turned his head back to look down at the sleeping baby. "I was miles away. And yes, he is perfect. I take it he took after his mum?"
"No, not quite. Danny took after his mom." Thomas admitted as he leant down to brush the back of his knuckles against baby Alfie's soft skin. "Alfie on the other hand took after his father." Henry cocked his head towards the handsome blond, his eyes dripping with perplexity as to what that meant.
"Did you have darker hair as a baby?" Henry asked curiously.
"No, no. I'm afraid that's a very very long story." Thomas scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't suppose you're an early sleeper?"
"No, I'd say I'm quite the opposite." Chuckled Henry softly.
"Well, would you like to perhaps get to know one another better?" Asked Thomas as Henry's eyes shot up to meet with his; he couldn't tell exactly what Thomas meant by that. In that era such cryptic language need only be cautiously and meticulously analysed to know whether it was to be taken as an indecent proposal or simply something simple. "We could have a drink since it is the weekend... Besides I think it's best we get to know one another if we're to be neighbours and... friends..."
"I'd like that." Henry nodded, his mind racing to the moon and back.
"Great, you can wait in the library while I put this little guy to bed."