"That looks very cosy, Corporal."
"Would you like one, Sir? We have condensed milk and sugar," Thomas explained.
"I won't ask how you managed to get it. Can you really do without it?" Matthew wondered, longing for a good cup of tea for a long time.
"Very gladly, if we talk about the old days and can forget about this for a moment," Thomas said. His cigarette glowed between his fingers.
"Have you heard from anyone?" Matthew asked, immediately regretting his question. Of course, Thomas would hear from someone, as his child remained in Downton.
"Oh yes, Miss O'Brien and Mrs. Hughes keep me informed," Thomas explained. "Emma can read and write her first words, Lady Edith is driving a car, Lady Sybil is attending a nursing course. Miss O'Brien wrote to me that the hospital is busier than ever with all the wounded. Is that true?"
"Oh yes, certainly," Matthew said. "They even held a concert when I was there to raise more donations."
"I'm very curious, Sir. Do you think I will ever be transferred back to the hospital - considered as war work, of course?"
"Well, first you would have to be sent back home from the front, and then you might have to pull a few strings," he explained, taking a sip of tea. Matthew remembered that Thomas was the first to leave Downton to help in the war. "When was the last time you saw your daughter?"
"August 1914, Sir," Thomas sadly noted. He had seen his child for the last time two years and seven months ago.
"Then you must miss your daughter very much?" Matthew took a deep breath. "During my last homecoming, I saw Mrs. Patmore and Lady Sybil baking a cake, and your daughter was diligently helping them. She secretly nibbled on the dough when they weren't looking," he grinned. "And since the staff at Downton is becoming scarce, she's officially allowed to take walks on the estate with Isis when no one else is available. Although they mostly play fetch with sticks outside the door, Lord Grantham is very impressed with the young girl because Emma has taught Isis to bring back," Matthew raved about the carefree time during his vacation. "How old is Emma now? Five? She's truly fortunate - after all, she has no idea what's going on in the world - her biggest worry is when Mrs. Patmore makes a Brussels sprout casserole for lunch, and Mr. Carson forces her to eat the full portion."
"Well, you seem to know almost more about my child than I do," Thomas said disappointedly. The letters from Mrs. Hughes about Emma were not as detailed as he had hoped. And O'Brien only kept him updated with the typical gossip.
Captain Crawley moved on, and so did Thomas. With the glowing cigarette between his fingers, he walked through the trench in search of peace. Eventually, he leaned against the wooden wall covering and let himself sink into the mud. Sitting there, he retrieved a new cigarette from his jacket pocket. His hands trembled wildly, causing a letter to fall into his lap, revealing a picture of his daughter. Emma. The five-year-old smiled mischievously into the camera, proudly displaying her very first gap-toothed smile. He gently wiped his finger across the photo. She had grown so incredibly and no longer resembled the child he left behind over two years ago. With the cigarette between his lips, he searched for his lighter. Suddenly, he no longer felt like smoking. He sobbed quietly to himself. Clutching the picture of his daughter in his hand, he reflected on the few moments he had spent with Emma. Her first words and her last words when they said goodbye. And yet, he had gone, farther and longer than he had ever intended. Removing the cigarette from his mouth, he held the flickering lighter in his left hand above his head... and a gunshot rang out. His hand bled and throbbed terribly.
"Thank you, thank you," Thomas sobbed. "Thank you for saving me... I'm on my way, my little dwarf."
Meanwhile, at Downton Abbey
Emma Grace Barrow: dark brown shoulder-length hair, blue eyes. A few freckles adorn the tip of her nose. She wears a floral dress, a dark green cardigan, tights, and black ankle boots. Clutching her stuffed dog Bello in her hand, she giggles and urges, "Faster! Faster!" as William carries her piggyback through the hallway.
Carson gazes at the cheerful child with concern. "Mrs. Hughes," he calls, capturing the attention of the housekeeper. "This telegram has just arrived." The telegram is addressed to Emma Grace Barrow. Clearly, the sender was unaware that they were writing to a child. "Thomas has been wounded," she exclaims in horror. Her gaze shifts from the telegram to the direction of the servants' quarters, where William is goofing around with the little girl.
"I will ask His Lordship if he can find out more information. Which hospital Thomas is in and whether Emma can visit him," Carson sighs. He may not be a friend of Barrow's, but the young girl didn't choose her father. On the contrary, Thomas chose the child, saving her from the fate of an orphan.
Naturally, Lord Grantham immediately took steps to inquire about Thomas Barrow's whereabouts and health status. Thomas was in the Leeds hospital, "I don't think we should worry Emma," Lady Grantham suggested, "Once Thomas is well, he will surely visit his daughter, but embarking on such a long journey with a 5-year-old, especially to a military hospital full of wounded soldiers, I don't think it's advisable."
Therefore, the adults agreed to keep it a secret. None of them would ever tell the girl about the telegram.
Just four days after receiving the telegram, Emma ran joyfully through the hallway, "Daddy wrote to me!" Emma exclaimed, intercepting the mail at the back door. She casually tossed the other letters and the newspaper onto the table before handing the letter to Mr. Lang. She looked at the new footman expectantly. She would have liked to read the letter herself, but she lacked the patience. But there was no one else available. Her favorite servant, William, was on vacation with his father, and Anna was currently dealing with enough problems with Mr. Bates and his wife.
"Can you read it to me, please?" she asked politely.
"Of course," he said, taking the letter with trembling hands.
Little dwarf,
I'm sorry that I forgot to congratulate you in my last letter. Of course, I wish you all the best (belatedly) on your birthday! I can't believe you're already so grown up! It feels like yesterday that you learned to walk and talk.
Please thank Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore for me for organizing your birthday celebration. I know I promised last year that I would be here this year, but unfortunately, I can't leave. The war doesn't take a break, and I am needed here.
I am so grateful for your gift. Can you really do without your stuffed animal? I promise I will take good care of your Abit. It is in safe hands with me, and one day I will bring it back to you.
By the way, I think it's fantastic that you can already read and write! I look forward to receiving your first self-written letter.
I miss you!
Dad
Mrs. Hughes peered into the letter. It had been sent before the news of his injury and could very well have been Emma's very last letter from her father. Emma quickly grabbed paper and pen, "Will you help me write?" Emma's question didn't allow for a "no." And so, Mr. Lang helped the child write a letter.
Daddy,
My birthday was great, but for next year, I wish for you to be here! That's my only birthday wish! So please come home very soon! I miss my stuffed animal, so you really have to come to me very soon, so I can have Abit to fall asleep with again! Mrs. Hughes gave me a stuffed dog as a gift. I named him Bello. Actually, I wanted a real dog, but Mr. Carson was against it. Maybe I can have a dog when you come back?
I miss you very much
Your little dwarf.
Below her sentence, she drew a picture of the Abbey, with the dog Isis followed by two figures. A father with his child.
"Mister Carson," she jumped up and followed the butler into his office, "I'm curious."
"Curious?" he inquired.
"I would like to know what my dad did here before he went to war."
"He worked."
Emma let out a long and loud sigh, "Mister Carson, I already know that! I want to know what exactly he did. William said he served dinner for the family. But why does the family need servants at all? I can eat without a servant, and I'm only five!"
Now it was Carson who sighed and explained to the girl why the family employs servants. Thus, the idea arose to transform an ordinary staff dinner into a festive dinner. Mr. Carson handed the sauce to the child and took the main course himself. They began with Mrs. Hughes, as she was the next highest-ranking staff member.
"I'll serve myself, Emma," she smiled as Emma reached for the spoon, "Everyone will serve themselves, you just have to hold the sauce."
"Look, Anna! I'm a servant now," the child grinned.
"You're doing great, Emma," she smiled.