7Who said he ever left?
1938
"Ahh for feck's sake", Tom grumbled underneath his breath.
He set his breakfast aside, frowning intently at the morning newspaper, annoyed and frustrated—as had frequently found himself as of late —with the irresponsible actions of the current conservative government. He sighed distractedly, eyes scanning over the article once more.
....The Jarrow Crusade of ill-clad, unemployed men focused the nations attention on the continuing misery of Northern towns where industry has dwindled...
It had been nearly eighteen years since Tom had last set foot on Irish soil and despite how he had always been adamant to keep up with current affairs on both sides of the pond, he wasn't as vocal about politics as he had once been in his youth...at least not around the dinner table.
However, even after years of being distanced from the principals of socialism, the thought of all those men and women out of work in the small working class town of Jarrow —struggling desperately to feed their families—was a stark reminder to Tom of his upbringing in working class Dublin.
Whether English or Irish, those were people who needed support.
"Tom Darling, are you alright?", Sybil asked, concerned. She glanced away from her elder sister Mary, who had been conversationally discussing George's imminent return from Eaton for the school holidays.
In Sybil's eyes, even with the few faint lines around his eyes and the increasingly generous smattering of grey amidst his once totally chestnut coloured hair, her husband of nearly twenty years was the same fiery, passionate and devilishly handsome man that she had fallen in love with decades ago.
And right now with Tom's cheeks a little flushed and his brow furrowed, Lady Sybil Branson knew that look anywhere. It was a look that reminded her of political rallies before the war and stolen hours between family dinners and Nursing Shifts during The Great War.
Tom Branson-her revolutionary.
"Look Sybil, it's a mess", he said adamantly, offering her the paper to read for herself. "Baldwin's letting people down right, left and centre. They've closed the steelworks up in Jarrow and now the shipyard's gone belly up too!"
Taking the proffered paper, Sybil quietly read through it and emerged with an upset frown. What struck her more than anything else was the rampant disease in the town due to poor living conditions, that along with the rising infant mortality rates. It was a grim story, one that reminded her of the war years. "No, it's not right", she agreed fervently. "Nobody should have to live like that."
Mary raised her eyebrows, torn between sisterly affection and a tone of disapproval as she glanced between her youngest sister and her brother in law of twenty years.
"Good Lord, has Tom Branson the socialist returned?", Mary asked, sounding almost frighteningly like their late grandmother Violet Crawley.
Sybil frowned over the top of the newspaper. "Who said he ever left?"
At the end of the table, chuckling into his scrambled eggs, Matthew couldn't help but agree with his sister in law. It was an action that earned him a playful scowl from his wife. "Hear hear."
A/N: the squad...as they should have been...
If you guys would like some more slightly older Tom/Sybil and Matthew/Mary stories, let me know.
Historical note.
The Jarrow March of 5–31 October 1936, also known as the Jarrow Crusade,was an organised protest against the unemployment and poverty suffered in the English Tyneside town of Jarrow during the , the march helped to foster the change in attitudes which prepared the way to social reform measures after the Second World War, which their proponents thought would improve working conditions
Also, in italic writing above is a real newspaper extract.
