darker_london | Little Saviour (Thomas, Lavinia) [Backstory!]

Christmas was coming, and Lavinia had nothing for her children. Her job at the hospital had ended because a doctor had decided he would rather attept to rape and beat her than help her. She couldn't go back there. She had been turned down for another job at a hospital because she had no formal qualifications, and her hours at one of her waitressing positions had been reduced because it was so close to the holidays and her manager said she had more than one job so the hours should go to people who only had the one job and therefore 'needed them more'. Apparently the fact that Lavinia had six mouths to feed did not enter into the equation when dividing shifts up between staff members.

Her car had finally been fixed, completely wiping out any money she had managed to save up in the period since the last big crisis had come along to soak up all her money. Lavinia sat behind the wheel long after she had arrived home, her back resting flush against the light blue seat. She was exhausted and heartbroken, and she didn't quite want to head inside yet. Going in meant facing reality. And reality was that she had nothing in the fridge and practically nothing in the cupboards, and a week until payday.

Sitting in the car wasn't going to change things, though she remained there long after her the cold started to chill her skin. When she finally walked into the house, silence met her. There was still an hour to go before her children would return from school to fill the walls with sound and warmth. She moved into the living room to start a fire before heading to her bedroom in the hopes of catching a short nap. She changed into loose and comfortable clothing, but she never made it to sleep.

Lavinia hardly ever cried. Feeling sorry for herself just wasted time and she never had enough of that. Having been sent home early, however, had opened up quite a space of time in her day and she genuinely believed she was home alone. The knowledge that she now had about fifty quid to get her through the week made her feel like she was suffocating. This had happened time and time again and she didn't see any way out of it any time soon. Her oldest son had just turned eighteen, but her youngest child was only nine, and there were three in between.

Her chest tightened and Lavinia leaned against the wall to try to combat her dizzy spell. Thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to think of a way out of this cycle of horror, but there was nothing. Her chest felt as if it were stuck in a vice grip as she realised her children were going to suffer because she had failed them yet again.

It was that thought that forced a ragged sob from her throat. Immediately, Lavinia slapped a hand across her mouth to quell the onslaught of lament that would surely follow. She was unsuccessful as her throat tightened and tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. Quickly, Lavinia stumbled to the bed and she knelt down at the foot of it, chest and arms draped across the mattress, knees on the floor. She buried her face in her comforter and she cried loudly into it.

Having heard someone crying, Lavinia's son Thomas had pulled himself out of bed and slinked into the hallway to find out what was going on in his home. When he found his mother in her room, sobbing collapsed at the foot of her bed, he panicked. "Mum?!"

Lavinia jerked in surprise and she raised her head in alarm. When she caught sight of her youngest son, immediately she sniffed and tried to cease her tears by wiping furiously at them. "Thomas! You're home..."

"I...I was sick. Mr Appleby sent me home. Joe had to sign me out and walk me." He inched into the bedroom, clearly horrified to find his mother crying. It was not something he had ever seen before. "I told Mr Appleby I was fine, but he's pushy..."

Lavinia sniffed again, fanning her face with her hand. "You're sick?" she asked with concern. Any shame she might have felt in being found this way by her child evaporated, replaced with worry.

Immediately, Thomas looked ashamed. "Not bad sick. It's just sniffles, Mums. It won't cost money..."

Lavinia thought her heart was going to splinter like broken glass as her fourteen-year-old son tried to reassure her he wasn't going to be a burden. As if he ever could be. "Oh, Thomas-" Lavinia couldn't find words for him so she opened her arms wide. He wasted no time then in crossing the room and letting his mother embrace him. At fourteen he still had no qualms about showing affection other boys his age might now consider 'uncool'. Thomas wasn't like that and Lavinia didn't think he ever would be. "Thomas, you shouldn't have to think about that. If you're sick we'll make sure you get better. No matter what it takes."

Thomas held her tightly, his chin on her shoulder. He couldn't be distracted by her calming words because he was worried for her more than for himself. "Mums, why were you crying? Did someone hurt you again?"

Lavinia sniffed a third time, and she pulled back so Thomas could see her face. It was red and slightly puffy from crying, but her tears were over. "No, my darling. No one hurt me again." Once had been enough anyway, hadn't it? "It's alright. You don't have to worry."

Thomas, who had enough compassion in him for someone twice his age, looked dubious. "Mums, you never cry." Thomas sniffed though it was from his cold and not from crying. Lavinia was immediately reminded that she hadn't paid the gas bill and she vehemently hoped it would be shut off again now that it was December and quite cold. If it was, they'd all have to sleep in the living room near the fireplace again. "I know you're worried about something."

His words snapped her out of her worries and she smiled weakly at him. "I am, Lovey. But my worries are not for you-"

"That's crap," Thomas said quickly, and then he flushed red. Lavinia had quite the notorious mouth, and her children hadn't exactly been shielded from it though it had never been directed at them. Thomas was an avid churchgoer and he was probably the only one of Lavinia's children who actively tried to censor himself. None of the Littleton children ever spoke back to Lavinia, however. Not because they were afraid to, but because they respected her too much to do so. "I'm sorry!"

Lavinia leaned forward to kiss her son on the cheek. "My darling boy, it's alright. Let's move into the living room. It's warmer in there and I'm worried about your cold. Anyway, my leg is going numb." Lavinia stood easily, and when Thomas did the same, she gave him a hug as something occurred to her. "Thomas, what time were you sent home?"

"Ten-thirty." Suddenly he was acting cagey, and Lavinia knew why. The children's school had a lunch program and because she was a single mother, she qualified for discounted meals. Lavinia had pre-paid this months ago when things were not as tight. It meant, on the days when the kids were in school, they had a hot meal in the middle of the day, even if it was served by menacing-looking school dinner ladies. Today was the last day the school would be in session, however, before letting out for Christmas holidays. Those were a lot of days when a pre-purchased hot lunch wouldn't be readily available.

"And you tried to let Mr Appleby to let you stay so you could be at school when they served lunch?" Lavinia ruffled his hair, though he knowledge that her child had tried to stay in school while sick just to have a meal was not something Lavinia took much joy in. Especially since he must have had the fact that it might be his last chance for a while in mind. "But he didn't understand and sent you home anyway."

Thomas said nothing, but his silence confirmed her suspicion.

"Come along, Ragamuffin. I'll fix you something-"

"I'll be alright, Mums." Thomas looked gloomy and he sniffled again before sneezing five times in quick succession. "Augh. Headache..."

"You, living room sofa. Now. And you will eat the soup I bring you or I'll sell your ears to that girl you like in your music class."

"Muuummmmssss!" Thomas groaned, but he was already in the midst of complying.

In the living room, Thomas crawled onto the sofa and he pulled the croqueted blanket that usually graced the back of it over himself. When Lavinia re-entered the room, she found him waiting for her, looking guilty. "None of that, Dearheart." She handed him a bowl of soup and then pulled a chair up beside the sofa. "I'm so sorry you were here alone."

"It's okay," Thomas shrugged. He took the bowl into his hands and he spooned some of the soup into his mouth. "I was fine."

"You could have called me," Lavinia said, moving to brush his hair out of his eyes.

"You were working. And it's just a cold. I really am okay. Mums, you're supposed to tell me why you were crying."

Lavinia sighed, but the look she gave her son was one of adoration instead of annoyance. "My dear Thomas. You're not going to let me out of this, are you?" Thomas shook his head and he took another bite of soup. "They sent me home early today. They're reducing my hours. It just has me worried, that's all."

Thomas stopped eating the soup and his face paled somewhat. "Mums..."

"It's going to be alright," Lavinia lied. The only lies she ever told her children were ones to make their world seem brighter. And she didn't know it wouldn't be alright. Her worthless, absentee husband could send a cheque in the mail tomorrow. He hardly ever did, but it happened on occasion. Maybe everything really would be okay.

"I have money, Mums. From my paper route!"

"You're saving up, Thomas. You should't have to-"

"Mums?" Thomas interrupted her quietly and in the politest way possible. "Don't you think I'd rather give it to you so you don't have to worry so much and cry on the floor again?"

Lavinia was stunned into silence. Once again she was reminded how very selfless he was. At fourteen, her older brothers wouldn't have given her the time of day, let alone any money they had managed to scrape together from odd jobs. "Thomas..."

"Mums? Are we in trouble again?" It wasn't as though they could go without noticing the slowly decreasing size of their evening meals, or the fact that it was now all canned and disgusting instead of fresh and expensive, or even or that Lavinia was skipping supper with the claim that she just wanted coffe. "You don't work at the hospital anymore, and the car was broken. If we're in trouble...I want you to have the money. I can get it tomorrow."

"What you can do, is relax." Lavinia kissed his forehead, and she noted that it was slightly too warm. He realy was sick, the poor thing. "Thomas, you are such a treasure to me."

"I know, Mums," Thomas said easily. He did too. "And you're a treasure to me too, which is why-"

"I'm not going to continue to argue with you, Thomas." The truth was, if there was a way to keep her kids from suffering, she would take it. Even if that meant letting them help with what should have been her goddamn responsibility. It made her feel like even more of a failure, but there wasn't much she could do. Thomas' money would keep them from going to bed hungry, and she wasn't going to keep her pride and let her children suffer instead. "You do what you want with your money."

"I want to give it you," he repeated firmly.

"Well I think you're one of the most wonderful people I know, my darling boy. You're going to help us a lot. Not just me, but your brothers and sisters too. You're my little hero."

Thomas beamed, even through his headache and stuffy nose. "I love you, Mums."

"I love you too, my darling." Lavinia ran her fingers through his hair again and she smiled at him. "You just eat up and then you should try and get some sleep."

Thomas finished the soup with all the gusto of a fourteen-year-old boy, drinking it down quickly and then handing the bowl to Lavinia while looking pleased with himself. "Done!"

Lavinia chuckled and she took the bowl from his hands. "There's my Thomas. You just rest now." Lavinia rose from the sofa and headed for the kitchen, empty bowl in her hands. Inwardly, she cursed Bernard Littleton for leaving them to this. For forcing their children to go through the things they did. She hated it, but it certainly made he see what incredible people she had been gifted with. Her children were extraordinary. It was Bernard's loss. Even being dirt poor, with them, Lavinia knew she was the richest woman in the world.