Sea Salt 9, Sangria 2, Prune 16 [Divide and Rule]
Title: Little by Little
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Sea Salt #9 (steam), Sangria #2 (2. Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul), Prune #16 (every little bit helps)
Toppings/Extras: Pocky Chain + Malt - My Treat (A series of conversations that take place over tea)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1400 (14 x drabbles.)
Notes: 1908, 1923, 1937, 1947, 1952, 1957, 1963, 1972, 1980, 1986, 1991, 1992; John Iveson/Elizabeth Long, Edward Iveson/Julia Graves, Hanne Graves, Christy Graves, Ron Whittaker, Charles Terrell/Marian Dalton, Anna Miller/Louise Murray, Elizabeth Miller, Michael Seaton, Liz Cardew. (It seemed like a good idea at the time. And I don't even like tea...)
Summary: Tea and conversation, and hope.
***
1. 1908
“Tea?” said Elizabeth, her hand ready on the pot. “Mr Iveson?”
Her father’s guest moved across with a smile. “If you’d be so good.”
“You seem a little distracted,” she said. Mr Iveson, unlike many of Father’s visitors, wasn’t averse to conversing with her as if she was a rational being. Today, not so.
He took the tea, stirring it; watching her. “Well, I’ve been deliberating over a question, Miss Long - is it too soon to say? Or more of a risk if I don’t?”
“Oh?”
“That we might suit,” he said. “I believe we might. What do you think?”
2. 1923
Edward found it hard to breathe, the room too full of dark-clothed adults, mostly drinking tea: careful, that’s hot - mind the china. Wearing an unaccustomed black suit himself, he curled up in the window seat. He could leave, Mother had said, but he felt he ought to stay while she did.
A lady sat beside him, cup in hand. He glanced up to see Mrs Graves, Mother’s friend.
“Let’s go outside,” she said, smiling. “It’s so stuffy in here, and I’d love to see the garden again.” She caught his look at Mother, adding, “Don’t worry - no one will mind.”
3. 1937
Hanne carried her tea into Harold’s study, sitting down at the desk.
“Everyone will say I’m stupid,” she told the empty chair, “but the papers always exaggerate - maybe things aren’t so bad. Besides, it doesn’t matter if I’m wrong as usual - I’ll face anything as long as it’s not your family being unkind again. Especially the aunts - pair of old vultures, saying I’m not fit to look after anyone! So, I am going, whatever happens.” She paused. “Not Julia, though. I know you wouldn’t have her leave school now. She’ll stay, I promise.”
But it would, she thought, hurt terribly.
4. 1947
Edward returned to his desk to find the file (the fatal file) still open next to a cold cup of tea. They were more than names to him, save Rudy: he remembered Hanne’s kindness whenever they’d met, and he’d run into Christy sometimes, to their mutual annoyance:
“You can be such a bloody prig,” Christy’d say, and when Edward protested: “You are, you know.” He’d grin. “But a nice one, I’ll grant you.”
Edward closed the file, not truly concerned with the past, wondering only what Julia Graves thought of him now - or if she’d ever think of him again.
5. 1952
Exhaustion seemed to take everything she had: when Edward got up to leave, abandoning her along with the undrunk hospital tea, Julia let slip a whimper of protest.
“I have to,” he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “Visiting time’s over, I’m afraid. You’ll be home soon, though - they keep telling me so.”
It was silly to cry after he left, but home wasn’t only Chalcot Crescent, despite its reassuring Georgian solidity - her place of safety was Edward and had been ever since they’d met.
She closed her eyes, reminding herself he was right: she would be home soon.
6. 1957
Julia Iveson passed Ron Whittaker his tea. “Milk, no sugar. I remember - though it’s been ages since we’ve seen you! Have you been busy?”
“Very,” said Whittaker, apparently intent on stirring his tea, despite its lack of sugar. “Sorry about that.”
“Ned won’t be long - at least, so he said.” She laughed, pulling a face.
Whittaker nodded, looking up again as she left. There were several reasons he’d not been round lately, but one of them was self-preservation. No sense in banging your head against a brick wall, metaphorical or literal. But still, he wished she’d stayed a little longer.
7. 1963
“I’m going to take up bank robbery,” said Charles, sprawled on Whittaker’s sofa. “All this time I spend in prison these days - might as well get something to show for it.”
Whittaker hung onto his tea cup as if it was the last bastion of civilisation. Perhaps it was. For however much longer they’d still have tea. “If you’re going to live outside the law, then do something more constructive.”
“Oh?” said Charles. “And is rebellion constructive or destructive? You tell me.”
“God only knows,” Whittaker said soberly, and put down his cup. “But we might need to find out.”
8. 1972
Catherine unfolded out her paper chain people: six in a row. Mum, Dad, Philip, David, Catherine and, now, on the end, her other father. He was as faceless as any paper person to her, and neither tea nor Mum’s words had helped. Maybe he’d run off and left Mum; maybe he’d had no choice; maybe he was in with Hallam, working in the government, or maybe he was secretly working against them.
When you looked at it like that, Catherine thought, she might as well make him anything she wanted him to be; it would be every bit as true.
9. 1980
“What happened to the others?” Liesa asked, close to Anna on the battered sofa; there wasn’t much else available in the safe house.
Anna shook her head, unscrewing the flask of acorn tea. “They went the other way. It’ll take a while for them to get back.”
“Just us, then,” said Liesa, taking the tea; leaning against Anna and taking what warmth she could from both. Tea finished, she turned her head, kissing Anna, who closed her eyes, remaining for a moment before she stood - work still to be done, she said. With Anna, Liesa knew, there always would be.
10. 1986
“Damn!” said Arran, spilling his blackberry tea across the floor.
Anna shook her head. “You don’t need to watch your language on my account.”
“Who says I was?” He looked around unsuccessfully for a means to clear it up, as Anna continued frowning over her plans of action. “Oh, what’s the bloody point?”
“The tea, or everything?”
“Only the tea - for now. Don’t worry. I know - loss of morale wouldn’t be leader-like.”
Anna gave a brief, private, sideways smile and, without looking up, said, “Use the tea cloth - over there. And you can have my tea; I don’t want it.”
11. 1991 (1)
“I know what you’re thinking,” Charles said, leaning back in his chair, an amused light in his eyes.
“Psychic, are we?”
“You’re thinking: why the hell has Anna put him up for PM? Well, unless she’s told you more than she’s told me.”
Arran wore a grudging smile. “She’s given me reasons - but, no, not an explanation.”
“Well, that’s something we’ve got in common, Colonel,” said Charles and raised his tea in salute.
Arran laughed, putting his cup down. “Fair enough. Just one thing, Terrell - this is Parliament House. Surely you’ve got something stronger in the bloody place than tea?”
12. 1991 (2)
“But why didn’t you just ask me?” said Charles over a cup of tea and the files spread out on the desk between them.
Liz shrugged. “Too many years keeping quiet about my past - my parents. Secrecy’s a hard habit to break. But I did ask, you know. In a roundabout way, but you told me you didn’t know anything.”
“No,” Charles said, his face furrowing in his frustration. “I don’t. But I bet Whittaker did. If I’d known, I’d have put you onto him.”
Liz tapped her cup with her fingertips, her smile wry. “Too late, then - as usual.”
13. 1991 (3)
Charles passed Anna a cup of tea. “Here. Drink that, and tell me what’s wrong - if you can.”
Anna leaned her head on her hand. “Thanks. And I can’t.”
“Something happened,” said Charles. “At Salisbury, yes? And you’re worried this man knows something? Want me to sound him out for you? I’m sure you’re wrong.”
Anna smiled wearily, but she slid her hands around the mug and breathed in, taking strength from it. “That’s not it.” She raised her chin. “Doesn’t matter, though - I know what to do.”
“All right,” said Charles. “In that case, it’s already sorted, isn’t it?”
14. 1992
“Tea?” said Marian, with a smile. She had, Charles thought, the warmest smile he’d ever seen.
He grinned. “The world ends - but there’s still tea?”
“Don’t be so silly, love. If the world had ended, there’d be no tea and no one left to drink it, either. But while it’s here and we are, why not?”
Charles nodded. You could sit around worrying about everything and everyone who’d been lost, what hadn’t happened, or you could get on with things as they were - and make time for tea with the people who remained.
“Tea,” he said, echoing her. “Why not?”
***
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Sea Salt #9 (steam), Sangria #2 (2. Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul), Prune #16 (every little bit helps)
Toppings/Extras: Pocky Chain + Malt - My Treat (A series of conversations that take place over tea)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1400 (14 x drabbles.)
Notes: 1908, 1923, 1937, 1947, 1952, 1957, 1963, 1972, 1980, 1986, 1991, 1992; John Iveson/Elizabeth Long, Edward Iveson/Julia Graves, Hanne Graves, Christy Graves, Ron Whittaker, Charles Terrell/Marian Dalton, Anna Miller/Louise Murray, Elizabeth Miller, Michael Seaton, Liz Cardew. (It seemed like a good idea at the time. And I don't even like tea...)
Summary: Tea and conversation, and hope.
***
1. 1908
“Tea?” said Elizabeth, her hand ready on the pot. “Mr Iveson?”
Her father’s guest moved across with a smile. “If you’d be so good.”
“You seem a little distracted,” she said. Mr Iveson, unlike many of Father’s visitors, wasn’t averse to conversing with her as if she was a rational being. Today, not so.
He took the tea, stirring it; watching her. “Well, I’ve been deliberating over a question, Miss Long - is it too soon to say? Or more of a risk if I don’t?”
“Oh?”
“That we might suit,” he said. “I believe we might. What do you think?”
2. 1923
Edward found it hard to breathe, the room too full of dark-clothed adults, mostly drinking tea: careful, that’s hot - mind the china. Wearing an unaccustomed black suit himself, he curled up in the window seat. He could leave, Mother had said, but he felt he ought to stay while she did.
A lady sat beside him, cup in hand. He glanced up to see Mrs Graves, Mother’s friend.
“Let’s go outside,” she said, smiling. “It’s so stuffy in here, and I’d love to see the garden again.” She caught his look at Mother, adding, “Don’t worry - no one will mind.”
3. 1937
Hanne carried her tea into Harold’s study, sitting down at the desk.
“Everyone will say I’m stupid,” she told the empty chair, “but the papers always exaggerate - maybe things aren’t so bad. Besides, it doesn’t matter if I’m wrong as usual - I’ll face anything as long as it’s not your family being unkind again. Especially the aunts - pair of old vultures, saying I’m not fit to look after anyone! So, I am going, whatever happens.” She paused. “Not Julia, though. I know you wouldn’t have her leave school now. She’ll stay, I promise.”
But it would, she thought, hurt terribly.
4. 1947
Edward returned to his desk to find the file (the fatal file) still open next to a cold cup of tea. They were more than names to him, save Rudy: he remembered Hanne’s kindness whenever they’d met, and he’d run into Christy sometimes, to their mutual annoyance:
“You can be such a bloody prig,” Christy’d say, and when Edward protested: “You are, you know.” He’d grin. “But a nice one, I’ll grant you.”
Edward closed the file, not truly concerned with the past, wondering only what Julia Graves thought of him now - or if she’d ever think of him again.
5. 1952
Exhaustion seemed to take everything she had: when Edward got up to leave, abandoning her along with the undrunk hospital tea, Julia let slip a whimper of protest.
“I have to,” he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “Visiting time’s over, I’m afraid. You’ll be home soon, though - they keep telling me so.”
It was silly to cry after he left, but home wasn’t only Chalcot Crescent, despite its reassuring Georgian solidity - her place of safety was Edward and had been ever since they’d met.
She closed her eyes, reminding herself he was right: she would be home soon.
6. 1957
Julia Iveson passed Ron Whittaker his tea. “Milk, no sugar. I remember - though it’s been ages since we’ve seen you! Have you been busy?”
“Very,” said Whittaker, apparently intent on stirring his tea, despite its lack of sugar. “Sorry about that.”
“Ned won’t be long - at least, so he said.” She laughed, pulling a face.
Whittaker nodded, looking up again as she left. There were several reasons he’d not been round lately, but one of them was self-preservation. No sense in banging your head against a brick wall, metaphorical or literal. But still, he wished she’d stayed a little longer.
7. 1963
“I’m going to take up bank robbery,” said Charles, sprawled on Whittaker’s sofa. “All this time I spend in prison these days - might as well get something to show for it.”
Whittaker hung onto his tea cup as if it was the last bastion of civilisation. Perhaps it was. For however much longer they’d still have tea. “If you’re going to live outside the law, then do something more constructive.”
“Oh?” said Charles. “And is rebellion constructive or destructive? You tell me.”
“God only knows,” Whittaker said soberly, and put down his cup. “But we might need to find out.”
8. 1972
Catherine unfolded out her paper chain people: six in a row. Mum, Dad, Philip, David, Catherine and, now, on the end, her other father. He was as faceless as any paper person to her, and neither tea nor Mum’s words had helped. Maybe he’d run off and left Mum; maybe he’d had no choice; maybe he was in with Hallam, working in the government, or maybe he was secretly working against them.
When you looked at it like that, Catherine thought, she might as well make him anything she wanted him to be; it would be every bit as true.
9. 1980
“What happened to the others?” Liesa asked, close to Anna on the battered sofa; there wasn’t much else available in the safe house.
Anna shook her head, unscrewing the flask of acorn tea. “They went the other way. It’ll take a while for them to get back.”
“Just us, then,” said Liesa, taking the tea; leaning against Anna and taking what warmth she could from both. Tea finished, she turned her head, kissing Anna, who closed her eyes, remaining for a moment before she stood - work still to be done, she said. With Anna, Liesa knew, there always would be.
10. 1986
“Damn!” said Arran, spilling his blackberry tea across the floor.
Anna shook her head. “You don’t need to watch your language on my account.”
“Who says I was?” He looked around unsuccessfully for a means to clear it up, as Anna continued frowning over her plans of action. “Oh, what’s the bloody point?”
“The tea, or everything?”
“Only the tea - for now. Don’t worry. I know - loss of morale wouldn’t be leader-like.”
Anna gave a brief, private, sideways smile and, without looking up, said, “Use the tea cloth - over there. And you can have my tea; I don’t want it.”
11. 1991 (1)
“I know what you’re thinking,” Charles said, leaning back in his chair, an amused light in his eyes.
“Psychic, are we?”
“You’re thinking: why the hell has Anna put him up for PM? Well, unless she’s told you more than she’s told me.”
Arran wore a grudging smile. “She’s given me reasons - but, no, not an explanation.”
“Well, that’s something we’ve got in common, Colonel,” said Charles and raised his tea in salute.
Arran laughed, putting his cup down. “Fair enough. Just one thing, Terrell - this is Parliament House. Surely you’ve got something stronger in the bloody place than tea?”
12. 1991 (2)
“But why didn’t you just ask me?” said Charles over a cup of tea and the files spread out on the desk between them.
Liz shrugged. “Too many years keeping quiet about my past - my parents. Secrecy’s a hard habit to break. But I did ask, you know. In a roundabout way, but you told me you didn’t know anything.”
“No,” Charles said, his face furrowing in his frustration. “I don’t. But I bet Whittaker did. If I’d known, I’d have put you onto him.”
Liz tapped her cup with her fingertips, her smile wry. “Too late, then - as usual.”
13. 1991 (3)
Charles passed Anna a cup of tea. “Here. Drink that, and tell me what’s wrong - if you can.”
Anna leaned her head on her hand. “Thanks. And I can’t.”
“Something happened,” said Charles. “At Salisbury, yes? And you’re worried this man knows something? Want me to sound him out for you? I’m sure you’re wrong.”
Anna smiled wearily, but she slid her hands around the mug and breathed in, taking strength from it. “That’s not it.” She raised her chin. “Doesn’t matter, though - I know what to do.”
“All right,” said Charles. “In that case, it’s already sorted, isn’t it?”
14. 1992
“Tea?” said Marian, with a smile. She had, Charles thought, the warmest smile he’d ever seen.
He grinned. “The world ends - but there’s still tea?”
“Don’t be so silly, love. If the world had ended, there’d be no tea and no one left to drink it, either. But while it’s here and we are, why not?”
Charles nodded. You could sit around worrying about everything and everyone who’d been lost, what hadn’t happened, or you could get on with things as they were - and make time for tea with the people who remained.
“Tea,” he said, echoing her. “Why not?”
***