Chapter Forty
Of Cavemen And Confidences
"So, do you really think Tom will be able to find Mary and bring her back here?" asked Edith, unable to conceal her mounting anxiety; almost an hour had passed since Tom had set off in search of Mary, and as yet neither of them had returned to the hotel.
"Don't fret, Edith. Of course he will. Just give him time" said Sybil, her voice muffled by the folds of a towel. Wearing one of Mary's floral silk dressing gowns, Sybil was sitting perched on the end of Edith's bed, vigorously engaged in drying her hair. "Darling, Tom will find her. I'm sure of it". Sybil stopped what she was doing; reached out a comforting, re-assuring hand towards her sister seated next to her. "As for bringing Mary back here to the Shelbourne, Tom will do that right enough, even if to do so he has to pick her up and sling her over his shoulder".
Sybil grinned broadly at the thought of the image she had just conjured up. Dearest Tom, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief, improbably cast in the guise of a handsome, laughing, twentieth century caveman; wearing nothing but a couple of animal skins - Sybil flushed at the very thought - a heavy wooden club held in one hand, striding back here to the hotel from St. Stephen's Green, with Mary thrown casually over his bare shoulder like some prize trophy, giving her sister a hefty slap across her rump every time she became difficult. Sybil could just hear Mary.
"Branson put me down this instant!"
Her mental image of Tom must, thought Sybil, have been prompted, at least in part, by a picture of a half naked caveman that as a child she had found in a book in the nursery back at Downton; a picture which, at the time, and probably even now, her grandmother thought highly improper for the inquisitive eyes of an impressionable young girl. Improper indeed, snorted Sybil. Oh, Granny, if only you but knew what Tom and I have been up to since our arrival here in Ireland!
"Sybil! Tom wouldn't do that, would he?" Edith sounding, thoroughly aghast at the very prospect, clasped her hands together, stood up and walked purposefully across the room to the window of her bedroom overlooking St. Stephen's Green.
"No; of course not" said Sybil, her sister's words breaking into her reverie. "At least I don't think so. But with all that's happened here today, I don't think Tom will stand for any more of her nonsense; so Mary had better watch her step!" At that she became practical once more, laying aside her towel. "Oh thank goodness. I do feel so much better for a bath".
"But darling, shouldn't they both have been back before now?" persisted Edith anxiously.
"Well, yes and no. You see, Edith, it does all rather depend on exactly where it is Mary's taken herself off to".
"Oh well, she said that she…"
"You're certain Mary said she wanted to see the park?"
Edith nodded her assent.
"That's what Mary said. Mind you, that was before …"
"Well, darling, if that's where she's gone, then Tom will find her. St. Stephen's Green is quite large, mind. Tom and I went there for a walk a couple of weeks ago. It's very pleasant, what with the trees, the flowers, and the winding paths. Then there's the bandstand, the fountain, the lakes, and the ducks too".
Edith nodded absent-mindedly. With her damp hair hanging loosely to her shoulders, clad in her dressing gown, idly drawing aside the net curtain, she gazed down at the scene unfolding below the window.
In the street outside the hotel, members of the Dublin police, ably aided by British soldiers from the Yorkshire Regiment, had finally succeeded, in some cases having had to resort to using force, in clearing away the very last of all those who had come to stand and gaze fixedly at the scene of devastation. Elsewhere, city workman and employees of the tramway company were now busily engaged in variety of tasks; starting to fill in the crater in the road, removing bent and twisted rails, shovelling and sweeping the pavements clear of debris and dirt. Shrouded in a billowing cloud of smoke and steam, its whistle shrieking piercingly, a labouring, ponderous traction engine was in the process of being attached to the wrecked tram so as to enable it to be hauled out of the way.
Under the ever watchful, zealous eyes of those police constables who had been ordered to remain behind at the scene so as to ensure that there was no loitering in the vicinity of the explosion, pedestrians started to venture back along the nearby pavements. Thereafter, in a coughing, noisy, noxious fug of fumes, the motor traffic began to be on the move too. Slowly, a semblance of normality re-asserted itself, although it would take much longer than a few hours' work to put right all the damage caused by the explosion. As for those unlucky enough to have been caught up in the nightmare of what had happened, the physical injuries, the mental scars, the hurt, the pain, the loss, would last much longer, would take much longer to heal; in some cases never would, would last for a lifetime.
Edith let the net curtain drop back into place and turned back to face her sister.
"Thank goodness! The trams and motors have started moving again and all those people gathered down there on the pavement opposite the hotel are leaving too. Has anything like this ever happened before Sybil, I mean, after you came over here to Ireland?" asked Edith.
"Not exactly like this, no" said Sybil confidently. "But … from some of the things Tom's had to cover as a journalist, some of the incidents he's told me about, it doesn't really surprise me. I suppose something like this was bound to happen sooner or later".
"But why on earth would anyone do such a terrible thing?" asked Edith. She sounded genuinely bemused.
"I tried to tell both you and Mary about it, earlier this afternoon" said Sybil gently. "The British are very unpopular over here Edith. In fact, they have been for years; have out stayed their welcome, if ever they had one in the first place. As to why, well Tom's told me some of the reasons behind all the clamour for independence. Much of it sounds like ancient history to me; even, I suspect to Tom. But, also from what I've read in the papers, what I've heard people say at the hospital where I work, what I've seen, I can understand only too well why the Irish want their independence. Mind you, I'm sure there's a great deal more besides, which Tom hasn't told me, and his reason for not telling me, is that I suspect my darling Tom doesn't want me to worry".
"Worry? About what?" asked Edith. Sybil sighed resignedly, wondering if either Edith or Mary would ever truly grasp what was happening over here in Ireland.
"Over tea, do you remember that Tom told you that as a journalist, sometimes he has to go to places, into situations which could be, might turn out to be, unpredictable, even dangerous?"
Edith nodded her head in confirmation.
"Some of the events he's reported on, some of the pieces he's written, well, not everyone likes what Tom has to say. Not their cup of tea so to speak. You may find it hard to believe this Edith, especially after how both Tom and I kept our plans so secret from everyone back at Downton, you included, but Tom's always believed in the principle of telling the truth. However, sometimes the truth isn't what people want to hear - on either side. I know anonymous threats have been sent to the Independent, about some of its articles, their content. I expect the majority of those pieces will have been written by Tom. He hasn't said much to me about it, very little in fact; but, it scares me, Edith. If anything should happen to him …" Sybil broke off what she was saying, swallowed hard.
"You really do love him, don't you, Sybil" said Edith huskily, looking across at her sister. Her words were voiced seemingly as a question, but in fact, were more a simple confirmation of what Edith already knew to be the case.
"Yes, of course, I do" said Sybil smiling. "He means everything to me, Edith. I know that to have been the case for so much longer than I cared to admit, even to myself. I was so naïve, such a fool. If I'd only stopped to consider, if I'd only looked, really looked, then I would have seen Tom's feelings for what they were and I would have realised too, far sooner than I did, that I felt the same way about him. After all, Tom never made any secret about his feelings towards me; he wore his heart for me on the sleeve of his chauffeur's jacket. And now, I simply can't imagine a life without him. Don't ask me how I know it Edith, but know it I do, that down to our very lives' end, our love for each other will never change. The plain and simple truth of the matter is that I absolutely adore him".
"I envy you, Sybil, truly I do" said Edith at length and with heartfelt conviction. "Somehow, you and Tom have managed to find something very rare and very precious, worth fighting for, worth hanging on to. Why, you only have to look at the two of you together to see that to be so. But then, I don't have to tell you that do I?"
"No, you don't" laughed Sybil, breaking into a broad smile. "Somehow I know that whatever comes, however stormy the waters, we'll make it through. I know we will".
Looking down at her left hand, Sybil fingered her engagement ring, a simple unadorned band, thinking back, remembering...
They had been standing up on the boat deck, over by the ship's rail, while the Munster steamed onward across the sunlit, sparkling waters of the Irish Sea, carrying them across the wide sweep of the ocean, over to their new life together here in Ireland. Blissfully happy and content, Sybil enfolded in Tom's strong arms, they stood together looking out across the limitless vista of the open sea. A moment later and Tom had slipped down onto one knee before her. Reverently taking her hand in his it was then that he had slid this very same ring onto her finger.
Here, in the soft silence of this beautiful room, in probably the finest suite, in the most expensive hotel, right in the very heart of Dublin, even after all that had happened, if Sybil but closed her eyes, the memories came flooding back.
Tom was holding her close in his arms. Above her she heard the raucous cry of the gulls, while from far below came the thunderous roar of the waves. Beneath her feet she felt the rhythmic beat of the ship's engines, and on her face the biting sting of the salt spray. They kissed passionately, her fingers gently caressing the soft contours of his face. Tasting the sweetness of his lips, she saw dappled sunlight catch flecks of gold in his hair, and Tom's overwhelming love for her, reflected in the depths of his deep blue eyes. Later, as they stood together gazing out across the boundless swell of the ocean, it was then that Sybil knew that as sure as the wind kept blowing, Tom was her talisman; her very life. Whatever happened, nothing, nothing on earth, could ever divide the love they shared.