Chapter Forty Three

By The Shore Of The Silver Sea

The doctor summoned by Mary's urgent telephone call had finally arrived; was now with Tom. But while Sybil had insisted on staying put in the sitting room while the doctor examined him, for the sake of propriety, for the time being at least, Edith and Mary had both retreated to the peace and quiet of Edith's bedroom. Once there, her hands placed demurely in her lap, Mary sat and explained in some detail to Edith exactly what had happened to her when she left the hotel, and thereafter when she returned to the Shelbourne in the aftermath of the explosion.

"So, you see, Edith from what I've now told you, it really was very lucky for me, running into Captain Stathum like that. Why, given all the circumstances, if he hadn't been on duty down there in the street outside the hotel, I don't know quite what I should have done" said Mary, the relief still evident in her voice. "He really was so very helpful. Of course, I will write to him at the Castle, before we sail for England. It's only right and proper that I do so, and convey to him my thanks once again for all his help".

"And you say we met him, all of us, some years ago, at Aunt Rosamund's house up in London?" asked Edith. She sounded somewhat dubious.

Mary nodded her assent.

"Yes, darling, as I told you, at Sybil's eighteenth birthday party, although he was only a lieutenant then, serving with the Suffolks. At least that's what he told me earlier this afternoon. To be quite honest, I can't say that I actually remember him. Come to think of it, I do have a vague recollection of making polite conversation with an army officer at some point during that evening, although from what I recall of it, he was a crashing bore. I suppose it must have been him".

"Yes, I suppose it must" said Edith disinterestedly. "I wonder how darling Tom is doing. How on earth could those police officers have set about him like that? It's so terribly awful!"

"Yes, darling, it is. But he'll be just fine. Trust me. The doctor will do whatever needs to be done to make him well again and darling Sybil will take very good care of him. You'll see". Mary reached out a comforting hand.

Edith nodded, disregarded Mary's outstretched hand.

"Yes, of course. I suppose you're right" she said, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

A moment later as another, more pleasing, memory stirred in Mary's mind, she smiled. The smile broadened, and then deepened.

Edith looked quizzically at her sister.

"Mary, what is it?"

"Do you remember meeting that dark haired Greek naval attaché, from Athens? He was there too you know".

"Who?"
"Captain Vassiliadis".

"Where?"
"At Sybil's birthday party, silly!"

Edith shook her head slowly.

"No, no, I can't say that I do".

"So very handsome, such expressive eyes" said Mary. She sighed wistfully. "He'd been a house guest of Papa and Mama's, at Downton earlier in the year. I think Papa had met him at the Foreign Office up in London. Anyway, during the course of our conversation, Captain Vassiliadis - he was frightfully full of himself as I recall - asked me if I would care to go riding with him, in Hyde Park the following morning. It was frightfully forward of him... on so slight an acquaintance".

"Heavens! How positively awful for you" said Edith, sympathetically. "I'd have been utterly mortified if he'd suggested anything like that to me".

"Well I suppose you would have been, not being possessed of quite the same adventurous spirit as myself" said Mary acidly.

"And I'm sure Richard just loves that side of your character" said Edith sarcastically.

At Edith's acerbic comment Mary's eyes narrowed.

"So did you?" asked Edith swiftly, reading the warning signs, and in the circumstances, not wishing to risk starting a quarrel.

"Did I what?" asked Mary loftily.

"Go riding with the Greek naval attaché in Hyde Park?"

Mary shook her head emphatically.

"Why darling of course not; after all, how could I possibly do such a thing? My reputation would have been ruined".

"Indeed it would". Edith nodded, smiling inwardly to herself, and sparing a fleeting thought for the now decidedly deceased Mr. Pamuk once of Constantinople.

"And then", continued Mary, "when I told dearest Papa about it afterwards, when we were all safely back at Downton, what Captain Vassiliadis had proposed, why Papa nearly had a fit!" Mary's thoughts then came back to the present, drifted to both Tom and Sybil; she glanced towards the door of their sitting room and smiled. "My goodness, how times change!"

"And the young lad you befriended this afternoon?" asked Edith.

"Helped, darling. Not befriended".

"Helped then. The young lad you helped this afternoon. You said heand his mother told you that they came from down near Cork?" asked Edith.

"Yes, darling. From somewhere called Ster... Sk... Skerries. At least I think that's what she said".

"Skerries? Did you say Skerries?"

"Yes. Why, what of it? Does it mean something to you?"

"Well, of course, and it should do to you too; Skerries House. Surely you remember, Mary?
"Remember what?"

"Skerries House. We went there once, years ago now of course, when we were all children, when we were over here in Ireland. Granny made such a fuss at the time – about the stupidity of Irish servants. We were staying with the Tremaynes at Curraghmore – the house Sybil mentioned at tea, the one that was burnt down".

"And what does that have to do with Skerries House?"

"I'm coming to that. We went over to Skerries, for afternoon tea, from Curraghmore, a whole party of us, in several carriages; the Tremaynes, Papa, Mama, you, me, and Sybil - although I don't suppose she will remember. In fact, I daresay she's forgotten all about it. After all, she was very young at the time. Do you think we should remind her?"

Mary shook her head.

"Best not to. Especially now; with what's happened to Curraghmore. Sometimes it doesn't do to dwell too much on the past. And, given what Granny had to say about the shortcomings of Irish servants, we don't want to run the risk of upsetting darling Tom!"

"Do you remember the house?"

"Skerries? No, I don't think so"
"Oh, Mary, you must do; on the coast, overlooking the sea".

Mary nodded slowly, then more enthusiastically as memory stirred within her yet again

"Of course... how silly of me. Yes. Why, yes, I do. There was a bay..."
"Thank goodness. I thought my memory was playing tricks!" exclaimed Edith.

"Down below the house!" said Mary, staring into the middle distance, remembering back. "It was frightfully hot, as I recall; someone suggested, I think it was Mama, that we all troop down to the beach. I suppose it must have been the very first time Sybil ever really saw the sea".

"We took her paddling in the water's edge".

"That's right, we did".

"And Granny made such a fuss about the three of us taking off our shoes and socks and rolling up our dresses!"
"Yes, she was very sniffy about it, said it was unbecoming for young ladies to do such a thing!"

"And, do you remember, what Sybil said when saw the sunlight sparkling on the sea. She said it looked like it was made of silver!"

"Yes. I'd forgotten about that. Sybil's silver sea!" exclaimed Mary enthusiastically.

For one brief moment, all past quarrels temporarily laid aside, if not forgotten, their eyes bright and shining, both Mary and Edith smiled fondly at each another with their shared memory of a carefree, happy childhood.

"Then, later, after we'd had tea, while we the rest of us were playing croquet up by the house, Sybil wandered off, didn't she?" asked Edith.

"That's right, she did! Why, she was a handful even then!" said Mary grinning.

"I remember Papa and Mama were dreadfully upset at the time" said Edith soberly.

Mary nodded her agreement.

"Yes, well so they would be. There was an awful hullaballoo when we found Sybil had disappeared. No-one knew where she had gone; no-one could remember when they had last seen her. Mama was terrified that she'd gone back down to the beach on her own. So, they organised a search along the shore, and when they still couldn't find her, they began searching both the house and grounds. They found her eventually, of course, in the stable yard of all places, trying to help some young boy, an orphan relative of the family I think he was ... who'd been hurt in a fight".

She had been looking for the narrow path which led down to the beach, but, having taken a wrong turning, it was as she wandered into the stable yard that she first saw him. He was lying where he had been flung, battered, bruised, and winded, on his back, atop a pile of dirty, soiled straw. She knew enough to know that the filthy straw constituted the sweepings from the stables. After all, even though she was too young to ride, her parents had horses back at the big house called Downton and, even though her governess had done her very best to hide such things from her, she knew all about the nasty, smelly stuff that, from time to time horses dropped onto the ground from out of their rear ends. She walked purposefully over to where the boy lay, knelt down beside him, reached forward, and gently smoothed back his hair from out of his eyes. They were the deepest shade of blue she had ever seen.

The boy looked up, and, through a mist of pain and tears from the beating he had received, he saw a pretty little girl with long dark hair kneeling beside him on the cobbles, looking down at him through blue grey eyes. He wasn't certain how old she was, only that she was very young.

"You look a mess" said the little girl in the most matter-of-fact of tones, wrinkling her nose at the smell of manure.

"Don't I just" he said with a lop-sided grin.

The little girl smiled back.

Then, reaching forward again, she helped him to sit up. That done, she continued to kneel beside him on the cobbles, dabbing gently at the cuts to his face with her white hand-kerchief soaked in cold water from the nearby water trough.

"What's your name?" she asked at length, when thanks largely to her he looked rather more presentable than when she had first laid eyes upon him.

"I'm Tom".

"What's your name?"

"I'm Sybil".

As if to confirm this, now, from beyond the buildings surrounding the stable yard there arose a frightened babble of voices, the sound growing in intensity, of people all calling, all shouting the same name over and over again.

"Sybil! Sybil! Sybil!"

"Yes, Sybil always was one for finding waifs and strays" said Mary glancing towards the door of their sitting room. She smiled.

Edith nodded.

"You know Mary, despite what you said a while ago, it seems some things never change!"

"No, I suppose they don't" said Mary. "I wonder ..."
"Wonder what?" asked Edith.

"Whatever became of that young boy".