Chapter Forty Four
Penny To Cross The Liffey
In the warm glow of the evening sunshine, chatting amiably, the four of them were now strolling along the north side of St. Stephen's Green. For the time being at least, if only for the present, all thought of what had happened to them at the Shelbourne but a matter of hours before was laid aside. Tom and Sybil were arm in arm, with Mary and Edith following close behind, all keeping to a deliberately slow pace, very mindful about what the doctor had said about Tom not exerting himself unduly.
"Do you really mean it? You'll actually do it?" asked Sybil with a grin, casting a backwards glance over her shoulder, unable to conceal her incredulity at what Mary had just said.
"Darling, why of course I do; whatever made you think I meant otherwise?" said Mary with a laugh.
"Well, it's just that I never ever thought I'd see you, of all people, riding on a public tram!"
"Neither did I!" exclaimed Edith.
"Then, perhaps neither of you two know me as well as you seem to think you do!" laughed Mary mischievously.
"Obviously not!" said Edith with a grin. "But then I suppose that's true of all of us. After all, do any of us really know each other the way we think we do?"
At that, Sybil turned her head, gave Edith a thoughtful stare. No, thought Sybil, we don't, given what I...
Tom's voice broke into her reverie. The moment passed.
"Love, shouldn't you wait and see if Mary makes good on her promise first?" chuckled Tom turning to wink broadly at Sybil's eldest sister.
"Whatever happened to my oh-so gallant future brother-in-law?" asked Mary with feigned concern and a pointed raise of an eyebrow. "May I remind you, Mr. Branson, that a gentleman never questions the word of a lady" she said playfully, before prodding Tom very gently in the back in a most unladylike fashion, and breaking into a broad smile.
"Ouch! That hurt! See, that Syb? The British aristocracy continuing with their oppression of the Irish poor; and me a much injured man!" Tom turned his head and grinned at both Mary and Edith. "But in case you hadn't realised, Mary, your gallant future brother-in-law is still here, right in front of you. Only I'm really just an ignorant Irishman" said Tom with another grin.
"I don't believe that for a moment!" said Mary teasingly.
"Neither do I" retorted Sybil equally mischievously. "Tom's an Irishman all right, through and through, but he's certainly not ignorant, far from it; in fact, quite the reverse!"
"Why, thank you for that ringing endorsement, milady", said Tom with a mocking, slight inclination of his head. "You must want something, love, to be so free with your compliments". He chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Why ... only to marry you on Saturday!" laughed Sybil leaning in for a quick kiss. Always ready to oblige her, Tom bent his head towards hers, their lips meeting chastely.
"Did I ever tell you that I love you, Sybil Crawley?" asked Tom, gazing down at her, as once again blue eyes met blue grey.
Sybil grinned, contrived to look pensive. She paused for suitable effect, before giving him her answer.
"No, I don't think so" she said. "At least not in the last half hour!"
"Well, then. I do!" laughed Tom. He winced slightly, as in bending towards her, his bruises made their presence felt yet again.
"Now, you remember what the doctor said Tom" giggled Sybil. "No undue physical exertion – at least for the next few days!"
Tom looked mournful.
"But, we're getting married on Saturday!" he groaned.
"Well, perhaps you should have thought about that before taking on half the Dublin police force!" said Sybil archly.
Tom rolled his eyes and growled softly.
"You mean... we won't be able to ..."
Sybil grinned, shook her head expressively.
"No, sadly not; remember what the doctor told you, Tom. No undue physical exertion ... of any kind!"
"But surely he didn't mean that we don't ..." whimpered Tom.
"Sorry, Tom, but yes he did. I even took the precaution of asking him all about it".
"You mean, you asked the doctor if we could..." Tom's voice rose unintentionally. He sounded aghast.
"Why, I've shocked you Mr. Branson!" Then, seeing Tom's mournful expression, Sybil found she could keep up her pretence no longer.
"No, not really". Sybil grinned broadly up at him.
"Why, you little minx" hissed Tom. "Sybil, you have no idea what you do to me. If only we were on our own, I ..."
He stopped what he was saying, blushed a furious red, suddenly all too conscious of Mary and Edith following close behind them, hanging on to their every word, but it was already too late. Tom grinned sheepishly.
"Honestly, you two are absolutely incorrigible!" exclaimed Mary with feigned exasperation. Before today's most singular events, her remark might have been taken to be censorious, disapproving, but now no longer.
"So where do we board the tram then" asked Edith scarcely able to hide her own excitement, but equally glad to be able to change the subject to something rather more suited to an evening stroll along the pavement in earshot of all and sundry.
"The stop's over there, Edith. Just along the street" said Tom, pointing towards a sign on the edge of the pavement by which a group of people, of both men and women, were standing waiting. "By the way, did you know that here in Dublin, and elsewhere too, during the war, women were employed as conductresses on the trams?"
"So, I read in the papers at the time. That happened in York too. When I mentioned it to Papa, he nearly had a fit. I think he imagined me running off to be a conductress on the trams there, while Sybil trained as a nurse! Mind you, I'd have been no good at it what with all those fares. After all, I've never really had much of a head for figures. In fact, come to think of it, I'd much rather drive one. Do you know if they're easy to drive, Tom?"
"I'm not sure, Edith. I've never tried myself. But since you managed to learn how to drive the Renault back at Downton very quickly; not to mention a Fordson tractor".
"That's only because you were such a good teacher, Tom!" laughed Edith.
Tom grinned broadly back at her over his shoulder.
"My pleasure! Mind you, I'm sure you'd have no problem with learning how to drive a tram, Edith. After all, they run on rails, so you can't go that far wrong! The tram company's Head Office is over on Upper Sackville Street. Before you leave Dublin, perhaps you ought to pay them a visit, Edith; see if they have any vacancies. We could then go into business together. Crawley and Branson Transport Ltd. What about it?" Tom chuckled gently.
"Oh, for goodness' sake, Tom. Next, she'll want to drive the Orient Express! Don't encourage her, please". Mary rolled her eyes in mock horror.
"Why stick with staying on the ground, Edith? Ever thought of learning how to fly?" asked Tom with another mischievous grin. "You could be the very next Harriet Quimby!"
"Who?" asked Mary.
"Don't even ask him!" said Sybil with a giggle.
"No need to" said Edith. "I know who she was. She was an American; the first woman pilot to fly across the English Channel ... in 1912".
"How ever do you know that?" asked Mary genuinely amazed, marvelling at her younger sister's sudden store of unexpected knowledge.
"Oh, I like to keep myself informed" said Edith assuming a slightly superior air. "Actually, Mary, I read about her in one of Mama's old magazines. Miss Quimby's flight across the Channel took place just the day after the Titanic sank, so there wasn't much about it in the newspapers at the time".
"Neither here, nor in America" said Tom ruefully. "She was also very fine journalist too ...worked for Leslie's Illustrated Weekly, in New York. She travelled all over Europe and Central America, as a photographer. She also learnt how to drive too, Edith. Terrible tragedy, what then happened".
"Yes, it was" said Edith, her voice tinged with obvious regret.
"Which was what, exactly?" asked Sybil mystified. She and Mary exchanged knowing glances of mutual incredulity, while Edith and Tom continued with their conversation about Miss Quimby.
"She died in a flying accident. In America, shortly after her flight across the Channel" said Edith. "Near Boston, wasn't it, Tom?"
Tom nodded his assent.
"Yes, terrible shame that".
By now they had reached the tram stop on St. Stephen's Green and joined those waiting for the number 15 service to run the comparatively short distance by way of Dawson Street, Nassau Street, Westmoreland Street, thence across the O'Connell Bridge and so onto Nelson's Pillar down on Sackville Street.
"Here it comes now" said Tom nodding his head as the green and white open topped tramcar hove into view and slowed to a stop in front of them at the stand.
"How much does it cost?" asked Edith. "Is it frightfully expensive?"
"For some, yes it is" said Tom. "There are always complaints about the price of the fares. But it will cost us a 1d. each down to the Pillar and then, assuming you don't mind riding back on it to the hotel, a further 1d. each for the two of you for the return journey".
Sybil stepped swiftly aboard the low wooden platform at the rear of the tram, followed in quick succession by Edith, then Mary, with Tom slowly bringing up the rear.
"Up top?" called Sybil cheerily over shoulder.
Tom nodded.
"Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound" said he, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. It really was utterly ridiculous. Here he was, an Irish republican, in the heart of Dublin, with Ireland on the verge of fighting a war with the British, acting as nursemaid to the three daughters of the earl and countess of Grantham.
"Now Tom, mind you take the stairs slowly" admonished Sybil.
Followed by her two sisters, and thereafter by Tom, Sybil made her way up the narrow winding staircase and came out into the sunshine on the open top deck of the tram. Despite the fine weather, at this hour, perhaps on account of what had happened earlier in this part of the city, there were only a handful of other passengers, so they easily found four places together at the front. A moment later, just as they were sitting down on the wooden slatted seats, and with a slight jolt, the tram set off along St. Stephen's Green before turning sharp right onto Dawson Street.
"I'll pay" for all of us" said Mary. She proffered a sovereign from her purse to the conductor, who looked at her askance. "Is there a problem?" she asked, genuinely puzzled by the man's seeming reluctance to take the coin from her.
"Aint yous got anything' smaller?" asked the young conductor shaking his head in annoyance, muttering something under his breath about the "feckin' English". At that, Mary coloured, was obviously about to make a pithy retort, when Tom came to her rescue and stepped manfully into the breach.
"May I?" he asked of her politely. Mary nodded. Then, taking Mary's open purse from her, Tom extracted a silver sixpence and handed it over to the conductor who, still quietly cursing under his breath, issued them with their tickets and, then shaking his head, handed Tom 2d. by way of change, who glared at the young conductor.
"Imigh leat, gread leat" said Tom coldly. Even if Sybil and her sisters did not understand Gaelic, Tom's stony expression said it all.
The young lad coloured, then shamefaced, turned on his heel, made his way back along the upper deck, and then disappeared downstairs to the lower saloon.
"He's damned lucky I don't make a complaint" said Tom through gritted teeth. "There's no excuse for that kind of rudeness".
"Whatever did you say to him?" whispered Mary.
"Don't ask" said Tom. "I wasn't very polite either. Here, Mary, these are what you will need for your return journey back up here". So saying, he handed the two pennies over to Mary.
"Thank you, Tom. Whatever would I, would any of us, do without you?" laughed Mary.
"Think nothing of it" said Tom with a grin.
"Look, that's the Royal Hibernian Hotel" said Sybil "The restaurant there is said to be very fine. Not that we've ever eaten there. It's a bit too expensive for the likes of Tom and me! Mind you, I suppose if things become too unbearable at the Shelbourne, you two could always stay at the Royal Hibernian instead!"
"And that building there, that's the Mansion House" explained Tom. "It's where the Dáil met in January of this year to proclaim our independence" he added quietly, his eyes glistening.
The pride in his voice, at this particular achievement on the part of his own fellow countrymen, was unmistakeable, so much so that Sybil squeezed Tom's hand tightly by way of mutual support.
And, thereafter, with Tom and Sybil continuing happily to point out all manner of local landmarks to both Mary and Edith, the Number 15 tram rattled merrily along its way, bound for Nelson's Pillar.