Chapter Twenty Two
Of Lions, Tigers And Elephants
Although many might have disagreed with him, given both her feisty nature and fiery temperament, which Tom not unsurprisingly, with both a laugh and a merry twinkle in his eyes, plausibly insisted she inherited from her mother Sybil, at the age of eleven Saiorse Branson was in every other respect her father's daughter: caring, intelligent, intuitive, perceptive and questioning of both everything and everyone.
And it was perhaps because of her perspicacity that of all the children in the Branson Crawley party which boarded the Rome Express at the Gare Maritime in Calais on that hot summer's afternoon in July 1932 it was Saiorse alone who, like her father sensed that something untoward had occurred; that it had been occasioned by whatever it was that had kept Ma, Aunt Mary and Aunt Edith closeted together for some considerable time in the salle d'attente.
Seated in the compartment, which before the arrival of Aunt Edith and her son Max, originally had been allocated to all the children, Saiorse glanced briefly and disdainfully at both her brothers and her English cousins. Neither her elder brother Danny, nor that unspeakable wretch Robert, seemed to have noticed that anything was decidedly amiss, chattering away as they were, nineteen to the dozen, about all they had seen when up on the footplate of the engine; Simon and Bobby were equally absorbed playing Hangman, while young Rebecca was standing in the doorway and having a decidedly one-sided conversation with her doll Emma.
From her seat next to Aunt Edith, with little Fritz curled up fast asleep in her lap, Saiorse turned her head and smiled shyly at Max who was seated in the corner nearest the window; Aunt Edith having explained that Max's injured knee meant that for the moment he could not bend his leg properly so he was now sitting with it stretched out across the seat behind Saiorse and her aunt. Saiorse's smile was rewarded with both a broad grin and a wink. Saiorse grinned back. Whatever it was which had so upset Ma, must, thought Saiorse, have something to do with her newfound cousin and, she hoped, friend, Max. Obviously it was something distressing for otherwise how else explain Ma's tear-stained face and Aunt Mary's uncharacteristic distractedness?
Despite all of them having been introduced by Aunt Edith to their new cousin back in Calais, on finding that although Max spoke a reasonable amount of English, he was by no means fluent in his mother's native tongue, conversation between Max and his English and Irish cousins soon stalled, something for which it must be admitted Saiorse was extremely grateful, for it meant that she had him all to herself, but given the fact that she spoke no German and Max's command of English was somewhat limited, how, Saiorse wondered, could she best exploit the situation to her own advantage?
It was her Aunt Edith who unwittingly provided the solution by suggesting that while they were all on the train to Paris, and indeed thereafter, in return for Max teaching Saiorse some words of German, she could help Max improve his command of English and what better way of beginning to do just that by teaching Max how to pronounce her own name?
All things being equal, Saiorse, being Saiorse, would have expressed her voluble annoyance at what then came to pass. After all, she had done just exactly that several years ago, in July 1928, when at the tender age of seven Saiorse, her two brothers and their parents had all come to stay at Downton Abbey, as indeed the Bransons did every year in the summer.
Of course, the family had come over to England to stay at Downton several times before, but it was on this particular occasion that for the umpteenth time Saiorse's cousin Robert had contrived to mangle the pronunciation of her own name; just as he had done when the two of them had first been properly introduced a couple of years earlier, although, in the scheme of things, it has to be admitted that on this never-to-be-forgotten occasion young Robert had done himself no favours whatsoever by then loudly asking Saiorse why it was that she couldn't have a normal, sensible English name just like anyone else.
At that Saiorse had exploded, venting her pent-up anger with her foot on the carefully ordered wooden animals of her cousin Simon's Noah's Ark, causing Simon, then aged five, to burst into tears and howl in protest at what Saiorse had done, resulting in Robert and Simon's nanny and Ma, with darling Bobby in her arms, both to hurry along the corridor and into the day nursery to find out exactly what it was that was going on. Bristling with annoyance, and, even at seven years of age, not easily intimidated, Saiorse chose to ignore the formidable presence in the room of both her Ma and nanny.
"Because I'm Irish of course, cloth ears! That's why my Da and Ma gave me an Irish name you dimwit!" flared Saiorse, at the same time giving a fallen wooden tiger a decidedly unladylike kick, causing the little animal to travel almost the full length of the floor of the day nursery before it finally came to rest alongside a wooden elephant lying across the circle of rails of Robert's Hornby train set at the far end of the room.
Not of course that then, or indeed now, Saiorse fully understood the meaning of the term "cloth ears", but she had heard her beloved father use it in a connotation which left her in no doubt whatsoever that the person to whom her Da had been referring was decidedly stupid. And since, Saiorse had already decided that if Robert also aged seven still needed a nanny to help him both get dressed and undressed, mundane, simple tasks which Saiorse performed for herself on a daily basis and without any assistance whatsoever, then Robert must be simple-minded. That being the case, it was Saiorse's considered opinion that the term "cloth ears" suited Robert perfectly and she now said so loudly as she was oft wont to do when annoyed about something.
The outcome was all too predictable.
While nanny comforted a tearful Simon, Ma, still with little Bobby cradled in her arms, before she disappeared to resume doing whatever it was she had been doing, made Saiorse apologise to Robert for her rudeness; then told her to begin gathering up all the animals belonging to Simon's Noah's Ark and which now lay scattered across the length and breadth of the nursery floor.
Saiorse was still so employed when nanny shepherded both of her young charges out of the nursery, Robert grinning smugly from ear to ear at Saiorse. As it was, Saiorse herself had the last laugh by deliberately mismatching all the fallen animals, for example a tiger with a zebra on the basis that both were striped. However, most of the parings, including that of an elephant with a giraffe, defied any logical explanation. It was at tea-time in the nursery the following day that Robert chose to draw nanny's attention to this singular fact, whereupon Saiorse had merely shrugged her shoulders. How, she asked dismissively, could she possibly be expected to know which was which.
"We don't have lions and elephants in Ireland"; which, of course was true enough, at least up to a point, but which, of course, took absolutely no account of the fact that the Sunday before the Bransons had all travelled over to England, Da and Ma had taken Saiorse and her two brothers in the family's blue Morris Cowley tourer out to Phoenix Park to see the wild animals in their cages and enclosures in Dublin Zoo.
Now, as the Rome Express sped its way ever southwards from Paris, again with Fritz in her lap, happily seated next to Max, this time in the sleeping compartment allocated to him and his mother, Saiorse continued with her English lessons with her handsome, young Austrian cousin, which included repeating her name patiently and sweetly several times over to Max. Eventually, at length, he managed to pronounce Saiorse's name perfectly, whereupon she had grinned happily at Max and hugged him to her, gently of course, because Saiorse knew now that she had to be very careful not to hurt him. Not of course that Saiorse or indeed any of the children fully understood what it was that was wrong with Max.
It had been just after the train had left Calais that Saiorse had noticed that Ma had seemed somewhat upset; that both Uncle Matthew and especially Aunt Mary seemed uncharacteristically quiet. When she had ventured to ask Da what was wrong, he had told her that Ma, her uncle and her aunt had all learned that young Max wasn't at all well, but when Saiorse had then asked Da what it was that was wrong with her young cousin, Da had grown evasive; had said he wasn't really sure, but that in truth if Saiorse really wanted to know that perhaps she should ask her Aunt Edith, nicely mind, and maybe, just maybe, her aunt might tell her.
Of course, Tom should have realised that not for nothing was Saiorse was his very own daughter, because taking her beloved Da at his word, Saiorse had done just that and had promptly proceeded to ask her Aunt Edith if it was true Max wasn't very well. Aunt Edith had said that was true enough, that he had something wrong with his blood, and that Max had to be careful not to cut himself, and not to knock himself as he bruised very easily, which was why, at least for the moment, he had a slight limp which would, Aunt Edith assured Saiorse, get better eventually, although it might take some time to do so. In the meantime, young Max had to take very great care to see that he didn't injure himself any further.
And at that, Aunt Edith had promptly changed the subject, had begun instead to ask Saiorse how she was getting on at school and had she given any thought to what she would like to do in the future, university perhaps? Saiorse had smiled sweetly and said she hadn't decided what she wanted to do. Perhaps she might become an archaeologist like her aunt. At that Aunt Edith too had smiled and began to tell Saiorse all about her latest "dig".
Not of course that Saiorse had been especially interested in learning more about far off Mesopotamia, at least not then; in fact she would have much preferred to have learned the truth about Max, for it was quite obvious to Saiorse that what Aunt Edith had told her so far, about her cousin's illness, was not the whole story. Moreover, Saiorse considered herself as something of an expert in recognising when adults were uncomfortable in talking about something; when they suddenly, and all too obviously, changed the subject, and became evasive; just as Aunt Edith was being now.
Well then, so be it.
Precisely what it was that was wrong with young Max would keep, at least for the present. With the long train journey down to Florence still ahead of them, and then their holiday in Italy, there was, reflected Saiorse, plenty of time for her to find out the truth which, in turn, now caused her to reflect on something else. Something which Da had said to her while they were all watching the keepers hosing down the elephants at Dublin Zoo: that elephants never forgot a wrong done to them. With a chuckle and a glint in his eyes, Da had said in that regard Saiorse was just like an elephant whereupon Saiorse had punched her father playfully in the chest, told Da not to be silly. But now, as she thought further about what he had said to her, Saiorse realised that while her Da might have indeed spoken in jest, he had also spoken the plain, simple, unvarnished truth.
For, reflected Saiorse, she still had a score to settle... with Master Robert Crawley.