Chapter Twenty Six
Nothing Is Quite What It Seems
As the heavy train swept its way south eastwards across France, en route to the Alps and the Italian border, a long way off, much further down the line two things now happened; neither of which on the face of it, seemingly, had anything to do with the Rome Express, nor indeed with any of those on board it.
Henri Duval, a plate layer employed by the Paris, Lyon, Méditerranée railway company sat down in the kitchen of his company owned house by the isolated level crossing at Le Vieux Bourg and began to eat his supper.
Further to the north, in the skies high above Dijon, the navigator of a two-seater biplane tapped his pilot smartly on the shoulder with his gloved hand. By means of gestures the former made clear to the latter that the plane now needed to alter course. Having understood, turning his head the pilot nodded his assent and gave a thumbs up. A matter of moments later, the aeroplane banked sharply and assumed a course due south before, sometime later beginning its descent from the clouds, swooping downwards towards a small, isolated airfield in the foothills of the Alps close to the spa town of Aix-les-Bains.
Back aboard the speeding express, before either Edith and Sybil could avail themselves of Mary's kind offer of the use of the second of her two compartments in which to change for dinner, but a short while later, with the necessary arrangements having been duly made somewhat earlier with the carriage steward, a succession of several trays, each heavily laden with covered plates, bowls, cutlery and glasses were now brought to the compartments occupied by the children, so that the youngsters could be served their evening meal before their parents adjourned to the dining car for dinner.
With Mary pleading the rather lame excuse that she herself had already changed for dinner, and who, thereafter, kept herself serenely aloof from the whole ensuing debacle, both Edith and Sybil neither of whom had yet changed into their evening attire, ably assisted by Tom, and to a lesser extent by Matthew who felt duty bound to stay and sit with Mary, moving between the various compartments, took turns in helping Nanny Bridges overseeing the Branson and Crawley children and young Max in the business of eating their supper.
The ensuing meal was a lively, boisterous, noisy affair, interspersed with much chattering, laughter, and repeated to-ing and fro-ing between the three compartments, not only of the adults, but also of the children, Tom remarking afterwards to Matthew that it had borne an uncanny resemblance to the chimps' tea party the Bransons had witnessed at the zoo in Phoenix Park in Dublin, adding that, on balance, he thought the chimpanzees had been much better behaved. Sybil agreed with him, saying that what the late Dowager Countess would have made of it all was anyone's guess, since Violet had firmly been of the opinion that children ought always to be seen and not heard, and usually not seen either. As for their late father, on balance, both Edith and Sybil were agreed on that count: the late earl of Grantham would have enjoyed every scintilla of the decidedly chaotic proceedings enormously.
At length, all the children were duly fed and watered, including even Saiorse who, at the very outset of the proceedings, had insisted on eating her supper on her own, with her cousin Max in his mother's compartment. The reason for this was not just that Saiorse wanted to spend more time with Max, but that she also wished to continue her growing acquaintance with Fritz who just now also happened to be eating his own supper and who was, it must be admitted, being rather less noisy and rather less messy about doing so than were the children; which, of course, had he been able to express his own opinion on the evening's proceedings, Fritz would have said, came as no particular surprise to him.
It was while Saiorse, Max and Fritz were finishing their respective suppers, that there came a polite knock on the door, which, when opened, revealed Danny and Robert standing outside in the corridor. Having finished their own meal, they said they had come to keep their cousin Max company, but since neither of them spoke German that seemed distinctly unlikely. Nevertheless, Max seemed pleased to see them both, so their aunt let the two boys into her compartment, where they then did their very best to put Saiorse off her food entirely by loudly proclaiming that what she had been told was beef was in fact cunningly disguised frogs' legs, whereupon Edith told Saiorse to take no notice. As for Max, although he spoke some English, his command of the language was still rather limited, and having failed to understand what Danny and Robert had said, merely grinned happily and carried on eating his supper with gusto.
"Have either of you two boys ever eaten frogs' legs?" enquired Edith, tactfully having left asking the question until after Saiorse had finished her meal. When both Danny and Robert shook their heads collectively, said they hadn't and wouldn't want to, Edith explained that they were in fact quite tasty, akin to chicken. Had they, she asked, then ever eaten locusts? They both shook their heads incredulously.
"Actually they're quite edible too. Indeed I have to say they're quite delicious when fried, although somewhat crunchy".
At yet another startling revelation by their aunt, the two boys grimaced, wrinkled their faces in disgust, although, to be perfectly frank, young Robert was not that surprised by what Aunt Edith had to relate. After all, unlike Danny, he lived at Downton, and, on more than one occasion Robert had heard their aunt speak about some of the curious things - which she called delicacies - and which she had eaten when on her yet another of her archaeological expeditions in the Near East. Seeing the look of disgust on her nephews' faces, Edith smiled broadly.
"The point, boys, is don't ever say you don't like eating something until you've tried it".
So saying, their aunt had laughed raucously, prompting Robert to wonder silently to himself if there was indeed any truth in what he heard his mother say, and on more than one occasion, that Aunt Edith was not quite right in the head and was, in fact, decidedly doolally.
At length, with their supper at last over, it was time for all the children to wash, change into their pyjamas and night dresses and settle down for the coming night.
While Tom did his considered best to keep a watchful eye on both Danny and Robert, Edith and Sybil saw to Simon, Bobby and Max while Nanny busied herself with young Rebecca. However, just as at home in Dublin, Tom's idea of keeping an eye on things was somewhat lax; and in no way prevented Danny and Robert carrying out their plan of surreptitiously mixing soap and toothpaste and then liberally smearing the mixture over the toothbrushes of their younger brothers. This done, the two elder boys stood back to see what would happen next.
What happened next was all too predictable: unsuspecting that anything was amiss, both Simon and Bobby now in their pyjamas, duly put toothbrushes into mouths and began to scrub their teeth vigorously. A moment later, finding the brushes had been covered in toothpaste mixed with soap, and seeing Danny and Robert doubled up with laughter in the doorway, the two younger boys, still thirsting with revenge for what had happened to them earlier when they had been trapped behind the upper berth in their compartment, launched themselves on their tormentors, and a scrum of fisticuffs, involving four high spirited boys in a veritable mêlée of bodies, arms and legs, interspersed with shouts and yells, now ensued on the floor of Simon and Bobby's compartment; taking the combined efforts of both Matthew and Tom to bring the ensuing fracas to an end. In the circumstances, it was just as well that Edith had put her foot down and despite his tears, stopped young Max from sharing a compartment with his Irish and English cousins.
Predictably enough, Saiorse too, also proved difficult, saying she was perfectly capable of getting herself ready for bed thank you very much, even if some of the others weren't. She didn't need the help of Ma to do so, and, looking pointedly at Robert, announced yet again that nannies were for babies. This particular outburst prompted Edith to ask of Sybil later, when, having finally settled the younger children down, they were alone and changing for dinner in Mary's compartment, whether Saiorse had always been so much trouble; eliciting the unsurprising response from her younger sister that Edith's dearly loved niece had always been one to speak her own mind and do precisely as she pleased.
"I wonder where she inherited that attribute from?" asked Edith with a laugh.
Some time later, at long last, all of the children were tucked up safely in bed, although, with the exception of young Max, just how long the boys would stay where they were remained to be seen.
Much to Saiorse's annoyance, Nanny had insisted on sitting up in the same compartment, keeping watch over little Rebecca until she fell asleep. For his part, exhausted both by the rigours of his illness and all the excitement of finally meeting up with his much talked-about English and Irish cousins, Max had fallen asleep almost the instant his sandy-haired head had touched his pillow. At that, Edith had kissed his forehead, smoothed his hair and, with Nanny having assured her that she would look in on young Max on a regular basis, satisfied that he was being left in a safe and capable pair of hands, Edith, with a clear conscience, and accompanied by Sybil, walked the short distance along the corridor to Mary's compartment in time to begin changing for dinner.
Meanwhile, Matthew was engrossed in reading a chapter of The Mask of Fu Manchu to an excited Danny and Robert, while next door, Tom was reading from Swallows and Amazons, to the delight of an equally enthralled Simon and Bobby.
If Mary had indeed some ulterior motive in offering her two sisters the use of her second compartment as a more commodious place in which to change for dinner, so far she had given no indication of just what that might be. Having sent Hodges off to eat her evening meal, Mary, along with Sybil, was presently applying the finishing touches to their evening finery and it was now, watching the reflections of her two sisters in the mirror as they moved slowly about the room, Edith half turned on her chair.
"I know… I know that the two of you… have explained to darling Tom and to Matthew something of what it is that is wrong with Max, but there's something else, which I didn't mention before, and I don't suppose that so far, either of you two have even considered".
"Really? And just what might that be?" asked Mary abruptly sitting down on the bed, while Sybil did the same.
"Well, you know how I explained to you back in Calais… that Max inherited his haemophilia from me… that in all likelihood I inherited it from Mama?"
Mary and Sybil both nodded their heads in affirmation.
"Have… have either of you… stopped to think… that one or other of you… might also be a carrier too?"
"Well, if that was the case, which of course it isn't, then surely there would have been some sign of it by now? Besides which I feel perfectly fine" said Mary dismissively. Like her late father, she too was never very good at discussing medical matters. Sybil shifted uneasily on the bed, suspected that she knew what was coming, what Edith would say next.
"No, Mary, I don't think you quite understand. If either you or darling Sybil was a carrier, neither of you would experience any problems, any ill effects whatsoever… except, perhaps, by way of having heavier than normal monthly bleeds".
Mary winced at the open mention by Edith of such an intimate matter.
"Edith, I am very well aware that you and dearest Sybil are so much more open about discussing such matters than I, but really, I simply don't see what that has to do with…"
"Then you damned well should! Mary, assume please, just for the moment, that unknown to either of you, Sybil, yourself even, is unwittingly a carrier. That then places your children, all of them, at risk of inheriting this awful disease".
"There's nothing wrong with any of my children!" snapped Mary. "Fit and healthy, all three of them, and so are Sybil's; unless, of course, somehow you failed to hear all the noise coming from next door earlier this evening!"
"Mary, I'm sure Edith didn't mean to imply…"
"Like I said, fit and healthy, all of them. And so am I" added Mary curtly; her present brusqueness for once borne more out of a chilling fear of the unknown, than of any deliberate intention on her part to be short with Edith.
"So, no cuts that took an unusually long time to heal, no abnormal bruising…"
"No, nothing like that. Edith you're beginning to frighten me".
"That's not my intention, Mary, I do assure you".
"Isn't it?"
"No, of course not. How could you even think such a thing?"
"Well, maybe I…"
"No repeated nosebleeds?" There it was. Sybil felt her heart lurch, thought she was about to be violently sick. Her hand flew to her mouth.
"Oh my God, Bobby!"
"Sybil? Darling, whatever is it?
A short while later, with Sybil having begged both Mary and Edith not to say anything at all for the present about what she herself had just told them, of what Sybil now feared might well be the cause of both her own and Bobby's repeated nose bleeds - she would tell Tom her suspicions later - there came a quiet knock on their compartment door.
"Come in!" called Mary breezily, playing her agreed part to absolute perfection.
The door now opened, swung back and in walked Matthew and Tom, both oblivious of the fraught discussion which had been taking place in here but a short while ago, and ready to escort both their wives and Edith into dinner. Catching sight of Mary, Sybil and Edith, the two men smiled broadly; nodded their obvious approval of the considerable pains which their wives and sister-in-law had clearly taken over their toilette.
As Matthew chatted briefly with both Mary and Edith, Tom's eyes suddenly misted at the vision of loveliness before him. He kissed Sybil lightly on the cheek.
"My darling, you look absolutely beautiful" he said softly and gently offered her his arm.
Author's Note:
Written by Arthur Ransom, and first published in 1930, Swallows and Amazons tells of the adventures had by a group of children in the English Lake District.