Chapter Forty Three
Rendez-vous At Modane
A matter of moments before they were joined by their wives, and while Edith was occupied looking after the Meyer children, which helped somewhat to keep her from worrying constantly about Max, as the Rome Express pulled slowly into the station at Modane, on seeing black shirted members of the Italian railway police gathered in force outside on the platform, Matthew had gone immediately in search of Tom. He eventually found his brother-in-law gazing mournfully out of a corridor window further down the train.
"Feckin Fascists!" Tom grimaced and swore softly under his breath.
"Ah! There you are!" Matthew drew level with his brother-in-law. Even though the corridor was deserted, he lowered his voice. "Pierre has just informed me that this... er... inspection will be somewhat more rigorous than most and I think we both know the reason why. What we discussed... do you really think we'll be able to pull this off?" Matthew looked nervously about him.
Turning away from the carriage window, Tom shrugged dismissively. Pulling a wry face, he placed both his hands firmly on his dearly loved brother-in-law and friend's shoulders and looked Matthew squarely in the face.
"Michael told me that the Dublin Brigade did something like it in 1920, in order to distract a British army patrol so as to gain entry to a house used by the Cairo Gang. That's what gave me the idea in the first place".
"Michael?"
"Michael Collins".
"Ah, yes, of course, I remember. And?" Matthew immediately lofted an inquisitive brow.
"Well, from what I recall, it worked back then but unlike Ma, I don't have the gift of Second Sight. So, if you want my honest opinion?"
"For what it's worth". Matthew nodded glumly.
"Honestly then, I haven't a clue but I think we're both agreed that those children back there deserve a chance". Dropping his hands, Tom jabbed his thumb in the direction of their own carriage and the compartment containing the two Meyer children. "And if we don't try, we'll never know for sure! Anyway, I thought you English liked the notion of a sporting chance?"
Matthew laughed but there was a distinct hollowness about it.
"Only when the odds are stacked heavily in our favour old chap, which at the present is decidedly not the case!" They were now making their way back to their own carriage. Matthew nodded to where the Italian railway police were now boarding the train in force, said seriously: "And while I know you and Sybil are both as thick as thieves and share everything, it's best that neither she nor her sisters know anything about this. Agreed?"
Tom nodded his head.
"For sure".
"Then, if anything goes wrong, in all honesty we can say that they knew nothing about it. Any of it".
In an attempt to lighten the sombreness of the mood, Tom delved in his pocket and now took out a penny from his pocket. He flipped it in the air, catching it just as deftly as he had done all those years ago in Downton, back in the summer of 1928 when he and Matthew had tossed a coin to decide which side should bat first in the annual House v. Village Cricket Match.
"Shall we...?"
Matthew grinned somewhat sheepishly, then shook his head.
"I'm no actor, Tom. Besides, even if I wanted to, when the time comes I doubt I could do what needs to be done. English reserve and all that".
"All down to me then. Luck of the Irish!" Tom chuckled.
"Perhaps". Matthew smiled. "Let's hope it holds" he added quietly and nodding towards where Mary, Sybil and Edith were walking towards them down the corridor.
For all the constant talk there was, at least in certain circles, of storm clouds gathering over Europe, that July morning as the Norton roared on along the twisting road towards Modane and the distant frontier with Italy, there was not a single cloud to be seen in the sky.
With the sun warm on his back, his cheeks pinked by the pure Alpine air, riding pillion and continuing to hold on tightly to Captain Duval around his waist, Danny Branson raised his head and through his goggle protected eyes caught fleeting glimpses of the countryside through which they were all now passing.
On either side of the deep valley there rose soaring mountains, cleft by countless streams of tumbling white water, their lower slopes green and verdant grazed by sheep and cattle, dotted with slate roofed churches, cottages and farms, further up covered with trees, beyond which were patches of shattered scree and bare outcrops of rock, the jagged summits seeming to reach and touch the sky. In fact, just like the mountains back at home in Ireland but here the similarity ended. For, compared to the magnificent, snow-capped peaks of the Alps, the Dublin and Wicklow mountains were little more than mole hills and all but paled into insignificance.
The early morning sunlight glinted brightly through the green foliage of the trees bordering the road and sparkled on the waters of the fast flowing river running beside it; the passage of the motor bike marked by a succession of telegraph poles, milestones and road signs bearing names of places of which Danny had never even heard, let alone recognised. For all that, he saw that many of them such as St. Michel de Maurienne, St. Martin d'Arc and St. André were called after saints, just as they were in Ireland.
Thoughts of home immediately put Danny in mind of dearest Da and Ma, of Saiorse and little Bobby. He wondered what they must all be thinking, how worried they must be; along with Uncle Matthew, Aunt Mary and Aunt Edith.
Especially, Aunt Edith, reflected Danny soberly and, which, understandably, now put him in mind once again of Max.
Turning his head, Danny glanced downwards through his goggles at the side car, to where Robert and young Max, packed in like a pair of sardines, sat snuggled together, their legs warmly wrapped beneath the woollen blanket provided by the Duvals. He saw Robert and Max grin and give him the thumbs up; saw too that little Fritz was sitting up on his haunches, sniffing the air, his long, pendulous ears flattened against the side of his dark little head by the slipstream as the motorcycle fairly tore along the white ribbon of the road, leaving behind in its wake a trail of dust.
Max.
Danny smiled.
While Rob was and always would be not only his cousin but also his best and dearest friend, after what the three boys had been through in the last few hours since they had been left behind at St. Jean by the departing express, Danny found he had developed very warm feelings too for this handsome new cousin of theirs; wished with all his heart that young Max would soon recover from whatever it was that was wrong with him. When Danny had asked Ma about it, she had told him that there was something wrong with Max's blood; exactly what that was, Ma hadn't said, only that Max bruised very easily and had to be very careful not to cut himself. That he could die from something as simple as say a nosebleed, just like the ones from which dear little Bobby suffered repeatedly, seemed incredible. But if Ma said it was so, then it must be true.
Hereabouts, the road, the railway and the river all seemed hopelessly entwined in a seemingly never-ending muddle. Twisting and turning, the road crossed first one and then the other before repeating the same tortuous process all over again. It reminded Danny instantly of the hopeless tangle into which Ma's wool had become entangled when, in September of last year, she had blithely announced that she would be knitting both Da and himself a scarf each for Christmas. However, months passed and as autumn drifted down into winter, with the festive season now fast approaching and with all the other calls upon Ma's time, it became obvious that neither of the scarves would ever be finished by Christmas, if indeed at all. So, the last Saturday before Christmas Eve, swearing Danny to absolute secrecy, Da had taken him into Dublin and purchased each of them a scarf from Kennedy and McSharry's on Westmoreland Street. He had then wrapped them up and when the time came placed them discretely along with all the other presents under the Christmas tree in the front room of their home in Idrone Terrace.
Apart from a military convoy of several lorries, there was little traffic on the road. Now, with Captain Duval having opened up the throttle, and to raucous cheers from the French soldiers on board the lorries, the Norton roared past them in a cloud of choking dust. At the same time, and for Danny's benefit, Nicolas jabbed his thumb at yet another blue and white enamel road sign which indicated that they were nearly at their destination. But, even so, would they, wondered Danny, be in time?
This July morning, at the PLM station in Modane, apart from staff of the French railway company and members of the black shirted Italian railway police, there were also a handful of passengers awaiting the arrival of the Rome Express; either intending to meet with friends or relatives, or else to board the train themselves. Among the former was an undeniably handsome, fair haired man, sporting a trilby, a smart grey suit and reading a copy of the Völkischer Beobachter. Given both his appearance and the newspaper he was perusing, it was quite likely that most of those standing there on the platform would have taken him for both a German and a supporter of the NSDAP; the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei, known more colloquially as the Nazis, and who it seemed were poised for victory in the parliamentary elections to the Reichstag in Germany scheduled to be held at the end of this very month. That the reader of the paper was a fervent supported of the NSDAP was undeniably true but, as for his own antecedents, well they were an entirely different matter. From over the top of his newspaper, seemingly disinterested, he now watched discretely as the Italian railway police methodically went about their duties.
The Norton roared on and, at length, now, as it breasted a slight rise in the road, ahead of them, in the distance, both to the right and to the left, Danny made out a jumble of tile roofs topped by huddles of chimney stacks. Then, as they drew nearer, more roofs and chimneys hove into view, along with all manner of buildings and which, he thought, must surely mark the beginnings of a town. The houses were tall, some with balconies and many with shutters covering their windows. Now he glimpsed the brick chimneys of factories, a church with a slate steeple, a fountain, yet more houses, shops, and wherever Danny looked, on either side, high pine clad mountains which crowded in, dwarfing into insignificance the buildings of the town.
At this early hour, save for but a handful of people, the streets of Modane were all but deserted which meant that their final breakneck dash through the narrow thoroughfares of the largely still slumbering town was fortunately unimpeded. Moments later, the street broadened out into a square and there, on the left, at last, was the railway station.
As Tom and Edith stumbled through into the compartment, before he slammed the door shut behind them, Tom waved two passports in the direction of the equally startled Italian railway policeman. At the same time, Matthew burst out laughing. Disbelieving the evidence of their very own ears, Mary and Sybil were appalled. Was this Matthew's response to the sight of his dearly loved brother-in-law kissing not his own wife but his wife's elder sister in full view of the adult members of the family in the corridor of their carriage here on board the Rome Express? Seemingly it was. Mary and Sybil exchanged startled glances. Just what on earth was going on?
"Sposi!" Matthew called out delightedly. After their initial shock to what had happened, it was Matthew's reaction which alerted both Mary and Sybil to the fact that everything was not as it seemed.
"Sposi?" repeated the Italian with a complete look of surprise.
"Sposi," echoed Matthew nodding. He now raised his eyes towards the ceiling and smiled.
"Amare, amare!" Grinning broadly, the man shook his head in disbelief and without further ado moved on towards the three of them. Then, having briefly examined their passports, he saluted and briskly moved off into the next carriage.
"Matthew, what..." began Mary but strange to relate, he seemed not to have heard her. Instead, he moved along the corridor and knocked smartly on the compartment door.
"Tom," he hissed. "They've gone".
A moment later, the door opened cautiously. Flushed and evidently not a little embarrassed, looking slightly dishevelled, Tom and Edith stumbled out into the corridor.
Matthew looked at Tom and then smiled broadly.
"I have to say, both of you, that was a performance worthy of Ayres and Valentino!"
"Performance?" echoed Mary and Sybil woodenly.
Tom nodded.
"To keep the police from searching the compartment. It was the best we could devise for sure". He moved towards his wife. "Sorry, love. Matthew and I... we thought it best... if none of you knew anything about it". He turned back to Edith; saw her smile.
"Well, it would seem that it worked! Although, despite what you just said, I would have appreciated a little warning!" She smoothed back her hair but before anyone, Sybil included, could say anything further, the Chef de Bord appeared at the far end of the corridor.
"Monsieur le comte..."
The Chef de Bord beckoned the earl of Grantham forward. An agitated, rapid conversation ensued at the conclusion of which, Matthew turned back to Tom. "Pierre asks that we accompany him to the booking hall".
"Is there any news?" asked Edith hopefully, her voice faltering with emotion.
"No luck at Chambéry, I'm afraid and, apparently, the station authorities are still awaiting a telephone call from St. Jean de Maurienne. Some problem with the circuit there or so I'm led to believe".
"But there must be news!" exclaimed Mary.
"Pierre assures me that they are doing all they can to find the boys".
"I'm sure they are," said Sybil quietly "But, all the same, I think we should let the others know what's happening. As it is, Saiorse and Bobby are both very upset. I think we should prepare them for the poss..."
"In God's Name, where on earth are they?" asked Mary utterly distraught, her voice breaking with emotion and with tears in her eyes. Proprietary be damned, all she wanted was her son back safe and sound; knew in her own mind that she was being selfish. After all, both Edith and Sybil wanted their own sons back unharmed just as much as she did.
"Mary..." began Sybil. She got no further with whatever she had been going to say as at the far end of the corridor suddenly a door opened and was then just as quickly slammed shut.
"... and I don't need a nanny either!" The adults collectively turned their heads to see Saiorse storming along the corridor, "Da!" she cried catching sight of Tom. Bursting into tears, pushing blindly past both her mother and her aunts she ran headlong towards the one person she knew could solve anything, straight into her father's comforting arms. "Da... she began but got no further as something else now claimed her complete attention.
Deftly weaving their way between a group of men standing chatting in the middle of the road and two horse drawn carts, one laden with barrels and the other with sacks, the motorbike finally puttered to a stand outside the front of the long low many windowed building. Nicolas vaulted lithely off his machine, nodding to Danny to do likewise, while Captain Duval helped first Max with Fritz held fast in his arms and Robert out of the side car. Then, with Max insisting on walking, as quickly as they could, they all hurried into the station building. Danny glanced up at the station clock. The hands showed that it was just before six o'clock. However, the question as yet still remained unanswered. Had they arrived in time? Or had the Rome Express already departed and was even now crossing the frontier en route to Italy.
Here in the large echoing booking hall there were still very few people about, a sprinkling of smartly dressed passengers, another group of French soldiers encumbered with heavy kit bags, and a clutch of railway staff, among whom was a uniformed official, who suddenly appeared in front of them. From his broad smile and his hearty shouted greeting, he was clearly known to Captain Duval and evidently had been impatiently awaiting their arrival as he tapped the dial of his wristwatch expansively. The two men exchanged the briefest of pleasantries, shook hands firmly. Captain Duval half turned indicating the boys and not forgetting little Fritz. Duval's brother-in-law, Antoine Bonnemort, smiled; Nicolas then beamed and nodded his head in affirmation at Danny, Robert and Max.
The express had been held.
Accompanied by the two men, the three boys and Fritz passed out onto the platform, to be confronted by the very welcome sight of the immaculate blue and gold coaches of the Rome Express basking in the morning sunlight now pouring in through the gleaming glass of the station's massive overall roof. As they all made their way down the platform, moving purposefully between waiting passengers and luggage trolleys, there came a long blast of the horn on the locomotive at the head of their train. As they walked down the platform, without looking where they were going, a couple of men in plain clothes, the same two who had joined the express at Aix-les-Bains, clambered down quickly from one of the carriages, all but knocking Captain Duval off balance. Nicolas mouthed a French expletive causing several of those standing close by to look at him askance, but no apology was tendered by either of the two men who set off hurriedly down the length of the platform until they reached the spot where a fair haired man was standing reading a newspaper. Here, paying no attention whatsoever to the dark haired man in the uniform of a pilot of the French air force with whom they had collided and a railway official of the PLM who were both hurriedly shepherding three clearly excited young boys and a small dog along the platform in the direction of carriage number 3483 of the Rome Express, a heated exchange of words now ensued, punctuated by shaking of heads, expressions of disbelief and a series of dismissive shrugs.
It was then, as the boys were in the very act of boarding the train that the fair haired man happened to look up just as Danny glanced in his direction. For one brief moment, the man on the platform looked as if he had seen a ghost, as indeed well he might, for the last time he had seen the self same boy had been through the telescopic sights of his rifle, the boy running towards him across a patch of greensward on the Downton Abbey estate in distant Yorkshire. It had been a clean shot. He had seen the boy fall lifeless to the ground so how did he come to be here, boarding the Rome Express? Flustered, the man made to move forward but found his way blocked by a swirling milieu of French soldiers and their sweethearts. And, when next he looked, the boy had disappeared.
It was Saiorse who saw them first and before either Edith or Sybil could answer Mary's heartfelt plea for news.
From out in the corridor there now suddenly came the sound of both barking and a rabble of excited boys' voices. A moment later, preceded by little Fritz, Danny, Robert and Max all appeared in the corridor and ran forward into a welter of caresses, embraces and kisses, with in a rare display of public emotion, Mary hugging Robert to her, the tightness of her embrace being such that it almost took his breath away and, inevitably, also, to a subsequent veritable barrage of questions from their overjoyed parents. In the meantime, with the customs' inspection of the express all but completed, the Chef de Bord quickly made the necessary introductions of both Captain Duval and his brother-in-law first to the earl and countess of Grantham, to Lady Edith Crawley and finally to Mr. and Mrs. Tom Branson, with profuse thanks being made to both men for the part they had played in ensuring that the boys caught up with the express before it crossed over the frontier into Italy.
Then, with Matthew insisting that the Chef de Bord be certain and obtain from Captain Duval the address of his parents at Le Vieux Bourg so that they could be properly thanked by letter for all that they had done, it was time for the sad business of farewells to be made. Shaking each of the three boys gravely by the hand and wishing each of them "Bonnes vacances", having patted Fritz on the head, the little dog barking his appreciation, Nicolas smiled and having promised Max faithfully that he would send him a copy of the photograph which showed him seated in the cockpit of the Nieuport Delage, a few moments later, along with his brother-in-law, M. Bonnemort, Captain Duval was standing looking back up at the three boys from the platform.
While the ecstatically happy reunion on board the train was still taking place, accompanied by his two colleagues, the fair haired man in the trilby and the grey suit was walking slowly along the platform looking intently up at the windows of the express. A minute or so later and there came another blast on the horn of the electric locomotive at the head of the train and shortly thereafter, now with its full complement of passengers on board, the Rome Express began to draw away from the platform. The Bransons and the Crawleys remained standing at the windows of their compartments, the three boys waving enthusiastically to Captain Duval and his brother-in-law until they disappeared from view. After that everyone wanted to hear all that had happened to the boys since they got off the train and then had been left behind at St. Jean de Maurienne.
It was just then, as Sybil was about to turn away from the window, that she caught sight of the fair haired man standing there on the platform. Had he not been gazing up at the windows of the departing express, she would doubtless have paid him no attention whatsoever. It was only for a moment that her eyes lighted upon him and then, as the train rounded a curve, he was gone. But that was all it took, for, in that single brief glance, she knew without any shadow of doubt who he was. The last time she had seen him, it had been some eight years ago, almost to the very day, in July 1924, standing in front of the burnt out ruins of Skerries House and with a loaded revolver trained on her husband, something which Sybil, let alone Tom, was unlikely ever to forget.
"Ma? What is it" Danny looked questioningly at his mother. She was standing gazing out of the window, obviously lost in thought. His words broke into her reverie and she turned to face him.
"Oh, it's nothing, darling. I just thought..."
"Thought what?" asked Tom.
Her husband was standing in the middle of their compartment, looking pleased as Punch, with his arm held tightly about his eldest son's shoulders having been been telling Danny once again just how very proud of him he was, the way he and Rob had looked after young Max. Knew too that Matthew had been no less fulsome in his praises of Robert when Max, with his mother translating for him, had explained to the assembled company, meeting together in the two compartments allotted to Matthew and Mary, the children all sitting on the floor and the adults seated in chairs, just how it was his two cousins had cared for him. At the mention of the theft of M. Duval's wheelbarrow, Mary's ever expressive brows had lifted. But even she joined in with the laughter which ensued following the picture painted by Danny, of Rob and himself pushing Max and little Fritz along a French road in the self same wheelbarrow with both Matthew and Tom suitably impressed by the obvious resourcefulness of their two sons.
Nonetheless, praise was not quite all reserved for Danny and Robert who both confessed to being in awe of Max's ability to speak French which, even if, as Aunt Edith said was not perhaps quite as perfect as it had sounded, had certainly served to explain sufficiently to M. Duval what it was that had happened and which led to their breakneck, madcap early morning dash by motorcycle through the mountains in order to catch up with the express at Modane. Then, with their tale of adventure duly told, the three boys were packed off to wash and change their clothes; Mary having given Robert the strictest instructions to make certain that he removed every trace of dried chocolate from around his mouth and with Edith, after extracting a promise from him to take care, permitting Max to accompany his two cousins, unsupervised, along to the bathroom at the end of the carriage.
Sybil smiled and shook her head.
"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Now, tell your Da all about that motorcycle. I know he's dying to hear all about it". Tom grinned, nodded his head enthusiastically and the moment passed.
"Well, Da, it was a Norton," began Danny before launching into a detailed description of Captain Duval's motorbike, most of which was completely lost on Sybil but which afforded her a glimpse into the private world which, with their mutual love of all things mechanical, Tom and Danny both shared. She smiled happily, so completely absorbed was she, watching the animated discussion taking place between two of her menfolk, that for a moment she all but forgot what it was that was now troubling her, until that was, unbidden, a face formed before her.
She was certain that her eyes had not deceived her but if that was indeed so, then what was Tom's long dead cousin Maeve's son Fergal doing standing on the platform of the railway station at Modane and why was he so interested, as obviously had been the case, in the Rome Express? Sybil hadn't thought of him in years; she was certain that Tom hadn't either and by tacit consent, so as not to alarm the children, they never ever spoke of the confrontation which had taken place all those years ago at Skerries House. Fergal's presence there back at Modane boded ill; of that she was certain and with this thought firmly in her mind, Sybil felt the icy finger of fear stab at the base of her spine and she found herself shivering.
"Sybil?" She looked up to see Tom regarding her curiously.
"Are you quite sure you're all right?"
"Yes, perfectly. Why wouldn't I be?" Sybil's reply came quickly; in fact, rather too quickly and there was a brittleness to her voice but if Tom knew that she was lying, with Danny here in the compartment with them, he had the good sense not to pursue the matter further, at least not for the moment.
A short while later, with Danny having gone to find Robert, Tom and Sybil had their compartment to themselves.
"Well, darlin', hopefully all our troubles are now over. I suppose we should get ready for breakfast. What a night! You must be tired, Come here and sit down". Tom smiled and patted the bed beside him but, instead of joining him, looking decidedly pensive, Sybil remained standing where she was.
"Tom, darling, there's something you should know. Just now, when we were leaving Modane..."
The Rome Express was now en route and climbing towards the Mont Cenis tunnel. Freshly scrubbed and in clean clothes, before breakfast was served, Danny and young Robert went in search of their Aunt Edith. They would have gone sooner but for the fact that Ma had told Danny that their aunt was presently busy caring for the children of friends, a boy and his sister who had apparently joined the train some time ago. Who they were, Ma hadn't said but she understood they would be on board until just after breakfast when the express stopped in Turin, where they were being met by relatives. The boys knocked on the door of her compartment and were relieved to find her in.
"Yes? Who is it?"
"It's Rob and me, Aunt Edith. Can we come in?"
"Yes, of course".
Opening the door of their aunt's compartment, the boys found that she sitting talking quietly to Max who smiled happily at his cousins.
"Aunt Edith?"
"Yes?"
"Will you do something for Rob and me?"
"Yes, if I can. What is it?" she asked genuinely mystified.
"Will you tell Max something please?"
"Of course. What do you want to say to him".
"Tell him... tell him that Rob and me... we're very pleased that he's our cousin".
"Most certainly I will". Edith smiled happily at her nephew and then spoke rapidly to her son in German. The two boys saw Max blush with obvious pleasure.
"And there's something else".
"What's that?"
"We're very proud that he's our friend too".
Edith translated this as well.
Kinship was all well and good but friendship? That was something else entirely. Clearly overcome, with tears welling in his eyes, young Max stood up and bowed gravely to his two cousins.
Friendships are made and sometimes broken. But in this instance, Max was to have his dearest wish realised. Not that any of them could have known it at the time but the camaraderie and friendship forged between the three boys during that never-to-be-forgotten night spent in the Alps in the summer of 1932 would stand the test of time. Three musketeers. Un pour tous, tous pour un. All for one and one for all. A friendship which would endure as they grew to manhood even as the last golden days of the Thirties drew to a close, ending in chaos and darkness, as Europe was once again plunged into the horror of war.
Author's Note:
"Sposi" is the Italian for "newlyweds".
Following the elections to the Reichstag, held in July 1932, the Nazis became the largest party, paving the way for Hitler's seizure of power the following year.
While the name of Rudolph Valentino will be known to most and need no explanation, Agnes Ayres (1898-1940) was an American actress who rose to fame during the period of the silent movies in the 1920s. Her most famous role was as Lady Diana Mayo in "The Sheikh" and in which she starred opposite Valentino. She lost her fortune in the Crash of 1929 and died largely forgotten.
Sleeping car Number 3483, which in the story is used by the Bransons and the Crawleys still exists and more recently formed part of the Venice-Simplon Orient Express.