Every Mother's Son (19 page)

He met Charles at midday as arranged, and they went off to find something to eat. In one of the smaller streets they sat down at a table outside a café, ordered bread and cheese and coffee, and animatedly discussed the highlights of the morning.

‘I’ve decided,’ Charles said, ‘that I’m going to apply to university to study art. I know I can’t paint or draw, or at least not very well, but I’d like to appreciate what others do.’

Puzzled, Daniel said, ‘But why do you need to study it? Surely you can appreciate art just by looking at it? You know what you like.’

‘I do, that’s true.’ Charles took a bite of bread and chewed. ‘But I’d also like to know what the paintings mean to the artist and why one is so different from another.’

‘Ah,’ Daniel said. ‘You mean like ’difference between a pure Arab and a draught horse? Both are beautiful animals but they have different characteristics.’

‘Mmm.’ Charles paused to ponder. ‘I suppose that’s what I mean. But that’s what I want to learn. Do the artists notice things that the average person doesn’t?’

Daniel considered what he was saying. ‘I saw a contingent of soldiers this morning. Would an artist see them differently from me? I thought how splendid they looked in their uniforms—’

‘Exactly,’ Charles enthused. ‘Would an artist see them as if in training for war?’

Daniel nodded, and thought of the Arab horses ridden by the young couple. I imagined myself and Beatrice riding like that and I suppose if I were an artist that’s what I would paint. But he didn’t say so to Charles.

Energized by the food, they set off to visit the Notre-Dame cathedral and both were awed by its magnificence. They found the strength to climb almost four hundred steps of spiral staircase and agreed that the effort was worthwhile as they gazed over the whole of Paris from the top.

They packed their rucksacks that night, and after supper they sat outside Madame Boudin’s house for the final time and gazed up at the stars. She came out presently, bringing them cups of strong black coffee and a plate of
pâtisserie
.

Daniel tried a rich chocolate tartlet filled with orange cream whilst Charles chose a vanilla and walnut one. Both licked their lips and gave a groan of delight.

‘Madame,’ Daniel murmured, ‘we will never forget you!’

Charles translated and she patted them both on their shoulders. ‘
Bonne chance!
’ she smiled, wishing them good luck.

Very early the next morning they caught the train from the Gare de Lyon for the long ride to Montreux where they would break their journey. Madame Boudin had packed them a parcel of bread and cheese and ham and several pastries, for which they were very grateful. They were travelling third class, as Daniel insisted that they couldn’t waste money on train travel when they would have an even longer journey in front of them after leaving Switzerland for Italy, or wherever else they might go in search of his grandfather.

There were no other English-speaking travellers in the carriage. Daniel unfastened his sleeping sack from the top of his rucksack and folded it into a large cushion to sit on, which made the wooden seats much more comfortable.

After half an hour of bumpy travel Charles did the same with his. ‘What a brilliant idea of your mother’s,’ he said. ‘She should go into business with these.’

Daniel took out his pack of Paris postcards and a pencil. ‘I’ll tell her. Are you going to write home and say where we are?’

‘Mmm, shortly,’ Charles gave a yawn. ‘I’m so comfortable now that I might have a snooze. Why don’t you do the same?’

‘Not me,’ Daniel replied. ‘I don’t want to miss ’scenery. I might not come again and I don’t want to miss anything. Has Beatrice told you what it’s like? Though I suppose she does ’journey so often she mebbe doesn’t notice it any more.’

He couldn’t believe that she might not bother to look out of the window as the train gathered speed after leaving the outskirts of Paris, but his reason for asking was that he wanted to mention her name. ‘Will she be anxious about us, do you think? We’re later than we said.’

‘She won’t be anxious,’ Charles said sleepily. ‘But she might be annoyed.’

I hope not, Daniel thought, smiling. Beatrice doesn’t mince her words, although she’s never sharp with me – or at least I haven’t noticed.

They changed twice en route and it was dark by the time they crossed the border into Switzerland and reached Montreux. Stiff and tired, they were dismayed to discover that there weren’t any trains to Interlaken until the next morning.

‘However does Beatrice manage such a long journey?’ Daniel said. ‘And why does she come all this way at all? Surely there are suitable schools much nearer?’

‘I don’t know.’ Charles was puzzled too. ‘I don’t think our parents can have realized how far it is. They’re not very well travelled, you know. They generally take holidays in England; Father doesn’t really like being away from home, and I think Mama perhaps gives in to him.’

The ticket office was closed and only a very elderly porter who didn’t speak any English was on duty. Through sign language they conveyed to him that they needed a bed for the night; he raised both hands and shook them in a negative manner, then pointed in the general direction of what they thought might be the town. Then a fellow traveller called out ‘Messieurs,’ and he too pointed in the same direction.

They followed him out of the station and found themselves in a long street of houses and restaurants and a few hotels that on a swift glance they knew they couldn’t possibly afford. ‘It’s a lovely night,’ Daniel remarked, pausing in his stride to glance at the dark shimmering water of the lake. ‘I wouldn’t mind sleeping out.’

‘What? Are you serious?’

‘Perfectly. Have you never slept outside?’

Charles shook his head. ‘Can’t say I have. Never had the need to, I suppose.’

‘I’ve never had ’need to,’ Daniel said, ‘but I have slept out; ’first time I was onny a nipper and I asked my da if I could sleep in ’barn. He said no as it was just after harvest and I’d be sneezing all night, but then he fetched a couple o’ blankets and two pillows and we both slept under my old tree in ’bottom meadow. Do you know ’one I mean?’

‘Yes, yes I do, but I didn’t know that you’d slept under it.’ Charles gave a wry laugh. ‘I couldn’t imagine my father sleeping outside, not unless he brought out his feather bed.’

‘I suppose Fletcher was humouring me that time, but I’ve slept out since, especially when it’s been hot. Tonight would be perfect; there’s not a breath o’ wind and barely a ripple on ’lake
and
there’s a new moon. What do you think?’

‘All right, we’ll give it a try, but just this once and only because we’ve got our sleeping sacks.’

Daniel searched about for a sheltered place and found a grassy area away from the hotels and close but not too close to the water; they could hear it lapping as it washed against the bank. He breathed in. ‘Smell them pine trees. And there’s something else, sweeter than pine, some kind of blossom mebbe. They’re much further on weatherwise than we are. This’ll do us fine.’

‘If you’re sure?’ Charles peered about him. ‘Difficult to see when the moon is over the water and not the land, but I’m so tired I could sleep anywhere.’

Daniel climbed into his sleeping sack and then rummaged in his rucksack. ‘I’ve got some food left from Madame Boudin. It’s rather squashed but it’ll taste fine.’

‘So have I.’

They sat quite snug in their cocoons, eating the remains of their bread and cheese, gazing at the shimmering water and the outline of what looked like a castle with the dark mountains behind it. Then, sliding down into the sacks and pulling the hoods over their heads, they immediately fell asleep.

Daniel woke once and put his head out to look at the lake and the backdrop of snow-tipped Alps tinged with the rosy hue of dawn. ‘It
is
a castle,’ he mumbled, before turning over and falling asleep again. He was awakened what seemed only a short time later by Charles shaking him vigorously by the shoulder.

‘Daniel!’ he hissed. ‘Wake up. Wake up!’

He grunted. ‘What time is it?’ Sleepily he propped himself up on one elbow to look about him. The brightness of the sky and the lake dazzled him and for a second or two he couldn’t see; then in front of them he saw a group of people laughing and pointing. A horse-drawn carriage had slowed so that the occupants could look out and they were all looking at them, at him and Charles.

‘What—’ He looked at Charles, who had his hand over his mouth, his eyes creased with laughter.

‘We’re in a flowerbed,’ Charles croaked. ‘A municipal garden, by the look of it.’

Daniel looked about him. The grassy area he had found in the dark was actually a green lawn dotted with circular flowerbeds, statuary and fountains, and he and Charles had made their bed in the middle of it.

They were being observed by the morning traffic, riders, trades-people delivering their wares to the hotels and houses, pedestrians on their morning walk along the esplanade by the lake, some of them raising their hats or whips in greeting, others calling out, ‘
Guten Morgen
’ or ‘
Bonjour
’ or ‘
Buongiorno!
’

‘Crikey,’ Daniel said, struggling out of his sack. ‘At least they don’t know what nationality we are! We’d better get out of here before ’
gendarmes
arrive. We might be committing an offence by sleeping out.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Charles quickly climbed out of his sack too. ‘What a good thing we slept in our clothes. That could have been serious. Come on – we’d better be quick or we might miss our train.’

‘It’s a pity,’ Daniel said as they hopped over a low wall and headed back towards the train station. ‘It would have been nice to stroll by the lake. That was a castle we saw last night – did you see? But I suppose we’d better be moving on. Isn’t it hot for so early in the morning? And yet there’s still snow on top of ’mountains.’

‘It must be very cold up there. You know, we could walk up a mountain when we get to Beatrice’s place. She’s within sight of the Jungfrau. Wouldn’t that be splendid?’

‘I reckon it would be a miracle,’ Daniel said drily. ‘Do you know how high ’Jungfrau is?’

‘No, do you?’

‘No, I don’t,’ Daniel answered. ‘But I do know that you’ve to climb up other mountains to reach its base, so I think we’ll wait for some other time. Or, better still, until a railway has been built to ’top.’

Charles sighed. ‘You have no sense of adventure.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

It was two days before they finally boarded the steamship on Lake Thun. They had travelled by train from Montreux to Bern, where they spent a day, and from there, with several changes in between, they reached Darlingen and the last lap of their journey. They had again slept out under the stars, this time making sure they were not in a public place.

They were enraptured by the towering Alps of the Jungfrau region and the fresh clean mountain air, and even Daniel wasn’t sick on the steamship as they crossed the tranquil waters of Thun.

Night was descending by the time they reached Interlaken. When they enquired as to the whereabouts of the academy, they were told that it was too far to walk as they would get lost in the dark, not to mention risk falling over the edge of the steep and winding road.

‘I can’t sleep out another night,’ Charles groaned. ‘Shall we try to find an
auberge
, or perhaps hire a carriage? It surely won’t cost very much.’

Daniel too was tired, but he said, ‘Will anyone drive us in the dark if it’s a bad road? And besides, we might not be allowed to stay overnight. It’s a school for young ladies, isn’t it?’

Charles groaned again. ‘Surely? I’m Bea’s brother, after all, and you’re – well, practically a brother, aren’t you?’

‘Let’s ask if anyone will drive us there first, and then we’ll cross ’problem of accommodation when we get to it.’

Some of the shops were already closing their shutters for the night, but by good fortune they found a chandler’s shop still open and the owner spoke a little English.

‘No carriage,’ he said. ‘Only a
Fuhrwerk
– er – horse and cart.’

‘That’s fine,’ Daniel said quickly, knowing that he’d be more comfortable in a horse-drawn cart than a carriage. ‘Can you drive us there, and how much will it cost?’

The chandler nodded and grinned. ‘
Nichts
. No charge.’ He indicated that they should wait, locked his shop door and strode off round a corner.

They sat down on his doorstep. ‘That’s a bit of luck,’ Daniel said, ‘but I think we should pay him something.’

‘I agree, but we might offend him by offering.’

The chandler came back in about ten minutes and their spirits dropped when they saw not a horse but a donkey pulling a rickety wooden cart.

‘Erm, is he strong enough to pull the three of us?’ Charles asked hesitantly.

‘Oh,
ja
. He is strong as
ein
– what you say?’

‘As an ox?’ Daniel offered.

‘
Ja, ein Ochs.
But he is a – erm –
ein Maultier
.’

‘A mule!’ Daniel said triumphantly. ‘I’m really getting to grips wi’ this language!’

‘Why’s that, do you think?’ Charles asked as they stowed their rucksacks in the back of the cart.

‘It sounds a bit like English – you know, slightly guttural, from ’back of ’throat, not like French from up your nose!’

The mule didn’t want to go out, that was quite obvious from his stance and the noise he was making, a mixture of neighing and braying with his feet firmly locked on the ground. The chandler cracked his whip and shouted to no avail, and after a few minutes Daniel jumped out of the cart, took hold of the snaffle and spoke gently to the animal, who then walked meekly on.

‘
Bravo
,’ the muleteer applauded.

‘How did you do that?’ Charles asked, when Daniel climbed back into the cart.

‘He’s part hoss, isn’t he, and they respond to firmness. He was jumpy, probably because he didn’t know us, so I just told him that I was ’boss.’