Changeling

I thought of my recent experience with Jean Pascal. In fact when Belinda had been telling her story, my thoughts had immediately gone to him … and when she had mentioned Pedrek’s name my entire happiness had collapsed about me. I think that was the worst moment I had ever lived through.

How long the night seemed, but we knew it was no use trying to sleep. We had to sit there talking … saying the same thing over and over again … trying to tell each other that there had been some terrible mistake.

What could we do? How could we question Belinda further? She was distraught. Leah gave her a small dose of sedative which she kept in her medicine cupboard. At least, she said, it would help the child sleep. She was so disturbed and kept crying out.

So there we sat … the three of us … trying to tell ourselves it was not true … that we should wake up suddenly and rind it was only an evil dream.

Leah had taken Belinda into her room. She said the child might wake up in the night and the memory of what she had undergone come back to her. Leah must be there to comfort her … to assure her that she was safe now.

At last the morning came—but it brought no comfort.

We were all waiting for the arrival of Pedrek as he usually came about ten o’clock on Saturday morning.

What would he do now? He would know that Belinda had escaped and that she would have given us an account of what had happened. Perhaps he would not come.

He did come … riding into the stables as though nothing had happened. He came into the house. My grandparents and I were waiting in the hall.

We all stood up as he entered.

There was no sign from him that this was different from any other week-end when he arrived, full of plans as to what we should do.

“Rebecca!” he cried and his smile embraced us all. He stared at us. “Is anything wrong?”

My grandfather said: “Come into the little room. We have to talk.”

Puzzled, he followed us, and my grandfather shut the door.

He said: “Sit down.”

Still seeming bemused, Pedrek sat. I felt as though my knees would give away because I was trembling so much.

“What ever is wrong?” asked Pedrek.

“Belinda …” began my grandfather.

“Is something wrong with her? Is she ill?”

“Pedrek, do you know what is wrong with her?”

His brow was creased. He shook his head.

“Last night … she came running home in a dreadful state. She was molested by the pool.”

“Oh, my God …”

“She escaped … in time. The poor child is distraught. Heaven knows what effect this will have on her.”

“What a terrible thing …”

“She knows the man.”

“Who …?”

There was a brief silence, then my grandfather said in a very stern tone: “You … Pedrek.”

“What?”

“You had better tell us exactly what happened.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She came in and said that you had spoken to her by the pool … St. Branok’s Pool. She said you threw her to the ground, tore her clothes … and told her that you liked little girls.”

“It’s … madness.”

We were all staring at him. He turned to me. “Rebecca … you don’t believe …”

I was silent. I could not bear to look at him. I just covered my face with my hands.

He took a step towards me but my grandfather barred his way.

“This is a very serious matter,” he said. “I don’t know what happened … what came over you … but it is better to come out with it. We might …”

“How dare you!” cried Pedrek. “How dare you suggest …”

“The child said it was you.”

“Bring her here. Let me confront her. She’s lying …”

My grandmother said: “We cannot have her put to more distress. She is in a terrible state. She was desperately frightened. Anyone who saw her would have realized that …”

“I don’t know how you can think for one moment …”

“Look, Pedrek,” said my grandfather. “We don’t want to blow this up out of all proportion. God knows, it’s bad enough already. Was it … was it … just a moment of madness?”

“I tell you I was not there.”

My grandparents exchanged glances.

“If this comes out,” said my grandfather, “it is going to cause a great deal of distress in our two families. I can’t understand, Pedrek. You are the last person …”

“How can you possibly think … Rebecca …?” He was looking at me. I was desperately trying to think of the Pedrek I had known all my life, but I kept seeing his face changing into a monster’s. I felt ignorant of men and their ways. I had recently allowed myself to be duped by Jean Pascal. He had said I was innocent … knowing nothing of the world. I was simple and trusting and I knew little of the inner lusts of men. I had thought I knew Pedrek as well as I knew anyone, but was I too ready to believe what I saw on the surface? I did not look deep enough. Only a few days ago my innocence and ignorance had lured me into a situation which could have scarred my life. And … I could not meet Pedrek’s eyes. I was afraid of what I might see there.

My grandfather went on: “Were you in the neighborhood last night?”

“My God,” said Pedrek hotly, “is this an interrogation? Of course. I came home from college as I always do.”