Gossamer Cord

Gloom descended on the house. And not only there. The possibility of war was the constant topic. It was certain that the Germans were preparing to take some action.

Jowan and I met as usual, but I felt uneasy about that. The servants whispered together. Look at what is happening. It was one blow after another for the Tregarlands.

Jowan said: “It is certainly mysterious. I wish you weren’t there, and on the other hand I wouldn’t want you to go away.”

“These disasters are a string of coincidences,” I said. “Life is so strange. Dermot’s death is explainable. I know how miserable he was. He had lost both of his wives and it is certainly odd that they should both die by drowning. As for Dermot himself, he was so miserable, his horse was out of control, and there was a suggestion that he was not quite sober. There is an explanation for that.”

“It’s true. I wonder what will happen next. I believe there may well be a war. That will change things for all of us.”

“You seem certain…”

“It is the way things are going. This alliance…what is it they call it? The Pact of Steel, which Hitler is making with Italy. It looks as though he wants to be sure he has a strong ally before he makes some move.”

“Surely he will not act against the British and the French?”

“That remains to be seen. There has been too much appeasement in the past. He may think it will continue. Let us hope that he stops in time to prevent our all being plunged into war.”

“This is all very depressing and I was looking to you to cheer me up!”

“Oh, dear! I’m sorry. Is it so very bad at Tregarland’s?”

“Naturally. Old Mr. Tregarland seems to have changed. He is so overcome with grief at Dermot’s death. He stares into space. It is as though he is trying to understand, as though he is searching for some explanation for all these disasters.”

“Poor old man! It is a good thing he has Gordon Lewyth to look after everything.”

“He is the great bulwark. Matilda, who is usually so calm and practical, seems to be utterly shaken by all this.”

“Well, let’s look on the bright side, eh? Let’s try and forget what has happened. After all, there has to be a turning point somewhere.”

We had come to an open space.

“Let’s give the horses a bit of fun,” he said, and started to gallop across the field. I followed him.

There seemed to be no end to the melancholy.

That night, at dinner, Matilda told us that Mrs. Pengelly’s baby had been found dead in her cot. “The poor woman is prostrate with grief,” she said. “The shock was terrible. She had fed the baby, put her in her pram in the garden, and left her. Then she had gone into the house and came out twenty minutes later to find her dead.”

“But what happened?” I asked.

“They don’t know yet. The child was suffocated in some way. She was blue in the face and not breathing.”

“But there must have been some reason,” I said.

Gordon said: “It is not the first time this sort of thing has happened. The doctors cannot give an explanation. The child just ceases to breathe…and in a few moments is dead.”

“But…” I began.

“There must be some reason, of course,” went on Gordon. “But the doctors don’t know what it is. These child deaths are not exactly common, but several babies have died in that way. The medical profession is researching it, and I expect they will find the cause, but so far it is a mystery.”

“There was a case over at St. Ives only a few months ago,” added Matilda. “Poor Mrs. Pengelly. It’s no consolation to her, but at least she knows it is no fault of hers.”

“You mean to say that babies can really die like this?” I asked.

“Yes. They die in their cots. They are usually round about three months old, but they can, I believe, die this way up to two or three years. The strange thing is that the doctors don’t know what happens to cause it.”

“But while they don’t know, how can people take precautions against its happening?” said Matilda.

“I have never heard of it before,” I added. I was thinking fearfully of Tristan.

As soon as the meal was over I went to the nursery.

“He’s asleep,” said Nanny. “Come in and have a chat.”

“I want first of all to make sure Tristan is all right,” I said.

“All right? He’s sleeping the sleep of the innocent, bless him.”

I looked down on him. He was hugging his teddy bear. He looked angelic, and I was relieved to see he was breathing rhythmically.

“What did you expect?” demanded Nanny Crabtree. “I’m glad he’s got that teddy. It’s a change from the old blanket he used to suck. My goodness, it was difficult to wean him from that. And what a fuss there was when I washed it. It nearly broke his little heart. But I got him on to this teddy. I’m a bit scared though of those bootbutton eyes. I wonder if they’ll come off?”

I sat down and told Nanny about the Pengelly baby.

“I heard about that one in St. Ives,” she said. “It makes you wonder.”

“I immediately thought of Tristan.”

“He’ll be all right. I’m going to keep my eyes on him. Why, what’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t know, Nanny. So many terrible things are happening here…”