Gossamer Cord

“Really? She has not a reputation for making friends easily.”

“I would not aspire to friendship.”

I told him about the cutting.

He was amused. “What a devious plan!” he said. “I can see you are a mistress of diplomacy. Why were you so eager to meet her?”

“I have to admit that I am by nature curious.”

“Curious, practical, and punctual,” he murmured. “The last two are virtues. I am not sure about the first. Why were you so curious to meet the lady from the North?”

“Naturally because of her daughter. I was taken aback when my sister told me there had been a previous marriage, but I did not know who the first wife was until you told me.”

“And then you wanted to know more about her?”

“It was a natural feeling, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed, yes. I daresay your sister would want to know.”

“I don’t think she cares very much. She never liked anything that might be…uncomfortable. She likes everything to go smoothly, and if they don’t, push them out of the way where they can be forgotten.”

“But you are not like that?”

“No. I want to know everything, no matter what it is.”

“I understand perfectly. But what did you think you would get from the lady?”

“I thought I might hear something about the girl…Annette. What she was like, how it all happened.”

“I doubt you got much from Mrs. Pardell.”

“Nothing at all.”

“Too bad after such a clever plot with the plant. But congratulations on a piece of imaginative strategy. Pity it was wasted.”

“Not entirely. I am to go again next visit to see whether the thing has flourished.”

“Clever! I’m overcome with admiration. What profit do you hope to get from all this?”

“The more you know of people, the more you understand them.”

“Are you anxious about your sister?” he asked searchingly.

I hesitated. Was I? I had always been a sort of watchdog for us both. I remembered our first day at school—her hand tightly clasping mine, myself trying not to show her the trepidation I felt; seated together at the little desk. Dorabella close to me, reassured because I was there, the strong one; and she did not know that I was only pretending, as much for her sake as my own.

I was certainly uneasy about her. I could not rid myself of the feeling that there was something not quite right at Tregarland’s. It was a strange notion, but there seemed to be something slightly unreal about the people there.

I could not explain this to Jowan Jermyn. I had been too frank already. What had possessed me to tell him of my little subterfuge in getting a footing into Cliff Cottage by means of the cutting?

The fact was that I felt at ease with him. I laughed at his way of taking everything lightly and finding it amusing. I realized that what I felt about the Tregarland household was all speculation. They had all been kind to us and very welcoming to Dorabella. My mother seemed satisfied. I was inclined to let my imagination run on, to conjure up drama where it did not exist.

He was watching me intently and asked if I were worried about my sister.

“Well,” I said. “It has all happened rather quickly. This time last year we did not know of the Tregarlands’ existence…and then to find one’s sister married and about to have a baby in a place quite a few miles from home.”

“I understand. You feel there is much to know and your sister’s husband’s first wife is part of it.”

“Yes, I suppose that is what I feel.”

“It’s just a straightforward story. The heir of Tregarland married the barmaid; she was about to have a child, and there was a tragedy. That’s all.”

“Do you mean that he married her because she was going to have a child?”

“I believe that was so. It was the verdict of the news agency, at least.”

“I see. As you say, it is not an unusual story.”

“The family wouldn’t have been very pleased, of course.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But these things happen in the best regulated families. It is all in the past. I gather they are delighted with this marriage.”

“Have your sources told you this?”

“Certainly. And they are rarely mistaken.”

He started to tell me of some of the legends of the place; of the celebrations on the moor on Midsummer’s Eve; the bonfires hailing the dawn; Hallow E’en when the witches thrived.

“And Cornish witches into the bargain are far more malevolent than other people’s witches.”

He also told me of the Furry Dance which heralded in the spring, when people danced through the streets of the towns.

I was absorbed and disappointed when it was time to go.

“You’ll be back,” were his parting words, when we said goodbye at the boundary. “I shall hear, of course, when you return, and we shall meet in the field, the scene of our first encounter. Is that a promise?”

“It is,” I said.

And I intended to keep it.

Rescue on the Rocks

TWO DAYS LATER, MY mother and I traveled back home. My mother sat back in the carriage with a look of satisfaction on her face.