Gossamer Cord

“Happen. But then these two were connected with the house. You know what these people here are like? They say some spirit beckoned her into the sea. It’s a lot of rot. But that’s what they say…and there were the two of them.”

“The girl in the legend killed herself because she was not allowed to marry the man she loved.”

“That’s the tale. My Annette would never have killed herself. She wanted that baby, she did. How could she have gone swimming of her own accord when she knew it was dangerous for the child? That’s what I’d like to know.”

“Then how…?”

“Who can say? All I know is that I don’t believe she would have risked that baby’s life. I wasn’t pleased about what happened. I never wanted her to do that sort of work. She liked it, though. She’d never been what you’d call a quiet, good girl. There was always men about her. She liked that. She was one to go her own way. Wouldn’t listen to advice.”

“She was very pretty,” I said.

“That’s what they all said. Turned her head a bit. I never thought a daughter of mine…”

She stopped and stared ahead of her. I could imagine the upbringing. There would have been few demonstrations of affection from her mother. I wondered what her father was like. I could imagine him—grim, dour as his wife, working hard, getting his compensation when he was unable to work any more, coming to the Cornish coast which the doctor had said would be better for his health than the harsher climate of the North.

Annette may have looked elsewhere for expressions of affection, for laughter and gaiety. I wondered if she had found what she sought with Dermot.

I could scarcely believe that Mrs. Pardell, who had been so reticent, should now be talking to me thus. I imagined it was because I was the sister of Dermot’s second wife, who had replaced her daughter. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that she was going to have a child. The position was similar. Annette had been going to have a child, too.

It suddenly occurred to me that she might feel it was her duty to warn me in some way. Mrs. Pardell was a woman who would do her duty, however she might wish not to.

She leaned toward me suddenly and said: “I don’t believe she went swimming of her own accord that day.”

“What?” I said, taken aback.

“She wouldn’t have done. I can’t tell you how much she wanted that child. It changed her. Mind you, we hadn’t been on the best of terms because of what she’d been up to. But she wouldn’t have gone. She knew it was putting the child in danger. I don’t because she would never have done that…and nobody could make me believe it.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I expect you know something about it. It gets round. It’s the sort of thing people talk about. You know she was working there at the Sailor’s Rest. There she was, every night, laughing and joking. They were pleased to have her. She brought the customers in. I used to lie in bed waiting for her to come home every night. I said, ‘I’d rather see you cleaning someone’s house than doing that sort of job.’ It wasn’t a lady’s job and we’d tried to bring her up right.”

“I understand,” I said soothingly.

“There’s no need for me to tell you. I expect you know already how these people talk. That young man and his new wife has brought it all up again. When he married for the second time everyone was talking about Annette. With her, it was a case of having to get married. I don’t think he would have asked her otherwise and she’d still be there at the Sailor’s Rest. She might have married that young farmer at Perringarth on the moor. He was mad about her. But there it was. That Dermot Tregarland had to do the right thing by her. He seemed a decent young fellow then, but you can imagine what it was like up at Tregarland’s.”

She paused for a while before she went on slowly: “You might wonder why I’m telling you all this. It’s not like me to talk of it, but I’m thinking of your sister. I think you ought to look out for her.”

“Look out for her? In what way?”

“I don’t rightly know. It happened to my girl. It was about this time of the year…”

“I don’t see the connection.”

“Well, I just thought…you see…Annette and me…we wasn’t on speaking terms for a long time. When I heard she was going to have a baby and no wedding ring, I was flabbergasted. I told her her father would have turned her out. She laughed at that. Annette laughed at everything. She was never a good girl, always wayward, but…”

“I think she sounds rather lovable.”