The Black Swan

“I wonder if...” She was beside me. “Oh, that’s him. That’s Jack.”

“Do you want to go down and have a word with him?”

“Oh, could I, miss?”

“Go on,” I said; and she went.

I thought I could easily do the packing myself. It had been Celeste’s idea that I needed help.

I smiled to myself, contemplating Amy and her young man. I expected there would be more; she was an attractive girl.

The day arrived for our departure. Jean Pascal came to the house with the carriage which was to take us to the station.

“I feel honored to escort two beautiful young ladies,” he said gallantly. As we settled into the train Belinda said: “This is an adventure. Not for you, mon pere. You have had too many adventures to get excited about one... if it is an adventure for you which this is not, of course.”

She had decided to call him “mon pere.”

“Father” seemed wrong somehow. She said, you could not suddenly start calling someone father. She thought mon pere more suitable and he seemed to like it. So that was what he had become.

He said now, “I can still get excited about adventures and I do admit that this one is filling me with elation.”

We all leaned forward to wave to Celeste who was standing at the door. As we did so, I caught a glimpse of Amy’s Jack, the deliverer of documents. He was standing on the other side of the road.

“Did you see the young man?” I asked Belinda. “He’s waiting for a glimpse of Amy.” As the carriage moved off I told them about my conversation with Amy. “He delivers documents,” I added.

“An odd occupation,” said Jean Pascal. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“It may be that Amy didn’t get it right or he is trying to impress her.”

“I daresay that was it. What of your sister, Rebecca? What does she think about your coming to France?”

“It was all arranged so quickly. I have written to her, but I am wondering whether she will have received my letter by now.”

“I always had such a great respect for Rebecca. A wonderful lady. And now she is living in my old home. I find that rather amusing.”

“Oh, they love High Tor. It’s a fine old house.”

“I agree.”

“It’s a very special place for me, I believe,” said Belinda somewhat roguishly. Her father chose to ignore that remark and, always alert for his reaction, Belinda did not pursue it.

“Everything looks different this morning,” she said. “That’s because we are leaving London.”

In a very short time we had reached the station. We were in good time but the boat train was already waiting. A porter took our luggage and we were conducted along the platform to a first class carriage.

“I expect you two young ladies would like corner seats,” said Jean Pascal.

“Oh yes, please,” cried Belinda.

She got into the train and I was about to follow her when some instinct made me turn my head. I looked along the platform and, to my astonishment, I was sure a young man I saw not far from us was Amy’s friend, Jack.

No, I thought. We left him near the house. It couldn’t possibly be. What would he be doing here at the boat train?

“Come on,” said Belinda. “What are you waiting for?”

I got into the train.

“Here is your window seat,” said Jean Pascal. He took my arm and as I sat down his hand lingered on mine.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

I could not stop thinking of Amy’s Jack. It must have been someone who bore a resemblance to him. He was really quite an ordinary young man and the mistake was understandable. Belinda sat back in her seat and closed her eyes.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” she said.

It was during the Channel crossing that I met the Fitzgeralds. The sea was smooth and Belinda and I were sitting on the deck with Jean Pascal. Belinda was talking animatedly with her father. I sometimes felt I was a little de trap. It was easy for me to understand that. Belinda wanted to be alone with the father whom she had recently discovered. She had wanted me to come along with them, true, and she had been very insistent that I should but there were moments when they wished to be alone together and this was one of them.

I stood up and said, “I am going to take a little walk.”

“Don’t go too far away,” cautioned Jean Pascal.

“No, I won’t. I’ll keep you in sight.”

I walked a little way and paused to lean on the rail and look at the sea. There was no sight of land, and the faintest breeze ruffled the waves a little. I stood, filling my lungs with the fresh air. Where was Joel now? I wondered, as I did constantly. How was Gerald faring with his what-could-be-called a wild goose chase? How could he discover what others had failed to do?

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” said a voice beside me.

I turned. A young woman was standing beside me. She was taller than I, fair-haired and had a pleasant smile.

“Very,” I replied.

“We’re lucky to have it so smooth. It can be quite rough really.”

“I’m sure it can. You cross often, do you?”

“Not often, but I have done it before... when it wasn’t so pleasant. Is this your first crossing?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, then I’m glad it is a good one.”

There was silence while we both looked out to sea. Then she said, “Are you staying in France?”