The changeling

“So you are not caught up in anything of that sort yet?”

“Nor do I intend to be. I shall not be acquiring The Devil’s Crown, I think.”

“Then Oliver Gerson’s threats are groundless. He could bring nothing against you.”

“Well, he could always remind people of my connection with the clubs.”

“And that would harm you?”

“If I were in the Cabinet, perhaps.”

“So you think it wise to get out?”

“I should have listened to your mother long ago. But I am so pleased you are not involved with him.”

“There was never any intention on my part to marry him, but if there had been ...”

“Oh yes,” he said with a faint smile, “you would have rejected my advice. I anticipated conflict so I am only too delighted that there is no need for it.”

“But if I did decide to marry ...”

The smile deepened. “You would not be prepared to listen to me.”

“I should expect to make my own decision.”

“And if your choice had fallen on an unsuitable person such as Oliver Gerson, I should have done everything in my power to prevent the marriage because ... well, I should feel it would be what your mother would have wanted. I wish ...” I looked at him waiting for him to go on.

“I wish,” he continued, “that I knew how Gerson got that key. I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you are not involved with him. That pleases me more than anything.” He meant that. I was amazed.

It was a turning point in our relationship.

Missing Person

Leah was in the garden with the children and I was just about to join them when a telegram arrived.

I glanced at it and saw that it was addressed to Leah. I took it to her at once. She was startled and took it from me with trembling fingers. Like most people who received them she was immediately thinking of bad news. She read it and stared at me.

“Is something wrong, Leah?” I asked.

Belinda ran to her and took the telegram. “ ‘Your mother very ill,’ “ she said. “‘Asking for you. Come if possible.’ “

I snatched the telegram from her. Belinda had read it correctly. “Oh Leah,” I said.

“You must go at once.”

Leah looked round in a bewildered way. “How can I? The children ...”

“Of course we can manage. Don’t you think you should go? She is asking for you.”

Leah nodded dumbly.

“You could catch the evening train,” I went on. “It would get you to Cornwall in the morning. Someone will meet you. Don’t worry about what’s happening here. We can manage.”

She seemed very undecided but at length she agreed that she must go.

I kept thinking of Mrs. Polhenny ... ill. I wondered what had happened to her. The last time my grandmother had mentioned her, everything seemed as it always had been.

A few days later I had a letter from my grandmother.

“We are all a little shocked by the death of Mrs. Polhenny,” she wrote. “She was so much a part of the place and it is hard to imagine that we shall not see her any more. She was riding home from one of her cases when the wheel of her old boneshaker seems to have come into contact with a stone of some sort. It must have been a sizeable one. Unfortunately she was at the top of Goonhilly Hill and she came hurtling down. You know how steep it is. She fell and cracked her skull. They got her to the hospital in Plymouth but by the time she reached there she was in a bad state. A messenger came to tell me that she was asking for me ... urgently. She wanted to say something very important to me. They had already sent for Leah.

“I scarcely recognized her when I saw her. She did not look in the least like the Mrs. Polhenny we knew. She looked old and frail lying there wrapped up in bandages. “They left me with her, for somehow she implied that was what she wanted. I was surprised that it was allowed but I think she was too far gone for anything to matter. It was so strange, Rebecca, she seemed really afraid. You know how we used to say her place was secure in Heaven. She was always the virtuous one, you remember, on very special terms with the Almighty. We used to say she had her place booked in the Heavenly Choir. And then ... there she was. There was no doubt in my mind that she was a very frightened woman.

“She put out a hand to me. I took it. Hers was cold and clammy. She was very feeble but the light pressure on her fingers told me she wanted me to be there. She kept saying, ‘I want ... want ... want ...’ I replied softly, ‘Yes, Mrs. Polhenny, I am here. What is it you want? I am listening.’ ‘Have to ... have to ...’ I could not make out what she was trying to tell me but I knew it was something on her mind. Then she started to make queer gurgling noises. I thought she needed help so I called for the nurse. I was sent out of the room and the doctor came in. That was the end, and I never knew why that urgent call had been sent to me. I waited at the hospital and a little while later they came out to tell me she was dead.