The changeling

He used to tell them stories of how the first fleet went out to Australia. “Prisoners... all of them ... who had committed some petty crime ... or no crime at all.” He talked of how the convicts had suffered during the long haul across the ocean How they had been lined up on deck when they reached that sun-drenched land, to be chosen as slaves and to work out their time of exile. He described the golden gorse and the eucalyptus trees, the colorful birds, the rosellas, the grey- and red-crested cockatoos called galahs, the kookaburra with its laughter, the one they called the laughing jackass. We would often hear cries imitating the kookaburra. “It would be useful if the children were lost,” said Miss Stringer, “or when one wanted them to come in from the garden.” She also approved of the history which was wrapped up in Tom Marner’s racy conversation; so even she was not averse to his presence in the house.

All this talk of Australia naturally made me think even more of Pedrek. I wondered what he was doing out there and how often he thought of me. He would be reproaching me, I knew, for doubting him. In my heart I did not ... and yet there was that niggling fear.

For the rest of my life, I thought, I shall go on longing for him, believing in him ... or would there always be that faint uncertainty?

But something told me that even if it were true, if I had loved him enough I should never have deserted him. Was not understanding ... and forgiving ... the very meaning of love? What did they say? In sickness and health. If this were a sickness, I had not been there to understand him or help him.

But he had been so horrified that I could not believe him. I did, I wanted to cry out. I did. But somewhere in my mind was that damning doubt. How sad life was! There was Celeste who could look so sorrowful. Why could not life be simple ... easy ... as it seemed to be with people like Tom Marner? I liked to be alone with my thoughts - far from happy ones, it was true. Sometimes I was on the verge of writing to Pedrek begging him to come back and let it be as it was in the past, so that we could get on with the future we had planned.

But in my heart I knew it could never be as we had planned. Always there would be the memory. I think my encounter with lean Pascal-who mercifully had not visited his sister since had made me more conscious of the horror of a victim in that situation. I would never forget the terror on Belinda’s face, her bewilderment, her horror.

The children’s preoccupation with Tom Marner gave me the opportunity I needed for a little solitude and I often rode out alone. I found a certain solace in the quiet of the country lanes, though Pedrek was always in my thoughts and I believed that our parting would cast a gloom over my life for ever more. One afternoon I was on my way back to the house when I passed The Hanging Judge. I paused to look at it and remembered that occasion when Oliver Gerson had taken the children there, and how thrilled they had been to drink watered-down cider out of tankards.

As I approached two people emerged and made their way to the stables. I stared after them. I could scarcely believe my eyes for one of them was Oliver Gerson, the other Celeste. I felt apprehensive. Celeste ... meeting Oliver Gerson ... secretly! It must be secret for he was not allowed into the house. What could it mean? I knew she was the sad and neglected wife ... but Oliver Gerson! I guessed it would be embarrassing to us all if they saw me so I turned abruptly and rode off in the opposite direction. For the rest of the day I wondered about what it meant.

I could see terrible trouble ahead if what I feared might be the case. Was she seeking consolation? And if she were to whom would she be more likely to turn but to a man who had great charm at his fingertips and a great deal of sympathy to offer to his enemy’s wife. They would have much in common for they would share resentment towards Benedict. Both would have considered themselves to have been badly treated by him and it was very likely that they would want their revenge. Was it any concern of mine? I asked. My stepfather’s affairs were for him to sort out.

Yet something had happened to our relationship in the past weeks. I had a strong feeling that my mother was close to me …. that she was urging me not to quarrel with him ... to do all I could to help him.