The changeling

“I told you how she looked. She was distraught. She had obviously been molested.”

“There is something odd about this because something happened years before you were born when your mother was a child. I was not much more. It was at the pool of St Branok. This is what I find so odd about it. A murderer had escaped from jail. He was under sentence of death for having raped and murdered a little girl. This is something I never told anyone but I am telling you, Rebecca, because I think it could have a bearing on this matter. When your mother was a little girl she came face to face with this murderer at St Branok’s Pool.”

I caught my breath in horror.

He went on: “I came in time. I went for him and he fell and struck his head on a boulder. It killed him. We were young and frightened and we did not know what to do. You are shocked. You are stunned. These things come suddenly upon you. We dragged his body to the pool and pushed him into the water. I know it is dramatic ... sensational, the sort of thing one sometimes reads of in the papers, things that may happen to other people but should not to us. We kept our secret... your mother and I. It is a long story. Perhaps it was all part of the bond which held us together. It certainly influenced our lives. It was the reason for our parting. You see while it drove us apart it forged the unbreakable bond. You would have to live through it to understand it. But let us think of your problem. Does it not seem odd to you that a similar thing should have happened to Belinda?”

“Yes,” I said. “But it is a lonely spot. There is only one small cottage nearby.

It is a place where that sort of thing could happen.”

“Might it not be that an imaginative child who had heard the story might have conjured it up?”

“But the look in her face ... her clothes... Besides, nobody would have told her the story and if she had heard it she would not have understood what it really meant.”

He was silent for a while. He seemed to be considering. Then he said: “Would you take a piece of advice from me?”

“I would certainly listen to it.”

“Pedrek is in Australia now, is he? He was so hurt and disgusted by your suspicions that your engagement was broken off and he went away. Is that the story?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Go to your room now and write to him. Tell him that he must come back. That you are wretched without him. That’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but ...”

“Do you want to live your life regretting ...? You love him, do you not? I know you have been together a good deal. It was not a sudden attraction. It has grown gradually. It has deep roots and you really love him. I know that. Yours could be a wonderful marriage. When you have the chance of happiness, you must not turn from it. You must hold on to it. Never let it be your fault that it ended.”

“I know I shall always be miserable ... but always, too, I shall think of Belinda coming in from the pool... that terror in her ... the horror of it.”

“Write to him. Tell him you made a mistake. Don’t be afraid to admit it, for I know you have made a mistake. Tell him that you want him back, that you believe in him. Tell him that it could not be otherwise. Write to him ... write today.”

“Perhaps I should think about it.”

He had risen from his chair. He came towards me and I stood up to face him. There was an earnest look in his eyes.

“Believe me. I am right,” he said. “I know how much you care for him. There will never be anyone else for you. Don’t lose this, Rebecca. Some of us make big mistakes which ruin our lives. Tell him how much you love him. Do not say whatever he has done you will love him. Tell him you do not have any shadow of a doubt now about that crime of which he was accused. Tell him you believe him ... completely. Put your trust in him. Tell him you know he is innocent and beg him to come home.”

“But ... I am not sure ...”

“You will be. I know you will be. I think I am going to prove to you that I am right, but first of all you must send that letter ... send it to him ... without delay.

I can see now how I can help you. That is why you should not wait. This is what your mother would want. Think of her. If she is looking down on you she will have mourned for the loss of your happiness. She wanted you to be happy so much. She cared so much for you. Rebecca, we have to live without her. Let’s see if we can help each other to do that. You look a little happier already.”

“It is the thought of writing to Pedrek.”

“Go then ... go now and do it.”