The changeling

“Your stepfather? Oh, he is delighted. He wants a boy, of course. All men do. But I am certain that if it is a little girl she will be just what he wanted. But tell me, Becca, are you pleased?”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “Oh, yes.”

“That makes me very happy.”

“She won’t be my full sister, will she?”

“You’ve made up your mind the baby will be a girl. I suppose that is what you prefer.”

“I ... I don’t know.”

“Well, the child will be your half-brother or half-sister.”

“I see.”

“It’s wonderful news, isn’t it? Everyone in the family is going to be so pleased.”

“Have you told the grandparents?”

“Not yet. I shall write tomorrow. I didn’t want to before I was sure. Oh, it is going to be marvelous. Of course, I shall not be able to get about so much later on. I shall be here ... at home ...”

She held me tightly against her.

She was right. It would be wonderful.

was out. My grandparents were delighted. They were going to spend Christmas with us. Uncle Peter thought the idea was excellent. The voters liked their members to have satisfactory married lives. They liked to see the children coming along...

Mrs. Emery thought it was good news and Jane and Ann, together with the new maids who had been engaged, were all excited at the prospect of having a baby in the house.

It was wonderful to see the grandparents for Christmas. It was our first at Manor Grange. The house was decorated with holly, ivy and mistletoe; the yule log was ceremoniously drawn in; Christmas Day was a family affair but on Boxing Day there was a dinner party for Benedict’s important friends in the Party. Mrs. Grant said she was run off her feet, but that was how it should be and she doubted Manor Grange had ever seen such entertaining before, which came of my stepfather’s being the M.P. “As long as I can get my cup of tea and my little ‘feet-up’ I can cope with it,” she said. And she did, magnificently. Mr. Emery was able to play the dignified butler and Mrs. Emery to show us all that her post of housekeeper was no sinecure. On Christmas morning we all went to church and walked back across the fields to the house. My grandmother slipped her arm through mine and told me how pleased she was that I seemed to be happier, and added that it was wonderful that I was to have a little brother or sister.

Christmas was the time of peace and goodwill and everything seemed hopeful on that day. I even liked Benedict Lansdon ... well, not exactly liked, but admired. He was so gracious to everyone ... all those dignitaries from the Party. His manners were easy - not quite so suave as some of the Sentlemen but that gave them a touch of sincerity which people liked.

He kept a watchful eye on my mother and admonished her now and then for not resting enough. My grandparents looked on with approval at this. They were very happy indeed, and now that my grandmother had convinced herself - and I expect my grandfather - that I was becoming reconciled to the situation there was nothing to disturb her.

My mother complained laughingly that we were all treating her like a semi-invalid. They should remember that she was not the first woman on Earth to have a baby. She was perfectly all right ... and would they stop fussing? “And that includes you Benedict,” she added.

Everyone laughed and so it was a happy Christmas, even for me ... the last I was to know for a long time.

It seemed that my mother had returned to me to a certain extent. There were days when she felt the need to rest. I was with her. I used to read to her; she loved that. We were reading Jane Eyre which Miss Brown thought might be a little old for me, but my mother believed it was quite suitable.

Neither my mother nor my grandparents had tried to shield me from the facts of life as most guardians of children did. They believed that as I had to live a life I might as well know as much about it as I was able to absorb.

I realize it had made me a little old for my years. Pedrek was the same. So this was a happier time than I had known since I had first heard that my mother was going to marry.

Then came the blow.

My stepfather was in London for the House was sitting. My mother had been going with him but just before they were about to leave she had been tired and Benedict had insisted that she remain at Manorleigh to rest.

I was delighted.

It was a bright March day, I remember. There was a chill in the air but I fancied I could feel the first signs of spring; there were masses of yellow blossoms among the shrubs. We made our way to what was known as my seat and sat there, looking across the pond where Hermes stood poised for flight.

We were talking of the baby ... our main topic of conversation these days. When next we were in London, my mother was saying, she wanted to find some special baby linen she had heard about.

“You must help me choose,” she said.