The changeling

“So never think it.”

I shook my head. I was too moved for words.

She took my hand and laid it against her body. “You are young,” she said. “People would say you should not know of such things ... but I have never thought of you as young. You are my own ... part of me. That is why we have been so close together always... until... well, so you thought. Stop thinking that, Becca.

He wants you to care for him as much as I do. He is hurt because he thinks you resent him. Can you feel the movement? That is the child, Becca ... our child ... yours, mine and his. Promise me that you will always love it ... care for it ... look after it ...”

“Of course I will. It will be my sister ... or my brother. Of course I’ll love it.

I promise.”

She put my hand to her lips and kissed it.

“Thank you, my darling child. You have made me very happy.”

For a while we sat looking at the pool. Then she rose suddenly and took my hand.

“Let us go,” she said. “Dearest child, always remember ...” I was with her all the time. It seemed as though a great burden had been lifted from my shoulders. When the child was born and we went back, he would be there. I was going to try to stop hating him. I could see now that I had been to blame. He wanted me to be part of the family. He did not want to shut me out. I had shut myself out.

I was going to be different when the child was born.

My mother had stopped going out. Mrs. Polhenny came every day. She was ready, she said. “At the first sign, I’ll be here.”

Dr. Wilmingham often came to luncheon. My mother would join us, but she was quickly exhausted.

Pedrek came down for a brief stay at Pencarron Manor. He and I would ride together. It was more like the old days, but I never stayed away from Cador for long for I liked to be as much as possible with my mother.

One afternoon Pedrek and I had been riding together and as we approached Cador he said goodbye before going back to Polcarron and I turned my horse to go home. The day had been overcast. There would be rain before long. On the way I passed Mrs. Polhenny’s cottage. We had always laughed at its prim appearance - the scrubbed doorstep, the gleaming cobbles, the windows shrouded with heavy curtains at the sides and dazzling white net across them to protect the inmates from seeing sin outside the house, we always said.

Mrs. Polhenny was, I guessed, at the Peggotys’ in West Poldorey. I had heard that she had been called there that morning to attend Mrs. Peggoty. As I glanced up at the windows I saw a shape, so Mrs. Polhenny was at home. That would mean the Peggoty child was born. The shadow was there for a moment and then it had gone.

I hesitated. My grandmother had been a little anxious about Mrs. Peggoty for it was her first child and she was forty years old, which was old to have children. It would be good to know that the child was safely born. So I slipped off my horse and tethered it to a bush. Then I went and knocked at the door.

I stood there smiling to myself, wondering what Mrs. Polhenny would think if I asked if the baby had arrived. I had heard through one of the maids that she thought I was a “forward piece” and that it wasn’t right for children to know what I knew and she could not imagine what them up at Cador was thinking about to allow it. I must say I felt rather a mischievous delight in shocking her. I waited. There was no answer. The house seemed silent. Yet I was certain I had seen her at the window ... at least it must be her for Leah was away with the aunt in St Ives.

I waited for ten minutes. Then I mounted my horse and rode away. I was puzzled. I had been sure someone was in the house.

I forgot about the incident until the next morning when my grandmother announced that Mrs. Peggoty had a fine boy.

“He was born at three o’clock this morning, Mrs. Polhenny tells me. She says she was there for all those hours and is really worn out.”

So she had not been there, in the house. How odd! I must have imagined the shape at the window. But I knew I had not. It was rather mysterious. June came. Mrs. Polhenny was, as she said, “at the ready.” She had become a little preoccupied which worried me a little. I asked myself if she were a little less sure of herself.

One morning she said to my grandmother: “You could have knocked me down with a feather.

I’d never have believed it. I just thought there was something about her ... the trained eye, you know. Then I said to her, ‘Jenny,’ I said, Td like to take a look at you.’ She was pleased enough to let me and when I examined her ... well, I tell you, I couldn’t believe it ...”

I listened to this. I was constantly on the alert. I had a feeling that all was not going as it should with my mother and although they told me a little I guessed there was a great deal which was held back. I was determined to find out. I had to know. So I listened quite shamelessly to everything I could in the hope of finding out the true state of affairs concerning my mother.