The changeling

Gathered downstairs were my grandparents with Pedrek and his family with the Wilminghams. Jack and Marian had thought it best to take the children home and all the other young people had left also.

“What a terrible thing to happen,” said my grandmother. “It is that child I’m thinking of most.”

“Miraculously she is not badly hurt... physically,” said Dr. Wilmingham. “That heroic woman saw to that. But naturally this sort of thing is a great shock to the system. We shall have to watch that. The poor child has lost her mother. I don’t know what will come out of this.”

“The question will be what will become of her?” said my grandmother.

“We shall see that she is all right, won’t we, Granny?” I said. She nodded reassuringly. “Poor, poor little thing. She was so happy watching the conjuror.”

“And Belinda ...” I began.

There was silence.

My grandmother said at length: “Leah was so anxious about her.”

“Anxious about her!” I cried. “She was the one who caused it all. What is she going to think? Jenny Stubbs ... dead ... because of her.”

“I know,” said my grandmother. “It’s a terrible thing to happen to a child.”

“She deliberately took the candle and set fire to Lucie’s dress.”

“Children don’t understand the dangers of fire. She’s very young ... and seeing all those tricks ... she probably thought she was going to transform Lucie into a dragon or something.”

“We mustn’t be too hard on her,” said my grandfather. “Something like this could scar a child’s mind forever.”

“I know,” agreed my grandmother. “It’s a terrible situation. It was my fault for giving Lucie Belinda’s dress.”

My grandfather said: “Oh come. Don’t let’s start blaming ourselves. We would all have done anything to avert such a tragedy.”

“I am glad Lucie is with you, Rebecca,” said my grandmother. “If she awakened in the night, she wouldn’t know where she was ... so I thought it best ...”

“Yes, you are right.”

Silence fell upon us. We were all thoughtful - every one of us preoccupied with Lucie and the terrible tragedy which had come upon us.

I lay beside the child, thankful that she was still sleeping. She looked very young and vulnerable. I wanted to weep for the cruelty of life which had taken my mother from me ... as Lucie’s had been taken from her. That made me feel doubly close to the child.

I would be there when she awoke. I would hold her tightly and comfort her. On that Christmas night I had a strange experience. I was not sure whether I was awake or sleeping. I thought I was awake but afterwards I supposed I could not have been, for it seemed to me that my mother was in the room. Remembering back I did not see her but I almost felt that I did. It was just that I knew she was there. I did not hear her voice but the words were in my mind. She was calling to me ... telling me what I must do.

I lay there, my heart pounding. I was exultant suddenly because she was with me ... because she had come back. I tried to call out to her but I did not hear my voice.

I just know that she was with me ... urging me to act.

I was wide awake. The room was silent. The child was still sleeping beside me. I could see the shapes of the furniture in the pale moonlight. I got out of bed and put on my dressing gown and slippers.

“Where are you, Mama ... dearest Mama, where are you?” I whispered.

There was no answer.

I went to the window and looked out. There was moonlight on the sea; I listened to the silence all around me, broken only by the gentle swishing of the waves.

I could not stay in my room. Some impulse made me go to the door. I looked out. All was quiet. I went down the great staircase to the hall.

There was the Christmas tree ... an object of tragedy now. The burned-down candles... the symbol of tragedy. I sat down beside it and covered my face with my hands.

“Come back,” I murmured. “Come back, Mama. You did come back ... for a while.” And as I sat there, I heard a soft football on the stairs. I looked up eagerly. It was my grandmother coming into the hall.

“Rebecca,” she said. “I thought I heard someone moving about. What are you doing down here?”

“I ... I couldn’t sleep.”

She came and sat beside me. She took my hand. “My dear child,” she said. “I know what you feel.”

“It’s the child,” I said. “There is something I must do.”

“Tell me.”

“I want to take her. I want her to come here ... not as the child of a servant.

I want her to be here with us ... I just feel that is what must be.”

My grandmother nodded.

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Yes. And she is all alone now. What will become of her ... some workhouse ... an orphanage? Oh no, I couldn’t bear it. Something happened, Granny. Upstairs just now ... it was as though my mother came to me.”

“Oh, my dear ...”

“Was I dreaming? I don’t know. I thought she was in the room. I thought she was telling me what to do.”

“It was your heart telling you, Rebecca.”

“I don’t know. But I have to do it. I don’t care if no one will help me. I am going to look after Lucie.”

“What do you mean ... if no one will help you? You know we’ll help you.”