The changeling

So that summer passed as others had. My grandmother visited gays Cottages and took clothes and food for the young girl; Mrs Polhenny delivered a healthy boy in due course and my grandmother affirmed that, however irritating she was in other ways, she knew her job and mothers were safe in her hands. I seemed to see Jenny Stubbs more frequently that year. Perhaps it was because I noticed her more. I would see her in the lanes. She worked for one of the farmers’ wives and I heard she was a good worker. They all humored her, it was said, and Mrs. Bullet, the farmer’s wife, made sure none of the other workers teased her or disillusioned her as to her state. “It does no harm to none,” said Mrs. Bullet, “so let the poor soul have her fancies.”

So Jenny, singing in her reedy off-key tone and Mrs. Polhenny preaching righteousness wherever she went ... that was what I remembered most from that Last Summer. And now, looking back, that seems somehow significant. It is all so clear to me; waving goodbye to the grandparents, which was rather sad in a way. I tried to hide from them the excitement I felt at the thought of seeing London again.

“I wish,” I said to Pedrek, “that we could all live close together.” He had the same problem. His grandmother was almost in tears at his departure. Like myself, he wanted to show how sad he was and yet he could not hide his eagerness to be reunited with his parents. The similarity of our positions had always drawn Pedrek and me closer together.

Then we were speeding back to London.

Pedrek’s parents were at the station to meet us. It was the usual ritual. If I had been travelling with his parents, my mother would have been there. There is something very comforting about normality which I did not appreciate until it ceased to be there. we drove back to our house first where we would have tea before the Cartwrights went off to their place only a few streets away, taking Pedrek with them. Numerable questions were asked and Pedrek and I talked happily about what we had done in Cornwall.

We were all sitting at the table-Miss Brown and Pedrek’s tutor with us-when a visitor arrived.

“Mr. Benedict Lansdon!” announced Jane with more dignity than was customary with her. And there he was-very tall and with what I can only describe as a commanding presence.

“Benedict,” said my mother, rising.

She went to him and he took both her hands and they stood there smiling at each other.

Then she turned to us. “Isn’t this a nice surprise?”

“I discovered what train you were catching,” explained Benedict Lansdon.

“Come and sit down and have a cup of tea,” said my mother warmly.

He smiled at us all and pleasantries were exchanged.

I felt deflated. We had departed from the normal. We should have gone on chattering about Cornwall, encouraged by our parents, and then Pedrek should have departed with his mother and father after we had made arrangements when next to meet. That was how it usually went.

“How are things in the mining world?” asked Benedict, smiling at Pedrek’s father. “Oh ... ups and downs,” said Justin Cartwright. “I am sure you know as much about the mining world as I do ... only I suppose tin isn’t gold.”

“There must be a difference,” said Benedict Lansdon. “But my close connection with all that ended long ago.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” replied Justin Cartwright.

“I’m going into politics again,” said Benedict Lansdon, looking at my mother. Her eyes widened with pleasure. “Oh really, Benedict, that’s wonderful. I always said ...”

He looked at her, nodding and understanding passed between them. I felt shut out. It was as though I had just discovered that she had a life which did not include me.

“I know you did,” he went on. “Well, that is what is happening.”

“Do tell us the news, Benedict,” begged Morwenna, Pedrek’s mother.

“It’s no secret,” he replied. “I am up for selection as candidate for Manorleigh.”

“Your old constituency,” cried Justin.

Benedict nodded. He was looking straight at my mother. I, who knew her so well, felt a twinge of alarm.

“All very fortuitous,” said Benedict. “Tom Dollis died suddenly. Poor chap, he was quite young. A heart attack. He had only been in the House a short while. It will mean a by-election soon.”

“Isn’t it a Conservative stronghold?” asked Justin.

Benedict nodded. “Has been for years ... but it was almost broken ... once.” Again that glance at my mother. “If I’m selected,” he went on, “we shall have to make sure the seat doesn’t change hands again.”

We? It was as though he included her.

She lifted her teacup. “Having nothing stronger at hand” she said, “I’ll drink to your success in tea.”

“What does the beverage matter?” he said. “It’s the wish that counts.”

“Well, it’s most exciting, I must say.”

Again that smile between them. “I think so,” he said. “I knew you would.”

Morwenna said: “I do know you are an ardent supporter of Mr. Gladstone.”

“My dear Morwenna, he’s the greatest politician of the century.”