The changeling

“Oh, it wouldn’t be the same. Mr. Gerson did this one. He wrote poetry and you had to find it. I won, didn’t I, Lucie?”

“You just beat me by four seconds,” said Lucie.

“It must have been very exciting,” said my grandmother.

“It was the best treasure hunt in the world,” said Belinda nostalgically. And then we were at Cador. It was like coming home. I was happy. I should see Pedrek often.

He had told me he returned to his family at week-ends but had contrived to have a few days off because of my arrival.

I think I was happier than I had ever been since the death of my mother. I went to my room and sat at the window looking out at the sea. Lucie and Belinda had already gone to the stables to assure themselves that Petal and Snowdrop were really there.

My grandmother came to my room.

“Do you want any help with unpacking?” she asked.

“None at all,” I assured her.

She came over to the window and I stood up and we were in each other’s arms.

“It seems such ages, Rebecca,” she said.

“Yes. I was longing to come.”

“And now ... you and Pedrek. It will be wonderful.”

“Yes ... I know.”

“The Pencarrons are so pleased. You know how they are.”

“Yes, they are a pair of old darlings.”

“We’ve always been such friends ... more like a family.”

“We always thought of ourselves like that.”

“Now it will be a reality. Pedrek was saying that if he worked hard and passes the exams, by the end of the course he’ll be fully fledged. Old Jos Pencarron said he never had any degrees or diplomas and he’s managed the mine all these years. But it seems nowadays that bits of paper count. When you marry you’ll be near us... that’s what gives your grandfather and me such pleasure.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” said my grandmother.

The door opened and a girl entered the room. She could not have been more than sixteen years old. She had very dark hair-almost black, lovely dark eyes and an olive skin. I should have thought her foreign looking if we had not quite a number of her type in Cornwall. There was a Spanish touch about her. It was said that people of her coloring and type of feature were the result of the visit of Spaniards to the Cornish shores when the Armada had been scattered along the coast and many a shipwrecked sailor had managed to reach land, had settled there, and married the local girls so introducing Spanish blood into Celtic Cornwall. This girl was voluptuous and very attractive. She stood there expectantly, her lively eyes surveying my baggage. “This is Madge,” said my grandmother. “She’s been with us a month now and works in the kitchen.”

“I was sent, Ma’am, to see if I could help Miss Rebecca with her unpacking.”

“Thank you,” I said with a little laugh, “but I can manage myself. I don’t really need any help.”

Still she hesitated, seeming reluctant to go.

“That’s all right then, Madge,” said my grandmother. “Just go and tell them Miss Rebecca can manage by herself.”

She bobbed a little curtsy and, looking disappointed, went out.

“What a striking looking girl,” I said to my grandmother.

“Yes, she’s very willing, I believe. I think she is very grateful to be here.”

“You say she has only been here a month or so.”

“Yes. She comes from Land’s End way. Mrs. Fellows heard of her and said she could do with a girl in the kitchen. She’s a bit shorthanded since Ada left to get married. So she came here.”

“Where had she been before? She seems quite young.”

“She’s from a family of eight ... the eldest, I think. The father is one of those fanatical Bible thumpers. All hell fire and the wrath of the Lord type.”

“Oh, there are a lot of those in Cornwall.”

“They interpret the Bible their way and being by nature sadistic they want vengeance on all sinners which means, of course, people who don’t agree with them. If their sort had their way we should have stakes set up on Bodmin Moor and people being burned to death as they were in the days of Bloody Mary.”

“What happened to the girl then?”

“He threw her out.”

“What had she done?”

“Exchanged pleasantries with one of the cowmen. She must have been heard laughing on a Sunday. Then she was caught, talking with him, we heard, but it might have been something more. In any case she was turned out. Poor child. A sister of Mrs. Fellows took her in and then asked Mrs. Fellows if she could find a place for the girl. Hence she is here.”

“What a lot of trouble these people cause. By the way, this reminds me of Mrs. Polhenny.

How is she?”

“Still fighting the good fight with all her might, You’ll see her on that bicycle of hers. It shakes her up quite a bit but it helps her to get round and, as she tells me every time I see her, she’s doing the Lord’s work.”

“Well, I’m glad this girl Madge found somewhere to go.”

“You’ll see her around. She’s the sort of girl who makes herself seen and heard.

Well, we’ll talk later on. Just now I think I ought to go down and see what’s happening.