The pool of St Branok

But I did not want to think of it. I liked him. I enjoyed his company; but I did not want to go farther than that. My heart was in Manorleigh. There was nothing I should have liked better than to take part in that campaign and everything else seemed only a makeshift and a poor consolation.

Now that Fanny had gone, Timothy and I returned to our old task of shopping in the markets for the provisions. We did so in a somewhat disenchanted mood having been told by Fanny that we were not much good at it.

We had lost the excitement we used to have in the project, perhaps because it reminded us of Fanny.

One day we set out. I was telling him that my mother was coming to London for a short stay and he was saying how pleased he would be to meet her.

"I am sure you will be invited to," I told him.

He pressed my arm and said: "I'm glad of that."

We stopped at one of the stalls to buy fruit. I chose it and while Timothy was paying for it, I turned suddenly and stared. There among the crowd was Fanny.

"Fanny!" I called and started after her.

She must have heard me but she began to run.

"Fanny! Fanny!" I called.

But she ran on pushing her way through the crowds.

Perhaps I should have let her go, but some impulse would not allow me to. I had to talk to her. I had to ask her why she had run away.

We had left the market behind. But she was still ahead of me.

"Fanny!" I shouted. "Come back. I want to talk to you."

She did not glance back but sped on. I followed without thinking where I was. On she went. We were in a maze of little streets where I had never been before and still Fanny was running. She darted round a comer and I nearly lost sight of her. I rushed on.

I was only vaguely aware of my surroundings. The houses were nothing more than hovels and I noticed an unpleasant odor of old clothes and unwashed bodies. There was a gin shop on the corner of the street into which Fanny had turned; and as I dashed past, I caught a glimpse of people in there. Outside one man sprawled on the pavement.

Someone called out: " 'Ello, Missus," as I passed. I went on blindly. I saw Fanny turn into one of the hovels and disappear from sight.

Suddenly the folly of what I had done dawned on me. I was lost. Timothy would wonder what had happened. He had been paying for the goods we had bought and suddenly I had darted away. And here I was ... in this place alone ...

Children were squatting on the pavement playing some game; they stopped to stare at me. There was a woman on a doorstep. She pushed the greasy hair back from her face and laughed at me.

Two men ... little more than boys ... were coming towards me.

"Can we 'elp yer, Miss?"

As I stepped back and they came forward, one slipped behind me, the other faced me.

I was filled with terror.

"Fanny!" I called.

But what was the use? She had disappeared. She could not hear me and she had taken no heed of me when she had.

One of the men seized my arm. He was leering at me.

"Good-looking gal," he said meaningfully.

I shouted: "Go away. How dare you!"

And then I heard a voice.

"Angelet!"

It was Timothy. He took hold of the young man who was touching me and threw him to the ground. The other came at him but Timothy was too quick for him. They were spindly youths, ill-nourished, I could see. They were no match for Timothy.

"Angelet ... what on Earth ..." he began.

I pointed to the house. "Fanny," I said. "She has gone in there."

Timothy hesitated for only a second. Then he said: "Come on. We'll go in."

His face was grim. He took a firm hold of my arm and we went towards the hovel which I presumed was Fanny's home.

We were in a dark passage which smelt of damp and decay. A door opened and a woman with a baby in her arms came out and said: "What do you want?"

"Fanny ..."

She jerked her head. "Upstairs."

We mounted the rickety staircase. The banister was broken and water was dripping through the ceiling.

There was a door at the top of the stairs. We opened it and were in a room. A piece of torn cloth had been put up across the window to serve as a curtain. There was a couch from which the springs protruded and which I presumed was used as a bed. But I hardly noticed the room because there was Fanny and with her the woman I judged to be her mother.

Fanny was wearing the blue merino which had lost its pristine freshness. She wore the ribbon in her hair. She looked ashamed and very unhappy.

"Fanny," I said. "Why didn't you speak to me?"

"You didn't ought to have come," she snapped.

"Of course I had to come."

"Likes of you shouldn't be here." It was the old aggression.

"We had to come," said Timothy gently.

"Fan," said her mother. "You ought to go with 'em. You oughtn't to of run away. I told yer."

"I had to, didn't I? 'Cause of 'im."

Poor Mrs. Billings. I could see the wretchedness in her face.

I realized with a rush of gratitude to fate that he was not here and that raised my hopes.

Timothy said, "We want to take you back, Fanny. You were getting on so well."

"That's what I tole her," said her mother.