The Changeling (40 page)

“I scarcely recognized her when I saw her. She did not look in the least like the Mrs. Polhenny we knew. She looked old and frail lying there wrapped up in bandages.

“They left me with her, for somehow she implied that was what she wanted. I was surprised that it was allowed but I think she was too far gone for anything to matter. It was so strange, Rebecca, she seemed really afraid. You know how we used to say her place was secure in Heaven. She was always the virtuous one, you remember, on very special terms with the Almighty. We used to say she had her place booked in the Heavenly Choir. And then … there she was. There was no doubt in my mind that she was a very frightened woman.

“She put out a hand to me. I took it. Hers was cold and clammy. She was very feeble but the light pressure on her fingers told me she wanted me to be there. She kept saying, ‘I want … want … want …’ I replied softly, ‘Yes, Mrs. Polhenny, I am here. What is it you want? I am listening.’ ‘Have to … have to …’ I could not make out what she was trying to tell me but I knew it was something on her mind. Then she started to make queer gurgling noises. I thought she needed help so I called for the nurse. I was sent out of the room and the doctor came in. That was the end, and I never knew why that urgent call had been sent to me. I waited at the hospital and a little while later they came out to tell me she was dead.

“I can tell you it was a terrible shock to us all. I think we had believed she was immortal. We expected she would still be riding that old bone-shaker up and down the hill when most of us were no more. Oh, how I hate change!

“How are you getting on? We think of you all the time.

Pedrek has now arrived in New South Wales. His grandparents are sad without him. They say he will probably be away for two years.

“How I wish it could all have been different!”

I could scarcely read on. This terrible thing had ruined not only Pedrek’s life and mine but all those who loved us.

Leah had returned from Cornwall. It was difficult to tell what her true feelings were. She had always been such a secretive person. She had found her mother dead when she arrived. There had been a certain amount to clear up. She had to arrange the sale of the furniture and other matters. My grandparents had been helpful and had insisted that she stay at Cador while all that was done.

The children were delighted to have her back. Belinda had been a little sad because Oliver had left so abruptly. I wondered what her reaction would be when she realized she was not going to see him again. His visits had always been spasmodic so, for the time being, she had no notion that anything was wrong and I did not give her any intimation. I thought the longer the time lapsed the easier it would be.

Then Tom Marner arrived.

Benedict told me about him. Since that day when I had had a glimpse of a different aspect of him, there had begun a growing friendship between us. It was as though a high barrier had been removed; but there were still others.

We were at dinner. There were only three of us: Benedict, Celeste and myself.

He said: “By the way, Tom Marner will be coming. He’s now on his way over.”

I imagined Celeste, like myself, had no notion who Tom Marner was.

“He’s a good sort,” went on Benedict. “A bit of a rough diamond, but he’s a fellow one can trust. By the way, he’s the man who bought the goldmine from me.”

“And he is coming here?” asked Celeste in some alarm.

“If he’s a good sort we shall enjoy meeting him,” I said.

“I think you will be interested and amused. Honest … down-to-earth, no compromise.”

“I know,” I said. “The heart of gold under the rough exterior.”

“I think you have the idea.”

He looked faintly embarrassed as he did when he mentioned the mine. He guessed, rightly, that I should be thinking of the way he acquired it.

“I didn’t sell outright,” he went on. “I retained a small interest in it.”

“So it is really a business visit,” I said.

“You could say that. There are certain matters we want to discuss.”

“Will he be staying in Manorleigh or London?” asked Celeste.

“Manorleigh first, I should think. And we may go up to London. He’ll probably be here in a couple of weeks.”

“We will get ready for him,” said Celeste; and we went on to talk of other things.

I made use of the Australian’s coming when Belinda talked about Oliver Gerson.

“It’s funny,” she said. “He went away without seeing us. He didn’t say goodbye and it’s ages since he came.”

“Well, now we are going to have another visitor.”

“Who?”

“Someone from the Outback.”

“What’s the Outback?”

“The wilds of Australia.”

“Will he be painted red and blue with feathers in his hair?”

“That’s North American Indians,” said Lucie scornfully. “He’s Australian.”

“What do you know about it?”

“More than you do.”

“No quarrelling,” I said. “You will both have to be very polite to Mr. Marner.”

“What’s he like?”

“How should I know? I haven’t seen him. He owns a goldmine.”

“He must be very rich,” said Belinda in awe. “Gold is worth a lot of money.”

“Does he go down the mine?” asked Lucie.

“I don’t know.”

“Of course he does,” said Belinda scornfully. “You have to go down to get the gold. So who will be getting it when he’s not there?”

“He will have people managing it I daresay.”

“Oh,” said Belinda, impressed.

“Tell us about Australia,” wheedled Lucie.

“I don’t remember much. I was only a baby when I left.”

They loved to hear the story, although they had heard it many times before of how my parents went out to Australia and lived in a little shack in a mining township, and how I had been born in Belinda’s father’s house which was the only place suitable for babies to be born in.

The subject of Australia was constantly referred to after that and the coming of Tom Marner brought a certain expectancy into the house.

Benedict’s description of the rough diamond conjured up an image of a rather brash character who gave little attention to dress or manners; in fact the antithesis of Oliver Gerson. I wondered what Belinda’s reaction would be. I was hoping that she would be diverted by him because she was talking of Oliver Gerson very frequently now and expecting that he would shortly be with us.

She had been so overwhelmed by the Gerson charm that I was sure she would find the Australian’s manners a great contrast; and it seemed hardly likely that the rough diamond would go out of his way to win the approval of a child.

And then he arrived. He was very tall with a skin burned to bronze by the sun; and his bright blue eyes seemed to be screwed up as though he was still protecting himself from it even in our climate. His hair was bleached to a light blond—the sun again. I think the children were a little disappointed. They had expected him to look like a miner—at least their idea of one, basing it on the tin miners they had seen in Cornwall. He was quietly dressed in a navy blue suit, the darkness of which made the effects of his outdoor life almost startling.

“This is my wife,” said Benedict.

He gripped Celeste’s hand. “I’ve heard about you. Pleased to meet you.”

“And my stepdaughter.”

My hand was shaken.

“And the rest of the family …”

The children came forward and held out their hands to be shaken.

“How’s everything going?” asked Benedict.

Tom Marner winked and put his finger against his nose. The children who were watching closely were clearly intrigued.

“You don’t look like a miner,” Belinda said boldly.

“That’s ’cos I’m got up like a sixpenny doll … just to meet you folks. You should see me on the job.” He gave Belinda a wink which made her giggle.

I could see there was an instant liking and I rejoiced. He’ll take her mind off Oliver Gerson, I thought.

And so it proved. Tom Marner was a blessing.

He was the epitome of the rough diamond. Goodness shone out of him and one was immediately aware of his sterling honesty; he was good-tempered, easily amused and had a friendly easy-going attitude towards everyone.

Mrs. Emery secretly told me that she didn’t think he was quite the sort she expected in the house but there was no doubt that he appreciated what was done for him and he had a smile for everyone.

“He don’t seem to know the difference between Miss Belinda and the servants. He called that tweeny ‘Chickabidee’ the other day, and I heard him call Miss Belinda the same.”

“The children like him,” I said. “And what is nice he has time for them.”

“Yes, he seems fond of the little ones.”

Miss Stringer had doubts as to the effect he might have on the children’s manners and their use of the English language. They were saying “Good-o” now and talking about things being “dinkum.”

I said I did not think it would do much harm.

He certainly brought a change to the household. I heard him and Benedict laughing together. Celeste found him an easy guest. He went riding with us and his expert horsemanship won Belinda’s admiration—I might say adoration. He and his horse seemed like one. “You live on horseback in the Outback,” he told them. He was skillful. He could tie amazing knots; he could make lassos. He taught them how to throw them round trees and had them practicing for hours. “It’s not trees you want to catch though,” he explained. “It’s cattle … or someone who’s come to rob the homestead.”

We were all fond of him in a very short time.

He did talk business a great deal with Benedict, just as Oliver Gerson had done, so it did seem to me like a replacement for Belinda and I really believe she accepted him as such, for I noticed she ceased to talk so often of Oliver Gerson.

It soon became obvious that Tom Marner enjoyed the company of the children. As soon as they went into the garden he would be there with them. Leah was pleased about this. She had changed since the death of her mother but I was not sure in what way it had affected her. I imagined there had never been great love between them. It was hard to think of anyone’s loving Mrs. Polhenny. In fact I had always been under the impression that Leah wanted to get away from her and I could understand that.

I wished Leah was more communicative. One could never understand what might be going on in her mind. I had tried to talk to her on one or two occasions but had never made any headway. Her devotion to the children was wonderful—particularly to Belinda. She understood Belinda’s difficult nature better than any of us. Even she seemed to blossom a little under the influence of Tom Marner and I had heard her laugh quite heartily several times and join in the merriment he seemed to generate.

Celeste seemed relaxed in his company, so it was a very pleasant visit.

Sometimes I heard his cry echoing through the house: “Cooeee” and Belinda or Lucie would answer in the same way, and ran to find him, anticipating some excitement, some story of the Outback, or the fun of riding with him.

He was a lover of nature and his admiration for his own country soon became apparent.

He used to tell them stories of how the first fleet went out to Australia. “Prisoners … all of them … who had committed some petty crime … or no crime at all.” He talked of how the convicts had suffered during the long haul across the ocean. How they had been lined up on deck when they reached that sun-drenched land, to be chosen as slaves and to work out their time of exile. He described the golden gorse and the eucalyptus trees, the colorful birds, the rosellas, the grey- and red-crested cockatoos called galahs, the kookaburra with its laughter, the one they called the laughing jackass.

We would often hear cries imitating the kookaburra. “It would be useful if the children were lost,” said Miss Stringer, “or when one wanted them to come in from the garden.”

She also approved of the history which was wrapped up in Tom Marner’s racy conversation; so even she was not averse to his presence in the house.

All this talk of Australia naturally made me think even more of Pedrek. I wondered what he was doing out there and how often he thought of me. He would be reproaching me, I knew, for doubting him. In my heart I did not … and yet there was that niggling fear.

For the rest of my life, I thought, I shall go on longing for him, believing in him … or would there always be that faint uncertainty?

But something told me that even if it were true, if I had loved him enough I should never have deserted him. Was not understanding … and forgiving … the very meaning of love? What did they say? In sickness and health. If this were a sickness, I had not been there to understand him or help him.

But he had been so horrified that I could not believe him. I did, I wanted to cry out. I did. But somewhere in my mind was that damning doubt.

How sad life was! There was Celeste who could look so sorrowful. Why could not life be simple … easy … as it seemed to be with people like Tom Marner?

I liked to be alone with my thoughts—far from happy ones, it was true. Sometimes I was on the verge of writing to Pedrek begging him to come back and let it be as it was in the past, so that we could get on with the future we had planned.

But in my heart I knew it could never be as we had planned. Always there would be the memory. I think my encounter with Jean Pascal—who mercifully had not visited his sister since—had made me more conscious of the horror of a victim in that situation. I would never forget the terror on Belinda’s face, her bewilderment, her horror.

The children’s preoccupation with Tom Marner gave me the opportunity I needed for a little solitude and I often rode out alone. I found a certain solace in the quiet of the country lanes, though Pedrek was always in my thoughts and I believed that our parting would cast a gloom over my life for ever more.

One afternoon I was on my way back to the house when I passed The Hanging Judge. I paused to look at it and remembered that occasion when Oliver Gerson had taken the children there, and how thrilled they had been to drink watered-down cider out of tankards.

As I approached two people emerged and made their way to the stables.