Филиппа Карр - The pool of St Branok

"He didn't come to say goodbye."

"No. I didn't want you to have visitors ... and you seemed a little upset when he came."

"Didn't I speak to him?"

"No ... not really. You muttered something we couldn't understand ... and I said that I thought too many people in the room was not good for you. He went back to London about a week ago. There is a lot to tell you when you are stronger."

I was feeling a little better every day. Nothing had been discovered then.

How right Ben had been! It had happened. It was over, and we had to forget.

I was very weak and was surprised how tottery I felt when I got out of bed. "It will take time," said my mother.

She would sit with me during the afternoons. Sometimes she read to me; at others she sat at her sewing ... and we talked.

It was some little time before I could bring myself to say: "Mama, I haven't heard anything about ... that man ... that convict who escaped."

"Oh him. That all died down. They never caught him."

"What ... what do they think happened to him?"

"They think he must have got out of the country."

"Would he be able to do that?"

"Oh yes, it's possible. I expect he had friends to help him. There was quite a little bit of news about his background. It was most extraordinary. He was apparently quite a well-educated young man. He had been tutor to a family not far from Bodmin, Launceston way. Crompton ... I think was the place. How dreadful to think he had been in charge of children! I think his late employers must be feeling very grateful just now."

"A tutor," I murmured.

"Yes ... to a young boy about your age. There was a little girl in the family, but I think she had a governess. There was quite a story about them. His employers were astounded. They had always thought so highly of him."

"You don't think he might have been ... innocent?"

"Oh no ... no. No question about that. He was caught red-handed as it were. It was some local village girl."

I shivered.

"Apparently something suspicious had happened to him before ... but it hadn't been proved. That was a pity. If it had been, that poor girl's life might have been saved."

"And he escaped?"

"Yes. He had a knife. They don't know how he managed to have that. They think it must have been cleverly smuggled in to him. He attacked a warder with it. The poor man was badly hurt and is now slowly recovering. He got keys from him and just calmly walked out of the jail. They traced him to Carradon ... not very far from here. Then they lost the trail and he disappeared into the blue."

Oh no, Mama, I wanted to say. Into the pool.

"It was a nine days' wonder. I think it is something the authorities would rather forget. But the press won't let them ... not until people get tired of the case. They do of course get tired of reading about chases that go on and on and never get anywhere. It's rarely mentioned now. They accept the fact that this was one who got away. I think it is almost certain that he left the country."

There was no need to worry, I thought. He will never be found. Ben is right. We have to forget. We did nothing wrong. He was a man who was going to die in any case and we had made it easier for him.

My mother went on: "Grace has been wonderful. She is more than a seamstress. She is an educated girl. I always think it is hard for those who have been brought up in a genteel family suddenly to be confronted with the need to earn a living. She dressed my hair the other night. She has quite a flair for it. Not that I need a lady's maid. But when we go to London I always feel I could do with one. And she was wonderful ... so wonderful when you were ill."

"She seems such a pleasant woman."

"I am so glad we were able to help her. She is so very grateful and can't do enough for me."

"It has been a case of casting your bread upon the waters."

"I am glad to see you remember your Bible," said my mother, lightly planting a kiss on my forehead.

When Grace came to see me she told me how pleased she was by my recovery.

"Praise be to God, you are on the mend now."

"Thank you for what you did. My mother said you were very helpful."

"It was the least I could do after all your kindness to me. I can't tell you what a relief it is that you have been getting a little better every day."

"I know I have been very ill."

"You were indeed ... apart from the fever. You seemed so distressed. You kept muttering to yourself. You mentioned the pool once or twice."

I felt a sharp shock run through me. What had I said when I was delirious?

"Pool ... ?" I repeated foolishly.

"I suppose it was St Branok. Well, there was talk about it. The usual. People hearing the bells down there. Who ever heard of bells under water?"

"Have they been saying they heard them ... lately?"

"I did hear it mentioned once. Someone was going past at dusk and thought he heard the bells. It's in their minds, if you ask me."

"Yes, I expect so. There have always been people fancying they hear the bells,"

I changed the subject. I did not want to talk about the pool; but I was disconcerted that she had noticed my preoccupation with the place.

A few weeks had passed. I was out of my room now. I took walks round the garden. My hair was beginning to grow. It clustered round my head giving me the appearance of a boy; but my mother said she was sure it was growing very fast indeed. Everyone was so pleased when I came downstairs. I rode out with my father who would not let me go alone. Nor did I want to. I did not ride Glory now. She was in disgrace, poor creature, having been accused of throwing me. I muttered an apology to her and would have preferred to ride her, but they insisted that I did not. My father was anxious that I should not be overtired; so the rides were short.

There was news from London.

"They have all been so upset by your illness," my mother told me. "Your Aunt Amaryllis has not let a week go by without writing. She is so delighted that you are getting better and always sends love and good wishes from them all."

"Dear Aunt Amaryllis," I said. "She is so good to everyone."

"My mother always used to say that she sailed through life quite unaware of evil and therefore evil passed over her; and she never saw it even when it was very close to her."

"It is a good way to live. But then if you don't see evil how can you avoid it?"

"It is true. But Amaryllis is so good herself that she thinks everyone else is the same. So she sees no evil, hears no evil and speaks no evil. Therefore for her it does not exist."

"It is wonderful for her but everyone cannot be like that."

I wondered what she would have thought if she had been confronted by a murderer as I was at St Branok Pool.

Everything came back to that. I must stop myself brooding on it. I had to remember Ben's instructions. "Tell yourself you fell from your horse when you were riding along the shore. Make yourself believe it." But I could not make myself believe something which did not happen. Even Aunt Amaryllis would not have been able to do that.

My mother came to my bedroom. I had to rest in the afternoon— doctor's orders—although it was not necessary to sleep unless I wanted to. My mother used to sit with me.

It was one of those occasions when she brought Aunt Amaryllis' letter to read to me.

"Dear Annora," she had written:

We are all so absolutely delighted that Angelet is recovering so well. Poor darling, what an ordeal for her. But she is young and healthy and I am sure will soon be quite well. We are longing to see her ... and you all, of course. I was thinking that when she is a little stronger, Angelet might like to come up to London and stay for a while. It is not the country, of course, but a change is always good. Do think about it. We'd love to have her ... and you, of course. Peter joins in my good wishes and says he hopes Angelet will come to see us. He always had a soft spot for her, you know. He says she reminds him of Jessica of whom he was really very fond. Benedict has left us, so we are missing him rather. Such a lively young man!