Филиппа Карр - The pool of St Branok

One day, when my thoughts were running on these lines, I felt I had to exorcise the ghost which was haunting me. I had to go back to the pool. I had to see it again. I had to convince myself that I was cured of my guilt. I kept telling myself that I was not to blame. I would have been the victim. I had just helped to keep his death a secret and that had been the right thing to do. But I had to go to the pool. I had to convince myself that I was not afraid of it any more.

I rode over there. It was less than a mile from the house. I wanted to turn back but I would not allow myself to do so. I rode through the trees and there it was ... glittering in the sunshine ... still mysterious ... just as it had been on that dreadful day.

I dismounted and tethered Glory to the same bush as I had on that other occasion.

I patted her head, wondering if she remembered. "Don't fret," I said, "I've just got to do this. It won't be anything like that other time. And then we'll think nothing of coming here."

I walked down to the edge of the pool and stared into the still water.

There were weeping willows hanging over it and some bedraggled-looking plant-life floated on the surface of the water. I wondered how many secrets besides mine it was hiding.

I continued to look into the water, fearing to see his face again. It was greenish brown, but now there was no trace of the pink which had once colored it.

I strained my ears. I half fancied I could hear the tinkle of bells—but it was the faint breeze ruffling the trees. How easy it was to fancy one heard music.

I closed my eyes trying to wipe out memories. I had been foolish to come. Oh no. This was the way to be reasonable. To say to oneself: There was nothing wrong about it. Ben had to do what he did. We both had to.

I opened my eyes. Silence and then ... what it was, I was not sure, but I guessed I was not alone. I just felt a presence. I stood very still looking at the water. The movement came from behind. Someone was standing close to me.

I half expected to see him there ... his ghost risen from the waters of the pool.

I turned sharply.

"Grace!" I cried in immense relief. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you, Miss Angelet? I saw you standing by the water, so quiet and still. I wondered if you could hear the bells."

Relief swept over me. It was only Grace ... not some grisly ghost ... the murderer resurrected from the dead.

"I ... I was just looking at the pool," I said.

"You are very interested in the pool," she replied.

"I suppose it is because of the bells. I've always been interested in things like that."

She came close and looked at me intently.

"You talked of it ... when you were ill. But come away. It's damp and cold ... an unhealthy place."

"Yes," I agreed.

I noticed that there was a baffled look on her face and I wondered what she was thinking. There was something eerie about the situation ... the two of us standing there, as though we were both hiding something.

I said: "Did you walk here?"

"Yes. Then I saw you at the pool and I wondered what you were doing. I thought it might be damp and you'd catch a cold."

I walked back to Glory, Grace beside me.

"You'll go straight home, I suppose," she said.

I nodded. "You too?"

"Yes. I must finish that petticoat for your mother."

I mounted Glory and rode away.

I was glad I had been to the pool. I felt better after it. It was no longer a place to avoid. I was growing away from my memories. I no longer had to tell myself we were not to blame. I knew we were not. All we did was what had to be done and it was what was best in the circumstances. I should come to the pool again and again and next time I should not try to recall. I should simply forget.

When I look back I think it was rather strange how Grace Gilmore had become almost a member of the family. I liked to be with her. She intrigued me. I felt there was a part of her which I did not know. Subconsciously I wanted to find out about her; I think that was why she was rather exciting to me.

I talked to Morwenna Pencarron about her. "What do you think of Grace?" I asked.

"Oh, she's very nice." Most people were "very nice" in Morwenna's opinion. She reminded me a little of Aunt Amaryllis.

"But do you think there is something different about her?" I persisted. "She doesn't talk much about her past. Do you know where she comes from?"

"She comes from somewhere near Devon."

"I know. But she never really talks."

It was no use trying to explain to Morwenna.

My mother encouraged our friendship because she liked someone to be in charge of me when I went out; she knew my spirit and did not want to restrict it, but since what she thought of as my fall, she did like me to be in the company of an adult. In London I should never have been allowed to go out alone; but here, where everyone knew each other, it seemed safe. I had discovered that this was not always so.

So if Miss Prentiss or Miss Deny did not accompany us, it was usually Grace.

One day we went to the fair with her, Morwenna, Jack and I. I had always loved the fair. There were several of them—they were annual occasions, and the best of all was St Matthew's Fair which was held on the first of October.

It was so full of life. People from the surrounding villages merged onto the place. There was noise and bustle everywhere. The horse and cattle dealers were there; one heard the continual lowing of cows and the grunting of pigs. There they would be in their pens while the farmers leaned over the rails and poked the pigs with sticks to see how fat they were and cast shrewd eyes over the lambs, the cows, the bullocks. But what I liked best were the stalls with their goods for sale: comfits, fairings, china jugs, cups and saucers, teapots, farm implements, clothing, saddles, ribbons, dresses, boots and shoes, pots and pans and even cloam ovens; and all the traders shouting their wares. Then there was the food; the constant smell of roasting meat, bread, potatoes in their jackets, sugar animals, hearts in pink sugary sweets with "I Love You" on them. There were the peep shows and the puppets, the marionettes, the dwarves, the fat woman, the bearded lady and the strong man; and of course the gypsies who would tell your fortune.

On this occasion Miss Prentiss had a headache and my mother asked Grace Gilmore if she would take us so that we should not be disappointed. She accepted with alacrity, and we set off.

We had a wonderful time roaming among the stalls. We visited two of the shows and marveled at the rippling muscles of the strong man and tried our hand at the hoopla; we bought slabs of hot gingerbread, eating it as we went along, which Grace was not sure we should have been allowed to do.

Jack assured her that people could do things at a fair which they could not do elsewhere. He was more excited than Morwenna and I were. I suppose we were a little blase.

Fiddlers were playing and several people were dancing.

"The most exciting part is when it gets dark," I said, "and then they light the flares."

"Your mother will want you home long before that," Grace told us.

"I should like to have my fortune told," said Morwenna. "Ginny, our parlormaid, had hers told at Summercourt Fair. She is going to marry a rich man and travel overseas. It was a wonderful fortune."

"How can they tell?" asked Jack.

"They can see into the future ... and into the past," Morwenna replied. "They can see all you've done. It's all clear to them. It's all in your hand, particularly if you've done something wicked. That's easiest to see."

Jack looked uneasy, but Morwenna clasped her hands and said: "Oh, I wish we could."

I thought: It's all very well for you. You have never done anything except cheat at lessons a bit ... copying out something from a book which you're supposed to know ... taking a jam tart from the kitchen when the cook's back is turned and saying you didn't. Little sins ... nothing like killing a man and hiding his body.