Филиппа Карр - The Love Child

“The Fates are with us,” he said. “Here we are alone … isolated from the rest of the world, shut off by a blanket of mist. Don’t you find that an exciting prospect, Priscilla?”

“Of course, but I am wondering what will happen.”

“They know where we are, and they’ll know what has happened. They won’t be worried about us. They know we’ll have the good sense to stay here until the mist lifts.”

“That could be a very long time, Jocelyn.”

“Hardly likely. The wind will rise soon and carry it away.”

“I wonder what the time is?”

“It’s afternoon.”

“How long were we talking?”

“Does it matter?”

We sat close, leaning against one of the walls, and we talked again of our marriage which should take place without delay when we returned to the mainland. Everything seemed credible there in that quiet atmosphere of strange, whirling mist.

We had no idea what the tune was but we realized that it was getting late because it was growing darker and we could not even see the mist. But we were aware of it-damp and clinging. It was growing colder; Jocelyn held me tightly against him.

He said: “Suppose we spent the rest of our lives here? It doesn’t seem such a bad prospect.”

“How could we?”

“We could build a house and grow our own food. We could live the simple life like Adam and Eve.”

“It’s hardly the garden of Eden.”

“It would be paradise for me while you were there.”

It was lovers’ talk. There was no sense in it; yet it soothed and comforted, and there was something inevitable about the mist. We were held here by the forces of nature and we could not be blamed for taking these hours together.

I think that in our hearts there was a sort of desperation, a looming fear that life was not going to be as easy as we had deluded ourselves into believing it would be.

We ate the remains of the picnic; it was dark by now and the mist was more dense.

There was a deep silence all around us. It was strange to be so near the sea and not to hear even a murmur.

It was night now and growing colder.

Jocelyn spread out one rug and we lay on it. The other he wrapped round us. He took me into his arms and we lay close together.

I suppose what happened was inevitable. We were young, and there was passion in our blood.

“We shall be together for the rest of our lives,” said Jocelyn. “We are married, you and I, sweet Priscilla. Is a ceremony so important? There will be one when we get back. Immediately we shall be married. We shall tell Harriet and she will help us. You will come to France with me.”

I believed it fervently, because I wanted to.

I did resist a little … at first. It was the thought of my mother. I wished I could forget her. But when I thought of my father, I felt defiant. What had he ever cared for me! Why should I think of him now? But I did think of him with a kind of exultation.

I should be married. He would no longer be burdened with a useless girl.

Jocelyn was kissing me fervently.

“Priscilla, sweet Priscilla,” he was saying, “shall I tell you what bliss is? It’s a mist-shrouded island where I am alone with you.”

And there on that island we were lovers in truth.

I was a little bewildered, exalted and exultant. I felt as though I had left all that I had been before behind me. I was no longer Carleton Eversleigh’s daughter. I was Jocelyn Frinton’s wife.

I awoke to hazy sunshine. It was morning. My limbs were stiff with cold. Jocelyn was still sleeping and I was overcome by tenderness as I watched him. He looked so young, so defenceless without his periwig. I thought inconsequently: I know why men wear them. It gives them importance. Without his Jocelyn looked like a beautiful boy.

I leaned over and kissed him.

He caught me in his arms. “My Priscilla,” he murmured and drew me down beside him.

I said: “The morning has come. The mist has almost cleared.”

He sat up. “It’s over then …” He looked at me wonderingly. “Oh, my love,” he went on, “you and I together for the rest of our lives.”

“It has to be a long lifetime,” I said. “Oh, Jocelyn, I’m frightened.”

“Don’t be. I’m determined now … more than I ever was. There are two of us now, my darling. You don’t know what a difference that makes.”

“I do. Because I am one of the two.”

He kissed me.

“We must be going,” I said.

“Just a little while yet.”

“Look at the sun breaking through. They’ll be expecting us.”

“Just a few more minutes,” he pleaded. He held me against him. “My bride,” he went on, “tell me you regret nothing.”

“I regret nothing.”

“We’ll tell Harriet. She’ll help us. She must now.”

“She would in any case. I know what she’ll say. Be bold. Be adventurous. Take what you want and if it doesn’t work out as you had hoped don’t complain. I think that’s her motto.”

“It’s served her well. Darling, don’t let’s go yet. Let us stay awhile …”

I lay down beside him and his arms were tight about me. There was a desperate passion between us as though the daylight were telling us that the dreams that came in the mist might disappear under the searching light of reality.

I raised myself. “We must go,” I said. “It may be they will be looking for us. They’ll know we have not been back all night.”

“Perhaps they won’t. Harriet will see that they won’t.”

I shook my head. “Come, Jocelyn. We must not delay.”

We took the rugs and basket back to the boat. I think we were almost hoping that it would be gone so that we would have an excuse to continue with our island idyll.

But it was there just as we had left it. He unmoored it and in a short while we were rowing to the mainland.

He helped me out and tied up the boat. We started to walk towards the house.

We had not gone far when we saw Christabel running towards us. Her eyes were as expressionless as ever, but her mouth showed the stress of great emotion.

“Come in at once,” she said. “There has been trouble. Where have you been?”

“My dear Christabel, surely you were aware of the mist?”

“They said you shouldn’t have gone. You have to leave at once. Harriet and Gregory are quite disturbed. The boat is hi… waiting for you. It was there early this morning. Why didn’t you come back sooner? The mist had cleared at dawn. They’re very anxious.”

We started to run towards the house.

As we entered, Gregory came out to meet us.

“Thank God you’re here,” he said. “They’re on the trail. I’ve been warned. You have to get going without delay. They could be here at any minute.”

Harriet came into the hall, looking like the heroine in a play of adventure.

“My dear boy,” she cried dramatically, “you must go at once. You should have left at dawn. There isn’t a moment to lose. Go at once. That’s so, eh, Gregory?”

Jocelyn said: “I’ll get my things together. I’ll change quickly.”

“Your things are ready,” replied Harriet. “I have them waiting. You can change in France.”

Gregory said: “You must get out of the house quickly or we shall all be involved.

Harriet’s right. There’s not a moment to lose. A few of your things are here in a bag. Get down to the shore as fast as you can. You know Lime Cove. That’s where the boat is. Get in and get off as fast as you can.”

I said: “I must go …”

“You must come with me, my child,” replied Harriet. “You are cold right through.

The mist is dangerous and you have been out in it all night. Go now, dear boy, and God be with you.”

That was how it happened. He had to go straight down to the cove and he had to go alone.