Philippa Carr - Gossamer Cord

“There was a case over at St. Ives only a few months ago,” added Matilda. “Poor Mrs. Pengelly. It’s no consolation to her, but at least she knows it is no fault of hers.”

“You mean to say that babies can really die like this?” I asked.

“Yes. They die in their cots. They are usually round about three months old, but they can, I believe, die this way up to two or three years. The strange thing is that the doctors don’t know what happens to cause it.”

“But while they don’t know, how can people take precautions against its happening?” said Matilda.

“I have never heard of it before,” I added. I was thinking fearfully of Tristan.

As soon as the meal was over I went to the nursery.

“He’s asleep,” said Nanny. “Come in and have a chat.”

“I want first of all to make sure Tristan is all right,” I said.

“All right? He’s sleeping the sleep of the innocent, bless him.”

I looked down on him. He was hugging his teddy bear. He looked angelic, and I was relieved to see he was breathing rhythmically.

“What did you expect?” demanded Nanny Crabtree. “I’m glad he’s got that teddy. It’s a change from the old blanket he used to suck. My goodness, it was difficult to wean him from that. And what a fuss there was when I washed it. It nearly broke his little heart. But I got him on to this teddy. I’m a bit scared though of those bootbutton eyes. I wonder if they’ll come off?”

I sat down and told Nanny about the Pengelly baby.

“I heard about that one in St. Ives,” she said. “It makes you wonder.”

“I immediately thought of Tristan.”

“He’ll be all right. I’m going to keep my eyes on him. Why, what’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t know, Nanny. So many terrible things are happening here…”

She came to me and put her arms round me. It was as though I were a child again.

“There,” she said. “It’s all right. Nothing’s going to happen to our baby or to you…not now that you’ve got Nanny Crabtree to look after you.”

I just stayed there close to her and I felt like a child again. It would be all right because the all-powerful Nanny Crabtree would make sure of that.

There was a great deal of excitement when Polly Rowe, one of the kitchen maids, came in one afternoon and declared she had seen a ghost.

She was brought to me by the housekeeper, who said: “You’d better hear this, Miss. It sort of concerns you like.”

Polly, flushed and very conscious of her newly acquired importance since she had been the one to see this amazing phenomenon, could scarcely speak, so great was her excitement.

“There on the cliff, Miss,” she said. “On the west side…I was coming back after going to see my mother—over there to Millingarth—and I did see this…ghost. Her were coming straight to me. So close we was…we passed on that narrow path where it drops down to the sea.”

She shivered at the memory.

“Her were wearing something over ’er ’ead…so you couldn’t see her face like. But I knew her. There weren’t no mistake…’twere her all right. Her were looking for something, looking out to sea, ’er was. Her looked like her used to…but different…”

“Who was it?” I asked.

“It were a ghost, Miss. She were all shadowy like. She looked straight at me. I believe she knew me. Well, I’d seen her now and then, hadn’t I? She walked past me, floated as they ghosts do, and then she was gone. I was all shaken up…I couldn’t move. And then her’d gone.”

“But who was it?”

She looked at me fearfully. “It were ’er. It were Mrs. Tregarland, that’s who ’twas.”

“You mean …the first Mrs. Tregarland?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no, Miss, it were the second…the second Mrs. Tregarland.”

“My sister…?”

She looked at me fearfully…nodding.

I put out a hand to steady myself and leaned against a table.

“You all right, Miss?” said the housekeeper.

“Yes, yes, thank you. Where were you when you saw this, Polly?” I asked.

“Out there on the west cliff, Miss…not far from Cliff Cottage.”

“And you are sure you recognized her?”

“Well, Miss, she had this scarf over her head, hid her face like…a bit. But it was her all right. She was quite close. We was almost touching on that narrow bit. There she was, and when I turned round she was gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“I don’t know, Miss. They ghosts do come and go as they’ve a mind to. They’ll go through walls and cliffs if they want to.”

“I think you must have been mistaken, Polly.”

Polly shook her head. “ ’Twere her all right…only in ghost form. That was the only difference.”

“What does it mean?” I was talking to myself really, but Polly answered:

“Her can’t rest. ’Tis because of Mr. Dermot, sure enough. He’s gone, too. Reckon they’re looking for each other. They do say it is like that when you get to the other side.”

I said: “Thank you for telling me, Polly.”

“I thought ’twere due to ’ee, Miss. You being her sister like.”

When she had gone I sat down to do battle with my emotions. Dorabella seen on the cliffs. Then I told myself not to be foolish. Polly had seen someone who had borne a resemblance to her and had imagined the rest. The whole household was in a nervous state. It was reasonable to believe that Polly had seen someone like Dorabella on the cliff and that had given rise to her speculations.

In the kitchens they would all be talking of what Polly had seen. She would be reveling in her new importance and no doubt embellishing her story.

I could not sleep that night. I could see Dorabella’s mischievous face before me. I remembered an occasion when we were about eleven years old. There was a house in the neighborhood which was reputed to be haunted. Terrified, we often prowled through it, for there was a broken window through which we could climb. Once we had been there when some other children must have decided to do the same. We cowered in one of the rooms, listening to the sound of stealthy, cautious footsteps.

“Let’s play ghosts,” Dorabella had said. We were wearing light capes and we took them off and covered our faces with them. Then we confronted the other children.

“Go away or we’ll get you,” chanted Dorabella in hollow tones. “We are ghosts.”

The children turned and fled while Dorabella and I collapsed on the floor in helpless laughter.

And now…Polly had seen her ghost on the cliff…or thought she had.

What a long night it was! It was nonsense, I kept telling myself. There was no substance in the story. It was just typical of the superstitions which were never far from people’s thoughts in this place.

It was not until dawn that I slept.

I wanted to talk to someone and the only one I really wanted to see was Jowan. I telephoned his number which took me through to his office quarters.

“Mr. Jermyn is not here,” I was told.

I asked if they knew what time he would be back.

“This is Miss Denver speaking,” I added.

“Oh, Miss Denver, he’s gone to London.”

“Oh? When will he be back?”

“I’m not sure. It depends how long his business keeps him there. I’ll leave a note to say you called.”

I thanked him and rang off.

I felt desolate. He had not mentioned to me that he was going. But then, why should he keep me informed of his business arrangements?

I was deflated, for when I was troubled I had made a point of consulting him.

I could not stop myself brooding. She had been seen on the west cliff. It was nonsense, of course. Just the wild imaginings of a hysterical girl who was now enjoying the notoriety of someone singled out by the powers that be for contact with the supernatural.