Виктория Холт - The Captive

“Sometimes I think we shall never get off this island.”

“Of course we shall. We have been here only a few days. Of course we’ll get off. Look how we found land. Who would have believed that? A ship will come by … you’ll see.”

“And if it does …” he said and stopped, frowning into the distance.

I waited for him to go on. Instead he said: “I think this can’t be the route that ships take.”

“Why shouldn’t it be? You wait and see …”

“Let’s face it. We’re going to run out of water.”

“It’ll rain. We’ll collect it.”

“We’ve got to find food. The biscuits are running out.”

“Why do you talk like this? It is not like you.”

“How do you know? You don’t know me very well, do you?”

“I know you as well as you know me. At times like this people get to know each other quickly. There is not all the fuss of conventions and great gaps in acquaintanceship which you get at home. We are together all the time … night and day. We’ve shared incredible dangers together. You get to know people quickly when it is like that.”

“Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“Well, what do you want to know? You saw my parents on board, perhaps.

I keep wondering what has happened to them. Could they have got into one of the boats? They are so vague. I don’t think they realized what was happening. Their minds were in the past. They often seemed to forget about me, except when they saw me. They would have been more interested in me if I had been a tablet covered in hieroglyphics. At least they named me after the Rosetta Stone. “

He was smiling and I told him of my happy childhood, mostly spent below stairs, of the maids who were my companions, kitchen meals, Mrs. Harlow, Nanny Pollock and Mr. Dolland’s ‘turns’.

“I can see I do not have to feel sorry for you.”

“By no means. I often wonder what Mr. Dolland and the rest are doing now. They will have heard of the shipwreck. Oh dear … they’ll be dreadfully upset. And what will happen to the house? And to, them? I do hope my parents were saved … if not, I don’t know what will happen to them all.”

“Perhaps you will never know.”

“There you go again. And it’s your turn. What about you?”

He was silent for a while. Then he said: “Rosetta, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, if you don’t want to tell me.”

“I do. I feel a compulsion to tell you. I think you ought to know.

Rosetta . my name is not John Player. “

“No? I thought it might not be.”

“It’s Simon Perrivale.”

I was silent. Memories came rushing back. Sitting at the kitchen table . Mr. Dolland putting on his glasses and reading from the newspaper.

I stammered: “Not the …”

He nodded.

“Oh …” I began.

He interrupted.

“You’re startled. Of course you are. I’m sorry.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you. I am innocent. I wanted you to know. You may not believe . “

“I do believe you,” I said sincerely.

“Thank you, Rosetta. You know now I am, as they say, ” on the run”.”

“So you worked on a ship as …”

“Deck hand,” he said.

“I was lucky. I knew that my arrest was imminent. I was sure they would find me guilty. I wouldn’t have a chance. There was so much against me. But I am innocent, Rosetta. I swear it. I had to get right away, and perhaps later on … if it were possible … find some way of proving my innocence.”

“Perhaps it would have been better to have remained and faced it.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. He was already dead when I got there. The gun was there beside him. I picked it up … it looked as though I were guilty.”

“You might have proved your innocence.”

“Not then. Everything was against me. The Press had made up its mind that I was a murderer … so had everyone else. I felt then that I didn’t stand a chance against them all. I wanted to get out of the country in some way so I made my way to Tilbury. I had what I thought was an amazing stroke of luck there. I talked to a sailor in a tavern.

He was drinking heavily because he didn’t want to go back to sea. His wife was going to have a baby and he couldn’t bear to leave her. He was heartbroken. I took advantage of the fact that he was drunk. I shouldn’t have done so but I was desperate. I felt I had to get out of the country . give myself a chance. It occurred to me that I might take his place . and this is what I did. He was a deck hand on the Atlantic Star, John Player. The ship was sailing that day . it was going to South Africa. I thought if I could get there, I could start a new life and perhaps some day the truth would come out and I could get home. I was desperate, Rosetta. It was a crazy plan but it worked. I was constantly in fear that something might be found out. but nothing was. And then this happened. “

“I guessed at once that there was something different about you, that you didn’t fit somehow.”

“On our morning meetings, of course.”

“Yes.”

“Was it so obvious?”

“A little.”

“I was afraid of Lorimer.”

“Oh, I understand. He did say something about his home being not far from the Perrivale house.”

“Yes. He actually came there once. I was about seventeen,

I imagine then. I was in the stables when he rode in. It was a very brief meeting and one changes a lot in the years. He couldn’t have recognized me, but I was afraid. “

“And now?” I said.

“What now?”

“It looks as though this could be the end of the story.”

“What happened on that day? Can you bear to talk of it?”

“I think I could tell you. One wants to talk to someone and you and I well, we’ve become friends … real friends. We trust each other, and even if I felt you might betray me, you couldn’t do much harm here, could you? To whom could you betray me here?”

“I would not dream of betraying you anywhere! You’ve told me you were innocent anyway.”

“I never felt that I belonged at Perrivale. That’s rather sad for a child, you know. I have vague memories of what I used to think of as Before. Life was comfortable and easy then. I was five years old before it changed into what I called Now. There was someone I called Angel. She was plump, cosy and smelt of lavender; she was always there to comfort me. There was another one, too. She was Aunt Ada. She did not live in the cottage with us but she came there often. On the days when she came I used to hide under a table which was covered with a red cloth, velvety and smooth. I can feel that cloth now and the faint odour of mothballs, and I can hear the strident voice saying, ” Why don’t you, Alice? ” in tones of reproach. Alice was the cosy lavender-smelling Angel.

“I remember once going in a train with Angel. We were going to Aunt Ada, to Witch’s Home. I believed then that Aunt Ada was a witch. She must be if she lived in Witch’s Home. I clung to Angel’s hand as we entered. It was a little house with leaded windows which made it dark but everything in it shone brightly. All the time Aunt Ada was telling Angel what she ought to do. I was sent out to the garden. There was water at the bottom of it. I was afraid because I was separated from Angel and I thought Aunt Ada might tell her that she ought to leave me there. I can remember now my great joy when I was in the train once more with Angel beside me. I said, ” Angel, don’t let’s go to the Witch’s Home any more. “

“We did not go again but Aunt Ada came to us. I would hear her saying, you should do this, you should not do that, and Angel would say, ” Well, you see, Ada, it’s like this . ” And they would talk about the Boy which I knew referred to me. Aunt Ada was sure I would grow into a criminal if a little more discipline was not shown. Some would say she was right. But it wasn’t so, Rosetta. I am innocent.”