The Pool of St. Branok (69 page)

My mother was very worried.

I did overhear her discussing it with Frances. Frances was one of those rather uncomfortable people who are kind and considerate when dealing with the masses and less so with individuals. She was of sterling character; she had devoted her life to good works; she had said she accepted money from Uncle Peter with gratitude for she did not care how that money had been come by as long as it came her way and she could use it to the good of her Mission. But she had always been more critical of Uncle Peter than any other member of the family. She had accepted him for what he was and was like Elizabeth of England, gratefully receiving plunder which her pirate-heroes brought her and pouring it into the treasury for the good of her country.

This was logical reasoning of course and one would never expect anything else from Frances.

She said: “Benedict should sell off the clubs. They’d bring him a fortune. Surely he doesn’t mean to continue with them?”

“He feels it is what Uncle Peter wanted him to do,” said my mother. “It was for that reason he left them to him.”

“Nonsense. Peter would expect him to do what was best for himself … as
he
always did.”

“Nevertheless …”

“He fancies himself in the role, I daresay. Well, my father-in-law sailed very near the wind, sometimes … and that’s no way for a politician to go.”

“It’s what I tell Benedict.”

“And he thinks he can go on reaping rewards from the underworld and increasing his riches. There is no doubt that money is a great asset in a political career.”

“It frightens me, Frances.”

“Well, like grandfather like grandson. There is no doubting Benedict is a chip off the old block.”

“Benedict is wonderful.”

A brief silence while Frances was no doubt implying her disagreement with that statement.

“Well,” she said at length, “those clubs nearly finished my father-in-law, remember.”

“I know. That’s why …”

“Some men are like that. Offer them a challenge and they’ve got to take it. It’s something to do with their masculine arrogance. They think nothing on Earth can beat them and they have to prove it.”

“But it could ruin him …”

“Well, his grandfather came sailing through, honored and sung to his grave. Men like that don’t think they are living if there is not a bit of danger around them for them to overcome. Don’t worry, Angel. It’s bad for you in your condition. Take care of yourself and let Benedict fend for himself. His kind always come through … and I daresay he knows what he’s doing.”

So that was it. He was going to continue in Uncle Peter’s business. It was dangerous, but then, as Frances had said, that was how men like Benedict and Uncle Peter lived.

Aunt Amaryllis had aged considerably. She was listless and had lost those youthful looks which had been characteristic of her. She caught a chill and could not shake it off. It seemed that now Uncle Peter was dead she could find no purpose in living.

My grandparents came to London. They were concerned about my mother.

I heard them talking together. “She doesn’t look at all well,” said my grandmother. “Quite different from when we saw her last.”

“Well, it’s getting near the time, I suppose,” replied my grandfather.

“No … it’s more than that.”

I was worried.

“Granny,” I said, “is my mother all right?”

She hesitated just a fraction of a second too long. “Oh yes,” she said at length. “She’ll be all right.” But she did speak without conviction. “I was wondering …” she went on, and paused.

“Wondering what?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she answered, leaving it at that.

Later I realized what she had in mind. She and my grandfather wanted my mother to go back with them to Cornwall and have the child there. I did not think she would agree to that for it would mean leaving Benedict. But then … it was not quite the same between them as it had been. This inheritance had come between them. She did not like it and he apparently did. I knew she was trying to persuade him to get out of the business and he was strongly resisting.

My grandfather had long conversations with him and my grandmother talked a little to me.

“I think it would be a good idea if you and your mother came back to Cornwall with us. We ought to go soon while your mother can travel. It could be a little difficult in a few weeks’ time.”

“She won’t want to go.
He
couldn’t go with her.”

“You mean your stepfather. No, of course he couldn’t. But he could come down for the occasional week-end. It is not so very far and he is used to travelling about.”

“Oh, Granny, I hope she agrees.”

My grandmother squeezed my hand. “We must try to persuade her. You see, it was different before Uncle Peter died. Everything has changed here. We always thought Aunt Amaryllis would look after her in London but she, poor soul, is hardly in a condition to do so. I know your stepfather would make sure that she had the best attention, but somehow I think people want those nearest and dearest to them at such a time. If she were with us you could be there too.”

“Yes,” I said. “Oh yes.”

I spoke to my mother about it.

“Grandmother wants you to go to Cornwall.”

“She is fussing over me.”

“Well, you are her daughter.”

She smiled at me. “Cornwall,” she said. “Sometimes I think of it, Becca. I feel very tired now and then. I do feel as though I want my mother. Isn’t that childish of me?”

I reached for her hand. “I think people do want their mothers at certain times.
”

“I believe you are right. I should always be there if you wanted me. You’d tell me, wouldn’t you, if anything was worrying you.”

I hesitated and she did not pursue the matter. I was aware then that she knew how deeply I resented my stepfather. Perhaps it seemed to her nothing out of the ordinary; it must have happened thousands of times when a mother remarried.

I wished she would tell me how deep was this rift between herself and her husband. Sometimes I thought it did not exist at all and that she was so much in love with him that he might do anything he pleased without changing that love. And what did he feel? How could I know? I was too young and inexperienced to understand these situations.

There were long discussions about the advisability of my mother’s going to Cornwall; and I sensed that she was wavering.

She talked to me more openly. “You would like to go, wouldn’t you, Becca?”

I admitted that I would.

“Poor Becca. You haven’t been very happy lately, have you? You have felt it hasn’t been quite the same with us. First I go away on a honeymoon … and we are apart as we never have been before … and then I am caught up in all this political work.”

“It had to be,” I said.

She nodded. “But you haven’t liked it. I know how you love Granny and your grandfather. I know how you feel about your father. You put him on a pedestal. It doesn’t do to put people on pedestals, Becca.”

What did she mean? Had she discovered that her idol Benedict had feet of clay? She must have done so. He had inherited Uncle Peter’s shady business connections and would not give them up although she begged him to.

What a difference Uncle Peter’s death had made to us all. Aunt Amaryllis no longer provided that rest house in London; no longer did we have the benefit of his advice; and his death had caused a rift between my mother and her new husband.

She went on: “I am not much use … politically … now and I shall not be for some time. I had to cancel an engagement the other day because I suddenly felt quite unable to carry it out. I think it would be better for everyone if I retired from the scene for a while … and if I went to Cornwall I should be less of a burden than if I were here.”

“And my grandparents would be delighted.”

“Yes, bless them. I shan’t mind being a bother to them.”

“A bother! You would be the reason for rejoicing.”

I skipped round the room and she laughed at me.

“When do we leave?” I asked.

Even then I was scared that he might raise some objection. It was clear that he did not like the idea. He was very tender and loving towards her and I thought I saw her wavering again.

My grandparents had a long talk with him. My grandmother was a most forceful lady. She was the one to look after her daughter in such circumstances, she said, and she knew exactly what was best for her. It would be simple. We should travel to Cornwall with her; the nursery there would be made ready. Dr. Wilmingham was a friend of the family. He had brought Angelet herself into the world. The very best of midwives lived nearby. She should be engaged at once. He must realize that Aunt Amaryllis was no longer able to help and Uncle Peter was not there in case of emergency. He, Benedict, could come down whenever he had the time. There would be no need to make arrangements. All he had to do was arrive. It was true that Cornwall was not exactly close to London but the train was convenient. At weekends he would be more free than during the week … and he could come at any time.

At length he saw the wisdom of this and I and my mother made preparations to leave for Cornwall.

I was happier than I had been for a long time. It was as it had been before the marriage. I think I must have showed it.

He stood on the platform, waving us farewell. He looked so desolate that not until we began to glide out of the station was I able to cast off my fears that she might change her mind.

She was sad at the parting and I was aware once more of the great attraction between them.

I took her hand and clung to it. She kissed mine and said: “The time will soon pass.”

“I daresay that Benedict will be down before long,” comforted my grandmother.

I grew happier as we sped along and crossed the Tamar. One of the grooms was waiting for us and soon we were rattling along through those winding lanes and there was Cador—a sight which always filled me with emotion but never more than at this time when a kindly fate had given me back my mother … if only temporarily.

I vowed that I would make the most of the weeks during which I should have her to myself. I thought of the baby as Our Baby. We should look after it together.

One has to have been unhappy to appreciate real happiness; and on that journey I believed I had never in the whole of my life been happier than I was then.

What a joy it was to settle. It was like coming home. My mother’s spirits revived. Naturally she loved Cador, for it had been her home when she was a child and she and my grandparents were devoted to each other. If anything could make her stop grieving for the loss of Benedict’s company it was this.

It was the beginning of April when we arrived and the countryside was especially beautiful. Spring came a little earlier in Cornwall than it did in London. One could feel it in the air. I could smell the sea and listened contentedly to the gentle rising and falling of the waves. How pleasant it was! My grandparents shared my contentment. They had their beloved daughter back home with them.

The first thing my grandmother did was summon Mrs. Polhenny. She came at once. I thought she looked a little older than when I had last seen her, but if anything even more self-righteous.

She was delighted at the prospect of a new baby.

“ ’Twill be a marvelous thing to have a little one up at Cador, Mrs. Hanson,” she said. “Why, it seems only yesterday that Miss Angelet arrived.”

“Yes, my daughter’s child will have
her
old nursery. It is wonderful for us to have her here. I told them in London, Mrs. Polhenny, that they couldn’t find a better midwife than you.”

“ ’Twas kind of ’ee, Mrs. Hanson. It’s doing God’s work … bringing little children into the world. That’s how I see it.”

My grandmother and I exchanged amused glances.

“Well, I’d like to have a look at Miss Angelet … when it’s convenient like.”

“Certainly,” said my grandmother. “I’ll take you up to her room.”

My grandmother disappeared with her and shortly after joined me.

“Still singing the Lord’s song in a strange land,” commented my grandmother.

“It must be gratifying to be so sure you are so good,” I said. “I wonder how many share her opinion?”

“Oh, Mrs. Polhenny doesn’t care about the opinions of others. I don’t think I ever knew a more self-satisfied person.”

“I wonder what her name is … her Christian name?”

“I have heard it. Something quite unsuitable. Violet, I think. Anything less like a violet, I cannot imagine.”

“There hasn’t been a Saint Violet, has there?”

“I don’t think so, but there will be now … at least in Mrs. Polhenny’s reckoning. Still, she is a very good midwife and we’ll have to put up with her little foibles on that account.”

Mrs. Polhenny was a little serious when she joined us.

My grandmother said sharply: “All is well, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes.” She looked at me. My grandmother nodded. I knew what that meant. Mrs. Polhenny had something to say which was not for my ears.

I left the room but I did not go away. This was my mother and I intended to know what was happening for Mrs. Polhenny’s look had alarmed me.

So, though I went outside, I left the door a little ajar and stood there listening.

“She seems exhausted, Mrs. Hanson.”

“She’s just had a long train journey from London.”

“H’m,” said Mrs. Polhenny. “Ought to have come earlier. I’d like her to take a good rest.”

“She’ll have that here. There’s nothing wrong, is there, Mrs. Polhenny?”

“No … no …” She spoke rather hesitantly. Then she went on: “I think we are a week or more farther on than we thought.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I think so. Anyway, she’s here now. I’m glad she didn’t leave it any longer to travel. We’ll take good care of her, never fear. She’s in the right hands now. With the good Lord’s help we’ll see she’s all right.”

“Oh yes, Mrs. Polhenny, of course.”

As soon as Mrs. Polhenny had gone I sought out my grandmother.

“She’s all right, isn’t she?” I asked.

“Oh yes. Mrs. Polhenny wants her to rest more. Naturally she’s rather tired after the journey. She’s going to be all right now she’s here.”