Pool of St. Branok

by Philippa Carr

  “I should not reproach yourself on that score, Justin,” I said. “I suppose it would be a natural reaction.”

  “But that he should have died saving me …”

  “Yes, that was significant. But it was typical of Gervaise. He would always act nobly automatically … in ordinary life. It was only when he was at the card table that he changed.”

  “But he would never have cheated.”

  “No … not at cards. But it is cheating in a way to gamble with money you haven’t got.” I was thinking too of Madame Bougerie. “Gervaise did that.” I went on: “He was noble in a way; he was wonderfully kind, self-sacrificing too as he showed so clearly … but no one is perfect. Justin, you’ve got to forget all this. It’s all behind you.”

  “I haven’t cheated at cards since,” he said.

  “And you will give all that up?”

  He was silent for a while. Then he said: “It was my living, Angelet.”

  “You mean … you lived on your winnings … those which came to you through your way of playing!”

  “It’s polite of you to put it that way. It’s what is called living by your wits. One can win large sums of money in the London clubs. What I did in the township was … trivial. It’s exciting because once you are caught it is over forever. But I was very good at it. I must have been very slack to have been caught like that by Gervaise.”

  “Poor Morwenna,” I said. “She has such a high opinion of you.”

  “I promised myself that if I found gold I’d give it all up. I was longing for that. Since I married Morwenna, I’ve battled with my conscience. She thinks I have a private income. The only income I have is … from this.”

  “You could have gone to work at Pencarron Mine.”

  “I couldn’t face it. Life in that remote spot far away from everything I was used to …”

  “And now?”

  “I’ve changed. All that has happened has changed me. I’m trying to be honest. I was caught by Gervaise. … That means I’m slipping. I was not so good. It’s ever since I married Morwenna. … And now there is the baby. … It’s made a lot of difference to me. If Morwenna’s father offered me something down there, I’d take it, Angelet … and I’d do my best to make a good thing of it.”

  “Oh, Justin, I’m so glad. You’ll have to forget all that has gone before.”

  “You’ve been a good friend to me, Angelet. I feel safe with you. You’d not betray me.”

  I laughed. “My dear Justin, I don’t think you are so very wicked. I suppose you only took from the rich.”

  “Well … perhaps not in the township …”

  “If you give it up … if you live honorably from now on … I think you can be very happy. It must have been a terrible strain … wondering all the time that you might be caught.”

  “Yes … but there was a sort of excitement which is irresistible.”

  “But you have Morwenna and Pedrek to think of now. Can you give all that up, Justin?”

  “Yes, I can do it,” he said.

  I was glad for Morwenna’s sake. She at least could be happy.

  And so the days passed and the ship was taking us nearer and nearer to home.

  At last the great day arrived.

  What a bustle of preparation! What a mass of emotion! We were all on deck to catch the first glimpse of the white cliffs.

  And at last I saw my parents and those of Morwenna eagerly scanning the passengers as they disembarked. Then the cry of joy and my parents side by side staring at me in wonder for there was I with their granddaughter in my arms.

  We seemed to be in a huddle. My father and mother were trying to embrace me at the same time; and it was happening like that with Morwenna. Justin stood by smiling.

  “My dearest child,” cried my mother. “Oh … Angelet …” There were tears in her eyes. “And this is Rebecca. Oh, what a beautiful child! She is just like you were. Look, Rolf …”

  They were both ecstatic.

  “Thank God you’ve come home,” said my father.

  We were all going to London first to spend a few days there before returning to Cador.

  “Everyone in London wants to see you,” said my mother, “so that has all been arranged. Let me take the baby, Angelet. My goodness, you are thin. We’ll have to remedy that.”

  My father took the light luggage. The rest was to be sent direct to Cornwall.

  And so we arrived in London.

  We stayed at the house in the square which was the most convenient. The whole family was there to greet us—Uncle Peter and Aunt Amaryllis, Matthew and Helena with Geoffrey and Peterkin and Frances: Grace Hume came too.

  They all kissed me fondly and marveled at the baby.

  “I hope you don’t mind my intrusion at this very special occasion,” said Grace. “But everyone is so kind to me that I really feel I am one of the family.”

  “It is wonderful to see you, Grace,” I said.

  “You must come and stay with us in Cornwall now that Angelet is home,” added my mother.

  Amaryllis was cooing over the babies. They were being put together in the old nursery and the servants were vying with each other for the privilege of looking after them.

  To sleep in a luxurious bed, to eat graciously, to be back in this world of ease and comfort, was wonderful. But one soon grew accustomed to such things and the dull ache returned.

  I thought of Gervaise … dead, and Ben far away … and I felt incredibly lonely.

  During the days we were in London my mother was very concerned for me.

  She said: “Do you want to talk about it? My poor darling, it must have been terrible for you. He was so very noble. There was a piece in the papers about it. When he heard what had happened Uncle Peter arranged that.” She smiled ruefully. “You know how he likes to squeeze a little advantage out of everything that happens.”

  I could visualize the caption: “Relative of Matthew Hume in valiant rescue. The hero who lost his life saving a friend is related to Matthew Hume, the well-known politician …” And I could imagine his thought: This will be worth a few votes.

  I said I could talk about it.

  “If only you had never gone out there,” said my mother.

  “Gervaise wanted it.”

  “Yes … I heard about the debts.”

  “He thought if he found gold he would pay it all back.”

  “Gambling, wasn’t it? So many young men fall foul of that. They have to learn their lesson.”

  I did not tell her that Gervaise would never have learned the lesson. He was a born gambler and would have remained so. I wanted her to keep the picture of the gallant hero.

  “And he never saw Rebecca!”

  “No. But he knew she was coming.”

  “Poor Gervaise. My dearest, you will get over it. You are young. At the time these things happen they seem overwhelming.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “I have to get over it.”

  “And you have the adorable Rebecca. We are going to take you home. We’re going to take care of you. I don’t know whether you will want to stay in Cornwall … but you need time to sort things out. You have the house here … the one you had when you married.”

  “It’s not mine really,” I said. “Uncle Peter has it as a security against the money he lent to Gervaise so that he could pay his debts and go to Australia. That house will belong to Uncle Peter now.”

  “He has told us about this and has said that he will waive the debts and the house should be yours when you returned.”

  “Oh no … the debts should be paid … to him.”

  “Well, your father wouldn’t have it. He has insisted on paying Peter what was owed to him and the house is now yours. You need have no qualms because it is part of the money which would have been yours in any case. But it was generous of Peter to offer. He is a strange man. He has always been kind to me. My mother hated him. There are shady aspects of his life, but he has good points.”

  “Most people have two sides
to their natures. No one is entirely good … no one entirely bad, it seems to me.”

  “Perhaps so. I thought you would like to know about the house. I think Morwenna will probably be coming to Cornwall. The Pencarrons have been talking to us about the future. They have been so wretched … missing Morwenna so much, Mr. Pencarron will make a very tempting offer to keep Justin down there.”

  “You mean to work with him?”

  “After all, it seems sensible. All they have will pass to Morwenna one day and that will mean Justin. I am sure Mr. Pencarron wants it all for the generations to come and young Pedrek to take over in due course. That’s the sort of man he is. I thought it would be nice for you to have Morwenna near. It will be like old times. Oh, Angelet, I am so happy to have you back. It is desperately sad that Gervaise is not with you … but let’s be thankful for what we have.”

  Thankful for what we had! That was what I intended to be.

  Morwenna told me that Justin had agreed to go to Cornwall and work for her father.

  “It has made me so happy,” she said. “I hated being away from Pa and Mother … and they adore Pedrek. It has all worked out so well for me. If only it could have for you, Angelet.”

  “I’ll be all right,” I said. “I have my family around me … and wasn’t it a wonderful welcome home? And there is always Rebecca.”

  So I came back to Cador.

  Everything had been done to make me happy. There was my old room looking as though I had never left it.

  There was a cradle in it. “I thought at first,” said my mother, “that you would like to have Rebecca with you. We’ll get busy when you like, fitting up the nursery. Several of the girls are hoping to be the one selected to look after her. I thought about getting in touch with Nanny Crossley. She was very good with you and Jack.”

  “Could we have a little time for a while to think about it?” I asked. “Rebecca is very young yet. I looked after her in Australia … with the help of the local midwife at first … and with all the assistance I get here … I can manage. And later on, we’ll decide.”

  “You feel unsettled as yet, I know,” said my mother. “It’s natural. Your father says you need time to settle after all you have gone through in Australia.”

  My brother Jack seemed to have grown up while I was away. His welcome was no less warm, if less emotional, than that of my parents. He was now helping a great deal on the Cador estate which would one day be his.

  He was very interested in Australia and asked all sorts of questions while my parents listened anxiously, afraid that so much talk would open up old wounds.

  Morwenna came to Cador often and I went over to Pencarron. She was very happy. Justin was settling in and her father thought that he was quite an astute business man. Pedrek was an adorable two-year-old … a year older than Rebecca; and they played together happily.

  I could not resist going to the pool. It still seemed eerie and the memory of what had happened there was as vivid as ever. I stood on the brink of those dark waters and tried to probe their mystery. All this time he had lain down there at the bottom of the pool which was said to be bottomless.

  I rode along the shore to the old boathouse; I went to the town and down to the quay. Nothing seemed to have changed much. The fishing smacks were dancing on the waves; the men were gutting fish and one of the older men was sitting on the stones mending his nets. Mrs. Fenny was at her door. “Good day to ’ee, Miss Angel. So you be back, eh? And brought a little ’un with ’ee. It were a terrible thing what ’appened to that ’usband of yours. Don’t ’ee fret, me dear. ’Tis well you’m back. Going to foreign parts never done no one no good.” There was Miss Grant, crocheting away in the wool shop, coming to call a greeting as I passed. “Nice to see ’ee back, Miss Angelet.” There was old Pennyleg and his barman rolling barrels down to his cellar. “Welcome ’ome, Miss Angelet.” There were furtive looks of commiseration for the widow who had lost her young husband so tragically, and nobly.

  I said to my mother, “Nothing changes in the Poldoreys. Here it seems just the same as it ever was.”

  “Yes. People die and get born. … You remember old Reuben Stubbs in the cottage near Branok Pool?”

  I started as I always did at the mention of that place.

  “Old Reuben, of course. He was quite a character, and what of his daughter? Jenny, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s what I am going to tell you. Reuben died before you were married.”

  I remembered him. An unkempt old man who always seemed to be collecting the wood or beachcombing. I had always felt there was something uncanny about him. He glared at all who came near his cottage as though he feared they would take something from him. Jenny, his daughter, was what they called in these parts “pisky-mazed.”

  “I was going to tell you about Jenny,” went on my mother. “She was always a little strange, remember … going round talking to herself … singing, too. If you spoke to her she’d look scared and turn away. Well, she went very strange after her father died. She lived on in the cottage. Your father said we should just leave her alone. She was harmless. She kept her place clean. She always had and after her father died it was quite sparkling. She does a little work at the farms when they want extra help. She’ll give a hand at anything. There was nothing wrong with anything she did. It was just that she was a little strange. Well, what do you think? She had a baby.”

  “She married?”

  “Oh no. Nobody knows who the father was. There was a man who came to do hedging and helped the farmers. He was one of those itinerant laborers … so useful at haymaking and harvest and planting and so on. He used to talk to her and she didn’t seem to be scared of him. We think it must have been this man. Well, he went off and later she had the baby. Born about the same time as Rebecca. We all wondered what would happen, but we need not have done. It changed her completely. It brought her back to normality. No mother could have cared more for a child than she did hers. The change is miraculous. Did you see her cottage when you went to the pool?”

  “I … I don’t go down there very much.”

  “You might see her about the town … always with the baby.”

  “I’m glad she’s happy,” I said. “What was the verdict of the town? I can guess Mrs. Fenny’s.”

  My mother laughed. “Sitting on the Seat of Judgment, of course. Well, that’s her way. And it doesn’t make much difference to Jenny.”

  I could understand how Jenny’s life had changed. I had my own child.

  The summer passed; it was autumn. Christmas came. The Pencarrons spent it with us.

  My parents tried to make it a very special Christmas because I was back and there was now a new member of the family and it would be the first Christmas she was really aware of.

  She was nearly two years old now. I could hardly believe it was so long since I had seen Ben. I still thought of him constantly. In fact, more than ever. There had been the excitement of coming home and being reunited with my family; and now that I had settled into this routine, memory was more acute. I had judged him harshly. He was ambitious. I had always known that. He wanted money and power. It was a very common masculine trait. He had to win. My refusal of him must have been the first real defeat he had ever suffered. I could see it all so clearly now. He was determined to fail in nothing else. His search for gold would be successful for he had already found it on another man’s land. And because of Lizzie that land was not out of reach. I could understand it all so well. I knew that I could never be really happy without him. I should always be haunted by the thought of what I had missed. I accepted what he had done for when one loved one loved for weakness as well as strength. I tried to throw myself into the Christmas spirit.

  Rebecca was talking now. She called herself Becca and everyone took up the name.

  It was touching to see her eyes alight with wonder when the Yule log was brought in and the house decorated with holly, box and bay. Red-faced and flustered, Mrs. Penlock was busy in the kitchen. Rebec
ca was a special favorite with her and the child seized every opportunity of going down to the kitchen. I did not encourage this because Mrs. Penlock could never resist popping things into Rebecca’s mouth for she had a conviction that what everyone needed was “feeding up.”

  My mother and I decorated the Christmas tree with the fairy doll on top which was to be Rebecca’s and the jester in cap and bells beside her which was for Pedrek.

  We still made the Christmas Bush, which had been part of the decorations before the coming of the tree. It was two wooden hoops fastened to each other at right angles and the frame was covered in evergreens and apples. It was hung up and any pair of the opposite sex meeting under it were allowed to kiss. We had mistletoe as well as the Kissing Bush in the kitchen, which I believe gave great delight to them all, and the stable men often came in to try to catch the young maids, while Mrs. Penlock looked on, purring and not objecting to a kiss for her own august self, because of the time of the year, she said.

  There were the carol singers and the poor who came begging with their Christmas bowls. There was the wassail. We kept up the old Cornish customs because my father—though he himself was not Cornish—took a great interest in the old Celtic ways, and as a matter of fact knew far more about the ancient laws of the Duchy than the Cornish themselves.

  He encouraged the Guise Dancers because they had existed before the coming of Christianity, and consequently we had dancers in the neighborhood who visited all the big houses in turns and gave performances during the year. The children clapped their hands with glee to watch them and to see the conflict between St. George and the dragon.

  In the morning we went to church and came home to the traditional goose and plum pudding; the tree was stripped of its gifts and there was something for everyone. It was wonderful because of the children and I had rarely seen such contentment as that on the faces of the Pencarron parents and their daughter.

  Justin was, as they said, “settling in,” but I guessed it was not easy for him to fit in with the quiet country life. It was expecting too much. Gervaise could never have done it. I hoped fervently that it would always remain as it was now for Morwenna and her parents.