We'll meet again

Break-in at Riverside

I WAS DEEPLY SHOCKED when I found that the man and woman in the boat were Jacques and his sister. Who would not have been, faced with such a situation so suddenly, and in the middle of the night at that!

I had never wanted to see Jacques again. He had disappointed me, humiliated me by bringing his objectionable Mimi right into the house with what I could only call insolent nonchalance, as though it were the most ordinary conduct for one mistress to be presented to another in such a casual manner. The arrogance of the man was unacceptable and I had wanted to cast off all memory of it forever.

And then, there he was!

I was thankful when he went away, but I quite liked Simone. She was very different from Jacques—quite modest, in fact. Of course, Jacques had been the artist living in the Latin Quarter, thinking he was a Degas, Manet, or Monet, or that little one with the short legs, Toulouse-Lautrec, I think. Simone was more of a country girl, very eager to please, and Tom Yeo said she was a good worker and he was glad to have her.

I struck up quite a friendship with her; she seemed a little lonely and I did not see why my relationship with her brother should affect ours.

In spite of the war and having to see my poor sister grieving for a lover who, I believed, would never come back, I was not displeased with life. I enjoyed being with the recuperating soldiers. They had a special feeling for me, I knew. They liked to chatter in a jolly way, pretending to fall in love with me. It was all very lighthearted and pleasant.

But I could not stop worrying about Violetta. She tried to be cheerful but she did not deceive me. It was there all the time … a cloud to spoil the complete enjoyment of the fun. And fun there was in the silly little things of everyday life. I wished above everything that Jowan Jermyn would come home—or if that was asking too much, that we might at least know what had happened to him. If he had been killed, it would be better for her to know it. Then perhaps she could begin to forget. I thought Gordon Lewyth was in love with her in his way. I never understood the man. Violetta would say that was because he had not been attracted by me, I thought there was something wrong with him. Well, she did say things like that to me, and often there was some truth in them.

But Gordon was a strange man. There was some hidden depth there. After all, his mother was a murderess and now in an asylum. I knew he visited her frequently and must have been constantly reminded of the terrible things that had happened at Tregarland. But I did think he cared for Violetta, and I was sure he would be a very faithful husband. But she loved Jowan, and I supposed would go on doing so throughout her life—even though he was lost forever somewhere over there.

I had changed a little. Experience does change one; the bigger the experience, the greater the change. I was not the same woman who blithely gave up her home, her husband, and child to go off with a French artist. I sometimes thought of Dermot as he was when I first met him in Germany. He never seemed quite the same afterwards, and it was certainly eerie when I first came to Tregarland. No wonder, with all that was going on in the house! Violetta tried to tell me that Dermot’s death was not due to me. He fell from his horse. They said he had been drinking too much. Yes, but why? Poor Dermot! He had been so crippled that it is possible that he took his own life, though some speculated that it had been an accident. I tell myself it was. It makes me feel better. And then there is my baby.

Tristan is such a darling. He is beginning to like me at last. At first he turned to Violetta and Nanny Crabtree when I wanted to pick him up. It is different now. When he calls me Mummy, I want to hug him and cry: “I’m going to make up for leaving you, my darling. I will, I will!”

So, in spite of the war and my twinges of conscience, which I have to admit grew less as time passed, I could have enjoyed life if Violetta could have been her old self, though recently I had discovered a new interest.

I liked him from the moment I saw him. He is rather tall, not conventionally good-looking, but I like him better for that, and he has an authoritative manner which appeals to me.

The day after he came to inspect us, I met him on the cliffs.

“It’s Mrs. Tregarland, isn’t it?” he said.

“And you are Captain Brent.”

“I recognized you at once,” he went on.

“So you should,” I retorted. “It was only yesterday.”

We laughed.

“What a wonderful old place the Priory is!” he went on.

“Tregarland is as good.”

“Your home, of course.”

“Yes. They are the two big houses around here.”

“And your husband …?”

“I am a widow. It is Mr. Gordon Lewyth who looks after the place. He always did when my husband was alive. He’s very good at it and is quite a personage around here. He runs the Home Guard. I think in a way he would like to join the army but the place would fall to pieces if he did.”

“Well, he is doing the best job possible at home.”

“We’re thinking of using some of the rooms at Tregarland to extend the convalescent home. Then we could take in more at a time.”

“That’s an excellent idea, and you and the other young ladies will be in charge, I suppose.”

“Well, Mrs. Jermyn had the idea in the first place, and Tregarland would be a sort of extension. It would be rather like that, I suppose.”

“And your sister is the fiancée of the heir of the Priory?”

“That’s so.”

“It’s a wonderful job you are doing. All of you work very hard, I’m sure. It is interesting that you are all related.”

“In a way … though Gretchen isn’t really. She’s married to Edward.”

It was so easy to talk to him that I found myself telling him the story of Edward’s being brought out of Belgium by my mother when he was a baby. He listened intently. Then I went on to the incident in the Bavarian forest when we had all been brought face to face with the Nazi menace.

“That was like an introductory chapter,” he said. “It set the scene for the drama to come.”

“Yes, it was exactly like that. Though we didn’t see how important it was at the time.”

“Few saw the significance of it and those who did were not able to do anything about it.”

He turned to me, dispelling the gloom.

“Well, this is a great pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Tregarland.”

“I do not find it at all unpleasant meeting you, Captain Brent,” I replied.

We laughed a great deal during that morning and when we were about to part he said: “Do you often go out for these walks?”

“Not often. There is usually too much to do. I have a little boy and I like to spend some time with him. He has the best nanny in the world. She was mine and Violetta’s at one time and my mother thought so highly of her that she acquired her for Tristan.”

“Tristan?” he repeated.

“You will like this! My mother was a devotee of the opera. So my sister is Violetta and I am Dorabella, and I thought we should keep the tradition, hence Tristan. If he had been a girl, he would have been Isolde.”

He laughed at that. It was a very happy interlude.

I said to him: “By the way, what do you think of Jowan Jermyn’s chances of getting home? My sister is engaged to him, you know.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he said: “Well, it is not impossible.”

“But … remote?”

“I suppose I should say that.”

“It’s better to face the truth.”

“Always.”

“I must go,” I said.

“It has been such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Tregarland.”

“That is what you said when we met.”

“It bears repetition and I repeat it with emphasis.”

We said goodbye—and that was the first time. After that our meetings were frequent. They were not exactly arranged, but we somehow contrived to meet in the same place at the same time.

Violetta would have said I should have seen the way things were going. But that was how I am. I had married Dermot in haste and it had not taken me long to discover what a mistake that was. Then there was the affair with Jacques, from which I had but recently emerged. Violetta had been there to help me out of that, so I should have been wary; but when people like myself embark on an adventure, they are carried along by their belief in what the outcome will be—and that is, of course, the way they want it to go—and they sometimes find themselves in awkward predicaments.

However, my meetings with Captain Brent were the highlights of those dark days. At first, there were those seemingly accidental meetings. Later, of course, it was different.

There was so much to talk about. He was interested in everyone and everything. Nothing seemed too trivial. All the people who lived thereabouts, even the maids. Nothing was too insignificant to interest him.

We laughed a great deal. That was one of the reasons why we enjoyed each other’s company so much. It was a light-hearted relationship and even things which would not ordinarily be amusing seemed so with him.

He even asked about Nanny Crabtree and Tristan and Hildegarde. Then Charley and Bert. I had never known anyone so interested in people. It was all a lot of fun and irresistible to me.

He was living in a small furnished cottage on the edge of East Poldown. He told me the army had taken it for a year and it was for the use of personnel who had to be in the neighborhood for any length of time. He was not sure how long he would be there, and indeed there were times when he was called away.

I suppose uncertainty does give a touch of urgency to a relationship, and it develops more quickly than it might otherwise.

He was looked after by his batman, Joe Gummer, who did housework and cooking and looked after the captain with a rare efficiency. He was a Cockney with a perpetual grin and a habit of winking exaggeratedly to let one know when he was making a joke, which was frequently. There was no doubt in my mind that he was devoted to James Brent. I found it all very amusing.

The cottage was small—two bedrooms and a bathroom on the top floor, and two rooms and a kitchen below. It was rather sparsely furnished and had obviously been prepared for letting to holiday makers in peacetime. It had an impersonal look.

The garden was pleasant. It ran down to the river. One could look southwards and see the ancient bridge which separated the two Poldowns and yet feel isolated. Rhododendrons, azaleas, and buddleia grew prolifically. I became fond of the place.

Those days were full of excitement for me. I took every opportunity to go into Poldown. I would take the car round by the road which meant I had to pass Riverside Cottage. I would look in and Joe would give me the information, “Sir’s off out, Miss. I’ll tell him you called. That’ll please him. How are you, Miss? I’ve been run off me plates of meat this morning.” I had to get used to his Cockney rhyming slang and discovered that his “plates of meat” were his feet. He told me his trouble and strife (his wife) had been bombed in her place in Bow.

“Kitchen ceiling come down. What a mess! It was a job to clear it up. She said: Did that Hitler think she was his housemaid? Pity he couldn’t clear up his own mess.”

His conversation was always accompanied by those winks, to which I had now become accustomed, and bursts of laughter. I always felt the better for having seen him.

Yes, I did enjoy those days. I had made a habit of spending an hour or so with Tristan in the mornings before I left for the Priory and again after I returned home. I would sit with the children and read them a story while Nanny Crabtree watched, nodding with pleasure. I was sure she was thinking that this was how a mother should behave (not going off gallivanting, with foreigners), for, of course, Nanny Crabtree had never accepted that amnesia story.

“Loss of memory, my foot,” she had said. “That Dorabella’s not the sort to go losing her memory. No, she’ll be up to something.” And Violetta had said: “We must tell Nanny the truth. She’ll be terribly shocked, but she’ll forgive you, and in any case, she won’t rest until she knows what really did happen.”

Then there was Simone. I met her frequently about the estate. She had turned out to be different from the quiet, earnest girl who had arrived in England with her one desire to fight for her country.

She never seemed to want to talk about Jacques. Well, nor did I, so that was no hardship. She had seen very little of him during their childhood, and then she had gone to live with the aunt in the country. She was light-hearted and frivolous in a way—not unlike myself.

She told me about one of the men on the farm who was pursuing her. He was a typical Cornishman, Daniel Killick by name, and she made me laugh by her efforts to reproduce his accent, and was really funny about their attempts to communicate—her English being a little limited and her accent not helping, the Cornish expressions were incomprehensible to her.

We giggled a good deal together, and, I must say, it was a relief at that time, for the gloom of war could be very depressing.

Of course, she wanted to know about me. I told her about Dermot and she was naturally aware of my affair with Jacques. She said he had always had love affairs and he had stayed with me longer than with most and, after all, it was I who had walked out on him.

Very soon I was telling her about Captain Brent.

“He is charming, that one,” she said. “Like my poor Daniel? Oh, no! Quelle difference! Tell me. I am all nose.”

“Ears,” I corrected her and we giggled. I told her of my meeting with the captain on the cliffs and how our friendship had progressed from there.

Life was full of interest at that time. Even those boring Germans had turned to the Russians, which everyone thought was a “good thing” for us, if not for the Russians.

It was a warm day—oppressively so. I decided to go down to the town to order a few things. There were always certain goods we needed. I had plenty of time, so I walked over the cliffs, did the ordering and then made my way to the cottage. A storm had been threatening all the afternoon, and there were thunder clouds over the sea. As I emerged from the town I heard the first clap of thunder. Then the rain came teeming down and by the time I reached James’s cottage my thin dress was soaked; there was water in my sandals and my hair was streaking round my face.

Fortunately, James was in.

Stating the obvious, he cried: “You’re drenched!”

“That’s putting it mildly,” I said.

“Hurry and get those things off.”

“Where’s Joe?”

“Gone into Bodmin to get some stores. Get to the bathroom and I’ll find something for you to put on. Then we’ll dry those wet clothes.”

I went up the stairs to the small bathroom. James left me there and in a few moments returned and handed me a toweling dressing-gown. I took off my clothes, dried myself vigorously, and wrapped the dressing-gown about me. It was huge—being his own.

I came out. He was in the bedroom, sitting on the bed.

He said: “That’s quite becoming. I thought it was an insignificant thing—until now.”

“It’s rather large.”

“Well, I am a little bigger than you.”

He stood up and put his hands on my shoulders.

There is no need for me to go into details: it was inevitable. It was so romantic, if a somewhat stereotyped situation. It was like something in a play. The hero and heroine are thrown together … the car breaks down … or the girl is caught in the storm …. never mind what manipulations are undergone to get them into this situation. But there it is … thrust upon them.

He slipped the dressing-gown from my shoulders. Now was the time for me to express outraged protests. But did I? Of course not. That was not my way. I wanted this to happen as much as he did, so it was no use pretending I did not. So, of course, it did.

Afterwards we lay in the bed together. I thought of Joe’s coming back. I could imagine his pronounced wink; I knew he would not be altogether surprised. After all, he was the old “bucket and spade” (housemaid), as he sometimes called himself.

I just lay there in a state of delicious euphoria.

James said how wonderful it was for him to have found me. I said it was wonderful that we had found each other. And we knew that this was the beginning.

After that there were many meetings. Joe knew about it and reacted with the nonchalance I had expected. Sometimes we heard him bustling about below. I was now choosing every moment I possibly could to go to the cottage where James would be waiting for me.

Afterwards we would sit downstairs, or perhaps in the garden, where James would bring out a bottle of his favorite French wine and we would talk.

He told me that he had been married. It hadn’t worked. That was before the war. They had lived in London for a time, but they were always moving around. She hadn’t liked the lifestyle marriage with him offered; she had wanted to settle in the country. So they had parted. They were lucky to have arranged an amicable divorce without bitterness on either side. That had happened three months before the outbreak of war.

They were wonderful days for me. There was an element of excitement in the affair. I enjoyed that. The only one who knew was Joe. But, before long, I was to learn that that was not entirely true. Of course, I am a somewhat irresponsible person. It came out one day when I was with Simone.

She said unexpectedly: “You look … how is it? Different? Has something happened?”

“Oh,” I said evasively. “Life is tolerable. How is Daniel?”

“Much the same as ever.”

“Adoring?”

She lifted her shoulders. “And the good capitaine?”

I imitated her gesture.

“I had expected to see you yesterday. You were busy?”

“Very.”

“With the good … James?”

“I did see him.”

“That is a pleasant little maison. I passed it the other day. I thought—nice.”

“Oh yes, it is.”

“You know it well, I think.”

“I’ve been there once or twice.”

She nodded, smiling. Then she went on to tell me of some encounter with Daniel. I was not really listening.

My love affair with James Brent continued. I knew it was important to us both. It is difficult to explain one’s feelings sometimes to people who have not experienced them. Those who had would understand immediately.

I never knew when I arrived at the cottage whether he would be there, and he had told me that he could be called away at any moment. He did not think that would be for any length of time, but he could never be sure. Really, how could any of us, in those days, be sure of anything? How did we know when any of us would come face to face with death? It gave a transience to life, an urgency. We thought: “Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” It was true that we lived precariously. I suppose I wanted to squeeze as much pleasure from each day as I possibly could, for how did I know how long I would be able to enjoy it? If one found something good, one wanted to cling to it before it was snatched away.

This gave an added flavor to my relationship with James.

There were times when I almost confided in Violetta. I could not imagine what her reaction would be. She thought my recent experiences with Jacques had sobered me. Sometimes I thought I should never be sobered.

I needed James at that time. He did a great deal for me. Nanny Crabtree had once said to Violetta—so my sister told me—that when I came into a room it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. “Things don’t bother her much, do they? And she has a way of making you feel the same. Well, there’s something to be said for it after all is said and done.”

I thought: Yes, it is wonderful to be able to find something to be happy about in all this mess. That was my excuse. I was good at finding excuses for myself.

So I lived through those days, dancing close to the flame like the proverbial moth—never thinking of scorching my wings.

The recuperating soldiers could now make use of those rooms at Tregarland which had been made ready. The two houses being fairly close together made this a convenient arrangement. We were always going back and forth between the two places.

“What an excellent outcome!” said Violetta. “Particularly when you remember the old feud between the two houses.”

“Sorted out, my dear sister, by you and …”

How thoughtless I was! I was going to say: “By you and Jowan,” although he was always in her thoughts and she did not need a careless comment of mine to remind her of him.

I said quickly: “I think we are doing quite a good job.”

“I think so, too,” agreed Violetta.

Between the two houses our days were busy, though I still found time to slip down to Riverside Cottage. There was always an excuse for going into town and, if my trips were noticeably extended, nobody called attention to the fact.

James had given me a key to the cottage.

“It will be convenient,” he said, “if I am not there and Joe neither. We can leave notes for each other.”

We were now into October and the days were fast shortening. It was the season of gales which were a feature of our coast.

One morning, when I went down, Violetta was already at the table with Gretchen, and while we sat talking one of the maids came in with the post. There were letters for the three of us. We knew they were from my mother before we looked at them, for when she wrote to one she wrote to the others. We had laughed about it—Violetta and I—when we were at school, for the letters were almost identical. Not that we would have wanted it to change. It made us more aware of the closeness between us all.

Gretchen read her letter and looked up with excited eyes.

“It’s wonderful news,” she said. “Edward is being posted to Hampshire. There will be occasions when he can get away for short spells. I should be closer. Your mother says I should return to Caddington. It will not be difficult for him to slip over. She says: ‘I think you should come soon, Gretchen. We shall have you and Hildegarde with us. It will be wonderful for us to have a child in the house.’”

“That is good news,” I said.

“It is so long since Edward has seen Hildegarde,” added Gretchen. Then she hesitated for a moment. “But my job here …”

“You’ll find something to do,” Violetta assured her. “I don’t think there will be any difficulty, do you, Dorabella?”

I shook my head, and went on: “Our first duty is to keep the troops happy, is it not? Well, one of them wouldn’t be if his darling wife and child were kept away from him.”

Gretchen laughed. She could not hide her excitement.

We would leave her to pack, we said, and go over to see Mrs. Jermyn about Gretchen’s replacement.

As we drove over the short distance, Violetta said: “I suppose your letter was the same as mine?”

“I imagine so. We did tell her that there had been some unpleasantness about Gretchen here, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

“She thinks in that case it will be good for her to get away.”

“She’s right, of course. Gretchen was very upset about it. It is something that people don’t forget. If anything went wrong, she would be under suspicion.”

“It could be the same there.”

“Yes, but Edward will be there. He’s a soldier, something of a hero, having come back from Dunkirk, and the parents are such paragons of patriotic zeal. She will be able to see Edward fairly often perhaps.”

Nanny Crabtree was sad. She hated to see her nursery depleted, and Hildegarde was such a good girl, she said. I reckoned Hildegarde was more virtuous in retrospect than in actuality, and that Tristan would hear frequently of her excellence, that Hildegarde had never done things like that. Hildegarde had been such a good little girl.

In a few weeks Nanny Crabtree became philosophical. “Well, I’ve got my hands full with his lordship—and as for that Charley and Bert!” She clicked her tongue and raised her eyes heavenwards, calling in divine corroboration of what she had to suffer.

“Racing about on them bikes! My goodness me! They scare the wits out of me, them two do. Give me little girls.”

“If I remember rightly, Nanny,” I said, “you have had two who on occasions were not such little angels.”

“You get along with you,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “You were always the saucy one, you were!”

Tristan missed Hildegarde. He said to me one day: “Want Hilgar.”

“Well,” I told him, “you’ve got Mummy.”

He smiled suddenly and held out his arms. I picked him up and he planted a wet kiss on my cheek.

“Got Mummy,” he said with evident satisfaction.

I hugged him. My little angel. He loved me now. He had forgotten that I had once deserted him.

My darling child, I thought, as I had a thousand times. I’ll make up for that.

When I look back over those months, they seem like an oasis in the midst of the fearful conflict which was going on in the world.

And Tristan loved me. There is nothing to compare with a child’s innocent belief in his mother’s ability to make everything come right. Even I, who am certainly not the maternal type, could rejoice in it. I swore that never again would I disappoint him. I should always be there. I had Tristan then. I had my constant comfort, Violetta, my dear parents … and James Brent.

Yes, it was a good time.

I had driven down to Poldown and hastily shopped and then gone to Riverside Cottage. There was just a possibility that James would be there.

When I stayed for any length of time, I made sure that the car was well out of sight from the road. It was possible to do this by parking at the back of the cottage. On this occasion, I was just looking in and, if I were to stay, I should, of course, move the car.

I let myself in, saw no one was at home, scribbled a note to James and went back to the car. As I was getting in, a car drove up. It was Simone in the estate car which belonged to Jermyn’s and which she drove round collecting things for Tom Yeo.

She drew up and grinned at me.

“He is not … chez lui?”

“No,” I said.

“Dommage!” she murmured. “Then … you will have a moment to spare? Perhaps we have a café together? Just for thirty minutes … twenty … or fifteen?”

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s do that.”

So we drove down to East Poldown. There was a small place on the front looking over the sea and Mrs. Yelton, who ran the place, came to take our order.

“How be ’ee today, me dears?” she said. “Nice cup of coffee, is it?”

“Yes please, Mrs. Yelton.”

“What they do call a well-earned rest, I’ll be bound. You young ladies are doing a good job up there, the both of you. You should hear what some of the boys say about the home, Mrs. Tregarland. Angels of Mercy, that’s what they called the young ladies.”

I laughed. “So, I look like an angel?” I asked.

“To tell you the truth, I always thought you had a bit of the devil in you, Mrs. Tregarland. And, as for you, Mam’selle … coming over here in that boat … well, that was something.”

We laughed and she went away to get the coffee.

“It’s nice here,” said Simone, as she stirred the beverage.

“Yes, if they accept you,” I replied, thinking of Gretchen.

She knew at once what I meant. That was like Simone. She was always quick to catch my meaning.

“It’s wonderful for her to have her husband coming home now and then,” I said. “It would have been impossible for her to have seen him so often if she had stayed here.”

“And being German did not help her. All is well with you and the good captain?”

“As well as it can be in such times.”

“I see you ’ave the key to the door.”

“Oh yes. He gave it to me. It’s quite convenient. I can slip in when I like and, if he is not there, leave a note.”

“He is a thoughtful man. It is so romantic. It is good that we have this romance in wartime.”

“As long as the world goes round, love goes on.” Had I made that up, or was I just stating the obvious? It was a real old cliché anyway; but when you consider them, they are very often true.

We sat there gossiping for a while, then said goodbye to Mrs. Yelton and got into our respective cars.

Returning to Tregarland one early evening, Violetta and I found Nanny Crabtree in what she herself called “a state.”

“I’ve told them time after time, if I’ve told them once, I won’t have them dashing round the country after dark. It’s them imps, Charley and Bert. What they don’t seem to understand is that six o’clock in May is not the same as at this time of year. It’s the dark I won’t have them out in. It’s them bikes, that’s what it is. Fancy themselves as goodness knows what, I shouldn’t wonder. Spy catchers one day, dispatch riders the next. Flying round … I don’t know … but I won’t have it.”

“Were they going anywhere special?” asked Violetta.

“No, they wasn’t. I’ve said to them time and time again. After school, it’s home. Then they can get back and wash their dirty selves and sit down to a nice meal. You’d think they’d be satisfied with that, wouldn’t you? But no. They must go dashing about the countryside.”

“I expect they’ll be back soon, Nanny,” I said.

“They’d better be.”

I thought: She loves those boys. That is just how she used to be with us. Dear old Nanny, she is really worried about them.

As a matter of fact, Violetta and I were beginning to get anxious. Violetta said she had seen Gordon and he thought they should be back by now.

“I hope there’s not been an accident,” said Violetta.

When we heard the sound of the boys’ bicycles in the courtyard, we were very relieved.

They were safe, and, now that she was no longer afraid for them, Nanny was growing more and more bellicose. She went into action without delay. She wanted to know what excuses they had, and I could see from her expression that they would have to be very good to satisfy her.

The boys put their bicycles away and came running upstairs, their faces alight with excitement.

Nanny faced them squarely, with Violetta and I on either side of her.

Charley burst out: “There’s been a burglary. Or would ’a bin, if we ’adn’t stopped ’em.”

“A burglary?” I cried. “Where?”

“At that cottage by the river.”

“Riverside Cottage?” I asked quickly.

“That’s it, Mrs. Tregarland. That’s the one. Me and Bert was cycling along, wasn’t we? You can cut round the back if you know the way … by the river.”

“That’s trespassing,” I said.

“It’s only a little way. Well, Bert and me was there, wasn’t we? You could see the back of the place, and I knew Captain Brent wasn’t there, didn’t I?”

“Did you?” I said. “How?”

“Well, he wasn’t there, was he? Hadn’t been for some time. I heard one of the soldiers say he reckoned he’d be away for a bit. I knew it wasn’t him, ’cos I saw this torch, didn’t I? It was moving about … just like in a film, and I said to Bert, I said: ‘P’raps the ’lectricity’s off.’ But then I see the light on the road was on. Well, we left our bikes and went up to the house and then I see the back door was broke open. Then I knew.”

“What did you do then, Charley?” I asked.

“I said to Bert, ‘I reckon they’re burglars. We got to catch ’em.’ I didn’t think me and Bert could do it on our own, so I said to him: ‘You wait ’ere and watch. If you see ’em get into a car, take the number … just like they do in the pictures. I’m going to Constable Darkin. He’s not far off.’”

“That was very ingenious of you, Charley,” said Violetta.

“What, Miss?”

“Very clever. Very resourceful to go to Constable Darkin.”

“He was just going to have his tea. I said, ‘I’ve come to report a burglary.’ He wasn’t that shook up, was he? He said, ‘Oh yes, son.’ Just as if I was a little boy playing a game. Then I said, ‘At Captain Brent’s place … that Riverside Cottage.’ It was different then. He left his tea and said, ‘You’d better get back home, son.’ Then he got onto the telephone and I couldn’t hear what he said, ’cos Mrs. Darkin was talking and taking us to the door. She said, ‘You’ve done well, and now it’s time you was home.’ So I went to find Bert. He was still there watching. He hadn’t seen no more lights in the house. Then we heard the cars and two men came running out. We couldn’t see them very well. They got away though before the police got there. It wasn’t half something, wasn’t it, Bert?”

Bert agreed that it was.

I was thinking of James and wondering how the thieves had known he and Joe would be away at that time and what they could have hoped to steal in a cottage furnished for summer visitors.

Later on Constable Darkin came to Tregarland to tell the boys they had done very well. It was just an ordinary break-in, and the thieves had escaped before they could be caught.

“You did the right thing, son,” said Constable Darkin to Charley. “Always let us know if you see anything fishy round here.”

Then he roared with laughter.

“That be a good ’un,” he said, in case any of us failed to catch the aptness of the allusion.

And so it all ended happily and Nanny Crabtree withdrew her disapproval of the boys and their bicycles. In fact, she was rather proud of her protégés.

Kidnapped

IT WAS ONLY TWO weeks later when there was another alarm. This was a very serious one.

Again it started when Violetta and I returned from the Priory. If Nanny Crabtree had been in “a state” because the boys had not come home, now she was in a panic.

And so were we all.

Tristan was missing. He had been having his nap after he had had his meal, and Nanny herself liked to doze off at that time. It gave her a chance, as she said, to put her feet up. She would lie on her bed, which was the only way to rest properly, and she would leave open her bedroom door, which led into Tristan’s room.

He had been a little lively during the morning and did not drop off as quickly as he usually did, so that made it a little late and it must have been after three when Nanny settled down. She did not awaken until just on five, and was amazed when she did. It was not like her to sleep so long. She was usually a light sleeper. She would have expected Tristan to waken her before that. But when she went into his room she saw that he was not in his bed. She had been surprised, but not then unduly alarmed. He must have wandered downstairs, she thought. But Tristan was nowhere to be found. We were all very worried by this time. We had hunted everywhere. Tregarland’s was a very large house and there were all sorts of places where he could hide.

We searched and searched. Nanny kept moaning: “I can’t believe this. I’m a light sleeper, I am. I’ve always been ready to wake at the slightest sound from any of my children. And there he is … getting out of bed … going off like that. Where is he? Where is my baby?”

In the first few moments it did not occur to me that there could be anything seriously wrong. It was only as the time began to pass and there was no sign of Tristan that we grew seriously alarmed and decided to call the police.

Constable Darkin paid another visit to Tregarland’s and this was a very somber one. The house and grounds were searched. The great fear was the sea. Suppose Tristan had gone into the garden, wandered down to the beach and thought he would paddle? Suppose he had been carried out to sea on the waves? Unbearable possibilities came crowding into my mind.

Violetta and I went on searching, and the servants joined in. Gordon was very practical. He arranged search parties, discussed with the police what was best to be done; but as the night came on we were desperate.

I felt sick with horror. My darling child, who was learning to love me, to forgive me for my indifference, now loved me as much as he did Violetta and Nanny Crabtree, no, even more, because I was his mother. Where was he now? Crying for me. I could hear the satisfaction in his voice when he had said: “Got Mummy.”

This was too cruel. I did not deserve this. And what was happening to Tristan? Once before he might have died at the hands of a murderess, but for the vigilance of my sister and Nanny Crabtree. Not again, I thought, oh, not again.

I do not know how I lived through that night. We had searched the house and grounds thoroughly, so there was little hope that he was there.

Then where was he? I could hear the murmur of the sea. It was a quiet sea, but… was it possible that he had wandered down to the beach? He had been warned never to go down there alone. He was an obedient child on the whole, but one could never be sure what a child would do.

Violetta was beside me, close, and I knew she suffered as I did. As for Nanny Crabtree, she was quite distraught, muttering to herself. I think she was praying.

Gordon said: “There must be some explanation. He has wandered off somewhere.”

“A child out alone … at this time of night!” I cried.

Gordon said very slowly, with an effort, as though he were wondering whether it was wise to raise such a possibility: “We must not lose sight of the fact that someone might have taken him.”

“Taken him!” I cried.

Gordon nodded, and Violetta said: “You mean … kidnapped?”

“It could be so. If it is … we’ll get him back.”

“Who … ?” murmured Violetta.

“The family is not without means to pay a ransom.”

I clutched at the idea. It was better than thinking of him caught by the sea.

“Oh yes … yes,” I cried. “He’s been kidnapped. We’ll pay whatever they ask and get him back.”

“It is a possibility we should not lose sight of,” said Gordon.

I felt sure of it now. Otherwise where was he? Some wicked person was putting us all to this anguish for the sake of money. Anything … anything we had was worth giving to get Tristan back. I had been so immersed in my own affairs that I did not realize how much I loved him. He was more important to me than anything else.

There was no sleep for any of us that night. I felt a fierce hatred for those people who had taken him, and a contempt for myself because I had not loved him enough. I had a great desire to blame someone. How had Nanny Crabtree allowed herself to be so fast asleep when all that was happening to him? It was so unlike her. I remembered how she and Violetta had watched over him throughout those nights when they suspected someone was trying to harm him. Then … Gordon. A terrible thought struck me. If Tristan died, Gordon would inherit Tregarland. He was really holding it in trust for him now. Gordon was devoted to Tregarland. He had worked all his life on the estate. He was the son of old James Tregarland—if illegitimate—and he would inherit the place if there were no legitimate heir to come before him. And there was Tristan. Motive indeed.

Oh no! That could not be! Gordon would not be involved in such a thing. But what did I know of what went on in people’s minds?

And so it went on.

I did not know what to do. Search the grounds again? Just suppose he was somewhere there? The house … ?

We were frustrated and helpless. The police were searching for him.

Violetta said: “I cannot believe there is anything else we can do. Gordon is right. We shall hear news soon. I shall keep in easy call of the telephone. It may come that way.”

I could not bear it. I felt a desire to be by myself. I kept going over the past. I had staged an elopement, I had deluded myself into believing that it would all come right in the end. I had always pictured the future the way I wanted it to go. Then I thought of the last time Tristan and I had been together. I had read him his favorite story about the elephant who never forgot. He had leaned against me and laughed at the animal’s exploits and I had changed them a little, just for the pleasure of hearing him say: “No Mummy, he didn’t do that.”

Take everything I have … everything I want … but give him back to me, I bargained with the unknown powers.

I went to my room. I sat staring out of the window. I saw Simone below. She was talking to Violetta. I did not want to join them. I could not bear to talk to anyone.

One of the maids was knocking at my door. She had an envelope in her hand.

“This came for you, Mrs. Tregarland,” she said.

She gave it to me. My name and address were typed on it. I said: “This hasn’t come by post.”

“No, Mrs. Tregarland. It was just lying there on the hall table.”

When she had gone, I opened it and stared at the paper before me. I could not take in those words for a few seconds. I felt myself grow cold and my hands trembled as I read:

We have your son. He is safe so far. If you obey orders he will soon be back with you. You are to come alone to Hollow Cottage on the road to Pen Moroc on the Bodmin Road at five o’clock for your instructions. Hollow Cottage is about half a mile from the signpost pointing to Pen Moroc. If you show this note to anyone, your son will die. We are watching you. Bring this note with you. Remember, it will be dangerous if you try to trick us. Fail to come, and alone, and your son will die.

I could not believe it. It was the sort of thing I had read of or seen in films—and now it was happening to me!

My first impulse was to find Violetta. “If you show this note to anyone, your son will die.” No, I dared not take the risk. Then what? Go to this place … this Hollow Cottage on the road to Pen Moroc. I did know the road. I had been along it once or twice—a lonely stretch of moorland. I had not seen any cottages there, but I could find this one. At five o’clock it would be dark. I was afraid and yet excited. Any action was better than none.

At least I now knew that Tristan had been kidnapped. He was not drowned or lying dead somewhere. Never had I wanted to talk to my sister more than I did at that moment. Yet I dared not. I read the note again. This was the beginning. I was going to this place for “instructions.” What could they want? Only one thing, I supposed. Money. They would tell me what to do and I should have Tristan back when the ransom was paid.

I would go to this Hollow Cottage and I would go alone, for I dared not tell anyone of my plans.

Violetta would say I should tell someone … the police … Gordon … someone who would know what had to be done. But I could not take that risk.

My sister always said I acted rashly without due consideration. But what was there to consider when they had threatened to kill my son if I did not act as they commanded?

I left Tregarland at four o’clock. I must be there in good time. I managed to get away without being noticed. I had only one thought in my mind: to find out what these people wanted, to give it to them and get back my son.

It was dark early that evening, for it had been a dull day, even for November. By half past the hour, I was on the Pen Moroc Road. It was deserted.

I drove along slowly, looking out for Hollow Cottage. There was hardly any habitation in sight. I saw the signpost. Half a mile on then.

Peering about me in the gloom, I could see a building of some sort. It was in a small hollow, just off the road. Hollow Cottage. I felt sure this was the place.

It looked eerie. My heart was pounding so much I could not escape from the sound of it. It was like a drum in my ears. I drew up and got out of the car. I looked around me. All was silent. Was I too early?

I walked towards the cottage. It was uninhabited—a shell of a place. There was no lock on the door, so I pushed it open. It creaked as I did so. I stepped in cautiously. It was a derelict ruin of what had been a small dwelling.

I was sure I should never have had the courage to go into that place alone if I had not been overwhelmed by the need to have Tristan safe. I was thinking as I did so: Perhaps I should have shown the note to Violetta. But if those people harmed Tristan, I should never forgive myself. I had to do it this way.

I stepped into what had been a room. It was dark and I could see little. There was no one there. I was too early. I looked at my watch and saw that it was ten minutes to five. I should have to wait. My eyes were becoming accustomed to the gloom and I was able to make out a door at one side of the room. As I looked, it creaked and swung forward. My heart leaped in fear. A masked man was standing there.

It was unreal … like something I had read, seen in a film, or dreamed of.

A voice said: “It was wise of you to come, and alone, Mrs. Tregarland.” It was a cultured voice.

“Where is my son?” I cried.

“He shall be returned to you. It is a very small thing we want of you. All you have to do is bring it to us and your little boy will be returned to you. First, give me the note I sent to you.”

I took it from my pocket and put it into his outstretched, gloved hand.

“What is it you want from me?” I asked.

“You are a good friend of Captain Brent.”

I shivered. “What … ?” I began.

“You have access to his cottage. All you have to do is bring us a small metal box which you will find there. Today is Wednesday. On Friday at this time, you will bring the box here. Your little boy will be given to you in exchange for it.”

“I have no idea what little box … where is it? How can I be sure that you will give me my son?”

“There are some things you have to take on trust.”

“I could not trust anyone who would hurt little children.”

“Your child will not be hurt if you do this one thing.”

“Where … where is this box?”

“It is in Riverside Cottage. It will be in an inconspicuous place. But you have two days in which to find it.”

“Captain Brent will not allow me to take this thing.”

“He will not know that you have.”

“His batman …”

“Neither will be there. It should not be difficult. You have the key and they will both be absent for a week or so. Come, Mrs. Tregarland, surely the fate of your little boy is worth such a small effort?”

I did not know what to say. I had discovered that this was not an ordinary kidnapping for a ransom of money. I had been thrust into a bizarre web of spies and intrigue—the sort of thing which, until now, had been entirely divorced from real life. But we were living in strange times.

I was in this position because of my relationship with James Brent, who was obviously more than an army doctor. I saw now that his work was secret and dangerous.

I had to get away. I had to think clearly. I wanted to shout at this man: “I will not do this. Let me give you money.” I was being stupid. He did not want money. He wanted this box. And if I were to save Tristan, I had to find it.

I said as coolly as I could: “How shall I know this box when I see it?”

“I am giving you a diagram of it. It is about six inches by four. You will not fail to recognize it. Do not let anyone see it. Do your search by daylight when you do not have to show a light.”

That seemed significant. The burglars detected by Charley must have been working with this man.

I felt trapped, out of my depth, bewildered, one moment determined to go in search of the box, the next telling myself that I was caught up in something bigger even than the kidnapping of a child.

I had to get away from this place … and think.

“Give me the diagram,” I said.

A black-gloved hand was held out. I took the folded paper and put it into my pocket.

“It is clear,” said the man. “Your child’s life depends on this. This time on Friday. Again, I must warn you not to attempt to trick us. You do not want to be responsible for your child’s death, do you, Mrs. Tregarland?”

I turned away and stumbled out of the house. I don’t know how I managed to drive the car back to Tregarland’s, but I did; no one was aware that I had been out.

For the rest of that evening, I went about in a daze. No one commented. They thought my mood was entirely due to Tristan’s disappearance.

Gordon, Violetta, and I sat at supper, pretending to eat. Old Mr. Tregarland was in his own room. We had decided we would not tell him the news yet. Gordon thought it would be too great a shock for him.

We went to our rooms early, as there was nothing we could do. There was an extension of the telephone in Gordon’s room, so that, if a message came through, he could take it.

There would be no message, I knew; but I could not tell them that.

I undressed and sat in a chair in my dressing-gown, staring out of the window, seeing nothing but the secluded cottage with the creaking door and the eerie gloom—going over every sinister second I had spent there.

I had to find the box. Tomorrow I would go down and begin the search. Clearly it was something of great importance, possibly to the enemy of our country and, if I found it, if I gave it to them, I should be working for these spies. How could I do that? Yet, if I did not, they would kill Tristan.

I should never have gone to that cottage. I should never have become involved with Captain Brent.

I thought of the pleasure of the last month when I had been really happy. I was in love with him in a light-hearted wartime way, as he was with me. One takes one’s pleasures with open hands in wartime without question. We were two free people; neither of us had commitments with other people. Why should we not bring a little joy into those dreary, war-stricken months?

But he was clearly engaged in dangerous work. Naturally, he did not talk of it to me. And I, because of our relationship, had become involved in this without knowing what. Consequently, my child was in danger. There was something about the man in the cottage that was deadly serious. I knew he was in earnest. If I did not produce the box on Friday, they would kill Tristan. And if I told anyone what had happened, they would doubtless kill me, too.

Not that I cared about myself. It would be an easy way out of my troubles, I thought.

That was foolish. I did not want to die. But I could never be happy again if they hurt my child. I had to get that box. I had to give it to them … and never let my child out of my sight again. But how could I do it? How could I steal this important thing from James? It was important, not only to him, but to the country.

I had never been in such a terrible dilemma in my life.

I started. The door was opening. I knew who it was before she came into the room. She was in her dressing-gown, as I was. She said, in that straightforward way which was typical of her:

“What has happened?”

Of course, she was my twin, and there was this special bond between us. She had often known when I was in difficulties without my telling her.

“Violetta,” I said. “It’s you.”

“Who else? Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” I cried hysterically. “Someone’s taken Tristan. I’m out of my mind with worry.”

“We are all the same. But I know something’s happened … today … this evening. What is it, Dorabella? You know you always tell me.”

I thought: She will stop me from doing this. I know it is wrong to do it … but I must save Tristan.

I was silent. She took a chair and, pulling it close to mine, sat down.

“Now tell me everything,” she said.

I stammered: “Perhaps there’ll be a message soon. They … they’ll want money. The old man will have to be told. He’s rich. He’ll pay anything to get Tristan back.”

“Dorabella, you know something, don’t you? Something you’re holding back.”

“I know my baby is taken …”

“We all know that. But there is something else. Come on. You know you could never keep anything from me.”

I began to cry silently and she put her arm round me.

“It’s always better when we share,” she said. She was right. It always had been. Some of those difficulties had seemed gigantic when they loomed before me, and then my sister had come in with her calm common sense and straightened them out.

“If I tell you…”

I heard her breathe deeply and I knew that I had gone too far to turn back now.

“Yes,” she prompted. “When you tell me …”

“You won’t do anything unless I agree. Promise that.”

“I promise.”

“I have become rather friendly with Captain Brent.”

“I know.”

“You know!”

“My dear Dorabella, it was obvious. Those prolonged jaunts into town. The way you looked at each other. I am not blind, you know, particularly where you are concerned.”

“I had a note from them.”

“From whom?”

“The kidnappers.”

“When? Where is it? Why didn’t you say?”

I told her how it had been brought to my room by one of the maids and that it had been lying on the hall table.

“How did it get there? Go on … what did it say?”

I told her.

“Where is it?”

“They took it from me when I went there.” I told her exactly what had happened, and I saw the shocked disbelief dawn on her face.

“This is terrible, Dorabella.”

“I must get Tristan safe.”

“I wouldn’t have thought of anything like this. What on earth have you got caught up in?”

“You see, don’t you, that I have to find that little box. I have to take it to them. I have to go alone and get Tristan.”

“It is obviously of tremendous importance for them to go to such lengths. You can’t do it.”

“I must, I must.”

She said slowly: “The burglary Charley saw … they must have been looking for this box.”

“I think that must have been so.”

“These are dangerous people. They are the enemy. It’s the only explanation I can think of. They can’t go back to the house to try again because the police have been alerted. I’ve always guessed that Captain Brent’s job was not merely to keep an eye on the soldiers. He must be involved in secret work of some kind, and this box doubtless has something to do with it. And as they can’t make another attempt at burglary, you, as the captain’s friend, can go into the captain’s house unquestioned. You can depend on it that your close relationship is no secret. Therefore you can bring out the box and in exchange get your child.”

“How could they know … ?”

“These people make it their business to know everything that might be of importance. You must have been watched.”

“Oh, Violetta!” I cried. “I’m glad I told you. What am I going to do?”

“There is only one thing you can do.”

“I must save Tristan.”

“You can’t trust these people.”

“I have to. I have to get my baby.”

“You cannot do it that way, Dorabella. You will betray our country. That box is obviously important. How do you know that, by stealing it, you might not help to kill thousands of our people?”

“But what of Tristan?”

“There are clever people who could be working on this.”

“It is straightforward. I give them the box and they hand over Tristan.”

“There is no guarantee that they will give him to you. You cannot do it, Dorabella. Gordon … Captain Brent… they will know the best way to handle this. Tristan will be safer if we work through them. Captain Brent must know. He will understand the importance of this box.”

My head was throbbing. I was telling myself now that I had been a fool to tell her. I should have known she would have taken it this way. There was only one thought which was going round and round in my mind: I must save Tristan. I would do anything … anything for that.

We were silent for a while. Violetta took my hand and held it firmly. She was fully aware of my thoughts.

Then she said: “We’ve always come through difficulties working together. After all, two heads are better than one.”

I nodded.

“I know what we must do,” she went on.

“What?”

“This is too important for us to handle alone. They might not give you Tristan, whatever you did.”

“I have to trust them. What else can I do?”

“Would you trust such people?”

“I have to do anything to get Tristan back. We have to make sure that we do get him.”

“Dorabella, this is more important than you realize.”

“More important than I realize! It is the most important thing on earth to me. Those people don’t want to hurt Tristan. They are just using him to get what they want. When they do … they’ll give him up.”

“That may be, but you can’t be sure. We know so little about this. This is what I suggest. We tell Gordon what has happened.”

“Gordon!”

“He will know what to do. He has connections with the army through the Home Guard. Captain Brent must know what is happening. He will be aware of the importance of this box. He will know why they are so eager to get it. It must be of great importance for them to go to such lengths and expose themselves to danger. Be reasonable, Dorabella. You are more likely to get Tristan back safely if this is dealt with by experts … sensibly.”

“No. I must go there myself … I must go alone.”

“It would be quite wrong.”

“How can you know?”

“Instinctively. One should never deal with these people. These are not even ordinary kidnappers. They are spies.”

“Oh, what have I got into, Violetta? Why do these things happen to me?”

She paused and said musingly: “I think people who do not live according to the conventions would be more likely to find themselves in awkward situations. Perhaps that is why we have these rules of conduct. But never mind. What we have to do is find the best way out of this.”

I was comforted by the word “we.” We were sharing this, as we had always done.

“The first thing we should do,” she went on, “is tell Gordon.”

“Oh, no …”

“He will know best how we should act. Don’t forget, he will know something of what is going on around us here. It’s a fairly isolated coast and the enemy are just across the Channel. Remember the flashing lights? They were never fully explained. There is more going on than we know about and Gordon could have special knowledge. If we tell him exactly what has happened, he will certainly get in touch with Captain Brent.”

“Violetta, I have to have that box by Friday.”

“I know. That is why we should tell Gordon right away.”

“In the morning then …”

“No, no. At once.”

“He’s in his room. He’s probably asleep.”

“Do you think any one of us in this house is asleep tonight?”

“You will tell him then. What then? They’ll know I’ve told.”

“They won’t. He’ll go to see Captain Brent. They’ll have some plan. They will know what they are up against and how to deal with it. It’s their work. You can’t give secrets to the enemy in any circumstances. Believe me, this is the only way.”

“So you are going to tell Gordon.”

“That’s the first step and we won’t lose a moment.”

“And Tristan?”

“He’ll be more safe this way.”

“Oh, Violetta, I can’t…”

“Trust me, Dorabella. I know I’m right. There is only one way to handle this.”

As she had thought, Gordon was up, sitting fully dressed in a chair near the telephone.

When we knocked, he said: “Come in,” in a startled voice. “Violetta! Dorabella!” he cried as we entered.

“Something has happened,” said Violetta. “There has been a note from these people.”

“A note? Where?”

Violetta explained.

“My God!” he murmured under his breath.

He wanted to know everything. Where was the note? I had had to give it up, we told him. How was it delivered? It was on the hall table where the letters were put.

“So, someone must have been here … in the house …”

“Gordon,” said Violetta, “we thought you would know how we should act.”

“And you actually saw this man. He gave you a sketch. It is so wild … so incredible …”

“It’s something serious, isn’t it?” said Violetta. “It’s more than an ordinary kidnapping for money.”

“I must have Tristan back,” I cried. “I don’t care …”

Violetta took my hand and pressed it while Gordon stood up and said: “Captain Brent must see this sketch immediately. He will know! what it is all about and how we should act.”

“He’s away,” I said.

“I shall reach him. Listen. I am going … immediately.”

I looked at the clock on the mantelshelf. It was half past ten.

He went on: “There may be little time to lose.”

“How will you find him?” asked Violetta.

“I shall find a way and I must do it right away.”

He went to the wardrobe and put on an overcoat and shoes. He opened a drawer and took out a briefcase; he put the sketch into his wallet and said: “Go back to your rooms. Tell no one of this. When I return, behave as though I have just been out on some early morning estate matter. I shall probably know then what should be done. Now, go to your rooms.”

Violetta came back with me to mine and shortly afterwards we heard the sound of his car starting up and driving off.

We lay in the bed together. She held my hand as she used to when we were children. I was vaguely comforted because she knew.

It was about ten o’clock next morning when Gordon returned.

He came to us at once.

I cried: “Have you seen Captain Brent?”

He nodded. “It is better at this stage,” he said, “if you do not know too much. You must do exactly what you are told. This morning, you will drive to Riverside Cottage, park the car at the back where it cannot be seen from the road, and you will let yourself in through the back door. You will stay there for about an hour. Then you will come out, go to your car and drive back to Tregarland. This afternoon, you will do the same again and perhaps stay a little longer. I shall leave this evening and perhaps be back in a few hours.”

“If I cannot find the box …”

“Don’t worry. You are going to take a box to them on Friday. It will be a box I shall give you. But you must do exactly as you are told. That is the best chance of getting Tristan back unharmed.”

“Oh, Gordon,” said Violetta, “how glad I am we told you. Thank you … thank you …”

“My dear Violetta, we are not there yet and, of course, I want to do everything possible.”

“I know,” she said.

How did I live through that day? The minutes seemed like hours. I was so thankful that Violetta knew and I could talk to her frankly. I followed the instructions. I went to the house twice. I even looked for the box. I don’t know what I should have done if I had found it. Probably I would have ignored Gordon’s instructions and taken it to the cottage on Friday. I was half mad with fear for Tristan. What was he doing now, I wondered? What did he think of being away from home, away from me, from Violetta and Nanny Crabtree?

After I returned from Riverside Cottage, I stayed with Violetta.

I said: “I am not sure of Gordon. If Tristan died, he’d have Tregarland’s.”

“Oh, Dorabella, he would never harm a child.”

“There would be much to gain and he loves Tregarland’s. Perhaps we shouldn’t have told him.”

“We did right to tell him. This is a highly dangerous matter. The box is of great importance. Oh no, this is the only way.”

“And if this means they kill Tristan?”

“This is the best way to bring him back safely. I am sure of that.”

I was not. I wished I could stop pictures coming into my mind. It was no use. We had to wait for the time to pass.

I felt an immense relief when Gordon returned.

He came to us at once.

He said: “I have a box, and I will tell you what has to be done. Tomorrow morning, you will go to Riverside Cottage. You will take a shopping bag with you. In it will be the box. You will let yourself into the cottage by the back way as before and stay there for an hour or so. You will come out carrying the shopping bag as though it is rather heavy. In case you are being watched, you will give the impression that you are carrying something precious. Then, at the appropriate time, you will drive to the cottage on the moor as you did on that other occasion. You will go in and tell them that you have the box. You will show it to them. I feel sure that Tristan will be there. He will be handed over to you in exchange for the box.”

“How do you know that they will give him to me?”

“There is no reason why they should not. They do not want him. They only wanted to use him as a means of getting you to work for them. Providing there is no hitch, they will hand over the child.”

“No hitch? What hitch?”

“None … if you obey orders.”

I was trembling with the desire to get on with it. I could not wait for the hours to pass.

Gordon had taken a box out of its wrappings. It looked exactly like the one in the sketch. I seized it. At least I should have something to offer them.

“Where did you get it?” I asked.

“You will hear more about it when this affair is over.”

“It won’t be long now, Dorabella,” said my sister. She put an arm round me. “All you have to do is obey instructions and all will come right.”

“Have you seen Captain Brent?” I asked Gordon.

“As I said, don’t think about anything but what you have to do. I assure you this is the best way to save Tristan. You could never have found the box in the cottage because it was no longer there. Now please, Dorabella, listen to your sister.”

He gave Violetta a grateful and admiring look. I thought: he is right. She is so sensible. She would never have gone to the kidnappers in the first place.

I did exactly as they said. I went to the cottage with my shopping bag on my arm. I stayed there for a while and, when I came out, I carried it very carefully. I put it beside me in the car and drove off.

The important moment was creeping nearer. How time lagged! Three o’clock. Would it never be half past? Had the clock stopped?

I was ready to leave at four. I knew that Violetta was watching me from a window. I placed the bag containing the box on the seat beside me and drove into the road.

To my dismay, Simone was there.

“Just going out then?” she asked.

“Yes,” I stammered.

“I wondered if you would give me a lift into Poldown?”

What could I say? I was going in that direction anyway. I wanted to tell her that I was going on an important engagement, but restrained myself in time.

I reached over and opened the door. She got in and almost sat on the shopping bag. Flustered, I grasped it.

“Let’s put it at the back,” said Simone.

“No … no … I’ll take it.” I settled it at my feet.

I was trembling. It was nothing to be alarmed at. She would leave as soon as we reached the town and I could turn into the road heading for Bodmin.

I was thankful that she did not ask where I was going. She said I must be feeling dreadful and she wished there was something she could do.

“I think we must hear something soon,” I said.

“The police are clever,” she added.

We did not speak much. There was nothing we could talk about with so much on our minds, and she knew if we spoke of that it would be painful.

I was glad when she left.

I drove on. That had delayed me only a minute or so, and I was in good time. I found the cottage with no problem.

Grasping the bag, I went inside. Then I heard a voice which made my heart leap with joy and fear.

“I want my mummy.”

“Tristan!”

I called out his name and the door opened. The masked man whom I had seen before was standing there.

“Well, Mrs. Tregarland,” he said. “What have you brought for me?”

“What you asked for.”

“Show me.”

I took the box from the bag and handed it to him. I thought I should faint with fear. It could not be the real one. They would never have let him have that. Would he know?

“Where is my child?” I said.

“You shall have him. We keep our promises. There is one other thing.”

“No! No!” I cried. “Give him to me.”

“It is easy. You must say you found him wandering on the road.”

“I will say anything if you give him to me.”

He turned. I think the figure who was beside him was a woman. Then Tristan rushed into my arms.

He was half-crying, half-laughing. I said: “Tristan … my darling … come with me. We’re going home.”

I took his hand and ran out of the cottage. I pushed him into the car, started the engine, and we were off.

I wanted to sing paeans of praise, I wanted to thank God, all His angels, Violetta, and Gordon.

My baby was safe with me.

He nestled close to me, holding my skirt in a tight grip. I took a quick look at him. He was smiling and, in a tone of deep satisfaction, he announced: “Got Mummy.”

At that moment there was pandemonium and noise broke out from every side. I heard the sound of shots. I stepped on the accelerator.

Gordon had said: “When Tristan is handed to you, do not lose a moment. Get into the car, and drive as quickly as you can back to Tregarland.”

So that is what I did.

I wonder if I have ever been so happy in my life as I was when I ran into the house gripping Tristan’s hand.

“He’s home!” I shouted. “Listen, everybody. Tristan’s here.”

They all rushed into the hall. I shall never forget Nanny Crabtree’s face. Tears were running down her cheeks. She was the first to reach him.

“My angel!” she cried. “Come home to Nanny!”

Then I saw Violetta smile at Gordon … a smile of deep gratitude and admiration. Then she was hugging me and everyone was talking at once.

They would soon be asking how he was found, and I was not sure what I was expected to say.

Then the questions came.

“It’s wonderful, wonderful. Where did you find him, Mrs. Tregarland?”

Violetta said: “We are all so exhausted. We’ll hear about it later. I am going to take Mrs. Tregarland to the nursery with Nanny.” She whispered to them: “Better not to talk of it before the child.”

Trust Violetta to know what to do!

Nanny was holding Tristan’s hand and would not let it go.

“Come on,” Violetta continued. “We’ll all go up now. Tristan is worn out.”

They dispersed, disappointed, but there was not one of them who was not overcome with delight because Tristan was home.

Tristan was examined by Nanny. He did not seem to have suffered from his ordeal.

It was difficult to get from him what had actually happened.

Did he leave his bed and go off?

He looked a little vague and nodded.

Why did he do that?

“To see the dinosaurs,” he said.

“In the picture book?”

“No … real ones.”

“Where?”

“In the garden.”

“Who told you?”

“The lady.”

“What lady?”

“Her,” he said.

“Who?” I asked.

He looked vague.

“Was it a lady you hadn’t seen before?” I went on. He still looked puzzled.

“And did you see the dinosaurs?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Who was there?”

“Her.”

“Was she nice?”

He nodded.

I could see there was nothing to be learned from him. This woman had slipped into the house while Nanny was in a deep sleep; she had taken him down to see the dinosaurs and then, presumably, carried him off.

At least they had not harmed him and I could only think of one overwhelming fact: he was back.

Violetta and I had a long talk with Gordon that evening. I don’t suppose he told us everything, but he realized we could not be left entirely in the dark,

Violetta had guessed that Captain Brent had apparently rented Riverside Cottage because he was going to look in on the recuperating soldiers while he was engaged in some important secret work. After the flashing lights episode, attention had been drawn to our part of the coast, where, it seemed, something subversive might be going on.

It was suspected that someone was transmitting messages to the enemy. They had made the initial mistake of using equipment which had allowed the signals to be so bright that they were visible. The furor which had ensued in the neighborhood had been a warning to them. They must have rejoiced to have an obvious scapegoat in Gretchen.

“This sort of thing is inevitable in wartime,” said Gordon. “Spies are planted before the war starts. Some might have been living the lives of normal people for some time and then were called into service. There are numbers of such people. And then there are the experts … the full-time spies who will have found some means of getting into the country.”

“What was the box?” I asked.

Gordon hesitated, and then went on: “It has something to do with an invention which will detect the approach of aircraft miles away. It could be of great importance. Captain Brent was testing it in this part of the world and he was keeping it for a while in Riverside Cottage. They wished to get hold of it, which was why they had burgled the place. Charley saw them and stopped that. Charley has been something of a help. I’ll tell you more of that later.”

“I suppose at that time, the important box was in Riverside Cottage,” said Violetta.

“Yes. But for Charley, they might have found it.”

“What happened after I drove away with Tristan?”

“Our people had the place surrounded. I think we fooled them. The box you were given was a replica of the actual one, though, of course, it lacked the vital parts. They were naturally deceived … but that would have been only temporary. They believed you had carried out their orders, and they gave up Tristan. No doubt they thought it would not be wise to deceive you. They may have planned to use you again. We came in as soon as you left.”

“I heard shooting.”

“Inevitable in the circumstance. We got one of them in the leg.”

“How many were there?” asked Violetta.

“Six. We got them all. This is where Charley comes in again. The boys were riding round on their bicycles when they discovered a motorboat ready for departure. It was right down by the sea at Penwarlock. They reported it to me. Charley likes a bit of adventure and, since that scare about the lights, he has been keeping his eyes open. There have been a number of things he has reported to me. Well, this was something very important. We had people waiting down by this motorboat. Those people were about to get into the boat with their prize—the bogus box—when we took them all.”

“Who would believe such things could happen?” said Violetta.

“This is wartime,” Gordon reminded her.

In a neighborhood like ours, people were very much involved in what was going on around them; there had to be plausible explanations. When it was assumed that Tregarland had paid a ransom to the kidnappers, this was not contradicted.

We watched Tristan closely, to discover what effect the adventure had had on him. He was physically unharmed, so they could not have treated him badly. True, he would not stay in a room unless Violetta, Nanny Crabtree, or I were there and we noticed his eyes followed us when we moved away, and often he would stretch out a hand to grip our skirts. It was rather touching.

At night, the door between his room and that of Nanny Crabtree was kept open, and I suggested that a bed should be put in his room so that I could sleep there.

His delight at this was very revealing. No one, not even a child who did not know what it was all about, could go through an experience such as he had had without being affected by it.

I was so glad that I was sleeping there. Sometimes during the night, he would creep into my bed and I would hold him tightly in my arms.

This brought us closer together and I could tell myself that I was grateful because I was able to make up for what I had lost in the past through my desertion.

Never again would I leave him, I told myself in the darkness. For as long as he needed me, I should be there.

We thought we should not question him too closely, but gradually, little bits of information emerged. He had been in a house. There was someone he called “Her.” We learned by degrees that “Her” had told him that, if he were good and did not cry, he would go back to his mummy, his Auntie Violetta, and Nanny Crabtree. He had to eat his food too.

“Was the food nice?”

He wrinkled his nose.

“Not like Nanny’s?” I suggested.

“Not like Nanny’s,” he agreed.

“Her” was the one who had come in and told him about the dinosaurs in the garden.

“She came into your bedroom?”

He nodded.

“All by herself?”

He looked puzzled.

“Was there someone with her?”

“Outside the door,” he said.

“One of the servants?”

He did not know.

It was all very mysterious.

“It must never happen again,” I said to Violetta.

“It won’t. It failed once, didn’t it?”

“There might be other attempts.”

“It was all due to the box and your connection with Captain Brent.”

“Please … don’t remind me.”

“I’m sorry. But Tristan will be all right now.”

Nanny had been very shaken by the incident—more so than we had realized at first. She could not stop blaming herself for being asleep when Tristan had been taken.

“Right from under my nose,” she would murmur to herself, shaking her head, looking bewildered and shocked. “It was no more than one of my cozy naps after lunch. I’ve had them as long as I can remember.”

There were no more of those cozy little naps. I remembered that when we were young, after she had, as she said, “put us down to sleep for an hour,” she would doze as she rocked herself in the next room. When we were older, we had been sent to the nursery to “play nice and quiet” while she took her well-earned rest.

Now, there were more cups of tea instead of the rest, for they were something she could not do without in her present state.

Violetta said that the worst time of Nanny Crabtree’s day was that hour after lunch when she sat … awake … sipping her tea and going over that dreadful day when she had failed to be alert while her charge was in danger.

One of us liked to be with her at that time of day.

About a week after Tristan’s rescue, I was sitting with Nanny. I didn’t listen very intently to her conversation. She was rambling on about our childhood … usually of my rebellious ways, and how different my sister had been. I had heard it all before, and it usually amused me, for when Violetta was the recipient of these reminiscences, she did not come out of them quite so perfectly.

She said musingly: “I haven’t seen much of that Simone lately. What’s happened to her?”

“Oh, she’s around,” I said. “I saw her only yesterday.”

“She was one for a cup of tea. She’d come in when I was having one and say, in that funny way of hers, ‘Dutay,’ or something delicious. She said the tea I made tasted better than any she had ever tasted. Bit of flattery, if you ask me. But I must say, she liked her cup of tea.”

“I expect she’s busy on the estate. I know she comes sometimes to Tregarland’s on business. I suppose that’s when she looked in on you.”

“Well, Jermyn’s and Tregarland’s … they’re one and the same now. This home has brought them together more than ever. Well, I suppose your sister started it with that Jowan. Oh dear, I wish he’d come home.”

“So do we all, Nanny.”

“I look forward to that Simone popping in. Nice girl. Nice way with her. Of course, she’s a foreigner, but she can’t help that. And I reckon she’s really nice. Coming here like that with her brother. That took a bit of doing, I’d say. You wouldn’t get me out in one of them boats, I can tell you.”

“I hope that will never be necessary, Nanny,” I said.

There was a sound from the next room. We were both on our feet. Tristan was just waking up and smiled with satisfaction when he saw us. He knew he was safe. It would never happen to him again while we were hovering round him like guardian angels—myself, Violetta, Nanny. We would always make sure that we knew where he was every minute of the day and night.

Even Charley had made himself a guard, and Bert, of course, was his assistant. When Tristan was in the garden, if they were not at school, Charley and Bert would be watching him. Charley had assumed an almost conspiratorial air. He was delighted because Gordon had told him he had acted in a wise way in reporting the motorboat he had seen in the cove. It had been a great help and Gordon hinted that “very important personages” wanted to applaud him for his sagacity. Charley was overcome with pride and, since the kidnapping, which must have seemed to him like sensational fiction, he wanted to be part of the scene.

I think, too, that he felt he was part of the family; we were the only ones left to him; our tragedies were his and he wanted to stand beside us, fighting to overcome them.

Moreover, he was beginning to regard Gordon as a hero. He was never happier than when he was given some job about the estate.

Violetta noticed this.

“Poor Charley!” she said. “Poor Bert! This dreadful war has robbed them of their home … their parents … everything that was familiar to them.”

“And has given them Tregarland’s—and Gordon,” I answered. “Charley regards him as a sort of god. Gordon must be gratified. Who wouldn’t be, to be elevated to the heights of Olympus? But he pretends not to notice.”

“Which,” said Violetta, “is typical of Gordon.”

Simone had disappeared. I was not aware of this immediately. I did not see her very frequently. Sometimes I ran into her in one of the Poldowns, sometimes on the estate when I went over to work at the Priory; but it often happened that for days we did not meet.

Mrs. Penwear had reported that she had not seen her for several days. She had enjoyed Simone’s company.

“She be a very nice lady,” she said. “Always polite with that French way, which is rather nice in a young lady like Simone. She was fond of a chat and we’d often have a talk together. She’d tell me about the estate and I’d tell her about the folk round here. She never seemed to tire of listening. I didn’t know she hadn’t come home at first. Like as not, I’d be fast asleep when she come in. She was sometimes late. And then she’d be off again early in the morning. She always made her bed and tidied up before she went.”

But eventually Mrs. Penwear had begun to be alarmed.

“I talked to Daniel Killick. She was friendly with him. A nice young man. He hasn’t seen her either. Mr. Yeo sent someone to look for her, but there was no sign of her.”

The news spread. Simone was missing.

What could have happened to her? What was wrong with this place? Only a little while ago a child had been kidnapped—and now a young girl was missing.

There were the usual rumors. Someone had kidnapped her. Why? Who would pay ransom for her? It was different with little Tristan Tregarland and his rich family. People didn’t kidnap people who couldn’t bring in a handsome reward for their trouble. She had been murdered, it was said, and for a while suspicion fell on poor Daniel Killick—the most inoffensive of men—simply because he had been friendly with her.

There were no arrests—and no evidence of what had become of her.

It was Gordon who found the solution. One of the soldiers had been seen talking to her. This soldier had been slightly shell-shocked, which had resulted in a temporary loss of memory. He remembered suddenly that Simone had spoken to him.

She told him she had news that her brother was dangerously ill and she had to go to him at once. She had written notes to Mr. Yeo and Mrs. Penwear explaining that she was leaving without delay, and had asked the soldier to deliver them, but he had forgotten to do so. When he eventually found them in his pocket, his memory of the incident began to return and he took the notes to Mr. Yeo.

The mystery was solved.

She had left her things behind, but they would be collected later, for she had gone to her brother who was with the Free French contingent. She would come back when her brother was better.

Nanny Crabtree said: “At times like these, people will dream up all sorts of horrors. I am glad that poor girl is all right … and poor Dan Killick … well, the things people were saying about him! They’ll know better next time to wait a bit before they start taking away people’s characters, won’t they?”

But that was not the true story.

Gordon had been out all day and came back after dinner one evening. He did not want any food, but he came up to my room and asked me to bring Violetta along as he had something to say to us both which he thought we should know.

He looked grave.

“Let’s sit down,” he said.

Violetta sat on the bed. I was in the armchair and Gordon on the window seat.

“I have spoken to Captain Brent,” he said.

I felt my heart beat faster. I was missing James, now that the anxiety concerning Tristan no longer filled my mind.

“He thinks you should know, as you are to some extent involved. The Dubois have been arrested.”

“Arrested!” I cried.

“I think they will not bother us any more. They came here with the purpose of spying for the enemy.”

We stared at him in horror, and Gordon went on: “I know everything that is happening seems to have taken a wild turn at the moment, but this is war. We are fighting for our lives, and so is the other side. Anything, however seemingly implausible, however incongruous, has to be investigated. These people made a mistake when they came here. Simone is, of course, not Jacques’s sister. They came here because of his connection with you, which he thought would make him more acceptable. It meant he had to keep the name of Dubois. Our people knew that name. He had used it in Paris, and he had come under suspicion when one of our men was found murdered in a Paris street, not far from the house where Dubois was living.

“Georges Mansard!” I whispered.

Gordon nodded. “They discovered who he was and killed him.”

“It happened just before I left,” I cried.

“I know, and Germany was about to invade Western Europe. It was an opportune time. Jacques had been over here before the war … with a German artist.”

“I remember them,” said Violetta.

“They were sketching the coast. All very useful to an enemy who has plans for the invasion of the country, of course. And Dorabella, you became caught up in this intrigue.”

I felt limp with shame and horror.

“Briefly,” went on Gordon, “they came over, landing on the coast where you found them, which was what they intended. The woman who calls herself Simone Dubois is very clever and adaptable. This part of the country is very interesting to the enemy because of certain activities which you now know something about. They were hoping to get their hands on what was in that box about which you have heard so much. We not only foiled them on that, but caught them. Simone, of course, was involved in it. We have suspected her for some time, but wanted to get our hands on Jacques and others as well.”

“So Simone was actually involved in the kidnapping,” I said.

“Decidedly so. She made a habit of coming in to take tea with Nanny Crabtree. It was comparatively easy to slip a light sleeping draught into her cup. Nanny obviously did not think it unusual that she had come in that day since she had made a habit of calling; then, when Nanny was drowsy, Simone let in the woman who took Tristan down to the garden to see those fictitious dinosaurs. At least that seems a logical assumption.”

“It was diabolical!” cried Violetta.

“These people will stop at nothing. They are clever … ingenious. They make it all work out as simply as possible.”

“Nanny did not say that Simone was there on that day.”

“She didn’t think anything of it. Simone had often come in the last weeks. Well, it seems that was how it must have been done. The kidnappers thought they had got away with the box. Thanks to the perspicacity of Charley, we were waiting for them when they would have got away. We had the people immediately concerned in the plot. But not Simone. She was not with them on that occasion and, of course, there was no intention of her giving up the valuable work she was doing for our enemies. We had been watching Simone for some time, and we knew she could lead us to others.”

“Her brother?” I asked, and Gordon nodded.

“She has now been arrested … with her brother. We have what we wanted and I think we can congratulate ourselves.”

“To think that for so long we have been living in the midst of all this intrigue!” I said.

“There is more going on than any of us realize. Living in wartime is living with melodrama all about one. This is a triumph for our service here.”

“And is Captain Brent involved in all this?” I asked.

“Deeply. But he thought you should be told something, as you two have been involved in it too … particularly you, Dorabella, having been in Paris and lived with this spy, and even having met Georges Mansard. In due course I shall let it be known that Simone wants to be near her brother and that she has taken a job on a farm near him. We shall pretend to forward on her clothes and effects. Mrs. Penwear will pack them and I shall take them, letting everyone think that they are going to be sent on to her, just in case anyone should start rumors which must be suppressed. Gossip is rife. So, when Mrs. Penwear has packed Simone’s things, I shall tell everyone they have gone to her. No one must be aware of the purpose for which she was here. They must continue to think of her as the amusing French girl who so bravely left her country. And, if you hear anything to the contrary, you must come and tell me at once.”

“We understand,” said Violetta, looking at him with undoubted admiration. I must say, I felt the same.

Captain Brent came to visit the men as he had before. I met him in a passage in the Priory.

He looked at me quizzically. Then he put his hands on my shoulders and said: “This business … it hasn’t altered things, has it?”

I laughed with relief. “Oh, James,” I replied. “It has been so awful.”

“Somewhat melodramatic, eh?”

I said: “I can’t forget what happened … because of us … Tristan …”

“I know,” he replied. Then: “Come to Riverside this afternoon, can you? We could talk there.”

“Yes,” I answered, my spirits soaring.

I did care for James, and it would be good to be with him once more.

He was waiting for me when I arrived. He put his arms round me and kissed me.

“Wonderful to be with you again … like this,” he said.

“I didn’t realize that you were not exactly what you were said to be.”

“Who is?” he asked.

“I suppose you are a very important person?”

“One of the cogs in the wheel. I have my little part to play. I am sorry you had to be drawn into all this.”

“It will be different knowing that you are not really here to look after those men. But that is something which we must not mention.”

He smiled. “Then it makes no difference. What we are to each other is the same as it ever was. Do you agree?”

“Yes, I agree.”

It was wonderful to have him back. It was exciting. There was a secret we shared. He was not what he had seemed to be, but a man of mystery, which made everything more enthralling.

When I left Riverside Cottage, I drove into Poldown, where I sensed an excitement in the air. A little knot of men was standing by the bridge reading a newspaper. Something had clearly happened.

I got out of the car and went into the newsagent’s.

“Oh, there you be then, Mrs. Tregarland,” said Mrs. Benn from behind the counter. “Have ’ee heard the news then?”

“News? What news?”

“They Japs have gone and bombed the American fleet in a place called Pearl Harbor and they do say this ’ull bring them into the war at last.”

I bought a paper and read the headlines. Then I drove back as fast as I could to Tregarland’s.

There was immediate relief. We no longer stood alone. This must be the beginning of the end.