She was a year or so younger than Roland and that was not very old.
I went down to breakfast. Phillida looked at me with some anxiety. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m all right, thanks. And you?”
“Very well,” she replied. “Roland didn’t look so good this morning. I made a special porridge for him. It’s full of goodness. Poor lamb, he didn’t want to eat it, but I made him. If I didn’t know he was as strong as a horse, I’d be worried and think he was sickening for something. He said he didn’t sleep so well. That was all.”
“Did he say when he would be back?”
“No. He wasn’t sure. It’s going to be a busy day. He’s neglected business up here so much in the past months.”
After lunch, I rode into the village of Bracken. I saw the post office-cum-store again and reminded myself that I must write to Rebecca. There was so much that I could have said to her if I had been with her. It would not be so easy to write it. I wished she were at hand to advise me.
I arrived back in the late afternoon. Phillida was in the drawing room, reading.
She asked if I had had a good ride.
“Yes,” I said. “I went as far as Bracken. I saw that post office Mrs. Hellman told me about. You have to collect your letters there, you know.”
“Well, nobody knows our address, do they?”
“No. They should though. I’ve been meaning to write to Celeste and to my sister.
But I’ve put it off so far.”
“Plenty of time. Have you thought any more about the house?” I had completely forgotten the house. How could I be interested in the purchase while such a decision hung over me? And that would apply to Roland, too. “We ought to decide soon,” Phillida was saying. “There seemed to be others going to look at it.”
“They might have said that to urge us on,” I pointed out.
“Possibly. But it is a beautiful house. I loved it.”
I said I was going up to change.
I did so and sat down to write a letter to Rebecca.
Dear Rebecca,
I am very unhappy. I wish you were here so that I could tell you about it. Joel is back. I should never have married Roland.
Joel wants me to leave Roland and go to him. I want it too, Rebecca. I know there can never be anyone else for me but Joel. Yet what can I do? I have married Roland. It seems as though I used him when I needed someone-and that is really the truth.
It seemed right at the time. He has been so good to me. I have told him about Joel. He is very sad but he wants to do what is best for me. I don’t know whether it means that he will let me go. He wants time to think. But just suppose he did let me go. Suppose he divorced me. It is the only possible way. I suppose a divorced woman would not be too good for a rising politician. What can I do, Rebecca? It seems that whichever way I turn someone is going to be badly hurt ...
I tore up the letter.
I could not possibly write to her in that way. It sounded almost incoherent. If only I could talk to her. Suppose I went down to Cornwall? I could explain to Roland how close we had always been, how she had always helped me over my difficulties. Ideas whirled round and round in my head.
No, I must write to her.
Dear Rebecca,
I am at the above address. It is a house we have rented while we look round. Roland wants to buy a house in this neighborhood. There is so much I want to tell you. I do wish you were here. Perhaps I could come down and see you. It must be soon. Belinda is having a little difficulty, too, but her affairs are sorting themselves out. I’ll tell you all about it when we meet. It may be that she will have everything settled by then.
Dear Rebecca, I must see you. It is difficult to write and explain. I shall be arriving at High Tor very soon. You said it would be all right for me to come at any time. So please expect me. I need to talk to you.
Love to Pedrek and the children and to you as ever, dear sister,
Lucie
I read it through. It was a strange letter. It sounded mysterious so she would know something was very wrong. I would tell Roland that I must go as soon as possible.
Rebecca was level headed and wise. Moreover she had my interests at heart. I must go to her. I sealed the letter and put it into a drawer. Tomorrow I would ride into Bracken and post it. I would talk to Roland tonight and tell him I was going to Cornwall. Roland did not return until it was almost time for dinner, and there was not time for conversation until after we had retired for the night.
He looked pale and very unhappy. He regarded me sadly when I said, “Roland, I want to go and see Rebecca.”
“To Cornwall!” he cried.
“Yes. You know she and I mean a lot to each other ... as well as being half sisters.
I want to talk to her.”
He nodded.
“You do understand,” I went on. “I feel if I talked to her... someone sympathetic... someone who understands me ... it would help a lot.”
“Can’t you talk to me? Can’t we sort out our own affairs?”
“We become... too emotional. I feel so wretched ... I hate to hurt you... and I can’t hurt Joel... Rebecca is calm and understanding.”
“If you go away,” he said, “you will never come back. Wait a little, Lucie. Don’t make hasty decisions.”
There was a knock on the door. Phillida stood there with a tray. She stood beaming at us.
“This will give you a good night’s sleep,” she said. “You look as if you need it, Roland.”
She set the tray down on the table, and as she did so I heard a sound below ... as though someone was walking under the window.
I went over and looked out. I cried out in horror. He was there. He took off his hat and lifted his face to me, smiling that evil smile.
I cried out and Roland was at my side. Phillida had come to the other side of me. The figure below stood there, hat in hand, revealing his hair. Once again he gave that ironic bow. I watched, the familiar terror gripping me.
Roland had put an arm round me.
I cried out, “There! Down there! You’ve seen it. You’ve both seen it now ...”
Roland was shaking his head.
“Dear Lucie,” said Phillida. “There’s no one there.”
“What?” I cried. “Look! Look! How can you say ...?”
Roland drew me forcibly from the window. He took my head in his hands and held it against his chest. I wriggled free.
“I am going down there to meet him,” I said.
“Lucie... Lucie ...” Roland was talking soothingly. “There is no one there.”
“I’m going down to see. I don’t believe you didn’t see him. I saw him. You must have seen him.”
“Oh dear,” said Phillida. She was looking at Roland. “What are we going to do ... about her?”
I felt a sudden rush of anger against them. “There is something down there,” I said.
“I am going to see.”
“There is no one there.” Roland drew me to the window. The figure had disappeared.
“Who is it?” I cried.