“It will be difficult. I don’t know what the authorities will say. They made a search, you know. All along the coast. They won’t be pleased with all the trouble you’ve caused. You’ll be reprimanded rather severely, I imagine. I don’t like the true version at all. You left your husband and child of a few months to go off to Paris with an artist you scarcely knew.”
“Put like that it does seem thoughtless.”
“Thoughtless! People would call it wanton. You’d never live it down. It would be remembered for ever. Tristan would know when he grew old enough to understand. People will remember, if you don’t.”
“You haven’t changed, Violetta. Still the old crusader for the right. What shall I do?”
“We’ll have to work out a better story than yours.”
“Yes. Go on.”
“We’ll have to keep to the swimming idea…otherwise we shall be in trouble. I don’t think you should have hit your head on a rock. The sea was cold. You were exhausted. You had swum too far out. You were on the point of drowning. You were picked up by a yacht. The owner came from the North of England and had been to Spain. He was on his way home. Your experience had been such a shock that you temporarily lost your memory. You were taken to Grimsby, or wherever it was.”
“I only thought of that place because it’s biggish on the map and it was a long way off.”
“We shall have to be vague about all this.”
“But if I lost my memory…”
“There were pictures in the papers. The yacht people who were going home would have soon discovered. Then…you were in your swimming costume, so you couldn’t have come from anywhere but Cornwall. It all sounds so very implausible. The only one you told your fantastic story to was Mrs. Pardell.”
“Yes.”
“And she did not question it.”
“No. She was too interested in the Tregarlands and the way I felt about that.”
“You’ll have to tell our parents the truth, of course.”
“Do I have to?”
“Of course. Daddy will find a way of getting round all this. The sooner they know the better. They have been terribly unhappy.”
“Bless them, Violetta, you’ll tell them, won’t you?”
“I will do that at once. Then they’ll come down and we can talk to them and work something out.”
“I knew you’d work it out.”
“You’re such a devious schemer. I should have thought you could have thought up a better story than that one.”
“Well, I had to lose my memory, didn’t I? I had to do the swimming. It was really all due to that legend. I wanted them to think I was just another victim of the Jermyn ghost.”
“That part was ingenious, but it is no use planning an elaborate story if you haven’t worked out a suitable ending. It was you who was here that day when I called. You peeped through the curtains.”
“Yes. I wanted so much to speak to you, but I wasn’t ready, I told myself I was a fool to let you go, but I could not see you just then. Mrs. Pardell understood. I must say, she has been a great help to me. Who would have thought it?”
“You know what has happened at Tregarland’s?”
“I know that Dermot died and that Matilda has gone mad.”
I decided that this was not the moment to tell her that Tristan would have died but for the vigilance of Nanny Crabtree and myself.
Moreover, I was filled with joy because she was back. I forgot all the grief and anxiety she had caused. She was back again and that was the most wonderful thing that could have happened.
I now applied myself to the task of extricating her in the best possible way from the net she had woven about herself.
I wanted to laugh—with happiness rather than amusement—at the manner in which she gazed at me; she was completely confident that we should work this out together and, because I was there, I would get her through, as I had been doing all our lives.
The first thing I did when I returned to Tregarland’s was to telephone my parents. I was glad my mother answered.
“You must prepare yourself for wonderful news,” I said. “Dorabella is safe.”
I heard the gasp and the words which came tumbling out.
“She is well,” I went on. “I have seen her. I can’t tell you on the telephone. Both of you, get the first train. That will be quickest. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. Don’t worry. She’s well. We’re longing to see you. I’m so happy.”
I could picture her. She would rush to my father. They would cling together, laughing and crying. Just at first they would not care how it had come about. All that would matter would be that she was alive.
They would catch the first train and would probably arrive at midnight or later.
Then I went and told Nanny Crabtree. She stared at me in amazement. Then the tears started to run down her cheeks and we fell into each other’s arms.
“I’ve seen her! I’ve seen her! Oh Nanny, it’s wonderful.”
There were the inevitable questions. I pushed them aside. It was not so difficult because all that really mattered was that she was back.
I told Gordon and James Tregarland that she was here. She had been rescued and had lost her memory. I could not go into details because I did not know what they would be told. The news was spreading through the household and that meant it would soon be through the neighborhood.
Then I went to Cliff Cottage and brought her to Tregarland’s.
There was an emotional scene between her and Nanny Crabtree. Then she went to Tristan. He gazed at her in bewilderment. Then he turned to me and held out his arms.
“He’ll get to know you in time,” I said.
I was amazed that the story which we finally put together when my parents arrived was accepted. This was due, I believe, to the fact that weightier matters arose at that time; and the strange disappearance and reappearance of the second Mrs. Tregarland slipped into insignificance beside them.
During that August Hitler made a non-aggression pact with the Soviet Union and that, with the Pact of Steel with Italy, showed clearly that he was preparing to march into Poland.
“Will it be war?” was the question asked everywhere, not “What about that Mrs. Tregarland losing her memory like that?”
And on the first day of September the news came: Hitler had invaded Poland, in spite of the ultimatum from Britain and France that if he did he would be at war with those two countries.
And on the third day of that September we heard the voice of Neville Chamberlain coming to us over the wireless, telling us that we were at war with Germany.
Everything had changed. There were rumors everywhere. People could talk of nothing but war.
I did not see Jowan Jermyn for some days. I was wondering how much I could tell him of Dorabella’s escapade. I thought it must be the truth. I could trust him, of course.
When he did come to the house I knew something had happened. We sat in the garden together.
He said: “I’ve come to tell you I’ve joined the Army.”
I stared at him in dismay.
“Well,” he said. “The country’s at war. What else can I do?”
I was filled with desolation. I had been elated since Dorabella’s return. The whole world had seemed different. My parents were overjoyed. We could not think very much of what Hitler was doing. The fact that Dorabella was back overshadowed everything else.
And now it was all brought home to me—the uncertainty of the future, the fears for those we loved, all the heartbreak that war could bring.
I could not bear the thought of his going into danger, and I knew then how important he had become to me. I knew that I loved him.
I stammered: “What of the estate?”
“It will be left in good hands. It won’t be for long. They are saying it will be over by Christmas.”
I could not control my features. My lips were trembling.
He saw that and, coming close to me, put his arms around me.
“I shall be back soon,” he said. “You will wait for me, Violetta?”
“Yes,” I said. “I shall wait.”