Philippa Carr - Pool of St. Branok

Justin had taken a partner with whom he worked—John Higgs, who would take over the claim when he left. They had shored up the mine afresh and everyone declared it was as “safe as houses” now—however safe they were.

I believe it must have been something of an ordeal to descend the mine after what had happened to him; but he did. I daresay he was spurred on by the hope that he would find gold after all. What a wonderful conclusion to his life at Golden Creek that would be … to have escaped death to find a fortune.

Nothing so spectacular happened; there were the trivial finds now and then—just enough to raise hopes. He played cards occasionally. I wondered if he cheated. I did not ask. I did not want to know.

I no longer wanted to make hasty judgments of people. One could not know them … ever, it seemed. I thought often of Gervaise … sadly, nostalgically, remembering so much of him that I had loved. Whenever I thought of our escape from the auberge I would supplant that image with one of the hero and remember the last glimpse I had had of him, the dirt caking his hair and streaking down his face—Gervaise the elegant man about town as I had first seen him. I would always remember the look of triumph on his face when he had brought up Justin. He had gambled his life and lost it but he had won in the end because his goal had been to save Justin, the man whom he despised as a cheat.

My thoughts were now centered on my baby which was the best thing that could happen to me.

I did not want to dwell on the past. I wanted to put all that behind me. I did not want to think of Ben and Lizzie. I did not want to remember how I might so easily have been unfaithful to Gervaise; I did not want to think of the disappointment and disillusion I had suffered from Gervaise. It was all over. The new life with the baby was about to begin.

One day when I was in the store Mrs. Bowles said to me: “I’ve arranged everything. We’re going to have the rooms Mrs. Cartwright had when young Pedrek was born.”

“What!” I said.

“Now … now … this is a time when you don’t have to think at all. You leave everything to me. I’m to have the room next to yours and we’ll go there a week before the baby is due. It’s all been fixed.”

“I haven’t fixed it, Mrs. Bowles.”

“I have … with Mr. Lansdon and Miss Lizzie. We’re going to send for Dr. Field. He’ll be staying for a night or two at the Hall. The first signs of the baby and Jacob will ride over to fetch him.”

“I can’t … have all these arrangements made for me, Mrs. Bowles.”

“Here. Don’t you get into a fratchet. Not good for the little ’un … that sort of thing. We don’t want him poking his nose out to see what all the fuss is about do we … not before we’re ready for him.”

“But I want to be in my own place.”

“No place for a baby. What could have happened to Mrs. Cartwright, do you think … if she hadn’t been in the right place … with the right people there on the spot?”

“I’m different.”

“No, you’re not. Women is all one and the same all the world over … specially at times like this. Now you stop worrying. It’s all fixed. Why, if you go on like this folks’ll think you’ve got something against them there up at the Hall.”

Then I realized that I had to give in—for the baby’s sake as well as for “what folks would think.”

I have to admit I did so with a certain relief. Morwenna had been extremely worried at the prospect of my having the baby here—and so had I.

I would forget from whom the hospitality came. After all, my child’s life was more important than my pride.

My time was near. I was greatly looking forward to having my child. And soon we should be leaving. I longed for the time to pass. I heard a good deal of talk about Morley’s Mine. Presumably it was more productive than even had been thought in the first place. Ben had always been the most respected man in the town; now he assumed an almost godlike aura. He had found gold; he had contrived to make it his. It was something they all admired.

They knew, of course, that he had married Lizzie for it. Lizzie must have known, too. But as they were both satisfied with the bargain, I remarked to Morwenna, what did it matter what was the motive behind it?

Morwenna was romantic. “I would rather think that he had fallen in love with Lizzie and married her for that reason … and then discovered gold on the land. After all she is pretty and appealing and so sweet-natured. I don’t think she has ever had an evil thought against anyone in her life. And he would want to protect her. Strong men like to have someone to protect.”

I smiled at her. She was so innocent. I rejoiced that we had managed to keep Justin’s disgrace from her.

In due course I went to Golden Hall. Ben was there with Lizzie, when I arrived in the company of Mrs. Bowles.

“I’m glad you have come,” said Ben.

“It was not really necessary. It was all arranged for me.”

He just put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Lizzie insisted.”

“Yes, I did,” said Lizzie delightedly. “And Ben said you must come, too, didn’t you, Ben?”

I was taken to the room I was to occupy. How different from the shanty! No, I could not have let my baby be born there.

Mrs. Bowles bustled round in profound appreciation for her own efficiency. In due course Dr. Field arrived.

It was a simple and uncomplicated birth and I experienced a thrill of joy when they laid my little girl in my arms.

I said that what I had wanted more than anything was a little girl.

“It is so nice,” said Morwenna, “because Pedrek is a boy. Perhaps when they grow up they’ll marry.”

“I insist that you allow my child time to get out of her cradle before you plunge her into matrimony,” I said.

We talked of names.

Morwenna wanted her to be called Bennath which was Cornish, she told me, for “blessing.”

“And that,” she said, “is what this child is going to be for you, Angelet.”

Bennath … I thought: People will call her Ben or Bennie. I could not have that. It would remind me of him.

What I wanted to do was take my child away and forget this place … and all that had happened in it.

I would go home where perhaps it would be possible to start afresh.

I finally decided on Annora Rebecca—Annora after my mother and Rebecca because I liked it. “But we shall call her Rebecca,” I said, “because it is always awkward to call two in one family by the same name.”

So Rebecca she became.

She flourished. I stayed on at Golden Hall. I said it was for the baby’s sake; but I wanted to be there, too.

I could not face going back to the shack.

Mrs. Bowles stayed with me and taught me all the things one has to learn about babies. And I found myself happier than I had been for a long time.

I wrote to my parents and told them about Rebecca and that I should be with them as soon as my baby was old enough to travel. I had written in detail of Gervaise’s death and I had had letters from them urging me to come home as soon as possible.

We were ready to leave. Justin had been to Melbourne to book our passages on the Southern Cross and all being well we should arrive in England in about three months’ time.

It would be spring there and here the winter would be starting. Winter in the township was hard to bear; although the heat of the summer could perhaps be equally trying. I noticed the envious looks which were cast in my direction. We were the lucky ones even if we had not found gold. We were going home.

I was in the shack one day packing up the last of my things when Ben came in. In two days we were to take the Cobb’s coach to Melbourne.

He shut the door and stood against it looking at me.

“So soon,” he said, “you will be gone. Oh, Angel, what a mess we have made of everything.”

“What? You … the envy not only of Golden Creek but the whole of Australia!”

“It wasn’t the way I wanted it to be.”

“It was the way you made it be.”

“It is going to be very dull here when you have gone.”

I tried to laugh and said: “I have hardly been the life and soul of the party.”

“You know what you have been to me.”

“I remember what you have told me … in the past,” I replied.

“I shall always love you, Angel. Everything was against us. When I was free you were not … and now. … Who would have thought …?”

I wanted to be flippant. I felt I had to be before I broke down and betrayed my true feelings. That, above all, I must not do. “Are you implying,” I said, “that Gervaise might have timed his exit more conveniently to suit you?”

He looked aghast.

I went on: “Perhaps you should be grateful. Just suppose I had listened to you. Suppose I had left with you as you suggested … I should still be a woman without a husband and you a man without a gold mine.”

“You were more important to me than the mine.”

“Remember your vow. You weren’t coming back until you found gold … a lot of it. Well, now you have.”

“I shall come back,” he said. “Soon.”

“Not while the mine yields up such rewards, Ben.”

He came towards me but I held back.

“No, it is over,” I said. “Over? Well, it never was, was it?”

“I should never have come to this place. I should have come back to Cador. I should never have left Cador. I should have insisted on staying with you.”

“It is all in the past, Ben. I shall leave here and everything will seem different when I get home. I have my child. I shall begin a new life. This is over … finished … It is going to be as though it never was.”

“You won’t forget. You did care for me.”

I said: “I shall try to forget, and if I ever do look back and feel the slightest bit sad, I shall say to myself: He married Lizzie. He married her because he knew there was a gold mine on her father’s land and that was the only way he could get his hands on it.”

“It is not a flattering picture, is it, Angel?”

“Oh … I’m not judging. It has made Lizzie happy. It has given you what you want. Lizzie’s father died contented because of it. I suppose there is good in everything. I have my child now. You have your mine. You see, we both have a great deal to be thankful for.”

“It is not goodbye, you know. I shall soon be in England.”

“Oh no, Ben. There must be more gold in that mine … yet.”

“Gold! Gold! You think of nothing but gold.”

“No, Ben, I only talk of it. You live for it.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do … absolutely. Enjoy what you have and don’t reach for the impossible. That is what I am going to do. You must go now.”

He went to the door and looked back at me.

“Angel, please don’t forget me.”

He was gone. I went to the door and leaned against it. A terrible desolation swept over me.

Then I went to Rebecca’s cot. She was awake. She looked at me wonderingly and then I saw recognition in her eyes. I saw what seemed to me a smile of contentment.

I thanked God for Rebecca.

Two days later we left. It seemed that everyone in the township had come to see us off.

Our baggage had been sent to the docks a week before and now we ourselves were ready to board the coach.

There were handshakes and good wishes; signs of envy and the nostalgia for home were more evident than usual.

Ben was there with Lizzie. He looked very sad; so did she.

“Both of the little babies going,” sighed Lizzie.

Ben took my hand.

“Don’t forget us. Don’t forget me.”

I looked at him intently and I said: “Do you think I ever could?”

The words would have seemed normal enough to any listener, but both of us knew they meant something special.

Then we were off. I looked out of the window until we had passed through the town. I had longed to go and now I could only think: I may never see him again.

But Rebecca was in my arms; and as I held her warm body against my own I knew I had a great deal to live for.

THE VOYAGE WAS UNEVENTFUL. There were warm days on deck when we sat and dreamily talked. We could not help comparing this with the last voyage and memories of Gervaise were ever present. He had been full of optimism, so certain was he that he would come home a rich man. It had never occurred to him that he might not come home at all.

There was rough weather in the Tasman Sea and sailing round the Cape, Morwenna kept to her cabin. Justin and I sat on deck and, because we were alone, we could refer to matters which we had kept secret from Morwenna.