I heard myself stammer “Belinda …”

“Oh hello, Rebecca.” She stood staring at me. I realized I had lost my riding hat, that my hair was falling about my face and the buttons on my blouse were undone.

She said: “Rebecca … you look …”

She saw Jean Pascal and there was a silence which seemed to go on for some time. Jean Pascal recovered himself first.

“Hello, Miss Belinda,” he said. “Have you come visiting me in an empty house?”

“Yes,” she replied. “We went riding. Lucie’s here too, out there with Stubbs. I said, ‘We’ll go to High Tor because I know Rebecca is there. Let’s surprise her,’ I said.”

I walked slowly down the stairs.

“I’m glad you came, Belinda,” I said.

“Your hair’s untidy.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, and where’s your hat?”

“Oh … I’ve put it down somewhere.”

“We’ve been looking round the house,” Jean Pascal explained, “deciding about the furniture.”

“Oh,” said Belinda, looking intently from me to Jean Pascal. “It’s made Rebecca very untidy.”

At that moment Lucie came into the hall.

“Hello, Rebecca,” she said. “We’ve come to see you.”

I said to myself: Thank God you did. I never want to see this monster again and I never will.

Jean Pascal was looking at me with a somewhat cynical smile. He said: “I think I ought to tell you where you left your hat. It was in that bedroom leading off the gallery. I’d go and get it.”

I went slowly down the stairs. Belinda’s eyes never left my face. I wondered what she was thinking.

“You didn’t mind our coming, did you?” she said.

“No … no, I’m glad you did.”

“Can we see round the house?” asked Lucie.

“I think it is time we should be going home.”

“Just a quick look,” pleaded Belinda.

Jean Pascal was coming down the stairs, carrying my hat. He handed it to me with a little bow. He seemed completely undisturbed.

“We want to see round the house,” said Belinda. “It is funny without furniture … well, only a bit anyway.” She called, “Cooee” suddenly. “Listen,” she went on. “It echoes. It reminds you of ghosts and that sort of thing.”

“But you know it is only because there is hardly any furniture here,” said Lucie.

“Come on,” said Jean Pascal, “I’d show you round. Will you come with us, Miss Rebecca?”

I wanted to shout: “No, I long to get away from here. I never want to see you again. You have spoiled this house for me.” But what could I do? I had to behave as though nothing unusual had happened.

My thoughts were in a turmoil as I went round the house with them. I was asking myself what I should do. I thought of telling my grandmother. What would be her reaction? I could not say. She would tell my grandfather perhaps. Could I tell Pedrek? What would he do?

I was in a quandary.

I thought: I must do nothing at once. I must think about it. I must never be alone with him again. I would never speak to him unless I was forced to. It could be very embarrassing in the future, his being the brother of my stepfather’s wife. Moreover his family owned the house which we were proposing to buy.

I had been a fool to trust him in the first place. I should have remembered that he had tried to coax me into having an affaire with him when he had been at the inn. And because I had shown my contempt for that he had endeavored to force me. I was indeed the innocent he believed me to be. That was what was so humiliating. He had laid a trap and I had blithely walked into it.

I imagined that he would say I had come willingly, I had led him on, and then afterwards I had been scared and accused him of rape. That was what was often said on such occasions. That was how such men as he was behaved; they were without scruples and principles. My grandparents and Pedrek would believe me but when this sort of thing happened there were always those to doubt and condemn.

But I had had a lucky escape … thanks to Belinda and Lucie.

I felt sick when we came to the bedroom with the four poster bed. I thought the ordeal would never end.

He stood in the courtyard while we mounted our horses. I would not look at him.

He said: “It has been such an interesting afternoon. A pity it is over so soon.”

He gave me his cynical smile as he spoke. I turned my horse away, still thanking God for my miraculous escape as I rode with Stubbs and the girls into the courtyard at Cador.

Evil had intruded into my euphoric dream. The house no longer meant the same to me. I felt unhappy. I did not know what I should do.

If I told what had happened it would be an end of our relationship with the Bourdon family and I thought how awkward that would be for Celeste and for me. I wondered what Benedict would say if he were told.

I could see Jean Pascal’s insouciant smile if he were ever taken to task. “It was just a bit of fun … a light flirtation. Rebecca agreed to come to the empty house and well, I naturally thought …”

Would they believe that it had all been so different?

I was still uncertain what action I should take when the ultimate horror struck and drove all thought of anything else out of my mind.

It was the following Friday and six o’clock in the evening. I was in my bedroom alone, still brooding on that shameful encounter when Leah came to me. She looked very alarmed. Something was very wrong, I knew.

“What is it, Leah?” I asked in trepidation.

“It’s Miss Belinda. She’s not here …”

“Not here? Then where …?”

Leah shook her head. “I don’t know. Lucie says she went out to take something to Mary Kellaway. Lucie told her she should wait till morning but she said she was going then. It was a book they had been talking about.”

“And she’s not come back?”

Leah shook her head.

“Then we had better begin looking for her.”

I went to the door and started down the stairs. My grandmother was in the hall.

I said: “Belinda’s missing …”

“What?” cried my grandmother in alarm.

“Leah says she went out somewhere and hasn’t come back.”

“Out alone … and this hour?”

“I didn’t know she’d gone,” said Leah. “I would never have let her go alone. Lucie says …”

“Where is Lucie?”

“Lucie!” I called. “Lucie!”

I heard Lucie’s voice at the top of the stairs.

“Come here quickly, Lucie.”

She came. She was breathless and looked startled.

“Where did Belinda go?”

“To take a book to Mary.”

“At this hour?”

“I said wait till morning but she said no.”

“How long ago?”

“Well, half an hour or more. It was about five o’clock.”

“We’d better go down to the village,” said my grandmother. “Let Mr. Hanson be told. We’d better get people looking for her.”

At that moment Belinda burst in. She ran to me and threw herself into my arms. Her dress was torn and blood mingled with the soil on her face and hands.

“Oh Rebecca,” she cried. “It was awful. He frightened me. He was horrible … horrible … different. I didn’t know what to do. I kicked … and I screamed … but no one came and he held me … I couldn’t get away …”

“Who … who?” I cried.

I saw the horror dawning on my grandmother’s face.

I said: “Belinda, it’s all right now. You’re here with me … with us all. You’re all right now. There’s nothing to be afraid of any more. Just tell us what happened.”

“I was taking a book to Mary. I said I would … in the morning … but I took it today. It was near the pool. It was quiet there and then I saw him. He said Hello and I was a nice little girl and he liked nice little girls. It was all right at first. Then he pulled me down and I was lying on the ground …”

I felt sick. She hid her face on my shoulder. “He looked different, Rebecca. I didn’t know him any more. He tried to pull my frock off. I was right on the ground … and he pulled at my skirt. It was all torn …”

I stroked her hair. I kept saying: “It’s all right. It’s all right.”

“Then I hit him … I hit him as hard as I could. And I jumped up and I ran … I ran all the way home.”

My grandfather had appeared. His face was white. I had never seen him so angry.

“Did you know this man, Belinda?” he said.

She nodded but could not speak for sobbing.

“Who …?” demanded my grandmother.

“It was … Pedrek,” she said.

When I look back it is like a series of nightmares from which I fought desperately to escape. There was no escape. I had to face this terrible thing in the clear light of day, and I knew that I had to accept it.

I could not believe that of Pedrek. How could he, who had always been so kind, so gentle, so courteous, so caring for others, have behaved so? I could not conceive it in any way. And yet there was the evidence of my own eyes. I had heard Belinda’s horrific account of what had happened. I had seen the terror in her eyes.

All that night we had sat up … my grandparents and I … talking … endlessly.

I kept saying: “I can’t believe it. I can’t.”

My grandmother said: “Nor I. But the child is so certain. How would she know of such things? How … if she had not experienced them? Could it have been a moment of madness?”

“No … no,” I cried. “Not Pedrek.”

I thought of my recent experience with Jean Pascal. In fact when Belinda had been telling her story, my thoughts had immediately gone to him … and when she had mentioned Pedrek’s name my entire happiness had collapsed about me. I think that was the worst moment I had ever lived through.

How long the night seemed, but we knew it was no use trying to sleep. We had to sit there talking … saying the same thing over and over again … trying to tell each other that there had been some terrible mistake.

What could we do? How could we question Belinda further? She was distraught. Leah gave her a small dose of sedative which she kept in her medicine cupboard. At least, she said, it would help the child sleep. She was so disturbed and kept crying out.

So there we sat … the three of us … trying to tell ourselves it was not true … that we should wake up suddenly and rind it was only an evil dream.

Leah had taken Belinda into her room. She said the child might wake up in the night and the memory of what she had undergone come back to her. Leah must be there to comfort her … to assure her that she was safe now.

At last the morning came—but it brought no comfort.

We were all waiting for the arrival of Pedrek as he usually came about ten o’clock on Saturday morning.

What would he do now? He would know that Belinda had escaped and that she would have given us an account of what had happened. Perhaps he would not come.

He did come … riding into the stables as though nothing had happened. He came into the house. My grandparents and I were waiting in the hall.

We all stood up as he entered.

There was no sign from him that this was different from any other week-end when he arrived, full of plans as to what we should do.

“Rebecca!” he cried and his smile embraced us all. He stared at us. “Is anything wrong?”

My grandfather said: “Come into the little room. We have to talk.”

Puzzled, he followed us, and my grandfather shut the door.

He said: “Sit down.”

Still seeming bemused, Pedrek sat. I felt as though my knees would give away because I was trembling so much.

“What ever is wrong?” asked Pedrek.

“Belinda …” began my grandfather.

“Is something wrong with her? Is she ill?”

“Pedrek, do you know what is wrong with her?”

His brow was creased. He shook his head.

“Last night … she came running home in a dreadful state. She was molested by the pool.”

“Oh, my God …”

“She escaped … in time. The poor child is distraught. Heaven knows what effect this will have on her.”

“What a terrible thing …”

“She knows the man.”

“Who …?”

There was a brief silence, then my grandfather said in a very stern tone: “You … Pedrek.”

“What?”

“You had better tell us exactly what happened.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She came in and said that you had spoken to her by the pool … St. Branok’s Pool. She said you threw her to the ground, tore her clothes … and told her that you liked little girls.”

“It’s … madness.”

We were all staring at him. He turned to me. “Rebecca … you don’t believe …”

I was silent. I could not bear to look at him. I just covered my face with my hands.