Midsummer's Eve

There were our fellow travellers, too. The Prevosts were so enthusiastic about their project and they were constantly trying to corner my father to make him tell them all he knew. One evening, when he was in a particularly mellow mood, he told them that he had been sent out as a convict, recounting the story with a certain amount of wit, making light of his sufferings so that it was quite entertaining.

When Matthew Hume discovered that my father had actually experienced life as a convict he was beside himself with joy.

"First-hand knowledge!" he cried. "That is what I am after.”

"I daresay it has changed a lot since my day," my father reminded him. "Life is changing all the time.”

"But what an opportunity!”

He would sit beside my father, notebook in hand.

"Such a piece of luck," he said.

"It wasn't for my father," I reminded him.

He was serious. "But look. Here he is now, a man of standing, and he has gone through all that.”

"He did have an estate to go to and a title waiting for him.”

"I want the whole story," said Matthew.

He was very earnest, a little lacking in humour, but he was a young man with a purpose and I liked him for that.

I said to my mother: "There is an innate goodness about him.”

She replied: "He certainly has reformation at heart, but it is often like that with the young. They have dreams of making this and that right and often they are not very practical. Their world is made of dreams rather than reality.”

"Don't tell him that. He is intoxicated with his dream.”

Our first port of call was Madeira where we were putting off goods and taking on wine. It gave us an opportunity to go ashore and my father arranged for us to go round the island in a carriage. My parents and the Prevosts were in one, Helena, Matthew Hume, Jacco and myself in another.

It was a beautiful sight with its mountains and magnificently colourful flowers and it was wonderful to be ashore after being so long at sea. We were all rather merry-with the exception of Helena, but we did not expect her to be otherwise as she never was.

We had a meal in a tavern in Funchal close to the red stone Cathedral and the flower market. Then we went back to the ship and very soon were at sea again.

We were a day out from Madeira. At dinner we had been more vociferous than usual, talking of our experiences in Madeira and telling each other that we must make the most of the next port of call.

We were all given a taste of the Madeira wine which had been taken on board and we were very convivial. Glancing at Helena I saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. I thought, She is not getting any better. Is she going on grieving for the rest of her life?

After all, as my mother had said, if John Milward had been man enough he would have defied his parents. I wanted to say to her: "Think of the Prevests going out not knowing what they are going to find. Think of that nice earnest Matthew Hume with his mission in life. Helena, you will have to make the best of it.”

When we retired that night I wondered if I could talk to her. But it seemed there was little one could say to someone who was so wrapped up in her grief.

I did try.

We were in our bunks-she was in the one above-and the ship was rocking slightly as it often did.

I said: "This is like being rocked to sleep.”

"Yes," she answered.

"Are you sleepy?”

"No.”

"There is something I wanted to say. Couldn't you try to be interested? Everything is so new to us. Madeira was lovely but you might have been anywhere. I don't think you noticed anything.”

She was silent.

"You've got to try to forget. Don't you see, you'll never get over it until you do.”

"I'll never get over it, Annora. There'll be something to remind me always. You don't understand what happened.”

"Well, tell me then.”

"I don't think I can. Though I suppose you'll have to know. Annora, I think I'm going to have a baby.”

"Helena!" I whispered.

"Yes. In fact ... I'm almost sure.”

"It can't be.”

"It is. You see, when John came back ... and he was going to defy his family ...

it happened. Nobody had ever really cared for me before. It seemed wonderful. And now it's all finished and I'm going to have this little baby.”

I felt so shaken I did not know what to say.

I wanted to get up and go straight to my parents and ask them what was to be done.

I could only say: "Oh, Helena, what are you going to do?”

"I don't know. I'm terrified.”

"I daresay my mother will know what to do.”

"A baby, Annora. Think what that means. I'll never be able to go home. What would my father say?”

I "He can hardly set himself up as a pillar of respectability," I reminded her.

"I know. That makes it worse.”

"I'm glad you told me, Helena.”

"I've wanted to ... ever since I knew.”

"When... ?”

"I think about April.”

"That gives us time to work something out.”

"What can we work out?”

"What can be done. My mother will know what is best... and so will my father. It's a good thing you're here with us.”

"I know.”

"A baby," I said softly. "A dear little baby. In a way it's wonderful.”

"It would be," said Helena, "if ...”