The pool of St Branok

There were discussions between Uncle Peter and Ben which I thought must be worthy of the House itself—Uncle Peter supporting Disraeli and Ben, Gladstone. The rest of us joined in but those two were the main speakers.

"You'll have to get busy down at Manorleigh, Ben," said Uncle Peter. "How is it going?"

"Very well indeed."

"You think you're going to manage it?"

"I know I'm going to manage it."

"Voters are unpredictable creatures, Ben. You're going to find it hard to convince them that Gladstone's a better bet than Disraeli."

"I happen to think otherwise and I shall persuade my constituents to do the same."

Grace addressed Uncle Peter. "I think, Mr. Lansdon, that the voters of Manorleigh are beginning to like their new candidate."

She looked at Ben with an almost proprietorial air.

"So you have inspected the territory, have you, Grace?" said Aunt Amaryllis.

"Oh yes. I went down with Ben and Lizzie last week-end. Lizzie and I went to some shops and talked to them, didn't we, Lizzie?"

Lizzie mumbled that they had.

"It was so exciting. I think we made some impression."

"That's what gets the voters," commented Uncle Peter. "Never mind the policies. Just show them that you are good family man, your wife beside you, and they'll put their crosses by your name."

"That's exactly what I thought," said Grace. "Lizzie is going to be a great help."

"I ... I ... Grace helped me," said Lizzie.

"Oh, come, Lizzie, you did your part."

They talked about the chances of either side but I rather thought Uncle Peter was of the opinion that it would be a victory for the Liberals—which he was certainly not hoping for. But I saw him glance often at Ben with something like pride and amusement.

After dinner I had a word with Uncle Peter.

"I find all this parliamentary talk very interesting," I told him.

"Fascinating, isn't it?"

"Do you really want the Conservatives to win?"

"My dear Angelet, I'm a staunch supporter of the Party."

"But there is Ben."

He sighed. "Oh, he's set himself on the other side of the fence."

"Do you think he'll get in?"

"Of course he'll get in. They won't be able to resist him. I wish ..."

I wanted to hear what he wished. But he said: "She's right, you know ... Grace. It's the happily married man they like. Helena's always been an asset to Matthew ... and then of course her brother marrying Frances and that Mission. Good stuff."

"It's good for a lot of people as well as Matthew, Uncle Peter."

"Oh yes. You're one of them now, aren't you? Nice fellow ... that Timothy Ransome. Seems steady ... and comfortably off."

"Have you been investigating?"

"Naturally I investigate all friends of my family."

"Uncle Peter, you are incorrigible."

"Yes, I am. Always was and always will be. Never mind. Put up with me, will you, my dear?"

I smiled at him. "Willingly," I said.

It was about a week later when Fanny came into our lives.

Timothy and I had done our usual stint at the soup counter; the empty bowls and cauldrons had been taken back to the kitchen; everyone seemed to be intent on something or other. We were in the little room next to that where the soup was dispensed, and we were talking, as we usually did, about certain cases which had struck us as particularly sad or interesting, and a little about ourselves, when we heard the door being opened. We paused to listen. Then we heard stealthy footsteps.

We rose and hurried to the room from which they came and there she stood.

She was half poised for flight.

I said: "Can we help you?"

"Where's Mrs. Frances?" she asked.

"She's not here at the moment. What can we do?"

She hesitated. I saw how thin she was; she looked cold, too; the threadbare dress she was wearing was not adequate protection against the autumn dampness.

"I ... I've run away," she said.

"Come and tell us all about it," answered Timothy. "Would you like something to eat?"

She licked her lips.

"Come along," said Timothy.

There was no soup left but we found some bread and cheese which she devoured ravenously; we found some milk for her, too.

She said defensively: "I know Mrs. Frances."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Fanny," she told me.

I felt excited. This was the Fanny who had caused Frances so much concern, and here she was with us!

"She will be in soon," I said. "You must wait and see her. Tell us what it is that is bothering you. Perhaps we can help till she comes. We work here with Mrs. Frances. She tells us what to do and we do it. I know she wants to help you."

The child, for she was little more, said: "I couldn't 'ave stood it no more. Last night he nearly killed me Mum. And when I tried to stop him he turned on me. There won't half be a carry-on when he knows I've gone." She looked frightened. "He'll blame me Mum. I've got to go back."

"Don't go yet," I begged. "Wait till you have seen Mrs. Frances."

"We know she wouldn't want you to go back ... yet," added Timothy.

She nodded. "Mrs. Frances ... she's a good lady ..."

"That's why you should listen to her," I said.

"It's me Mum. It's what he'd do to her."

"We'll find some way of stopping him," promised Timothy.