We'll meet again

This is what I did and, to my tremendous relief and not a little surprise, it worked.

I knocked at her door; she opened it and regarded me suspiciously.

Then I saw her expression change. She had recognized me.

"Don't be afraid," I said. "I am not a ghost. I am myself.”

She seemed unable to speak. Then she said: "You're Mrs. Tregarland... the second one, I mean.”

"That's right. I lost my memory. I can explain. I'd like to tell you about it. I know I can trust you.”

That was another point. People like to be trusted.

"It is all so difficult," I went on. "I know you will help me.”

People like to be asked for help, and to give it-if it is not too inconvenient to themselves.

"You'd better come in," she said.

I could see she was trying to suppress her uneasiness in talking to what might be a ghost, but she was determined to cling to her North Country good sense and have "nowt to do with any of that ghost nonsense.

She was really rather brave, I thought; I must say her conduct was admirable.

I was taken into a sitting room and seated near a picture of the first Mrs. Tregarland-a handsome girl, with somewhat overripe attractions.

A good sort, I thought, easy going, just right to bring people into the inn where she had worked as a barmaid before her marriage.

Poor Dermot! He had been very young at the time.

I told my story. I had gone swimming one day, had lost my memory, had been taken into a hospital some way off. I could not remember where or who I was.

"Well, there was an awful fuss when you went. Your sister was very cut up. I reckon she'll be as pleased as a dog with two tails when she knows you're back. You'd better get to her right away.”

"I want to make sure of seeing her alone first. I shall have to explain. I am very undecided, Mrs. Pardell. It will be a shock, and I am a little frightened about my husband.”

She was silent, staring at me.

I said: "I'm afraid to go back... afraid...”

"I know what you mean," she said. "There's something funny about that place. But you needn't be afraid of him anymore. He got his come-uppance, he did.”

"What do you mean, Mrs. Pardell?”

"He's dead. Fell off his horse. He was crippled ... badly. Then he took too many pills. Some said it was by accident, some said he meant to do it. They weren't sure.”

I could not speak. I was too shocked. I kept saying to myself: It was my fault. Oh, my poor Dermot. You fell off your horse and I wasn't there and you died. How much better it would have been if you had never taken that holiday in the German forest! How much better for us all!

I thought: How can I face them now... even Violetta? She will blame me. This changes everything.

I had planned to tell them the story of losing my memory. No one except Violetta must ever know about Jacques. I had planned to reform and be a good wife to Dermot for ever after. Now... he was dead.

I stammered: "I find it all so difficult. It wasn't what I had expected.

I don't know how I shall face them ... even my sister.”

"Your sister is a nice, sensible girl.”

"I know ... but even her... after this. My husband ... dead.”

"Don't take it so hard. I'll never believe he didn't have a hand in my girl's death.”

"No ... not Dermot. He would never hurt anyone.”

"Well, he was your husband. It's natural, I suppose, for you to stand up for him.”

"Mrs. Pardell, may I stay here for a while? I've a little money.

Suppose I could stay for about a week. I'll pay for everything. I've got to think how I am going to get back.”

She hesitated for a moment, then she said: "You're welcome to stay.”

"Oh, thank you. I only want a few days. I couldn't even see my sister now ... not just yet. I have to think...”

When I look back on that time, I can't remember the order in which things happened. I went over my plans, deciding what I could tell Violetta. I should need all my courage to face her. The news about Dermot had unnerved me. I was in a panic now. I felt sick and ashamed. I could not stop thinking of Dermot's going out riding ... recklessly, I imagined, for he had always been decidedly at home on a horse. Mrs. Pardell had hinted darkly that he had been drinking. Oh, Dermot, I thought, what did I do to you?

I longed to see Violetta while I wondered how I could face her.

There was one day when I was alone in the house. Mrs. Pardell had gone into West Poldown to shop. I thought how fortunate it was that she was, as she said, one to "keep herself to herself." She would not gossip in the town. She was what they called a "foreigner" in these parts, not even coming from the south of England, and so she was placed in a category lower than mine. In times of stress, one is thankful for these small blessings.

There was a knock on the door. I was startled. Mrs. Pardell had had no visitors since I had arrived. I looked from the window of my bedroom and emotion swept over me, for Violetta was standing below.