We'll meet again

I do not know how I lived through that night. We had searched the house and grounds thoroughly, so there was little hope that he was there.

Then where was he? I could hear the murmur of the sea. It was a quiet sea, but ... was it possible that he had wandered down to the beach?

He had been warned never to go down there alone. He was an obedient child on the whole, but one could never be sure what a child would do.

Violetta was beside me, close, and I knew she suffered as I did.

As for Nanny Crabtree, she was quite distraught, muttering to herself.

I think she was praying.

Gordon said: "There must be some explanation. He has wandered off somewhere.”

"A child out alone ... at this time of night!" I cried.

Gordon said very slowly, with an effort, as though he were wondering whether it was wise to raise such a possibility: "We must not lose sight of the fact that someone might have taken him.”

"Taken him!" I cried.

Gordon nodded, and Violetta said: "You mean... kidnapped?”

"It could be so. If it is ... we'll get him back.”

"Who... ?" murmured Violetta.

"The family is not without means to pay a ransom.”

I clutched at the idea. It was better than thinking of him caught by the sea.

"Oh yes... yes," I cried. "He's been kidnapped. We'll pay whatever they ask and get him back.”

"It is a possibility we should not lose sight of," said Gordon.

I felt sure of it now. Otherwise where was he? Some wicked person was putting us all to this anguish for the sake of money. Anything... anything we had was worth giving to get Tristan back. I had been so immersed in my own affairs that I did not realize how much I loved him.

He was more important to me than anything else.

There was no sleep for any of us that night. I felt a fierce hatred for those people who had taken him, and a contempt for myself because I had not loved him enough. I had a great desire to blame someone. How had Nanny Crabtree allowed herself to be so fast asleep when all that was happening to him? It was so unlike her. I remembered how she and Violetta had watched over him throughout those nights when they suspected someone was trying to harm him.

Then ... Gordon. A terrible thought struck me. If Tristan died, Gordon would inherit Tregarland. He was really holding it in trust for him now. Gordon was devoted to Tregarland. He had worked all his life on the estate. He was the son of old James Tregarland-if illegitimate-and he would inherit the place if there were no legitimate heir to come before him. And there was Tristan. Motive indeed.

Oh no! That could not be! Gordon would not be involved in such a thing. But what did I know of what went on in people's minds?

And so it went on.

I did not know what to do. Search the grounds again? Just suppose he was somewhere there? The house ... ?

We were frustrated and helpless. The police were searching for him.

Violetta said: "I cannot believe there is anything else we can do.

Gordon is right. We shall hear news soon. I shall keep in easy call of the telephone. It may come that way.”

I could not bear it. I felt a desire to be by myself. I kept going over the past. I had staged an elopement, I had deluded myself into believing that it would all come right in the end. I had always pictured the future the way I wanted it to go. Then I thought of the last time Tristan and I had been together. I had read him his favorite story about the elephant who never forgot. He had leaned against me and laughed at the animal's exploits and I had changed them a little, just for the pleasure of hearing him say: "No Mummy, he didn't do that.”

Take everything I have... everything I want ... but give him back to me, I bargained with the unknown powers.

I went to my room. I sat staring out of the window. I saw Simone below. She was talking to Violetta. I did not want to join them. I could not bear to talk to anyone.

One of the maids was knocking at my door. She had an envelope in her hand.

"This came for you, Mrs. Tregarland," she said.

She gave it to me. My name and address were typed on it. I said: "This hasn't come by post.”

"No, Mrs. Tregarland. It was just lying there on the hall table.”

When she had gone, I opened it and stared at the paper before me. I could not take in those words for a few seconds. I felt myself grow cold and my hands trembled as I read: We have your son. He is safe so far. If you obey orders he will soon be back with you. You are to come alone to Hollow Cottage on the road to Pen Moroc on the Bodmin Road at five o'clock for your instructions. Hollow Cottage is about half a mile from the signpost pointing to Pen Moroc. If you show this note to anyone, your son will die. We are watching you. Bring this note with you. Remember, it will be dangerous if you try to trick us.

Fail to come, and alone, and your son will die.

I could not believe it. It was the sort of thing I had read of or seen in films-and now it was happening to me!