Frequently I saw Annabelinda. I had been to look at two houses with her. I told her I did not know why she wanted my opinion, because she never took any notice of it. She retorted that she knew exactly what she was looking for. It had to be something more splendid and grand than anything anyone else could have. I told her she would never find perfection, but she believed she would. However, I did find looking at houses a fascinating experience. I liked to explore the rooms, imagining all the people who had lived in them, while she was calculating how impressive those rooms could be made to look.

One day at the beginning of April she came to the house and I could see that she was not her usual exuberant self.

At last we were alone in my room and she burst out, “Lucinda, I’m worried.”

“I thought something was wrong.”

“Is it so obvious?”

“To me…yes. But then I know you so well.”

“I’ve had a note,” she said.

“A note? From whom?”

“From Carl.”

“You mean, Carl?…Carl Zimmerman?”

She nodded.

“And it has upset you, of course.”

“He wants to see me.”

“You won’t see him, will you?”

“It’s difficult.”

“Why? And what is he doing in England?”

“He was attached to the Swiss Embassy.”

“But I thought he’d gone from there and that was why he was able to work as a gardener at La Pinière.”

“He must have sorted that out. Anyway, he’s in England.”

“How did he get here?”

“I expect he is back in the embassy.”

“What does he want?”

“To see me.”

“Does he know…about Edward?”

“How could he?”

“He is his father. Perhaps it is about Edward that he wants to see you.”

I felt alarmed. What if he wanted to take Edward away?

“He wants to see me,” she said. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Why don’t you tell Marcus?”

“Tell Marcus!”

“Why don’t you tell him everything?”

“How could I?”

“Just tell him…that’s all.”

“How ridiculous! Of course I couldn’t tell him.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I don’t want to see Carl. I don’t want ever to see him again.”

“Well, don’t answer the note.”

“But he knows the address. Though how he got it, I can’t imagine. He’ll write again.”

“Then write and tell him you can’t see him.”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“That note he wrote…it doesn’t sound as though he will take no for an answer.”

“As long as he doesn’t know he has a son…”

“You would bring that up!”

“It’s rather a salient point, isn’t it? It’s the only thing you need worry about. If he doesn’t know about Edward, all you have to say is, I don’t want to see you again. I’m a happily married woman, no longer a romantic schoolgirl. Good-bye.’ ”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Other people’s problems always seem simpler than one’s own. But it does seem a clear case to me. All you have to do is tell him you don’t want to see him.”

“It’s the way he writes. It’s almost like a threat. I’ve got to go and see him. I think he is still in love with me.”

“It might be blackmail.”

“What do you mean?”

“He may be desperate. What was he doing working as a gardener? Really, Annabelinda, the best thing you can do is tell Marcus everything. Then you will have nothing to fear.”

“How could I tell him!”

“I’m sure he would understand.” I thought of Miss Emma Johns and Janet. How could he judge Annabelinda harshly because she had taken a lover before marriage? He was, of course, what is called a man of the world. I guessed his emotions had not been deeply involved with Janet. So…surely he would understand.

“And then,” she went on, “what about Edward? Isn’t this awful bad luck? All this to come up now I am so happy, and everything is going perfectly.”

“One’s actions do have an effect on one’s life and one cannot be sure that the consequences will make themselves felt only at convenient moments.”

“Stop moralizing! What am I going to do?”

“If you are asking my advice, I would say go to him and explain. If he makes a nuisance of himself, then there is only one thing to be done, and that is tell Marcus.”

“It’s not only Marcus…it’s his family. Just suppose Carl went to them.”

“How would he know about them?”

“How did he know my address? Oh, it was all so wonderful…and now this.”

“Go and see him, Annabelinda. Explain that you are now happily married. He can’t possibly know that there was a child.”

“You’ve never betrayed me, Lucinda.”

“Of course I haven’t.”

“You might have done…” She looked at me tearfully and flung herself at me. “Oh, you are a good friend, Lucinda, and I’m not always good to you. Why do you put up with me?”

I heard myself laugh. “I don’t rightly know,” I said. “But you are Annabelinda, the intimate and tormentor of my youth. I’d always do what I could to help.”

“I don’t deserve it, Lucinda. I really don’t.”

Such an admission really disturbed me. Poor Annabelinda! I had rarely seen her so frightened. The only other time was when I had told her I knew about her indiscretion and Edward’s birth.

I truly wished that I could help her, but there was nothing I could do but advise her, and who could say that my advice was any use?

“Do go and see Carl Zimmerman,” I said. “Explain how you are placed now. Tell him it is finished between you, and say good-bye. If he’s a decent, honorable man, he’ll disappear and won’t bother you again.”

“All right, Lucinda. I’ll do that. I’ll go and tell him.”

I heard nothing from her for several days, and I was growing anxious.

I called at the house.

The parlormaid said that Mrs. Merrivale was resting and asked if she should tell her that I was calling.

I was amazed when the maid returned and told me that Mrs. Merrivale had a headache and was sorry she could not see even me. She would be in touch with me and she was sure that she would have recovered by the next day.

I guessed something was very wrong. It was unlike Annabelinda not to want to talk about her troubles, so I guessed she was very worried indeed.

I returned to the house. Andrée was sitting in the garden with Edward. The London garden was a square patio at the back of the house in which a few flowering shrubs were now beginning to show signs of spring blossoms.

Edward was reading aloud to Andrée in a halting fashion.

“Hello,” said Andrée. “How is Mrs. Merrivale?”

“How did you know I was going to see her?”

“You said you were.”

“Oh, did I? I didn’t see her actually. She isn’t well.”

Andrée smiled. “Do you think…?” She nodded toward Edward.

Pregnant? I thought. It was a possibility, but I thought it was more likely something to do with Carl Zimmerman.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I couldn’t say. She had a bad headache.”

“I suppose she leads rather a busy life, with all the people in military circles she has to see.”

“Perhaps.”

I sat there while Edward went on reading. I was thinking of Annabelinda and Carl Zimmerman. What a big part he had played in our lives, and yet I had seen him so rarely.

I remembered the first time, outside the cubbyhole when he had lost his way. And there was the amazement at seeing him working in the gardens at La Pinière, and lastly in Epping Forest with Andrée.

I said on impulse, “Andrée, do you remember that man in Epping Forest…the fair-haired one who asked the way?”

She looked puzzled.

“You remember…you were with Edward and I met you there.”

“I can recall several people who asked me the way while I was there.”

“This was not long ago.”

“Oh…I vaguely remember. Why? What was so special about him?”

“I just wondered what he said? Did he just ask the way, or any questions…about us…or Mrs. Merrivale? I think Major Merrivale might have been in the hospital at the time…though I’m not sure.”