I was silent and she went on: “That’s obvious. You were going to marry him, and now you are going away. How can you disguise the fact? I suppose you don’t want to talk about it.”

That’s right,” I said.

“I don’t.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“So you are going off alone. Isn’t that rather a daring thing to do?”

“You, Tamarisk, to talk of daring!”

She smiled faintly.

“Fred, I want to come with you.”

I stared at her in amazement.

“Don’t say I can’t. Nothing is impossible. You make up your mind to do something and you go and do it. Remember Miss Blake at school?

“Girls if you make up your minds that you are going to succeed, if you work hard to achieve that end, you will.” Fred, I must come with you.”

“But this is all-‘

” I know. So sudden, you are going to say. But it is not, really. I’ve wanted to get away for a long time and now this has come along it is exactly what I want. I can’t stay here, Fred, I can’t endure it. Every day is a reminder. There are things here all around me . things I want to forget. I can’t escape them . here. Every time I look at the shrubbery . it’s horrible. If they found out who had done it, it would be different. There is suspicion and of course everyone thinks of the wife. We know he was unfaithful. He was a cheat and a liar. Who would suffer most from that? His wife. Why shouldn’t she have gone into the gunroom, taken that gun and shot him?”

“Stop it. Tamarisk! You’re getting hysterical.”

“I have to get away. I can’t stand it here any more. I’m coming with you. You can’t go alone. You need someone. We’ve always been friends.

Write to your father and tell him you can’t travel alone and you have a friend who desperately needs to get away. “

I was silent, trying to imagine what this would mean. I knew that she needed to get away. That was very clear. She was in the midst of this tragedy. She lived with it as Crispin did. I knew her mood, and I was wondering whether it might not be good to have a companion.

She read my thoughts.

“It’s easily arranged, Fred. It would be good to be together. Oh, I feel so much better. Life has been wretched for a long time … ever since I realized the mistake I had made … and then he was killed.

Please let me come with you. “

“Let’s think about it.”

“I don’t need to think. I know I want to come. When I heard you were going, I wanted to go too. It was like a heavensent opportunity. Oh, Fred, let me have a chance of getting away from all this … to start again. Please, Fred, please’.”

“Let’s talk about it with Aunt Sophie.”

Her face fell.

“She is very understanding,” I said.

“She’ll know exactly how you feel and she’ll want to help.”

“All right.”

I called Aunt Sophie. When she came, I said to Tamarisk:

“You tell her.”

She did so, pleading eloquently, explaining her wretchedness, her inability to come to terms with life at St. Aubyn’s where there were constant reminders and that terrible mystery hanging over her.

Aunt Sophie listened gravely. Then she said: “Tamarisk, I think you and Freddie should go together. I can see you need to get away. I have been worried about Freddie’s going all that way on her own. I think you can help each other.”

In that impulsive way which was typical of Tamarisk, she ran to Aunt Sophie and put her arms round her.

“You’re a dear,” she said.

“Now, what do I do? I shall have to book a passage, shan’t I … at once?”

“The first thing is to write to Freddie’s father and tell him she is bringing a friend. We can’t wait for his reply. There won’t be time. I am sure there will be no objection, for he has already said he wished someone was travelling with her. But perhaps you need a little time.

Tamarisk, before you make up your mind. “

“I have been considering it for so long and I know it is what I want.”

“Then we must see about your passage immediately.”

“This is wonderful. I feel different already.” She kissed us both.

“I shall go now. I have so much to prepare. I love you both dearly. You are the best friends I ever had. Bless you both. When do we leave? ”

“We’ll have to see about that,” said Aunt Sophie.

“In any case, it’s settled that you go together.”

When she had gone. Aunt Sophie said: “I thought it had changed her, but she’s just the same underneath. It’s good to see her recover a little of her old ways. Poor girl, she’s had a bad time. I think they call it a baptism of fire. She was too eager for life. She grasped it with both hands before she was ready and she’s got badly scarred. I’m glad she’s going with you. There’ll be two of you. That’s a weight off my mind.”

So it was arranged. We were to leave England in a month’s time.

Tamarisk chafed against the delay. She was a constant visitor at The Rowans now. There was so much to discuss.

She had changed a great deal and cast off that melancholy which was so alien to her nature. She helped me, too, for she brought such enthusiasm to our preparations that I could not help being affected by it.

It was by this time early January and time for our departure.

Crispin was very downcast. He said that if I went away he feared I would not come back. I tried to explain again. I needed time to think clearly and this was something I had to do. There was so much at stake. I often thought of our being together and the temptation to stay was great, but always I would see those children we both wanted.

Even Crispin must understand that.

It was a very sad parting.

I said: “I have a feeling that I shall come back soon, Crispin, and that we shall know what to do.”

That was small comfort to either of us.

Aunt Sophie and James Perrin were to travel to the ship to see us off.

Crispin did not come. We knew that that would have been too harrowing for both of us.

Dear Aunt Sophie was rather sombre, though trying hard not to show it; and James Perrin was very kind. I realized that he had cared for me, and I believed he was thinking that, as something had gone wrong between Crispin and me, in due course I might turn to him. That was touching, and comforting in a way.

We spent one night in London and the next day we went to Southampton, and there at the dockside I said goodbye to Aunt Sophie and James.

Aunt Sophie was near to tears, and so was I. I was going away from everything I loved, and leaving a future which only a short time before had been opening out to me. But Aunt Sophie’s resolute smile was reassuring me that what I was doing was right. On that remote island with my father I should see the way I must go.

“We have to go on board now,” said Tamarisk with a trace of impatience.

So there was the last farewell, the embrace with Aunt Sophie and the firm handshake with James, who impulsively leaned forward and kissed me.

“Thank you, James,” I said.

“You’ll come back,” he said.

“I know it.”

Once more Aunt Sophie and I clung together.

“How can I ever thank you for all you have done for me, dear Aunt Sophie?” I said.

She shook her head and smiled.

“Just be happy, my love. You will be home one day, I know it.”

So we said goodbye and Tamarisk and I stepped aboard the Queen of the South which was to carry us far away to the other side of the world.

Outward Bound

We found our cabin which was on the boat deck. It was small; but we had expected that. There were two beds, each against a wall with a space between so that we should be able to lie in bed and see each other. There was one porthole. We had a dressing-table with a mirror above it, a washbasin and a wardrobe. I could see that we should be rather cramped for our clothes, as Tamarisk had brought quite a wardrobe with her.

Our luggage had not yet arrived and when we had examined the cabin we went out to inspect the ship.

There was bustle everywhere and there seemed to be a great many people hurrying in all directions. Piles of luggage lay in the foyers of the decks awaiting delivery to the cabins. We mounted the companionway and inspected the public rooms. There was a smoking-room, a reading-room, a music room and another room in which dances and such entertainments could be held. We were very impressed.

As we returned to our own deck, we saw stewards delivering the luggage.

“I wonder if ours is there,” said Tamarisk. She inspected the pile.

“The labels tell you where they are going,” she commented.

“Look at this one. . Barlow, Passenger to Melbourne. I wonder what J. Barlow is like? Mrs. Craddock, Passenger to Bombay. I don’t see ours. I wonder if it is in our cabin now. Oh, just look at this! Luke Armour, Passenger to Sydney and Casker’s Island.”p>

She turned to me, her face alight with interest.

“Imagine! He’s going to our island! There can’t be many people on board who are doing that.”

“It’s nice to know there is one.”

“Luke Armour. I wonder what he’s like?”

“I think it is very possible that during the voyage we may discover.”

We returned to our cabin to find that our luggage was there. We unpacked, washed and went down to dinner. We sat at a long table with several others. There was some conversation and we learned a little about our fellow travellers, but they were too tired to talk a great deal and, like ourselves, overwhelmed by the effort of getting on board.

As soon as we could, we returned to our cabin.