Angel with Two Faces

thought at first that it was her imagination, the result of a traumatic day which still weighed heavily on her mind, but it only took a second or two to convince her that she was not mistaken. Please God, not more tragedy, she thought, hurrying over to the window, but the blaze was real enough. There was a circle of flames a few yards in front of her, floating on the water, and she realised that someone must have set light to the barge, creating a parody of the ceremony which was supposed to have taken place that night. In the glow from the fire, she could just make out that the figure standing by the boathouse was Morveth Wearne.

Quickly, Josephine pulled on a coat and went downstairs. As she walked across the gravel and down to the edge of the lake, Morveth turned to greet her. ‘Hasn’t there been enough destruction for one day?’ Josephine asked. ‘What exactly is this supposed to achieve?’

‘A fresh start,’ Morveth said simply. ‘Sometimes things have to be destroyed to begin again. Morwenna knew what she was doing when she set that fire.’

‘Of course she did. She wanted to obliterate everything, just like Harry did eight years ago. But that was about the past, not the future, so don’t try to give it a meaning which it could never have.’

‘There’s a meaning in everything, if you look hard enough,’ the older woman replied, still staring into the flames.

Josephine looked down on to the barge. The fire had not yet taken hold of the collection of objects which were piled up in the bottom of the boat and she recognised some of the photographs and trinkets from Morveth’s sitting room, as well as a bridle, and some clothing that might well have belonged to Morwenna. Clearly, this strange act of atonement held some meaning for Morveth as she struggled to come to terms with her own part in the tragedy, but Josephine remained unconvinced. ‘Tell that to Loveday while she’s trying to cope with losing the rest of her family,’ she said.

‘So what will your story be to get her through this?’ Morveth asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. ‘First we die and then we rot?’

‘Of course not,’ Josephine said angrily. ‘But filling her head full of false hope is hardly going to help her in the long run. She needs to understand that there are no second chances – that way, she’ll make the most of the one life she has got.’

‘There are second chances if you’re willing to search for them,’ Morveth insisted, more to herself than to Josephine. ‘There have to be. Otherwise, how could you ever go on?’ Bending down, she took the rope from one of the poles on the landing stage and threw it into the water. The barge floated slowly out across the lake. ‘I’m not going to argue with you, Josephine,’ Morveth said. ‘You must believe whatever brings you comfort.’

She walked slowly away. Unsettled, Josephine watched her go, staring into the darkness long after the figure was out of sight. She looked back at the Lodge. It might be hours before Archie got back, and she was reluctant to return to the silence; unusually for her, she felt in need of company. William and the girls would probably still be up, so she left a note on the kitchen table and set off to Loe House. Several lights were still on, as she had guessed they would be, but she was surprised to see the soft glow of a lamp coming from the stables as well. Who would be there at this time of night? she wondered. Perhaps one of the horses was ill. Curious, she decided to stop there first and went quietly over to the door. At first, she thought there was no one there; then she saw Loveday, curled up on a pile of straw by Shilling’s stall. The girl glanced up, and smiled with relief when she saw who it was.

‘Loveday, what on earth are you doing here?’ Josephine asked, going over to her. ‘You should be tucked up in bed.’

‘I know, but I wanted to see Shilling so I pretended to be asleep and then slipped out. Mr Motley’s very trusting.’ She grinned, and Josephine had to admire her spirit. ‘That’s all right, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose so, but only for a bit. Shilling needs his rest, and so do you.’ She sat down on the straw next to Loveday, and put her arm around the girl’s small shoulders. ‘But as you’re here, I’ve got some good news for you. The police have found Christopher, and he’s absolutely fine.’ Loveday hugged Josephine in delight; when she eventually pulled away, Josephine was both touched and concerned to see the joy in her eyes. ‘He’s not coming home straight away, though,’ she said, anxious not to give the girl false hope. ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to see him when you’re better, but you’ll have to be patient. You’ve both been through so much.’

‘That’s all right – I’m used to being patient with Christopher,’ Loveday said. ‘But Morveth was right – she said I shouldn’t give up hope.’

‘Oh?’ said Josephine cautiously. ‘You’ve seen her, then?’

‘Yes. Mr Motley brought her up to talk to me this evening. It was Morveth who told me I should come and see Shilling. She meant when I was better,’ Loveday added, misinterpreting the concern on Josephine’s face, ‘but I couldn’t wait. She said that Shilling and I had lots in common because we’d both be missing Harry, so we should stick together and keep each other company.’

‘That sounds like good advice,’ Josephine said, surprised. ‘What else did Morveth say to you?’

‘She explained that people have to carry on with their lives even when they’re sad, and that’s when they need their friends around them most. She told me that I must never forget Harry and Morwenna, or be too upset to talk about them, and that everything they meant to me is still here even if they’re not.’ Josephine listened, wondering if she’d done Morveth an injustice after all; the advice – which seemed to have given Loveday some genuine comfort – was a long way from the false hope of which she had just accused her. Suddenly, she felt ashamed of the criticisms which she had handed out so readily: someone who viewed the world through a mirror was hardly in a position to judge other people’s methods of dealing with reality. ‘And she gave me this to remind me of them,’ Loveday added. Josephine took the book which was held out to her, but failed to see how Ivanhoe could possibly remind the girl of her brother and sister. ‘No, not that – this,’ Loveday explained impatiently, pulling out the photograph which she had been using as a bookmark. ‘It’s the only one she had of the two of them together.’

It was not a physical likeness which would have told Josephine that the man with Morwenna was Harry, even if she’d come to the picture without Loveday’s explanation; there was a resemblance around the mouth and chin if you looked closely, but that was all. No, it was the expression of joy in Morwenna’s eyes that gave it away – a declaration of love as eloquent as the verbal description which had had such an impact on Josephine during their conversation outside the boathouse. With a shock, she realised that she was not looking at Harry Pinching for the first time: she had met him before – in the stables on Monday night, when she went to find Shilling. She remembered how struck she had been by the young man’s passion for the horses and the gentleness with which he had treated them; it was a rare and powerful combination, and she acknowledged the truth of Morwenna’s words: you had to meet Harry to understand their love. Aware now that the dead man was not in fact the stranger she had assumed him to be, Josephine felt his loss with a new intensity.

She gave the photograph back to Loveday. ‘Morveth’s right, you know – about your friends, I mean. They’ll take care of you, just like you’ll take care of Shilling.’

‘Yes, I know. Morveth’s promised to look after me – her and Mr Motley. And if Christopher does come home, I’ll be able to look after him.’

Josephine smiled at Loveday’s unconscious recognition of her own strength. ‘We should go back to the house,’ she said, ‘or you won’t be in a fit state to look after anyone.’

‘All right,’ Loveday agreed reluctantly, ‘but will you come and see me tomorrow? Miss Motley read me a story this afternoon, but she’s nowhere near as good as you. It was kind of her to bother, but I don’t think she really believed in what she was saying. You have to believe in a story to make it a good one, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Josephine, getting up and holding out her hand. ‘Yes, I suppose you do.’

Author’s Note

Angel With Two Faces is a work of fiction, inspired by real places, real lives and, in some cases, real events, and is a tribute to the unique beauty of Porthleven, the Loe Pool, and the Penrose Estate, as well as to the people who live and work there. It’s a community that I love being part of – one which does indeed turn a face to the past as well as to the present, and is all the more special for that.

Josephine Tey was one of two pseudonyms created by Elizabeth Mackintosh (1896–1952) during a versatile and successful career as a novelist and playwright; the other, Gordon Daviot, was reserved for plays, historical fiction and a biography. Unravelling her life through her work and her letters continues to be a fascinating journey,