The Swallow and the Hummingbird

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘Do you really want me to go with you?’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied, but his voice sounded flat.

  ‘As your wife?’

  In the lengthy pause that followed he dragged on his cigarette, wondering why her question made him feel so uncomfortable.

  ‘We can get married out there,’ he replied weakly, cringing because he knew he sounded less than enthusiastic. He could feel her disappointment as if it were lead fibres in the air.

  ‘I have to think about it,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘As long as you need.’

  ‘When do you want to leave?’

  ‘I don’t know. Soon. I hadn’t thought.’

  Rita sighed, then looked at him with eyes that glittered with tears. ‘Do you love me, George?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ He tried to kiss her but she resisted him.

  ‘Or do you just love the idea of me?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s go back, I’m cold.’

  They walked up the beach in silence. Rita looked about her at the sea she loved, at the gulls that wheeled and spiralled above them, their plaintive cries echoing the helplessness she felt inside, and wondered whether she had the courage to leave. They held hands and yet they both felt miles apart. Estranged and sad and, for the first time in their lives, uncertain about one another.

  George kissed her goodbye then climbed into the truck he had parked in the driveway and reversed out into the road. She watched him go, then broke down and sobbed. Before anyone spotted her she made her way through the village to the cliffs, where she sat until dark, watching the sun turn the sea to molten copper as her heart splintered into pieces.

  She would have the courage to leave Frognal Point if she could be sure of George. She loved him enough to follow him to the ends of the earth, enough to embark on a new adventure in a strange country. She could do it in spite of her fear of the unknown. But she couldn’t do it without his full commitment.

  When she returned home it was dark. She could see her mother and Eddie through the kitchen window, Eddie at the table painting while Hannah, in her blue apron, kneaded dough. She desperately needed to talk, but her mother was obviously busy. Without further thought, she grabbed her bicycle and pedalled as fast as she could to Elvestree. The little light on her bicycle wouldn’t have been sufficient, but the moon was bright enough to show her the line of the road. Choked with despair and chilled in her thin cardigan and dress, she arrived dishevelled and shivering.

  She burst into the house to find Max on the sofa, reading poetry. When he saw her he blanched. ‘Are you all right?’ he said, jumping up and striding towards her.

  ‘Is Grandma around?’ she asked, wiping her eyes with trembling fingers.

  ‘She’s out. But she will be back very soon.’

  ‘Oh,’ she groaned. Her whole body seemed to sag with disappointment.

  ‘Why don’t I make you a cup of tea, or Ovaltine? You look like you will freeze to death.’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she stammered, following him into the kitchen. ‘Where has she gone?’

  ‘She took Ruth to tea at your Aunt Antoinette’s house. I didn’t want to go. I don’t much like your aunt.’ He opened the ice chest to reveal a large container of milk. Taking a ladle he filled a saucepan, which he placed on the Aga. ‘A hot drink with a dash of brandy will do you good.’

  ‘Rather luxurious making Ovaltine with brandy?’

  ‘Primrose won’t have it any other way.’

  Rita pushed a cat off the armchair and sat beside the Aga, her shoulders hunched and shivering.

  ‘Is George all right?’ He couldn’t help but ask. Rita’s eyes welled with tears again.

  ‘He wants to go to Argentina,’ she said. Max’s hands began to shake and he sunk his eyes into the hot milk.

  ‘Will you go with him?’ he asked, trying to sound casual.

  ‘He wants me to.’

  ‘But you don’t want to leave Frognal Point?’ She nodded. She felt foolish. Max had been driven out of Austria to start a new life with strangers in a foreign country. How could she speak of such a fear to him?

  He handed her the mug of hot Ovaltine, rich with a thick froth on the top. It looked and smelt comforting. After taking a sip she felt a little better. It was warm there beside the Aga.

  ‘Do you feel part of the place, Max?’

  He sat on a stool and smiled down at her. She noticed how much he had grown up in the last year. He was now tall and strongly built with earnest blue eyes that revealed a surprising depth and compassion for a boy of his age. She had never really taken much notice of him before because he had seemed such a child compared to her. A rather shy, solitary child. But to her surprise she felt better for his company.

  ‘Yes, I do feel part of the place,’ he replied. ‘Thanks to Primrose. I feel I belong here with her.’

  Rita frowned. ‘How can you live with her? She’s so strange.’

  ‘A witch?’ He chuckled and shook his head.

  ‘In the nicest possible way.’

  ‘She’s a generous and kind woman. I know she is outspoken and offends people easily. But she has a heart of gold.’

  ‘Yes, she does,’ Rita agreed. ‘But still, I don’t think I could live with her.’ She took another sip of Ovaltine and felt the heat spread through her body, easing the emotional knots little by little. Then Max told her something he had never told anyone else, not even his sister.

  ‘When I arrived here as a little boy I was frightened of her but that first night I lay awake. I heard her come into our bedroom. It was late. Very dark. I closed my eyes because I did not want her to see that I was not sleeping. She stood over me for a long while. I don’t know what she was doing but I felt a very strong feeling of warmth and love. Then she drew the blanket over me and tucked me in. She bent down and kissed my forehead. When she left, after doing the same for Ruth, I cried. Not because I was frightened but because I was grateful. My own mother had never been so tender.’

  Rita blinked at him in amazement. Suddenly she appreciated the enormous impact that losing his family must have had on him She had always known that he had no one, that Megagran had adopted him, but not once had she really considered the tragedy of his past.

  ‘Oh, Max. That is the nicest story. Have you ever told her?’

  ‘No. You know what she’s like. I think she would feel uncomfortable.’

  ‘She’d be touched to know that it meant so much.’

  ‘I’m sure she knows that.’ There was a pause while Rita watched him carefully and, because he felt the intensity of her scrutiny, he took a big gulp of Ovaltine, which burnt his throat.

  ‘Do you miss your family dreadfully?’ she asked softly, knowing that this was probably one of the only moments of real intimacy Max had ever had with anyone besides Ruth and Megagran.

  ‘Yes, sometimes. I wonder how different my life would be if I had stayed in Austria. If they had survived.’

  ‘What a bloody thing this war has been!’ she snapped, thinking of George. ‘It’s destroyed so many lives and I don’t just mean those who died!’ Max looked at her quizzically.

  ‘Ruth and I are lucky.’

  ‘And unlucky too. I still have my family.’ She fixed him with an intense stare, then her face crumpled. ‘But I’m losing George,’ she added in a small voice.

  Max, against whose nature it was to show much emotion, hopped down from the stool and crouched beside her chair. He took her hand in his and looked at her with tenderness. ‘Why do you think that?’ he asked and his sympathetic look made her cry all over again.

  ‘The war has changed him. He’s unhappy and restless so he wants to leave behind his old life and start afresh. I’m part of his old life.’

  ‘He loves you. He’s always loved you.’

  ‘I don’t think he does any more,’ she whispered and allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace. She rested her face on his shoulder and sniffed. ‘I was
so sure of my future. Now I don’t know any more.’

  They remained in silence, both alone with their thoughts until the sound of the kitchen door opening interrupted the moment. Reluctantly Max pulled away. Mrs Megalith hobbled in with Ruth.

  ‘Now, my dear, put the kettle on immediately, it’s blasted chilly out there.’ When she saw her granddaughter sitting beside the Aga with a tear-stained face she feared the worst. ‘Those damned dead cats. I knew it!’ she muttered, closing the door behind her.

  ‘Rita, come into the drawing room. Ruth will bring me a nice cup of tea, won’t you dear?’ Rita caught eyes with Max and pulled a rueful smile. He smiled back, full of energy and happiness for he had held her close and she had confided in him. Rita followed her grandmother down the corridor.

  ‘I knew this would happen. Felt it in my bones. They may be old but they are most sensitive. Never let me down.’ She entered the drawing room to find cats draped across the sofas and on the window seats. She waved her hand to shoo them away, but it was as if they hadn’t seen her. ‘Now, let’s sit comfortably and you can tell me all about it. What the devil is going on?’

  Rita told her everything. She also disclosed the advice that Maddie had so carelessly given her. ‘I’m worried that he’s grown tired of me because I haven’t slept with him.’ Mrs Megalith was unshockable. She frowned irritably and shook her head.

  ‘Absolutely not. What a foolish girl your sister is. There’s nothing wrong with making love as long as it is with love. The trouble with Madeleine is that she gives it away to any Tom or Dick who’ll have her. I’m afraid she’s turning into a slut. But we’re not discussing Madeleine, we’re discussing you. Sex has nothing to do with it, Rita, my dear.’

  ‘I don’t think he wants to marry me any more, Grandma,’ said Rita, feeling less tearful since she had opened her heart to Max.

  Mrs Megalith clicked her tongue. ‘Of course he does. He’s confused, that’s all. Give him a year in the Argentine and he’ll come to his senses. Don’t forget, he’s been through a terrible time. He’s been tied up in the RAF for the duration of the war. I imagine the thought of tying himself down again, here in Frognal Point, is a somewhat daunting one. He’s young, let him go.’

  ‘Are you suggesting I stay here and wait for him?’

  ‘What choice do you have?’

  Mrs Megalith was right. She couldn’t go without marrying him and he was wary of committing himself at this stage. She had waited three years for him, what was one more?

  ‘If it means he’ll come back as the George I grew up with, then he can go for as long as he wants.’

  ‘Quite right, my dear. That’s the spirit.’ Mrs Megalith nodded her approval. ‘Now, how long can it take to boil a kettle?’ she said impatiently, looking towards the door.

  When Rita cycled home she felt much lighter in spirit, although apprehensive about her decision. Megagran was right. If George put a great distance between himself and Europe for a while he might settle down. She thought back over the last ten years and reminded herself of the depth of their friendship. She remembered those short leaves he had taken at the beginning of the war. He had been posted at Biggin Hill then, before he was sent abroad. They had walked up and down the beach and reminisced about the way things were before fighting broke out. He hadn’t wanted to talk about the battles. He had found his security in the past. What halcyon days they were. She remembered how bitterly they had cried the night before he was due to sail for Malta. He had told her that it was she who kept him going. It was her photograph he kept in his breast pocket. Hadn’t he told her that he would keep it there until the day he died? Surely it wasn’t so easy to break a bond as strong as theirs?

  ‘You’re looking a little peaky, Rita,’ said her mother when she arrived home. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replied. Eddie and Maddie grinned at her mischievously.

  ‘What’s everyone looking at me for?’ she complained.

  ‘How’s George?’ Eddie asked, barely able to contain her giggles.

  Rita narrowed her eyes. ‘Have you been spying on me, Eddie?’

  ‘No,’ she lied.

  Rita suddenly felt irritated. ‘Typical,’ she snapped. ‘One simply can’t be private here. No wonder George wants to go to Argentina.’ Hannah put down the chicken she was preparing and turned around. The smirk slipped off Eddie’s face and Maddie put her hand to her mouth in horror. ‘Yes, he’s going to the Argentine to work.’ Her statement was met with a shocked silence.

  ‘Are you going with him?’ Eddie asked finally.

  ‘How can I?’

  ‘Surely he’ll marry you, dear.’

  Rita’s voice cracked. ‘He doesn’t want to.’

  ‘My dear Rita . . .’ began her mother, walking towards her with arms outstretched.

  But Rita stiffened. ‘I’m fine, really. I’m going to have a bath.’ And she hurried out of the room.

  The moment she had gone, Maddie burst into commentary. ‘What do you think has happened? They were quite happy this afternoon, ask Eddie!’ Hannah looked at Eddie hopefully.

  ‘They were kissing in the cave on the beach,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Which cave?’

  ‘You know, the one on the left as you walk down the path.’

  ‘I know the one. The swallow cave. They always used to build their nests there when I was growing up. Year in, year out. But what of it?’ she waved her hand dismissively and shook her head. ‘I wish Humphrey were here. He’d know what to do. I hope she’s all right. Should I go up and talk to her?’

  ‘Do you think he really doesn’t want to marry her?’ Maddie asked. ‘How dreadful. She’s waited years for him. What a bastard.’

  ‘Maddie, don’t use that sort of language please,’ Hannah chided gently. ‘I’m sure they’ve just had an argument or something. It’s probably nothing serious.’

  ‘But why’s he going all the way to Argentina when he’s only just got back?’ said Maddie, biting her bottom lip.

  ‘I don’t want Rita to leave,’ said Eddie in a small voice. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without Rita.’

  ‘Dear child, if Rita goes to Argentina we will all miss her, but we will all support her choice. Besides, they won’t stay there for ever, I’m sure.’ She picked up the chicken unenthusiastically. ‘When she comes down I think it would be better if we don’t talk about it. Unless she wants to, of course.’

  When Humphrey returned from the office Hannah briefed him discreetly in his study. His face turned the colour of the plums in the garden and he knocked back a swig of Scotch. ‘He’ll marry her, by God,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘She’s not going out to Argentina without that ring on her finger.’ Hannah felt more confident now her husband was back. Besides, when Humphrey spoke in such low tones he meant business. When the girls were growing up he never shouted at them when they caused trouble, just spoke to them with that icy calm and they trembled right down to their toes.

  ‘Have you talked to her?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Not yet.’

  ‘Well, let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill. After all, the boy’s just come back from the war, he needs time to adjust.’ Then just before he left the room he turned to her and added, ‘But I’ll tell you one thing, he’s not leading our Rita a merry dance and then not marrying her.’

  No one mentioned George Bolton at dinner. Rita was aware that Eddie and Maddie were longing to discuss it, but she kept her thoughts to herself. She didn’t even tell them that she had been to see Megagran. When things got bad, Rita liked to lick her wounds in private.

  Unable to sleep, she sat on the window seat and stared up at the moon. She wondered whether George was staring up at it too and thinking of her.

  Max wandered across the garden and down to the estuary, his path illuminated by the bright, phosphorescent moon. In his hand he held a worn book of poetry that had once belonged to his mother. He thought of Rita and their conversation in the kitchen. At times like this he
missed a mother’s advice. He’d like to tell her about Rita. He imagined she would have approved his choice, in spite of the fact that Rita wasn’t Jewish.

  His mother had been an actress, a bohemian in long flowing dresses and soft fur stoles; his father a wealthy banker, ennobled by the last Emperor Charles for giving the imperial house its final loan. Max could remember hanging around the Imperial Theatre which his father had built especially for his mother after he had first seen her perform as a young girl. He used to relish telling them how he had lost his heart to her the moment she first floated onto the stage. So bright was the light that shone about her it had penetrated his very soul and dazzled him to the point that he was aware only of her presence and of his desperate need to have her. So he had built a small theatre with crimson velvet curtains and glittering chandeliers, commissioning the best craftsmen in Vienna to mould the ceiling with golden roses and swans, then knelt down on one knee and asked her to marry him. That was before he lost his fortune in 1918, when the empire fell apart leaving his mines in the newly independent Czechoslovakia. As a little boy, Max had loved hearing stories of his mother’s celebrity, how she had been the toast of Vienna. Great figures from Court had graced the gilded boxes to admire her, but none had given her as much pleasure as seeing her husband every night in the small, private box he had furnished for himself, not even the Prince of Wales who had insisted on attending to witness with his own eyes the legendary beauty of Vienna’s secret jewel.

  Max pulled his coat tightly about his chest and gazed up the beach. Shallow pools shone silver in the moonlight for the tide was out and the sleeping birds of the sea were now silent. The breeze was strong and fresh and smelt of marshland. He cast his eyes to the sky, to the vast glowing sphere that hung suspended among glimmering stars, and thought how often he must have looked up as a child to see the same display of wonder. His heart ached for Rita. He couldn’t tell Primrose or Ruth of his secret; all he could do was read his mother’s poetry and try to derive comfort from others who had suffered as he did the pain of unrequited love.