Rita felt her stomach cramp with anxiety for her aunt always patronized her. She represented everything that Antoinette despised: a love of nature and animals, an aversion to makeup, and a quiet, submissive nature that her aunt interpreted as weakness of character. If there was one thing Aunt Antoinette abhorred it was weakness.
‘Hello, Rita,’ she said tightly, pressing her cheek to her niece’s but not even bothering to make the sound of a kiss. ‘I hear George has left you again.’ Rita nodded and mumbled something inaudible. Her obvious fear was irresistible to Antoinette who added in a low voice, ‘I hope you’re not hanging about for him like a lap dog. Men have no respect for doormats.’
Rita felt humiliation rise in her face and, as she went to sit next to Max, she heard her aunt turn to Emily and add in an intolerant tone that surely if he loved her he wouldn’t have turned on his heel and left her again. Antoinette greeted her sister and Eddie, recoiling at the sight of Harvey like a vampire in the face of the cross. She let out an ugly yelp, more a gurgle than a cry, before shouting at the child to ‘Take the ghastly winged rat outside and drown him before I throw you both into the pond!’ Eddie, who had inherited her candour from her grandmother, retaliated in the same tone.
‘It’s a shame you’re so big, Aunt Antoinette, because Harvey and I would like to throw you in the pond. That would see off Megagran’s foxes, to be sure, and probably poison the water.’ Antoinette gazed down at the precocious child in horror, took a long drag of her cigarette then replied in a strangled voice.
‘Eddie, hasn’t your mother told you how to speak to your elders and betters?’
‘Yes, but you’re not better, just older,’ And she swivelled around, grabbing Emily by the wrist, and led her and Ruth out into the hall to play with the cats.
‘I hear you got a letter from George,’ said Max when Rita reached him. Rita smiled, though her eyes revealed the hurt she had just suffered at the hands of her aunt.
‘He sent me this pendant,’ she replied quietly, holding it out for him to see. His heart plummeted.
‘It’s lovely,’ he said, but he felt sick with jealousy.
Hannah, noticing her daughter showing off her gift, turned to her mother.
‘Do look, Mother. George sent Rita a pendant. It’s a lovely silver dove. A symbol of love, happiness and wedded bliss. Isn’t that delightful?’
‘Charming,’ enthused Mrs Megalith, hobbling over to take a better look. Antoinette followed her.
‘Sweet,’ she said. Then her scarlet lips extended into a wicked grin and she cocked her head on one side and said in a loud whisper for all the room to hear, ‘Surely the action of an unfaithful man.’
Chapter 13
Rita fled the room in tears, Max following her, leaving Hannah speechless with shock and Humphrey the colour of a ripe tomato.
‘Was it absolutely necessary to be so wounding, Antoinette?’ he said in a very quiet, steady voice. He wanted to remove the smug expression from her face with a healthy slap.
‘Oh, come on Humphrey, where’s your sense of humour?’ she retorted, sighing melodramatically.
Mrs Megalith slowly removed her glasses and looked at her younger daughter with a dark and serious expression. Antoinette felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle with uneasiness.
‘There is nothing clever about wounding someone weaker than yourself. Pick your equal before you launch into battle. Now, apologize before I lock you in the pantry with every cat and bat in this house.’
Antoinette was thoroughly humiliated. Nursing her dented pride, she strode out of the room in search of Rita. But her niece had disappeared with Max, placing as much distance between herself and her aunt as possible.
‘Here we are again,’ said Rita, seated beside Max on his bed. ‘Why is it I’m always crying on to your poor shoulder? Really, you deserve better.’
Max smiled, delighted to be given another opportunity for intimacy. ‘Antoinette is a bully. Bullies are cowards. They prey on those weaker than themselves.’
‘No, I’m the coward. I should have retaliated like Eddie.’
‘You’re not Eddie. You’re lovely just the way you are.’ Max lowered his eyes bashfully. Rita put her hand on his knee.
‘That’s so sweet,’ she said in a soft voice. She hesitated a moment then swallowed hard. ‘Tell me something, Max. You’re a man.’ Max straightened up, pleased that she considered him a man, not a boy. ‘Do you think I’ve made a mistake letting George go away again without me?’
Max loved her too much to jeopardize their blossoming friendship by telling her the truth. That yes, she had made a terrible decision. That he believed, and hoped, that George would never come back.
‘You have done a very brave thing. A coward wouldn’t be so bold.’ He took her hand in his. ‘Trust him. Loving someone is all about trusting.’
‘I do trust him,’ she replied quickly, ashamed that she had voiced doubts. ‘I miss him, that’s all.’
Max longed to kiss her. He had imagined countless times what it would feel like and now, sitting so close to her, he realized how easy it would be to lean over and press his mouth to her lips. She had pretty lips, pale pink and perfect like the lips of a shell. Overcome by desire and encouraged by the compassionate expression in her eyes, he inclined his head and planted a lingering kiss on her cheek. Her skin was still damp from her tears and she smelt of violets. He felt her stiffen and pulled away. Anxious that he might have ruined the tenuous balance of their friendship, he said hastily, ‘I feel you’re like a sister to me. Perhaps I can be the brother you never had.’ Rita’s face relaxed into a smile and she bit her bottom lip shyly.
‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘I’ve always wanted a brother.’
There was a long pause, during which Max felt the mortification of having so nearly declared himself singe his cheeks with shame. Rita cast her eyes about her until her gaze settled on a faded green book that sat on the small table by his bed. It was smaller than a hand and almost threadbare, its pages coming away from the binding.
‘What an enchanting book,’ she commented, relieved to change the subject.
He leaned over and picked it up. ‘It belonged to my mother. It’s a book of poetry.’
‘May I have a look?’
‘It’s in German. A collection of her favourite poets.’
He handed it to her, wanting to add that the poems about love he now knew by heart. She opened it with care and ran her fingers over the yellowed paper that was thick and coarse like parchment. Rita wondered whether he could feel his mother reaching out to him through the pages and hear her voice, perhaps, whispering softly across the years to comfort him when he missed her. It was an unbearably romantic thought. She lifted her eyes and rested them on Max’s sensitive face.
‘Megagran says that your mother was once a famous actress. Was she very beautiful?’
‘I think so.’
‘I imagine you look a lot like her,’ she said, handing back the book.
Max’s mouth twitched and he shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied, not wishing to conjure up his dead mother’s face. It was better if he didn’t focus his thoughts too intensely on his past. ‘Are you ready to face your aunt?’ he said instead.
‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ she chuckled. ‘Come on, they’ll be wondering what on earth has happened to us!’
Eddie scowled at her aunt all the way through lunch. Megagran had told her to put Harvey in the car but she had rebelled, stuffing him up her sleeve instead, where he could peek out every now and then and squeak at Antoinette. Antoinette had apologized to Rita, laughing off her remark by insisting that it was nothing more than a joke. ‘How would I know if he was unfaithful or not?’ Rita knew she wasn’t sincere and made sure she sat at the other end of the table with Max, William and her father. Humphrey had never liked his sister-in-law and admired David, her husband, for putting up with her. David was as elusive as the Scarlet Pimpernel and just as crafty, but then one would have to be
, being married to Antoinette. He was rarely seen by anyone, including his wife. He paid the bills, enabled her to live a grand life, and kept a discreet mistress in a mansion flat in west London. What he did for MI5 was top secret, but it gave him the perfect excuse to shut Antoinette out of his life.
Megagran held court at the other end of the table, watching Antoinette with a weary look in her opaque grey eyes. She noticed Harvey, but said nothing, and she pitied Rita, who looked crestfallen in spite of the pretty dove from George that hung about her neck. She had a strange sense of foreboding. It curled up her spine like a cold eel, causing her to bristle with uneasiness. Something wasn’t quite right about the dove. She chewed on her roast lamb and considered it. A symbol of love and all that, of course, but there was more to it. Wasn’t the dove a symbol of forgiveness and peace, too? Now why would Rita need to forgive?
After lunch she took Rita to one side. ‘What did George say in his letter?’ she asked, placing her glasses on her nose in anticipation of being allowed to read it.
‘I’ve left it at home,’ Rita lied. Megagran frowned. It was no use lying to her grandmother. ‘I was reading it on top of the cliff,’ she whispered, afraid that someone might overhear her. ‘And it was blown out of my hand by a gust of wind. I ran down to the beach to retrieve it but it floated into the sea, where it is now. Lost for ever.’ Mrs Megalith nodded gravely.
‘I see. That explains the pendant and the significance of the dove. Interesting,’ she pondered darkly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Absolute nonsense, I’m sure,’ she said with a deep chuckle. ‘Don’t worry about losing the letter, dear. After all, there will be more, won’t there? And Antoinette’s a brute sometimes. We all have an ugly side to our nature; the trouble with Antoinette is that the balance is all wrong. It’ll start showing on her face soon and then she’ll change. She’s far too vain not to and I shall be the first to tell her.’
‘I’m reading a wonderful book at the moment,’ Antoinette was saying to anyone who would listen. ‘About the tsars of Russia. What a colourful history.’ She ran her hand across the bindings of her mother’s books squashed chaotically into old mahogany bookshelves. Antoinette considered herself something of an intellectual. ‘Humphrey, what are you reading? One must always have a book on the go, don’t you think? In my case, several. Depends on my mood. I do so enjoy reading the classics again and again. I loved Anna Karenina. Many women find War and Peace hard-going, but honestly I enjoyed that the most. But then I have always relished a challenge. If something is too easy I bore of it.’
Humphrey smoked a cigar and didn’t bother to reply; Antoinette had no interest in what he was reading, only in boasting about herself.
‘I love reading!’ exclaimed Maddie, who had only read at school because she had been forced to. She decided that she would read Anna Karenina, whoever she was, because she wanted to be just like her aunt.
‘Good girl, Maddie,’ said Antoinette admiringly. ‘There’s nothing more undesirable than a stupid woman. You catch a man with your beauty but hold him with your mind. Make your mind rich, like mine, and you will marry well,’ she advised. Humphrey rolled his eyes and looked at his watch.
‘Hannah, we really should be getting back,’ he said to his wife, who was sitting with Eddie, browsing through old family photograph albums.
‘Do we have to?’ she protested, enjoying the pictures of her childhood.
‘I really think we should,’ he repeated. ‘Rita, Maddie, we’re going home.’
Hannah recognized the impatience in his voice and dutifully closed the book. She stood up and followed him out into the hall where Megagran was on her hands and knees with Emily and Ruth, playing with the cats.
As Humphrey and his family were on the point of leaving, a loud shriek erupted from the drawing room. ‘Good God, what’s that?’ he exclaimed, marching back into the house. Hannah, Rita and Maddie ran after him for the cry was that of a woman in mortal danger. However, the sight of Antoinette besieged by at least twenty cats was an amusing one for Humphrey and Rita who couldn’t have thought of a more appropriate revenge themselves. ‘Get the buggers off me!’ she cried hysterically. They clawed at her nylons, jumped on her dress and one was astride the crown of her head, pawing her hair into a terrible mess. ‘Mother!’ she wailed, but there was nothing Mrs Megalith could do to stop them. Only Eddie knew why they had set upon her aunt and she wasn’t telling.
‘Eddie,’ demanded her father, trying hard to contain his amusement. ‘What did you do to those cats?’
‘How do you know it was me?’ she asked innocently, hanging up her coat, happy to be home. She wandered over to the kitchen cupboard and opened the biscuit tin.
‘Because of the mischievous look on your face,’ he replied.
‘What did you do?’ asked Rita, wishing that she had thought of it first.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ she protested. ‘How on earth could I control all those cats?’
‘Exactly, the idea is preposterous, Humphrey,’ said Hannah, taking the biscuit tin from her daughter. ‘It’s not tea time yet, dear.’
‘Just one biscuit. I’m hungry. That lamb was disgusting.’
‘Oh, all right,’ she sighed. ‘Just one then.’ Eddie plunged her hand in and drew out three oatmeal biscuits with a large grin.
‘Well, whatever happened to Antoinette, she thoroughly deserved it,’ said Humphrey, taking the papers to the sitting room.
‘I think you’re all horrid to Aunt Antoinette,’ Maddie said sulkily, sticking out her bottom lip. ‘I like her.’
‘We all like her, dear. But she was unkind to Eddie and Rita.’
‘No one likes Harvey!’ Maddie argued to Eddie’s fury.
‘That’s not true, is it Mummy? You like Harvey?’
‘Of course I do. From a distance.’
‘Rita’s just oversensitive,’ Maddie continued. Rita rolled her eyes and followed her father down the corridor and into the sitting room. Maddie stomped upstairs to reapply her lipstick and flick through her magazines. Hannah turned to Eddie.
‘What did you do to those cats?’ she asked in a quiet voice. Eddie narrowed her eyes and made sure that they were alone.
‘All right, I’ll tell you. As long as you don’t sneak to Megagran.’
‘I promise I won’t.’
‘I asked them to.’
Hannah screwed up her nose. ‘You asked them to?’ she repeated incredulously.
‘Yes, I just spoke very clearly to the big black one. I think he’s the king, you see.’
Hannah nodded slowly. ‘I see.’
‘He understood and immediately went to tell the others. Megagran always says that if one bothers to talk to animals telepathically they will understand. I was so cross with Aunt Antoinette, I tried it.’
‘Well, it worked,’ said Hannah, not knowing whether to believe her. She had grown up with a witch for a mother, but she couldn’t quite reconcile herself to the fact that she might have one for a daughter.
‘No one speaks ill of Harvey and gets away with it,’ Eddie added menacingly. Hannah was taken aback, for when she spoke in that tone the colour of her eyes changed, just like Megagran’s.
‘Good God!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve bred a witch!’
Eddie’s face crinkled into a wide smile. ‘I’d love to be a witch then I could fly. Do you have a broomstick?’
‘Not one that flies,’ her mother replied, running a gentle hand down Eddie’s hair.
‘But can I try?’
‘If you want. It’s in the cupboard. Why don’t you see if you can sweep the kitchen at the same time?’
Eddie shook her head and giggled. ‘Nice try. It’s flying or nothing,’ she replied, skipping off to fetch it.
Maddie was irritated by Rita. She moped around like a lovesick puppy, walking up and down the bleak and windy beach, and refusing company. Aunt Antoinette was right. If George really loved her he wouldn’t have left her again, not for a year. S
he doubted he would return. He would most probably fall in love with someone out there. Latin women were famous for their beauty. Rita was weak. She should have told George to marry her or else. There were plenty of other men around. Maddie could vouch for that.
Maddie was currently sleeping with two different men. One was the son of the local builder, Steve Eastwood. He was strong and muscular with thick blond hair and brown eyes as soft as suede. His hands were rough and calloused but he knew how to caress a woman without scratching her. He spoke with a strong country accent and his smile was wide and confident and deliciously boyish. Maddie enjoyed making love to him. In his arms she felt feminine and vulnerable. The other, Bertie Babbindon, was rich and grand but boring. With sleek black hair and a Jensen he considered himself something of a playboy, sent her flowers, gave her expensive gifts and kissed her like a wet afternoon on the beach.
Maddie had never been in love. She didn’t understand her sister’s pining for George. She only understood lust. Until Harry Weaver arrived in Frognal Point.
‘Who’s Harry Weaver?’ Maddie asked her mother, screwing up her pretty nose. ‘Do we have to stick around for lunch? I was going to spend the day with Bertie.’
Hannah stiffened. She didn’t much like Bertie Babbindon. He was arrogant, selfish and flash at a time when ostentatious wealth was considered tasteless. He had done nothing to help with the war effort, hiding away at the family schloss in Switzerland until it was safely over. He had probably learned German just in case the Allies lost. She looked out of the kitchen window at the thin sprinkling of snow that glittered in the early morning sunlight. A couple of shiny cock pheasants strode across the lawn, scratching the snow with their claws. They had probably flown over from Elvestree where Megagran put corn out for them all winter.
‘I would very much like you all to be here. He’s a charming man and knows no one. He’s bought that dear little white house on Bray Cove.’
‘What does he do?’ asked Maddie. She caught Rita’s eye and pulled a face.
The Swallow and the Hummingbird Page 16