The Swallow and the Hummingbird

by Santa Montefiore

  Maddie left his house delirious with happiness. Harry loved her. They’d marry and live happily ever after. He’d write his books, she’d edit them and raise their children and they’d make love in the afternoons in their cosy cottage in Bray Cove. But she was to be disappointed, for Harry didn’t telephone her and when she telephoned him that evening he was distant and could barely manage more than a mumble.

  ‘This afternoon was lovely,’ she breathed down the line. Harry’s gulp was audible. ‘Why don’t I come over tomorrow and make you lunch, then we can spend all afternoon together,’ she whispered in case her parents happened to overhear her.

  ‘Well, I really ought to get on with this book. I have a deadline, after all,’ he muttered. Harry seemed to have developed a stammer. A sensitive woman would have understood the frantic back-pedalling and retreated with dignity, but Maddie didn’t notice.

  ‘I can help. You were grateful for my advice today. I’ll cook you lunch while you write, then I’ll read what you’ve written and tell you what I think.’

  ‘That’s really sweet of you . . .’ he began.

  ‘Good, I’ll see you tomorrow. I can’t wait, darling Harry.’ When she hung up Harry was left bewildered. What was he going to do?

  That night he lay uneasily in his bed. He had been weak and irresponsible and would have to pay the consequences tomorrow and tell Maddie that it had been a mistake. He muttered imaginary conversations into the darkness then, when those failed, tried to convince himself that his attraction to her had no substance, that it was no more than a sexual attraction he could easily live without. His thoughts drifted to his ex-wife and the error of judgement he had made there. He was no good with women. He didn’t understand them. He couldn’t risk failing again. Rolling over onto his side, he contemplated himself miserably. He was in his late thirties, divorced, balding, struggling to write a decent book, penniless and unlucky, what did he have to offer a young girl like Maddie? What on earth did she see in him? His attraction to her was obvious, but surely some sprite was playing a wicked trick with her eyes.

  The following day Maddie walked over to Bray Cove in dazzling white sunshine. A light sprinkling of frost covered the ground and turned the world an icy blue. The beauty of the countryside was breathtaking and Maddie, who was usually far too self-obsessed to notice her surroundings, gazed about her in wonder. She pictured Harry’s diffident grin, and smiled tenderly at the thought of his gentle face and kind, sensitive eyes. How surprised her family were going to be when they discovered that she had fallen in love with Harry Weaver of all people. He wasn’t rich, he wasn’t glamorous, he wasn’t even handsome like George, but she loved him and after having made love with him she cherished him all the more. That was another Harry altogether; her own secret Harry.

  When she arrived at Bray Cove she let herself in and bounded through the hall to the sitting room. Harry was grey-faced and anxious, stooped over his typewriter having written little more than a sentence that morning. Maddie smiled broadly and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his face with a loud smack.

  ‘How’s my darling lover today?’ she said, pressing her lips to him again. She felt his unyielding body and drew away. ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’

  Harry sighed heavily and raised his eyes to where she now stood before him. He hesitated and caught his breath as the luminous beauty of her face held him momentarily in a hypnotic trance. He inhaled the feminine scent of her body and felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle with nervousness. Silently scolding himself for his weakness, he tore his eyes away and resumed as planned.

  ‘Maddie, what we did yesterday was wrong.’ Maddie froze. She shook her head and frowned. Then she tried to smile but her lips only quivered for a moment before opening in panic. Harry continued. ‘It was lovely . . . you were lovely,’ he stammered. ‘But it isn’t right.’

  ‘What isn’t right?’ Her voice was a high-pitched wail.

  ‘You’re young . . .’

  ‘Young?’ she repeated, extending her arms like the wings of a fearsome condor. ‘Young? That’s not what you thought yesterday when you made love to me on the kitchen table.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have.’

  ‘A bit late for regrets, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t regret, I mean, not like that. It was lovely . . . it’s just that . . .’

  ‘Was sex all you wanted? Now you’ve had me you don’t want me any more?’

  ‘No, it’s not like that at all.’

  Maddie placed her hands on her hips as her face began to match her hair. Harry only thought she looked more ravishing, which made his task almost impossible. He longed to kiss her again and taste the salt on her skin, but he knew he mustn’t, though at this precise moment his arguments for restraint suddenly seemed negligible.

  ‘I don’t believe you, Harry!’ she cried in fury. ‘I thought you were different. I thought you were special but you’re not. You’re pathetic and weak and I deserve better!’

  Before Harry could protest she marched out of his house and out of his life, leaving him more confused than ever.

  As winter slowly thawed into spring, the ice on the birdbath in Hannah’s garden thinned until it no longer needed breaking at dawn and Rita’s crushed spirit slowly began to heal. Max put off his move to the city, his career could wait. Rita, he felt, couldn’t. They walked out along the cliffs, up and down the beach, and picnicked on the sand reading poetry together, their laughter carried on the wind with the carefree chatter of gulls. Rita kept the little cave she had shared with George a secret. She couldn’t bear to visit it. The memories within it still breathed with too much life. Max listened as she talked about George and sometimes, especially at sunset when he lost his reserve in the melting day, he would tell her about his childhood.

  Rita resumed her sculpting lessons with Faye, and the family friendship that Faye had feared in danger of ruin was restored to something of its former strength. Trees had been right, but he didn’t gloat or say ‘I told you so’ for he had moved on from what he believed to have been nothing more than a tiny pothole along the path of life. Only Humphrey still felt aggrieved but he kept his resentment to himself.

  Maddie sulked. She put away her sketchpad and pencils and no longer accompanied her mother to Bray Cove. When the swallows returned she cursed them. Why ever had she been interested in birds? To Hannah and Humphrey’s dismay Bertie’s car once more drew up outside their house and his arrogant, empty face was frequently seen pressed against the kitchen window, grinning inanely. Maddie let him kiss her in the lay-by outside Frognal Point, but her heart had frozen over.

  Rita sensed her sister’s unhappiness had much to do with Harry Weaver but she didn’t dare mention his name. If Maddie’s pride was hurt she would not want to talk about it. So she left her to smoulder about the house like an angry dragon without realizing that, for the first time in their lives, they had something in common.

  At the beginning of April Faye received another letter from George. This time she folded it away carefully and resigned herself with sadness to the fact that their much-treasured family friendship would now be over for sure. There was no avoiding a fall-out once this piece of news reached Hannah’s kitchen.

  George was getting married. His fiancée was called Susan and he had met her on the boat going out to Argentina. She was American and he was very much in love with her. Faye already despised Susan and immediately blamed her for ensnaring George so soon after he had left Rita. Only when she talked to Thadeus did she realize that she was wrong to cast blame.

  ‘We all have the power of free will,’ he said, sitting down beside her on the bench in his garden. The earth was now beginning to stir with life as the days lengthened and the weather warmed. Daffodils and snowdrops swung their pretty drooping heads and a pair of swallows danced in the air announcing their return and the long-awaited arrival of spring.

  ‘How am I going to tell Rita that George fell in love with this American woman no more than a few
days after leaving her?’

  ‘Why do you need to tell her the details?’ he asked, taking her cold hand in his large warm one.

  ‘Because I feel she has a right to know.’

  Thadeus shrugged his big shoulders and growled. ‘You don’t have to lie, Faye, just tell her half the truth.’

  ‘That George is marrying another woman? I’m so furious with him. It was bad enough breaking off his engagement. This news is going to destroy her.’

  ‘Don’t be angry with your son. He has the right to love whoever he chooses. He had not made his marriage vows to Rita. He was not committed to her in the eyes of God, only in the eyes of the Fairweathers. It is better to love honestly than to love like we do.’ Faye watched the swallows disappear over the hedge, their song lost in the wind.

  ‘At least he’s marrying the right woman,’ she said, squeezing Thadeus’s hand. ‘Or, at least, I hope he is.’

  ‘People change. What he wanted as a boy is not necessarily what he wants as a man. Rita was right for him while he was young. Perhaps he simply grew out of her. Don’t blame him for that. You wouldn’t wish him to make a mistake, would you? Are you more concerned about your friendship with Hannah than your own son’s happiness?’

  ‘Of course not!’ she replied quickly. Then she sighed heavily. ‘I just want everyone to be happy.’

  ‘Life is not like that. We’re not meant to be happy all of the time. Life is full of problems and the sooner we realize that the better our chances of contentment. If your expectations are too high you will never be satisfied.’

  ‘So what do I do?’ she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Go and see Hannah. Tell her that George has written to you saying he is to marry an American woman he met in Argentina. That is all she needs to know. Then leave her alone to digest it. If she lets it come between you, so be it. There is nothing you can do. Go with the current because trying to swim against it will only wear you out.’

  ‘Thank God I’ve got you!’ she breathed. ‘Why do we all make such a mess of love?’

  ‘That I cannot answer,’ he replied with a smile.

  When Faye arrived at Hannah’s house she leaned her bicycle up against the wall and walked through the hedge to the garden. She knew better than to knock on the door. On a day like this Hannah would be outside, looking after her birds and plants. As it was half term, Faye found Eddie playing with Ezra Gunch in the run that Harry had constructed for him on the lawn.

  ‘Hi Faye,’ Eddie cried with a giggle, for Ezra had just disappeared into a cardboard tube she had stolen from an unfinished toilet roll. ‘I’m training him to be an acrobat,’ she added when Faye came to see what she was laughing at.

  ‘You’re doing a terrific job of it,’ she replied in a tight voice. She felt so nervous her whole body was shaking. ‘Where’s your mother?’

  ‘In the vegetable garden planting sweet peas,’ she replied, picking up the tube and pouring Ezra out onto the palm of her hand. ‘Isn’t he a dear little thing? We’ve become very close. He peed on Harvey’s grave when I took him to visit it. I don’t think he has much respect for the dead.’

  Faye couldn’t help but smile at the child’s exuberance then, taking a very deep breath, she walked across the lawn to the old wooden door in the wall.

  Hannah and Rita were working either side of the bamboo frame, chatting away happily while they planted the sweet peas. Hannah heard Faye approach and looked up.

  ‘Faye,’ she exclaimed. ‘What a nice surprise.’

  ‘Beautiful day, isn’t it?’ said Faye, putting off the dreadful moment for as long as possible.

  ‘Finally. Winter did seem very long this year for some reason.’

  Rita noticed the tension in Faye’s face and stopped planting.

  ‘I had a letter from George,’ she said flatly, folding her arms in front of her. She looked at Rita and shook her head apologetically. Hannah paused her digging and her smile disappeared into a worried frown. ‘He’s getting married.’

  Rita’s cheeks flushed before blanching with shock. Hannah stared at her friend in disbelief. ‘Getting married? Who to?’

  ‘An American he’s met out there.’

  ‘What’s her name?’ Rita asked. Faye thought it an odd question.

  ‘Susan.’

  Rita began to cry. Hannah dropped her trowel and hurried around the frame to comfort her. Faye stood awkwardly watching them, not knowing what to do with her hands. She wanted to leave but feared she would appear rude.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s come as a total surprise. I never imagined he’d have met someone else. Agatha’s farm is in the middle of nowhere.’

  Hannah held her sobbing daughter against her breasts, mumbling endearments, as Faye looked on miserably. Eddie skipped through the door with Ezra Gunch perched on her shoulder. Her broad smile slid off her face when she saw her mother and Rita crouched down on the mud and she glowered accusingly at Faye.

  ‘What’s George done now?’ she demanded and Faye was taken aback by the child’s formidable tone of voice.

  ‘He’s getting married,’ she replied. Eddie was horrified.

  ‘How dare he!’ she exclaimed, taking Ezra Gunch off her shoulder and sending him up her sleeve to safety. ‘He was only in love with Rita five minutes ago. What a pig!’

  ‘I think I had better go,’ Faye stammered, backing away. ‘I’m so sorry.’ But neither Hannah nor Rita noticed her. Only Eddie glared at her as if she were guilty of betrayal too.

  ‘I want to walk on the beach,’ Rita said at last, extracting her face from her mother’s spongy bosom. Hannah looked anxious.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ she suggested, standing up.

  ‘No, I want to go alone,’ Rita replied. Then she recognized the fear in her mother’s eyes and added firmly, ‘I won’t throw myself off the cliff, I promise.’ Hannah wasn’t convinced.

  ‘Oh, I really don’t think you should be alone at a time like this,’ she protested.

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’m angry. Angry people don’t kill themselves.’

  ‘You can take Ezra if you like. He won’t talk to you,’ Eddie suggested. Hannah placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

  ‘Thank you, dear, but I think Ezra’s happier with you.’

  ‘I won’t go up on the cliffs. I’ll go straight to the beach.’

  ‘All right,’ her mother conceded grudgingly. ‘But don’t do anything stupid.’

  Rita set off at a brisk walk. For the last few months she had nurtured a small flame of hope that George might return as planned after a year and want her back. It was a fragile flame and one which she knew she shouldn’t fan with dreams and wishes. But while he was on his own there had always been that faint chance. Now he had fallen in love with someone else that flame had died, and her heart was plunged into darkness.

  She hurried down the grassy path to the beach and then hovered momentarily, working up the courage to turn left to their secret cave. Slowly, she began to walk. With every step she remembered George. Now the footsteps in the sand were solitary ones. When she reached the mouth of the cave she stopped, unsure of whether to proceed, afraid of what she would encounter within.

  Suppressing her anxiety, she stepped inside. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness she was surprised to see nothing but a gaping hollow of rock. There were no ghosts, no shadows, no demons dancing on the walls. Just her own memories locked safely inside her head. She walked up to the far end and sat down on the dry sand. She crossed her legs and listened to the hypnotic sound of waves breaking on the beach. Her fingers began to play with the dove pendant that hung between her breasts. She rubbed it with her thumb and forefinger for a while, deliberating whether she had the strength to take it off and lose it to the sea. There was no reason to wear it now. It only reminded her of George and the promises they had made to one other.

  With a sigh she unclasped the pendant and let it drop into the palm of her hand. She looked at it through her tears. The lost
letter had been an omen. She understood that now. Hadn’t Thadeus said that a dove is symbolic of forgiveness as well as wedded bliss and love? She wondered whether George had known that when he had sent it to her. Well, she was unable to forgive him. He had betrayed her. Little by little she felt the burning sensation of hate seep into her heart like black tar. It was heavy and sticky and bitter and so dreadfully ugly that she was ashamed of herself. She strode out of the cave, down to where the sea crept up the sand, and flung the pendant into the waves. It made no sound or splash and was swallowed up by the greedy sea.

  And what of the ring? The diamond solitaire that symbolized his promise to marry her. How often had she looked into its innocent sparkle and heard his words, ‘Every time you look at it I want you to remember how much I love you.’ Now she took it off and slid it onto the third finger of her right hand. For some reason she was loath to let it go. Only when the last ray of hope had diminished would she send it, too, to the bottom of the sea.

  As Rita walked through the village she decided to pay a visit to Thadeus. The last time she had seen him had been when she had lost George’s letter to the sea. He had been a valuable source of wisdom then. She turned up the lane and hesitated outside the little gate that was partially obscured by the thick yew hedge. He would probably think her foolish crying once again over George. She should have visited him before to show him that she wasn’t always broken-hearted. However, she dismissed her fears with the thought of his warm, cosy house and opened the gate.

  She knocked on the door and waited. There was no reply. She knocked again and looked about her. She noticed a bicycle leaning against the wall in the sunshine. Deducing from the bicycle that he must be at home, she wandered round the house to the garden. It was such a beautiful day he was probably pottering about in his borders. As she started to make her way through the cluster of rhododendron bushes she saw him sitting on a bench with his arm around a petite woman with flowing white hair, whose head rested on his shoulder. As they were facing the other way she was unable to recognize the woman, but decided not to intrude on what was without doubt an intimate moment. She began to creep away. But curiosity pulled her back. She stole through the bushes far enough to get a better look. Horrified, she saw that the woman with long hair was none other than Faye. Clasping a hand over her mouth to smother a gasp, she scurried away as fast as possible, praying that they hadn’t seen her.