The Swallow and the Hummingbird (10 page)

Rita lay in George’s arms, listening to his breathing and the roar of the waves in the distance. It was warm in the cave but the air had changed. Their innocence had gone and so had their playfulness. George had been distracted for weeks. As if he were slowly drifting away from her. Perhaps Maddie was right after all, that he was bored with her because she wouldn’t sleep with him. She hadn’t said anything, preferring to pretend that nothing was wrong. Although he kissed and caressed her with tenderness, she couldn’t help but feel that he did so in order to hide from something. He looked into her eyes but didn’t see her. He talked to her but didn’t listen. They laughed less, or rather, less from the pit of their bellies. There was no doubt about it; the war had changed George in more than just his physique.

‘Rita, we need to talk,’ he said at last.

Rita stiffened. ‘We’re all right, aren’t we, George?’ she asked, feeling unaccountably apprehensive.

‘Of course we are, my love.’ They sat up and he put his arm around her. But she wasn’t reassured.

‘I’m going away.’

‘Where to?’ she asked, shocked that he would want to leave Frognal Point.

‘I’m going to the Argentine and I want you to come with me.’

Rita’s lips began to tremble.

George lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out in rings. ‘I can’t stay here,’ he continued, staring out of the mouth of the cave. ‘The war has changed me, Rita. I need to shake off the last five years and I can’t do that in Frognal Point. I’ll go to the Argentine, work on my uncle’s farm for a year or so and then come back.’

‘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.