The Swallow and the Hummingbird (33 page)

‘I do indeed, Nestor. Lovely!’ She hobbled after him, sniffing her approval at the immaculate state of the borders that promised to spill over with flowers in the summertime.

Mrs Megalith loved Elvestree. She had grown up in Frognal Point and the house had originally belonged to her grandfather. As much as people wanted to believe that the exotic birds and thriving animals, rare fruits and rich vegetables were due to her sorcery, she knew the truth: the magic had been there long before she was born and was as much part of the house as the very bricks it was made of. Nestor understood, for Nestor had worked for her parents as his father had before him. He didn’t question the size of the potatoes or the abundance of beans, sprouts and cabbages. He didn’t even raise an eyebrow when the garden threw up artichokes, rhubarb and aubergines out of season, and he was used to the grapevines and bananas in the greenhouses. While the rest of the country had to make do with plums and apples he could take home peaches and oranges to enjoy with his wife. When she praised the skill of the Elvestree witch, he simply shook his head for he knew better and remembered the strange lychees his father had brought home when he was just a boy.

Mrs Megalith was proud of the history of the place. The house dated back to the seventeenth century but the garden was far older. The walled vegetable garden was possibly as old as six hundred years. Legend had it that it was once attached to a monastery and that the monks fertilized the ground with nothing more than prayers. Mrs Megalith scoffed at that. She suspected they were more likely to be wizards in religious clothing and greedy wizards to boot.

She lifted her nose and sniffed the air. The sweet, fertile scent of spring had once more returned and nature quivered with life. She could smell the estuary too and hear the birds down on the sand, fighting over pieces of fish and small crustaceans.

Suddenly Nestor bent to the ground and waved aside a clump of leaves. ‘What have we here?’ he exclaimed, straightening up to make way for Mrs Megalith.

‘What is it, Nestor?’ she asked, hobbling over to him.

‘Looks like one of them cats has had a go at your swallow.’ Mrs Megalith’s face darkened in horror.

‘A swallow? Is it alive?’

‘I fear the poor little devil is, though it would be better off dead.’

‘Let me see. Out of the way.’ She pushed past him and peered down. ‘Good gracious! Right, go and get Max.’ Nestor hurried across the lawn, shouting for Max. Max emerged and recognized by the exaggerated movements of Mrs Megalith’s arms that it was an emergency.

‘I can’t bend down to pick it up,’ she said as he approached. ‘But I want you to try and scoop the poor bird into your hands without frightening it. Imagine it’s made of eggshell.’ Max smiled indulgently and lifted the little bird with great care. When it lay still but trembling in his cupped hands she set off across the grass. ‘Follow me. You too, Nestor. I need all the help I can get. We’re going to nurse this little bird back to health if it’s the last thing we do!’ They followed her as she staggered towards the house. Ruth was in the kitchen devouring a Marmite sandwich when they entered in a flurry of excitement. ‘Ruth, get me a cardboard box and fill it with hay. There’s plenty in the barn.’ Ruth frowned at her brother but was used to obeying orders and hurried off.

Mrs Megalith placed her glasses on the end of her nose and took the bird in her soft, doughy hands. ‘Max, go and fetch my box of crystals. Nestor, I need a syringe from the medicine cupboard and a glass of water. I think it’s only suffering a broken wing, but it obviously hasn’t eaten or drunk for some time.’ Nestor disappeared up the stairs to the cupboard on the landing where Mrs Megalith kept her medical supplies. Ruth returned with the shoe box that had contained the pair of sensible lace-ups Mrs Megalith had bought her for school. She had dutifully lined it with hay and punctured the lid in case she wanted to close it. Mrs Megalith placed the bird inside and, when Max returned with the box of crystals, she rummaged around until she found the ones she needed to aid the healing process. She fed it water with the syringe and bound the broken wing with a splint, securing it tightly to its body.

‘Will he live?’ Ruth asked, peering into the box.

‘It’s a she,’ Mrs Megalith replied. ‘And yes, she’ll live. If I knew which cat had done it, I’d wring the little bugger’s neck.’

Chapter 21

Reverend Hammond passed his eyes over his congregation. The pews were filled with the same faces in the same hats and coats, yet there was a subtle change that made today different from any other Sunday – and a great deal colder. Being a godly man he sensed it at once. It had nothing to do with the fresh sea breeze that swept in through the open windows or the fact that Miss Hogmier had fallen down the stairs and bruised her coccyx so that she now played the organ with such aggression as to suggest it was the organ, not the stairs, she blamed for her discomfort. He had heard from his wife who had heard from Miss Hogmier who had overheard Hannah talking to her sister in the bakery that George Bolton was engaged to be married to a woman called Cybil. It was a desperate situation and one which no doubt was being discussed in every shop and kitchen within a ten-mile radius.

To his dismay, he saw that the Fairweathers sat on the left side of the church while the Boltons sat on the right and neither family looked at the other. Instead of friendly waves and smiles a wall of resentment and guilt had risen up between them and, although they all knew it was there, no one dared acknowledge its presence. They kept their eyes fixed ahead or on their prayer books. Humphrey’s face was grey and seemed to have collapsed like a soufflé while Hannah buried her chin into her neck, hiding her swollen features beneath her hat. Rita was tearful but pensive, seeking solace in the tranquillity of the church. She didn’t have the courage to snatch a quick look at Faye,
cheating
Faye, who no doubt sat with the innocence of one of those angels painted on the altarpiece. Eddie played with Ezra Gunch, having explained to her mother that he needed cheering up as much as everyone else for being a very small animal he sensed unhappiness but didn’t understand it, and Maddie’s cheeks were flushed with fury as she recalled over and over again her final conversation with Harry. Faye’s hands toyed nervously with her engagement ring while Alice and Geoffrey looked very sombre indeed. Even their small children were unusually still and quiet in the pew. Trees was staunch in his belief that each man ploughs his own field in life and that one shouldn’t get involved in the business of others, even one’s children. He watched the Reverend, anticipating the service, viewing the whole melodrama as blown out of proportion by the women in both families. Surely Humphrey would rise above it as he did and consider the crisis nothing more than an unfortunate storm in a teacup.

Reverend Hammond met the challenge with zeal, considering it God’s wish for him to unite these two families in obvious need of spiritual guidance. He quietly congratulated himself on ad-libbing a most inspiring sermon about forgiveness and love, without realizing that Humphrey and Hannah were too hurt to forgive and Rita and Maddie were only too bitterly aware of the damage love could do. At the end of a service that left the rest of the congregation bewildered, Humphrey merely grunted at Trees before hurrying out into the sunshine, Hannah following hastily in his heavy footsteps. Trees was left dazed and bruised. He took Faye’s arm and wandered slowly up the aisle blinking in the light of such a brutal awakening. Faye had been right all along. George’s engagement had torn their families apart.

As Faye and Trees emerged, they found Rita standing by the door waiting for Eddie who had lost Ezra Gunch in the nave. When she saw them approach she backed away, pressing herself up against the wall hoping they would walk on without seeing her. But Faye had witnessed her sudden retreat. Sadly, she decided to persevere with a conversation in an attempt to make peace.

‘Hello, Rita,’ she said in a gentle voice. ‘How are you?’

Rita’s faced flushed and she looked anxiously over her shoulder for Eddie. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’

Eddie was on her hands and knees trying to coax Ezra Gunch out from under the altarcloth where he had seized upon an old communion wafer.

‘You haven’t been for your sculpting lessons recently.’

‘It’s a bit difficult at the moment . . .’

‘I understand. Of course I do. But you shouldn’t let it go, you’ve got real talent.’

‘I’ve been working late,’ Rita explained lamely, then shuffled uncomfortably for it was common knowledge that the library always closed at six.

‘Well, if you change your mind, I’d love to see you.’ Faye touched her arm affectionately. But when Rita didn’t respond she nodded at Trees and walked away, fighting her disappointment. Rita dropped her shoulders and took a deep breath. Finally Eddie appeared smiling, having forced the gerbil into a corner and lured him out with another piece of wafer.

‘It’s not as if I don’t feed him enough, the greedy rat!’ she complained as they walked down the path.

Faye was dismayed that Rita no longer wanted to sculpt with her and saddened that the bond that had held them all together for so many years had now been severed. It didn’t occur to her that Rita’s coldness might be due to having seen her in the garden with Thadeus, so confident was she that their secret was theirs alone.

‘Well, you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife!’ Miss Hogmier commented to Reverend Hammond once the congregation had departed. She hobbled up the aisle with the help of a stick, wincing every few paces so that her nostrils flared revealing thick black nasal hair like the brush of a chimney sweep.

‘Oh dear,’ Reverend Hammond sighed, watching Rita and Eddie walk down the road until they disappeared around the corner. ‘I did my best to guide them in the way of Christ. I only hope the seed sown has fallen onto fertile ground.’

‘A rift such as this will never heal,’ Miss Hogmier stated spitefully. ‘And young George is far away in Argentina, oblivious of it all.’

‘I don’t suppose he has the slightest idea of the suffering he has caused.’

‘I don’t imagine he cares. A selfish man, I’ve always thought.’ Miss Hogmier sank carefully onto a pew, groaning as her bottom touched the wood.

‘Dear Rita, it was only this time last year that they all welcomed George home with that party.’

‘An extravagance for nothing,’ she sniffed. ‘Only ever thought of himself, that boy. Too handsome for his own good if you ask me.’

‘She’ll find someone else. She’s young and pretty.’

‘But the families will never recover. Better for the Boltons, I suppose. I wouldn’t trust any descendants of the Elvestree witch, however pretty they were.’ Miss Hogmier looked around suspiciously. ‘No cats in the vicinity, I trust?’ Reverend Hammond cast a quick glance at the altar, remembering with a grimace the time Mrs Megalith had brought her cats to sabotage his service.

‘If there are, I shall throw them out,’ he replied boldly.

‘Surely not the way of Christ?’ Miss Hogmier gasped in admiration.

‘Christ threw out the moneylenders, did he not? Those cats were emissaries from a pagan. If I see them again I shall do as Christ did and think nothing of it.’

‘You brave man!’ Miss Hogmier struggled to her feet. ‘I suppose I will go home now and try to get on with things. No one to look after me. Of course, I don’t complain. I shall simply suffer in silence, but what can one do? An old spinster like me? Society is not kind to old maids. Rita Fairweather had better find someone soon or she’ll end up like me.’

‘She would be lucky to, Miss Hogmier. You are a woman of faith,’ said Reverend Hammond generously. Miss Hogmier clicked her tongue and took the compliment dispassionately, as if it were her due. Reverend Hammond watched her hobble out into the sunshine, wincing at the brightness like a vampire. He couldn’t help thinking that she made Mrs Megalith look like the good fairy.

When Hannah returned home she changed out of her Sunday best and set about cooking lunch. She looked out of the window and sighed. She missed Faye. It wasn’t her fault that George had met another woman in the Argentine, but she couldn’t help but resent his whole family. She felt betrayed by Faye as much as by George and there was nothing she could do about it. Faye was obviously upset, but Hannah couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive.

Rita sat on the window seat of her bedroom looking down at the pigeons on the lawn. Frognal Point had changed so much in the last few months and Rita hated change. She feared it. Her whole future, once so well thought-out, was now thrown into the air and she didn’t know how it would arrange itself when the pieces finally settled. Even Maddie wasn’t herself. She was moody and distant as if she feared intimacy would force her to divulge secrets she didn’t wish to share.

Then one Saturday evening Maddie returned from a drive with Bertie and marched straight into Rita’s room, where Rita was busy composing poetry. When she saw her sister’s ashen face in the doorway she put down her pen and stood up to embrace her. ‘What is it, Maddie?’ she asked after Maddie had finished sobbing onto her shirt. Maddie swept the clothes off the bed and sat down.

‘I slept with Harry then he rejected me,’ she stated, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Rita rummaged around on her dressing table for a handkerchief, and handed it to Maddie who dabbed at her cheeks with care so as not to ruin her makeup.

‘Have you seen him since?’ Rita sat down beside her.

Maddie sniffed and sighed melodramatically. ‘No. And I don’t want to,’ she added hastily. ‘I’m furious, that’s all.’

‘And hurt.’

‘A little,’ she conceded, dropping her shoulders. ‘I think he’s the first man I’ve ever been truly in love with.’ Rita had never seen her sister so distraught.

‘How did it happen?’ she asked gently.

‘I seduced him and it was wonderful.’ For a moment the light in her eyes returned. ‘Wonderful! He says I’m too young for him.’

‘Too young? Is that all?’ Rita was confused.

‘He used my body and then discarded me.’