The Girl in a Swing

by Richard Adams

'No swimming at Cedar Key,' said he, never taking his

  eyes off Kathe as she talked to him about the Itchetucknee.

  'Too many sharks. Wicked bastards. Don'tch' ever feel nervous

  about unexpected things in the water? I do. I prefer

  things I can see - like you, ma'am.'

  For supper we ate hamburgers in a shack restaurant,

  served by a Mongol girl who smiled without speaking and

  shyly laid her hand on Kathe's wrist as she poured the

  coffee; and then found a small motel just across the road

  from the seashore. They gave us a room on the ground floor,

  with a window almost filling the seaward wall; and here,

  seized suddenly by a kind of plunging, devouring appetite, I

  pushed Kathe, clothed as she was, across the big double-bed

  and satisfied myself in half a minute, without a thought for

  her or anything else.

  'That was the most selfish thing I've done,' I said, yawning

  and noticing for the first time, as I lay beside her on the

  bedspread, that we were in more-or-less full view from the

  empty road outside. 'I feel ashamed.'

  'Oh, but you needed it, my darling!'

  'Needed it?'

  'I could tell you did. That was why I made you do it.'

  'You made me? How?'

  'Oh, f'ff!'

  'You never refuse me, do you?'

  'Whatever would be the point of that?"

  Next morning, as we were standing together looking out

  177

  of the window, we both saw at the same moment some big,

  dark object moving in the water, very close in. Next instant

  the surface whelmed, running either way, and up came the

  black, triangular fin and the great, smooth mass of the back.

  For a few seconds they remained in full view, plain and

  grim: then they vanished again. We both cried out spontaneously,

  but said no more, waiting to see whether the

  shark would reappear. It did not, and Kathe turned aside and

  fell to brushing her hair before the glass.

  After a little she asked, 'Alan, how many days have we

  known each other?'

  'Twenty-nine counting today.'

  'And how long have we been married?'

  'A week and five days, darling.'

  She went to the wardrobe, chose a pair of shoes, put them

  on and leaned back in the chair, stretching out her legs and

  tapping first one heel and then the other against the floor.

  At length she said,

  'So. We'll go home now.'

  'Had enough?'

  'If you like.' Suddenly she jumped up, clapping her hands.

  'No, no! I'll never have had enough! More! I want to start

  my life - the one I was born for! I'm your wife, Alan! Think

  about that, as Mr Steinberg would say. I want to go home

  and start, don't you? Come on - I'll refuse you, since you

  seem to like the idea so much, and then you can go home

  really happy.' She paused. Then, 'Alan, how far is Newbury

  from the sea?'

  'About - oh - I suppose about fifty or sixty miles in a

  straight line. Why?'

  'Oh - nothing. Peace and quiet. Destroy the past!' She

  kissed me. 'Ach, du bist ein edler Knabe!'

  178

  15

  IF it had been possible for me to feel anxiety about anything

  I might, by the time we reached London, have been worrying

  first about my mother, and secondly about money and the

  business. When, on the day we left for Florida, I had telephoned

  my mother to tell her of Mr Steinberg's generosity

  and my decision to fly with Kathe to Miami that night, she

  had responded with the distant politeness often used by

  women who feel desperately mortified but are determined

  not to show it, knowing that nothing they can say is going

  to make any difference. She hoped we would have a good

  journey: of course it was entirely for me to make up my own

  mind; it was nothing to do with her; and a few more replies

  of that nature. She was acting the part of an employee, and

  meant me to feel it; but I had been left with the impression

  that this was something she felt she could not take lying

  down. She had neither asked when we expected to be back

  nor said anything about the shop. I, for my part, had not

  had the face to ask her to carry on until our return or indeed

  to discuss business at all. If you are spitting in someone's

  eye you cannot at the same time ask them to oblige

  you. I knew very well that I had affronted and upset her. In

  a way, I had meant to. Kathe's susceptibilities were as valid

  as her own, and that she might as well learn now, at the outset.

  Nevertheless I was sure - Tony was sure - that she

  would come round, and to that matter, I had resolved, I

  would apply myself when we got back. Well, here we were

  back. Yes, indeed.

  I might have worried about money also. This past month

  I had spent more than I could afford; in fact, I had no very

  clear idea how much I had spent, and no notion what might

  have been happening, during the last fortnight, at the shop,

  except that I had missed at least one important sale. It was

  certain that I was in low water; and I had no real plan for

  getting out of it, except to resume work as soon as possible.

  Yet in the hotel bedroom, watching Kathe, her deep-gold

  179

  tan half-covered in a towel as she sat at the dressing-table,

  taking a needle and thread to the lining of her jacket, I could

  feel no least touch of anxiety. It was not a question of 'It

  was worth it*. I was above it. I was no longer the man who

  had flown to Copenhagen to buy from Bing & Gr0ndahl. I

  had come at last to the great sea - that ocean she had

  spoken of, unfathomable and boundless. And it was mine - it

  was ours.

  In the light of Kathe, problems assumed their true proportions.

  Not, I reflected, that she would solve them for me

  (how little I knew!), but with her beside me I myself was

  equal to anything. The world was not as I had formerly perceived

  it. First and foremost it existed so that we could make

  love in it and release our love into it as a renewing flux and

  solvent. From this all else followed.

  I telephoned Bull Banks, but could get no reply. However,

  there was no particular reason why I should. It was

  only seven o'clock. I had sent no telegram about our return.

  My mother might very well be out for a drink - or for that

  matter to dinner - with friends. Come to think of it, she was

  more likely to be in a good mood after dinner, and I certainly

  would be, for I was always in a good mood - had been

  any moment this life-time back.

  'Kathe?'

  'Ja?'

  'What would you like for dinner?'

  'Lots.'

  'Well, they've got that. I'll 'phone down to the restaurant

  and arrange it now. What would you like to do after dinner?'

  'Lots.'

  'I can arrange that too. You know, the trouble with you is

  that all roads lead to Ro-middley.'

  'Oh, darling Ro-middley! He's-'

  'An expanding city?'

  'A civilizing influence.'

  'A pen
etrating force -'

  '- Thrusting northwards into Europe.'

  'Sowing the seeds of futurity. Let Ro-middley in Tiber

  melt, and the wide arch of the ranged empire fall -'

  180

  'Oh, come on, darling,' said Kathe, pulling my hands away

  and kissing them, 'he can't melt in Tiber now. I really will

  refuse you. I want my dinner! D'you think this dress will be

  all right?'

  'I wonder you ask. Of course it will. Does it expand?'

  'It'll jolly well have to. I'm going to eat till I bust.'

  'Much the best cure for jet-lag.'

  'I know a better.'

  There was no reply at nine o'clock either. At five past ten,

  as we were lying smooth and easy, I telephoned Tony.

  'Alan! Splendid to hear you! Are you back in London?'

  'Got in this evening.'

  'Had a marvellous time, I hope?'

  'The answer's Yes. 'Tell you all about it when I see you.

  Tony, I'm ringing up because I don't seem to be able to get

  my mother on the phone. D'you happen to know the score?

  Is she all right?'

  'Yes, I'll tell you. Let's see, how long have you been away?'

  'Just a fortnight.'

  'Well, I think it was the Wednesday evening after you

  left - yes, it was, because I remember I'd come back from

  a diocesan meeting at Oxford - she dropped in and said she

  couldn't help feeling rather lonely and a bit upset about the

  way things had turned out - she hadn't been given a chance

  to meet Kathe and so on. I just said again what I've always

  said - that from what I'd seen I was sure she was going to

  like Kathe very much, and that from an ecclesiastical point of

  view - in my prophetic role, so to speak - I could see no

  objection whatever to the way things had been done and I

  was sure everything would settle down splendidly. I did my

  best to explain how you'd felt about the importance of sticking

  close to Kathe when she was alone in a strange country,

  and said I entirely agreed with you that this was a time

  when you naturally had to put her feelings first. I hope you

  don't mind, but I did sort of lightly hint that I thought your

  mother'd be making a mistake if she didn't just accept

  Kathe's difficulty - whatever it is - and meet her half-way.

  Losing wicket and so on.'

  'Losing wicket?'

  181

  'Well, you know, I've seen a lot of this sort of thing in

  various strengths and sizes, and the plain truth is that parents

  only make things difficult for themselves and no one else

  if they persist in objections to a marriage. It gets them nowhere,

  and they'll only be sorry when the grandchildren start

  coming along. The couple are married and that's that. The

  future's theirs. There's no point in hiding in the cupboard

  and saying you won't come out. The only possible answer is

  "All right, don't come out." The sabbath was made for man

  and not man for the sabbath, and all that. But, of course, I

  wasn't anything like so explicit. Freda and I just dispensed

  tea and sympathy, really.'

  'Thanks a lot, Tony. I'm terribly grateful.'

  'All part of the service. We're very fond of your mother, as

  you know - I'm sure she'll get the message. She still misses

  your father, of course: she can't help feeling isolated. Anyway,

  she said it was lonely in the house and she'd decided

  to go down to Bristol and stay with Florence and Bill for a

  bit until whenever you got back. So that's where she is. Mrs

  Thing - you know, that nice daily help of yours - what's her

  name? - Spencer - she's looking in and seeing to the house.

  When are you coming back, by the way? To-morrow?'

  'Yes, indeed; no later than. Tony, did Mother say what, if

  anything, she was doing about the shop?'

  'No, that didn't come up. But it hasn't fallen down, as far

  as I know.'

  ('There speaks the salaried man,' I thought.)

  'Could you possibly find a moment to tell them that I'll be

  in on Saturday morning? 'Save me another call if you could.'

  'Sure. And do bring Kathe round for a drink that evening,

  if you've nothing better to do. Early-ish - say six o'clock. I've

  got the Boys' Club later.'

  So, exactly one month after the day on which I had first

  visited Mr Hansen's office in K0benhavn, Kathe and I came

  home to Bull Banks. As I carried her over the threshold the

  grandfather clock in the hall struck four, and an imprisoned

  tortoiseshell butterfly blundered past us and out into the

  182

  brilliance of the garden. A great, shallow bowl of Russell

  lupins was standing on the hall table, and I guessed that Tony

  had also taken the trouble to let Mrs Spencer know we were

  returning. The hall lay cool and quiet in the summer afternoon,

  with dappled leafy sunlight and a blackbird's song

  coming in through the far window for assurance that everything

  aestive was going on outside, among the tall grass. The

  insect world, amid the suns and dew.

  When I came back in with the suitcases Kathe had already

  found her way to the drawing-room and was standing

  in the doorway with clasped hands, looking from the

  French windows to the china cabinets and back.

  'Oh, Alan, a piano! A grand, too!'

  'Well, not a very big one, I'm afraid.'

  'You never told me!'

  'You don't mean to say you play the piano as well?'

  'Can I? Now?' And without waiting for an answer she

  crossed the room, lifted the cover of the keyboard (it flashed

  a moment in my eyes) and, without music, began to play

  Schumann's 'Aufschwung'. After about a dozen bars she

  broke off, wagging her fingers up and down.

  'Ach, ich hab' alles vergessen! It's a tiny bit out of tune,

  but it's a lovely piano. Who plays it, you?'

  'No, I only listen. My mother plays a bit, sometimes. Darling,

  you never told me you played the piano.'

  'Well, you never asked me."

  For a while she sat playing fragments, a few bars of one

  thing and another, continuing with each until she forgot a

  Chopin etude, Mozart's Turkish March, Debussy's 'Little

  Shepherd'. Then, looking over the music lying beside the

  piano, she opened a book of Bach preludes and played one

  through, stumbling once or twice but keeping a nice balance

  between the two hands. Finishing, she jumped up, closed the

  lid of the keyboard a shade hard, said, 'Ach ungeschickt,

  Verzeihung!', ran across the room and flung her arms round

  me.

  'Oh, Alan, I'm so happy - it's all going to be wonderful!

  Thank you, thank you!'

  'What would you like now? Cup of tea?'

  183

  'No.'

  'See over the house?'

  'No.'

  'Unpack?'

  'Oh, no, stupid!' And she stamped her foot.

  I shook my head, and she put her lips to my ear.

  'Ro-middley.'

  'Now?'

  'Oh, silly Alan, what else! I love you, Alan, I love you!'

  Thus it was that when Mrs Spencer, sailing by the star

  of natural village curiosity, lo
oked in about an hour later

  'just to see if everything was all right' (I had thought she

  might), I met her in my dressing-gown, explaining that my

  wife was a little tired from the journey and was resting. So,

  after half an hour's tea, chat and frequently-expressed gratitude

  on my part for all she had done while everyone was

  away, Mrs Spencer had to leave in politely-concealed dissatisfaction.

  In that respect, however, she was in a minority

  of one.

  'Flick? How are you? How's Bill and Angela?'

  'Oh, Alan! What a surprise to hear you! Where are you?'

  'I'm at Bull Banks, with Kathe. We arrived about three

  hours ago.'

  'Everything all right? Food in the 'fridge? Mrs S. doing

  her stuff?'

  'Yes, fine, thanks. Flick, are you free to speak, as they

  say?'

  'Yes, perfectly. Pour out your tiny heart. Was it a shock?'

  'Well, slightly, I suppose.'

  In point of fact I felt as though I were looking down, with

  smiling magnanimity, from the walls of a castle no less

  splendid than Kronborg, at an embassage standing beyond the

  moat below.

  'Well, you did rather ask for it, Alan, didn't you? People

  who cosh people must expect to be coshed in turn. You

  coshed me too, really.'

  184

  'All right, Flick, I'm coshed. What's the score? How's

  Mother? Is she there?'

  'No, she's gone out to play bridge this evening at Colonel

  Kingsford's. And that's an improvement, I might add. She

  hasn't been at all well, Alan, you know. She was most upset

  when she got here. I've had quite a time with her. Who the

  hell do you think you are?'

  'Albert Herring.'

  'Well, bounce you to bloody arithmetic, then, you squirt!

  I must say I do think it was a bit much, Alan, honestly. You

  might at least have brought Kathe down to see Mum before

  you buggered off. She felt it very much. But I confess I don't

  entirely understand. I mean, why wouldn't Kathe get married

  in church, or come down here, or anything? Is she a

  pagan, or what? Is it going to be like this all the time?

  Naturally, Mum's wondering what sort of a girl she can be

  and frankly, so are Bill and I, a bit.'

  'Well, let her come and see for herself, then. It wasn't

  Kathe's fault she didn't come down; it was mine. Anyway,

  who buggered off? We've all got to eat, and God knows what

  the business will be like after ten days of Deirdre and Mrs

  Taswell toutes seules.'

  'You dirty little So-and-so! D'you remember when I

  pushed you out of the swing and you fell on your head and

  screamed the place down? I wish I'd pushed harder, I really

  do. All got to eat, indeed! Why, I could hardly get her to

  eat anything -'

  'Oh, Flick - dear Flick - I didn't mean it, honestly! Don't

  let's have a row, please. I can explain this, as the man said.

  I'm relying on you to pull it all together. There's no one to

  do it if you don't. Do let's start getting it on an even keel

  if we can. It'll be to everyone's advantage, you know.'

  'Well -' (Remaining silent as a swan, I felt Kathe's hand

  in mine and took a sip from the glass of sherry she held to

  my lips.) 'Well - seeing it's you - I tell you what, Alan.

  What's to-day? Friday. M'mm, it's half-term next week. I

  had meant-' (More silence.) 'Well, I'll come up myself on

  Monday and stay the night. Bill won't be able to make it,

  185

  but I'll bring Angela, if that's all right. We'll come round to

  the shop and join you for lunch. Play it from there, O.K.?'

  Good old feminine curiosity! Ringing off, I looked up to

  see Kathe in an apron, breaking eggs into a bowl.

  'Food, darling, lovely food! Scrambled eggs and bacon

  tonight, but don't think that's my limit. Ich kann noch viel

  mehr.'

  'Weiss ich schon! Will you play the piano again afterwards?'

  'Vielleicht.'

  'I wonder, is there anything nicer than sitting in a summer

  drawing-room while a very beautiful girl plays the piano to

  you ?'

  'Not for the next hour or two there isn't, anyway. Alan,

  you look worried. Is it your mother?'

  'No, not really.'

  'Then what?'

  'Well, the business, I suppose. It's been coasting for ten

  days with no one at the wheel and the truth is we haven't

  got an awful lot of money just now.' I looked up and smiled.

  'You've ruined me.'

  'Oh, no, I haven't! You wait. Alan, are you going to the

  shop tomorrow morning?'

  'Too true; bright and early.'

  'I am coming also. I'm going to learn everything about it.

  I'm going to make your fortune.'

  At this my heart sank a little. True, there was no harm

  in her coming down to Northbrook Street and seeing what,