The Swallow and the Hummingbird

by Santa Montefiore

  Maddie was unable to think of anything but Harry Weaver. She had been struck by love, slapped around the face, kicked in the gut and, to her shock, it really hurt. Now she knew what Rita went through.

  ‘I so admire you!’ she wailed to her sister. ‘Love is the most painful thing in the world. I feel as if my heart is being pulled and torn. I long for him with every nerve in my body!’

  ‘What about Bertie?’ Rita asked, unable to take Maddie’s dramatics too seriously.

  ‘Bertie?’ Maddie spat the name as if the very sound of it was detestable to her. ‘I never loved Bertie. He made the time pass. Now I’ve met the man I want to spend the rest of my life with and if Megagran is right, the many lives I have to live after this one.’

  ‘I thought you were going to marry a movie star. Cary Grant at the very least.’ Rita found it hard to contain her amusement.

  ‘Love strikes when you least expect it. I don’t care that he’s old, forty at least, don’t you think?’ She screwed up her nose. Forty was definitely the beginning of old age.

  ‘Mummy and Daddy would die if they knew. He’s divorced.’

  ‘Don’t remind me. Not only is he divorced and old but he’s a poor, unsuccessful writer. What am I going to do?’ Rita sat on the edge of her sister’s bed and stroked her hair.

  ‘That’s not your only problem. You’ve got serious competition.’

  Maddie gasped in horror as yet another obstacle raised its ugly head. ‘Who?’

  ‘Eddie’s lost her heart to him too. He’s the only person other than Mother and Megagran who has taken an interest in Harvey.’

  ‘Thank God for Eddie!’ she burst with relief. ‘You really scared me, Rita.’

  ‘At least you can see him as much as you like. Mummy’s always at Bray Cove bird-watching. I suggest you begin to take a keen interest in birds and books.’

  Maddie sat up and looked at her sister with eyes that sparkled. ‘You’re right. I’ll go with her, then a romance will surely blossom. I’ll win him in the end, you’ll see.’

  Suddenly Maddie’s life had a purpose. She rose early to sit in the garden, hunched in her father’s sheepskin coat, with a sketchpad and pencil of Eddie’s, drawing the birds which fed from her mother’s many bird trays. She braved the snow and the cold and didn’t mind that her breath froze in the air and her fingers lost their mobility, so determined was she to convince her mother that her interest was genuine. She asked her about their habits, about migrating birds and domestic birds, birds of the sea and birds of the mountains. Hannah was only too happy to discuss her feathered friends, surprised and delighted that her most difficult daughter was at last showing signs of growing up. Her knowledge was vast and, to Maddie’s delight, she discovered a colourful new world that coexisted with hers but which she had never noticed before. By Christmas she had not only persuaded Hannah but had managed to cultivate a real hobby for herself.

  ‘I’ve asked Harry to join us for Christmas at Elvestree,’ said Hannah over dinner one evening in mid-December. ‘He’s all alone and there’s nothing more miserable than spending Christmas on one’s own.’ Maddie’s face throbbed with excitement but so overwhelmed was she that she temporarily lost her voice.

  ‘That’s good of you, my dear,’ said Humphrey who was only too keen to dilute Antoinette and Megagran.

  ‘Mother’s happy. More the merrier is her motto. He loves animals so he won’t mind all those ghastly cats. I would like to embrace him into our family. He’s such a nice man,’ she continued. ‘He’s made a very warm home in Bray Cove and, do you know, the birds there are fabulous. So many different breeds. It’s a veritable paradise, even in wintertime.’ She settled her eyes on Maddie and smiled. ‘Maddie, you must come with me one of these days with your sketchpad.’ Maddie nodded and nearly choked on her stew.

  ‘Me too!’ Eddie’s voice rose. ‘Harry says that he has bats in his attic. Harvey could do with a few friends.’

  ‘I’m sure Harry won’t mind if we all descend on him. He’ll probably be grateful for the company,’ said Hannah.

  ‘I doubt he’s ever inspired such devotion,’ mused Humphrey with a smile. ‘Will you go too, Rita?’

  ‘No,’ she replied.

  ‘Not still pining for a letter from George?’ he commented tactlessly. ‘It seems like only yesterday that you received the pendant.’

  Rita lowered her eyes to hide the sadness in them. ‘I know. I shouldn’t complain. Besides, I’m sure he’s written. It’s just that the post from overseas is so unreliable.’

  ‘Quite. The Royal Mail is most efficient these days, but I wouldn’t say the same for the post in Argentina.’

  ‘I write to him weekly,’ she said in a small voice. ‘At least he knows I’m thinking of him.’

  ‘Of course he does,’ her mother exclaimed encouragingly. ‘And you have that lovely pendant.’ Rita fingered it fondly. ‘I’m sure a letter will arrive soon. It will be worth the wait. Every good thing in life is worth the wait.’ Rita hid her apprehension behind a smile.

  Maddie could scarcely wait for Christmas. She decided she would paint a picture of a bar-tailed godwit for Harry’s present. The godwit was a superior wader by virtue of its large size and slender, slightly upcurved bill. In summer its plumage was chestnut-red like her hair and it had long, elegant legs. There was a framer in town who could frame it for her and perhaps Harry would hang it above the desk where she presumed he wrote, so that it would remind him of her whenever he looked at it. Eddie, in turn, set about crafting him a little house for the bats in his attic with the help of Nestor, her grandmother’s ancient gardener.

  Rita sat in her bedroom reading, watching the robin who had nested in her bookshelf, going over George’s old letters dating back from the outbreak of the war or pacing the cliffs, gazing anxiously out to sea. She continued her sculpting lessons with Faye, cycling over after work even in bad weather. She felt closer to George when she was with his family and their affection for her did much to relieve her doubts. Her sculpture was improving. There was nothing like the aching of the heart to enhance one’s creativity. Faye was impressed. She understood love and longing and how they fine-tuned the soul. Since Thadeus, her work had moved into another dimension and taken on an almost unearthly quality. The birds really seemed to fly, the animals to breathe, and the bust of Thadeus that she kept locked in a cupboard looked at her with such tenderness her heart stumbled every time she gazed upon it.

  Christmas morning dawned with a heavy snowfall. Maddie and Hannah rushed out into the garden to break the ice on the water in the birdbath and scatter the ground and bird trays with breadcrumbs. Rita slept in for there was nothing to get up for, no post on Christmas Day. Eddie, for whom Father Christmas’ visit was an exclusive occurrence, awoke to the heavy weight of the bulging stocking on the end of her bed. Her excitement, however, was suddenly dashed when she discovered the lifeless body of Harvey, like a small toy, inert in the middle of the floor. Cradling him in her hands she rushed downstairs to where her father was in his usual place at the end of the kitchen table. ‘He’s dead!’ she wailed. At the sight of his daughter’s devastated face Humphrey first thought Harry Weaver had died, but then his eyes settled on the little black bundle she held in trembling hands.

  ‘Oh, my dear Eddie!’ he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Gathering the snivelling child into his arms he carried her to the rocking chair and sat down with her. She was inconsolable.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ she cried. All Humphrey could do was hold her tight and stroke her forehead. He wasn’t very good at this sort of thing. When Hannah came in with Maddie, clad in her dressing gown and a pair of boots, she was horrified.

  ‘Harvey has gone to the great bat attic in the sky,’ he said gravely. Hannah’s shoulders dropped.

  ‘Oh, Eddie. I am sorry,’ she said, swapping at once with her husband and dragging a by now very soggy Eddie onto her knee. Eddie stroked the dead bat, which looked even more revolting than when it had lived.


  ‘What will I do without him, Mummy? How will I go on?’

  ‘You will, my dear. Because life does go on. You’re going to have to be very strong. For Harvey’s sake. He won’t want you crying your little heart out over him, will he? That would make him very sad and heaven is meant to be a happy place.’

  On hearing the commotion downstairs, Rita appeared with her hair in knots, her face pale and her eyes cast in shadows. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Harvey’s died,’ said Maddie. Then added in a whisper. ‘You’d have thought it was Daddy the way she’s carrying on!’

  ‘We must give him a proper funeral,’ said Hannah, kissing Eddie’s forehead. ‘Where would you like to bury him?’

  ‘In the garden,’ she sniffed. ‘In a box.’

  ‘I’ll make a little headstone for him if you like,’ said Rita. ‘You can choose what you want it to say.’

  ‘Why don’t we find a nice box to put him in now, then we can all have breakfast. We mustn’t be late for church,’ said Hannah, patting Eddie dismissively and getting up. Eddie followed her into the larder where she emerged a moment later with a small box. With much ceremony, she placed Harvey inside.

  ‘I want to bury him with my blue cardigan,’ she said gravely. Hannah put her hands on her hips, uncertain of whether to indulge such an extravagant whim just for a bat.

  ‘Eddie, I really don’t think that’s necessary,’ she began lamely. Eddie sensed the weakness in her mother’s voice and immediately seized upon it.

  ‘Oh, there’s no question, Mummy. I have to or he won’t rest in peace. In fact, he won’t rest at all.’

  ‘But you don’t have many cardigans and that one will fit you for years.’

  ‘I am willing to sacrifice it for him. After all, it’s only a piece of clothing. Harvey was a life!’ Her eyes bulged as she said ‘life’.

  Hannah was silenced by her daughter’s logic and mumbled, ‘We’ll see,’ before turning around to make the porridge.

  Maddie made such an effort for church that she looked as if she had stepped right off a Hollywood set. Her hair was beautifully groomed and fell onto her shoulders like shiny curtains, her eyelashes were thick with mascara and she had painted her nails blood red. Her skin glowed with radiance and was as pale as the petals of an orchid. Her lips were glossy with scarlet lipstick and curled into a permanent smile for today she would see Harry Weaver again. She stood in front of the mirror in the hall, arranging her hat and smoothing down her olive-green suit. When Hannah saw her she couldn’t help but gasp in admiration at the beautiful creature she had produced.

  Humphrey drove to church. If the weather had been better they would have all enjoyed the walk. The road was wet with slush but the sun was out, doing its best to melt the snow. The trees and bushes glittered as if festooned with diamonds and from the roofs of houses hung icicles which caught the light and twinkled like silver. It was bitterly cold and the girls huddled in the back to keep warm. Only Maddie was hot, her heart aflame in her chest like a burning coal, anticipating Harry.

  Humphrey parked the car on the green and was cheered to see Trees and Faye Bolton walking up the path with Alice, her husband Geoffrey, recently returned from the war, and the children, immaculately dressed in little navy blue coats and hats. Maddie looked out of the window, anxiously scanning the faces for Harry, but to her disappointment he was not yet among those now filing into the church.

  They settled into a pew, smiling graciously at their friends as they passed. Aunt Antoinette sat looking bored alongside her husband David, who was making a rare appearance in Frognal Point. Emily winked at Eddie but William sat with his nose in the air as if he was too good for such a provincial little place. When Harry Weaver strode in, dressed in a moth-eaten tweed suit, everyone seemed to turn to stare at this gangly stranger. Maddie sat up at once and beckoned with her gloved hand for him to come and sit with them. Harry was grateful. He walked hastily down the aisle, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed, embarrassed to be the centre of so much attention. He nodded formally as he greeted Hannah and Rita then smiled at Eddie.

  ‘Harvey is dead!’ she hissed melodramatically.

  Harry sat down and mouthed, ‘I’m so sorry,’ before smiling rather more broadly at Maddie.

  ‘She’s lost without Harvey,’ Maddie whispered into his ear.

  ‘I can imagine, poor child,’ he whispered back and she shivered as she felt his lips brush her skin.

  The church was ablaze with holly and bright red berries. The village children had decorated a fir tree with shiny gold balls and little figurines of Santa Claus. Illuminated by candles and the bright sunlight that tumbled in through the windows it looked festive and suitably heavenly. ‘Merry Christmas one and all!’ Reverend Hammond’s voice silenced the low rumble of chat and everyone shuffled in their seats to find the most comfortable position. They knew the service was going to be a long one.

  Reverend Hammond surveyed his congregation and was relieved the Elvestree Witch had not decided to grace them all with her presence, or her cats for that matter, and he shuddered as he recalled that spring Sunday, forever engraved on his memory. As he launched into a lengthy welcome, Maddie sat pressed up against Harry, the coal in her chest burning her body more intensely than ever. Harry was aware of his own burning coal and realized to his embarrassment that the hymn sheet in his hand was shaking. He didn’t notice Maddie slip hers into her handbag so that when the organ began to play she had to ask to share his. Rita felt tearful. She looked across at Faye’s sensitive profile and knew that she was also missing George. Trees sung loudly and out of tune. If he was missing his son he didn’t show it. But then Trees rarely showed emotion. The last time she had seen him upset was when someone had sneaked into the farm and stolen a rare black walnut.

  Reverend Hammond gave a very long sermon about the meaning of Christmas. Hannah was sure that it was identical to the one that he had given the year before, just longer. The congregation began to cough and stir in their seats. Only Maddie and Harry sat as still as the Christmas tree figurines, more aware than ever of the parts of their bodies that touched.

  At the end of the service, after greeting their friends, Humphrey and Hannah gathered their family together to drive to Elvestree for Christmas lunch. The boot of the car was stuffed with presents, all neatly wrapped in brightly coloured paper.

  ‘Maddie, why don’t you go with Harry,’ suggested Humphrey, climbing into the car. ‘That way he won’t get lost.’ Maddie hurried over to Harry’s car, tottering slightly on her high heels, her breath rising into the air like steam.

  ‘Wait for me!’ she shouted as he started up the engine. ‘I’m coming with you.’ Harry barely had a moment to sweep the pages of manuscript and old newspapers off the front seat before she got in. ‘Daddy thinks you might get lost,’ she explained breathlessly. Harry looked flustered but delighted.

  ‘Good.’ He looked at her and a shy grin crept across his face. Then he turned his attention to the road ahead.

  ‘Is this your latest book?’ she asked, pointing to the typed manuscript strewn all over the floor.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t had time to clean out the car. It ends up as a general dumping ground for things I should throw away but can’t bear to.’

  ‘What do you write?’

  ‘Novels.’

  ‘Are they any good?’

  Harry found Maddie’s directness slightly disconcerting. He wasn’t used to such bluntness.

  ‘My publishers think so,’ he replied.

  ‘Are you famous?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you want to be?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’ She looked at him sidelong, unable to understand why he wouldn’t want to be famous.

  He smiled indulgently. How could someone so young appreciate the pitfalls of fame?

  ‘Because famous people lose their anonymity and in most cases their dignity too, not to mention their sanity. I
don’t want people to know who I am.’

  ‘Really?’ she gasped.

  ‘Do you want to be famous?’

  ‘I wanted to be a film star like Lauren Bacall, but I don’t any more,’ she said hastily. She couldn’t tell him that since meeting him she wanted to be a simple bird-watcher in Bray Cove.

  ‘You’re very wise.’

  ‘I want to paint birds,’ she said proudly.

  ‘Are you any good?’ he asked, imitating her bluntness of tone.

  ‘Quite. There’s plenty of room for improvement, as Daddy would say. But I like birds. You like birds, don’t you, Harry?’

  ‘I love all animals. Bray Cove is a delightful place for birds. In fact, Devon is a haven for both animal and bird. I’m very happy I moved here.’

  ‘Where is your wife?’

  Harry remained silent for a moment, amazed that she knew he was divorced.

  ‘In Scotland,’ he replied after a while.

  ‘Why Scotland?’

  ‘Because she married a man called McInty,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘He has a castle and she likes big houses.’

  ‘She wouldn’t like Bray Cove, then, would she?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you don’t have children?’

  Harry shook his head and Maddie breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She didn’t like the idea of stepchildren at all. Harry stole a quick glance at her while she was staring out of the window, but she turned and caught his eye before he had time to look away. He felt the blood rise to his cheeks and tried to change the subject.

  ‘Tell me about your sister’s fiancé.’

  ‘He’s in the Argentine. He’s promised to marry her when he comes back. But I don’t think he will come back.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘As my aunt Antoinette says, if he loved her he wouldn’t have gone in the first place.’