The Swallow and the Hummingbird

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘But you do,’ she protested, pressing her cheek to his. ‘You deserve all the love I have to give.’

  George stared out across the wide expanse of ocean. The sky was bluer than he had ever seen it and the sea glittered and sparkled. He felt drawn to it, as if a strong force were pulling at him, beckoning him towards it, to bathe his broken body in the healing waters. He wanted to leap out of his wheelchair and run down the path to the beach, but he was paralyzed and imprisoned within the bondage of useless flesh and bones. Then he saw a figure running with her arms outstretched, her tangled seaweed hair flying out behind her, her laughter like the chuckle of gulls as she let the wind carry her up the sand. She wore a thin summer dress and cardigan and her freckled face was alive with exhilaration. He tried to cry out. ‘Rita! Rita!’ but his voice was lost deep in his chest, where his heart now began to burst with longing. He managed to lift a hand. Perhaps she would see that small gesture and know that he was calling to her. Then she turned and began waving at him, encouraging him to follow. Didn’t she know that he couldn’t? Her hands moved in slow motion, her smile large and inviting. He tried to shake his head, to tell her that he was a cripple. That he couldn’t move, however much he wanted to. But then his will grew greater than the physical resistance of his flesh. He floated out of his wheelchair, leaving his decrepit body limp and crumpled behind him. He felt a surge of relief as he drifted up across the lawn, over the beach where Rita was waving at him joyously and out across the sea. He felt the easy movement of his limbs as if they were made of sunbeams. His spirit was filled with bliss as he passed wheeling gulls towards a greater light. Then he saw them, their faces bright with youth and contentment. Jamie Cordell, Rat Bridges, Lorrie Hampton and his father, Trees and many more, in the distance, welcoming him home.

  Rita had never read Reverend Hammond’s bible. It had sat on the side table, ignored, for years. Until now. She picked it up and ran her fingers over the leather cover. He had only been trying to help. They all had, but she hadn’t understood then. She had been too afraid to move on in case of more disappointment. The disappointment of the past was familiar – she had grown accustomed to living there – but now Rebecca had rewritten Max’s past, everything had changed. She wanted to be part of that change.

  She got into her car and drove over to Elvestree. Max was in his study working. When she stood in the doorway, smiling and radiant, he cocked his head to one side and frowned at her.

  ‘Will you join me for lunch?’ she asked.

  ‘What’s up?’ He was baffled by the sudden change in her expression. She looked younger somehow, as if she had shed an old skin like a snake. He felt his stomach turn over. After all these years she still had the power to turn his insides to jelly.

  ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Where do you want to go?’

  ‘I want to go and give this bible back to Reverend Hammond. He’s in the Yew Tree Nursing Home. It’s not far. We can find a pub and eat outside. I haven’t done that in years.’

  Max was too curious not to accept her offer. ‘I’ll just go and tell Rebecca.’

  With Max at the wheel they drove down the coast. ‘So why are you giving it back now?’ he asked.

  ‘He lent it to me a long time ago. It’s a rather beautiful old book. I thought it would be right to give it back.’

  ‘Why did he give it to you in the first place?’

  ‘He thought I was one of God’s lost sheep because I stopped going to church.’

  ‘Did it work?’

  ‘You mean, did I start going to church again? Yes, I did. But I never read it.’

  ‘I’m surprised he didn’t come and try to convert me and Ruth.’

  ‘No, you were far too lost for him. He didn’t like to fail. Only liked semi-lost sheep like me, then he could feel he’d done God’s work when we returned to the flock. He didn’t try to convert Megagran either. Knew it was a losing battle.’

  ‘He had some sense then.’ Max smiled as he looked out at the road in front of him. He began to feel nervous too, as if they were both teenagers again. He gripped the steering wheel and concentrated on driving.

  They drove through the smart white gates of the nursing home and up the driveway lined with shady yew trees. A magnificent Victorian building loomed up ahead, once the private mansion of a millionaire. Max accompanied her into the hall where the receptionist sat behind a dark wooden desk. He could see the sea through the open French doors in the sitting room and told Rita that he would wait for her out there on the terrace.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ she said, then turned to the young girl in a nurse’s uniform.

  ‘I’ve come to see Reverend Hammond. My name is Rita Fairweather.’

  The nurse nodded and smiled toothily. ‘Of course, first floor, room fourteen. If you turn right here and walk up the corridor, the staircase is straight ahead.’

  The corridor smelt of polish. The original wooden floor shone brilliantly and the walls were hung with brightly coloured paintings of landscapes and boats on the sea. The staircase squeaked as she walked up it, reminding her of Lower Farm, except here it was wider and grander with a vast window letting in an abundance of light. When she got to his room she discovered to her disappointment that he wasn’t there. She waited a while then decided to write him a note instead, leaving it on the bed with the Bible where he was sure to find it.

  ‘I’m sorry to have missed you, Reverend Hammond,’ she wrote. ‘As you said, Rome wasn’t built in a day. I’m now ready to lay the first stone. My thanks, Rita.’ She looked down at the small solitaire ring that seemed to shine with less brilliance and wondered why she had continued to wear it so long after it had lost its significance. There was only one thing left to be done.

  With a light step she began to walk back down the corridor, too preoccupied to see the solemn young woman walking towards her carrying a cardboard box. She bumped straight into her, sending the box crashing to the floor. The younger woman fell to her knees. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Rita cried in horror. ‘I was miles away.’ Then she recognized Ava. Ava blinked up at her, knew she had seen her before but couldn’t place her. ‘I’m Rita Fairweather, you must be Ava Bolton. What are you doing here?’

  ‘My father died yesterday. I’m clearing out his room.’

  ‘George died?’ Rita repeated incredulously, slowly shaking her head. ‘But he was so young.’

  ‘Another stroke.’

  There was a lengthy pause as Rita digested the news. George is dead? George is gone? ‘I’m so sorry,’ she gasped, bending down to help pick up his things.

  ‘Thank you,’ Ava replied. ‘It was very sudden, but he’s in a better place. I really believe that.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Rita, gathering up his books and a pen. To her surprise, although she felt sad, she also felt oddly detached, and realized that the George she had once loved had died years before and that she had already mourned him.

  At that moment she noticed the little faded Polyphoto she had given him, carefully protected within a transparent envelope. She sat down and studied it wistfully for a moment, amazed that it was there.

  ‘Who is this?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Someone special, I expect,’ Ava replied, putting the lid back on the box. ‘I found it in his breast pocket. He must have always kept it there.’

  Rita smiled and handed it back. Ava nodded and thanked her again, and Rita watched her walk down the stairs, her heels clicking on the polished wooden floor. So he had never stopped loving her after all. As he had promised, he had carried her photograph until his death. But it no longer mattered. It would have meant everything a decade ago but she was no longer that girl, she had finally outgrown her. She toyed with her ring a moment then strode purposefully down the stairs.

  She found Max outside smoking on the terrace. Without a word she took his hand and led him down the path to the beach. He followed, wondering why her face was flushed and her eyes shone with a light he had never seen before. With
her shoes almost in the waves, she turned and looked at him steadily, then pulled off the ring. ‘I should have done this years ago,’ she said and threw it into the sea. They both watched in silence as it fell with a small plop into the water, then disappeared for ever. Max didn’t know what to say. He felt the habitual churning in his stomach, but dared not hope too much. ‘You once asked me to marry you,’ she began and then her voice trailed off. Perhaps she had missed the moment. Perhaps he no longer wanted her. She wasn’t young and pretty like she had been then and, besides, he had Rebecca and Mitzi now. But Max needed no further encouragement. He took her face in his hands and kissed her as he had longed to for almost thirty years. She closed her eyes to withhold the tears and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him back.

  Finally he pulled away and traced her cheek with his fingers. There was so much he wanted to tell her but he couldn’t find the words with which to unburden his heart. He simply gazed down at her lovingly. She pressed her lips to his hand.

  ‘I want to grow old with you, Max. I want to walk down on the estuary, in the fog and the snow and tell you how much I love you as I should have done that Christmas when I almost lost you for ever. I want to share everything with you, your future, your past.’ Her eyes began to glisten. ‘Take me to Vienna, Max. Show me the Imperial Theatre where your mother performed for your father. Perhaps one day soon it will be yours and all the memories that lie within it.’

  Max looked at her for a long moment, awaiting those familiar scents of his childhood to reach him once again from the far corners of his heart, but they did not come.

  ‘No,’ he said at last and his gaze was so intense that she almost had to look away. ‘The Vienna of my childhood is gone. They destroyed that long ago. Even my ghosts don’t walk those streets any more.’ Then he slipped one arm around her waist and took her hand in his. To the formal steps of a waltz he thought he’d forgotten, he held her. ‘Let’s go home Rita. We’ll build Vienna together.’

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to the following people who helped make this book possible: Captain Denis Robinson, who shared with me his experiences of the Battle of Britain and answered endless questions with patience and humour; Eileen Brittle and Joan Laprell, whose recollections of the war were both fascinating and often hilarious; Hugh Kavanagh, an avid bird-watcher, who provided a vital service when reference books failed to deliver; Ian Bond, who initiated me into the wonderful world of walnut trees and even inspired me to join the Walnut Club!; Lia Rueda, who invited me to her beautiful farm in the north of Argentina and enlightened me on the agriculture there; Annabel Elliot and my uncle, Jeremy Palmer-Tomkinson, who remembered, somewhat hazily, life in the 1960s; and my father, who has taught me throughout my life about farming, flora and fauna.

  My mother deserves high praise for editing the first manuscript with such dedication and for all the colourful stories she has woven over the years of her life in South America, which I have remembered in detail and ruthlessly poached. I am enormously grateful to my aunt, Naomi Dawson, for coming to my rescue in the weeks following the birth of our son when I was unable to get to my computer.

  Thank you to Suzanne Baboneau and her brilliant team at Simon & Schuster for republishing this book with a beautiful new cover, and to my agent, Sheila Crowley, for her wise counsel.

  Finally, I thank my husband, Sebag, who devised the idea driving down the M3 at six o’clock in the morning after a sleepless night with our daughter. He is the engine behind my writing.

  FIND OUT MORE ABOUT SANTA MONTEFIORE

  Santa Montefiore is the author of eleven sweeping novels. To find out more about her and her writing, visit her website at

  www.santamontefiore.co.uk

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  The Summer House

  Santa Montefiore

  The Sunday Times top ten bestseller

  Antoinette’s world has fallen apart: her husband, the man she has loved for as long as she can remember, has died tragically in an accident He was her rock, the man she turned to for love and support, the man she knew better than she knew herself. Or at least so she thought...

  For as she arrives at the familiar old stone church for George’s funeral, she sees a woman she has never met before. And in that instant, the day she thought would close a door on the past becomes the day that everything she has ever known is turned upside down.

  Phaedra loved George too, and she could not bear to stay away from his funeral. She only recently came to know him, but their bond was stronger than any she has ever felt before. As she sits before his wife, she knows that what she is about to reveal will change all their lives forever.

  Sometimes it takes a tragedy to reveal the truth. But what if the truth is harder to bear than the tragedy...

  PB ISBN 978-1-84983-105-5

  EBOOK ISBN 978-1-84737-929-0

  The House By The Sea

  Santa Montefiore

  The Sunday Times top ten bestseller

  Ten-year-old Floriana is captivated by the beauty of the magnificent Tuscan villa just outside her small village, and dreams of living there someday. Then one hot afternoon, Dante, the son of the villa’s owner, invites her inside and from that moment on Floriana knows that her destiny is there, with him. But as they grow up they cross an unseen line, jeopardizing the very thing they hold most dear…

  Decades later and hundreds of miles away, a beautiful old country house hotel on England’s Devon coast has fallen on hard times. Its owner, Marina, hires an artist-in-residence to stay the summer and teach the guests how to paint. The man she finds is charismatic and wise and begins to pacify the discord in her family and transform the fortunes of the hotel. However, it soon becomes clear that he is not who he seems…

  From the Italian countryside to the English coast, The House by the Sea is a moving and mysterious tale of love, forgiveness and the past revealed.

  PB ISBN 978-1-84983-106-2

  EBOOK ISBN 978-1-84737-932-0

  Secrets of the Lighthouse

  Santa Montefiore

  Ellen Trawton has to get away from it all. She is due to get married to a man she doesn’t love and her job is going nowhere, so she escapes to the one place she knows no one will follow her – to her aunt’s house in rural Ireland. But there she uncovers a dark family secret – and a future she never knew she might have.

  Meanwhile, Caitlin Macausland is mourning the future she can never have. She died tragically in what the village thinks is suspicious circumstances, and now she is stuck in a limbo, unable to move on.

  And between the two of them is an old lighthouse – the scene of Caitlin’s untimely death and a source of fascination for Ellen.

  Can the secrets of the past be finally laid to rest? And can Ellen and Caitlin find the peace and love they long for? A compelling story of family secrets, hidden pasts and a love that will never die…

  HB ISBN 978-1-47110-095-6

  EBOOK ISBN 978-1-47110-098-7

  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Half-title page

  Also by Santa Montefiore

  Title page

  Copyright page

  Dedication page

  Contents

  PART ONE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22 />
  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  PART TWO

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Acknowledgements

  FIND OUT MORE ABOUT SANTA MONTEFIORE

  The Summer House

  The House By The Sea

  Secrets of the Lighthouse

  We hope you enjoyed reading this Simon & Schuster eBook