The Swallow and the Hummingbird(155)

Susan studied her husband’s face with cold, unfriendly eyes. ‘Are you having an affair, George?’

Her question was as unexpected as it was aggressive. George was stunned. His eyes widened and their boyish expression disappeared to allow the man to reassert himself.

‘No,’ he replied firmly.

‘Where have you been?’

‘On the beach.’

‘Alone?’

‘You don’t ever want to come with me.’

‘Because you never ask me.’ She felt her chest tighten with anguish as she realized that he had drifted away from her, and that she had allowed him to.

‘Then I’m asking you now,’ he smiled at her hopefully and the skin creased around his eyes. ‘Will you come down and watch the sunset with me?’

She fought hard against tears. She had always detested self-pity and weakness, in herself as much as in others. She turned to take the supper out of the oven, lest it burn while they were away, and said, ‘I’d like that.’

After that, they never spoke of Rita again. Her ghost slowly faded from their marriage, relegated to the cave, the beach and the windy cliff tops where it remained as whispers in the rise and fall of the tides. George felt her presence there when he took solitary walks but he did not let it interfere with his life and certainly did not allow his occasional yearning to show. He had made his decision.

‘Do you suppose, Reverend, that Faye was seeing Thadeus Walizhewski during her marriage to Trees?’ asked Miss Hogmier, leaning eagerly across the counter so that the poor Reverend could smell the stale odour that surrounded her. She spoke in a loud hiss even though the shop was empty.

‘That is not for us to judge, Miss Hogmier,’ replied the Reverend reproachfully. ‘Her husband is with God now. It is right that she should love again.’

Miss Hogmier’s eyes narrowed and she grinned as far as her bitter little mouth allowed. ‘I’ve heard, although I won’t mention any names, that she was with him the night Trees died.’

‘Yes, she was delivering a sculpture.’

‘So she says.’ She stood up and crossed her arms. ‘If you ask me, and I’m not one to gossip, live and let live is my motto, she’s been itching to move in with Thadeus ever since she buried her husband. She thinks no one will be any the wiser. But she doesn’t fool me.’

‘She keeps herself to herself,’ said the Reverend, tapping his goods with his fingers, hoping she’d notice and start adding up the shopping.

She nodded slowly. ‘Dark horse more like,’ she retorted with a sniff. ‘What are the young supposed to think? It’s our job to set a good example. Not surprising that George married an American, his mother’s run off with a Pole!’

‘We are all God’s children,’ said the Reverend irritably. He was beginning to lose patience with the woman. ‘Have you put all this on my account?’

‘In a hurry are you? Well, no one has time to talk to an old spinster like me these days. Rushing around, too busy to stop for a nice chat. Not that I’m complaining. I’m a humble woman. Live your life with humility, as my mother used to say to me. I don’t expect much. Just a little kindness. People can be so unpleasant these days, can’t they?’ She opened the red account book with arthritic fingers and wrote in small, squiggly writing.

Reverend Hammond was left uneasy. If Faye had indeed committed adultery it was a grave and dreadful sin. He decided to pay her a visit. The way to heaven was through repentance. It was his duty to see that she got there.





Chapter 35





Two years went by and Max was still finding an excuse to avoid setting a date for the wedding. At first Delfine didn’t complain. She brandished a large engagement ring with three dazzling diamonds and set about redecorating the house at great expense. She made no attempt to open the door to her husband’s secret room. She was too busy shopping, lunching with friends, joining the committees of high-profile charities and accompanying him on business trips when the destinations were glamorous enough. She relished being the future Mrs Max de Guinzberg and posed shamelessly for photographers at parties and was only too happy to give quotes to the press. Max derived pleasure from her enjoyment and lavished her with more gifts. He laughed when Mrs Megalith dismissed her as little more than an ornamental poodle, but he grew intensely serious when she spoke about Rita.

‘Her work is selling very well in London,’ she informed him on the telephone. ‘It’s given her a sense of independence and achievement. Why don’t you get rid of that simpering fool and propose to Rita again?’