The Swallow and the Hummingbird(160)

When Max returned a few days later he found the package in the hall and the door to his secret room locked as before, but Delfine was sitting on the stairs waiting for him. He could tell by the look on her face that she was weary with anger. His eyes darted to the package where he noticed the evidence of her tampering.

‘You’ve been into my room, haven’t you?’ he said quietly, putting down his bag and taking off his coat.

‘Who is she?’ she demanded, standing up. ‘Don’t lie to me Max. The woman who sculpts those dreadful pieces is the woman who you love. You always have. Why are you with me if you don’t love me? They’re not even very good, you know. In fact, they’re appalling!’ She stood up and slapped him hard across the face. He recoiled, but when he looked back at her, his eyes misted with sorrow. ‘I despise you for taking advantage of me,’ she continued, her voice rising into a scream. ‘Who is she? I demand to know. It is my right to know.’ When she was angry her French accent was exaggerated. Max sighed in resignation and pulled a key ring out of his breast pocket. He walked down the hall and opened the door to his secret room. She followed him inside.

‘I’m not going to lie to you, Delfine,’ he said quietly, switching on the light. ‘She is called Rita and I grew up with her in Frognal Point. She is the granddaughter of Mrs Megalith, the woman who adopted me when I fled Austria at the beginning of the war. I love her. I always have, but she doesn’t love me.’

‘So you buy all her sculptures. That’s pathetic!’ she snapped scornfully.

‘I buy her sculptures because she was in financial trouble. I knew she wouldn’t accept my money so I sent a man down to pose as the proprietor of a gift shop interested in her work. It is my way of supporting her.’

‘You expect me to believe you?’

‘I have no reason to lie.’

‘How long have you been buying these pitiful things?’

‘About three years, I think. I’ve lost count. It doesn’t matter. I will buy them all until I have no more room to store them.’

‘I’ve suspected you loved another woman for ages. Tell me, why are you with me?’

‘Because I’m fond of you. You make me laugh. I enjoy you. Weren’t we happy in the beginning?’

‘It is all ruined now. You never loved me. If we were happy at the beginning I wouldn’t remember now because you’ve tainted my memory.’ She began to cry. ‘I’m leaving.’

‘Delfine!’

‘No, you listen to me for a change. I want a man who loves me. I’ve never been second best to anybody and I’m not going to start now.’

Max watched her pack up her belongings and climb into a taxi. His overwhelming emotion was one of relief.

So Max returned to Elvestree. He moved into Mrs Megalith’s magical house, wondering whether it would ever be the same now that she was gone. He knew a happy relationship and the laughter of children would put back the magic, but he was denied both, in spite of all his efforts. He thought of Lydia and sobbed into his pillow that first night, when darkness hid his despair from all but the ghosts who inhabited the place. He wished he could remember her face, but he had barely any memory of her at all. He wanted to telephone Rita but it was the middle of the night. But then, as he felt the hollowness in his spirit engulf him completely, he experienced a strong feeling of warmth and love like that first night all those years ago. Then he felt someone pull up the blanket and kiss him tenderly on the forehead. He dared not open his eyes in case he woke up from what must surely be a dream, but he was certain he wasn’t asleep. Then he breathed in the familiar scent of mothballs and cinnamon and knew that he wasn’t alone.





Chapter 36





In the months that followed, Max controlled his business from Elvestree, making occasional visits to London for meetings. He also pursued his other cultural interests, inviting foreign politicans, famous writers, artists and composers from all over the world to Mrs Megalith’s once magical home. He sponsored exhibitions, bought a publishing house which he renamed Guinzberg & Megalith, and continued to work tirelessly for the charity he had set up in support of Jewish causes. He kept himself busy in order not to focus on his sterile private life. However, there was one ambition which smouldered continuously in his restless soul: to buy back the Imperial Theatre in Vienna, if only to smell again the musty, perfumed scents of his childhood and listen to the echo of voices reverberate across the years to fill the gaping hole that decades of silence had carved upon his soul.

Without Primrose’s indomitable presence Elvestree wasn’t the same. Not only had the cats gone but so had the magic. The exotic fruit withered and died, the vegetables ceased to grow in such large proportions, spring blossomed unexceptionally, as it did everywhere else. Strange birds no longer diverted off course to summer in the gardens. Only the swallows still nested in the far corner of the drawing room as they had always done. Max changed nothing in the house. He gave Primrose’s box of crystals and other mystical things to Elsbeth and Hannah to share with Eddie, as promised, but he moved nothing. Still, the feeling of the place had altered.