The Swallow and the Hummingbird(163)

‘Mine is not as thick as it was, but that is age,’ he said, turning to look at her.

She was a beautiful girl, now that she was no longer crying. Her eyes were the same colour as his, sodalite blue, the very bluest of blues, and her smile was wide and charming like her grandmother Mitzi’s, who had been celebrated for her loveliness.

Rebecca ate her omelette hungrily while Max went through her box with growing curiosity. There was a gold Star of David pendant and a diamond butterfly brooch that had belonged to his mother and a notebook of his father’s with prayers written out in his wiry handwriting, an old black Bible and a gold signet ring. He was amused to find an old theatre programme with his mother’s name emblazoned on the front. They had obviously scrounged around for keepsakes to leave in case they never returned. Max felt his throat constrict with emotion as he handled each item with reverence. Rebecca was too young to understand the significance of these things.

Once he had settled her into the bedroom that he and Ruth had slept in on their first night now over thirty years ago, he telephoned Ruth. She was as surprised as he had been. ‘Are you certain she is not a fraud?’ she asked.

‘Absolutely, she even looks like us.’

‘How could Lydia have had a child of sixteen now?’

‘Work it out. She would have been eighteen.’

‘That’s incredible.’

‘I know. It’s amazing. Rebecca barely looks old enough to have a child, but she’s made it all the way here from Austria on her own. She’s no fool and she’s efficient and capable, her suitcase was immaculately packed. She’s not a child. You have to come over tomorrow, as early as you can. The photographs are a miracle.’

‘I can’t believe that Lydia lived,’ she said quietly. ‘All this time we thought she was dead.’

‘I wish we had known her. The least I can do is look after her child,’ he said in a low voice.

‘You’re a very good man, Max.’

‘No, Ruth. Rebecca and Mitzi are a blessing.’

It was true. Max suddenly felt complete. The hollowness of spirit had been filled. He had a purpose far greater than any business could inspire.

The following morning when Max pulled open the curtains he saw to his amazement a pair of snow geese standing in the middle of the lawn. He blinked, then blinked again. They were still there, the sunlight catching their shiny white plumage as they looked down their short bills at the snowy garden. ‘I thought they lived in Canada,’ he muttered to himself, recalling the famous story of The Snow Goose by Paul Gallico. He shook his head and hastily dressed, smiling as he remembered the details of the evening before. How suddenly his life had changed. In a single moment. No day had ever looked more lovely.

As he walked down the stairs to the hall, the scent of wood from the dying embers in the grate was as it had been when Primrose had been alive. The house even felt the same again. With a light step he wandered into the kitchen. Mrs Gunter, the cook, would be arriving later to prepare lunch and dinner; until then he had the kitchen to himself and set about making coffee, tea, fruit juice, poached eggs, toast and porridge for Rebecca, not knowing what she would like best and wanting to please her.

When she came down she looked entirely different. She had washed her hair, applied some makeup, dressed in a pair of jeans and a pale blue sweater. She looked older than her years and her smile betrayed her contentment. In her arms she held Mitzi, who was awake and blinking around with curiosity.

‘Is all this for me?’ she asked, when she saw the breakfast laid out on the table.

‘I didn’t know what you’d want,’ he replied with a shrug.

‘Thank you. I don’t know where to begin.’ Her laugh was soft and woody.

‘Why don’t you give Mitzi to me? She won’t mind, will she?’ he suggested enthusiastically. ‘Then you can eat.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. She’s my great-niece.’

‘You’re not a typical man, are you?’

‘I don’t have children of my own,’ he replied, smiling sadly. He took the baby from her. She lay in his arms, trying to pat his chin with her small, podgy hand.

‘Max, when you said last night that I had come home, did you mean it?’ she gazed at him apprehensively.

‘I meant every word. You’re family. You belong here.’

‘I don’t know how to thank you.’

‘You don’t have to, Rebecca. You see, I have grown up believing my sister to be dead. That thought has haunted me for years. If you hadn’t turned up last night, I would never have known the truth. I would have died an unhappy man. Now I will die happy knowing that she had you and little Mitzi here. She had a future after all and it is my future too.’ He looked at her puzzled face. ‘Do you understand?’