The Girl in a Swing

Nur dein Abbild mir im Herzen, -" '

  She stopped, frowning again, and I, knowing the poem

  well, prompted her in a whisper.

  'Weil mein -'

  'Ach, du kennst es? I'm so glad! "Weil mein eignes Herz

  erschuttert".'

  I was moved to see tears in her eyes, but a moment after,

  as she gave a quick sob and turned her head away, I felt taken

  aback and a little upset.

  'Oh, Kathe, I know it's very beautiful, but you mustn't -'

  'It's - it's not the poem, Alan.' She was weeping in earnest

  now, biting her lip and speaking between sobs as she held

  me by the sleeve. 'At least, yes, it is, but not just the poem -'

  'What, then?'

  'Well, the kindness, the - the - style - courtesy, I suppose

  you'd say - all that you've given me this last week - there's

  so little of that in my life, you see -'

  'What?' I was startled. She said nothing more and I repeated,

  more gently, 'What did you say?'

  '- And now you have to go - still und sicher - I do understand

  - I'm not going to make a silly fuss, really - but you

  must know, Alan - how can I help it? "Es zittert nur dein

  Abbild mir im Herzen -" '

  I was so much surprised that I could find no words. Still

  looking away from me, she groped for my hands and took

  them in her own. At length I said hesitantly, 'You mean you

  mean my going away has made you feel all this?'

  She was apologetic. 'I'm so sorry to make a scene; but

  you must realize - after all, it's natural, isn't it? - I've never

  met anyone like you before -'

  'You've never met anyone like me before?'

  'No. I mean, someone who - well, who behaved like a

  gentleman - treated me like a friend - someone I could feel

  safe with - you know, laugh and tease without being taken

  the wrong way - have a happy time. Oh, I am sorry, Alan!

  108

  I'm afraid I haven't got your - detachment. I'll - I'll snap

  out of it: that's what you say, isn't it? Just let me get myself

  straight and then you can put me on the Always 'bus -'

  I was trembling now, my mouth dry.

  'Kathe, do you really mean what you say?'

  She looked up, nodding slowly and expelling her breath

  in a long sigh.

  'Kathe, listen! I've loved you from the moment I first saw

  you - I love you to distraction - you're the most beautiful

  girl I've ever known in my life - I can't believe what you've

  just told me. I was going away because I couldn't bear the

  thought that you'd never - Kathe, if you want me, I'm yours

  for ever. Will you marry me?'

  She started violently, looking up at me open-mouthed.

  'You ask me marry you?'

  'Yes! Yes!' She remained staring and I gave her hands a

  little shake and tug. 'Yes!'

  She fell forward where she sat on the grass, against me

  and into my arms, pressing her wet cheek against mine. 'It's

  not true! It's not - to believe -'

  'Well, that's how I feel, too. I repeat, would you like to

  marry me?"

  She sat back and faced me, wet-eyed but composed now,

  speaking slowly and clearly, like someone taking an oath.

  'More than anything - anything in the world!'

  It doesn't matter what else we went on to speak of that

  evening. We had dinner - it was early - at another small

  restaurant, I saying little and drinking less. We were both, I

  think, in a state of mind rather like delayed shock. I felt as

  though a new world were gradually becoming clear before

  my eyes. I could not grasp it all at once, but at least I realized,

  with bewilderment and great intensity, that I had time

  - the rest of my life - in which to explore and take possession

  of this delight. Yet as I looked, again and yet again, at the

  marvellously beautiful creature sitting opposite me, radiant

  with gladness and fulfilment, I could hardly believe in the

  miracle which had taken place. Continually, I reached out to

  109

  touch her - her finger-tips, her wrist, her hand. I would

  open my mouth to speak, then shut it again, for talking

  could not express what I felt.

  Kathe, for her part, talked easily and spontaneously of

  nothing, just as she had after the concert, but with less

  animation and a kind of joyous awe; rather as she might, perhaps,

  if we had been sitting together on a high cliff, watching

  a huge, red sun sink into the distance of the sea. Once,

  breaking a little, pausing silence, she took my hand and said,

  'I know I'm a chatterbox, dearest Alan: it's only excitement,

  you know. We'll talk about - what is it? - ways and means

  - tomorrow, won't we? Not this evening. I think we've had

  enough - importance - for one day.'

  As we left the restaurant an unexpected and slightly

  macabre little incident took place. Perhaps thirty yards up

  the street was standing a group of about ten or twelve

  people who seemed to be gathered round something lying in

  the road. It turned out to be a large seagull which had obviously

  been badly injured, probably by a passing car. It was

  plain that there was no hope for the poor bird, which was

  bleeding and had a shattered leg and trailing wing. Nevertheless

  it was jerking, pecking at the ground and thrashing

  about, and no one seemed keen to try to pick it up. Neither

  was I, for it had a beak like a pickaxe and never kept still for

  a moment. I heard murmurs of 'Vi ma sla den stakkels fugl

  ihjel' and 'Vi kan ikke lade den lide mere', but clearly any

  such exercise was a long way from getting off the ground.

  Kathe, after one glance, handed her bag to me without a

  word. Then, murmuring in a low but firm voice, 'Undskyld,

  ma }eg ...' she pushed her way between three or four of the

  bystanders, stooped, picked the gull up with both hands and

  without the slightest hesitation wrung its neck. It died instantly,

  whereupon she laid the body gently in the gutter,

  came back to me, took her bag and my arm and walked on

  as though nothing had happened.

  'Kathe, what an amazing girl you are! I really do admire

  you! I could never have done that.'

  'Oh, but sometimes things have to be done, Alan. There's

  no sense in holding back or pretending otherwise, is there?'

  110

  'I suppose not. But I wonder it didn't - well, bother you

  or turn your stomach.'

  'Nothing turns my stomach - nothing. I was in the Red

  Cross once - did I tell you? Never mind, let's forget about it

  now. Listen, I will come and see you tomorrow, after breakfast,

  at the hotel. I won't go to work. But now, here comes

  the Always - oh, Alan, Alan! - the Not-Always 'bus!'

  II

  AFTER Kathe had left me I returned to 0rsteds Parken and

  sat for some time by the lake in the fading light, watching

  the ducks, the people strolling on the grass and petals twirling

  down from the cherry trees. Both my excitement and

  the feeling of unreality that had followed it were gone, and

  now I felt only a firm, smooth confidence and content. Like
/>
  Kathe in the concert hall, I felt there was nowhere I wanted

  to go. I lacked for nothing, needed nothing.

  Together with this sufficiency I had, too, a sure sense of

  the Tightness and acceptability of what I had done. I remember

  repeating to myself, 'His delight is in the law of the

  Lord: and in his law will he exercise himself day and night.

  He shall be like a tree planted by the waterside, that will

  bring forth his fruit in due season.'

  I had long been incomplete, and my incompleteness had

  been known both to myself and - so it seemed to me - to

  God, Who had needed, on my part, this step towards Himself

  before His Creation could become entire. These sort of

  feelings have been expressed in many different ways, since

  they cannot be expressed at all except by image and metaphor.

  Yet it delighted me, now, to reflect that in some form

  or other, they must have been present to the hearts of countless

  people at this moment of their lives. I wasn't so strange

  as I'd thought. On the contrary, I was right in the swim.

  I was both praying and receiving an annunciation, though

  prayer and message alike were wordless.

  Ill

  After a time the blessed physical continuum - Brother Ass

  - took over, as it always does, both in grief and in joy; like a

  respected, kindly servant, privileged by years of trusty employment

  to advise and to speak his mind. 'You could do

  with a drink." 'Have you seen the evening paper?' 'A bath

  would be nice.' To live in the body - what a comfort, what

  a delightful, reliable pleasure! To feel hungry, to feel tired,

  to look forward to going to bed! I agreed whole-heartedly to

  my loyal subordinate's suggestions, attended to all these

  matters in their proper order, went to bed and slept like a

  four-year-old.

  'In twelve months, Alan, I will know everything about old

  china.'

  'Well, you'll enjoy learning, I'm sure, but it might take

  even you a bit longer than twelve months. There's a lot to

  it, you know. But as a matter of fact, my darling -'

  'Anyway, I'll know enough to be able to help you and work

  with you -'

  'As a matter of fact, my darling - grossmachtige Prinzessin

  - I don't think I'll let you. You don't suppose I'm marrying

  you to get a free assistant, do you?"

  'Oh, yes, naturally. I must confess it. Sie uns selber eingestehen,

  ist es nicht schmerzlich suss? I'm Zerbinetta, you see

  - not Ariadne.'

  'Even she couldn't be quicker in the uptake than you. But

  to be honest, Kathe, you really don't have to do anything to

  justify your existence at all. One might as well ask an orchid

  to justify its existence. And anyway, I reckon you've done

  enough work for a bit. No, you're going to lie in bed all the

  morning -'

  'Oh, but I can help you there too, Alan! I can lie in state,

  lie in chains, lie on your conscience, lie in ruins -'

  'As far as in you lies.'

  'Well, you said you loved me to destruction.'

  'To destruction? I couldn't have. When did I say that?'

  'Last night, in the gardens. Why, don't you any more?'

  'Loved you to - oh! To distraction, you precious darling!

  112

  I love you to confusion, perplexity, frenzy, madness! Got it?'

  'Ach so - to distraction! I thought it sounded funny! But

  listen, dearest Alan, now we must not be distracted any more.

  Ways and means. What are we to do? You tell me.'

  'Well, although it tears me in two to say it, I think probably

  the thing is for me to go back to England at once, tell

  my family, put the shop straight and able to go on running

  under its own steam for a bit, and then come back here, or

  wherever you want me. It won't take long and I'll ring every

  day, of course.'

  'But why not the other way round, mein Lieber? You go

  back, then I will make arrangements to leave Hansen's und

  so wetter; then I'll come straight over to England and join

  you.'

  'Well, that sounds fine, if it's what you'd like, but I was

  hoping we could get married as soon as possible.'

  'Me, too! Wedded and bedded, isn't that what they say?

  If I come -'

  'But aren't we going to be married in Germany?'

  'No, in England.'

  'But your home - your family, Kathe?'

  'No. In England, Alan. In England, really. Ernstlich!'

  Seeing me stare, she gave a little laugh. There was nothing

  nervous in it. She was laughing at me for feeling that there

  could possibly be anything odd about any preference that she

  might express.

  I was just going to pursue the point when two things

  occurred to me. First, the wedding is commonly agreed to

  be the bride's affair and within reason she is entitled to any

  arrangements she likes. Secondly, if Kathe did not want to

  be married in Germany she must have her motives, and they

  could well be unhappy ones. Her family might be dead, or

  estranged, or lost behind the Iron Curtain. In all probability,

  to pry would only upset her ajd get nowhere. Anyway, where

  was the advantage? It would be perfectly practicable for us

  to get married in England. It might raise a few eyebrows

  locally, but I didn't care. It would probably be quicker, which

  was all to the good, and it would save me - and my mother,

  and Flick and Bill, none of whom spoke German - from all

  113

  m

  the trouble and expense of travelling to a strange country

  and dealing with a lot of strange people. In fact, these advantages

  now appeared so plain that I began to wonder

  whether Kathe might perhaps have decided on a wedding in

  England purely out of consideration for me.

  I took her in my arms, kissed her and said, 'Is that what

  you really want, for your own self? You're quite sure?'

  'Absolutely. I'll join you in England very soon - just as

  soon as I can.'

  'Won't you want to bring Inge or someone over - you

  know, chief bridesmaid and all that?'

  'No, I don't think so. If I do, I'll let you know.'

  'But shouldn't a bride be attended? It was you who were

  talking so generously last night about style -'

  'Well, to be honest, Alan, I don't think it's worth the

  extra expense, do you? And as for style - oh, my love, I'll

  give you style! You just wait and see!'

  'I don't doubt that.' Returning her gaze, I felt myself

  trembling, and hurriedly went on to something more prosaic.

  'Give me a number where I can telephone you."

  She shook her head. 'No, I can't, dearest, I'm afraid. But

  give me yours in England and I'll telephone you, don't worry.'

  Her lips strayed over my face, my forehead, my eyelids and

  the lobes of my ears, to one of which she gave a little nip,

  so that I jumped. She laughed delightedly.

  'Alan - oh, I love you - I long for you! I'll do anything

  for you - now and always. Do you want to make love now,

  or wait till we're married, or what? I'll do whatever you

  want.'
>
  'Of course I want to! I can't help being a man! If I weren't

  going to marry you, I'd be making love like a shot. Since I

  am, I think perhaps there's something to be said for playing

  it by the book. What about you?'

  'Oh, that's really an Englishman talking - my Englishman!

  'Says half of what he means! You mean you think it's

  - sacred?'

  'Well, yes. That's about it.'

  'Then at that rate, my dearest, you must let me out of

  your arms, because it's driving me half crazy.'

  114

  But indeed she looked so beautiful, so brilliant in her

  happiness, that for my part I found even to look at her an

  almost unbearable excitement.

  That same afternoon I boarded the plane at Kastrup and

  two hours later landed at Heathrow on a clear May evening.

  For two pins I'd have gone chasing the hares over the grass

  between the runways.

  'What wonderful news!' said my mother. 'No, Alan dear, of

  course I don't mind whether she's German or Alsatian or

  Double-Dutch. I know I'm going to love her! How clever of

  you to keep it so quiet! I never had the least idea. When

  did you meet her?'

  'You couldn't have had any idea, Mummy, because I only

  met her ten days ago. That was why I stayed in Copenhagen

  another week, of course.'

  'Yes, of course. You mean you've only known her ten days

  altogether?'

  'Ten days - ten months - ten years. Last Tuesday week that's

  several light-years away already.'

  'What a lovely, lightning courtship! There's lots of people

  would look down their noses at that, I suppose, but I'm not

  going to. I feel almost as excited as if it was me! What part

  of Germany does she come from?'

  'I've no idea. She's never told me. She's worked in Copenhagen

  for - oh, well, I don't know exactly how long, but at

  least a year or two, I think. Her Danish is absolutely perfect,

  and her English too.' *

  'What does her father do?'

  'I can't tell you that either, I'm afraid. I think she may

  have lost touch with her family, because she's never talked

  to me about them. I mean, you know how it sometimes is

  with Germans - her parents may very well be behind the

  Iron Curtain, or even dead. I haven't cared, really, to press

  her about it. It could be very painful, you know.'

  'How old is she, then?'

  T suppose twenty-three; twenty-four. About that.'

  'You're not quite sure?'

  115

  'No, Mummy. It doesn't really matter, after all. You just

  wait till you meet her.'

  'Well, I'm only trying to get a picture of her, darling, in

  my mind. Hasn't she any family at all, that you know of?'

  'Well, no, I suppose not. I tell you, she lives in Copenhagen

  -'

  'Whereabouts?'

  'Well, I don't know, because I've never actually been

  there, to tell you the truth.'

  'How does she get on with your friends Jarl and Jytte?'

  'She's never met them. I was telling you, there was this

  chap Hansen -'

  'Tell me a bit about her friends then, the sort of set she's

  in-'

  'Well, I can't, actually. But she's ravishingly beautiful, and

  she loves music, and she's so amusing and elegant, and she

  teases me - she's awfully good for me - she's wonderful

  company; and just imagine, I very nearly parted from her in

  Copenhagen without either of us saying a word, because each

  of us thought the other couldn't possibly be in love with

  someone like them! She actually thought I wouldn't want

  her! Honestly, it was touch and go. Thank goodness it

  worked out all right!'

  'Well, I was only just wondering whether she mightn't

  have told you a bit more about herself, dear. I mean, she'd

  know I'd want to know, don't you think?'

  'She doesn't need to. You only have to look at her, talk

  to her -'

  T'm longing to! What arrangements have you made? Are

  you going back there soon? Shall I come over too, or wait

  till you tell me?'

  'No, you won't have to. That's another nice thing. She's

  coming over. We're going to be married here.'

  'Here, Alan? Why?'

  'Well, because that's the way she wants it."

  'Yes, obviously. But why?'

  'Oh, Mummy, I can tell you're getting all bothered about

  nothing. Please don't! Just leave it till you meet her. The

  proof of the pudding's in the eating, you know.'

  116

  'You're the one who'll be eating it, dear.'

  'Mummy, I promise you, she's as good and honest a girl

  as ever you could wish for. Just wait, do! Come on, tell me

  about the shop and all that. I'm sorry I left you with it so