The Girl in a Swing

Mistralan. Don't 'alf make you feel important sometimes.

  That Mr Steinberg's always bin ever so nice to me.' She

  paused, and then added, 'An' 'e don't spend two bob,

  neither.'

  That was what I was thinking. But would he spend a

  hundred and fifty thousand pounds?

  307

  Over lunch, Kathe seemed more or less recovered, though still

  not entirely herself. As usual, she went home on the 'bus

  about tea-time, and I determined to devote the evening to

  restoring her spirits. Arriving home to find her having a

  bath, I took my secateurs, went out into the garden and cut

  a huge bunch of everything I could find. The piece de

  resistance was a great purple gladiolus with something like

  twenty blooms on it, which cost me a bit of a pang, but I

  reckoned it would be worth it. I carried the lot up to the

  bathroom in my arms - short and tall, earwigs and all, as my

  father used to say - anyway, Kathe never minded insects and

  plonked them into her verbena-scented arms as she sat

  on the edge of the bath. Then, at her request, I cut her toenails,

  while she ran a couple of inches of cold water into the

  bath and put the flowers in one by one, making me tell her

  the English name of each as she did so.

  'Are you going to garden this evening?' she asked, coming

  back into the bedroom.

  'I might do a bit.'

  'Lass mich helfen. You can put me in a wheel-barrow, if

  you like, and wheel it into a holly-bush, like Peter the Great.'

  'That really would be a great help. Only the holly-bush

  here belongs to the crickets. Anyway, Peter the Great was a

  monster.'

  'How d'you know I'm not? G'rrrrrr! Wowf!' And she

  rushed upon me and pushed me down across the bed.

  'Oh, don't start me off, Kathe! No, don't, I said! Later!

  Come on out in the garden, if you're coming. Put on your

  Annie-Get-Your-Gun shirt and let's go."

  'Yes, in about twenty minutes. First things first. Oh, they're

  lovely flowers, Alan! Thank you so much! Come on, pile

  them all over me. Bring that long, purple one, the - the - oh,

  wait a minute and I'll remember - gladiolus - what does

  that mean?'

  'Sword-flower, I suppose.'

  ' "A sword shall pierce thy own soul also." Where did I

  hear that?'

  'Last Sunday in church. "Behold, this child is set for the

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  fall and rising of many in Israel: and for a sign which shall

  be spoken against." '

  'I remember. Tony does read well.'

  At this moment we heard Tony's voice in the hall below,

  calling, 'Can we come in? Anybody about?' I answered, 'I'll

  be right down!' and Kathe, whispering, 'Well, later, then!',

  slid off the bed and began getting dressed.

  Tony had brought little torn with him. They had been

  swimming and were tousle-haired, apple-munching, wettowel-scarved.

  I let torn help to hose the dahlias and gladioli

  (some of the water reached them, anyway). Then he changed

  into his wet trunks again and I hosed him, to his huge delight,

  while Tony and Kathe sat drinking madeira in the

  shade.

  When torn was tired of being drenched I turned the water

  off and we came back to the deck-chairs.

  '- for the forgiveness of sins?' Kathe was saying.

  'Well, yes, that's the sort of basic idea,' answered Tony.

  ' "If any man sins we have an advocate with the Father,

  Jesus Christ the righteous; and He is the propitiation for our

  sins."'

  'Any sin? That's what you said before.'

  'Yes, any sin, provided there's true repentance. "If we

  confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our

  sins." You have to be able to forgive yourself, too, though,

  as I'm always saying.'

  'This all sounds very serious stuff for a fine Friday evening,'

  I said. 'Is it a private fight or can anyone join in? How

  about the sin against the Holy Ghost?'

  'Nobody's ever been able to make out what that is,' said

  Tony.

  'Well, I'm jolly sure it isn't drinking madeira. Let me fill

  you up. Shall I give torn a drop? It's nice and sweet.'

  After they'd gone Kathe said, 'Alan, I want you to come

  for a walk with me, now, all round Bull Banks - right round

  the edge.'

  'The perimeter, as the estate agents call it. Or is it the

  curtilage? I never know.'

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  It was thick in places, where Jack and his old 'ook had

  not penetrated, but Kathe insisted on covering every yard of

  the ground - the ditch behind the old, broken-down pigsty;

  the thicket where the original owner, in Edwardian days, had

  buried his pet dogs, each with its name on a stone; and the

  grassy path above the lane, where the plum-trees grew. The

  garden was divided by a long, artificial bank, thickly planted

  with laurel and silver birches, and below this, near the rosebeds,

  we at length sat down.

  'Someone must have made this bank, mustn't they?' said

  Kathe. 'I wonder why.'

  'When I was little I used to think it must be the Bull

  Banks.'

  'Why's it called "Bull Banks"?'

  I quoted from memory. 'In winter and early spring Mr

  Tod might generally be found in an earth amongst the rocks

  at the top of Bull Banks.'

  'Mr Tod?'

  'He was a fox. It's Beatrix Potter: I can show you if you

  like - I've still got them all.'

  'Bull Banks is like a castle, isn't it - our castle? Nothing

  can get in to hurt us here. I feel safe here with you, Alan.

  Come on, let's go back to where Tony interrupted us.'

  But next day she seemed melancholy once more, and went

  home from the shop soon after lunch, in spite of the brisk

  Saturday trade and the absence of Mrs Taswell. When I

  got back she had taken the Girl in a Swing out of the box,

  put her on the piano next to the vase containing the purple

  gladiolus, and was playing a Bach prelude with a kind of

  abstraction. As I came in she broke off and spoke before I

  could.

  'Alan, what did Tony call that service - the one we were

  talking about last night?'

  'Holy Communion?'

  'Yes. Would it be all right for me to go?'

  'Anyone can go, but you can only what's called cornmunicate

  if you've been confirmed. Have you?'

  'Yes. I was only twelve. Someone explained it then - well,

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  sort of, but I didn't take much of it in, I'm afraid, and I've

  never really bothered about it since.'

  'Never mind. It still counts."

  'What time do they have it?'

  'Eight in the morning. Unless you want to go at seven.'

  'Will there be many people?'

  'Not to-morrow, no.'

  'It couldn't be just you and me?'

  ' 'Fraid not, but I'll be surprised if there's twenty there.

  It'll all be quite casual, you know. Nothing to get worked

  up about.'

  'Do you actually have to confess your sins out loud?'

  'Oh, Lord, no! You all say a general confession. You can

  have a loo
k at it if you want to.' I got my prayer book and

  found the place for her.

  She sat reading for some time, occasionally asking a question.

  '"Meet and right?" Who are you supposed to meet?' I

  explained. ' "Whose property is always to have mercy" what's

  that mean?'

  Glancing up ten minutes later, I saw tears in her eyes.

  'Kathe, it's supposed to be a cheerful business, you know.

  I wouldn't take it too much to heart. "He is faithful and just

  to forgive us", and all that.'

  'It says, "Thou that takest away the sins of the world -"'

  'I know. It always gives me a mental picture of old Jesus

  stumping along with a sack, to chuck them in the sea or

  something. Come on, darling, you just cheer up, now. Remember

  what you said last night about our castle, remember?

  Anyway, how about some supper? Pali, steak, mousse one

  egg too many, so it -'

  '- Doesn't get stiff! Oh, you are nice, Alan! Let's think.

  No, we won't have patt. We'll have - let me see - prosciutto;

  we've got a melon -'

  '"I am not hungry; but thank goodness, I am greedy,'"

  I said, and followed her into the kitchen.

  311

  Next morning I woke to find Kathe kissing my face and

  shoulders.

  'Morning, Alan darling! D'you know what to-day is?'

  'Sunday.'

  'Ach, nein! I didn't mean just that. It's a monthiversary the

  seventh of July: two months since the day we met.'

  'So it is! How splendid!'

  She got out of bed - she happened to be naked - and stood

  looking at herself in the glass.

  'I'll tell you something else, if you like.' She paused.

  'Well?'

  'I'm three weeks overdue.'

  'You're not!'

  'I am.'

  'Oh, Kathe! Are you going to have a test?'

  'No, just leave it. I'll be sure soon enough. Come on,

  darling, up you get! We're going to church, remember?'

  Since there is not a word about it in either the Bible or

  the Prayer Book, I have never subscribed to the idea of not

  eating or drinking anything before Holy Communion. I had

  a cup of tea, shaved and dressed and checked my watch by

  the telephone. Not surprisingly, I was much preoccupied by

  what Kathe had told me. There was nothing I needed to do

  about it - no plans to be made, no one to be told - not yet,

  anyway. For all immediate, practical purposes I could have

  dismissed it from my mind. Yet, naturally, I could not. If

  what she had as good as told me turned out to be true (and

  why wouldn't it? A healthy girl in the prime of life: why

  else would she be three weeks overdue?), it was intensely

  exciting.

  To hear good news - something of close personal concern,

  lying in the future - is like walking across country and corning

  in sight, for the first time, of a welcome destination - a

  friend's house, or a river or cathedral. One had been vaguely

  aware, of course, that sooner or later it would come into

  view. Well, there it is; and although everything is still the

  same, everything has changed. One is now walking consciously

  towards the waiting thing - whatever it may be. So

  it was with me. Surely it must be so with her too? She had

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  said nothing more, so I took my cue and said nothing either.

  But she was always like that - outwardly casual about the

  most important things. It was as though she felt such

  matters - birth and death, wealth, illness, reputation - to

  involve nothing that she could not take in her stride.

  It was a perfect July morning, the town hall clock sharp

  against a clear, blue sky, the Roary Water fallen silent for

  Sunday and a few chub bubbling the surface as they rose

  below the towpath under the further bank. I parked the

  car and we walked round the tower and in at the southwest

  door.

  I had been right about the likelihood of there being few

  people at the service. There were about fifteen - none with

  whom I was acquainted, though one or two I recognized

  as regular attenders. The verger - who always whispered,

  whether anything was going on or not - was directing people

  into the chancel, and we went up and took our places. The

  sun, shining through the east window, was dappling the

  floor with coloured light - red, blue and green; the centurion's

  cloak, the Virgin's robe, the grass on which the

  soldiers crouched, rolling their dice. I recalled some architect

  once telling me that the reason he liked trees round

  buildings was that the sun in leaves had the effect of bringing

  light down to the ground. This was the same, I thought,

  watching the dim-edged, glowing patches on the tiles as I

  looked up from a short prayer of thanks for our prosperity

  and happiness. A minute or two later the clock struck eight

  and Tony entered from the vestry.

  It was Tony's way to say the initial Lord's Prayer very

  quietly, his back to the congregation, as though commending

  himself to God before beginning the Communion service

  itself. Having completed this, he would turn round and speak

  the Collect facing his parishioners, and thus by implication on

  their behalf.

  'Almighty God, unto whom all hearts be open, all desires

  known, and from whom no secrets are hid ...'

  Had I any secrets? I wondered. There is nothing covered

  that shall not be revealed; and whatsoever ye have spoken in

  darkness shall be heard in the light. I could think of nothing

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  I was concealing from anyone - nothing, anyway, which they

  ought by rights to know. Could Kathe? What a secret person

  she was, I reflected; indeed, one might say an adept at

  concealment. I, who had been married to her for six weeks,

  still did not know her place of birth, her parentage or anything

  about her past life; and this did not bother me in the

  least. The beautiful and good, I thought, are privileged to

  bend workaday rules. 'Trust me,' says the master to the

  disciple. 'It's not possible for me to explain to you as yet

  the full meaning of all you're going to learn, or the delight

  you're going to derive from it. For the 'moment you have to

  learn these - let's say - Greek verbs, so that one day you'll

  be able to read Homer - a joy I can't communicate to you

  now. You've simply got to trust me.' In effect, this was what

  Christ said to us; and what Kathe had said to me. And what

  had I not learned, and gained, from trusting her? I was a

  new man. If she had secrets, I was well content to leave

  them between her and God.

  I emerged from these thoughts to realize that I was not

  joining, as I ought, in the responses to the Ten Commandments

  (which Tony always read in full, as appointed). I

  found the place.

  'Honour thy father and thy mother; that thy days may be

  long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.'

  'Lord, have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep

  this law.'

  'Thou shalt do no murder.'


  'Lord, have mercy upon us, and inclinesour hearts to keep

  this law.'

  Well, my heart was inclined right enough; and I didn't

  want to commit adultery, or steal, or bear false witness

  either. Had I ever, in fact, been faced with the temptation to

  commit a grave sin for personal gain? I couldn't remember

  it. I was lucky. 'It's easy enough,' I remembered my housemaster

  once saying, 'to feel enthusiastic about religion, until

  the time when you come up against real and actual temptation.'

  Yes, I was lucky all right. 'It's lovers who can afford to

  be generous.'

  As we knelt to pray for the Queen I put out my hand and

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  touched Kathe's, but she withdrew it. It needed no more than

  this for me to sense some nervousness in her. What had

  made her decide to come, and why had she shed tears last

  night over the service? I wished I knew. To ourselves, I

  thought, we nearly always make too much of our sins. If only

  she'd tell me, I could probably get her to see that whatever

  it was, it was nothing that hadn't happened in the world

  before or that wouldn't happen again; that it was past probably

  a matter of no greater consequence than, say, a

  boy stealing something, or a girl quarrelling with her mother

  and walking out. Nothing the good Lord couldn't cope with.

  Tony had got to the Collect of the Day. '0 God, who has

  prepared for them that love thee such good things as pass

  men's understanding; Pour into our hearts such love toward

  thee ..." I had had enough poured into mine, I thought, as

  he launched into the epistle. I girded up my loins to try to

  get something profitable out of St Paul - not always the

  easiest of mentors.

  As often, he came across in spiky bits. '... Therefore we

  are buried with him by baptism into death ... Knowing this,

  that our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin

  might be destroyed ... He that is dead is freed from sin ...

  Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto

  sin, but alive unto God ...' Very good stuff, St Paul, I'm sure,

  but frankly I'd rather have a bit of the gospels.

  We stood up as Tony crossed the sanctuary to begin just

  that. ('Glory be to Thee, 0 Lord.') Yet even now I found my

  attention wandering. I called it back.

  'Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, "Thou

  shall not kill: and whosoever shall kill, shall be in danger

  of the judgement ... Agree with thine adversary quickly,

  whiles thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary

  deliver thee to the judge ... Verily I say unto thee,

  thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou hast paid

  the uttermost farthing."'

  As we turned east and began to say the creed I realized

  that Kathe, now in front of me, was standing silent, head

  bowed and eyes on the floor. Although I could not see her

  face, I could tell that she was troubled and that things were

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  not going smoothly for her. The pause for the collection gave

  me a chance to whisper, 'Are you all right, darling?'

  She clutched my arm quickly, convulsively, and seemed

  about to reply; but then, biting her lip, only nodded.

  'Are you sure? Anything the matter?'

  She shook her head. But when the bag had come round

  and we were about to kneel down she whispered suddenly,

  'It doesn't matter where I go. There's nowhere to go.'

  I'd better get her outside, I thought. What a pity she has

  to take it out on herself like this. Catharsis is all very well,

  but this is too much of a good thing altogether.

  I leant across. 'Kathe, come on! We're going!'

  Another shake of the head.

  'Well, I'm going, anyway.' And with this I made to rise

  from my knees; but she restrained me, holding my sleeve.

  'I'm not afraid,' she whispered. 'I'm not afraid!'

  'No, of course not, darling.' I was, though.

  Meanwhile, Tony was praying for the whole state of

  Christ's Church militant here on earth.

  '... And grant unto her whole Council, and to all that are

  put in authority under her, that they may truly and indifferently

  minister justice, to the punishment of wickedness

  and vice, and to the maintenance of thy true religion ...'

  I put my lips to Kathe's ear. 'I don't know what the

  trouble is, but you can always come another time, you know.

  Tony won't mind, if that's what's worrying you.'

  She seemed not even to have heard me, but continued

  staring straight before her.

  Tony said, '... and make your humble confession to Almighty

  God, meekly kneeling upon your knees."

  I now dropped all further attempt to take part in the service