The Birdcage

By the time he arrived back at Michaelgarth the sun was setting and Tilda was sitting in the garth, waiting for him. She went to fetch him a drink whilst Lion gambolled to and fro, ears flapping, tail wagging madly.

‘He’s going to be OK.’ Piers took a big mouthful of whisky and looked up at the swallows swooping above him, relaxing for the first time that day. ‘Apparently there is no reason why he shouldn’t make a good recovery, it was quite a minor stroke, but the blow on his head was rather a sharp one. He’ll be home before too long, all being well.’

‘He’ll come here, of course.’ Tilda rolled the ball for Lion and sat down beside Piers. ‘He won’t be able to manage in the flat, will he?’

She looked away from the trestle tables and the barbecue, still standing witness to last night’s party. So much had happened since Saul had stood there, cooking sausages, laughing with their friends, and she was still shocked and oddly disorientated. She’d received a text message from him earlier which read: ‘Back safely, thanks for the weekend’ – and she was wondering how she should respond to it.

‘No, he won’t be going back to the flat.’ Piers set down the glass. ‘That will be a difficult one for him, I’m afraid, but I hope he’ll see how impossible it would be. He’ll need looking after for a while.’

‘I was thinking about it,’ said Tilda. ‘I’ve had plenty of time today for thinking. I know that we’ve made the dining-room a place for me and Jake but we don’t use it all that often. It would make a good bedroom for Felix, until he can cope with the stairs again, and the cloakroom is just across the passage. And if you took those cupboards out of the scullery there would be room for a shower unit.’

‘That’s a very good idea. I’d been trying to work it through, trying to decide where he’d be happiest. Of course, if he recovers quickly, he’ll be able to use the stairs and I know that he’d prefer that. I don’t want him to feel that he’s a burden. I hope he’ll think that he can make his home here but we must wait and see.’ He gave a little chuckle. ‘Four generations of Hamiltons at Michaelgarth; it’s rather a nice thought. At the same time I don’t want you becoming a kind of nurse – after all, you’ve got Jake to look after – so I’ve decided to ask Jenny Coleman to come in on a regular basis, if you’re happy with that idea?’

‘I think that’s sensible. I’m very happy to muck in, you know I’ll do whatever I can, but I was thinking . . .’ She hesitated. ‘I’m wondering if the time’s come for me to get about a bit more.’

She sat back in her chair, winding her hair up with her hands, twisting it into a rope and letting it fall again, seeking some kind of explanation that would not necessarily involve David. He saw her almost begin to speak, and then reject the words, and was seized with compassion for her.

‘Am I right in thinking,’ he began carefully, ‘that there was some problem this morning? I understand that Marianne turned up and then Saul left in a bit of a rush. I don’t want to interfere but I can see that something happened to upset you.’

‘It’s probably silly of me,’ she began rapidly, ‘and I know I got a bit OTT about it but Marianne came over with a story about Gemma and then let slip that she’d had a bit of a fling with David. Gemma, that is, not Marianne.’ She was rushing on, almost gabbling, needing him to have the facts quickly. ‘It was before we were engaged but, even so, I felt really horrid about it. It was when he was staying with Saul on leave and I felt that Saul should have told me about it. I can see now that it was unreasonable but I was shocked and hurt, and Saul and I had a row about it. I asked him to go and he said that he wasn’t going to be David’s scapegoat and that it was time that I saw him, Saul, as a person in his own right.’

‘That sounds perfectly reasonable,’ said Piers, when it seemed that Tilda had finished. ‘Saul’s a young man with his own life ahead and he’s getting tired of waiting to know how you feel about him. After all, it’s very clear how he feels about you.’

Tilda stared at him. ‘But I don’t know how I feel about him,’ she said rather tremulously. ‘I missed him terribly after he’d stormed off and I suddenly saw how much I’d miss him if he weren’t around. But I don’t know if that’s just because I’ve sort of got used to him being there.’ She swallowed, pressing her lips together. ‘It’s not that I don’t love David . . .’

‘My dear girl.’ Piers stretched a hand across the table and gripped her arm. ‘There’s no question in anyone’s mind about how much you love David, let’s get that straight, but no-one expects you to make a career out of widowhood. I certainly don’t. Sudden death numbs us, the shock cripples us, and it takes time for the life to flow back. I’ve never imagined that you and Jake would stay here for the rest of your lives. Michaelgarth is your home for whenever you need it, and it’s Jake’s inheritance, but you must look upon it as a base not as a commitment.’

‘I miss my friends and army life,’ she admitted, staring straight ahead, her chin on her knees. ‘But each time I’ve been back, I’ve felt like a kind of intruder. They all feel badly about David and it’s like I told you before, being a young widow is bad news. It’s like they feel it’s a contagion they might catch and, let’s face it, their lives are chancy enough without that kind of superstitious fear each time they see me.’

‘Then break the Gordian knot. Next time you go up for some party or a ladies’ night or whatever, I suggest that, instead of staying with one of these married friends, you let Saul put you up in a hotel. Go and see him and stay with him and see how you feel then. As soon as Jake is old enough, leave him here with me and Jenny Coleman and give yourself the chance to be with Saul – not as David’s widow or Jake’s mum but as you, Tilda.’

‘It’s not that I don’t love it here too,’ she said quickly. ‘You know I adore it here with you at Michaelgarth. I feel that we belong here too, me and Jake. Oh God, I feel so confused!’

‘My poor Tilda.’ Piers shook his head. ‘This doesn’t have to be some kind of contest for your affection: Saul or David. Michaelgarth or Aldershot. Love is not a finite commodity, there’s enough for everyone. Stop fretting and move on. I know what David would say. “Go for it, love,” he’d say. “Life’s too short.”’

She turned to look at him, then, her eyes shining. ‘I’ve been telling myself that,’ she admitted. ‘Oh, Piers, it’s just that it’s difficult to know my own feelings. Lizzie’s idea about the little craft centre in the barn was such a good one.’

‘It will still be a good one in five years’ time, or ten. Give yourself some space, Tilda. Michaelgarth’s not going anywhere and neither am I.’

She uncurled herself and stood up. ‘Thanks, Piers. You’ve been great.’ She grinned at him. ‘We’ll have some supper soon, say, half an hour, but first I need to make a phone call.’

Darling Pidge,

So here we are and the cottage is sweet.

Lovely weather but it’s rather a trek to the beach for poor little Lizzie’s legs. Dunster is the most gorgeous village but – you’ll be relieved to know! – not a sign of F. I haven’t given up hope, though!

Love from us both. Angel xx

I saw that woman today in Dunster. That actress. She’s your mistress, isn’t she? She had a child with her. I suppose she isn’t yours, by any chance?

He realized that, like Tilda, he no longer needed to feel that there was a contest for his affections: he did not have to choose between his mother’s possessive love or his father’s generosity of spirit but could accept them both. He was free at last. He scooped up Lion, who was lying at his feet on the cobbles busily chewing at the laces on his dekkies, and submitted to having his face licked.

‘You’d better come with me,’ he murmured. ‘You can explore the study and get acquainted with the shades of your ancestors. I have a letter to write.’