The Black Swan

“Come on then. Roland will be amused. He says I pick up people. Well, I like meeting people. I like talking to people. And after all, we’re not strangers, are we? We met on the boat.”

“I certainly don’t feel we are.”

She laughed and turned her horse back the way she had obviously come. I followed.

We rode for about a mile until we came to the village of Lengore. “It’s charming,” she told me, “particularly on market days. I love shopping. They all laugh at my atrocious accent. But I can laugh with them. I know how awful it is. The house is just on the outskirts of the village.”

We came to it. It was small and of gray stone, surrounded by a pleasant garden. She pointed out to me what she called the cabin where Angelique and her spouse lived. There was a stretch of grass on which a few chickens scratched while a rooster perched proudly on a low stone wall watching over his hens.

“It’s a little primitive in some ways,” said Phillida. “But my brother says that this is what we have come here for. There are two or three barns... good for storage... and a field, too, so we have plenty of space. We hire the horses for the time we are here... and Pierre-that’s Angelique’s husband-looks after them as he does the chickens and a couple of geese. So you see, it really is the country life.”

She pushed open a door and we were in a room with stone walls and tiled floor. There was an enormous fireplace and a kettle hanging on a chain. Leading from this was another room into which she led me. It was fitted with two armchairs and a sofa. Her brother stood up and laid aside the book he had been reading. He looked puzzled at first until Phillida explained. “Look whom I have found,” she cried. “It’s Miss Lucie Lansdon. Come on, Roland, you remember. On the boat coming over.” She turned to me. “Roland doesn’t remember people like I do. But then, of course, we had a long chat. He only saw you briefly.”

“But I do remember,” he said. He held out his hand. “How do you do, Miss Lansdon.

How nice to see you.”

“Wasn’t it a coincidence?” said Phillida. “We just happened to come face-to-face near that pine copse. Then it all came back to me ... how we’d met and talked.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure,” said her brother.

“What about some coffee?” said Phillida. “I’ve lured her here with a promise of Angelique’s special brew.”

“Come and sit down,” he said.

“Yes, that’s right, and I’ll go and see about the coffee.”

She went and I was left alone with Roland.

I said, “You seem to be comfortable here.”

“Oh yes. It’s more pleasant than a hotel.”

“I can see that.”

“And the couple takes on everything, so there is nothing for my sister to worry about.”

“Is she better? I gathered she had come here for some sort of convalescence.”

“The place suits her. But I don’t know how long we shall be able to stay. I shall have to go back eventually, but I do want to make sure she is quite well before we return. It’s a weakness in the chest. Our climate is too damp for her. This dry heat suits her better.”

“She seems absolutely well.”

“That’s Phillida. She refuses to accept ill health. She has a wonderful spirit.”

“You and she are obviously very good friends.”

“Brother and sister. But I admit there is a special closeness.

Our parents died. They were killed together in a railway accident. To lose them both at one time... well, you can imagine what that meant. She said she would look after me. I said I would look after her.”

“Well, you both seem to be making a good job of it.”

Phillida came back. “Coffee will be served very shortly,” she said. “I want to show Miss Lansdon the house.”

“After coffee,” said Roland.

“Oh come. It won’t take more than a few minutes.” She grimaced at me. “There’s not much of it, and there is just time before coffee arrives. I’ll whip you round in five minutes. It’s not Chateau Bourdon, you know. It was Bourdon, wasn’t it? I remembered because I’d heard it before.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Vast and imposing, I believe.”

“I suppose it is ... rather.”

“Well, come and see our humble abode. You stay here, Roly, in case Angelique brings the coffee in.”

She took me up a spiral staircase which led from the sitting room. There were two rooms on the next floor. “This is the best bedroom, my domain. Roland insisted on my having this room. The other room is a sort of dressing room-sitting room. Then there’s another floor... to the attics really. “We climbed the stairs to a room in which on one side the ceiling sloped and one had to stoop to approach the small window which looked down on the patch of green and the hens. The geese were down there too.

She laughed. “It’s fun in a way. Different from your chateau, I daresay. Roland sleeps up here. It’s difficult for him to stand upright all the time... and it’s amusing, for a holiday, of course. And that’s all. Chateau Fitzgerald. Now let’s get down to that coffee.”

She was right about the coffee. It was delicious.

I found them both interesting and I liked their obvious affection for each other.