A Song for Summer

He had sat down on the stone rim beside her and as she looked up at him, grateful for his encouragement, he found it necessary to correct the impression he had formed of her. As she swam out with her brood, she had seemed strong-willed and purposeful. Since then, Chomsky's besotted ravings, Bennet's praise and the legend of the icon corner had led him to expect a kind of St Joan wielding a bucket and mop. But she looked gentle and funny ... and perhaps vulnerable with that wide mouth, those thoughtful eyes.

Ellen too found herself surprised. If Marek's broad forehead and shaggy hair, his sojourn in the stable block, accorded well enough with the image of a solitary woodsman, his voice did not. He had spoken in English, in deference to the custom of the school, and his voice, nuanced and light, was that of a man very much at home in the world.

"There was something I wanted to ask you," she said. "Bennet said you'd help me. I want us to have storks at Hallendorf. I want to know how to make them come."

His face had changed; he was silent, withdrawn.

"Perhaps it's silly," she went on, "but I think the children here need storks."

The silence continued. Then: "With storks it isn't necessarily a question of needing them. It's a question of deserving them."

But she would not be snubbed.

"Sophie deserves them. And others too. Storks mate for life."

"It's too late this year, you know that." "Yes. But there's next year."

"Ah, next year." She had not deceived herself; somehow she had made him angry. "Of course. W hat a little islander you are, with your English Channel which makes everyone so seasick and you so safe. You think we shall still be here next year? You think the world will stay still for you?"'

"No," she said, putting up her chin. "I don't think that as a matter of fact. I came here because I wanted to find Kohlr@oserl and thought maybe I didn't have very long, but it doesn't matter; the storks would still--"'

"Kohlr@oserl? Those small black orchids?"'

"Yes, my grandmother spoke of them before she died, but never mind about that. I want storks because--

"' and she repeated the words she had spoken to Sophie, "because they bless a house."

He had withdrawn again but she no longer felt his anger. "What exactly do you intend for this place?"' he said presently.

It was her turn now to fall silent. She had tucked her feet under her skirt, still perched on the rim of the well.

"I can't put it into words ... not properly. It's to do with those paintings of places where the lion lies down with the lamb ... you know, those primitive painters who see things very simply: birds of Paradise and great leaves and everything blending with everything else. Or the Forest of Fontainebleau--I've never been there, but I saw a picture once where the stags had crucifixes between their antlers and even the animals who are probably going to be shot look happy. When I saw the castle from the lake that first time, I imagined it all. The rooms clean and clear and smelling of beeswax and flowers, and the roses still free and tangly but not choked ... a sort of secret husbandry that made them flourish. I thought there might be hammocks under the trees where the children could lie and I imagined them running out when it rained so as to turn their faces to the sky--but not before they'd shut the windows so that the shutters wouldn't bang.

I thought there could be a place where everything was received with ... hospitality: the lessons and the ideas ... and the food that comes up from the kitchens. Of course the food wouldn't be like it is now," she said, smiling up at him. "There'd be the smell of fresh rolls in the morning and pats of yellow butter ... and somewhere in the theatre which the count must

have built with so much affection for his mistress, there'd be a marvellous play full of magic and laughter and great words to which people would come from everywhere ... Even the villagers would come, setting sail for the castle in their boats--even the man who found Chomsky in his fishing nets would come." She looked up, flushing. "I know there can't be such a place, but--"'

"Yes, there can," he said abruptly. "I could take you to a place that ... feels like that. If times were different I would do so."

"And it has storks?"'

"Yes, it has storks."

He rose, dropped the gym shoe into her trug. Then he stood looking down at her--not smiling ...

considering ... and she caught her breath, for she felt that she had been, in that moment, completely understood.

"I'll look for a wheel," he said--and walked away across the courtyard to begin his work.