watching a pair who are nesting in one of my barns. He is also rather keen,’ Henry began to laugh, ‘on my investing in more cockatoos; he says our one and only is solitary and bored. In the wild they live in flocks. You met him, I think?’ he addressed the girls.
Antonia looked up from her plate. ‘Yes, he made us jump.’ She stared at Henry.
‘Made us both jump,’ said Barbara, staring too. ‘Then it slid down the banisters.’
‘He is amused when he does that,’ said Henry. ‘Frightening you must have been a bonus.’ He looked from Barbara to Antonia, sizing them up. ‘He is not liked by my wife,’ he said. ‘It is difficult, when choosing presents for her, to know what, other than bed, she does like.’ James, who had been looking vaguely uncomfortable, gave a barking laugh. Henry ignored James. ‘And she can only occupy one bed at a time, so she is bored and solitary. But it was good,’ he said, resting his eyes on Antonia, ‘that you made her laugh.’
‘We laughed. She didn’t,’ said Barbara.
Everyone sat in silence for some moments.
It had not been a happy meal, Matthew thought, as he managed to separate Antonia from the others and walk her out into the garden. Pilar had kept up some sort of chat as they ate roast duck, green peas and new potatoes and the girls, remembering their manners, had discussed the cinema with Ebro while they ate raspberries and cream. Once off, Ebro showed himself to be a considerable chatterer. Henry, having made everyone uncomfortable by his snide references to his wife, had sat watchful and silent. James, one of those rare people born with an upturned, perpetually smiling mouth, had chipped into the cinema talk with obvious half-heartednesss and I, thought Matthew, taking Antonia’s arm, found myself feeling bloody angry for some unknown reason.
‘You seem,’ he said to Antonia, ‘you and Barbara, to have developed an instant rapport with our host.’
‘Rapport?’ said Antonia. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean,’ said Matthew, ‘that you kept staring at him and if you caught his eye, you certainly, I can’t speak for Barbara, blushed.’
‘It was the wine,’ said Antonia. ‘I really shouldn’t drink; some wines make me go red and I did not stare. I cannot, of course, speak for Barbara.’
Matthew said, ‘Don’t be like that.’
Antonia said, ‘Like what?’
Matthew said, ‘You did stare, I was watching you.’
Antonia said, ‘Feel my cheeks.’
They were now well away from the house. Matthew took Antonia’s face between his hands. ‘Oh, Antonia.’ He was moved; her skin had the texture of fresh mushrooms. He said, ‘I apologize.’
‘So I didn’t stare?’
‘You didn’t stare.’ He held her face lightly. ‘Are you still affected by the wine?’
‘Don’t think so. Why?’
‘Will you marry me? Now don’t answer if you are at all squiffy.’
‘I am not. Yes, I will.’ Antonia put her arms round Matthew’s neck. ‘Gladly,’ she said.
In the tree above them the cockatoo raised its crest and shrieked, shifting its weight from one foot to the other.
Matthew said, ‘Christ! And Henry talks of buying more of them.’
‘I think Henry must be mad.’ Antonia doubled up laughing.
‘What makes you think that?’ Matthew did not want to discuss Henry. Henry had no place in this proposal of marriage. He kissed Antonia’s open mouth, slid his fingers over her ears to feel the texture of her hair. ‘Let’s go and sit on that seat over there,’ he said, ‘and talk about us.’ He led Antonia across the grass and sat her on a garden seat. ‘I have never asked anyone else to marry me,’ he said.
‘I should hope not. I am unique,’ said Antonia.
‘Henry may be a bit eccentric,’ said Matthew, circling his arm round Antonia until his hand covered a breast, ‘but he’s got his head screwed on. Why d’you suggest he’s mad?’ He tried to decide whether Antonia’s nipple had hardened.
Antonia covered his hand
Antonia looked up from her plate. ‘Yes, he made us jump.’ She stared at Henry.
‘Made us both jump,’ said Barbara, staring too. ‘Then it slid down the banisters.’
‘He is amused when he does that,’ said Henry. ‘Frightening you must have been a bonus.’ He looked from Barbara to Antonia, sizing them up. ‘He is not liked by my wife,’ he said. ‘It is difficult, when choosing presents for her, to know what, other than bed, she does like.’ James, who had been looking vaguely uncomfortable, gave a barking laugh. Henry ignored James. ‘And she can only occupy one bed at a time, so she is bored and solitary. But it was good,’ he said, resting his eyes on Antonia, ‘that you made her laugh.’
‘We laughed. She didn’t,’ said Barbara.
Everyone sat in silence for some moments.
It had not been a happy meal, Matthew thought, as he managed to separate Antonia from the others and walk her out into the garden. Pilar had kept up some sort of chat as they ate roast duck, green peas and new potatoes and the girls, remembering their manners, had discussed the cinema with Ebro while they ate raspberries and cream. Once off, Ebro showed himself to be a considerable chatterer. Henry, having made everyone uncomfortable by his snide references to his wife, had sat watchful and silent. James, one of those rare people born with an upturned, perpetually smiling mouth, had chipped into the cinema talk with obvious half-heartednesss and I, thought Matthew, taking Antonia’s arm, found myself feeling bloody angry for some unknown reason.
‘You seem,’ he said to Antonia, ‘you and Barbara, to have developed an instant rapport with our host.’
‘Rapport?’ said Antonia. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean,’ said Matthew, ‘that you kept staring at him and if you caught his eye, you certainly, I can’t speak for Barbara, blushed.’
‘It was the wine,’ said Antonia. ‘I really shouldn’t drink; some wines make me go red and I did not stare. I cannot, of course, speak for Barbara.’
Matthew said, ‘Don’t be like that.’
Antonia said, ‘Like what?’
Matthew said, ‘You did stare, I was watching you.’
Antonia said, ‘Feel my cheeks.’
They were now well away from the house. Matthew took Antonia’s face between his hands. ‘Oh, Antonia.’ He was moved; her skin had the texture of fresh mushrooms. He said, ‘I apologize.’
‘So I didn’t stare?’
‘You didn’t stare.’ He held her face lightly. ‘Are you still affected by the wine?’
‘Don’t think so. Why?’
‘Will you marry me? Now don’t answer if you are at all squiffy.’
‘I am not. Yes, I will.’ Antonia put her arms round Matthew’s neck. ‘Gladly,’ she said.
In the tree above them the cockatoo raised its crest and shrieked, shifting its weight from one foot to the other.
Matthew said, ‘Christ! And Henry talks of buying more of them.’
‘I think Henry must be mad.’ Antonia doubled up laughing.
‘What makes you think that?’ Matthew did not want to discuss Henry. Henry had no place in this proposal of marriage. He kissed Antonia’s open mouth, slid his fingers over her ears to feel the texture of her hair. ‘Let’s go and sit on that seat over there,’ he said, ‘and talk about us.’ He led Antonia across the grass and sat her on a garden seat. ‘I have never asked anyone else to marry me,’ he said.
‘I should hope not. I am unique,’ said Antonia.
‘Henry may be a bit eccentric,’ said Matthew, circling his arm round Antonia until his hand covered a breast, ‘but he’s got his head screwed on. Why d’you suggest he’s mad?’ He tried to decide whether Antonia’s nipple had hardened.
Antonia covered his hand
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