Page 75 of An Invitation to the Kennedys
‘Must there be a why?She lives in Germany, in Berlin, you know, and I suppose must go to parties there, same as anyone would, and now she is here, to stay with Honor.It doesn’t seem so very mysterious to me.I mean, you were in Germany, at that party, and now you are here.Is it not the same?’
‘You are right.I was, and now I am.And so is she.And perhaps there is nothing strange at all.’He looked more cheerful.
‘Youarejumpy,’ Brigid said.
‘I feel I am watched, always.Here I’m watched because I am German; in Germany I am watched because of my family, my grandfather.’
‘Even now?After joining that old Luftwaffe?’
‘Oh yes.Maybe especially now.We joined because my father said we must.He said it was a useful bargain to strike.But I think maybe he was mistaken.He said it would show loyalty, and that was important.But it doesn’t seem like that will be enough after all.’
‘Butareyou loyal?’Brigid asked.‘If you are only showing loyalty, not meaning it, that might be more dangerous again …’
‘It depends to what.My father is loyal to the family.’
They slowed down and turned, all of them, to look back at the house.It stood, large and square, behind them.The windows on the ground floor showed light, fuzzy and muted, through closed curtains, while those of the top floors were in darkness.
‘How lonely it looks from here,’ Brigid said.
‘You’re thinking about the ghosts, aren’t you?’That was Kick.
‘A little,’ Brigid admitted.‘Imagine dying in a fire.’
‘Imagine dying at all,’ Kick said.Fritzi lit a cigarette, then took it from his mouth and offered it to Brigid, who shook her head.He offered it to Kick.‘Mother would kill me.But why not?’She took the cigarette and, leaning back against the trunk of a tree, took a deep drag, blowing smoke out into the charcoal air.
‘You don’t seem like it’s your first cigarette,’ Brigid said, amused.She put her back to the tree trunk also, leaning into it and drawing her white cardigan tight around her.
‘Oh, the boys are always making me smoke, ever since I was a kid,’ Kick said.‘They reckon it’s important that I know how to do it, in case a young man I like ever offers me.’She breathed out again.‘They said I would be ridiculous if I began to cough and splutter and that I should learn to do it properly.Shall we keep walking?’
‘Where are we going, anyway?’Brigid said.‘There’s nothing in the stables.No horses.Yet.My sister wanted to fill every stall, but Chips has said to wait.He hasn’t decided if they will hunt here, or merely shoot.’
‘It will make a difference to the horses they buy,’ Fritzi said thoughtfully.‘An interesting choice.’
‘Is it?’Brigid said vaguely.‘Let’s go there anyway.’She shivered.‘See how wet my shoes are.’She held up a foot.Even in the dim light, her white canvas shoes were dark with mud and rain.
‘You must take my jacket,’ Fritzi said.
‘I suppose I must,’ she agreed.
He draped the jacket around her, then said in friendly tones, ‘But what of you, Kick?’It was the first time he’d called her that.
‘I’m alright,’ Kick said.
They walked to the stables, which weren’t empty after all.A heavy carthorse stood patiently in the first stall, in a deep bed of straw.He ambled up to the half door to look at them.‘What a beauty you are,’ Brigid said, putting her arms around the horse’s neck.‘I love carthorses.I think they are my very favourite.Don’t you, Fritzi?’
‘It depends,’ he said cautiously.‘For pulling a cart, yes.’Brigid made a face.‘But for hunting, no, I prefer a hunter.For racing, a racehorse.For showjumping—’
‘Yes, we get it,’ Brigid said impatiently.‘A showjumper.For dressage, a dressage horse.How little imagination you have!But for a friend – give me a carthorse every time.One just like this fellow, who is the dearest chap I ever met.’The horse was nosing gently at her.‘See, he’s looking for something.An apple.A carrot.If only I had a handful of sugar.If I’d known he was here, I would have brought some.’
‘I will bring some to him tomorrow,’ Fritzi promised solemnly.
‘And that will have to do.I say, I wonder who’s room that is?’She gestured to a light in a room above the stalls at the far end of the yard.There was no window covering so that it shone, hard and yellow in the dusk.
‘Like a ship’s lantern,’ said Fritzi.
‘I didn’t think there was anyone here.Come on, we’d better get back.They will be looking for us.I know a quicker way.’They walked back faster, talking less, coming around the other side of the house and through the gardens at the back.The dressing gong went just as they passed the pool house.‘Go in that door, Fritzi, and you can go straight up the stairs to your room.We’ll be quicker through the side door.’
‘You like him a little more?’Kick asked when they were alone.
