falling water, was beautiful. It had seemed sad that all this might be largely wasted when the Colonel departed stateside for an operation for cancer of the throat, but now he was home again and, although he had not yet recovered his voice, he lay stretched out on the white wicker chaise longue well assured and insured, gentle, hospitable and long-suffering.
‘There isn’t any skill a man can’t master, once he’s learned to discipline,’ said the new, youngish doctor. ‘That’s where your Army experience can’t help but come in handy, Colonel. Now, this question of speaking without actually allowing the passage of air through the mouth – well, a lot of people might think that’d rule a lot of the vowels and consonants out altogether; but that’s because they’ve never orientated themselves to the idea of using the resonance inside the mouth and chest. You take that talking bird, Colonel.’
The Colonel, caged in the white painted chair, looked up to where his tame starling hung among the high flowers and leaves of the first-floor balcony. The guests, Mr and Mrs Clancy, Mr Azuela, several of the business community, gazed up as he did to the lightly swinging cage.
‘ Salud, Salud, Salud,’ raved the high-hung starling; the whole cage shook at the stream of pure liquid bubbling sound. ‘Pretty Georgie Porgie, pretty pajarito , pretty boy. My God I can’t bear it. My God I must get out. My God I must go home. Pretty boy, Salud, Salud, Salud. Estraight home, Salud.’
‘Plenty of people will tell you that a bird can’t pronounce those “s” sounds,’ continued the doctor, ‘but there’s proof positive that it can be done and you don’t see that bird’s beak open a crack. The “st” sound it can’t quite manage – not one Spanish native speaker in a hundred can say that sound and not make it “est” and you can’t expect a bird raised here to do any better.’
They all watched and they did not see the bird’s beak open a crack. The doctor explained further and told them – it was a semi-formal gathering – that the Colonel needed constant practice if his voice was to return at all.
‘Georgie Porgie. Get out you bitch,’ trilled the starling.
‘I think I represent the feelings of the Colonel’s circle of friends pretty closely,’ said Mr Clancy at last, ‘when I say we are determined to see him through this thing and that we confidently expect that by Christmas he’ll be a 100% talking member of the community. We confidently expect that.’
They faced the doctor with their good, unanimous eyes fastened on him and flashing through spectacles and contact lenses while above them the ragged mutterings of the starling died out in a long whirring trill, a clicking and whispering to itself and then silence. There was neverquite silence though in the Quinta Terence where there were so many movements in the spiked and creeping plants, servants shuffling across to throw water and sweep the patio five times a day, not bothering to pretend not to listen to what was said.
It was difficult to avoid the sensation of lecturing over the Colonel as if he were a lay figure. ‘It’s a great relief to feel you’re taking a hand in the treatment,’ the doctor said. ‘I want you always to let him take the initiative in a conversation: don’t start the talking – let him search for the words.’ The servants brought tequila, lime, salt and Montezuma beer, and the lay figure got up at last and poured and chinked the ice.
‘It’s certainly hard being called in at this late stage,’ added the doctor as they bumped away in his station wagon down the dry hillside. ‘Not that my predecessor didn’t leave everything in order. I’ve formed the definite impression that the Colonel came here to escape from something. He’s unfailingly kind and courteous but there’s a difficulty in getting through … when I asked him to sign the forms before the operation … we simply ask routinely that all
‘There isn’t any skill a man can’t master, once he’s learned to discipline,’ said the new, youngish doctor. ‘That’s where your Army experience can’t help but come in handy, Colonel. Now, this question of speaking without actually allowing the passage of air through the mouth – well, a lot of people might think that’d rule a lot of the vowels and consonants out altogether; but that’s because they’ve never orientated themselves to the idea of using the resonance inside the mouth and chest. You take that talking bird, Colonel.’
The Colonel, caged in the white painted chair, looked up to where his tame starling hung among the high flowers and leaves of the first-floor balcony. The guests, Mr and Mrs Clancy, Mr Azuela, several of the business community, gazed up as he did to the lightly swinging cage.
‘ Salud, Salud, Salud,’ raved the high-hung starling; the whole cage shook at the stream of pure liquid bubbling sound. ‘Pretty Georgie Porgie, pretty pajarito , pretty boy. My God I can’t bear it. My God I must get out. My God I must go home. Pretty boy, Salud, Salud, Salud. Estraight home, Salud.’
‘Plenty of people will tell you that a bird can’t pronounce those “s” sounds,’ continued the doctor, ‘but there’s proof positive that it can be done and you don’t see that bird’s beak open a crack. The “st” sound it can’t quite manage – not one Spanish native speaker in a hundred can say that sound and not make it “est” and you can’t expect a bird raised here to do any better.’
They all watched and they did not see the bird’s beak open a crack. The doctor explained further and told them – it was a semi-formal gathering – that the Colonel needed constant practice if his voice was to return at all.
‘Georgie Porgie. Get out you bitch,’ trilled the starling.
‘I think I represent the feelings of the Colonel’s circle of friends pretty closely,’ said Mr Clancy at last, ‘when I say we are determined to see him through this thing and that we confidently expect that by Christmas he’ll be a 100% talking member of the community. We confidently expect that.’
They faced the doctor with their good, unanimous eyes fastened on him and flashing through spectacles and contact lenses while above them the ragged mutterings of the starling died out in a long whirring trill, a clicking and whispering to itself and then silence. There was neverquite silence though in the Quinta Terence where there were so many movements in the spiked and creeping plants, servants shuffling across to throw water and sweep the patio five times a day, not bothering to pretend not to listen to what was said.
It was difficult to avoid the sensation of lecturing over the Colonel as if he were a lay figure. ‘It’s a great relief to feel you’re taking a hand in the treatment,’ the doctor said. ‘I want you always to let him take the initiative in a conversation: don’t start the talking – let him search for the words.’ The servants brought tequila, lime, salt and Montezuma beer, and the lay figure got up at last and poured and chinked the ice.
‘It’s certainly hard being called in at this late stage,’ added the doctor as they bumped away in his station wagon down the dry hillside. ‘Not that my predecessor didn’t leave everything in order. I’ve formed the definite impression that the Colonel came here to escape from something. He’s unfailingly kind and courteous but there’s a difficulty in getting through … when I asked him to sign the forms before the operation … we simply ask routinely that all
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