A Mother's Love(12)
When she finished, she closed the book. “So, what do you think?” she asked.
“I think the dragon got what he deserved,” Bruno replied.
“I think you’re right. But he learned a valuable lesson, didn’t he?”
“You don’t get anywhere by being mean.”
Celeste smiled. “You most certainly don’t.” She stood up. “You sleep well, now.” The boy snuggled beneath the duvet with his bear tucked under his chin.
A moment later Robert appeared at his bedside. “Sweet dreams, Bruno.”
“ ’Night, Uncle Robert,” he replied. Celeste moved away but Robert bent down and gave the child a kiss on his temple.
They left the door ajar and the light on in the corridor. “Fancy a glass of wine?” Robert asked in a quiet voice.
“Yes, I would.” She nodded.
“Good.”
They went downstairs and into the kitchen. Robert took a couple of wineglasses down from the cupboard and looked through the rack for a suitable bottle. He felt tonight merited a special vintage.
Celeste picked up a Lego plane that Bruno had made and left on the kitchen table. She turned it around in her fingers. “Clever, isn’t he?” she said.
“He’s a good lad,” Robert replied.
“Shame, I think Jack and he would have got on like a house on fire.”
Robert was surprised to hear her refer to their son in this way. The name usually caused her so much pain he had learned not to mention it.
“I think you’re right.” He poured her a glass of merlot and one for himself.
She took a sip. “I feel foolish,” she said with a sigh.
“Why?”
“I’ve been unreasonable. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”
“I’ve been rude to your mother.”
“She’s tough. She can take it.”
“He’s just a boy,” she said with a frown.
“And you’ve made him feel very welcome.”
She took another sip and her eyes glistened. “I don’t know why I ever thought I couldn’t.”
Suddenly they were interrupted by a peal of laughter from Bruno’s bedroom upstairs. They stared at each other in bewilderment. It sounded as if Bruno was having a one-sided conversation. “Who’s he talking to?” Robert whispered.
“He talks to his bear.”
They listened some more. “That bear must be very chatty.” Robert laughed.
Celeste smiled. “They’re both very chatty.”
“Shall we leave him? He’s obviously having a good time up there.”
“Yes, let him enjoy himself.” She took another sip of wine. “I’ll take out some smoked salmon.”
“Great.” He watched her as she moved about the kitchen. Her face looked less tense. He didn’t dare reflect on her smile in case it disappeared again.
The following morning when Celeste and Robert awoke, they heard Bruno in Jack’s bedroom next door. Celeste sat up in alarm, her heart thumping jealously in her chest. Jack’s room was sacred. Why hadn’t she told him? Her initial instinct was to hurry in there and drag the child out. But Robert caught her arm before she made the dash out of bed. “Celeste, what are you going to do?”
“He can’t play in there!” she hissed.
“Why? He’s a little boy and it’s full of little boy’s toys.”
“Because it’s Jack’s room!” Her tone was full of accusation again.
“Do you think Jack would mind?”
“It doesn’t matter. I mind.” She tore her arm away and climbed out of bed.
Just as she reached the door to Jack’s room, she hesitated. The child was chatting away. She pushed open the door and peered inside. He was sitting cross-legged on Jack’s bed with Jack’s Harry Potter Studio book open in front of him. His bear was lying with Jack’s rabbit. He was talking softly, turning the pages, commenting on the pictures.
“Good morning, Bruno,” she said. He looked up with a start, his face turning crimson as if he had been caught doing something wicked. “Who are you talking to?” she asked.
“No one,” he replied quickly.
“Your bear?”
His big eyes stared back at her, the expression in them wild and fearful. “Yes, my bear,” he replied, but he wasn’t a good liar.
“Darling, you’re not in trouble. You can talk to whoever you like.” He seemed to relax a little then. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him not to play in Jack’s room. “Are you hungry?” He nodded. “What would you like for breakfast? Pancakes?”
“I love pancakes,” he replied, closing the book and pulling it off the bed.