When Bruno finally appeared in the kitchen with his grandfather, Celeste had just put the finishing touches to her cake. She sat back and admired it.
“My dear girl, what an artist you are!” exclaimed Huxley, impressed.
“It’s Tarquin!” exclaimed Bruno.
“It’s for you,” said Celeste. “I hope you like chocolate cake.”
“I love it!” Bruno exclaimed.
“I’m partial to a bit of chocolate cake myself. Why don’t we come up for tea and help you eat it?” Huxley suggested.
“Oh, all right,” Celeste replied, surprised. “I mean, yes, what a good idea. Of course Bruno should spend time with his grandparents.”
“Grandpa has been helping me find things,” said Bruno.
“Really? What things?” Celeste asked.
“He needs a box to put them all in,” Huxley told her. “I said you’d have one. It’s just the sort of thing Aunt Celeste would have, I said.”
“How big?” Bruno put out his hands. “Gosh, that’s quite big. What are you going to put in it?”
“Things,” said Bruno mysteriously.
“All right. Let me see.” She disappeared into the larder, returning a moment later with an old dog-biscuit box. “Will this do?”
Bruno’s eyes lit up. “Yes,” he said. She then noticed the horseshoe in his hands. Carefully he laid it inside.
“Where did you get that?” she asked.
“At the stables,” Bruno replied. “There aren’t any horses, though.”
“We sold Jack’s pony,” Celeste told him. “He didn’t need it anymore.”
“Right, Bruno,” said Huxley. “Here are some more things for your box.” He dug into his pockets and pulled out a long, grey feather, a leaf half eaten by caterpillars, and a handful of nuts taken from the sacks of bird food in Huxley’s workshop.
“Gosh, you have been busy,” said Celeste. Bruno didn’t reply; he was carefully placing them all at the bottom of the box so that they didn’t collide with each other. “Is this a box of special things?” she asked.
“Very special things,” Bruno replied solemnly. “Favorite things.” He picked up the box and wandered off in the direction of the playroom.
“He’s a very unusual child,” said Huxley. “We’ve spent all morning looking for those things and nothing else would do. He seemed to know exactly what he wanted. He’s exhausted me. I think I’ll go home and put my feet up. You can go with him tomorrow.”
She smiled, puzzled. “I shall.”
After lunch, during which Bruno told her all about his school in Sydney, he disappeared into the playroom to build some more Legos. Celeste washed up and listened as he chatted away to himself. He seemed perfectly happy on his own. She gazed out of the window at the finches diving in and out of the bushes, and was momentarily drawn out of her thoughts. There was something about their cheerful frolicking that uplifted her own spirits.
“Aunt Celeste.” It was Bruno, standing in the doorway, a solemn look on his face.
“Oh, hi, Bruno.”
“Can we go to Grandma’s house?” he asked her.
“Really, what for?”
He shrugged. “I’d like to.”
“I suppose we could take the cake and eat it down there. Would you like that?”
“Yes,” he replied.
A few moments later they were walking through the garden with the cake carefully stored in a pretty tin. Bruno had found a little box from the playroom and was carrying it in his hand. “What’s that for?” she asked him.
He shrugged again. “In case I find something.”
“It’ll have to be a small something.”
“Yes, it will,” he agreed, skipping off ahead.
When they reached the house Marigold was on the telephone in the sitting room, her feet up on a stool, a cup of tea on the table beside her. As soon as she saw Bruno she wound up the conversation. “Must go, Valerie. My grandson has just appeared.” She smiled broadly. “Well, hello, darling. How are you getting on? You’ve exhausted Grandpa, he’s gone upstairs for a little sleep.”
“We’ve brought you a cake,” said Bruno.
Celeste appeared behind him with the tin. “I made it this morning.”
“I love cake,” Marigold exclaimed. “Is it chocolate?”
The child nodded. “And Aunt Celeste has put a picture of Tarquin on it.”
“Well, isn’t she clever! Celeste, do come in and sit down.” Before she could offer Bruno a chair, he had disappeared into the hall. His footsteps could be heard running up the stairs. “Where’s he off to in such a hurry?” Marigold asked.