Celeste perched on the edge of the sofa and put the tin on her lap. She didn’t look as if she was intending to stay very long. “I don’t know. He really wanted to come down here. It seems to be some kind of treasure hunt.”
“How nice!” Marigold gushed. “Such a sweet little thing, isn’t he?”
“Very,” Celeste replied.
“Huxley said that he was very clear about what he had to find this morning. He dragged poor Grandpa all over the estate.”
“I’ve told him I’ll go with him tomorrow.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Celeste.” Marigold paused and her features softened into a kind smile. “Tell me, dear, how are you?”
Celeste took a deep breath and dropped her gaze to the cake tin. “I’m sorry I was rude, Marigold. It was unforgivable.”
Marigold waved a hand in the air to dispel any hard feelings. “Don’t be silly. You’ve been through a really rotten time, you’re entitled to be as rude as you like.”
“No, I’m not. I didn’t think I’d cope with having a child in the house again. But he’s just a boy, isn’t he? A little boy.”
“Yes, he is.”
“I think Jack and he would have been good friends. Jack liked Harry Potter and exploring, too.”
Marigold was surprised that Celeste was speaking openly about Jack. “It’s a great shame,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. Everything sounded like a gross understatement when it came to Jack.
“He reminds me very much of him,” Celeste continued.
“Does he?”
“Yes.” Celeste’s eyes began to well with tears. “He reminds me how little Jack was.”
At that moment, as Celeste’s tears threatened to overflow, Bruno wandered into the room out of breath. “Where have you been, darling?” Marigold asked him.
“Into the attic.”
“What on earth were you doing up there?”
“I found a dead butterfly.” He walked over and showed his grandmother the box. She took it carefully and opened it. Sure enough, there, carefully nestled in cotton wool, was a perfect painted lady.
“Just the thing for that box,” said Celeste.
“I know,” he replied, beaming proudly.
“You’re so clever, Bruno,” Marigold exclaimed. “So, what’s next?”
“Cake,” he replied.
Marigold laughed. “What a good idea, darling. I’ll give Grandpa a shout.”
A while later, Huxley emerged and they all went into the kitchen to eat the chocolate cake. Bruno squealed with delight when Celeste opened the tin to reveal Tarquin pictured on top of the cake. “Oh, how brilliant!” Marigold exclaimed. “You really are very talented, Celeste.”
“I loved doing it.”
“Here’s a knife. Give a slice to Grandpa. No one loves chocolate cake more than him.”
Bruno giggled. “I do,” he said, and laughed some more.
“Oh, this is awfully good,” said Huxley, biting off the end of his slice. “How do you find it, young man?”
“Good,” Bruno agreed.
“It’s better than good. I’d say it’s exceedingly good!” The old man’s eyes sparkled as he looked upon his grandson.
“Aunt Celeste, can I have the picture of Tarquin?”
“Of course you can,” she replied, and carefully cut around it and lifted it off the cake.
“Grandma, do you have something I can put it in?”
“Don’t you want to eat it?” she asked.
“I want to keep it.”
“Very well.” She pointed to one of the doors off the kitchen. “Go into the larder and you’ll find some plastic containers on the floor on the right. Help yourself.” The child hurried off.
“He’s like a magpie,” said Huxley. “If he continues like this, that box will be full at the end of five days.”
“I wonder what he’s going to do with all that stuff,” said Celeste.
“Georgia did say he’s in his own world,” Marigold mused.
Huxley sighed and took another bite of cake. “It’s a very exciting world. I rather wish I could join him there.”
8
“She apologized to me, you know,” said Marigold when Celeste had left and Bruno was lying on the floor with one of the dogs.
“I have to hand it to you, old girl. You were quite right,” Huxley conceded. “I wasn’t so sure it would work, but you’ve proved me wrong.”
Marigold grinned. “I think I might drive off to Alresford for a while. She thinks I’m frightfully busy this week.”
“And what? Drive around for a few hours?”