“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’m meant to be taking bridge lessons, aren’t I? I can’t remember what I said now.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think she’ll notice. She’s not into spying.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.
“Why don’t you take Bruno harvesting. I’ve heard the combines chomping away up there.”
“Would you like that, young man?” he asked Bruno, putting his panama on his head.
The child sat up and smiled. “Yes please, Grandpa. That would be awesome!”
Marigold watched them leave. It gave her a warm sense of satisfaction to see grandfather and grandson going on an expedition together. It reminded her of Robert when he was the same age, following his father around like an eager puppy. It reminded her of Jack, too. She popped a chocolate truffle into her mouth to abate her sorrow.
Huxley buckled Bruno into the passenger seat of the Land Rover then set off up the farm tracks to the fields. It was a warm afternoon. The sun was as bright as molten gold, shining radiantly onto the woods and farmland below. Huxley pointed out all the birds that crossed their path, and every time he saw a hare, he exclaimed “Fred Hare” with relish. After a while Bruno was copying him and shouting “Fred Hare” at the top of his lungs, sending the startled animals leaping into the undergrowth.
At last they saw the cloud of dust in the distance and then, as they approached, the gleaming green metal of the combine, glinting sharply in the sun. A tractor and trailer waited nearby for the combine to put out its arm to unload its grain. Huxley pulled up and climbed out of the vehicle. He lifted Bruno onto the hood and stood hands on hips as the combine rumbled past like a metal dinosaur. “Wow! It’s so cool!” Bruno shouted over the noise. “Can I go on it, Grandpa?”
Huxley waved at the driver. “When he comes around again,” he replied. The child gave a shiver of excitement.
They both watched with equal fascination. Huxley, because it was a relatively new machine and he was interested to see how quickly and efficiently it cut the wheat; Bruno because he had never seen one before, except in photographs, and it was bigger and louder than he could ever have imagined. At length it put out its arm and the tractor rattled across the stubble to ride along beside it as it unloaded its wheat.
“I’m going to drive a tractor one day,” Bruno announced, jumping off the Land Rover.
“Good, we always need enthusiastic tractor drivers,” said Huxley. “Right, it’ll come round now and you can climb up.”
When the combine reached them, Huxley took his grandson’s hand and led him across the field. The beast’s roar was deafening, its breath hot and furious, and the child cowered a moment against his grandfather’s legs. “You’ll be all right with Peter,” Huxley shouted above the clamor. He lifted him onto the ladder and Bruno climbed up and into the cabin, where Peter, a rugged, bearded farmer with kind eyes, was ready to help him in.
Bruno’s excitement at being in a real combine soon superseded his fear and he grinned broadly and waved at his grandfather. Huxley waved back and smiled fondly as the small figure in the cabin disappeared up the field in a cloud of dust. As the combine huffed and puffed through the wheat, Robert’s four-by-four appeared through it, approaching up the track.
He drew up beside his father’s Land Rover and climbed out. “Mother told me you were here.”
“He’s having a whale of time in there.”
Robert shielded his eyes against the sun and watched. “I bet he is.”
“Celeste came down with a cake.” Huxley nodded pensively. “That mother of yours is a shrewd old bird.”
“I thought there must be a method to her madness.”
“Celeste just needed to see beyond herself, that’s all,” said Huxley wisely.
“I think she’s growing fond of Bruno,” said Robert. “I certainly am.”
“She needs to keep herself busy. Moping about the house all day will only make her more depressed. A brood of children is what she needs.” Huxley always had a knack of saying what everyone else thought but were too polite or timid to articulate.
“You’re right, of course, though I wouldn’t dare broach the subject. It’s a painful one.”
“Life goes on, Robert. One has to accept things and move on. Life is a harsh school of learning, but one mustn’t get stuck in the ruts, but rise to the next challenge. Jack brought us all immense joy and we will never forget him. But we have to accept that he completed his task here on earth and was called home. We’ll all meet again one day, but for now, we have to get on with whatever we have to do down here. Jack taught us valuable lessons, he certainly taught us all a great deal about love, but his death is also a lesson in acceptance. Celeste has to learn to let him go.”