A Mother's Love(18)

“Okay,” Bruno replied. Robert gave him the telephone.

While Bruno told his mother about all the exciting things he’d been doing on the farm, Celeste and Robert chatted about their day. Celeste told him about the cake she had made and that she had taken it down to his parents’ to share. He told her about the old colonel, his most demanding customer, who had complained that the bottles he had bought were corked. Then, as they paused, they heard Bruno’s voice change. It went from high and excited to low and anxious. “I haven’t, Mum. I promise . . . no . . . I know . . . yes, and I won’t . . . I promise.” They caught eyes, both silently wondering what he was talking about.

They decided to play taboo, a game in which you had to describe things without saying certain key words. Bruno was extremely good at it, as Jack had been, and soon the three of them were laughing. Robert and Celeste exchanged looks every now and then, both remembering with fondness the times they had played with their son. Robert was surprised to find that the moat of grief which his wife had allowed to cut them off from each other was gradually subsiding. Celeste was slowly becoming herself again.

That night, Celeste bathed Bruno and helped him into his pajamas. Then she read another story which he had chosen from the shelf in Jack’s bedroom. They sat on the bed, snuggled up, while Robert watched from the doorway, glass of wine in hand, a misty-eyed look on his face. Then Bruno shifted down the bed, holding his bear against his chest. He said good night. Celeste bent down and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. Robert kissed him on the temple and pressed the covers around his face. “Sleep well,” he said. “Don’t let Brodie keep you awake too long, will you?”

“Brodie doesn’t keep me awake,” he replied. “Brodie likes to sleep.”

“Well, don’t you keep Brodie awake, then. He needs his rest in order to play tomorrow.”

“Okay,” said Bruno. “Good night.”

It was later that night, when they went to bed, that Celeste told him about the spools of thread. “I felt him, Robert,” she told him. “It was as if he was in the room with me, just that I couldn’t see him.”

Robert didn’t want to undermine her faith. “It’s a nice thought, Celeste,” he said.

“But I don’t think it was just a thought. He was there. I know he was.”

Robert made his own leap of faith and drew her into his arms. To his surprise, she didn’t object. She lay against him with her head in the crook of his neck.

“Jack would want you to be happy,” he murmured. “He wouldn’t want either of us to be sad. He’d hate to think of us spending the rest of our lives pining for him.”

“I know. If only I could be sure that he’s okay where he is, then I could . . . well, I could let him go.”

“Perhaps the spools of thread were his way of reassuring you of just that.”

“I’d like to think so,” she said.

“So would I.” He kissed her forehead and felt her relax against him. They hadn’t lain like that in a very long time.





9

The fourth day of Bruno’s stay, Celeste found him playing in Jack’s bedroom again. He was jumping about the place with one of Jack’s wands, shouting “Reducio!” at an invisible enemy. She remained at the door a moment, watching him. He had such exuberance. It emanated from him like a fizzy light that tickled her, too, and made her feel happy. The thought of him leaving the following day made her feel surprisingly sad. “Good morning, Harry Potter,” she said. He spun around guiltily and she wondered why he always looked so sheepish when she interrupted his games. “What would you like to do today, young man?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Stupefy!” He waved the wand at her.

She put her hands up and laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m just a boring old muggle. I’m not sure what any of those spells mean.”

“I can show you the book, if you like,” he suggested earnestly.

“Why don’t you show me over breakfast? What does Harry Potter eat first thing in the morning?”

Bruno didn’t know what the young wizard ate for breakfast, but he was very certain about what he wanted to eat. “Pancakes!” he exclaimed, then, remembering his manners, he added: “Please.”

Robert joined them in the kitchen and Celeste made him coffee. “Would you like eggs and bacon today?” she asked.

He couldn’t remember the last time she had cooked him a full English breakfast. “If it’s not too much bother,” he replied. “I see you’re making pancakes for Voldemort.”