A Mother's Love(3)

At last Celeste appeared in the doorway, a stiff and distant creature. She had tied her hair back into a severe ponytail and folded her arms across her chest in an obvious display of defensiveness. She could not disguise her fury and barely greeted her mother-in-law, who bit into another biscuit out of nervousness. Only Huxley chatted away in his usual jovial manner, as if nothing were untoward. “I took the dogs up to Tin Sheds this morning, and d’you know what I saw? There in the middle of the field was a family of deer. Wonderful sight in spite of the damage they do to the crops.”

“You should get your gun out, Dad,” Robert suggested.

“I’ve grown magnanimous in my old age, Robert. What with the hares and rabbits, this farm is a haven for wildlife, and I rather like it that way, although they eat away all my profits. It’s a losing battle and I’ve accepted I’ve lost.”

Tarquin’s ears pricked before anyone else heard the car. A moment later the rumble of the engine defused the awkwardness of waiting but seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room. Celeste’s shoulders tensed, Robert paled, Marigold caught her husband’s eye.

But Huxley clapped his big hands and beamed. “Ah, good,” he said. “Robert, go and fetch an umbrella so they don’t get soaked.” Tarquin stood by the door, wagging his tail, until Robert appeared with a golfing umbrella to open it. They dashed outside together.

Marigold didn’t dare look at Celeste. She could see her taut profile out of the corner of her eye and feel her resentment as if the air around her were charged with prickly little filaments. She might have buckled then, if she hadn’t thought of her son and the children he longed for but wasn’t allowed to have. Instead, she lifted her chin and stepped forward as her daughter and grandson hurried up the path beneath Robert’s umbrella, bursting into the hall with peals of laughter.

“Goodness, I forgot how much it rains in England!” Georgia exclaimed happily. “Oh, Daddy, it’s so good to see you!” She embraced her father, pressing her cold face to his cheek. “You’ve lost weight!” she said, turning on her mother. “You have been feeding him, haven’t you, Mum?”

“Darling, he’s just getting old.” Marigold chuckled, gathering her daughter into her arms like a fat hen. “You look well, though. Gosh, it’s good to have you back. Now where’s my grandson? Bruno?”

The boy stood behind his mother in a pair of jeans and sneakers, his thick brown hair falling over eyes the color of Marigold’s milk-chocolate truffles. He smiled diffidently, a little overwhelmed by the strange faces staring at him. Shyly, he put out his hand.

Marigold smiled affectionately. “Goodness, you are polite,” she said. “But I’m your grandmother, so I’m going to give you a jolly good hug.” The child caught his uncle’s eye as he was enveloped in cotton and cashmere and his grandmother’s lily-of-the-valley perfume.

Robert pulled a face, at which Bruno grinned back, his cheeks flushing the color of strawberries. “Mum, do put him down. Boys hate to be mollycoddled!” he said.

“Oh, darling, you’re so grown-up!” she gushed, releasing him. “I can hardly believe it. How lucky we are that you’ve come to stay.” Then, remembering her daughter-in-law, she swung around. “You’ve never met your aunt Celeste, have you? Well, here she is. Celeste?”

Marigold tried to disguise her anxiety with a chuckle, but her chest felt tight with dread. She watched her daughter-in-law shake the child’s hand and manage a wan smile, and longed for her to muster up a little more enthusiasm, if only to make the boy feel welcome. She was relieved when Robert stepped in and introduced him to Tarquin. The child’s face opened with pleasure at the sight of the dog. He stroked his wet head and laughed as the animal lifted his nose and tried to lick his hand. “He’s awesome,” he said. “I think Tarquin and I are going to be buddies.”

“I think you are, too,” Marigold interjected.

“Do you like tractors, Bruno?” his grandfather asked.

“Sure,” Bruno replied with a shrug.

“I’ll show you around the farm and you can drive one, if you like.”

“Really? Drive one?” The boy’s eyes shone excitedly. He glanced at his mother.

Georgia put up her hands. “I don’t want to know what you two get up to.” She laughed. “Celeste, I’m leaving him in your capable hands.”

Celeste managed another weak smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after him,” she said softly. “Bruno, would you like to see your room?” The child nodded. They set off up the stairs, followed by Tarquin.