A Mother's Love(4)
Marigold seized her daughter’s arm. “I hope he’s going to be all right,” she hissed.
“Mum, he’s going to be fine. He loves the countryside and he adores his uncle Robert. They really clicked when he came to Sydney. Don’t worry about him. He’s got a wisdom beyond his years. Trust me, I wouldn’t have agreed to leave him here if I didn’t think he could handle it.”
Marigold sighed. “Well, we’re just through the garden if he wants to come down.”
Georgia smiled and patted her mother’s arm. “I know. He’ll seek you out if he needs you.”
Celeste showed Bruno the spare room. It was at the end of the corridor with a big window that looked out over the garden. They could see the chimneys of Chawton Grange through the rain. “Shame the weather’s so bad,” she said, struggling to find something to say. Her instinct was to reject this child who had stepped in to take Jack’s place in the house, but her head reminded her of his innocence. He was a boy, after all. Just a boy who had no idea of the unhappiness he was causing.
“Oh, I love the rain,” Bruno replied. “I like to stand in it under an umbrella. I like the sound.”
“Really? I hate getting wet,” said Celeste, folding her arms across her chest.
“Tarquin doesn’t mind that, do you, Tarquin?” He patted the dog’s head again.
“Did you have a dog in Sydney?”
“No, I had a rabbit. But they don’t do much.”
“Dogs make better friends,” Celeste added, realizing as she spoke just how much of a comfort Tarquin had been to her since she lost Jack. “Are you hungry? What do you like to eat?”
“Not really,” he replied. “I don’t like beans.”
“I don’t like brussels sprouts.”
“Mum makes me eat them.”
“I won’t.”
Bruno grinned. “That’s good.”
“While you’re here, you can do pretty much anything you like.” She hoped he would entertain himself. She had no intention of spending any more time with him than absolutely necessary.
When they returned downstairs, Robert had brought in Bruno’s case, his gumboots and coat, and Georgia was sitting at the kitchen table with her parents, drinking a cup of tea. “You’re so good to have him, Celeste. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
Celeste suppressed the urge to snap at Georgia, and instead asked, “What sort of things does he like to do?”
“Oh, anything, he’s not fussy.”
“Robert will be working, but I suppose I’ll find things for him to do.”
“He likes Legos, coloring, exploring. There’s plenty to do outside. It’ll take him five days to explore the grounds here. He’s pretty happy on his own.”
Celeste nodded. “He can use the playroom.” Her face blanched further as her thoughts turned to Jack’s old room of toys. She averted her eyes. “I’ve got lots of Legos.”
“He’ll love that.”
“And I’ll kick a soccer ball at him when I’m home,” Robert interjected enthusiastically.
“He likes soccer. His dad has trained him to be a pretty good goalie.”
“When’s Mark joining you?” Robert asked.
“He’s bringing the girls over in a couple of weeks. I’ll have everything sorted by then.”
“It’ll be so nice to have you in the same country for a change,” said Marigold happily.
“Tell me about it. I’ve missed you all so much!”
“It’s about time Bruno got to know his family,” said Huxley. “And learned to speak English,” he added firmly.
“Oh, darling, you sound just like your father, Grandpa Hartley,” Marigold scolded. “Old Hartley fought in the war and hated anything foreign. His idea of speaking a foreign language was to talk in English very loudly.”
“He’ll lose his Australian accent soon enough,” Georgia reassured him.
Huxley nodded. “Good. We’ll do all we can to accelerate the process.”
Once everyone had gone, Celeste showed Bruno the playroom. It had remained untouched for almost a year and a half. Boxes of Legos, trains, and plastic guns were placed in neat rows against one wall, a table and chairs against another with a container filled with pens and crayons and a rattan basket of plain paper. A big red sofa dominated the room and an open fireplace stood empty and desolate. There was a large flat-screen television and lots of DVDs of all Jack’s favorite movies lined up in the bookcase. Celeste switched on the lights and the room seemed to spring to life. The little boy wasted no time in pulling out the boxes and rummaging through them. He quickly lost himself in his endeavor and Celeste had to swallow back her tears, because Jack had sat on the rug just like Bruno. She turned away, for the sight was too painful. It was all she could do to restrain herself from asking him to leave her son’s toys alone. This had been Jack’s room. She wasn’t sure she was ready to share it with another child. But she had no choice. She had been forced to welcome this usurper. Didn’t anyone understand her pain?