A Mother's Love(5)

3

Robert was in his study when Celeste came looking for him. He saw her in the doorway and stopped what he was doing. She folded her arms and sighed. “Are you okay?” he asked, weary of always being the one to reach out.

She nodded. “He’s in the playroom.”

“Are you okay with that?”

She shrugged. “I have no choice. It’s hard to see a child in there again.”

“He’s found things to play with?”

“Jack’s things.” She frowned, fighting the impulse to snatch them back and guard them, like she had snatched and guarded her son’s memory.

“Good.”

She turned away, then hesitated and pursed her lips. “Robert, he’s the same age as Jack was.”

“I know.”

“I mean, I knew, I suppose, I just hadn’t thought . . . that he’d remind me so much of him.”



Upstairs she set about unpacking Bruno’s clothes. The rain had now stopped and the sun was peeping through the clouds, shining brightly onto the glittering countryside. She opened the drawers of the dresser and placed Bruno’s T-shirts and sweaters in neat piles. As she did so she felt a satisfactory sense of purpose. She took her time, making sure everything was in its place. Slippers beside the bed, dressing gown on the hook behind the door, toothbrush and paste in the bathroom.

She realized then just how bored she’d been. In the days before Jack got sick, she had run her own business making embroidered quilts and bed linen. She had been quite successful, especially at making children’s quilts. They were all tailored to each child, the squares embroidered with their favorite things in their favorite colors. In the beginning, word had been spread by satisfied clients, but then she had set up an e-commerce site on the Internet and she’d struggled to meet the demand. Then Jack got sick and she didn’t have the time or the will to keep going. The Swedish-style house that Robert had had built for her business at the bottom of the garden had been locked for three years now. She hadn’t set foot in there, although in the past it had been her sanctuary and one of her greatest pleasures. Jack had sat on the floor and set out all the spools of thread in order of color. There had been over sixty different shades and he had loved the challenge. Sometimes, when she had been under pressure to finish a quilt, he had brought his homework in after school or sat at the table coloring while she worked. The memory of his little face, so full of concentration, caused her battered heart to groan. She tore herself away from the past and pushed Bruno’s case under the bed.

She set about making lunch. Roast chicken, because all children like chicken. She could hear Bruno talking to himself as he played. If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought he had company. At lunch he chatted away as if he had known his uncle and aunt forever. He was uninhibited and curious and seemed older than his years. She couldn’t remember Jack being so articulate and confident. After lunch Robert played soccer with him in the garden, making a goal out of sticks, then they set off to explore the farm together with Grandpa Huxley, the big German shepherds, and Tarquin.

Celeste went into the playroom to tidy away the toys. She shed tears onto the Legos, spending an excessive amount of time putting the pieces into the box. It was unbearable to think that Jack was never coming back. She could sort out his toys and place the boxes neatly on the shelves again, but he’d never return to play with them.

The sun began to set, flooding the gardens with a soft amber light and her heart with melancholy. The scents rose up from the borders and the clamor of birds grew louder as they squabbled for places to roost. At last the rumble of Robert’s car could be heard coming along the farm track, and Celeste felt her heart contract with dread.

She walked round to the front of the house. Bruno jumped out of the car, breathless with excitement. “I drove a tractor!” he exclaimed, hurrying up the path with Tarquin at his heels. “I climbed on the grain and Uncle Robert chased me. Then he lost his shoe.” The child laughed with such abandon that Celeste found herself chuckling with him. She almost resented him for making her smile, for she had grown used to her misery and had found refuge in the dark comfort of her unhappiness. “We searched and searched for it and then Tarquin found it. Isn’t he clever? It was hidden in the grain. Grandpa let me sit in a combine and says that when they cut again I can ride in it. The rain has made it all wet, so they won’t be cutting until it’s dry. I hope it doesn’t rain again so I can go on the combine. It’s awesome!”

“You must be hungry,” she said. “Do you want some tea?”