A Mother's Love(6)

“Yes, please.”

“Come on, then. I’ll find something to fill you up.” Before she turned to go into the house, she saw Robert coming up the path towards her.

He shook his head and grinned. “That child has a lot of energy!”

“He’s had a lovely time.”

“And worn me and Dad out!”

“You’ll be relieved to go back to work tomorrow.” She felt her resentment cloud the fleeting sense of joy she had just experienced. Tomorrow she’d be alone with Bruno. What then?

Robert put his hand in the small of her back and led her into the cottage. “No, I won’t,” he said. “I’d much rather be here.”

She fed Bruno fish fingers and ran him a bath. Afraid to leave him in the water on his own, she pottered about tidying the already immaculate sink and cupboard beneath. He chatted blithely, lolling in the warm water. She kept herself busy so she didn’t have to look at him. She resisted slipping into the old routine she had enjoyed with Jack, of washing his face and soaping his hands and feet, because she knew it would only make her cry. She didn’t want to cry in front of Bruno.

After the bath he pulled on his spaceship pajamas and she put him to bed. She tucked him in and watched him snuggle against his bear. Hovering by the door, she didn’t know whether to kiss him good night or read him a story. She definitely sensed that she was lacking somehow and that he sensed it, too, because he looked at her with his big brown eyes and in them she recognized anxiety.

“Sleep well,” she said.

“Yes,” he replied, suddenly diffident. Not the same little boy who had been talking so contentedly in the bath. He seemed smaller now and a little forlorn.

“If you need us, we’re just down the corridor.” He nodded. “I’ll send Robert up to say good night.”

But Robert was already coming along the corridor with Tarquin. She watched them walk past her. The child’s face blossomed into a smile and he sat up. “He’s come to say good night to you,” Robert said.

Bruno leant over to pat the dog. “Where does he sleep?”

“In the kitchen in his basket.”

“Isn’t he lonely on his own?”

“No. You don’t get lonely on your own, do you?”

“But I’m not alone. I have Brodie.”

Robert laughed. “And he’s a very fine bear.”

“If Tarquin gets lonely, he can come and sleep with me.”

“Then you wouldn’t sleep a wink, would you? Now, bedtime.” The child’s eyes were no longer dark with anxiety. He lay down contentedly and Robert drew up the bedclothes so that all Celeste could see was the boy’s rich brown hair peeping out of the top. Her husband bent down and kissed his forehead. “God bless,” he said, and patted the bedclothes.

Celeste turned away and went downstairs. She didn’t want to feel moved by the sight of Robert kissing his little nephew. She held on to her resentment, fearing that if she let it go, she’d have nothing left. Robert joined her in the kitchen and poured them both a glass of wine. Then he went to the sitting room and turned on the television. She knew he did that to avoid talking to her. She wasn’t good company these days. Once they had been eager to share their day; now she was eager to end it.

But a little boy was sleeping upstairs and he had changed everything. They were no longer alone. The house vibrated with the child’s presence as if a fire had been lit against her will, infusing the familiar cold with a new warmth. She cooked spaghetti and they ate it in front of the television. Celeste found herself listening out for Bruno. One ear on the movie, one on the bedroom upstairs, and she didn’t know whether she listened out of fear for the alien or yearning for the child.

That night she slept fitfully. She dreamed of Jack. He was sitting on a fence. Behind him was a beautiful dawn. She was begging him to come home. But he remained on the fence, neither in her world nor the next. When she awoke, her pillow was soaked with tears.





4

The following morning when Celeste went into Bruno’s room, she found him sitting on his bed playing with his bear, chatting away as if to an old friend. He stopped suddenly when he saw his aunt standing in the doorway and his cheeks flushed.

“Good morning,” she said.

He held the bear against his chest. “I’m talking to Brodie,” he explained.

“Good. Are you hungry?”

“A little,” he replied.

“Why don’t you get dressed and come down and I’ll make you something to eat. Do you like cereal, or toast?”

He shrugged. “Cereal, please.”

“Your clothes are in those drawers.”