Into this state of mind fell a letter. I was outside, on a hilltop away from the cottage, a forgotten book in my lap as I stared out across the Channel. I did not hear Holmes come up behind me, but suddenly there he was, his tobacco smell and his gently sardonic face. He held out the envelope between two long fingers, and I took it.
It was from little Jessica, addressed in her childish printing. I had a quick image of her bent over the envelope with a pencil in her small hand, laboriously copying my name. I smiled, and it felt strange on my lips. I took out the single sheet of stationery and read the child's words aloud.
Dear sister Mary,
How are you? My Mama told me a bad lady hurt your arm. I hope it's all right now. I am fine. Yesterday a strange man came to the house but I held Mama's hand and I was brave and strong like you. I have bad dreams sometimes and even cry but when I think of you carrying me down the tree like a mama monkey I laugh and go back to sleep.
Will you come to see me when you are better?
Say hello to Mr. Holmes for me. I love you.
Jessica Simpson
"Brave and strong, like me," I whispered, and started to laugh, a sour, bitter sound that tore my throat and sent pain shooting through my shoulder, and then it turned to tears and I cried, and when I was empty I fell asleep in the simple sunshine as Holmes stroked my hair with his gentle, clever hands.
When I awoke the sun was lower in the sky and Holmes had not moved. I turned awkwardly onto my back to ease my shoulder and looked up at the bowl of the sky.
Holmes reached for his pipe and broke the silence.
"I need to go to France and Italy for six weeks. I shall be back before your term begins. Would you care to come with me?"
I lay watching his fingers fill the pipe, tamp down the black shreds of leaf, strike a flame, draw it down into the bowl. The sweet smell of burning tobacco drifted across the hillside. I smiled to myself.
"I believe I shall take up smoking a pipe, Holmes, for the sheer eloquence of the thing."
He looked at me sharply, and then his face began to relax into the old attitude of humour and intelligence. He nodded, once, as if I had given an answer, and we sat watching the sun change the colour of the sea and sky until the wind came up. Holmes knocked his pipe out against the sole of his shoe, stood up, and reached down to help me rise.
"Let me know when you're ready for a game of chess, Russell."
Twenty minutes later we came to his hives, and he went down the row to check them while I stood and watched the last workers come home with their loads of pollen. Holmes came back and we turned toward the cottage.
"I'll even spot you a piece, Russell."
"But not a queen?"
"Oh, no, never again. You're far too good a player for that."
"We'll start equal, then."
"I shall beat you if we do."
"I don't think so, Holmes. I really don't think you will."
The cottage was warm and filled with light, and smelt of tobacco and sulphur and the food that awaited us.