The stuffed bear had been taken on their excursion that morning, and Diana fully expected that Evelyn’s excuse to return to the villa would be that Rupert was tired and needed to be put down for a nap.
Toby led the boys out onto the dock, and the trio proceeded to sit on the dock’s edge. With their feet dangling above the water, they strung their rods and baited their hooks.
With Evelyn, Diana stood in the shade of the small porch that marked the entrance to the island’s paths and watched the activity on the dock.
Two minutes after the boys’ hooks sank into the lake, Evelyn tugged Diana’s hand. “We need to go back to the villa. Rupert needs his nap.”
Diana smiled at Evelyn’s very serious expression. “Yes, of course.” She called to Toby and, when he glanced her way, signaled that they were returning to the house.
He grinned and waved.
“Come along.” She turned and, holding Evelyn’s hand firmly, started back to the villa.
Left with Roland on one side and Bryce on the other, Toby settled into a comfortable slouch.
He’d instructed the boys in how to string their rods and bait their hooks, and he’d been impressed by how well they worked together. Roland was unquestionably the leader, but Bryce was quick to manage anything requiring physical dexterity, and the pair seemed to accept and play to each other’s strengths. Roland had taken over stringing Bryce’s rod, while Bryce had baited both his and Roland’s hooks.
Toby glanced from one head to the other, amused by how quiet and still the pair were being. He’d warned them that they needed to speak softly so they didn’t scare away the fish.
Given it was the middle of the day, he wasn’t sure how many fish would be tempted by their bait. Hopefully, as the afternoon wore on and the sun slanted more obliquely, they would get a nibble or two.
Whether their patience would stretch to waiting that long was debatable.
After ten or more minutes of silence, Bryce leant closer to Toby and whispered, “How old were you when you learned to fish?”
Toby had to think to come up with the right answer. “Eight.” He met Bryce’s eyes. “The same age as you.”
“Who taught you?” Roland asked.
“One of my uncles. Well, no, he isn’t actually an uncle but one of my father’s cousins. He taught me when we—my brother and sisters—were staying at his house on a holiday.” Remembering the time, Toby went on, “That was in Scotland, and there are a lot of fish in the streams up there.”
The boys looked at the lake.
“More than in the lake here?” Bryce asked.
With a faint grimace, Toby conceded, “Yes, but there are plenty of fish in the lake. You saw the fishermen pulling in their catch this morning.”
Both boys nodded and, reassured, settled anew.
After another ten minutes of silence, Roland shifted and glanced at Toby. “We’ve never gone fishing before. First, Mama was sick, and then, after she left us, Papa became sick, too.”
Toby wasn’t sure what to say to that. Eventually, he offered, “I’ve been very lucky.” He knew that was true. “Both my parents are still alive.”
Bryce looked at him. “They must be very old.”
Toby’s lips twitched, but he nodded. “Very old. Ancient, in fact.” From the boys’ perspective, at least.
After another prolonged silence, Roland, his gaze on his rod, said, “You mentioned you have a brother and sisters. When you were our age, what sort of games did you play with them?”
That was a question Toby could answer and expand upon. Soon, he had both boys giggling, then laughing outright.
They were all enjoying themselves, and then the fish elected to bite.
“Oh!Oh!” Eyes wide, Roland pulled back on his rod.
“Easy now.” Toby wedged his own rod under his knee and gave his attention to helping Roland land what proved to be a middling-but-acceptable-sized fish.
Soon after, Bryce got a nibble, then a good bite, and with Toby’s help and Roland’s encouragement, Bryce reeled in another passable fish.
