but every now and again , every once in a while , his noise will open and a memory will surface , a memory of me and him when we first met hildy , or of him and ben and cillian , where todd is younger than i ever knew him and the three of them are going fishing in the swamp outside of old prentisstown and todd 's noise just glows with happiness- and my heart beats a little faster with hope- but then his noise fades and he 's silent again- i sigh and lean back on the spackle-made chair , under cover of a large spackle-made tent , next to a spackle-made fire , all of it surrounding a spackle-made stone tablet where todd rests and has rested since we got him back from the beach .