Instant Father

Chapter Eight

When Angus had departed, Gavin went into Tony’s study, seeing it with new eyes. For the first time he noticed the multitude of books that lined the walls, all with Anthony Ackroyd stamped on the spine. They’d always been there, but he’d been too annoyed to notice them before.

He returned to the living room and sat down heavily. He felt stunned. All his life he’d measured success in money, and by that standard it seemed Tony was a more successful man than he was. The lawyer’s last words lingered in his mind. “Naturalists seem to rake in cash while people in the more traditional money-making occupations are losing it.” Everything he’d worked for was slipping through his fingers, while a man he’d refused to take seriously had become “a solid man.”

And she had seen this coming, and laughed as she thought of his discomfiture. He groaned, resting his arms on his knees and burying his head in his hands. Suddenly the weight of his problems was too much.

Norah came into the room a few moments later, ready to enjoy her triumph. She was bitterly angry with Gavin, as much because of her own disillusionment as in response to what he’d done. She’d awakened that morning feeling self-conscious, and the sensation had been with her all day. At the strangest moments, when she was feeding or tending animals, she would have the unnerving sensation that the present had vanished and she was once more being held firmly in Gavin Hunter’s arms, his lips hard and demanding on hers.

It was true that he’d backed off at once, but it had been too late to take back the feelings she’d sensed in his embrace. They were there, and if they were there they could be aroused. And she didn’t hide from herself the fact that she wanted to arouse them. The discovery that he was secretly trying to raise money on Strand House had been a brutal revelation and she’d lashed out in pain.

Now she’d come to confront him, to enjoy seeing him worsted. But something was wrong. She stopped in the doorway, disconcerted by what she saw. Gavin became aware of her and looked up. She saw the confusion of emotions that chased each other across his face: first the instinctive desire to put up a brave front; followed by a weary resignation. She realized how exhausted and strained his face was, as if he never slept properly.

“All right,” he said. “You made your point. I had no idea that-I just had no idea. You should have told me earlier that I was fooling myself.”

“There’ve been so many other things to think of. Besides, it never occurred to me that you’d misunderstood. I still don’t know why you took it for granted that Dad hadn’t paid properly.” She came and sat beside him on the sofa.

“I didn’t think naturalists had that kind of money. It seems I’ve been wrong about a lot of things. I’d pictured your father-I don’t know…” he shrugged, unable to find the words.

“I do. You thought he was a sponger,” she said, but without rancor.

“It’s more than that. I thought he was a lightweight. It seems I was wrong.”

“Because he made a lot of money?” she asked, wrinkling her brow.

“It’s one yardstick. Maybe not the only one, but it does matter. It means he wasn’t sponging on Liz, the way I thought. A man who could pay that kind of price without needing a mortgage-I have to respect that, especially since I…” he checked himself.

“Especially since what?” Norah prompted curiously.

“Nothing. I’m just disoriented. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Is business not so good?” she asked gently.

Gavin sighed. “Business is awful,” he admitted. “You may as well know the truth. I’m at my wits’ end. Nothing else would have made me try to raise money on Strand House. I’ve explored every other avenue and they’re all cut off.”

“I thought Hunter and Son was a big empire.”

“Oh yes, it’s big, all right. It’s just that the foundations are rotten. I’ve fought as hard as I know how to keep up a good appearance, and suddenly I don’t care any more. It’s finished.”

“What’s finished?” she asked.

“I’m finished. There’s nothing else left to try. I shall have to start selling soon.”

Norah was silent. She knew little about big business and had only the vaguest idea of the reality Gavin was trying to describe, but she understood that he’d learned to respect her beloved father. In her opinion he respected him for the wrong reasons, but she appreciated the way he’d been willing to shift his point of view and this softened her toward him.

She went to the cupboard and returned with a glass bearing a measure of brandy. “Here,” she said.

“Trying to get me drunk again, huh?”

“Well, it improves your disposition, I seem to remember.”

“You mean it makes me talk. I say all sorts of things I shouldn’t.”

“Does it? Or do you say the things you should?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you need to confide in someone about the burdens you’re carrying, and you won’t do it unless a drink loosens you up first.”

Gavin managed a wry grin. “I thought your recipe for trouble was to put my arms around an animal?”

“Buster’s not up on financial matters,” she responded gravely. “Besides, that only works if your heart’s in it.”

“And according to you I have no heart.”

“Did I say that? I don’t remember.”

“Oh, no, you said I was a man whom nobody loved. It was Liz who said I had no heart. Strange how I confuse you with her. You remind me of her in some ways.”

“Well, I came under her influence a lot. Not as much as she’d have liked, though,” Norah added with a rueful smile.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, she was so elegant and beautiful. Even when she was cleaning out a pen or grooming an animal, she contrived to be elegant and poised. She tried to teach me the secret, but I was a disappointment to her.”

“What’s wrong with you as you are?”

“A lot, according to Liz. She said I didn’t make the best of myself.”

“She didn’t know what she was talking about,” Gavin growled.

“Well, perhaps she didn’t know what she was talking about with you, either,” Norah suggested. “I think you have a heart, but it’s barricaded like a hedgehog, and if anyone dares approach the prickles come out in force.”

He felt a strange sensation, almost as if he were blushing. It embarrassed him to be understood. He muttered “amateur psychologist,” and she laughed, not in the least disconcerted.

“Look, Gavin,” she said after a moment, “you’re not going to like this suggestion, but think it over before you reject it. Why don’t you let me buy out your share of Strand House.”

“No, thank you,” he said before she’d finished speaking.

“But it would suit both of us. It would make the sanctuary safe, and you’d have some money to-to use for whatever you need money for, prop up your business or whatever.”

“It’s good of you, Norah, and believe me I’m grateful. But I could never sell Strand House. I had to steel myself to try to raise a mortgage on it, but sell it-never.” He added involuntarily, “The old man would kill me.”

“Who’s the old man?”

“My father. He started Hunter and Son, and he was determined to add Strand House to it for as long as I can remember. He worked here as a boy for the family that owned it then, and he never gave up the dream of buying it. He didn’t manage it, but I did.”

She looked at him curiously. “But that was his dream. What was yours?”

As he wasn’t an analytical man, Gavin had to think about this. “To be a son he could be proud of, I suppose,” he said at last.

Norah pounced on this tidbit of information. Gavin usually revealed so little about himself. “And his pride was important to you,” she prompted. “Was he really that wonderful?”

“He was one of the most outstanding business brains of his generation and he raised me to think I could beat his achievements-”

“But that’s not what I meant,” Norah interrupted with a puzzled frown. “Was he a wonderful father?”

“Actually it’s ‘is,’ not ‘was.’ My father is very much alive, although he talks as though he were at death’s door. He’ll probably outlive me.”

Norah noticed that he’d avoided her question, but she refrained from mentioning it. She was discovering that what Gavin suppressed was as significant as what he revealed. “And he wanted you to get Strand House, for him?” she mused. “And when you did, that must have been a thrilling moment for you both. He must have showered you with praise.”

“That’s not his way,” Gavin said, staring into his glass. “Putting half of it into Liz’s name was a pretty dumb move, according to him, and when she claimed her half-” he shrugged, wondering what possessed him to be lowering his guard like this, but unable to stop himself.

“He blamed you,” Norah said. “And he’s still blaming you, isn’t he?” Gavin shrugged. “What about your mother? You said she died when you were young, but you must remember something about her.”

“Hardly anything. She left him before she died.”

“And took you with her? So he claimed you back after her death?” Norah asked, almost holding her breath at the idea of such an uncanny parallel.

But Gavin said, “Oh, no. I stayed with him.”

“She left you behind?” Norah asked, scandalized.

“I suppose so. I was only five at the time. I didn’t know much of what was going on between the adults. Anyway, she went, and I stayed with my father. It was what I wanted.”

“I can’t imagine a child of five choosing to be parted from his mother,” Norah said emphatically.

“I told you my father is a remarkable man. I must have known that even then.”

“I suppose so,” she agreed, sounding unconvinced. “Did you have much contact with your mother after that?”

“I never saw her again. I didn’t even know she was dead until six months after it had happened.”

“What?”

“I’d just started a new school, and my father didn’t want to unsettle me.”

“He sounds like a monster.”

“He had his own ways of doing things, but understand this: I’m proud to be his son. I’m proud of his achievements and of the chance to build on them.”

“But you haven’t been able to build on them,” Norah pointed out, not unkindly, but simply to make him tell her more. “Hunter and Son is slipping away from you.”

“I’ve been unfortunate,” he conceded. “Property has slumped and…” he smiled wryly, “‘nature’ has risen. It was a possibility I never even considered.”

“But these things are outside your control,” Norah said. “Surely your father will understand that?”

“He lives in his own enclosed little world in his nursing home. He reads the papers, but he takes in what he wants and ignores the rest. His advice is always impractical.”

Norah felt as though a wall between them had suddenly vanished, enabling her to see deep into his heart. And what she saw there hurt her almost unbearably. Why, he was no different from Peter, she realized; a mass of unhappiness and confusion and divided loyalties. In his reluctant description of his relationship with his father he’d unconsciously shown her a tragedy, but he’d also shown much more-how frighteningly close the tragedy was to being repeated. Now she could understand many things about Gavin and his behavior to his own son, things that seemed unpleasant until she traced them back to their source in Gavin’s father. After that they seemed merely sad.

He glanced up and saw her looking at him closely. Perhaps he guessed that she was beginning to understand him, because he drew back abruptly and the line of his mouth tightened. “It’s kind of you to want to help me,” he said, “but I’ll manage.”

Norah realized she’d been firmly shut out again, but she didn’t try to protest. It would have been useless. She knew now that there was only one way to get near Gavin, and that was slowly, inch by careful inch. “What about this Elsemore character?” she asked, matching his cool tone.

“Forget him. You’ll have no trouble with him, I promise. You can trust me on this.”

“I didn’t doubt it. And remember, my offer’s still open, if you change your mind.”

“Thank you, but I won’t need to. Now that I come to think of it, I’m sure I was taking too gloomy a view. Things aren’t really that bad.”

Gavin was doing as much work as possible from Strand House and going to London only when necessary. Eventually he slipped into a routine of driving to London every week, staying overnight and returning late the following day. As the summer slipped away and the nights began to draw in, the weather turned nasty. One afternoon on the way home he found himself caught up in a storm. It had been threatening as he started the journey, and by halfway it was in full blast; a real theatrical showstopper of a storm, with bellowing thunder, lashing rain and fierce winds that tore the trees sideways.

He knew the sensible thing would be to stop at a hotel, but he wanted to get home and so he pressed on, driving as fast as he dared, which wasn’t very fast. One fear haunted him, that the storm would frighten the animals and Norah would have everyone out caring for them. Including Peter. At the thought of his son working in this terrible weather, fear gripped him and he stepped on the gas.

Even so, it was past midnight when he arrived. As he turned the corner of the drive he saw an ambulance standing outside the front door and he felt as if his heart would stop. He yanked on the hand brake and dashed out of the car, hurling himself at the rear door of the ambulance. One of the ambulance men tried to bar his path. “Sir, if you’ll just-”

“Get out of my way,” Gavin raged. “That’s my son in there. Do you hear me? Let me get to my son.”

He thrust the man from his path and frantically seized the rear door, yanking it open. Then he stopped, frozen, staring at the face that looked back at him from the stretcher.

“It seems I got me a Daddy,” Grim said, grinning. “That’s cool, since I never knew the real one.”

“I…” Gavin swallowed. “I’m sorry, I thought-”

“Hey, no problem. Peter should count himself lucky to have a father who cares.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Gavin asked, recovering himself.

“Tree fell on me. Broke my leg. So what? I’ve got another one,” Grim declared blithely, although his pain showed.

“Then I’ll let you get on. Yes, I’m sorry…” This was to the ambulance man he’d manhandled, and who was now trying to close the door.

He turned to see Peter standing on the front steps in his pajamas and robe, holding a small mongoose. He was watching his father closely, but it was impossible to say how much he’d heard. “Are you all right?” he asked. Peter nodded. “Better get back to bed, then.”

But the boy shook his head and went to the door to the back room. A motley collection of wet and bedraggled animals was in there. Iris appeared. She was soaking wet, and looked pale and exhausted. “Norah got as many of them into the house as she could, and she made Peter stay here to look after them,” she explained. “The rest of us went out to help, and Grim had his accident.”

“Where’s Norah now?”

“The storm’s ripping the place apart and there’s still a lot to do. She made me come in. I’m not as young as I was.”

“But where is she?” Gavin demanded.

“She went back out.”

Gavin swore under his breath and hurried out into the storm. A flash of lightning ripped the sky. The brief light showed him the sanctuary, where the wire pens were being lashed this way and that. “Norah,” he called. “Norah.”

He thought he heard a faint answering cry and ran in her direction, bent almost doule against the wind. Through the driving rain he could just make out a figure kneeling on the ground by the animal pens. “What are you doing?” he roared as he reached her.

“The wire’s ripped,” she yelled back. “I must mend it or they’ll get out, but I can’t see what I’m doing. Can you hold the torch for me?”

“Wait, I’ve got a better idea.” He tore back to the car and brought it around to where she was, training the headlights directly on her. Osbert immediately appeared out of the dark and apparently remembering that he was a guard goose attacked the car. Gavin shooed him away and Osbert nipped his leg before retreating, honking wildly.

“Thanks,” Norah yelled. She didn’t seem to have registered who was with her. She was working frantically with a pair of pliers, twisting wire, trying to make the pen safe.

“Give them to me,” Gavin yelled, trying to make himself heard over the noise of the elements and Osbert at full blast. “Give them to me.”

She did so, and he fought to bring the edges of wire together and fix them. The wire seemed to fight back, jabbing him with sharp spikes until he was bleeding, but at last he finished the job. He found he was breathing hard and sat back for a moment. He could see her in the headlights, her dark hair plastered to her skull by the rain, and to his startled gaze she seemed to be naked. Then he saw that she was wearing a short nightdress that was soaked and clinging to her body, hiding nothing. With a slight start he realized that she was beautiful. Then he pulled himself together and averted his gaze.

He began to say “Right, that’s it,” when he was startled by the noise of something crashing, followed by a hideous braying sound. “Good grief! What’s that?”

“It sounds like Buster. He must have got out.”

“All right. Let’s go and catch him.”

“I’ll catch him. You use the car to give me some light.”

He got behind the wheel and found that his sodden jacket was horribly uncomfortable. He tore it off and turned the vehicle around in a search for Buster. He found the donkey at last and began to chase him, with Norah darting in and out of the beams from the headlamps. In the eerie light she looked more naked than ever, as she twisted and turned, making vain attempts to bring the maddened animal under control. He wished he could avert his eyes again, and at the same moment he was glad that duty obliged him to look ahead.

After ten minutes of this they were no nearer to getting Buster back. Gavin got out of the car. “This is useless,” he shouted. “If you do recapture him, you’ll probably find that Mack has vanished in the meantime.”

“Mack!” she cried. “That’s a wonderful idea. Gavin, you’re a genius!”

“Am I? Thanks!” he muttered.

Norah vanished back into the storm, leaving Gavin and Buster eyeing each other in mutual distrust. Once he tried to take the donkey by surprise, but Buster made off, leading him a merry dance until they were both breathless and Buster was as free as ever. It was a relief when Norah reappeared with Mack on her shoulder, clinging to her.

At once it was clear where Gavin’s “genius” lay. Mack gave a squeak and launched himself onto Buster’s back. Norah clapped her hands to lure him toward her and at once Mack, riding Buster like a jockey, guided him in the right direction, and into the pen. Norah fixed the door and leaned against it, breathing hard with relief.

Gavin realized that the wind had dropped and the rain abated to a light drizzle. “That’s it,” he said. “You can’t do any more tonight.”

“I guess not,” Norah said with a sigh. “The poor creatures, they were so scared. I’ve taken most of them indoors.”

“Yes, Iris told me. She said Peter was looking after them.”

“They’ll be all right with him. They trust him.”

“Come on, let’s go back.”

She started to walk beside him, but at once he realized she was limping. “Have you hurt your foot?”

“No, but I lost my slippers in the mud, and the ground is a bit stony just here.” She winced as she set one foot gingerly to the ground.

“You’ll take an hour at that pace,” Gavin said. “Put your arms around my neck.”

Norah had obeyed before she quite knew what she was doing. The next moment he’d lifted her in his arms and was carrying her back to the house. “Gallantry? From you?” she said, clinging on tight.

“Shut up!” he growled, and was disconcerted by the tremor that went through her body as she chuckled. The tremor communicated itself to him, going through him again and again until his flesh was singing. He knew he should put her down at the first possible moment, but instead something impelled him to keep hold of her right across the hall and up the stairs. Norah was giving him a startled look, as if wondering how far he would go.

He kicked open the door of her room, carried her inside and kicked it shut again. “Take those wet things off,” he ordered.

“Just a minute-”

“Take them off. If you can do it to me, I can do it to you.”

“But you were asleep,” she pointed out.

“Take them off before I take them off you,” he said firmly.

He went past her into the bathroom and turned on the hot shower. Returning to the bedroom he found her still dithering uncertainly and a madness came over him. He seized the hem of the short nightdress and pulled it over her head. He had a momentary glimpse of a beautiful naked body, then he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the bathroom. “Under that water,” he ordered.

She obeyed and pulled the glass door closed behind her. Gavin resisted the temptation to admire her outline through the misty glass and left the bathroom to hurry out into the corridor. To his relief he saw Mrs. Stone just reaching the top of the stairs. “Thank heavens,” he said. “Could you get some hot milk for Norah, please?”

“I’m afraid I’ve finished for the day,” Mrs. Stone said severely.

“What? But you’re the housekeeper, aren’t you?”

“I am indeed, but that doesn’t mean I’m available at all hours,” Mrs. Stone said severely. “That, if I may say so, is too common a misconception. My hours were clearly laid down when I took the job and it was understood that under no circumstances-”

Unable to stem the flow, Gavin resorted to charging across it. “But this is a crisis,” he roared.

“Late-night crises are extremely common in this place, which is why I took the precaution of making it plain at the outset that under no circumstances-”

“Forget it,” Gavin snapped and raced downstairs. He found Iris waddling across the hall with a baby badger in her arms. “I need some hot milk-” he started to say.

“In the kitchen,” she called out as she sailed past with the badger leaning over her shoulder.

From somewhere at Gavin’s feet, Osbert honked.

“And you can keep your opinions to yourself,” Gavin informed him. He strode into the kitchen and looked around him helplessly at the glittering technology. A shadow appeared in the doorway, and he turned and saw Peter. “Trying to get a mug of hot milk in this place is like trying to get blood from a stone,” he growled. “In fact, it’s exactly like trying to get blood from a stone. Mrs. Stone. That woman is well named. D’you know, I asked her for some hot milk for Norah and she stood there lecturing me about her hours? I could have strangled her.”

Peter nodded and smiled. There was real sympathy and amusement in that smile, and it gave Gavin a pleasurable shock. He didn’t realize that in his agitation he’d forgotten to be self-conscious with Peter, and had simply spoken to him as naturally as he would have done anyone else. “You too, huh?” he asked, and Peter nodded again.

The next moment Peter had gone to the fridge, taken out the milk and poured some into a pan. Gavin watched him. After his recent experience, he was inclined to view his son’s ability to heat milk with a kind of awe.

While the milk was warming Peter thrust a towel at his father. Gavin seized it and rubbed his head dry, but Peter hadn’t finished. He pointed at the sodden shirt and indicated for it to be taken off. Gavin meekly obeyed and dried his torso thankfully. He had the same feeling of being mother-henned that he’d had with Norah.

He watched as Peter ladled three large spoonfuls of sugar into a mugful of milk, added some cocoa and presented him with the result. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s just what Norah needs. You’d better make some for yourself as well.”

Peter half turned to the stove, then something seemed to strike him and he looked back at his father inquiringly. Gavin looked back, puzzled, but when Peter pointed at him he at last understood. “Me? No, I haven’t drunk cocoa in years-yes, please, I will have some. Thank you, son.”

He wondered where his wits had been wandering, to have slipped up in such a way. Peter had actually made an approach to him and he’d nearly missed it, but a kindly fate had warned him in time. He accepted a mug from Peter’s hand and sipped it gently. It was dark, sweet and, to his palate, disgusting, but he smiled and said enthusiastically, “That’s great. You make a terrific cocoa. I’ll tell Norah you made this. Better go to bed now.” But Peter shook his head. “No? All right. You do what you feel you have to. I guess you know best.” He backed hastily out of the kitchen, terrified of doing or saying the wrong things and so ruining the little progress they’d made.

He reached Norah’s room to find her sitting on the bed wrapped in warm nightgown and robe. “Drink this,” he said, pressing a cup into her hand.

She sipped it and made a face. “Peter’s a dear, but he will swamp everything with sugar.”

“I know,” he said with feeling. “I’ve got some, too. What’s more, I’m going to drink it.”

“You could always throw it down the basin,” she suggested, testing him. “I wouldn’t tell.”

“But I’d know,” Gavin pointed out. “Besides, Peter went to a lot of trouble to make it for me.” He took a deep breath and said bravely, “I’m going to drink it.”

“Good for you.” She took another sip. “Bless him. He’s going to turn into one of those men who actually know how to look after people.”

“I suppose he learned that from Tony,” Gavin couldn’t resist saying.

“No, I think he probably inherited it from you,” she said with meaning.

As always, when she was nice to him he felt as awkward as a schoolboy. He took refuge in a large mouthful of cocoa. When he came up for air he found her still looking at him, with eyes that were kind. “I haven’t thanked you for helping me yet,” she said. “Normally Grim’s a tower of strength in an emergency, but after his accident-well, I needed another tower, and there you were.”

“Drink your cocoa,” he said gruffly. “Why should I suffer alone?”

She laughed and did as he bid. He stole a look at her. Her hair, which she’d dried vigorously, stood out in spikes, and he was reminded of the urchin he’d first met six years ago. The impression was reinforced by her nightclothes, which were plain and functional.

He wondered about her. Was there anybody for whom she bought decorative wear? In the time he’d been here he’d seen no sign of a man in her life, which appeared to be dedicated entirely to the animals. Astonished, he heard his own voice saying, “You need someone to look after you.”

“Who, me?” she asked comically. “I’m as tough as old boots.”

“Nonsense. You just think you are.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know you’ve got your limit of endurance like everyone else, and you’re closer to it than you think.”

“You mean you hope I am,” she said cheekily.

“What?”

“You hope I’m crumbling, leaving you to take over.”

He’d so far forgotten their enmity that this accusation stunned and shocked him. “Thank you,” he snapped. “I was trying to be nice to you, but obviously that’s a trick and I’ve really poisoned the cocoa.”

“Nah, Peter wouldn’t let you,” she ribbed him. Then her smile faded as she realized he was really upset. “Hey, c’mon, Hunter. I was only joking.”

“But I wasn’t. I really felt you needed my help, but you don’t trust me an inch, do you? I might as well have saved myself the trouble.”

“Look, I couldn’t have done without you tonight.” When he didn’t answer she ventured to take his hand. “I’m sorry, Gavin.”

He looked down at her hand in his, and something-he didn’t know what-made him raise it gently and brush his cheek against it. “You’re a fool, Norah Ackroyd,” he said. “But then, so am I.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know. I just…don’t know.”

But he did know. He had a sudden memory of the kiss they’d shared, and the desire to kiss her again was almost overwhelming. But he knew if he yielded to it he wouldn’t want to stop.

“Good night,” he said abruptly, and walked out of the room.