Looking at the Moon

by Kit Pearson

  “Good old Aunt Catherine,” said Andrew. “She’s always taken my acting seriously. Too bad she’s the only one.” The muscle jumped in his cheek and his blue-grey eyes looked sad.

  “But everyone thinks you’re a wonderful actor!” cried Norah, forgetting her shyness. “You heard what Aunt Florence said on your first night.”

  “Yes—as long as it’s just a hobby. I’ll tell you something, Norah. I do want to be an actor. More than anything in the world. But they—all the Elders and especially my mother and stepfather—think I should be an engineer, like my father. That’s what I’ve been taking at university and what I’ll continue taking at U of T along with the COTC course. You wouldn’t believe how boring it is. But they don’t need actors in the war,” he added dryly.

  “Can’t you become an actor after the war?” asked Norah.

  “I suppose so. Maybe I’ll have the guts to do it by then. You see, it’s not just because it’s a good lead-in to officer training that they had me take engineering. It’s because it’s practical and will give me the kind of career every other man in this family has always had—something that will make me lots of money, that will establish me …”

  He waved his piece of toast in time to the rise and fall of his words. The bitterness in his voice made Norah uncomfortable. This wasn’t how she wanted him to be; he was supposed to be confident and cheerful. “I don’t see why you can’t be an actor if you want to be,” she said impatiently.

  She was relieved when Andrew smiled. “You’re perfectly right. And I shouldn’t be boring you with my problems. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this—probably because you’re not part of the family.” He glanced at his watch. “Now … how’s the ankle?”

  Norah had completely forgotten she was supposed to have twisted her ankle. “Oh!” she said with surprise. “I guess it’s going to be all right.” She stood up, put her weight on it, and limped around the room. “Yes, I’m sure it will be. The more I walk on it the better it feels.”

  “Good.” Andrew was gathering up a tennis racquet and a white sweater. He wanted her to go.

  “I’m meeting some friends at eleven,” he said. “Be sure to get someone to look at your ankle if it bothers you.”

  “I will.” Norah hobbled out of the cabin and up the hill, trying to remember which foot she was supposed to be favouring. She turned back to wave but Andrew was already hurrying to the dock.

  Still, he’d asked her in! And he’d confided in her! For the rest of the day Norah moved around in a cloud of happiness, and that evening it was crowned when Andrew asked her in a concerned voice, “Is your ankle better, Norah?”

  “Yes, thanks,” she said in a croak, as his eyes focused on hers.

  “What happened to your ankle, Norah?” demanded Aunt Florence. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just twisted it a bit. It’s fine now. It doesn’t even hurt.”

  Aunt Florence looked so suspicious that Norah retreated from the room. She still felt guilty about her trick—but it had worked! Surely, from now on, Andrew would pay more attention to her. And, after all, she’d only been in love with him for four days—though it seemed like years. It was natural that he’d take that long to really notice her.

  World-famous actor Andrew Drummond says he wouldn’t have persisted with his career if it had not been for the encouragement of his beloved wife, Norah. Often compared to Laurence Olivier, this handsome star says he has his wife in mind every time he plays a love scene …

  8

  Being Detectives

  “Norah, we’d like to have a meeting with you.” The Fearless Four stood solemnly on the verandah. “Could you please come to our headquarters?” added Gavin.

  Norah left the glider and followed them along the path to the playhouse. Above the door was pinned a sign—FEARLESS FOUR DETECTIVE AGENCY—NO CASE TOO DIFFICULT. Inside, all the evidence of the Hornets had been cleared away. Now a pair of toy handcuffs and a magnifying glass sat on a low table. Leaning against the wall was a chart covered with all the family’s fingerprints. A complete set of Sherlock Holmes books stood on a rickety shelf; Creature was perched on top, as if he were guarding all this.

  Norah was struck by how small the room was; her arms and legs seemed to fill the whole space. She sat on the floor with the others around the table. “Does Aunt Florence know you have these books out here?” she asked, reaching up to touch one of the red leather bindings.

  “Well … not exactly,” said Gavin, always truthful. “She said I could borrow them, but she thinks they’re in the Boys’ Dorm. We’ll put them back at the end of the summer. Listen, Norah—we need your help.”

  “What for?”

  “We just can’t crack this case,” said Peter solemnly. He pushed up the thick glasses that were always sliding down his nose.

  “What case?”

  “Aunt Mary’s,” said Sally impatiently. “We’ve got a lot of clues but now we’re stuck.”

  Gavin handed Norah his notebook. A pencil was tied by a bedraggled string to a hole in the cover. She opened it to the first page, which was headed “Clues—The Case of the Mysterious Visits.”

  Aunt Mary has gone to Port Schofield five or six times since the beginning of August.

  She says she is going to town to get a dress fitted but Norah Stoakes (friend of the agency) says she saw her coming out of Eden House Resort.

  Aunt Mary acts as if she is up to something. She is dixtacted and sings to herself.

  Norah smiled at “friend of the agency.” “What does ‘dixtacted’ mean?” she asked them.

  “You know—kind of absent-minded, as if she’s always thinking of something else,” said Gavin.

  “Oh—distracted. You’re right, she has been acting different. You’ve been very observant.”

  The Fearless Four beamed at her praise. “But now we’re stuck,” said Peter.

  Ross, never able to sit still for long, climbed on a stool and began swinging from the top of the doorway. “We’re stuck because we can’t trail her,” he said. “We aren’t allowed to take the boat out alone until we’re thirteen.”

  “So, Norah …” Ross dropped with a thud and all four looked at her expectantly.

  “So you want me to take you in the boat and drop you off so you can follow her,” said Norah. “But what if she sees you?”

  “We’ll be very, very careful,” said Gavin. “We know how to track people quietly. We’ve been practising on the aunts—we followed them all the way to the gazebo and back without getting caught.”

  Norah reflected on how good she was at tracking Andrew. In spite of a reluctance to invade Aunt Mary’s privacy, she felt a twinge of excitement, as if she were their age again. Maybe she could do more than just take them over in the boat. It would be almost a relief to have a holiday from her feelings for Andrew. She picked up a Captain Wonder comic from the floor and flipped through it while she decided.

  “Okay,” she said finally. She hushed their eager voices. “I think I’d better help you track her, though. You’ll need someone to help make up an excuse if you’re caught. And five of us will attract too much attention. I’ll take Gavin and one other.”

  “Me! Me!”

  “Sally,” said Gavin at once. “She’s the best at tracking.” The other boys looked disappointed but accepted his decision. It had always surprised Norah how they let Gavin lead them, even though Peter was a year older. Somehow his gentle manner carried a lot of authority.

  “I’ll have to get permission,” said Norah. “It’ll be tricky because we won’t know she’s going until the last moment and she might take the Putt-Putt. And remember, Aunt Mary may not be up to anything—there could be some logical explanation.” She knew from their eager faces that they didn’t believe that, and all at once she didn’t want to believe it either. “I’ll be your Chief Detective,” she continued. “You’ll have to do exactly what I say.” Then she added, a bit sheepishly, “Can I borrow a few of these comics?”

&nb
sp; For the rest of that day they all observed Aunt Mary’s movements. But she didn’t appear on the dock in her hat until the next afternoon, when Mr. Hancock drove her away in the Florence. Gavin dashed up to tell Norah and Norah tried to appear nonchalant as she looked for an Elder. She found Aunt Anne in the kitchen, helping Hanny roll out piecrust.

  “May I please take Gavin and Sally to Port Schofield in the Putt-Putt?” she asked.

  As usual Aunt Anne looked uncertain. “Why do you want to go there?”

  “To buy some comics and have ice cream.”

  “I wonder … I suppose it’s all right. But make sure they wear life-jackets. How long are you going to be?”

  “We’ll be back by five,” promised Norah. She skipped out before she could be questioned further.

  Gavin and Sally looked solemn as they sat side by side in the bow of the Putt-Putt, muffled in fat orange life-jackets.

  “I think we should moor at the hotel, not in town,” said Norah. “After all, we’re assuming that’s where she is.” She slowed down the boat and turned in to the hotel dock. A few guests sitting in wooden chairs along the shore glanced up at them. Not at all sure if they were allowed to use the dock, Norah tied up the painter quickly and hissed at the others. “Quick! Take off your life-jackets and follow me.” The three detectives strolled across the lawn as if they were guests too. They hurried up the long path and retreated under a clump of trees for a conference.

  “So far, so good,” said Gavin, his eyes dancing. “Stop laughing, Sally!” He pulled out his notebook and began to scribble while Norah examined the hotel.

  How were they ever going to find Aunt Mary? The huge three-storey building in front of them must contain hundreds of people.

  “What are you writing, Gavin?” asked Sally.

  “The colours of those chairs and where this hiding place is,” he told her.

  “That’s not important,” said Norah. “You don’t have to write everything down, just what’s relevant.”

  “But you never know what could be relevant,” said Gavin, continuing to scribble.

  Norah kept staring at the hotel, thinking hard. “Let’s walk all the way around the outside,” she suggested. “Maybe we’ll spot her on the verandah. Now remember, look as if you’re staying here. If she spots us we’ll say … Oh, yikes, what will we say?”

  “We could say that we’re visiting Mummy’s friend,” said Sally. “You know, Mrs. Abercrombie. She’s staying here all month. She was on the island last week with her daughter. Enid,” she added with disgust.

  Norah looked at Sally with exasperation. “But why didn’t you say so earlier? It’s a perfect excuse. You could say I brought you over to play with Enid!”

  “Ugh!” said Sally. “She’s so babyish, isn’t she, Gavin?” Gavin nodded.

  “Still, that’s our alibi—don’t forget! Let’s just hope we don’t have to use it.”

  They began circling the lawn underneath the verandah, pulling their sun hats down over their faces. A group of well-dressed people were playing croquet. “There she is!” whispered Sally.

  “Aunt Mary?” breathed Norah.

  “No—Enid. And her mother.” A small girl in a frilly dress was standing on the edge of the group, licking an ice cream cone while her mother bent over her and wiped her chin.

  “Don’t let them see us!” Norah grabbed each of them by the hand and headed back around the corner.

  “I’m hungry!” complained Sally. “Couldn’t we get some ice cream too?”

  “Not yet,” said Norah. She looked at her watch. “If we haven’t found Aunt Mary by four-thirty we’ll take the boat into town and get some.”

  They strolled back and forth aimlessly, avoiding the croquet game. Norah was just beginning to get up the courage to venture into the hotel itself when Gavin called “Look!”

  “Shhh!” Norah pressed her hand over his mouth as a woman turned around at his voice. “Stay calm—sit down on the grass and don’t turn your head. Did you really see her?”

  Gavin nodded and leaned over to whisper into her ear. “She’s out on the lake! In a boat! Left of the boathouse—I saw her yellow hat.”

  Carefully Norah raised her eyes. Sure enough, Aunt Mary was in the bow of a red canoe, her back to them. And someone was with her—a stocky man who steered awkwardly, making the canoe go in a wavering line.

  “Good for you, Gavin! Okay, be as quiet as mice—we’ll follow the canoe from the shore.”

  They ran lightly down to the lake and slunk along the shoreline behind the screen of trees. The canoe was far enough out that they wouldn’t be seen. Soon it rounded a promontory ahead of them.

  “Be very quiet,” warned Norah. “We don’t know how close it’ll be to the shore on the other side.” They got on their stomachs and slithered over the rocks until they could peek over.

  The canoe had turned in to a tiny cove below them. The man hauled it up on the beach, then held out his hand to Aunt Mary. They sat on some rocks, Aunt Mary drawing her legs up under her dress.

  Before Norah could stop them, Gavin and Sally had crept through the bushes to get closer. She joined them reluctantly. Suddenly it felt wrong to spy on Aunt Mary like this. Whoever this man was, it wasn’t their business. She imagined her guardian’s hurt face if she caught them.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered to the others when she reached them. “We’ve seen enough.”

  “Not yet,” entreated Gavin, digging out his notebook. “I need to describe him.”

  Norah fidgeted while he looked and scribbled. Aunt Mary and the stranger were talking intently to each other, their voices too far away to be heard. But Aunt Mary’s frequent laughter floated up to them. The man looked as old as she was; he took off his hat and his white hair caught the light. At least they were both facing the lake, not the trees.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the couple got into the canoe again and the three detectives trailed them back to the hotel dock. They hid behind the boathouse as the canoe arrived. Now they could hear every word.

  “Just look at the time! I must get back to town before Mr. Hancock comes. Goodbye, Tom. I’ve had a lovely afternoon.”

  “Goodbye, then, Mary. I’ll see you on Friday at three.” The man lifted his hat as Aunt Mary hurried past the boathouse.

  “Who is he?” whispered Sally.

  “Not yet!” hissed Norah. “No talking until we get out of here. Wait until he’s gone too.” The man finished tying up the canoe and went up the path. When he reached the hotel, they got into their own boat.

  Gavin whipped out his notebook, but Norah clapped her hand over his. “Don’t write anything!” she ordered. “As soon as we get back to Gairloch we’ll have a meeting.”

  “But aren’t we going to have any ice cream?” asked Sally.

  “No!” said Norah fiercely. “We’re going straight back before Mr. Hancock comes. But you can say you had ice cream if your mother asks you what you did.”

  “That’s not fair—” began Sally, but the engine revved and Norah drove back to the island as fast as she could.

  “THIS CASE didn’t turn out to be very interesting,” said Gavin, back in the playhouse. An indignant Peter and Ross had been shooed out of it. “All she does is visit that man. But wasn’t it exciting when we were following the canoe?”

  “Is he her boy friend?” giggled Sally. “Aunt Mary’s too old to have a boy friend!”

  Norah’s thoughts raced. “Of course she is,” she agreed. “He’s probably just a friend of the family.”

  “So why does she keep it a secret?” persisted Sally.

  “Uhh … maybe he’s someone Aunt Florence doesn’t like. You know how many people she disapproves of.”

  “Like Bernard,” said Gavin. “Bernard is our friend in Toronto,” he explained to Sally. “When Norah first knew him she had to meet him secretly—even I didn’t know. She doesn’t have to do that any more, but Aunt Florence still doesn’t like him much. She’s always telling me how ‘un
suitable’ Bernard is because his mother’s a cleaning woman.”

  “And if you’d known that I was meeting him, you wouldn’t have told Aunt Florence, would you?” Norah asked him.

  “Of course not!”

  “Well, this is the same situation. Aunt Mary obviously wants to keep her visits a secret—but now we know. So we have to keep it a secret too. Do you understand? We can’t tell anyone, or we’ll get her into trouble with Aunt Florence. I don’t even want you to write it down in your casebook, Gavin.”

  “But—” Gavin looked deflated, but then he sighed and said, “Okay, Norah, I won’t.”

  “But can’t we tell Peter and Ross?” asked Sally. “They’re waiting to hear what happened!”

  Norah knew they’d tell them anyway. “All right … but no one else! You’ve solved the case and you did it very well, but we found out something we shouldn’t have known—and we don’t want to hurt Aunt Mary, right?”

  They nodded solemnly. Norah made them each say cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die. Then she left them and climbed up to her rock.

  She stretched out on her stomach, trying to absorb all they’d seen. Aunt Mary’s secret was probably safe. To the Fearless Four, everyone except herself was an Elder and therefore not to be trusted.

  But what did the secret mean? Of course the man was Aunt Mary’s “boy friend.” Norah had known that at once from the tender way they had looked at each other. Now she recognized in Aunt Mary the same symptoms she possessed herself.

  Most important of all—his name was Tom! That meant he was Thomas, Aunt Mary’s long-ago love, who had somehow come back into her life. He must be visiting from the prairies, just so he could see Aunt Mary.

  No wonder she’d wanted to talk about Thomas with Norah that night! It was the same reason that Norah was always trying to casually introduce Andrew’s name into conversations. Norah wished Aunt Mary had told her she was seeing him again, but she was probably afraid to reveal that even to Norah.