by Lucy Gordon
Gavin awoke to a shocked recollection of everything that had passed the night before. The brandy had fuddled his mind then, but now the memory was devastatingly clear of how she had come into his room and held his hand and lured him into lowering his guard.
Perhaps she hadn’t deliberately lured him, he thought, trying to be fair. Perhaps he’d done it himself, but the result was the same. He’d allowed her to see past the armor of reticence that was his only defense and discover his weakness. Whatever her apparent sympathy, at heart they were still opponents, and he’d yielded to her spell like a heartsick boy. Shivers of shame went through him.
Throwing back the covers he discovered something that appalled him still further. He was wearing his pajamas. Searching his mind frantically, he was unable to recall putting them on. His last memory was of lying down on top of the bed in the damp robe. But the robe had now vanished.
A search revealed it on a hanger behind the bathroom door. Norah must have returned, gone through his dresser to find his night wear, stripped the robe off him and somehow managed to get the pajamas on. And he’d been drunk enough to sleep through it all.
He knew he should be grateful. He took cold easily, and if he’d slept in the wet robe he would have developed a nasty chill. But for the moment all he could think of was the sheer effrontery of the woman who had dared to strip him naked while he was unaware. The fact that it was his own fault only made her crime more unforgivable.
As he dressed he reflected that it wasn’t too late. When he looked into her eyes the consciousness would be there, but if he kept the consciousness out of his own eyes it would die in hers. What he didn’t remember couldn’t be used against him.
He had a moment’s distress at what he was going to do. The memory of feminine warmth and kindness was so alluring that he was almost tempted to yield to it. But that was exactly what she wanted him to do. He must never forget that such thoughts were dangerous, never forget to be on his guard against her.
But with all his heart he wished it weren’t necessary.
Norah came into the house from her early morning rounds of the animals. Peter had been out with her, conscientiously performing all his tasks. He’d long ago absorbed the only discipline that counted in the sanctuary, that the care of the animals came first. Your heart might be broken, you might be dying inside, but the helpless creatures who depended on you still had to be fed and cared for. It had given him a maturity well beyond his ten years, and she guessed that at this moment it gave him strength.
She could only guess, because even with her he was silent, although he would sometimes press close to her. In the last few days the only time she’d heard him speak had been when he whispered, “Goodbye, Daddy” in the chapel. And when Gavin had pushed past them and stridden out of the chapel, Peter had turned his gaze up to her as if seeking reassurance. She’d hated Gavin at that moment, and she’d hated him even more when he didn’t come back for the rest of the day. She’d gone to his room still hating him, but there she’d found a drenched, desperate man who’d turned to the bottle to assuage his pain. The fact that he couldn’t cope with the brandy had been a gleam of vulnerability that had helped soften her.
She’d found herself forgetting their enmity and striving to comfort him. He’d called her a nanny, and she’d agreed. It had been the instinct that had made her return later to make sure he was all right, only to discover him asleep on top of the bed, still wearing the damp robe. She’d tried to awaken him, but he’d been very deeply asleep, and at last she’d taken action, finding his pajamas and maneuvering him into them. It had been difficult to cope with his deadweight, but not as difficult as she’d feared. She was strong and there was muscle but no fat on his long bones, and the feel of his flesh had been firm and smooth against her hands.
The memory of that came back to her now, along with the sight of his smooth chest and lean hips, and suddenly she felt her whole body suffused with warmth. The sensation took her by surprise. She lived so close to nature that physical embarrassment was almost unknown to her, and for a moment she wondered what was happening. Then she remembered how he’d fallen against her while she was putting on his jacket, how his head had rested against her breasts, and how sweet the feeling had been.
She made herself coffee and was sitting in the kitchen sipping it when the sound of Gavin’s footsteps made her jump. She looked up as he came in, but the smile died on her face as she saw the chilly distance in his eyes. “Good morning,” he said distantly.
“Good morning,” she said, watching him.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have walked out of the funeral like that, but…” he shrugged, “things got a bit much for me. Did it cause much trouble at the reception?”
“No, I…explained that you’d been under a lot of strain.” Norah spoke slowly as it dawned on her that they’d covered the same ground last night.
“Thank you. I suppose I should tell you where I went.”
“There’s no need,” she said significantly.
“You’re entitled to an explanation,” he said coolly. “I took a long walk to clear my head. I went down to the shore and walked out in the direction of the sea. By the time I came back it was pouring with rain and I got soaked. I should have told you I was back, but I didn’t want to risk taking cold, so I went straight to bed.”
Norah took a deep breath before making her voice carefully neutral. “That’s perfectly all right. I hope you’re all right this morning.”
“Fine, thank you. Can you tell me where Peter is? I should say something to him.”
“What are you going to say?” she asked quietly.
“I’m going to apologize to him, of course. What happened wasn’t his fault.”
“I’m glad you realize that.”
He looked at her angrily. “Credit me with some understanding. He’s only a little boy, and a very unhappy one. I’m not going to pile a lot of emotional pressure on him…” he checked himself, drew a swift breath, and walked out. Norah stared after him, astounded at hearing her own words quoted back to her, and wondered how much, if anything, Gavin really remembered about last night.
Gavin found his son feeding Buster and Mack. He approached him slowly and with caution. He seemed to have stripped away an outer skin this morning, and to have a new sensitivity. It told him now that Peter was conscious of him long before he seemed to be, and full of tension. At last the child looked up. “Are you all right?” Gavin asked.
Peter nodded.
“I’m sorry about the way I left yesterday. I shouldn’t have done it but-we all do things we shouldn’t, at some time.” Peter nodded, and Gavin was emboldened to go on. “I found myself remembering your mother as she was years ago, before things were bad between us. That’s how you should always remember people when they die.” Peter nodded again, and this time he also managed a faint smile. Relief flooded Gavin. It was communication of a sort.
Peter had finished his work. He left the pen, shutting it carefully behind him, then took a few steps away, looking back over his shoulder as if indicating his father should follow him. Gavin did so, and Peter led him almost to the edge of the sanctuary and pointed at a bank where wild violets made a show of color among the green. As he met his son’s gaze Gavin understood why he had been brought here, and he knew more relief, tinged with happiness. “Yes,” he said. “This is where you got the flowers yesterday, wasn’t it?” The child nodded. “I’m glad. She would have liked that so much.”
This time there was no doubt about it. Peter actually smiled. It was only a brief smile before he became once again the withdrawn child he usually was, but it had happened. Gavin’s conscience pricked him. He knew the debt he owed Norah for this moment. In justice he ought to acknowledge it, even thank her. But that would be another demonstration of weakness to add to last night, and he couldn’t quite make himself risk it. Besides, it was probably just part of her cleverness, and he ought to be more wary of her than ever.
The fo
llowing day he received an unwelcome phone call. “Hallo, Father,” he said reluctantly.
Despite William’s ailment, his voice sounded loud and forceful in Gavin’s ear. “Got the funeral over with yet?” William demanded, coming straight to the point. Gavin couldn’t remember a time when his father had wasted his energy over people’s sensibilities.
“The funeral was yesterday,” he said.
“When’s that woman leaving?”
“All in good time. I can’t just throw her out.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing she owns half the place.”
“Rubbish. Legal technicality. A good lawyer will drive a coach and horses through it. Get rid of her and start raising your son properly. I’ve had some ideas about that. Bring him to see me as soon as you can and we’ll talk. I’d like to see if your boy is turning into a real Hunter.”
“He’s Liz’s boy as well,” Gavin reminded him.
William snorted. “Yes, and look what she did with him. Brought him up a namby-pamby, I shouldn’t wonder.”
This had been Gavin’s own thought, but he immediately said, “You’re prejudging the situation. Peter may be only a child, but he already seems to me to be a-a strong person.”
“Let’s hope you’re right. The world belongs to the strong. I hope you’ve told him that.”
“I’ve told him what I think is appropriate,” Gavin said in a tight voice, “but his mother was only buried yesterday and-”
“All right, all right,” William interrupted him, evidently uninterested in any point of view other than his own. “While you’re wasting your time down there, who’s minding the store?”
“My assistant, Miss Fuller. She’s coming down here soon, and we’ll work from Strand House.”
“Huh! Women!”
“She happens to be excellent at her job.”
“If you say so. Look here, I’ve written you a long letter, giving you my views. You’ll get it tomorrow. Just take what you need and discard the rest. You know I never interfere.”
Gavin grunted and hung up as quickly as he decently could. He dreaded William’s bouts of “not interfering.”
The letter arrived next morning and proved to be so prejudiced and ignorant that Gavin couldn’t finish it in one sitting. He put it away, then called his office to make final arrangement for Miss Fuller’s arrival. But she wasn’t in yet, which was unlike her.
He was running short of cash, and he decided to go into the nearest town to find a bank. When he’d finished there, he called his office again from a pay phone. But Miss Fuller still wasn’t there and nobody seemed to know where she might be.
He bought a local paper and went into a café, hoping to finish the letter in what he hoped would be peace and quiet, but he found himself getting more agitated as he read. Every line, every word, proclaimed the rigidity of William’s mind, and the utter impossibility of broadening his horizons. This had always been true, but now it seemed to strike Gavin with new force.
For a moment he wondered how life would be if William were a man of sensitivity and understanding, a man a son could talk to when he was in trouble. But the thought was self-contradictory. Sensitivity and understanding had no place in William’s scale of values, and strong men were never “in trouble” according to him. In fact there was only one person Gavin could confide in and receive sympathy from, and she was off-limits.
He put the letter away and opened the local paper. There was a description of the funeral of “naturalist and local celebrity Tony Ackroyd,” plus a few quotes from Norah about the sanctuary. Gavin glanced through them and was about to close the paper when he came to one phrase that stood out as if written in neon. He drew a sharp, angry breath, drained his tea and hurried out to his car.
As soon as he arrived home he went in search of Norah and found her in her on-site office. There was no sign of Peter. He was glad of that. He needed space to fight. “What the devil did you mean by this?” he demanded, pushing the paper in front of her.
She read the item and smiled. “They’ve done them proud, haven’t they? Tony and Liz were always very popular around here.”
“That’s not what I meant. What right did you have to tell this paper that in future the sanctuary was going to be called Norah’s Ark?”
“I think it’s rather a nice name.”
“Nice? You know my opinion of whimsy.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have suggested it if you didn’t want me to use it.”
“I suggested it? Are you mad?”
“I admit you said it pretty scathingly. In fact you said ‘this Norah’s Ark of yours,’ as though you were holding it away from you with tongs. But I thought it was a good name, just the same.”
“So you appropriated it,” he seethed.
“Well, you didn’t want it for yourself, did you?”
“I-that is not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“The point is that you’re quoted here as saying that the name was suggested by a generous well-wisher. And you can have no illusions about how badly I fit that description.”
She looked at him wryly. “Neither generous nor a well-wisher, huh? No, I suppose not. But before you go letting off steam about it, I should tell you that Peter loves the idea. And he was thrilled when I told him it came from you.”
Gavin struggled to control himself. “You are the most unscrupulous woman it’s ever been my misfortune to meet.”
Instead of coming back to him Norah looked suddenly weary, as though she’d been keeping up a brave front that had become too much. “Look, Hunter,” she sighed, “it wasn’t an evil conspiracy. I just happened to mention it to the reporter and he said what a wonderful name to call the place in future, and I said, yes, wasn’t it? It just slipped out. I won’t use it if you really hate it.”
Oh, she was clever, he realized offering to backtrack after getting Peter keen. And who’d get the blame for that?
“If Peter likes it, you have to use it,” he said grimly.
She fired up. “Don’t tell me what I have to do.”
“I am telling you. I’m not going to let you blacken me to my son by telling him I vetoed it.”
“But you-”
“Norah, you will call this place Norah’s Ark, and that’s an end of the matter.”
She gritted her teeth. “Yes, Hunter,” she said in exasperation.
He left the office abruptly and strode towards the house, but as he reached it he heard her running after him. “By the way,” she said as they went inside, “there’s been a delivery for you. Several boxes of files.” She indicated a huge pile of boxes standing in the hall. “They were delivered by a Miss Fuller.”
“She’s my secretary and personal assistant,” Gavin said. “Where is she now?”
“She’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
“I mean gone, as in ‘gone away,’ ‘left the premises,’ departed in her big, shiny car without a backward glance at us dumb yokels.”
“But why? She was supposed to move in here, to work with me.” His eyes narrowed as the asperity in her last remark got through to him. “Did you make her leave? Because if you did, let me tell you that I consider that an unpardonable intrusion into my-”
“It had nothing to do with me,” Norah interrupted. “From the way she looked around, I think she’s a city lady who considers this the back of beyond. Anyway, she must have made her decision before she came here, because she had this all ready for you.”
She handed him a sealed envelope. Gavin tore open the letter and discovered a neat, impersonal communication from the efficient Miss Fuller, in which she informed him that she’d found another job and was leaving immediately.
Something clutched Gavin’s stomach as he read it. He had no particular fondness of Miss Fuller, but he knew she had an admirable nose where the financial markets were concerned. Her departure at this moment meant only one thing. She didn’t believe he was going to pull Hun
ter and Son out of its present mess, and she was voting with her feet. It was a sharp reminder that he had other problems in addition to Peter, problems he’d been neglecting lately.
“Trouble?” Norah asked in a sympathetic tone.
“None that I can’t cope with,” he said cheerfully, slipping the polished mask into place as so often before. “As you guessed, she likes the bright lights. This wouldn’t suit her at all. But I can manage without her for a while.”
She looked at him. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”
“Perfectly sure,” he said in a tone that snubbed her. “Now, I have to find somewhere to work. I seem to remember there’s a desk available in the office.”
“Well, yes, but-” it was clear she didn’t want him in what had been her father’s office.
“There’s an extra telephone plug in there for a fax machine,” he pointed out. “I saw it. Also plenty of outlets and shelves. It’s the logical place.”
“True, but-”
“And since you work there as well, we can answer the phone for each other,” he finished smoothly.
“Hmm! I wonder who’ll end up taking the most messages for whom?” she asked shrewdly.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that you’ll try to use me as an unpaid secretary.”
“I can’t think why you say that-”
“Because I see right through you, Hunter. I know the kind of man you are. A user. All right, you can move into the office, but you make your own coffee, answer your own phone and do your own filing.”
“I’m innocence personified,” he assured her.
“Hmm!”
He’d believed his own declaration of innocence at the moment he made it, but he hadn’t realized how used he was to having Miss Fuller as backup. It was natural to him to say, “Put that file away for me,” or “Get me so-and-so on the phone,” and he went on doing it. But only for a while. Norah would invariably remember something she had to do outside, and he would find himself talking to thin air.
Sometimes the phone would ring and he would snatch it up, growling “Hunter,” only to find himself talking to someone who wanted Norah. Then he would have to drop his own work and go in search of her, which was exasperating. To cap it all, when challenged, Norah seemed incapable of understanding that it was an intolerable intrusion for a busy man like himself.
