Instant Father

by Lucy Gordon

  “This is the last time I’m doing this,” he said when he’d hunted her down in the sanctuary and thrust a message into her hand. “I had to waste valuable time placating that man because you’d said you’d call him back and then you didn’t.”

  Norah glanced at the name on the paper. “I didn’t call him back because you were hogging the phone yesterday,” she said crossly. “You might have noticed-except that you never notice anyone else’s concerns-that I kept looking in hopefully, but you never once let go of the receiver. That’s why I didn’t call him back, and if you had to calm him down you got your just deserts. That’s all I have to say.”

  “If only it were. The phone is part of my business-”

  “Then get one of your own and stop hogging mine. I have business to deal with, too, and you’re holding it up.”

  “Oh, come on,” he scoffed.

  “And what does ‘come on’ mean?” she asked dangerously.

  “It means there’s business and business. There’s my business-property-”

  “And money,” she reminded him ironically. “Don’t forget money.”

  “And money,” he agreed. “Money and property. Things that are real. Surely you don’t expect me to believe that a few donkeys matter in comparison?”

  For a moment he thought she would explode, she was so angry. But she calmed down enough to say, “You don’t deal in things that are real, Hunter. You deal with lights on a computer. Turn a switch and the whole lot disappears. There’s no reality in that. Try cleaning out a pen when an animal’s living in it. That’s reality, and no convenient switch to make it vanish.”

  “That’s hardly-”

  “Be quiet, I haven’t finished. You say, what do a few donkeys matter? Ask your son if they matter, if he’ll answer you. They matter to him, because he’s unhappy and they’re keeping him sane. They’re his lifeline-and mine. Put your arms around an animal, feel its warmth, and feel your own warmth flowing in response. That’s not only reality, it’s healing. Warmth and love are the most healing things ever created, and nobody ever healed anything by signing checks.”

  He opened his mouth, but she charged on over him. “Do you know who this man is?” she asked. “He runs a school for damaged children. Some of them are physically disabled, and some are sick in their hearts and minds. I’ve promised him he can bring a group of them here, and I’ve been trying to call him to fix the date. Now I’m going to call him back and apologize for keeping him waiting, but your bricks and mortar, your bits of paper and your computer lights are more important than his sick children. Would that be putting it fairly, do you think?”

  “I think it’s damned unfair,” he burst out. “But you’re very clever at twisting things to suit your own argument.”

  “Well, I have to keep my wits about me with you,” she flashed back.

  “I don’t know why you’re so ill tempered, just because I came to give you a message,” Gavin said, retreating into dignity.

  Norah didn’t know, either. The strength that had sustained her in the early days after the tragedy seemed to be seeping away now. At the same time her burdens grew heavier and every day seemed filled with clouds, even when the sun was out. It took only a small thing to make her fly off the handle, as she’d just done.

  “You didn’t just come to give me a message,” she said. “You came to complain about having to give me a message. Now that you’ve delivered it, we have nothing further to say.”

  She headed back to the house, leaving Gavin watching her and reflecting what an impossible woman she was.

  His activities grew more frantic as the skies over Hunter & Son darkened. It was madness to remain here. He should be in London, wheeling and dealing, challenging rivals to see who would blink first. But now there were no such confrontations because he was doing everything from a distance. And he was losing by it.

  It soon became clear that Miss Fuller’s defection had soon passed along the grapevine. Contacts telephoned, full of barely concealed curiosity. They murmured agreement when Gavin explained that Miss Fuller preferred the city, but they knew the truth. Gavin could hear the line humming with their unspoken knowledge.

  “Why don’t you go and see some of these people?” Norah demanded, exasperated.

  “Sure, you’d just love me to go, wouldn’t you?” he asked coolly. His nerves were in shreds. “And what would I find when I came back? The locks changed, I shouldn’t wonder.”

  Norah pushed back a lock of untidy hair and looked at him with weary distaste. “If I had the energy I’d throw something at you for saying that,” she observed.

  “Remind me to duck sometime.”

  “You can laugh, but my aim is perfect-as I’m sure you’ll discover one day. Luckily for you I’m dead beat.”

  She collapsed in a leather armchair, with her legs over the side. She was dressed in a pair of old shorts that looked as if they’d been cut down from jeans, topped off by a small sleeveless vest. The outfit had clearly been chosen for comfort and convenience. It was impossible to imagine this hostile young woman wanting to appear seductive to him. Yet he was disturbingly conscious of her long, bare legs, the beauty of her neck, the way her breasts swelled against the thin vest, and the rosiness of her skin that looked as if it smelled of the sun and the wind.

  “Of course the locks won’t be changed,” she told him. “We’ll all still be here when you get back.”

  He regarded her suspiciously. “Really?”

  “Well you can bring a pickax to knock down the door if I’m lying, can’t you?” she demanded, exasperated. “For heaven’s sake, Hunter, go. Give us a rest from each other. We’ll both benefit.”

  “You mean Peter will benefit?” he snapped.

  “Actually, I was thinking of myself,” she snapped back.

  “Fine. Then I’ll spend tomorrow in London.”

  “Do that. Spend the day after, too, and the day after that-”

  “Just tomorrow. You don’t get rid of me that easily.”

  She grinned at him cheekily. “Shame!”

  Chapter Six

  He was gone three days, and managed to fix up some short-term finance that would give him a breathing space, though it would also increase his debt. On the last evening he went to have dinner at the home of Brian Kendel, a business contact with whom he was vaguely friendly. He found his host and hostess a little flustered and behind with their preparations. “We started playing with the new toy and forgot the time,” Brian said self-consciously.

  “New toy?” Gavin echoed politely. He had visions of an executive knickknack, all clicking beads and colored lights, such as were supposed to relieve stress in businessmen.

  But his host produced a neat little camcorder. “It’s our second,” he explained. “We got the first one when Simon was born, three years ago. Now that we’ve got Joan, as well, we bought a new one. When the kids are grown-up we can rerun the tapes. It’s like snapshots, only better.”

  He played a tape on the television, showing his baby son from the first day to his third birthday. Gavin watched with a fixed attention that was more than mere politeness and made his hosts think well of him. In fact he was merely thunderstruck by the realization of how much of Peter’s growing he’d missed, and the discovery of how he could at least fix the present on tape.

  “Where can I get one of these things?” he asked urgently.

  He left London next day with the latest model on the backseat of the car. All the way to Norfolk he was thinking of the pleasures of using it. Perhaps Peter would be intrigued by the machine, they could discover its workings together, and at last break through the barrier that still separated them.

  The road home took him along the coast. The tide was still out, although coming in fast, and he looked across the flat sands where the boats were just beginning to float again, remembering the time he’d been here, and all that had happened that night.

  He slowed the car as he saw two figures, one tall, one short, walking out in the direc
tion of the sea. Even at this distance he was sure they were Norah and Peter. In his present mood, he felt charitable toward all the world. He would follow, and show them the camera and the three of them could enjoy it together. He stopped the car and called to them, but they were too far out to hear. Gavin began to run after them.

  Peter was carrying a box, which he put carefully down on the sand and opened. The two of them were so absorbed that they weren’t aware of Gavin, although he was now quite close. He heard Norah said, “Lift him out.” Peter reached into the box and took out a sea gull, which he held carefully between his two hands.

  He set the bird down on the sand and took a step back. There was something natural and practiced about his movements, as though he’d done this many times before. The sea gull hesitated a moment before pattering a few tentative steps. Then it seemed to smell the salty air and sense the breeze on its back. It moved faster-then faster-and suddenly it was airborne, winging away across the water, directly into the sun. Norah and Peter watched it go, their hands shading their eyes.

  But suddenly Peter brought up his other hand to cover his face and turned so that he could hide against Norah. She embraced him at once. “I loved Joey, too,” she said. “But it’s better for him to fly back to his natural life. He’ll be happier that way.”

  But Peter shook his head violently and cried in a muffled voice, “It’s not Joey.”

  Norah sighed and held him more closely. “I know. Mum and Dad. They used to love releasing things back to the wild, and we’re going to remember them every time we do this. But, darling, one day it won’t hurt. It’ll be like the gull. We’ll remember only the time we had together and be grateful for it, and we’ll understand why we had to say goodbye. That time will come. I promise.”

  Pain slashed through Gavin. It was akin to the pain he’d felt at the funeral when Peter had whispered “Goodbye, Daddy.” But that had only been a moment. This seemed to last for an age. Gavin regarded himself as a man in control of his emotions, but this was more than he could cope with. His misery gave birth to a cruel demon, and it was the demon that spoke harshly from within him, saying, “And the sooner it comes, the better.”

  They whirled and stared at him. There was shock and dismay in Peter’s face, horror in Norah’s. “For pity’s sake!” she said angrily. “Do you have to-?”

  “Yes, I have to, because I’m tired of this. I’ve been patient while you turned my son into a namby-pamby, but I won’t allow it any longer. At some point he’s got to grow up and stop crying.”

  Peter wrenched himself away from Norah. If he’d run to his father Gavin would have opened his arms to him, but Peter avoided him and fled back across the sands in the direction of home. Gavin turned to go after him, but Norah seized his arm.

  “To think I believed you were learning a little sensitivity,” she raged. “It was all a front, wasn’t it? The truth is that you’re harsh and cruel and completely without understanding. You don’t care for Peter as a person. If you did, you couldn’t have acted like that. He’s a possession you came here to reclaim, and you’re getting impatient with having to go slowly.”

  “If you mean that Peter is mine, you’re right-”

  “You saw Liz in the same way. That’s why you lost her. You think about nothing but possessions, money and success.”

  “Success matters. That’s how a man knows what he is.”

  “Well, what are you?” she demanded. “A man whom nobody loves.”

  He hardened his face, refusing to let her see that this accusation was like a blow to the stomach. “There’s more to life than love,” he grated. “I want my son brought up to see things as they are, not through the rose-colored spectacles you all wear in this place.”

  “What do you mean, rose colored?”

  “I mean today’s touching little ceremony. Sick creatures don’t always recover, and there isn’t always a happy ending. You call me harsh. Well, life is harsh, and he’ll survive better if he’s prepared for it.”

  “Don’t you think he already knows life is harsh?” she cried. “He just lost two people he loved.”

  “He still has his father, and eventually you’ll have to let him come with me. If you’re sensible, you’ll face the inevitable now.”

  “I don’t believe it is the inevitable. I won’t lose hope. Liz used to say I had a touch of Mr. Micawber in me, and she was right. I always believe something will turn up.”

  “And just what kind of miracle do you think is going to turn up?” Gavin asked skeptically.

  “Anything might happen. The court might decide that Peter belongs with me, where he’s happy. Or you might decide the same thing.”

  “That will never happen,” he snapped.

  He turned on his heel and went back to the car. When he reached Strand House he went in search of Peter. He found him making up feed with Grim, the two of them working quietly together, anticipating each other’s movements. It was clear they’d done this often before. It was Grim who looked up and saw Gavin, but he was sure Peter had known he was there and simply refused to acknowledge him. “Looks like you’re wanted,” Grim said.

  Reluctantly, it seemed to Gavin, Peter lifted his head. His eyes were distant. “I’d like to talk to you,” Gavin said.

  It was unnerving the way a child could be so docile, while still shutting out his father. He set down what he was doing and came toward Gavin, but there was no communication in his manner. His obedience was simply another form of armor.

  “Look, I know you think I was hard on you just now,” Gavin said awkwardly. “Perhaps I was. Harder than I meant to be. It’s this place. I’m not comfortable here, and it makes everything wrong between us. We can’t get to know each other properly.”

  Peter’s lips didn’t move, but his eyes said, “Why not?”

  “Because we can’t talk proper…I mean, I need to be able to talk to you without feeling you’re going to run off to Norah as soon as I’ve finished. She’s a fine person but-we’re father and son. We may not have seen much of each other, but we’re still father and son. We always will be. Nothing can ever change that.” Perhaps he said the last words a little too firmly.

  Flick appeared from nowhere and brushed against Peter’s leg. The boy reached down and scratched her red coat absently. “You might look at me while I’m talking to you,” Gavin said tensely, and Peter straightened up at once. But his very obedience seemed like a kind of snub. It was as if he were saying, “I’ll obey you in every detail, to cover the fact that my heart isn’t with you.”

  Gavin felt a snub keenly, and despite his good intentions it put an edge on his voice. “This place is nothing but a fool’s paradise, and nobody ever gained anything from living in a fool’s paradise. You’ve got to learn how to fight the world like a man, and you’ll only learn that with me.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he had an eerie feeling-as if the world had sideslipped. The air seemed to sing about his ears. It was as if he were living this moment for the second time, and the first time was there with him, still living, endlessly repeating. He gave himself a little shake. It was the first time he’d ever experienced a sensation of déjà vu, and it baffled him.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?” he demanded. “I don’t want my son to be a milksop, and that’s what you’ll be if you stay here.”

  Unexpectedly Peter turned and looked at him with a look Gavin had never seen before. For the first time his eyes weren’t distant and withdrawn, but angry and defiant. “Don’t look at me like that,” Gavin shouted. As Peter began to turn away, something snapped within him. “Don’t turn away from me. I’m talking to you.” He seized his son by the shoulders and forcibly swung him round, shaking him slightly. “Don’t,” he shouted. “Don’t do that. I’m your father. Why can’t you…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t really know what he was trying to say. He had an overwhelming impulse to pull the child against him and enfold him in a gigantic hug, but a self
-control perfected too long ago to remember restrained him.

  “All right,” he said with a sigh. “I’m sorry. Run along now.”

  He turned sharply and walked away. If he’d looked back he might have seen his son watching him with a longing expression that would have given him hope. But he didn’t look back.

  That evening at sunset Norah walked down near the shore. She could hear the waves splashing as the tide, which had come in, began to withdraw. She walked until she saw Gavin sitting on a rock staring out over the water. “You weren’t there for supper,” she said.

  “I didn’t want any.”

  “If it’s any interest to you, Peter’s very unhappy.”

  “Of course it interests me, but he doesn’t want my comfort. If I reach out to him, he runs away. You know that.”

  “Perhaps that’s because when you reach, you grab. You might get further by waiting for him to come to you.”

  “I could wait forever for that,” he said bitterly.

  “Well, what do you gain by sitting out here sulking.”

  “I’m not sulking. I came back to get my camcorder, but of course it was too late.”

  She sat down beside him. “What camcorder?”

  “I bought one in London. I wanted to film Peter. I’ve missed so much of his growing up, and I thought I could catch him now. I brought it down the beach this afternoon. I was going to show it to both of you. But I must have dropped it somewhere.”

  “Well, you can always get another.”

  He shrugged. “What’s the point? He’ll probably hate the idea, anyway.”

  She considered this. “If you just point the camera at him he probably will hate it,” she agreed. “Little boys don’t like being photographed or filmed. It embarrasses them. Didn’t you try to get out of it when you were a child and your father wanted to take snaps of you?”