“Shut up,” he said fiercely. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Norah came further into the room, shutting the door behind her. “Where have you been all this time?” He didn’t answer but she noticed his clothes tossed over a chair and touched them. “You got soaking wet,” she said.
The brandy was getting to him fast, turning logic on its head, confusing him, and at the same time simplifying all the kinks and subtleties of life. “I’ve been walking,” he explained, “-on the beach-anywhere-I don’t know.” He added vaguely, “I think it’s raining.”
“You
“Then I expect that’s why I’m soaking wet,” he said, forming the words carefully.
“And disgustingly drunk,” Norah observed.
“Yes,” he conceded. “I’m disgustingly drunk, and I’m going to get disgustingly drunker. So clear out and let me get on with it.”
Unexpectedly she sat down beside him on the bed. Her eyes no longer held condemnation, only surprised sympathy, as if she’d just understood something. “I’m sorry for what I said,” she told him. “You weren’t ready to kill at all, were you? More like ready to die.”
He nodded and reached again for the bottle, but she stopped him. “No, don’t do that. Talk to me instead. Dad always said talking to a friend was worth any amount of drinks.”
“I don’t have friends,” he growled. “Just enemies and contacts.”
“Well, aren’t some of your contacts friends?”
“Not really. Even the best of them are deserting me fast.”
She frowned. “Why?”
To his alarm he found he was on the verge of telling her everything, but he pulled himself together in time. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Anyway, I didn’t really mean that. You need a shoulder to cry on right now.”
“I don’t have any of them, either,” he said with a faint attempt at humor. “Isn’t that what this is about?”
“I think this is about a man who only knows one way of showing his feelings, and that’s to bawl and shout, and demand that people jump to it.”
“Oh, really?” he said with tipsy gravity. “That’s your considered opinion, is it, Miss Ackroyd?”
“Norah.”
“Norah, who the devil are you to tell me what my problems are about?”
“Well, I may not be much, but right now I’m all you’ve got,” she pointed out. “At least I’m here, and I’ll listen.”
“Ready to listen? Listen while I tell you everything you need to know to finish me off with that social worker?”
“Oh, stop that! We’re not enemies this minute. We can’t afford to be.”
“Why’s that?”
She sighed. “Because right this minute neither of us has anyone else to talk to.”
He considered this and found it logical. “That’s true.” After a moment he added, “It’s just as well we’re not enemies tonight.”
“Why tonight especially?”
“Because I’m disgustingly drunk,” he reminded her.
“But you’re not a drinker. I can tell. It’s hit you like the first time.”
“I’m not very used to it,” he confessed. “To tell the truth, I hate the stuff. It’s just that just now-I needed something.”
“I know. Peter hurt you very badly, didn’t he? But he didn’t mean to. He’s only a little boy, and a very unhappy one. He just said what he felt at the moment. You shouldn’t expect him to calculate its effect on you.”
“I don’t. I don’t want him to
“He’s not the same child you used to know.”
“I know,” he said bitterly. “He’s changed out of all recognition. Your father’s doing.”
“Nature’s doing,” Norah said firmly. “He’s growing up. Don’t blame Dad for that. You have to get to know Peter as he is now, not try to take him back to the past.”
Gavin sighed. “I guess you’re right. It’s just hard after thinking about him after all these years, hoping we could get back together-then thinking I had the chance-and it all ends like this.”
“But it hasn’t ended,” Norah said gently. “It’s just begun. You have to give it time.”
Time. The one thing he didn’t have. He knew he should be in London this minute, fighting to recover what he could of his business. But he couldn’t take away his son, and he couldn’t leave him. To go now would be to give up hope.
Through the haze that covered his brain another thought made a brief appearance. “I really didn’t try to kidnap him,” he said.
“I know.”
“But I
He tried to say the last words casually. He didn’t know that they came out sounding forlorn, so he didn’t understand why Norah suddenly put her hand over his and squeezed. He froze, not knowing how to respond, and after a moment she withdrew her hand. “A child of that age needs his mother,” she said. “The need for a father comes later, even with boys.”
“And when Peter needed a father, someone else was there to scoop the pool,” Gavin said wearily. His head was starting to ache.
“Scoop the pool? You make it sound like a lottery.”
“Not a lottery. A treasure.” Pain infused his voice. “You don’t have children of your own, so you don’t know how a child’s love can be like finding a treasure. You don’t know how you hoard it and relish it, and thank God for giving it to you, and hate anyone who tries to take it away.”
“Gavin-” she said softly, but he didn’t hear her.
“And even if you lose the child, you dream that you still have his love-”
“Of course you-”
“You go on dreaming even when everything seems against you. Because you believe, you see, in this mystical bond between yourself and your son that nothing in the world can break. And then you have a chance to get him back, and you picture how it will be-how he’ll run to you crying, ‘Daddy,’ and you’ll hug him and all the years apart will disappear.” Gavin stopped and drew a shuddering breath. Norah was silent, regarding him with pitying eyes.
“But it isn’t like that,” Gavin went on at last. “He doesn’t run to you. You’re a stranger he won’t even talk to, and some other man is Daddy. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
He dropped his head into his hands. Norah watched him, appalled. It was in her nature to offer comfort to any hurt creature who came her way, but she knew this creature’s wounds went too deep for words. She had an almost overwhelming desire to enfold him in her arms and heal him with the warmth of her body. She’d done that before, with troubled animals, holding them for hours, stroking and murmuring soft words until they fell asleep in her arms. It took all her strength not to reach out to Gavin now.
But he wasn’t an animal. He was a prickly, complex man whom she knew would withdraw from her at any sign of pity. “No,” she said at last, “there’s nothing you can do about it except wait and let Peter come back to you in his own time. But if you rush it, you’ll lose him. Like I said, it takes time, but-you’re not very used to being patient, are you?”
“The things I’ve wanted have never been gained by patience. That’s not the way to get anywhere in life.”
“It’s the only way with Peter. He’s watching you all the time, waiting for the breakthrough, just as you are. Remember how he picked up what you said about the flowers?”
“Yes. It made me hope. That’s a laugh.”
“No, it isn’t. Go on hoping. But remember that he’s only a child and he’s got a lot to cope with right now. Don’t pile the emotional pressure onto him.”
He stared at her vaguely. “Why are you telling me all this? We’re on different sides.”
“I’m on Peter’s side. Aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
