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 It was only a brief smile before he became once again the withdrawn child he usually was, but it had happened.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 following 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 cafe, 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 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
“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
