Instant Father

reaching the top of the stairs. “Thank heavens,” he said. “Could you get some hot milk for Norah, please?”

“I’m afraid I’ve finished for the day,” Mrs. Stone said severely.

“What? But you’re the housekeeper, aren’t you?”

“I am indeed, but that doesn’t mean I’m available at all hours,” Mrs. Stone said severely. “That, if I may say so, is too common a misconception. My hours were clearly laid down when I took the job and it was understood that under no circumstances-”

Unable to stem the flow, Gavin resorted to charging across it. “But this is a crisis,” he roared.

“Late-night crises are extremely common in this place, which is why I took the precaution of making it plain at the outset that under no circumstances-”

“Forget it,” Gavin snapped and raced downstairs. He found Iris waddling across the hall with a baby badger in her arms. “I need some hot milk-” he started to say.

“In the kitchen,” she called out as she sailed past with the badger leaning over her shoulder.

From somewhere at Gavin’s feet, Osbert honked.

“And you can keep your opinions to yourself,” Gavin informed him. He strode into the kitchen and looked around him helplessly at the glittering technology. A shadow appeared in the doorway, and he turned and saw Peter. “Trying to get a mug of hot milk in this place is like trying to get blood from a stone,” he growled. “In fact, it’s exactly like trying to get blood from a stone. Mrs. Stone. That woman is well named. D’you know, I asked her for some hot milk for Norah and she stood there lecturing me about her hours? I could have strangled her.”

Peter nodded and smiled. There was real sympathy and amusement in that smile, and it gave Gavin a pleasurable shock. He didn’t realize that in his agitation he’d forgotten to be self-conscious with Peter, and had simply spoken to him as naturally as he would have done anyone else. “You too, huh?” he asked, and Peter nodded again.

The next moment Peter had gone to the fridge, taken out the milk and poured some into a pan. Gavin watched him. After his recent experience, he was inclined to view his son’s ability to heat milk with a kind of awe.

While the milk was warming Peter thrust a towel at his father. Gavin seized it and rubbed his head dry, but Peter hadn’t finished. He pointed at the sodden shirt and indicated for it to be taken off. Gavin meekly obeyed and dried his torso thankfully. He had the same feeling of being mother-henned that he’d had with Norah.

He watched as Peter ladled three large spoonfuls of sugar into a mugful of milk, added some cocoa and presented him with the result. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s just what Norah needs. You’d better make some for yourself as well.”

Peter half turned to the stove, then something seemed to strike him and he looked back at his father inquiringly. Gavin looked back, puzzled, but when Peter pointed at him he at last understood. “Me? No, I haven’t drunk cocoa in years-yes, please, I will have some. Thank you, son.”

He wondered where his wits had been wandering, to have slipped up in such a way. Peter had actually made an approach to him and he’d nearly missed it, but a kindly fate had warned him in time. He accepted a mug from Peter’s hand and sipped it gently. It was dark, sweet and, to his palate, disgusting, but he smiled and said enthusiastically, “That’s great. You make a terrific cocoa. I’ll tell Norah you made this. Better go to bed now.” But Peter shook his head. “No? All right. You do what you feel you have to. I guess you know best.” He backed hastily out of the kitchen, terrified of doing or saying the wrong things and so ruining the little progress they’d made.

He reached Norah’s room to find her sitting on the bed wrapped in warm nightgown and robe. “Drink this,” he said, pressing a cup into her hand.

She sipped it and made a face. “Peter’s a dear, but he will swamp everything with sugar.”

“I know,” he said with feeling. “I’ve got some, too. What’s more, I’m going to drink it.”

“You could always throw it down the basin,” she suggested, testing him. “I wouldn’t tell.”

“But I’d know,” Gavin pointed out. “Besides, Peter went to a lot of trouble to make it for me.” He took a deep breath and said bravely, “I’m going to drink it.”

“Good for you.” She took another sip. “Bless him. He’s going to turn into one of those men who actually know how to look after people.”

“I suppose he learned that from Tony,” Gavin couldn’t resist saying.

“No, I think he probably inherited it from you,” she said with meaning.

As always, when she was nice to him he felt as awkward as a schoolboy. He took refuge in a large mouthful of cocoa. When he came up for air he found her still looking at him, with eyes that were kind. “I haven’t thanked you for helping me yet,” she said. “Normally Grim’s a tower of strength in an emergency, but after his accident-well, I needed another tower, and there you were.”

“Drink your cocoa,” he said gruffly. “Why should I suffer alone?”

She laughed and did as he bid. He stole a look at her. Her hair, which she’d dried vigorously, stood out in spikes, and he was reminded of the urchin he’d first met six years ago. The impression was reinforced by her nightclothes, which were plain and functional.

He wondered about her. Was there anybody for whom she bought decorative wear? In the time he’d been here he’d seen no sign of a man in her life, which appeared to be dedicated entirely to the animals. Astonished, he heard his own voice saying, “You need someone to look after you.”

“Who, me?” she asked comically. “I’m as tough as old boots.”

“Nonsense. You just think you are.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know you’ve got your limit of endurance like everyone else, and you’re closer to it than you think.”

“You mean you hope I am,” she said cheekily.

“What?”

“You hope I’m crumbling, leaving you to take over.”

He’d so far forgotten their enmity that this accusation stunned and shocked him. “Thank you,” he snapped. “I was trying to be nice to you, but obviously that’s a trick and I’ve really poisoned the cocoa.”

“Nah, Peter wouldn’t let you,” she ribbed him. Then her smile faded as she realized he was really upset. “Hey, c’mon, Hunter. I was only joking.”

“But I wasn’t. I really felt you needed my help, but you don’t trust me an inch, do you? I might as well have saved myself the trouble.”

“Look, I couldn’t have done without you tonight.” When he didn’t answer she ventured to take his hand. “I’m sorry, Gavin.”

He looked down at her hand in his, and something-he didn’t know what-made him raise it gently and brush his cheek against it. “You’re a fool, Norah Ackroyd,” he said. “But then, so am I.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know. I just…don’t know.”

But he did know. He had a sudden memory of the kiss they’d shared, and the desire to kiss her again was almost overwhelming. But he knew if he yielded to it he wouldn’t want to stop.

“Good night,” he said abruptly, and walked out of the room.

Chapter Nine

Gavin awoke to find himself sitting up in bed, staring into the darkness. The dream had returned, but once again he’d forgotten it. He strained to remember, wondering what could possibly have plunged him into such depths of misery and horror, but whatever the beast was, it had scuttled back into the recesses of his mind.

Last time he had sat up for the rest of the night, for fear of a repetition. This time he refused to give in. Firmly he forced himself to lie down again and try to go to sleep. After a long time he managed it, but only just, and it was a relief when he was roused again, not by the nightmare, but by the sound of a distant bell. He sat up and reached instinctively for his alarm clock, only to discover that it was still dark, and he didn’t have an alarm clock.

The bell was still sounding in the distance, and now he could pinpoint it as coming from the front door. He