“But there needn’t be a delay,” Gavin said, improvising madly. “She can still fly out tomorrow and you go the next day. She surely won’t mind that?”
“She’ll mind coping with three young children alone on the plane. No dice.”
“Bruce, I hate to remind you that you owe me a favor, but this is life-or-death.”
“Well, of all the-”
“Life-or-death,” Gavin repeated firmly.
There was silence. “She must really be some lady.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Well, I guess that changes things. If you’d explained that you were in love with her-”
“I’m not,” Gavin interrupted firmly. He glanced at Peter and found the boy had been momentarily distracted by Mrs. Stone who was trying to get him to come to supper. Turning away and covering his mouth with his hand, he said rapidly, “I am most emphatically not in love with Norah Ackroyd. The mere idea would be laughable if it weren’t outrageous. She’s a thorn in my side, a burr in my skin, a nuisance in my hair. If she got put away for life, it would be no more than she deserved.
Bruce chuckled. “Sure, I will. Give me the facts again, with all the details this time.”
Gavin told the story to the accompaniment of grunts from Bruce. “Okay,” the lawyer said at last. “Now here’s what you do. See her as fast as you can tomorrow morning and tell her to go on saying absolutely nothing. I’ll do all the talking. In the meantime you’ve given me some ideas. See you tomorrow.”
Gavin put down the phone. Peter hurried back to his side. He didn’t utter a word, but his eyes spoke volumes. “He’s coming,” Gavin said.
The next moment he was engulfed in an ecstatic hug. Peter had hurled himself onto his father, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck and almost choking him in his joy. Gavin embraced his son fiercely, almost overwhelmed by the rush of emotion that swept him. It was the first spontaneous hug from his child that he could remember in years, and he found that his eyes were filled with tears. He tried to speak, but there was a hard lump in his throat.
He tried to control himself, not wanting the youngster to see his weakness, and succeeded well enough to speak steadily. “Are you satisfied now?” he asked.
Peter drew back and nodded. He still didn’t speak, but his eyes were full of joy. “Then go and have your supper.”
Peter took a few steps to the door and looked back expectantly. “I’ll come in a moment,” Gavin promised.
He needed to be alone to recover himself completely. Their moment of shared emotion had sent him reeling, and he had to come to terms with it. One side of him had wanted to yield to it completely, tell his son how much he loved him and how much the hug meant to him. But the other side reminded him that Peter’s affection wasn’t really for him. Peter was simply grateful that Gavin was doing something for Norah. That was a bitter pill for Gavin to swallow, but he must force himself to swallow it before he saw his son again. Otherwise he risked making a fool of himself.
At last he went into the kitchen, to find Mrs. Stone up in arms. Supper was ready, but there was no sign of Peter. “Gone to finish feeding those dratted animals,” she snapped.
“Good heavens, yes! I’d forgotten all about them.”
“Here he is. You’re his father. Maybe you can make him see sense.”
Peter appeared in the doorway carrying an empty bowl. He’d clearly heard Mrs. Stone’s words and he looked nervously at his father.
But Gavin had learned wisdom. “First the animals eat, then we do,” he said. “That’s what Norah would say, and that’s what’s going to happen.”
“May I remind you, sir, that I’m off duty in exactly ten minutes and-”
“Then leave it and we’ll serve ourselves,” Gavin told her impatiently. “In fact, you can go off duty now.” Mrs. Stone snatched off her pinny and departed almost before he’d finished speaking. “Which leaves us on our own,” he told Peter. “With all those creatures out there waiting to be fed. And do you know what Norah got me to agree to do? Yes, you do, don’t you? That’s why you’re grinning. You’re going to enjoy watching me fumble around. And don’t give me that innocent look. Come on, let’s get on with it.”
For answer, Peter took hold of his father’s jacket and rubbed the fine material between his fingers, while shaking his head. “I’m not dressed right?” Gavin hazarded. “I should put on something shabby? Okay, I’ll join you.”
The most casual clothes he had were still too smart for what he was going to do, but there was no help for it. When he reached the kitchen dressed in slacks and shirt Peter was just coming back with an empty bowl, evidently having made his first trip. He filled the bowl again, offered one to Gavin and led the way out.
He found that one part of him stood back and watched the incredible sight of Gavin Hunter, head of Hunter & Son, filling troughs and water bowls. The other part was totally involved, concentrating, following his son’s silent instructions. He stood back while Peter made the decisions, confining himself to the drudgery.
“Is that ready to be mashed up?” he asked when Peter had filled a bowl with cereal and potatoes and sprinkled the result with some brown liquid. “Because if so, I’ll do it while you get on with the next thing.”
The bowl was in his hands before he’d finished talking and he set to, grinding the wooden spoon around and around. It was years since he’d taken orders from anyone, but tonight he felt only relief that his son knew what to do. Following Peter’s skilled guidance was the only way he would keep his promise to Norah.
He followed the boy out into the grounds and toward the pens, where he distributed mash in precise quantities, as directed. Four times they made this trip, and as they returned the last time he caught Peter looking at him slyly, almost with mischief. “All right, I’m tired, but I’m not giving up,” Gavin growled. “Not before you do. Let’s get started on the next lot. Why are you shaking your head? You don’t mean we’re finished? I don’t believe it. Yes? Good. Now, how about something to eat?”
But before they could touch the food the phone rang. Gavin snatched it up and said, “Hunter,” without thinking.
There was a gasp, then an elderly woman said, “I’m so sorry. I thought that was Norah’s Ark.”
“It
“Is Norah there?”
“I’m afraid she’s-detained. How can I help you?”
“This is Mrs. Hopkins. I found a sea gull hopping about in my garden. I think it has a broken wing.”
For once in his life he was completely nonplussed. What was he supposed to do in this situation? “A sea gull,” he prevaricated. “With a broken wing, you say?” He was looking at Peter, hoping for a response that would guide him, but to his dismay the child simply walked out of the room. “Are you quite sure the wing is broken?” he asked wildly.
“Well, no, I haven’t been able to examine it, but it can’t fly, and one wing is trailing.”
“Have you thought of calling the vet?”
“I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly afford a vet. I live on a very small income. Besides, Norah always collects…”
To Gavin’s vast relief Peter returned at that moment and he was carrying the car keys that Gavin had tossed down on the hall table. He held them up to attract his father’s attention.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Gavin said quickly. “I’ll come and collect. Give me your address.”
He scribbled it down and had replaced the receiver before he realized the address meant nothing to him. “Do you know this place?” he demanded, showing it to Peter. “Good. Let’s get going, then.”
Peter stopped long enough to collect a cardboard box from a hall cupboard and a local map from a drawer, then followed his father out to the car. He indicated the place on the map, and to Gavin’s relief it turned out to be barely a ten-minute drive. They arrived at last at a small cottage near the shore, to find Mrs. Hopkins standing at the gate anxiously awaiting them.
“It’s at the end of the garden,” she said. “Every time I try to approach it flutters away.”
Peter had glided past her almost before she’d finished speaking and made his way around to the back. Gavin arrived a moment later to find his son sitting on the ground, his hand outstretched to the bedraggled bird, making soft whistling noises. To Gavin’s astonishment the wild terror went out of the sea gull’s eyes and it visibly grew calmer. When Peter reached forward to take the bird’s body between both hands, it offered no resistance. The next moment it was safely enclosed in the box.
Peter got to his feet, nodded to his father to indicate that the job was done, smiled at Mrs. Hopkins and headed
