The Lights Go On Again (13 page)

“Gavin!” Aunt Florence pulled him over to her. “Calm down! You're getting hysterical!”

“Oh, Aunt Florence …” Gavin buried his face in the haven of her soft front and sobbed frantically. “Aunt Florence, I don't want to leave you! I don't want to live with him! Don't let him take me away from you!
Please!
”

He kept on crying for a long time, while Aunt Florence tried to soothe him. Finally Grandad spoke, his voice broken. “Am I so awful, then, Gavin? I'm not an ogre, you know.”

“I'm s-sorry,” gulped Gavin. “But I don't want to leave!”

Grandad wiped his forehead again. “I can't think,” he mumbled. “This room is so bloody—” he glanced at Aunt Florence—“this room is so warm.”

Aunt Florence stood up and took Gavin's hand. “Your grandfather and I need to talk alone again, pet. Go and ask Hanny to bring us some lemonade. I'll call you when we're ready for you again.”

Gavin stumbled out and gave Hanny the message. Hanny gave him some lemonade too, and he sipped it at the kitchen table. Hanny chattered to him about her husband's model trains; her voice seemed to come from far away.

It was a long time before Aunt Florence finally called him. Gavin made his frozen legs walk back into the den.

“Your grandfather has come to a decision,” said Aunt Florence. Her face was bent and her voice so low that Gavin gave up hope.

Grandad's eyes were bleary and red. “Gavin, my boy … you looked at me back then just like Janie used to, when she wanted something desperately. I knew you were close to Mrs. Ogilvie. But I suppose … I suppose I didn't realize
how
close. I don't mean to be cruel …”

Gavin took a quick breath while Grandad continued.

“… and I can't bear to make you this unhappy. Are you absolutely certain that you want to stay?”

“Yes!” whispered Gavin.

“After all, your happiness is the most important thing,” said Grandad slowly, as if convincing himself. He sighed. “All right.” He threw Aunt Florence a bitter look. “You can stay. But I've given Mrs. Ogilvie one condition.”

“What?” breathed Gavin.

“That she doesn't start legal adoption proceedings until after Norah and I have left. I want you to have that time to change your mind if you want to.”

“I'll
never
change my mind!” said Gavin. Then he flinched at Grandad's hurt expression. For the first time, he felt sorry for the old man.

“You certainly seem to know what you want,” said Grandad gruffly. “But remember, Gavin, even if it's the day we leave—even if it's after we're back—you can still decide to live with Norah and me, all right?”

“All right,” whispered Gavin to the floor.

“Now, if you'll both excuse me, I'd like to go to my room.” He walked out stiffly, holding his white head high.

Aunt Florence stared at the chair where he'd been sitting. “This is very hard for your grandfather,” she murmured. “It's extremely generous of him to give you up.”

A warm glow slowly filled the numb space inside Gavin. “I'm going to stay,” he whispered.

Aunt Florence smiled at Gavin as if she couldn't believe her luck. “Yes, pet … you're going to stay!”

Gavin let out a long sigh.
“Jeepers …”

“Jeepers is right!” she laughed. “That's exactly how
I
feel!”

“Can I tell Tim and Roger?”

“I don't see why not. You can tell whomever you like. But Gavin—try not to act too excited while Norah and Mr. Loggin are still here. It will hurt their feelings if you're too happy about staying. Remember that you aren't going to see them for a while.”

Gavin couldn't think of that. He was going to stay!

“This is going to be a difficult time,” mused Aunt Florence. “Especially saying goodbye to Norah. But after that … oh, come over here and give me a kiss.”

Her arms were shaking when she hugged him. It was as if they had been through a battle—like another kind of war. But they'd
won,
thought Gavin gleefully. He and Aunt Florence had won!

“I'm staying!” Gavin told Bosley, after Aunt Florence had also gone up to her room. He got down on the rug and tickled Bosley's stomach. “You're going to be my dog forever and ever!” Bosley licked Gavin's face, as if he wondered what all the fuss was about.

Gavin lay against the dog—
his
dog. Relief bubbled through him like warm water. He was staying. He was
safe
.

O
NCE AGAIN
he was afraid to tell Norah. But he knew Grandad had told her already from the anguished looks she gave him all through dinner. Afterwards she invited him to go for a walk around the block.

“Grandad said you're staying,” she muttered, staring straight ahead. She stopped walking and faced him. “Gavin, are you
sure
this is what you want?”

“Yes!” Why did everyone have to keep asking him that?

“I thought seeing Grandad again would make you change your mind. But you don't even remember
him,
do you?”

“No. I'm sorry.”

Norah's eyes filled with tears. “I can't bear to leave you behind! You're my brother!”

“I'm sorry,” said Gavin again.

“Gavin, when we left England D-dad and Mum …” Norah swallowed a sob. “They told me to take care of you! At first I forgot.” She blushed. “I was too wrapped up in my own misery to think of you. But then when I realized how much—how much I loved you, I promised myself that I'd
always
take care of you. If I leave you here I'm breaking that promise! It's like breaking a promise to Dad and Mum! Can you imagine what
they'd
think of us separating?” Her sobs overtook her and she flung herself down on someone's lawn.

Gavin crouched beside her. “
Please,
Norah! You
have
taken care of me—good care!” He thought desperately. “But if you let me stay, then
that's
taking care of me too—because that's what I want! And you'll still be my sister, no matter where we live.” He took her hand.

She clutched it with both of hers. “I just don't know! I suppose you're right, in a way. I suppose your happiness is the most important thing. It's so mixed up. I'm so
tired
. I'm so sick of trying to decide what's right.” She let go of his hand. “I give up, Gavin.” Her voice was broken. “I can't fight you any more. If you really want to stay, I guess Grandad and I will just have to accept it. All I can do is hope that you'll change your mind.”

Gavin shuddered. How could he hurt her like this? Especially when she'd already suffered so much. But he had no choice “I'm sorry,” said Gavin for the third time, “but I won't change my mind.”

“I guess there's nothing I can do about it, then,” she said wearily. They walked back to the house in miserable silence. Norah wasn't angry with him. But there was a new distance between them, as if they already lived in different countries.

12

Grandad

“Y
ou're staying?” cried Tim.

“Forever?” said Roger.

Gavin grinned at his friends. “Yes! Aunt Florence is going to adopt me! And I get to keep Bosley!”

“Hooray!” Tim threw his baseball glove into the air, then pounded Gavin on the back.

“Now we really
are
blood brothers,” laughed Roger. The three of them linked arms and continued to walk to school.

“Will you change your last name to Ogilvie?” asked Tim.

Gavin hadn't thought of that. He had been Gavin Stoakes all his life.

Before he sat down at his desk he went up to Mrs. Moss and said shyly. “I'll be here again this fall, Mrs. Moss. The Ogilvies are adopting me!”

“Why, Gavin! What a nice surprise! May I tell the whole class?”

“All right.” He blushed when everyone clapped, but their grins warmed him. Someone passed him a folded note.

“I'm glad you're staying. I hope we'll be in the same class again next year. Eleanor.” He sneaked a look at her, but she was bent over her desk.

Gavin told everyone he knew: the policeman at the crosswalk, the woman in the store where he bought gum and comics, and Miss Gleeson at the library.

“If that's what you want, I'm very happy for you,” said the librarian, as she stamped out
Homer Price
for him. “But what about Norah? Is she staying too?” Miss Gleeson had been one of Norah's first friends in Canada.

Gavin flushed. “She's going back to live with my grandfather,” he mumbled.

“Oh.” Miss Gleeson looked surprised, but she didn't say anything else.

The more Gavin talked to people about staying, the less he had to think about Norah leaving. But he kept his promise and tried not to talk about it at home.

Aunt Florence, Aunt Mary and Hanny gave him special smiles; but more often they watched Norah desperately, as if she were disappearing before their eyes. At least Norah still had to spend most of her time cramming for exams. Then Gavin could avoid her.

Grandad, too, holed himself up. He had taken over the late Mr. Ogilvie's study. Aunt Florence had requested that he not smoke his pipe anywhere else in the house. “It's very hard on my daughter's allergies,” she said stiffly. Even though she had won, Grandad's continued presence seemed to irritate her.

“But Mother, I like the smell of pipe tobacco,” protested Aunt Mary. “My father used to smoke a pipe,” she explained to Grandad.

“It's not good for you,” repeated her mother.

Grandad seemed relieved to have a place to escape from her. When he wasn't visiting a downtown beer parlour he'd discovered, he sat in the study for hours, reading every line of the newspapers. All the way up in his room Gavin could hear the ringing tap of his pipe as he emptied it into the ashtray.

When Norah wasn't working she retreated to the study with Grandad. Talking about their parents or making plans for England, Gavin supposed. He knew he'd be welcome to join them, but he preferred to listen to the radio in the den.

“Mary, I've decided to cancel our Sunday bridge evenings for the time being,” Aunt Florence told her daughter as they sat in there one evening.

“But Mother—why?” Aunt Mary was an avid bridge player.

Aunt Florence glanced at Gavin. He pretended to be absorbed in his book. “I don't think Mr. Loggin would feel comfortable with our friends,” she murmured.

“But he's a delightful man!” said Aunt Mary. “And don't you think they'd be interested in hearing about England?”

“That may be, but I've made up my mind.”

Aunt Mary looked as if she'd like to protest, but as usual she didn't dare. From then on none of the Ogilvies' usual friends visited the house—as if Grandad were something to be ashamed of. Gavin knew Aunt Florence was being snobby. But he told himself that Grandad probably didn't want to meet her friends anyway.

“What are you up to today, Gavin?” said Grandad one Saturday morning. “I thought we could take in the pictures, and have a bang-up tea somewhere afterwards.”

“The pictures?” said Gavin.

Grandad smiled. “The movies, to you. How about it?” He almost looked afraid as he waited for Gavin's answer.

Gavin thought fast. “Uhh—I was going to do something with Tim and Roger today.”

“They could come too! Ring them up. I'll treat you all.”

There was no choice. Tim and Roger were both delighted that they didn't have to pay for a movie. They pressed beside Grandad on the streetcar, listening avidly while he told them how his house had been bombed by the Germans in the summer of 1940.

“That's why I ended up living with my daughter's family. I'll never forget the look on your mother's face when I turned up at the house!” he said to Gavin. “They took me in with no hesitation.”

Gavin sat quietly while the other two plied Grandad with questions. Norah had often talked about the time Grandad had arrived so unexpectedly on their doorstep; that was the day before their parents told them they were going to Canada.

Gavin had been there too, of course—but he couldn't remember it at all. He wondered if his mother had felt as surprised and shocked then as he had when Grandad appeared at the Ogilvies' door.

And had the old man really been wanted? His parents' letters had sometimes complained about Grandad: spending all day in the pub, never wiping his feet, arguing with his son-in-law about the American soldiers. Gavin glared at his grandfather. Why did he have to keep turning up uninvited, disrupting other people's lives? If he hadn't come, maybe Norah would have decided to stay after all.

They went to see
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
at Shea's. Gavin liked the first part the best, when Francie and her brother Neeley—who looked just like Tim—ran wild around the slums of New York. But after the father died, the movie got uncomfortably serious. Francie's sharp grief was just like Norah's. When she finally cried, Gavin felt guilty all over again that he never had. He looked around the audience. All the adults were sniffling, including Grandad.

“What a fine picture!” said Grandad when it was over. He wiped his eyes. “Did you boys like it?”

“It was okay,” said Roger. “Except for the soppy parts.”

“I liked it when Neeley said ‘cut the mush,'” grinned Tim.

“The family reminded me a bit of
our
family,” said Grandad. “The way they made do in a hard time.”

Was their family that poor? wondered Gavin. If so, he was even gladder he wasn't going back.

They walked along the crowded sidewalk. Tim and Roger were squeezed ahead and Gavin was stuck beside Grandad.

“I didn't realize the film was about a death,” he said. “I hope it didn't bother you too much. I'd better warn Norah not to see it.”