Lucy Gordon - Instant Father

“I won’t waste my time giving you my opinion of your common sense,” Gavin declared. “They think I’m your lawyer, or I wouldn’t have been allowed in. Why didn’t you send for Angus Philbeam?”

“Because he’d have been useless,” Norah said flatly. “Dear old Angus is a paperwork man. He’d have flapped and fuddled and advised me to confess everything.”

“Instead of which you refused to say anything about this bird-”

Norah’s eyes flashed. “Bird? What bird? I don’t know anything about any bird.”

He ground his teeth. “They’ve got the person who left it on your doorstep. And don’t say, ‘what doorstep?’”

“I don’t know anything about a missing bird,” she repeated defiantly.

Gavin closed his eyes and prayed for patience. When he felt calm enough to speak he said, “You were right not to send for Angus. You’re going to need someone a bit sharper to get you out of this mess.”

“I’m not in a mess. They can’t prove anything.”

“Fine,” he snapped in exasperation. “Tell that to the judge and see what you get. It would serve you right if I left you to rot.”

“Do so, then,” she snapped back.

“Right.”

“Right.”

They glared at each other.

“For pity’s sake, how can I just walk out and leave you?”

“Why not? You want to.”

“Yes I do, but I have to face my son. He expects me to save you from the results of your own foolishness, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

He’d never felt so confused in his life. He was furious with her for letting this come about, but he also knew a reluctant admiration for her courage. They could lock her up and throw away the key, but she wouldn’t yield an inch in defense of what she felt was right. But the feeling that possessed him most strongly was an aching protectiveness at the sight of her pale face and the frightened eyes that belied her show of defiance. If this was how she felt about the creatures she cared for, then it was no wonder she was prepared to go to the stake for them. For a searing moment he understood everything in her mind: the fear, the determination, the desperate forgetfulness of self. He understood it because he felt it, too, but not for the animals. For her.

“How’s your rib?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” she said.

“You look very pale.”

“Prison pallor,” she said, attempting a joke. But she couldn’t quite manage it and her voice shook.

“I’ll tell them to get you a doctor.”

“Gavin, the only thing I’m really worried about is the animals. Mrs. Stone won’t go near them, and without Iris or Grim there’s only Peter. He can’t manage everything alone.”

There was a silence. Gavin knew what was coming, but part of him still couldn’t believe it. An irresistible fate was marching him toward the inevitable. He didn’t want to go, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Hardly able to believe that the words coming out of his mouth were his own, he said, “I’ll take care of the animals tonight. Don’t you worry about anything.”

He reached home to find Peter busy in the kitchen, mixing and mashing food with the calm air of an expert. Gavin knew a surge of admiration for his son. “I saw her,” he said when Peter looked up at him. “She’s all right, bearing up very well, in fact. We don’t have to worry about her.” But the bright words faded on his lips with the look Peter gave him. The little boy saw through everything. In many ways he wasn’t a child at all, but a small adult, mature enough to fulfill his responsibilities in the midst of trouble. Gavin had to admit to himself that the Ackroyds had taught him that, at least. Peter deserved the truth.

“She’s as stubborn as a mule,” he said, caught between despair and exasperation. “She won’t do a thing to help herself. The only thing-the only thing she cares about, is who’s going to take care of the animals.”

Peter’s puzzled look said, But, of course.

“Well, it may be obvious to you,” Gavin told him, “but somebody has to think about all the other things.” He saw Peter point a tentative finger at him. “Yes, me. She needs a lawyer. A good one. Not Angus Philbeam. Someone really high powered.” Peter’s eyes, fixed on him, were unnerving in their trust and expectancy. “There’s always Bruce Havering,” Gavin mused. Peter put his head on one side in query. “Bruce Havering is a top lawyer,” Gavin explained. “He costs the earth, but earns every penny. Luckily he owes me a favor.”

Peter was silent, but his eyes said, “So call him.”

“It’s not that easy,” Gavin said defensively. “He only takes very big cases. If I ask him to dash up here for a small case in a minor court, he’ll think I’m crazy.”

Well, aren’t you? his heart prompted.

He knew that telling Peter about Bruce had taken him beyond the point of no return. Now he had to make the call because Peter would never forgive him if he didn’t. He went through into the study, Peter trotting after him. Seated at the desk, he reached for the phone, but stopped with his hand on the receiver. An astonishing thought had just come to him.

This was it, the chance he’d been hoping for ever since the day he came here, the chance to get his son back. All he had to do was do nothing at all. She would be found guilty of theft, and armed with that ammunition he could persuade the Social Services, the courts and anyone else who might want a say that she was unfit to rear his son. He had the perfect weapon in his hand, and she’d placed it there herself.

So why hadn’t he given it a thought until this minute? Why was he so instinctively sure that he couldn’t possibly use it?

He found one answer in the sight of Peter’s shining eyes as he watched, evidently confident that his father could come galloping to Norah’s rescue. For the first time he was a hero to his son, but only because he was helping her. The irony wasn’t lost on him. And he knew that if he stooped to get the boy back in this way, he would also lose him forever in the only way that mattered.

And there was another answer. It lay in the thought of Norah’s pale face and frightened eyes, and the bravado with which she tried unsuccessfully to hide her fear. It lay, too, in the turmoil in his own heart when he thought of her in prison, crushed like a captive bird.

He tried to tell himself that this was nonsense. It was her first offense. They wouldn’t send her to prison.

But she was behind bars now, quietly going crazy with dread and misery, yet still not prepared to yield an inch. He took up the phone and dialed. The phone rang for so long that he was filled with dismay, but at last there was an answer. “Bruce? Sorry to call you so late.”

“You just caught me,” boomed the lawyer’s cheerful voice. “Did I tell you Elaine and I bought a villa in Italy? We’re off for our first vacation there tomorrow. Sun, sand and vino.”

Sweat stood out on Gavin’s forehead. “Look Bruce, this is an emergency…” Hurriedly he explained the situation. “She’ll be up in front of the magistrates tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning I’ll be on the plane to Italy,” Bruce said firmly.

“I don’t care what it costs-”

“It’ll cost my neck, if I have to explain a delay to Elaine.”

“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. Now will you come here and get her off?”

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.