Lucy Gordon - Instant Father

He’d made a promise to his son. It was ridiculous to think he need make it to anyone else. Yet some inexplicable instinct made Gavin do a very uncharacteristic thing. He stood and looked around him. Here and there he could hear the soft sound of animals moving and see the faint gleam of eyes peering at him out of the darkness. But beyond what he could hear and see he was conscious of something that wasn’t many animals, but one overwhelming animal presence, and it was this he addressed. “I’m doing my best,” he said aloud. “And I’ll bring her back to you. Do you hear? I’m going to bring her home.”

As the words died away he could hear only silence, and he felt slightly foolish, wondering what he’d expected. Turning, he went slowly back to the house, with Osbert waddling a few steps behind him. And a hundred pairs of eyes watched them go.

Gavin had always prided himself on being able to sleep through a crisis. Let others fret through the night wondering if the dawn would bring the collapse of their shares or a hostile takeover. He slept the sleep of the just.

But tonight the sleep of the just was destroyed by his worries about the unjust. It was all very well to argue that the unjust had brought her problems on herself, but somehow this thought didn’t ease the torment of thinking of Norah in a police cell. Her bed was probably narrow and hard, which would be painful to her ribs. But worst of all would be the cold walls and the barred window. Sweat stood out on his brow as he thought of her suffering.

At last he got up, put on his robe and went downstairs, meaning to make himself a hot drink. But when he reached the bottom step he saw a faint light coming from under the door to the back room. Quietly he stepped across and opened it a crack.

The room was dark except for one small table lamp, by whose light he could just make out the shadowy form of Peter, sitting on the sofa. He had his arms around something that Gavin couldn’t at first discern. But then the other creature moved and he saw that it was Rex, Norah’s dog. He waited, listening, hoping to hear the sound of his son’s voice. But Peter wasn’t talking to Rex, merely burying his face in the rough coat and holding him tight, as though by this means he could get closer to the person he really wanted. And that person wasn’t himself, Gavin reflected sadly.

He was barely conscious of having changed through having lived close to the sanctuary, but he knew that he wasn’t going to order Peter back to bed as he would once have done. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, until Peter looked up suddenly and saw him. Even in the semidarkness Gavin was aware of the flicker of tension in his son. He moved quickly to dispel it, seating himself on the sofa on the other side of Rex.

“I couldn’t sleep, either,” he admitted. “How can we sleep while she’s in there?”

After a moment Peter nodded. His arms were still about Rex, but his eyes were fixed on his father.

“Actually, it’s not really such a bad place,” Gavin went on, saying what he didn’t feel, in an attempt to make Peter feel better. “It’s not a real prison, just a police cell, and they’re treating her decently.” How were they treating her? he wondered. “And besides, it’ll only be for one night. Bruce will be here tomorrow, and he’ll get her out. He’s the best there is.”

Peter nodded. He might have been smiling. In that light it was hard to be sure. Gavin hesitated a long time before saying the next words, but some instinct that was new to him told him they had to be said. “I went out to see the animals before I went to bed,” he told Peter. “I promised them that I’d bring her back tomorrow. They trust me. You must, too.”

This time Peter didn’t nod or smile, and Gavin had a sinking sense of disappointment. But then he felt it, his son’s hand searching for him in the darkness. He took hold of the childish hand in his own large one and gave it a squeeze. To his joy, he felt a definite squeeze back.

“I think you should go back to bed, now,” he said. But at once Peter freed his hand and used it to hold onto Rex more tightly. “Take him with you,” Gavin said gently. “He probably needs your company as much as you need his.”

He went with them as far as the front of the stairs, and stood watching as boy and dog went up together. At the turn Peter looked back and down at his father and Gavin smiled at him, hoping he looked confident. But inside he was praying that he could deliver his promise. Because if he failed he knew his son would never trust him again.

Gavin was up with the dawn. Still in his pajamas, he made himself some coffee and settled in the kitchen to watch the clock. It seemed to take an incredible time for half an hour to pass, but at the end of it Peter appeared, also in his pajamas. He got some milk from the fridge, heated it slightly and offered it to the hedgehog. Only when Bert was lapping contentedly did he pour some for himself. He didn’t speak, but he looked at his father, and Gavin met his gaze. For a moment the silence changed in quality and became a shared thing, full of mutual understanding. Gavin’s heart beat with hope. At any moment Peter would speak and their estrangement would be over.

“Well, fancy the two of you being down so early,” came Mrs. Stone’s iron voice from behind them.

They both jumped. The moment was shattered. Mrs. Stone began bustling around the kitchen, jarring them both. “You should have told me you wanted to eat early, and I’d have come down.”

“Out of hours?” Gavin couldn’t resist asking.

Mrs. Stone snorted. “I hope I can rise to the occasion.”

They endured breakfast, united by their total lack of appetite for the piles of bacon and eggs she set before them. Rex and Flick, who’d appeared from nowhere, found themselves showered with tidbits. Even Osbert joined in.

“I don’t suppose she’s getting much of a breakfast in prison,” Mrs. Stone reflected.

“She isn’t in prison,” Gavin said smoothly. “It’s a police cell, and she won’t be there long.”

“Well, who can say?” Mrs. Stone mused. Gavin tightened his mouth. Mrs. Stone was relishing the drama.

“I’m saying,” he replied firmly. “I’ve got the best lawyer in London.”

“He’s going to have to move fast to get here before the magistrates’ court opens this morning,” Mrs. Stone pointed out.

The same thought was troubling Gavin. While Peter went out to start feeding the animals, Gavin called the court. Norah’s case was scheduled fifth, but the ones ahead were parking offenses and unlikely to take long. Nervously, he tried Bruce’s London home and found himself talking to Elaine, who informed him acidly that her husband had left an hour ago. He apologized hastily and hung up before she could tell him what she thought of him.

He went to help Peter and they worked together for an hour before getting ready for the court. Gavin started to tell him that it would be better if he didn’t come, but Peter simply looked at him, silently insistent, and Gavin yielded without another word.

There was still no sign of Bruce when it was time to leave, but Gavin didn’t dare wait. Leaving a message with Mrs. Stone, he drove off to the town with his heart like lead within him. He was afraid, dreadfully, sickeningly afraid, though whether he was most afraid of Norah, for Peter if she didn’t come home quickly, or for himself if he failed, he couldn’t have said.

They found seats, and Gavin told Peter to remain there while he went to see Norah. But this time his luck was out. The officer on duty knew who he was, knew he wasn’t a lawyer and refused to let him pass. “But I’ve got to tell her something,” Gavin protested frantically.

“Sorry, sir. I’ve got my duty to do,” the policeman said stolidly.

The clock was ticking away. The first case was taken and dispatched in ten minutes. The next two were even faster. Gavin looked about him wildly. Without advice, Norah would do something mad-like admitting everything and pleading justification.

The fourth case came and went. The usher intoned, “Norah Ackroyd.” With one movement Gavin and Peter turned to see the top of her head appearing as she climbed the stairs. Gavin tried to catch her eye, but she stared straight ahead, her face pale and set.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the back, the sound of a door banging, murmuring voices, and over them the sound of one particular booming voice that made Gavin’s heart leap with relief. The next moment a very large man was sweeping toward the bench, the black silk gown of a Queen’s Counsel flapping behind him.

“Mr. Chairman,” he intoned, addressing the chief magistrate who sat between the other two, “Bruce Havering. I ask pardon for my late appearance-traffic jams-no disrespect to this court…” He elaborated for five minutes while the chief magistrate tried vainly to get a word in edgeways.

“Are you down to appear for one of today’s defendants?” he managed to ask at last.

“For Miss Norah Ackroyd, Mr. Chairman.”

The magistrate frowned. “It’s rather last-minute, surely? Have you had time to study the facts?”

“Quite enough time, I thank you. I don’t intend to waste the court’s time. My client intends to exercise her right to a full jury trial.”

The magistrate’s face definitely fell. It was clear that he’d been looking forward to this case, and the thought of having to refer it on to a higher court was disappointing. Gavin barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on Norah, who’d started forward looking astounded and as if she might be about to say something. At last she looked at him and he placed a finger over his lips.

Trust me, he was pleading silently. Forget all the antagonism there’s been between us and just trust me.