Looking at the Moon (7 page)

Norah nodded vigorously, remembering Aunt Florence's odd story about the little visitor. “Sometimes I just don't understand them! And Aunt Florence
is
hard to live with. She's so fussy!” Then, remembering as always that she was a guest in this country, Norah added dutifully, “But it was very kind of her to take us in. And sometimes she's funny. Last winter she took up tap dancing! They had lessons on the radio and she thought it would be good for her figure. Gavin and I used to spy on her. She looked
so
silly, bouncing around the dining room. But she gave up after two lessons—she said it was bad for her heart.”

Andrew threw back his head and crowed with laughter. “Aunt Florence probably has a better heart than
I
have! She can be ridiculous, but there's something magnificent about her, too. I think my grandmother was terrified of her. Did you know this boat was named after her?”

“After who?”

“My grandmother. Christina. She was Aunt Florence's younger sister, but she and my grandfather are both dead. She was my father's mother—and Aunt Dorothy's and Uncle Peter's.”

“Oh.” Sorting out the Drummonds was like doing a hard puzzle.

Andrew sighed. “My grandparents were easy to take, but I think my mother was glad to get away from the rest of the family when she married again. Yet there's something endearing about all of them, too. When I'm here I feel so …
safe
. As if nothing has changed and nothing else in the world—the war especially—exists. I guess that's why I have to come back once in a while. And of course the best part is this incredible lake—just look at it!”

Andrew let go of the tiller and flung his arms dramatically. The boom swung over without warning, the boat heeled—and Norah was tipped backwards into the water.

She heard herself yelp before she went under. But she bobbed up immediately like a cork, spluttering out a huge mouthful of the lake. The
Christina
was making a wide circle ahead of her as it turned back.

When the boat drew up beside her, Andrew leaned over and grabbed the back of her life-jacket. He fished her out, dripping and giggling. “Norah, are you all right? What a
stupid
thing to do—I'm so sorry!”

“I'm okay,” gasped Norah. “I fell off before the boom could hit me. It was just such a surprise! But the water isn't cold at all. At least you righted the boat before it capsized.”

“You're shivering! Here, take this off.” Andrew helped her undo her sopping life-jacket, and rubbed her arms and legs. Then he took off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around her, his face full of concern. “Don't tell anyone about this, promise? Think of what Aunt Florence would say, nearly drowning her war guest! I still can't believe I did something so idiotic. Don't worry about the jib any more. Just sit up on the side and get some sun. We're almost there—I can see the dock. I only hope no one saw
us
!”

Norah kept shaking, but it wasn't from being cold. She turned away from Andrew so he couldn't see her face and struggled to get herself under control. With awe, she hugged his protecting shirt around her, still feeling the touch of his warm hands on her skin.

6

Secrets

N
orah left Andrew without a word. Up in the boathouse she peeled off her wet clothes and put on dry ones, then hurried out again in a daze, not knowing where she was going.

“Can you help me?” Flo's words startled Norah. She was plodding down the steps, weighed down by Uncle Reg's phonograph. Norah ran up and grabbed one end of it.

“Where are you taking this?” she asked.

“To the boathouse!” said Flo triumphantly. “It's for us! The Elders have a new one—Mr. Hancock just picked it up in Port Clarkson. Uncle Reg says this one sounds tinny, but I don't care. Now we can have music!”

Flo began setting up the phonograph on Sally's empty bed—the little girl had got her way and now slept in the Boys' Dorm. Janet and Clare rushed in, their arms full of records. “Where is it?” asked Clare. “Dibs on choosing first! I wondered when I'd get to play these—Uncle Reg was always hogging it.”

She dropped her pile of records on the bed and flipped
through them. “Put on this one—it's number one on the hit parade.”

Frank Sinatra's smooth voice filled the space. The sound
was
tinny and the needle scratched, but having music made the boathouse even cosier. Each of the girls curled up on her bed and hummed along.

“You'll never know just how much I care …”

That's
me
! thought Norah. Turning to the wall to hide her blushing cheeks she mouthed, “I love you.” The revelation was still a shock—like bursting out of her old skin and finding a fragile new one underneath.

Every Saturday in the city Norah went to the movies with her friends. Now she felt as if
she
were in a movie: like
Casablanca
or
Gone with the Wind
.

Her feelings had to be a secret; even—especially—from Andrew. She didn't know how she would handle it if he knew. For now she just wanted to think about him as much as possible.

The song ended and Clare beat Janet to the turntable and started it again. Flo jumped up and grabbed her brush. “How I wish I could
do
something!” she grumbled, dragging the bristles through her long hair.

“What do you mean?” asked Janet.

“I wish I could leave school and get a job in an airplane factory or something—but Mother and Dad won't let me. It's so unfair. All my male friends are over there helping to fight and I'm stuck at home learning
algebra
.”

“The war's so boring,” yawned Clare. “How can you be interested in it?”

“I don't see why I can't contribute,” said Flo. “Like Norah's older sisters—they're in the British army, right, Norah? As soon as I'm eighteen I'm going to join the RCAF, if I can talk Mother and Dad into it. But that's a whole year away. Lucky Andrew—at least he's starting his officer training this fall.”

“Is Andrew staying for the rest of summer?” asked Norah. She dropped his name into the conversation as casually as she could, amazed that it didn't ring out like a gong to the others the way it did to her.

“I think he's staying until university starts,” said Janet. “So he'll probably drive back to Toronto with you.”

“Too bad for Norah,” said Clare. “You'll just have to put up with him.”

“Don't you like Andrew?” Flo asked her with surprise.

Norah flushed so hotly she was sure Flo guessed her secret. But Clare saved her. “Norah's too much of a tomboy to like boys. When we're all engaged she'll still be climbing trees.”

“Don't be mean, Clare,” said Flo. “There's no reason Norah has to be interested in boys. She's only thirteen—give her time.” She smiled at Norah, and Norah was so relieved she smiled back. Let them all go on thinking she didn't like Andrew.

The record ended and the rasp of the needle filled the room. Janet put on “That Old Black Magic” and Norah lay back dreamily. She had never really listened to the song; now every word seemed to be speaking to her alone.

“N
ORAH, WAIT
!” called Janet the next morning. “I thought we were going out in the canoe!”

But Norah had already fled to her rock. She lay on her stomach and peered down at the cabins. In front of the larger one Aunt Anne was shaking out a rug, shooing away George and Denny, who were playing with toy cars on the front steps.

Andrew's cabin looked unoccupied. But he must be in there because he hadn't been to breakfast yet. If he came out, could she call him and wave casually? She knew she couldn't. Right now she just wanted to study him—to learn him by heart.

But in that case she'd better hide, in case he looked up and saw her here. At the back of Andrew's cabin were some low-lying bushes. Norah waited until Aunt Anne went inside, taking the little boys with her. Then she slipped off the rock and ran down to hide in the bushes.

Whew! Her heart thudded as she crouched in the damp dirt. The branches poked into her back, and she wanted to sneeze from the dry leafy smell. Immediately, she wished she hadn't come; it would be so humiliating if Andrew discovered her. But now that she was here, it was safer to stay hidden until he came out.

She didn't have long to wait. The screen door creaked and slammed and she peeked out to see Andrew stroll out of the cabin and up the hill to the main cottage. When he was far enough away, she dashed back up to her rock and watched his progress.

He wore a white shirt that emphasized his tan, and khaki shorts. His hair glistened in the sun. Norah sighed, thinking of all the days she had wasted avoiding him when she could have been feasting her eyes like this. Andrew went in the kitchen door—Norah could hear him greeting Hanny before it closed.

For the next few days she tracked Andrew as much as possible, feeling as daring and resourceful as when she had been ten, watching for enemy paratroopers during the Battle of Britain. Janet complained because she couldn't find her. “What are you
doing
by yourself so much?”

“Oh … reading.” Norah carried a book as an alibi and often needed it while she waited for Andrew to emerge from the cabin or return from the mainland. The lake was too calm for sailing and he spent some time off the island—she'd heard him say he was visiting friends.

“Reading …” sighed Janet. “I wish you'd do something with
me,
Norah. Clare's always reading too—movie magazines. Or she's visiting her friend Louise on Cliff Island. And Flo spends all her time writing letters. I'm so
bored
! Gairloch used to be a lot more fun than it has been this summer. I thought that would change when you came.”

Norah squirmed at her foster cousin's forlorn expression. “Okay—let's go out in the rowboat.” They rowed out to the middle of the lake and spent an hour diving off the boat. But all the time, Norah wondered what Andrew was up to.

Every night in bed, and during her solitary vigils during the day, Norah made up elaborate stories about
her and Andrew. Sometimes she didn't have on her life-jacket when she had fallen out of the boat and he rescued her just before she drowned. Sometimes she rescued
him,
pulling him to shore and applying mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

“You are the one,” he would say when his eyes finally opened. “The special person I've been waiting for all my life.” Because of Norah's age they had to keep their love hidden. Andrew would meet Norah secretly in Toronto during his time at university. Then he would go away to war carrying her picture in his pocket. He would be a hero and win many medals. After the war, when she was eighteen, he would return and marry her
. (This part needed adjusting because Norah didn't want the war to go on that long.)
They would live in England, in the same village as her parents. Aunt Florence would be furious that Norah had married so young, but there was nothing she could do …

She picked up a sharp stone and began scratching initials in the rock: N.S. + A.D.

“Ugh!” A wet nose was poking the back of her neck. Then Bosley slobbered all over her face. Gavin was climbing up the rock behind him.

“What are you doing, Norah?”

Quickly Norah moved so she was sitting on top of the initials. She smiled at her brother.

“Nothing much. How's the detective agency?”

“Okay … but we haven't got any
cases
. Uncle Reg hired us to find his glasses but that was too easy—they were on the verandah, where he always leaves them.”

Norah gazed out at the lake and saw Janet returning in the
Putt-Putt
with Aunt Mary. “I know what you can investigate,” she said.

“What?”

“You can find out why Aunt Mary has gone into Port Schofield almost every day since we got here.”

“I heard Aunt Florence ask her that—she's getting a dress made. There's a lady there who sews.”

“That's what she says, but I don't think that's
all
she does. On Friday I got there early to pick her up and I saw her coming from that big hotel across from the marina—running! Then she went over the bridge and came out from the direction of the dressmaker's as if she'd been there all along. And yesterday I saw her coming
out
of the hotel when I drove the boat by it—she had her head down and didn't see me.”

“Wow!” said Gavin. “I wonder what she was doing there? See you later, Norah!” Gavin sped off to tell his gang.

Norah went back to her scratching, glad she had given him something to do. She felt vaguely curious about Aunt Mary, but she was sure there was some boring explanation. Aunt Mary was too ordinary to be involved in a real mystery.

All of her senses were alert when she spotted Andrew come out of his cabin, walk to the lake and dive into the water, swimming vigorously to Little Island.

Norah wiped back her sticky hair and sighed. She felt dopey, as if she couldn't wake up. A swim would refresh her; but she couldn't go down while he was still there.

A few times since their sail Andrew had tried to talk to Norah. She mumbled her answers, too shy about her new feelings to have a conversation. He seemed to realize she didn't want to talk, and, although he sometimes gave her a quizzical look, he left her alone. That was the way she wanted it; for the time being, anyhow.

B
EFORE THE CHILDREN
'
S DINNER
that evening Norah sat in the living room with her book. She was actually reading it; Andrew and Flo had left the island to go to a dance at Bala.

“And what are you doing in a corner all by yourself?” Uncle Barclay had come into the room without her noticing; he was pinning up little flags onto a huge world map he'd hung on the wall near the piano.