The Lights Go On Again (6 page)

“Miss Gleeson at the library gave me a book about her.” Norah grinned, stroking her trophy. “Maybe I'll be a pilot too, one day.”

“A pilot!” spluttered Aunt Florence. “Don't be absurd, Norah.” But Norah looked thoughtful.

Three more girls in grade five kissed Gavin. Jamie and George kept getting kissed too. Then Jamie tattled and Mrs. Moss told the girls they had to stop “all this kissing nonsense.”

Gavin got fourteen valentines—the same as the number of girls in his class. Roger and Tim teased him and he pretended to despise the valentines. But he went through them all at home, trying to guess which one was Eleanor's.

One Saturday evening a boy turned up at the Ogilvies' front door, asked for Norah, and was ushered into the hall.

“This is—um—Michael Carey,” Norah told Aunt Florence.

Michael shook hands nervously as Aunt Florence inspected him. Gavin sneaked a look at him and Norah as they sat together in the living room. Both had flushed faces and neither spoke much. Norah seemed relieved when Michael left half an hour later.

“Is he your boy friend?” Gavin asked her.

“No! He's just a boy in my class,” muttered Norah.

Aunt Florence came into the hall. “He seems like a presentable young man, Norah. I know his grandmother.” She smiled. “Now that you're fifteen, my dear, I will allow you to go out with boys, as long as I meet them first.”

“Thanks, but I don't
want
to date,” retorted Norah.

“Very well … it's up to you, of course.” Aunt Florence walked away huffily; she didn't like having her favours refused.

“Why don't you want to date?” asked Gavin. “You do other things with boys.”

Norah lifted her chin proudly. “I like dancing with boys at the canteen and I like talking to them when we go to Murray's for a milkshake. But I refuse to be attached to anyone! There's only one person I'm interested in. Michael and the other boys in my school can never come up to
him
. But don't forget, Gavin, that's a secret.”

“I know. Norah …”

“Mmm?” Norah looked dreamy.

“Do you—uhh—do you think ten is too young to like girls? I mean for a boy.” The minute he said that he regretted it. What if she teased him?

But Norah regarded him seriously. “Nope. If you like someone, you like them. It doesn't matter how old you are.” She took his hand. “Come on—I'll teach you how to play crib.”

I
N MARCH THE SNOW
finally melted. Gavin and Tim and Roger spent most of their after-school time fixing up their fort in the ravine behind the Ogilvies' house. Bosley tried to help by chasing away squirrels.

Mick cornered Roger one afternoon in the ravine. He forced him to take off all his clothes and ran away with them, leaving Roger shivering and crying in the fort.

When the others found him there, Gavin raced up the hill to the house to get some of his clothes while Tim wrapped Roger in his jacket.

“We
should
tell on Mick!” said Gavin when he'd come back. He turned pale at the thought of his friend's ordeal. “He shouldn't get away with this!”

“No!” cried Roger. “The more he's punished the worse he gets!”

“He should be
expelled,
” said Tim.

“That's the only solution,” said Roger. “But how can we be sure Mr. Evans
would
expel him? He's never expelled anyone before.” He looked down at the sleeves of Gavin's sweater dangling below his wrists. “What am I going to say to my mother? That jacket was brand new! I'll have to make something up so
she
won't tell.”

“From now on we have to stick together all the time,” said Gavin.

“All for one and one for all!” cried Tim. But Roger just sat on a log looking wretched.

The weather became warmer and warmer. The grown-ups smiled and said it was a good omen. Tulip bulbs sent green swords up through the damp earth, and Aunt Mary ordered seeds for this year's Victory Garden. In school they kept singing “When the lights go on again / All over the world.” But all over the world the war carried on.

5

The Telegram

“S
ee ya later, alligator,” called Tim as the three of them parted at the corner.

“After a while, crocodile,” Gavin answered.

“Don't forget your glove,” came Roger's distant cry. They were meeting again in twenty minutes to play baseball.

Gavin peeled off his jacket as he walked home. The soft spring air was almost hot. His shoes felt wonderfully light on the bare sidewalk, after trudging along it in galoshes all winter.

He turned into Sir Launcelot, rescuing a princess from a dragon. The princess looked just like Eleanor. He whacked a bush with a stick as the dragon's head fell off.

“Oh, Sir Launcelot, you are the bravest knight in the kingdom!” the princess cried. A passing woman smiled at him and Gavin realized he'd been muttering to himself.

“Wave, Boz!” he cried as he neared the end of his block. The dog lifted his paw in a comical salute, then hurtled towards Gavin, jumped all over him and licked his face. He led Gavin the rest of the way to the Ogilvies', his tail beating. The two of them raced up the stairs and into the hall. Gavin stopped to check the mail.

A letter for him! He tore it open. Good—his Mysto-Snapper Membership Badge for Orphan Annie's Secret Guard had arrived. Tim had got his two days ago. Gavin crammed it back into the envelope. Then he noticed something else lying on the hall table.

A yellow envelope. The kind of envelope a telegram came in.

Everyone knew what a telegram meant. Gloria Pendleton's family had received one last year when her father had been killed in France.

Bosley whined and looked anxious, the same way he had when they heard Aunt Florence crying. Now Gavin realized that, again, someone was crying. The sound came from the den. Aunt Mary, he guessed, listening hard.

“No-o-o …” she wailed. Then Norah said, “It's not true! I just can't believe it's
true
!” Aunt Florence's voice, broken and bitter, croaked, “What a waste. What a
wicked wicked
waste.”

Hanny came out of the kitchen. At the sight of Gavin she sobbed and held up her apron to her red, swollen eyes.

“What's wrong?” said Gavin. “What happened?”

“I can't bear to tell you. Go into the den. They're all in there.” She ran back to the kitchen, crying even louder.

Andrew … It must be Andrew.

Gavin thought of Andrew's laughing face two summers ago when he'd taken them all sailing. Then he thought of Norah. Tears formed in his eyes.

He should go straight into the den and join them, but his feet seemed stuck to the floor. He stood there and stared at the yellow envelope. The silver bowl of roses on the hall table gave off a heavy, dizzying smell.

Sir Launcelot would be brave.
He
wouldn't cry; he would go and comfort his sister. Gavin took a deep breath and walked into the den.

Norah was sitting stiffly on the edge of the chesterfield. When she saw him she winced as if she'd been stabbed. Her eyes were filled with such acute pain he had to look away. This was how much she had loved Andrew.

“I can't tell him,” she whispered.

“
I'll
tell him,” said Aunt Florence. “Come here, sweetness.” She sat down and held out her arms. Gavin walked slowly towards her. It was just like the day he'd entered this room for the first time and Aunt Florence had summoned him into the protection of her strong embrace.

He stood in front of her. Her firm hands gripped both his shoulders while she spoke. On the small table beside her chair lay the telegram, but he couldn't see the print clearly.

“Gavin, I have something terrible to tell you. You're going to have to be very brave.”

“Yes, Aunt Florence,” said Gavin. “Is it Andrew?”

“Andrew!” She looked bewildered for a second, then let go of his shoulders and sighed heavily. “No, pet. It's not Andrew. It's—it's your mother and father. They've been killed by a flying bomb in England.”

He couldn't have heard her properly. He stared, then finally whispered, “Killed?” Aunt Mary began sobbing again.

“Yes, pet,” said Aunt Florence gently. “Your grandfather sent us a telegram. Do you want to read it?”

Gavin took the telegram from her. For a few seconds the black letters danced against the yellow background, then were still.

REGRET MY DAUGHTER AND SON-IN-LAW KILLED BY V-1 STOP PLEASE TELL CHILDREN AND CONVEY OUR LOVE AND SORROW STOP LETTER FOLLOWING JAMES LOGGIN

Gavin handed it back. “Do you understand, pet?” Aunt Florence asked him.

“Yes,” he whispered. Aunt Florence pulled him onto her knee as if he were five again. He felt babyish, perching there, but he couldn't protest.

“
Damn
this war!” sobbed Aunt Mary. “Damn, damn,
damn
! Why should such a monstrous thing happen to two innocent children?” Gavin gaped at her. Aunt Mary
never
used words like that!

He slid off Aunt Florence's lap, but she kept her arm around him. Norah still sat in her frozen position; he couldn't look at her face again. Aunt Mary was beside her, but she seemed afraid to touch her.

Hanny brought in a tray of tea. “You and Norah have some too,” she urged them. “I made it good and sweet—who cares about rationing at a time like this?” She sat down with them while the adults talked in low, shocked voices.

My mother and father are
dead,
Gavin said to himself, sipping the hot sugary liquid. He tried to make himself cry.

“I think you two should go up to Norah's room,” said Aunt Florence, when they'd finished their tea. “I'm sure you want to be alone together. We'll call you for dinner.”

Gavin trudged up the stairs after Norah, thinking regretfully of Tim and Roger waiting for him in the park.

Norah sat on the window-seat in the tower, staring at nothing. Gavin tried to think of something to say.

“Is it really true, Gavin?” She kept her eyes away from him.

Gavin shivered at how strange her voice sounded. “It must be,” he said carefully. “The telegram said so.”

“But maybe … maybe it's the wrong family! Maybe they sent it to the wrong address!”

“It had our grandfather's name on it.”

“Yes. So it must be true,” she said dully.

She was quiet for a long time. So was Gavin. Bosley had followed them to the tower. He jumped up beside Norah and rested his head on her knee.

Finally Norah broke the silence. “I
knew
it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew they'd be killed,” she said slowly. Her voice was singsongy and faraway. “I've had a nightmare about it for years—I never told you. A nightmare that their house was bombed and they were all killed. Except
Grandad
isn't dead. That's right, isn't it?” she asked, as if she were asking herself, not him. “He sent the telegram, so he can't be dead. That's the only thing that's different from my dream. And listen to this, Gavin.” She twisted a corner of the curtain in her hands and her voice became shrill. “I dreamt it again
two nights ago
. I hadn't had the dream for almost a year, but then I did. Maybe that's the day it happened! Maybe—”

“Stop it, Norah!” Gavin put his hands on her shoulders and shook her hard. “I don't think you should
talk
about your dream!”

She looked right at him for the first time—as if he'd woken her up. “Sorry, Gavin,” she said softly. “I didn't mean to scare you.” She sighed. “You're right. What's the use of talking about it
now
?” She picked up his hand. “Oh, Gavin … I just can't
believe
it! Can you?”

Gavin shook his head.

Norah went over to her bedside table and took out a letter from the drawer. She brought it back to the window-seat and gazed intently at it. “This is Dad's writing. The last letter from them before they died. Do you want me to read it to you?”

“If you want,” whispered Gavin.

Norah began to read the letter. Gavin had already heard its contents, of course, when it arrived in February. His parents were full of excitement about the black-out finally beginning to be lifted in England: churches could let their stained-glass windows show and car headlights no longer had to be masked. The Home Guard was disbanded, so Dad could stay home in the evenings. “The world is getting brighter and soon you will be with us again,” read Norah's quavering voice. “Best love to you both, D-Dad and Mum.”

Norah began to shake. Then she erupted in tears. She threw herself on the window-seat's pillows as her body heaved and shuddered. “Oh Dad … Mum …”

Gavin clenched his fists, trying to stop the wave of fear that broke over him. “Don't cry, Norah,” he said, patting her back as if she were Bosley. “Don't cry.” Bosley tried to lick her.

But she kept on crying for a long time while Gavin sat awkwardly beside her. Then she raised her wet face. She stumbled into the bathroom and blew her nose loudly. “I'll tell you one thing, Gavin,” she sniffed, coming to sit down again. “Wh-whatever—whatever happens to us, we'll always stick together. No one is going to s-separate us, all r-right?” Her body shook with dry sobs.

“Of course not!” said Gavin with surprise. “What do you think will happen to us?” he added. A wonderful thought came to him. “Will we—will we stay in Canada now?”

“No, we won't!” Norah's anger froze her sobs. She looked so fierce that Gavin felt ashamed. “Don't
ever
think that! We're
English
! England is our home! We'll go back and live with Grandad, of course.”

“Oh.” So everything was the same. When the war was over he still had to go back to England.

Norah thumped the pillows. “I wish we knew more about how it happened! Then it would be easier to believe.