Looking at the Moon (15 page)

Someone put on “Stardust.” The mixed couples came together like magnets and the single girls retreated to the sides of the room. Some of the couples kissed while they danced, barely moving to the hypnotic melody.

“Slow ones are such a bore,” said Janet. “Look at Clare! Who's she with?”

Clare was snuggled into the shoulder of a tall blond boy.

“Aunt Mar wouldn't like that,” said Janet. “He's too old for her.” Then Flo steered a giggling Peter past them and they all laughed.

“Why are most of the girls older than the boys?” asked Norah suddenly. Some of the girls were as sophisticated-looking as movie stars, but many of the boys had skin pocked with acne and gangly arms and legs.

“Because the older boys are all in the war, silly.”

Of course; now she remembered Flo saying how many of her friends were also writing letters to the front. Andrew and Clare's partner were the oldest. Norah let herself look at Andrew again; Lois was holding him so close Norah couldn't stand it.

“I need some air,” she whispered, and slipped out into the night.

Gavin was on the glider, fast asleep. She half-carried him, half-led him to bed. Then she spent the next few hours swinging in her chair in time to the music, falling into a light sleep, then jerking awake again. She could go to bed herself, but she liked taking advantage of the fact that there was no one to tell her to. And she couldn't seem to leave the party; it was as if it were going to go on forever and she was stuck in it like a trance.

One after another the velvety melodies floated out to her: “Blue Moon,” “Moonlight Serenade,” and the whirling crescendo of “In the Mood.” Again and again someone put on “You'll Never Know.” That's
our
song, Norah decided. Most of the songs were about moons and
dreams and partings and they all had a wistful edge to them. Being grown-up seemed to be one endless love scene where someone was in love and the other had left or didn't return the love.

Andrew's voice very close to her startled her awake. A strident female one answered it. “Come on, Andrew, just a short ride.
Why
can't you?”

Andrew and Lois were standing at the top of the verandah steps. Norah kept very still, rubbing her eyes. She must have slept for a long time. Now the party seemed to be ending; down by the water voices were calling out goodbyes.

“I told you,” said Andrew, sounding as if he were controlling his impatience. “I'm supposed to be in charge and I don't want to leave my cousins alone.”

“For Pete's sake, they're not babies! Can't we just nip over to Little Island? We'd have it all to ourselves. I'm beginning to think you're afraid of me.”

They moved down the steps and into the shadows right below her. There was a long silence during which Norah, embarrassed and furious, hunched farther into the glider. She could see by their outline that they were locked in an embrace.

“There! Now will you take me?” wheedled Lois.

“Lois …”
said Andrew, as if he were entreating her not to keep asking. Then a voice below called her name as well. “Lois! Are you coming or not?”

“There!” said Andrew eagerly. “Jamie and Dick are leaving—you'd better go with them.”

“Oh, all right,” grumbled Lois. “Sometimes you're a spoilsport, Andrew.”

Norah leaned over the railing as the two of them went hand in hand down the steps. She listened to Andrew call goodbye, and sighed with relief as the boat carrying Lois chugged away.

13

A Promise

N
orah expected Andrew to return to the party—there were still a few lingering dancers—but he strode around the side of the cottage. She slipped off the verandah and set out along the path by the lake to trail him.

After her sleep she was rested and alert. She had left behind her uncomfortable shoes and undone the pinching ribbon from her hair. The night air was warm and soft. A whippoorwill trilled its endless refrain, a startled raccoon lumbered out of her way and a few bats swooped in front of her. Crickets chirped in a reedy chorus. Norah slid through the lively darkness like a fish through water, her head up to admire the glittering sky. This was as magical and romantic a night as in the songs.

Finally she spotted Andrew, a dark, seated figure high up on her lookout. Norah stole through the trees and paused at the base of the rock. She could slip away again without him hearing her, but that would be cowardly.

“Andrew,” Norah called.

He jerked around. “Who's there?”

“It's me—Norah.”

“Norah! I thought you'd be in bed by now. Come and share the view—it's such a beautiful night.”

Carefully Norah's toes found the footholds that were so familiar to her in daylight. She trembled with pleasure as Andrew reached out and took her hand.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, flopping down beside him. Her cheeks were burning so much, she was glad it was dark. The rock still gave off a faint glow of heat from the day.

“This used to be my favourite place when I was younger,” said Andrew.

“Did it? It's
my
favourite place!” Norah was so pleased, she forgot to feel awkward.

“I know—I've seen you up here.”

Had he seen her spying on him? But Andrew was smiling. His eyes, dim by moonlight, were concentrating only on her.

“I meant to tell you how pretty you look tonight, Norah. Have you done something different with your hair?”

“Flo curled it,” mumbled Norah.

“Hmmm … maybe you should do it like that all the time.”

“It's too much trouble! I might later—when I'm sixteen or so.”

“You'll probably be back in England when you're sixteen,” said Andrew. “Surely the war will be over by then. Now that Sicily has been taken, it looks a lot more hopeful.”

He didn't sound hopeful. He sounded, Norah realized, absolutely miserable. She remembered the night she'd seen him crying.

“Are you upset that the war might be over before you can be in it?” she asked carefully.

Andrew gave a dry, mocking laugh. “It's kind of the opposite. I'm afraid the war might
not
be over and I'll have to fight in it.”

Norah swallowed hard. “Don't you want to, then?”

Andrew whirled around so fast that Norah gasped. “No, I do not! I've never wanted to do anything less in my entire life!” He leaned over and grabbed Norah's shoulders. “I don't
want
to kill anyone! I don't think it's right! But do you think my parents or anyone else in this damned family understands that?”

Andrew dropped his hands and Norah controlled the impulse to rub the painful places where he'd gripped her.

Andrew sighed. “I'm sorry, Norah. I didn't mean to scare you. Now you know. You're the only person I've ever told. I guess you're the only one I
can
tell, since you're not really part of the family. But I shouldn't bother you with my problems. I'm sorry,” he said again. He sounded as if he were going to cry.

“It's okay,” whispered Norah. “I don't mind.” They were quiet for what seemed like an eternity, Andrew's fierce words echoing in the darkness.

“Aunt Catherine said that too,” said Norah slowly. “She said that you weren't cut out to be a soldier and that you were born at the wrong time.”

“Aunt Catherine is the only one who understands,” said Andrew. “You know how kids play Cowboys and Indians and pretend to shoot each other? I never did—I used to pretend that my gun was a camera! It really upset my father—he was always buying me new, bigger guns to entice me. And I hated Cadets—all that stupid drilling. Do you know how many men were killed at Dieppe?”

“How many?” whispered Norah. She remembered the horror all the grown-ups had felt last August when so many Canadians had been lost. But she and the other cousins had been so busy playing games they hadn't paid much attention.

“Almost nine hundred! Think of that! Nine hundred men slaughtered like cattle—for what? Doesn't it seem intolerable and absurd to you that whenever human beings disagree they go out and
kill
each other?” His arms thrust wildly as his words rushed out.

Norah's head was whirling, but she tried to keep it above Andrew's rising passion.

“But what about
Hitler
? Don't we have to beat him?”

Beating Hitler had been ingrained in Norah's consciousness since she was nine. She remembered her own efforts to help. “I used to watch for his planes in England,” she said softly. “All my friends did. We thought the war was fun then. I don't any more, but I still think we have to fight him. What would happen if he won?” Her voice rose in panic. “What would happen to
England
? And to my family?”

Andrew patted her knee. “You're perfectly right, Norah—don't worry. I know we have to beat him so
people like your family can be safe. And we probably will. It's just too bad that war seems to be the only way.” He sighed. “I feel like such a freak. Every one of my friends seems to take it for granted we'll all join up. Even fellows as bright as my friend Jack seem to be able to stomach it. We had a terrible argument the night before he left—
he
thinks I should fight. I don't know anyone who feels the way I do.”

Norah was trying very hard not to think of Andrew as a freak herself. She'd never heard anyone express any doubts about the war—except for Aunt Catherine. But Andrew was a
man,
not an old woman. “Are you afraid?” Norah asked, almost angrily.

“I've thought about that a lot,” said Andrew slowly. “I guess everyone must be afraid—you wouldn't be human if you weren't. But I think you could make yourself do it when the crunch comes—‘screw your courage to the sticking place' and all that. I
could
do that, I think—but it doesn't seem morally right to me. So I feel like such a phoney, with everyone thinking I'm going off to learn how to be an officer and then maybe join the war.”

“But it's only maybe,” Norah reminded him. “You might not even have to.”

“Yes, I could avoid it—but don't you see how that makes me even more of a phoney? I'm not taking any sort of stand—everyone thinks I'm eager to get in on it, as Uncle Barclay keeps saying. If I'm lucky I won't have to fight, but then I'll spend the rest of my life pretending to be sorry I didn't. I just can't live that sort of lie!”

Norah listened to the pain in his voice. There was no way she could argue with his conviction.

She took a deep breath. All right, then. No matter how much she disagreed with him, she would accept his beliefs, if that was what loving him demanded.

“What do you
want
to do?” she asked.

“I want to be an actor, of course,” said Andrew at once. “I want to do it
now,
not wait until after the war—to quit university and try to get on with some company.”

“What would happen if you did that? Would someone make you fight anyway?”

“When I'm older I'd have to do service here in Canada, but they wouldn't make me go overseas. Do you know what they call guys like that? ‘Zombies.' Can you imagine how the family would feel if I was a zombie? Their golden boy, their Hugh, being such a coward …”

All at once Norah saw everything very clearly. She felt older, not younger, than Andrew. “That wouldn't be being a coward!” she said firmly. “Standing up for what you believe in would be braver than fighting.” She got up on her knees with excitement. “It doesn't
matter
what they think, Andrew! You should do what you want! It's not what I would do, or Flo or Uncle Barclay or most other people—but it's what
you
should do. Just tell them that you're never going to fight, so it's no use taking that course! Just tell them!” She didn't even realize she was shaking his arm.

Her face was so close that she could see his expression clearly—as if he were afraid of her. Then he threw back his head and laughed, laughter that was very close to crying.

“Oh, Norah, you are a wonder,” he said, wiping his eyes. “
You'd
tell them, wouldn't you? You're much braver than I am. And of course, you're right. What you're suggesting is what I've been struggling with all summer. I
should
tell them and do what I want—but I don't know if I can! Isn't it ridiculous? I'm more frightened of this family than I am of the war!”

“Of course you can!” cried Norah. “Tell them tomorrow! Will you?”

Andrew shuddered. “Not tomorrow!” He was quiet again, and then he said slowly, “But maybe … yes, I will tell them, and very soon. I'll have to wait for exactly the right moment—when we're all together and I've worked up enough courage. Perhaps on our last night—then I can escape the repercussions. And believe me, there'll be plenty of them! I've been thinking that if I
did
decide to do this, I could live with some friends in Saskatchewan. There's a student company there I could try to join.”

“But you'll do it? Do you promise?”

Andrew laughed again, but this time it was joyful. “Yes, I promise I'll do it. Thank you, Norah—you've helped me make up my mind. I was beginning to feel frozen—as if I'd
never
decide.”

Norah thought she would burst with pleasure. “You're very welcome,” she grinned.

“We'd better go—the others must be wondering why you're not in bed. I'll go down and make sure everyone's left.” Andrew took her hand again as they stumbled down the rock.

“Good-night,” whispered Norah. She flew down to the boathouse, her arms spread wide as if she were a bird. Minutes later, as she lay in bed and went over each burning word of their conversation, she realized she hadn't fulfilled her aim—she hadn't told him she loved him. But that could wait a while. Andrew had revealed his most intimate feelings to her. And he had entrusted her with an important secret. Surely that meant he felt something for her too.