The Lights Go On Again (19 page)

“I don't care!” said Gavin.

“Can you give up all this?” Grandad waved his hand around the room—at the spool bed, ornate wallpaper and mahogany wardrobe. “This fancy house? And the summer one?”

“And you'll have to leave Bosley behind,” said Norah gently. “Did you remember that?”

Gavin gulped. Why were they trying to discourage him?

“I know that! Bosley will have to go back and live with Uncle Reg. But he likes Uncle Reg. I know it will be hard—but it won't matter as long as I'm with you. Don't you
want
me to come?” he added tearfully.

“Of course we do!” they cried.

“We just wanted to make sure you'd thought about it carefully,” said Grandad. “But I can see that you have. Thank you,” he said gruffly. “Thank you for choosing us.”

Gavin and Norah climbed onto the bed and sat cross-legged on the foot of it. The three of them beamed at each other.

“Will Gavin be able to get on the same ship?” asked Norah.

“We'll enquire about that first thing on Monday morning,” said Grandad. “If he can't we'll cancel our ship and all go together on a later one.”

“How am I going to tell Aunt Florence?” shuddered Gavin. “I think she's already mad at me.”

“It won't be easy,” said Grandad. “But we'll be with you all the way.”

Gavin pulled out his elephant.

“Creature!” cried Norah. “Where did you find him?”

“Trapped under the mattress,” grinned Gavin.

“I'd forgotten all about your elephant,” murmured Grandad. “Your Grannie made him for you when you were born, just before she died. She would be glad you still have him. He's as old as you are! He certainly looks the worst for wear. What happened to his ears?”

“He looks fine!” said Gavin indignantly. Then he laughed with them. “I'm going to keep him forever and ever and give him to
my
children!”

G
AVIN KNEW
he had to tell Aunt Florence as soon as possible. He decided to wait until after church. All through the service he daydreamed, trying to find the best words. He only paid attention when Reverend Milne asked the congregation to say a prayer for Dulcie, Lucy and Norah. “We have been privileged to have the care of these fine children for the past five years,” he said, gazing sadly at Dulcie and Lucy in the front pew. “We wish them a happy future and a safe crossing to England.”

“Yeck! How embarrassing!” muttered Norah.

“That prayer is for you as well, Gavin,” whispered Grandad.

Then Gavin's favourite hymn was announced: “To Be a Pilgrim.” “He who would valiant be / ‘Gainst all disaster,” he sang out. A pilgrim was sort of like a knight or a musketeer, he decided.

Gavin couldn't eat his lunch. “Are you sick?” asked Aunt Mary.

“I'm not sick.” He looked at Aunt Florence. She had touched hardly any of her meal either. “Aunt Florence … I need to talk to you in private.”

“Very well.” Aunt Florence's voice was icy as she and Gavin went into the den and shut the door.

Gavin looked around at the comfortable, cluttered space. So many important things had happened in this room. Their arrival, the news of their parents' death, his decision to stay … He thought of all the evenings he'd spent in here listening to the radio or to Aunt Florence read. Then he remembered the valiant pilgrim and took a deep, steadying breath.

“Well?” Aunt Florence sat down heavily in her favourite deep armchair. Her voice was shaking. Then she looked at Gavin and he realized that she knew what he was going to tell her.

“Aunt Florence … I'm so sorry … but—”

“It's all right, Gavin.” He'd never heard her sound so defeated. “You want to go with them, don't you?”

Gavin nodded. How could he hurt someone so much? “How did you know?” he whispered.

“I've seen how you've been clinging to Norah and your grandfather in the past few weeks. I've seen how you've changed. I think I've known ever since the day you got into trouble at school. You've been growing apart from me. I should have encouraged you to talk about it but I just—I just couldn't! Come over here …”

Gavin came closer and she took his hand. “I love you dearly, Gavin. I hope you know that. You've been like a son to me. But you
aren't
my son. Perhaps I've tried to hold on to you too much.”

“You haven't,” sniffed Gavin. “You've made me happy.”

“I'm glad of that. But you don't need me any more. The war is over. And even though you've lost your parents, it's still right that you go back. It was selfish of me to try to keep you here.”

She looked like a tired old woman. “Aunt Florence,” whispered Gavin. He pushed into the chair beside her and the two of them sat together in silence.

T
HE NEXT DAY
, after a morning of frantic telephone calls, a space was found for Gavin on Norah and Grandad's ship. Now there were only three days left. Aunt Florence seemed relieved to spend all that time doing Gavin's packing.

Gavin told Bosley he was leaving him. He wasn't sure if Bosley understood his words, but he certainly understood the open suitcases and piles of clothes in Gavin's room. He followed Gavin everywhere, gazing accusingly at him.

“You'll be all right, Boz,” Gavin told him. “Uncle Reg loves you just as much as I do.” He had read once that dogs didn't have long memories. Bosley would probably forget all about him.

But he'd never forget Bosley.

There was so little time for goodbyes. Some of the family friends who had been at the party dropped by with small gifts for Gavin when they heard. But others didn't even know he was going—Mrs. Moss, all the people in his class, and Roger. Gavin thought sadly of how casually he'd said goodbye to Roger when he thought he'd see him again in September. At least there were two people he could say goodbye to in person—Tim and Eleanor.

Tim's face turned red without him willing it to as he stared furiously at Gavin. “But you said you were
staying
!”

“I changed my mind.”

“But
why
? You're Canadian, not English! You don't even talk like someone who's English! You said you didn't even remember England!” They were lying on the floor in Tim's room; Tim kicked one of his bedposts.

Gavin sighed. “I know I don't remember it. I don't
want
to leave you and Roger. I don't want to go back, but I have to stay with my family—my real family. Don't you see?”

“I thought the
Ogilvies
were going to be your real family now!”

“I thought so too, but I was wrong.”

They lay in silence, Tim's face buried in the rug. Gavin knew he was hiding his tears. “I'll write to you, Tim,” he said desperately. “And the summer after next, Norah and I will probably come back for a visit.”

“You'll spend it in Muskoka like you always do,” Tim muttered into the rug.

“Well, you can come! You and Roger! You can both come up north for the whole summer, okay?”

“I guess so … I like Gairloch.” Tim had come for a week last year. “But that's two years away—that's forever!” He looked up at Gavin, tears gleaming on his round face. “All for one and one for all, eh?”

“All for one and one for all
forever,
” said Gavin.

E
LEANOR WAS MORE DIFFICULT
; he had to lose her just as she was becoming a friend. It would be easier to just leave without telling her. Gavin kept putting off phoning her but he finally made himself do it the day before they left.

“May I please speak to Eleanor?”

“Just a minute—
Eleanor
!” a voice shouted in his ear. Her older sister.

Then Eleanor answered. “Hello?”

“Uh? this is Gavin.”

“Hi, Gavin! Are you having a good summer?”

He had meant to tell her on the phone but as soon as he heard her voice he wanted to see her one more time. “Can I come over? Right now?”

“Sure. Why does your voice sound so funny?”

“I'll tell you later.”

Gavin ran all the way to her house. His shirt was sticking to his heaving chest by the time he got there.

“Let's go into the back yard,” said Eleanor after she answered the door. “Mum made some lemonade.”

Gavin drained two glasses of lemonade while Eleanor sat quietly in a chair and watched him.

“So what did you want to tell me?” she asked finally.

He stared at her. Her braids were pinned around her face in a circle. It made her look like a flower.

“I came to say goodbye,” he mumbled.

“Oh, you're going up north. But I'll see you in September.”

“You
won't
!” said Gavin, close to tears. “I'm going back to England. I decided not to stay in Canada. My sister and grandfather and I are leaving tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Eleanor's expression didn't change.

“I may come back and visit Canada in a while, though,” said Gavin.

“We'll be older then,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Uh-huh.” Maybe when they were older he'd know how to talk to her more easily. “I'll write you a letter,” he said.

“Okay.” Eleanor still looked as calm as if Gavin were only going away for the summer.

“So … goodbye, then.”

She just sat there. Didn't she care at all? “Goodbye,” she mumbled, staring at the grass.

Gavin walked away quickly. His legs quivered as he stomped to the front of the house and along the sidewalk.

“Wait!” He was almost at the corner when Eleanor reached him. He turned around and she stood in front of him, trying to catch her breath. One of her braids had come loose. “Good luck, Gavin,” she said gravely. “I'll never forget you.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then she walked away.

Gavin watched her go. Her lips were soft, like tiny cushions, and they tasted of lemonade.

T
HAT EVENING
everyone spoke in tender, careful voices, as if afraid the other person would break. Hanny made Norah and Gavin's favourite foods for dinner. Then they sat in the den quietly, listening to a concert on the radio. Every once in a while Aunt Florence or Aunt Mary or Grandad would ask each other if some item or another had been packed.

When the concert was over Gavin fiddled with the radio dial, wondering what the programmes were like in England. Then the door knocker sounded and everyone was relieved when the Worsleys marched in noisily.

“I have a present for you, Gavin,” whispered Daphne. Gingerly, Gavin took the small box she handed him. It probably contained something disgusting.

But to his surprise Daphne had given him the jackknife she always carried with her. “It's to protect you in England,” she grinned. “You never know what wild animals you'll meet there. You can use it to skin them.”

“Thanks, Daphne!” said Gavin. “I'll take good care of it.”

When the Worsleys got up to go everyone was crying, especially Paige. “Oh, Norah, I can't bear it! You're the best friend I ever had!”

Norah wiped her own eyes. She took Paige's arm. “I'll walk home with you—then we'll have a little more time.”

The rest of them went back into the den. Aunt Florence opened up
Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town
and began to read. She had begun it earlier in the month to try to cheer everyone up. But although the words she was reading were amusing, her voice was not. Gavin stared at her strong face and at Aunt Mary's gentle one.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, and slipped from the room. He went into the dim living room and curled up on the window-seat.

Bosley hopped up beside him and collapsed in a silken pile at his feet. Gavin stroked him all over, from his smooth head to the ends of each of his fluffy feet, memorizing every freckle and patch. Bosley rolled over on his back with pleasure and Gavin tickled his stomach in the place he liked best. Then he pulled Creature out of his pocket. He was much too old to carry him around the way he used to, but tonight he needed him.

Glancing out the window, he saw all the streetlights come on together. He had never seen that happen before. It was like that song, “When the Lights Go On Again.”

The war was over and the world's lights could shine again. That was good, of course; but the light was cruel as well as hopeful. It exposed all the bad things that had happened in the war—all the suffering. His parents crushed under their house, soldiers dying in the mud … and those mysterious, terrible bodies in
Life
magazine.

Gavin shivered. Tomorrow he had to venture into that glaring new world. He had to leave behind the people and places he was so used to—that he loved. Bosley whined, and Gavin kissed the white streak between his eyes. Then he huddled against the warm dog.

He couldn't do it. He would go back into the den and tell them he was staying. In two days he and Bosley could be out in the canoe at Gairloch. He was only ten. How could he be expected to give up so much? He
would
stay.

“Gavin? Are you all right?” Grandad came into the dark room and sat down beside him.

“I'm scared,” whispered Gavin.

“That's understandable,” said Grandad. “You're leaving everything that's familiar to you. But
what
are you afraid of?”

“Of England—and the war—and people getting killed like Muv and Dad—of everything!”

“The war's all over now, Gavin,” said Grandad gently. “You know that.”

But England had always meant the horror of war. It was so hard to believe that the horror wouldn't still be there.

“What else are you afraid of?”

“Starting a new school.”

“That's scary,” agreed Grandad, “but you've always done well and made friends in school here. I don't see why it should be any different in England. It'll
seem
different for a while, but you'll soon get used to it. Anything else?”