Looking at the Moon (9 page)

Andrew rushed out. “What's the matter?”

“My ankle,” moaned Norah. “I think I twisted it or something. I was just on my way to visit Aunt Anne,” she added quickly, so he wouldn't wonder what she'd been doing outside his cabin.

“Let me see.” Andrew took Norah's ankle in his hand. He turned it gently in different directions. “Does this hurt?”

“A little—not
too
much.” Norah's cheeks flamed. This presence was working too easily; there was something shameful about it.

“Can you stand?” Andrew helped her up and Norah was so overcome with the thrill of having his arms around her that she trembled convincingly.

“It's—it's all right now. I think I can walk on it.” She pretended to limp a few steps.

“Come in and rest it for a few minutes. If it doesn't get any better I'll go up and get Aunt Dorothy—she used to be a nurse, you know.”

Go
in,
to Andrew's own place? Norah grimaced, not with pain but with excitement, as Andrew helped her through the door and onto a couch.

“Do you want some tea? I've been making my own breakfast in here. It's more peaceful than having it with the Elders. All of them first thing in the morning are too much to take. And Hanny usually gives me leftovers, anyway.”

Andrew calling the grown-ups the Elders, as he had in the boat, made Norah feel slightly more at ease. She accepted his offer of tea gratefully; she hadn't had any for ages. Even though children over twelve were allowed tea coupons, Aunt Florence insisted on keeping Norah's for herself and Aunt Mary.

“Toast too?”

“No thanks—I've
had
breakfast.”

Andrew toasted bread for himself over the tiny wood stove. Norah looked around the cabin, trying to calm down and savour these precious moments alone with him. She'd been in this cabin a few times before, when various relatives had overflowed from the cottage out here. It was
only one room containing two narrow couches, a table and chairs, and a shabby rug. Now a large glossy photograph of a handsome man was pinned to one wall.

“Who's that?” Norah dared to ask.

“Laurence Olivier—my inspiration,” said Andrew. “Didn't you ever see him in
Wuthering Heights
? I guess not, you would have been too young. He's a brilliant actor.”

“I thought that was a book.”

“The movie was
from
the book.”

Norah resolved to borrow it from Aunt Catherine right away. “Do you think you'll ever be an actor yourself?” she asked timidly. “Aunt Catherine told me she thinks you should be. She said you were a natural and she should know—she's seen lots of plays.”

“Good old Aunt Catherine,” said Andrew. “She's always taken my acting seriously. Too bad she's the only one.” The muscle jumped in his cheek and his blue-grey eyes looked sad.

“But everyone thinks you're a
wonderful
actor!” cried Norah, forgetting her shyness. “You heard what Aunt Florence said on your first night.”

“Yes—as long as it's just a hobby. I'll tell you something, Norah. I
do
want to be an actor. More than anything in the world. But
they
—all the Elders and especially my mother and stepfather—think I should be an engineer, like my father. That's what I've been taking at university and what I'll continue taking at U of T along with the COTC course. You wouldn't believe how boring it is. But they don't need actors in the war,” he added dryly.

“Can't you become an actor
after
the war?” asked Norah.

“I suppose so. Maybe I'll have the guts to do it by then. You see, it's not just because it's a good lead-in to officer training that they had me take engineering. It's because it's practical and will give me the kind of career every other man in this family has always had—something that will make me lots of money, that will
establish
me …”

He waved his piece of toast in time to the rise and fall of his words. The bitterness in his voice made Norah uncomfortable. This wasn't how she wanted him to be; he was supposed to be confident and cheerful. “I don't see why you can't be an actor if you want to be,” she said impatiently.

She was relieved when Andrew smiled. “You're perfectly right. And I shouldn't be boring you with my problems. I don't know why I'm telling you all this—probably because you're
not
part of the family.” He glanced at his watch. “Now … how's the ankle?”

Norah had completely forgotten she was supposed to have twisted her ankle. “Oh!” she said with surprise. “I guess it's going to be all right.” She stood up, put her weight on it, and limped around the room. “Yes, I'm sure it will be. The more I walk on it the better it feels.”

“Good.” Andrew was gathering up a tennis racquet and a white sweater. He wanted her to go.

“I'm meeting some friends at eleven,” he said. “Be sure to get someone to look at your ankle if it bothers you.”

“I will.” Norah hobbled out of the cabin and up the hill, trying to remember which foot she was supposed to be favouring. She turned back to wave but Andrew was already hurrying to the dock.

Still, he'd asked her in! And he'd confided in her! For the rest of the day Norah moved around in a cloud of happiness, and that evening it was crowned when Andrew asked her in a concerned voice, “Is your ankle better, Norah?”

“Yes, thanks,” she said in a croak, as his eyes focused on hers.

“What happened to your ankle, Norah?” demanded Aunt Florence. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I just twisted it a bit. It's fine now. It doesn't even hurt.”

Aunt Florence looked so suspicious that Norah retreated from the room. She still felt guilty about her trick—but it had worked! Surely, from now on, Andrew would pay more attention to her. And, after all, she'd only been in love with him for four days—though it seemed like years. It was natural that he'd take that long to really notice her.

World-famous actor Andrew Drummond says he wouldn't have persisted with his career if it had not been for the encouragement of his beloved wife, Norah. Often compared to Laurence Olivier, this handsome star says he has his wife in mind every time he plays a love scene …

8

Being Detectives

“N
orah, we'd like to have a meeting with you.” The Fearless Four stood solemnly on the verandah. “Could you please come to our headquarters?” added Gavin.

Norah left the glider and followed them along the path to the playhouse. Above the door was pinned a sign—FEARLESS FOUR DETECTIVE AGENCY—NO CASE TOO DIFFICULT. Inside, all the evidence of the Hornets had been cleared away. Now a pair of toy handcuffs and a magnifying glass sat on a low table. Leaning against the wall was a chart covered with all the family's fingerprints. A complete set of Sherlock Holmes books stood on a rickety shelf; Creature was perched on top, as if he were guarding all this.

Norah was struck by how small the room was; her arms and legs seemed to fill the whole space. She sat on the floor with the others around the table. “Does Aunt Florence know you have these books out here?” she asked, reaching up to touch one of the red leather bindings.

“Well … not exactly,” said Gavin, always truthful.
“She said I could borrow them, but she thinks they're in the Boys' Dorm. We'll put them back at the end of the summer. Listen, Norah—we need your help.”

“What for?”

“We just can't crack this case,” said Peter solemnly. He pushed up the thick glasses that were always sliding down his nose.

“
What
case?”

“Aunt Mary's,” said Sally impatiently. “We've got a lot of clues but now we're stuck.”

Gavin handed Norah his notebook. A pencil was tied by a bedraggled string to a hole in the cover. She opened it to the first page, which was headed “Clues—The Case of the Mysterious Visits.”

1. Aunt Mary has gone to Port Schofield five or six times since the beginning of August.
   
2. She says she is going to town to get a dress fitted but Norah Stoakes (friend of the agency) says she saw her coming out of Eden House Resort.
   
3. Aunt Mary acts as if she is up to something. She is dixtacted and sings to herself.
   

Norah smiled at “friend of the agency.” “What does ‘dixtacted' mean?” she asked them.

“You know—kind of absent-minded, as if she's always thinking of something else,” said Gavin.

“Oh—
distracted
. You're right, she has been acting different. You've been very observant.”

The Fearless Four beamed at her praise. “But now we're stuck,” said Peter.

Ross, never able to sit still for long, climbed on a stool and began swinging from the top of the doorway. “We're stuck because we can't
trail
her,” he said. “We aren't allowed to take the boat out alone until we're thirteen.”

“So, Norah …” Ross dropped with a thud and all four looked at her expectantly.

“So you want
me
to take you in the boat and drop you off so you can follow her,” said Norah. “But what if she sees you?”

“We'll be very, very careful,” said Gavin. “We know how to track people quietly. We've been practising on the aunts—we followed them all the way to the gazebo and back without getting caught.”

Norah reflected on how good she was at tracking Andrew. In spite of a reluctance to invade Aunt Mary's privacy, she felt a twinge of excitement, as if she were their age again. Maybe she could do more than just take them over in the boat. It would be almost a relief to have a holiday from her feelings for Andrew. She picked up a Captain Wonder comic from the floor and flipped through it while she decided.

“Okay,” she said finally. She hushed their eager voices. “I think I'd better help you track her, though. You'll need someone to help make up an excuse if you're caught. And five of us will attract too much attention. I'll take Gavin and one other.”

“Me! Me!”

“Sally,” said Gavin at once. “She's the best at tracking.” The other boys looked disappointed but accepted his decision. It had always surprised Norah how they let Gavin lead them, even though Peter was a year older. Somehow his gentle manner carried a lot of authority.

“I'll have to get permission,” said Norah. “It'll be tricky because we won't know she's going until the last moment and she might take the
Putt-Putt
. And remember, Aunt Mary may not be up to
anything
—there could be some logical explanation.” She knew from their eager faces that they didn't believe that, and all at once she didn't want to believe it either. “I'll be your Chief Detective,” she continued. “You'll have to do exactly what I say.” Then she added, a bit sheepishly, “Can I borrow a few of these comics?”

For the rest of that day they all observed Aunt Mary's movements. But she didn't appear on the dock in her hat until the next afternoon, when Mr. Hancock drove her away in the
Florence
. Gavin dashed up to tell Norah and Norah tried to appear nonchalant as she looked for an Elder. She found Aunt Anne in the kitchen, helping Hanny roll out piecrust.

“May I please take Gavin and Sally to Port Schofield in the
Putt-Putt
?” she asked.

As usual Aunt Anne looked uncertain. “Why do you want to go there?”

“To buy some comics and have ice cream.”

“I wonder … I suppose it's all right. But make sure they wear life-jackets. How long are you going to be?”

“We'll be back by five,” promised Norah. She skipped out before she could be questioned further.

Gavin and Sally looked solemn as they sat side by side in the bow of the
Putt-Putt,
muffled in fat orange life-jackets.

“I think we should moor at the hotel, not in town,” said Norah. “After all, we're assuming that's where she is.” She slowed down the boat and turned in to the hotel dock. A few guests sitting in wooden chairs along the shore glanced up at them. Not at all sure if they were allowed to use the dock, Norah tied up the painter quickly and hissed at the others. “Quick! Take off your life-jackets and follow me.” The three detectives strolled across the lawn as if they were guests too. They hurried up the long path and retreated under a clump of trees for a conference.

“So far, so good,” said Gavin, his eyes dancing. “Stop laughing, Sally!” He pulled out his notebook and began to scribble while Norah examined the hotel.

How were they ever going to find Aunt Mary? The huge three-storey building in front of them must contain hundreds of people.

“What are you writing, Gavin?” asked Sally.

“The colours of those chairs and where this hiding place is,” he told her.

“That's not important,” said Norah. “You don't have to write everything down, just what's relevant.”

“But you never know what
could
be relevant,” said Gavin, continuing to scribble.

Norah kept staring at the hotel, thinking hard. “Let's walk all the way around the outside,” she suggested. “Maybe we'll spot her on the verandah. Now remember, look as if you're staying here. If she spots us we'll say … Oh, yikes, what
will
we say?”

“We could say that we're visiting Mummy's friend,” said Sally. “You know, Mrs. Abercrombie. She's staying here all month. She was on the island last week with her daughter.
Enid,
” she added with disgust.

Norah looked at Sally with exasperation. “But why didn't you say so earlier? It's a perfect excuse. You could say I brought you over to play with Enid!”

“Ugh!” said Sally. “She's so babyish, isn't she, Gavin?” Gavin nodded.

“Still, that's our alibi—don't forget! Let's just hope we don't have to use it.”

They began circling the lawn underneath the verandah, pulling their sun hats down over their faces. A group of well-dressed people were playing croquet. “There she is!” whispered Sally.