The Lights Go On Again (16 page)

“Why did you?” said Roger. He seemed more certain than Tim of the enormity of Gavin's crime.

“I don't know,” said Gavin. “I guess I just wanted to see what it was like. But I never will again!” he added sheepishly.

“Want to come over to my house?” Tim asked.

Gavin shook his head. It was a comfort to have his friends back, but now he had to face the music at home. What if Aunt Florence was angry too?

15

Leave Me Alone

N
orah was modelling a new coat for Aunt Florence and Aunt Mary in the den. The three of them greeted Gavin so normally he knew Mr. Evans hadn't phoned yet. He decided he might as well tell them first.

Slowly he stuttered out the whole story. Aunt Florence's stout figure shook with fury as she listened. Then she pressed Gavin's wounded palms between her large, plump hands. “How
dare
someone hit you!”

“I didn't think old Evans would ever strap
you
!” said Norah. “Did it hurt a lot?”

Gavin nodded and Bosley put one paw on his knee.

“First thing in the morning I'm going to go to the school and give that man a piece of my mind!” snorted Aunt Florence. “He has no right to hit you! Especially when it was Mick's fault, not yours!”

“Why didn't you
tell
me about Mick?” fumed Norah. “I could have done something about him! Is that who you had to get the money for in December?” Gavin nodded again.

“What money?” demanded Aunt Florence. “What else has this Mick done?”

In a halting voice Gavin told them about the money, then about Roger being left naked in the ravine.

“But you should have told us!” cried Aunt Florence. “You poor little boy, putting up with him all this time!”

“Imagine letting a bully like that stay in the school! Someone who forces younger boys to help him steal!” shuddered Aunt Mary.

“It's completely unjustified!” said her mother. “Gavin should never have been punished. I'm going to demand that Mr. Evans
apologize
to you, pet—to you
and
to me.”

“Hold it!” said Grandad. Gavin didn't realize he'd come into the room. “I think we're getting things a little out of proportion here.”

“What do you mean?” said Aunt Florence coldly. “Gavin has been
struck
!”

“I heard,” said Grandad quietly. “And I'm sorry he has. But listen to me for a minute, Gavin. This is the usual punishment at your school when someone does something wrong, am I right?”

“Yes,” whispered Gavin.

“So it seems to me the question is whether or not you deserved to be punished. Do you think you did?”

Gavin gulped at how stern Grandad's eyes looked under their bushy brows. “Yes, sir.”

“He
didn't
deserve it!” cried Aunt Florence. “That boy
made
you go along with him, didn't he?”

Gavin started to agree. Then he looked back at Grandad. “No, Aunt Florence. I didn't have to do it.”

“But you'd never do such a thing of your own free will!”

“I did, though,” said Gavin, wincing at the shocked expression that came into her eyes.

Everyone was quiet while they digested this. “But
why,
Gavin?” Aunt Mary finally asked.

“I don't know. I just … did! I promise I never will again,” he said to Aunt Florence.

She bridled. “Well, you may
think
you chose to—to steal—but I don't believe it! That boy brainwashed you! And no child of mine is going to be strapped! I'm still going to ask Mr. Evans to apologize to you.”

“But—” Gavin could well imagine her marching into the school and giving Mr. Evans a “piece of her mind.” He'd never be able to face his classmates again.

“I can't let you do that, Ma'am,” said Grandad.

Aunt Florence looked as if she hadn't heard properly. “What did you say?”

Grandad's voice was low but angry. “I won't let you embarrass my grandson by saying anything to his principal. In the first place he
isn't
your child—not yet. And you heard what Gavin said. He was wrong. He knew very well what he was doing—he could have refused. I don't believe in hitting children myself, but we have to accept the school's methods. Gavin deserved his punishment. And after school tomorrow he and I are going to that hardware store so he can apologize to the owner.”

“He is
not
!” cried Aunt Florence. “Why should he have to suffer any more than he has? He's coming to Mr. Evans's office with me first thing in the morning!”

“No!” Gavin wondered who had shouted so loud, then realized it was himself. He glared at Aunt Florence and shook with anger. “I don't
want
you to go to his office, Aunt Florence! Everyone will laugh at me if you go! And Grandad's right—I
did
steal! I'm not always good! I'm
tired
of being good! Stop treating me like a baby! Just—just
leave me alone
!”

He was still shouting, standing in front of her and clenching his fists.

Aunt Florence wilted against the cushions of her chair, as deflated as if he had poked her with a pin.

“Thatta boy, Gavin!” whispered Norah. They all waited for him to continue. But his fury had fallen as quickly as it had risen. “Please, Aunt Florence,” he continued wearily. “Please don't say anything to Mr. Evans.”

“Very well, Gavin,” said Aunt Florence stiffly. “If that's what you want, we won't discuss the matter any further.” She marched out of the room.

Never, in the whole time since Gavin had known her, had she spoken to him so coldly.

G
RANDAD MET GAVIN
after school the next day. It was raining and the gloomy weather added to Gavin's dread as they approached the hardware store.

“What shall I say to her?” he asked outside the door.

“Just say you're sorry.”

“But she might be really mad!”

“I wouldn't be suprised if she was,” said Grandad. “Would you like me to come in with you?”

“Yes, please,” said Gavin.

He kept as close to Grandad as possible as they went over to the counter. The woman looked up, then frowned.

“So it's you.”

“I'm very sorry I helped Mick steal the fishing reel,” said Gavin as fast as he could. But his tongue was like a piece of wood and his words came out fuzzily. “It was wrong. I promise I'll never do it again.”

“How can you expect me to believe you? And to think I thought you were such an honest-looking boy! I won't be fooled like that again, I'll tell you!” She scowled at both of them. “And who's this?”

“My grandfather,” said Gavin, taking Grandad's hand. The skin on it was rough but warm.

“Huh! I bet he's pretty ashamed of you.”

“If my grandson says he'll never steal again he won't,” said Grandad quietly.

“Don't be so sure.” She glared even harder at Gavin. “You'd better be careful you don't end up in reform school like that other boy! Get out of my store! I never want to see you in here again!”

Gavin pulled Grandad out of the store. “She wasn't very nice!” he said when they got outside.

“Well, you weren't very nice to
her,
were you? She's angry because she trusted you and now you've betrayed that trust.”

Gavin sniffled and Grandad handed him his handkerchief. “Never mind, old man. You've apologized—that's the most important. You were brave. I'm proud of you.” Gavin kept hold of his hand all the way home.

“I'
M SORRY
I shouted at you, Aunt Florence,” said Gavin that evening. She hadn't spoken to him all day.

Aunt Florence's voice was remote and sad. “I accept your apology, Gavin. Perhaps I was slightly precipitate.”

Gavin didn't know what “precipitate” meant. She didn't call him “pet” the way she usually did. “Pet”
was
an awfully babyish nickname, though …

“Give me a kiss and run along, then.” She held out her cheek but she didn't add a hug the way she usually did.

After that Aunt Florence did what he'd asked her to—she left him alone. She was as polite and distant to him as if he were a visitor.

Gavin wondered if he really wanted this. It was like standing in a bright open field instead of in a protective forest. He could tell she was still hurt by his words. But surely, after Norah and Grandad left, her old easy affection would return.

All weekend Gavin sat in the study with his grandfather and sister. They were leaving him alone as well; they no longer made him feel pressured to change his mind. Like Aunt Florence, they seemed afraid to upset him.

As usual Grandad and Norah talked about home. Little Whitebull the way it used to be … Ringden with its shops, cricket green and surrounding hop-fields … various people in the village … and, of course, their family. As Gavin listened, faint outlines of these places and people formed in his mind. He didn't know whether he was remembering or imagining.

“I feel sorriest for Tibby,” said Grandad, “because most of her things were still in the house. Do you remember the watercolours she used to do, Norah? They were all lost.”

“She painted a picture of a cow,” said Gavin suddenly. “With brown spots.”

“Gavin!” cried Norah with delight. “
I
remember that picture! She painted it for
you
! For your fifth birthday!”

Gavin scrunched up his face to hold onto the memory, but it sank back into his mind as quickly as it had bobbed up.

The next day, though, a few more things came back to him—like a blurry film coming into focus. He remembered the tinkle of the bell in the village shop and the sour smell of the scullery in their house. When he told this to Norah and Grandad they hugged him.

“Oh, Gavin …” said Norah, but Grandad gave her a warning glance.

The three of them chatted together quietly, enjoying their fragile new harmony. No one dared mention they only had three weeks left together.

16

The Birthday Party

T
hat Sunday Gavin, Tim and Roger walked slowly along the sidewalk to Eleanor's house.

“
How
many boys are going?” Roger asked again.

Gavin counted on his fingers. “Us three, Jamie, George and Billy.”

“And
all
the girls,” groaned Tim.

“I don't think I'll come after all,” said Roger when they reached Eleanor's house.

Gavin tugged him up the steps by his sleeve. “Come on, Rog. All for one and one for all!” He banged the knocker before Roger could flee.

Mrs. Austen stood in the doorway, an apron over her dress. “My, don't you all look spiffy! Let's see … I know Tim from church. Are you Roger?” Roger nodded shyly. She put her hand on Gavin's shoulder. “Then you must be the poor little English boy who lost his parents—Gavin, isn't it? Come and join the others in the living room.”

Now Gavin wanted to leave too, but they had to follow Eleanor's mother along the hall.

Fourteen girls were crowded together on one side of the living room, whispering to each other. Jamie, George and Billy sat silently on the other side.

Gavin sneaked a look at Eleanor after they had joined the other boys. Like all the girls she wore a fluffy dress and had a large bow tied on one side of her head. Her dress had tiny pink flowers dotted over it. He had never seen her hair loose before. It waved around her face.

The only sounds were stifled giggles from some of the girls. Eleanor looked as if she wished she hadn't decided to have a mixed party. Gavin tried to catch her eye and reassure her.

Mrs. Austen bustled back into the room. “What's all this shyness about?” she cried, with a silly, tinkling laugh. “Let's have a game and break the ice!” She clapped her hands. “Everyone into a big circle!”

They all had to stand in a circle as if they were three years old. Gavin manoeuvred himself so he was next to Eleanor.

“Hokie Pokie!” cried Mrs. Austen. “You put your right hand in, you put your right hand out …” She flung her hand in and out in time to the tune. No one sang, and only two girls copied her.

“You put your left hand in …” She faltered, then stopped singing. “I guess you don't know that one. Sit down where you are and we'll play Button, Button.”

Mrs. Austen reached into her pocket and showed them a small white button. “Now, who wants to be It?”

When no one volunteered, she looked at her daughter. “How about the birthday girl!”

Eleanor blushed. She took the button from her mother and knelt in front of each person in turn. “Button, button, who's got the button?” she muttered, placing her palms together and passing them through each person's praying hands.

Gavin smiled at her when she reached him and she gave him a tiny smile back. Then she opened her hands slightly and let go of the button. He pressed his palms against it tightly.

“Can anyone guess who has it?” asked Mrs. Austen.

“Gavin,” said Tim accusingly. He must have seen their exchanged smiles.

Gavin opened his hands to reveal the button.

“Good for you, Tim! Now you're It.”

Gavin grinned as poor Tim had to touch each of the girls' hands. He knew he would give the button to Roger; but he didn't want to guess and have to be It next. Everyone else refused to guess too.

Mrs. Austen sighed. “Well, if you're tired of Button, Button, I have another game. Don't go away!” She hurried out of the room and returned with a tray filled with small objects. “Kim's Game! I'll give you five minutes to memorize the contents.”

This was better; they could separate into boys and girls again while they examined the tray. Gavin had always been good at Kim's Game. He concentrated hard: an apple, a pair of scissors, a china cat, a handkerchief …

Mrs. Austen took the tray away and they each tried to remember its contents. Roger got them all and won a small bag of candy.