keep an ear open to whatever was going on inside, and watch all the comings and goings without being too suffocated by the clan. The lacy screen of trees beyond the verandah always made her feel secure, as if she were in an airy cave.
But this afternoon she couldnât concentrate on The Murder of Roger Ackroyd . The verandah was dotted with other members of the family. From around one corner drifted the usual flow of gossip.
âBut what was her name?â Aunt Dorothy was asking.
âWasnât she a Ferguson? The Manitoba Fergusons, not the Ontario ones. Her mother would have been a Baxter,â pronounced Aunt Florence. The aunts seemed to know the last names of everyone in all of Canada.
The strains of one of Uncle Regâs Gilbert and Sullivan records floated from around the other corner: â⦠and his sisters and his cousins and his sisters and his cousins and his aunts !â Uncle Reg would be stretched out as usual on a chaise longue, close enough to his phonograph to reach over and wind it up.
Aunt Catherine was sitting in a rocking chair not far from Norah, her tiny foot bobbing to the music and her nose in a book. Sheâd given Norah a friendly wave when she first sat down, but she understood that people didnât want to be disturbed when they were reading.
Norah had watched Aunt Bea and Aunt Mar set out for the gazebo, carrying a basket, a kettle and a spirit-lamp. She knew Aunt Anne was at the babiesâ beach with George and Denny. Now she saw Aunt Mary, again dressed up, descend the steps to the dock. Flo came out of the Girlsâ Dorm and they both got into the Putt-Putt and drove away. Once again Aunt Mary had no shopping bag.
Norah watched the launch disappear, then looked for the sail. By now Andrew and Uncle Gerald, or he and Flo, had taken all the cousins out in the sailboatâeveryone but Norah.
Gavin was rightâshe loved sailing. Two summers ago she and Janet rigged up the rowboat with an improvised sail made out of an old sheet and pretended it was the Swallow, from one of Norahâs favourite books. But the rowboat was too heavy to move very fast without oars.
They were only allowed to go out in the sailboat when Uncle Gerald or Uncle Peter, Clareâs father, washere. But the two youngest uncles were never able to come to Gairloch for long and the other two didnât like sailing.
Now Norah watched Andrew and Uncle Gerald tack as they approached the dock. Gavin and Sally were crouched between them. Norah wanted to be in the boat so much she could feel the jibsheet between her hands.
But she wouldnât askânot Andrew. She swung the glider violently until its creaking almost drowned out Uncle Regâs record.
âNorah!â Gavin had rushed up the hill to the verandah. He always knew where to find his sister. He climbed into the glider beside her, his cheeks flushed and his fair hair in a tangle. âDid you see me out there? It was swell! We went really fast and I leaned right over the waterâthatâs called âhiking.â Sally almost forgot to duck when Uncle Gerald gybed. Do you know what gybing is?â
âOf course I do,â sighed Norah.
âAndrew sent me to find you,â continued Gavin. âHe wants to know if you want a turn next. This will be their last sail today.â
Despite the reluctance in her mind, Norahâs feet seemed to stroll down to the dock on their own. She tried not to let her face show how much she wanted to get into the boat.
âThere you are, Norah!â Andrew was sitting in the stern. âYouâre certainly hard to find. Every time we tried to give you a turn youâd disappeared.â
âWant to come now?â Uncle Gerald asked her.
âYes, please.â Norah looked only at Uncle Gerald as she answered. With him along, she could ignore Andrew. She put on a life-jacket and stepped into the Christina . The boatâs canvas sails crackled in the