Storms of life? You’re talking crap again, the counter-voice jeered as Naomi unhooked her warmest coat from the space beneath the stairs. She put it on and struggled through woolly fingers to button it to her chin.
If time healed then how did that explain her granddad? Quiet as he had been, Naomi imagined that it had only been a life of silent storms and never managing to create any distance from the shore; and instead of healing, of dumping his scars onto his daughter then offering some deathbed apology that had only reached her ears long after his cremation.
So the pain hadn’t really died with him, but had only been transferred to find new life in someone else. And Camilla had picked it up like an Olympic torch to see if she could do a better job of lugging it around, while new traumas were born and bred and added to the mix. Did time heal, really? Naomi picked up her bag which was slouched beside the front door. Who knew? Maybe a year from now things would feel easier. Maybe five and no one would remember her name. Ten and she could smile again and argue the merits of a few more clichés. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. How’s that for one?
Naomi heaved out a sigh and left the house and closed the door. Her eyes darted up and down the path as she locked the door and exited the gate two paces later. The arrival of freezing temperatures had brought one positive: the security of hiding beneath layers of wool. It was almost 6 p.m. and had been dark for two hours. Dim afternoons and black evenings had brought a further bonus: the camouflage of night-time and the relief of walking around, face down, without turning heads.
A whole and perfect moon sat above the primary school right opposite the house. The school was silent, not a single light. Pulsating with colour and energy by day, it was almost eerie by night with its huge empty field, the outline of play equipment and static swings, the dark box buildings hemmed in by gates and railings. A little prison for children, doing time every day, learning more about survival than about maths or science. School held no joyful memories for Naomi.
She walked along the quiet streets towards the college, tuned in to the rhythmic patter of her own footsteps instead of turbulent thoughts. Ice glistened on the pavements. She took care not to slip. Weeks had peeled away and the world was skidding, ready or not, towards Christmas. Winter was well established before its time. In late November, snow had smothered the city of Manchester in a layer of icing, and robbed it of colour. The pavements had been trampled clear, but white bundles marbled with filth hugged walls and buildings for a fortnight, while the sky, dark and heavy, lodged stubbornly overhead, huffing out a fine mist.
In mid-December, the sun nudged its way through the haze one morning, and managed to dilute the dimness and climb high enough to brighten the city again. But it couldn’t generate any warmth.
The Royal Northern College of Music was an inconspicuous dot in this teeming city. Naomi was a speck within the college, only a particle within the city itself, just one of tens of thousands of students in and around Manchester. She used to feel average and small, ignored and anonymous – comfortingly so.
That was before she married Nathan, before public light was poured on her without permission. Before people cared about what she did or thought or said. Before they wondered how anyone who professed to be a Christian could even do a thing like that. Before people questioned her without speaking. Before suspicious, guilty or curious eyes followed her everywhere she went. Before journalists appeared from everywhere and nowhere and offered her money in exchange for her life. All this before she took the scariest step of her life and resumed her life at college, where she now felt more like a giant in a village full of midgets than a student in a vibrant city.
Events had played out just as Nathan had predicted. Four days after he dragged her out of bed for a conference in the treehouse, Naomi got a message from the police station. They wanted to see her as soon as possible. Without a word of explanation to Henry or Camilla, Annabel drove Naomi to the station where they informed her that she wouldn’t be required to sign in anymore. The CPS was not prepared to pursue the case any further. It was – quote – “without substantial evidence and not in the public interest to be spending finite resources on a case which was, as far as they could tell, a marital drama which had played out in public like a soap opera, guzzled police time and money and whipped the general public into a frenzy for no justifiable reason.” In essence, they wanted the case to be buried and had recommended that unless useable evidence presented itself to implicate one side or the other, the police should cease to issue statements to the press, cease to expend energy on the case, and shut the files away.
There’d been no official statement to the press about Naomi being a suspect, yet one of the tabloids had got hold of Nathan and Lorie’s side and had run a front page story. The headline was a statement: Someone’s Lying. The final sentence was a question: Who’s telling the truth? Team Naomi or team Nathan? The response was more or less an equal divide. They milked the story for a week. The news went viral. The number of journalists congregating around the house quadrupled. Camilla blew a fuse.
They moved the day after the case was thrown out – just got up and left in the early hours. Henry’s brother had a farmhouse in Cheshire. Uncle Jed spent the winter abroad every year. The farmhouse would be vacant for months. The Hamiltons packed their clothes and essentials, swept the cats off Annabel’s bed and arrived at Uncle Jed’s at two-thirty one Sunday morning. The rooms were damp and chilly, the beds like blocks of ice. They woke up late Sunday morning in jumpers and bed socks, and to pleasant Cheshire countryside, to half-hearted sunshine and to peace.
Camilla sat Naomi and Annabel down after lunch that Sunday, at Uncle Jed’s rustic table. She was shaking with rage that Nathan had been let off. No mention of Lorie. She wanted to fight the decision. Naomi refused. So, options down to nothing, her message now was simple. They weren’t to give the address to anyone. Got it? No one, no exceptions, until further notice. If Camilla was to stay in Britain at all, then this was her condition. Camilla got no resistance from the twins. It wasn’t the time to argue. One day later Naomi returned to college and moved in with Siobhan. The weeks ahead would prove that her ability to trust had been crushed and that her only real friend was Siobhan. And she lived in constant fear of Nathan hunting her down.
Dan? Well Dan was complex – an unknown vessel best left upon that shore, she decided after hours of agonising thought. She refused to believe that Nathan had had a hand in her decision, because the suggestion was outrageous and absurd. Who’s got the money and the girl now? She dismissed that sentence every day.
Well, Dan still had the money, but he’d never get the girl. She didn’t want to learn if she could ever trust Dan. The task was too arduous, any degree of risk too much. Dan was Nathan’s brother. Nothing could change that. Sever connections, that was best. For once, Camilla was right. Naomi couldn’t always call Dan’s face to mind. Trying only summoned Nathan’s instead. Dan would find a nurse or a doctor at the hospital, settle, marry, have half a dozen kids. Be happy. That thought always came before a nauseous wave swept through her. She got herself a new phone and never contacted Dan.
Naomi swung around the final corner onto Booth Street West. The college was across the road, swarming with life in the moonlight, visitors flooding into the main doors for the evening Christmas concert. She groaned. Since the news of her disappearance and the endless speculation that followed, the college had bathed shamelessly in the limelight. Her piano teacher had admitted that Naomi was the toast of staff circles. Whether she was innocent or not was irrelevant. The story had attracted journalists from all quarters and raised the profile of the college. Every concert was a sell-out; interest in the college had soared, and students and staff were being booked for high-spec jobs.
Naomi pulled her scarf a little higher and her hat a little lower. She crossed the road, decided that she’d slip in through the rear entrance. She wasn’t here for the concert. Her favourite piano would be available tonight. With the comfort
of a fantastic instrument and the company of her music, she’d play until her limbs hurt and her concentration collapsed, then she’d meet up with Siobhan after the concert and grab food and saunter back to the house again. It was a plan. A distraction. Anything beat being alone with her thoughts.
As she moved off the pavement and worked her way round to the gloomy path behind the college, she sensed someone behind her. It could be anyone of course. She quickened her step, lengthened her stride. Her body was always ready to release adrenaline as if it had a backlog that needed dumping somewhere.
‘Naomi,’ the voice was familiar, but unexpected. What was he doing here? She was unprepared. She ignored him and hurried on.
‘Naomi, wait,’ he called again.
Naomi stopped walking and closed her eyes. Her legs lost strength and purpose. The rear doors were almost within touching distance. She could have dashed inside and lost herself in light and warmth and strangers. Too late. She felt a hand on her back and slowly spun around. There he was. Close. Tall. Confusion drew a line between his eyes as he examined her. How could she ever have muddled him with Nathan? His eyebrows were low and heavy. A muscle twitched on one side of his jaw.
‘Dan,’ she said, almost tasting his name. It felt surprisingly good to say it out loud. She hadn’t allowed herself to speak his name for weeks, but it was never far away.
Dan just looked at her and struggled for words. His hair fell into his eyes. He raked it back. ‘Your hair’s grown,’ he commented.
‘So has yours.’
‘You’ve lost some weight. I can see it in your face.’
‘Have I?’ She genuinely hadn’t cared enough to notice.
‘How are you?’ he asked.
She thought about lying, about telling him she was fine. Instead, she shrugged and hung her head.
Dan stepped closer. Naomi inched back a little.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just needed to see you. These last few weeks have been driving me crazy.’
‘Tell me about it,’ she replied.
A long pause. ‘I don’t understand, Naomi. When I saw you at the police station that time . . . I mean you were upset, but . . .’ he paused, stuck for a way forward. Naomi waited. ‘I mean, I thought we were OK, you know? I thought we understood each other and that we meant something to each other. I didn’t expect you to shut me out like you did.’
The words cut. She fought tears and looked down and could see very little through the blur. Something was swimming on the ground in front of her. It must have been Dan’s feet. Next thing, he had her in his arms and she found herself responding, folding her arms around his neck. He held her close and whispered her name. Her throat was thick. She couldn’t speak, so she clung on to him, felt the warmth and strength of his body against hers. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed Dan and missed being held.
‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘Shh, it’s OK,’ Dan said, hands moving up and down her back.
It was too soothing to be in Dan’s arms. Best not to stay there long. It felt too risky. ‘Dan?’
‘I’m right here.’
She hesitated before, ‘It’s better if we don’t see each other.’
Dan pulled back enough to look at her, but he didn’t let go. ‘Better for who?’
‘Both of us.’
‘I know it isn’t better for me.’ He touched her face. Tears escaped her eyes. ‘What’s happened since I last saw you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing? All the charges were mysteriously dropped against Nathan and Lorie. The case was closed. Did you change your statement, let them off?’
‘Of course I didn’t.’
‘Then what happened?’ he asked gently.
‘I don’t understand what happened.’
‘But you vanished, left your house, didn’t contact me. I’ve been so worried about you all these weeks. Didn’t it occur to you – ?’
‘My head’s in a mess, Dan,’ she interrupted. ‘My thoughts are jumbled.’ The tears continued to flow. Dan cleared them with his fingers. ‘I’m barely functioning. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking about. I do my music and assignments and try to stop thinking most of the time, which only stimulates my brain into more action, especially when I’m lying still at night. I’m sorry,’ she said again. It seemed the only thing to say.
‘What are you doing right now?’ he asked.
She shrugged. ‘Piano. What else is there?’
‘There’s me,’ he said. ‘I’m here for you.’
‘How did you find me?’
‘You told me you were going back to college. I’ve waited to hear from you and been over it a hundred times – has she lost my number, forgotten about me? Changed her mind? When I knew there was a concert here tonight, I decided I had to try and see you. The money’s still in my account.’
‘I don’t care about the money.’
‘Naomi! I don’t want your money. Having it amounts to stealing.’
‘I’m giving it as a gift.’
‘No. Give me your bank details and I’ll transfer it back to you.’
‘I don’t want it.’
Dan drew breath sharply then changed his mind. His face softened as he looked at her. ‘Look, come and have a drink with me. Please. Let’s talk this through, try and make sense of things together.’
Naomi visualised a public place. People. Faces. That look of recognition she’d grown so used to, followed by the questioning glare loaded with suspicion. Since the case against Nathan had been dropped, it only pointed to the probability that Naomi and Dan were the guilty ones. They couldn’t be seen in public together, not ever. Her only chance of a life was a fresh start without Dan.
‘It’s a bad idea, Dan.’ She glanced about her, conscious suddenly. Bodies moved in the glow of the college, oblivious. Standing in the dark, as she was, she would be invisible to those inside.
Dan touched her chin and drew her attention back to him. ‘Naomi, we’ve done nothing wrong. We’re innocent, don’t forget that. Why should we pretend we don’t care about each other?’
‘You don’t understand,’ she said, almost harshly now. ‘People I used to be friends with don’t even look at me anymore. No one knows what to say to me. Then there’s the public. I get letters every week via the college. Half of them think that Nathan should be strung up, the other half think I should be burned at the stake or something. I’ve stopped opening them. I bin them all. Nathan has completely ruined my life.’
‘Mine too, but I refuse to give up because of him. Take your life into your own hands and fight for what you want.’
‘I want to be invisible and anonymous. I want some peace.’
‘We want the same things.’ He looked at her steadily, his eyes searching hers. ‘Do you still have feelings for me?’
‘Did you hear anything I just said?’
‘Yes, very clearly.’
‘Nathan’s your brother, Dan. We can never change that fact.’
‘You think I don’t know that? I don’t care what Nathan thinks. I don’t care what other people think, Naomi. I care about you. You’re about all I care about at the moment. You’re in my head all the time. You’re with me wherever I go. Life sucks, I understand that. Journalists follow me too. Why punish ourselves by avoiding each other? For what?’ His questions caught in the chilly air and were ushered away. ‘Do you still have feelings for me?’
Who’s got the money and the girl now? There it was again. Nathan’s voice, still alive inside her head. I’ll pursue you until you beg me to take the money and leave you alone. Well, he’d never beg her for money she didn’t have. She often wondered what had happened the night that Nathan had returned at midnight to the treehouse for his money. She imagined his wait and then his fury. No Naomi. No money. No family at home.
‘Naomi?’ Dan dragged her back.
‘No,’ she said, backing off. ‘No, not anymore.’
Dan caught hold of
her arm. ‘I don’t believe you. You mouth is saying one thing, but –’
‘Just keep the money.’
‘It’s over a million pounds,’ Dan hissed.
‘I know. Have it as a thank you for what you did for me. But sometimes I think I’d be better off dead. Just leave me alone now, please Dan.’
‘Naomi don’t do this. I want to help you. Why would you think I’m interested in your money? Have you seen Nathan again?’ She took another step away. ‘What’s he been saying to you? Whatever he’s put inside your head, he’s lying. Don’t let him hurt you anymore.’
Naomi stood taller and looked Dan in the eye. ‘Who met Solomon first, you or Nathan? Tell me the truth.’
Dan rubbed his face with one hand and let out a defeated sigh. The silence spoke plenty.
‘It’s not like you think,’ he said.
‘You lied to me.’
‘I didn’t lie. The question never came up.’
‘You insinuated that Solomon was Nathan’s connection. You were happy for Nathan to take the blame.’
‘Naomi –’
‘No, Dan. Sorry, but I can’t do this. I don’t want an explanation. I’ve nothing inside of me to offer you anyway.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I can’t risk any more pain. I just can’t.’
She glared at him, trying to express what she couldn’t find the words to say. Dan nodded, said nothing. A stream of fresh tears poured down her face. She turned and saw Dan, head down in reflection in the glass doors. She headed for the doors, away from Dan and also towards the image of him. And Dan didn’t move or try to stop her as the warmth of the college swallowed her up.
16
The room was too small and too cluttered and too hot. Nathan’s cheeks had flushed pink through heat and concentration. He ripped his jumper over his head and flung it carelessly across the room, aiming loosely at a heap of clothes. Why did his mother have the central heating raging for about fifteen hours a day? It roared to life every morning at seven and made the floorboards creak and the radiators hiss and gurgle until ten at night. And the radiator in his room couldn’t be turned down or turned off.
The Darkness Visible (The Midnight Saga Book 2) Page 16