Beyond the Sea: A Modern Gothic Romance

by L.H. Cosway

  “What were you and Irene talking about before I got home?” I asked, bringing the conversation back around.

  He cast me a quick, silent glance before focusing back on the road.

  “You were mistreating Sylvia, weren’t you? You should be ashamed of yourself,” I said, my anger building.

  “Very high and mighty talk coming from the girl who fantasises about stabbing her classmate in the eye with a pencil,” Noah shot back, and I glared at him.

  “I told you that in confidence.”

  “And that was your first mistake,” Noah said before pulling the car to a stop.

  When I looked out the window, I saw we’d arrived at my school. Confused, I wondered why he’d brought me here. It was mostly empty, with just a few students still hanging about for extra-curricular activities. Noah parked close to the sports pitch, where the camogie team practiced.

  “Stay here,” he instructed.

  I nodded and watched quietly as he left the car and walked directly across the sports pitch to the other side, where the caretaker’s shed was located. Several girls stopped to eye him up and down, and for a second, I saw him from their perspective. A hot twenty-something year-old guy who had suddenly appeared in a school where the student body was (often painfully) all female.

  They whispered and giggled, but he didn’t spare them a glance, instead knocking on the door to the caretaker’s shed. A second later it opened, and Noah disappeared inside. My brow furrowed as I tried to figure out what he might be doing in there.

  The school’s caretaker was Sam Ryan, a local man from a big, well-known family. He was old now, but the rumour was that he used to be a member of the IRA back when the Troubles were still ongoing. So even though he looked like a kindly old granddad, people tended to be wary of him. The fact that he and Noah knew each other put me on alert.

  Fifteen minutes went by, and I started to worry. I emerged from the car and paced, wondering if I should go over and see what was taking so long. Then, the door to the shed opened, and Noah and Sam emerged. They shook hands, and I caught sight of Noah shoving a small envelope inside his coat. He strode across the pitch again, but this time he was approached by the sports coach, Mr. Flynn.

  “Excuse me, Sir,” said Mr. Flynn. “Can I ask what you’re doing on school grounds?”

  Noah stared him down, not responding for a long moment. I acted on instinct, hurrying over to them.

  “Mr. Flynn,” I said when I reached them. “This is my, uh…” Come on, Estella, think fast! “My uncle,” I finished, and Noah’s eyebrows rose, his mouth forming an entertained smirk. “He just stopped by to collect me. I wasn’t feeling well.”

  Mr. Flynn looked from me to Noah, his eyes squinting. Noah obviously looked far too young to be my uncle. “Is that so?”

  “By marriage,” Noah put in, throwing his arm around my shoulders. I bristled at the contact. “I’m Veronica’s brother.”

  Mr. Flynn’s gaze narrowed, like he was trying to remember him but couldn’t. He cleared his throat. “Right well, normally members of the public aren’t allowed on school grounds after hours, but I’ll make an allowance just this once.”

  “Very charitable of you,” Noah replied with the tiniest hint of sarcasm.

  As soon as Mr. Flynn turned to walk away, I stepped out from under Noah’s arm.

  “Your uncle?” he asked with a grin as we headed back toward the car.

  “It was all I could think of,” I said, annoyed. I definitely didn’t see Noah as an uncle, especially considering how unnervingly attractive I found him. “What took you so long anyway? I was about to come over there.”

  “Why? Did you think I needed rescuing from big, scary Sam Ryan?”

  I folded my arms. “Well, he does have a reputation.”

  “Most reputations are bullshit. And anyway, Sam’s pushing seventy. I’m pretty sure I could handle him.”

  I didn’t doubt that. Like I said, Noah seemed like a person who could fight. We got back into the car, and Noah pulled out his wallet, handing me a crisp ten and a five. I took the money without question and put it in my skirt pocket. Noah’s attention stayed on me a moment before he put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking spot.

  The drive back to the house was quiet. I wanted to ask him why he’d gone to meet the caretaker. I also wondered what was in the envelope he had tucked inside his jacket, but he didn’t seem in a mood to talk.

  As soon as he parked outside the house, I fled the car, about to run around to the back door to avoid Vee, when the front door flew open. There she stood in her housecoat, expression drawn in narrow-eyed suspicion, as she looked from me to her brother.

  “Where have you two been?”

  Noah walked around the car and handed her the keys. “Just went for a drive.” He didn’t offer any further explanation before he stepped by her and into the house.

  I froze as Vee’s attention honed in on me. Even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, I felt guilty. I always felt guilty, even when I was innocent. It was a disorder.

  “Where did he bring you?” she asked, eyes travelling over me as though looking for clues.

  “He didn’t bring me anywhere. He collected me from school.” Even though I had nothing to hide, the lie fell easily from my lips. Why was I lying for Noah? The instinct made no sense.

  Vee was silent for a long moment, thoughts flittering behind her eyes. She stepped closer, never taking her attention from me. “Stay away from my brother,” she warned, then turned and went back inside the house.

  I frowned at her retreating figure, unsure why she didn’t want me spending time with Noah. I doubted it was because she worried I might be a bad influence. If anything, he would be the bad influence, what with his clandestine meetings with school caretakers and all. Or maybe she just didn’t want us bonding because she couldn’t stand the thought of me having a friend, or any kind of ally while I was still living under her roof.

  Yes, that sounded about right.

  3.

  Grief was a strange creature. Most days I was fine, and then bam, I missed my dad like he’d died only yesterday. Several days after Vee warned me away from Noah, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, no motivation to get up, no desire to do anything at all. Today my insides felt all hollow, like I was nothing but an empty shell.

  Anhedonia was a word I’d read in a psychology book. It referred to a lack of motivation and the inability to experience pleasure. That’s how I felt when I got this way. All I wanted to do was sleep and forget I even existed.

  “Estella! Estella!” Vee’s voice echoed around the house, calling on me to complete some chore. I turned over and pulled the covers above my head, determined to ignore her. A few minutes later there was a knock on my door.

  “Go away,” I groaned, wishing for the floor to open and swallow me whole. I couldn’t deal with Vee today. I just couldn’t.

  The door opened, and I shot up, my face contorted in outrage. “I said go away!”

  “You’re lucky it’s me and not my sister. If you’d spoken to Vee like that she’d have gutted you like a fish,” Noah said as he stood in my doorway.

  “Leave me alone. Please,” I begged, sinking back under the duvet.

  Noah cocked a curious eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

  “I’m not sick, but I’m not well.”

  A flicker of humour flashed in his eyes. “Were you even born when that song was out?”

  “No. Now get out of my room please.”

  “Technically, it was my room first.”

  I frowned at him, my brain not computing. “This used to be your room?”

  Noah nodded and stepped inside, his eyes taking in the space. He approached the shelf that lined the back wall containing my books and seashell collection. He picked up a book and studied the front cover.

  “The Bible?” he asked, arching a curious eyebrow.

  My shoulders straightened defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with ownin
g a Bible.”

  “I never said there was. Have you read this?”

  “Yes. My dad thought it was important. He was very spiritual and religious. I am, too,” I said before immediately regretting it. I didn’t want to sound all high and mighty. I had a deep revulsion for those who preached their faith like everyone should have the same beliefs as they did. Believing in God didn’t make me perfect or pure. I was still intrinsically flawed, still swore when I got angry, still had unkind thoughts about people I didn’t like, still … touched myself in the dark when I was feeling particularly lonely.

  “Your dad was religious? And he married my sister? Go figure,” Noah said, wryly amused.

  “Loneliness can make people do all kinds of silly things.”

  Noah slotted the Bible back on the shelf. “You should try talking to Vee the way you talk to me. I think it would make for a refreshing change.”

  I snorted. “I’d like my head to stay on my shoulders, thanks.”

  He moved toward the bed, and I stiffened. I wore only a T-shirt with no bra and sleep shorts. Having Noah in my space didn’t precisely make me feel uncomfortable, but it didn’t make me feel very comfortable either. Actually, it made me feel oddly alive, which I couldn’t deny was a positive change from my previous state of emptiness.

  “How was this your bedroom? Why didn’t you sleep upstairs in one of the bigger rooms?” I asked.

  Noah lifted a shoulder. “Punishment, I suppose.”

  “What did you do to deserve a punishment like that?”

  He didn’t answer, instead he dropped down onto the bed beside me, and I tensed. “Tell me why you’re not feeling well.”

  I blinked to keep from crying. Aside from Aoife, few people ever asked me how I was feeling. I wasn’t sure of Noah’s intentions, but my need to vent overrode it. “I miss my dad.”

  “I see.”

  A tear trickled down my cheek, and Noah watched its descent as though he found my emotion fascinating. “I miss him so much it’s almost like a physical pain,” I went on. “I feel so alone without him.”

  I glanced down. Noah’s hand flexed as though he wanted to reach out and place it over mine in comfort but was trying not to. I wondered at that, and a part of me wished he’d give in to the impulse. A little bit of human touch would be nice with how I was feeling this morning.

  “Tell me your favourite story from the Bible,” he said then.

  I frowned at him, sitting up a little as I sniffled. “Why?”

  “Because I used to think I was the only person in the world my age who was still interested in religion. Technology is the new God.”

  My eyes widened. “You’re religious?”

  “I used to be. Not anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Oh,” I said, sniffling. “Well, you’re right. Technology is a new religion, but not for me. When you’re alone in the world, having something to believe in is often the only thing to get you through.” I paused a moment, self-conscious about how I’d spoken so openly. He had a way of bringing things out of me. “Besides,” I went on, “even if technology was my thing, your sister doesn’t believe in bringing this place into the twenty-first century and hooking it up with wi-fi. Aside from the old TV and DVD player, this house is stuck in a time warp. Vee seems to prefer it that way.”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  “Because she’d rather cut off her own hand than do something kind for me.”

  “Or maybe she’s in her own prison, too lost behind steel bars to see or care for the suffering of others,” Noah suggested.

  “If you’re trying to make me feel sorry for your sister, you’re wasting your time,” I said defensively, although my soft heart wondered at his comment. Was Vee suffering? Was that why she was so cold? A long moment of silence passed. I wished for him to leave, but he remained sitting there, staring at me and not moving a muscle.

  When I couldn’t take the quiet any longer, I finally answered his previous question. “If you really must know, Samson and Delilah is my favourite Bible story.”

  There was a spark of interest behind his eyes. “Tell me why.”

  “It’s a warning to follow your head and not your heart.” If my dad had done that, then maybe his life wouldn’t have ended up quite so tragic. Then again, I also wouldn’t exist so …

  “I think Samson was following something else,” Noah commented, cutting off my train of thought. His hand was spread flat out on my bed sheet now, and I was oddly entranced by it. He had nice hands. They looked strong.

  “Fine. It’s a lesson to follow your head and not your…desires,” I said, trying to shake myself out of whatever that was. I suddenly felt way too hot.

  Noah leaned a little bit closer. “Because if you follow your desires some devious woman will cut off your hair, the source of all your strength, then sell you out to the Philistines?”

  I eyed him now, surprised he knew the details. “You’ve read the Bible, too?” I asked, because I knew people who went to church every Sunday who’d barely read a page of it. Attending mass was more of a routine to them than anything else.

  “I’ve read all the main ones,” he replied, and I blinked.

  I was taken aback by his admission. Noah had read holy texts from all the main religions? “Seriously?”

  “How else do you think I came to the informed decision to believe in none of them?”

  “You’re telling me that out of all those books you found nothing worth believing in?”

  “On the contrary, I found plenty. But I also found plenty not to believe in,” he stated, matter of fact.

  “Well,” I said. “I’d rather believe in something than nothing.”

  “But wouldn’t you also rather make an informed decision? How can you be so sure of what you believe, if what you believe is the only thing you’ve ever known?”

  Now I frowned, a hollowness in my chest. “I…I don’t know.”

  Noah stood from the bed and walked to the door. “You should think about it. Blindly following is a fool’s game.”

  He left, and I stared at the wall. I said my prayers every morning and every night. Went to church every Sunday. It was a routine Dad instilled in me from a young age. But there were billions of people out there who said different prayers, who believed in different Gods. What if they were right, and I was wrong? Like Noah said, I’d never done a comparison. I’d simply accepted the beliefs my father taught me.

  I sat up and finally got dressed. If nothing else, my conversation with Noah had broken me from my depression. When Vee called out for me again, I shuddered at the thought of whatever chore she wanted me to complete, and instead I silently snuck out of the house to walk along the beach where a cold drizzle coated my forehead and cheeks. The dark clouds overhead didn’t do much to cheer my low spirits. Maybe one day I’d live in a place where it was sunny all the time. I rarely felt sad when the sun greeted me instead of the usual overcast, grey Irish sky.

  I walked without any destination in mind but found myself half an hour later on Aoife’s doorstep. She and her mam, Siobhan, lived in a flat in town. I knocked on their door and heard footsteps coming down the stairs a moment later.

  “Estella! What a pleasant surprise,” Siobhan greeted when she opened door. “Come in out of that drizzle. Janey Mac, it’s a miserable day.”

  I stepped inside, shrugging out of my coat and following her up to their flat. Aoife sat in their living room working on some sketches. Art was her favourite subject, and she was really good at it, too. She’d even drawn a portrait of me once. I kept it along with all my treasured possessions in a box under my bed. I wasn’t comfortable enough to have all my things out and on display. Vee was the type of person to use those things against you.

  “Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over,” she said, pushing her sketchbook aside.

  “I wasn’t. I needed to get out of the house,” I replied, dropping down next to her.

/>   “Vee been up to her old tricks?”

  I exhaled. “She was calling for me, so I just left. I honestly don’t know how much longer I can take living with her.”

  “It’s just a few more months, Stells. You can do it. You’re the strongest person I know.”

  “I don’t feel very strong sometimes.”

  “Well, you are,” she said, reaching out to squeeze my arm.

  My gaze flicked to hers. “You think?”

  “Of course. You lost your dad two years ago and have been living with the world’s worst stepmother ever since. You’re strong, you just don’t realise it.”

  “Do you girls want a cup of tea?” Siobhan asked, dipping her head in from the kitchen.

  “I’d love one,” I answered gratefully.

  “Me, too. And some chocolate digestives please,” Aoife added.

  Siobhan returned a few minutes later with cups of tea and a packet of biscuits as requested, setting them down on the coffee table. I picked mine up and took a sip. Aoife’s mam made the best cups of tea.

  “Aoife tells me Veronica’s brother has come home,” Siobhan said, and my stomach did a little flip at the mention of Noah. A flash of him sitting so close to me on my bed entered my head, but I pushed it away. “I saw them come into the pub the other night,” she went on. “I didn’t recognise Noah at all. He must’ve been only fifteen when he left home.”

  Fifteen? That was very young to leave home. I wondered why he’d left. Then again, that house was the sort of place that pushed people away, as though inhospitable spirits lingered in its walls, giving you the urge to flee as soon as possible.

  “How long ago was that?” I asked with interest.

  Siobhan appeared to be casting her mind back. “Oh, I’d say about ten years at least.”

  That would make him twenty-five. “Do you know why he left?”

  “Afraid not. Though I do remember him being a strange sort. A bit of loner, you know. I went to school with Veronica, and she was the exact opposite. Everybody wanted to be her friend. It’s sad, really, how things ended up.”