Noah Can't Even

by Simon James Green

  Horror.

  Noah had a massive wet patch all over the front of his chinos. It looked like he’d had a toilet accident. Brilliant. He had literally said, “I’m literally going to wet my pants” – and here it was! And Sophie knew all about the London Dungeon incident in Year Eight too, so she would naturally assume the worst, however much he protested his innocence. He grabbed a fluffy hand towel and tried to blot the wetness away, but to no avail. He needed a hairdryer or something. The radiator! He could press the wet patch against it, and the heat would hopefully dry it off in no time. He didn’t want to sustain burns to any particularly valuable and much-loved areas, so he pulled his chinos off and knelt down, pressing the trousers against the heat. If she came upstairs and wondered what was taking so long he would have to lie and say was suffering from diarrhoea or something. That would be fine and they could carry on kissing in a bit.

  There was a tapping at the bathroom door. Damn. Sophie was up here! “Er, Noah? There’s two policemen at the door for you.”

  “What?” he said, assuming he must have misheard.

  “Police, Noah. They want to speak to you.”

  He looked towards the locked bathroom door in horror. What did they want? Was it because of his dad? Had they found him in the shed and assumed Noah was some sort of accessory to his petty crimes? Or maybe Eric? Had they found out he’d lied about Eric visiting him at home? Or was it the memory stick? Or…

  No. No way.

  He wasn’t going to stand for this. He had to get away. No one would understand. No one would believe him. Why should he carry on taking the blame for everyone else’s actions?

  “Tell them I’ll be with them in a minute!” he said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

  He darted over to the bathroom window, quietly opened it and leaned out. There was a drainpipe down to the garden below. Beyond that, lawn to a fence and to fields beyond. He needed to shimmy down and sprint to freedom.

  He threw his trousers out of the window. There would be time to put those on when he was good and hidden. He scrambled up on to the loo and placed a foot on the windowsill, then backed himself out bottom first, clenching the drainpipe between his sock feet and lowering himself down, hand by hand.

  His feet kept slipping. They didn’t have any grip, his socks sliding about against the smooth pipe.

  If he let go of the windowsill he would fall straight down. His arms weren’t strong enough to take his weight, or pull himself back up.

  Below, a carnivorous bush awaited his arrival, its treacherous spikes hungry for fresh boy meat. It was like a massive Venus flytrap or something. Oh God!

  The muscles in his arms and legs started trembling as the drainpipe started to come loose from its fixtures.

  It was a long way down. Definitely enough to kill a person. Or paralyze them for life.

  At best he would end up in a coma for evermore.

  His mouth was dry, chest tight, eyes popping out of their sockets as he tried to hold on.

  “HELP!” he screamed. “HELP ME, PLEASE!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Noah sat on the lawn, huddled under a blanket, as the firemen took away their ladders and the ambulance crew packed up their first-aid kit and stretcher.

  “Dare we ask what you were doing climbing out of the bathroom window in your underwear?” asked one of the policemen.

  Noah fiddled with the blanket and looked at the lawn. “My, er – trousers fell out the window after I… So, yeah.”

  “These ones?” said a policewoman, holding up the offending item so you couldn’t miss the massive wet patch.

  “Ahh!” said the policeman. “Had a little accident, did you? Bit embarrassed in front of your lady friend?”

  Noah looked in horror at Sophie. “No! No, I didn’t wet myself! Check my boxers if you like, they’re—”

  The policeman put his hand up. “I’ve no desire to inspect the boxer shorts of a thirteen-year-old boy, but thanks for the offer.”

  “Fifteen!” Noah squealed. “Nearly sixteen!”

  “Really,” the policeman said. “Anyway, we’re glad we’ve found you, your mother’s been extremely worried—”

  “I didn’t do it!” Noah wailed. “I’m innocent! I need a lawyer!”

  “Calm down, son, you’re not in any trouble. We just thought she might be with you, that’s all – since you both went missing at more or less the same time.”

  Noah looked at him and screwed his face up. “Mum’s missing? What are you talking about?”

  “No, your gran. She seems to have escaped from the Willows. No sign of her, except a short note that read ‘Adios, suckers’. We’ve no idea how she did it; all we know is she couldn’t have acted alone. We’ve searched the immediate vicinity and there’s no sign of her. Plus, we have a witness who thinks they may have seen her driving a motor vehicle – a 1970s Reliant Robin, to be precise. With a lad in the passenger seat who fits your description. When you were reported missing too, we just assumed it was you.”

  Noah put his head in his hands. “Oh dear God. She’s got dementia; she could have gone anywhere!”

  “I know. Hence why we’re trying to find her. Look, give us a minute while we finish up here and we’ll take you back over to Little Fobbing – you can help with the search.”

  Noah looked up at Sophie. “Soph, I know we’re courting and everything, but I’m going to need to get back to Little Fobbing. I gotta help find her.”

  “Of course. That’s fine. And about this ‘courting’ thing, I mean—”

  “I liked the kiss, so I can’t be gay!”

  “No, you didn’t, and yes, you are.”

  Noah stood up and pulled the blanket around him. “Look, we will need to discuss this fully another time. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Noah, just one thing.” She stopped him. “What you were saying about Jess and the pregnancy, it got me thinking, and I remembered something.”

  “What?”

  “I was at a party at Jess’s house, maybe six or seven weeks ago, and there was this big fuss at one point because Jordan Scott had apparently walked into one of the bedrooms and stumbled upon two people who really shouldn’t have been getting with each other.”

  Noah thought back to the night when Jordan Scott had walked in on him and Harry. I’m always walking in on people I shouldn’t, he’d said. “Who did he walk in on?” Noah asked.

  “Well, that’s the strange thing,” Sophie said. “I was wanting to go home and my coat was in that bedroom, so I was heading up that way when the drama happened. One of the people was definitely Jess, but when I got in there, there was no sign of the person she’d been with; whoever it was had jumped out the window, climbed down on to the garage roof, got down into the garden and run away – and that’s no mean feat; escaping out of high windows is tricky, isn’t it, Noah?”

  Noah gave her a look that said not funny.

  “And Jordan was saying nothing either, which means he was either bribed, scared or being loyal to someone he considered a friend or looked up to.”

  Noah sighed. “That’s a lot of variables. I’m not sure it really tells us anything.”

  “But I did find this, on the bed,” Sophie said, placing a small object in Noah’s palm. “I picked it up thinking someone would put on Facebook that they’d lost it, but no one ever did. I’m guessing because it might connect them to being in the room with Jess.”

  Noah held the item between his fingers. “Well, well, well,” he said. “I know exactly whom this belongs to.”

  He was sitting in the back of the police car as they headed towards Little Fobbing, lost in thought. What Sophie had found was a strong clue, but he needed something more. Something that wasn’t circumstantial.

  In any case, this wasn’t really what mattered. What mattered, really mattered, was Gran. He never in a million years thought Gran would go through with her plan. It had seemed so implausible. Impossible. Surely the Willows had security against this type
of thing? How the hell had it happened?

  “So my mum reported me missing, then?” he asked.

  “That’s not quite how it happened,” said the policewoman, twisting round in the front passenger seat to look at him.

  “How did it happen?” he said, grimly.

  “So, basically, we turned up at your mum’s house after your gran was found missing, and your mum decides to help with the search because we thought she might have been close by. So, your mum goes out into the garden to get her flashlight from the shed and—”

  Noah flinched.

  “There’s this almighty scream from the garden,” the policewoman continued, “so we rush round, to find your mother beating a man – who transpires to be your father – with a sweeping brush. He was living rough in the shed.”

  Noah looked down at the floor of the car.

  “Of course your father is wanted in connection with a number of low-level thefts and cons spanning the last ten years, so we’ve taken him in for questioning. Mainly for his own protection, really. Seems he owes a lot of locals money, and if they knew his whereabouts, I’m pretty sure they’d all be round with the pitchforks and flaming torches.” She chuckled, like this was somehow a hilarious tale.

  Brilliant. At least on the plus side, his dad hadn’t dobbed him in to the police.

  “He told us you’d helped him hide there,” the policeman said, looking at him in the rear-view mirror.

  Noah took a deep breath. “No comment.”

  He glanced up at the mirror to see the policeman grinning at him. “It’s fine,” the policeman added. “You didn’t know he was a wanted man. Did you?”

  “No, of course not!” Noah said. “I’m very honest and truthful. Ask the school. I’m top set for everything.”

  God, his dad was completely selfish and only out for himself.

  “Your dad very kindly told us you’d probably be in Milton Keynes. He said you had some crazy crush on a girl who’d just moved there called Sophie. So, we tracked down her dad and got the address.”

  Noah grimaced. Crazy crush? And what the hell had the police told Sophie’s dad? Brilliant. Why couldn’t Noah’s dad just keep his mouth shut? Was he trying to get a reduced sentence by being cooperative?

  There was some static from one of the radios and some talking that Noah couldn’t make out. “Copy that,” said the policewoman, “we’ll get over there now.” She twisted round in the seat again and looked at Noah. “OK, she’s been found—”

  “OK…”

  “But … she’s been involved in an RTA; that’s road traffic accident.”

  “But she’s all right?”

  “She’s in an ambulance heading to Lincoln County Hospital. Apparently she’s awake and talking. We’ll get you over there as soon as we can.”

  He felt his shoulders relax a bit and he sat back in the seat, comforted by the fact that Gran was apparently uninjured. They were about thirty minutes away. Thirty minutes to go through it all and join the dots.

  Noah kept his eyes front as a tall, gym-toned (and very sensitive) male nurse led him down a corridor. He always felt particularly comforted around healthcare professionals like this one. It was probably just the knowledge that, should Noah be stricken with a choking episode, heart attack, or even just a verruca, they would know exactly what to do in order to save him. Also, nurses like him were not just in excellent physical form, they were notoriously kind people, who would give warm and gentle sponge baths when necessary, and stroke your fevered brow whilst whispering tender, soft words in your ear…

  “Are you OK?” the tall, gym-toned (and very sensitive) male nurse asked.

  “Yes?” Noah said.

  “Only you were making a sort of … a sort of groaning noise.”

  “Tummy troubles,” Noah said, patting his stomach, and wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Your gran is in hospital! She may be fine, but nevertheless, focus!

  “Can I get you anything to help?”

  Noah looked at the tall, gym-toned (and very sensitive) male nurse and wondered, How do you get to be this nice? The man couldn’t be any more loving and perfect if he tried. Also, he was Australian.

  “You’re groaning again.”

  “I’ll be just fine,” Noah assured him.

  “You can wait in here,” the nurse said, opening the door into a family waiting room. “As soon as we’ve done our initial tests, I’ll come and find you. The lad who was in the car with her is in there too. He won’t say anything to us, but maybe you can get him to tell you what happened?”

  Noah muttered his thanks and took a deep breath. He knew exactly what he’d find the other side of that door. Or more accurately, whom. He pushed it open.

  “Well, well, well,” Noah said, “My half-brother, I presume?”

  “Hi, Noah.”

  “Hello, Eric.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Eric gave him a slow handclap. “Well done, Noah, you got there in the end.”

  “Oh shut up, you stupid anus,” Noah said, slamming the door behind him and standing with his hands on his hips in the middle of the room. “What the hell have you done?”

  “I did what I had to do, my friend, I did what I had to do.”

  Noah took an unsteady breath, barely able to control the rage inside him. “Really? Well, you’d better start talking, else I’m going to do what I have to do!”

  “Yeah? And what’s that?”

  Noah glared at him. “I shall refrain from a physical attack at the present time,” he sniffed, “so you may count yourself lucky. But we all know the pen is mightier than the sword. So! Beware!”

  “What you gonna do, write a devastating poem about me?” Eric chuckled. “Who blew my cover, then?”

  “I’m the one asking the questions!” Noah declared, triumphantly, like he was the main cop in a TV police drama.

  Eric shrugged, refusing to meet Noah’s stare. Then he actually got his phone out like all this was totally casual, totally relaxed, and nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

  “Er! You just put that away right now, mister!” Noah hissed. “You put that right away!”

  Eric chuckled again and slid the phone back into his pocket. “No one blew my cover, did they? This is all a sweet surprise for you!”

  “That is grade-A bullock poop, Eric,” Noah said. “Or as coarse people like yourself would say, bullshit. I knew, all right. Clue one – Mum accidentally told me my secret sibling is in my year at school. Clue two – Gran accidentally referred to the sibling as ‘he’ in conversation. Clue three, when you came back to my house to trade the memory stick, my mum knew who you were, when she doesn’t know who anyone in my year is. So why did she know your name? Clue four, you mentioned ‘Project Adios’ at the start of your illicit video recording, and Gran left a note reading ‘Adios, suckers!’ at the Willows. Adios being Spanish, of course – and Spain happens to be where Dad was. That’s a hell of a lot of coincidences! Clue five, Dad speaks in exactly the same way you do, ducking and diving and all that crooked ‘geezer’ shit. Clue six –” Noah cleared his throat and looked out of the window “– there is some mild and unconvincing argument for saying we look alike in some vague way.”

  “Yeah, a lot of people say that,” Eric said.

  “Do they?!” This was mortifying!

  Eric shrugged. “Well, we’re both quite short—”

  “I am still growing!” Noah said. “I didn’t hit puberty until the middle of Year Nine, so shove that up your arse! I’m still growing.”

  “Both got dark hair, prone to grease—”

  Noah held his hand up to silence Eric. “Listen, bucko, I happen to use a very expensive shampoo, with extracts of tea tree and grapefruit, so prone to grease, as you so eloquently put it, is not something my hair could be accused of!” The bloody nerve of the boy!

  “When I first went to see Gran, she actually thought I was you,” Eric said.

  “She’s got dementia, Eric!”

  Eric s
ighed and looked down at the floor.

  “But anyway,” Noah continued, “on a balance of probabilities, you were the most likely candidate, and when the police told me Gran had escaped with someone fitting my description, that’s when I knew for sure, even though the police are wrong about that and we look nothing alike in reality. By the way, where have you been the past few days? The police have been looking for you; they even came to my house!”

  Eric levelled his gaze at Noah, sphinxlike. “Sorry, bro. I’m afraid that’s none of your business.”

  “Well, that is simply not good enough! I’m sure the police are—”

  “What part of ‘none of your business’ have you failed to grasp, Noah?” Eric stared at him, long and hard. “Do yourself a favour and forget about it. Yeah?”

  “Okaaay,” Noah said, unsettled. “Well, how long have you known about … us for?”

  “Few years,” Eric said, looking up. “Found out your mum was giving my mum money.”

  Noah nodded. “Yeah. Your mum blackmailing mine, was she? That’s the sort of thing your family does, right? Threatened her with a good kneecapping if she didn’t comply?”

  “You have a low opinion of me,” Eric said.

  “Fancy that!”

  “Actually, it was because of my mum’s partner, the bloke I thought was my dad.”

  “You mean, Mad Dog Razor Jaws Smith?”

  Eric sighed. “Yeah, otherwise known as Colin.”

  “He lost his eye in a fight!” Noah said.

  “That’s what he tells people. Actually, it was just a congenital deformity. He was born like that.”