“I don’t deserve to get away with it. I killed a man.”
“But that’s hardly the full story. This isn’t about you getting away with it. It’s about you paying the price that’s fair for the situation you were in.” Did I need to remind her what would have happened if she hadn’t intervened on that day?
“You can’t remember the trial for the person who killed your dad, Grace. It was horrible but the main thing was the feeling that, whatever sentence he got for dangerous driving, it wouldn’t be enough. A life had been taken. A family was left forever incomplete. My rage at losing your dad was vast. I wanted that monster to pay for every second of love we had lost.” I had been too young to fully register the full impact losing Dad had on Mum. I knew about the tears, the gradual falling apart at the seams. But I had never witnessed the anger.
“I get that, I do. But you’re nothing like him. Nothing.”
“Aren’t I? I can’t pretend that I’m not the same as him. In fact, I’m worse than him. I chose to take a life.” Logic defied her but made me desperate.
“Do you know what, Mum? You’re right. You are like him. You’re a monster.” Her body shook at the words she believed to be true. “But not because of what you did on that day. It’s because of what you’re doing now. You are choosing to end a life. More than one. Yours. Mine. Josh’s. You are choosing to kill seconds, days, years of love that we have in front of us. On that day, your only choice was to kill him or watch him break me. What fucking choice is that? But this, this is a choice. And you’re making the wrong one.” The others in the room had gone silent, and a guard was making his way over. “I’m out of here. If you change your mind, let me know. But I now have to go home and try to stop Josh’s heart from breaking any more than it already has.” I stood and walked out, refusing to look back at the impact my words had had on her, scared in case they hadn’t.
EVEN THE WAY Grace closed the door behind her was happy when she returned from work on the Saturday before we were due to travel to London. She had sent me a text earlier that afternoon saying she had some good news, but that was as much as I knew. It hadn’t stopped me chilling a bottle of Prosecco in anticipation of her excitement though.
“I’m in here,” I called from the kitchen. She bounded in and threw her arms around me, giving me the opportunity to draw her legs up around my waist. “Good day?” Her excited squirming did nothing to help me concentrate on her reply.
“I spoke to Mark today and he says there has been a breakthrough with Mum. She has agreed to have a psychological assessment and listened to what he had to say about the possible defences. She even agreed to meet with him again on Monday. You know what this means, don’t you? She’s going to get out!”
I didn’t want to rain on her parade but I knew it didn’t mean that, not in the way she was hoping. Should I burst that happiness bubble with a healthy dose of realism? Or should I let her savour this feeling and allow it to ebb when she realised the truth herself? Coward that I was, that I am, I let it pass.
“That’s fantastic news. She must have taken on board what you said to her. Well done!” The kitchen might as well have been filled with unicorns and rainbows, so filled as her kiss was with joy. “Let’s celebrate!” Sitting her on the counter, I poured us each a glass of Prosecco and handed one to her. “Cheers!”
Another glass later, we rang for a takeaway, not wanting to ruin the mood with the mundanity of cooking. Another glass later, Dad took himself and the iPad off for an early night. An empty bottle later, Grace and I were semi-naked on the sofa and I had a hard-on that could rival Nelson’s Column.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she said, one hand in my hair and the other drawing fiery patterns across my back. I let her lead me to my room, admiring the view of her walking up the stairs in front of me. She was so beautiful, and if this was my payback for the shit turn life had taken when Dad had his stroke, I was grateful to whatever deity was responsible. But it wasn’t just her beauty; it was everything about her that drew me in. She was my kind of perfect.
This stunning girl took off her jeans and lay down on my bed, a vision of creamy skin and turquoise lace. Stepping out of my shirt and chinos, I lay down next to her, wanting to do nothing more than worship her forever.
I smoothed her hair away from her face. “You are so beautiful,” I whispered before brushing light kisses on her cheeks, her nose, her chin. “Inside and out,” I added, placing a hand over her heart.
“Yeah, well, I’m just with you for your body.” Her laugh made me even harder.
“Oh, you’re so going to pay for that,” I promised before tangling my tongue with hers, bringing talk to an end. Our bodies fought to press into, onto each other as one or both of us moaned.
Grace broke the kiss and nipped her way down my neck, her tongue soothing each graze of her teeth. When she took my nipple in her mouth, I groaned and held her beneath me so I could reciprocate. God, she tasted beautiful, even through her bra. The bra that she contorted to remove, allowing me to see the way she reacted to my touch. I could have spent hours just caressing, tasting her breasts, but my hormones and hard-on were in a hurry.
Our hips rocked and bucked, taunting each other with the very obvious signs of our arousal. Nobody had made me feel so turned on before, and my dick took on a life of its own, desperate to get past the cotton barriers between us. Trailing a hand down her stomach, I eased my fingers past her underwear, savouring the look on her face as I moved deeper.
“Please, Noah. I want you inside me.” She reached down and gripped me through my boxers, and I knew I wouldn’t last long. “I’m on the pill. Please. I’m begging,” she added with a giggle.
Her words almost undid me, but I wanted to remember every millisecond of our first time, not piece together hungover remnants, and I couldn’t guarantee she was sober enough not to regret this.
So, somehow, I pulled back and decided honour was the better part of valour, even though there was a part of my brain telling me to fuck honour, noble brother of virtue, and bury myself in the girl I had spent endless nights thinking about to the point of pain.
“I can’t do this,” I muttered into her neck, listening to myself in disbelief. I forced myself away from the temptation of her hands, her hips, knowing she would use any power at her disposal to get me to change my mind.
“What?” Her chest rose and fell with the unevenness of her breathing which did nothing to help my resolve. “You want to stop now?” My head said yes, but my dick said I was clearly in need of electric shock therapy and thus incapable of making my own decisions.
“Yes. We’re too drunk.”
“Too drunk would mean that you weren’t capable of, um, rising to the occasion and that’s clearly not an issue.” Point taken. “Too drunk would mean you would be slobbering all over me instead of kissing and touching me to the point where I can barely recall my name.” Maybe I wasn’t about to hand over my man card just yet. “Too drunk would mean you weren’t capable of making such a fucking stupid decision that’s probably tied up with our old friends ‘virtue’ and ‘taking advantage’.” She knew me better than I knew myself.
Looking more like Boudica than the girl who had led me upstairs not so much earlier, she stood up and fixed me with an imperious gaze. “Okay. We’ll stop.” With a toss of her hair, she had me bewitched and ready to change my mind.
“But Noah, as you lie here, maybe even able to hear me next door taking matters into my own hands, imagine what could have been. Imagine exactly what this would have felt like. Because I think it would have been bloody amazing, and I know you are going to regret this. Goodnight.”
Picking up her clothes on the way, she left my room, me, and the painful reality of my decision. She was right. I did regret it but neither of us would have been able to predict how much it would come to haunt me.
NOAH PULLED ME towards the first class carriage and gestured towards the door with a flourish. “Seats three and four, ma’am.” I couldn’t contain my
excitement as I stepped on board and found our table. First class! “I thought it was a good day to make new memories of London,” he said as we sat across from each other. I didn’t think I could love that man more than I did at that moment, even if I was still as frustrated as hell at his decision the other night. I’d slept in my own bed since then and, other than a few kisses, neither of us had breached the impasse.
“So, are you going to tell me what the plan is for the day yet?” All I’d been told was to wear comfy shoes. However, knowing that Noah would be dressed for the office, I’d opted for the smarter end of casual, pairing a floral sundress with my lace bomber jacket.
“My office is just down the road from the British Library. I thought you could visit there whilst I’m at work. I should only be an hour or so. Okay?”
“Very okay. What will we do once you’re finished?” Whilst spending some time in a library sounded fine, I was anticipating something more memorable from our trip.
“Wait and see.” As we ate breakfast and chatted our way to London, he refused to give me any clue as to what we would be doing later.
We arrived, and Noah impressed me with the ease with which he navigated the busy underground system. I was happy to be led, my hand firmly clasped in his. The noise and bustle might have been overwhelming if I were by myself but, with him, I was able to savour its vibrancy.
“Here we are,” he said, stopping outside a building made of harsh concrete lines. “My office is in that blue glass building on the corner. If you’ve had enough before I’m out, I’ve heard that coffee shop over the road makes a mean cup of tea. I’ll text you as soon as I’m done.”
I wanted to go to the office with him, desperate to see that side of him so rarely glimpsed.
“Take as long as you need, city boy. I’ll be fine. Books and tea. What more could a girl ask for?” I teased, standing on tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. Noah grasped my hips and turned the peck into a very public display of affection.
“You should be asking for the world, Grace. You deserve nothing less.” I stood, tingling and buzzing, as he strode away. “Don’t forget to check for my text!”
The British Library was not what I expected. Yes, it was a library, but it also housed a collection of some of the world’s rarest manuscripts. Time was lost to me as I lingered at dimly lit displays of Jane Austen’s writing desk and letters written by Charles Dickens, and the buzz of my phone in my back pocket took me by surprise.
Noah: I’m done. Ready?
Me: Not yet. You can find me drooling over a first edition Dickens :-)
There was no reply but, a few minutes later, I felt his presence before his hand caressed my waist. His head bent to mine, his breath warm on my neck.
“Hey, girl.”
“Hey, boy,” I whispered back. “Do you want to see something cool?” I gave him no chance to reply but dragged him over to a glass cabinet in the centre of the room. “The first known edition of Shakespeare’s plays. Can you believe it? The person who wrote this copied it from pages Shakespeare himself wrote. We are one step away from the greatest playwright ever!” Some girls might gush over Ryan Gosling—me, a guy who lived over five hundred years ago.
“Don’t get too gushy. There’s the rest of the day to get through yet,” he told me with a wink. Noah tugged my hand, and we made our way out into the sunshine. He had taken off his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves but still looked so much older, more sophisticated, than me. I felt like the innocent virgin to his handsome billionaire from the smutty books I had discovered, but kept hidden, on my Kindle.
An hour later we were eating sandwiches on a water taxi travelling down the Thames. The sky was cobalt behind the icons of the London skyline, and I knew I wouldn’t forget this day. Nothing else mattered other than Noah and me. Nothing.
When the boat docked, I realised what the plan for the afternoon was. “The Globe? You’re taking me to The Globe?” I swear I was bouncing with excitement.
“Don’t get too excited. There’s no performance today, but that means we can take a tour. I know Will is your favourite boy and you know what they say. If you can’t beat them, join them!”
I rained kisses over his chest, his neck, his face. “You’re my favourite boy, idiot!”
“Come on, our tour leaves in fifteen minutes and I guess you want to look round the gift shop first.” The smile on his face told me he knew he had achieved his objective. My memories of London would now be filled with today.
“In case I forget to tell you later, this has been the best day of my life, Noah.” The kiss I gave him was as meaningful as my words.
“Ditto, Grace, ditto,” he muttered into my mouth.
The tour guide collected us from the foyer and, after a brief introduction, took us down a corridor and out into the theatre. Of course, I’d seen pictures of it before, but nothing prepared me for the feeling of actually being there. Sitting on a wooden bench, looking at the stage, I could feel what it would have been like to be in the first audience watching Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet, oblivious to the tragedy that was about to unfold.
It stirred something deep within me, the same feeling I had when I went to the theatre for the first time and knew that live performance spoke to me like nothing had in my life before that point. I belonged to a tradition that was centuries old, that made people laugh and cry, that helped to share different perspectives on the world. The stage was my home, whether as a performer or bringing other people’s talents to the fore. It offered me a chance to live a different life, to have a different fate. Jake had always known this, even when my own belief was shaken by a disappointing audition or a bungled line. My future wasn’t about going to university or even drama school; it was about belonging to this life of powerful words and make-believe worlds.
“You okay?” Noah tangled his fingers in mine and I leant my head on his shoulder.
“Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed,” I admitted.
“In a good way?”
“In a bloody amazing, one of the best memories ever type of way.” His kiss on the top of my head was all the response I needed.
By the end of the tour, I was even more in love with everything Shakespeare and had already planned how to use an extract with my drama class that weekend. I wanted to instil that same emotion within my pupils.
“We’ve got a couple of hours until our train. Do you want to go to Tate Modern or take a walk to St. Paul’s cathedral?”
“The walk sounds good. I think I’ve had enough culture today. Is there anything you want to do?” I was conscious that everything had been about me.
“Making you happy makes me happy. I’m good.” Hand in hand, we walked across Millennium Bridge, boats making their way under our feet, suited city workers outpacing us, tourists pausing mid-bridge for selfie-stick photos. I felt like I was on holiday, like we had escaped the hassles and stress of home.
“Hang on. I want a picture of us so we can remember today,” Noah said, coming to a halt and taking his phone out of his leather messenger bag. “Shit, I left it on silent,” he muttered when he looked at the screen. He dropped my hand and, a few taps later, the colour drained from his face as he listened to his voicemail. “Fuck!”
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s the day care centre. Dad’s in hospital. Come on, answer!” He paced around me until someone took his call. “It’s Noah Carter. When? What have the doctors said?” The way he closed his eyes told me the answer wasn’t one he wanted to hear. “I can get the next train back and be there by six. Tell him I’m on my way. Okay. Don’t let them do anything without ringing me first. Yeah, this number is the best way. Thank you.” As he ended the call, I watched him disintegrate and pulled him to the side so he could lean against the handrail.
“What’s happened?”
Noah looked past me, to something I wasn’t a part of. “They don’t know yet. They think it could be another stroke. Shit. I can’t believe I didn’t have my phone on. They’ve been tryi
ng to get hold of me since lunchtime.” His voice was clinical, cold. “I have to get the next train back.”
I followed him back to Euston station, all too aware of the difference now my hand wasn’t in his. His eyes scoured the departures board, silently making decisions. “Quick! There’s one about to leave platform two.” He ran down the concourse, not even looking to see if I could keep up. Jumping into the carriage just as the automatic doors closed, relief filled his face before he realised that I was still running down the platform.
I stopped, knowing I was too late.
I CLOSED THE FRONT door and went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. It was four hours since Noah had left me at the train station and I was angry. He had our tickets, so it had cost me forty pounds to get home. But that wasn’t what annoyed me; it was the lack of response to my phone calls and texts. I’d tried to let him know that I was okay, that I’d got on the next train, that I was worried about him and Max. Nothing. The joy of the day had disappeared.
Even though I hadn’t been in his room before, I got my rucksack and went into Max’s room. Trying not to pry, I collected some pyjamas and underwear, along with his toothbrush and the copy of Great Expectations. After parking my scooter outside the entrance, I made my way to the front desk, still not having received a reply from Noah. My heart sank when the nurse told me that Max was in the intensive care unit; not only for what it meant for Max, but also for the memory of the last time I’d been in such a place, saying goodbye to Jake’s lifeless body. I forced myself to get a grip on my emotions. I needed to be strong for Noah.
“Hey,” I said quietly when I got to the end of Max’s bed. Noah was sat in the chair next to a wall of machines that would have been more at home on a space shuttle. His tired eyes looked through me.
“Hi.”
“I brought some of his things.” I held up the rucksack as evidence.
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