“What?” snapped a guy. Not the one he wanted.
“I want to speak to Noah.”
“He’s asleep.”
“I need him to wake up. This is important.”
“What’s it about?”
“Our meeting on Friday.”
Ronan hoped that would be enough to get Noah to see him. The entrance clicked open sooner than he’d expected and he made his way to the top floor. Noah’s flatmate stood by the door, rubbing his palms on his pants. Ronan recognized him from the Covent Garden club though the man showed no sign of that recognition being reciprocated.
“I’m Dalton.” He put out his hand. “I suppose Noah’s told you about me. All lies. Mostly.” He laughed. Ronan didn’t.
Dalton let him into the apartment and closed the door. “I haven’t woken him yet. I wanted a word with you first.”
Who does he think I am? Ronan followed him to the kitchen, wondering what the hell Noah had told this guy.
“Has he opened up to you?” Dalton asked.
“I can’t tell you that.”
Dalton flushed. “No, sorry. Of course you can’t. Confidentiality and all that. It’s just that I’m worried about him. I thought by now he’d have improved. His brother wants… Noah still doesn’t talk about what happened though…” Dalton glanced toward the door and then said in whisper, “I learned he killed four men. He doesn’t know that I know. Yes, I shouldn’t have told you, but I figure the more you know the better. You can pretend to be surprised, can’t you?”
What the fuck is he talking about? “I’m not prepared to discuss Noah with you. Show me his room.”
Dalton straightened up. “Yes, Doctor.”
Doctor? Ronan had to stifle his laugh. Dalton thought he was Noah’s shrink? Well, he supposed he was in a way. Amazing how pain could clear the head.
“This is it.” Dalton pointed at a door.
“Thank you.” Ronan stared until Dalton walked away.
When Ronan went inside the room, the curtains were closed, but a bedside light blazed. He shut the door behind him and crept over to the bed. Noah was a huddled heap under the covers. Ronan eased the sheet back until Noah’s face was exposed, and then in one, smooth movement he slapped his hand over Noah’s mouth and pinned him with his body weight.
Noah’s eyes flashed open and he struggled to get free.
“Calm down. I’m not here to hurt you, tempting as it is.”
When the body beneath him relaxed, Ronan moved his hand. He rolled off Noah and lay on his side, looking at him.
“You fucking bastard,” Noah croaked. “You almost gave me a heart attack. What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“Dalton thinks I’m your doctor. Is that where you’re supposed to be on Fridays?”
The look in Noah’s eyes gave him away.
Ronan laughed. “I should charge more.” Then he scowled. “Can you guess why I’m here?”
Noah swallowed. “Ash?”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”
Ronan sighed. “Why even try to lie to me? You came to the house with her last night. There was some discussion with an old friend of hers, you left in a temper and she came after you. I wouldn’t call that nothing.”
Noah sat up. “She didn’t come after me. Well, if she did, she didn’t catch me.” He sagged against the bed head. “She came after me?”
“What did you do to upset her?”
“I didn’t do anything. She—”
Ronan caught hold of his wrist and gave it a sharp twist.
“Fuuuuck.” Noah grimaced. “I’m not going to tell you. It’s her secret, not mine.”
“You know I could make you tell me.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t.”
Ronan let him go. “For some unaccountable reason, utter dickhead that you are, she still wants you. I, on the other hand, would like to stamp you into the ground until you’re little more than a puddle and flush you down a sewer drain.”
He smiled when Noah gulped.
“If you don’t want Ash, tell her properly. Don’t leave her wanting you to come back, wondering if you might come back and waiting for you to phone.” Ronan stood. “Don’t come and see me anymore. I’m not what you need.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Yes, I know. You weren’t going to come anyway. But now I won’t see you if you do turn up. No one can make you forget what happened to you. I don’t like you using me as a way to punish yourself for something you don’t even need to be punished for. You killed guys who would most likely have killed you. That’s what war’s like. You don’t need to be hurt anymore, Noah. Now it’s time to heal. You had the cure in your hands and you’re throwing it away. Ash needs you as much as you need her, but you both have to accept what’s done is done and there’s no need to pay for it forever.”
He’d reached the door before Noah spoke. “Where is she?”
“Garden work today. Next to St. Joseph’s primary school in Peckham. Wear old clothes.”
Chapter Thirteen
It took a couple of minutes before Noah pulled himself together enough to get out of bed. How the fuck did Ronan know he’d killed four guys? That hadn’t been in any newspaper. Noah gulped. What if the whole thing with Ronan was a setup? He didn’t know who to trust anymore. But he did trust Ash.
Noah shuddered as he stepped under a hot shower. Did Ronan know Dave? Had Dave talked? Considering the way everything bubbled in his own head, he shouldn’t be surprised. He could drive himself crazy trying to figure everything out. He grimaced. That was exactly what he was doing.
When he came out of the bathroom, he found Dalton sitting on his bed.
“What’s with the home visit? Are you okay?”
“He doesn’t think I need to see him anymore.” Noah dragged open his drawer and pulled out boxers and a t-shirt.
“Well, that’s…great. You’re going out?”
Noah tugged on pants, zipped himself up and pulled a sweater over his head. “Yep. I’m going to see Ash.”
“That’s great.”
Noah glared at him. “You’re beginning to sound like a disk that’s jammed.”
Dalton rose to his feet. “I thought you’d fucked things up with her.”
Noah put on socks and grabbed his shoes. “I’m going to un-fuck them.” He picked up his backpack on the way out of the room and then turned at the door. “I’m taking the car, okay?”
“It’s your car.”
“You don’t want to know exactly where I’m going, what time I’ll get back and if I’ve taken my pills?”
Rewarded by the sight of Dalton looking uncomfortable, Noah left the flat.
* * * * *
When Noah reached the site, he found it bustling. A broad-shouldered guy in a black t-shirt was sawing at the roots of a tree. A middle-aged woman tossed rubble into a skip and a couple of men were breaking up concrete with sledgehammers. No sign of Ash. The plot was surrounded by large shrubs and trees, but at the far end stood one of the tallest trees Noah had ever seen in the UK. It looked like a giant redwood and had to be at least a hundred feet high.
He took out his camera and started snapping, changing position and lenses several times. There was something fascinating in the juxtaposition of this majestic sentinel with the dwarflike workers toiling in its shadow. Noah wished he’d had pictures to show what the site looked like before they started work. He also wished he could see it from the air.
A guy coughed at his side. “Are you from the local newspaper?”
It was the man in the black t-shirt.
“No, I’m freelance.”
“You like the tree?”
“I love it,” Noah said. “Is it okay if I take photos?”
“No problem. Funnily enough, I was only saying this morning we could do with some publicity. If we get local people to volunteer, it gives them more of an investment in what we’re doing.”
“And
what are you doing?”
The guy grinned. “We’re called Green Piece. We’re creating a little bit of heaven in a dingy suburb. The company looks for derelict sites or places where houses have been demolished, and for one reason or another no one wants to build another, and we convert them into gardens for the local community.”
“I know Ash,” Noah blurted.
“Oh right. She’s not here at the moment. She’ll be back later.”
“How many of these have you done?”
“Seven.”
Noah’s mind branched into thoughts of producing a book, a photographic record of the transformations—a history of these small plots of land maybe going back centuries. Christ, where did all that come from? He was thinking further than the next hour?
“You have any contacts in TV?” the guy asked.
Noah saw the possibilities. There had been a glut of garden transformation programs several years ago but this was different.
“Yeah, I do actually,” Noah said.
The guy beamed. “That’s great. I’m Martin Jones.”
“Noah.”
“I won’t shake. Don’t want to get you dirty. Here, take one of my cards.”
Noah tucked it in his camera bag. “I’ll lock this in my car and give you a hand with that dead tree you’re trying to uproot.”
“I never turn down help.”
As Noah hefted a shovel beside Martin, he told himself not to ask questions, particularly not about Ash, but Martin said plenty without Noah opening his mouth.
“Did Ash tell you about this then?” Martin asked.
“She mentioned it.”
“It’s her uncle’s brainchild, but we’ve never seen him. Ash and I are the only two paid employees. Everyone else is a volunteer.”
Then how did the company finance itself?
Martin answered Noah’s unasked question. “Ash says we’ve funding for another year, but I worry her uncle could pull the plug at any moment. If we had more corporate sponsorship, it would give us stability. At the moment, Trevor pays for the lot—tools, permits, plants. If we got a TV deal, well, that would change everything.”
Martin put his weight against the trunk and rocked it back and forth to break the roots. Noah added his weight to the human lever.
“Ever found anything interesting?” Noah asked.
“Like a Roman villa or a hoard of treasure? Sadly no. We did dig up a family pet and had to rebury it. I must admit I was a bit nervous when we tackled Leopold Road.” He glanced at Noah.
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
They kept working at the loosening tree. It creaked and groaned as they bent it closer to the ground.
“Maybe you’re not from the area,” Martin said. “The site we had there was one where several murders happened. The police had thoroughly searched the garden of course, but you never know. They could have missed something. No one wanted to live in the house. The neighbors hated it and it fell into disrepair. Once the place was demolished, we converted the plot into a garden. You could tell your TV guy I think there’s an idea for a series there. We could look for places where something bad happened and transform them. Put a smile on the viewers’ faces.”
Christ. Was Ash on a mission to make the whole country smile?
“Are you and Ash friends then?” Martin asked.
Noah didn’t miss the emphasis.
“Yes.” God, he hoped so.
“She’s the nicest person I’ve ever met,” Martin said. “Not a cruel bone in her body.”
The tree gave way, and both Noah and Martin fell onto the ground under a shower of soil.
Noah wandered around the site, giving help where it was needed and trying as surreptitiously as he could to find out things about Ash. All he managed to uncover was that everyone loved her, she could smile for England and her surname was Elleston.
* * * * *
Ash balanced a cardboard box holding cream cakes and coffees on the hood while she locked the van. She picked the box up, turned and almost dropped it when she saw Noah throwing chunks of concrete into the skip. He smiled at her, and even with a dirt-smudged face he looked gorgeous. What the hell was he doing here? How did he find her? Oh God, he’s helping. Ash melted.
He headed over and peered into the box. “Enough for me?”
“If you’ve been good.”
Ash walked onto the site and caught Martin’s eye. He shouted for the others to down tools and they all crowded around.
“How long has Noah been here?” she whispered.
“He appeared not long after you left,” Martin said. “He’s worked hard.”
The gannets descended on Ash’s box, and Noah hovered.
“Help yourself,” Ash said. “Martin can do without second and third helpings.”
She found a log to sit on and her heart jumped when Noah came to join her.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I should just have the word tattooed on my forehead. I had no right to judge you. Forgive me?”
Ash bit into her chocolate éclair, a long cream-filled French pastry, and watched Noah’s gaze home in on her lips. She chewed slowly.
“Nothing to forgive,” she said when her mouth was empty. “I know it was underhanded. I just thought the end justified the means.”
“At least you were smart enough not to pay a visit to that loan shark. I’m sure your housemate will sort everything out.”
Distract him! Ash nibbled at the chocolate coating on the éclair and Noah dropped the last bit of his cake into his coffee.
“Shit,” he hissed, and tried to hook it out with his finger. “Ouch. Hot.” But then his gaze drifted back to Ash’s mouth and he stared without blinking.
Ash couldn’t help herself. She swirled her tongue around the top of the éclair and scooped up a little of the cream.
“I thought you were a good girl,” Noah whispered. “But you are so bad. How the hell am I supposed to stand up and everyone not think I’m a pervert?”
“Whatever’s the matter?” Ash sucked at the pastry and heard Noah mutter under his breath.
She stuffed in the last couple of inches, licked her fingers and smacked her lips. “Yum.”
“Fucking hell,” he said.
Ash grinned.
He bent his mouth to her ear. “Would it appear suspicious if we went to look for something in the back of the van? I think you’d find it fairly quickly. It’s in an obvious place. You’d need to check it was in working order. Wouldn’t take long. A couple of minutes, tops.”
She laughed.
Noah sighed. “I’ll take that as a no. How long do I have to keep working?”
“’Til the light goes or it starts to rain.”
Noah looked up at the cloudless sky and exhaled.
“Come home with me when we’ve done?” he asked. “I have a big tub. I’ll wash your back if you wash mine.”
When Ash hesitated, he blurted, “I’ll cook. Well, no, I’ll order in. I won’t watch football even though my favorite team is on TV tonight. You can choose a film.” He sighed. “Even one with Johnny Depp. And I’ll take you home afterward unless you happen to like croissants and orange juice served in bed.” He stared into her eyes.
He’d changed. Not pushing her away but pulling her closer. Had any of that been down to her? Maybe they’d needed that row for him to see things more clearly. Ash slipped her hand into his. “I’ll cook. I like football. I don’t like Johnny Depp. I love croissants and orange juice. One of those was a lie. See if you can work out which and I’ll show you what else I can do with my tongue.”
She stood up and turned away so Noah couldn’t see her blush, and after tossing her empty cup into the box, she went over to Martin.
“How did you get on at the meeting?” he asked.
“Fine after I’d talked them down from wanting a dinosaur theme park.”
Martin laughed.
“I’m not kidding. Obviously their kids had been making their
views clear. I settled on dinosaur footprints in the concrete path and lots of things to attract birds so the dinosaurs have something to eat. The committee wants to help, so we need to find something for them to do. The school wants an input as well. They’re running a competition to give the place a name. Apparently they had a pupil die of leukemia so they’d like to have a bench with her name on it.”
“They’ll want the press involved.”
Ash hadn’t tried to talk them out of that. “You’ll do it, won’t you?” It was impossible to do this sort of work and not garner attention, but Martin had always been the spokesperson.
He rolled his eyes, but said, “Yes,” then nodded toward Noah. “Your fellow’s worked hard. He looks bushed now though. Has he been ill?”
Ash turned to check on Noah. He did appear exhausted and it worried her.
“Yes, he has.”
“Why don’t the two of you take off? We can manage here. Saves me having to drive you back anyway.”
“Sure?”
“I won’t tell your uncle. You cut me enough slack.”
“Thanks, Martin.”
Ash picked her way through the churned-up ground to Noah’s side.
“You like Johnny Depp?” he asked.
Ash smiled. “Come on then. We can go now.”
She was quietly pleased when Noah went round and said goodbye to everyone. Martin gave her a thumbs-up when Noah cleaned his spade before he propped it against a wheelbarrow. Ash retrieved her bag from the van and took the keys back to Martin.
“He looks familiar,” Martin said.
“He was in the paper. He rescued a little boy at Beachy Head.”
“Don’t let this one go.” He winked at her.
Ash smiled.
Noah leaned from the driver’s seat to push open the passenger door. Ash got in and dropped her bag at her feet.
“Did I get it right?” Noah asked as she clicked her belt into place.
“Yes.”
He laughed. “Why do I get the feeling you’d have said yes no matter what I came up with?”
“Maybe I want to show you what I can do with my tongue.”
“Oh God,” Noah muttered. “I’m going to have to buy looser-fitting pants.”
An Ordinary Girl Page 15