Noah Could Never

by Simon James Green

“I mean, essentially, that’s what we were dealing with. Some … old bread, you know … a bit of dry cheese … maybe a platter of cured meats, I can’t really remember.”

  “A platter of cured meats!”

  Noah shrugged. “I mean, nothing much. Some hams, I guess.”

  “Hams! Wow, he was really going for it, then!”

  “I mean, I assumed it was just his way of apologizing to me for that stuff about my quiz night. That’s what I assumed. I would not have gone otherwise. No way. I’ve got his number too, Haz. You gotta watch him.”

  Harry sighed. “God. You really have. So, some bread, some cheese, a platter of cured meats… What happened next?”

  “Um, well … let me think now…” Noah said, blinking rapidly. “So, there was some talking about stuff, blah, blah … bit of food, nibble, nibble, and then he … he…”

  “He tried to kiss you,” Harry said.

  “Mmm.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know, right?”

  “What did he say when you told him?”

  Noah nodded. “Told him, yes. He was … sad … but happy that … our relationship was so strong that things like that, like errant kissing with random boys, just wouldn’t happen.”

  Harry shook his head. “Sneaky,” he said.

  “So, so sneaky,” Noah agreed, trying to breathe normally. Shit, shit, shitty, shit. Now he’d gone and lied. No, not lied as such. Omitted a detail. A … crucial detail. How had this happened? Was it because Harry was a trustworthy, reliable, entirely sorted type of person who never did the wrong thing, and Noah was a weak, pathetic, jealous liar who was two-faced and horrible? Oh God, it was!

  “Look, hey,” Harry said, putting his hand on Noah’s leg again. “Don’t feel bad about it. I know you only went on the picnic to be polite and wouldn’t have been expecting him to pull a stunt like this.”

  Noah managed a half smile. That, at least, was true.

  “There’s always gonna be people who have their eye on you,” Harry said, leaning in and kissing Noah softly. “I’m a lucky guy. You’re a catch.”

  Noah felt the tingle still on his lips. “Haz, don’t be silly. I’m not a catch. You’re the catch. I seriously thought…” Noah put his head down. “I did actually think you liked Pierre.”

  “I could never like someone like Pierre.”

  “But why not? He’s very good-looking. He’s got all the moves.”

  “He’s a player. And there’s something about him that… I dunno, there’s just something. And I don’t want that. I want someone I can trust. Someone I can properly fall in love with. Someone I have fallen in love with.”

  Despite his best efforts, Noah’s bottom lip started to wobble. “Huh.”

  Harry leaned closer in and kissed Noah again. “You’re so sweet. And look, something else too. There’s no rush for us to do stuff, like… Well, you know what I mean. It’s not about that. You know? It happens when it happens.”

  Noah pressed his forehead against Harry’s. “OK. Thanks.”

  Harry chuckled. “You don’t have to thank me. And, I mean, I do want to. Sometime. When it’s right. I want… I just want to be close to you, Noah. In whatever way that you’re happy with, but in a way that isn’t like what you have with anyone else. It doesn’t have to mean sex. It can mean like now. Just this. Sitting here, cuddling. I don’t mind. Why are you crying?”

  He was. He wiped away the stupid tears that were part happiness, part guilt, part sadness that Harry was everything Noah wasn’t, and Noah wasn’t remotely worthy of this beautiful, kind, adorable boy’s love. “I love you,” Noah managed to mutter, completely choked up.

  Harry smiled. “I love you too.” He kissed Noah again and wiped the last little tear away with his thumb. “Now cheer up because everything’s good and pretty much perfect, so there’s nothing to be sad about.”

  Noah smiled, while his heart sank into his stomach. Why couldn’t he enjoy a single, pure moment of happiness? Maybe if he hadn’t been such an idiot, he would have.

  He had planned to say more about Pierre. He had been going to tell Harry about the overheard conversation in the toilets, the spying mission to the shed, and Pierre’s strange and secret meeting with Ms O’Malley, all of it. But he didn’t want to now. He couldn’t. Harry would see how little Noah trusted him.

  And he didn’t want to spend another moment thinking about, or talking about, bloody Pierre. He just wanted him gone and forgotten. And then Noah and Harry could get on with their lives and maybe, just maybe, everything really would be OK.

  “Do you want to watch some telly?” Noah suggested. “I recorded an episode the other day. It’s a good one.”

  “Is Jessica invited to see an old friend whilst on a book tour, and then encounters a murder that the police bizarrely can’t solve?” Harry asked.

  “Yeah! I wonder who did it?”

  “Probably one of the minor characters who doesn’t get much screen time initially.”

  “Stop. Spoiling. Murder, She Wrote,” Noah said, jabbing Harry in the thigh with his index finger.

  Harry laughed. “Go on, whack it on!”

  “I’m whacking it on,” Noah said, pointing the remote at the Sky box.

  Harry smiled, put his arm around him, and pulled Noah towards him, so they were nestled into one another.

  “Ooh, look,” Noah said. “Some bad guys are meeting in a shadowy alleyway! I wonder what’s happening!”

  Harry chuckled. “They’re setting up the red herring part of the plot.”

  “Harry,” Noah warned.

  “Sorry, Noah,” Harry said, staring at him.

  Noah flicked his eyes to the side to look at Harry and then back at the TV again. Then to the side again. “Why are you … look at the TV, Harry, not at me, you’ll miss vital clues!”

  “I want to look at you, though.”

  “Yes, but look! See?! That character has literally just threatened to kill the other man! He’s as good as admitted it!”

  Harry kissed the side of Noah’s neck and worked his hand up underneath Noah’s hoodie and T-shirt. “Oh, goodness!” Noah said. “In front of Jessica, though?”

  Harry stroked Noah’s tummy. “Jessica’s cool with it.”

  “But—”

  “Nothing’s happening, Noah. All I’m doing is stroking your little tummy.”

  “Uh-huh,” Noah muttered, feeling like he might explode with every exquisite touch and stroke of Harry’s fingers, his stomach muscles twitching in little spasms of pleasure. He hoped Harry wouldn’t be put off by his obvious lack of abs. “Um … oh gosh… There’s a … on the screen now… Jessica is meeting her friend and…” Noah swallowed as Harry nuzzled into Noah’s neck again and then put his other hand behind Noah’s head and pulled him into a kiss which was TOTALLY CRAZY right in front of Mrs F, but Harry was probably right, she wouldn’t mind and would probably fully approve. And this was nice. So nice. Somehow, now that Harry had said it didn’t matter if they actually did anything or not, the usual sense of panic hadn’t appeared. “Oh God, I really like you, Harry.” Noah pulled away, breathless. “You make me very happy in all sorts of wonderful places.”

  Harry was still looking at him, breathing heavily.

  “Are you OK, Haz? Are you having an asthma attack?”

  Harry chuckled. “Idiot.”

  “Then what?”

  Harry fixed Noah with a stare. There it was. You could totally tell when something was going to happen with another person. And it totally was now. Words weren’t necessary. Noah stared back, swallowed. He wanted to. And he also didn’t want to. He didn’t know why he was suddenly scared, but he was. What was there to be afraid of? It was Harry. And he loved Harry. Harry had said it was OK to wait – fine. But he would want to do stuff at some point. It couldn’t be avoided for ever. The clock was ticking. A timer. Counting down to a … great, big … sex bomb.

  Noah’s phone chirped.

  And again.

  And again.

/>   At least it broke the moment, so that was good.

  And when Noah picked his mobile up, that really was the only good part.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  The messages were from Eric: Catch us if you can!

  And then: Me and Dad have the tiara!

  And presumably, just so Noah was totally clear, a picture of said tiara.

  Gran’s tiara. Noah snorted and shook his head. Seriously?! A crappy fake diamond heist? Were Dad and Eric really so stupid that they thought that thing was worth anything? Normally, if Eric and Dad wanted to waste their time on some stupid scheme, he would have let them. But he’d made a promise to Gran. Noah texted back:

  Dear Eric, Thank you for your kind message. How interesting that you and Father have stolen an item of Gran’s… My, how thoughtful of you to take an item of sentimental value from a poor old lady with dementia – I must remember to put you both forward for an OBE for services to humanity. It’s of no actual value, but it is to her. Bring it back. Kind regards, Noah Grimes.

  “Everything OK?” Harry said.

  Noah smiled. “Everything is fine and dandy! Would you like to resume some low-level petting?”

  “Yeah.” Harry shrugged. “Always up for low-level petting.”

  Noah’s phone chirped. “Sorry,” he said, batting Harry away. “I just have to address this small matter, then petting can resume.” He glanced down.

  Eric:Cool, cool. Just so you know, the attached image is a screenshot from last week’s Antiques Roadshow. Note the special hallmark that matches the one on Gran’s. The tiara itself is indeed pretty worthless. But the diamonds in it are valued at twenty grand. Tell me, are you still feeling quite so smug, jackass?

  Noah pursed his lips and opened the image. There was Fiona Bruce, grinning next to a frumpy old man. Noah enlarged the image with his fingertips and froze.

  Oh.

  Oh my God.

  There was Gran’s tiara. OK, not exactly, it had slightly different design, but it was really, really close, and the hallmark was definitely as Noah remembered. Noah grabbed the Sky remote, frantically pressing the buttons until the episode that his dad had recorded came up, and Noah was able to fast forward to the final five minutes – Fiona Bruce and some jewellery expert, and a plan hatched by a Danish princess to smuggle twenty valuable diamonds out of the country so she could start a new life. The story matched the one Gran had told him exactly – the two tiaras, the plan to set the valuable diamonds in the worthless metal, so no one would suspect, and the theft from the jeweller’s workshop – only a fairy godmother and some clever mice were not involved, as it turned out. Fiona Bruce’s final words: “We’ve found one tiara, but the other is still out there somewhere – probably posing as another piece of costume jewellery. So do check those toy boxes and backs of wardrobes, because, who knows, you too could be sitting on a goldmine.”

  The credits began to roll, Noah staring in disbelief at the screen.

  Ten diamonds. Twenty thousand English pounds. The sort of money that could solve a lot of problems. The sort of money that could secure Gran a place in Kingfisher Meadows. And, of course, the sort of money that a couple of ne’er-do-wells like Dad and Eric could use for all manner of shady schemes – which was presumably exactly what they were thinking.

  “Noah?” Harry said. “Are you sure you’re OK?”

  Noah nodded. “We’ll maybe attempt some mild frottage in a minute,” he said absent-mindedly.

  “What?!”

  “What?”

  “What did you just say?” Harry said.

  “Harry. There’s a matter. A thing. A crisis. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Right…”

  Noah relayed the tale as efficiently as he could, conscious that every second wasted was time that could be spent … well, what? He didn’t know. Getting the tiara back? How would he even do that?

  “You’re telling me that stupid cheap tiara you used to play dress-up with is actually real?” Harry said.

  “You also dressed up,” Noah corrected him. “And yes. Apparently it is real, which means it’s not stupid or cheap.”

  “So, call the police.”

  “I can’t do that. The police are still investigating my dad for the shit he got mixed up with the Spanish timeshare apartments. If there’s anything else, that’ll be it.”

  Noah stared into the middle distance, thinking. Were the mysterious strangers he’d seen around town already on to his dad? Had they somehow been tipped off? Was—

  Noah’s phone chirped again, breaking his thoughts.

  Would have thought a smart guy like you would have been on to us by now!

  Noah scowled and hammered out a reply: Bring it back at once, Eric. You are BREAKING THE LAW!

  Eric: No can do. Plan is in motion. Shame you were too slow to stop us. Too busy being gay with Harry, I guess?

  Noah: No that’s not true. We have only been talking not that it’s any of your business. You will not get away with this!

  Eric: Oooh. Really scared. Please don’t make any more scary threats. Might do a classic “you” and piss my pants.

  Noah (furiously): Right, that’s it! Just wait! Also, FYI, it’s not cool to make fun of someone who had a BLADDER INFECTION I don’t know how many times I have to say.

  Noah slammed his phone back down on the table. “He’s damn well baiting me! He’s enjoying this! He’s such a little shit. Perfectly happy to make off with Gran’s tiara, without thinking how she might need the money! I’ve got to get it back, Haz. I’ve got to. For Gran.”

  “OK, that’s fine,” Harry said, “but they could be literally anywhere. I mean, they’re planning on selling it, I suppose?”

  Noah shook his head. “Highly unlikely they’d try to sell the whole thing, as is – it would be too identifiable if it’s reported stolen. Too risky. They’ll just take the diamonds out and sell them separately, since they’re the valuable bit.”

  “Well, there’s a jeweller’s in Little Fobbing, should we go there?” Harry said.

  Noah got up and started pacing. “No, they’ll take the diamonds out of the area. That way, they’ll arouse less suspicion. Plus, Dad will need one of his dodgy contacts to sell them on their behalf. Someone who doesn’t ask too many questions, or require documentation.”

  Harry actually looked impressed, a smile creeping across his face.

  “What?” Noah demanded.

  “Nothing. You’re just quite sexy when you say things about stuff you know.”

  “Well, you didn’t say that when I gave my presentation about wind farms, and I know quite a lot about them!”

  “Yeah, but this is criminal underworld stuff. It’s … I dunno, naughty, isn’t it?”

  “Harry, there’s nothing sexy about being a crook. It’s bad and wrong. And as non-existent God is my witness, I shall get Eric banged up in a borstal for bad boys for this. That’s where he belongs!” Noah smacked his fist against his other palm. “Anyway, that’s all for later. For now, we must take action.”

  “All right, Velma, I’m all yours.”

  “Why am I Velma?”

  “From Scooby—”

  “I know what you’re referring to!” Noah said. “I just always saw myself more as Fred.”

  “Oh, of course. The gay one.”

  Noah gasped. “Fred’s not gay, is he?”

  “Noah, he wears a cravat!”

  “Well, I don’t think cravats are indicators of sexuality! They’re sophisticated! And … argh! We don’t have time for this! We can talk it through later. What shall we do? Phone Eric?”

  Harry laughed. “Yes, because he’ll definitely pick up and definitely tell you exactly where he is.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Harry.”

  “Althoooough…” Harry continued, “he’s just texted you, so his phone is on, which means, if you can access the ‘find phone’ function on his laptop, we should get his approximate location.”

  Noah slapped Har
ry on the back. “Brilliant! Brilliant! I mean, the idea of touching his laptop is rather eww, because we all know what its primary function is, but I guess with some rubber gloves on we could give it a go?” Noah was already up the stairs, retrieving Eric’s laptop from the cupboard in his parents’ bedroom where he left it between visits, along with some disposable plastic gloves from his mother’s hair-dyeing supplies. He gingerly bought everything back through to the lounge. “Here it is. The things this poor screen will have displayed!”

  “Open her up.”

  Noah snapped on the gloves and did so, the password box immediately flashing up. Noah looked up at Harry. “Thoughts?”

  “OK, put yourself in Eric’s head.”

  “Grim,” Noah said. “But OK.”

  “What comes to mind?”

  “Harry, let’s avoid using words like ‘come’ when we’re talking about Eric’s laptop.”

  “Maybe that is the password!”

  “What, come? Are you serious?”

  “Try it.”

  “No! We’ll only have three attempts and we can’t waste one on trying ‘come’.”

  “I think we should try come.”

  Noah looked up sharply, straight into Harry’s grinning face. “Right, fine, OK, we’ll try ‘come’. Here we go. C-O-M…”

  “Wait!” Harry said. “He’ll spell it ‘c-u-m’, you know, the porn way.”

  Noah swallowed and typed it in. The little password box shook. Incorrect.

  “Well, that’s two attempts left. I mean, this is pointless. He’s not going to have made it easy,” Noah sighed. “Think, damn it!”

  Harry shifted on the sofa. “Sorry, I’m trying to focus.”

  “OK, well, good. That’s good. I’ll be honest, Haz, I’m not sure all this talk of ‘porn’ and ‘come’ is helpful. I think it’s unhelpful. It’s distracting, because all it makes you think about is … well, you know…”

  “Right,” Harry muttered.

  “OK, well—”

  “So,” Harry said.

  “OK.”

  “So…”

  “All right, then.” Noah nodded. “OK, so maybe we go back to just one, final, quick bit of kissing first, OK? Just to put a full stop on the events. Is that—”