Noah Could Never

by Simon James Green

“Some sort of drugs overlord?” Noah said, hopefully.

  Ms O’Malley shook her head. “I’m arranging for my partner to come over from Russia. She’s decided she’d like to take the next step and come and live with me. I’ve been arranging tickets and visas for the past few months,” Ms O’Malley said.

  “She?” Noah said. “So, you’re … you are … you’re a member of the LGBTQ plus community?”

  Ms O’Malley looked quizzically at him. “You’re telling me this is the first time that thought has occurred to you? Aren’t you supposed to be one of the clever ones?”

  Noah’s eyes lit up. “We could form an LGBTQ plus club at school! You could be senior treasurer.”

  She snorted. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

  Fine, Noah thought. He was all wrong, then, was he? In that case, he’d hit them with the one fact he did have. The one single, irrefutable FACT: “Prom, indeed!” he said. “I mean, excuse me while I just sit on the bleachers and eat a Twinkie. It’s a PARTY! Party! We’re not in bloody goddam AMERICA!”

  There! That showed them!

  Pierre shook his head, sadly. “All this is plainly ridiculous. And, I think, all because you do not like me. You do not trust me. And so, your mind, it goes crazy!”

  “I can assure you, I am fully compote mental!” Noah hissed. “I’m fline. Flan! Gah! I’M FINE!”

  “You’ve never liked me from when we met because you thought I was in love with Harry,” Pierre said. “And even after we kiss and I tell you I am in love with you, even then, you still hate me!”

  Noah took a sharp intake of breath and looked at Harry. “Those are lies.”

  “Not lies!” Pierre said, turning to Harry. “I am sorry, Harry. I kissed Noah.”

  Ms O’Malley raised her hands. “That’s my cue. We’ll talk later, Grimes.” And she walked out.

  “He…” Noah pointed at Pierre, trying to find some words. “Ignore everything!”

  Harry flicked his eyes from Pierre to Noah. “Noah, I kind of guessed.”

  “You’re not taking this seriously?” Noah howled. “I mean, why? I’m not! I’m ignoring his words for the lying words they are!”

  “It was all rather obvious,” Harry said. “I can read you like a book.”

  Noah looked at him, open-mouthed. “But… OK, but I didn’t kiss him back.”

  “That’s fine.” Harry shrugged. “I believe you.”

  Noah stared at Harry. “So…? You’re not going to storm out and break up with me over this … misunderstanding? Because that’s what it was. A misunderstanding that I handled badly.”

  Harry shook his head. “Not over that, no.”

  “OK, good. Great!” Noah smiled. “Thank you.”

  Harry fixed Noah with a stare. “But I do think we should split up,” he said.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-FIVE

  Pierre must have made a swift exit, because it was just the two of them now. Noah stared at Harry in disbelief. “What do you mean?” Noah said.

  Harry sat on the edge of the bed, angled towards Noah, head hung. “I dunno. I keep wondering, shouldn’t a boyfriend be a good thing for you? Shouldn’t a boyfriend make you feel good about yourself? I don’t think I make you feel any of those things, Noah. In fact, from what I can see, I just make you insecure and jealous. I make you feel bad about yourself. Don’t I?”

  “No! You’re not doing that. It’s not your fault, it’s me!”

  “It’s this relationship, Noah. You know, I’m not bothered – genuinely, I’m not – about not rushing into anything. And I’ve told you that. And I don’t want you to look or be any different to how you are, because that’s what I love, however hard you find that to believe. But you seem convinced that I want something totally different. And it’s making you miserable and you’re doing dumb shit as a result – you followed Pierre to the shed?! That can only be because you thought he was meeting me! I mean, God, do you think I would ever do that? But, Noah, bottom line, you should not be in a relationship with someone who makes you feel bad about yourself.”

  “But, Harry—”

  “I’m not doing it deliberately. I don’t know how you got this idea, that I would ever like anyone other than you, but somehow you have. And nothing I can say or do seems to make a difference. So what’s the point?”

  Noah swallowed down the blind panic and went for damage limitation. “I’m sorry, Harry. I should have trusted you, and I know you’d never do something behind my back. It’s all me, and I promise you, I’ll change. I’ll stop trying to have a perfect body. I’ll forget all the stuff they say on websites and how people look in clubs…”

  Harry shook his head. “Don’t you see? You don’t have to forget all that stuff about ‘having the perfect body’ because you already have the perfect body!”

  Noah couldn’t help but grimace at that obviously ridiculous line. That was just Harry being nice.

  “What? Only certain magazines and websites are allowed to define ‘perfect’, are they?”

  “No, but… I mean, come on, everyone knows that ‘perfect’ means… You know, well, it doesn’t mean a skinny little runt whose vest hangs off him. Hollister are never gonna hire boys like me to sell their clothes.”

  “Fuck Hollister. Fuck them. Dicks. Who cares what they think?”

  “But people, Harry, that’s what most people think. That’s why those brands use those people, because other people like it. They see perfection. Something to aspire to.”

  Harry nodded and got up from the bed. “When I kiss you, that’s perfection. When I hold your hand, that’s perfection. When I just spend time with you, and we talk, and we laugh, and you look at me with those stupid, cute, innocent eyes, that’s goddam perfection!”

  Noah felt the tears bubbling up inside him. It all sounded so right. So why had he been feeling so wrong? “I know, Harry,” he said.

  Harry stood by the window, looking at him. “Actions speak louder than words, though, Noah. And that’s not how you’ve been acting.”

  “Maybe I could try.”

  Harry watched him. “Why did you kiss Pierre?”

  “No, Harry, I didn’t! He kissed me! I admit, I was slow to realize what was happening, but as soon as he put his lips against mine, I moved backwards.”

  “I think part of you liked it.”

  “What? No!”

  “I think part of you felt good that a boy as fit and, as you would have it, ‘perfect’ as Pierre would want to kiss you.”

  “No, Harry, see—”

  “I mean, from my point of view, of course he wants to kiss you. You’re … you’re the best, bloody, damn, stupid dork of a boy I ever met and I can’t imagine ever falling for anyone like I’ve fallen for you. But you can’t see that. You think you’re some sort of substandard human being because some stuck-up prick of a magazine editor won’t ever put you on the front page of their pretentious little shit rag, and presumably, since I also don’t look like that, you don’t think I’m perfect either.”

  “Harry, you are so perfect. You are… You’re so… You are.”

  Harry was crying. Noah reached out for him from the bed, but Harry backed off, wiping his eyes with the palms of his hands and sniffing. “I’m fine.”

  “Haz—”

  “I’m gonna go back to Little Fobbing with Ms O’Malley. I think you should think – really think – about who you are and what you want. And maybe I should too. And there’s no point, Noah, no point in any of this, if we don’t make each other happy. If being with each other isn’t so utterly fucking brilliant, that no one else and their stupid opinions matter.”

  “Harry! No, wait, please don’t—”

  But Harry was already through the door and gone.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-SIX

  Noah stared straight ahead at the wall opposite him, painted in a pale hospital blue. An A4 sign instructed him what to do in the event of an emergency. He doubted “boyfriend splitting up with you” was one of the ones it advised on
.

  Harry was, of course, right. As usual. Why should some self-appointed knob get to define what “looks good”? Who is “hot” and who is … not. Everyone likes different things. Why couldn’t Noah sort his head out? Why was he so stupidly insecure? The gym, the protein shakes, how he looked… NONE OF IT MATTERED. It was all just crap. Meaningless. If he didn’t have Harry, if he wasn’t with Harry, then he had nothing. And all the supposed good looks and money and right clothes wouldn’t ever make up for the gnawing emptiness.

  Tears streamed down his face.

  Why had he been such an idiot?

  Why, when he had it all, had he gone and lost it?

  “Bingo!” Eric said, pushing through the door with Dad behind.

  “It’s over, Noah,” his dad said. “I want them back. Oh, and how are you, by the way? Hear you’ve had some sort of accident?”

  Noah urgently wiped the tears away and stared at them both. He was in no mood for this. “You both disgust me. Stealing from Gran.”

  Before Dad could issue any sort of rebuttal, Mick was in the door, holding a plastic carrier bag. “Right, I’m done,” he said. “Your dad’s here now, he can deal with you. I’ve got bigger fish to fry. Got a career to get back on track. Stoke Drag Awards, 2008,” Mick said, pointing to himself. “Done it once, I can damn well do it again. If they want eleganza, they’re damn well gonna get it!”

  “What’s in that carrier?” Noah asked.

  Mick cocked his head and smiled. “It’s a bag of shit, Noah. A bag of shit.” He dumped it on the end of the bed. “Spent the last forty minutes clearing out the van. The goose has flown off – if the diamonds aren’t in there, you ain’t ever getting them back, Sunshine.”

  Dad’s eyes lit up. “The diamonds? In there?” He snatched up the bag and looked at Eric, the cogs in their heads obviously turning, as they tried to work out what the hell could have happened.

  “Oh, good one, thanks, Mick,” Noah said. Oh, what was the point? He’d done his best. Dad had still got the diamonds, and all he’d ended up with was being trailed by a surveillance team, pickpocketed, suspended from school, burning his bollocks and … losing Harry.

  The rest, he could take. But not Harry.

  Never Harry.

  He started crying again. “Just go,” he told Mick.

  Mick turned to Noah’s father. “Well, good luck with this carnival of fuckuppery!” he said, before walking back to the door. He paused in the doorway, then shook his head. “You know, Noah, after everything last night, I was ready to throw the towel in. But then I got to thinking – who am I? Who really am I? Not a quitter, that’s for sure. And when the going gets tough, only thing you can do is buckle up and ride that motherfucker till you get to calmer waters. So ask yourself this: who is Noah Grimes?” Mick raised his eyebrows, stared at Noah, and walked out.

  Noah rolled his eyes. A dickhead, that’s who.

  He looked at Dad and Eric. “I don’t care. I tried. What you’re doing is wrong because Gran needs the money from those diamonds. We could get her in a better home, and keep her with us – really with us – for longer. But I did what I could. You do what you want.”

  “Take ’em, Dad,” Eric said. “I’ll stay here and make sure he doesn’t come after you.”

  Noah shook his head. “Like I could anyway? I’m in a hospital gown. I don’t even have any underpants on.”

  Dad plucked the carrier bag up. “Nice one. And good thinking, Eric. Noah – I’m sorry, yeah? I don’t mean any harm. And I hope, one day, you’ll see that. Maybe when you’re old enough to take our Mazda for a spin?” He nodded at Eric and walked out with the bag.

  There the diamonds went. Taking Gran’s chances with them. Gone.

  He sobbed silently, engulfed in tears. Who was Noah Grimes? He was a disaster area, that’s what. He was a messed-up idiot of a boy who had gone and lost it all.

  “Cheer up, mate,” Eric said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  “Sod off, Eric.”

  Eric smiled and handed Noah a tissue. “Dad hasn’t got the diamonds, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have,” Eric said.

  “I’m not interested in any more of your games, Eric,” Noah said. “Just go.”

  “You think you hate me, and I get that,” Eric said. “But you need to hear me out here.”

  Noah shrugged. He didn’t care. He just wanted to get out of here and sort things out with Harry. He had to save the situation.

  “OK,” Eric said. “So, Dad told me about his plan with Gran’s diamonds a week ago, after he saw that Antiques Roadshow episode with a similar tiara. Believe it or not – and I know you’re firmly in the ‘not’ category right now – but still, believe it or not, I knew the plan was wrong. I wasn’t gonna let Gran get screwed over like this.”

  Noah waved the words away. “Please, continue with your lies. Very interesting, I’m sure.”

  Eric ignored him. “So, I visited her and I swapped the diamonds in the tiara, replacing the real ones with some fakes, while she was rehearsing with her band. That meant that when Dad paid her a visit the next day and nicked it, he nicked a tiara with fake diamonds in it. So far so good, right?”

  “Yeah, just great, Eric. If you like LIES!”

  Eric shook his head, sighed and persevered. “The plan was simple: Dad was gonna meet up with his contact in London, and try and sell what he thought were real diamonds. And obviously his contact’s gonna take one look at ’em and tell him they’re worthless. Dad will be disappointed, sure, but will just put it down to tough luck. And Gran gets to safely keep the real diamonds ’cause Dad thinks that old tiara ain’t worth anything.”

  Noah looked at him. “So why did you want me to find you? I could have stopped your plan – I did, in fact!”

  Eric shrugged. “I have to admit, I kinda underestimated your chances of success. See, as a little bonus, I saw this as a chance to prove to your mum what sort of crook Dad really is. A few months ago I was all set on being Dad’s apprentice – work on some business schemes together, you know?”

  “Sure, whatever, Eric.”

  “But, turns out the old man’s not as clued up as the son! Turns out he’s a chancer who’s flat out of chances. And everyone round Little Fobbing knows his game anyway, so it’s like, why am I wasting my time? I needed to cut him loose and get rid of him somehow. Also, you know I can’t stand their new ‘ain’t love wonderful’ vibe, and man, you must have heard them shagging at night? Kid can’t get his shut-eye, right?”

  Noah grimaced.

  “Plus,” Eric continued, “with your mum playing all happy families, she’s all up in my business the whole time, poking her snout in, when I need to be left alone, right? I got stuff to take care of. Big stuff.”

  “And how does me coming after you achieve that?”

  Eric smiled. “’Cause she’s not gonna believe you when you tell her what Dad’s done. But I recorded the whole confrontation in the Reptile House on my phone. I’m gonna send the file from an anonymous account to your mum. When she’s opens it – boom! She’ll hear the whole thing. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to prove to her Dad’s not changed, and she’ll say bye-bye. And no one will know it came from me, so I don’t make an enemy of Dad. Things’ll go back to normal and I’ll be a one-man band again, left to me own devices.”

  Noah nodded. “Assuming this is true, which time will tell, then I … suppose I congratulate you.”

  “Eric saves the day again!”

  “Don’t get too cocky,” Noah said. “Where did you put the real diamonds?”

  “They’re safe!” Eric chirped.

  “Where are they?”

  “Safe where nobody will think of looking,” Eric said. “In the gravel at the bottom of your fish tank.”

  Noah’s face froze. A fish tank that was now at Harry’s house. Harry who had just broken up with him. Harry, who, regardless of the diamonds, he really needed to sort things out with. “We need to get bac
k to Little Fobbing,” Noah said. “Now.”

  “No sweat,” Eric said. “We’ll get a couple of train tickets. First class. I’m treating you, ’cause I do feel a bit bad for you, truth be told.”

  “First class? Where d’you get that sort of cash, Eric?”

  “See!” Eric said. “This is what I mean! All up in my business. Know when to keep your nose out, Noah! Let’s just say, if things keep going the way they’re going, I’m gonna get us all out of the financial pit we’re in.”

  “Legally?”

  “I mean, whatever ‘legal’ means.”

  “It means in accordance with the laws of England and Wales, Eric.”

  Eric threw Noah a pile of clothes from his bag. “You worry too much.”

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Noah sighed and attempted a half-optimistic smile, having told a bemused Gran and Dickie all about it – his dad, Eric’s plan, the chase to London, the goose, Harry splitting up with him … and finally the diamonds being safe in the fish tank, which was at Harry’s house.

  Gran shook her head. “Screw the diamonds.”

  Noah’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Don’t want ’em,” Gran sniffed.

  “Gran, you do. If we sold them, I was thinking, we could move you in to Kingfisher Meadows!”

  “Where the hell’s that?”

  “It’s in West Fobbing, Gran! It’s lovely there – it’s brand new, they’ve got a spa and everything. And they do special care for people with … you know, for people who are…”

  “Losing their marbles?” Gran said.

  “That sort of thing, yeah.” Noah nodded.

  Gran took his hand. “But I like it here, Noah. All my friends are here.”

  Noah stared at her. “Should I quote you directly about Matron, or Vera? And, um … it might be nice there. And if you’ve got the money…”

  “What’s the point, Noah?” she said. “What’s the point of having money or nice things if you don’t have the right people to enjoy it with? Like Reginald here.”

  Dickie furrowed his brow. “Dickie!”

  “Dickie?” Gran said. “You’re Dickie?”