Either Side of Midnight (The Midnight Saga Book 1)

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Either Side of Midnight (The Midnight Saga Book 1) Page 8

by Tori de Clare


  Weak from hunger, she collapsed into a heap and broke down. She vaguely heard the car pulling away, taking the normal, pleasant-sounding man with it. She imagined him switching on the radio as the distance between the car and the house grew, leaving her trapped with an emotionless psycho.

  The monster was soon back with her, hoisting her off the floor, balaclava in place, dragging her back to the bed. He secured the locks. Naomi had no strength to resist. He sat on the bed at a distance, watching her. It was a long wait before the tears dried up. Naomi quietened. She had nothing to say to him anymore. She wanted him to die a violent death right in front of her.

  Turning her back on him, she curled herself in a ball and burrowed beneath the covers. The chains cut into her right arm at the top. She was so lost inside her head, it was a surprise when he eventually spoke.

  ‘I’ll answer one question.’

  ‘Get out,’ Naomi said, too softly. Appalled at how submissive she sounded, she flung back the bedding and sat up sharply, shouting full force, straining her empty stomach and not caring if she provoked him. ‘Get. Out.’

  The bed lightened as he stood up. He walked slowly to the door then hovered. His voice returned to its infuriatingly dead tone. ‘Whatever you say.’

  The key turned in the lock. Naomi threw the covers back over her head. Her breath was hot and bitter-tasting in the confinement of the duvet. Her head was throbbing painfully all over. She couldn’t imagine what kind of a face hid behind that mask, but in an unguarded moment, she was going to find out.

  ‘You’d better watch your back,’ she whispered very quietly, ‘because I am going to kill you.’

  7

  LIBERTY

  ‘I want to know everything about you,’ Nathan said to Naomi from behind a glass of lime and soda, clogged with ice. He took a deep swig and returned it to the small table that stood between them. It had a crisp white table cloth and stiff linen serviettes that matched the colour of the carpet. They were sitting in a cosy English restaurant, a former Victorian cottage in a town called Prestwich, a few miles outside the city centre. The chefs, Nathan told her, were husband and wife.

  Leaving the city was an attempt to find somewhere quieter, but on a Saturday night in a posh pad that had an award-winning menu and one Michelin star, cosiness had been hard to achieve. Still, Nathan, polite but persuasive, had negotiated a table for two in the corner of the upstairs dining room.

  Naomi was still unable to believe that the previous day, Nathan had showed up at the college reception with only a name. Did they have a first year student by the name of Naomi – sorry, he didn’t know the surname? The receptionist looked blank, until Nathan had turned to her and told her it didn’t matter, that the girl he’d been failing to describe had just hurried through the door.

  So here they were, Naomi pinching herself that Nathan Stone was opposite her, in the flesh, dressed in a pale grey shirt and black jeans with his dark-grey leather jacket hanging from the chair behind him. He’d fixed his eyes on hers as he’d told her about his relief of discovering her at the RNCM. He’d assumed she was a student at the University of Manchester and conducted a futile three week search of every department of the damned place.

  ‘There isn’t really much to tell,’ Naomi said, determined to lower his expectations from the start.

  ‘Yeah there is. The first moment I saw you, you intrigued me, and it wasn’t just the looks or the stunning dress. I’m betting on an interesting story or two.’

  ‘I’m bound to disappoint, but go ahead and ask me some questions,’ Naomi suggested with a ready smile as Nathan put down the menu and leant forward.

  ‘OK,’ he smiled back, ‘Tell me about your family and where you live. Siblings? Where did you go to school?’

  ‘Well,’ she began, ‘I live in Alderley Edge.’

  He frowned for a second and shrugged. ‘Sounds familiar, never been.’

  ‘It’s not too shabby. A famous footballer lives up our road.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Can’t remember his name.’

  Nathan grinned. ‘That famous?’

  ‘And I have a cat called Tess. Once I’d named her, my sister named her cat Tickles. She still finds it hilarious when my mum shouts the cats one after the other.’

  It took Nathan a second to work it out, then he laughed.

  ‘Typical of my sister. We’re twins.’

  His eyebrows went up. ‘Annabel?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  He lowered his voice. ‘She texted you when I first met you, remember? It’s the only thing I knew about you apart from your name. Are you identical?’

  Naomi had been expecting this, but not so early in the evening. She reached inside her purse and gathered a small picture of Annabel, ready to gauge Nathan’s response. It was an excellent photograph, perfectly capturing Annabel’s energy and everything that was beautiful about her. ‘See for yourself.’

  Sliding the picture across the table cloth, she watched Nathan lift it up. He laughed when he saw Annabel and handed the picture back quickly. Naomi, relieved he hadn’t studied it for long, put it back in her purse.

  ‘I’m glad,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I can only imagine one of you.’ Nathan reached for his drink again, his eyes never leaving hers as he drew a sip.

  ‘Annie couldn’t be more different to me.’

  ‘Is she musical?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Nathan undid his shirt sleeves and turned them over twice. ‘So which uni is she at?’

  ‘Didn’t go,’ Naomi answered. ‘She’s travelling for a year and starting uni next year. She sets off for Japan in two weeks, after our birthdays.’

  ‘Which is what date?’

  ‘Dates,’ Naomi corrected and waited until Nathan frowned. ‘We were born either side of midnight. Annie on the twenty-second of October and me the day after.’

  ‘Wow,’ Nathan said. ‘See, you’re full of surprises.’ Naomi was relieved when his next question left the topic of Annabel behind. ‘Have you always lived in Alderley Edge?’

  ‘I grew up in South Africa, actually.’

  His eyebrows raised again. ‘South Africa? I wondered why I couldn’t place your accent.’

  Naomi enjoyed being able to stun him like this. It made her feel mysterious and exciting when her perception of herself had always been the opposite.

  ‘We lived in Johannesburg until I was eleven. We moved there from here when I was about four, but I don’t really remember much before living in Jo’burg, except my gran’s arms.’

  ‘OK.’

  Naomi laughed. ‘She used to have these great big arms and she’d lie next to me on the bed and read to me at night. I don’t remember my granddad. He must have been around at that time but he never said very much.’

  Nathan put his drink down again. Naomi picked hers up and took a shallow sip.

  ‘It’s all coming out now,’ he said. Naomi laughed in response, unable to hold it in. ‘So what took you out there?’

  ‘My dad’s job. He’s retired now, but he was a big director or whatever in an accountancy firm. They had offices in Manchester, London and, of all places, Johannesburg. He went out there to run that office and expand it.’

  Nathan rested his elbows on the table, put his fingers to his lips and moved closer still.

  ‘I’ve never been to South Africa. What’s it like?’

  Naomi’s eyes roamed the ceiling while she pictured the big detached, single-storey house they’d had there with open-plan rooms and the outdoor swimming pool, shallow end nearest the house. Naomi had only ever been in the shallow end. She panicked in water out of her depth.

  She remembered the sunshine; the brightly-coloured gardens in the housing compound behind the tall barbed-wire fence; the honking of horns in the city; the chilly winter nights without carpets or central heating; the insects that dwarfed the English ones; the multi-coloured friends she’d had at school.

  He
r eyes returned to Nathan’s. He was waiting patiently. ‘Amazing,’ she said. ‘Probably my happiest time until . . .’

  Silence. Nathan didn’t interrupt her thoughts straight away. ‘Until?’ he prompted gently.

  ‘We had to come back here.’

  ‘Did your dad lose his job?’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’ Naomi dropped her eyes to her glass and fingered a downwards stroke through the condensation on the outside of it. ‘I was taken by a couple of men who hijacked the car.’

  ‘What?’

  She looked up. His eyes were wide. She’d never felt so interesting. ‘Mm,’ she sighed, suddenly experiencing pangs of longing for Johannesburg. ‘It’s an incredible city, Jo’burg, but volatile. Poverty and wealth live side by side. It’s in your face all the time, no escape. People are desperate enough to beg or steal. It’s survival for some. Anyone nicely dressed with an expensive car will be a potential target.’ Naomi paused as a waitress approached, pad in hand, ready to pen the order.

  ‘I haven’t even looked,’ Naomi admitted, embarrassed that she’d been so lost in Nathan’s eyes, the purpose of her being there hadn’t even occurred to her. She swept her menu off the table and wildly started searching it for the main courses.

  ‘I can come back,’ the waitress offered.

  Nathan held up his hand. ‘One sec.’ He turned to Naomi. ‘You’re not vegetarian are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can I recommend the lamb shoulder with madeira sauce?’

  Naomi glanced down, found the lamb, scanned the description which included shallots and fennel among other things.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed quickly. ‘Sounds great.’

  Spaghetti hoops on toast would have done. She was a new student having an unexpected dinner with Nathan Stone. Whatever he’d suggested would have been perfect because he was perfect. And hot and utterly gorgeous with his grey-blue eyes and his sexy smile that was all hers. The way he was looking at her made concentration on anything but him, impossible.

  ‘Two of those please,’ Nathan told the waitress.

  She made a note. ‘Any wines at all? Side orders?’

  Nathan declined. The waitress gathered the menus and left.

  ‘You were saying,’ he immediately said.

  Naomi took another sip, conscious of his gaze closely following her. His eyes hadn’t once strayed to the surrounding tables. It made her aware of every small move she made. With one hand, she smoothed her new black trousers under the table. ‘My dad likes nice cars. It’s just his thing. My mum must have had a decent car back then. She’s never had an expensive one since, but that’s another story. So, I was eleven. We pulled up in a petrol station to fill up. Over there, attendants fill the car for you, offer to check the tyres etcetera. As long as you’re tipping well, you can have any service you want.’ Naomi suddenly became conscious of her hand gestures and that she was gabbling. She put her hands away and decided to slow down. ‘Anyway, my mum got out of the car with Annabel, who was complaining there was something crawling on her leg. Two men sprung from nowhere and screeched off with me still in the back.’

  Nathan’s mouth fell open. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Weren’t you crapping it? Pardon the French.’

  Naomi, dying to break into a big smile, resisted. ‘Not as much as I should have been. I didn’t know then what I know now. Living there was normal life. I didn’t know much about apartheid. I suppose Mum shielded us. I didn’t know anything about the British Empire or what political and racial axes people had to grind.’

  Nathan nodded carefully. ‘So did they hurt you?’

  She shook her head. ‘They only wanted the car. They told me not to worry, that they were only testing the car. I was naïve. I believed them. About half a mile down the road, they pulled over and told me to go back to my mum. So I did.’

  Nathan shook his head. ‘She must have been frantic.’

  ‘She was. The police were there by the time I skipped into the petrol station wondering what all the fuss was about. My mum freaked out and told me what could have happened, then I freaked out too. I had nightmares about it for ages afterwards.’

  ‘Did they catch them?’

  ‘Nah. Did they even try? Who knows? We never saw the car again.’

  ‘Quite an adventure, hey?’

  ‘Hmm. Well, my mum was ready for coming back to England virtually that night. I remember hearing the arguments from my room. I didn’t want to leave. My dad eventually gave in like he usually does.’ Naomi sighed. ‘He got a transfer to the offices in Manchester and we got back to England in time to start secondary school.’

  Nathan reached across the table and found her hand. Naomi had to cover the shock. He loosely locked fingers with hers and stroked her forefinger with his thumb. It was hard to keep cool and not close her eyes.

  ‘The irony is,’ Naomi finished, ‘my mum wishes we’d never come back, but moved to a safer place in South Africa instead. Whenever she brings that up, my dad’s eyes just roll.’

  ‘I bet they do.’ Nathan chuckled. ‘So how was school here after life in South Africa?’

  ‘Hated it,’ she said, acutely aware of their twined fingers and his capable hands and the mild scent of his aftershave that she caught between delicious food smells. ‘I lasted about five months and left with my confidence gone.’

  She dropped her eyes, gripped by the pain and the shame of that time, not wanting Nathan to read it.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, pulling gently on her hand until he’d reclaimed her eyes. His face was close. ‘I’m sorry. I can change the sub – ’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s OK.’ She tried to smile, but it was a pathetic attempt. ‘It’s seven years ago. I’m over it now.’

  ‘Are you?’ he asked, searching her eyes.

  She nodded, slowly, unconvincingly. ‘It’s just that my life switched course right then. One person changed everything. No one should have that kind of power, should they?’

  ‘Which person?’

  Naomi looked at the table, her drink, the salt and pepper pots. ‘A girl called Sophie Wheatcroft.’ Saying the name disturbed all kinds of feelings Naomi normally kept under control. Her memory still dug up images of the girl in dreams. Naomi could see her now: busty even at eleven, tall with blonde hair and feline green eyes that kept watch from an angular face. Nathan waited. ‘She was in my form at my new school.’

  ‘She bullied you?’

  ‘She wouldn’t have called it that,’ Naomi replied, fidgeting with discomfort. ‘It was more subtle – like psychological abuse. I was nervous and vulnerable and shy. I just needed a friend.’

  ‘A sitting duck for Sophie Wheatcroft?’

  ‘Yep.’ Naomi paused to clear her throat. ‘I was a classical music geek, even back then.’ Nathan scowled. ‘It’s true. Plus I was the weirdo with the strange accent who didn’t know the netball or hockey rules. Basically, she made sure no one took me on as a friend. There’s nothing more demoralising for a girl than being at a loose end.’

  Nathan said, thoughtfully, ‘Wasn’t Annabel around?’

  ‘She was,’ Naomi nodded, ‘but she wasn’t in my form. She’d picked up the English accent in weeks and was like the celebrity of our school year. Her new friends thought she was fascinating with her stories about huge rain spiders and parktown prawns – ’

  ‘Parktown what?’

  ‘They’re like giant crickets.’ Naomi’s stomach lurched as Nathan squeezed her fingers gently.

  ‘Didn’t Annabel include you?’

  ‘She tried, but I didn’t feel comfortable with her friends. I needed my own. I prefer one person at a time. Annie always has swarms of people, the more the better.’

  ‘So it didn’t work.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Couldn’t your parents afford a private school?’

  ‘That was a private school.’

  ‘Oh.’

  There was a short pause. ‘So to fill lun
ch breaks I’d go and play the piano. Things became unbearable when the boy Sophie Wheatcroft worshipped started to spend his lunchtimes with me. He used to sit at the piano in the school hall, sharing my stool. He played a bit himself, but he wasn’t very good. He liked listening to me.’ Nathan was unmoving, eyes fixed on her. Head bowed, Naomi flicked him the odd look. ‘I really liked him, but being with him kind of sealed my fate and cut me off from any chance of friends. She made sure of that. She spread rumours that I slept with him. I was twelve, barely even knew what it meant.’

  ‘She was jealous,’ Nathan said, not a question.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘You weren’t the weirdo, Naomi, you were the talented newcomer who was threatening her territory. The only thing she could do was discredit you to make herself look better.’

  ‘She succeeded.’

  ‘No, she didn’t.’ Nathan released his loose grip on his fingers to touch her face. Her pulse responded.

  ‘Well anyway, I confided in Annabel. She wanted to rip Sophie Wheatcroft to pieces, but I didn’t want my twin fighting my battles for me. Maybe if she’d been my older sister . . . ’

  When Naomi went quiet again, Nathan asked how it ended up.

  ‘Annabel told Mum.’ Naomi sighed. ‘She’d have found out anyway. I’d stopped eating, stopped playing the piano. It got worse once my mum started turning up at school and barging into the headmaster’s office telling him how to run the place. I was mortified.’

  Nathan’s face was incredibly serious when Naomi eyed him again. She felt bad about dampening the mood.

  Eventually, he said, ‘Did things improve?’

  ‘Only after I left school and was home-taught.’

  ‘Didn’t you try another school?’

  ‘I couldn’t face it. For two years I was taught at home and looked after by a nanny. I was happier that way. I buried myself in music and my piano playing took off big time. That’s when my mum sent me back to school – Chethams, a specialist music school in Manchester.’

 

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