Naomi savoured a rare and special moment, of being alone like this with Nathan. He never normally allowed it. The problems drifted as he reached her lips and whispered her name without kissing her. His hand slid down her back and drew her closer. Naomi’s pulse was driving hard. She didn’t have to lean very far forward to meet his lips. He edged back, delaying. ‘What do you think?’ he whispered.
Naomi found she couldn’t think so she nodded instead. Nathan took command and kissed her fiercely, crushing her to him. The alarm system that normally operated inside her head was switched off. She was aware only of a torrent of pleasant sensations, the pressure of Nathan’s warm hands, the blissful movement of his mouth. Naomi bound herself more tightly to him. He pushed forward and laid her flat. His hands were travelling now.
‘Nathan?’
As if pulled out of a trance, Nathan sat up and pushed his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t –’
Naomi sat up, covered his lips with her fingers, covered his lips with her lips, pulled back just enough to speak. ‘Nathan, it’s OK. Don’t stop.’
He kissed her again, but she could tell his brain was functioning now. He withdrew and stood up, panting hard. ‘No. No. We shouldn’t. We can’t do this.’
Naomi was confused. ‘Why not?’
‘Because we decided. Because waiting is important to you, so it’s important to me.’
‘Nathan, we’re engaged. I do want to wait, or I did. But right now, I want you more. I need you. I struggle to feel that you’re mine sometimes. I want to feel close to you.’
Nathan sat down again and took her in his arms. ‘Oh babe, I’m always here. I don’t let myself get too close to you because I can’t control myself when I do.’
‘I’m going to repeat your words to me when we first met – stop trying.’
He squeezed her tight. ‘No. We’re not going to do this because you’re worth the wait. Nine weeks, Naims and we’ll be on honeymoon. I’ve dreamt about taking walks on the beach in the evening with you, then making love to you all night. I never pictured us on this sofa on a lousy summer day in England with a dirty mug digging into my leg.’
Nathan produced a stained cup and held it up. Naomi had to laugh.
The heat died down. ‘OK, you win.’
Nathan touched her face with his fingers and produced a winning smile. ‘Hey, you’re not getting cold feet are you? I never pictured myself on that beach or in that bed without you.’
‘No,’ Naomi said. ‘My feet are toasty warm.’ She looked at her watch. ‘In fact I’d better not stay too long. I have a dress fitting with Lorie.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘Not telling.’
‘What colour is it?’
‘White.’
‘For purity,’ Nathan said.
‘The only thing keeping me pure right now is your amazing restraint. I wish Annie knew you like I do.’
Nathan reached inside his pocket and held up her ring. ‘Don’t forget this, soon-to-be Mrs Stone,’ he said, pushing the ring back onto her finger.
‘How could I?’ Naomi smiled. Her mood had transformed. The doubts had been miraculously swept aside. She slid her ring back on.
‘Hey, don’t tell anyone that we got a bit carried away just now,’ he said.
‘Who would I tell?’
‘I don’t know. Lorie? Friends tell each other everything, don’t they? I’d just like things to be private between us.’
‘My lips are sealed.’ She leant forward to kiss him, briefly. ‘You know, I can’t wait for the wedding.’
Nathan stood up and drew her into a final hug. ‘I’m looking forward to the honeymoon much more.’
<><><>
It had been a forty minute drive to reach a town called Bury on the north side of Manchester, a side Camilla had never had reason to visit. Frequently and frantically, she kept consulting a piece of paper with scribbled instructions lying flat on her lap. Her glasses, only needed for reading, were on and off and hung round her neck.
Henry had begged her to make life easier by taking his Jag with built-in sat-nav. Camilla had refused. She wanted to use her own car, not that flashy thing, she’d told him, and she didn’t want to listen to that nameless woman bleating out instructions in her patronising voice either. With the help of a simple map, she could rely on her own intelligence, thank you.
With a pleasant mixture of relief and satisfaction, Camilla signalled to make her final turn. She intended to report to Henry that she hadn’t made a single wrong turn all journey. She’d been so distracted by instructions, it wasn’t until now that she focussed properly on the area. Confusion crept up on her. She drove slowly down the narrow avenue, too slowly for the red car making its point up her bumper, concentration divided between searching for number forty-four and noticing how appalling the houses were.
The odd numbers were on the left. She pulled over to allow the red car to pass, then continued, eyes on the houses to the right, passing the twenties, then thirties, stopping outside a tired-looking quasi semi that needed everything doing. She was trying not to stare in case anyone had seen her stop, but in one lingering glance she’d clocked that the paint was peeling, the windows were dirty, the curtains were barely open and hung unevenly, and the front door, a faded green, had no number and was identifiable only from the house numbers either side. The tiny front garden was chaotic and without colour, except for dandelions that poked through every crevice of the broken paving stones.
Only Henry knew about her visit. Camilla hadn’t discussed with Naomi or Lorie the need she felt to try and reason with Nathan’s parents in advance of the wedding. Convinced she could say something to alter their minds, she’d planned the visit without invitation, determined to come away with a commitment from them not only to attend the wedding, but also to help pay.
She didn’t want to cause bother. She’d planned how polite and reasonable she’d be; how she’d accept a cup of tea offered in an already-imagined delicate floral cup sitting on a saucer. But as she looked about her and smoothed her pinstriped trousers that matched her navy jacket, her well-rehearsed scene died. She felt overdressed. In no rush to knock on the green door, she slowly undid her seatbelt, put her glasses in her bag and wondered if she’d made a mistake.
Nathaniel Stone, who talked about philosophy and music and literature as if he was master of all three, could surely not have been raised in a house like this. Now she was taking in the whole street, she realised that most of the houses looked shabby and neglected, like a mish-mash of odd socks, old worn ones that had lost their other half. There were more wheelie bins stranded on the pavement than there were flowers in the gardens.
From her bag, Camilla withdrew the short letter she’d eventually drawn from Nathan’s mother. She’d put it in her bag as she would a hospital appointment letter. She looked at it now to delay getting out of the car. It was almost three months old, dated 3rd April. It was articulate, written in careful handwriting on expensive paper. It was not the kind of letter that Camilla imagined could be produced from behind dirty windows and an ugly front door. Holding it down below window level, she checked the address and ran her eyes over the two paragraphs again. It read:
Dear Mrs Hamilton,
I appreciate your reasons for writing to me and I apologise for the delay in response. I’m sure Nathan has explained the family problems, which I hesitate to share with anyone outside the family. Seeing as it now looks as though the wedding will go ahead and our families will come together through marriage, I want to be clear that Nathan and his brother Daniel have chosen to remove themselves from our lives. We see them occasionally on their terms. As a mother, you’ll understand how hurtful and debilitating this feels. Without going into detail about the reasons for this rift from our point of view, which are lengthy and complex, I need only say that my husband and I have grown to accept the situation and move on with our own lives, given it was the only option.
I hope you’ll
accept our decision to be absent from the wedding in September. There are no bad wishes. We will be sending a gift, but we feel that our being there would dredge up the recent pain of ill-feeling, which is unfair to Naomi on her special day. Daniel is too unwell to attend in any case, so we will be on duty during the wedding weekend and honeymoon period. We’ll look after him if necessary. I hope this clarifies our position.
Regards,
Valerie Stone.
‘Clarifies?’ Camilla said out loud, putting the letter away, ‘it’s as clear as mud.’
Since the letter had dropped through the door, Valerie Stone’s words had done nothing but plague Camilla and confuse her on the position of Nathan’s parents. She couldn’t understand how they had no bad feelings, but were willing to miss their son’s wedding. How they wanted the best for Naomi – a girl they hadn’t taken the time to meet – on her special day, but they were willing to hurt her by shunning her. How they were willing to care for Daniel in Nathan’s absence, but were unwilling to visit him regularly when he had a serious illness. And how they were planning to send a gift, but had not offered to contribute a penny to the wedding. Something wasn’t right.
Having only ever heard Nathan’s side of the story, a side she had no faith in, she’d grown determined to hear about the other half of the Stone tale. It was more than an interest by now, it was a compulsion. There was something else. Having failed with Annabel in every possible way, Camilla had sympathy for Valerie Stone. It was all too easy to understand how quickly things got out of hand and pride strangled the life out of relationships. Valerie’s perspective would be different. And Camilla felt hopeful of unearthing the real Nathan Stone, if she could get to his roots. His attempts over several months to be more-than-reasonable and ever-so charming had made her more suspicious of him if anything. He wasn’t real.
Camilla opened the door and stepped onto the drab street. She put her bag carefully over her shoulder and made her way to number forty-four that had no number. There was no bell either. She took hold of the door knocker, tapped three times.
She heard heavy footsteps. She straightened and took a breath. A young man in a red football shirt and a bloated face, only twenties, answered the door and looked at her blankly.
‘Daniel?’ Camilla ventured, though he looked nothing like Nathan.
He frowned. ‘No.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m mistaken. I’m here to see Valerie if I may.’
He paused to gawp at her and shuffle his feet. ‘You’ve got the wrong house, I reckon.’
Camilla felt some relief. This man in front of her with his bulbous hairy belly showing beneath his shirt belonged here. Valerie Stone didn’t.
Camilla, not one to waste time, turned. ‘Sorry to have troubled you.’
<><><>
Lorie was passing Camilla’s bedroom later that day. She caught enough of one sentence to make her stop and listen hard.
‘Not a penny from them either. I’m telling you, Henry, something’s not right.’
‘You must have got the wrong house. I told you to take my car.’
Camilla raised her voice. ‘And I’ve told you I had the address in the woman’s own handwriting right in front of me. There was no mistake.’
Lorie’s heart almost stopped.
‘If Nathan’s brother is ill, maybe he just wasn’t responsive enough to understand what you wanted.’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Henry, ill or not, the lad must know his own name. I asked him if he was Daniel. He said not. He looked as much like Nathaniel as you do.’
A pause. ‘There’ll be some perfectly logical explanation.’
‘Well, I’d like to know what it is,’ Camilla shot back. ‘What’s been logical about any of this so far?’
Lorie had heard enough. She raced downstairs out of the way to dream up a way to make Henry’s words and not Camilla’s, make sense. Lorie’s first instinct was to contact Nathan. A problem shared, etcetera. But it wasn’t the right place to do it. She needed to call him with a solution, not a problem. And fast.
As the beginnings of a plan started to germinate, Lorie realised with a sinking feeling that she’d have to get directly involved. She didn’t see any another way. It would be risky. She thought of September when all of this would be a memory, when she’d leave work and Naomi would be gone and Nathan would be hers for a heavenly week away – a time they could really begin to plan a future. She felt calmer. It was a necessary risk.
25
Later that night, Lorie was alone in her flat staring at a dinner she’d pecked at and couldn’t eat. Nathan would be home by now. She abandoned her food and reached for her phone.
Two rings, Nathan’s voice, ‘Hey, gorgeous.’
‘We’ve got a problem.’
‘Go on.’
‘Camilla took a trip to see your mum today and met your mate, Dave.’
‘What?’ Much shriller than before. ‘Why?’
‘Because, reading between the lines and I didn’t hang around for many, she’s not convinced.’
‘The interfering old cow! What does she want?’
‘Money, for one thing.’
‘Hasn’t she got enough?’
‘Not the point. She obviously doesn’t buy the explanation we sent her about not going to the wedding. We’re going to have to up our game.’
‘Game’s over by the sound of it.’
‘No, it’s not. We just need to stay ahead. Find out exactly what Dave said to her. Hopefully nothing, I’ll take it from there.’
Nathan was silent a moment. ‘Are you saying I’ll have to tell my mum I’m getting married?’
‘No, you can’t do that. If your mum gets with Camilla, the game will be up in seconds. If your parents come, they’ll expect Dan to be there, which will blow the cover altogether. I never saw it getting this complex.’
Nathan panted. ‘So what’s the plan?’
‘I’m going to call Camilla from an old phone of mine. I’ll have to pose as your mum. Your job is to get some money.’
‘What? How?’
‘Any way you can. Borrow some off Dan, he has some savings.’
‘I already owe him five grand.’
‘He knows you can pay him back. Just get some money. I’ll have to offer them some. This phone call’s going to be make or break.’
‘When are you going to do it?’
‘Call Dave. Get back to me so I know what the damage is. I’ve got to do it now before I lose my nerve.’
<><><>
Lorie had heard Valerie Stone speaking to Nathan over the phone. She’d spent her first ten years in North Wales and retained a hint of a Welsh accent that had struck Lorie when she’d shared the earpiece of the phone with Nathan and listened to her. Lorie stood and practised Valerie’s accent out loud, in a tone that was higher pitched than her own. In case Valerie Stone and Camilla were ever to talk to each other in the future, it was best to be as authentic as possible. It had been a policy between Nathan and herself, to keep the lies simmering as close to the truth as possible. No false names. No obvious blunders. As she practised Valerie’s accent, she remembered that Nathan had mentioned his gran was ill – the one who lived in Florida with her second husband. His parents were thinking they might have to go over there. Perfect. She could use that.
She ranked this moment as she held the phone in her hand preparing to press the numbers, as the most important and the most nerve jangling of her life. She held her breath, trying to suspend time itself. When she let the air out slowly, time proceeded again.
‘Just do it,’ she told herself. ‘You know her better than her own husband.’
Ten seconds later, Camilla was on the other end of her phone and Lorie was due on stage and felt enough stage fright for the opening night at the West End. ‘Mrs Hamilton?’
‘Speaking?’
‘It’s Valerie Stone here. I hope you don’t mind me calling.’
A surprised moment of silence. ‘Not at all. It’s such a coin
cidence. I called round today at what I thought was your home and a young –’
‘You went to that dreadful house on Wentlock Street?’ Lorie said.
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘I’m sorry you wasted your time. We rented it temporarily. We’ve had extensive work done to the house starting with the roof, and had to move out for a few months. They told us the work would take six weeks then blamed the weather for the fact that it took them more like sixteen. Typical, I’m told.’
‘Nathan never explained that,’ Camilla said.
‘He’s not exactly in touch with things around here.’
‘Of course not.’
‘Look, I’m calling with an apology and an offer. We’ve agonised over our decision, Mrs Hamilton, but we’re sure we won’t be coming to the wedding. I realise how that must seem. Things might be different in the future, who’s to say, but for now, it’s settled.’
‘And what if –’
‘Sorry to interrupt, but nothing you can say will make a difference. I’ve discussed it with my husband so many times. You’ll understand this is difficult even to speak about?’
‘I do understand.’ Camilla hesitated. ‘Won’t you at least meet Naomi? It’s very important to her.’
Lorie stood up and started to pace the floor in search of the right words. ‘Yes, we intend to, but something’s come up, something urgent. My mother lives in the States and has been taken into hospital. They’re still doing tests, but my stepfather says it’s serious. We have a flight booked, one way. They need help with medical bills. We’ll stay out there as long as we can afford. I really can’t think beyond that at the moment.’
‘I understand,’ Camilla said again.
Lorie was stumped for a moment. She’d been expecting some polite disagreement, a mild battle at least, but Camilla was being her most reasonable self. ‘Thank you,’ Lorie said, to buy some time. ‘But we would like to help with the wedding financially. Please don’t tell Nathan, he might not approve. He has a thing about not accepting money from us. I have no amount in mind because I haven’t been involved in the arrangements, but I’m open to suggestions.’
Either Side of Midnight (The Midnight Saga Book 1) Page 31