‘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 lunch 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.’
‘I know Chethams,’ Nathan said. ‘Isn’t it a boarding school?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you have your own room?’
‘No. Dormitories. Only the oldest kids get single rooms. I stuck it out for another two years until I was sixteen. I learned loads about music and got my GCSEs, but I didn’t like it there.’
‘Why?’
‘Chets is quite strict – a regime almost. The Practise Gestapo patrol the corridors to make sure you’re on your instrument. It didn’t suit me, working like that. I didn’t stay for sixth form. I went back to home tutors and joined the Junior Royal Northern. I went there every Saturday until I got a place this year.’
‘Sounds lonely.’
Naomi sighed, overwhelmed for a moment. ‘It was, but my nanny I’d had from being twelve still worked at the house. She became my closest friend, still is. She’s only seven years older than me. When I didn’t need looking after anymore, she became my mum’s PA really. The house is too big for my mum to manage by herself. The garden is huge and my mum grows fruit and veg and supplies a few local businesses. It’s her hobby, her passion. She’s always in the garden. Then we have one cleaner, Denise, who comes in for a few hours a week.’
‘Sounds like a mansion.’
‘It’s pretty big. Two staircases, five bedrooms, four with en-suite.’
Nathan was impressed and shocked again. ‘Five, with only two kids?’
‘Well my ex-nanny used to live in, but she has her own flat now. She still has a room with us and stays sometimes. Thing is, my dad won’t move. He doesn’t like change and my mum can’t really force the issue after dragging him back from Jo’burg, so the compromise is paying Lorie to help manage the place.’
‘Lorie?’
Naomi managed a genuine smile as she thought of her. ‘My ex-nanny and best friend, Lorie Taylor. She’s virtually one of the family. Even my mum loves her.’
‘Your mum sounds scary.’
The same waitress was standing by the table holding two square dinner plates. They’d been so deep in conversation, they hadn’t seen her coming. The delicious smell of lamb made Naomi’s mouth fill with juices. The meal wasn’t huge, but it was artistically arranged. She studied it a moment.
‘Enjoy your meal,’ the waitress said.
‘This looks amazing,’ Naomi said, trying to inject her voice with some enthusiasm, desperately hoping she wasn’t scaring him off.
‘Tuck in,’ Nathan said, picking up his cutlery and gathering a forkful of food. Naomi did the same and got a burst of incredible flavours. ‘So how many hours a day do you practise the piano?’
Naomi, sure she must be boring him by now, was determined to change the subject. ‘It varies. I suppose about five.’
‘Five?’ Nathan came back quickly.
‘It’s not that much.’ Naomi dropped her head again, overwhelmed by general feelings of failure that overtook her so easily. In an attempt to shake them off, she said, more upbeat, ‘Your turn.’
Nathan continued to eat. He shook his head the way Naomi had as if he had nothing to tell. ‘What do you want to know?’
She wanted to know everything, anything. Actually, there was something specific. ‘You can start by telling why you talked to me in that bar three weeks ago, then didn’t ask for my number.’
Her comment brought a half smile. ‘However much of a cliché this sounds, I was incredibly attracted to you on first sight,’ he said bluntly, emptying his mouth. Naomi, feeling an impulse to break into the hallelujah chorus, smothered a smile with a mouthful of food.
‘You were?’ she fished.
‘Absolutely. And I didn’t ask for your number for complex reasons, but mainly because of the age difference. I’m twenty-five. When I realised you were only eighteen I thought I’d better leave you to mix with people the same age.’ Nathan paused to sip his drink and grind some pepper onto his meat. ‘I know what it’s like being a first-year student. It’s important to bond with the others. I didn’t want to intrude, plus I didn’t know if you were attached.’
‘But you came looking for me,’ she said. The joy was definitely surging back in a rush.
‘Couldn’t stay away. You got inside my head that night and wouldn’t leave. I admit I didn’t do a very good job of trying to kick you out. Selfish or not, I had to see you again. I never expected to find you at the Royal Northern.’ He paused to narrow his eyes.
‘I’m dying to hear you play.’
‘I’m not that good.’
‘Oh sure.’
There was a comfortable silence for a few moments while they ate. Naomi chewed happily on a tender piece of lamb. I’m dying to hear you play could only mean that Nathan intended to see her again. He already knew she hadn’t stuck it out in a normal school and he wasn’t running. He’d seen Annabel and he wasn’t talking about her. He’d heard a bit about Camilla and he wasn’t sweating.
With her mind on what she’d play for him and her stomach already fluttering with the anticipation, she asked, ‘What kind of music are you into?’
‘Loads of things,’ he said, swallowing quickly and washing it down with a drink. ‘I even like some classical stuff. Otherwise, Paramore, Muse, early Radiohead.’
‘Some classical stuff, hey?’ She suspected he’d said it just to make her feel better.
‘Yeah, it’s got to be epic, like Beethoven or Mahler or Tchaikovsky. I can take or leave the soft soppy stuff. I hate Chopin – all those twiddly bits and fairy runs.’
Naomi laughed.
‘Something funny?’ Nathan asked, smiling.
Naomi smiled right back. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘I basically like to hear a full orchestra play on full throttle, not just one section of it while everyone else chills for ten minutes. That bores me.’
Naomi sipped her drink. ‘Well, I’m very impressed.’
‘I’m impressed by you too,’ he said right back. She looked at him, unable to fathom why. He must have read it in her expression. ‘It took real guts to go to uni with all that history behind you. Most people would have bottled it. I reckon if you can get over all that, you can do anything.’
‘You think?’
‘I know.’ He held her eyes for a long and happy moment. ‘I think you’re amazing.’
<><><>
It was getting on for eleven-thirty that night when Nathan pulled into the dead car park behind the college. He killed the engine and gave her a look loaded with promise, but he didn’t make a move. He had hold of the steering wheel in one hand.
‘I’m going to walk you to the door.’
Naomi was keenly aware of the quiet car, the darkness, the full moon that beamed without restraint in a clear sky sprinkled with stars, Nathan’s closeness. ‘OK,’ she said, feeling giddy, almost lightheaded. She released her belt, collected her bag, stepped carefully out of the car.
Nathan was already on her side when she straightened up. There was no time for awkwardness. As soon as she’d closed the door, he took her neck in his strong hands and weaved his fingers into her hair and leaned in. His lips connected with hers, lightly brushing them at first, pulling away, returning. Her chin tilted up. His lips were cool, but his mouth was warm as their bodies shoved closer together, arms tightening around each other, the connection deepening.
It went on and on, and ended too quickly. They started walking eventually, arm in arm, chatting between kisses, making slow progress. Near the reception door, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her again. She lost awareness of everything else.
Her eyes were still sealed when he leant his forehead against hers and announced that he was leaving. It brought her round. She could feel him breathing against her and was aware of his lean body, his smell, the pressure of his hands on her lower back. She felt her hair stirring from a mild wind and heard the passing traffic now and the students returning to their rooms in small noisy groups. She could have happily frozen that moment and savoured it for a very long time. She mustn’t cling to him.
‘OK.’
‘How many boyfriends have you had?’ he asked, still glued to her.
She opened her eyes and focussed on his. ‘With my history, are you kidding?’
He waited, expression serious. ‘No.’
‘Just one.’
‘One,’ he repeated. ‘Where did you meet him?’
‘Chets. He played the viola.’
‘Viola?’
‘A big violin.’
‘Does it bother you that I’m not some gifted prodigy like everyone else you seem to know?’
Naomi grinned. ‘Absolutely not. None of them are as easy to talk to as you. And some of them are pretty weird. Plus I do have other interests.’
‘Do they include picking strange men up in bars?’
‘They do now.’
The eye contact was close and intense and electrifying. She hoped he couldn’t feel her pulse. ‘I’m not good at sharing, Naomi, not when it comes to relationships.’ He wasn’t smiling anymore.
‘Me neither.’
Now he smiled, or at least his eyes did. ‘Good. Does this mean we’re an item then? I’ll be honest, I’m past loose relationships. If I’m with someone, then I’m with them. And I want to be with you.’
‘I’m all yours.’
‘I’m older than you. Are you sure you’re ready for this?’
‘Definitely,’ she whispered.
His eyelids dropped and his head fell to one side. He kissed her again and the magic took over and possessed her. When he pulled back, the surroundings returned. ‘I won’t get in the way of friends or music, I promise.’ His arm was leaning against the wall above her head. His other hand was holding her to him. ‘So were you in love with this guy or what? What was his name?’
‘Tom Butterworth.’
‘Tom Butterworth,’ he repeated, digesting it.
‘And, no.’
‘No?’
‘I realise after tonight that I wasn’t in love with him. Anyway, he let me down quite badly.’
His eyebrows sunk to a crease in the middle. ‘How?’
She hesitated. ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’
A short pause. ‘Sounds like you’re still hurt. Are you over him?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Now I’m confused,’ Nathan said. ‘Are we going to have secrets?’
She hesitated again. ‘I’ll tell you about him when I’m ready, OK?’ He nodded carefully. ‘I thought you were leaving,’ she said, playfully, watching his mouth, hoping to invite him back to her lips to perform his tricks again.
He accepted and leant forward. ‘Believe it or not,’ he said against her lips, causing light vibrations. ‘I am trying to.’
<><><>
Naomi struggled to get into the building that night. Connecting her swipe card in her shaky hand with the narrow slot, took real effort. For the first time in a month, she took the stairs to burn some energy. On the way up, she found Lorie’s number and dialled, hoping she wouldn’t be in bed. She was desperate to tell someone and release some feelings. Annabel would be second choice.
Lorie was awake, just. ‘What’s up Naomi?’ she said, sleepily. Naomi heard her TV volume turn down.
‘Lorie, I’ve met someone.’
Lorie yelled down the phone. Naomi held it away from her ear and grinned like a clown.
‘Where? Who? Why are you out of breath?’
‘I’m climbing twelve flights of stairs to my room. He’s just dropped me off now. I can’t keep still.’
‘Someone from college? Why haven’t you mentioned him?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Naomi said, not sorry at all. ‘I met him randomly in a bar three weeks ago. I never expected to see him again. He took me out for dinner.’ She groaned. ‘He’s soooo gorgeous.’
Lorie screamed again. ‘I’m so excited. Is he a student then?’
‘No. He’s twenty-five.’
‘Twenty-five! Your mum would have a fit.’
‘So don’t tell her.’
‘Obviously. What does he do?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Where does he live?’
‘I never asked.’
‘Naomi!’ Lorie chided in an exaggerated voice, the way she did when she sometimes slipped into her nanny role. Naomi laughed into her phone. ‘Did you actually find anything out?’
‘He’s called Nathan and he’s got the sexiest lips on the plan
et. And he has to be the world’s best kisser. What else is there to know?’
After they’d both laughed a while, Lorie said, ‘I’ve met someone too.’
‘Who?’
‘His name is Simon Wilde.’
‘Does he live up to his name?’ Naomi giggled.
‘Definitely not. He’s an accountant. Your dad will love him,’ Lorie said. ‘But let’s talk about him another time, it’s your night. Naomi?’
‘You’ve got your nanny voice on again.’
‘I don’t care, just listen to me. After everything you’ve been through, no one deserves this more than you. Don’t let Tom Butterworth affect your confidence for ever, OK? Not all guys are like him. I don’t want to hear any of this I-don’t-deserve-to-be-happy rubbish. As long as this guy treats you well, you cling on to him, OK? I’m so pleased for you.’
8
Sydney the spider had gone walkabout when Naomi woke up the following morning to the sound of Madeline’s clarinet next door. The constant sound of music echoed round the whole place and Naomi floated in it this morning. She lay, just listening. Madeline was playing the slow movement from Mozart’s Concerto in A, and beautifully. Naomi hummed along, stretching like a cat.
She turned over in bed and scanned the room for Sydney. No sign. Her battered upright piano was cluttered with music and pencils and an old metronome that sat on top without its lid beside a can of hairspray. Her outfit from the night before hung over the chair that doubled as her piano stool. Shoes and books were scattered. The contents of her makeup bag littered the desk. A sack of dirty washing overflowed beneath it, covering her hair dryer.
None of it mattered. From head to toe, she tingled. As she yawned and smiled at her ceiling, details of the previous evening rushed back. It had taken her most of the night to find shallow sleep, and the remainder of it had only recaptured Nathan in vivid images.
Naomi imagined Camilla rigidly following her weekend routine at home, a place Naomi yearned for and thought about less and less. Camilla would not approve of this room or the mess it had become. She’d wince at the toothpaste marks on the sink and the screwed-up towels on the bathroom floor surrounded by bare toilet roll tubes. And if she knew that her sensible, shy Naomi had spent an evening with a twenty-five-year-old man, she’d flip.
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