The front door had an unclosed heavy curtain beside it on a black rail. Naomi, desperate to leave, weighed up the door. It was bolted at the top. Unwilling to risk the noise of moving the bolt, she tiptoed into the kitchen to look for keys and a way out of the back. There was nothing on the table but the bowl of fake fruit. She scanned the kitchen surfaces for keys, a phone, anything useful. Again, nothing.
She headed for the back door. There was a single key in the lock. The sight of it brought a surge of energy. Naomi took hold of the key and slowly turned it anti-clockwise. After a click, she held still and looked over her shoulder. Nothing had changed. Dan wasn’t following. Only now did it occur to her that her feet were bare. She hesitated, mind divided. She knew where she’d seen shoes – in the small pantry on the other side of the kitchen. Was it worth diverting for them? She stiffened for a couple of seconds, cursing her inaction, simultaneously picturing the sodden fields after a night of endless rain. She needed shoes. She flew to the pantry door, opened it, found the shoes stacked up in the corner. They were too big. They were also the only option.
Naomi picked them up and returned to the back door, shaking with the need to leave. She took hold of the door handle and took pains over slowly opening it. A breath of fresh morning air invited her out. She inhaled deeply. The birds were chattering in the trees. Every second she took over carefully closing the door, she expected Dan to appear and seize her again and lock her in the bedroom. She couldn’t go back to the chains. She wouldn’t.
Beyond the back door, four rows of big square flagstones were laid across the full width of the house. An ornate cast iron table and two chairs sat on them to the right of the door. Beyond that, a step led to a crazy-paved path edged with bedding plants, which ran the length of the garden. Part of this path had been in her view from the window and was painted in vivid colours in her memory.
Naomi could see the familiar wooden gate at the end of the garden. Holding the shoes in one hand, and not wanting to wear them until she was clear of the path, she raced for the garden gate and went through it.
Another look back assured her that Dan wasn’t following. Hands trembling, she shoved on the shoes. She was wearing the jeans and the zip up fleece top. It was a damp, chilly morning. The evidence of a deluge of rainfall was everywhere. Beyond the garden, Naomi plunged into the wet field and began to hurry away from the house as quickly as she could. Her shoes were being sucked into mud. There was a swollen stream to her right.
She pictured a pretty village behind the distant hill, with low stone walls, a couple of shops, a pub and a few houses. She’d make it to the newsagent. With luck, it would be open already. She’d tumble inside a cosy little shop with a friendly shopkeeper who knew all the locals. She’d make herself known and borrow a phone and call home. The only number Nathan had was his mobile. She’d never memorised it.
Lines of possible conversations were ringing in her head as she avoided the swamps and tried to keep moving quickly. Slicing into her plans and her peace was a faraway yell that stopped her heart.
‘Naomi.’ Then more forcefully. ‘Naomi.’
She glanced behind. In the distance, Dan was charging down the garden and simultaneously climbing into his shoes. Naomi sped up. The shoes were loose. Now she was being less careful, cold mud was sloshing inside her shoes.
Stay upright. Don’t slip. She hurried on, the air lifting her hair. It carried the promise of distant farms and drew more pictures in her head. She’d settle for any destination that was away from Dan and the cottage and the bed with seven scored lines in the leg.
The sky sat low and overcast; the hidden sun seemed impossibly distant. The field was loosely wrapped in a carpet of mist, so vision ahead was limited. As long as the house was directly behind her, she knew she was heading in the right direction.
She threw another glance over her shoulder to check the position of the house. Dan was gaining ground. Her concentration faltered. Naomi twisted her ankle and fell. Panic was a powerful anaesthetic. The pain was delayed, but came after she rose quickly and charged on, yelping every few steps.
‘Naomi. Stop. No,’ Dan yelled.
The cottage was invisible behind her now. Suddenly, the mist rolled back enough for her to see the outline of a building. The thought of the end of the chase made her realise she was breathless and aching. Dan’s voice was becoming clearer.
‘Naomi, stop,’ Dan was screaming.
Naomi wouldn’t. She wanted the world to know that despite a dead week, she was alive. The building was taking shape, details of the brickwork emerging. Her legs were feeling the strain of running up a steady slope. Adrenaline pushed her to the top. Dan was only a few metres behind. The stone building was right in front. Beyond that, there was a sleepy road and a row of cottages on the other side of it just as she’d imagined. A few parked cars lined the little street. There was a red phone box on Naomi’s side and a post box opposite. Her chest expanded with the joy of seeing simple things she’d never cared about.
Naomi sprinted down the slope and to the front of the stone building. It wasn’t a shop, but a double-fronted house. Dan was right behind her, unwilling to yell. She found the shop across the road, on the end of the row. She darted across the road, praying the shop was open.
Dan was ten metres behind.
‘Naomi,’ he hissed. ‘No. Please. Stop.’
Naomi ignored him and lunged for the shop door and threw herself inside. She was panting heavily into a warm empty room.
She stood, trembling, expecting Dan to burst through the door breathing his threats. He didn’t. A voice called from a back room. ‘With you in a minute.’
A tall fridge to Naomi’s left held dairy products and cans and bottles of drink. To her right, the whole wall was littered with newspapers and magazines. She stared at the colourful prints and the bold black words on the front covers and the blood drained from her head. She managed two faltering steps forward and seized up. Nathan was looking at her from the front cover of a national newspaper beneath a headline she could not accept. She heard the bell signal the opening of the door behind her. Dan was entering the shop cautiously. His features were fading. She had no strength to run. The room was losing colour and definition, closing in. Dan lunged to catch her just as the shop, like a candle, blew out.
<><><>
It was the day after the party. Nathan woke up to the sound of his phone in his luxuriously comfortable double bed. He looked around the bland bedroom of his flat and looked forward to a day when life would be less of a struggle. He had ambitions far beyond this pokey flat. He picked up his phone. The date said: Sunday, twenty-third of October. It was nearly nine O’clock. It was Naomi’s birthday. A text message from Naomi was staring at him. He opened it. It said: ‘So sorry about last night. Sorry for not telling you about Tom and Annabel. Sorry about Annabel and my mum. I’m dying with embarrassment. Annie left early without saying goodbye. It’s times like these when I’m glad I won’t be a Hamilton for much longer. Can you forgive me?’
Nathan smiled and replied: ‘It’s your birthday, remember? Happy birthday! Don’t apologise. None of it was your fault. I’m glad you won’t be a Hamilton for much longer either. I’ll be round to collect you soon. Where are you now?’
Within a few seconds, a reply had come back. ‘I’m still in my room. Haven’t dared venture downstairs yet.’
Tired of texting, Nathan dialled. She answered. Nathan said, ‘Hey babe. Can you talk?’
‘I’m locked in my en suite bathroom, about to take a shower. It’s weird being back in this house. It’s been ages since I slept here.’
‘You looked hot in that dress last night.’
‘I wore it for you.’
Nathan smiled into his phone and settled back in bed, one arm behind his head. ‘I know you did because you knew I’d be struggling to take my eyes off you and concentrate on anyone else.’
‘So it worked?’ Nathan could hear the smile in her voice too.
‘How
could it not?’ he said.
‘I love the ring. I really really love it.’
‘Good,’ Nathan said, thinking it was time he got up and showered too. ‘I can’t wait to go on honeymoon. Where would you like to go?’
‘I don’t care as long as we’re together. I’m thinking hot and exotic. I’m thinking villa, close to the sea, with private beach. White sands. I’m thinking no phones or interruptions for at least a week. Are you picturing this?’
‘Very clearly,’ Nathan said. ‘How soon can we go?’
‘Patience, Nathan. It needs careful planning. It’s going to take time. It’ll be a church wedding. Churches are booked for months ahead. Then there’s the reception. Loads to organise.’
Nathan crossed his legs. ‘You’re boring me with details. I want a small wedding. As few people as possible. All I really want is to be on that beach with you.’
‘Me too. What about Dan though? Will he be a problem?’
‘No. I’ll talk to Dan, maybe include him in our plans somehow. He always listens to me. Look, got to go. I’m due at the house soon to pick Naomi up. Will you still be there?’
‘Of course.’ Lorie grinned to the empty room and turned on the shower and slipped out of her robe. ‘If you touch her before the wedding, I swear I’ll kill you.’
Nathan laughed. ‘You’re so sexy when you’re jealous. Same rules for Simple Simon.’
‘Simon bores me rigid but he’s insurance to keep you on your toes. I’ll dump him before the wedding if I can stomach him that long.’
Nathan stood up and opened the curtains. ‘You’d better.’
‘I have to say,’ Lorie said, ‘mentioning the cost of the piano was genius.’
‘Not as genius as booking Tom Butterworth. How did you manage it?’
‘Camilla booked him,’ Lorie said. ‘All I did was provide the phone numbers. I rang round until I’d got his quartet, then I gave Camilla four numbers, only one was still open for booking.’
‘You’re incredible. You know that?’
‘Yes, but I still think the piano bombshell topped Tom. It’ll blow them apart for ages. Annie’s stubborn. She won’t back down easily.’
‘Good, then the coast is clear to plan the wedding with her out of the picture.’
‘Correct. Henry loves you, by the way. Camilla’s furious about it.’
Nathan laughed. ‘Result. With the family at war, Naomi can’t wait to get out of it. This is going to be simple.’
‘Don’t relax,’ Lorie said. ‘I’ve got rid of the cleaner, Denise. She was getting too familiar with Camilla. The new one is nice, but dim. Don’t underestimate Camilla, she’s sharp. I think it’s time you infuriated her by apologising. Do it publicly and sincerely then she can’t tell you where to stick it. It’ll weaken her case with Henry that you’re the devil incarnate.’
‘Fine. I’m going to take a quick shower then I’ll be round. Maybe I’ll pick up some flowers on the way.’
‘Good move. No cheap supermarket stuff. She likes roses. White. Open, but not fully. No less than a dozen. Have some foliage added.’
‘I’ll have them professionally arranged and finished with ribbon.’
‘Perfect.’
A short pause. ‘By the way, Naomi’s been threatened. I’ll have to produce some money.’
‘Wish I could help, but I’m as broke as you are.’
‘Not for much longer. Have you asked Henry about the loan?’
Lorie’s voice came back at its lowest pitch. With the shower pelting behind her, she could only just hear Nathan. ‘I’m going to speak to him when I’m showered and dressed.’
‘Do it before I arrive. I need that money, yesterday.’
‘I daren’t ask for more than ten.’
‘That’s only half.’
‘Best I can do. Wish me luck.’
Nathan stood up and walked to the window, looking out on a dull morning that didn’t dampen his mood. ‘You don’t need it.’
He switched off the phone and headed for the cramped bathroom in the flat. As he passed the second bedroom, he rapped sharply on the door. ‘Hey, Dan, you awake? Congratulate me, why don’t you. I’m officially engaged.’
<><><>
Naomi couldn’t remember much of the walk back to the cottage, but she did remember, as Dan steered her through the back door, that being back there brought relief. It fulfilled an immediate need to sit down and settle the sickness in her stomach.
There were two brown leather sofas in the small sitting room. They formed a ninety degree angle with just enough of a gap to walk between. Naomi was slouched on one in a trance; Dan sat on the other. She was staring at the open fireplace, eyes blurred into logs and surrounding cream tiles and wood frame. She felt like she’d shrunk inside a little corner of herself and that the outside had hardened into an unresponsive shell. Her eyes weren’t taking in information except in blurred pictures. Her head was firing the image that had capsized her world. She was still seeing Nathan’s tear-stained face with a turquoise ocean behind him that had apparently just claimed his young wife’s life. The headline said, Bride Lost in Paradise. There had been a tiny picture in a black square in the far right corner, of Naomi in her wedding dress with Nathan.
Naomi hadn’t realised that Dan had left the room until he returned and dropped down next to her and heaved a loud sigh. He was holding a black mug that smelled of tea. She looked down at it robotically. That it looked very milky was her only thought.
‘Drink this,’ Dan said. ‘It will help with the shock.’
Naomi took the mug and clasped it between two hands, barely feeling the weight or substance of it. With Dan watching her closely, she obediently sipped. It was too sweet and luke warm. Dan said nothing until she’d finished drinking and he’d taken the cup off her and put it on the floor.
‘We were lucky you weren’t seen at the shop,’ he said. Naomi didn’t answer. Dan held on to a few seconds of silence before he said, ‘Naomi, I’m really sorry.’
Naomi resumed her intense study of the fireplace. Her right hand held on to her left, but she was strangely numb. ‘Are you schizophrenic, Dan?’
‘Is that what he told you?’ She heard Dan shift a little in his seat. ‘My medication is for asthma. Nathan’s the only sick one of the two of us.’
‘So you never scared Lucy away?’ Her voice was unreasonably calm.
‘Who the hell is Lucy?’
Naomi dried up for a few seconds until a gut-wrenching pain bowled into her from nowhere. ‘Why?’ Naomi suddenly exploded, shifting her gaze out of the window. ‘Why?’
Dan didn’t speak. The peaceful countryside, disconnected from the atrocity, held no answers either.
‘Did he have any feelings for me . . . at all?’
‘He isn’t capable,’ Dan said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘None of it was real?’
‘It’s not your fault. You never stood a chance.’
Naomi glared at Dan now. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Dan’s eyes were moist. He wiped them. ‘You were set up from the start. You were as good as married before you ever stepped foot in that hotel the night you met him.’
Vivid scenes and feelings from that evening flooded back. Siobhan’s freckled arms, a walk to the toilet with the magical sound of Gershwin, her chance meeting with Nathan in his crisp shirt with the black cuff links, the hope that he’d talk to her and leave some droplet of information about himself. As good as married. The words got stuck. Naomi found herself focussing on Dan’s eyes again. They were unblinking. A vivid blue with pale hazel flecks.
‘I’d never seen Nathan before that night.’
Dan shook his head. ‘He knew you’d be there. He knew you’d use the toilet eventually. And if you hadn’t, he’d have found you anyway. He knew everything about you before you said a word. He knew about your parents, your sister, your cat, your course, your past, and your future. He even researched classical music. You were set up to meet your drea
m guy and like I said, you didn’t stand a chance.’
Naomi’s head jolted back a few centimetres. ‘Who told him?’
Dan’s head dropped. ‘Think about it. Who knows your family so well she’s virtually part of it? Who else could it be?’
‘Lorie?’ she barely managed any sound. ‘No. Why would she do that?’
Dan covered his eyes with one hand. ‘They’ve been together since before you met Nathan.’
Naomi seemed to crystalize, then shatter into tiny shards. When she’d gathered a few pieces of herself, she stood up just to see if she could. She tested the movement of her legs and stumbled to the window and put her hands on the narrow sill for support. Dan must have followed because she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. ‘Get your hands off me.’ She lashed out and connected with his face behind her.
Naomi stared out of the window at a green world with a grey topping. Beyond that she saw no details. ‘Naomi, I’m sorry, OK?’ Dan raised his voice. ‘I’ve protected you for a week, but now you have to know the truth. It’s time.’
Naomi spun round wildly and yelled in his face. ‘Protected me? You chained me up for seven days. You’re nothing but a sick pervert.’
‘I had to chain you up.’ Dan was holding his face on one side. ‘You had to believe I was dangerous and could hurt you. I was only protecting you. I didn’t want you seeing my face, because I knew you’d be reminded of him.’
‘Nothing you say makes any sense.’
‘When the guy came round, why didn’t you scream for help?’
Through a film of tears, Naomi shouted, ‘Because I thought you’d hurt him if I did. I was scared, Dan.’
‘Exactly,’ Dan matched her tone. ‘And because of that, you’re still alive and no one’s seen you.’ He paused. ‘I was scared too.’
‘You? You tortured me by leaving me alone with nothing to do.’
‘Entertaining you wasn’t on the agenda, Naomi,’ Dan yelled. ‘I was distracted with the more pressing job of saving your life. Believe it or not, watching you suffer was too much for me. I couldn’t hack it. All my instincts were screaming at me to help you. To hold you.’
Either Side of Midnight Page 24