Either Side of Midnight (The Midnight Saga Book 1)

by Tori de Clare

  ‘She was back in the garden straight after. Honestly, she’s fine. She just needs a bit of space to get over the shock. Annie will be fine too once she’s calmed down. She left a message this morning to say she’d arrived safely, which cheered Camilla up. Trust me, everything’s going to work out fine. I’ll smooth things over for you at this end.’

  Naomi breathed more easily.

  ‘Look,’ Lorie continued, ‘you can’t keep living your life to please other people.’

  ‘Meaning my mum.’

  ‘Exactly. Look, I love your mum, you know I do, but I’m going to give you some advice now. I’m speaking from experience with my mum and because I know yours so well.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Mums don’t know how or when to stop mothering. You’ve got to take the lead, OK? As long as you keep acting like your mum’s daughter, she’ll keep treating you like a child, like she has the right to make decisions for you.’

  ‘So what shall I do?’

  ‘What you want to do. No one can make that call but you, Naomi. You’re entitled to make decisions and have them respected. My humble opinion is that you should be celebrating about Nathan, not apologising for him. If I were you, I’d be showing my ring off. This has to be about you and Nathan, not you, Nathan and Camilla. Let me manage things here. I’ll make sure everything works out perfectly.’

  <><><>

  It had taken a few days for the bank to clear the cheque and arrange for Lorie to collect ten thousand pounds in cash, after which she handed it over to Nathan.

  Nathan parked the car alone, found his way out of the dim car park and deposited his used chewing gum in a metal bin that was dirtier than it was ugly. He walked briskly, head down, along a quiet Oxford Road. He passed Manchester University on his right. The music college was across the road a little further up. His fists were screwed up in two tights balls inside the pockets of his lightweight jacket. Naomi didn’t know he was going to be around. He didn’t want her to see him. She was not part of his agenda today.

  The weather had turned bitterly cold. Gusts of a vicious wind pushed icy fingers into Nathan’s back penetrating his thin jacket and, beneath it, his thinner shirt. He barely noticed, didn’t care. The object of his whole concentration lay straight ahead about twenty metres in the distance: a tank of a guy, Damien Carter, in his trademark grey jacket, propping up a lamppost, facing the opposite way. The height advantage Nathan had over him was levelled by Carter’s width.

  Nathan filled with loathing at the sight of him and clenched his fists more firmly, feeling the tension run the full length of his arms and into his shoulders. His teeth were crunched together. With parted lips, he breathed through his teeth, billowing out visible warm air that got lost to the cold; his eyes were focussed and narrowed. As he got closer, he released his right hand from his pocket. Exactly alongside, Nathan took hold of Carter’s trunk of an arm and swung him round and carried on walking. Carter, taken by surprise at first, jerked free, then cooperated and kept up pace.

  ‘Touch me again, I’ll knock you out,’ he snarled.

  Nathan, not wanting to push his luck, didn’t speak. They carried on walking in hostile silence.

  ‘You’d better be leading me to a bundle of cash,’ he added. ‘My instructions, if not, are to break your arms.’

  Nathan’s step faltered, but he covered it. He glanced to his side and straight into the guy’s dark eyes. They were small and glassy and dead. He looked like a shark and moved like he was king of his territory – top of the food chain. Nathan broke eye contact and said nothing.

  They reached a multi-storey car park. Nathan pulled ahead and led him out of daylight and into the still gloom of level zero. They waited for the lift without speaking. When the doors opened, Nathan stepped inside. The shark followed. They took the short ride to the fifth level. The only sound was the low hum of moving machinery. When the lift jerked to a stop and the doors opened, the shark floated out, swivelling his predatory eyes, covering every angle.

  When he was satisfied they were alone, he settled his eyes on Nathan. Nathan led him to his car parked close to the lift door, opened the boot and cast his eyes from left to right. Still alone. Nathan held out a small canvas rucksack.

  ‘Ten thousand in cash.’

  After a hesitation, shark guy said, ‘You owe twenty.’

  Nathan dumped the bag into the guy’s wide front. ‘I know exactly what I owe and I’ll pay with interest if he’ll give me more time. When I get married, I’ll give him another fifteen K. That’s a twenty-five per cent profit.’

  ‘Get real.’

  ‘I don’t have the rest,’ Nathan hissed, right in his face, a few spots of saliva showering him. ‘I’m out of options for now.’

  The shark wiped his face and glared, then squared up to Nathan. ‘Maybe I’ll just break one arm then. Left or right?’

  ‘Look –’

  ‘If I go back to Solomon with half his money, he’s going to come after you big time. And it won’t be my problem.’

  Nathan felt faint. He suppressed the panic and made sure it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’ll treble what I owe him. I’ll give him another thirty K if he’ll wait. No bank will give me a loan right now. Just stay away from Naomi Hamilton before my investment gets cold feet.’

  ‘You had to know we were serious.’

  ‘As if I didn’t know that. I’m getting the money together, but my fiancée is strictly off limits. If she walks, none of us will get paid.’

  ‘Not my problem.’ Carter took hold of Nathan’s right arm near the top and squeezed.

  Nathan’s palms were slippery. ‘Tell Solomon I’ll get his money as soon as I can get Naomi up the aisle, maybe before. Thirty grand.’ Carter looked as unimpressed as he was unconvinced. Nathan panicked. ‘Plus a car,’ he said off the top of his head.

  The dead eyes narrowed with mild interest, the thick eyebrows pulled low, the grip loosened a little. ‘What car?’

  ‘Rolls-Royce. Convertible. Top of the range. I’ll find a way. Just tell Solomon it will be worth his while to wait. Then we part company for good. No more ties.’

  ‘If I find out this Rolls doesn’t exist –’

  ‘I sat in it last week beside two other expensive cars. It exists.’

  He nodded his head economically. ‘I’ll pass the message on. No guarantees.’

  With that he released Nathan, turned, scanned the car park until Nathan relaxed, then turned back and bludgeoned his right fist into Nathan’s middle. Nathan doubled up in agony and fought for air. Carter, without a backward glance, disappeared through a door that had a diagram of a staircase above it.

  Nathan stumbled and collapsed against the car bonnet and waited until his breathing had steadied. He fell inside his car, shaking all over. When he’d recovered as much as he was going to, he dialled Naomi’s number. The answering service came on. Nathan forced a light unconcerned tone and left a message.

  ‘Hey, babe, it’s me. Just to let you know, I’ve seen your hoodie guy and we’ve had a few words. Turns out he thought you were someone else. You won’t be seeing him again so don’t worry, OK? Catch you later. Love you lots.’

  Nathan threw his phone onto the passenger seat and reached for his sunglasses to cover his eyes. Behind the shades, it was as dark as night. The engine roared to life at a flick of his wrist. Nathan clutched the steering wheel with both hands and watched the door where the predator had just disappeared. One hand caressed his stomach. ‘That’s right, just keep walking and don’t come back,’ he muttered. Nathan revved hard, reversed, then screeched away, relieved that for now, it was over.

  21

  Despite Lorie’s fighting words plus a steady stream of comforting comments from Nathan which got Naomi through a few uneasy days, by the end of that week when Camilla had still not called, Naomi was wondering if she’d stick to the usual arrangement of calling at six on Friday evening. Or maybe it was an attempt to convince herself that normal rules still applied and
that past routines would continue. It was Friday today.

  For once, she was anxious for six to come. She was anticipating the call with a strange intensity that was new to her. It felt more like suspense – the desperate kind of suspense that grows like a tumour throughout a period of waiting and half-hoping, half-dreading. Her patience had worn tissue thin. It wasn’t anger she felt, more abandonment and an increasing lack of identity. She needed a few words of assurance or acceptance from the only person who could give it, to the point where every text message or phone call that wasn’t from Camilla brought a surge of disappointment that burned a depleted supply of energy. It was Nathan’s weekend with Dan. Naomi had no plans beyond being available to take Camilla’s call – a call that had to, for sanity’s sake, come.

  For now, a dull morning was dragging its feet. Naomi was sitting in a History of Music lecture, a dot in a large cluster of first-year students scribbling notes. The lecturer was prowling the floor and talking animatedly about the harmony and disharmony of twentieth century music, with particular reference to Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and the stir it had caused at the debut performance in 1913. Naomi, claustrophobic in the dingy lecture studio, longed for daylight, fresh air and an end to the morning and a lecture she wished she’d never attended.

  Finding it impossible to listen to the lecturer above the din of her own thoughts, she saw him lunging for the piano to demonstrate sections of music, but barely heard it. It was as if the sound was drifting in from a faraway room through a door which was opening and closing.

  Surrounding pens and pencils scratched on paper. The girl to her left was doodling, drawing triangular shapes in the upper corners of her pad, with straight lines emanating from the triangles like rays from the sun. It took Naomi back to school days in South Africa where she’d drawn her infant pictures with a piece of the sun shoved always in one of the upper corners. It was always sunny in the memories of those long-ago days where life was carefree and uncomplicated.

  The vivid colours of her childhood withdrew. She returned to the stuffy windowless room and was certain she had to get out. Just plotting her escape improved her mood. She glanced at the aisle. Three people separated her from the steps that would lead her down and then out through the door to the lecturer’s right and into freedom. He was busy at the piano demonstrating the same repeated chord that apparently held every note of the scale of A flat minor – the famous Stravinsky chord which sounded like the backdrop to a horror film. It was her cue to leave.

  She shoved her stuff roughly inside her bag, attracting a few turned heads and half-interested glances. Embarrassed, but more determined to escape now she’d made a move, she stood and fed her way slowly and apologetically through legs and books and bags. Bobbing noiselessly down the steps brought a glorious sense of release. The long walk to the door led her finally to the exit and rewarded her with a view of a window and easy deep breathing. It was in the narrow corridor a few metres beyond the door that her muscles unlocked just as her name was called from behind.

  Naomi knew the voice well, but it only got as far as pulling her from a distant place as she swung round. Siobhan was walking towards her in no rush. Siobhan only had one walking speed, which never varied. It was a medium steady plod, in musical terms, andante. Naomi found herself waiting for Siobhan instead of Siobhan quickening her step to catch her. She’d hardly seen Siobhan since the party and Siobhan had only sent polite congratulations, via text, about the engagement. Maybe she was jealous, Naomi thought as Siobhan reached her, unsmiling, her stuff bunched up in one hand as if she’d gathered it in a rush. Naomi turned and carried on at Siobhan’s pace, which didn’t suit her mood.

  ‘Can we talk?’ Siobhan asked without making eye contact.

  Naomi made an effort to accommodate the fact that Siobhan was incapable of reading her. A more sensitive person would have taken one look and backed off. ‘Now?’

  ‘It’s a good a time as any.’ For you, maybe. ‘Want to grab a coffee?’

  Naomi didn’t admit that she didn’t. Instead, they switched course and went to the refectory, ordering two drinks and a small packet of biscuits to share. Naomi found the most solitary seats available in a well-used part of the college, and sat down in a comfy chair opposite an identical one beside a small table which was close enough to use at a stretch.

  Naomi glanced at her watch discreetly as Siobhan settled. The time was gradually being lured towards lunchtime. It was almost eleven.

  ‘So?’ Naomi said, keen to hurry things along.

  ‘You don’t look happy,’ Siobhan blurted out.

  ‘Of course I’m happy,’ Naomi countered automatically.

  Siobhan sighed and held her cup to her lips and blew without sipping. ‘I’ve something to say. It’s not going to be easy.’

  ‘OK,’ Naomi said, her interest slightly stirred, not necessarily in a good way. Her guard was still up.

  ‘I think you’re making a mistake.’

  Naomi felt her mouth open slightly. ‘I’m sorry?’ But she’d heard perfectly well.

  The question only invited Siobhan to repeat herself. ‘I think you’re making a mistake.’ It was said in the same monotone, only slightly slower.

  ‘With Nathan?’ Naomi automatically asked, sounding more calm and reasonable than she felt. Why had she asked another question when she felt like yelling at Siobhan that she’d already said too much? She could feel the bubbling onset of anger now.

  ‘Hear me out,’ she began, before crunching on an oat biscuit half covered in chocolate. The biscuit and the loss of time munching it, only added to Naomi’s growing sense of agitation as she waited for a discussion she didn’t want to have. Siobhan emptied her mouth, only to take another bite. ‘I have a confession to make.’

  ‘Do I look like a priest, Siobhan?’ Naomi asked, too sharply.

  Siobhan, a little shocked, sprayed some biscuit. ‘It’s just a phrase.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Naomi could feel her cheeks flushing.

  Siobhan put the remains of the biscuit down on the chair beside her and put her cup on the nearby table. ‘Look, I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’ve been thinking about it all this week, and I’ve decided I have to. It would be much easier for me to keep quiet and say nothing.’

  Naomi paused then decided to speak her mind. ‘Before you say anything else, can I ask you something?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Are you jealous of my relationship with Nathan?’

  Siobhan drew breath to reply quickly, then changed her mind. She crossed her arms, leant back in her seat and pouted sulkily at Naomi. ‘I suppose the answer is yes and no.’

  Naomi could feel herself scowling. ‘Yes, because?’

  ‘Because you’re one of the only friends I’ve ever had and because I didn’t want him spoiling things or changing you or taking you away from me.’ She couldn’t maintain eye contact and looked down. ‘And because I care a lot about you.’ Siobhan glanced up now and froze.

  Naomi found herself locked in a glare with Siobhan. It was the kind of conversation where the gloves were off. She didn’t consciously arrive at the next words, they just came out. ‘Are you attracted to me?’

  Siobhan’s eyes doubled in size. Her mouth fell open. Regret was pointless now the words were out and hanging between them.

  ‘If you mean do I fancy you – no, I do not.’ Siobhan sat up stiffly and looked round now as if she was conscious that someone might have overheard. Without a neck, Naomi wondered how she was managing to rotate her head. ‘How could you ask me that?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I misinterpreted what you meant,’ Naomi said, colouring from the neck up. She felt an immediate need to justify herself. ‘I’m just struggling to make sense of what you’re saying when you don’t know Nathan. I thought friends stuck together. It’s like you’re taking my mum’s side.’

  ‘I’m not taking sides. It’s because I’m your friend that I’m telling you this. After that, you can do what you like with it. It’s not like I
can stop you.’

  Naomi was hating this conversation. Hating, hating it. She resisted the impulse to stand and run. All week she’d been bracing herself for an epic battle with Camilla, and seeing as it had seemed unavoidable, she’d dreaded and wanted it in equal measures. But she was unprepared for a full-on dress rehearsal with Siobhan, and wasn’t willing to risk hurting or insulting her any more either.

  ‘I’m not following,’ was the best she could manage between clenched teeth.

  Siobhan lifted her cup again and sipped. ‘Like I said, I have a confession,’ she said. Naomi could find nothing in response. She’d reached a point of resignation. She picked up her drink to give her something to do. Her hands trembled with fury. ‘I was in your piano room when Nathan came in with Annabel.’

  Naomi frowned over the top of her cup. This was unexpected. ‘What? Why?’

  ‘They didn’t know I was there. I’d gone to the loo after dinner and seen your piano through an open door. It was curiosity that took me inside. I just wanted to look at your music room, your sacred place where it all happens, so to speak. I don’t know why. No reason.’

  Naomi placed her drink down and tucked her hands beneath her legs to warm them and stop them from shaking. Her back was aching through tension. So was her head. ‘And?’

  ‘And I recognised Nathan’s voice outside the room. I didn’t want him to catch me being nosy, so I panicked and ducked behind the closed curtains behind me.’ She stopped to recall details and insert her nails inside each other. While Naomi waited, her engagement ring dug into her leg. ‘The first thing I heard him say when the door closed, was, “It’s good to get away from the crowds.” I was sure he must be with you. I was about to step out and own up to the fact that I was there until Annabel giggled and said, “It’s always quiet in here except when Naomi’s home. No one ever comes in. What can I do for you?” I was standing there, frozen, so I was, trying not to breathe too loudly. I was sure one of them would hear me. I could hear Annabel’s heels as she walked. They came to the piano, right near me. Someone played a few notes.’