Beyond the Sea: A Modern Gothic Romance Page 10

  He held up three fingers. “No more than three.”

  I blew out a breath, eyeing him suspiciously before looking around. “First question, what language have you been speaking?”

  “Polish,” he answered simply.

  “Oh,” I said, feeling stupid that I hadn’t recognised it. There were a few Polish girls in my classes at school. “What is this place?” I asked next.

  “It’s a private club,” Noah said. “You have to be a member to get in.”

  I leaned close now. Perhaps a little too close. Our mouths were only inches apart. “Why Aleksy and not …” I trailed off, lowering my voice substantially, “Noah.”

  He shrugged. “They trust their own people more.” My expression must’ve shown I wasn’t satisfied with that answer. I folded my arms. Noah sighed. “It also means my employers don’t delve into my background.”

  This gave me pause. “What’s in your background?”

  His gaze lowered to my cross pendant before returning to my face. “Sin.”

  My heart skipped a beat as I drew back. “What kind of sin?”

  Noah straightened to his full height. “I said three questions, Estella, and you’ve already asked four.” I was about to argue with him, but a man at the other end of the bar gestured for his attention.

  My mind reeled as he went to serve him. Just like always, I had ten more questions for every one he answered. A little while later, the club cleared out and just the few men playing poker remained. Noah was wiping down the bar when the man named Tomasz asked, “Want to play, Aleksy?”

  “Sure,” Noah answered, finishing up and motioning for me to follow. He took the last spare seat at the table. Despite my unease, I stood close behind him. Better the devil you know and all that. I tried to be as invisible as possible, but unfortunately, it didn’t work.

  “You usually come alone. Who’s your friend?” Tomasz questioned.

  Noah flicked me a cursory glance. “Her name is Estella.” He didn’t give any further explanation. Tomasz eyed me up and down, and I didn’t like the lascivious gleam in his eyes. I moved a little closer to Noah, my elbow brushing his shoulder. His gaze met mine, and he must’ve sensed my discomfort because he reached out and took my hand. Before I knew what was happening, he pulled me down. Awareness encapsulated my entire body as my backside met Noah’s lap, and I sat perched on him. Tomasz chuckled, like he was telling himself a private joke.

  I sucked in a breath when one of Noah’s hands came to rest just above my knee, the other holding the cards he’d just been dealt.

  “These chairs are new,” Noah commented, still in that fake accent that made me swoon despite my best efforts not to. “Where did you get them?”

  “One of the girls brought them in. Ask Linda,” Tomasz replied, disinterested.

  “They look like Hans Wegner’s,” Noah went on, eyeing the chair of the man sitting next to him.

  “Hans who?” the man snorted, giving Noah some side eye.

  Noah shot him a look that said he thought he was an uncultured oaf, which was slightly hilarious since Noah hardly gave off “cultured” vibes himself. He gave off “stab you in the gut at the end of a dark alley” vibes. So why do you keep spending time with him? A logical voice in my head asked. I had no answer.

  “Hans Wegner was a Danish furniture designer. The chair you’re sitting on is a replica of his 1949 Wishbone design. It’s one of my favourites.”

  “I didn’t realise you were so crazy about chairs, Aleksy,” Tomasz said with a wry chuckle.

  “I am. 20th Century Designs are a particular interest of mine.”

  “Any money in that?” another man asked. This one wore a peaked cap that cast part of his face in shadow. All I could make out were a pair of thin, cruel lips.

  “Some,” Noah answered. “If you know what you’re looking at.”

  Tomasz sat back, eyeing him somewhat in amusement as he gestured with his hand. “Would you like to bring one of the chairs home with you?” he offered.

  Noah held his gaze a long moment, and I grew tense. Then, he smiled and gave a deep chuckle. “Of course not. They’re just chairs.”

  “Can we get back to this game?” the man sitting next to Noah said, impatient with all the furniture talk.

  The men returned to their card game, talking intermittently in Polish, and I studied Noah. He was such an odd person, one minute telling me about the bully he threatened to assault as a teenager, the next waxing lyrical about his lost faith in religion, then commenting on the design of a piece of classic furniture.

  I sort of zoned out, my gaze wandering around the room again. The place reminded me of a pool hall with its low ceilings and dank lamps that barely lit the space. I had no clue who was winning the card game since I’d never learned how to play poker. A little while later Noah placed his cards down, and the men at the table seemed annoyed. He smiled happily and gathered his winnings.

  “Not going to give us a chance to win back our money?” Tomasz asked in a frosty voice.

  “I’m be back tomorrow night,” Noah assured. “You’ll have your chance then.”

  His fingers lightly touched my leg, communicating for me to get up. Butterflies filled my stomach at the small contact. I stood, and Noah took my hand, leading me outside. I glanced up at him, feeling another swell of attraction. I’d never thought about what my type might be, but I was starting to think Noah was it. I wasn’t sure what that said about me, because he was far from the strait-laced, church-going boy my dad would’ve liked to see me end up with.

  My heart raced the entire time we walked back to the car. I worried the men might follow us, beat Noah up and take back their cash. If this were a movie, that’s what would’ve happened.

  But they didn’t follow us, and we reached the car unscathed. I lowered myself into the passenger seat, strapping on my seatbelt as Noah tossed several wads of cash into the glove compartment before dropping one in my lap.

  I stared at it, dumbfounded. There had to be at least three or four hundred euros. A moderate sum to most, but not to me. My pulse spiked as I thought of all the things I could do with that money.

  My eyes found Noah’s. “What’s this for?”

  “For keeping your mouth shut about Aleksy.”

  My attention went to the money once more, then back to him. “Um, okay, but … you didn’t have to bring me here tonight. And now you’re paying me off. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I wanted to bring you.”

  “Why?”

  His gaze held mine, something like affection playing in his eyes, a smile almost reaching his lips. “Because I strangely enjoy your company.”

  His answer caused a warmth to spring forth inside me. Stop being charmed by Noah! My brain screamed. He is a stranger. A mystery. Not to be trusted. “But who exactly is Aleksy?” I went on, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. “Why do you pretend to be him?”

  “He’s just someone I become when the need arises.”

  “Does the need arise often?”

  His eyes flicked briefly to mine. “That depends.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “And is there anyone else you become when the need arises?”

  Noah tilted his head, a smirk touching his mouth. “Well, I play Aleksy a lot, but sometimes I might need to be Timothy Burns,” he said, effecting a posh British accent. “Other times I’m Francois Bisset.” French now.

  I stared at him, stunned. “Any others?”

  “A few, but they still need work.”

  “How can you do all those accents?”

  “I learned them from different people I’ve spent time with. Impersonations have always come easy to me. Languages, too.”

  I sat back, shaking my head as I shot him a look of incredulity. “Who the hell are you?”

  I felt him shift closer, his eyes finding mine, and I got a little lost for a second. “Who do you want me to be?”

  His question gave me goose bumps. I had no clue what to say, and a silence fell.
“I’m just … confused,” I replied finally. “Noah Dylan is your true identity, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “So why all the fake ones? Are you an identity thief?”

  He frowned. “Of course not. Aleksy, Timothy and Francois are all made up.”

  “Do you have multiple personality disorder?”

  He looked at me then back at the road. “I’m very much in control of my faculties, no matter what my sister would have you believe.”

  “Your sister would have me believe you suffered several traumatic brain injuries and are now an out of control, unpredictable, wild-card.”

  His smile returned, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone as he answered, “Okay, so maybe she’s not completely off the mark.”

  My voice grew quiet as I shook my head. “What happened to you?”

  He didn’t reply for a long time, but then his eyes latched onto mine, burrowing right into my soul, “Let’s just say, I understand how it feels to be powerless in that house.”

  My throat constricted as he turned the key in the ignition and started up the engine. He pulled out of the parking spot and drove in silence. I thought of the last two years and how awful they’d been, missing Dad and being stuck in Ard na Mara under the tyranny of Vee. But what had Noah’s childhood been like? Sylvia was such a gentle creature, and by all accounts his father was a good man, so who exactly made Noah feel powerless?

  Vee had been an only child before he was born, probably spoiled, too, since the Dylans had money once upon a time. Did she resent baby Noah for taking the attention away from her? Had she bullied him when he was a little boy the same way she bullied me?

  The very thought made my blood boil, and I was suddenly filled with a newfound sympathy for Noah. If he really were as damaged as Vee would have me believe, maybe she was the one who made him that way.

  Noah has had one too many knocks to the skull over the years.

  Her own words echoed in my memory. Had she been the one to give him those knocks?

  By the time we got back to the house, it was very late. The streetlamps glowed in the dark night as we pulled into the driveway, and Noah killed the engine. He didn’t make any move to exit the car, and neither did I. His eyes flickered to the cash that still sat untouched on my lap.

  “Are you going to take the money or what?” he asked, his other question unspoken, are you going to keep my secrets? The idea of being Noah’s confidante, of being the beneficiary of all he kept hidden sent a thrill through me. Even though it scared me, I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted him to place his trust in me because it felt special. I didn’t imagine Noah trusted people very often.

  And my theory about Vee bullying him only made me feel a deeper connection to him. There was a solidarity in knowing we’d suffered at the hands of the same person.

  Without a word I picked up the cash, folded the notes in half and stuck them in my pocket. Noah kept quiet too, but I could tell he approved, while I tried to stifle the whirling dervish in my belly.

  I thought of all the fantasy books I’d read, where humans travelled to faery realms and were tricked into a lifetime of servitude for eating a single bite of food. Would I regret taking Noah’s money? Would keeping his secret come back to haunt me? I tried to convince myself it was nothing, and besides, I could really do with the cash.

  I had no reason to worry. This wasn’t a big deal …

  So why did it feel like I hadn’t just eaten a bite of faerie food, but instead gobbled down an entire plate?

  8.

  One of the earliest ways people figured out the earth was round was by noting how boats didn’t simply get smaller and fade away as they sailed off into the distance, but instead slowly got lower and lower before finally going out of sight over the horizon. Like a car going over a hill.

  Living in a coastal town with a nearby harbour meant I could often watch boats coming and going. I sat on the beach, the sound of the waves and the wind in my ears, and watched a large fishing boat moving farther and farther out to sea.

  I much preferred watching boats leave. That way I could imagine them voyaging off to lands unknown, on a quest full of danger and adventure. In reality, they were just going out to trap fish in giant nets, but I preferred to let my imagination run wild.

  This was my version of entertainment whenever Vee had a whim to ban me from the house. She said I made the place messy, which I never did, but there was no point arguing with her. When I arrived home from school, she’d been sitting at the kitchen table smoking her usual cigarette.

  “Don’t even think about going and hiding in that room of yours, Estella,” she clipped. “Change out of your uniform and go into town, see if any of the shops are hiring part-time staff.”

  She knew very well there were no jobs to be had, but after last night’s scene she was clearly in a mood to take back some of her power. Thankfully, she didn’t know about the wad of cash Noah had given me. I counted it last night while knelt over my bed. I had a grand total of four-hundred-and fifty-five euros. A miraculous sum. I’d never had so much money in my possession before, and that made it incredibly precious.

  Stacking it into a neat pile, I hid it under the loose floorboard in the corner of my room where Vee wouldn’t find it. If things ever got really bad, at least I had some running away money. I was grateful to Noah for that, even if he was as dodgy as hell with all his fake identities and poker gambling and secretive ways.

  I sat on the beach, waiting for it to get dark. At night, Vee was usually shut away drinking, so the coast would be clear for me to go home. I hated that her house was the only place I had to go. It was pitiful, really.

  There was no safety or comfort in my refuge, only resentment and begrudgery.

  I felt like an old stray dog nobody wanted, constantly hanging around hoping for shelter and a few scraps.

  Speaking of dogs, I watched as a Golden Retriever ran excitedly into the water, splashing around, hyper as can be. I envied the animal’s simple joy.

  “Sparky, get back here!” a familiar voice called. My gaze flicked to the side, and I saw Kean running down the hill onto the beach. He wore an expensive looking tracksuit and Nike runners, his blondish hair stylishly mussed.

  My pulse did a little jump when I saw him. I remembered our interaction outside his house when he offered to walk me to school. Did he fancy me, or was he just trying to be nice? It was hard to tell.

  “Estella, hey!” he said, a little breathless when he spotted me. His dog came barrelling out of the water, jumping at him and getting Kean’s fancy tracksuit all wet. He chuckled, not seeming too bothered.

  “Down boy,” he said, gazing affectionately at his pet. I felt a momentary flash of jealousy at the innocent love between boy and dog. I hadn’t had a pet in a long time. Not since Dad married Vee. She claimed to be allergic to both dogs and cats, but I suspected she just didn’t want me to have anything in my life that might love me.

  “Hi,” I said with a small smile. “Your dog’s very excited.”

  “He loves the water. Every time I open the back door he comes running down here. I swear, chasing after him is the only thing that keeps me fit.”

  “Don’t you play sports though?” I asked, well aware that Kean was a member of the local rugby team.

  He grinned. “Well, yeah, there’s that, too.” He gestured to the space beside me. “Mind if I sit?”

  “No, go ahead,” I replied.

  He sat, and I caught a faint waft of his cologne. It smelled spicy, expensive, just like his clothes. I wondered what it must be like to have a such a successful, wealthy father. Whenever you needed something, there was no need to save. You just went out and bought it.

  “So, what are you doing sitting out here all by yourself?” Kean asked.

  I glanced at him, my eyes tracing his features. He was one of those boys with full lips, much fuller than mine, and I was a girl. “Just hiding from my wicked stepmother,” I answered honestly, and his eyebrow
s jumped.

  “Are you being dramatic, or is she really wicked?”

  “A little of both, maybe,” I answered with a grin.

  Some of his concern drifted away, but his frown remained. “You two don’t get along?”

  I sighed and ran my fingers through the sand. “It’s hard to get along with someone who resents the very air you breathe.”

  “Wow, those are strong words.”

  “Sorry, I’m being morose. You should go play with your dog. It’ll be a lot more fun than sitting here talking to me.”

  “Hey, I’m having lots of fun,” Kean protested. I arched an eyebrow. He chuckled. “Okay, maybe fun isn’t the right word. But this is nice. We live on the same street, but we’ve never had a chance to get to know each other properly. Plus, I rarely come out here and just sit.”

  “I love watching the boats,” I said, gesturing to the fishing boat that had almost disappeared over the horizon.

  “You do?”

  I nodded. “It’s meditative.”

  Kean’s gaze went out to the sea. “I hadn’t really thought to look at the boats before. Too busy with my eyes glued to my phone.”

  “I don’t have that problem since I don’t have a phone.”

  He looked surprised. “Seriously?”

  “WS won’t buy me one.” Right after I said it, I remembered the money Noah gave me and realised I could use it to buy a phone. I wouldn’t waste it by splashing out on an expensive one, but a cheap phone would still be amazing. I could go on the internet. Search for things whenever I pleased.

  I watched Kean as he mouthed the letters WS to himself. A second later, he smiled. “WS. Wicked Stepmother. Good one.”

  “Speaking of, is your dad going to attend her birthday party this weekend?”

  “Oh yeah, I think I heard him telling Mam they were invited to a party on Saturday.” A pause as he smiled his dashing smile. “My folks love a good shindig.”

  Anxiety built inside me at the thought of people showing up for a party whose main guest refused to show her face. Or maybe Noah would somehow manage to convince Vee to celebrate the occasion. Stranger things had happened.