‘In a way, these people are onourturf.’ Adam had leant over and whispered this in Noah’s ear, already emboldened by his first glass of Chardonnay. Noah chuckled and Adam resisted the urge to plant a kiss on his neck.
‘It’s kinda surreal to be at a do like this and know that I’ll be ending the night in my bedroom upstairs.’ Noah shook his head in disbelief. By that point they were sitting out by the pool on a stone bench with the name of one of Opal’s great-great-somethings engraved across the back.
‘I believe they call this a gala,’ Adam corrected Noah, teasingly.
‘You know something?’ Noah turned to Adam, looking sincere. ‘I have no fucking clue what a gala is.’
They both laughed harder than was warranted. Adam noticed how Noah stopped laughing a moment before him, just to watch.
By the time Heather found them, they were in the full swing of merriment.
‘Oh thank God.’ Heather was dressed in a black satin suit, the shoulders jutting out dramatically from beneath her crop of red hair. ‘I’ve already been cornered by two toffs and I only left my room about twenty minutes ago.’
‘Come sit.’ Noah moved over to make space and Adam felt surprisingly deflated to have someone come between them.
Heather eyed the space, and perhaps sensing Adam’s yearning, an idea that horrified him, she refused and pulled over a lawn chair.
‘So what the fuck does a person do at a gala? This is hardly dancing music.’ Heather settled into her seat and cracked open a beer.
‘We were just debating this. We spent the whole afternoon setting up a sound system in the ballroom, and then Martin marches in and demands we wheel out the record player into the greenhouse bit and put on this shit.’ Noah was referring to the Debussy drifting out onto the patio, and Adam wondered if he was overanalysing the fact that Noah hadn’t scootched back towards him on the bench, and that Noah’s intonation had changed ever so slightly. He sounded … blokier
Adam leant back and listened to Heather and Noah chat about the first round. Heather was once again feeling a block about what to do next, she said, and Noah was wondering if it was too literal to try and simply emulate the smell and sound of death – whatever that might be.
Adam caught sight of Ruby and Johan walking towards them before the other two. Ruby looked angry, and Johan, trailing behind, looked a little wounded, as he so often did these days.
‘Hello, mind if I join? I’ve had enough of these posh twats.’ Ruby reached down and grabbed the can from Heather’s hand without asking and took a big glug.
Heather seemed unfazed. ‘Keep it,’ she said when Ruby tried to hand it back. ‘I’ve got plenty more.’
Ruby took the space between Adam and Noah, and Johan was left hovering. Adam noticed that he was lightly swaying. It seemed the free bar had gone to everyone’s heads.
‘I’m going to get another drink,’ Johan announced to little acknowledgement. As the others continued chatting, Adam watched Johan stumble his way into the house, and then stop to talk to Gareth, who Adam assumed would be equally drunk by this point.
As they spoke the two men looked over, and Adam felt the impulse to pretend he hadn’t been staring even though he was sure that they wouldn’t be able to see anything clearly through their intoxication or the dark. Eventually Johan slapped Garethon the back and walked back, purposefully this time and, notably, without a drink in his hand.
Even before he interrupted the conversation Adam could sense that he’d come back to the group with something to get off his chest.
‘Noah, is it?’ Johan sounded different, the strange cockney twang almost entirely vanished from his voice.
Noah looked up and his expression of surprise was matched by the others around him. ‘Um, Johan, are you OK?’ Noah laughed nervously, turning to look at Heather and Ruby, and then meeting Adam’s eyes. There was a hint of something there on his face, something like fear.
‘I’m asking you if your name is really Noah.’ Johan seemed to be building himself into a rage. Ruby and Heather moved closer to Noah. It was also Adam’s instinct, but he resisted.
‘What the fuck are you talking about, Johan?’ Heather’s voice was calm, until she looked back at Noah, who was shaking. ‘Noah, mate, are you OK?’
‘Yeah, I um …’ He kept his eyes to the ground and tried to stand. Ruby reached for him and pulled him back onto the bench.
‘You shouldn’t have to leave just because Johan is being an arsehole. Sit – you’ve done nothing wrong.’ Ruby was staring at Johan as she spoke. He laughed, and it was a disconcertingly cold sound.
‘You have no fucking clue who this guy is. Nobody does.’ Johan shook his head, his voice dripping with contempt.
‘My name is Nashua, but no one has called me that apart from my mum since we moved to England,’ Noah said quietly, and Adam felt his own rage bubble as he watched Johan laugh again.
‘You see? He’s a liar! And tell these lovely people here how you ended up on this little retreat, because I just spoke to Gareth and he confirmed what I always suspected: that you weren’t invited here at all.’
‘Johan, you’re out of line. Fuck off and sober up.’ Ruby put her arms around Noah’s shoulder, turning her back on Johan. That only seemed to wind him up further.
‘This Noah Nashua guy, whoever the fuck he is, he’s a crook, an imposter. He’s only here because he snuck around eavesdropping on a private conversation between Gareth and I.’ Johan was growing hysterical, and again Adam was struck by howreceivedhis pronunciation was sounding all of a sudden.
