“He scares me,” Noah whispered back, and I saw the moment Vee’s heart broke just like mine had. She loved him, despite how he came to be.
Darkness descended, and then I was in the kitchen. Noah was still young. He sat at the table doing homework when Sylvia walked in.
“What did I tell you?” she fumed, pulling the pencil from his hand. She went and grabbed a wooden spoon, then brought it down hard on his knuckles. He cried out in pain, clutching his hand to his chest as Sylvia eyed him coldly.
“You’re already enough of a bad omen,” she seethed. “We write with our right hand, not with our left.”
Whimpering and clearly still in pain, Noah shakily picked up the pencil with his right hand and made a concerted effort to continue writing even though it was unnatural to him.
I was transported again, this time to a scene of merriment and laughter. The living room was full of guests, and I recognised Matt, Lydia, Principal Hawkins, Theresa and Enda, as well as Victor and Sylvia who sat holding court. There was the sound of the front door opening, and Victor stormed out into the hallway. I watched through the gap in the door as he accosted a teenaged Noah.
“What time do you call this?” Victor demanded.
“It’s only eleven,” Noah said, eyes downcast. It was surreal to see him so subservient.
“Eleven is too late for you to be only getting home,” Victor went on, and I got the sense that Noah stayed out late only to avoid him. I’d done the same thing time and again to avoid Vee, staying at Aoife’s for as long as I could.
“I’m sorry,” Noah muttered.
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Victor seethed, and I could almost smell the alcohol on his breath. He started pulling his belt from his trousers as he tore Noah’s shirt from his back and brought the leather down on him with a harsh slap. I winced.
Everyone in the living room could hear what was happening out in the hallway, but none of them tried to help.
“Sounds like somebody’s in trouble,” Enda laughed cruelly.
“Young Noah’s been a bold, bold boy,” Matt added with a drunken chuckle.
“Now, now, don’t be so crass,” Lydia chided playfully.
I couldn’t believe how they were acting. It made me feel like they’d witnessed Victor’s treatment of his son many times before, but they were all so black-hearted they didn’t even care. They found it amusing, and that was the most disturbing part. My attention returned to the hallway, where Victor seemed to have reached his limit in the number of times he could lash his son.
“Now go to bed,” he ordered.
Noah hobbled down the hall to his bedroom as Victor returned to his guests.
“Sorry about that,” he said, picking up his glass and knocking back a large gulp
“That boy of yours causing you bother?” Theresa asked, coming to perch tipsily on the edge of the armchair Victor sat in.
Victor chuckled, but there was no real joy behind it, only cruelty. “A boy like mine needs a firm hand.”
“He’s growing up to be quite the looker,” Theresa went on, and my stomach turned because I sensed where this was heading.
Victor eyed her speculatively. “You think so?”
“Oh, yes, if I was twenty years younger, the things I’d do to him,” she said, almost wistful. I wanted to slap her right across the face.
“Why would you need to be younger? He’s old enough to finally learn the ways of a woman.”
Theresa tittered. “Oh, don’t be silly. I couldn’t.” But I saw the gleam of want in her eyes. The seed had been planted.
I blinked, and I was in another room, at another time. It was the study Vee spent most of her evenings in, a study that used to be Victor’s. He sat at the desk, talking on the phone, spittle flying from his mouth as he roared at the person on the other end, “There has to be something you can do. I’m finished. Bankrupt. I’ll never recover.” He slammed the phone down before rising and punching his fist into the wall. He stalked from the study and downstairs to Noah’s bedroom. He pushed open the door. Noah was in bed asleep, but his father’s abrupt entrance woke him up. He rubbed at his bleary eyes as Victor pulled off his belt, ready to take his anger out on his son yet again.
The scene faded, and now I was in the kitchen. Vee was much older, maybe thirty, as she stood by the cupboard pouring whiskey into a glass. She poured it until the glass was full, then knocked back every last drop. She swayed a little as she filled it a second time, lifting the glass to her mouth when Sylvia led Victor into the room.
“You see? What did I tell you? She’s been at this for weeks now. Drinking herself into a stupor. It can’t continue.”