Chapter 2
Noah Jackson had always been a light sleeper.
A childhood filled with uncertainty had meant that he was always ready to defend himself at the first opportunity. So, even though he had been asleep, his first reaction on sensing somebody on the same bed as him forced Noah into immediate action.
He had sprung across the bed to pin the stranger down with the weight of his body. He was already reaching for his mobile to see the danger he was dealing with, when the lamp on the table next to the bed suddenly flickered back on. Presumably the earlier power cut had been fixed.
Expecting to see anything from a burglar to someone far worse, he had been shocked to discover that the person lying underneath him was an attractive woman of a similar age, staring up at him with wide brown eyes.
But that didn’t mean he would let his defences down.
‘Who are you?’ he hissed.
Her big eyes blinked a couple of times before she replied, ‘I asked you first.’
He was a little stunned but found himself unexpectedly bemused. ‘I don’t think you did actually,’ he replied.
‘Well, in any case, I know karate,’ she told him, sticking her chin out a little.
‘Do you?’ he asked, finally letting go of the woman and sitting up next to her on the bed.
All of his instincts let him know that this dark-haired stranger wasn’t a threat. It was only when she sat up as well that he realised that she was wearing a pair of baggy striped pyjamas.
‘Well, I don’t actually know karate but I can speak a smattering of Japanese.
’ The woman frowned to herself. ‘You know, it’s infuriating.
I learnt self-defence here last summer. I had all the techniques ready to go, just in case, but right at this moment I can’t think of a single one.
Great class, by the way. Should you ever feel that you need it. ’
Noah raised one eyebrow at her, surprised that she thought he of all people needed a self-defence class. His whole childhood had been a lesson in self-defence.
He watched as she glanced down to his bare chest and arms. He knew that he was physically strong, thanks to all the carpentry work.
You didn’t carry large planks of wood every day without building up core strength.
He also found himself somewhat grateful that he had chosen to at least wear boxer shorts to bed, given his unexpected visitor.
‘I suppose you don’t need to think about self-defence with muscles like that,’ carried on the woman, staring at him.
‘It’s most annoying actually. I’ve tried to get stronger biceps but they just don’t seem to want to help a girl out.
’ She rolled up one baggy arm of her pyjama top to study her upper arm.
‘Apparently the muscles in the human body contract when they receive signals from motor neurons, which are triggered from a part of the cell called the sarcoplasmic reticulum. I think I’ve got that right.
’ A crease furrowed her forehead as she frowned to herself.
‘I wonder how I can get my motor neurons to work better for me. Such a shame because tonight I could really have done with punching somebody.’ She looked across at him, as if suddenly remembering that he was sitting next to her on the bed.
‘Not that I’m a particularly violent person, I want you to know.
Don’t worry. Oh and I wasn’t talking about punching you, by the way. Someone else entirely.’
Noah wondered if he was still asleep, although the sight of the smooth, creamy skin on her arm made him consider that it might be a particularly enjoyable dream, in any case.
‘Who are you?’ he asked again, in a bewildered tone.
‘Oh! Yes, I suppose introductions are in order.’ She gave him a large smile and held out her hand for him to take. ‘I’m Beth Jones.’
‘Noah Jackson,’ he replied, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. ‘And do you always make a habit of climbing into bed with strange men in the middle of the night?’
‘Ha!’ She laughed but he could see that it was without humour. ‘My dating life has been full of strange men! But no, this is a first for me. I don’t sleepwalk, in any case. What are you doing here anyway? I was told this room was empty.’
‘I was trying to sleep,’ he told her.
‘Me too,’ she replied, yawning. ‘I’m exhausted. What a night! So are you a guest of the hotel? Because this is the private family quarters and I think you might be in the wrong room. I’m a friend of the family, you see.’
‘I was invited to stay in this room by Walter Jackson,’ Noah told her. ‘He owns Maple Tree Lodge and is my uncle.’
Great-uncle actually, he added to himself, although he wasn’t going to give too much detail to a complete stranger. She might be beautiful, chatty and friendly but that didn’t mean that he had to trust her. He didn’t trust anyone.
‘Oh! You’re Walter’s nephew?’ said Beth, her eyes bright and sparkling. ‘He’s just wonderful, isn’t he? So Dotty is your aunt? Wow. That’s great. You know, it’s funny but I don’t think Ben’s ever mentioned having a cousin. Lucky you to have such an amazing family!’
She sounded almost wistful, he thought.
Noah had never considered himself lucky where his family were concerned.
His conception, as his mother had been fond of telling him a number of times, had been the result of bad judgement and too much alcohol.
His parents had married when she had discovered she was pregnant but it had never been a happy union.
Neither parent had given their son much time or love throughout his childhood.
They both felt trapped into a life together that they didn’t want, with a child they hadn’t planned for.
His mother had finally given up trying to find her maternal instinct when he had turned five.
She had walked out on them both one evening, taking a couple of suitcases with her, and Noah had never heard from her since.
At least his dad had tried to take care of him to some extent.
When he remembered that he had a son, that was.
Most of the time, they travelled around from town to town, his dad making friends in the many pubs that he frequented, often coming back to whatever place they called home in a drunken mess.
Jobs were only ever temporary, as was Noah’s education, such was the number of times they changed addresses.
His dad had expensive tastes in socialising which never matched up to the small amount of money he had in his wallet.
When he owed too much money to too many people and fights began to break out, they upped sticks and moved on once more.
When he was old enough, Noah began to take care of himself, if only as a matter of survival when he became too hungry because his dad had forgotten to feed him again.
From the age of eight, he had fed himself, done his own laundry and even taken care of his dad when he had been in too drunk a state to look after himself properly.
The neglect had left a lasting legacy on Noah, making him fiercely independent. He had to have been, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived his childhood. Even now, he felt he only just got out unscathed.
Without any qualifications, thanks to intermittent attendance at school, he had had to rely on hard graft to earn a living.
Thankfully, he had had one piece of good luck in his life so far.
One day soon after he had turned sixteen, and desperate to escape the unhappy life he had been sharing with his father in Sheffield at that time, Noah had had enough.
He had stolen just enough money out of his dad’s wallet to buy a one-way coach ticket as far as he could travel.
He got out at Penzance, Cornwall, at the very opposite end of the country, and took a deep breath of the fresh salty air, as if it would cleanse him of all the bad memories before then.
After walking around the local area for a couple of days, trying to find any kind of employment, he had ended up in a small boatyard one afternoon.
One of the handful of men who worked there had eventually ended up taking Noah under his wing and begun to show him the craft of boatmaking and restoring.
It was the lucky break that Noah had been dreaming about and from that moment on, he was hooked.
He learnt as much as he could in those early years but was equally amazed and pleased that he appeared to have a gift for both carpentry and boatmaking.
Over time, he gradually got a reputation for excellent craftsmanship.
There was nothing that he liked more than repairing a fine wooden boat or yacht and seeing it head back out onto the water when it was finished.
His reputation continued to grow throughout his twenties and soon Noah began to work his way around the country, repairing whichever boats he chose.
The majority of his work was on either wooden yachts or classic vintage boats whose owners had been recommended Noah’s fine craftsmanship.
He loved his work and moving around meant that he didn’t get close to anyone, just how he liked it.
After Noah had run away, he had only seen his dad a handful of times.
His dad had never harboured any resentment towards his son that he had suddenly left home.
Noah had always felt that his dad had been almost grateful to be finally relieved of the responsibility.
They didn’t celebrate birthdays or Christmas together.
They didn’t have that kind of relationship.
His dad had continued on the same trajectory as he had always done, never settling anywhere and continuing to make and lose friends as well as money over and over.