‘I can’t stay at Mum’s for too long,’ Noah said. ‘Sometimes I need a break from her.’
Quinn must have looked shocked because Noah seemed to sense he’d said something wrong.
‘Sorry, that sounds harsh. Mum is hard to live with.’ Noah glugged down more of his wine, as if it might stop him saying anything more. But Quinn’s stare must have prompted him to speak. ‘Mum fears the world. She has been ever since… Well, ever since her career ended. It makes living with her quite difficult because she keeps talking about the press.’
‘The press?’
‘She thinks the press are out there to get her.’ Noah rolled his eyes. ‘The press. People who dislike her. She almost expects villagers to walk up the driveway with pitchforks.’
‘People won’t do that,’ Quinn said. ‘Have you seen how long it takes to walk from here to Cusop Dingle?’
‘Like, five minutes?’
‘Yeah. We can’t be arsed,’ Quinn said. ‘Besides, my pitchfork has got rust on it.’
Noah snorted, covering his mouth. Quinn swore it was the cutest thing he ever saw.
‘Right now, she’s fixated on her autobiography.’ Noah said this with such distaste that Quinn almost forgot about his submission. ‘She gets these ideas and runs with them, but they never happen.’
Quinn tried not to look disappointed, which was hard not to do when he thought of how much time he’d wasted going over those three chapters for no payoff. If Noah was telling the truth, did that mean Hermione wouldn’t even get in touch with him?
Well, regardless of what happened, he’d tried. That was all that mattered right now.
‘Is your mum okay?’ He almost didn’t want to ask, but he felt like he had to.
‘What have you heard about her?’
‘Not much,’ Quinn said, but his lie was feeble.
‘A lot then.’ Noah swilled the wine in his glass. ‘Whatever you’ve heard, I bet you it’s not true. But it makes Mum seem ten times worse.’
‘But she must be thrilled to see you when you come here.’
‘She’s part of the reason I avoid this place.’
‘Oh?’
Quinn thought of his own mother, how he’d been avoiding her. That was something he didn’t want to have in common with the guy before him.
‘Mum can be heavy.’ Noah sighed. ‘She went through a lot, and I know she’s struggling to process everything that happened to her. It sounds awful, but she put a lot of that on me, and I’m not equipped to deal with that.’
Noah finished his wine and nodded at the bottle. ‘May I?’
‘Please.’
Noah refilled his glass, leaning back in the chair. Quinn tried to relax, too, while putting aside thoughts that Noah looked like he was comfortable here, like he planned to stay.
‘She refuses to speak to people. Professionals. Refuses to even combat her issues and the problems in her life. Expects me to come along and hold her hand and clean it all up for her.’ Noah glanced at Quinn. ‘I’m sorry. It sounds awful. Unless you’ve lived with someone like her, then you wouldn’t understand.’
‘I’m not judging,’ Quinn said, telling the truth. He thought of his shop, the space he created. In some ways, this felt like an extension of that. ‘I listen to people. I’ll always listen.’
Noah looked Quinn up and down, and honestly, Quinn thought he might faint.
‘I know it’s not her fault,’ Noah clarified. ‘It’s my own stupid issues and my ill-ease with anything that makes me feel uncomfortable. I’ve tried, Quinn. Many times, I’ve tried to help her out. To link her with help. But she refuses. Thinks the world is out to get her. It exhausts me.’
‘Is that why you were so keen on leaving?’
‘In some ways,’ Noah said. ‘But also because Hay holds too many memories for me. Ghosts everywhere. I didn’t like who I was when I lived here, so I hate coming back.’
