“Because I think it gives off the wrong impression.” Also, I didn’t want to incense Vee further. I appreciated Noah standing up for me, but I wasn’t fond of the drama. Besides, I could fight my own battles in my own way.
“Is that so,” he said, his words more contemplative than questioning.
I grabbed the loaf of bread and closed the fridge, heart racing as I finally turned to look at him. “It was fun to put Sally in her place, but this town is small. It won’t be long before she finds out you’re Vee’s brother, and then I’ll face the ridicule of having pretended my, my …”
Ugh, why couldn’t I speak?
Noah arched one eyebrow. “Your?”
“Well,” I went on, flustered. “For all intents and purposes, you’re my step-uncle, so it’s just pretty weird.”
His lips made a funny shape, and I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or entertained. Then he said, “Step-uncle, huh?” and I knew it was the latter.
I swallowed and turned to butter a slice of bread, unable to handle his mocking tone. I heard his chair scrape back as he stood, and sensed his closeness he came to stand behind me. He placed his arms on either side of me, levelling his hands against the counter. I was encapsulated by his warmth as he bent down, his mouth at my ear, “If you don’t want me to collect you, then I won’t,” he breathed, and my stomach flipped. “But just so we’re clear, I’m not and never will be your uncle, Estella.”
A moment later, he was gone. That had been an unexpectedly intense conversation. Tingles skittered down my spine as his low voice echoed in my head. I heard the rumble of his motorbike outside and exhaled in relief. He was probably heading off to his bartending job in the city. Knowing he had a normal job made him less of a mystery, but he still made me feel all befuddled. Bringing him to mass had certainly been an experience, however, I wouldn’t be inviting him again.
***
The next morning, I was relieved to find Vee hadn’t decided to hammer some planks of wood across the entrance to the bathroom as a new way of keeping me out. I seriously wouldn’t put it past her. The door was still all busted up, and it wouldn’t lock, but at least I could get inside.
I washed and dressed, then went to make breakfast. I saw the neat stack of envelopes sitting on the table and remembered Noah wanted me to deliver some letters.
Beside the stack was a note, alongside twenty euros. The note read, Deliver to the addresses on the envelopes. There’s another twenty if you can do it without being seen.
Without being seen? Why didn’t he want me to be seen?
Then, I remembered his words from yesterday.
A letter delivered by a stranger’s hand makes more of an impression than one dropped off by your friendly neighbourhood postman.
I frowned, not too keen about the task, however, being paid forty euros for delivering a few letters wasn’t something I could afford to pass up. I gave them a quick perusal, my brows knitting when I saw who they were addressed to: Lydia McBride, who was the town mayor and Claire McBride’s mother, Principal Hawkins, Matt O’Hare, pub owner and Sally O’Hare’s father, and lastly, Kean Riordan’s father, Enda Riordan. A knot formed in my gut. What business did Noah have sending letters to these people in particular? Though now it made sense how he’d seemed to recognise Sally’s name, and how he’d asked me who Claire was when we visited Geary’s Hole.
Still, this was an odd collection of individuals, and only one thing connected them as far as I could tell.
They all held varying positions of power in the town.
I held one letter up to the light, trying to see what was inside, but the envelope was made of thick paper, and it was impossible to see through. I glanced at the kettle, briefly considering trying to steam one open, but it was too much of a risk, and I didn’t have enough time.
Instead, I slotted them in my bag and headed out. I walked to Kean Riordan’s house first since it was just down the street. There was a small post box affixed to the wall outside, so I could slot the letter in without having to go all the way up to the house and risk being seen.
Job done, I turned to leave when a curious voice asked, “Is that you, Estella Shannon?”
I turned back around, smiling nervously, and found Kean emerging through the house gates in his school uniform. “Oh, hello,” I replied awkwardly, wondering if he saw me delivering the letter. My gaze wandered to the crest on his jumper, then to his neck, which was weirdly attractive to me. He had dark blond hair and deep, hazel eyes.