‘But just seeing me means you’re breaking your word to your mum and dad.’ Flynn drew back. ‘I shouldn’t be putting you in a position where—’
‘Flynn, stop it,’ I said. ‘Stop worrying about everyone else. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing to see you because I know that Mum and Dad have got you wrong. Okay, so you’ve got a temper . . .’
‘Riv, I could have killed him.’ Flynn’s eyes were darker, more urgent. ‘You know that. The police kept saying it too. But what I realised . . . what really got to me when I saw Mum and the police and everyone . . . was that I don’t honestly think I’d care if I had.’ The words tumbled out of him, jerky and harsh. ‘I can’t help it, Riv. They’re all going on about me doing therapy. Taking stupid anger management classes. And I’m, like, yeah, yeah, you’re right. But the truth is that I’ve only been pretending to everyone that I’m sorry I hurt him, because really I’m not sorry at all. And you’re the only one I can tell.’ His voice cracked. ‘I know it’s wrong but he’s a bastard and I hate him and I’ve always hated him . . .’ He closed his eyes again.
I pulled him towards me and we hugged in silence. My heart pounded as Flynn’s angry, raging face flashed into my head again. I tried to make sense of what he was saying. He hated his father. He didn’t care if he killed him. I couldn’t get my head round feelings like those. I simply couldn’t imagine hating anyone that much, especially my own dad, no matter what he’d done.
‘Maybe therapy would help?’ I suggested timidly.
‘No.’ Flynn shook his head emphatically. ‘No way. It’s only my da who makes me that angry and I can deal with him.’ He smiled. ‘Anyway, I’ve got you to talk to.’
I sighed. A moment or two passed. The sun went behind a cloud. I started to worry about getting home – about Mum checking the clock, maybe even getting in her car and driving about looking for me. But Flynn was still holding me tightly. I suddenly knew there was something he hadn’t told me yet. I looked up. Yes. It was there in his eyes. ‘What is it?’ My heart raced.
Flynn’s mouth trembled. ‘Mum wants . . .’ He paused, his voice hollow. ‘She wants us – me and Siob and Caitlin and her – to move back to Ireland.’
17
‘What?’ I couldn’t have heard him right. ‘You mean move to the country Ireland?’
‘Yes, back to where Mum comes from.’ He sighed. ‘She wants me away from here. Away from my da. She’s scared there’ll be another fight and this time the police won’t let it go.’
‘But . . . ?’ My heart was cracking into pieces. Ireland was far away. Far too far away. It made Dad’s commune look like a short stroll round the corner. ‘You’re serious?’ I whispered.
Flynn nodded. His voice was flat and dull. ‘Mum’s been in touch with her sister and we’re going to stay there while we find somewhere to live.’
I gulped. ‘So . . . so it sounds like it’s all sorted.’
Don’t go. Don’t leave me.
Flynn’s forehead creased into a frown. ‘I could refuse. I mean Mum will definitely go and Siobhan and Caitlin will go with her. But I’m seventeen. I could stay here. I could get a job. A proper job and—’
‘But you’d have to leave school,’ I said, thinking of all Flynn’s ambitions and all his hard work for his A levels.
‘I know,’ he said miserably. ‘Look, I have to choose, Riv. And I want to choose you. But I don’t know if I should. I don’t know what to do. Mum’s terrified I’m going to get in real trouble if I stay. If I don’t go with her she says she’ll worry all the time.’ He paused. ‘And I’ll worry about her, Riv.’ He looked down at me, his eyes deeply troubled. ‘I’ll worry about all of them.’
I wrapped my arms round his neck and leaned against his chest. Then I reached up and kissed him. I can’t let you go. I kissed him fiercely, with only one aim. To remind him how hot I was. To remind him how good we were together.
I felt his heart beat faster.
Yes. I had him. A sense of power surged through me.
‘Maybe I could come with you?’ I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear. I couldn’t see that working at all, but I was playing for time, trying to decide whether to turn him on more, or whether to start crying. I know how awful – how ruthless – that sounds, but I felt like I was fighting for my life.
Lust or pity – which would keep him with me?
‘River.’ He pressed against me.
Well, the lust was working so far . . .
I kissed him again.
He groaned. ‘Can you imagine what your folks will do if you run off to Ireland? They’ll have Interpol after me.’ He pulled me really tightly against him, running his hands down my back. ‘I don’t see how you can come too. But like I said, I could stay.’
I looked up at him. His eyes were bright green, just the faintest hint of gold, hungry for me.
‘Yes,’I whispered. ‘You could stay . . . you could . . .’ I stopped, thinking through the reality of what it would mean for Flynn to remain in London: he wouldn’t just have to leave school and get a job, he’d also have to find somewhere to live on his own.
Flynn bent his forehead down onto mine. ‘I’ll stay if you want me too. I’ll go anywhere with you. I don’t want to lose you.’
I hugged him hard, fighting with my conscience. I wanted to plead with him to stay, but the words died on my lips. I couldn’t ask him to give up everything just for me. And that’s what him staying in London – or us running away together – would mean.
We stood holding each other in silence for what felt like ages. My phone vibrated in my bag – it was bound to be Mum, wondering why I hadn’t come straight home.
There wasn’t much time.
‘River?’ Flynn’s voice shook. ‘I don’t know . . .’
I gazed up at his strong, sad, beautiful face and it was obvious what I had to do.
‘Well I know,’ I said. ‘I know it would be really difficult getting by on your own. And I know you’d hate being without your family. So . . . you should go.’
Flynn said nothing.
‘Ireland’s not that far away,’ I went on. ‘I could get a job – maybe your job at Café Yazmina – and save up my money so I could visit you.’
Flynn squeezed me tighter. ‘Sure, we could both save up. But it’d be ages before we could afford the ticket. And I can’t imagine your mum and dad letting you come and visit me.’
‘Well, maybe they’ll calm down. Maybe in a few months.’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing myself say. I couldn’t survive for more than a few days without Flynn. Forget lust and pity. Every cell in my body was telling me to throw myself at his feet. Beg him not to go. To tell him how lost I’d be, how pointless everything would be without him.
But I didn’t do any of those things. Instead I took a good look at his face. There was something too old about his eyes. Like he’d been through more than he should have. A deep-down weariness from responsibilities that he’d carried too young, for too long.
As I stood there, I knew that I couldn’t add to them.
I took a step away from him. Just a small step.
‘What does Siobhan say?’ I said evenly.
Flynn rolled his eyes. ‘Actually, she’s all excited about it. She’s been talking to Gary.’ He scowled. ‘He says he wants to come with us. Use his dad’s money to buy a salon that he and Siob can work in. I don’t know. Mum’s dead keen. Siob’s dead keen. Caitlin’s all up for it one minute, then all down about leaving her friends the next.’
He reached out and pulled me back towards him.
‘I don’t want to go back to St Cletus’s now anyway,’ he said. ‘It was obvious today that everyone at school knows about my da being . . . what he is. And that stupid friend of Alex’s posting that he’d seen me with the freakin’ iPad means now everyone thinks I’m a thief as well as a thug. I mean everyone, not just Alex and his mates and the teachers.’ He paused. ‘They’ll all be glad to see the back of me. Mum talked to the h
ead this morning, told him her plan. Apparently he said that a fresh start would be the best thing for me. Course what he really meant was that he was glad he wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.’
‘So when is your mum planning on leaving?’ I asked.
Flynn shrugged. ‘A week today,’ he said.
‘Next Tuesday?’ I gasped. I couldn’t help it. That was just seven days away. Too soon. I couldn’t prepare myself that quickly.
‘I know.’ He groaned. ‘I can’t think about anything except being with you. Tell me what to do, Riv. I’ll do whatever you say.’
I hesitated. This was agony. ‘I told you, you should go,’ I said, swallowing down the tears that threatened to rise inside me. ‘I mean, if you stayed you’d be staying for me, but we’d have to sneak around behind my parents’ backs so we wouldn’t be able to see each other that much. And you’d have rent to pay which would be hard. Plus you’d worry about your mum and your sisters all the time, wouldn’t you?’
He nodded.
‘So, it’s obvious,’ I said. ‘You have to go and I have to stay. And . . . and maybe in the future . . .’ I stopped as tears clogged my throat.
Don’t cry. Not in front of him.
‘I ought to get home,’ I said.
He shook his head.
‘Yeah.’ I swallowed hard, forcing down the tears. ‘I’ll call you. I’ll get a new phone. One Mum doesn’t know about.’
‘I’ll see you every day before I go, River.’ He lifted my chin up and looked into my eyes. ‘And then we can text each other. And speak and Skype whenever we can. And . . .’
I drew back, unable to breathe, unable to hold back my tears any longer.
‘I have to go,’ I said. I couldn’t look at him again. I turned and fled down the street, my heart feeling like it was breaking into a million pieces.
18
Flynn met me from school and walked me home every day for the rest of the week except on Friday, when I went to Grace’s house and met him there. I’d explained to Mum that Grace and I needed to spend a couple of hours on some drama GCSE coursework.
‘All the relevant stuff is at hers,’ I pleaded. ‘Please let me go round. Grace’s mum will be in. She can call you when I arrive.’
Mum reluctantly agreed and everything went according to plan. Grace’s mum rung mine to confirm I was there, then Grace and I went upstairs to her room and called Flynn. He came over straight away. We let him in the back door and snuck him upstairs. Grace’s mum had no idea.
Later, Grace went out to meet James and Flynn walked me home. We chatted away, hand in hand. Flynn was clearly relieved that the decision had been made. ‘Mum’s making all the arrangements,’ he said. ‘Her sister’s sent the money and she’s bought our tickets. We’re flying to Dublin first thing Tuesday.’
‘What about your job at the café?’ I asked. ‘Did you talk to Yazmina?’
‘Yes, my job is yours if you want it,’ Flynn said with a smile.
‘Great.’ I didn’t feel much like smiling back right now, but this was good news. I liked the café and the Turkish lady who ran it very much.
‘Yazmina says she’ll talk to you about the job if you go round on Monday evening.’
‘Will you be there too?’ I asked.
‘Try keeping me away.’
I talked to Mum about taking the Café Yazmina job that evening. I’d already promised her and Dad that my relationship with Flynn was over, of course, but she was still delighted to hear he was leaving the country. I said nothing in response, just pointed out that it meant Flynn’s job at the café was available.
‘It’ll be good for me,’ I said. ‘And it’s just a couple of evenings a week, Mum. It won’t even get in the way of my schoolwork.’
Mum agreed to think about it. The next day was Saturday. Dad arrived to pick up me and Stone midmorning. We were spending the rest of the weekend at the commune. I didn’t want to go. But what could I say? I only wanted to stay to see Flynn. And, right now, I was still grounded – not supposed to socialise with anyone, let alone him.
Once we arrived, I snuck down to the apple orchard to find a place with a signal – reception was rubbish at the commune – and called Flynn on a borrowed phone. We told each other what we’d been doing and how much we missed each other. But the conversation was all holes and spaces – it was what we weren’t saying that was really important.
I can’t bear that you’re going away.
Stone and I got home late on Sunday night. My little brother had been surprisingly nice to me all weekend. I don’t mean he asked how I was or anything, but he didn’t tease me or call me any of his usual names.
Mum was as distant and subdued with me as normal. At least she said I could take the job at Café Yazmina, though she insisted that she’d have to pick me up from school the following afternoon and come with me to the café to meet Yazmina.
My heart sank. As Mum well knew, Monday was Flynn’s last night in London. My final chance to say goodbye. I’d imagined our parting so many times, even wondering if this might be the moment when I chose to lose my virginity. After all, I wanted to make it special – and to ensure Flynn remembered how good we were together. But there’d be no way I’d be able to see him with Mum at my side from the school gates onwards. I could have skipped school entirely, but that would have definitely led to Mum banning me from taking the café job. And I was going to need that job to earn the money to visit Flynn in Ireland.
Monday evening arrived. I’d told Flynn earlier (using Grace’s phone) that I didn’t think I’d be able to see him. He hadn’t said much – just promised that if I couldn’t get away he would call the next day, as soon as they arrived in Dublin. It wasn’t enough. I couldn’t bear the idea of not being able to say goodbye – but what could I do? True to her word, Mum was waiting when I walked out of school and we spent the next couple of hours at home together, before driving off to Café Yazmina.
It was dark and cold as we trudged along Holloway Road and up the steps of the café. It felt awful knowing Flynn was so close. His family’s flat was just a little further along this same road. I was still desperately hoping there’d be some way I could run away and see him one last time – but with Mum at my side, time was running out.
Inside, Café Yazmina was comfortingly familiar. The walls were painted pale blue and decorated with mosaic squares, many of which were chipped or cracked. The tables and chairs were simple – each one set with a tiny vase of flowers – and the dim orangey lights of the wall lamps gave off a soft glow.
I watched Mum look around. In contrast to the dirty, noisy road outside, the café was warm and inviting – though fairly empty as it was only six-thirty on a Monday evening. Some Turkish music was playing in the background and the air was lightly scented, the smell of herbs wafting in from the kitchen. I knew Mum would like all this. On the other hand, there was nothing swanky about the place at all – just basic cutlery to go with the simple tables and chairs. No linen tablecloths. No cloth napkins.
Yazmina herself bustled out to meet us. ‘River.’ She beamed at me, her dark eyes crinkling in the soft light. ‘And you must be River’s beautiful mother.’ Yazmina swept up her long, tasselled skirt and did a sort of half-nod, half-bob in Mum’s direction. ‘Surely far too young for such a grown-up daughter?’ She wound her thick dark hair round her silver-ringed fingers and smiled seductively.
For a minute she reminded me of Emmi – only about five times her size. Then she flung her arm out, indicating one of the waitresses in the corner. ‘You see we are very demure here.’ She pointed to the girl’s black skirt and white shirt. ‘Nothing to encourage the young men.’ She flashed another pearly smile at Mum and raised her eyebrows. ‘Let us sit.’
Mum looked a little taken aback but said nothing. I fingered the silver heart bracelet that Flynn had given me, as Yazmina sailed over to the nearest table and pulled out a chair for Mum. I slid into the one next to her. How on earth was I going to get away from Mum and sl
ip along to Flynn’s flat?
‘Let me fetch some food . . . some refreshments . . .’ Yazmina said.
‘No. No. There’s no need, Mrs . . . er . . .’ Mum said, clearly embarrassed.
‘Call me Yazmina. And of course there is a need.’ Yazmina’s eyes twinkled. ‘I have prepared a little meal to show to you the sort of food we serve here. No greasy egg and chips, eh?’ She chuckled.
‘Well, that’s very kind, but . . .’ Mum sounded flustered. ‘But we already have dinner plans.’
Yazmina waved her chubby arm and her silver bangles tinkled. ‘This is only a small snack.’ She leaned forwards. ‘And an opportunity for us to talk.’ She glanced at me, then back to Mum. ‘Talk privately.’ She winked.
I frowned. What on earth was there that Yazmina needed to talk to Mum privately about? For a second I felt vaguely insulted.
‘Now, River, you know already the wages and the hours,’ Yazmina said. ‘Please go with Laila.’ She pointed to the waitress in the corner. ‘She will show you around the kitchen, and the ladies’ toilet and little changing room, then take you upstairs to find a suitable skirt and blouse from my stores. ‘She turned to Mum again. ‘It’s amazing how many staff over the years forget their work clothes. And they do get soiled. I would hate for River to ruin her own lovely clothes.’
‘Well.’ Mum still looked flustered. ‘Er . . . that’s very kind of you.’
I frowned. Why did I need to be shown the kitchen or the toilets? I’d been here plenty of times with Flynn already. And I was certainly capable of coming up with a black skirt and a white top on my own.
Yazmina’s fleshy hand pressed down on my arm. ‘Go on, River.’ She gave my arm a squeeze. ‘Go on.’
Slightly disgruntled, I let Laila lead me off into the kitchen. The two male chefs looked up from the hob in the far corner. They glanced at me then peered into their saucepans again, muttering to each other in Turkish. I looked around the kitchen. It was small but clean, with cupboards along one wall and a long stainless steel work surface near the door that led through to the storeroom.
Burning Bright Page 10
