The Butterfly Novels Box Set: Contemporary YA Series (And By The Way; And For Your Information; And Actually)

by Denise Deegan

  ‘Look, Alex. It’s not like I need the money. I never have to work again in my life.’

  ‘But music is your life.’

  ‘No. You are.’

  ‘Who says you have to decide between us?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘But that’s mad.’

  ‘No, it’s not. I can still write songs. Just for other people.’

  ‘Dad. What you have with Streak and the guys – it’s special. It just works. It’s you. It’s all of you. You can’t quit. I don’t want you to. I especially don’t want you to for me.’

  He looks at me.

  ‘I’m serious. I’d hate myself if you quit. I would.’

  He says nothing.

  ‘Come on, Dad. You know it’s mad. And wrong.’

  ‘Alex, I’m sorry.’

  ‘I know you’re sorry. And I forgive you. OK? Just don’t give up the band.’

  ‘Why don’t you think about it?’

  ‘I don’t need to. So forget it, OK? Seriously bad idea.’

  He grimaces. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘One hundred and ten per cent. OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Thank you, Alex.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’

  There are things you see when the sky is blue. Planes cutting through it in a straight white line. Swallows swooping and diving. A pale, half-moon, up early. The sun, obviously. The sky itself. I love California.

  I watch Dad run off along our own private cove. I lie back on the towel, close my eyes and enjoy the tingle of the sun on my skin. I try not to think of David. A shadow falls over me. I wonder how Dad could be back so quickly. I shade my eyes and squint up. But it’s not my father. It’s a woman. In a pink tracksuit. I sit up, move back. Because this is weird. How could she be here, on a totally private beach in America? And is that all she has to wear?

  ‘Hi!’ she says cheerfully. And it hits me like a slap. I was wrong. Her accent isn’t Australian, it’s South African.

  I glance along the beach. Where is he?

  She sticks out her hand. Seems excited. ‘I never introduced myself. I’m Sarah, a friend of your father’s.’

  She might be Sarah. But she’s no friend. My mind starts to race. Back to the shop. She wasn’t a customer – she was just trying to get close to me. Because it’s the closest she could get to Dad. Oh my God! The engagement ring! It was for him! Just how mad is she, this person who now wants to shake my hand? I stand up. Act cool. So I can work out what to do. Slowly, I extend my hand. Hers is clammy. I can’t help it, I drop it like it’s a snake.

  ‘Must have been a tough year for you – after your mum.’

  I look along the beach again. And see him. But he’s so far in the distance I can’t work out whether he’s still running away or back.

  ‘She really loved him, didn’t she?’

  Suddenly, I need to be away from her. ‘Look, I’m sorry but I gotta go. Why don’t you give Dad a call?’ I reach for my towel.

  ‘I hated her,’ she says.

  To hell with the towel. I take a step back. She takes one forward.

  Would it be stupid to run?

  Then I hear Dad calling me. He’s sprinting up the beach towards us. I’ve never been so relieved to see him.

  ‘Back off!’ he’s telling her, so firmly that I back off myself.

  He steps in front of me, blocking me from her. The back of his T-shirt is covered in sweat. He’s breathing so fast, his whole back moves with every breath.

  ‘John,’ she says, breaking into a smile. ‘How are you?’

  Nuts, I think. Totally and completely nuts.

  ‘Look, this has gone too far. You don’t involve my daughter.’

  ‘I was just saying hi.’

  ‘OK, there’s a barring order –’

  She laughs.

  ‘Alex, we’re going.’ He puts an arm around me and begins to walk. He steps it up to a stride, but it doesn’t feel fast enough to me. We need to get in the house. And fast.

  ‘Don’t turn your back on me,’ she practically screams. ‘I won’t be ignored.’

  His arm keeps me walking when I seriously want to run.

  ‘Don’t look back,’ he says.

  The problem with not looking back is you can’t see her. And I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

  ‘Keep walking. We’re nearly there.’

  It happens so fast. Suddenly, she’s behind us. I don’t know how she moved so fast, so quietly – but she’s here, arm raised, then coming down in a blur, hard and fast against my father’s back. He looks at me in shock, his face turning white.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ comes out so slowly.

  For one second, all three of us stand perfectly still. Then she drops something in the sand. I see blood. And the knife that drew it. I lose it completely. I run at her, screaming, pushing her back with the flat of both hands, calling her a psycho freak. But Dad is dropping to his knees, the red stain on his T-shirt growing like an opening flower. I rush to him.

  He’s breathing fast but it’s different than before, it’s like he’s getting no air. His eyes are wide and terrified.

  ‘Oh God,’ I say, because there’s a noise coming from his back – the noise of air – and I know that’s not right. He’s lying on the sand now, like he’s no energy left. I want to stop the bleeding but don’t know how. I’m calling for help. Screaming.

  Two security guards are running towards us.

  ‘Hurry, please hurry.’ And I’m thinking, don’t die. Please don’t die.

  When the guards see him, they drop to their knees on either side of him. One reaches for the clean white shirt Dad left on the towel earlier. He shakes it out and folds it fast, placing it over the wound and pressing. In seconds it turns red. The other guard is on the phone, calling for help. He sounds as panicked as I feel. I start to pray. Never thought I would again. But I’m closing my eyes and my lips are moving.

  It seems way too long before I see the paramedics, raising sand in their rush to us. Four men gather round my father. I step back. And she’s there. She’s still there. Not moving, just staring, like she’s watching a bad movie. And that’s exactly what it feels like. A bad movie that I’ve stumbled into.

  This is it, I think, this is how it ends. With one mad psycho on a beach.

  THIRTY-FIVE | NORMAL

  I want to ring Simon Kelleher. I want to tell him, ‘Never underestimate women.’

  She punctured Dad’s lung. Could have killed him. He’s had a blood transfusion. There’s a tube coming from his chest, draining blood and air. He’s on painkillers. But he’ll be OK. They’re keeping him in for a week. Mike’s coming out from Dublin. He’ll find somewhere for us to stay till we can get home. Dad can’t fly for weeks. And we can’t go back to the beach house. Not with paparazzi everywhere. I don’t know how the news got out. I guess it always does. Outside the room is security. Inside, nurses fuss over him. Calls are coming in from around the world. Even Uganda. Ed’s sent flowers. The Stylist rang. I didn’t mind.

  I won’t leave his bedside.

  ‘This is my fault. If we hadn’t come out here, this wouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘No. If I’d a normal job, this wouldn’t have happened. When I saw her, there, on the beach, I couldn’t believe I’d put you in such danger.’

  ‘I wasn’t in danger. It was you she stabbed. Remember?’

  ‘She could have hurt you, Alex.’

  ‘I’d have taken her,’ I say, as though I’m some champion fighter. ‘She got you in the back, Dad. And, anyway, she’s in custody now, so stop apologising. You wouldn’t be much of a rockstar if you didn’t have a stalker.’

  ‘Which is why I’m quitting.’ When he sees my face, he puts his hand up. ‘There’ll always be people out there, thinking they know you, thinking that somehow you are “connected”.’

  ‘You’ve been in the band twenty-five years. This happened once.’

  ‘I should have taken her more seriously.’

 
; ‘You got the barring order.’

  ‘Wasn’t worth the paper it was written on. So I’m out.’

  ‘No. You can’t let people like that stop you doing what you want to do.’

  He looks at me. ‘I’ve more than myself to think about.’

  ‘Come on, Dad. I’ve Mike. We live in one of the safest places in the world. This was a once-off-thing. And it’s over.’ My phone rings. I kill it. ‘Don’t decide now. It’s too soon. Leave it a few weeks.’ He’ll be over this then and missing his music. My phone goes again.

  ‘You’d better get that,’ he says.

  Sighing, I answer it.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re in San Diego!’ Sarah says. ‘Have you met David yet?’

  ‘No, Sarah. And Dad’s OK, by the way.’

  ‘Oh, I know that. It was on Sky.’ She starts into a stream of questions that I know will form tomorrow’s news at school.

  ‘Sarah, look, I gotta go, OK? I’m in the hospital, and I’m not supposed to have the phone on. I’ll call you when we get out of here.’

  ‘When’ll that be?’

  ‘In about a week.’

  ‘Oh, right, OK.’

  ‘Thanks for the call.’ I hang up. Look at Dad. He’s taken a call from Ed.

  My phone bleeps. I sigh. And feel like chucking it out the window. But I check the message, because people are being really kind.

  I can’t believe it. The text is from David! ‘You OK?’

  It’s only two words, but that’s all it takes. My heart starts hammering. I get up automatically, and, for the first time since Dad was admitted, I walk outside the room, past the security guards and down the corridor. There are signs everywhere forbidding mobile phones. I can’t leave the floor – not with all the paparazzi around. So I duck into the public toilets. I dial his number. His phone rings and rings. He just sent a text, so he must have his phone. Doesn’t he want to talk to me, after all? I’m wondering if I should hang up, when he answers.

  ‘It’s me,’ I say.

  ‘I know. You OK?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, fine. How are you?’

  ‘So you’re in San Diego?’ His voice sounds flat.

  ‘Eh. Yeah.’ There’s a silence.

  ‘I was going to call,’ I say.

  ‘No you weren’t,’ he says without emotion.

  And because he’s right, I feel guilty. ‘Do you want to meet for coffee?’

  There’s a long pause. Then, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘Oh . . .’

  ‘Look, I gotta go,’ he says. ‘Glad you’re OK.’ He hangs up.

  I stand, staring at my phone, not believing what just happened, not believing what I’ve done – hurt him so much I’ve turned him into me.

  A week later, once Dad’s been discharged, Mike drives me to David’s school. Spending your time by a hospital bed makes you think. And what I’ve thought over the past few days is that I’m not leaving San Diego without apologising properly, without explaining face to face.

  ‘Good girl,’ Dad said when I told him. The last time I remember him saying those words to me, I was eight years old and hanging from monkey bars. I’ll probably look as ridiculous now.

  I sit on a low wall, surrounded by silence. Nothing moves apart from a giant US flag twitching in the breeze. I’ve been here twenty-two minutes (exactly) when I start to lose my nerve. He won’t want me here. He made that clear. What was I thinking? He’s got his new life now. Moved on. I said sorry in the letter. He read it. It made no difference. I should go. Just then, the doors burst open, and people spill out, talking and laughing. One guy shoves another. Just like home. I stand up, ready to go. And then he is there, coming out between two people, a guy and a girl. He’s listening to what the girl’s saying, hitching up the bag on his shoulder, same way he always did. And if I had any doubts before, I know now – I still love him. He laughs. And I see it. How well he fits in here. I have to go. But they’re coming towards me now. If I move, he’ll see me. If I don’t, he might walk by. I sit down so I’m less conspicuous. I want to look away, but I can’t. This is the last time I’ll ever see him, and I want to see him for as long as I can.

  He sees me. And stops. His eyes hold mine. I want to fast forward. Rewind. Anything but be stuck in this moment. His friends, who kept walking, realise he’s not with them. They stop, look back. The girl follows his eyes to me, then looks back at him. And I know, right there, she likes him.

  ‘Come on, Zac,’ she says to the other friend.

  Zac cops on. ‘Tomorrow, dude.’

  David looks at them. ‘Sure.’

  We stay looking at each other. I stand up. Then we’re walking towards each other. And my heart feels like it’s filling with too much blood, like it’s going to burst.

  ‘Why are you here?’ he asks, coldly.

  I knew this was going to happen. I knew it. But then I remind myself why I’m here. I remind myself why I’m doing this. ‘I wanted to say sorry.’

  ‘OK.’ As in, you’ve said it now.

  ‘I sent you a letter.’

  ‘Got that.’

  Oh God. So cold. ‘I am sorry, David.’

  He turns to watch his friends leave.

  And then I say it, straight out. ‘I love you.’

  He squints at me. ‘I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that.’

  ‘You sound so cold.’

  ‘What do you expect? I told you I loved you, and it meant nothing to you.’

  ‘It meant everything.’

  ‘Really? The way I remember it, you said you didn’t love me.’

  ‘I lied.’

  He just looks at me. ‘Why are you here?’ he asks, flatly.

  ‘To say sorry.’

  ‘You already have.’

  ‘I wanted to make sure that you’re happy.’

  ‘Happy!’ He laughs.

  ‘I don’t know what to say. I’ve said sorry. I’ve said I love you.’

  ‘Alex.’ And only he can say my name like that. ‘It’s over. You ended it. And that’s been hard enough, but to come here and say sorry means nothing . . . Unless you’ve changed your mind, unless you want what I want.’ He looks me straight in the eye. ‘Is that all you want, Alex, to make sure that I’m happy?’

  I stand very still as his words sink in. He still wants me to wait, after everything I’ve said, everything I’ve done. He must still love me. He must still trust in us. I look into his eyes and know that if I say yes to his last question, that will be it: David McFadden will be gone forever from my life. I look into his eyes and know that if there was ever a time for me to be honest with myself, it is now. I don’t just want to apologise. I don’t just want to make sure he’s happy. I want something else. And I want it so badly it hurts. I’m just afraid. I close my eyes. And think of Mum, who trusted in Dad, right to the end. I think of Gran, who, after everything, still trusts in good things happening. I think of David, still ready to come back for me after everything I’ve done. Then I think of closing my eyes and jumping.

  ‘No. It’s not all I want.’

  His eyes hold mine.

  Then I say it. ‘I want a second chance.’

  THE END

  AND FOR YOUR INFORMATION

  Butterfly Novel #2

  First Kindle Edition

  Denise Deegan © 2011, 2012

  }|{

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the purchaser. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The right of Denise Deegan to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. It may not be re-sold or given away to another person. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you'd like to share it with. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  }|{

  To Laura and Little Bird, with love and butterflies

  }|{

  PROLOGUE | SUSHI RAINBOW

  We’re sitting at the sushi counter in Dundrum. Bowls of different colours glide by on the conveyor belt. It’s embarrassing, having just one bowl of the cheapest stuff. Alex and Rachel have a rainbow of colour. They keep telling me to help myself. I just take one prawn katsu from Rachel’s stash – my favourite. FYI, it’s not like I’m poor or anything. I’m just not minted, like them. My money runs out, like, all the time.

  ‘So,’ I say to Alex, leaning in like I want all the goss – which I do. ‘What was San Diego like? I can’t believe you stayed for six weeks. You’re so lucky.’

  She gives me a look. The one thing you never tell Alex is how lucky she is.

  ‘It was great,’ she says and, unfortunately, leaves it at that. I googled it, San Diego. Sun, sand, surf and, crucially, surfers. They’ve an amazing zoo. It’s, like, huge. With so much land for the animals to roam. And the best thing: you can ride around on segways. The website for the zoo has live webcams of polar bears, elephants and apes. My favourite, though, are the pandas. I still watch them.

  ‘And David?’ Rachel asks.

  Alex smiles automatically and goes all dreamy. Then she’s looking at Rachel, the way she never looks at me, like a best friend. It used to be the three of us, hanging out, all getting on the same, i.e. great. Then Alex’s mum died. I didn’t know what to say to Alex. The harder I tried, the more I messed up. Rachel’s good at stuff like that. They got closer. I try not to mind.

  ‘He was amazing, Rach,’ Alex is saying. ‘I can’t believe I nearly didn’t go. He taught me to surf. At least, he tried.’ She smiles. ‘We got so close.’

  ‘Oh my God, you had sex, didn’t you?’ I ask, leaning in. She laughs like I’m being ridiculous. ‘Oh my God, you did. Didn’t you?’ She can’t stop smiling. Which is, like, a dead giveaway. ‘And?’ I ask. Obviously.