Defy the Stars

  I shook my head, stopping only to slip on my shoes. I followed Flynn outside. The house was on a wide, residential street. Traffic zoomed past at the top of the road. Flynn turned towards it.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I said.

  ‘To get you a taxi.’

  ‘A black cab? Even a minicab will cost hundreds from here. I’ve only got my share of—’

  ‘I’m paying,’ Flynn said.

  ‘I can’t let you—’

  He turned and pulled me towards him. He lowered his face and kissed me – a hotter, swifter kiss than before. Then he started walking again, his arm around my shoulders, pulling me with him. ‘It’s just money, Riv,’ he said. ‘You want to be there. I want to make it happen.’

  I hesitated. Two black cabs passed at the top of the road. Both had their lights on. Flynn sped up. ‘Come on.’

  We rushed to the top of the road. Another taxi was coming. Flynn held out his arm, flagging it down. As the cab pulled over, Flynn pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He shoved the whole thing in my hands. ‘Take what you need,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  The cab stopped. Flynn leaned in at the window, giving the driver directions to the commune. The driver baulked at first, but Flynn was insistent. At last he turned to me and opened the door.

  ‘Get in,’ he said.

  ‘Flynn, I can’t take your money.’ Flynn’s eye bored into me. ‘I don’t want it,’ he said. ‘I was going to tell you but then . . . the way you acted before . . . I didn’t think you’d want to hear it, but I’m quirting work. I’m going back to college.’

  I stared at him, the night air cool on my skin.

  Flynn bent closer to me. ‘Everything you said was true, River,’ he said softly. ‘Everything. Nobody knows me like you.’ He held open the door again. ‘Get in.’

  Still clutching his wallet I clambered into the taxi. I turned to Flynn, but before I could speak he slammed the door shut and the taxi sped off.

  After all the noise of the party and the rush to leave it, I was alone.

  7

  I sat in stunned silence for a few moments, Flynn’s wallet in my hand, trying to get my head around everything that had just happened.

  The taxi driver was playing dance music up front. He whistled in time with the beat as he zoomed through some traffic lights. I peered out of the window. Flynn was still standing, watching me drive away.

  We turned a corner and Flynn disappeared. I fastened my seat belt and opened the wallet. Inside was an Oyster card, two credit cards and two ordinary bank cards, plus a few receipts and a half-used folder of matches with the logo ‘Blue Parrot’ stamped on the front.

  I pulled back the soft leather divider. Whoa, there had to be nearly five hundred pounds in here. What was Flynn doing carrying around so much money?

  I counted out all the notes, then checked the two remaining small pockets. One contained a condom. The other a tiny photograph that had clearly been cut from a bigger picture. I peered at it, trying to make out the face on the photo in the passing street lamps.

  It was a picture of me, though I didn’t remember it being taken. I was smiling in the photo, the light behind me, glowing around my hair.

  I sat back and let out a long, slow, shaky breath.

  The memory of our kiss in the garden filled my head. What had I been thinking?

  You weren’t thinking, I told myself. It was stupid. A mistake.

  Well, it was also over.

  Except that, at the back of my mind I knew that whatever else I did, I would have to find some way of returning this wallet to Flynn. Even if he didn’t want the money, he would surely need the cards.

  Trying to put him out of my mind, I texted Grace, telling her that I’d had to leave the party because Gemma had been rushed to hospital. Then I tried to ring Dad. The call went to voicemail.

  My thoughts drifted back to Flynn and the argument he’d been having with Cody. What was the name of their boss? Cody had said very clearly that he wouldn’t let Flynn ‘walk away’.

  I frowned, trying to remember.

  That was it . . . Bentham.

  I googled the name, then scanned past the first few entries for a philosopher, a restaurant and a railway station. At the bottom of the page I came across a newspaper report from March last year:

  Lance Bentham has been cleared of killing businessman Robert Reynolds, after an Old Bailey trial lasting almost four months ended today.

  Bentham, 39, was charged with murder after Reynolds, 43, was found dead at the side of a disused railway track in Acton, West London two years ago.

  Leaving the courthouse today, Lance Bentham issued the following statement. ‘Today’s verdict is a vindication of my innocence, not just of this terrible crime but also of the ridiculous accusation that I am part of a London-based underworld. I am deeply grateful for the support of my family during this difficult time and would ask to be left in peace so that my family and I are able to get on with our lives.’

  Bentham owns a chain of nightclubs and fitness centres across London and the South-East, including the popular Blue Parrot bar and the Bentham Leisure Complex.

  I stared at my phone. Was Bentham a gangster? A shiver ran down my spine as I flicked open the folder of matches again. So Flynn had been to this Blue Parrot bar. What the hell had he got himself caught up in? My thoughts careered around for most of the journey back to Norton. One moment I was worrying about Dad and Gemma, the next, full of concern for Flynn. At least the roads were virtually empty, my taxi making the entire journey in just one hour and fifteen minutes, depositing me outside the hospital at 2.45 a.m. and leaving Flynn’s wallet half emptied of cash.

  I felt a stab of guilt, but reasoned Flynn had insisted I use his money. In fact, he’d said he didn’t want it, that he was going back to college.

  Did he mean that?

  My head spun. I couldn’t make sense of any of it. Right now, it didn’t matter. Right now, all that counted was finding Dad and checking on Gemma. I headed into the hospital’s A&E department and gave the receptionist Gemma’s name. Unsmiling, she directed me up to the maternity ward. It took me a while to find my way but at last I arrived at the nurse’s station where a harassed-looking nurse said she’d try and find Dad for me.

  I sat in a plastic-backed armchair in a small waiting room near a radiator blasting out heat. Occasionally nurses and doctors bustled past, but the place was fairly empty – and very warm. It struck me that even though I’d said I’d be late Mum might well be worrying by now, so I sent her a text explaining that I’d got a lift to the hospital. I had just finished when Dad appeared in the doorway. He looked terrible, his face pale and lined, his eyes full of worry.

  I jumped up from my chair.

  ‘Dad? What’s happening? I got a text from Leo. Is Gemma okay?’

  Dad nodded. He didn’t speak. I went over. To my horror his eyes filled with tears. He pressed his lips more firmly together and I realised he wasn’t speaking because he was trying not to cry.

  ‘Dad?’ My voice came out small and terrified. ‘Dad, please, what’s going on?’

  ‘Gemma’s fine, love,’ he said at last. ‘It was a long, long labour. They had to do an emergency c-section in the end.’ He paused and pulled me into a hug. I put my arms around him, breathing in the musty, incense-scented smell of his jumper. ‘How come you’re here, River?’

  ‘I . . . I . . .’ There was no way I could tell him about the money from Flynn. Not while he was in this state. ‘Leo sent me a text. It sounded bad, so I got someone at the party to give me a lift back here.’

  Dad squeezed me tight. His body was shaking as he fought back his tears. I held him, feeling scared. I had never seen him like this before. After a moment he pulled away and blew his nose.

  ‘Sorry, River,’ he muttered. ‘It’s just been . . .’ He shook his head, clearly unable to find the words for just how awful a night he had had.

  I bit my lip, close to tears myself. ‘Dad, please. Wha
t about the baby?’ My whole body tensed, waiting for his reply.

  ‘She’s hanging in there.’ Dad wiped his face. ‘There was some problem, stress in the womb or something. They took her off to the neonatal intensive care unit as soon as she was out.’

  I stared at him. I had a sister. He was telling me there was a new person in our family, a little girl. Despite the fact that I’d been preparing for this moment since I’d found out Gemma was pregnant, it still felt like a shock.

  ‘River, will you go down there and see how the baby’s getting on?’ Dad asked. ‘Gemma’s in a terrible state. I can’t leave her, but I hate to think of the baby being all alone.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  Dad disappeared. A moment later he was back, with a young nurse – all smiles and crisp, blue uniform – who took me along to the neonatal intensive care unit. I wasn’t allowed in the room where the baby was but the nurse showed me through the glass window.

  ‘There she is,’ the nurse smiled.

  I followed her pointing finger to one of the clear-sided cribs that lined the wall. A tiny baby lay inside, red and scrawny and wearing a little pink hat. Tubes and wires ran in and out of her body.

  I gasped. ‘Is she going to be all right?’

  The nurse parted my shoulder. ‘The next twenty-four hours are what counts.’

  I stared at her. What did that mean? The nurse smiled again.

  ‘I’m sure the doctor will give your parents an update as soon as she can,’ she said.

  The nurse left soon after. I stared in through the glass wall, watching my little sister. I said the words to myself: my little sister.

  It didn’t seem real that I was related to that tiny scrap of life in the crib. I could still feel Flynn’s hot breath on my mouth, his strong back under my hands, the urgency in his voice as he propelled me into that cab.

  That had been real.

  I stayed in the intensive care unit for another half-hour, then Dad came and found me. He said Gemma was asleep, that he and I should go home, get some sleep ourselves, so that we could come back in the morning. As we left, he put his arm around my shoulders.

  ‘Thank you for coming straight here, River. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  ‘Oh, Dad.’ I gave him a hug, not knowing how to put my own feelings into words.

  By the time we got back to the commune I was totally exhausted and fell asleep as soon as I lay down. I woke, hours later, as glorious sunshine poured in through the window. I lay on the bed, remembering everything that had happened last night.

  Was the baby all right?

  I leaped out of bed. Dad wasn’t in his room. I hurried downstairs. He was in the kitchen, on the phone. As I walked in, he came off the line.

  ‘How is she?’ I asked.

  ‘Baby’s okay,’ Dad said with relief. ‘I’m going back to the hospital in an hour. Do you want to come?’

  I nodded. In the end, the whole commune came. Not all at once, of course. We took it in turns, doing shifts throughout the day, someone to sit with Gemma, someone to keep an eye on the baby. Dad and Gemma had decided to call her Lily, a name I really liked. Gemma’s parents were due to arrive that evening. They were staying in Dad and Gemma’s bedroom and I was sent home at about four p.m. to change the bed linen and get the room ready.

  As I hauled the sheets off the bed, my phone rang. It was Grace, asking how Gemma and the baby were. I explained quickly, then Grace took a deep breath.

  ‘I’m at James’s house,’ she said. ‘Flynn’s here too. He was worried about it all . . . about you . . . He’s been bugging me since he got here to call you and find out if everything was okay.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Do you want to speak to him?’

  I gulped. Of course I did. And yet, what would be the point? If there was one thing last night had proved, it was that Flynn and I could never just be friends. If we couldn’t be together properly – and there was no way I could imagine that ever happening – then, as far as I was concerned, we couldn’t be together at all.

  ‘No.’ I hesitated. Flynn had said he didn’t want the contents of his wallet back but I couldn’t possibly hang on to all that money, let alone all his cards. ‘Tell Flynn I’m really grateful for the money for the taxi, that I’ll pay him back and . . . and I’ll give his wallet to James to pass on to him as soon as I can . . .’

  ‘Okay.’ Grace rang off.

  I stood, a hollow feeling in my chest, Dad and Gemma’s sheets still bunched in my hands.

  ‘So you’re back together, then? How lovely for you both.’ It was Leo, his voice riddled with sarcasm.

  I spun around. He was standing in the doorway.

  ‘How long were you listening?’ I demanded.

  Leo shrugged. His normally pale face was flushed, his slight shoulders hunched.

  ‘I’m really wasting my time, waiting for you, aren’t I?’ he said.

  ‘Waiting for me?’ I frowned. ‘Leo, we’re friends. I thought you understood—’

  ‘Oh, I do understand,’ he interrupted. ‘You and I were getting closer and closer and now Flynn clicks his fingers and you’re right back where you started with him.’

  ‘No.’ I flung the sheets down on the bed. ‘None of that is true.’

  ‘Really?’ Leo spat. ‘Then tell me you’d care if I left the commune and moved away with Dad and Ros.’

  ‘Of course I’d care,’ I said. ‘You’re my best friend. At least you were until you got this stupid bee in your bonnet about Flynn. But you should be with your dad . . . and we can still visit each other. We’ll always be friends.’

  Leo walked towards me, his face screwed into a miserable scowl. ‘Just friends?’ he said. ‘Always just friends?’

  I gulped. I hated how unhappy he looked and yet it wasn’t fair to give him false hope. Maybe, one day, someone else would come along who made me feel something close to the intense, amazing emotions I felt for Flynn. But that person was never going to be Leo.

  ‘I think,’ I said, trying to choose my words carefully, ‘I think that if I was going to feel more for you than friendship it would have already happened. So, yes, always, just friends.’

  Leo nodded, his eyes pale and ice-blue in the bright sunlight.

  ‘It won’t work out, you and him, you know,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s inevitable. He is going to drag you down to his level and then he will destroy you.’

  He turned and walked away. I sank on to the bed, the chill of his words running through me to my core.

  Leo wasn’t right.

  He couldn’t be right.

  I wouldn’t let him be right.

  8

  Gemma’s parents came and went again, with promises to return in a couple of weeks. Dad visited the hospital every day to see Gemma and baby Lily. Gemma was fine now – due to come home soon. The baby was still poorly, but getting stronger every day. I visited too but what with Gemma in hospital and Dad spending so much time there, there was a lot to do on the commune.

  Of the other residents, only two – John and Julia – were at home every day. The geeky IT guy went to work as usual and kept himself to himself. Meanwhile, Leo’s dad and Ros had decided they would definitely move out – to Devon – and started taking several days at a time to tour the area, working out exactly where they wanted to set up home together.

  I threw myself into A-level work at sixth form college, though not as intently as Leo. He spent hours working in the college library before, between and after all his lessons. I hadn’t tried to talk to him since our argument a week ago and, as he was out of the commune so much, we weren’t even travelling to and from college together any more.

  After a cool spell, the weather grew hot and humid. By the end of the week the temperature was pushing thirty degrees and I was spending as much time as possible in the apple orchard, which had always been my favourite spot on the commune.

  I was sitting out there under the shade of a tree on Friday after college. I had spent the past hour gather
ing the tiny apples that fell in the annual ‘June drop’; in a minute I’d take them inside and get on with preparing that night’s supper. Dad had already called to say he’d be home late.

  Everyone around me was making plans for the summer. Grace and Emmi had both been on the phone, asking if I’d come on holiday with them. I said I’d think about it. But all I could really think about was Flynn.

  I had taken to carrying his wallet around with me, for reasons I was trying not to examine too closely. I hadn’t spent any more of the money inside, though I had examined the contents again. I hadn’t heard from Flynn, either directly or through James. Despite what he’d said last weekend about not wanting the wallet back, I had to at least try and return it. The easiest thing would be to leave it with James, of course. That’s what I’d told Grace I would do, what I should do. But the memory of my kiss with Flynn still filled my head. He’d said he was still in love with me.

  I had spent the week avoiding thinking how I felt about that but, as I turned the soft leather wallet over in my hand, I knew that it was the same for me. For all my insistence that I had moved on, the truth was that I still loved him. I sat back, against the rough bark of the tree. It was a relief to admit it.

  But what did I do?

  One thing I knew for sure, I couldn’t tell anyone. Dad and Gemma had enough to worry about with Lily still in the hospital. Mum had always hated Flynn anyway. Leo likewise. Grace would be sympathetic if I told her how I felt, but she had already made it clear she thought that seeing him again would be crazy. So had James – and he had once been Flynn’s best friend. None of them really understood him like I did. Worse, none of them truly understood the strength of the emotions that still bound us to each other.

  I was certain that Flynn had got involved in something criminal with that guy Bentham, but he had said – both directly to me and to Cody – that he was ending that involvement. Didn’t he deserve another chance?

  Why did no one else believe in him like I did?

  I sighed, thinking through my options. James was my only direct route to Flynn. But if I asked James where I could find him, he would inevitably tell Grace who would probably tell Emmi – and I’d have to face an interrogation from both of them.