I even talked to my counsellor, Beth. She was older than Sally, and really nice. I told her a little bit about how I felt. Not the worst of it but some. I think it was supposed to help me, to get it off my chest. But, talking to Beth, none of it ever felt real. I cried alone but I never cried when I was with her.
Night-times were the worst. Sometimes I would wake in a panic; other times I would wake still believing Flynn and I were together. Either way, as reality dawned, the terrible naked pain of being without him would swamp me, taking away all hope and all possibility of happiness. I would lie, clutching my little silver heart bracelet, barely able to breathe I missed him so much.
I rarely went out. Leo and I spent our free time talking about college and listening to music. He started reading to me again . . . he just walked in one night with Jane Eyre in his hand, and sat down at the end of the bed. I was pleased. I liked being around Leo. He never mentioned his feelings for me again and, after a month had gone by, I started to hope they had transformed into the same feelings of friendship that I felt for him.
When I wasn’t pretending to be fine, or hanging out with Leo, I buried myself in my AS work and tried to keep my mind off Flynn as much as I could. Some days I’d forget about him for minutes at a time. Others he was with me every second, weighing me down, making every step, every word, an unbearable effort. I couldn’t stand the thought that he hated me . . . that our love had burned away leaving only darkness and dust.
I checked my phone every day for texts, calls, emails and messages. And I scoured the front doormat for post every morning.
Nothing.
I couldn’t believe how easily and completely Flynn had cut me out of his life. And then one Saturday afternoon, the week before Christmas, the doorbell rang.
I opened up, expecting to see carol singers on the doorstep. We got loads of them: kids who only knew one verse of Away in a Manger’ and who obviously thought the commune ‘hippies’ would be a soft touch for loads of cash.
Flynn’s sister, Siobhan, was standing on the doorstep. She looked gorgeous – all long legs and red hair shining in the sunlight. Her eyes widened as she looked at me.
‘Oh, River.’
I stared at her, a million questions flooding my head.
Have you seen him?
Is he all right?
Where is he?
‘Can I come in?’ she asked timidly. She glanced over her shoulder at the 4x4 car parked on the country lane behind her. ‘Gary’s here. He’s got a few errands to run for his dad’s salon but he’ll only be a couple of hours – can I stay while he does that? It’s okay if not, I—’
‘Of course, come in.’
She nodded, then turned and sped off to tell Gary. I watched him get out of the car as she ran up, then wind his arms round her, bending down to kiss her goodbye.
I saw couples all the time at school. Normally it was hard seeing people together but there was something so tender about the way Siobhan and Gary leaned into each other that was beautiful to watch.
As Siobhan ran back into the house, I said: ‘You and Gary look happy.’
She blushed. ‘We’re getting married, actually.’ She held out her hand and showed me the glittering ring on her finger.
‘That’s great,’ I said. I was genuinely happy for her, for them. I took a deep breath. ‘Does Flynn know?’
Siobhan tugged off her coat and scarf. ‘Yes.’ She looked at me, her eyes round and anxious. ‘I didn’t have your number but I knew roughly where the commune was so we drove up here . . .’ She stopped.
It sounded like she’d made a special trip. ‘You mean you came all this way?’
‘It’s no bother. Could we sit down somewhere?’
‘Sure.’ I led Siobhan into the kitchen. I was certain we wouldn’t be disturbed for a while. Leo and Dad and several of the other commune residents were outside, doing pregnancy checks on the Jacob sheep. I was on baking duty. The loaves I’d put in the oven filled the kitchen with their fresh, wheaty scent.
‘That smells good,’ Siobhan said, sitting down at the table.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I only just started baking properly.’
We sat in silence for a moment, then Siobhan took a deep breath. ‘He’s back in London,’ she said. ‘I thought you should know.’
‘Oh.’ My chest tightened. ‘Has . . . have you seen him?’
‘Not exactly.’ Siobhan made a face. ‘His lawyer called Mum. She’d been going out of her mind because Flynn wouldn’t say where he was living and Mum was all set to come over here from Ireland to look for him, then next thing the lawyer rang to say he’d been given a caution for an assault.’
‘An assault?’ I gripped the edge of the kitchen table.
Siobhan sighed. ‘He decked some guy in a club last week. It sounds like he was massively provoked but you never know with Flynn.’
‘Did you speak to him?’ I felt sick at the thought of Flynn in another fight . . . of Flynn in a nightclub . . . of Flynn in London . . .
She nodded. ‘Two days ago. I was so angry with him. I mean, he wouldn’t answer Mum’s calls and she was worried sick. In the end I texted him and told him he was breaking her heart and that if he didn’t take the call I was about to make to him I would never speak to him again in my life.’
I stared at her, amazed that she’d been so forthright.
She smiled. ‘So he answered, all annoyed with me for being so heavy with him. And I had a go . . . about Mum . . . about you . . .’
‘Me?’ I stared at her. Not for the first time I was struck by the way her nose was exactly the same shape as her brother’s. What had Flynn said about me?
‘I told him what your dad told Mum . . .’ Siobhan’s voice was soft and sympathetic. About you locking yourself away and how sad you are.’
‘Oh.’ A fresh wave of misery surged through me. I dug my nails into my palms to stop myself crying but everything inside me was churning over. Flynn knew I was heartbroken. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how knowing that might make him feel. Would he even care?
‘My brother’s such an eejit.’ Siobhan stretched out her legs.
‘Did . . . did he say anything . . . about me?’ My face burned with humiliation as I asked the question. But I had to know.
‘No,’ Siobhan said. ‘He said something about how he’d trusted James, that was all . . . I don’t know, it didn’t really make sense. He did say that if I ever got the chance I should let your dad – and Gemma, is it? – let them know he was grateful they took him in.’
Dad and Gemma and James. He hadn’t even mentioned me. I promised to pass on Flynn’s message, then asked Siobhan for more information.
She didn’t have any – not about Flynn, anyway. All she knew was that he was staying with someone from Goldbar’s gym and would be there until the New Year. After that, she had no idea where he was going or what he was doing.
Siobhan talked for a little longer about her wedding plans – she and Gary were hoping to get married next summer, though she wasn’t yet sure where. After a while, Gary returned to pick her up. I thanked her profusely for taking so much trouble to come and see me and asked her to say hi to her mum and little sister, Caitlin. I charted and smiled as I kissed her goodbye but inside poison ran through my veins.
Flynn still hated me. It was obvious. He blamed and resented me as much as he had done the night of the party. He loathed me.
I loathed myself.
28
After Siobhan’s visit, I stayed in my room again for two whole days. I told Dad and Gemma I wasn’t feeling well. I lay in bed, agonising over what Siobhan had said. Nobody else understood or would ever understand.
I got up for Christmas Day and helped with the big lunch. I pulled my cracker, put on my paper hat and even managed a laugh at my stupid cracker joke. Dad was pleased I seemed so cheerful. I knew he was thinking maybe I’d turned a corner and was getting over Flynn. Stone was there too. I’d missed his birthday completely while I was so w
rapped up in mourning Flynn, so I’d made a special effort with his Christmas present, asking Leo to help me choose some really stylish tops for him and putting them together with a proper skincare package. All dedicated stuff for boys. I’d seen Stone was trying to make an effort with how he looked and thought that maybe, as his big sister, I should try and help. He shrugged and grunted a ‘thank you’ when he opened the present but I could see he was pleased underneath.
After we’d exchanged all our gifts, Dad said he had something to tell us. He took me and Stone to one side and announced that Gemma was pregnant again. He explained they’d wanted to wait a full fourteen weeks before they said anything because of Gemma’s miscarriage earlier in the year. He stressed Stone and I were the first people they’d told.
Stone didn’t seem that bothered one way or the other but I was delighted. I gave Dad a kiss, then went to find Gemma to tell her how thrilled I was. Tears started into her eyes as I hugged her.
‘And I’ll be here to help when it’s born,’ I said, imagining how brilliant it was going to be to have a little brother or sister. ‘When is it due?’
‘The end of June,’ Gemma said with a smile.
So the baby would arrive almost exactly a year after I’d come to live at the commune. It seemed a good omen. Dad said it was okay to let people know and the first person I wanted to tell was Leo. I ran to find him. He was down in the apple orchard, wrapped in two jumpers and a scarf, reading one of his Spanish lit books. His eyes lit up when I told him about the baby and I rushed back to the house full of excitement and hope, happier than I’d been in ages.
My good mood didn’t last long. After our big veggie Christmas lunch, Dad drove me and Stone to Mum’s and we had another meal with her and a couple of her friends that evening. Mum got on my nerves almost immediately, with comments about how I needed to put on some weight and get a haircut. I slept badly that night and woke late. After trying to force me to eat a cheese omelette for breakfast, Mum suggested we went to the Boxing Day sales that afternoon. I refused. Clothes shopping was the last thing I could face. Then she tried to get me to call Grace and Emmi. I couldn’t believe she thought it would be okay for me to be friends with Emmi again – she knew enough of the story of the party night to be aware of how Emmi’s revelation was the trigger for my break-up with Flynn.
‘For goodness’ sake, River,’ Mum snapped when I challenged her. ‘Emmi did you a favour. Can’t you see that now?’
I said nothing. Mum would never get it. There was no point talking to her. Instead I got up, grabbed a jacket and headed outside.
It was a crisp, cold day and the chill wind bit at my face as I strode angrily along the street. London seemed so small to me now . . . so cramped and dirty.
I wasn’t really thinking about where I was going, I just wanted to get away from Mum, but my feet led me to Priory Park, where Flynn and I had met on our first date and so many times after. It was starting to rain as I wandered across the concrete playground, past the basketball hoops and along the path, up to the café and the open air paddling pool. Both were closed, of course. In fact, the whole park was deserted. The few people who’d been in here when I arrived, walking dogs or ferrying children to the play area across the grass, vanished as the rain grew heavier. Soon I was drenched, so I turned and headed for home.
As I trudged up the hill, the wind grew stronger. I bowed my head, spiky raindrops stinging my cheeks. It was still pelting down as I reached the top of my road.
‘River!’ It was him. His voice.
I looked up, my heart racing. I peered across the street, shielding my eyes against the rain.
He was standing by a lamp post on the other side of the road, his shoulders hunched against the rain. We stared at each other for a few seconds, then Flynn ran across the road towards me. I staggered backwards, my legs turning to jelly. I leaned against the cold, damp brick of the garden wall behind me as he slowed and stopped.
He stood half a metre away from me, his eyes fixed on mine. I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. He looked the same, yet different – his face was thinner and his hair shorter; there were lines under his green-gold eyes and I had never seen that trench coat before.
Rain trickled down his face. The world stood still. My hands shook. My body trembled. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t make sense of what was happening. All I knew was that he was here, really here, right in front of me.
‘I had to see you,’ he said.
I hugged my arms around my damp jacket, trying to hide my trembling hands. For a moment I thought I might actually be sick.
‘I came here trying to get up the courage to come to your mum’s house,’ he went on. ‘James told me you were here today. I saw you leave, I followed you all the way to the park. I watched you walk around, then when you started heading back here I . . .’ He paused. A clap of thunder sounded in the distance. ‘I wanted to say I’m sorry.’
I stared at him. Sorry?
‘I shouldn’t have run off like I did. I should have said something to your dad. I should have checked Leo was all right instead of just calling the hospital the next day. I should have apologised for hitting him. I should have talked to you.’ He fell silent.
I tried to process what he was saying but his words clattered around me, making no sense.
Thunder rumbled again in the distance. I shivered. Flynn took off his coat and held it out. He was wearing slim-cut trousers and a sleek, fitted top. They looked insanely expensive, as did the trench coat.
‘River?’
I shook my head. Who did he think he was, turning up out of the blue and thinking he could just say ‘sorry’ and lend me his coat and that somehow the past two months would suddenly look different?
‘I wanted to die,’ I said, the words forcing themselves out through my chartering teeth. ‘After you went, I wanted to die.’
Flynn came towards me, still holding out the coat.
‘Please put this on,’ he said. ‘You’re cold.’
Something in the gesture made me snap. Fury rose inside me and I lashed out, grabbing the coat from his hands and hurling it onto the ground.
‘How dare you say all this now?’ I shouted. ‘How dare you stand in front of me and say you’re sorry after all this time and not speaking to me when I rang and rang and you knew how much I loved you and yet you still went and you stayed away and—’
‘I wanted to come back the next day,’ Flynn said, his eyes burning into me, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘I fell asleep in a bus shelter just outside Norton and when I woke up I wanted to come back.’
‘So why didn’t you?’ I demanded. The rain was easing now, the wind fading, but I was still shivering.
‘What I said that night – most of it was an exaggeration but . . . I didn’t hate the commune but I didn’t belong there either.’ He paused. ‘I hated all the rules, having to do all those chores.’
‘I thought you liked the stuff we did, especially outdoors?’
‘I did. It wasn’t the work, it was being made to do it. Didn’t you ever notice that though we were expected to do the jobs we were given, we never had a chance to join in any of the decision-making?’
I frowned. That was true, though I’d never thought about it before. All the adults on the commune came together for regular monthly meetings to work out what needed to be done over the next few weeks. Flynn and I had never been included in those.
‘And then there was the counselling. The woman I saw in London, before we went to live on the commune, was okay but I hated Sally and I hated those stupid group sessions.’
‘So why didn’t you say something before?’ I asked.
‘I did and they just said my ‘‘resistance’’ was all part of the freakin’ process.’ Flynn bent down to pick up his coat.
I glanced at his wrist. He was wearing a new silver watch. Where had he got the money for that?
‘I wish you would put this on,’ he said, holding out the coat again.
‘What a
bout me kissing James?’ I went on. I was still angry but also shocked by how natural it felt to be standing here talking to him. ‘How d’you feel about that?’
Flynn made a face. ‘I was upset at the time but I realised afterwards I’d overreacted, as everyone who knew anything about it kept on telling me.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘James in particular. I called him the next day, ready to come over and fight him, man to man, but he was so furious with me, I . . . he told me to eff off out of his life, that I was stupid and cruel and . . . I couldn’t believe it, that he had the freakin’ nerve. So I left it, thinking he wasn’t worth my time. Cut off all ties.’
‘But you said you’d spoken to him – that’s how you knew I was here.’
‘I got back to London last week. It took me a few days but I went over to James’s the night before last. I knew I had to apologise to him, too. Tell him I’d realised that the whole thing . . . the stupid kiss . . . was just a big nothing, really.’
I wiped the rain out of my eyes, barely registering that the drops had now stopped falling altogether.
‘James is still angry at me.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘Mostly about you. He told me I was an idiot and that you were still defending me to everyone, even though I didn’t deserve it. Siobhan said the same thing.’
‘Oh.’ I realised I’d stopped shivering.
‘That night when I left, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to be with you. It was . . . I dunno . . . it just hit me: I was living in a prison and I couldn’t take it anymore, not the commune or the counselling or college. I was living this narrow life, somebody else’s life. It was like I’d just woken up from a bad dream and realised wherever I turned I was just being pushed around, doing what other people wanted. I didn’t even know what I wanted. I still don’t.’
I stared at him, confused. ‘I thought you wanted to go to law school. Don’t you?’
‘I don’t know.’ Flynn shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. Becoming a lawyer was always about not being my dad. Being the opposite of my dad. But I’m not sure if it’s really what I want to do . . . who I am. I have to work out what I want to do. For me.’