Casting Shadows

  I gazed around. The Broadway was bustling, a busy Monday morning. Everything felt strange . . . me and Flynn sleeping together last night . . . my row with Mum and Dad and them not calling me . . . and now bumping into Emmi and us talking like old friends even though we weren’t so close anymore . . .

  ‘Well, don’t take this the wrong way, Emmi, but maybe it was meant to be. I mean, if you really liked Alex you wouldn’t have kept going off with other people, would you? So . . . so maybe it’s not such a bad thing you’ve broken up . . .’

  Emmi’s forehead crinkled into a frown. She pushed back her long, wavy brown hair with a typically haughty flick of the hand. ‘Of course it’s not a bad thing. I’m just upset he dumped me . . . you know, before I had a chance to dump him.’

  I burst out laughing. That was so typical of Emmi. I felt a wave of affection for her wash over me. Yes, she was abrasive and shallow sometimes, but she was also funny and quick – qualities which, if I was honest, Grace lacked and which I missed.

  Emmi laughed too, her face lighting up. Two guys walked past as she did so and they both stared, mesmerised by her pretty face.

  ‘I don’t think you’ll have any problem finding a new boyfriend,’ I said, rolling my eyes.

  Emmi giggled. ‘Oh, who wants a boyfriend! Say, River, are you going anywhere right now? D’you fancy getting a drink at Melon Head?’

  Melon Head was the latest juice bar that had opened up in Crouch End. I hadn’t been there yet but I’d heard lots of good reports.

  ‘Sure, I was only going home,’ I said, grimacing. ‘And anything that puts off having to talk to Mum is a good thing.’

  ‘Really?’ Emmi linked arms with me and we strolled down the street to the juice bar. Inside, Melon Head was cool, all chrome and mirrors. I was certain the drinks were going to be expensive. Still, Emmi always had loads of money and, right now, I felt kind of reckless about everything.

  ‘What’s up with you and your mum?’ Emmi asked.

  I took a deep breath.

  ‘Mum found out something,’ I said.

  Emmi looked up. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s Flynn. He came back from Ireland a few months ago,’ I said, deciding just to come straight out with it. ‘He and I have been going back out in secret for a bit. Mum’s really angry about it.’

  ‘Oooh.’ Emmi’s eyes widened. ‘Tell me everything.’

  So I told her. We ended up charting for over an hour. I apologised for not telling her about Flynn’s return before, hinting that I was worried that if Alex had found out the news might have got back to my parents.

  To my surprise Emmi acknowledged this straight away.

  ‘Yeah, he always had such a downer on Flynn. You know, I think it was because he was jealous of him.’

  ‘Jealous?’ I said.

  ‘Of how Flynn didn’t care what people thought of him, mostly.’ Emmi sipped at her juice. ‘And the way Flynn seemed to get good marks in everything without ever trying. Alex was nice but not that good at school stuff, you know? His dad was always making comparisons with his older brothers. Alex let it get to him.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ I said.

  Emmi set down her glass.

  ‘I’m sorry I was always so rude about Flynn too,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I guess maybe I was a bit jealous myself – not of him personally, but of how loved-up the two of you were . . . are . . .’ She smiled, her eyes softening.

  I stared at her. Never in a million years had I imagined that Emmi would envy me and Flynn our relationship. She always seemed so happy with her own life. For the first time, it struck me how hard it is ever to really understand another person. The thought made me shiver. Still, Flynn and I understood each other, didn’t we? That was part of what made our relationship so special.

  ‘Anyway . . .’ Emmi sipped at her juice again. ‘It’s great you’re back together, Riv I’m really pleased for you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I squeezed her hand.

  We charted on. It was fun. I even promised Emmi I’d go round to her place at the weekend to hang out – and that I’d persuade Flynn to come to our school’s end-of-year party the following week. He’d already said he didn’t want to go to his own prom but maybe he wouldn’t mind coming to mine with me. I hadn’t given it much thought before but it would be fun, especially if I was never going back to that school.

  That thought reminded me of Mum and Dad and our earlier argument over my moving to the commune. Suddenly I felt sure that I wanted to live there; it had been great to see Emmi – and I would definitely miss her and Grace – but I was ready for a fresh start. Anyway, the commune wasn’t a million miles away. I’d still be able to see my London friends on a regular basis.

  I said goodbye to Emmi and set off for home. Mum would probably be in and alone when I got there. I would tackle her again, straight away, pointing out all the reasons why a fresh start at a new sixth form college would be good for me before bringing Flynn into the argument.

  It was almost one o’clock when I fitted my key into the front door. I could hear voices coming from the kitchen. Mum and Stone were talking . . . damn, so she wasn’t alone. Wait, was that Dad weighing in too?

  I scurried across the hall. The three of them were sitting around the kitchen table eating lunch – a couple of quiches and a bowl of salad stood in the middle of the table. A bottle of wine was open too.

  What was going on? I couldn’t remember the last time Mum and Dad had been together for a family meal.

  The three of them looked up as I walked in. Dad smiled but Mum pursed her lips.

  ‘Ah, the wanderer returns,’ she said sharply.

  ‘Hi, sis,’ Stone said.

  I looked at him in surprise. Stone spent most of his time skulking about the house, holed up in his room. I remember Mum saying he was going to a party last night. I peered more closely. Was that a love bite on his neck? I suppressed a giggle. My sporty, lanky, fourteen-year-old brother was getting interest from girls. Could this day get any weirder?

  ‘What’s going on?’ I said.

  Mum put down her knife and fork. They clattered against her plate. ‘I’m fed up with you treating this house like a hotel, River.’

  I opened my mouth to protest but Mum held up her hand. ‘Let’s not argue about it,’ she said. ‘Your dad stayed last night so he could be here when you got back, so we could talk.’

  My mouth fell open. Dad had stayed at our house?

  ‘We spoke for a long time about what’s best for you,’ Mum went on. ‘You’ve made it clear that you can’t wait to get away from here and go and live on the commune – not just for the summer, but permanently.’

  She paused. I flushed with embarrassment. The way Mum was speaking, all cold and hard, made it sound like I wanted to go away from home to punish her.

  ‘It’s not about getting away from you, Mum,’ I said. ‘And you suggested me moving to the commune yourself a few months ago.’

  ‘I know,’ Mum said. She pursed her lips. ‘But that was only if you refused to stop seeing Flynn—’

  ‘Which I do.’

  ‘I know.’

  We stared at each other. I could sense Dad and Stone watching us. A lump formed in my throat. I hated Mum being so angry with me. Tears welled in my eyes. Mum shook her head, then she sighed. ‘I don’t want you to leave, River, but I appreciate that you’re nearly seventeen and old enough to start making some of your own decisions.’

  I glanced at Dad. He nodded.

  ‘We’ve checked out the sixth form college you’re so set on transferring to,’ Mum went on.

  ‘Norton Napier?’

  Mum nodded. ‘Their website is very impressive and so are their results. I called them this morning and, provided you meet the entry criteria with your GCSEs, they say they’ll have a place for you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘The three of us should visit this week, just to be sure,’ Dad added. ‘But if you still want to go there after the visit that’s fine with Mum and me.?
??

  My heart thumped with excitement. And apprehension. This was epic. Mum was actually agreeing to me going to live with Dad. I could hardly believe it.

  ‘And I’m having your room here.’ Stone grinned, getting up from the table and heading for the door.

  ‘What?’ For a second I wanted to protest. After all, suppose I wanted to come back at some point? Still, who was to say I wouldn’t be just as happy in a new place? Or that Stone himself wouldn’t have left home by the time college was over. After all, he was only two years younger than me.

  It’s only fair, River,’ Dad said softly as Stone left the room. If you’re sure this is really what you want.’

  It is, I’m so ready to leave Langton.’ As I said the words, my life at school flashed before my eyes. I’d been at Langton since I was eleven and I knew every nook and cranny of the place. Life there was easy. Comfortable.

  Which was part of the problem. It was too comfortable. I was ready for adventure, for a new life, for a new life with Flynn.

  Flynn.

  ‘What about . . . the other thing?’ I asked.

  Mum and Dad exchanged glances.

  Dad cleared his throat. ‘You mean Flynn?’

  I nodded, my throat suddenly dry.

  ‘I don’t want you seeing him,’ Mum said, folding her arms. ‘I certainly don’t want him living there with you but your father seems to think Flynn deserves a second chance . . .’ She sniffed.

  ‘Everyone deserves a second chance,’ Dad said. He turned to me. ‘River, I’ve thought very carefully about Flynn joining the commune. I’ve already talked to Gemma but I need to discuss it with everyone else who lives there. That’s how we make decisions there, everyone together.’

  ‘But they won’t mind,’ I said eagerly. ‘They’ll understand it’s a way of helping him, won’t they?’

  ‘I think so,’ Dad acknowledged. ‘Everyone’s certainly very aware that right now Flynn doesn’t have a proper home in London and that he’s working hard and attending counselling sessions to deal with his anger. The commune ethos is all about shared support and when you take into account Flynn’s age and his background and all the efforts he’s making to turn things around for himself, well, it’s impressive.’ He hesitated. ‘But Flynn’s got to jump through some hoops too.’

  ‘What hoops?’

  ‘Flynn’s made a good start with the counselling but he still has a lot to do to prove himself, so we want him to continue seeing someone – there are several options at the place where Gemma works, so—’

  ‘I’m sure that will be fine,’ I interrupted. After all, hadn’t Flynn spoken positively about the therapy he was having? I couldn’t imagine he would object to continuing it once he was living at the commune.

  ‘Good,’ Dad said. ‘So . . . clearly Flynn’s trying hard to get things right and he obviously cares about you very much.’

  ‘Oh, he does,’ I said, clasping my hands together. ‘He does, Dad. And I really care about him.’

  Mum snorted. From outside in the hall Stone made puking noises.

  I ignored them both. ‘So are you saying Flynn can stay too?’

  ‘Whoa, River.’ Dad took my hands. ‘What we’re saying is this: as soon as your school term officially ends, you move into the commune. Alone. You’ll be expected to take on proper chores and Flynn can visit at weekends, when he will also have responsibilities.’

  ‘He won’t mind that,’ I said, my excitement building. ‘But what about the sixth form college? What about when term starts?’

  ‘Well, Flynn needs to make contact with them directly, but there should be no problem. He easily has the grades to get in and the college definitely has places.’

  ‘So you’re saying . . . ?’

  Dad threw another look at Mum. She was sitting very still in her chair, her eyes on the plate in front of her. Dad turned back to me.

  ‘I’m saying that if Flynn does everything that’s asked of him then he can move in permanently for the start of school in September. Separate rooms, though. Flynn will have to stay on the sofa until we can sort something out for him.’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ I flung my arms around him, happiness overwhelming me. ‘Thank you!’

  I could hear a chair scraping across the kitchen floor. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mum walking away, out of the room. Dad hugged me back.

  ‘Remember, Flynn will have to keep seeing a counsellor,’ he said. ‘That’s an important condition. Gemma was suggesting group counselling might be helpful and we expect Flynn to be open to that process, just as—’

  ‘Oh, he will be.’ I nestled in close against Dad’s chest, breathing in his safe, solid, earthy smell.

  Dad kissed the top of my head. ‘It’ll be so wonderful having you live with us, darling,’ he said. ‘Just don’t stop being my little girl . . . not quite yet.’

  8

  I called Flynn straight away and told him Dad had agreed to us both moving into the commune. He couldn’t believe it. We met in the park a few hours later; it was still light, a warm, sunny evening. We lay stretched out on the grass and Flynn wound my hair around his fingers as I explained the conditions Dad had laid down. I was a little worried that he might baulk at the idea of being told what to do but, instead, a slow smile spread over his face.

  ‘So we’ll be able to stay together? Make that storeroom into a proper bedroom?’

  ‘Dad doesn’t want us to sleep together, though,’ I reminded him. ‘You’ve got to stay on the sofa, at least at first.’

  Flynn waved this away. ‘We’ll sort that,’ he said. ‘We’ll be living together. And going to the same school. A proper sixth form college just around the corner.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And all I’ll have to do in return is go to group therapy and spend eighteen hours a week or whatever working on the commune?’ he asked. ‘Mending fences or taking a turn washing up . . . that sort of thing?’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’ I frowned. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on what it was, but there was surely something missing from Flynn’s summary. Commune living wasn’t just about doing chores in return for a free room. It was about joining in, being part of something bigger than an individual life.

  ‘You’ll still have to get on with everyone . . . no fights or anything,’ I said. ‘And you haven’t seen the sixth form college yet. Or Gemma’s place where they do the group counselling.’

  Flynn sat up, waving his hand dismissively again. ‘None of that will be a problem. And I’ve totally worked out the therapy thing now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I said. Across the park a group of little boys were arguing over a football. One of them picked up the ball and ran off to the swings. The others chased after him.

  Flynn shrugged. ‘What they want to hear is how you’re taking responsibility for your anger, not blaming other people for how you feel.’

  ‘Oh.’ I wasn’t sure what to say. Flynn hadn’t talked much about his counselling sessions. I had no idea how they worked. ‘So . . . do you often still get the urge to hit people?’ I asked with a smile, trying to make my question sound light and casual.

  Flynn grinned. ‘Sometimes, but I don’t do it, that’s the point.’

  The little boys with the football ran back onto the grass behind Flynn but I kept my focus on him.

  ‘What d’you mean?’ I asked. ‘What stops you?’

  ‘I’ve got . . . what do they call them? Yeah, strategies.’ Flynn said the word with heavy emphasis. ‘I’ve got strategies for dealing with it when I lose my temper. You know, like focusing on something else. It’s cool, Riv. Don’t worry.’

  I pressed my hands into the grass. The earth was dry against my palms. ‘So you’re pleased?’ I said.

  ‘I’m d-e-lirious with d-e-light,’ Flynn said, his voice growling over the words. Then he leaned right over me. ‘Let me show you how much.’

  Term officially ended a couple of weeks later. By that point I had visited Norton Napier with Mum
– and been really impressed by the college. The syllabuses they followed here for History and English looked much more interesting than the courses I would have had to take at Langton. I could even do Psychology, which wasn’t on offer at all at my old school. Flynn had also visited, though he had gone separately and on his own. When we talked afterwards he sounded just as excited as I was about the college, though for a different reason. ‘The important thing is that they’ll take us both, Riv,’ he said. I’ll get my As wherever we are.’

  From anyone else it might have sounded arrogant but Flynn was just stating facts. He was smart and focused and he’d always had great grades.

  The last few days of school passed in a blur. Flynn came with me to the Langton end-of-year party and we had a great time. Emmi made an effort to be really friendly with Flynn who, in turn, was much nicer to her than he used to be. I guess it helped that she was no longer going out with Alex.

  Alex himself wasn’t at the prom, of course, but James came along with Grace and he and Flynn had a blast. They dressed in suits (Flynn borrowed his from James’s brother) and heckled when our year captain, Daisy Walker, whom they both knew from Romeo and Juliet, was doing her rather formal ‘thank-you’ speech to everyone who had helped organise the party.

  Lots of girls threw Flynn admiring glances as we passed. I saw him notice these – and the girls’ long legs and short skirts – but he still spent almost the entire evening by my side, his arm around my shoulder. I, for once, felt good about how I looked. I was wearing a silvery, backless dress of Emmi’s that clung to my hips then floated prettily over my thighs. Both she and Grace had said I looked amazing in it and, from the look on Flynn’s face when he saw me, I was hoping they were right.

  It was late and the others were all on the dance floor when I slipped outside for some air. I was just standing, leaning against the wall by the fire door, when I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Grace coming out too. She was in a light blue dress, much shorter than she would normally wear, and a pair of Emmi’s killer heels. Her pale cheeks were flushed and her blonde hair tousled.