After Easter Rami and Sophie invite us over for lunch. Aurora is walking now even though she hasn't yet reached her first birthday. We sit around in the spacious living room. Rami is glued to the television as his favourite team battle against relegation. Aurora takes my hand and I allow her to lead me over to her toy box on the far side of the room. Sophie smiles over at us from the sofa. 'Oh, we are so happy to have a change from Mummy,' she says as Aurora coos and claps her hands with pleasure.
'I think she remembers me,' I say to Sophie. 'She gave me such a big smile when we arrived.'
'Of course she remembers you!' Sophie exclaims. 'She absolutely adores her auntie Jennah.'
I feel myself flush with pleasure. I have never been called an auntie before. I plant a big kiss on the top of Aurora's head. Flynn enters with a tray of coffees. He hands them round and then comes over to us, waving a biscuit in front of Aurora. 'Can she?' he suddenly remembers to ask Sophie.
'Of course, if Jennah doesn't mind biscuit crumbs all over her.'
Flynn gives Aurora the biscuit. I pretend to try and bite a piece of it and Aurora generously sticks the salivary biscuit straight into my open mouth. We all laugh.
Flynn goes back to his coffee and takes a seat on the sofa next to Sophie.
I pretend I'm a monster, trying to bite Aurora's toe. She wiggles and squeals.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Sophie putting her arm around Flynn's shoulders, pulling him towards her and kissing the side of his face. 'How's my favourite brother-in-law?'
He flushes briefly and smiles. 'Your only brother-inlaw.'
I nibble on Aurora's toe. She squeals, banging her feet against the floor.
'Still my favourite,' Sophie says, ruffling his hair affectionately. 'Are you feeling as well as you look?'
'I think so,' Flynn replies.
Aurora starts to chortle as I blow raspberries into her tummy.
'That's fabulous,' Sophie says. 'What about your hands?'
'They're still the same, unfortunately,' Flynn replies, suddenly lowering his voice.
'So the Lithobid's not working?'
'No.'
I stop, my face buried in Aurora's lap.
'Show me – is it visible?' Sophie asks.
I withdraw my head from Aurora's clutches, glancing surreptitiously across the room. Flynn has his hands held out in front of him, splaying his long fingers with their bitten-down nails. Sophie seems to be inspecting them.
'I can see what you mean,' I hear her say. 'What was Doctor Stefan's reaction?'
'That I have to live with it, basically. He won't lower the lithium until I've been well for at least six months.' Flynn is talking so quietly now that I have to strain to hear. 'I tried asking him about switching to Sodium Valproate or Carbamazepine but since they weren't very effective when I first tried them he says he doesn't want to risk it.'
Aurora tugs at my hair and babbles loudly, trying to engage me in further play. I blow into her tummy again so that they won't think I'm listening.
'Is it difficult to live with?' Sophie asks.
'It really affects my playing,' Flynn replies.
Aurora starts to wail in protest at my inertia. I force myself to pay attention to her and try building her a tower of Duplo. She smiles and gurgles at me, happy again. I try to keep her as quiet as I can, straining to catch the conversation on the other side of the room, over the noise of Rami's football match.
'I suppose you could ask Doctor Stefan for a med called Propranolol, but it can cause sleep disturbances.'
'I'll try anything,' Flynn says. 'I've got to stop this, Soph – it could ruin my career.'
'I know, but you're well. Look at you, you're so well.'
'But none of that matters if I can't play.'
On the train home, I sit with my legs crossed at the ankles, feet up on the seat in front, head resting against Flynn's chest. He has his arms around me and I feel strangely safe in the empty, chilly carriage. He is practising the fingering to the Rach Two on my thighs. I recognize it from the opening volley of chords. I turn my head slightly to look up at his face and say, 'How many more days till the Queen Charlotte finals?'
'Twenty-three,' he replies without missing a beat.
Harry, Kate and I have all booked tickets on the Eurostar to watch him compete. Harry's parents live in Brussels, so we don't even have to pay for a hotel.
'What were you saying to Sophie about your hands?' I ask suddenly.
I feel Flynn stiffen. There is a silence. 'Nothing much. Just that the higher dose of lithium was giving me a slight hand tremor. But it's fine now. It's wearing off.'
'Really?' I turn to look at him again. 'Isn't it affecting your playing?'
'No, no, not any more. It's hardly noticeable. Just a minor nuisance from time to time.'
For the next few weeks we don't see much of each other. University continues at its frenetic pace and Flynn takes time out from all his lectures to practise for the competition. Finals are just over a month away and my revision begins in earnest. The weekend trip to Brussels draws nearer, a welcome break from the long hours spent in the library. Harry calls the night before with confirmation of train times and meeting points. Professor Kaiser calls to give Flynn some last-minute reminders. The professor is catching a train on the day of the competition, so thankfully he won't be travelling with us. That night, I manage to persuade Flynn to stop practising by ten. I go to bed with the sickish feeling I get whenever I am about to watch him compete.
The following morning I wake up in an empty bed to the sound of my alarm clock. After showering, dressing and doing some last-minute packing, I find Flynn at his keyboard, headphones clamped over his ears.
'How long have you been up?' I ask him, pulling off the headphones.
He doesn't turn round. 'An hour or so. Oh, good, now you're awake I can use the piano.'
I look at him suspiciously as he crosses over to the upright, pulling his stool with him. I wonder if he has slept at all. His eyes have that bright, shiny look he always gets before a major competition. I go into the kitchen to make coffee and toast. I manage to drag Flynn away from the piano long enough to down some coffee, but can't get him to touch the toast. He looks excited and on edge, jiggling his knees up and down, making the whole table vibrate.
'We need to go,' he says.
I take another bite of my toast. I am definitely not awake yet. 'The train's not till ten.'
'We're meeting Harry and Kate at nine.'
'I know, but it won't take us more than an hour to get to St Pancreas,' I point out reasonably.
'What if there are delays?'
'Flynn, it's quarter past seven!'
'Yeah, I know. We should go.'
I give him a steady look. 'We'll go in ten minutes. Let me finish my breakfast in peace.'
He fixes me with an urgent stare. The colour is high in his cheeks. 'Maybe there'll be a bomb scare . . .'
'Are you trying to give me indigestion?'
'I just really think we should go.'
'Fine.' I give in with a sigh, drain my cup, get up and put the plates in the sink. Flynn jumps up and bounds out of the room, returning seconds later with our rucksacks.
'We're going to be so early,' I complain in the hallway, pulling on my jacket. 'We'll probably get there in half an hour and then we'll have a whole hour to kill until the others arrive.'
He ignores me, opening the front door.
'Wait,' I say. 'At the risk of sounding like your mother, have you got everything? Music? Meds?'
'Yes,' he calls back, already galloping down the stairs.
I lock the door behind me and follow him down. As we emerge into the street, a thought occurs to me. 'Hold on. I've forgotten something . . .'
Flynn rolls his eyes in exasperation and starts striding off down the street. 'Catch me up at the station!' he shouts back over his shoulder.
Biting back a wave of irritation, I remind myself that Flynn is always a nightmare before a big com
petition and hurry back upstairs to the flat. Leaving my keys in the door, I run down the hall to the bathroom. I know I'm being an incorrigible mother hen, but it has just occurred to me that it would be no bad idea to take a second supply of meds. If Flynn were to lose his bag, which seems infinitely possible in his current mood, at least we wouldn't be up shit creek.
I squat down in front of the medicine cabinet and yank open the bottom drawer. I start to reach inside, and then I freeze. A faint ringing sound begins in my ears. The drawer is packed full of medicine boxes. Boxes and boxes, crammed one on top of the other. With considerable difficulty, I start pulling them out, my hands beginning to shake. LITHIUM CARBONATE, LITHIUM CARBONATE, LITHIUM CARBONATE. I open the first few boxes. All full, packed tight with untouched blister packs, the cardboard sides bulging. I check the sticky labels. Flynn's name in capital letters. The new dose, 1200 milligrams daily. And at the top right-hand corner, the prescription date: 4 April, 4 April, 4 April, 2 May, 2 May . . . I can feel myself start to shake. 'No, no, no,' I am whispering to myself. I start pulling the boxes open. They are all completely full. Not a single tablet has been removed from its blister pack. A cold panic descends over me. A hundred different scenarios race through my mind. Do I call the professor and tell him Flynn can't compete? Do I call Harry's mobile and tell him the trip is off? Do I wait here for Flynn to come back and find me? Or do I run to the tube station to confront him? Have a screaming match in the middle of the street? All options are equally horrendous.
Finally, with fumbling hands, I start shoving the blister packs back into the boxes, and the boxes back into the drawer. I keep one blister pack and put it in my coat pocket just in case, although since it's clear Flynn stopped taking his lithium two months ago, there seems little point.
Waiting for me in the mouth of the tube station, Flynn is beside himself. 'What took you so long? We're going to be late!'
I bite my lip to stop myself from snapping in reply and follow him down the escalators to the platform. In the packed carriage, I can still feel my heart racing. The options continue to rush through my mind. Can I call it off ? Should I call it off? No. Flynn will just go on to Brussels without me. And I risk seriously messing up his chances in the competition if I make a scene now. There is actually nothing I can do. Nothing until after the competition. And even then . . . There are two months' worth of lithium tablets in that drawer. So he decided to stop taking his lithium after that lunch at Rami and Sophie's. It is obviously a calculated decision. It is obviously a long-term one. How do I stand any chance of changing his mind? I look across the crowded carriage at him – the wide blue eyes, the pink flush of excitement in his cheeks, the tousled blond hair – he looks so alive. Without meaning to, I find myself thinking back to the waxy, inert figure hooked up to tubes in the hospital bed. I clench my teeth together to repress the urge to scream.
When Harry hugs me hello, I want to hold onto him. As I draw away, he looks at me and says, 'Hey, cheer up, you're not the one that's meant to be strung-out!' I force a painful smile. Harry and Kate are all chatty and excited, Flynn is charging on ahead through the automated ticket machines. We sit around in the departure lounge for what seems like hours, Flynn pacing the floor and Kate chatting to me about her revision timetable, until finally we are able to board the train. In the quiet air-conditioned carriage, we sit facing each other across a small table. Around us, the seats quickly fill with passengers. Flynn, wedged between me and the window, plugs into his iPod, closes his eyes and practises the fingering to the concerto against the edge of the table.
Harry flashes me a sympathetic grin. 'At least after this one you'll get a break from the Rach Two, won't you?'
'For a bit,' I reply. 'But then there's the Leeds International at the end of August. So that'll be fun.' I flash him a wry smile.
Harry laughs. 'Oh, Jen, you sound like the concertweary wife.'
We arrive in Brussels in the early afternoon. Harry's mother, Diane, is at the station to pick us up. She is a petite, well-dressed woman, as unlike Harry as you could imagine. In the car, Flynn sits in the front, chatting away to Diane. I hear my name mentioned several times.
'Are you all right, Jen?' Harry looks at me suddenly.
'Yes,' I say quickly.
'What do you girls think of Brussels, then?' Harry asks with a grin, peering out at the grey, rain-soaked city. Kate laughs in reply and I force a smile.
Harry's parents live in a spacious house just outside the city centre. Flynn and I are given one guest room, Harry and Kate the other. Paul, Harry's father, is an older version of Harry, laid-back and jovial. He has aged since I saw him last. Dinner is a three-course meal with napkins and a tablecloth. The talk revolves around the Royal College, finals, Flynn's competition. At one point Diane brings in a large framed photograph of Harry, Flynn and me when we were at music camp together. We are sitting atop a huge fallen log in the camp's grounds.
Kate bursts out laughing. 'God, look at you three, you were all so cute! How old were you then?'
'It was the year we all first met,' Harry replies, grinning. 'We must have been ten or eleven.'
'Flynn looks so sweet,' Kate says. 'Like a little angel.'
Flynn narrows his eyes at her in mock annoyance.
'Oh, but he wasn't,' Diane says, giving Flynn an affectionate smile. 'He was like one of those Duracell bunnies, constantly on the go. Used to drive poor Maria spare.'
'Look at Jennah,' Paul says, pointing to the messyhaired girl in dirty jeans with the dimple-cheeked grin. 'Smiling away as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Oh, she was such a tomboy. Always in trouble. Worse than the boys!'
'Hey!' I protest, feeling myself blush.
'Yeah, yeah, she was,' Flynn chips in. 'And she was always so bossy, always deciding where we'd go, what games we'd play. She still is, you know. Some things never change.'
I turn to him in mock outrage. 'I'm not bossy!'
He starts to laugh. 'Yeah, right. You're worse than my mother! It's like, Pick your clothes up off the floor, Flynn; You're practising too much, Flynn; Peel the potatoes before you mash them, Flynn; It's your turn to do the washing-up, Flynn . . .'
Everyone laughs.
I roll my eyes, the heat rising to my face. 'He's exaggerating, as usual.'
'I swear it's worse than being back at home,' Flynn goes on, clearly enjoying himself. 'It's enough to drive anyone crazy. Nag, nag, nag, all day long—'
'Oh, come on.' Harry comes to my rescue. 'Jennah's hardly a nag—'
'And she's so fussy!' Flynn continues. 'Talk about OCD. Everything has to go in its right place: pencils parallel to the edge of the desk, books flush with the edge of the shelves—'
'I never do that!' I exclaim in astonishment.
'She even irons her own knickers!' Flynn exclaims in a flourish.
'That's a complete lie!'
Kate, Diane and Paul are laughing. Only Harry seems aware of my plight. He puts a restraining hand on Flynn's arm. 'Hey, ease up. I think that's a bit of an exaggeration . . .'
'Gag him, Harry,' I implore, tears of frustration suddenly springing to my eyes.
Kate, still laughing, notices my face. 'Hey, hey, stop,' she says to Flynn. 'Poor Jennah. Come on, just because she's tidy and you're not—'
'And you couldn't even imagine what she's like in bed—'
'Stop it!' I half rise from my seat, my cheeks burning. I don't know if I'm trying not to laugh, or trying not to cry. 'Stop it right now!'
'She's like, Right, you lie there and—'
'Flynn!' I shout furiously.
'And I'm going to . . .'
I walk out. I am down the corridor and out of the front door and halfway down the darkened, rain-soaked street before I fully realize what I am doing. Even then I am only aware that I can't walk fast enough and that my knees feel weak. Hugging myself against the cold, I hurry down one street and then another, not knowing where I am going, only wanting to put as much distance between myself and the dinner table as po
ssible. As I walk, a slow painful thought begins to penetrate the fog inside my brain. Jennah, it's rude to walk out on someone else's dinner. It's shamefully, shockingly rude.
I take in great lungfuls of cold night air, trying desperately to fight back the tears. I can barely believe it. I can barely believe that Flynn, my boyfriend, the person I love most in the whole world, would do that. I see the bright gleam in his eyes, the laughter at my rising discomfort, the revelling in my excruciating embarrassment. Couldn't he see that he was going too far? Couldn't he see that he was being cruel? Harry had, Kate had, even Harry's parents were looking uncomfortable towards the end. But he just went blithely on, loving it, not caring that I was dying with humiliation.
A voice breaks the silence behind me. I walk faster but there are running feet on the pavement behind me, someone touching my arm. Flynn, come to apologize? Flynn, come to say he is so sorry, he didn't know what he was thinking?
'Jennah, hey, slow down. Put this on, for goodness' sake.' Harry. He wraps his jacket around me.
'Harry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry about your parents—' I start to cry.
He pulls me into a hug. 'Hey, don't worry about my parents. You're like a daughter to them. They understand. Jesus, you're shaking.' He tightens his arms around me. 'Oh, Jen, Flynn's being an idiot, a completely insensitive idiot, but I'm sure he didn't mean to upset you that much—'
'He doesn't care!' I sob against Harry's chest. 'He saw how embarrassed I was getting! It just amused him! It j-just spurred him on! A-and talking about sex in front of your parents!'