Burning Bright, Page 3

  Caitlin peered down at the pink T-shirt she was wearing. ‘Thanks. Are you coming to my first Holy Communion?’

  I frowned. I dimly remembered Flynn’s mum mentioning something about a first Holy Communion the very first time I’d met her last year. I’d had no idea what it was then and I had no better idea now.

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘What is it? When is it?’

  Caitlin’s friends giggled again. Caitlin herself turned to Flynn. She put her hands on her hips. ‘You promised you’d ask her,’ she said in an outraged voice.

  Flynn’s face suddenly clouded over. ‘You know I’m not going,’ he said harshly. ‘So there’s no point.’

  We’d reached the head of the queue. ‘Cashier number five, please,’ the electronic voice boomed.

  Flynn stepped swiftly away from us and strode up to the counter. I looked down at Caitlin. Her face was sulky and cross, her lips pressed firmly together.

  ‘What happens at this Communion thing?’ I said.

  Caitlin lowered her eyes. I suddenly realised she was trying not to cry.

  ‘You get to wear a party dress and stuff,’ said one of the friends, smoothing down her hair.

  ‘And have a party after,’ added the other, grinning.

  Caitlin looked up. ‘It’s really about taking the bread and wine for the first time,’ she said sullenly.

  ‘Oh.’ I felt none the wiser, but decided there was no point asking more questions. Clearly it didn’t really matter what the whole thing was about. That wasn’t what was important to Caitlin, anyway.

  I took the girls to the door of the post office. Caitlin was very quiet as we stood there, waiting for Flynn.

  After we’d dropped the three of them at their party we walked to the bus stop to go back to his. It was raining and Flynn – who owned no coat apart from a completely hideous jacket he refused to wear unless it was actually freezing and he knew no one would see him – was soaked.

  We stood, kissing, at the bus stop. Flynn’s shirt was damp under my hands. I pulled away, laughing. ‘You’re making me all wet,’ I said.

  He reached out for me again, grinning. ‘I’ll take it off as soon as we get home, okay? And then I’ll take off yours and I’ll dry you . . . mmmn . . . Now come here.’

  ‘Hey, Flynn.’ I thought back to our conversations earlier in the week.

  ‘Mmmn, yeah?’

  ‘You never told me what it was like being suspended?’

  ‘That’s in the past now, let’s not talk about it, yeah?’ He tried to kiss me again.

  ‘Okay.’ I hesitated. If he wouldn’t talk about last Monday’s exclusion, maybe he would open up about something that was going to happen in the future. ‘Why can’t we go to Caitlin’s Communion thing?’

  His eyes locked onto mine. ‘You know.’

  ‘No. I don’t. I didn’t know anything about it, remember?’

  ‘Don’t be mad about that.’ Flynn sighed. ‘Mum did ask me to ask you, but I’m against the whole thing, so—’

  ‘But Caitlin was really upset when you said you weren’t coming,’ I persisted.

  A bus drew up and we got on. I followed Flynn up the stairs. The bus was virtually empty. We sat towards the back. Flynn put his arm round my shoulder and leaned in to me.

  ‘Why can’t you go for Caitlin?’ I said. ‘For your mum?’

  Flynn’s eyes darkened. I knew from long experience this was the time to draw back. That he was just seconds away from losing his temper.

  That I shouldn’t push it anymore.

  ‘I think you’re being selfish,’ I said.

  Flynn slammed his hand down hard on the seat beside him.

  ‘You don’t freakin’ know anything about it, Riv,’ he said. ‘The whole thing’s wrong. What Caitlin’s doing, it’s like something kids are brainwashed into – I mean she just sees it as a big excuse for a party, but it’s actually about becoming a Catholic – about joining in with everyone else taking Communion. And you know what Communion is? What the bread and wine are supposed to mean? Jesus’s body and his blood. That’s what you’re actually supposed to be eating. It’s freakin’ cannibal, Riv. It’s disgusting.’

  My heart pounded. His face, his angry face, was terrifying.

  I put my hand on his arm and took a deep breath. ‘I don’t see why any of that means you can’t be there for Cait,’ I said. ‘I mean, how often does she see your dad?’

  ‘What?’ Flynn frowned in exasperation. ‘She hardly ever sees him. Not since she was about three . . . you know, since . . .’

  I nodded. Since their dad had attacked Flynn for trying to protect his mum and his mum had finally chucked him out of the house.

  ‘I mean, obviously she’s aware of him,’ Flynn went on. ‘Times he’s come round to the flat drunk – but she’s got no money so he’s not . . . what’s that got to do with me going to her first Holy Communion anyway?’

  I smiled. ‘I’m just trying to make you see how important you are to her. I mean she hardly knows her dad. He won’t be going to the first Holy Communion. You’re the closest thing she’s got to a proper father.’

  Flynn stared at me.

  ‘It’s true,’ I persisted. ‘Look. It doesn’t matter how you feel about what she’s doing.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘Everyone knows you hate it,’ I said firmly. ‘But it’s not about you. It’s about Caitlin. She needs to know you’re supporting her.’

  I sat back and looked across the aisle and the empty seats on the other side of the bus, out through the opposite window. Rain glistened on the glass, lit up by the sun which was just emerging from behind a dark cloud.

  After a minute I felt Flynn’s hand on my arm.

  I turned round.

  ‘I hate you,’ he said grumpily. But all the anger had gone from his face.

  ‘Yeah?’ I smiled at him. ‘For being right?’

  He stared at me for a second. ‘Not exactly.’ His eyes sparkled, more green now than gold in the sudden sunlight.

  He leaned forwards, but I drew back, still smiling. ‘Why then?’

  Flynn sighed. He leaned towards me again, his eyes pulling me in.

  ‘For being so freakin’ perfect,’ he whispered.

  5

  Flynn and I spent the afternoon at his flat, making out then doing homework in Flynn’s tiny bedroom. It was ironic – considering what a rebel everyone thought Flynn was – that since I’d met him, I’d spent more time on my GCSEs than I ever did before. Flynn worked hard himself – determined to get the A levels to get to university to study for a law degree. In between drama research and French translation I tried to make Flynn talk about his school suspension again, but he kept changing the subject so I gave up.

  Grace called towards the end of the afternoon. ‘Hey, d’you two want to come over to James’s tonight?’ She sounded excited. ‘His parents are going away for some last-minute anniversary thing and we’ve got the house to ourselves. All night.’

  I hesitated. Spending the evening with Grace and James would be brilliant but there was no way Mum would be happy about me staying away overnight with Flynn. Plus, Emmi was bound to be there, which meant Alex would be too – and last week’s swimming pool fight was still fresh in my mind.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, but Riv, it’ll be awesome.’ Grace sounded deflated.

  ‘Let me talk to her.’ That was Emmi in the background. A second later she was on the line. ‘River, what’s the problem?’

  Flynn had stopped writing his essay and was watching me from across the room, his head tilted slightly to one side.

  ‘Mum won’t let me stay out all night.’ I glanced at Flynn. ‘And the last time your boyfriend saw my boyfriend out of school he nearly drowned him . . .’

  Emmi lowered her voice. ‘Alex and I won’t be there, we’re going to a concert. And Grace will be totally crushed if you don’t come. She was really looking forward to it.’

  I thought rapidly. If Emmi and Alex w
eren’t going to be there, then only Mum stood in my way. Then another thought struck me. Emmi’s parents were way more liberal than mine, but they had a big thing about concerts and festivals. From what I could gather, they appeared to believe that any hapless teenager turning up to watch live music was likely to be offered crack along with their hand stamp.

  ‘What are you saying to your parents?’

  Emmi sighed again. ‘I don’t know. I was hoping Louise would cover for me, but she’s not around.’

  Louise was Emmi’s cool older sister, back at home after uni, and generally tolerant of Emmi’s social life. Across the room Flynn was still watching me, his eyes raised.

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ I said to Emmi. ‘Why don’t you tell your mum you’re at mine? If you do that and I say I’m staying at yours we can spend the night wherever we want.’

  ‘Awesome,’ Emmi said.

  I came off the phone. Flynn was frowning. ‘You’re going to lie to your mum?’ He sounded worried. ‘Are you sure, Riv?’

  ‘She’s not giving me a choice.’ That was true, wasn’t it? Mum totally hated Flynn. There was no way she would agree to us spending the night together. In fact, she would completely freak. Lying really was my only option.

  Flynn said nothing.

  I called Mum and told her I was going to stay over at Emmi’s but that I was looking forward to coming back for lunch on Sunday with her. This last bit wasn’t really true of course, but Mum seemed pleased. And Flynn’s mum was delighted when she got home and he told her we were going to Caitlin’s first Holy Communion.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ she said, her whole face lighting up. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s River you should thank,’ Flynn said, shooting me one of his quick, rare smiles.

  His mum squeezed my hand. ‘Bless you, River, you’ve no idea how much it’ll mean to Caitlin to have you both there.’

  I shrugged, feeling embarrassed. ‘I didn’t say much,’ I muttered. ‘Not really.’

  ‘He wouldn’t be doing it for anyone else,’ Flynn’s mum said.

  The day drifted lazily and happily into evening. I borrowed a change of clothes from Flynn’s sister, then Flynn and I went over to James’s house. I never ceased to be struck by the contrast between Flynn’s Holloway Road flat with its cramped rooms and permanent smell of damp and James’s detached mansion full of expensive furnishings and surrounded on all sides by a carefully manicured lawn. At least Flynn and James didn’t ever seem bothered by the difference in their backgrounds.

  Grace and James heated up some pasta and the four of us had a great time eating and chatting and watching movies on James’s huge home cinema screen.

  I sent Mum a text at ten-thirty to reassure her I was enjoying my fake evening at Emmi’s. Then I switched off my phone. At about midnight, the four of us settled down in front of some cheesy horror film. After about half an hour it was obvious James and Grace were no longer actually watching the movie.

  Flynn nudged me. ‘D’you wanna see if we can find the room where we’re sleeping?’ he grinned. ‘James said it was right at the top of the house.’

  I nodded. He took my hand and led me towards the stairs. As we passed the study I blushed. At the last-night party after Romeo and Juliet, I had got Emmi to come on to Flynn in that very room. It had been a stupid test to see if he liked her better than me, something I’d been insecure about for months. I’d stopped Emmi before she’d gone all that far – but Flynn had been understandably furious when he’d realised what was happening.

  Flynn glanced over and saw my cheeks reddening. ‘Remembering your finest hour?’ he said wryly.

  The house was built over three floors. We went all the way up, to where a short corridor led away from the stairs. Flynn led me to the door on the right. It opened into a small guest room – plain cream walls, silky blue curtains at the window and a matching bedspread on the double bed. A small white-tiled shower room led off the bedroom, complete with fluffy towels and fresh toothbrushes.

  ‘It’s like a hotel room,’ I gasped, delighted.

  ‘James said you’d like it.’

  We stared at each other for a minute.

  Flynn put his hands on my waist and dipped his head down to mine. His eyes were soft gold in the little bedside light. ‘Hey, River,’ he breathed. ‘I can’t believe this is really happening.’

  For a single, worrying moment I thought he was talking about us having sex. I’d made it clear to Flynn a few months back that I didn’t feel ready yet. And just because we were spending the night together it didn’t mean my feelings were any different now.

  I looked away.

  Flynn took my cheeks in his hands and turned my face back to his. ‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said with a gentle smile.

  I smiled back, grateful that he understood without me needing to talk about it. I wasn’t sure what I was so apprehensive about. I just knew that losing my virginity was a massive step.

  ‘What did you mean, then?’ I raised my eyebrows and grinned, trying to lighten up the conversation.

  ‘That you’re getting to sleep in a smart room for once – with a proper double bed?’

  Flynn’s eyes widened. ‘Right. You’re gonna die for that.’ He pushed me onto the bed then leaped on top of me, tickling my ribs, down into my waist. I squealed and wriggled away from him until I was half lying off the bed. Flynn reached for me. I pushed him away with a massive shove that sent me toppling backwards off the bed. I hit the floor with a loud thump and lay there, winded.

  ‘Riv?’

  I kept my eyes tight shut. I could just picture Flynn’s beautiful face above me on the bed, his fringe flopping down over his eyes.

  ‘Riv, are you okay?’

  It was almost impossible not to laugh. I kept my eyes very still, trying not to breathe.

  ‘River?’ I heard Flynn scrambling off the bed, felt his hand on my face. ‘River?’ His voice was suddenly terrified. Like a little kid’s.

  I opened my eyes and grinned up at him.

  ‘What the . . . ?’ His face was drawn. ‘Oh, man, I thought . . . I thought . . .’

  I stared at him. He looked completely panic-stricken, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He sat back and covered his face with his hands. ‘Don’t freakin’ do that, Riv.’ His voice cracked. ‘Please. Don’t ever do that again.’

  I scrabbled up onto my elbows. ‘It was just a joke, Flynn. Why are you . . . ?’

  ‘That’s how my mum looked when we found her,’ he whispered through his fingers. ‘After Da hurt her. The time she went to hospital.’

  6

  Flynn was still kneeling beside me, his face in his hands. I reached out towards him, guilt flooding through me. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. I touched his arm, wanting to pull his hands away from his face, to hold him, to make up. How could I have been such an idiot? ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

  Slowly Flynn let me pull his wrist away. He looked up. The terrified, vulnerable look had gone completely.

  ‘Don’t feel sorry for me,’ he said. His voice sounded harsh, but I could hear the hurt underneath.

  ‘I’m not,’ I stammered. ‘But it . . . must have been awful.’

  Flynn shrugged. ‘Just forget it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I made it up. It was a joke.’

  What?

  I stared at him, completely bewildered. ‘How could you joke about that. About finding your mum unconscious.’

  ‘Yeah well, I’m an excellent actor, remember?’ Flynn gave another shrug.

  For a second I felt so furious with him I wanted to scream. Then I caught the slight tremble of his mouth and I suddenly realised that he hadn’t been joking at all. His reaction had been totally genuine and now he was pretending because he hated that I’d seen how upset he’d been.

  ‘Stop making out it didn’t affect you.’ Tears leaked from my eyes. Why couldn’t he just admit how hurt he had felt? Why was it always so hard to get him to open up? ‘Whatever you say, it was
a big deal, how your mum got beaten up, how your dad nearly . . .’ I couldn’t quite bring myself to say out loud just how close Flynn had come to being killed when his dad attacked him.

  There was a heavy silence as I walked away and sat down on the end of the bed with my back to him.

  I sat there for a long time, staring at the carpet. At last I felt the bed move as he sat down beside me.

  ‘Making jokes is a way of dealing with it, Riv.’

  I looked at him. ‘Jeez, Flynn. I get that. But you weren’t joking, were you?’

  Another long pause. Flynn looked down at the silky blue bedcover between us.

  ‘Siobhan found her first.’ He stopped.

  I glanced at him. He was still staring down at the bed. I sat quite still, waiting.

  ‘I came into the room,’ Flynn went on, his voice hollow, ‘but Siobhan made me go out again. She said Mum was going to be okay. You see, it was Siobhan who saw our dad hit her and Siobhan who phoned for the ambulance. She was twelve. Too scared to tell the police what had happened. It changed her forever. Before then she was just a bit shy. Afterwards she became like . . . like this nervous wreck . . .’

  I bit my lip. Flynn lay back on the bed.

  ‘Sometimes I think that what my dad did to Siobhan was worse than what he did to me. You know, actually hurting me.’ He put his hand on his forehead and stared up at the ceiling. ‘I wish I’d been older. Stronger. I wish I’d realised sooner . . .’

  I leaned back beside him and gazed at his profile – at the slope of his nose and the curve of his lip. ‘You did what you could,’ I said softly. ‘You were only a kid.’

  He turned and looked at me, his eyes unbearably sad.

  ‘It wasn’t enough,’ he said. ‘It just wasn’t enough.’ I stroked his face, wishing I could take away the pain for him.

  Knowing that I couldn’t.

  We fell asleep with our arms wrapped around each other. I had the sense of falling again, falling into him, losing any sense of where I ended and where he began. I woke once in the night and everything was still. Just the sound of our breathing and the wind in the trees outside.

  I sighed. A deep, deep sigh, knowing that I would remember this moment for as long as I lived.