Burning Bright (13 page)

But I didn’t do any of those things. Instead I took a good look at his face. There was something too old about his eyes. Like he’d been through more than he should have. A deep-down
weariness from responsibilities that he’d carried too young, for too long.

As I stood there, I knew that I couldn’t add to them.

I took a step away from him. Just a small step.

‘What does Siobhan say?’ I said evenly.

Flynn rolled his eyes. ‘Actually, she’s all excited about it. She’s been talking to Gary.’ He scowled. ‘He says he wants to come with us. Use his dad’s money
to buy a salon that he and Siob can work in. I don’t know. Mum’s dead keen. Siob’s dead keen. Caitlin’s all up for it one minute, then all down about leaving her friends the
next.’

He reached out and pulled me back towards him.

‘I don’t want to go back to St Cletus’s now anyway,’ he said. ‘It was obvious today that everyone at school knows about my da being . . . what he is. And that
stupid friend of Alex’s posting that he’d seen me with the freakin’ iPad means now
everyone
thinks I’m a thief as well as a thug. I mean
everyone
, not just
Alex and his mates and the teachers.’ He paused. ‘They’ll all be glad to see the back of me. Mum talked to the head this morning, told him her plan. Apparently he said that a
fresh start would be the best thing for me. Course what he
really
meant was that he was glad he wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.’

‘So when is your mum planning on leaving?’ I asked.

Flynn shrugged. ‘A week today,’ he said.

‘Next Tuesday?’ I gasped. I couldn’t help it. That was just seven days away. Too soon. I couldn’t prepare myself that quickly.

‘I know.’ He groaned. ‘I can’t think about anything except being with you. Tell me what to do, Riv. I’ll do whatever you say.’

I hesitated. This was agony. ‘I told you, you should go,’ I said, swallowing down the tears that threatened to rise inside me. ‘I mean, if you stayed you’d be staying for
me, but we’d have to sneak around behind my parents’ backs so we wouldn’t be able to see each other that much. And you’d have rent to pay which would be hard. Plus
you’d worry about your mum and your sisters all the time, wouldn’t you?’

He nodded.

‘So, it’s obvious,’ I said. ‘You have to go and I have to stay. And . . . and maybe in the future . . .’ I stopped as tears clogged my throat.

Don’t cry. Not in front of him.

‘I ought to get home,’ I said.

He shook his head.

‘Yeah.’ I swallowed hard, forcing down the tears. ‘I’ll call you. I’ll get a new phone. One Mum doesn’t know about.’

‘I’ll see you every day before I go, River.’ He lifted my chin up and looked into my eyes. ‘And then we can text each other. And speak and Skype whenever we can. And . .
.’

I drew back, unable to breathe, unable to hold back my tears any longer.

‘I have to go,’ I said. I couldn’t look at him again. I turned and fled down the street, my heart feeling like it was breaking into a million pieces.

Flynn met me from school and walked me home every day for the rest of the week except on Friday, when I went to Grace’s house and met him there. I’d explained to
Mum that Grace and I needed to spend a couple of hours on some drama GCSE coursework.

‘All the relevant stuff is at hers,’ I pleaded. ‘Please let me go round. Grace’s mum will be in. She can call you when I arrive.’

Mum reluctantly agreed and everything went according to plan. Grace’s mum rung mine to confirm I was there, then Grace and I went upstairs to her room and called Flynn. He came over
straight away. We let him in the back door and snuck him upstairs. Grace’s mum had no idea.

Later, Grace went out to meet James and Flynn walked me home. We chatted away, hand in hand. Flynn was clearly relieved that the decision had been made. ‘Mum’s making all the
arrangements,’ he said. ‘Her sister’s sent the money and she’s bought our tickets. We’re flying to Dublin first thing Tuesday.’

‘What about your job at the café?’ I asked. ‘Did you talk to Yazmina?’

‘Yes, my job is yours if you want it,’ Flynn said with a smile.

‘Great.’ I didn’t feel much like smiling back right now, but this was good news. I liked the café and the Turkish lady who ran it very much.

‘Yazmina says she’ll talk to you about the job if you go round on Monday evening.’

‘Will you be there too?’ I asked.

‘Try keeping me away.’

I talked to Mum about taking the Café Yazmina job that evening. I’d already promised her and Dad that my relationship with Flynn was over, of course, but she was
still delighted to hear he was leaving the country. I said nothing in response, just pointed out that it meant Flynn’s job at the café was available.

‘It’ll be good for me,’ I said. ‘And it’s just a couple of evenings a week, Mum. It won’t even get in the way of my schoolwork.’

Mum agreed to think about it. The next day was Saturday. Dad arrived to pick up me and Stone midmorning. We were spending the rest of the weekend at the commune. I didn’t want to go. But
what could I say? I only wanted to stay to see Flynn. And, right now, I was still grounded – not supposed to socialise with anyone, let alone him.

Once we arrived, I snuck down to the apple orchard to find a place with a signal – reception was rubbish at the commune – and called Flynn on a borrowed phone. We told each other
what we’d been doing and how much we missed each other. But the conversation was all holes and spaces – it was what we weren’t saying that was really important.

I can’t bear that you’re going away.

Stone and I got home late on Sunday night. My little brother had been surprisingly nice to me all weekend. I don’t mean he asked how I was or anything, but he didn’t tease me or call
me any of his usual names.

Mum was as distant and subdued with me as normal. At least she said I could take the job at Café Yazmina, though she insisted that she’d have to pick me up from school the following
afternoon and come with me to the café to meet Yazmina.

My heart sank. As Mum well knew, Monday was Flynn’s last night in London. My final chance to say goodbye. I’d imagined our parting so many times, even wondering if this might be the
moment when I chose to lose my virginity. After all, I wanted to make it special – and to ensure Flynn remembered how good we were together. But there’d be no way I’d be able to
see him with Mum at my side from the school gates onwards. I could have skipped school entirely, but that would have definitely led to Mum banning me from taking the café job. And I was
going to need that job to earn the money to visit Flynn in Ireland.

Monday evening arrived. I’d told Flynn earlier (using Grace’s phone) that I didn’t think I’d be able to see him. He hadn’t said much – just
promised that if I couldn’t get away he would call the next day, as soon as they arrived in Dublin. It wasn’t enough. I couldn’t bear the idea of not being able to say goodbye
– but what could I do? True to her word, Mum was waiting when I walked out of school and we spent the next couple of hours at home together, before driving off to Café Yazmina.

It was dark and cold as we trudged along Holloway Road and up the steps of the café. It felt awful knowing Flynn was so close. His family’s flat was just a little further along this
same road. I was still desperately hoping there’d be some way I could run away and see him one last time – but with Mum at my side, time was running out.

Inside, Café Yazmina was comfortingly familiar. The walls were painted pale blue and decorated with mosaic squares, many of which were chipped or cracked. The tables and chairs were
simple – each one set with a tiny vase of flowers – and the dim orangey lights of the wall lamps gave off a soft glow.

I watched Mum look around. In contrast to the dirty, noisy road outside, the café was warm and inviting – though fairly empty as it was only six-thirty on a Monday evening. Some
Turkish music was playing in the background and the air was lightly scented, the smell of herbs wafting in from the kitchen. I knew Mum would like all this. On the other hand, there was nothing
swanky about the place at all – just basic cutlery to go with the simple tables and chairs. No linen tablecloths. No cloth napkins.

Yazmina herself bustled out to meet us. ‘River.’ She beamed at me, her dark eyes crinkling in the soft light. ‘And you must be River’s beautiful mother.’ Yazmina
swept up her long, tasselled skirt and did a sort of half-nod, half-bob in Mum’s direction. ‘Surely far too young for such a grown-up daughter?’ She wound her thick dark hair
round her silver-ringed fingers and smiled seductively.

For a minute she reminded me of Emmi – only about five times her size. Then she flung her arm out, indicating one of the waitresses in the corner. ‘You see we are very demure
here.’ She pointed to the girl’s black skirt and white shirt. ‘Nothing to encourage the young men.’ She flashed another pearly smile at Mum and raised her eyebrows.
‘Let us sit.’

Mum looked a little taken aback but said nothing. I fingered the silver heart bracelet that Flynn had given me, as Yazmina sailed over to the nearest table and pulled out a chair for Mum. I slid
into the one next to her. How on earth was I going to get away from Mum and slip along to Flynn’s flat?

‘Let me fetch some food . . . some refreshments . . .’ Yazmina said.

‘No. No. There’s no need, Mrs . . . er . . .’ Mum said, clearly embarrassed.

‘Call me Yazmina. And of course there is a need.’ Yazmina’s eyes twinkled. ‘I have prepared a little meal to show to you the sort of food we serve here. No greasy egg and
chips, eh?’ She chuckled.

‘Well, that’s very kind, but . . .’ Mum sounded flustered. ‘But we already have dinner plans.’

Yazmina waved her chubby arm and her silver bangles tinkled. ‘This is only a small snack.’ She leaned forwards. ‘And an opportunity for us to talk.’ She glanced at me,
then back to Mum. ‘Talk privately.’ She winked.

I frowned. What on earth was there that Yazmina needed to talk to Mum privately about? For a second I felt vaguely insulted.

‘Now, River, you know already the wages and the hours,’ Yazmina said. ‘Please go with Laila.’ She pointed to the waitress in the corner. ‘She will show you around
the kitchen, and the ladies’ toilet and little changing room, then take you upstairs to find a suitable skirt and blouse from my stores. ‘She turned to Mum again. ‘It’s
amazing how many staff over the years forget their work clothes. And they do get soiled. I would hate for River to ruin her own lovely clothes.’

‘Well.’ Mum still looked flustered. ‘Er . . . that’s very kind of you.’

I frowned. Why did I need to be shown the kitchen or the toilets? I’d been here plenty of times with Flynn already. And I was certainly capable of coming up with a black skirt and a white
top on my own.

Yazmina’s fleshy hand pressed down on my arm. ‘Go on, River.’ She gave my arm a squeeze. ‘Go on.’

Slightly disgruntled, I let Laila lead me off into the kitchen. The two male chefs looked up from the hob in the far corner. They glanced at me then peered into their saucepans again, muttering
to each other in Turkish. I looked around the kitchen. It was small but clean, with cupboards along one wall and a long stainless steel work surface near the door that led through to the
storeroom.

‘Wait here a sec,’ Laila said.

I wandered across the room and leaned against the cupboards. I was wondering so deeply how on earth I was going to get away to see Flynn, that when I heard his voice behind me, I thought for one
second the sound was in my head.

‘Hey.’ His hand touched my shoulder.

I gasped.

‘Sssh.’

I spun round. He was standing right in front of me, his bruises faded, his eyes soft and tender. He leaned his face close in and whispered.

‘Follow me.’

He took me through the door that led to the storeroom. But instead of going to the end of the corridor, he turned left and beckoned me up a narrow staircase. We emerged onto a little landing. I
followed Flynn into a cosy living room. A long, low chaise longue covered with throws dominated the middle of the room. An exotically patterned rug was set in front of it. Tiny candles glowed on
every surface.

‘Oh.’ I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the soft light. ‘This is beautiful. Is it . . . ?’

‘Yazmina’s flat.’ Flynn nodded. ‘She said I could bring you up here. She’s going to keep your mum talking. We’ve got twenty minutes.’ He smiled and put
his hands on my arms. ‘So, how’re you doing?’

I was still looking around, taking in the dark wooden furniture and the thick silk wall hangings in deep reds and blues. Everything seemed to flicker in the candlelight.

‘The candles are so pretty,’ I said.

‘They were my idea.’ Flynn flushed slightly. ‘I wanted it to be special . . .’

I stared at him. He was smiling but his face was strained. Anxious.

‘I wanted to make it so special that nothing and no one else will ever be better,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I don’t want you to find someone else.’

‘I won’t.’ I stood there, staring steadily at him. ‘No one will ever be better because there will never be anyone else. Ever.’

‘Oh, Riv.’ Flynn hugged me then pulled away, drawing me down to the sofa to sit beside him. ‘You’ll have guys after you all the time. Look at you.’ He sighed.
‘Listen. I’m going to call whenever I can. And as soon as I get a job in Dublin I’m saving up to come back and visit you. I don’t care about anything else. And you’ll
save up too, won’t you? Yazmina pays okay and you’ll get tips here as well.’

I nodded.

Flynn checked the clock over the fireplace. ‘Fifteen minutes.’ He lay back on the sofa and raised his eyebrows. ‘Now, what can we do with our last fifteen minutes?’

I rolled my eyes, expecting him to pull me into a kiss, maybe even take things further. But Flynn just lay there, gazing up at me.

I frowned. ‘Are you seriously asking?’

He nodded. ‘I told you. I want this to be special. We can talk or whatever you want.’ He reached and touched the little heart on my silver bracelet. Then he ran the back of his hand
down the inside of my arm. ‘You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,’ he whispered. ‘Beautiful inside and out.’