A Note of Madness (22 page)

‘No.’

‘OK, I’ll pick you up on Friday for your appointment with Doctor Stefan and you can come back and have dinner with us afterwards.’

Flynn nodded, gnawing his thumbnail.

Rami dug into his pocket and pulled out four crumpled £20 notes. ‘Here’s some cash to keep you going. Try at least to remember to eat.’

‘Thanks.’

Rami gave him a playful shove. ‘Sod off then!’

The flat was empty. It was Sunday afternoon so Harry
was probably out with Kate. Flynn didn’t know if he felt disappointed or relieved. But as he put the key in the lock and heard Rami drive off behind him, a wave of abandonment washed over him, like being left on the first day of school. He found himself walking aimlessly around the living room and kitchen, his heart thudding, quickly averting his eyes from the pile of letters addressed to him on the counter. He was afraid he was going to lose it again. The kitchen phone had been removed from the wall. He found it in the living room, in the place of the one he had broken. The closed piano lid looked dusty and the sight filled him with fear. He had no idea what to do. At Rami’s he hadn’t been doing anything much, but he couldn’t do ‘nothing much’ here. The end-of-year exams were only a few weeks away and the closed piano lid was like an accusing scream.

Harry stopped dead in the doorway, keys dangling from his hand, his face breaking into a slow grin.

‘Blimey, it’s you!’

Flynn smiled self-consciously. ‘Hi.’

Brushing the hair from his eyes, Harry perched on the arm of the sofa, staring at Flynn and still grinning. ‘I didn’t know you were coming back today. This is a surprise! We were beginning to wonder whether we’d ever see you again! Rami hasn’t been volunteering much information.’

Flynn could not think of anything to say.

‘Hey, it’s good to have you back. The flat’s been lonely without you and Aural’s been seriously dull without you there to wind up Peterson.’

Flynn smiled faintly.

‘Are you OK now?’ Harry asked, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

‘Yeah.’

Harry was examining the floor. ‘Rami mentioned that you . . . that you’d been ill . . . Anyway, I’m just sorry that I didn’t realize . . . a-and that I wasn’t any help.’ He glanced up awkwardly, then jumped up. ‘Hey, shall I call Jennah? She’s been asking me every day if I’ve heard from you.’

‘OK.’

Harry bounded off into the kitchen. Flynn sat back and switched on the TV. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad to be back after all.

He came out of his stupor but found himself in an area he couldn’t quite define. Had the despair lifted or had he simply entered a realm where every emotion was dulled and every painful thought was hijacked as it went through his mind? The torpor of depression had somehow lifted, but he wasn’t back in the real world yet. This seemed to be some kind of temporary stage, like that transition between sleep and wakefulness, where the emotions all ran together and thoughts had their own absurd logic. His mind felt sluggish yet anaesthetized and his thoughts had slowed but were
still tinged with darkness. He had crawled out of the abyss, for now at least, but still had a way to go.

At university, people he barely knew came up to ask him how he was feeling. No one mentioned the concert, not even Professor Kaiser. The Rach Three was abandoned and they went back over some old Mozart. Harry gave him a pile of photocopies. Lecturers were exceptionally nice to him. Everyone was talking about exams. Flynn continued taking his lithium. It was working, Dr Stefan said. Flynn no longer felt like running in the middle of the night; no longer tried to write operas. Nor did he want to knock himself out with alcohol and sleep all day. He was able to go through the motions of being a normal student for the first time in ages. But he felt dead inside.

BrainTeaser
seemed to hold a new fascination. As dry and repetitive as it was, it allowed him a certain refuge from the jarring emotions of the soaps or the bolshie glitz of the pop-star wannabes. It permitted him to remain in his torpor, hypnotized by the scrambled letters . . . Flynn could not remember ever having watched so much TV before, apart from when there had been some big sporting event on perhaps, but since his stay with Rami he seemed incapable of doing much else. There seemed little point in practising now, not just some silly little Mozart pieces, neither was he particularly interested in reading through Harry’s huge pile of notes. Running was out of the question – his first day back at the Royal
College had left him feeling utterly drained. Exhaustion pressed down on him like a powerful, invisible force and even sitting up had become an effort.

On the phone, Rami kept assuring him that the exhaustion was a side-effect to the lithium which would soon wear off, but it was impossible to know where the depression ended and the lithium began. So much for the wonders of modern medicine. Rami kept insisting he had to give it time, but Flynn couldn’t help wondering if he would ever feel normal again. The feelings of panic and horror seemed to have dulled but he felt as if he were only barely existing. Everything had become an unbearable effort, even thinking, while Harry rushed around infuriatingly, bouncing from one activity to the next in a tireless whirl of energy. In the hour since his return he had managed to cook himself dinner, eat it while retelling anecdotes from his day, wash up humming to the radio, call Kate for twenty minutes and had now started cello practice in his bedroom. During this time, Flynn had remained glued to the sofa.

BrainTeaser
ended; a kids’ cartoon began. Flynn could not be bothered to lean forwards and pick up the remote from the coffee table.

Harry returned, loosening his bow. ‘I’m going to meet Kate and some friends down at the pub. Coming?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Go on. Half an hour?’

Flynn gave Harry a look, astonished that Harry
should think he might possibly change his mind. Obviously Harry did not realize that only holding a gun to Flynn’s head could have made him walk out of that door.

‘For goodness’ sake!’ Harry exclaimed. ‘Aren’t you bored out of your mind, just watching TV all day?’

Flynn shrugged. ‘Beats anything else.’

Harry let out his breath and shook his head in a gesture of defeat. He put on his jacket and left. Flynn returned his gaze to the television screen.

By Thursday, Flynn had his television viewing all planned out before he had even left class. By mid-afternoon it was all he could think about – longing to be half lying on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, channel-surfing his way through the evening, cocooned away from all the talk and music and exam papers and practice, from prying questions and false concern and fake friendships, from the noise and rush and clatter that seemed to fill the outside world. It exhausted him, all of it. His own company was as much as he could bear.

‘Did you ask Doctor Stefan whether he would consider cutting your dose before your exams?’ Rami asked him over dinner on Friday.

‘Yeah,’ Flynn replied, his mouth full.

‘And?’

Flynn swallowed. ‘He said he would look into it if I didn’t go high before the end of the month.’

‘OK, well that’s something.’

‘I don’t want him to cut the dose,’ Flynn said acidly. ‘I want to stop taking the bloody stuff altogether.’

‘Lithium is a tricky drug to prescribe,’ Sophie said. ‘If the dose is too high it can completely muffle you and make you feel exhausted but if the dose is too low then all your symptoms can come back. I expect the psychiatrist will have to do a bit of fine-tuning before he finds exactly the right level.’

‘Great,’ Flynn said sarcastically with his mouth full again.

‘Well at least it’s not affecting your appetite any more!’ Rami exclaimed.

Saturday afternoon was all football and racing. At least it made a change from
Blue Peter
and
Newsround
. It was almost four and Flynn had only been up for a couple of hours, sprawled on his front in his T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, the sunlight plunging in through the open window. Harry burst in from orchestra practice – loud, sweaty, breathless from lugging his cello up the stairs.

‘More TV?’ he said, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

‘Better than bloody orchestra,’ Flynn muttered, returning his gaze to the screen.

‘That’s debatable,’ Harry replied, sitting on the keyboard stool and yanking off his trainers. ‘Oh, come on,
let’s
do
something. Kate’s away all weekend so you’ve got to keep me company! Let’s – let’s go to the lido!’

‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

‘OK, I know, let’s have a game of pool!’

‘I’m
not
going outside,’ Flynn said in a voice that left no room for argument.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Harry suddenly shouted. ‘It’s a beautiful day! How can you just sit there?’

Flynn glowered at him.

‘Isn’t your medication supposed to be working by now? I know Rami said that the lithium would take a couple of weeks to get you back to your normal self but you’re still exactly the same as before!’ Harry’s cheeks were flushed suddenly.

‘This
is
my normal self,’ Flynn said drily. ‘The bloody lithium’s not going to change my personality, for Christ’s sake.’

Harry stopped. ‘This isn’t your normal self,’ he said quietly.

‘How do you know? Who the hell said it was up to you to decide who I am and who I’m—’

‘OK, OK’ Harry held up his hand and backed out of the doorway. ‘Excuse me for talking. Enjoy your evening. Don’t do anything too wild.’ He slammed out of the room.

But sometime later that evening, as Flynn was dozing off in front of a re-run of
Friends
, Harry came in with Jennah, brandishing DVDs. ‘I figured that since you’ve
become such a slob, we might as well join you,’ he said.

Flynn looked at Harry over the back of the couch. He wore a sheepish, lopsided smile, and Flynn knew that this was his way of trying to make up. Harry never stayed angry for long. But Flynn almost wished that he had – Jennah’s sudden appearance jarred him and even spending the evening watching DVDs with them seemed like a monumental effort.

Jennah laughed. ‘I think everyone needs to slob out once in a while.’

‘Well, once in a while maybe, but the Slob King here has taken it to an entirely new dimension.’ He grinned at Flynn’s scowl.

Jennah laughed again. Her hair looked different, slightly curly with a strip of burgundy material tied around her head. Small diamonds hung from her ears. She looked like she might be wearing make-up. Flynn peeled himself off the couch and busied himself with cold drinks and snacks.

‘So what DVDs did you get?’ Harry asked Jennah.

Jennah reached into her bag. ‘Well, I couldn’t find a compromise. So in the end I got
Bridget Jones:
The Edge of Reason
for me and
The Matrix Revolutions
for you guys.’ She held them up proudly.

‘Oh, you star, I never got round to seeing
The Matrix Revolutions
!’ Harry exclaimed.

‘God, I knew you’d say that. Back me up, Flynn. You’d rather watch
Bridget Jones
, right?’

Flynn smiled and shrugged awkwardly.

‘Don’t be stupid, that’s a chick-flick!’ Harry exclaimed.

‘Well I think since I’m the guest and, more to the point, since I’m the one who actually got them out, I should decide,’ Jennah declared.

‘And I think that since I will no doubt be returning them, as well as
paying
for them,
I
should decide,’ Harry countered.

Jennah narrowed her eyes playfully. ‘Oh, listen to spoiled little rich boy.’

‘We’re going to watch them both so what difference does it make?’ Harry argued.

‘Exactly. We may as well start with
Bridget Jones
.’

‘Or
The Matrix
.’

They looked at each other and started to laugh.

‘Flynn’s going to have to decide – there’s no other way,’ Jennah declared.

Harry held up the two DVDs. ‘Go on then,’ he said.

‘I don’t mind,’ Flynn said, turning away.

‘You have to help us out or it’ll come to blows!’ Jennah exclaimed.

‘
Bridget Jones
then,’ Flynn said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

‘Traitor!’ Harry called after him.

Rinsing his glass pointlessly in the sink, Flynn breathed deeply, trying to quell a mounting knot of frustration. Why was it that whenever Jennah came round, Harry always turned into this entertaining charmer and he into a monosyllabic idiot? It was always the same! The more
gregarious and expansive Harry became, the more tongue-tied and awkward
he
did. And now things were even worse because Jennah thought of him as some kind of freak. No doubt she was waiting for him to start raving on about falling ceilings or jump out of the window. They were both waiting for him to lose it again.

When he returned to the living room, Harry had taken up residence in the armchair, legs slung over the armrest, watching the trailers.

‘I hope this is
Bridget Jones,’
Jennah said.

‘Would I dare put on anything else?’ Harry pulled a cushion out from behind his back and placed it strategically behind his head. ‘Wake me up when it’s over.’

Flynn sank back into the sofa, grateful for the opportunity to sit in front of the TV again. But Jennah’s presence beside him was an obstacle to total immersion. The brush of her bare arm against his as she reached for her glass, her small explosions of laughter at each funny line . . . She was so – well – reactive. The small sounds that escaped her, betraying her every emotion, were more riveting than the film itself. Pizza arrived and Flynn was grateful for the distraction. By the time Renée Zellweger and Colin Firth were left snogging in front of the courtroom, dark was falling outside.

By then, though, it was almost twelve and no one felt much like watching
The Matrix,
not even Harry. He hung upside down off the side of the armchair, complaining about his back.

‘Coffee, anyone?’ Flynn asked.

‘Yes, please,’ Jennah replied.

‘Harry?’

‘No, I’m knackered. I’m going to hit the sack. Jen, I take it you’re spending the night?’