A Note of Madness (25 page)

The phone started to ring, barely audible beneath the beat of Dr Dre. Harry got up and went into the kitchen.

A moment later he returned.

‘It’s for you.’

‘Who?’

‘Jennah.’

‘Oh, tell her I’m – I’m out.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I’m busy working, can’t you see?’

Harry gave him a long look and went back to the phone.

The exam fortnight passed in a blur. Flynn didn’t manage much sleep but it wasn’t because he had too much work, he just didn’t feel tired. It was fantastic. He was able to cram through the night, even managing to squeeze in a few hours’ practice before dawn.

At seven, Harry would emerge, pale and sleepy, yawning and groaning at the prospect of a full day’s revision ahead. Flynn would leave him to his toast and textbooks and go for a run before returning to have a shower and attack the piano.

His penultimate exam was a doddle and he finished his Historical Studies paper with a whole twenty minutes to spare. That night he found himself boasting to Harry about how easy it had been. He grabbed his lever-arch file and started showering his lecture notes out of the living-room window until Harry went ballistic.

‘What the hell are you doing? You could kill someone!’

‘It’s just paper!’ Flynn laughed. ‘No more HS! No more crumbling Myers! Woo hoo!’

Harry slammed the window closed. ‘You’re crazy! The neighbours will call the police!’

‘Let’s
burn
our notes then! I know, we can have a bonfire!’

‘Flynn! Our next exam is at nine o’clock tomorrow morning! Stop being such a—’ He broke off as Flynn grabbed Harry’s file from the coffee table and made off with it to the kitchen.

‘Give that back to me now! I mean it, Flynn. What if I have to retake the damn module? Don’t you dare set fire to my notes!’ Harry wasn’t laughing. He made a desperate lunge for the file as Flynn wrenched open the kitchen drawers, hunting for the lighter.

Flynn tried to kick Harry off, choking with laughter, and upturned the cutlery drawer onto the floor with a deafening crash.

‘For God’s sake, it’s one o’clock in the morning! The neighbours are going to come pounding on the door! Would you stop –
please
!’ Harry’s cheeks were crimson as he tried to wrestle the file from Flynn’s clutches.

‘Let go! Let go!’ Flynn yelled, whooping with laughter as he waved the lighter around, attempting to ignite the lever-arch file. ‘Careful, Harry, you’re going to be next. You’ll be Guy Fawkes sitting on top of the bonfire! Whey-hey, it’s burning, it’s burning! Look at it go!’

Flynn’s head snapped backwards. There was a massive jolt of pain and his eyes throbbed crimson.

The lever-arch file lay open on the floor, spewing out
sheets of printed lecture notes and biro scrawls across the lino.

Harry stood frozen, his back pressed against the cupboard door. His chest and shoulders rose and fell rapidly and his left hand squeezed the knuckles of his right fist. His eyes were wide and he seemed to be gasping.

Flynn felt himself sway. He took one step backwards and crashed into the saucepan stand, then his hands found the wall behind him and he slid down it to the floor.

Harry took a tentative step forwards. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Ow,’ Flynn said in reply. It hurt to talk. His top lip stung and when he touched it his fingertips came away smeared with red. He felt as if a hot, throbbing balloon was being blown up inside his mouth. He looked up at Harry, his eyes watering. ‘Ow,’ he said again dizzily.

Harry looked white. ‘I’m s-sorry,’ he stammered. ‘I didn’t mean to punch your mouth, I’m really sorry. But you were – you were going completely crazy again! You were trying to set fire to my head!’

‘Just wanted to make a bonfire . . . to celebrate . . . you know . . .’ It was increasingly difficult to talk and his voice was muffled and indistinct. Now he felt like he had a hot boiled egg jammed between his front teeth and top lip. He swallowed what tasted like a mouthful of blood.

‘Oh, fuck.’ Harry sat down heavily on a kitchen chair and ran his hands through his hair. ‘I really didn’t mean
to get your mouth – I freaked out – Flynn, I’m really sorry.’

‘’S OK,’ Flynn replied, touching the pulpy mess of his upper lip. He suddenly felt tired and slightly sick. Right now a bonfire seemed like too much of an effort.

Harry suddenly jumped up and rummaged in the freezer and pulled out a large bag of peas. ‘Here, take this, hold it against the swelling . . .’

Flynn took the bag of peas and stared at it in confusion.

‘Hold it to your lip, here, like this.’ Harry kneeled down in front of him and pressed the icy bundle to Flynn’s face.

It hurt like crazy. Flynn coughed and blood splattered onto his jeans.

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry kept saying, and his voice shook.

On the morning of the last exam, Flynn was towelling his hair in the bathroom when Harry barged in.

‘Hey, don’t you knock?’

‘Sorry, sorry. I thought I left my watch in here. Have you seen it?’ Harry looked frazzled, still half-asleep, hair on end.

Flynn gave the surfaces a quick scan. ‘Nope.’

‘This is all I need! I can’t do the exam without a watch! D’you think they’ll let me take my alarm clock instead?’

‘Not if it goes off halfway through!’ Flynn laughed at
the thought and gave Harry a playful punch. ‘Hey, this is our last day, our last exam! Whey-hey!’

Harry pulled away. ‘Shit, look at your lip, it’s still huge—’

‘I think it gives me a kind of sexy, smouldering look!’

Harry flashed him a sheepish grin. ‘You’re a loon, did you know that?’

‘Hey, this is our last day, our last day, d’you realize? Summer holidays, here we come!’

‘Don’t say that yet – we’ve still got this lousy Theory exam—’

‘I feel like pancakes. D’you want a pancake? I’m going to make some pancakes.’

‘Don’t be daft. We’ve got to be at the exam hall in twenty minutes.’

Flynn laughed. ‘Yeah, loads of time!’

He was halfway through mixing the batter when Rami called.

‘Just ringing to wish you good luck for your last exam.’

‘I don’t need luck – this one’s in the bag! Theory’s a piece of cake! And after this it’s freeeeedom!’

‘Flynn, listen to me for a minute. Harry told me about what happened. Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine, I’m fine! It was only a bit of fun and, don’t worry, I’ll get my own back on him!’

‘OK, good, but listen. Did you talk to Doctor Stefan about—?’

‘No, it’s fine! I haven’t had time, but it’s fine. I’m feeling fine and—’

‘Flynn!’

‘I’m not hyper, just excited! Today’s the last exam and I’ve got three months’ holiday and Harry and I want to go away. We’re going to go busking in Scotland—’

‘Flynn, listen to me—’

‘I am, I am, I am, but I’m not hyper and I’m trying to make pancakes with one hand and it’s not exactly easy!’

‘Then stop making pancakes and listen!’

‘I can’t! I can’t stop. I’m going to be late. I feel like eating pancakes for breakfast. I’m sick of toast – toast’s boring! I’m sick of cereal too! Cereal’s just—’

‘
Flynn, will you listen to me!
’

Flynn put down the frying pan and stopped uncertainly.

Rami inhaled deeply. ‘You need to go back and see Doctor Stefan about your meds. Today, after your exam. D’you hear me? It’s important. You’re getting high again.’

Flynn emerged from the exam hall into brilliant sunshine. He wandered through the throng of students, looking for Harry. He found him by the wall, rolling up his sleeves, a relieved look on his face. Flynn held up his hand with a grin. Harry slapped it hard.

‘It wasn’t too bad, was it?’ Jennah approached with a tentative smile. Harry jumped forwards and gave her a big hug. ‘It was fantastic. I got the question on
Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring”! I can’t believe it’s all over!’

‘I know. It’s a great feeling.’ Jennah drew back from Harry’s hug, smiling. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. She looked at Flynn. ‘Oh my God, what happened to your lip?’

‘I walked into a doorframe,’ Flynn replied.

Harry opened his mouth as if to protest and then lowered his eyes to the ground.

Jennah glanced uncertainly from Harry to Flynn. ‘What’s going on? What really happened?’

‘Well actually—’ Harry began.

‘Nothing.’ Flynn cut him off sharply. He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, unable to meet her gaze. Harry tactfully moved away towards another group of people.

Jennah was looking at Flynn carefully. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked him.

He gave a small, dismissive shrug. ‘Fine.’

‘I haven’t seen much of you lately. I – I sort of got the impression you were avoiding me.’

Flynn shook his head, looking away from her and into the crowd.

‘Well . . . I’ll see you around then.’

He nodded and she turned away, head lowered, walking quickly down the road.

‘
JENNAH CAME ROUND
looking for you.’ Harry greeted Flynn the moment he walked through the door. Harry was watching the tennis, feet up on the coffee table, arms folded over his chest.

‘What?’

‘I told her to come back around seven. You’ll be here then, won’t you? She heard you were going home at the end of the week and wanted to catch you before you left.’

Flynn stopped in the doorway and swore.

Harry’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. ‘Surely you weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye?’

Flynn leaned back against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets, banging his head repeatedly against the wall in frustration.

‘You’re treating her like shit, do you realize that?’ Harry said quietly.

Flynn stopped his head-banging and stared at him.

‘The least you could do is talk to her,’ Harry said. ‘She’s got the message loud and clear that you don’t want to go out with her. She just wants some reassurance
that the two of you can still be friends, like before.’

‘Well it can’t be like before, can it?’ Flynn shouted, and slammed out of the room.

There was nowhere to go. He felt tired, so tired again. The fire had left him as swiftly as it had arrived and he was left a burned-out shell, hollow, brittle, empty. Now that the exams were over it seemed as if there was nothing more to look forward to; nothing more but the long, hot, excruciatingly dull summer back in Sussex, where all there was to do was mow the lawn, work behind the bar at the Red Cow and practise. He had thought about spending the summer here in the flat but Harry was going to join his parents in Brussels before jetting off to somewhere in the Caribbean, and Mum was insisting he came home for a while. Then would come the waiting – waiting to find out whether he had passed his exams, wondering what on earth he was going to do if he hadn’t. And then, of course, there was the London International competition, looming at the end of the holidays, casting a shadow of fear over the whole summer. And he couldn’t even think of that, he couldn’t even think of that now, because it made him want to throw things and smash things and scream at everyone.

After everything that had happened, Harry was sure to have changed his mind about them going to Scotland together – a real shame because his parents had been going to lend them their car. And it took all the energy he had not to think about Jennah. Every time he felt his
mind drift towards the touch of her hand, the smell of her hair, her smile, Flynn felt as if he were starting to fall, in slow motion, off the edge of a cliff, and the only thing he was aware of was fear.

He lay face down on his bed, fully clothed, one arm dangling off the side, his finger tracing the pattern on the carpet. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t be bothered to get undressed and into bed for that matter, but felt too tired to move. From the hallway, Harry called out that he was off to see Kate. Flynn just grunted in reply. He heard the front door slam, contemplated the long evening ahead and thought about the three boxes of lithium tablets in his bedside drawer. He was sure there were enough there to kill a horse . . . He could either lie here all evening, or start packing for Friday, or end it all right here, right now. His heartbeat quickened at the thought. Would it take a long time? Would it hurt? He wouldn’t be found until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, when Harry started getting concerned. Maybe not even then . . . Twenty-four hours. More than enough time . . . But he couldn’t do it. He was too afraid. Or was he? Other stuff scared him more. Living, for example.

He sat up and took the packets out of the drawer. Pulled the blister packs out of their boxes and lined them up on his bed. He could take all the pills out and arrange them into groups of four. Then fill a pint glass with water in the kitchen and take them four at a time. Six blister backs, so seventy-two pills. Seventy-two
divided by four . . . Eighteen, something like that. Eighteen swallows, it wouldn’t take very long. But just looking at the packs of pills lying on his bed was making his heart race – what if he changed his mind halfway through? He would need to get himself drunk first. There was some gin somewhere in the kitchen. Perhaps he should go and drink that first, then decide . . .

The shrill of the doorbell startled him out of his thoughts. He froze, hoping whoever it was would give up and go away. Then he realized it might be Rami, come to drag him back to Dr Stefan’s. Flynn sat immobile on his bed, breathing rapidly, the blood drumming in his ears. The doorbell went again, this time longer, more urgent. Still he didn’t move. The bell went a third time. Damn, damn,
damn
. He was going to have to open the door. His hands shook as he shoved the pills roughly back into their boxes. Clawing his hands through his hair in frustration, he went out into the hall.

It was Jennah. He was hugely taken aback. Relieved that it wasn’t Rami, but absolutely thrown at seeing her there. Then he dimly recollected Harry saying something about her coming round at seven . . .

‘Flynn, are you all right?’

‘Yeah.’ He leaned heavily against the doorjamb, blinking at her.

‘Sorry to be so insistent but Harry said you would be in and I really, really need to see you.’