Casting Shadows (7 page)

‘What hoops?’

‘Flynn’s made a good start with the counselling but he still has a lot to do to prove himself, so we want him to continue seeing someone – there are several options at the
place where Gemma works, so—’

‘I’m sure that will be fine,’ I interrupted. After all, hadn’t Flynn spoken positively about the therapy he was having? I couldn’t imagine he would object to
continuing it once he was living at the commune.

‘Good,’ Dad said. ‘So . . . clearly Flynn’s trying hard to get things right and he obviously cares about you very much.’

‘Oh, he does,’ I said, clasping my hands together. ‘He
does,
Dad. And I
really
care about him.’

Mum snorted. From outside in the hall Stone made puking noises.

I ignored them both. ‘So are you saying Flynn can stay too?’

‘Whoa, River.’ Dad took my hands. ‘What we’re saying is this: as soon as your school term officially ends, you move into the commune. Alone. You’ll be expected to
take on proper chores and Flynn can visit at weekends, when he will also have responsibilities.’

‘He won’t mind that,’ I said, my excitement building. ‘But what about the sixth form college? What about when term starts?’

‘Well, Flynn needs to make contact with them directly, but there should be no problem. He easily has the grades to get in and the college definitely has places.’

‘So you’re saying . . . ?’

Dad threw another look at Mum. She was sitting very still in her chair, her eyes on the plate in front of her. Dad turned back to me.

‘I’m saying that if Flynn does everything that’s asked of him then he can move in permanently for the start of school in September. Separate rooms, though. Flynn will have to
stay on the sofa until we can sort something out for him.’

‘Oh, Dad!’ I flung my arms around him, happiness overwhelming me. ‘Thank you!’

I could hear a chair scraping across the kitchen floor. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mum walking away, out of the room. Dad hugged me back.

‘Remember, Flynn will have to keep seeing a counsellor,’ he said. ‘That’s an important condition. Gemma was suggesting group counselling might be helpful and we expect
Flynn to be open to that process, just as—’

‘Oh, he will be.’ I nestled in close against Dad’s chest, breathing in his safe, solid, earthy smell.

Dad kissed the top of my head. ‘It’ll be so wonderful having you live with us, darling,’ he said. ‘Just don’t stop being my little girl . . . not quite
yet.’

I called Flynn straight away and told him Dad had agreed to us both moving into the commune. He couldn’t believe it. We met in the park a few hours later; it was still
light, a warm, sunny evening. We lay stretched out on the grass and Flynn wound my hair around his fingers as I explained the conditions Dad had laid down. I was a little worried that he might
baulk at the idea of being told what to do but, instead, a slow smile spread over his face.

‘So we’ll be able to stay together? Make that storeroom into a proper bedroom?’

‘Dad doesn’t want us to sleep together, though,’ I reminded him. ‘You’ve got to stay on the sofa, at least at first.’

Flynn waved this away. ‘We’ll sort that,’ he said. ‘We’ll be living together.
And
going to the same school. A proper sixth form college just around the
corner.’

‘That’s right.’

‘And all I’ll have to do in return is go to group therapy and spend eighteen hours a week or whatever working on the commune?’ he asked. ‘Mending fences or taking a turn
washing up . . . that sort of thing?’

‘Yes, but . . .’ I frowned. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on what it was, but there was surely something missing from Flynn’s summary. Commune living wasn’t just
about doing chores in return for a free room. It was about joining in, being part of something bigger than an individual life.

‘You’ll still have to get on with everyone . . . no fights or anything,’ I said. ‘And you haven’t seen the sixth form college yet. Or Gemma’s place where they
do the group counselling.’

Flynn sat up, waving his hand dismissively again. ‘None of that will be a problem. And I’ve totally worked out the therapy thing now.’

‘What do you mean?’ I said. Across the park a group of little boys were arguing over a football. One of them picked up the ball and ran off to the swings. The others chased after
him.

Flynn shrugged. ‘What they want to hear is how you’re taking responsibility for your anger, not blaming other people for how you feel.’

‘Oh.’ I wasn’t sure what to say. Flynn hadn’t talked much about his counselling sessions. I had no idea how they worked. ‘So . . . do you often still get the urge
to hit people?’ I asked with a smile, trying to make my question sound light and casual.

Flynn grinned. ‘Sometimes, but I don’t do it, that’s the point.’

The little boys with the football ran back onto the grass behind Flynn but I kept my focus on him.

‘What d’you mean?’ I asked. ‘What stops you?’

‘I’ve got . . . what do they call them? Yeah,
strategies.’
Flynn said the word with heavy emphasis. ‘I’ve got strategies for dealing with it when I lose my
temper. You know, like focusing on something else. It’s cool, Riv. Don’t worry.’

I pressed my hands into the grass. The earth was dry against my palms. ‘So you’re pleased?’ I said.

‘I’m d-e-lirious with d-e-light,’ Flynn said, his voice growling over the words. Then he leaned right over me. ‘Let me show you how much.’

Term officially ended a couple of weeks later. By that point I had visited Norton Napier with Mum – and been really impressed by the college. The syllabuses they followed
here for History and English looked much more interesting than the courses I would have had to take at Langton. I could even do Psychology, which wasn’t on offer at all at my old school.
Flynn had also visited, though he had gone separately and on his own. When we talked afterwards he sounded just as excited as I was about the college, though for a different reason. ‘The
important thing is that they’ll take us both, Riv,’ he said. I’ll get my As wherever we are.’

From anyone else it might have sounded arrogant but Flynn was just stating facts. He was smart and focused and he’d
always
had great grades.

The last few days of school passed in a blur. Flynn came with me to the Langton end-of-year party and we had a great time. Emmi made an effort to be really friendly with Flynn who, in turn, was
much nicer to her than he used to be. I guess it helped that she was no longer going out with Alex.

Alex himself wasn’t at the prom, of course, but James came along with Grace and he and Flynn had a blast. They dressed in suits (Flynn borrowed his from James’s brother) and heckled
when our year captain, Daisy Walker, whom they both knew from
Romeo and Juliet,
was doing her rather formal ‘thank-you’ speech to everyone who had helped organise the
party.

Lots of girls threw Flynn admiring glances as we passed. I saw him notice these – and the girls’ long legs and short skirts – but he still spent almost the entire evening by my
side, his arm around my shoulder. I, for once, felt good about how I looked. I was wearing a silvery, backless dress of Emmi’s that clung to my hips then floated prettily over my thighs. Both
she and Grace had said I looked amazing in it and, from the look on Flynn’s face when he saw me, I was hoping they were right.

It was late and the others were all on the dance floor when I slipped outside for some air. I was just standing, leaning against the wall by the fire door, when I heard footsteps behind me and
turned to see Grace coming out too. She was in a light blue dress, much shorter than she would normally wear, and a pair of Emmi’s killer heels. Her pale cheeks were flushed and her blonde
hair tousled.

She saw me and groaned. ‘These shoes are killing me,’ she said, leaning against the wall to take them off.

As she straightened up, she shook her hair off her face. Once again, I was struck by how pretty she had become in the past year or so.

‘You look amazing,’ I said.

She rolled her eyes but I could tell she was pleased. I suddenly remembered what James had told me the other day, that Grace knew about our stupid kiss in the back of that taxi. I’d been
avoiding talking to her about it but now I knew I had to say something.

‘Grace, there’s something I need to talk to you about,’ I started, my heart suddenly thumping.

She met my gaze. For a moment she looked confused, then her expression clouded slightly.

‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘You really don’t need to say anything.’

The space between us grew tense. Music blared out from inside the hall, people talking and laughing. Traffic hummed in the distance.

‘I’m just so sorry, Grace.’ I could feel my face burning red. ‘I was
really
drunk, Grace. I didn’t even want to . . . I just—’

‘I know.’ Grace looked down at her dress, her face flushed. ‘James told me: you were unhappy about Flynn and going on about this guy – Slug Tongue – who’d
kissed you and . . . and you said that you wanted him to take away the feel of it or something . . .’

I nodded, shame overwhelming me. ‘That’s right. Oh, Grace . . .’ I stopped. I couldn’t think what to say. I tried to imagine how I’d feel if she’d kissed
Flynn. It was impossible. There was no way Flynn would have let it happen. Not unless he’d wanted it to. Which wasn’t how it had been with James.

‘It wasn’t James’s fault, Grace. You have to believe that. I was out of my head with drink and missing Flynn and thinking he didn’t love me and . . . and I just . . . it
just happened. It lasted about one nanosecond,
nothing
, then I realised what I was doing and . . . I
hated
myself for losing control like that.’ Tears welled up at the
terrible memory.

‘It’s okay, River.’ Grace looked up at me. Her eyes were sad but I could see no anger in her expression. ‘James only told me because he felt bad about us having secrets
from each other. He said it meant nothing. He said he told you not to say anything to me because it would just upset me.’ She sighed miserably. ‘But I’d rather know the
truth.’

My chest tightened. ‘Oh, Grace, thank you . . . I’m still so, so sorry.’ I swallowed down the lump in my throat, hating myself for hurting her.

‘I know you are.’ She smiled again, this time more brightly. ‘Let’s go back inside. Maybe if you can’t stop feeling guilty I should go and have sex with Flynn to
even things up.’ She laughed.

I stared at her. I’d never heard Grace say anything that outrageous before.

‘Your face!’ Grace laughed. ‘What, you think it’s only you and Emmi who can say stuff like that?’ She took my hand. ‘Come on, Riv, forget it, it’s over.
Let’s go and have some fun.’

We walked back into the hall. Flynn was dancing in a big, mixed group. I stood for a moment, watching him move. He danced as well as he did everything, his movements smooth yet powerful. Again,
I noticed several girls from my year eyeing him up. One – a blonde with long, slim legs from one of the parallel classes – leaned up to say something to him. Flynn pushed his hair off
his face and bent closer to listen to her. A sliver of jealousy lodged itself in my stomach. I raced over, only slowing to a saunter as I approached the dance floor. Flynn must have felt me
looking. He glanced up from the blonde girl, saw me and smiled.

He looked so gorgeous and so happy to see me that I forgot about being jealous. The girl beside him melted away as I rushed over and hugged him hard.

He hugged me back and then we kissed. Right there, right then, a big, long, sexy kiss while around us the dancers whirled and the music soared.

School ended the next day and, the day after that, Dad came to collect me and all my stuff. I’d packed a couple of suitcases with my clothes and the little ornaments and
make-up stuff I had on my side table plus a few old toys I didn’t want to leave behind.

My head was still full of how emotional my final day at Langton had been – everyone hugging and weeping, signing each other’s school shirts and promising never to lose touch if we
lived to be a hundred.

For a few minutes, as I walked home that day, I felt sad to be leaving. I would miss Langton, especially all my friends there. Yet I knew it was time for me to move on. I would still see Emmi
and Grace and, of course, I would make new friends at the sixth form college.

Most importantly of all, I would be with Flynn.

It was weird saying goodbye to Mum. Neither of us cried but I think both of us felt like it. I thought it would be liberating leaving the house and my old life but, as we drove away, I felt
strange, like my old life was leaving
me.
I took a few deep breaths. Soon I would have a new room. Dad said he had already taken most of the junk out of the storeroom and had promised to
help me and Flynn decorate it this weekend. Stone wasn’t going to come up this week – he was still at school – and Dad said they’d need the living room to put the furniture
from the storeroom in while we painted.

We picked Flynn up on the way. He had changed his shifts so that he could have weekends free to spend at the commune. We sat on the back seat, holding hands all the way. Flynn was quieter than
on his last visit, but keen to get started on decorating the storeroom. Dad ran through our chores for the weekend. Washing up after the evening meal tonight, then working on the storeroom on
Saturday. On Sunday morning Flynn was scheduled to work outside on the south field, while I was down to help prepare Sunday lunch in the kitchen.

‘Do we have to eat
every
meal with everyone else?’ Flynn asked.

‘Well, mostly, yes,’ Dad said, sounding puzzled. ‘That’s kind of the point of living in the commune. I thought you understood how it worked.’

‘We do, Dad.’ I grinned at Flynn. ‘It’s just a bit boring for us, you know, with everyone else being so old.’

‘Well, Leo’s here now,’ Dad said. ‘He’ll be company for you.’

‘Who’s Leo?’ That was Flynn.

‘Was he the one visiting with his dad the other day?’ I asked.