Flynn hunched forwards, elbows on his knees, and rubbed his eyes, unable to say anything for fear of sounding ungrateful. He wished they would just leave him alone with his TV programmes. They should have stayed at the pub in the company of others, having a good laugh, doing their own thing. He didn’t want their pity. He couldn’t stand this.
‘We’ve got a pizza in the fridge,’ Harry was saying. ‘I think I need some food to soak up the booze. Who’s hungry?’
Flynn stood up quickly. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said. ‘I’ve – I’ve got revision to do.’
Jennah jumped up and blocked the door. ‘No way, it’s Friday night!’ she exclaimed. ‘Anyway, since when have you turned into a swot?’
Harry laughed.
Flynn backed away from them both and sank back down on the couch, defeated, too tired to protest. It was an effort to think. Getting out of the living room suddenly seemed impossible. All he knew was that he could not be around people right now, could not think of a single thing to say, could not bear to have to smile and look happy and interested and understanding. Harry and Jennah were loud and exhausting . . . This whole room was exhausting. He just wanted his bed . . .
‘Wake up!’ Harry gave him a painful shove.
He started violently. ‘What?’
‘God, you really are in a trance!’ Harry exclaimed loudly. ‘I asked you if you wanted a beer!’
‘Yes – I mean no.’
Harry and Jennah started laughing together. Flynn tried to smile. And then put his hands to his face and burst into tears.
There was a long, shocked silence, heavy with embarrassment. Paralysed with shame and exhaustion, Flynn sat with his hands clamped over his face.
‘Oh, Flynn—’ Jennah breathed.
He could sense them looking at each other, not knowing what to do. He should just leave and put an end to their discomfort. But he couldn’t even move. Instead he just sat, sobbing foolishly into his hands.
‘Crikey.’ Harry’s voice now, cracked and awkward. ‘I said something stupid, didn’t I? I’m always putting my foot in it. Born with a foot in my mouth, my mum always says, but I didn’t mean to – um – oh, shit . . .’ Harry tailed off, lost for words. Harry was never lost for words.
Flynn felt Jennah sit down beside him and put her arm round him. ‘Hey, we were being stupid and thoughtless, we’re sorry,’ she said softly. ‘I’m sorry.’
Flynn found that he couldn’t stop crying. Now that he had started, he was crying about everything, everything that had happened from the moment Professor Kaiser had asked him to play in the concert, till now. It was all flooding through him – the hope, the elation, the despair and the sadness. The sadness, always the sadness . . . Would it ever leave? He held his breath to try to stop the tears, thought he would choke, and the sobs redoubled.
Jennah stroked his back. ‘It’s no big deal, Flynn, it’s OK. You’re just going through a really rough time at the moment.’
‘I’m telling you, it’s all these bloody essays, they’re enough to give anyone a nervous breakdown! I was practically crying myself last night . . .’ Harry’s voice tailed off awkwardly again.
‘Oh, listen to him.’ Jennah gave Flynn a squeeze, a smile in her voice. ‘At least by the end of the month we won’t have to hear Harry moan about another essay ever again! That’s something to look forward to, hey, Flynn?’
He dragged his sleeve across his face, nodding silently, struggling hard to stop the onslaught of tears.
‘Oi!’ Harry exclaimed in mock outrage.
‘In fact it might just be easier if we agreed to do all of Harry’s essays for him until the exams,’ Jennah went on. ‘At least that way we’d get some peace!’ She gave Flynn another squeeze. ‘What do you think? We could take turns. We’ll make him pay us, of course.’
He managed a smile, fists pressed against his eyelids, sniffing hard.
‘In pounds or sexual favours?’ Harry wanted to know.
‘Well I can’t be certain, Harry, but I should imagine Flynn would prefer the money.’
Flynn managed a brief laugh against his sleeve.
‘Hey, don’t knock what you haven’t experienced!’ Harry exclaimed.
‘There are some things in life which one would prefer not to,’ Jennah countered, her arm oddly comforting round Flynn’s shoulders, and they carried on with their ridiculous charade until he managed to stem the tears and pull himself together again. He felt absurdly grateful towards them both.
That night, he stopped taking his lithium.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘HÖR ZU.’ THE next day, Professor Kaiser sat down at his desk and rubbed his hands together. ‘I have a proposition to make to you – but you must understand you do not have an obligation to take it.’
Flynn scratched his cheek and surveyed him from the piano.
‘It is only a suggestion,’ Professor Kaiser went on, removing his glasses and beginning to polish them. He looked a little nervous. ‘There is no pressure for you to say yes . . . but I did not want to refuse without asking you first.’
Flynn smiled slightly. ‘Are you going to tell me what it is?’
Professor Kaiser cleared his throat. ‘I – well, the Royal College has been asked to put forward two students for the London International Piano competition at the end of August. So naturally I thought of you.’
Flynn held back a smile. ‘Really? Who – me and André?’
‘Yes. But I know, it’s quite soon after your . . . uh . . .’
Flynn grinned. ‘That’s OK, I can do it this time. The Rach Three?’
‘Naturally. It is time we returned to it. There’s been a big improvement in your playing the last few weeks and I sense Mozart is beginning to be boring for you.’
‘You can say that again!’
Professor Kaiser gave a rare smile. ‘Flynn, you must think about it. We do not have to decide until after the exams. Do not get worried about it – it is completely for you to decide. If you think it might be enjoyable then that is good, but if you don’t then it does not matter.’
Flynn lined up the shot, drew back his cue and smacked the black cleanly into the bottom right-hand pocket. Then he straightened up and told Harry about the competition.
Harry started to say something and then stopped, mouth half open. He looked unsure how to react.
‘It won’t be like last time,’ Flynn told him.
‘Are you sure? I mean, I think it’s great, but do you . . . are you . . . ?’
‘Going to go crazy?’ Flynn smiled. ‘I hope not. I’m better now.’
Harry hesitated and then grinned. ‘Well, congratulations then! You lucky sod!’
Flynn drained his glass and leaned against the window sill as Harry circled the table like a bear on the prowl. Another group of students came in noisily and the music started to pound. Flynn caught sight of Jennah over by the bar and tried to catch her eye but she was deep in conversation with some long-haired percussionist.
Harry, having lined up an easy shot, hit the ball too fine and swore. With a smile, Flynn picked up his own cue. Minutes later he had cleared the table.
‘Harry said you had some exciting news.’
Leaning against the wall, Flynn was puzzling over whether it was an ant or just a speck of dirt floating in his beer when Jennah approached.
He gave an embarrassed smile and shrugged at the floor.
‘It’s nothing much.’
‘What is it?’ Jennah asked eagerly.
‘I might be playing in the London International Piano competition this summer,’ Flynn said quickly.
Jennah grabbed his arm. ‘Really?’
‘Mm.’
‘Oh, Flynn, that’s fantastic! How exciting for you!’
He smiled at her reaction. Not a hint of concern crossed her face. ‘Yeah, well, I guess I may as well give it a go, see if I can redeem myself after last time.’
‘Of course you can, of course you will! Oh, wow!’ Suddenly she leaned for
wards and kissed him on the mouth. For a moment, he closed his eyes and felt as if he were falling, as if the world had opened at his feet. Then abruptly he found himself stepping back, pulling himself away, banging his side against the pool table, and the ground closed under his feet again.
Jennah stared at him and bit her lip, her eyes wide.
He gripped the edge of the table, breathing hard, reeling, the heat rushing to his cheeks.
‘Sorry,’ Jennah said, a horrified look beginning to spread across her face before she turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Freestyler . . . The music pounded in his ears, filling his head and blasting any thoughts of Jennah out of his mind. A white-hot energy exploded through his veins. He could run again. His feet felt light on the pavement. It was too early for rush-hour traffic along Bayswater Road but the sun was already rising in the sky.
I’m going to play in a big competition, he thought. I’m going to win. I’m going to show André once and for all. I’m the Royal College’s top pianist. He ran up the incline to the top of the hill, barely out of breath. At the top he spun round, arms outstretched, laughing at the sky. He was alive again. His body was fizzing, his mind was buzzing, and the manic beat of the music made him want to leap and shout. The air around him felt electric. Anything is possible, he wanted to shout at the sky . . . ANYTHING. D’you get that, God? Nothing will stop me now. I know I’m damn good. Nothing can knock me down. You won’t slow me down with pills. You won’t slow me down with anything.
He ran along the Serpentine, scaring a gaggle of geese back into the water. The boat huts were deserted. The sky was turning from pale grey to dark blue. It was going to be a beautiful day. The early-morning breeze was already turning balmy and his T-shirt was beginning to stick to his skin. He felt as if he could run for ever. He would run for two hours straight, till eight, then he would have a shower and grind through some Czerny until his first lecture at ten. And he wouldn’t think about Jennah. He wouldn’t think about her kissing him last night in the pub. Had the kiss been some kind of joke? Or had it been an act of pity prompted by Harry telling her that Flynn fancied her? He ran harder. He would forget it had happened. He had to forget it had ever happened.
‘Hey,’ said Rami.
Arriving home after the last lecture, Flynn discovered Rami sitting in his car with the door open, a newspaper spread out over his lap, his horn-rimmed reading glasses giving him a quizzical look.
‘What are you doing here?’ Flynn asked in surprise.
‘And hello to you too!’ Rami exclaimed. ‘I had to pick something up in town so I thought I’d drop by.’ He carefully folded his newspaper and put his glasses away. ‘But there was no answer when I rang the bell so I figured that either you and Harry had both died from revision overload or you’d gone to the pub to escape it.’
‘I had a late lecture,’ Flynn said. ‘I dunno where Harry is. D’you want to come in?’
‘Well I’m not going to sit in the car all evening!’
In the kitchen, Flynn filled the kettle and pulled out two mugs.
Rami sat himself down at the kitchen table. ‘So, the revision’s going OK?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, yeah, it’s fine.’ Flynn pulled himself up onto the counter as he waited for the kettle to boil. ‘D’you want some toast or something?’
‘No, no, I’ve just eaten. So . . . you look well. How are things?’
‘Fine.’ Flynn gave a shrug and smiled.
‘Cool, cool. So . . . you’re still seeing Doctor Stefan?’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Flynn drummed the heels of his trainers against the cupboard doors and looked over at the kettle.
‘And the lithium?’
‘What about it?’ Flynn jumped to the floor as the kettle finally began to boil.
‘You’re still taking it, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ He concentrated on pouring the hot water into the mugs. There was a silence from behind.
‘You are still taking it, aren’t you?’ Rami’s voice had changed.
Flynn swung round. ‘Stop giving me the Spanish Inquisition!’ he snapped. ‘Did you come round to say hi or to give me the third degree?’
‘I came round to say hi and to see how you were. Mum said she hadn’t heard from you in ages.’
‘Well, as you can see, I’m fine,’ Flynn retorted, setting the two mugs angrily down on the table.
Rami said nothing.
‘What?’ Flynn demanded.
‘You’ve stopped taking it, haven’t you?’
‘Why is this your business?’
‘Haven’t you?’
‘Yes, OK, I have! Several weeks ago if you must know! And I feel absolutely fine.’
‘Flynn—’
‘No, you listen. The lithium made me feel like shit, all the time. All I ever felt like doing was watching TV.’
‘That’s because your body was still getting used to it. The side-effects can be dire at first. But they wear off!’
‘So? What’s the point in me waiting for the side-effects to wear off if I don’t even need it in the first place?’
‘But you do need it, Flynn. Can’t you see how much calmer you’ve been since you started taking it?’
‘If by calmer you mean half-dead, then I agree with you!’
‘You’re missing the highs,’ Rami said. ‘Doctor Stefan said that might happen. But, Flynn, the highs didn’t mean anything, they were caused by a chemical imbalance in your brain, and they made you strung out, unable to sleep, violent even! Don’t you remember what it was like? The panic attacks, the obsessive practising, the flipping out for no reason, trying to throw yourself out of the fucking window, for God’s sake?’
‘At least then I felt something!’ Flynn shouted. ‘At least then I felt alive!’
‘Oh, and when you crashed?’ Rami had started to shout too. ‘When you crashed the day after and couldn’t even get yourself out of bed, did you feel alive then?’
‘No but on lithium I feel like that all the time!’
There was a silence. Rami slumped back in his chair, suddenly looking drained. ‘That’s not true,’ he said. ‘On lithium you were tired, granted, but that was a side-effect, it was wearing off. You told me even the professor had commented on an improvement in you! Isn’t that why he asked you to play in that competition? And on lithium you were functioning – you were down because you were feeling so tired all the time, but it wasn’t like the depression before, was it, Flynn? You were able to get up in the mornings, go to lectures, practise a reasonable amount. You were even eating again! Couldn’t you have given the lithium just a bit more time?’
Flynn took an angry gulp of his scalding coffee. ‘I don’t need these drugs,’ he said quietly. ‘You don’t understand. The doctors have got it all wrong. I’ve felt fine since stopping the lithium. Neither up nor down. Just, you know, normal.’
Rami gave a small, tired laugh. ‘And what’s that when it’s at home?’
‘They’ve got it completely wrong,’ Flynn went on. ‘If I really had bipolar, I should be manic or depressed again by now. And I’m not. I’m really not.’
‘I know you’re not,’ Rami said.
‘So you see!’ Flynn exclaimed. ‘I can’t have bipolar then, can I?’
‘It’s not that simple,’ Rami said.
Flynn shot him an angry look.
‘If a person with bipolar stops taking their medication, they don’t instantly become ill again,’ Rami went on. ‘In fact, they could stay symptom-free for quite some time. But you can be sure that it will return, sooner or later, and probably with twice as much force.’
There was a long silence. Flynn felt a small pain start at the back of his throat. ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said finally, his voice uneven.
‘I would never lie about something like that,’ Rami said.
‘I haven’t got bipolar disorder!’ Flynn exclaimed. But even as he said it, he realized what he really meant was that he wished he hadn’t got bipolar
disorder, which wasn’t the same thing at all.
The next day, it was a struggle to sit through lectures, his muscles still tingling from his morning jog. He hadn’t been able to get Rami to leave until promising that he would make an appointment with Dr Stefan to talk things through. But in reality he had done no such thing. He would prove Rami wrong. He would stay well without the lithium and Dr Stefan would have to admit that his diagnosis had been a mistake. It was all a question of willpower. It was up to him, not the stupid chemicals in his brain.
The Historical Studies lecturer was droning on about opera at the end of the twentieth century. Flynn had revised that last night. He knew it now. It was a waste of time to go over it again. He leaned back in his chair and gazed out of the window.
At two minutes to twelve he was packing his bag and disappearing up the aisle as the lecturer asked if there were any questions. As Flynn bombed out of the exit, he felt a hand on his arm.
‘Flynn, hold on—’ It was Jennah, clutching a pile of books. She looked as if she had been waiting for him. Flynn backed away.
‘I just – I was just wondering if I could speak to you for a minute?’
He felt his heart start to pound. ‘I’ve really got to go—’
‘Please, it’ll only take a minute.’
‘Later, OK?’ He turned and hurried down the hallway.
‘Are we supposed to have read the whole of Musical Structure and Design?’ Harry wanted to know.
‘I think so. As well as Harmonic Practice in Tonal Music.’ Clive let out a weary sigh.
Flynn and Harry were having lunch with a group from their Stylistic Studies class. Kate came over with her tray to join them, squeezing in beside Flynn. ‘I had my Aural practical this morning,’ she told him.
‘Did it go all right?’ Flynn asked with his mouth full.
‘I dunno. It was hard. Three different key signatures!’
‘Yeah, it’s always a pig.’
‘Did Jennah find you?’
‘What?’
‘She was looking all over for you this morning. I told her you were in Historical Studies with Harry.’
‘Oh, right. Yeah, she did.’
‘Is she OK? She seemed kind of upset about something.’
A Note of Madness Page 19