‘We try to make the best use of everyone’s skills,’ Dad said, warming to one of his favourite topics.
‘So Gemma cooks, Ros makes everyone laugh and John tells everyone what to do,’ I said.
Everyone laughed, even John.
After lunch, Dad took me and Flynn out to the east field to mend a fence. Flynn was eager to learn and totally cooperative, doing everything Dad told him. By the time we went in to wash for supper, they were charting away like they’d known each other forever.
Gemma had been cooking and the kitchen was filled with the scent of curry spices. Flynn and I made ourselves mugs of tea and took them down to the apple orchard while Dad and Ros laid the table.
‘You seem so relaxed here,’ I said, as Flynn leaned against a tree. ‘Not when we were eating with everyone so much, but here . . . outside . . . Do you really like it?’
It was twilight and the birds were singing out. Above our heads, the sky was shot through with swirls of pink and orange. Flynn took a gulp of tea.
‘I like your dad and Gemma,’ he said. ‘And that Ros is a laugh. And . . . and I like how much space there is outside and I like the way everyone knows what they’re supposed to do and just gets on and does it.’
I nodded, surprised he was sounding so positive.
‘So you don’t think the people here are drop-outs anymore?’ I said.
‘Man, they’re total drop-outs,’ Flynn said with a grin. ‘I mean, I get the concept but it’s all a bit . . .’ he paused, searching for the right word, ‘I dunno, it must get a bit dull just living here day in, day out.’
‘Unambitious?’ I said. This was a word my mum often threw at my dad.
‘Yeah, I guess.’ Flynn drained his tea, then drew me towards him. ‘Never mind all that. How much time do we have till dinner?’
The evening meal passed as easily as lunchtime had. Flynn was offered – and refused – a beer. I noticed Dad raise his eyebrows when Flynn announced that he never drank alcohol. I could tell Dad wasn’t sure whether to believe him.
‘It’s true, Dad,’ I said. ‘Flynn never has anything to drink when we’re out.’
‘Why’s that?’ asked John imperiously. ‘Bit odd for a guy your age, isn’t it?’
Flynn turned to him. I could tell he was dying to snap out some snarky remark but he didn’t. He waited a second before replying, then he gave the same response he’d given when I’d first asked him that question months ago.
‘I don’t like drunks,’ he said.
I knew – and I was guessing Dad and Gemma did too – that this was a reference to Flynn’s alcoholic father. My eyes flirted to the place on Flynn’s shoulder, hidden by his shirt, where his dad had cut him years ago with a glass bottle, leaving a long, jagged scar.
I looked around the table, praying that nobody asked any further questions. Flynn’s father was definitely one topic I didn’t want us to get into. Both John and Ros looked like they wanted to know more, but something about Flynn’s steel-eyed glare stopped them.
We went up to Dad and Gemma’s rooms as soon as we’d washed up after the meal. Dad had made it clear Flynn was to sleep on the sofa, while I took my usual bed in the storeroom. We sat and played a game on my phone for an hour or so, then we went for a walk outside. Flynn was sweet and tender and delighted that I kept saying I was sure Dad liked him.
I fell asleep as soon as my head touched my pillow, my heart full of hope for a future where it would be okay for me and Flynn to be together.
The next morning, Dad announced a man and his son would be coming to look at the empty commune apartment. I didn’t pay much attention. They’d had a few viewers in the past couple of months but the apartment was large and nobody, so far, had wanted it.
Dad and I dropped Flynn at the station just before lunch. He had to get back home for his job at Goldbar’s, the gym and boxing club. As he was currently staying in the owner’s spare room, he felt he couldn’t really ask to take the shift off. He had been brilliant all morning, helping to prune the apple trees, a job that had to be done every June and which I always enjoyed. When he left, Ros and Gemma both gave him big hugs and even John shook his hand with a warm smile and a ‘good to meet you, young man’. At the station itself, Flynn said something quietly in Dad’s ear before turning and walking off to the platform.
Dad said very little as we drove back to the commune. After a few minutes, I couldn’t bear it any longer. ‘So what did you think?’ I blurted out. Are you okay with us seeing each other again?’
Dad said nothing, just changed gears in the car.
‘Listen, Dad,’ I went on. ‘When you and Mum said not to see Flynn back in January, you were right. He was out of control then. But he’s changed. He’s making a real effort now. Trying not to—’
‘I know, River,’ Dad interrupted. ‘I get it.’
‘What did he say when he left?’ My heart was in my mouth.
Dad stared at the road ahead. ‘Exactly what you’ve been saying . . . that he’s changed . . . that he’s sorry for not making more effort before . . . that he loves you.’
My throat felt swollen. ‘And?’ I breathed. ‘Does that mean you’re okay with us being together?’
‘Not really.’ Dad gazed over at me. ‘I mean, I’m still prepared to think about it but like I told Flynn when we were pruning, I’m very wary, because of his temper. I said I was sure that if he looked at the situation from my point of view he would understand.’
My eyes widened. I had no idea Dad had spoken like that to Flynn earlier and could just imagine Flynn’s angry response.
‘What did Flynn say?’ I whispered.
Dad turned the car onto the road that led to the commune.
‘He said yes, that he did understand, but that he was still determined to show me he had changed.’ Dad looked across at me again. ‘He said he was changing because of you . . . for you.’
5
After lunch, I spent the afternoon reading in the apple orchard. It was another beautiful day and, after the tension of Flynn’s visit, I could feel myself totally relaxing in the sunshine. By 3 p.m. the wind died completely and I was sweltering hot, even in the shade. I took off my shoes and rolled the waist of my skirt right over, so the material was up at the top of my thighs, not flapping around my legs. It didn’t help much but I didn’t have a bikini here and I didn’t want to strip to my underwear with so many people around.
I fell asleep under one of the trees, waking with a start to the sound of a breaking twig. A boy about my age was standing beside the tree opposite.
I sat bolt upright and yanked at my skirt, tugging it down over my legs. The boy’s startled eyes followed my hands and when I glanced back up at him a flush was creeping over his pale cheeks.
‘Who are you?’ I said.
‘Hi.’ He offered me an embarrassed smile. ‘I’m Leo. My dad and I are visiting today, looking at the spare apartment.’ His eyes were a pale, clear blue, startling against his very fair skin. He was actually quite good-looking, but there was something awkward about his manner – like he wasn’t comfortable in himself.
I scrambled to my feet, pulling my skirt right down. Dad had mentioned earlier that people would be coming to view the spare apartment.
‘This is the apple orchard,’ I said, rather unnecessarily as the trees we were standing under were groaning with tiny, unripe apples.
‘Do you live here?’ Leo asked. He wasn’t tall – maybe just a few centimetres taller than me – and his blond hair fell in soft waves. He wore nice clothes, I noted. Cool jeans and a T-shirt with a target pattern on the front.
‘No, I’m just visiting my dad.’ I paused. I knew I should have given my name, but I’d always hated saying it to people for the first time. It probably made me come across as aloof, even arrogant, but it was so embarrassing when people didn’t hear properly what I’d said and I had to repeat it or spell it out for them.
‘You’re River?’ Leo said.
‘Yes,’ I said, gra
teful that he had already heard of me. ‘So what do you think of the place? Does your dad like it?’
‘I think so,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit weird but . . .’ He tailed off and stared at the ground.
‘Yeah,’ I said, remembering how odd the whole commune set-up had seemed when Dad had first moved here. ‘You get used to it.’
Leo nodded. ‘D’you know what Norton Napier College is like?’
‘Er, sorry, never heard of it.’
‘It’s the local sixth form college,’ Leo explained. ‘If we do move here that’s where I’ll be going next term.’
I shook my head. I hadn’t even known there was a sixth form college near here.
There was a short pause.
‘So is it just you and your dad?’ I said.
Leo nodded again. ‘Yeah.’ He shuffled from foot to foot. ‘My mum died last year.’
‘Oh.’ I didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry.’
Leo looked embarrassed. ‘Dad went a bit mad after,’ he said. ‘Started going out all the time. Bringing people back in the middle of the night. Getting drunk. So dull might be good for a bit.’
I nodded slowly. I felt a little uncomfortable. I’m not a big one for lots of phony small talk, but there was something a bit desperate about the way Leo had launched into his life story after just a few seconds.
‘Sorry.’ Leo blushed again, as if he was reading my mind. ‘Too much information, yeah?’
‘It’s fine,’ I said, hoping he hadn’t thought I was rude. ‘Sounds like you’ve been through a lot, you know . . .’
‘Hey, River!’ Dad was calling. He sounded quite a way off, probably back at the house.
I made a face at Leo. ‘Better go,’ I said, with an apologetic shrug.
I sauntered out of the orchard and across the field. I could see Dad now, standing outside the kitchen door waving at me. As I got near to the house, Dad disappeared inside. Something made me look over my shoulder just in time to catch a glimpse of blond hair vanishing behind one of the apple trees.
I walked into the kitchen, where a tall man with a bit of a paunch and long grey hair tied back in a ponytail was deep in conversation with John. That must be Leo’s dad. He glanced up as I came in and Dad introduced us.
‘So, how are you finding the place?’ Dad asked.
‘I love it,’ Leo’s dad said with a beaming smile. ‘Just hope the boy likes it too.’
I wondered what it would be like to visit the commune if Leo and his dad moved in and there was someone my own age here for once. Leo had seemed nice enough, if a little bit intense. But then he was bound to be intense if his mum had died recently.
Dad said he would drive me home after we’d had a cup of tea and ‘a chat’ so we went up to his and Gemma’s apartment for a bit of privacy.
‘Sit down, River,’ Dad said.
I perched on the edge of the couch, wondering what was coming next. Gemma set a steaming mug of tea in front of me. She rested her hand lightly on my shoulder then disappeared into the bedroom.
I looked across at Dad. His blue eyes were crinkled with concern. I swallowed. It felt like there was a dull weight pressing down on my chest. ‘Dad?’ I said.
‘I’m not going to forbid you to see him,’ Dad said.
Hope fluttered inside me. Did he mean that? What about Mum? Was he prepared to try and convince her Flynn was okay?
‘I just want you to be careful.’ Dad rubbed his forehead. ‘You’ll be spending the whole summer here anyway and obviously Flynn will be working, so there won’t be so many opportunities . . .’ He tailed off.
I hesitated, a confusion of emotions running around my head. Was Dad only saying we could be together because he thought that spending the summer apart would be enough to break us up? Did he really still not get it?
I crossed the room and gazed out of the window. Leo, his father and John were crossing the east field. Leo lagged behind the others, a lonely figure ignored by the two men who were deep in conversation. There was something in his slouching, unhappy walk that I totally related to.
My breath caught in my throat as a brilliant idea struck me. No. It was mad. And yet it solved every problem in one fell swoop. But would Dad go for it?
‘Dad?’
He looked up, his eyes all blue and crinkly against his tanned face.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ I said. ‘Maybe I could come to school here this autumn. I mean, Mum’s already made it clear she’d rather I stayed with you over the holidays. And there’s a sixth form place – Norton Napier College – just up the road.’
Dad blinked. His shirt was untucked and the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. He unrolled them and rerolled them as I waited for a reply.
‘You don’t want to stay on at your own school for sixth form?’ he said.
I shook my head. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it at Langton but I had only really ever had two good friends there – Grace, who I saw outside school anyway, mostly when we doubled-dated with Flynn and James, and Emmi, who I’d hardly seen for ages because her boyfriend, Alex, and Flynn didn’t get on at all. I would miss Grace, but I was certain we’d stay in touch wherever I lived. On the other hand, I was fairly sure I’d be seeing less of Emmi in the future, whatever happened. I hadn’t even told her I was going out with Flynn again.
I turned to Dad. ‘I could move in here – into the storeroom. We could clear it out. That’s if . . . if Gemma didn’t mind.’
‘No . . . I . . . I don’t think she’d mind . . . but . . .’ Dad frowned. ‘I don’t understand, River. I mean, you coming to live here is one conversation. But we were talking about you and Flynn, which is another. So—’
‘I know.’ I nodded eagerly. This was the whole point. ‘Flynn could move in too,’ I said.
Dad’s eyes widened. ‘What?’
‘We could both live here,’ I went on breathlessly, the whole plan unfolding in my mind as I spoke. ‘I’ll be here, which you wanted for the summer anyway. And Flynn too. It will be a fresh start for him. He can go to a counsellor at Gemma’s therapy place. Come September, we can both go to the sixth form college. He can earn his rent here doing extra chores. You should have seen him last year. He did about four jobs after school, trying to help his mum and—’
Dad held up his hand. ‘It’s out of the question, River,’ he said. ‘What about Flynn’s mum? What about yours? She’ll never agree to him living here too.’
‘But you said it was okay for us to be back together.’ I flew across the room and sat down beside him. ‘Flynn’s mother would be pleased if he had somewhere proper to stay. And Mum doesn’t get on with Flynn that badly.’
This last point was a total lie and Dad knew it. Mum had disliked Flynn from the first moment she met him last autumn. She thought he was rude and moody and aggressive – not to mention a bad influence on me.
Dad raised his eyebrows. ‘You and I both know that your mother isn’t exactly Flynn’s biggest fan.’ A small smile crept across Dad’s face. ‘I told him that was one thing we had in common – as well as you, of course.’
I stared at him. ‘But you liked him, didn’t you?’ I said, sensing it was true.
Dad turned away. ‘In spite of myself, I did,’ he admitted. ‘I mean, I could see how angry he is but there’s this hurt kid there too, who has had a really raw deal in life. It’s very rare for someone his age, who’s lived through what he’s lived through, to be prepared to face up to the consequences like he’s trying to do.’
‘Oh, Dad.’ My heart was hammering. ‘So it could work then. I mean, you’d like me to live here, wouldn’t you?’
Dad wiped his forehead. ‘Of course I would, but we’ve already established that your mum won’t go for it, so . . .’
‘Mum can’t stop me living here if it’s what I want,’ I said. ‘It was actually her idea, remember? She was on the verge of making me come here last term.’
Dad’s eyes widened. ‘That was only because she didn’t like you being with Flynn, s
he . . . we . . . said you would have to come here if you refused to stop seeing him.’
‘But Flynn’s changed,’ I insisted. ‘Come on, Dad, at least say you’ll think about it.’
‘No, River.’ Dad crossed his arms. ‘There’s no way.’
I glared at him, fury boiling up inside me.
‘But Flynn doesn’t have anywhere else to go,’ I said. ‘You heard him this weekend. He’s living on people’s sofas and holding down three jobs and he just took his AS levels. He managed that okay because there was study leave for weeks and now it’s all right because it’s almost the summer holidays, but how is he going to cope with A2s next year?’
‘I know how hard he’s worked, Riv—’
‘It’s not fair. He got all A*s in his GCSEs and he’s predicted top grades for the ASs but he says the work now is much harder. And he can’t stay on people’s sofas forever.’
‘Where would he stay here?’ Dad said. ‘There’s no room. Stone comes every other weekend and we can’t permanently give up our living room.’
‘He’ll share the storeroom with me,’ I said.
‘No.’ The word shot out of Dad’s mouth like a bullet. ‘No, I’ve said “no” and that’s an end to it.’
I stared at him. I’d never seen him so emphatic about anything. So much for that laid-back exterior of his. Scratch the surface and he was really just like Mum underneath.
I stood up and backed away from him. ‘You’re not giving him a chance, Dad. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.’
‘That’s not my problem,’ Dad snapped.
I gasped. I’d never heard Dad sound so harsh.
‘You hypocrite.’ Tears bubbled up into my eyes. ‘You live here preaching all that rubbish about helping people and finding peace with the universe and here’s someone you could actually help and you won’t lift a finger for him, even . . .’ I choked back the sobs that were rising through my chest and into my throat . . . ‘even though he means everything to me.’
Casting Shadows Page 3