Falling Fast

by Sophie McKenzie

  Smiling, he bent down and kissed the side of my head.

  ‘Flynn to you,’ he whispered. ‘Swampy.’

  As he straightened up, I noticed him glance over at his mum. She’d turned the TV on and was tapping her fingers on her lap, very carefully ignoring us.

  I turned away from him and stood there awkwardly. His mum looked up and smiled at me again. She patted the beanbag next to her. ‘Come and sit down – Flynn’s told me a little about you, but not much . . . you know how he is, not a big one for talking.’

  I nodded, as she went on.

  ‘River’s such a pretty name. I’m Mary, by the way.’

  I wandered over and sat down next to her. The bright overhead light cast shadows across her face. She was almost pretty when she talked – her face lit up and animated. But when she fell silent, as she was now, her face sagged with what seemed like a bone-deep weariness. I realised with a jolt that if she’d only been sixteen or so when she’d had Siobhan, she couldn’t be more than thirty-two or -three now. That was fifteen years younger than my mother.

  Yet she looked at least ten years older.

  ‘Now, I know you and Paddy met doing the play at his school.’ She smiled warmly. ‘I’m so pleased he’s finally introduced me to a friend of his. I was beginning to think he was ashamed of me. Are you enjoying doing Romeo and Juliet?’

  ‘I love it,’ I said. ‘It’s a great play.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘So romantic. I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear it shall be Romeo . . . That Juliet was a bold piece, wasn’t she, talking to her mother like that!’

  My mouth must have dropped open.

  Flynn’s mum laughed. ‘Now you didn’t think I’d know that, did you? I’ve been reading Paddy’s play to test him on his lines – he’s so good in the part and with his school studies and so hard-working. He’s going to be a lawyer, you know.’

  ‘Stop it, Mum,’ Flynn grunted, walking towards us with a mug of tea in each hand.

  His mum beamed up at him as she took one of the mugs.

  ‘Go on with you,’ she said. ‘You know that you’re loving me talking you up to your girl here.’ She turned back to me. ‘Now, River, you will stay for something to eat, won’t you?’

  I blinked at her. Stay for dinner? I looked around, wondering where on earth they all ate. There was no sign of a table and no space for chairs. There would barely be room for all four of them to sit down on the three beanbags as it was.

  ‘We eat out of tins,’ Flynn said solemnly. ‘Sometimes just out of our hands. It saves washing up.’

  ‘Paddy.’ His mum flapped her hands at him exasperatedly. ‘Get off with you. Leave River here to help me with the tea. Go and do some of that homework you’re always complaining you don’t get enough time to—’

  ‘I don’t complain,’ Flynn grinned. ‘I—’

  ‘Go on.’

  And he went.

  I stood at the kitchen counter with his mum peeling potatoes. Her hands were red raw and chafed. She yawned constantly as she worked, in between keeping up a non-stop chatter about her jobs and her two girls. I learned that Caitlin was good at school, but lazy and prone to answer back ‘like her brother’, Flynn’s mum said darkly. And I picked up that, like Flynn, she worried about Siobhan. She didn’t exactly say so, but her whole face grew concerned as she told me how hard Siobhan found talking to people.

  Flynn’s mum asked me questions too. Subtle ones about my family – I found myself saying how difficult it was to talk to my mum, how close I felt to my dad – and I’m sure she realised how I felt about Flynn. I went bright red whenever she mentioned him.

  She talked about him proudly, telling me how well he’d done in his GCSEs.

  Once the potatoes were on, she took a pot out of the tiny fridge and set it on the gas cooker. It was some kind of stew. A bit of meat, padded out with loads of pearl barley and carrots, she said. Flynn reappeared just before it was ready. He glanced anxiously over at me.

  Are you OK?

  I smiled back.

  Flynn was sent to fetch Siobhan and Caitlin and we all sat down on the living room floor to eat. It was weird. The TV blared out the whole time, a permanent background noise. There was no table. No chairs. None of the plates matched and there weren’t even enough proper forks to go round, so Caitlin had to use a spoon. And yet it was a real family meal. Warm and chatty and full of laughter.

  At my house I was used to hardly speaking to Mum – and Stone just grunted when anyone talked to him. Here everyone chattered on non-stop. Flynn and Caitlin teased each other all the time. Even Siobhan joined in occasionally, accusing Flynn of borrowing her hair wax that morning. Flynn’s mum kept it all together, never letting the conversation get too mean or aggressive, her eyes flickering about from plate to plate, looking horrified at Caitlin shovelling her food down in huge mouthfuls, then concerned as Siobhan picked listlessly at hers.

  I noticed how carefully she’d measured out the delicious stew. She took hardly any for herself, then gave Siobhan a little more. Caitlin and I both got bigger portions. But the lion’s share was reserved for Flynn – not only did he get by far the biggest helping but also, I was sure, the one with most actual meat in it.

  I tried to make his mum take some of the stew on my plate, but she refused so adamantly that I didn’t dare push it. I sat back, savouring each guilty mouthful and watching the others, especially Flynn.

  I loved how they all adored him. You could see how much Caitlin looked up to him. How Siobhan relied on him. And as for his mum – well, it was obvious to me after about five minutes of watching them together, that while she might love her daughters, Flynn was utterly and completely the centre of her universe.

  There was only one moment when I glimpsed any major tension between them and that was when Flynn’s mum started telling me about Caitlin’s first Holy Communion, which had apparently been postponed from last summer when Caitlin was ill and was now coming up after Christmas. She talked as if she assumed I knew what a first Holy Communion was. In fact, I had no idea, but I listened and nodded politely.

  After a minute or two she said, ‘So do you ever go to Mass, River?’

  ‘Jesus, Mum,’ Flynn snapped, a real edge to his voice. ‘No, she frigging doesn’t.’

  ‘Watch your language,’ his mum snapped back. She stared down at her plate, clearly hurt. I looked round helplessly. Siobhan had suddenly become transfixed by whatever was on the TV. Flynn was staring at his mum, his expression half angry, half guilty.

  Caitlin, however, was grinning. ‘River’s not even Catholic,’ she said archly.

  Flynn’s mum’s head shot up, her eyes wide with shock. ‘But I thought with the play, with the schools getting together that . . .’ She glanced at Flynn who was glowering at her, clearly restraining himself with difficulty from snapping at her again.

  ‘My school’s not a religious school,’ I said quickly. ‘In fact, I don’t really have a religion at all. Well, I think my mum’s parents might have been Jewish, but I don’t know any more about that than . . .’ I stopped. They were all staring at me. I looked at Flynn. What?

  He grinned at me as if I’d just made the funniest joke, ever.

  ‘There you go, Mum, she’s Jewish,’ he said.

  Siobhan beside me gave a little snort of laughter.

  Their mum blinked for a second, then beamed at me. ‘Don’t listen to them, River,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter in the slightest what religion you are, they just like to tease me.’

  We finished eating, then Flynn cleared away the plates. As he strode over to the sink and started washing up, Siobhan nudged me in the ribs. ‘He’s showing off for you,’ she whispered. ‘He wouldn’t normally wash up.’

  Flynn’s mum stood up, yawning. ‘It’s all right, Paddy. Why don’t you take two minutes to tidy up next door, then maybe you and River would like to do some studying together.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’ Flynn came over and hugged her. Sh
e looked tiny in his arms. She whispered something in his ear. He rolled his eyes, then winked at me over her shoulder and vanished.

  ‘Now, Caitlin,’ his mum went on. ‘You can stay here and help me. I’ve not got work tonight and there’s a programme you’ll like on in a minute.’

  One minute later Flynn reappeared. ‘All tidy now,’ he announced. He grabbed my hand and whisked me back into the room he shared with Caitlin. I giggled as he pulled me behind the curtain and dragged me onto the mattress. I looked around. His attempt at tidying up seemed to have consisted of picking up the clothes on the floor and hurling them into a single pile in the corner, and stacking up a precarious tower of books and magazines against the only available wall space.

  Flynn tugged me further down onto the mattress and leaned over me.

  ‘God,’ he whispered, ‘I thought I’d never get you away from her.’ He grinned. ‘So, what did you think?’

  I smiled at him. ‘They’re all great,’ I whispered back. I was pretty sure he hadn’t shut the bedroom door, and I didn’t want them to overhear me. ‘Siobhan was less shy than before. And Caitlin’s sweet and your mum’s lovely. Really kind and welcoming and warm.’

  Flynn beamed at me. ‘She likes you,’ he said, bending down and nibbling my ear. ‘I know she does.’

  ‘Yeah, well she freakin’ worships you,’ I said, closing my eyes as he ran his hand down my shirt.

  His face was warm against my cheek. ‘I know,’ he said.

  ‘Big-head,’ I said, thumping him gently on the arm.

  ‘Mmmn.’ Flynn kissed my mouth hungrily, flicking the top button of my shirt open with one hand. He rolled slightly more over me, pushing my legs apart with his knee. ‘God, I meant that about starting and stopping Riv, I can’t . . .’

  I suddenly remembered the open door and how close the other rooms in the flat were.

  ‘Stop it.’ I pushed his hand away, pulling my shirt together. ‘You haven’t even shut the door.’

  ‘Can’t.’ Flynn grimaced, moving his hand down to the bottom of my shirt and expertly undoing the button there. ‘It was Mum’s condition of me having you in here. She’s not used to me having girls round.’

  We carried on for a bit, kissing and touching each other, but as soon as Flynn started trying to take off my bra again I pushed his hand away. ‘I can’t take off my clothes with your mum and sisters a couple of metres away,’ I hissed.

  He drew back again and grinned at me. ‘You know you might as well be a freakin’ Catholic.’

  He rolled onto his back with a sigh.

  ‘Okay then, you big prude,’ he said. ‘I suppose you want to talk.’

  I snuggled against his chest, snaking my arm across his muscular stomach. I sighed contentedly. ‘You’re like a different person here,’ I said. ‘Like with tidying your space and not shutting the door. I can’t imagine you doing that for anyone else. I mean, look how rude you are to Mr Nichols.’

  ‘I don’t think Mr Nichols is all that bothered about my sex life,’ Flynn said with a grin.

  ‘You know what I mean.’ I squeezed his arm. ‘You’re different with your mum and Siobhan and Caitlin. Less . . . less angry somehow. More relaxed.’

  He looked sideways at me. ‘I’m not very relaxed right now, River. Can’t we just . . .’

  ‘No,’ I said. I sat up and fastened my buttons.

  He lay on his back looking up at me. His eyes were laughing and yearning and so hot I felt as if I was melting.

  ‘I want to make love with you,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, right, Flynn.’ I laughed. ‘The door’s open.’

  He sat up and held my hand. ‘I mean it.’ His eyes burned into me. ‘Not here. Not now. But soon. I want to be with you. Properly.’

  My heart skipped a beat as I realised what he meant. I stared at him, my mind whirling.

  ‘Telling you everything, tonight, it’s like this wall’s come down.’ Flynn squeezed my hand. ‘I’ve never felt like this about anyone, Riv. You drive me crazy. Like when we were eating earlier, all I could think about was how you looked when I took your top off. And when we’re kissing and touching and . . .’ He leaned closer to me. ‘I don’t want to stop,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I want to feel all of you. With all of me. It’s what’s supposed to happen.’

  My heart pounded. ‘I don’t know,’ I said slowly. I couldn’t think straight. I wanted him. I knew I did. But it was too sudden. We’d only just made up after that fight in the minicab and now here he was, zooming into tenth gear.

  Flynn took my hand and pressed it against his cheek, his own hand on top. His hand totally swamped mine. I couldn’t even see my wrist under his.

  ‘What don’t you know?’ he said. ‘I’ve opened up to you. Told you everything.’

  No you haven’t. You haven’t told me you love me.

  ‘It’s a bit soon,’ I mumbled. ‘We’ve only been going out a few weeks.’

  Flynn raised his eyebrows at me. ‘Romeo and Juliet got married in less time.’ He pulled my hand across his face and kissed the palm, very gently.

  Trust him. Trust Flynn to use my own words against me.

  ‘Can’t you shut up about that frigging play,’ I whispered.

  I felt his mouth turn up, into a grin, as he kissed his way down to my wrist. I shivered. He felt so good. So right. I loved him more than I could put into words.

  And yet it was too soon. Too rushed. It wasn’t enough just knowing things about him, I realised. I needed to trust how he felt. I needed the proof that he felt about me like I did about him. That he wasn’t going to storm off again over nothing.

  I needed to be sure he loved me.

  21

  After about an hour, Flynn’s mum suggested he should walk me down to the bus stop. While he went to the bathroom, she drew me to one side.

  ‘I’m glad he’s seeing you,’ she smiled.

  I smiled shyly back at her.

  She sighed. ‘He works so hard and makes out he’s so tough. And God help you if you suggest that he might not be able to make it all on his own, but underneath there’s a part of him that’s hurting. You know?’

  I nodded, swallowing.

  ‘And that hurting makes him angry. Every time he goes out I worry that he’ll do something stupid. You know, give out to someone who upsets him or get in a fight.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘When I saw his face after that thing with you and your friend . . .’ She put her hand on my arm. ‘Not that I’m saying he was wrong to step in. But sometimes it isn’t the right thing to do. Sometimes it’s better to walk away. And I worry he won’t know how, and then . . . and then all his big dreams’ll come crashing down and . . .’

  Flynn appeared from the bathroom.

  ‘Ready?’ he said.

  ‘Sure.’ I looked at his mum.

  ‘Bye, River,’ she said. ‘Look after yourself – and Paddy. All right?’

  That day changed everything between me and Flynn. I felt closer to him than ever. And yet . . . I felt he was pushing me over sex in that intense way he did everything. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to do it. I did. I really did. But I didn’t want to rush it.

  Part of me wished I could be like Emmi. To her, sex was just another thing – an ordinary, everyday thing. But to me – with Flynn – it had to be perfect.

  We met that weekend, on Sunday, and spent the whole afternoon on our own in the park. It was so cold we could see our breath in front of our faces.

  Flynn had swallowed his pride and brought the jacket his mum had bought him for two pounds. It was pretty disgusting – fake leather with a thick grey lining. He didn’t put it on until we were completely out of sight of any other people. Then he wrapped it round us both and we kissed for hours.

  Kissed and talked. About his family. About his dad. About the times his dad had turned up drunk at the flat – or followed Flynn and Siobhan after school – or threatened Flynn’s mum where she worked. I held him tightly, knowing that he’d never told anyone any of these things before.
>
  We talked about the play. I was nervous about having an audience. He wasn’t. There were just a couple more days of rehearsals, then the dress rehearsal on Wednesday, with the performances on the Thursday and Friday.

  We talked about doing it, too. Well, I did. I had to.

  It was dark and we’d gone down to the part of the park that was furthest from the road. A disused stone fountain stood in the middle of a little square, surrounded by four park benches.

  We lay down on one of the benches and kissed and touched. Flynn told me again that he wanted to make love. I said I wanted to wait.

  ‘But why?’ Flynn groaned, pressing against me. ‘It’s the right thing to do,’ he kept saying. ‘The next thing. The only thing.’

  I couldn’t see it like that. I wanted him. But I wanted more time, too. In the end I told him I just wanted to wait until the play was over. He accepted that, and we wandered home, our arms wrapped round each other.

  I told myself I was blissfully happy, but in a tiny corner of my brain this little voice was saying, Why’s it going to be different after the play, River? What’s going to have changed in five days?

  The next few days were really busy. Mr Nichols was in a terrible mood – he spent most of Monday’s rehearsal shouting at anyone who forgot their lines or laughed in the wrong place.

  I could see Flynn was on the verge of losing it. Of just walking out on the whole thing. But he somehow managed to keep his temper in check. I knew he was going through his scenes on autopilot – partly because his lines lacked the same level of feeling I’d seen before and partly because it was so obvious what was really on his mind whenever he looked over at me. Still, Flynn on autopilot was better than most of the other actors in the play put together.

  To be honest, I felt quite sorry for Mr Nichols. Apart from Emmi and Flynn and Alex, no one really spoke naturally or moved confidently around the stage. Grace constantly forgot her lines. Daisy remembered hers, but was never standing in the right place. And as for James Molloy – he seemed to have lost what little confidence he’d once had, and couldn’t be heard from a metre in front of the stage, let alone at the back of the assembly hall.