The Day She Came Back(51)

‘Here’s hoping.’

‘And you know, Victoria, people lie for very different reasons.’ He finished his drink and stood from the table, balancing his empty glass in the crowded sink, like setting up a game of washing-up Jenga.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well’ – he picked up his backpack – ‘everyone thinks a lie has to be a bad thing, but I lie to my parents every day because, if I told them the truth, it would destroy them, hurt them. Can you imagine? Actually, Mum and Dad, I couldn’t care less that this would have been Michael’s twenty-first birthday because I don’t remember him, and no, I don’t want a piece of the birthday cake made for a person who only existed for a couple of years who I don’t even remember! And so I’ll eat the cake and I’ll lie.’ He shrugged, as if it really was that simple.

‘I guess.’ She decided not to go into the detail of how she believed her circumstance to be very different.

‘You look fed up.’

‘I am fed up!’

‘So we need to do something to change that.’ He drummed his fingers on his chin. ‘How about a party?’

‘A party?’ She instantly thought of what she might wear to a party; her experience of such things was a little limited. Parties were definitely the domain of Courtney and the hair-extension brigade and, generally, she wouldn’t be in favour of going to one, but with Flynn on her arm – it might be worth it just to see the look on the faces of those girls. ‘Can Daksha come too?’ This was the kind of event she knew she could only get through with her best friend by her side, with whom she could exchange looks of support or understanding.

‘Of course she can! Anyone you want to can come because it’ll be your party.’

‘My party?’ She didn’t try to hide her confusion.

‘Yes! You’ve got this big old house, everyone is about to scatter to the four winds, heading off to uni or whatever. You should have a party!’

‘I . . . I’ve never had a party.’ Barely been to one . . .

‘All the more reason. You’ve had a rough time. A party would take your mind off things, cheer you up.’

Victoria beamed. ‘I have had a rough time and yes, I do need cheering up. But I don’t know if a party is the way to do that.’

‘The way I see it, you need to feel like this is your house, and what better way to do that than hold a gathering here, make it yours!’

‘I don’t think I know enough people to invite to a party and I think Nilesh, Roscoe and that lot have already left for uni.’

Flynn looked at her as if he had no idea who these people were.

‘You don’t need a ton of people, just a few, and I know everyone!’

Victoria decided to get Daksha’s thoughts on the matter. An image of Prim floated into her mind: strict, judgemental Prim, who had apparently clipped Sarah’s wings.

‘I flirted with inappropriate boys, swam braless in my underslip, very daring at the time, and then danced in front of a bonfire until I dried off with a very large mimosa in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I was quite magnificent.’ And the thought struck her: perhaps it was time she learned how to be magnificent . . .

Victoria, now aware of the march of time, stood. ‘Let’s do it! Let’s have a bloody party!’

Flynn gave her his lopsided smile, which felt very much like a reward, and walked over to kiss her on the mouth, the novelty of which hadn’t worn off. Her stomach flipped accordingly.

‘I think I’m happy.’ He beamed.

She squeezed his hand and had to admit that, despite all that was going on, at that very moment, she thought she might be happy too, even if only as much as her complex situation allowed – a small, good thing, like the edge of the sun glimpsed though heavy cloud.

‘I’ll see you tonight,’ he breathed.

‘Tonight?’ she asked with a giggle of surprise, wondering where he was headed today.

‘Yes! I’ve got people to see and things to sort out. Will you miss me?’

‘No,’ she lied, laughing. He kissed her again and, in that moment, the thought of more fumbling in the dark beneath the duvet suddenly seemed quite attractive. She couldn’t wait for him to return. ‘Okay, Flynn, maybe I’ll miss you a little bit. I’ll see you tonight.’



The doorbell rang around midday. It was Bernard, in his standard blue overalls and the checked flat cap he favoured. Victoria steeled herself and opened the door, having rehearsed this encounter in her mind more times than she might care to admit. He smiled at her through the glass pane, as if it was any other day, and his smile, one that indicated all was well, was enough to spark her fury. In fairness, it was fury directed at the whole gang who had deceived her, but neither Grandpa, Prim nor Sarah were in front of her right now and so Bernard became the target.

‘I usually use my key to let myself in the back doors of the garden room and get cracking, but thought today I’d better knock,’ he explained. The only indicator of any potential nerves was the way he licked his lips.

‘Well, I’m glad you did.’

‘Oh, oh good.’ He spoke with obvious relief, clutching his small stepladder and workbag.

‘No, I don’t mean I’m glad you came, Bernard, I mean I’m glad you knocked. I wanted to talk to you before you started.’