The Day She Came Back(55)

‘I have been happy and sad for you your whole life. I have lived all your emotions with you, good and bad. And the fact that I am a little taken aback by your crazy, sudden news is because to have a party in Prim’s beautiful house that she gifted you is bloody madness! And the Victoria I know and love would not dream of doing anything like that, not because she is boring, but because she knows how absolutely shit it would be if anything happened to any of Prim’s lovely things, if her home got destroyed. And for your information, Victoria, I do not and have never thought that Flynn McNamara was out of your league, but I have always, always thought that you were way out of his.’

The silence across the miles rang out.

Victoria didn’t know what to say, but Daksha did.

‘I have to go. My mum’s calling me.’ Her lie was brazen and obvious. ‘See you soon, and I hope your party is a great success.’

With that, she ended the call abruptly, the implication being that she had no intention of being part of any event, this Saturday or any other.

The phone call had been draining. Victoria, weakened, crawled up the stairs and along the corridor until she fell on to her bed. This grief business was tiring and it sledgehammered her when she least expected it, adding a layer of exhaustion to anything else negative that happened, like a chaser to knock her out. She folded her pillow into her chest and fell into a deep sleep.

The front doorbell woke her. She wasn’t sure how long she had slept, but long enough for the sun to sink and night to pull its inky shade on the day.

Flynn . . .

Victoria pulled on her dressing gown over her clothes to ward off the chill of early evening and trod the stairs.

She had barely opened the front door when Flynn rushed in and lifted her clean off her feet, spinning her around, kissing her neck.

‘This is happ-en-ing!’ he sang.

‘What is?’ She laughed, wriggling to be free and giving that girly giggle, desperate to feel wanted, trying to bury the disappointment she felt at Daksha’s words, which had cut her fragile stays of confidence. And in truth, much preferring his infectious enthusiasm for the event than her so-called best friend’s fun-sucking negativity.

‘Party central!’ He put her back on firm ground and she noticed he had changed his clothes and showered, glad that he had gone home and that his parents wouldn’t now be worried. ‘Do you know Sab in the lower sixth?’ He spoke quickly, clicking his fingers. ‘Hangs out with Jordan and Jay and that lot?’

She shook her head. None of the names were familiar. ‘I don’t think so, no.’

‘Well, he’s borrowing decks off his cousin.’ He clapped in delight.

‘Decks?’

‘Decks!’ He laughed loudly. ‘Music decks, for djing!’

‘Yes, Flynn – I know what they are!’ Did everyone think she was stupid or had been living in a cave? ‘I just didn’t realise you were thinking of decks for the party.’

‘How else would we get music?’ He looked at her quizzically.

‘I thought . . .’ What had she thought? ‘I thought we might put a phone in a speaker with a good playlist.’

He laughed loudly again and, not for the first time that day, she felt stupid. ‘It can’t be a big, big party, Flynn, not like a nightclub thing. Not here.’ She was adamant: Daksha was right about one thing, she would absolutely hate for any of Prim’s lovely things to get broken.

‘No, of course not. Just a nice gathering, some mellow music and a chance to all let our hair down before we jump on trains to uni!’

‘Not all of us,’ she reminded him, wondering for the first time if she had made the right decision, and feeling a flicker of panic – everyone is going to leave . . . She tried to picture the house with no Prim, no Daksha and no Flynn, before rubbing the tops of her arms inside her dressing gown to warm them.

‘No, not you, Miss Supercool, intent on paving your own way. Travelling the world!’

She nodded, unwilling to share the fact that the plan was looking a little sketchy with the way things between her and Daksha stood at that very moment.

‘I thought we could make noodles for supper?’ he asked casually, removing his jacket and tossing it on to the stairs as if he had lived here for years and they were a couple. It calmed her fears a little.

‘Noodles sound good.’ She smiled, heading to the kitchen, switching lamps on as she went and aware of the deep rumble of hunger in her stomach. She watched him wield the knife against the chopping board like a pro, thinly slicing spring onions, carrots and broccoli with speed.

‘I like this.’ She smiled from the doorframe against which she leaned.

‘You like what?’ He looked up.

‘I like . . . the two of us being here and kind of looking after each other a bit.’ She felt her cheeks bloom with embarrassment, still so wary of saying the thing that might make Flynn McNamara bolt for the door.

‘I like it too.’ He held her gaze.

‘It’s . . . unexpected.’

‘I think the best things often are, don’t you?’

‘Yes, yes, I do. Although I’m trying not to get too used to it. I mean, you’re heading off to Newcastle in a couple of weeks . . .’ She let this trail.

‘You can come to Newcastle. Jump on a train and I’ll show you the sights.’