Page 64 of The Monday Night Heartbreak Club
‘We wanted to let you know that we have your ex-boyfriend on remand. Those phones you handed over had everything we could have wanted and more.’
All my innards now gave little leaps. ‘Oh, that is good news!’
‘The two men who planted the bomb are in custody too. They started out saying that they didn’t know anything and the bag wasn’t theirs, but since we got our lad banged up, they’ve changed their story. They suddenly remembered that hedidgive them the bag, and hedidtell them where to leave it. Surprisingly, they’ve remembered a whole lot of other stuff too and they are so busy confessing that it’s like a church on Sunday in here.’
‘There was reallythatmuch stuff on those phones?’ I asked.
‘Oh yes. Looks like your ex thought it was his security; nobody was going to turn him in when they knew he had something on them, but now it’s all out in the open, there are a lot of very worried people trying to make sure we get their version of events first.’
‘Thank you for telling me.’ I ended the call and told Flynn the good news.
‘At least we won’t have to move to Australia then,’ he said, sounding tired. ‘Bit of a shame really, it’s great out there.’
‘But you won’t have to go to your dad for a job, will you?’ I asked, trying to jolt him from the ennui that seemed to have pervaded him.
‘We have to live, Fee.’ He waved a hand from his prone position. ‘Still, we’ve got this place and I can turn my hand to a few things.’
‘You could ask…’
‘No.’ His tone was definite. ‘No. I’m over being my dad’s son. I know you love me for who I am, not for the money.’ A slightly dubious look crossed his face. ‘You do, don’t you? I mean, you’re not holding out for the inheritance and the houses and the hotels and all that?’
I laughed. ‘Flynn, I fell for you as a barman;anything else is just window dressing. Of course you don’t have to work for your father if you don’t want to.’
Flynn sat up and took my hand, the non-floppy one. ‘I love your confidence,’ he said. ‘Actually, I love everything about you. I don’t want to be in Dad’s shadow forever, but I’ve had a lifetime of it and I’m not entirely sure how I can break out. I’ve got a business degree and lots of experience, but it’s all been as Flynn Mays-Harrison. As soon as people hear the name, they’re fighting to give me chances, and I don’t know how to go about standing on my own feet.’
These revelations, this insight into the way he was thinking, came as a huge relief. I’d been worrying that Flynn had been sitting on feelings he hadn’t known how to express to me, and hearing him say that he loved me and that he was still thinking of the future gave me a burst of renewed desire to plan again.
I thought of my life, breaking away from my family, and felt a bit guilty about my wanting him to talk about feelings. Flynn had a lot of processing to do first. ‘Can the angst about the future wait until later? We’ve got the club coming round at seven and I want to put some snacks out.’
Flynn, face buried in the depths of despair and the pillows, gave a muffled, ‘It’s only two o clock! How many snacks are you putting out?’
‘Well, one of the people coming is Fraser.’
‘True, true.’ He hauled himself upright. ‘And you’re right, I’m wallowing. It’s ridiculous. We’re not going to starve and Dad isn’t going to cut me off without a penny. If it means we have a roof over our heads and you can keep the private physio, I can suppress my need to be free and wild and run a bar that explodes under me.’ He grinned and it rid his face of the last vestiges of unhappiness. ‘You’re important to me. Work – isn’t.’
‘Flynn, you know I’m perfectly happy withNHSphysiotherapy.’I tried to sound reasonable. ‘I’m better every day. Time will help.’
‘They do great things, but I want you to havemore.’He was frowning again. ‘You might even get some use back in that arm with intensive sessions. Plus, we want you able to dance the fandango, don’t we?’
He hadn’t mentioned the plastic surgery again. He’d raised the subject briefly one night, when I’d been putting some of the prescribed cream on my scars, and I’d told him, in no uncertain terms, that the scars were going to remind me to stay away from people like Dexter for the rest of my life. I didn’t want an artificial smile and eyebrows that I had to draw on for ever, for the sake of having a marginally less lopsided face. It sounded brave and it sounded as though I had embraced my scars, but in reality, the doctors had told me that, even with the best plastic surgery money could buy, I would never have smooth skin and an unmarked face. Skin grafts could only do so much and I saw no need for Flynn to lay out thousands of pounds just for me to have a smaller scar and a permanently surprised expression.
‘Ah well.’ Now he put his arm around me. ‘I’m sure things will work out. Eventually. And there’s the insurance money from the bar; when that gets paid out, it will help us get on our feet.’
‘Unreliable though mine may be.’ I sat next to him, wiggling my legs. ‘Plus we’ve got each other.’
‘And a flat where the stairs smell of fish and we have to sleep on a sofa bed.’
‘But it’s affordable,’ I pointed out. ‘It may not be designed by professionals but that’s no good if you can’t pay the rent.’
We sat in a slightly glum silence while the sun released a smell of old wood and hot cooking oil as it shone in through the windows. I leaned my head on Flynn’s shoulderand he stroked the acceptable parts of my hair. Then I got up to go and put out the snacks.
‘You’re twitchy,’ Flynn observed, watching me tiddle about with the crisp bowl for the third or fourth time. ‘It’s only the guys coming round, not the king.’
‘I know.’ I rotated the bowl again. ‘It’s more that… I’ve got an idea and I don’t want to put them off.’
‘By having the crisps at a forty-five-degree angle?’ He watched me fiddle a bit more.
‘Well…’
