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answering your phone last night?’
    My heart pounded. Of course, I’d switched off my mobile before we watched that stupid horror film. I’d been in such a daze this morning I hadn’t even bothered to switch it back
on yet. ‘I’m sorry.’ I couldn’t see what else to say.
    ‘Sorry?’ Mum shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to you, River. I really don’t. A few months ago you would never have dreamed of lying to me
like that.’ She paused and when she spoke again her voice was so ice cold that it sent a shiver down my spine. ‘What has that boy done to you? Is he giving you drugs or
something?’
    ‘Mum.’ The idea of Flynn – who I’d never even seen sip at a beer – pushing drugs at me was so ludicrous that I laughed.
    Big mistake.
    Mum grabbed my arm. Tight. ‘And I suppose you spent the whole night in bed with him too?’
    My face reddened. Mum was the last person I wanted to talk to about sex, so she had no idea I’d told Flynn that I wasn’t ready yet.
    ‘Well? you’re too young for all of that.’ Mum drew herself up. ‘I don’t want you seeing him again.’
    ‘No.’ I wrenched my arm away. ‘You can’t make me.’
    ‘Oh yes I can,’ Mum snapped. ‘I’m going to talk to your father. I’m sure when he hears what a bad influence Flynn is, he—’
    ‘Dad won’t tell me not to see him,’ I yelled. ‘Dad’s not a total Nazi. Unlike you.’
    ‘Don’t talk to me like that. Get upstairs to your room.’
    I stared at her again. Mum hadn’t tried to send me to my room since I was about twelve. I suddenly realised that what I’d said was true. There
was
no way she could make me do
anything. Not anymore.
    ‘No.’ I spun round and pulled open the front door, my heart beating fast.
    ‘Get back here.’
    I stalked outside and onto the pavement. A sense of power surged through me. Now,
that
really was a drug. I strode towards the bus stop, high on my own invincibility, ignoring the yells
that followed me down the street.

7
    I slowed down as I approached Goldbar’s, the boxing gym where Flynn worked on Sunday mornings in return for his boxing training. I’d never been there before, and I
sensed that Flynn wouldn’t be entirely happy about me just turning up. I found the place easily enough. A tatty, faded awning hung over the two high windows. I hesitated for a moment,
reluctant to go inside. Still. Flynn would understand. This was an emergency.
    The front door – a heavy, steel fire door – was open, so I slipped inside and walked down a short concrete corridor. It opened out into a small reception area. Very basic –
just a wooden table and a couple of chairs in the corner. In the distance, through a doorway, I caught a glimpse of three big punchbags in a row.
    I went up to the man at the table. He was reading a magazine which he didn’t put down until I was standing right in front of him. We stared at each other for a few seconds. He was
greasy-haired, with hooded eyes and a bored expression.
    ‘Yeah?’ His gaze flickered down my body, resting on my chest for several, very obvious, seconds.
    I drew my jacket round me.
    ‘I . . . er . . . is Flynn here?’ I stammered.
    The man looked up at my face, then jerked his thumb at the open doorway. He bent over his paper again.
    I wandered across the corridor and through the door.
    It was a large open room, smelly with that male stink of trainers and sweat. Two boxing rings, one of which was surrounded by people, were positioned beyond the row of punchbags. Otherwise the
room was empty of furniture – just a pile of mats and a few plastic chairs stacked in one corner.
    ‘Can I help you, love?’ A big man standing on the other side of the door with his arms folded was staring at me. He didn’t smile, but at least he wasn’t looking at my
chest.
    ‘I’m looking for Flynn?’ I said nervously.
    The man unfolded his arms. I caught a glimpse of a long, snaking tattoo on the inside of his arm. He