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cupped his hands to his mouth.
    ‘Flynn!’ he yelled.
    Everyone standing around the boxing ring turned round. I could feel my face reddening as they stared at me. They were all men. Most of them looked as if they were in their teens and twenties; a
few were much older.
    My eyes darted from one to the other, desperately looking for Flynn. Some of the men were laughing, nudging each other. Others were staring at me, like the guy outside had. Others still looked
massively annoyed at the sight of me, presumably for distracting everyone. These were mostly the older guys. They turned quickly back to the ring. But both the boxers were hanging onto the ropes,
grinning.
    ‘You Flynn’s bird?’ one of them shouted.
    I nodded, too embarrassed to speak.
    ‘Flynn.’ The boxer yelled in the direction of a door at the far end of the room. ‘Get your arse out here.’
    One of the older guys clapped his hands together. ‘Come on. Get on with it,’ he growled.
    A few of the men turned back to the ring. But most of them – including the two boxers – were still staring at me.
    Seconds later Flynn appeared at last. His eyes widened as he saw me.
    ‘Couldn’t ya wait till later, Flynn?’
    ‘Go on, son.’
    ‘She legal?’
    He gritted his teeth against the shouts and laughs and catcalls from the guys beside the ring. Then he loped towards me, his normal swagger slightly exaggerated. He looked cross, which I knew
meant he was embarrassed. So was I. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever been more embarrassed in my life.
    It seemed to take ages for him to travel the room. At last he was standing beside me. He grabbed my arm and took me – against a chorus of wolf whistles – out into the corridor.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ he hissed.
    I gulped, tears pricking at my eyes. ‘Mum found out I lied about last night,’ I said. ‘She threw me out.’
    Yes, okay, I was exaggerating. But I sensed that Flynn wouldn’t have much patience with a less dramatic explanation.
    ‘What?’ he frowned. ‘Really?’
    ‘Well,’ I said, uncomfortably. ‘She didn’t exactly say I could never go back, but she told me I couldn’t ever see you again.’ A lump pressed against my
throat. ‘She said you were a bad influence.’
    Flynn laughed. ‘Silly cow,’ he said, putting his arm round me. A tear trickled down my face. ‘Hey, don’t be upset. She can’t do that.’
    ‘No?’ I looked up at him, sniffing.
    He smiled. ‘No. See, you’re here with me right now, aren’t you?’
    ‘Oy, Flynn!’ It was one of the older men who’d been annoyed before. ‘Get laid on your own time!’
    Flynn rolled his eyes. ‘What a jerk,’ he whispered, kissing my forehead. ‘Whenever that guy’s left in charge he—’
    ‘Flynn, do you want to keep this job?’ Flynn clenched his jaw. ‘I’ll freakin’ . . .’
    ‘No. Go back.’ I wiped my eyes. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll . . . I’ll see you later.’
    Flynn shook his head. He dug his hand in his pocket and drew out a couple of keys. ‘Take these. Go to mine. Wait there. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’
    He thrust the keys in my hand, kissed me again, then turned and headed back towards the boxing room. As he walked inside, I heard the guys from before break into catcalls and wolf whistles.
    I wandered slowly up the Holloway Road towards Flynn’s flat. My mind was whirling – Goldbar’s was horrible. Far worse than I’d imagined. How could Flynn bear working
there? And what was I going to do about Mum? It was all very well Flynn saying she couldn’t prevent me seeing him. Maybe she couldn’t. But there were all sorts of things she
could
do – like stop giving me any money or covering my mobile bills.
    I trudged along the pavement to the entrance of Flynn’s building. I let myself into the damp-smelling hallway and climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor. Flynn’s flat was
tiny: a little living area with a kitchen bar – not even a table and proper chairs –