Page 9 of Tears of Ink

I laugh and inhale more nicotine until my lungs burn. “You don’t mean it. How’s Adam? Still working hard?”

“Of course. He’d rather be at work than home with me nagging him.”

I wonder what it would be like to have someone to nag. Am I even the kind of woman to nag? I shut the thought out, it’s irrelevant. Anyway, Abi nags enough for the both of us. “So… question.” I take another drag. She’s going to be all over this summer idea. I’m not asking the right person for advice, but hey, my options are severely limited.

“Ooh, I love grown up questions.” She stares at me intently through the phone, opening her eyes. “Better than constantly hearing ‘What’s that? What’s that? What’s that?’”

I snort, choking on my smoke. “Charlotte is adorable. Don’t be mean to my goddaughter.”

“Hold on, I haven’t finished yet.” Abi wags her finger at me like I’m her two-year-old. “What’s that do? What’s that do? What’s that do?”

“She’s a highly intelligent human being.”

“Yep, that girl, she’s got us all running around at her beck and call.”

Abi and I stare at one another for a moment, and an odd, unwelcome yearning for home washes over me.

I’d do anything to go back… back to a time before destruction and violence.

“You okay, Faith?” Abi drops all humour. She knows me well. Has seen me at my high and at my rock bottom, with varying stages in between. “Are you dreaming again? You look tired?”

I shake my head, but to my horror tears prickle. “No, no, it’s stupid really. I just dreamed about my lightning bolt.”

“Babe, I told you at the time and I say it again now. Boys are fucking shits. Some of them are just about good enough to marry and make decent, but the rest are bastards.”

“Hey,” a voice calls off-camera. My view swings like I’m on a Waltzer, and the next moment I’m staring up Adam’s nostrils. I hadn’t even known he was there. I’d presumed he was at work. Abi’s so bloody nuts.

“Hi, Adam.” I wave weakly, grimacing an apology. “You know you’re one of the good guys, right?”

“Too damn right, Faith. I’m one of the best fucking bastards around.” He waves and gets up from the sofa, but not before pecking a kiss onto Abi’s forehead.

“So, anyway. What did you want to tell me?”

I have to think for a second. Oh, Bowsley Hall.

“Oh yeah, I might get the chance to do an installation this summer.”

“What are you installing? A toilet? Plumbing? Windows?”

I chuckle and stub my cigarette out. “Don’t be funny, you know what I mean.”

“Oh… you mean that glamorous life you are going to lead, selling super-expensive bits of odd art to super-rich twats who don’t know what they’re buying.”

I blink at her before rolling my eyes. “Yes, that exactly.”

“Well, that’s good then isn’t it?”

“I don’t know, Abs. It’s at some crazy posh stately home. I can’t fit in there.”

“What because you’re covered in tats?”

I glance down at my exposed skin, at the multitude of colours. “No, because I’m me. I come from the scummy end of Brighton and grew up in a tattoo parlour.” I frown and rub at my face. My eyes sting; the lack of sleep I’ve been culminating is starting to catch up. “I’m hardly the manicured lawns and afternoon tea type.”

“Hey, we can have PG Tips any afternoon you like.” She pauses as a crash filters from her kitchen. “Will you lot keep it down, I’m on the phone!” she hollers before turning back to me. “Fuckers. I tell you, Faith, they don’t stop.” Her face drops to her serious expression and I know my pep talk is coming. “Listen, you can fit in anywhere you want. You are crazy talented. People would pay thousands to have you ink their skin, and I’m not talking about all the poor bastards lining up because they want to bang you senseless.”

My cheeks flame. “Abi!”

“Do it. Get your art out there. Do whatever it takes to make your dreams come true, and then one day come back to the scummy part of Brighton and show every fucker who ever doubted you just what you can do.”