Page 21 of Tears of Ink

“He’s weak. You can just see his body is giving up.”

“So why isn’t he in hospital? Getting treatment… help?”

Abi’s eye is steady on the camera. “It’s too late for that. Dan says he just wants to live while he can.”

The blood in my veins runs cold. I can’t imagine making that decision. Can’t imagine saying the words “That’s it, it’s my time.”

“How is Dan?” I light another cigarette, knowing I’m being ridiculous doing so when I’m talking about one of my favourite people of all time succumbing to cancer.

“He’s okay. Says the shop’s keeping him from worrying too much. But I think he’s struggling.” Underneath her innocent statement are unspoken words. I should come back and help… I shouldn’t leave them all like this.

How can I not? I can’t be there. Not now.

“What they going to do when he gets worse?”

“Dan says Al has chosen a hospice.”

God, I want to be sick. I want to wash away in a sea of tears, never to surface again. What’s the point of living if it all comes down to this?

“Have you really not got any plans for the weekend?”

Abi offers me a little smile. “Wine, television, family time, and maybe some sex with my husband. I’m content with that.”

A little stab digs deep in my stomach. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have sex with the same person time and time again. It’s the one rule I will never break.

“You should try monogamy some time, it’s not all bad.” Abi cracks a grin.

“Who, me?” I laugh. “One guy, forever? Please just shoot me and put me out of my misery.”

She chats about her children for a while. “Anyway, what’s the latest with you?”

“Well, I’m going to see Bowsley Hall tomorrow.”

Abi chuckles. “Wow, I still can’t believe you are considering living in a stately home for weeks.”

I grin back, my smile for my friend growing from the inside out, genuine and honest. “I can be a lady.”

Abi howls laughing. “Okay, Lady Hitchin.”

I giggle. We say our goodbyes and end the call. Standing, I turn and find the angled free-standing mirror. In my denim cut offs and scrappy vest, with my stories on my skin I am very, very far from being a lady. And that’s a good thing. I’ll go surprise Abi on Sunday. It’s only a train ride, and I want to see Al. It’s as though time is ticking too fast and it won’t slow down. But he’s my champion, the one who’s always had my back, and I can’t allow my time with him to pass. I can ignore those I don’t want to see, those with distrust in their eyes, just so I can spend time with those I care about.

I still haven’t decided how I feel about Bowsley. Whether it’s a ridiculous mistake, or is an opportunity not to be missed.

I slip on some espadrilles and grab my bag and keys. I need to go shopping for something to wear tomorrow. And I need to get laid. Maybe then I’ll stop thinking about Elijah Fairclough.

I check all my appliances are off, and glance at the remaining marble. A fine sliver of marble, sanded until it’s nothing more than shell thick, holds an etched profile of a delicate sloped nose and a high brow. It’s the most fragile thing I’ve ever made. I won’t be able to hand it in, though—it’s too far from my style, from the coursework I’ve created to go with it. It was supposed to be a solid piece, not a glorified item of jewellery. On a whim, I pick it up and place it on my bookshelf. Then I turn and go to find the smog of London, some new clothes, and hopefully a release from the unsettled sensation in my chest.

C H A P T E R S E V E N

It only takes me an hour to find a pleated, black, ankle-length chiffon skirt. The material is see-through, but underneath is a shorter underskirt. The material is just dark enough that the pictures on my thighs won’t show. Not that I particularly care.

I found a matching blouse with a cute collar I’ll be able to tuck in. Pleased, I head back to the apartment. There isn’t anything at the studio left for me to work on. Only the mess I’ve created with that damn marble. What was I thinking?

I wonder if the guy with the surfer blonde hair found his friends again? It had been easy to walk into one of the packed bars of Covent Garden and find a random and take advantage.

Maybe I am a praying mantis?

My phone vibrates, so stopping in a doorway I check out the message. I know I only spoke to Abi this morning, but every time my phone makes a noise, my heart leaps into my mouth thinking it could be the call I never want to arrive.