Page 31 of Tears of Ink

“Where is he?”

“Asleep upstairs.”

“Would you rather I didn’t wake him?” I watch him carefully. “You look like you could do with some sleep yourself.”

He smiles that rueful grimace I know so well. “What you saying? Don’t I look as handsome as normal?”

“Always.” I snigger. “Always.”

I place my now empty bottle on the side. Abi is moving around the lounge and I can sense her cleaning—there is no way she can ignore that level of mess. She’s probably been desperate to get in here and help for weeks; at least me talking to Dan has given her an opening. “I’m going to pop up and see him.”

“Okay.” Dan nods but doesn’t meet my eyes.

I work my way up the wide stairs. It’s a nice house, comfortable but not flashy. Al’s done well out of his skill with an ink machine, but he’s never been rolling in it. I’m guessing Dan must be earning well, now he’s taken over the running of the shop. I don’t think I can ask though. I was the one who ran away to London. Not that I had much choice.

I slip into the front bedroom. The sun still hasn’t set, but the shadows of dusk creep across the grey carpet, heralding the late hour.

My legs wobble as I see the shape on the bed. It’s half the size I remember. The man lying under the thin duvet is a wasted remnant of the person I know. One eye cracks open.

“Figured you’d turn up soon.”

I snort and sit on the edge of the bed. “Well, I’m not rushing here because you are about to cark it. It’s not a mercy visit.”

He smiles but keeps his eyes shut, sighing a little. I grab his hand and will myself not to cry. “Did you decide about Bowsley?” he asks.

Even sick, he still remembers every detail about my life. He’s always acted like I’m his daughter, as I’ve always acted like he’s my favourite blood relative, even though there is no blood between us. Just a shit load of love.

“No.”

My mind darts to lying scumbag Gerard and then even quicker to Elijah Fairclough in his immaculate black suit, cut to cling to his broad muscles.

“Do it.”

“Why?”

“It’s the dying wish of an old man.”

“Bollocks.”

He grins again, eyes still closed. His hand grabs mine and squeezes tight.

“Do it. Then come back and marry Dan. He loves you.”

“I am not marrying Dan.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s like my brother,” I stutter over the word. “And I can’t break my rules for anyone, especially not your son.”

Sometimes I think what it would be like to sink into Dan’s familiar embrace. What would it be like to give myself to someone who knows me so well? Is that what Abi and Adam have every night? Comforting familiarity that encompasses every inch of them?

How could I ever tell Dan that I could only love him once? That I would never feel anything. That his touch, his kiss would mean nothing, because deep within me, I don’t know how to turn on the emotions and sensations I shut off many, many years ago.

“You’re a crazy old man, you know that?”

I settle on the bed and tell him about Bowsley, what they want me to do.

“You see, I’m not a teacher. I don’t even have a degree. How can they expect someone to do that?”