Page 83 of Tears of Ink

“He’s the main reason I have to order in so much sugar, that boy’s always had a sweet tooth.”

“Really?” I don’t know why, but I want to file away this piece of information. It’s not even interesting or exciting. Definitely not one for the spank bank; but I have an inordinate need to learn everything about Elijah Fairclough.

Things I’ve learned so far:

He hates his job.

He’s an amazing artist.

He’s an amazing kisser.

He drives sexy.

Oh, and he’s highly skilled at unexpected oral sex.

I’m not going to lie. I stir sugar into the tea and contemplate how on earth I’m going to work through all of this today—with kids arriving for an art day, but also a highly-strung Lewis brewing about the place. My mind should be on plans for the day; for the rest of the week. It’s not. Elijah is filling my head, and I’m wondering why the night before he devoured me like a man starved for days, and yet last night we’d made out like teenagers and hands had stayed above clothes—most of the time.

That hot and cold thing he has going on is exhausting. It’s constant, but it’s not making me want to push him away. It’s making me want to delve deep and find out what’s under the many faces he hides behind.

“So, Lewis.” I pull myself from the complexities of Elijah’s personality and face the situation in hand. “You can join in with us today.” I shake my head. “It’s really boring though, so I doubt you’ll like it.”

His face drops, but I carry on.

“Yeah, everyone thought it was a drag yesterday. I’ll leave it up to you.”

My mind skips to Dan at home in Brighton. We’d been kids, and he’d been so timid; nothing like the tattooed beast he is now. Dan, I heard Eliza Johnson is getting a tattoo. It’s just as well you don’t have one. She’s going to make it look so girly.

A solid lump forms in my throat but I push around it and carry on talking to Lewis. “I reckon we can get you some jobs to do around here until Elijah has everything sorted in London.” I cock an eyebrow. “Unless you want to hang out in the library or something?”

There’s a flicker of a smile on Jennings’ face as he steps in. “I know Bernard in the garden would love some help. Do you know anything about roses? Or herbs?” He turns a little to Elaine and there’s a wave of comforting familiarity about the way they look at each other. “Didn’t you need the herb garden weeded?”

“Oh, Trevor, you are right,” she chimes in. Lewis is watching us with bewilderment. “You can do that can’t you, Lewis?”

He’s flabbergasted. “You want me to do what?”

Just as we are about to explain it all again, the kitchen door flies open and Tabitha whirls in. She leans against the closed door, her chest rising and falling. Lewis forgets what he was saying, and his words falter as he stares at her.

“You okay, Tabs?” I ask.

She straightens and smiles, moving away from the door. “Yes, what did I miss?”

I shrug, “Nothing much. We were giving Lewis some ideas to keep himself entertained for the day.”

“Oh,” she meets his anger filled gaze. “Aren’t you going to join us?”

His hands flap at his sides, the wind removed from the sails of his anger by the slender girl in front of him; her cheeks flushed, her hair wild and unkempt from her dash through the long hallways to the corridor.

I motion for the table. “Come, grab some bacon, Tabitha. I’m going to go and ring your brother.”

I perch on a stone bench in the formal garden, watching the intricacies of the patterned pathways, my phone in my hand, while I drag on my cigarette. I go to type a message—that’s how Elijah and I communicate, so it seems—but I know it will leave me unsatisfied in a completely inexplicable way. So instead I dial his yet un-rung number.

“Mr Fairclough’s line,” a saccharine voice sings down the line on the third ring.

What the hell? I called his mobile, didn’t I? That familiar burn of broken trust simmers under my skin, rushing along my veins.

“Hello,” the voice says again.

“I was ringing for Elijah,” I say, my tone coloured with hesitancy.