Page 17 of Tears of Glass

“El—” Tabitha starts

“Don’t say his name, it’s the one rule.”

“Bu—”

“No, Tabitha, I mean it.” My voice rises and her eyes fill with tears. Now I’m the bitch. Great. “Right, get showered and let’s get on.” I wave my hands at them to go do something useful. “I need to make a couple of calls.”

Tabitha’s red eyes open wide. “Not my mum?”

I shake my head. “No, not yet.”

When they’ve gone, I pick my phone up from the counter. There’s a message from Dan.

Dan: Are you coming to the shop? There is a guy who wants to book you.

I frown and wrinkle my nose.

Me: Later. What’s it for?

Dan: Half a sleeve. I told him six big ones and he’s still keen.

I sigh a little. I could do with the money. If I’m going to pick myself up and get back on with my life, I’ll need to buy some more art supplies and get producing again.

I block the thought I have no ideas of anything to create. Inside my head is nothing but a blank space.

It’s okay. I’ll push through.

Me: Okay, say 2pm.

That taken care of, I slide through my contacts until I find the number I need. I have no idea how this conversation it going to go, but it’s got to go one way or the other. I hit dial and wait.

“Oh, Faith! I was wondering when you’d call.” Damien from Whitlocks almost sings down the phone. “Girl, that was some kick-arse attitude at the Bowsley Ball.”

I cringe. “Hey, Damien.” I sip my coffee to gather my thoughts. “It was stupid. I know that now.”

There’s a low chuckle, although I can’t think of a single thing that’s funny. “I can’t believe you destroyed that sculpture. I mean you should have seen El—”

“Can we not mention that name?”

Silence meets my request and Damien takes a long time to think and put the pieces together. I’ve nearly drained my coffee by the time he finally speaks.

“You did not! Faith!”

“It’s not like that. I thought...” What the fuck did I think? That Elijah Fairclough was a knight in shining armour and that he would love me for being me?

I stare at the ink on my arms. I’m not a princess to be rescued and loved.

“Anyway, I don’t really want to talk about the Faircloughs.”

“Okay, whatever you say.” He takes a breath and I can sense not knowing the gossip is killing him. “So you’re kind of hot property right now. You shouldn’t have disappeared like that after the ball. People have been trying to track you down.”

“What? Why?”

Damien tuts. “Well, apart from you breaking the best thing you’ve ever made, smashing it into pieces, in fact, and making a right mess of the marble floor, the rest of the pieces on display also got a lot of attention.”

“Most of them were E—” I stop myself talking.

“Yeah, the paintings, but the rest were yours, right?”