Page 34 of Tears of Glass

A tight band wiggles its way around my chest. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“Well I do. I don’t want that asshole coming anywhere near my girl. Shall I stab him to death for you? I could be discreet.”

“Abi.” I laugh. “You are ridiculous. Listen, he can’t hurt me anymore and I’m fine with that.”

There’s another brief lapse of silence. “You make me proud.”

I chuckle. “Don’t get all sentimental on me. Listen, I’ll come back next weekend to check on Dan.”

“Don’t tell him I told you he was day drunk.”

My heart plummets. “I won’t.”

“How’s Tabitha?”

“Loud.”

“She’s going to need you, Faith.”

I nod, even though Abi can’t see me. “I know. Listen I’ve got to go, I look minging and smell even worse.”

“Delightful.”

We end the call and I grin for a moment as I sit there and come down from the chatting high that a phone call from Abi always creates. I’ve been known not to talk to anyone for a week if I’ve been working on a project, and then one half-hour call with Abi gives me all the verbal exercise I’ve missed out on.

I stare at my blank phone screen while I think of all the things I’ve got to do.

I can’t imagine spending a week locked up in a studio designing anything. I haven’t mentioned it to anyone, especially not Angela last night, but inside my head there is a giant pile of nothing very useful. No ideas. No thoughts. There’s just a whole lot of random emptiness. I know who put that emptiness there and it makes me hate him even more.

I’ve got things I need to deal with. I’ve got to find a desire for art again, and I’ve got to work out what I’m going to do with Tabitha, because truth is, I don’t really know, but she’s got a big brother who can help as well. Actually, she’s got two brothers and a family who can afford everything she needs.

It’s time for her to stop running and go home.

Says the girl who always runs.

Chapter Ten

The shower is delicious. My whole body, dehydrated from the hangover, absorbs the moisture like a sponge. When I get out, I wrap a fluffy towel around me and pad my way back into the still quiet living room. I grab my smokes and peer at the flashing screen of my phone, finding a text from an unknown number.

Can we talk? E x

Can we talk? Is he mad? Why the hell has he got a new number? I consider deleting it, pretending I’ve never seen it, but the limited knowledge I have about Elijah makes me know he won’t leave it at one text. He’s used to getting what he wants, and hell don’t I know it. My fingers stab at the screen as I type my concise response.

No.

With my stomach gurgling, I yank on the handle of the fridge door although there is nothing to be excited about inside. I lift out a carton of orange and give it a delicate sniff. It seems okay, and the box hasn’t expanded with any obnoxious gasses, so I think it’s probably good to go. I pour a glass and chug it down. Jeez, I am so damn thirsty. My phone flashes again and I ignore the tightening of my stomach. That shit can cut it out right now.

It’s Tabitha: Can you come to Lewis’ dad’s with me? I’ve got to meet him and tell him the news.

I groan. Seriously? Do I have to do that? I roll my eyes, but I know I will. Of course I’ll go, and I’ll do the whole awkward conversation about how his teenage son has been screwing a daughter of a baroness and got her in the family way. I may hate Elijah, with every single shred of feeling I have in my body—but he sent me his sister for a reason, and that’s because his family are too fucked up to deal with it.

I sweep a message back agreeing and asking when and where I need to be.

Before her response beeps back, I go and grab some clothes out of my wardrobe. I haven’t really unpacked properly, and as I’ve been away all summer either at Bowsley or Brighton there isn’t much to choose from. I haven’t stepped outside all day, so unsure of the weather I go to the sash window and slide it up, shoving my hand out into the afternoon air. It’s still too warm, but then September is one of those months that’s prone to get confused. Heading back over to the wardrobe, I consider whether I should unpack my suitcase or leave it for another day—it’s not a hard decision to make. I pull out a red jumpsuit and a black cardigan, slipping them on over some black underwear, then I twist my hair up and pin it into place. Appraising myself in the mirror, I notice I’ve lost even more weight. Although it’s hardly surprising, life hasn’t exactly been a bunch of roses of late. I should get some food, though, at least get some food in for Tabitha and Lewis. Back out in the kitchen my phone is flashing with a message telling me they will meet me out front in half an hour. I shrug and go to stand at the open lounge window where I light myself a cigarette. On a whim, I scroll through my phone to find Angela’s number and hit dial. She answers after three rings and sounds genuinely excited to hear from me.

“Please tell me your headache was as bad as mine.” She chortles a little and I relax. Honestly, this woman is so nice and I could see myself happily working for her after being through the hellish experience of Bowsley and the spiteful tongue of Connie Fairclough.

“Mine was so much worse, I can assure you. I haven’t had a productive day.”