Page 84 of Tears of Glass

“Shall I tell you what I normally do, when I’m not stuck in a studio staring at useless bits of clay?”

“Please.” He waves his hand for me to continue.

“We always used to do Sunday roasts, the full works. When we were kids the shop would be shut so either my dad or Al would do them.” I notice only too late that I haven’t flinched at the mention of my dad’s name. Progress? Maybe. Or has it all just been blurred by Elijah?

“Then when Abi and Adam got married, they took over.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Of course, by then, Dad and I were no longer talking, and in a way Abi and Adam and her growing tummy became my family. We’d all hide out there on a Sunday, me and Dan hungover, them being all cute and perfect.”

Elijah has dropped the paper and is watching me, perched on the stool, unmoving. And I know why. It’s because I’m talking, talking without being pressed.

“It started with pizza’s in boxes but then after Charlotte was born, Abi decided she was a domestic goddess and she could handle a roast.” I smile at the memory of burnt potatoes and mushed carrots. “She wasn’t. It’s funny though, now I just see her as Abi the mum, it’s like our childhood has evaporated.”

“And it was always the three of you? You, Abi, and Dan?”

I nod, my memory is leading me away to hot summer days, screaming on the rides on the pier. Banging the fruit machines when they stole your money, and we went home empty handed.

“Yes.”

Eli slips off his stool. “Well I’m not Abi or Dan.” His gaze searches my face, but I don’t know what he’s seeking. “But I can attempt a roast. Maybe we could see Tabitha and Lewis? They’re family.”

I nod. “They are.” Eli and I are tied together now, that makes Tabs my sister, too. Although now, too late, I realise that is why he sent her to me in Brighton in the first place, because for him, the tie between us was unbreakable. He showed me that last night in the hallway and I showed him I can take it. “That sounds good. Shall I text and see if they are awake and then we can go over? Maybe we could invite Lewis’ dad as well?”

The smile Eli sends me almost stops the beating of my heart. “Sounds good.”

I find my bag where I abandoned it the night before in the hallway, shivering a little at the memory of us pressed against the wall. My phone is flashing with hundreds of missed calls.

Dan.

My chest tightens. Dan. My friend who is grieving... and here I am organising roasts.

I grab my packet of smokes and wave at Eli indicating I’m going out into the garden as I dial Dan back. He nods, his eyes on my bare legs as I walk through.

It takes three tries for Dan to answer and I’m halfway through my cigarette sat on one of the garden chairs, staring at the studio I haven’t even used yet.

“Hey?”

My greeting is met by the sound of traffic passing and the squawk of seagulls. I recognise the sound instantly, he’s on the front.

“Faith.” His voice is low, empty, shattered, and my stomach drops to some place near my feet.

“Dan.” I sigh a little and glare up at the guileless blue sky of what was a perfect Sunday morning. “How’s you?”

“Fine.”

“You called? Was there something you wanted? Can I help you, do something?” My words sound all wrong, too formal, too restrained for my oldest friend. He’s on an island of grief and I don’t know how to reach him. Stormy waters keep pushing my little sail boat away.

“Just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Well.” I chuckle and slip another cigarette out of my packets of smokes and place it between my lips, talking around it. “I can do that anytime. You know I love to talk, just looooove it.”

He laughs. “You hate talking. You keep secrets, living your life in their towering shadows.”

Whoa.

I drag on my cigarette, pausing for words. “That’s very deep of you, Mr Smith, on a Sunday morning.”

He sniggers and I relax a little—a foolish mistake.

“Remember before you told me about Aiden?” he asks, and I sit up straighter, my blood running cooler.