Tears of Gold: Tears of Ink #3

by Bloom, Anna

  If a pin dropped, I’d be able to hear it.

  No one knew he was gay. Now he’s married and gay.

  My gaze sweeps across the room and I find Connie Fairclough watching us with sheer hatred. Her gaze narrows onto where my hand is clutched tight in Eli’s. Jennifer sobs, her shoulders shaking as she pulls the attention away from us to where she’s dabbing her face with a tissue.

  This is like some awful drama.

  “Jeremy, come on, these people don’t deserve you.” Lawrence tries to pull on his son’s arm, but Jeremy doesn’t budge.

  “No, Dad. But Peter did.”

  He watches, his face creased as his father walks his mother away, until I step forward and hold his arm. “Come on, let’s go to the library and get horribly drunk.” It’s about all I can think of.

  His eyes shine and I swallow down a stifling wave of unprecedented emotion. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  So, I pull him from the room, Eli staying behind to fend off his mother and the guests. The whole time I can feel Connie’s gaze on me, and I know there is no way that woman is finished with me yet.

  What she doesn’t know is that I’m prepared for anything she can bring.

  Eli finds us eventually. We are all camped out in the library. Gerard and Sienna are with us and everyone is… well, let’s say the priceless whisky that can be found in Bowsley lights a steady fire in one’s gut.

  “Hey.” He drops around the back of the leather armchair I’m sunk into and kisses the top of my head.

  “We didn’t save you any…” I squint at the bottle. “What’s that stuff called again?” I wave my hand at Gerard for him to fill in the blanks in my vocabulary.

  “Bowmore.”

  “You drank the Bowmore without me? Bloody cheek.” Eli steps around the chair and lifts me up like I weigh nothing more than a small child. I possibly don’t. I still don’t remember when I last had a decent hot meal. He settles in the chair and then tucks me in his lap. I curl up, my lips pressed against the warm skin of his throat.

  “You smell nice,” I mumble.

  “And you smell of very expensive scotch.”

  I unravel myself from his grip and grab the bottle, tilting it to see if there is any left. There’s a splash in the bottom, which I tip into a crystal tumbler.

  “To Peter.” I give him the glass and lift my own in salute.

  “Peter.” His eyes train on mine as he knocks back the amber rocket fuel.

  “How much trouble are you in?”

  He snickers and it makes my stomach flicker with inappropriate longing, although I can feel the stirrings of his own desire under my thigh, so I don’t feel too bad. “Gerard, go grab another bottle. It looks like we are all staying here tonight.”

  Gerard pushes up out of his chair and heads over to where a selection of decanters line an ancient sideboard. “We should probably see if Elaine can rustle us up some bacon sandwiches, otherwise this is going to get messy.”

  I’d say. My stomach is burning and I’m feeling a strong urge to be sick. “Are we staying here tonight?” My eyes ache, heavy and blurred. Curled up in Eli’s arms, I could sleep for an age. The toll of the last couple of weeks presses heavily on my shoulders.

  “Just tonight. Tomorrow we will be home.” His lips brush my ear.

  “I’ve got to go back to class,” I mumble, but sleep is tugging at me, incessant.

  “We’ve got everything to go back to.” His arms tighten around me and I can’t open my eyes any longer. I don’t know if it’s the whisky, or emotional strain, but I am tired like never before.

  “Tomorrow,” I say, but it could have just been part of my dream.

  * * *

  “Ah, there you are.”

  Eli sighs a little but manages to hold it in before he turns to face his mother. He has our overnight bags in his hands, but he places them on the floor and straightens up. My head is thudding. I have a bad feeling the whisky was off.

  “We are going to head back to town, Mother. Faith needs to get ready for lectures and I’ve got to prepare for court. It’s Melanie's case on Monday.”

  Jennifer’s eyes glitter but she lifts her chin. “Oh, I know. Life goes on.”

  Eli’s shoulders slump a little. “That’s not what I meant, Mother.”

  “Mm, I know, dear. Listen, before you dash off, I wanted to talk through the engagement plans with you.”

  I stiffen a little, but my head whirls too much to say anything.

  “Not now.” Eli’s voice lowers but he keeps it soft. “Please, let’s just get through the next couple of weeks.”

  “Are you cross with me, Elijah, because I didn’t tell you about Jeremy?”

  What?

  His face hardens, all angles and sharp planes. “I don’t want to talk about it. Your deals are of no interest to me.”

  My hand reaches for his and I squeeze it tight.

  Jennifer expression freezes. “And you are let down because your father didn’t come.”

  I don’t know what conversations these two have been having. I cast a cautious glance at Eli, knowing all too well that Jenifer catches the movement. He doesn’t answer, which says everything.

  “Well, anyway. We shall announce the engagement in The Times, and we will need to set a date. What were you thinking, two months? Is that enough time for Faith to complete what she needs before stepping up to family duties and obligations?”

  “That’s enough,” Eli snaps.

  What is she talking about?

  “Darling, it’s going to take a lot to organise. We will need to arrange for coverage. I assume you’ll get married here at Bowsley, as is tradition?”

  I’m definitely going to be sick. Right now. Sweat prickles along my skin, and my fingers slip a little in his grasp.

  Two months?

  Obligations?

  “Not now.” Eli almost tucks me into his arms. The smirk on her face makes me want to punch her pretty damn hard. “Faith, let’s get you home. You aren’t well.”

  I let him lead me out and he almost lifts me into the Range Rover. I sink into the seat, my eyes already closing.

  “Next time, not that much whisky,” he murmurs against my lips as he brushes me a kiss.

  I shake my head. “No whisky.”

  I settle back as he fires the engine and the car purrs beneath us. I wonder what Peter would say about my post-wake hangover. Honestly, I think he would be proud.

  Then I go back to sleep.

  “Come on, sleepyhead.” Eli pulls me from the leather seat straight into his arms, carrying me along the pathway to the shiny black door of the Kensington Mews. It feels like coming home.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep the whole way.”

  He kicks open the door and flicks the lights on, the whole time not letting me out of his tight embrace. “It’s okay, sunshine, it’s been an exhausting few weeks.”

  With gentle hands he settles me on the sofa and covers me with a blanket. I fight it off, but his hands are insistent. “I’m not sick, Eli.”

  “Humour me, I want to take care of you.” Sighing deep, he settles next to me and lifts my legs over his. His head drops back onto the leather cushion of the sofa. “This wasn’t what I had in mind for us, Faith.”

  Shifting my legs, I snuggle up closer. “I know, my love. But it is what it is. None of this has happened how it should have.”

  We lapse into silence for a while.

  “What happened in Brighton with Dan, Eli? You still haven’t told me how he was.” My stomach rumbles with the rolling fall of awkward rocks.

  “Dan wasn’t in a great way, Faith.” His fingers smooth through my hair. “He doesn’t want to see you. I’m sorry.”

  I shrug, but it hurts. I’ve messed everything up. I know this is all on me.

  “He made it exceptionally clear he would rather see me dead than with you.”

  I turn my head in his lap and meet his vibrant gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not as sorry
as me. I messed this all up for us at the start. It feels like the catalogue of errors is open at my feet and I have to pay the price.”

  “Eli, you can’t blame yourself for Peter, or what I did with Dan. We all make our own choices. Peter chose to drive his car that fast, you didn’t push the accelerator for him.”

  He doesn’t answer, his fingers still sliding through my hair.

  “It seems like your mother and you have been having some interesting conversations.”

  He gives a wry half laugh. “More lies and secrets.”

  “They made Peter keep Jeremy a secret, didn’t they?” I graze my fingertips along his cheek, and he leans into my touch. “They can’t do that to us.”

  His gaze when he meets mine is tortured, burning. His hand slides down my belly, flat against my skin, kindling a deep flicker of desire within me. “They break everything.”

  “Not us, Eli. Never us.” Sliding my hand around his neck, I pull his mouth down to mine. Our kiss is desperate, hot, intense.

  When his fingers tug at my clothes, it’s like they are searching for the very centre of my soul, and all I can hope is that he finds it.

  Seven

  “Do we have a routine for court days?” I’m perched on the stool at the black marble island in the kitchen. I’m up early… okay, I’m up bloody early. Eli looks professional, smart, and as sexy as hell. If it wasn’t for the fact today was the first day of Melanie Duncan’s case, I might not have let him out the house.

  “A routine? Are you being superstitious on me?” He grins and then takes a sip of his coffee. If he’s nervous it doesn’t show. This man is a machine. A machine in a fucking hot three-piece suit.

  “Do you need a good luck blow job? Anything like that?”

  He sniggers and lowers his mug. “Sounds wonderful, but I do have to be at the law courts in half an hour.”

  “I can be quick.” I wiggle an eyebrow.

  “Let’s not rush perfection, Faith.” He steps up and presses a kiss against my forehead. “I might be home late, it depends how it goes. What are your plans?” His fingers tilt my chin so our eyes meet.

  “Oooh, well. I’ve got a busy day, actually.”

  “Pray tell.” He opens his leather bag and checks his papers.

  “Well, I have class, then Gerard and I are going to the Tate to look at the space they’ve reserved for the show. After that I’m popping over to Jeremy’s to check on him with Tabitha.”

  “Thanks for including him.”

  “Of course. I like him. I’m hoping he will stick around with our crazy.”

  “Oh, that reminds me.” He checks his watch and I know he’s slowly slipping away—and that’s fine, this is an important day. I’ll still be here waiting tonight when he comes home. “Mother left a message; the announcement will be in The Times today.”

  Those blues land on my face, reading me swiftly like I’m a glossy mag one picks up when in need of a light read.

  “Ooh, last chance to change your mind.” I smirk.

  “Never. Now kiss me, I’ve got to go and put some arseholes in jail.”

  He steps up and presses a lingering kiss on my mouth until I push him away. When he’s gone, I sit at the marble island for a while longer, staring into my coffee cup.

  My engagement is going to be announced in a national broadsheet. Crazy. If I don’t think about it all too much, then I can’t let it freak me out. It’s best not to think. Not to worry. This is the path I’m on. Me and him.

  I’m getting out of the shower when the door buzzes. Clutching my robe around my middle, I open the door and peek my head through the gap. My mouth falls open when I see a giant blue removal truck squeezed into the small space of the Mews. What the hell?

  “Fairclough?” An older chap in white overalls asks.

  “Uh. Yes?”

  “We are here to pack. Sorry we would have been earlier, but the traffic was a nightmare.”

  “Pack up? We aren’t moving anywhere.”

  The man scratches his head and looks at his clipboard. “Fairclough, to Thirty-Six Chesham Place.” His fingers run across the paperwork as he reads through the instructions. “Silly really, it’s not even that far, but I understand there is a lot to pack.”

  I stare at him wildly. I don’t know. This is Elijah’s house not mine. The only bit that is mine is the studio down the bottom.

  This is a test. Jennifer, or more than likely Connie, has arranged this today because it’s his first day in court on his pro-bono case for Melanie Duncan. They are testing me. Pushing everyone onto me on one day. Not only is Elijah working a high-profile case today, they are also announcing our engagement.

  Well, fuck them.

  I open the door. “Yes. of course. Sorry, I should have been dressed. Can you get the lorry ready while I get myself together and then I’ll let you in and you can evaluate the packing?”

  I have no idea if I’m speaking the right words, but he nods so I guess I’m making sense. Right, first thing first, clothes.

  In the bedroom while trying to pull jeans up I video-call Abi.

  “Yo, stranger.”

  “I know, I know, I’m crap. Listen, I’m having a situation.” I grab the phone and train the camera on my face.

  “I’d say. You look like shit.”

  “Wow, thanks. Listen, Eli’s psycho mother and grandmother have decided to spring a surprise and have arranged for us to move to a new house today.”

  Abs looks at me blankly. “What do you mean?”

  “They are moving us into the London residence, or whatever, but I know they are doing it to test me because today’s a bit of a big day. They are trying to scare me off. I won’t let them.”

  Abi gives me a sarcastic round of applause and I shoot her my best stink eye.

  “Remind me why I call you?”

  “Because you love me. And you have no one else.”

  I scowl. “Well fuck, Abi. Are you coming to help me? I’ve got a meeting at the Tate today, I can’t miss it.”

  “Okay, I’m coming. But you and I need to have a chat about whether you’re eating. You look terrible.”

  “I know. It’s been a tough few weeks.”

  Abi nods. “I know, babe. I’ll grab the first train. Adam will look after the kids for us.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it so much.”

  “I know. You owe me. Try and siphon me off some diamonds from the Fairclough stash or something.”

  I roll my eyes and hang up.

  Right. Moving house.

  I am not ringing Elijah. I can do this.

  Fuck.

  Abi arrives just in time for me to grab her into a tight hug, kiss the living shit out of her and then run off telling her to keep an eye on all my art supplies that are being shoved into boxes down in the studio. I’m sure there are probably more important things to worry about being packed, but I’d be mad if they got damaged. I’ve got some canvases for Whitlocks to sell and I’m not exactly producing a lot these days.

  My phone rings as I walk from the tube to campus. I’ve missed lectures but I still need to meet Gerard. “Faith, darling.”

  Bollocks. How did Jennifer get my number?

  “Hi.” I reach for my packet of cigarettes and light one up, ignoring the loud tut of a woman with a pram walking past.

  “How is moving day going? I’m sure you have lots to organise.”

  The goddam bitch. What is wrong with this family?

  “It’s marvellous.” I drag in smoke wishing it was some form of pathogen poison I could send down the phone to mega bitch on the other end.

  Wait. It is some sort of poison.

  Never mind.

  “My best friend is just watching over everything for me while I attend my meeting at the Tate. It’s a busy day for us.” I make sure to underline the word us in dripping acid. “But, it’s perfect. I can’t wait for us to be settled this evening and enjoy our new home.”

  My words are met with silence. But not for long enou
gh. “And have you seen the paper, darling? I’m so excited that we can start organising the wedding now.”

  It’s not working, bitch.

  “Me, too. I’ve got so many wonderful ideas. I thought if we hold it at Bowsley we could use the conservatory as the venue. After all it’s where we had our first kiss, and actually Eli has told me it’s where he fell in love with me. Did you know that, Jennifer? He fell in love with me right under the glass roof of Bowsley.”

  Stick that. Bitch.

  “Now, Faith, please call me mother. I know you don’t have one of your own.”

  Goddamn fucking bitch.

  “I’ve managed without for all these years.”

  “Ah, but soon you will have a family of your own, and you will need parental support, and us Faircloughs will be there for you. After all you have no one to support you, do you?”

  Damn. This woman. How did Eli survive this?

  “I don’t think we need to worry about that any time soon.

  “Well, got to dash. Let me know if you need any help with your interior decorating; I know all the best contacts.”

  “No need. We shall decorate ourselves.”

  She snorts daintily. “Oh, Faith, how naïve you are. Eli doesn’t have the time for such things. And nor would he want to.”

  “I have to go.” If I was the Hulk, I’d be crushing my phone right now before running to Hampshire, laying waste to the countryside and shoving it up her arse.

  “Toodle-pip, darling.”

  I hate her.

  Hanging up the phone, it's the only thought I have. I hate her.

  Shit, if she thinks she’s going to beat me… Not now and not bloody ever.

  On my way along the river to the Tate Modern I call Dan. I’m not expecting him to answer, but it’s worth a try.

  He doesn’t answer and I throw my phone back in my bag, my stomach twisting into knots.

  Despite the cool October weather and the soggy pavements with grey skies overhead, Bankside is still packed with tourists. I elbow my way through to the large entrance of the gallery. I haven’t prepared for this meeting. That was my plan for my morning coffee. I didn’t realise I was going to be moving house instead of creating a spider graph.