Tears of Gold: Tears of Ink #3

by Bloom, Anna

  His eyes meet mine, piercing and deep. “And I’ve only ever wanted to protect you too, but you won’t let me.”

  “I’m used to fighting my own battles.”

  “But you don’t have to anymore.”

  I shrug and smile. “It’s just the way I am.”

  He kisses me swiftly and turns for the en-suite and I follow him, my fingers looped through the waistband of his jeans. I’m pretty sure an Eli shower will make me feel much better.

  The waiting room is smart and neutral. With glass tables and comfortable chairs, it’s a far cry from the NHS hospital I visited Abs in when she had Charlotte. The art of the wall is substandard and bland—Eli should donate them one of his paintings to really lift the place.

  I’ve barely opened the glossy magazine I’ve put on my lap when my name is called. My stomach drops. Eli is looking paler, the skin around his eyes tight, but he gives me a smile.

  This is it.

  I guess we are going to find out once and for all if this is happening. I breathe through my mouth and try to get one foot to follow the other as we follow a nurse, who’s dressed in bright pink, towards a door which she knocks on. “Dr Vernon, I have Faith Hitchin.”

  The doctor, who is younger than I expect, her body slender and dressed in slim fit khaki trousers and a cream shirt, stands to shake my hand. “Faith, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

  Why is this all directed towards me when Eli is the one who organised it, is paying for it? It’s because I’m the one with the baby in my tummy—maybe.

  She beckons us over to some padded chairs near her desk. “Come and sit, I’ve got some questions for you.” She motions to a pile of paperwork on her desk and I hold in my groan. I don’t want to do paperwork, I want to know what’s happening. I can’t handle the not knowing any longer. I need to know now. Dr Vernon smiles understandingly and Eli squeezes my hand. I flick my gaze towards him and find uncertainty painted across his features. He’s as nervous as me. Somehow that calms me down. We are both uncertain, scared, but we are those things together. I run my thumb along his palms and his lips curve at the edges.

  “So how many weeks do you think you are? When was your last period?”

  I flush. “I can’t remember exactly.”

  “Do you have an unpredictable cycle?” Dr Vernon asks.

  “Um, no, not really. We’ve had a lot on, and I just can’t remember. I know I definitely had one in September. And the test I did said six weeks pregnant and that was last week.”

  She nods with understanding, but I know what she is thinking. Daft cow doesn’t even know the last time she had a period.

  “And is this your first pregnancy, Faith?”

  I nod and Eli’s fingers tighten on my hand. “Yes, it’s all the firsts.” Another flicker of a smile chases across his tight face.

  “So you are twenty-four. We will do your weight and height in a moment, but you are very slender. Has your appetite been affected?”

  “Um. Maybe, a little I guess.”

  I can only eat biscuits… but then I never ate a huge amount before… apart from that quiche the day after Peter died… Mm… quiche, I could eat a whole one of those right now.

  “How much do you drink and smoke?” Dr Vernon taps her pen against the sheet she is filling in.

  “I did, but I haven’t since I did the test.”

  I sense Eli looking at me.

  She asks a few more questions and then puts her pen down. “Okay. Now because this is under twelve weeks, we have to do an internal scan? That won’t be a problem will it?”

  A what?

  “Uh, no, I guess.”

  But I’m freezing up. I don’t want something inside me.

  Dr Vernon smiles warmly and pats my hand which is oddly patronising from someone the same age as me. “It will be fine, I assure you. Now if you come with me, we will get you all settled.”

  Eli, who hasn’t said a word the whole time we’ve been in there, grabs my hand and helps me up. Good thing too because my body doesn’t want to move.

  I don’t know if I can do this.

  I said I wanted to find out, but now I’m not sure.

  Maybe it would be better to wait until twelve weeks and let nature just do its thing. Yes, I think that would be much better.

  “Faith.” Eli’s blues are on me, holding my gaze and allowing me to fall into their deep depths. “Together.” I follow him blindly and walk behind a curtain where I slip off my boots, leggings, and knickers. Then I lay down on a bed covered in paper towel, with a blanket over my bottom half. Eli comes to my head and grips my hand tightly, squeezing my fingers like both our lives depend on it.

  Dr Vernon sits on a wheelie chair in front of a big contraption that looks like it could fly a space ship and picks up a wand which she rolls a condom onto and squirts it with jelly.

  I can’t breathe. I don’t want that thing inside me.

  Eli lowers himself so his mouth is close to my ear. “No one is going to hurt you. I’m right here.” I want to tell him he’s the one hurting me, because he’s the one with the demon sperm that makes babies.

  “Just tuck your heels close to your bottom and then let you knees fall.” Dr Vernon is looking at her computer and doesn’t see me freeze.

  “Faith, it’s okay, I promise.”

  Although inside I’m clenched so tight my stomach actually hurts, I manage to follow the instructions. Eli is watching me closely, his thumb rubbing against my hand.

  “I’m sorry I’m such a headcase,” I whisper.

  He shakes his head softly from side to side and unwanted tears spring into my eyes. Dr Vernon turns, unaware of my difficulty, and lifts the blanket. My breath hisses between my teeth as she looks underneath.

  “Okay, so we are checking for size and of course the one thing all people are desperate for, a good strong heartbeat.”

  I nod blindly. I’m just focused on lying still and not freaking the fuck out. I can’t bear it. This is awful. I want to run.

  Eli’s fingers smooth across my forehead and he leans down and brushes his lips after the path of his touch. I stare at the ceiling, counting. One, two, three, four, don’t run. One, two, three, four, don’t run.

  A clicking sound fills the air and I stiffen automatically but then relax as Eli squeezes my fingers. “Faith, look.” His soft voice pulls me away from my counting.

  My eyes fall first to him and then to the screen. Dr Vernon turns and smiles. “This is all looking very good, Faith." She points to the screen, her fingers moving around a distinctive shape. I’m expecting a blob. It’s what Babycentre told me to expect. A heartbeat within a blob. But there is a distinctive curve to the shape, one end bigger than the other; like a heart that’s been sat on by an elephant. “Here is the heartbeat.” She points to a flicker within the shape and my own heart thrums and flies in my chest. Tears leak out of my eyes. “And if my measurements are correct, I would say you are at eight weeks, four days.”

  There is a baby in my tummy.

  A lentil.

  It’s in there and it’s mine.

  Eli’s fingers tangle with mine, his tight hold squishing my engagement ring into my skin.

  Ours. It’s ours.

  I sob loudly, tears running across my skin, and he grins, bending down to kiss me on the lips. It’s the most perfect moment I’ve ever experienced. Sheer perfection. A light switches on deep within my brain and shines itself into my heart.

  I don’t know what else to think except there on that screen is one thing that is ours. Just ours.

  Fifteen

  “Am I showing?” I stand in front of the mirror and stare at myself from the side.

  “Showing what exactly?” Eli stretches on the bed. “Biscuits?”

  “I’m sure this wasn’t here before.” I run my hand over the space between my hips. If I do it extra slow, I’m sure there is a little curve.

  “You’re going to have to come over here so I can investigate.” He lifts an eyebrow. Eli is
very much enjoying the fact I’m spending a lot of time lying down in bed. My nausea might be preventing me from walking but it’s not an issue for sex. There is a silver lining for everything.

  “You’ve got to go to work.” I put my hands on my hips and shoot him a don’t shit me stare. “And I’ve got to go to class and then I want to see Tabs.”

  “Are you still going to tell her?”

  I nod. “Yes, I can’t keep it from her. It’s not fair after what she’s been through.”

  He nods, but I know he doesn’t get it. He wants to tell everyone about that little thing inside me; its little heart beating away while my own beats and I walk us both around.

  “Well hopefully the bloody jury will make their decision today.” He scowls with vehemence. We've been waiting days for Melanie’s jury to come back.

  With every passing day I’ve become more and more uncomfortable that in a few months this could be me waiting to find out what will happen to Aiden. It’s becoming clearer to me with exceptional clarity that the justice system is no easy thing. Eli has been going into work every day to the corporate job he hates and waiting for the call for him to go back to court. His nerves are frayed but I know he is trying not to let it show. Trying but failing.

  “You seem perky this morning?” He beams in my direction.

  “I’m feeling good actually, not as sick as before. I wonder if it was the stress of not knowing that was making me feel ill, not the baby.”

  His smile grows and he scrambles out of bed, coming closer and wrapping me in his arms. I breathe him in, letting the heat of his skin wash into mine. “Have I told you how much I love it when you talk about our baby?” The grin on his face is stupid, but that’s okay. I know mine is, too.

  “You may have mentioned it a few times.”

  “Just a few?” He smirks and fuck it’s sexy. “Maybe I’ll try to fit it in a few more times.”

  “Get ready for work, I need to get on.” I push him away, but he doesn’t move and his obvious desire for me grows between us until it’s impossible for me not to stare at it.

  “I think I need some assistance here.” He chuckles low and it makes my stomach dip down to my feet.

  “In the shower?”

  “Wherever the fuck you want.”

  I screech as he pulls me with him to the en-suite and then I make him scream my name, his fingers splayed on the tiles as I give him a gold medal start to the day.

  “Am I still making these biscuits?” Miss Beesley pulls a tray out of the AGA and slides it onto the table.

  “Possibly, though I’m feeling a bit better and I really fancy a quiche.” I haven’t stopped thinking about quiche since we were at the doctors at the weekend.

  “Quiche? Not ginger biscuits?” Miss Beesley’s lips flicker with a smile and she turns back away with the tray.

  “Oh, well, hold on. Let’s not be hasty, it would be a shame to waste them.” I grab one straight from the tray and take a bite, wincing as I burn my tongue on the hot crumbs.

  “Have you heard from Jeremy?” Miss Beesley picks up my empty tea mug and walks it to the sink.

  “No, not since dinner last week.”

  “I thought I might go and see him today, maybe do some jobs for him if you don’t need me here?” She casts me a glance but with my mouth full of biscuit I can’t answer. I wave my hand in a yes motion and then give her a thumbs up while I swallow.

  “Of course, maybe we should put some meals into his freezer? Do you want to take some wine out of the cellar too?”

  We won’t be drinking the wine. Well, I won’t and Eli I’ve noticed hasn’t had anything to drink either since we had the scan the other day. I think it’s a silent act of solidarity.

  The bell chimes on the kitchen wall showing that the front doorbell has been rung. It’s ridiculous; the house is so large you can’t hear the doorbell from the kitchen. Although I think Miss Beesley could hear a bat fart if she wanted to. She gave me a very knowing smile when I came down the stairs this morning after Eli had left for work. What can I say, my mouth is particularly gifted.

  “I’m pleased to see you smiling again, Faith,” she says as she heads out of the kitchen to answer the door.

  “Me too,” I call after her. Me bloody too.

  I grab another biscuit and settle back in my chair, my hand resting on my stomach. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. Whether perhaps I am waiting for some miraculous growth spurt so I can see what’s inside of me, but I know I can’t stop thinking of the view on that computer screen, that little curved shape that is all mine, that little flicker within its centre, full of life.

  “We are going to be fighters,” I whisper under my breath as Miss Beesley’s footsteps echo coming back down the tiled hallway floor.

  “Who was it?” I ask.

  “Don’t get cross it’s not good for you.”

  Well that’s not promising.

  “It’s Laura Williams. Remember the day after you moved in, I said Bowsley had hired you a personal assistant?”

  “Mm. And I told them it wasn’t necessary.”

  Miss Beesley lifts her shoulders to her ears. To be fair to her, this is way above her pay grade. “Looks like she’s still on the staff roll.”

  I get up from the chair, surprised when I’m not hit by a wave of nausea—a definite improvement which I don’t have time to think about right now.

  The battle with Bowsley is still on.

  I pat Miss Beesley on the arm as I walk by. “Not to worry.”

  I find a woman waiting for me in the hallway. She’s staring at the chandelier hanging from the roof and straight down the middle of the three flights of stairs. It is an impressive view.

  “Hi, Laura?” I smile. It’s not this woman's fault she’s been hired by the wrong people for the wrong reasons.

  “Miss Hitchin?”

  On closer inspection she’s probably about the same age as me. But whereas I am wearing ripped jeans with my ink on show and an oversized shirt that falls off my shoulder, she is wearing a pristine black suit and heels that make my feet hurt just looking at them. “I’m Faith,” I correct and hold out my hand for hers to shake.

  “I’ve been sent by Jennifer, to help organise your diary.”

  Does Jennifer actually think I have a diary? “It’s not necessary.”

  Laura has obviously been warned I’m going to be difficult because she is already armed with a packed Filofax which she flips open to a specific page. “Tonight, you have a meal on behalf of the Fairclough Art Foundation. Did you know about that?”

  “Nope, my invite must have got lost.”

  “And tomorrow…”

  I hold my hand up. “Laura, I appreciate you coming, and I know this isn’t your fault, but I am not running to the same schedule as the Faircloughs.”

  “What schedule are you running to?”

  “Uh.” Well that’s an awkward as fuck question. “I don’t know, one that doesn’t involve the Faircloughs or their stupid games.”

  Her eyes narrow into a frown. “Well I don’t know anything about any games. I’m just paid on a monthly basis by the Fairclough family. So, the way I see it you are the first beneficiary of the Fairclough Foundation. You are about to launch into a career as a TV presenter while also still producing saleable items for various galleries who are all after your work. I think you have your work cut out just being you.”

  She’s got a fair point.

  “What galleries?” I ask.

  “Here, I have a list. I took the liberty of calling a few and putting feelers out.”

  “But I think I’m exclusive with Whitlocks.” I cast a glance over the list; the very best London town has to offer.

  “Well that might have been the case, but the Bowsley Heart is now in situ at the Tate Modern, so that renders any previous exclusivity defunct.”

  She’s pretty forthright. And kind of scary. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have her on my side.

  “Well I don’t have anyt
hing else to sell at the moment anyway.”

  “All the more reason to have your schedule managed by someone else, so you have time to do the things you are good at.”

  “And this isn’t a way for the Faircloughs to get me under their control?” I watch her carefully, looking for any tells she has an ulterior motive.

  “Not with me.” She seems up front and there is something about her that I like. She’s got Abi’s no shit edge to her and I could do with a bit of that.

  “Well, you’d better come in. I was having tea with Miss Beesley, the housekeeper.”

  She follows me over the tiles. “That’s nice, but shouldn’t you be on your way to class?”

  “Yes.” I pull a childish face. “How do you know?”

  She tuts under her breath, “It didn’t take much to discover your timetable.”

  I find that very interesting, considering I hardly know it myself.

  “I have a PA.” I grumble down the phone. Eli is tapping away in the background, but his fingers must stop moving.

  “A PA? Why?”

  “I believe it was a stress test provided by your grandmother, but actually I quite like the girl and she is far more organised than me, so I’m letting her stay.”

  He sighs. “I’m sorry, Faith.”

  “Nah, don’t sweat it. I need to pick my fights and this one could actually work out in my favour. I mean I’ve never been in control of my own schedule, I just lurch from one thing to another, so maybe having someone around to tell me where I am supposed to be will help.” I hesitate and then that stupid big smile creeps across my face. “Especially with the baby.” I lower my voice.

  “Yes, the baby,” he whispers back, and I know he is smiling too. I can damn well hear it.

  “Tonight, I have a Fairclough Foundation dinner with I don’t know who.”

  “I know, it popped up in my calendar.”

  “Your calendar?”

  “Yes, there is a family automated one.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I thought you weren’t doing Fairclough family… what was it you called it the other day… Fairclough Family shit. That was it.”