by Bloom, Anna
His smile is breathtaking. “It’s a start. Now let me get you and my baby home. I can cook us some dinner.”
With the word dinner my skin breaks out into a cold sweat. My stomach squeezes. Sick washes up my throat and I just manage to step away from Eli and lean over the edge of the pavement before I hurl into the road. Burning with embarrassment as all the commuters in a London traffic jam crane their necks to look at the day drunk puking in the street. I straighten up. “Maybe I’m not that lucky after all.”
Eli chuckles. “Come on, let’s get you both home.”
“Don’t mention food again.” I warn.
“My lips are sealed.”
Now I just need to get home without embarrassing myself in public again.
* * *
“We’ve got to take the stairs.” Eli points to them.
“I can’t do those right now.” I’ve managed to throw up five times in the last hour. It’s quite spectacular. Although I am now clutching a ginger biscuit and nibbling at the edges like a squirrel savouring the last of the season’s acorns.
“Fine, I’ll carry you.” Eli stretches his arms and squats down to limber up.
My laughter echoes off the marble floor. “Don’t be daft. I’ll walk.”
“Come on, I’m excited.”
I follow him up the stairs, holding onto his belt, past our bedroom with its gaudy decoration and the other rooms, of which one I guess might eventually get chosen as a nursery, all the way to the attic.
“Miss Beesley has been gossiping, I assume?”
“She’s a valuable ally.”
“We aren’t at war, Eli.”
He snorts, but a wide smile spreads across his face. “We are Faircloughs. Of course we are at war.”
“Hmm.”
“Ready? Now I know it’s not the same as the studio at the Mews but it’s a start until I can get something built out back.” He pushes open the door and I look inside, my mouth dropping open.
“How the hell did you get this done without me knowing?”
“I’ll never reveal my secrets.”
I step around him. The walls and ceilings are bright with a simple white coat of paint. A large tilting design desk has been placed under one of the skylights. “Hold on, there weren’t spotlights in here the other day.” I stare up above me in confusion. The ceiling is spotted with embedded spotlights.
“Simple really, just a dropped ceiling and wiring.”
“Thank you.” Tears prickle my eyes. When exactly am I going to stop crying? I hope it’s bloody soon.
Eli steps closer until we are toe to toe and his fingers tilt my chin. “Maybe it will inspire something.”
“I hope so.”
“You’re blocked again, aren’t you?”
I nod, the damn tears building. “I hate it.”
“You’ve been through a lot, Faith. The last few weeks haven’t been easy on any of us.”
I shoot him a small smile. “I’m waiting for us to catch a break.”
His hand slides down my stomach, palming my skin. “We just did.”
“When are you going to paint again? You haven’t touched a paintbrush for months. I don’t want you to lose your fire, either.”
“I haven’t.” Leaning forward, he brushes his lips against mine. “Now Melanie has received justice I can breathe.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
“That means everything.”
His lips find mine again, hungry and hot. My fingers work their way to my favourite place at the back of his hair in the little groove at the top of his neck where his hairline curls slightly. The kiss deepens and a familiar kindle of warmth flourishes in the pit of my tummy.
“Hold on,” he mumbles against my mouth. “I have something else for you.”
“I know what I want.” Heat is pooling between my legs and I know I won’t be satisfied until he gives me the release I need, until I can lose myself in him, deep and hard.
Breaking the kiss, he heads to the desk where a black box is sat on one corner. “This is so you know your life from Brighton is never over.”
I meet his gaze as he places the box in my hands.
I know what it is even before I open it. A tattoo kit. “Eli, thank you, but I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“I want you to ink me again.”
“Eli.”
“Please. Brand me with today, with us, with what we will be, Faith.”
A tear splatters onto the box. “You have too much belief in me.”
“I have enough for the both of us, because you are the one who gave me the faith I needed.”
I snap open the box and stare at the pen inside. Silver and lightweight, it’s beautiful, and I know it’s top of the range. Pulling it free of its foam packing, I balance it in my hand.
“Just for you. Brighton is behind me, Eli. I don’t want to go there. I don’t want a place I can run to if it means I’m running from you.”
He nods but shadows chase in the depths of the blues.
I point at the chaise longue and with a shit-eating grin because he knows he’s got me to do exactly what he wants, he heads over and lies face down.
I think for a moment as I set up the equipment. Last time I gave him a yin and yang to celebrate the two halves of him, in the hope it would always be the half that he wanted to be that would win. Things have changed now though. Now he’s heir, he’s got to fight harder to be who he wants.
Fight for himself like he did for Melanie.
Fight for us.
Fight and win.
With an instinct that almost overtakes me from the inside out, I lift his shirt, pulling it off his back. He shifts slightly so I can tug it over his head and then settles back down, relaxed and trusting. The vivid blue of the yin and yang stares at me, whimsical almost with its shades of blue and splashes of purple. That was for the summer for dreams we didn’t know could come true, fights we didn’t know we would have to face. Back when Peter was still here, and we thought the hardest thing would be choosing one another and ourselves.
Still the fight goes on. I have a baby in my tummy that needs us to fight every day.
Without words, I start the machine and bed the nib in black and then with the lightest touch I can brush against his beautiful skin, I work freehand and without a guide as I ink a glorious ‘V’ filled with waves of the sea across his bare shoulder blade.
V for victory.
A victory we need to win; this battle for our lives.
Seventeen
At some point soon I’m going to stop being sick. At some point soon, I hope.
I’ve only managed to get to three lectures this week. Questions are being asked. Gerard is in some full-on hissy girls fit. Even the Dean has called. I can’t tell anyone though. I don’t want anyone to know yet.
“Angela wants to meet you.” I glance up at Laura. She’s the other side of the kitchen table tapping away on her laptop. I’m giving myself a clap on the back. I haven’t been sick or gagged in the last half an hour. Miss Beesley has just put a new tray of biscuits on a cooling rack, but even the biscuits aren’t cutting it. It’s been like this for three days. Tonight, we are holding a celebration dinner for Eli’s team and Philip Duncan. Tabitha is coming and Jeremy, although Lewis hasn’t yet confirmed either way. He’s been on my mind the last couple of days. I don’t think Eli’s victory has brought him much respite from the anger that roils within him. He reminds me of Dan so very much. My childhood friend is still not answering my calls. I don’t even know why I’m still calling him; our last conversation was painfully clear as to his thoughts on our friendship.
“Faith, did you hear me? Jeez, you look terrible. I can’t believe this viral thing has taken it out of you so bad. You should get back down the doctors.”
“Ah yes, the viral thing.” I nod and watch Miss Beesley walk behind Laura smirking. I don’t think my housekeeper is happy with the arrival of my PA. There has been some stepping on toes, but I am leaving the
m to fight it out. Honestly, I never thought I’d have the problem of a PA and a housekeeper squaring up to one another—and right now I can’t deal with it. I can literally lurch from one moment to the next in some dismal pathetic display of functioning in early pregnancy.
“So, Angela, shall I tell her you can see her on Monday? She wants to arrange interviews for your co-star.”
I pull a face. I don’t want a co-star. Hell, I don’t even know if I want to do this anymore. Everyone keeps saying it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, but I already signed up to one of those when I agreed to work at Bowsley, and it did change my life for the better—I met Elijah. To have another life changing moment so soon afterwards seems greedy almost. “Yes okay. Monday.”
“And did you call Barringtons yesterday to discuss them taking your work?”
“There was no answer.” I’m lying outright now.
I rub at my face with my palm. Laura’s enthusiasm is exhausting, and it’s got nothing to do with my own energy levels being at an all-time low.
“And tomorrow you and Eli are lunching at Bowsley to discuss wedding plans.” I groan and it takes everything I have not to put my head on the table.
“We haven’t even set a date yet,” I grumble.
“That will all be discussed tomorrow, I’m sure.”
Eli and I haven’t even talked about the wedding. The lentil in the tummy situation has overruled everything else.
“Marvellous. Is there anything else? I need to get ready. I’ve got a lot to organise before the dinner tonight.”
“No, I think that is it. Can you check your calendar though over the weekend in case I add anything else in?” Please don’t add anything else.
“Of course.”
“It’s important you get through to Barringtons; they are influential, and their customers come from far and wide to buy cutting edge art. They will be excited to buy from the Fairclough foundation.”
“Sure.” I rub at my face again. I wonder if anyone would notice if I went back to bed. I could sleep for a hundred years. I hate the thought of my work now being known as the Fairclough Foundation. It’s not, it’s Faith Hitchin; it’s all just me. Well, it would be if I had anything new. But I know how hard Eli fought for me, to secure the foundation so I could achieve all these amazing things. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be set up for a TV show due to bring art to the masses. He gave all of himself for me to have these opportunities. I can’t let him down now.
“Faith, are you sure you are okay?”
Miss Beesley takes the opportunity to cut in. Love this woman more than her biscuits right now. “Miss Hitchin, your bath is ready.”
“Ah, thank you.” I push my chair back from the table. “Laura, I’ll see you on Monday.” I feel bad being so abrupt. There is nothing wrong with her at all. I just can’t warm to her; she just keeps giving me things to do.
Upstairs, I sink into the bath. The bubbles are heavenly. Sweet and musky they fill the air with my favourite scent. As foggy as I am at the moment, I haven’t missed little things like my favourite perfumes and makeup filling the drawers in the dressing table in the gaudy bedroom or the fact my favourite expensive bubble bath is now lined up on a shelf in the bathroom.
Whether it’s Eli or Miss Beesley, I don’t know. Maybe it’s a dangerous combination of both of them. Eli has been back at the corporate grind the last few days, but he’s miserable, I can sense it. He sleeps with me tucked up and him wrapping himself behind me, his hand on my tummy. Two spoons about to become three.
I should get myself to Barringtons. He fights for everything. I should fight just as hard. Tomorrow I know we will be going to battle with Bowsley over our wedding, and I already know he will have to make sacrifices that will cost more than I want. It’s just the way they work.
I wish Peter was here. He would have helped, would have been in Eli’s corner.
I wish Al were here. He would have been in mine and together we would have had all the support we need.
I reach for my phone, drying my hands on a towel folded on the chair near the bath.
“If you show me your tits I’m hanging up.”
I glance down and check I’m covered by bubbles. I am, lots of them.
I smile at Abi. “I won’t flash, I promise.”
“How are you doing?” She’s in her kitchen. I can only hope she’s not making something that will make me puke in my bath.
“Tired. Like so bloody tired I never want to get up again.”
“How many weeks are you now?”
“Nearly nine.”
“It will get better, I promise.”
“Will it get better tomorrow? Honestly I’m not interested unless it’s tomorrow.”
Abi snorts. “About week sixteen if I remember correctly.”
“Week sixteen! I’m going to fricking die by then.”
She shakes her head and gives me her no shit stare. “How do you plan to get through childbirth if you can’t cope with a few weeks which feel like a glorified hangover?”
“I don’t know.” My chest tightens and I slip further under the bubbles, allowing the warm water to caress the tightness. “How am I?”
“You will ask your best friend to come and hold your hand through the whole thing.”
“Will you?” I start to cry which is utterly ridiculous.
Abi howls with laughter. “I see the crying stage is in full swing.”
“Is it the baby making me cry? I was beginning to think I was depressed.”
“It’s the hormones, just calm down.”
“I can’t. I’m so scared. I went to that private doctor the other day and insisted she give me an ultrasound.”
Abi gives me a sad look. “Expect to feel like that about a million times, but you can’t keep going to the doctors. You just have to believe it will all be okay.”
“I’m trying.”
“Want me to come up? We haven’t spent any time together in ages.”
I groan. “I’d love that, but we are having a celebration dinner tonight for Eli winning Melanie Duncan’s case.”
“Oh right.”
There’s an awkward pause. Oh.
“You guys could come up if you want? I could ask Miss Beesley to make up a couple of the other rooms and the kids could have one and you and Adam the other.”
“No, it’s fine, Faith.”
I sit up making sure I hold my phone higher, so I don’t give her anymore reasons to hang up other than the fact I’m a bitch. “No, seriously, it would be amazing. The kids would love it and I’d love to see you. We haven’t told anyone about the baby, and I could do with a hug from my best friend.” I start to cry, no acting needed.
“Oh, don’t start that crying shit with me.”
“Please come.”
“What time is dinner?”
“Seven? But I could make it earlier if that’s better for the kids?”
“And are you actually cooking?” She raises an eyebrow, a smile growing. She’s coming around.
“Hell, no. I would never inflict that on anyone.”
“'Kay. We will be up about six. If that’s okay with Her Ladyship.”
“Shut your face.”
She grins. “Can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too. Right I’ve got to get out this bath and get going.”
“Where are you going?”
I need something to wear.
Saskia is waiting for me at Harrods. Clearly, it’s her shop of choice. “I’m not going in there. I’ll go to Harvey Nicks but only if you twist my arm.” I grin as I walk up to her and give her a hug.
“Peter loved Harvey Nicks.”
I nod and a lump forms in my throat. Let’s get drunk and prank call Elijah. I shake it away. I can’t even get drunk today.
“So exactly how much clothing allowance do I get?”
“More than you could probably spend.” Saskia chuckles. “I could give it a good go though.”
“Oh, I reckon we could
spend it. I need a whole new wardrobe.”
“Why? Your clothes are mostly great, although we need to get rid of those linen trousers you wore all summer. I’ve seen vegetables bagged up with more style than that.”
I roll my eyes, a little flutter building in my tummy. “They aren’t going to fit for much longer.”
I wait for the penny to drop.
“Why, do you plan to start eating and joining the rest of us in the real world?”
Is she for real? The six-foot, slender supermodel-like waif thinks I’m skinny.
“We are definitely going to need elastic waistbands.”
Hold on… here it comes….
“FAITH!”
“Shh, no one knows. Well Miss Beesley and Abi, but that’s it. Oh, and Tabitha.”
“I’ve never shopped for a pregnant woman before.”
“I’m not even showing yet. I just want to be discreet so in a few weeks it doesn’t suddenly become obvious. It’s best no one knows, not with everything I have going on.”
She cocks her head to the side and analyses me. She reminds me so much of Abi. They can both see through me.
“Actually, we are having a dinner tonight; would you like to come?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, of course you.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I’d love that.”
“Right, come on, let's go and find some new clothes. Oh and I want a present for my friend. I never thanked her for saving my arse the other week.”
“I’m all about the 'thank you' presents.”
“Oh, and something for Eli. Small and personal.”
“Didn’t you just ink him again?”
“How on earth do you know that?” I raise an eyebrow in question.
“I buy his shirts. He said he needed more blue because white was no longer suitable for work.”
I snort. Well that makes more sense than where my crazy hormonal brain was going.
“Come on, let’s go and burn the Fairclough credit card.”
I link my arm through hers and we walk past Harrods and cross over at the lights to Harvey Nicks.
“I’ll need some work clothes. I’ve got meetings next week.”
