by Bloom, Anna
I don’t know if that’s even possible, but I’ll need to face it. No more hiding.
My phone still has the voicemail I ignored last night—a London number. I tap the small arrow and listen.
Then I listen again. And then again.
Then I FaceTime Abi.
“Hey, you,” she answers. There are crashing noises and all sorts in the background.
“What’s going on?”
“School run.” She groans and blows her hair away from her face, I laugh. “Don’t be laughing, woman, in a few years you will know all about this pain.
I hadn’t thought about that. I wait for some flash of panic to strike but it doesn’t. Maybe I am making progress after all.
“I shall relish it.”
“You mean you are going to rule the playground because all of the other mothers will be scared of your ink.”
“Well there is that in my favour.” Now isn’t the time to tell her about what Francine the counsellor said to me yesterday. Or of my evening of self-discovery as I sat and read all my ink as one long story for the first time in my life. “Anyway, Elijah broke up with me again,” I say, surprisingly bright.
“Again?! I wish I could lose weight as often as he dumps you.”
“Thank you as always for your support.”
“You aren’t crying or abusing anyone. What’s going on?”
I’m serious for a moment and Abi stops fussing about packing lunch boxes and watches me. “I’m trying to sort myself out. I know I’ve been running, not just literally but from myself, too.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.”
I smile and she smiles and there’s a whole lot of smiling.
“Also, UK Vogue have left me a voicemail. They want me to do an interview.”
Her mouth hangs open. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Well the message said I was an icon of an age, riding from a bad youth and achieving so much with my wild art.” I wait for the best bit. “Apparently Jennifer Fairclough gave them my contact details.”
“Wow.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“So, are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Why!! You mental nutcase… it’s VOGUE!”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure at the moment I’m a good example of a role model.”
Abi shakes her head and shoots me a shit stare. “When will you see yourself how I see you, how Dan sees you? Eli…”
“I went to see a counsellor yesterday.”
Abi can’t school her surprise. “And?”
“And she thinks that I hide beneath my ink. It looks like armour but it’s more deflection.”
“Shit, Faith, I hope you didn’t pay her for that. I could have told you that years ago.”
“And she thinks I blame myself for what Aiden did. That I’m self-sabotaging by telling myself I let it happen because subconsciously I was desperate for affection.”
“Is that what you think? Do you think you let him?”
I hate the tear that escapes. I don’t want to cry anymore. “I didn’t tell you what happened. I got pregnant and I tried to abort the baby myself. Dan found me and got me to the hospital. I’m sorry. I’ve kept it a secret for so long, but I was ashamed.”
“What were you ashamed of?” Her voice is a whisper.
I speak the truth. It flows from me, unhindered. “That I’d let him put a baby inside me. A disgusting, vile baby borne out of despair and violence.”
“Fuck, Faith.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“You’ve told me now. Please don’t lie to me again though.”
“It wasn’t a lie.”
“If it’s not your whole heart, it’s a lie.” She shakes out her hair and brushes her hand against her cheeks. “Listen, I’ve got to get these kids to school. Ring me later after you’ve spoken to Vogue.”
I go to tell her I might not call them, but she’s already gone.
Her words stick in my mind, Don’t lie to me again. If it’s not your whole heart, it’s a lie.
I slide my fingers over the screen of my phone before I can change my mind.
Secrets from the heart are heavy and weigh the most. To set them free is to release them for the world to see and judge. I’ll set mine free for you. For the three of us.
I send my message to Eli and then I get up and jump in the shower. This day isn’t going to wait for me, and I’ve got to keep attacking. Keep fighting. Keep winning.
“Yo, sister sledge.” I chuckle at Jeremy’s greeting as I answer his call, and raise my eyebrow at Gerard who is sat opposite me in the small cafe on campus.
“You can’t call me that. You are widowed and I am separated before even getting married.”
“He loves you.” Jeremy sounds so sure.
“I know. I’ve caused him a lot of pain.”
“I saw the stuff in the press. I wanted to check you were okay. What’s happening with the case?”
I groan, but not because I'm hiding, not because I’m running, but actually because I am pretty pissed off. “Nothing. At the moment the police don’t have enough to go on.” I hold Gerard’s eye. I no longer have nothing to hide.
Taking a large mouthful of my decaf latte, I wait for Jeremy to get to the point of his call. “I was wondering if you’d come into school.”
I spew coffee and milk all over the table. “What the shit?” Gerard pushes back and jumps up to get some napkins.
“Sorry, you want me to what?” My cheeks are scorching hot.
“I thought you could come in and show some of your work to my form class.”
“Why? Are they all budding artists?”
“No.”
He hesitates. “Spit it out, Jeremy.”
“I’m worried about one of the girls. I thought having a strong female role model might be useful.”
“I can’t talk about the case.”
“I know, but you can talk about being you.”
“Jeremy! No one is interested in me. I’ve had one bit of idle gossip printed about me in the paper.”
“And you are marrying a Fairclough—the hot one.”
“You married a Fairclough! And I’m not, not at the moment.”
“Pure semantics. You don’t have to go major deep, but you could come and talk about you, show them your ink, show them what a fighter you are. Maybe teach some of them to say no.”
Bile rises up my throat. “I’m the wrong person to teach that.”
“I disagree.”
Sighing, I fall back into my chair. “When were you thinking? I’m meeting a magazine next week, and I’ve got a meeting with Channel 4 on Friday.”
He sniggers. “Yeah, you are right, you are absolutely no one.”
“I’ll come in tomorrow.”
“Thank you. You are my absolute favourite sister by marriage.”
“I’ll tell that to Tabitha.”
“I doubt she will care at the moment.”
“She’s gone home you know?”
He sighs. “I know. That is one little broken heart.”
“Let’s hope Connie doesn’t make it too hellish for her.”
“You won’t let her,” Jeremy says with absolute conviction. I have no idea who people think they are, but they are under some serious form of disillusion.
We hang up and Gerard watches me expectantly. “Don’t ask,” I warn.
“Don’t need to. I already know.”
“Whatever. I’ve got a class to get to.”
I toss and turn all night. My arms ache for Eli, my heart hollow in my chest; but I refuse to cry, to wallow, to fall. I focus on me and the baby. My hand on my tummy, my thoughts focused and determined. If they wander off, taking me to dark places, I pull them back and focus on the now. On my breath. On living.
After my shower, I pull on black skinny jeans, a baggy sweater, and brown soft leather ankle boots. I haven’t stepped foot in a high school since I le
ft. Maybe it’s changed, maybe it hasn’t. The angry young woman who stalked out the gates for the last time without a backwards glance has changed though. Is changing.
I sign in and wait for Jeremy to come and get me. He looks frazzled as he steps towards me, palming his hair with one hand while simultaneously pushing his glasses up with the other.
“Wow. You look like you’ve had a crappy morning already.”
“Meh.” He leans closer and kisses my cheek. “And you look positively radiant.”
“Shut up.”
He grins and pushes back my shoulders. “I heard a rumour you were looking as rough as old boots but look at you all glowing.”
“Glowing? I’m suffering a major heartbreak here.”
“I wonder if Eli is looking as good as you?”
My heart clenches at the mention of Eli’s name. My cries in my sleep chasing me even though I’m awake.
It’s best to change the subject. That way I can’t think about how Eli looked propped against his doorframe the other night like he was experiencing some apocalyptic end of the world.
Fight.
Strong.
Honest.
Fight.
Strong.
Honest.
It’s all I can be.
“So what do you want me to do exactly?”
“Just be you. Show them your work, tell them what inspires it, and then wait to see how they react.”
I think Jeremy might have lost his mind. The last thing I want is to wait for a bunch of cruel schoolkids to tell me what they think of my work.
“Come on, Faith. You dealt with teenagers all the time at Bowsley for the summer. Pete said you were brilliant.”
“Did he indeed? That’s because I spent most of my time hiding from him because he was an obnoxious prick.”
I gasp. That was a step too far even for me.
Jeremy chuckles under his breath. “That he was at times. But he was also a shrewd judge of character. He had you down from the first day.”
“Messed up head job?”
Jeremy leans in and whispers in my ear, “Warrior.” It sends a shiver down my arm.
“He drank far too much whisky, you know that.”
“And wine.” We stop outside a door and Jeremy puts his hand on the brass handle. I freeze. “Faith, just be yourself. You are so damn cool these kids aren’t going to know what happened to them.”
I shake my head but let him open the door.
Now this could be very interesting indeed.
“Why are your eyes covered, Miss, in this one?” One of the girls with a blonde high ponytail and who smells very strong of some floral body spray leans closer to have a look at my clay model. I’m taking it as a sign that I like my new work as I’m petrified someone is going to drop them.
Still, I’m trying to look cool and not wince every time someone picks them up.
“I’m Faith, not Miss.” I lick my lips. Jeremy is at the back of the class marking papers and I know he has given me space on purpose. “I guess I have things that I’ve been hiding from for a long time. This figurine is a way of saying that I realise that now.”
“It reminds me of the African heads my parents brought back from Kenya.” Another girl says. Her hair is tight curls cropped close to her head and her lips are full. She’s beautiful; her skin a similar tone to Jeremy’s.
“I never thought of that before. They are pretty new.”
“And in this one, you are shouting.” A quiet girl with dark eyes looks up at me.
“It’s because I want everyone to hear now.”
“Hear what?”
“The truth.”
“About what?"
“About the fact someone did something to me that was bad and for a long time I thought it was my fault. Now I’m learning slowly that it wasn’t.” I shrug. “It’s not easy.”
“Is it true you are going to marry royalty?” The blonde asks. She has way too much lip gloss on.
“No!”
Jeremy lifts his gaze and smirks. It takes all my self-control not to stick my tongue out at him.
“I’m not getting married right now.”
The blonde takes extra interest in my ring. “How many carats is it?”
“I have no idea.” I shrug.
“Why are you wearing it if you aren’t getting married?”
“Because I hope one day, I will.” I shrug again. “Maybe.”
I’m not going to add that I desperately hope that Eli and I will get past this. What would be the point?
“Anyway. I think I’ve been here long enough.”
Jeremy takes that as his cue. “That’s right, girls, can we all say thank you to Faith.”
I give them a small wave as I start to pack up my stuff and Jeremy leads them all down to assembly or something equally awful.
“Miss?” I look up, taken aback slightly when I meet the gaze of the confident blonde girl, with her lip gloss and floral scent.
“Hey.”
“Miss, when did you know it wasn’t your fault?”
My heart thuds in my chest. Boom. Boom. Boom. “Well, I’m about to turn twenty-five, so I’d say nine years too late.”
She nods just once and then turns to chase after her classmates.
I watch her go, part of me mourning for her, and part of me mourning the girl who lost herself under ink and regret.
Jennings is waiting for me at the local train station. It was on a whim I decided to come to Bowsley after leaving Jeremy. “Thanks for picking me up. You didn’t tell them I was coming did you?”
“No.” He sniggers, highly unprofessional for a butler. “No, I didn’t.”
We drive in companionable silence until the many chimneyed roof of Bowsley comes into view.
“Will you be staying for lunch, Miss Hitchin?”
I meet his eyes. “No, Mr Jennings. I doubt that very much.”
Connie and Jennifer are in the sitting room when I come breezing in. Connie almost drops her cup of tea, but Jennifer’s face remains poker straight.
“Don’t get up.” I say to 'I’m so mental Nana'. “I’ve come to speak to your daughter.”
Jennifer gets up and beckons me to follow her, and we head to her small and elegantly decorated office—or whatever it is she likes to call it. I’ll call it the green room, that about covers it.
“Faith, this is an unexpected pleasure. I haven’t seen you at any events the last couple of weeks.”
“Cut the crap, Jennifer. You know Eli and I aren’t together right now.”
She looks genuinely shocked. Can he not have told her? Has he had any contact with Bowsley since he walked away from me?
“How can I help? I assume we aren’t here to talk about wedding dresses then?”
“I want to talk about setting up a charity and I wondered if you’d be interested in guiding me through the process?”
“A charity for what? You already have the Fairclough Foundation.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Nothing for art, although maybe in some elements. But listen, Jennifer. I don’t want to make a deal. I don’t want to have to sign away my soul just to get you to help me, or however these things usually work around here.”
“No?” Her lips twitch.
“No. I want to come to you as one woman soon to be a mother, to a woman who already is. A woman I know who cares for her children no matter how complicated her life is.”
She inclines her head just slightly. I want to shake her, but maybe like me it’s going take time to get deep underneath her layers. I can respect that.
“I want to set up a charity for young women to have support, so they never have to suffer in silence like I did.”
She’s still for a long moment and I’m about to turn on my heel and leave—my journey and my time wasted. “How will yours be any different to the others out there?”
I smile. “Well the others don’t have me, and they don’t have someone who looks like me. I think I can talk to the yo
unger generation and get them to come forward.”
“How will you do that?”
“By showing them how I do it.” I pause and read her eyes. “You sent Vogue to me?”
Her face doesn’t give anything away, but she silently puts her finger to her lips and points to the door. “I can assure you I didn’t. But I hope if they’ve approached, you will give them the honesty and candour I believe will be of benefit to their readers.”
“You know I grew up without affection. I’ve been getting help and I’m working out that a lot of my issues and what happened to me might have come from some deep misguided understanding of the concept.”
“Yes?” She waits expectantly for me to continue. Instead I get up and pull her tight into my arms, hugging the woman I always believed was against me. Hugging someone—when I never bloody hug anything or anyone. I whisper in her ear, surprised to feel her skin damp against my cheek. “Let’s make sure the next generation of the Faircloughs know exactly what a hug is.”
She pushes back. “Hug?”
“Yes, it’s this thing we are doing with our arms.”
She laughs, and it’s the first time I’ve ever heard it. It’s a mishmash of all her children, but really all I can hear is Elijah and my stomach clenches so hard I want to vomit. “Hug. Help under guidance.”
“Hug. I could live with it. Ironic really.”
“Darling, I absolutely love to live my life full of irony.”
“Me, too.”
“Now, shall we look at wedding dresses?”
“Jennifer, I can’t push him. I’ve hurt him.”
“And he’s hurt you. And soon everything will be fine and wonderful and you shall get married.”
“I think getting to the talking stage would be a good first step.”
“So, talk.”
Twenty-Eight
I’m thinking about Jennifer’s simple request as I walk along to the apartment. It feels weird walking back here; my feet and heart want to take me to Chesham Place. If you’d asked me that weeks ago, I never would have believed it.
“So, talk.” She made it sound easy. I’m not ready yet and I don’t think Eli is ready to hear, either.
It’s been days without him. It could be years. It hurts but I know I have to fight it fair and I will.
“Faithy?” A shiver rolls over my skin. I keep walking, speeding up my pace. My front door is there.
