Page 114 of Tears of Glass

I pull a face, which isn’t very mature but it’s not like he can see me, and hang up the phone. I take a quick snap of the painting and then send it to Damien at Whitlocks. I haven’t spoken to him for weeks. God, I don’t even know if they are still interested in my stuff, but I’ll let him know there is work slowly coming from me. I should probably spend less time shagging and more time being productive.

I giggle to myself and start clearing up the mess.

I’m running out of the door, shrugging on my jacket and trying to put a piece of toast which constitutes my late breakfast/lunch in my mouth when my phone rings. I don’t check the screen as I attempt to swipe and lock the front door. “Hi, I’m on my way, I promise.” I shove the phone under my ear and try to wiggle the key out of the blasted lock.

“Faithy?”

I freeze. My blood chills and slows until my pulse is thudding loudly in my ears.

“Faithy?”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” My throat is so tight, I have to force my words out, barking them almost around my toast.

“Listen, please, it’s been months.” Dad’s voice is low.

I snort derisively. “No number of months will pass where I’ll be ready to talk to you.”

“Faith, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Sorry you didn’t believe me? Sorry you didn’t make me go to the police and put your trust in me? Sorry you’ve encouraged me to leave a child abuser free on the streets?”

The security guy is watching me from his booth, his face questioning. I give him a nod to let him know I’m okay and then turn my back.

“I never want to hear from you again.”

Dad clears his throat and my hackles rise. “I’m in trouble. I need some money, Faithy.”

“What sort of trouble?” Gah, why did I ask? Why didn’t I hang up?

“I owe money.”

“For what?” I explode. “You haven’t done anything since Al threw you out of the shop.”

“I know. I thought Al would leave me my half in his will, but he didn’t.”

“No.”

He tuts loudly. “You know he didn’t, Faith. He left it to you.”

I almost drop the phone. For a long moment I have no words. I just stand and stare at Eli’s closed front door. “I didn’t know.” My words are a whisper.

“Of course you didn’t. It’s mine, Faith. I’ve put my life into that shop and I can’t be written out of it.”

“I know nothing about this. Speak to Dan.”

“I would.” His tone is accusatory, like I should know what he’s saying. “But no one has seen him.”

What is he talking about? I spoke to him just the other week... the other week, Faith! Wake up!

“I know nothing.” I almost add that I’m sorry, but I stop myself. I have nothing to be sorry about.

“Looks like you’ve landed with your feet in the butter, hey, Faithy? You and those Faircloughs. I wonder what they would say if they knew your history.”

“What?” Is he for real? “Are you threatening me?” I drag in a lungful of air. “Eli knows everything about me, there is nothing you can tell him.”

“You look after yourself, Faithy, just like your mother.”

Whoa. I gasp and my hands shake, the keys clattering onto the pathway. “You never talk about her.”