Page 129 of Tears of Glass

But tomorrow I will fight.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The train on the way back is quiet. No one heads back to London on a Sunday lunchtime, people are the other side of the tracks heading for a day at the autumnal seaside. I’m not envious of them though. I don’t know when I’ll next go back there. Too many bad memories, too many horrific ties tethering me with red hot threads to a past that won’t let me go.

My statement with the police took two hours. It wasn’t easy. I’m going to get a call in a couple of days with a liaison officer who will be my contact through everything. They are going to be talking to my dad, Dan, Abi. Everyone who was around. And they’ll be talking to Aiden. As I left, they were getting ready to arrest him for historical child abuse.

He will go down. I know that now. But I won’t let myself go down with him.

Not anymore.

Picking my phone out of the depths of the bag Abi leant me, I ring Tabitha and ask her to find out where Eli is. I know he won’t answer me.

She’s restrained and distant and I hate the fact I’ve hurt her, too. And Peter who gave up his day to help me prepare and then I just threw it all back in his face.

Tabitha texts me back just as I’m getting into London Bridge and I stare at the screen in confusion.

He’s at the Tate Modern.

What the hell is he doing there? Instead of jumping on the Tube and heading back to his house and falling on his doorstep and begging for forgiveness, I come out of London Bridge and cut through a busy Borough Market heading to Bankside. There are families strolling with prams and toddlers on reins. Friends and families gather at the cafes near the river, laughing and talking over hot drinks and pastries. All the things I’ve never had. All the normal I never allowed myself to have.

I’ve got to tell Elijah. I have to make him see that I know I’m better with him. When I’m not with him I lose my mind. It’s only him who gives me the strength.

I jog at a gentle pace, eternally grateful for the jeans, hoodie, and trainers Abi leant me. There isn’t much to be done for the giant black eye, and I’m getting some indiscreet stares, but I don’t care. Eli must look worse and that’s all on me.

This is all on me. I know that now.

I look for Stephen when I run under the bridge, but I can’t see him anywhere, and it’s not because I’m running so fast I can’t focus. I’m limping by this point.

Outside the Tate Modern, I catch my breath. I’m sweating despite the cool air. It’s a huge building and he could be anywhere. So I do what any sane woman not on the brink of a breakdown would do. I take one floor at a time seeking out that tall man with the broad shoulders and the dazzling eyes.

I find him eventually stood with his back to the door and I stop, my feet suddenly losing their purpose. I gasp and the sound echoes into the room, shuddering round us. A fresh sting of tears line my eyes, but I blink them away. I’m not here to cry—not yet anyway.

I clear my throat, but he doesn’t turn. “What are you doing here, Faith?”

“Finding you.”

I want him to turn around, but I’m scared of what his face looks like, what story his eyes will tell. I step closer, but my legs are like jelly and I’ve got nothing to hold onto. Just him. The island I need to battle through the storm to reach.

“Why are you finding me, Faith?” He turns slowly, and I catch the first glimpse of his face. I can’t hold in my gasp; my fingers lift to my mouth as it opens in shock. He’s black and blue, and all the shades in between. Wearing just a casual grey T-shirt and dark jeans with a dark grey jacket unbuttoned, he looks like he should be in a hospital, not standing in a museum.

“You shouldn’t be here, Eli, you’re hurt.” I reach for his face, but he pulls away.

“Faith. No.”

His words slam into my chest and I force myself to breathe around them. Hold it together, Faith. You can do this.

I don’t know if I can. My legs wobble and an incontrollable shake wracks through my whole body. The blues from under bruised and puffy lids sweep over me, but he doesn’t step forward to help me with the supporting hand I’ve become accustomed to.

“I went to the police, Elijah. I told them everything.”

There’s a flicker with the depth of blues but he doesn’t move and nor does he say anything.

I drag in a staggering breath. My throat is tight and sore, and I swallow around the obstruction.

I pull on the hem of the hoodie and lift it off my torso, pulling it over my head.

“Faith, for goodness’ sake, there are people everywhere.”