Page 20 of Tears of Glass

“Remember Angela Bartlett? I introduced you to her at the ball before you went all Godzilla and broke everything.”

I scowl, but don’t give in to his teasing. “Yep. I’m sure she was very impressed.”

There’s a beat of a pause and I wait expectantly. “She was. She’s reached out to me and wants to discuss her idea.”

I almost choke on the smoke in my lungs. “What?”

“She wants to talk. She’s keen to develop her idea for a show based on what you did at Bowsley.”

“Gerard if this is some lame attempt to get into my pants then it won’t work.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.”

I chuckle and take another drag on my cigarette, taking the time to blow the smoke in the air as I try to make sense of where this conversation is heading. “But what about the Faircloughs?” I hate the way my tummy tightens when I say their name.

“Who cares? Angela spoke to me. This is huge, Faith. Nothing like this has been done before, and they want to talk to you about it.”

Inside my chest, my heart is pounding like a steam train. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was giving you some space. I know you’re grieving.”

I relax with a long out-breath. My annoyance at him is softening. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. “Thanks.”

“It’s time to come back to London, Faith. You can’t hide away forever.”

“I don’t know.”

“Your choice, but you’d be a fool to let this opportunity slide.”

I say goodbye and hang up, his words running around my head. I would be a fool. The Faircloughs offered me the opportunity of a lifetime, the chance to open new doors. Now there’s a door swinging open in my face. Am I going to ruin that because someone broke my heart?

I stab out my cigarette and turn back for the house. I’ll think on this later. First, I’ve got pain to inflict on a member of the opposite sex.

Chapter Six

The train ride from Brighton to London is a lot less awkward than the outward journey I took a couple of weeks ago. I’m not sobbing for a start. And I’ve got some company which is always good. “How are you feeling?” I ask Tabitha.

She nods slowly but doesn’t answer. Lewis squeezes her hand. I ignore the tug of my empty heart and stare out of the window.

Leaving Dan was hard. I rest my head on the window watching the scenery whizz by and try not to focus on him.

It’s not healthy for us to be close to one another now. Not after what I let happen—but at the same time, leaving him deep in grief seems wrong.

I’ve made a right bloody mess of everything again.

The last two days though, because he’s just amazing, he’s let me take most of the clients at the shop. All the big projects so I could save up some money. I’m going to need a lot of supplies if I need to create some pieces for Whitlocks, and Bowsley won’t release my work. Screw them. I’ll just make more, it’s fine.

So Dan and I have moved around each other, largely in silence, while I worked my way through a fair amount of skin and ink.

My meeting with Channel 4 is on Friday so that will give me time to work on sketches and get an idea of how something like this could work.

Could it even work? I don’t know.

My eyes scan over Tabitha and Lewis again. Her head is resting lightly on his shoulder, and he’s holding her hand with one of his while drumming on his leg with the other. He’s a good-looking boy, and Tabitha is beautiful and elfin. Their baby would be cute.

How did I end up on the train to London in charge of two teenagers? I’m not sure when these developments started happening in my life.

Until the beginning of summer, I was always alone. I liked it that way. It was easy, simple, safe.