Page 15 of Tears of Gold

“So where was he the rest of the time?”

She nods at the note. “With Jeremy… his husband.”

I think Eli is going to fall. He wobbles, unstable, like a ship about to keel in a turbulent wind. “His husband?” His voice is low. Dangerous.

A tear slips down Miss Beesley’s cheek. “I called him and told him the news.”

Eli and I both stare at the brief letter while Miss Beesley’s quiet sobs fill the air. Peter has a husband? A flat in Battersea? I watch as Eli’s face contorts into an excruciating mask of pain. Peter had a whole life that no one, not even his brother knew about.

Five

The Land Rover idles on the small street and we both stare at the grey-bricked suburban semi. “I don’t think I can do this, Faith.” Eli’s voice is low. I reach for his hand and squeeze it tight.

“I know. But how can you not? Eli, this is messed up. So messed up.”

“I can’t believe he kept something this big from—” He cuts off his own words.

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Not as sorry as me. I thought we were more than brothers. Comrades rather, in the obscurity of the life in which we had to live. But it turns out while I was toeing the line, battling to try to keep everyone happy and safe, Peter was living a life here. A life away from me.”

I turn to face him, lifting my hand to run it through his short hair. “You know the Faircloughs wouldn’t allow him to have a husband, or to be openly gay.”

When Eli’s eyes meet mine, they steal my air. Dark and swirling with distrust. They look the way they did the other night on the pier when he walked away from me. When he reached the limit he could take with me. “So that means he thought I was a Fairclough through and through. He didn’t trust me, either.”

“We can’t sit here all night. We’ve got to get back to Tabitha. I’m going in, are you coming?”

Eli’s hand tightens on the steering wheel. “I don’t know.”

Shaking my head, I turn for the door. He’s in shock. Everything he knows is slipping out from under him. He must feel like I did when my life disintegrated the day my dad didn’t believe my claims of abuse. It was like the universe vanished from around me. It left only space and unfamiliar territory everywhere I looked.

I turn back as I push on the door. “Maybe it’s time to decide what sort of Fairclough you want to be.” I slip out of the car without looking back and make my way up the path, to ring the buzzer for Flat One.

“Hello?” Even from the behind the static of the security system I can hear a broken depth to the answering voice.

“Hi. My name is Faith Hitchin. I was,” I hesitate, “I was a friend of Peter’s. I am a friend of Peter’s.” I correct myself at the last moment. My heart is pounding in my chest. I’m almost sure reality has taken a vacation.

Nothing else is said but the door clicks and I’m able to push it open. As I do, I glance at the gold and diamonds on my left hand. Champagne and shouting from rooftops feels a long way away. I’m about to walk through when the air moves next to me and Eli’s arm brushes mine. I turn and smile. I know exactly what sort of Fairclough he is, even if he doesn’t himself.

The old Victorian house has been converted into flats and the first one, Peter’s, is on the ground floor behind a shiny, black wooden door. My fingers tangle in Eli’s and I don’t know who is squeezing one another harder.

I have zero expectations of who might be the other side of the door. I hardly knew Peter, but my lasting memory will be of him in a navy three-piece, flashing gold cufflinks. So when a guy in a grey tracksuit, with skin the colour of milk chocolate and curly, short black hair opens the door… Well. Eli and I freeze like statues.

Actually, on closer inspection they aren’t tracksuit pants, but pyjamas. The guy pushes his rectangular glasses back up his nose. “Jeremy?” I ask.

The guy’s eyes are red and swollen and I could almost blink myself and remember all too keenly how much they would hurt. He watches at Elijah, but he doesn’t say anything. His body hangs defeated like he no longer has the energy to stand.

“I’m Faith.” I fill the awkward gap. Jeremy, the guy with the chocolate skin and inky hair nods blankly.

“Jeremy?” Elijah’s low voice pulls in my stomach. I want to hide, want to dive under a cushion and cut myself off from the horrific emotions zapping through the air. “I’m Elijah.”

Jeremy seems to pull himself together. “I know who you are.”

I think for a horrible moment he’s going to turn us away, that we will leave never knowing the truth, but he pushes open the door and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Come in. It’s a mess.” Jeremy makes room for us to pass him into the small hallway. “I would apologise, but…” He tails off, his words cracking like a fine pane of glass.

“I’m sorry to turn up unannounced,” Eli says. He walks in and stares about the place; it’s like he fills the entire room. How on earth did Peter, who was broader than Elijah, even fit in?