Page 26 of Tears of Gold

Goddamn fucking bitch.

“I’ve managed without for all these years.”

“Ah, but soon you will have a family of your own, and you will need parental support, and us Faircloughs will be there for you. After all you have no one to support you, do you?”

Damn. This woman. How did Eli survive this?

“I don’t think we need to worry about that any time soon.

“Well, got to dash. Let me know if you need any help with your interior decorating; I know all the best contacts.”

“No need. We shall decorate ourselves.”

She snorts daintily. “Oh, Faith, how naïve you are. Eli doesn’t have the time for such things. And nor would he want to.”

“I have to go.” If I was the Hulk, I’d be crushing my phone right now before running to Hampshire, laying waste to the countryside and shoving it up her arse.

“Toodle-pip, darling.”

I hate her.

Hanging up the phone, it's the only thought I have. I hate her.

Shit, if she thinks she’s going to beat me… Not now and not bloody ever.

On my way along the river to the Tate Modern I call Dan. I’m not expecting him to answer, but it’s worth a try.

He doesn’t answer and I throw my phone back in my bag, my stomach twisting into knots.

Despite the cool October weather and the soggy pavements with grey skies overhead, Bankside is still packed with tourists. I elbow my way through to the large entrance of the gallery. I haven’t prepared for this meeting. That was my plan for my morning coffee. I didn’t realise I was going to be moving house instead of creating a spider graph.

Gerard is waiting, his brown brogues tapping impatiently. “Bloody hell, Faith. Are you ever on time for anything?”

I shoot him a killer glare. “Some of us have to move house first thing on a Monday morning.”

“Wha—” he starts to ask, but then his expression clears. “Faircloughs.” His expression says it all.

“Bastards. They are determined to make me run.”

“You’re still here.” He arches an eyebrow.

“Yep. Still here.”

“How was Elijah this morning? It's Lewis’ mother's trial today isn’t it?”

For a moment I hesitate. I’m not used to this; everyone knowing everything, but then I’ve never let this many people into my life before. You can’t have secrets and walls when you are welcoming the world in. Isn’t that what Al was always telling me?

“He was okay. Confident I think.” My early morning coffee just this morning seems a long time ago. I’ve been moving house since then.

Gerard and I both smile as we walk towards Miriam Lancaster, the head of acquisitions at the Tate. I know she’s keeping a keen eye on how the project is developing.

Except it’s not developing. I’ve done nothing. Life hasn’t even given me a chance to breathe, let alone think of how we can turn the Bowsley art experiment into a viable media platformed event. Hell, I don’t even know if anyone would want to watch a programme about art anyway. Don’t people catch Dragons' Den, or The Apprentice… shows where there is actually something to lose at the end of it, or something to gain. Sure, the winner of Art Off, or whatever we call it, will an all-expenses paid art degree, but who gives a shit about that? The public won’t.

“Faith, so glad you could make it. I know you’ve had some deeply distressing family events the last few weeks.” I shake Miriam’s hand firmly.

“It’s been interesting. I hope it hasn’t put us behind.”

She waves her hand and then gestures down to one of the elevators. “Not at all. Angela and her team have been busy building the set.”