Page 51 of Tears of Gold

My head couldn’t be further from my studies, or art in general.

“You don’t look excited.”

I shrug my shoulders. “The last few weeks have been crazy. I’m ashamed to say it but I’m not connected to my work at the moment.”

“And you’ve got the TV show coming up.” She nods and my stomach sinks.

Bloody hell, I haven’t even thought about that. How can I do that if I’m having a baby? How can I do anything if I’m having a baby? “Yeah, it seems unreal.” I pop another biscuit in my mouth just to stop myself from saying anything else, and also because they are the nicest thing I’ve eaten in a fair while. “Thanks, these are perfect,” I say once I’ve finished and just to change the subject from my disappearing desire to create.

“Ginger is good for you.” She nods firmly. “Have you got ten minutes to look at something with me?”

“Sure.” I swallow down my tea, which is also perfect and soothes my tangled stomach, and I push back from the table.

I follow her all the way up to the third floor of the town house. It’s a long way up and I’m surprised I haven’t got a nosebleed by the time we’re standing outside a pine door. “This hasn’t been used in years, but maybe it might help you?” She pushes open the door and leads me in. The air is warm, I guess from the hot air rising through the rest of the house. The room is bright with bare floorboards and a faded chaise longue sits in a pale square of light coming through a ceiling window. There are some music stands and odds and ends, but the room is lovely. Small but bright and warm. Welcoming.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Well…” She frowns at the dust swirling around. “I think once it was a playroom and then maybe at another time it was used as a musical practice room.”

“So the children and the noise makers were sent to the attic?”

Her lips quirk. “Just because that’s the way it was, doesn’t mean it’s the way it should be.” Her eyes flicker over me and I can read what she’s implying. I can make this situation I’ve found myself in anything I want. I don’t need to run scared.

There’s a baby in my tummy.

There is no other rational thought than that.

“So you’re thinking this could be a studio?”

“It could be anything, I guess. It’s just here. And don’t you artists always talk about the light?”

I glance up at the sloped ceiling with sky lights cut into it at regular intervals. The light is good, she’s not wrong.

“I think we’ve probably got enough on our plate at the moment.”

She shrugs, noncommittally. “True. But I guess the space is here if you need room for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

Her smile as it spreads across her face is enigmatic and I like her more and more by the moment. “Not everything has to be Fairclough.”

“I’ve got to get to class.” I turn for the door of the warm, bright room.

“You need to take it easy.”

She’s acknowledging the thing that I can’t.

I just can’t.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back. Have you got any questions for the day, anything you need me to do?” I still have no idea how this housekeeper thing works.

“No, not at all. You go and do what you need to do. I’ll make sure there are some meals in the fridge you can reheat later for yourself and Mr Fairclough.”

“Eli,” I remind her.

“Yes. The two of you; you know, in case you don’t feel like cooking.”

I nod, but it feels awkward and formal. “Thanks.”