Page 64 of Tears of Gold

“Your calendar?”

“Yes, there is a family automated one.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought you weren’t doing Fairclough family… what was it you called it the other day… Fairclough Family shit. That was it.”

I snort. “That’s true. I did say that.”

“Want me to come?”

“Do you want to come?”

“With you, frequently, but I can manage dinner I guess.”

“Elijah!” I giggle, uncaring of the people passing by who stop to look at the woman laughing in the middle of the street. “What’s it about?”

“Who knows? Just a bunch of old farts who mother is probably trying to get money out of to fund the foundation.”

“You aren’t selling it.”

“Keeping it real, Faith. I’m just keeping it real.”

“So is this what being a Fairclough is going to be like? Lots of meals with boring people.”

“You can’t backtrack, you’ve already said yes. It’s written in stone now.”

I grin, stupidly. “I’m not backtracking. I’ve got to go, I’m at the flat.” I hesitate. “Any news on the jury?”

“No.” His tone clips a little. He thinks he’s failed Melanie and I hate the way it’s eating away at him.

“Listen.” I want to cheer him up. “I’ve got something to show you when you get home.”

“Does it involve being naked?”

“Eli! That does it, I’m hanging up now.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”

I sigh deeply and use my long abandoned flat key to open the external doors to my little apartment block. As I walk the stairs, I glance at the keys in my hand. Dan’s is still on there. On an impulse I unhook it and then chuck it to the bottom of my leather tote. I doubt I will be using that key anytime soon, or maybe ever.

I knock on the door and Tabitha calls out to let myself in. She’s in the kitchen as I walk through.

“You know it’s your flat, you can just let yourself in.”

“Well I don’t know what you’ll be up to. I think I’ll knock.”

“I’m not going to be up to anything am I? I don’t have a boyfriend anymore and I spend my time here watching telly or at work watching lots of girls my age spending all their money on cheaply made clothes.

So she’s in a good mood. Excellent.

“Have you spoken to Lewis?” I ask. She hands me a cup of coffee and I wait for it to make me sick, pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t.

This pregnancy malarkey is easy. I don’t know what I was so worried about.

Tabs' face turns red and then she bursts into tears. “No, he won’t talk to me.”