Scars of Silk: A Tears of Ink - Novel Page 3

  Instead of heading straight to Dad’s bathroom and taking some more of the pills he was given when cancer ate him from the inside out, I head to the stairs. Possibly I’m searching for more signs that my overnight visitor the other evening hadn’t been a vision of fiction my brain conjured up after too many whiskies and painkillers. On my way down the stairs I glance in the large mirror. I can’t remember the last time I even looked at myself. Shit, it’s bad, although the bruises are fading.

  I go for a slash and as I wash my hands, I take another look at myself in the mirror. Fuck, I took a beating. I thought the pain would help, but I took it too far. Peering a bit closer at my face, I glance at the whites of my eyes. I look like a drank a bottle of Jack Daniels. Not bad for a screw with a stranger. I need to ring Vinny. I can’t take that beating again. It won’t be pills and booze that will be my end if I do that again.

  Strangely, I don’t feel the need to take anything right now. The muscles in my body, normally so tight and coiled, are relaxed and soft.

  Back in my room, I pull on some jogging bottoms and grab my phone. There’s a spring in my step today. I could almost want to do something. Maybe.

  I dial Vinny as I jog down the stairs. “Yo, brother,” I greet as he answers.

  “It’s nine in the morning. This better be good.” His voice is gruff with sleep and not for the first time I recognise the fact that not everyone else is on the same time schedule as me. I guess the early starts with Dad haven’t managed to dislodge themselves from my body clock.

  “Just checking in for Friday.” I bounce on my toes, shifting my weight from one foot to another and lean down to flick the kettle on, my eyes landing on a piece of paper.

  This herein certifies you are within the ink sexy line.

  I grin, not focusing on what Vinny is spouting. It’s not a number, but I probably wouldn’t have dialled it anyway. Damn right I’m within the sexy line. I think I proved my point the other night. Hell knows the last time that woman got laid. Maybe His Lordship wasn’t servicing her after all.

  “Friday, yeah, mate.” I grab a mug and spoon some coffee into it. “Am I still against Rogers?”

  “Yeah, Rogers, but last week was such a hit we’ve asked Paul if he’ll come back.”

  My hand stills on the work surface. “Paul almost killed me.”

  There’s a pause. “Rumour has it, Danny, that you nearly did that yourself.”

  A cold shiver runs over my skin and I watch, mesmerised as goose bumps pucker my flesh. “Nah, mate. Just an accident with some pain relief.”

  “You don’t have to take this week if you aren’t ready.”

  I hesitate, just for two seconds. One. Two. “Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s just a fight. What else have I got to do?” My forced light tone doesn’t allow the echo of my words to reverberate down the call the way they are in the kitchen. What else have I got to do?

  “Okay. Be here ten sharp.”

  “Sure, sure.” I hang up and finish stirring my coffee. With my mug in my hand, I pad back to the lounge and sit on the sofa Faith and I had sex on. It had crossed my mind whether I should take that Sienna chick on there. Maybe it would have erased Faith, but in the last moment I’d walked her upstairs instead.

  Picking up the TV remote, I click the set on. Briefly, I turn to Dad’s chair and raise my mug in a half salute. “Another day of nothing.” I cheer the air. This is good. Look at me: no money worries, no need to work, all the time to kill while I wait for Friday. Dad worked himself to the bone. He was doing what he loved, but it was still hard work. At last I’m winning on some things.

  I don’t have to ink anyone’s skin again. Not if I don’t want to.

  Sipping my coffee, I sigh deeply and settle back on the sofa. This is perfect.

  I knock on the door and wait for the usual shouting to sound from the other side. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” a voice I know nearly as well as my own calls from the other side. I grin as I hear what sounds like a tripping sound followed by a loud curse but manage to wipe it off my face before I open the door and I get punched in the face.

  The door throws back and I wait.

  “Well, lookie what the cat dragged back.” Abi folds her hands over her chest. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “In London with Faith. Remember she dragged me up there?”

  “Bullshit. She said you left two days ago. I’ve been waiting for the morgue to call me to come and identify you.” She scowls fiercely but I can see her bottom lip tighten the way it does when she’s reining in tears.

  “I’m sorry.” I hold my hands out wide. “Can I come in and apologise?”

  A tear drops from her eyelashes.

  “Shit, Abi, don’t bloody cry. I’m sorry, okay? I know I was an idiot. It was an accident.”

  “Fuck off, Dan. Don’t insult me. Now you can come in, but you are an uncle to Charlotte and Roger. If you are going to hurt them, take yourself away from them, or I’ll turn you away. Don’t you dare ever threaten to leave us again.”

  For a moment I have nothing to say. I swallow hard, trying to get my mouth to work. “I’m sorry.” My words are tight.

  “Come here.” She pulls me in, grabbing my hand. I step up over the threshold and her little arms wrap around my waist. She’s tiny, barely coming up to my chest, but she packs a powerful punch as I’ve discovered over the years. She shudders as she squeezes me tight. After a moment she pushes me away. “You arsehole. Now, get in here and get talking.”

  “Abs. There isn’t anything to talk about.”

  She gives me the no shit stare she’s perfected over the years. For one aching moment I wish we could rewind time. Wish it could be the three of us again; me, her, and Faith, the sun on our skin, the wind blowing our hair as we stand on the beach and scream with the seagulls. Wish we could laugh like we used to, open and free with nothing to hide.

  Three best friends tied together on the streets of Brighton’s back streets.

  We can’t though. It’s all gone.

  Faith has gone and got herself knocked up. Abi is married, with children to be responsible for. I think back to Faith and how I slammed away from her the other day. The slam of her front door echoes in my head. I shouldn’t have said those things.

  I turn and walk before her into the house. It’s nice; neat and clean with Roger’s toys scattered all over. By the dining room table offset on one side of the room is a large princess castle. “Wow, that’s impressive.”

  “Yeah, Faith sent it for Charlotte. She’s got one at her house, but Charlotte was going mental for having one here too. She said she wanted to live with Aunty Faith because she had the best toys.”

  I roll my eyes. “She has the money to buy the best toys.”

  Abi shakes her head at me. “It’s got nothing to do with money. Don’t be a dick. She’s just being generous as she always has. So, what have you been doing with yourself since you skulked back here and didn’t tell anyone?”

  “Not much.” I sit down on the sofa stretching my legs out. “Just resting.”

  “Dan, what were you thinking? How could you do that?”

  I try not to sigh. “Which bit?”

  “How did you get the bruises?”

  “I got into a fight. It’s no big deal.” I shrug. It’s not a lie. It was a fight, a big one, with paying spectators and bouncers on the door.

  “And the overdose?”

  Jeez, she’s so direct. There is literally no messing with her.

  “Abs, it was a mistake. I was sore, I took some pills and drank too much.”

  “You took enough pills to go into a coma.”

  “I hurt a lot.” My lips crimp into a line. “It was a mistake. Can we just move on?”

  “You want me to move on from the fact that one of my best friends nearly died?”

  “Yes. Any chance?”

  “No. None.” She scowls at me, but then softens a little. “Do you want a coffee? Have you eaten? You’re looking thin.”

 
“Thin? I’m a prime specimen, you know that.”

  “Whatever you tell yourself.” She smiles, and the tension wrapped around us like a too tight chain unravels a little.

  “Thanks for cleaning the house. I really appreciate it. I’m sorry I didn’t come by earlier to say thanks.”

  “Or call? You know you have a phone? You can actually ring.”

  “And miss seeing you? Never.” I send her a wink and she groans. The upright hold she’s containing on her body starts to slump. She’s forgiving me. Believing me.

  “Why don’t you open the shop? You could advertise for someone to take the spare chair.”

  “No.” It’s my turn to scowl.

  “But it’s silly. It’s just sat there doing nothing, all paid off. You could be turning a tidy profit. Faith won’t be needing it again and you know she won’t mind if you rent out the area.”

  “Abi, come on, I’ve come all the way over here. Don’t start nagging like a harpy.”

  “A harpy! You cheeky git!”

  I chuckle and settle back on the cushions of her sofa.

  She watches me carefully while I study her. So many things are changing. Abi was the first to lead the way, getting all grown up and having kids, leaving Faith and me behind. Now Faith is there too, a ring on her finger, her belly holding a child.

  “Dan?” Abi softens her voice and reaches out to hold my hand. “Talk.”

  Her grip is firm, and I can’t pull my fingers from her grasp. “I’m not a chick. I don’t need to talk.”

  “You’re a twat, that’s what you are. Talk to me.”

  Words almost swell within me. I try to clamp them down, pushing the lid on their escape, but I’m not quick enough. “You guys have gone and got all grown up.”

  Thankfully, she lets go of my hand, and I rub at my face, pulling the skin with my fingertips. “Yeah. It’s going to happen.”

  “Yeah.” I nod but I can’t focus on anything. My eyes are blurry. Fuck.

  “And? What are you going to do about it?”

  I shrug. “What is there to do? This is my existence, isn’t it?”

  “Have you spoken to Faith? Have you apologised for what you said?”

  “No,” I snap. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

  “She’s struggling too, Dan. I can’t believe you guys kept this secret from me for so long. There have been too many secrets over the years between us all.” She peers up at me, gaze burning. “So yeah, if we have to all grow up to face them and leave them behind then that’s what we should do. You should have told me about her being pregnant, and you should have told me you slept together when she was back here in August. Seriously, Dan, what is wrong with you? You slept with her when she’s your best friend and was broken-hearted.”

  I know she’s shitting me out for what happened in August. In my mind, my memories are long past what happened during the summer just gone. They’ve slipped to years ago, when Faith was at the mercy of that bastard abuser and I didn’t know how to save her. I could see her, hear her, but I didn’t know how to reach her.

  “It was horrible,” I say, so quiet Abi has to lean forward to hear. “I’ll never be able to forget that image of her in the bath, bloody and grey. I thought she was dead. I thought that I was too late; like I’ve always thought with her. I’ve always been just one moment too late.”

  “You saved her life.” I can sense Abi’s eyes settled on me, but I can’t meet her gaze. My chest aches like a heavy punch has landed between my ribcage.

  “She’s saved mine more.”

  Ali shakes her head. “She’s still your friend. Nothing will ever change that unless you let it. She’s still Faith, and you are still Dan.”

  “What if he won’t let her be friends with me because of what happened?” I sound like a fucking girl. Someone get me a bra.

  “You think Faith will stand for that? Jeez, you are dumb sometimes.”

  “I can’t talk to her yet. She’s like a poison in my veins. I need to get free of her.”

  “You should have told her years ago how you felt. I always knew you had a thing for her. The way you looked at her even when she was ribbing you and taking the piss; but I never really thought you were actually in love with her. I guess I just thought you were a typical guy and desperate to see a pair of boobs.”

  I shrug but it’s weak and helpless and I hate it. “Blame Dad. It was him who made it into a thing. Always going on about us; how perfect we were, how solid.”

  She doesn’t say anything, and my words just roll around my head: memories, hopes, broken dreams.

  “Have you ever wondered if you actually do love her? I mean she’s a pain in the arse. Maybe you’ve just been in love with the idea of her and you’re scared of not being able to hold onto that idea anymore because it’s tied in so close with your dad. Al wouldn’t want you to be broken-hearted over a dream he put in your head with all his stupid nonsense talk.” She pauses and takes a breath. “Dan, she’s not coming back. She loves Elijah. He’s the one who can heal her. We’ve all got to move on.”

  I push myself up from the sofa, stretching and running my hands through my hair. My body has eased up a little the last couple of days. Tonight might not be a death certificate after all.

  I don’t know how I feel about that.

  “I’ve gotta go. I’ve got something on later.”

  “Stay and have lunch. I’m by myself until I get Roger from nursery.”

  “Nah.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. “I’ve only got a few hours. I’ll see you soon.” Maybe.

  I walk to the shop, jangling my keys and giving it the obligatory jiggle when I try and get the brass Yale into the lock. I keep the sign closed and just sit on my dad’s chair. When Faith came back for those couple of weeks, this place had life again. It buzzed, laughter and music bouncing from the walls.

  Silence stretches around me. Dust settles on every surface. I sigh and it breaks the silence.

  Maybe tomorrow I won’t have to worry.

  Maybe tomorrow won’t exist.

  Four

  Sienna

  A quick glance in the mirror tells me my make-up is fine, although I know the red lipstick will cause a frown. Plucking a tissue from a mirrored box on the bathroom counter, I dab at it a little. It’s still as vibrant as red plump strawberries in the height of summer, but I dull the gloss.

  Checking my clutch, I clasp it back together and then leave the restaurant’s ladies. I’d rather be anywhere but here. It’s Friday, but it’s on me. I cancelled the weekly scheduled meeting, now I’ll pay the price by wasting my Friday evening.

  Dad’s already there, sipping a whisky, scowling at a piece of paper. Excellent. The mood for the evening is set.

  “Dad.” I call his attention and pushing away the sheet of paper he stands, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. Behind us a waiter hovers, ready to help me into my chair. In this restaurant they expect you to be unable to bend your knees and pull a chair in at the same time. Multi-tasking isn’t a suitable pastime for fine dining.

  “Sienna.” His focus is on my lips, a frown creasing between his eyebrows.

  “Apologies for Wednesday; I got caught up.”

  He waves his hand and we sit, the waiter wedging the chair into the back of my legs. “It happens. You know I like our weekly catch up’s. It’s important that we know what is happening and are fully open.”

  I take a deep sip of the ice water in a tall glass by my place setting. Ooh, I’m thinking not right now. He does not want to know what I did the other day and with whom. In fact, he can never know. The consequences would be too high a price to pay.

  “Now, tell me.” He steeples his fingers. “How is work?”

  “Dad, you hate me talking about work.” I shake my head a little. Let’s call this groundhog Wednesday, albeit on a Friday.

  “I don’t hate you talking about work; I just wish you didn’t do it. There is simply no need.”

  I sigh, my shoulders dr
ooping. “And if I didn’t do it, what would we talk about? I’d be like Mum and we would sit in silence at mealtimes.”

  “Don’t be rude about your mother.”

  “Sorry.” I search for a waiter so I can order a glass of something. Anything. “I just worry. She doesn’t seem to have anything apart from me and you.”

  “She has her charities; they keep her busy. She runs the house, and that’s no small job. It’s a big estate to manage. And I don’t want her doing anything else. She’s my wife. You know that.” His eyes flash and my stomach dips a little. I nibble my lower lip to stop from saying anything more enticing, but I can’t help myself.

  “I’m sure she wakes every morning with the vitality of life.”

  “Sienna! What has got into you? I assume you have been swept up with the Faircloughs new dramas. I’ve heard from Connie how disastrous things are over their side.”

  Their side of what? I refrain from rolling my eyes. What would be the point? Connie Fairclough, Elijah’s awful grandmother, is still living in the previous century. I can’t stand the woman, although I’ve always received her nod of favour.

  Finally, a waiter makes eye contact with me and I motion him over, ordering a glass of the house champagne.

  “I don’t think it’s drama, Dad. I think Connie is losing her grip, and I will be honest and say it’s long overdue. How they’ve dealt with Peter’s death is appalling.” From under my lashes I watch my father for a reaction, but he doesn’t make one at all. Not even when I bring up the death of Elijah’s brother. That’s just how it is, uncomfortable matters aren’t discussed—ever.

  “Hmm. With that awful girl.”

  “Awful girl? Faith is talented and determined. She’s incredibly strong. She’ll be a credit for the Faircloughs.”

  “Nonsense. Elijah should have married you, as was always the plan.”

  “Your plan, Dad.” Thank God, the glass arrives and I take a deep sip. “Elijah and I don’t feel that way for each other.”