Scars of Silk: A Tears of Ink - Novel Page 7

  Yo, blow to the stomach.

  “Is he worth being set up with?” I take a sip of my own coffee. I kid you not, it’s as perfect as the bacon roll.

  “Hell no.”

  “So why are you going?”

  She shakes her head slowly, a small smile lifting her lips, but I catch the bitter hardness in her gaze no matter how much she tries to hide it. “It’s not that easy.”

  “So you’ve got to go and have dinner with this guy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what?”

  She shrugs. “I’ll probably agree to go for a drink with him in front of my parents.”

  “And will you go on the drink with him?”

  Another shrug. “Maybe. Probably not.”

  “It seems a lot of effort to go all the way to London. Why don’t you stay here, and we can start looking into the list of names I gave you? Someone will have some dirt on that evil bastard who hurt Faith.”

  Sienna’s smile is genuine this time. “I’m sure someone does, but it can wait until tomorrow. Are you ready?”

  I shift uncomfortably, not even sure why I’m awkward considering she’s the uninvited guest in my house. “Uh, I rang girl I know. She’s going to come around and sit with me.” The room becomes unbearably hot. Reaching past her, I open the window, sure I see her stiffen as I lift my arm over her head. “I’m just opening the window.”

  She steps away. “Sure. Right.” She grabs her keys and bag off the counter.

  “I mean, I can come with you, I guess. I just didn’t want to be in the way.”

  Sienna holds her hand up. “No, it’s fine.” She walks for the door and then stops. “I’m going to be honest with you here, because I feel you deserve it.”

  “What?” The skin prickles at the back of my neck.

  “It didn’t take me long to find your underground fight club. Turns out they weren’t that underground at all.”

  “Sienna—”

  She holds up a hand to cut me off. “I got a call put in to the local police. They’ve been shut down.”

  I literally feel the blood drain from my face. “What the fuck?! You can’t do that. Jesus, you don’t know what these people are like. If they find out it was you or me? There’s a pier just down the road that makes an excellent drop-off point.” I grab at my hair, pulling it hard with my fingers. “Fuck, you had no right.”

  “No? Maybe. But I did what I thought I should do.” She stares at me long and hard, those eyes of hers sweeping over my face, reading my reaction.

  “Get out. And don’t bother coming back. Go find a hotel and stay there while you work.”

  She shuts the door without another word and my stomach crashes to my feet. Fuck, if Vinny finds out this was to do with me, I’m a dead man walking.

  But isn’t that what I wanted? Isn’t that why I’ve been getting in that ring, anyway?

  So why the fuck is it the worst news I’ve had in a while? I listen to the sound of Sienna’s car starting outside. Why does her leaving seem worse? Why do I even care? She’s no one, just a casual shag? Just a onetime shag. I need to forget about her.

  Fuck.

  Fuck it to everything.

  Eight

  Sienna

  Scott Harrington… As I pull the car up alongside my parents Surrey home, I try to remember what little facts I can about him. High achiever, but not naturally. He always had that air of desperation around him.

  I don’t remember him being natural about anything. He kissed me once, but the less I thought about that night the better.

  I shut the door on the Mercedes, staring at it balefully. It’s fair to say I’d do anything to jump back in and drive as fast as I could anywhere. In the moment, I’d be tempted by a Thelma and Louise dive off a cliff.

  I knock on the door, although I have my own emergency key hanging on my keyring.

  The door opens and I smile up at my mother. She’s immaculate in a pale-blue silk shirt and cream skirt, her feet wedged into cream court shoes. “Darling, I’m so glad you’re on time.” Her gaze skims over my black blouse, pencil skirt and knee-high boots and I know she’s assessing whether my outfit will meet my father's standards.

  I smile and lean in to kiss her on the cheek, careful not to disturb her make-up. “Am I ever late?”

  She titters a laugh and loops her hand through my arm. “Never. You’re a good girl. It’s why your daddy loves you so much.”

  I hold in a groan at the fact she still insists on calling him “daddy” for me. It’s been about a million years since I last called him that. But I don’t say anything.

  “He loves me because I come to dinner every week and he likes to hear all the gossip I can give him.”

  She nods and smiles, but the stretch of her lips is the same as it always is—just a fraction too tight. “Thank you for rescheduling this week.” Her tone lowers. “And for today. I know you hate this.”

  “It’s okay.” I squeeze her arm tighter to my tummy. “You know I always will."

  She sweeps a gaze over my face and I hate the window of desolation and loneliness I see in the depths of her eyes. They remind me a little of Dan’s. I spent my whole drive up the motorway trying not to think about him. He had another woman to call, and that’s okay with me. Of course, it is… he’s too young for me, not the right type of guy for me. And he reminds me of someone who hurt me. Maybe I shouldn’t go back. I definitely shouldn’t go back. As soon as dinner is over, I’ll ring a hotel and book a room.

  “You look lovely, Sienna.” Mum leads me into the kitchen where Greta the cook is stirring a saucepan at the hob.

  “Thank you. You should have seen what I had on earlier.” I chuckle a little but don’t elaborate. What would be the point?

  “Scott and Daddy are in the drawing room.”

  Just shoot me. Someone.

  “How is Scott?”

  “Lovely, what a handsome man. I know he’s keen to work with your father on an investment. I’m sure you will both have plenty of time to spend together.”

  “Marvellous. Shall we go through?” I watch and bite my lip as mum straightens herself up and puts on a tight smile.

  “Yes, let's. How lovely. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

  I cast her a side eye. Sometimes, I want to shake the woman. Want to wake her up, tell her there are other things out there. Other paths, other futures, and that they are all ours for the taking. But I don’t. My thoughts travel to hard muscles and tattoos. My body warms, tingling its way down into my underwear.

  Jeez. The last thing I need is to walk in there all flustered and repressed and give Scott the wrong idea. As mum pulls on the handle of the sitting room and I can hear my father's booming laughter from the other side of the door, I pull myself together—it’s all I can do. It’s what Richards do.

  I need to not think about the Dan from last week when he was in between my legs and filling me up with every dark craving I have. Instead I need to remember him being an arsehole this morning. And then I need to goddamn forget about him. For good.

  “Hi,” I say, smiling bright, as I step up to my father and kiss him on his cheek. He rises to meet me and pulls me into a hug.

  “Good drive up?” He knows I’m still in Brighton. Where does he get his information?

  “Yes, I’m glad to get back up here. It’s nice being in my home again and not in hotels.” Oh, the lies.

  I turn to the fair-haired man at Dad’s side. He has changed little. He’s still slimy looking, but his flesh has rounded—too much. Soft wrinkles etch across his skin, and he is wearing a truly awful outfit.

  Now this is the Scott Harrington I remember.

  When we were at Uni, and while most of us—especially those of us who were just as likely be papped as called to a lecturer's office—tried to fit in, Scott always paraded around like he was about to tee off and play eighteen holes. The guy is a prize dick.

  “Sienna, so wonderful to see you again after all these years.” He
leans in and kisses my cheek. His aftershave is excessive and strong and there’s a tingle of whisky in the air, so I assume he and dad have had a pre-dinner drink or two.

  “Wonderful, wonderful, how fabulous to see you.” I say what my dad wants to hear and smile at Scott, although my fingers twitch with the need to stab my eyes out.

  On closer inspection, he has changed. His skin has mottled, red almost in places, despite the fact he must only be thirty-ish. He’s a banker though, and they all like to drink too much. Work hard, drink hard. It’s the bankers code. That and be a wanker.

  Now that would have made Dan laugh…

  Bloody, fuck. Stop it!

  “I hear you are working for old Fairclough?” Scott takes my arm, claiming me as his own already. Dad is oblivious as I glare at him, his smile wide, almost clapping Scott on the back in a congratulatory—she hasn’t punched you yet way—as he moves towards the decanters on the sideboard and pours me a sherry without even asking me what I want. I take the glass, but then put it back down again without taking a sip. He doesn’t even notice.

  “I do occasional work for Elijah.” I smile.

  “And you never became a lawyer yourself?”

  And here it is…

  “No, I never felt the need,” I reply, making sure my smile is a small as humanly possible. Dad walks up and puts a heavy arm around my shoulders.

  “She’s never quite utilised her full potential. She needs a good man to show her the way.”

  Where is a bucket for me to puke in?

  I’m going to kill him.

  Mother’s face is frozen into a masked smile while Scott looks at me like he hasn’t eaten since I last saw him a decade ago; although clearly he has, because his spread around the middle of his buttoned shirt is considerable.

  “I don’t know about that, Dad. I’m pretty happy making my own way.”

  “Ah, but look, you could be as happy as your mother.”

  Is he taking the piss? I cast a glance sideways at him, but he seems pretty serious. This is what he does though. It’s all a pretence. Everything about the Richards family is a pretence, a lie, so no one can see how fucked up we all are.

  I open my mouth to tell him just so when mother’s voice interrupts. “Dinner is ready. Shall we step through to the dining room?”

  “Wonderful!” Dad claps his hands together. “Isn’t this just excellent that you two old friends have time to reconnect?”

  “Mm.” I glance over at Scott who is nodding and smiling widely. Clearly, he has forgotten that we’ve never been friends at all.

  “That was amazing, Mrs Richards, thank you so much.”

  Mother nods like she cooked the meal herself. “Thank you, Scott, and please call me Elizabeth.” She’s told him this, many times already but he’s determined to play the “charming” card.

  He can charm right off.

  “It’s been lovely to see you again. I can’t believe it’s been all these years since graduation.”

  I try my best not to roll my eyes. If this guy has the nerve to ask me out on a date in front of my parents and put me in that situation I dread so much, I will punch him in the nuts.

  The guy is an alcoholic. It’s obvious. He’s drunk three glasses of wine to my parents one and my zero, and on closer inspection, I noticed Dad was holding a glass of sherry as we moved into the dining room, not a whisky tumbler, so he didn’t drink the amber nectar here.

  Now father has mentioned port, and the guy is almost salivating. Yes, he’s an excellent husband choice, just show me the dotted line and I’ll sign away.

  “Ten years goes quick when we are all busy,” I mumble under my father’s watchful gaze. Mum is folding and refolding her napkin.

  “So where is William? I was expecting to see your younger brother today, Sienna? What a scamp he was when he used to come and visit.”

  A pin could drop.

  I watch mum’s expression as the colour drains from her face.

  “He’s...” Dad opens his mouth, his eyes bulging a little. “He’s busy.”

  Busy. He’s busy?

  I clatter down my glass of water and my dad shoots me a warning look.

  “Oh, what a shame. Well maybe I'll see him next time I’m here. I’m hopeful, I’ll be back to see you all again soon and then we can catch up.”

  “Yes.” Dad nods and sips at his wine.

  I stare at Dad. My heart beating hard in my chest. Then when it’s clear he won’t clarify the situation, a wild burning rage rushes through my veins until all I can see is red.

  “He won’t be here, Scott.” I push back from the table. The room is too hot, too enclosed. Echoes of former laughter bounce off the walls, almost taunting me. “He’s very busy being dead.”

  “Sienna!” Dad’s voice blasts through all the chatter and noise in my head.

  “It’s true, Dad. How many people are you going to tell he’s busy? He’s dead. Has been for years. At some point soon you will have to acknowledge it.”

  There’s a faint sob from Mum’s end of the table. Placing my napkin on my plate, I step around to her and lean down and give her a kiss, forcing her to meet my eye. “Mum, I’m sorry. You know how sorry I am, but I can’t stay here and put up with this, not anymore.”

  “Sienna,” she pleads under her breath. “Please don’t leave me, just stay, it will be okay. Don’t leave me.” Her words kill me. They slice me straight in half. But how can I live like this; with no air?

  I glance up at the red face of my father. No, it won’t be okay, but I can’t stay to watch the fallout.

  Can’t be here, pretending and lying. Showing everyone that everything is fine when there isn’t a single thing that is.

  “I’m sorry, Mum. Call me, please, call me. Call when you need me, and I promise I’ll come and get you.”

  Straightening up, I turn for the door. I don’t look at my dad or Scott Harrington, who is as thick as he is drunk. Didn’t he notice the lack of photographs? The fact no one mentioned Will's name?

  “Sienna! Sit down right this instant!” Dad’s voice calls after me like I’m a child, teasing half-buried memories to the surface. That’s all this once family home now is, a museum for forgotten memories and things that used to be.

  I don’t stop. I don’t turn. I need to get out of this house and away from all the ghosts and lies it holds. My feet can’t carry me fast enough to the Mercedes, which I start with shaking fingers.

  If I didn’t have to, I’d never go back.

  The damn tears just keep on falling. Falling, falling, without end and with no rest. On the sofa in my flat I stretch out reaching for another tissue, but I’m not quick enough and more tears drench my face until my skin is stinging and raw.

  Without thinking, I pick up my phone. There’s a text from an unknown number.

  Sorry about dinner. I hope I still get to see you again. I think we could be good together. Scott. x

  For fuck's sake! Is he insane?

  More tears.

  Endless. Bastard. Tears.

  William Richards, I glare at the ceiling. I won’t ever forgive you for the mess you’ve made. Without really thinking, I grab my phone and dial Eli.

  “Hey.” His voice is tight.

  “I’m ringing for moral support, but you sound like you need it more than me.” I dash my hand at yet more bloody tears.

  “Jesus, Si. What’s going on?”

  “Dad.” I only need to say that one word. Elijah sighs and I remember why we’ve been friends since the day we met.

  “Will?”

  “Yea—” My answer strangles off mid word.

  There’s a stretch of silence, but this is what Eli does; he’s just there. He doesn’t fill the empty with useless words that can’t change anything. He just stays there.

  “How’s Faith?” I ask once I’ve got myself together within the depths of our unspoken conversation.

  “I’m still at the mews.”

  It’s my turn to let out a deep breath. �
�Elijah, come on.”

  “Don’t, Si, this isn’t easy for me.”

  “Then go home. Jeez, she must be beside herself.”

  Another deep pool of wordless space bubbles between us.

  “I’m pretty upset too. She kept a huge secret from me, but it’s not even that I’m upset about. It’s what the secret was about. I’m just hurt she couldn’t trust me.”

  “Eli, you and I both can see the damage that Faith hides.”

  “Yeah.” He pauses and I wait. “She came here, stood on the doorstep and told me she would fight and that she was getting help.”

  “That’s good though, isn’t it?”

  “What if she gets help and then decides this isn’t right for her now? What if she thinks she’s better alone?”

  “She loves you, and she’s having your baby. I don’t think she will think that.”

  “She didn’t want the baby.” His words are a whisper and I strain to hear them. My tears have stopped, but the aching in my chest seems to be deepening by the moment. “She never said, but I knew it. I just didn’t know why. Now I do and I’m damn near petrified of what it’s going to do to her.”

  “Is this what Dan was so cut up by?”

  “What are you talking about him for?” He bristles a little.

  “Oh get over it, Eli. Just get over it, for the sake of you and Faith.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Why?”

  “Remember in the summer when I said I was engaged to you?”

  “Yes. I remember picking up the glass afterwards.”

  “She slept with him.”

  Ooh. That’s a blow. My stomach twists, but I ignore it.

  “Because they were friends.” I think of ways to make it sound better. “He’s a comfort to her.”

  “You’re my friend too, but I don’t fuck you every time I get cross or upset.”

  “Whoa, Mr Fairclough, you keep that language locked up. And also, she wasn’t cross or upset. We devastated her. You broke her into more pieces than she smashed that glass heart into. So that’s on you.”

  He’s silent, but I hit it home, anyway. “That is on you, Eli. If Dan knows everything about her, it’s because he’s been there with her through it all. But now time has moved on. Now YOU should be there with her. But you aren’t. You’re being a dick.”