“Come on, Faith. I don’t know why you keep hiding from me.”

I won’t meet his eyes. “I’m not hiding.”

He chuckles and leans in for what seems like a genuine hug. “I’d never hurt you. I love you.”

My skin tingles, my faulty flight-or-fight alarm sounds loudly in my brain. “It’s not right. I know that now. You need to stay away from me before I-”

There’s a painful pause. “Before you what, Faithy? What are you going to do? You’re just as much to blame as I am, everyone would know that.” His fingers tilt my chin. “Everyone would know you begged me to, because that’s the type of girl you are. The type of girl you’ll always be.”

The alarm in my head and heart screeches like a siren. Run, Faith. Run…

I don’t. I’m frozen to the spot. The sirens screeching as my soul burns around me.

“Faith, wake up.”

I come around at once, blinking into the darkness. Elijah’s face is close, his hands on my face.

“What?”

His thumbs caress my cheeks. Even in the dark I can sense the intensity in his face and my heart which was pounding as it woke from sleep starts to speed and race.

“You were screaming; shouting in your sleep.”

I flush, thankful he can’t see it. “It’s just a bad dream, I have them all the time.”

He shakes his head and his lips kiss the tip of my nose. Such a small action makes my heart squeeze with delight. The foul memories of the past fade away. “That’s not a dream, that was a terror.”

“And what do you know about terrors?” I reach up and kiss his lips, leading the kiss with a bravery that’s easy to find in the darkness. I can’t believe he stayed, that he’s still here. More than the fact he’s still here, is the fact I’m okay with it.

“Tabitha had them as a toddler, right up until school,” he says when I release his warm lips. “I used to be in the room next to hers and hearing her scream like that used to make my blood run cold. I’d run into her room and find her just staring through me pointing at things I couldn’t see.”

I snuggle back down onto the mattress and shyly pull him down alongside me. This is all so odd, but at the same time I wouldn’t have it any other way. Elijah Fairclough is turning everything I know on its head. “It was just a dream.” I kiss him gently. “Forget about it and go back to sleep.”

“Who’s Aiden?” His question freezes my insides into sharpened icicles.

“No one.” My heart’s beating so fast. “Come, let’s sleep.”

“Still want me to stay?” His question is low and soft, and it melts the ice in my gut.

I grin, a stupid wide smile. “Yes.”

My eyelashes flutter shut and try to push the remnants of the dream away. It’s not easy and I’m floating in and out of a light sleep when a phone rings. “Al!” I launch myself from the bed. My palms slick with cold sweat as the call I’ve been dreading arrives.

Elijah catches my hand. “Faith, it’s okay. It’s my phone.” He leans over the edge of the bed and rifles in his pockets to look for his mobile. When he has it in his hand he frowns. His sleep smeared face is illuminated by the glow of the back-lit screen and I watch as he answers and mumbles a hello. My crashing nerves start to settle for a whole two seconds until he jumps from the bed, his lithe athletic frame moving with more speed and grace than I’ve ever seen. He really is beautiful, even when it’s silly o’clock in the morning and he’s jumping out of my bed.

“When did this happen?” He’s pulling on his jeans and I’m guessing that’s the end of my first ever all night snuggle.

I watch silently, sitting on the bed covered in a sheet, as he runs his hands through his hair and tugs on his trainers.

“I’m not in London but I’m leaving in five.” He pauses, and I think he’s forgotten that I’m actually there because the expression of pain that carves his face steals my breath. “Just wait, I’ll get this sorted. Don’t let him speak to anyone until I’m there. An hour most.”

An hour? Bowsley Hall is more than hour away from London.

He turns to me as he disconnects the call. “I’ve got to go.”

“Really?” My reply is tarter than I intended.

“I’m sorry, something’s come up.”

“Sure.” Something’s always coming up. This is what he does. One minute he’s here, the next he’s gone. He’s done it the entire time I’ve known him. “Want to share? Can I do anything?”

I already know his answer before he says it. “Not now.” He leans down and lifts my face, placing a tender kiss on my lips. “I know you think this is my get out, but it’s not. And if you promise to not hold a grudge all day, I’ll explain later.”

I greedily eat up his kiss despite myself. “Don’t worry, you don’t owe me anything.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t do that. Don’t make everything about you, some pity parade. I’ll be back, and I promise to talk.”

“Seriously. I said don’t worry, I hate talking anyway.”

“Then I’ll think of something else to do, but right now I need to go.” He’s still hesitating, so I make it easier for him by lying down and turning my back. I think he’s gone; the door opens and a sliver of dawn slides across the room. But then his lips are on my cheek. “Thank you for last night, Sunshine.”

Then he’s gone.

And I don’t know why he calls me “Sunshine”, because in truth it’s always been the furthest thing to what I am.

I sleep for a couple more hours and then make my way down to breakfast. It’s a full house and I groan inwardly. That last glass of wine and lack of sleep are giving me a headache I could happily live without. I grumble a hello and slouch my way to any empty chair as far away from the perfect shiny white bob of the Wicked Witch of the West. Jennings is hovering with a pot of coffee and the moment I’m in my seat he pours me a cup and bends low to speak into my ear. “I believe you like it strong.”

“Hmph.” Is my exceptionally mature reply.

He turns and goes, but is back before I’ve even taken a sip, sliding a plate of crispy bacon towards me. “Master Elijah said you’d need breakfast before the arrivals came.”

I go to push the plate away, a sour taste turning my lips down at the edges, but I am bloody hungry. I can’t even ask Jennings how Elijah managed to tell him I’d need breakfast when he left at four in the morning, but he fills in the blanks for me. “Sir called from his office and explained you’d be running today by yourself.”

The Wicked Witch of the West tuts. “I knew this would happen. We will have hapless youngsters trapping all over the Persian rugs and Elijah won’t be here to take responsibility for them.”

I glare at her as I chew a piece of bacon and swallow. “I have responsibility for them. That’s my job, what I was hired for.”

She gives a dainty snort. What is her problem with me? I’ve never said more than a few words to her, but she literally hates me on sight.

Jennifer cuts in and pulls my pointed glare away from her mother. “Faith, do you think once the afternoon session is completed we can talk about the summer ball? We need to discuss the ballroom and how you plan to display the art you are going to be producing over the next few weeks.”

I stare at her blankly because I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about. “I’m sorry, summer ball?”

“Yes, The Bowsley Ball. It is held every year in the second week of August, and this year we will be showcasing your project. Elijah hopes it will bring in backing for future events.”

“Oh, okay.” This is all news, but I can sense the shrewd gaze of the wicked witch on me and I refuse to be flustered. “Any particular theme? I could use it to guide the work I do with the kids.” I shrug. It sounds vaguely professional and like I might stand a chance of knowing what I’m talking about.

“Theme is your choice, but I will need to get invites sent out by next Monday if you could confirm by the weekend?”

“Sure. And this is held after the end of the project, so I don’t have to attend?” I nod encouragingly.

“Of course you will attend.” Jennifer frowns in confusion. “Elijah wants all the students here, and their families.” There’s a loud tut from the other side of the table. “The press will love it.” Ah, and here we have the real reason why Jennifer is so onboard.

It’s not easy to force a smile in her direction as I nod my agreement.

“And Saskia will be able to help you with your dress. The estate will cover the cost of your outfit for the event, it would be only fair.”

Oh my god. That’s it.

“I can assure you I’m more than happy to purchase my own dress.”

Jennifer waves her hand at me as if the conversation isn’t worth continuing with, but the wicked witch pipes in with, “It’s okay, Saskia is highly skilled. She will find something to cover those tattoos.”

I clatter my cup down onto the saucer, and Tabitha, who hasn’t even spoken a word, looks at me in alarm.

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” My chair almost tips again as I push back from the table.

It’s not Jennifer who speaks. It’s evil Granbaroness. “I can assure you it is.”

I begin to walk away. I don’t have to deal with this. I’m not part of their family. Their rules don’t mean anything to me. She speaks louder. “And could we please ask you don’t take Tabitha out into the village without our prior approval?”

I spin on my heel and meet her serene, oddly unlined face. There is no sweet granny in sight here. “She’s eighteen. She can go to the village if she wants.”

“You, my dear, may have been allowed to run wild as a child, but that is not how the Fairclough children behave.”

Children...?

I have nothing to say to this, so I walk from the dining room and along the plush patterned carpets to the outhouses, where I can breathe, sliding my phone out of my pocket.

Faith Hitchin: Ball? Saskia? Are you all still considered minors?

I don’t get a reply until much later. I’m too busy to look anyway before we grab a bite to eat at lunch.

Eli Jones: I was going to mention the ball, I promise.

I stick my tongue out at the phone.

Faith Hitchin: Sure you were

I have another thought.

Faith Hitchin: Does Saskia dress you, too?

Eli Jones: Lol. Only my suits.

Did he just lol me?

Eli Jones: I’ll be home later, we can talk.

Faith Hitchin: I thought this wasn’t your home?

Eli Jones: It’s growing in appeal.

With a grin, I put my phone back in my pocket. I should have asked how his four in the morning emergency went. God, I’m like a selfish teenager who can’t see past herself.

I walk into the studio and look at all the tiny little squares of blue glass we’ve spent the morning cutting. The room is crowded with glass and people, and honestly it’s breaking me out in an unladylike sweat. “Okay, who wants to make a sculpture?”

“I thought we were making windows?” Dylan quips.

“For a doll’s house?” I shake my head in mock dismay.

He shrugs, and everyone else laughs.

“I’ll tell you what we are going to do.” They all lean in, ready to do something other than cut squares out. “We are going to make a sculpture so damn awesome Elijah Fairclough won’t know what’s he’s seeing when he gets home later.”

There are some claps and loud whoops. Tabitha is grinning at me.

“Grab some wire. I’m going to show you how to weave the glass together.”

I have no idea how this is going to turn out. I’ve got no idea if it can even work. Still, with nothing to lose, there’s no harm in trying.

“So what we need to do is to double the wire…”

I brush all thoughts of Eli Fairclough out of my mind and instead turn to my first love: art.

We did it. Hell did we do it. Somehow the eight of us created single-stemmed blue flowers using wire and wrapping around the edges of our blue glass squares. Back-breaking work, but those kids left proud at the end of the day. When we’d finished, we hung around outside for a while, absorbing the late afternoon sunshine while Jennings brought us some cool drinks. It was nice, they are a great bunch.

In my glass studio now sits nearly a hundred blue glass flowers. I created some green leaves which I baked this afternoon, and then I had a rather amusing try at blowing some small glass beads. I’ve lost the knack of it though so I ended up—after I’d been laughed at by Dylan for ten minutes for not knowing “my shit”—deciding to roll the balls and bake them, too. It’s not the exact effect I wanted, but it will suffice.

Now I’m exhausted and soaking in the roll top bath in the wet room. It’s heaven under the bubbles, sipping a glass of wine I asked Jennings to locate me as I made a hasty exit from the dining room.

“Faith.” There’s a gentle rap on my bedroom door.

I sit up in surprise, water flooding everywhere. “Crap.”

“You okay?”

“Yes,” I call back to Elijah. I recognise his voice instantly—well, my body does. My stomach tightens and a dull ache spreads in the pit of my belly. I thought he would have been back hours ago. “Hold on a minute.”

“I’m sleeping on my feet out here, don’t rush on my account.”

I grin as I step out onto the slippery floor, taking extra care not to slide over and bang my head—now’s not the time to aim for a concussion.

Wrapping a towel tight around my body, I unlock the door and peer outside. “Did you check for nosy grandparents?” I tease, but he doesn’t seem to find my joke funny and slips quickly inside.

He’s in a blue shirt and navy suit trousers, the slim fit shirt tucked into the trim waistband. There’s no tie in sight which is a shame because it would have made the picture in front of me perfect.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were bathing.”

“Bathing?” I giggle. “You’re so funny.”

He glares and sits on the edge of my bed. I stare closer at his face. He looks exhausted. Faint purple rings hollow the skin around his eyes, and that favourite blue of mine isn’t shining quite as bright. “You look exhausted.”

“It’s been a long day.” He lifts his face and meets my concerned gaze. When he motions me forward, I don’t hesitate. He wraps his arms right around my waist and rests his head on my stomach. I smooth my hands through his short hair, mesmerised by the light tickle the short strands create against my palms.

“What happened?”

He pulls away and tugs at the edge of my towel.

“Hey,” I scold and back away. “Talking, you promised talking.”

“I suggest you get dressed then because my brain is seriously incapacitated by you in that towel.” The heat of his stare is almost palpable as it slips across the patterns on my skin.

“I’ll get dressed.” Turning for my cupboard where I’ve just randomly thrown my clothes, I pull out a pair of small sleep shorts and a camisole. I wiggle into them, tugging them against my damp skin. When I turn back around his gaze is burning bright.

“Truthfully, I don’t know if that’s helping.”

“Hold on.” I grin and root back through my pile of belongings until I pull out a spotty dressing gown, which I quickly slip over my shoulder and tie at the waist.

“What is that?”

“My dressing gown.”

“Take it off. Take it off right now.”

Unable to repress my laughter, I slip it back off and then turn to him expectantly. “Now talk.”