Page 15 of Mr. Silver
“Okay. So, where did you go on Saturday?”
“New York.”
“Of course you did,” I mutter under my breath.
“My business partner called in a panic because he had the FBI at his door.”
“Oh shit. Why?”
“One of our clients is being investigated. It was just procedure, but still, he was worried it would affect us.”
“Will it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Tell me more about you.”
“You know all the good stuff.”
“No, I know about how you came from nothing, started out in property and then made some shrewd investments. I’ve no idea aboutyou. T|he person, not the businessman. What about your family?”
“I don’t have any.” When I don’t respond, he must realise he’s not getting away with that comment. “I may not have been the good kid and student my speech made me out to be. Truth is, I was a bit of a nightmare. My parents got so fed up with my behaviour that they pretty much gave up on me. It was only the support of a couple of teachers who could see the potential in me who gave me the push I needed. When my grandmother died and left her estate to me, my parents kicked off. Told me I was going to piss it up the wall and make nothing of my life. I left and I’ve not looked back since.”
“So, you really did build all of this on your own?”
“Yeah, with the help of my grandmother. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have had anything to get me started.”
“That’s incredible. You’ve not had any contact with them since?” I ask sadly.
“No. It’s just been me. I’ve made a couple of great friends along the way. What about you?”
“Well, you’ve met my mum. My dad died from cancer when I was a teenager.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why, was it your fault?” He glances over at me in shock. “Sorry, that phrase just really irritates me. It’s like you’re taking responsibility for his death. It’s no one’s fault.”
“Okay, I’ll rephrase. I’m sorry you had to go through that at such a young age. It must have been hard.”
“It was. I had a few tough years.”
“I’m assuming this has something to do with those scars?”
Looking out the window at the passing countryside now that we’ve left the city, my mind takes me back to that night. “Yeah. It was…”
“You don’t have to, if it’s too much.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s better if I just get it out. It was the summer before I was meant to go to university. My boyfriend arranged to take me out one night, to make the most of our time together before we ended up at different ends of the country. We’d had a lovely night, but as we were leaving his friend rang to say they were headed to a party and invited us.
“We agreed, and he came to pick us up. What we didn’t know was that he’d already started the party and the last thing I remember was him jumping a red light and seeing a lorry headed straight for us.”
“Fuck.”
“He was four times over the limit. I was the only one who survived,” I choke out. Even after all these years, it still rips me apart. “Although not without a broken back, some serious internal bleeding, and weeks in hospital followed by months of physio.”
“Jesus, Fearne.” I shrug, because what is there really to say? “Your boyfriend…was he the last time you…” He trails off, obviously not wanting to assume.
“Yes. He was my first and was going to be my last…until you.”
