‘You do if you have talent. I was talented you know.’
‘I realised,’ John said coldly, some of the steel Ben remembered from his youth returning to his voice.
‘My teacher told me she had practically begged you to allow me to go to art school, but you refused. I just want to know why?’
‘But what does it matter now, Ben? It was a long time ago.’
‘It was all I wanted to do, Dad. Did you know that? When you took that dream from me I had nothing left. I’ve spent nearly thirty years just drifting, wondering what could have been.’
‘You were always a drifter, Ben. Your brother was a doer and you were a dreamer.’
Ben felt as emotionally crushed by that comment as he had when he’d first heard it from his father all those years ago.
‘I just wanted to find out why, Dad. That’s all. I think you owe me an answer.’
‘Because I didn’t want you to spend your days struggling to make ends meet while you sat doodling on a piece of paper,’ Dad snapped. His old, croaky voice now steady and strong. ‘I knew you had a talent, Ben. Even a fool could see that. But art is not a career – it’s an indulgence.’
‘And God forbid you would have indulged me, Dad.’
‘It was for your own good.’
Ben watched in alarm as our elderly father turned red in the face, infuriated to be challenged on his decision.
I drew closer to Ben, urging him not to react – not to run. They were words he couldn’t hear but which I desperately hoped he could feel.
My brother wanted so much to tell Dad he’d ruined his life but, instead, he paused for a moment, reasoning with himself that he had to take his own share of the blame for letting others dictate what he could and couldn’t do. And for the first time, he realised too that in some ways he was relieved our father had stopped him from going to art school, because if he’d tried he might have failed – and it was failure that he feared the most. Staring now at the man he’d spent so many years blaming for his misery, Ben felt a wave of love and sympathy for him. He reached forward and took Dad’s hand.
‘It doesn’t matter now, Dad. I’m just glad you’re still around for me.’
Dad’s eyes filled with tears as he reached out to his only living son, fondly squeezing his shoulder.
‘I know I never said it, Ben, but I always knew you would make something of yourself. You have talents that you’re only now beginning to realise. But I saw them when you were just a boy. You understand and empathise with others in a way not many of us do. Your sensitivity is your strength.’ Dad smiled warmly, flashing the set of stained and crooked teeth that he was so proud to have hung on to for eight decades.
‘I can still see you and Harry running around this living room in your pyjamas. Harry jumping up and down for attention and you, happy to indulge him, happy to please.
‘I often hoped you’d go into business together – and now in a way you have. Just not in the way I’d imagined.’
Dad’s eyes were moist, his gaze somewhere else as though he were looking at a film playing out before him. Ben placed a hand on his shoulder and the two sat together in silence lost in their own thoughts, united in grief.
Her busy day at the gallery meant Emily was running late for Ben who was coming over for dinner. They had passed a milestone a couple of weeks ago when she had given him a key to her flat, where he increasingly spent most of his time. Ben often cooked for her, but tonight she had promised to make something for him.
She felt a little rush of happiness as she looked up at her windows from the street to see the lights were already on. Once inside, the enticing smells drifting from the kitchen told her Ben had started the dinner which, to her relief, meant she’d be able to just flop down at the kitchen table and relax while he cooked.
Ben popped his head around the kitchen door as she hung her jacket up on the coat stand in the hallway.
‘Hope you don’t mind,’ he said breezily. ‘I was starving so I thought I’d crack on with dinner.’
‘Mind,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m bloody delighted,’ she smiled, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him hard on the lips. She couldn’t believe how much her life had changed in the space of a few weeks. She had resigned herself to a life of living alone and now Ben had come along and filled a void she barely realised existed. Their relationship was loving, comfortable and respectful – and she was so happy.
‘I have something for you,’ Ben said, pointing towards the kitchen table.
There she saw an ornate and enlarged pencil drawing of the rose that I had once passed off to her as my own work all those years ago.
At the bottom of the picture Ben had written: ‘To Emily. The genuine article, just like you. Ben.’
She picked the paper up to admire the stunning detail in the drawing that was a mirror image of the one she had been given as a teenager.
‘It’s beautiful, Ben,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ She paused to look again at the picture in her hand before gently placing it back down on the table.
Turning to Ben, her eyes now serious, she said: ‘You must give me some of your work so that I can sell it. You could make something out of this.’
He stepped away from the pots on the oven hob and crossed the kitchen to sit next to her for a moment.
‘I want to do this for the love, Emily. Not for the money. Taking time off has given me the chance to think. Events had just taken me over and I didn’t know whether I was working at the centre simply because I’d been asked to do it, or because I actually wanted to do it.’ He stroked her brow, soothing the frown that had etched its way across it as Emily struggled to understand his reasoning.
‘I want to dedicate my professional life to the centre, Emily,’ he continued. ‘It will be the blank canvas on which I hope to create many masterpieces.’
Emily opened her mouth to challenge him before thinking better of it. Instead she simply shrugged. ‘Whatever makes you happy, I guess. Besides, I’ve got some really good news for you,’ she flashed him a smile. ‘I’ve been talking to a gallery in New York and, today, they agreed to take some of Jason’s drawings.’
‘Wow. That’s incredible,’ Ben gushed, grasping Emily’s arms in his excitement. ‘And it’s so quick. Jason will be beside himself. You’ve done so much for him, Emily, I just can’t thank you enough.’
‘Don’t thank me, Ben,’ she said, folding her arms around his waist. ‘You spotted his potential, I’m just doing my job.’
‘You’re a clever girl,’ he teased. ‘And just a pussycat really underneath it all.’
‘Why? What did you think I was?’
‘A tigress,’ he laughed. ‘And one who would eat me for dinner.’ ‘You’d better get on with feeding me then, hadn’t you,’ she said with mock impatience. ‘I’m starving.’
In the weeks that followed, Ben continued to spend most of his time at Emily’s place, their relationship settled and happy. But just when he should have been feeling as though life was finally going his way, his contentment was punctured by the thought of Sarah struggling on her own. Ben tried to put her from his mind, but he knew he’d be fooling himself if he thought he could just cut her off. It would upset Dad if the family was broken up – and he would demand an explanation.
Setting off from Emily’s one Monday morning, his intention to head straight to the centre, he passed a lady who was pushing a pram and decided it was time to make a detour. Though he didn’t know if he could ever forgive her, he had come to believe that staying in touch with Sarah is what I would have wanted him to do. Deep inside, it was what he wanted too.
He guessed Sarah would still be in bed – it was only just after 8am – so he rapped loudly on the front door several times after she failed to answer the buzzer. He felt a twinge of guilt at the idea of her alone, confused and probably now afraid of what she would find on her front doorstep at this hour.
A couple of minutes later he heard her open the inside door and ask, ‘Who is it?
’
‘It’s Ben,’ he replied, trying not to sound in any way aggressive.
He heard her keys in the main lock before she opened the door and stood wearily before him, a large dressing gown wrapped around her swollen stomach. Even with her pale face and dark circles under her eyes that told the story of her night, Ben thought Sarah still looked graceful – she had a beauty that not even the rigours of pregnancy and grief could taint.
‘Do you want to come in?’ she asked meekly.
‘Please,’ Ben said before following her through to the kitchen.
He stood quietly and watched as she filled the kettle with water and collected a couple of mugs from the cupboard before he embarked on the speech he had rehearsed several times in his mind.
‘I came to say that, even though I’m very angry about the fact you deceived me – and Harry – I don’t want you to go through this alone.’
She looked up at him briefly to acknowledge what he had said before continuing to prepare their coffee, leaving Ben to carry on.
‘I’ve done a lot of soul searching and I finally asked myself what Harry would have wanted me to do. I don’t have any doubt that he’d want to see me help you, Sarah. So that’s why I’m here.’
She handed his coffee to him and he sat down at the table, waiting for her to do the same. She was taking her time to prepare her reply, clearly afraid that one false move could blow the uneasy truce open again.
‘Thank you, Ben,’ her voice low and tired. ‘I didn’t expect you to come back but I’m glad you did,’ she let out a long sigh and glanced up at the ceiling trying, unsuccessfully, to hold back the tears, before her eyes came to rest on his again. ‘I’m sorry I let you down. There’s nothing I can do to change what I did or make it right. I suppose.. I had my reasons,’ she faltered, ‘but I have no excuses. What’s done is done. We have to look at who we are now. I’m alone, Ben, and I’m terrified that I’ve lost you. When you walked out, I realised you’re all I’ve got left – you and this baby.’
Sarah let out a gasp as she struggled to hold back the sobs that were now impossible to control.
‘I know I messed up, Ben. But I did love Harry,’ she swallowed hard, trying to regain her breath. ‘It wasn’t always easy being married to him. He was so focused on his work or the centre, so busy. I felt like I was just hanging around in his shadow, an unworthy recipient of his affection or rather a worthy recipient of a lack of it as things ended up.’
‘Don’t upset yourself...’ Ben started to say before Sarah cut him off again, her floodgates now opened.
‘And he had a lot of anger sometimes. It was... difficult. He would look at me sometimes with...’ She kept her eyes fixed on the window. Though there was so much more she wanted to say, and so much more she wanted to confide in him, she realised he didn’t need to hear it. And she didn’t know how to say it. He didn’t need to hurt any more than he already did so she cut the story short.
‘I guess in part because of this, I hit back in the end.’ She was calm again, but distant. ‘I was angry because I’d been denied the chance to fulfil my dream of being a mother, when he got everything he ever set his heart on.’
Ben sipped his coffee, not wishing to interrupt what he realised she needed to get out.
‘I wish to God I hadn’t slept with Paul. It leaves me cold every time I think about it,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘But I just can’t pretend that I’m not happy to be having this baby. What I fear most now is having to share it with that man. I’ve worked with Paul for eight years and once he decides he wants something, he doesn’t let go.’
‘Well, what are his rights?’
‘Legally none unless he can prove his paternity and he can’t do that unless the baby is DNA tested.’
‘Can he force you to do the test?’
‘Probably, yes. This is Paul we’re talking about. He eats, sleeps and breathes the law. And if he can’t find some suitable angle on his case, then he’ll just keep on and on at me until I relent. I’ve already had a letter from him demanding we discuss access before the baby’s born. He says he wants to be at the hospital for the birth.’ Her pitch got higher and her breathing more irregular until she spoke in a tearful staccato.
‘I can’t think of anything worse than having that jerk loitering around in the corridor while I’m going through labour – and then rushing in to take my baby from me.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Ben cut in. ‘Let’s just think about this. If he doesn’t have any formal rights until his paternity is proved then he can’t just turn up at the hospital and expect to be able to see the baby.’
‘But he’s already demanded that the test be carried out on the baby the day it’s born. I’m not going to be able to hold him off for long.’
Ben sighed. ‘Well, I guess all you can do is write back to him and say that while you’re willing to co-operate on the paternity test, you are not prepared to give him any access to the child until his parental status is proved. You could even say that is as much for his protection as the child’s.’
‘But the problem is he knows Harry and I were unable to conceive together so his argument is, realistically, unless I’ve slept with someone else only he can be the father. If that’s not the case I need to prove Harry wasn’t infertile.’
‘Can you do that?’
Sarah paused before saying, quietly: ‘No.’
‘Still, Sarah,’ Ben continued trying to sound positive. ‘It sounds like he can’t force you to do anything until you get the test results back so just send him the letter telling him he’ll have to wait. It’s only a few weeks after all.’
‘I just can’t bear to hand my baby over to that man. Not even for a minute.’ She started to cry again causing Ben to bristle when he considered she had brought this situation entirely on herself.
Unable to let it pass, he blurted: ‘Why did you sleep with him then?’
Sarah paused, shocked by Ben’s sudden change in tone.
‘I’ve just told you, Ben. I was in a bad place – and I didn’t think for one minute I’d end up in some paternity battle with a guy I had down as being the most die-hard bachelor in Britain. I thought he’d run a mile if he thought the baby could even remotely be his. But I misjudged him,’ she sighed.
‘Well, what’s done is done,’ Ben said. ‘Let’s worry about access after we’ve got the results back. At least it buys you a few days of peace after you’ve had the baby.’
‘Yeah,’ Sarah sneered. ‘And then Paul’s going to be all over me like a hot rash.’
‘Don’t worry. You’ll get through this. Just tell me what I can do to help you now?’
‘Just be my baby’s uncle, no matter what.’ She looked at him pleadingly.
‘I can do that,’ Ben said, swallowing his discomfort as he sought to reassure her with a warm smile.
‘I know it sounds corny. But you’re the only man, apart from my father, that I’ve ever felt truly comfortable with. I feel like you understand me.’
‘There’s a lot to understand,’ he smirked, surprised by her disclosure, but flattered.
‘I know,’ she smiled nervously, before studying his face for a few moments. ‘Are you very happy with Emily?’
‘Well…yes,’ Ben replied, unsure of why she was asking.
‘I think she’s very lucky to have found someone like you. I just hope she knows it.’
‘Thank you,’ he looked away awkwardly. ‘I think I’m the lucky one.’
Sarah shook her head. ‘You’ve underestimated yourself all your life, Ben. I always thought there was more to you than met the eye, but now I see who you are, I know I’ll never meet a man as good as you.’
Ben almost laughed at first, thinking she must be joking in some way. But her face was so sombre as she fought back tears, he realised she was absolutely serious.
CHAPTER twelve
BEN HAD NEVER REALLY been aware of his good looks – or of his effect on women – but I was. While I was the outgoing, muscular on
e who reeled the girls in, within a few weeks of dating me their attentions would usually turn to Ben, drawn to his sultry, brooding looks and apparent lack of interest in any other living soul.
‘Your brother’s very quiet isn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does he have a girlfriend?’
‘No.’
‘I’m surprised. He’s quite good-looking really, isn’t he?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Why don’t we invite him along to the party tomorrow?’
‘He won’t want to go.’
‘But, he might…’
‘He won’t, okay.’
There were jealousies between us in our teens and adult years, too many jealousies, but Ben and I had our moments of closeness too.
On one of those happier times, we had gone for a rare drink together just after Sarah and I had first started seriously quarreling. I hadn’t discussed my fertility problems much with Ben but I guess he must have either sussed that something was wrong because of the length of time Sarah and I had been married and childless, or Dad may have mentioned something to him. He never once asked what was happening, always opting instead for small talk and idle chat about football or politics. He never enquired about my business but often asked about the Melville Centre. I liked that about him.
Sitting in the pub together that evening, we’d just chewed over the Hearts/Hibs derby, when he said something to me I’ll never forget.
‘It’s not your fault you know, Harry.’
‘What’s not my fault?’
‘The baby thing. Some things are just not meant to be.’
My mind raced for a moment, anger rising at the thought Sarah might have told him about our problems. But, for once, I managed to control my paranoia and reason with myself that, ultimately, my brother was on my side and had a right to be involved in my life.
‘I don’t think Sarah sees it that way,’ I said finally.
‘You do so much for other people, Harry. I just think that maybe you’re not supposed to be distracted from that, you know? I think it’s probably fate.’
From the Outside Page 14
