‘He raced over to me and waggled a copy of the Evening News under my nose. ‘I told you so,’ he said proudly. I took the newspaper from him and saw a large article headed: Green Light for Youth Centre Expansion.
‘The article told how, under Ben’s leadership, the centre had been given permission by planners to expand their premises to enable them to launch a new scheme to help young mothers back into work. It paid a glowing tribute to the man who had turned an already thriving youth centre into one of Scotland’s most admired charitable projects. And, to John’s particular delight, the article ended by saying that Ben had been asked by the Scottish Government to be an advisor on the voluntary sector so that they could try and emulate the success of these centres elsewhere.
‘I’ll never forget the pride on John’s face that day as he stood waving the article in front of me. He had indeed been right about his son, as he was on most things he took an interest in.’
Ben tightly clenched the order of service in his hand, focusing his gaze squarely on the text as he fought back a river of tears. But his attempts to retain his composure were futile, and as watched the first drop of water plop onto the card he held on his lap, he let go. For several minutes the tears silently poured down his cheeks as he thought about how much Dad must have loved him. To think he had believed in him all those years that Ben had spent doubting himself was as heartening as it was soul-destroying, for with this knowledge also came the realisation that he had wasted many years resenting his father when, in fact, they should have been so much closer. We had all left – Dad, Mum and I - and Ben longed to turn the clock back to feel the comfort once more of his full family around him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he mouthed. Hoping we would somehow hear him and understand his regret at not being a better son and brother. He would never stop loving us, he vowed. And we would never stop loving him.
It was a bitterly cold day and the crowd assembled by the graveside to lay Dad’s body to rest, huddled together for warmth. Ben led the coffin bearers as they lowered Dad’s body into the grave, leaving him side by side with Mum and I.
Standing between Sarah and Emily while Bob said a blessing, Ben stared at the two headstones next to Dad’s grave, ‘In Loving Memory of Anna Margaret… Harry David Melville ..’. Soon a third stone would mark the place where Dad lay, the three of us united with one left behind. Ben felt painfully excluded from the family as he had so often over the years.
He could feel us tantalisingly close, as though he could open a door and find the three of us standing behind it, laughing at our little trick. His soul searched for us but didn’t know where to look.
‘Send me a sign,’ he begged. ‘Let me know if you’re there.’
Ben was rushing again, as he usually did at this time in the evening, trying to make it to Sarah’s house by 6.30pm. His evening visits had, by now, become part of the baby’s routine. There was a regular pattern to Harry Junior’s day – and his colic – that meant he cried almost solidly between six and ten in the evening then crashed out until around 5am, giving Sarah an even longer rest in between. Ben was inwardly pleased his nephew was crying in the evenings as it gave him the perfect excuse to keep going over there to help out. Emily would join them too sometimes, but was increasingly opting to stay at work or go home to start dinner. Sarah enjoyed the company – and the couple of hours of down time Ben’s visits bought her. In between the baby’s crying spells, Ben would fill Sarah in on his day while she, in turn, regaled him with parenting woes. She had joined a mother’s group who met for coffee each Wednesday morning and would sit and pour their hearts out about their babies’ feeding difficulties, broken nights, colic, strange-looking nappy contents, facial expressions, body temperatures, skin rashes, bathing preferences; the list of topics for discussion was endless. Ben gathered that partners came in for a real battering during these coffee mornings and was glad that, with his unique status, he would escape that fate.
He had a set of keys to Sarah’s so he could let himself in when expected. That evening, as he pushed open the front door, he could hear Emily was already there – something Ben found annoyed him slightly as she was taking the prime slot of being first to hold Harry that day. He threw his coat over the banister and immediately rushed over to see his little nephew. Peering down into his face over Emily’s shoulder, Harry flashed a beaming smile at the sight of his uncle. His happiness was short-lived though as the colic pains soon struck again, starting him off on another ten-minute stretch of wailing. Emily kept jiggling her soon-to-be nephew, while Ben hung around by her side, itching to take over.
‘Where’s Sarah?’
‘She’s in the kitchen,’ Emily replied. ‘She says she has a surprise for us.’
Ben quickly glanced along the hallway to see if he could see what was going on, but the kitchen door remained firmly shut.
‘Do you want to hold your nephew?’ Emily finally volunteered.
‘Absolutely.’ Ben held his arms out to take delivery of the baby who had settled down again and was looking sleepy. He rested little Harry over his shoulder and patted his back, while Emily settled back on the sofa to read a newspaper.
A few moments later, Sarah appeared in the doorway holding a tray that carried a bottle of champagne, three glasses and a folded piece of paper.
‘What’s all this?’ Ben asked.
‘The results of the DNA test,’ Sarah said brightly. Ben noticed a relaxed radiance in her face that he hadn’t seen since before Harry’s death. She gently laid the tray down on the coffee table before handing Ben the piece of paper. He took a seat so he could settle little Harry on his lap while he read.
The DNA test had been hanging over them for the last fortnight since Sarah had relented to Paul’s demands and allowed for a saliva swab to be taken from the baby. From the smile on her face he knew it must be good news, but wondered whether she was just relieved the whole process was over one way or another.
He looked down at what seemed like a complicated set of figures headed with the words, ‘Results of DNA Analysis (Legally Binding)’. Ben swallowed hard before looking for the definitive answer.
He could see three columns of numbers representing the genetic information gathered for Sarah, baby Harry and Paul Davis along with the dates the samples had been collected. He couldn’t make sense of any of the data so he glanced further down the page where he saw the words ‘Statement of Results’. His heart was racing now and he pulled Harry just a little closer to him before reading on:
‘Based on the DNA analysis, Paul Davis can be excluded as the biological father.’
Ben breathed an audible sigh of relief as he finished reading the report.
‘Harry is the father,’ Sarah said, smiling. ‘It’s a bloody miracle, but it’s true,’ she laughed, finally looking like a woman without a care in the world after months of torment.
Ben held baby Harry up in front of him and kissed him lovingly on his cheek before holding him close again.
‘I was trying not to get my hopes up,’ he said. ‘But the likeness was hard to miss – he’s his father’s double.’
‘I know, I thought so too,’ Sarah giggled.
Emily rushed to embrace Sarah. ‘That’s such great news,’ she beamed before kissing Ben on the cheek.
‘My family,’ Ben declared proudly looking between the baby and the two women standing in front of him.
Becoming serious again for a moment, Sarah said: ‘I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused.’
Ben too got to his feet now to give Sarah a comforting hug. ‘I already told you to forget it. It’s in the past now. Have you told Davis yet?’
‘Both he and his lawyer will have received copies today too.’
‘And you’ve heard nothing back from him?’
‘What is there for him to say now?’ Sarah smiled.
‘Sorry would have been a good start,’ Ben said, before brightening up again. ‘Let’s get that champagne poured then.’
They clin
ked glasses and toasted the prospect of a future as a united family, Ben scarcely able to take his eyes off his nephew, now his closest family member and his greatest joy.
Ben hadn’t initially been enthusiastic when Sonja first suggested a Christmas party at the centre. He had just buried his father and wasn’t exactly in the festive mood, but he went along with her suggestion to avoid disappointing the team. Sonja had handled most of the arrangements herself so all that was left for Ben to do was turn up.
But following the previous night’s good news on Harry’s paternity test, Ben found he was actually looking forward to the do and made a point of finishing work in the office early so he could help set up. When he reached the recreation room he found Sonja and Danny between them just about had everything covered. On Sonja’s instruction, Ben headed back through to the office – which was to be used as the eating area – to push the meeting table back against the wall and create a bit of space. Danny bounded up and down the stairs like an excited puppy, carrying various assortments of plates, sausage rolls and bags of crisps – lots of bags of crisps – which Sonja then laid out on the table. The recreation room would have had an environmentalist in a cold sweat there were so many plastic cups and plates but, Ben had to admit, they’d done a good job.
The guests started to arrive just after 5pm, most of them the young people who had used the centre over the course of the year. At their Monday meeting earlier in the week, Sonja had broken the news that in the last year they had seen their success rate in getting visitors to the centre into work or further education increase even further. As a team they had been ecstatic about their progress which had mainly been down to a follow-up programme which meant they not only helped their young people identify careers and apply for jobs or courses, but now supported them through the interview process and the early weeks in their new roles or college places.
Ben made sure he got around all of the guests and was surprised by how much pride he felt at hearing how each of their careers was developing. The sense of purpose and self-worth he noticed in the youngsters made him even more determined to keep going so that, one day, no one they saw would fall through the gap and back into unemployment.
He had just started to hand round the sausage rolls when he saw Jason appearing through the door of the recreation room carrying what looked like one of his larger drawings in a frame. Jason searched animatedly around the crowded room, dodging in and out of guests until he noticed Ben waving at him from the corner. He waved back, smiling warmly as he bounded over to his mentor.
‘Hello stranger,’ Ben said, greeting Jason with a one-armed hug as he balanced the plate of sausage rolls in the other.
‘Sorry, I’ve not been in to see you in a while, Ben. I’ve barely seen daylight the last few weeks I’ve been that busy trying to get more drawings over to the States for Emily. She’s selling them like hot cakes.’
Ben smiled at the idea of Jason beavering away in his new flat trying to please an impatient Emily, but it was an equally strange thought to realise how much money she must be starting to make out of him. To Emily, Jason was business. To Ben, he was a friend. Still, as Ben cast his eyes over Jason’s designer jacket he could see the young artist was being well rewarded for his efforts.
‘Good for you,’ said Ben. ‘Is this another one waiting to be sent to the States?’ he asked, nodding at the large framed drawing Jason was clutching under his arm.
‘No man,’ Jason held the drawing up in front of Ben now. ‘This is for you.’
Ben searched around for the nearest chair to rest the tray on before taking the framed picture from Jason.
‘This is amazing, Jason. Thank you so much.’ He studied the drawing closely and once again marvelled at the incredible level of detail that had gone into producing it. This one showed a young mother lovingly spooning a teaspoonful of pureed food into her baby’s mouth.
‘My cousin,’ Jason said, pointing to the baby girl in the drawing. ‘I thought it could go in your new crèche room when it’s finished.’
‘What a lovely thought. I’ve no idea how you found the time to do this when you’re so busy, but I’m really touched.’
‘You’re welcome. I wouldn’t be doing any of this if it wasn’t for you, so it’s the least I can do.’ He flashed Ben another beaming smile.
‘I’m so proud of you, Jason. You really deserve your success.’
Jason’s face crumpled at Ben’s kindness. ‘I don’t know about that,’ he mumbled, eyes now cast to the floor.
‘Why wouldn’t you deserve to be successful, Jason?’ Ben asked, confused by Jason’s sudden shift in mood.
‘I’ve not always been a good person. I’m not proud of it.’
‘Well, there’s none of us angels, Jason, and you’ve not had the easiest start in life.’
‘It’s no excuse,’ Jason mumbled again.
‘Look, do you want to talk about this? We could go and sit upstairs if you like?’
Jason thought for a moment before nodding his head. Ben started to lead him towards the stairs but was interrupted by Sonja who had begun pulling on his arm. ‘Jayne’s just about to leave Ben and she wants to thank you before she heads off.’
Ben looked across the room to see Jayne smiling at him in the doorway. They had managed to help her find childcare while she attended college where she was now studying for five Highers. Sonja had told Ben the other week that Jayne was already doing really well in her course work so her dream of becoming a lawyer was very much alive.
Ben turned to Jason who was looking flushed and agitated. ‘I’ll be back in five minutes and we’ll talk, okay?’ Jason nodded again and Ben made his way over to talk to Jayne. She was full of enthusiasm about her new course and really excited about her future. Ben, anxious to get back to Jason who he could see was troubled, congratulated Jayne on all her hard work and asked after the baby which prompted several minutes of stories about how well her little girl was doing. She was crawling early and had already attempted a few words. Ben would have loved to have given Jayne more time, so he felt guilty when he rushed her a bit by wishing her well and asking her to keep in touch. Still, she didn’t seem to notice his keenness to get away and gave him a big hug before she left.
He looked around for Jason again but knew as soon as he saw the empty space where he had been standing in the corner that he’d gone.
Christmas was focused on baby Harry who provided a welcome distraction. Sarah and her parents had brought him over to Emily’s place mid-morning where they had lavished him with gifts before opening their own. Emily had organised and cooked lunch and they had enjoyed a quiet time together, Ben and Sarah often lost in their own thoughts as they struggled through a difficult day and yet another landmark in their grief.
Sarah tried hard to push the memory of Christmas with Dad and I last year at The Balmoral Hotel from her mind. Ben had joined us for a while there too and it had been one of the few times before my death that she’d spent any significant period of time with him. She recalled how, while I had sat huffily at the bottom of the table, she had laughed for most of the afternoon with my father and brother as they exchanged amusing anecdotes, knocking back champagne and fine wines which I’d later moaned about paying for.
There had been little laughter at the end of the evening - my temper finally exploding with terrifying results. I’d spent the day feeling paranoid and isolated, convinced that Ben and Sarah were laughing about me. As soon as we got home I’d turned on my wife, demanding to know what they’d found so funny. Naturally she was confused, which only wound me up further. In my mind, it was all one big conspiracy.
‘I’ll make you sorry. I’ll make you so fucking sorry you sat there laughing in my face,’ I’d shouted as I launched myself at her across the kitchen, slapping her face and knocking her to the floor.
It was New Year’s Eve and Sarah was sitting alone in her living room rocking her crying baby and reflecting on what had been the worst year of her life. She threw her head b
ack and let out every ounce of pain that had been building all festive season as she tried to keep it together for her mum and dad. She wept for the husband she lost long before he died, for a child without a father and a mother without the love and support of a partner. She wept long past the point Harry had fallen asleep in her arms; she just kept rocking and sobbing until she felt numb. The dark spell was only broken by the sound of the telephone.
‘Hello,’ she said faintly while struggling to prop the receiver under her chin.
‘You alright?’ Rosa asked at the other end.
‘Yeah, just a bit of a moment that’s all.’
‘And here’s me thinking I had it bad, mopping up toddler puke on New Year’s Eve.’
‘Are the kids ill?’
‘Esther is, yes, so that means Richard’s gone to the neighbour’s New Year party alone while I sit in like the sad cow I have become.’
Sarah smiled at her friend’s efforts to make her feel better.
‘You missing, Harry?’ Rosa asked, in her usual blunt style.
‘I think so,’ Sarah sighed, unsure whether that really was why she felt so low. ‘I’m sad little Harry will never get the chance to meet his dad, but I also just feel so horribly guilty that he’s growing up without a family unit. He only has me and that doesn’t seem right.’ She started sobbing again but Rosa sensed it was better to let her speak than interrupt.
‘Ben and Emily have been great. They do a lot for me and he’s round here nearly every night helping me. But in a way, it just makes me feel even emptier. It’s like I’m filling in some void in their relationship and I don’t like being part of that triangle. It feels temporary and… weird.’
‘Hmm. I see what you mean. Why don’t you just gently put it to him that he doesn’t need to come over so regularly?’
‘I suppose I should really,’ Sarah sniffed, wiping at her face with a tissue with one hand as she began to regain her composure, and still cradling Harry in her other arm. ‘If I’m honest though, I need all the help I can get and... I like his company. But I know he’s got someone waiting for him at home – and that he shouldn’t really be spending so much time with us.’
From the Outside Page 20
