Chapter 12
JED
For the rest of the afternoon I felt on edge. I tried my best to mask it but Lucy kept shooting me concerned looks and Anastasia asked if everything was all right on several occasions.
We were fifteen minutes from closing time and there were three customers in the gallery when the reason behind my unease burst through the door.
‘What the hell are you playing at?’ Ingrid hurled Wally the wombat at me and quick reflexes meant I caught him before he sent a display of ceramics crashing to the floor.
No way was I willing to engage with her in front of our daughter, Anastasia and my customers. I passed Wally to Lucy, marched towards the door and steered Ingrid outside and down the cobbles.
‘Get off me!’ she cried, snatching her arm away.
‘My hands are in my pockets!’
She glanced down. ‘It felt like you were touching me.’
‘I wasn’t and I don’t appreciate the accusation. And while we’re talking about things I don’t appreciate, I’ll add throwing things in my gallery, shouting at me in front of our daughter and customers and letting our girls think you’re only here for the Christmas holidays.’
She stopped walking and squared up to me. ‘How long I stay is none of your business.’
‘Anything that affects Erin and Lucy is my business. Why the big secret?’
‘I don’t have to justify myself to you and stop changing the subject. This is about you and Aaron. What the hell are you playing at, inviting him to your gallery and offering him art lessons? I thought I made myself clear on Boxing Day that you were to stay away from him.’
‘Oh, you did, but he came to the gallery of his own accord.’
‘You could have told him to leave.’
‘Crikey, Ingrid, have you heard yourself? What good would that have done Aaron?’ I was feeling at my wits’ end with her attitude.
‘It’s not about him.’
‘It should be.’
She released some sort of growling noise and stormed off down the street like a petulant child but I ran after her.
‘What’s the harm in me giving him a few art lessons?’
She stopped and glared at me. ‘Art lessons? He doesn’t even like drawing.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
‘Of course I am! I know my son.’ She set off again.
‘Ask him to show you his drawings,’ I called. ‘He’s really good.’
She stopped once more and took a few paces back towards me but her expression seemed to be vulnerable as opposed to confrontational this time.
‘What drawings?’
‘A day-of-the-dead-style skull, a yacht, a cat… They were on his phone.’
‘I’ve never seen them.’
‘He said Declan doesn’t like him drawing. Is that because of me?’
Her expression darkened. ‘We’re not discussing this. Aaron is not your son and you are not entitled to spend any time with him. I don’t get why you’d want to anyway.’
I went from feeling sorry for her that she didn’t know about one of her son’s two main interests to being livid with her.
‘How can you not get it? I spent your pregnancy preparing for his arrival and six years loving being his dad. My feelings towards him weren’t a switch I could flick off when the truth came out and you of all people should understand that.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because your feelings for Declan didn’t switch off when he emigrated to Australia, or when you married me, or when the girls came along.’
She opened her mouth as though to protest, but how could she argue with that? I was tempted to say more, but it wasn’t going to help my case.
‘Get him to show you his drawings,’ I said, my voice gentle. ‘He’s talented but he needs some guidance.’
I thought for a moment that she was going to relent, but she stiffened and lifted her head higher.
‘He can get that at school or online. Stay away from him.’
‘I can’t stop him coming to the gallery.’
‘No, but you can tell him to leave if he does.’
‘I’m not going to.’
‘Jed! Why do you have to be so difficult?’
‘I’m not being difficult. I’ve never been difficult. I’m thinking about what’s best for Aaron. He thinks I rejected him when I found out he wasn’t my biological son and it’s clearly left scars so I’ve no intention of making things worse by rejecting him for real.’
‘It’s not your job to sort out Aaron’s issues.’
‘I never said it was. I just said I wasn’t going to exacerbate them. Besides, I know what it’s like to be interested in art only to get pushed down another path so if Aaron’s in the same boat, I refuse not to be the voice of encouragement.’
A jaded art teacher had told me it was pretty much impossible to make money as an artist and that I should rethink my career choice.
With no clue what else to do, I’d trained as a chef to work in my parents’ café because it seemed so much easier to follow their footsteps, but my heart had never been in it.
‘I don’t want you filling his head with nonsense.’
‘How is encouraging someone to pursue their dreams nonsense? Surely what I’ve achieved proves that.’
‘A shop in a past-its-best seaside resort? Oh, well done. Conquered the world.’
I sighed. How much energy must it take to be this angry all the time and cynical about everything? I could have defended the town and myself but what was the point?
‘I need to get back to the gallery,’ I said. ‘It’s closing time.’
‘I haven’t finished.’
‘I think you’ve said enough, don’t you?’ I turned and set off back towards the gallery.
‘Don’t walk away from me!’ she called, which was ironic considering she’d done it to me twice this evening. I continued walking.
‘I’m talking to you, Jed Ferguson!’ Her voice was even louder and, aware that passersby were looking at us, I took a few paces back towards her.
‘Do we really need to make a scene in the middle of the street?’
‘Stay away from Aaron.’
‘Why? What difference does it make to you if I give him a few pointers with his art while he’s here? He’s not about to start calling me Dad and want to move in with me. It’s just three months and then he’ll be back in Sydney.’
‘Jed!’ She actually stamped her foot which made me want to laugh but somehow I managed to contain it. Laughing at her would be like poking a sleeping dragon.
‘For once in your life,’ she said, her tone angry, ‘can’t you just do what I want?’
‘For once? I spent the whole of our marriage doing what you wanted so I think I can be forgiven for not agreeing with everything you say now that we’re divorced.’
She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘I wish I’d never married you.’
I winced. If she wanted to hurt me, she’d succeeded but I wasn’t going to show her that. I was going to rise above it.
‘I’m sorry you feel that way because I don’t. Being married to you created Erin and Lucy and, for a while, Aaron too. I’ll never regret having my children.’
I paused, my eyes fixed on hers, challenging her to respond but she was unusually quiet. As far as I was concerned, the conversation was over so I strode back towards the gallery. She didn’t shout after me which was just as well as I’d had more than my fill of Ingrid today.
As I reached Yorkshire’s Best, the door opened and one of the customers who’d been in the gallery when Ingrid appeared stepped out holding a large paper bag.
She smiled at me and I smiled back but I couldn’t summon the strength to form any words.
I felt drained after that encounter with Ingrid but I also felt fuelled with enthusiasm to help Aaron.
I’d been adamant earlier that he needed her permission but if she wasn’t being supportive of his artwork and Declan wasn’t either, who else did he have?
No matter how high among the stars a person’s dreams were, nobody had a right to say they could never be achieved.
We wouldn’t all achieve our wildest dreams but we should at least be able to try.