Nathan had never loved movies as much as Scarlett; her appreciation of art didn’t come from him either – Dawn had been the one responsible for both things. He sometimes needed to remember Scarlett was growing into a fine woman and he wasn’t always going to like her choices. Why had nobody warned him that grazed knees, tears and tantrums would be replaced by parental uncertainty as your child grew up and became independent? What he really wanted now was for her to talk to him, share with him the things she wouldn’t have hesitated to tell her mum if she was still alive.
‘Well, I’m glad you’re having a good time,’ he said, ‘even if your old man couldn’t pass as a movie star.’
‘You’re not that old at all.’ She picked off a chocolate curl with her fingers and let it melt on her tongue. ‘Most of my friends’ dads are ancient, in their forties, one is in his fifties.’
‘Hardly ancient. And remember I was ridiculously young when I became a dad.’
‘I’m kind of glad though, it means you can keep up with me.’
‘I do my best.’
‘What did you think to the street art we saw in Brooklyn?’
‘I was surprised how good it was.’
‘See, and there you were thinking all art was a waste of time.’
‘I never said that,’ he protested when he’d swallowed a mouthful of cake.
‘Art is my favourite subject at school,’ she admitted.
‘I know it is.’ Her teachers did too and they commented on her talent at every parents’ evening. ‘And I expect it’s a release from the harder subjects.’ She’d elected to do art at A level but also business studies and French, the compromise he’d insisted upon so she had some qualifications that might give her more options.
‘It’s hardly a doddle, I work hard at it.’
‘I know, and a range of subjects will help you in the future. I’d hate to see you struggle when it comes to finding a job. It’s hard enough as it is.’
‘Jobs are ages off, Dad.’
‘You’ll be looking before you know it.’
‘I’ll look for something creative, a job where I can use my artistic talents,’ she announced with a flourish.
He would’ve laughed if the topic of conversation wasn’t so serious. ‘Nice idea, but remember, you’ll have to pay the bills. Your mum was good at art too, but she saw that it was a hobby, it wasn’t going to give her stability.’
Scarlett’s fork clanked against the china plate although the cake was clearly too good for her to let the cutlery go completely. ‘That’s a very narrow-minded view.’
‘Excuse me.’
‘I’m not being rude, but don’t you see that it is? I thought you might get it after seeing the mural today. Or the 9/11 memorial, which was only built after thousands of submissions to do the design.’
He put his own fork down. Sometimes she was too intelligent for her own good. ‘Perhaps it was a narrow-minded comment, but I’m trying to think of you, help you in the long run.’ Now if she were to show an interest in building design, it might be something he could get on board with, but when she was talking about painting or murals, throwing her energies into those facets of her education, it felt impossible to accept.
‘Did mum regret not pursuing her art?’ Scarlett asked. ‘Or were you never around long enough to ask her?’
‘That’s a little unfair.’ And the candid question had taken him by surprise. ‘Your mum died so young, she never really had a chance for regrets.’
Eyes downcast, Scarlett finished her cake in silence.
When he’d finished his own he said, ‘Your artistic ability is all down to Dawn. All her genes, I assure you.’
‘I certainly don’t get it from you,’ she teased, braving looking at him once again. ‘What? I saw that map you sketched out on the plane when you couldn’t use your phone and were trying to remember where we were staying in relation to some of the biggest landmarks. And I’ve seen some of your doodles, remember.’
He took out his wallet, fished in the leather pocket behind all his credit cards, took out a small drawing on the back of one of his business cards and turned it over. ‘Your mum drew that not long before she died. I thought I’d lost it but I found it in the zip-up pocket of the suitcase before we left to come here.’
‘Is that me?’ Her eyes glistened. ‘And you?’
‘She brought you into my work one day, you loved coming to the office. You’d sit on the spinny chair, tap away at my keyboard, you even wrote on the whiteboard once but with a permanent marker.’
