‘I never.’
‘You did. You drew a picture of a seal balancing a ball on the tip of its nose – you’d just been to the zoo.’
‘Did I get you in trouble?’ She was transfixed by the black-and-white sketch that Dawn had drawn using a biro as she watched her daughter and husband together, heads almost touching as he showed her something on his computer screen.
‘No, the boss found it funny from what I recall.’
‘Did Mum draw a lot?’
‘She did, she loved to draw whatever was around at the time.’
‘I don’t remember seeing many pictures.’
‘I put most of them in the loft.’
‘Why? Why didn’t you share that part of her with me?’
‘I’m sorry.’ He gripped her hand across the table. ‘I’m afraid I packed everything away years ago because I didn’t want it to get damaged, and the more time went on, I suppose I couldn’t bear to go through it. I knew it would be painful for me, for you. And my memories are in here.’ He patted his heart. ‘I don’t need pictures when your mum will always be in glorious technicolour for me. I saved everything for you, and I probably should’ve told you earlier but it never felt like a good time.’
‘I’m sixteen, Dad, you need to let me grow up sometime, realise I can handle things.’
‘I know, I’ll try harder to remember, promise.’
She smiled. ‘I like hearing about her.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘Knowing that my love of art came from her is comforting. Does that make sense?’
‘It does.’ He’d been in denial, assuming that her artistic flair was something she would ignore in favour of more academic subjects that would set her up better employment-wise. It was one of the top topics for them to clash about at home, had been for a long time. Desperate to keep the moment of bonding going he suggested, ‘When we get back home to England, how about I climb up into the loft and bring everything down for you? You can go through it, chuck whatever you don’t want, keep what you do.’
‘Dad…tell me more about her.’ She sat forwards, all ears, and he revelled in the conversation as they talked more about Dawn when she was Scarlett’s age, their similarities, their differences.
‘Your mum didn’t get on well at school,’ he admitted, ‘unlike you. I don’t deny you’re good at art but you’re also very able when it comes to all your other subjects. School was always a struggle for Dawn, she didn’t enjoy it, but she worked very hard to become a nurse because she knew it was a good career. She had her daydreams but she was a very grounded, realistic person. She never stopped drawing in her spare time though. You’ll know what I mean when you see all her sketches.’
‘I have a whole heap of my own.’
‘I know, strewn over every worktop in your bedroom.’ But he was smiling. He’d never once demanded she clear them up – it was a little piece of her that reminded him of Dawn.
When Nathan was Scarlett’s age he also thought he knew exactly which direction he was headed in. He had dreams of a medical career, becoming a top surgeon someday, but right before he was about to start university his then girlfriend, Dawn, fell pregnant and he had no choice but to step up. And that meant rethinking his ambitions, with finances being a top concern. His parents supported them, both him and Dawn moving in with them, and although he wanted to get work straight away, they encouraged him to see the bigger picture, get an education and a better job at the end of it. While not the medical career he’d once dreamed of, his choice of going into business and finance was a worthy one, a path his own father had followed, and with a quicker finish time than medicine would’ve ever allowed.
After Scarlett was born, Nathan and Dawn got married. Dawn trained as a nurse and excelled in her new career, with Nathan studying until he graduated and then securing a good job in London with an investment bank, and they saved up enough to find a place of their own. But as Nathan’s career took off so did his social life and the theory of being a supportive husband and father who was always there was something he struggled with. He got into the habit of staying out drinking with his colleagues, relishing the camaraderie, the lack of responsibility. He and Dawn had fought many times about his absences but it hadn’t stopped him. It was as though at home he had to be this one person, at work he could escape and be another entirely. It was immature and selfish, but at the time he couldn’t see it. At least not until he lost Dawn and was forced to pull himself together and parent in a way that Scarlett needed and deserved.
‘I know you think I’m wrong.’ Scarlett scooped the froth of her coffee from the side of the mug. ‘But I figure if I do something that I have a passion for, then maybe it’ll lead me to a career I never thought of.’
‘I worry you’ll narrow your options by only focusing on what you love.’ He wanted to encourage her, help her make the right choices, just as his parents had done with him. ‘Yours is a good way of thinking about it, but don’t deny yourself future opportunities by writing off the subjects you’re not as excited about. The other, more academic –’
‘Boring, you mean.’
‘None of your subject choices will be a waste, they might even help you.’
She must’ve read the concerned look on his face because she said, ‘I’m working hard at all my A levels, not just art, Dad.’
‘Good to hear it.’ She had an undeniable talent for art, but at GCSE level he’d got her a tutor to ensure she did well in other areas too. Maybe he’d have to do the same again so that business studies and French were as much of a focus as art was for the next couple of years. Then again, if he went on about it too much, he might just push her too far and before he knew it she’d move out and never look back. ‘I think it’s time we walked off this cake,’ he suggested. Enough being paranoid about the future, at least for now.
Scarlett took out the fold-up map. ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing some Christmas markets – Darcy told me there are quite a few. There’s a new one on Garland Street not far from the inn.’
He peered over at the map. ‘You haven’t been folding it up properly.’ He noted the creases in various places where she’d crumpled it to shove it in her pocket.
