The Dilemma(11)

I’d always been aware of the distance between us but the first time it was really brought home was the day he left for university, in Bristol, where I’d hidden from him eighteen years before – trust me, the irony isn’t lost on me. Nelson and Kirin were round at ours and when it was time for Josh to say goodbye, he shook my hand, then went over to Nelson, who enveloped him in a hug. What shocked me was the way Josh hugged him back, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It almost felt as if Nelson was his father, not me.

I know I concentrated too much on Marnie during those early years, and I’ve tried to make it up to Josh since, but it’s difficult. It’s why I’m stupidly proud of having found the New York internship for him. When you’re a carpenter, there aren’t many strings you can pull for your children. Not that I really pulled strings, I just happened to be chatting to an American friend of Oliver, one of my clients, who’d come to my workshop to see if I could make a bespoke piece of furniture for his home in Martha’s Vineyard. He’d seen a piece I’d made for Oliver, and wanted something similar, but three times bigger. We were talking about our lives and our children and I happened to mention that for the last year of his Masters, Josh needed to find an internship, preferably in Digital Marketing.

‘Has he thought about coming to the US?’ he enquired, and explained that he was CEO of Digimax, a large digital marketing company based in New York, which offered internships to Masters students. To cut a long story short, Josh sent off his CV, had a couple of phone interviews with someone from the New York office, and ended up being offered a place. He’s really excited about going and it’s great to see him making the most of opportunities that I never had.





Livia


Adam comes in from the garden, trailing sawdust across the kitchen floor. I’m so used to it that it doesn’t irritate me anymore.

‘Hi, Josh,’ he says. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Yeah, fine, I always do when I come home. You?’

‘Not really. I dreamt that the marquee blew away, taking Marnie with it.’ He turns to me. ‘Lovely roses – who sent them?’

‘Marnie,’ I say, offering him my plate of buttery toast, because I was too hungry to wait. He takes a slice with an apologetic smile, remembering too late his promise to make breakfast.

‘Weren’t you meant to be making Mum breakfast?’

Josh’s tone isn’t exactly accusatory but the message is there. Adam doesn’t say anything, he never does.

‘I got some lovely cards too,’ I say, pointing to the pile on the table. He goes over and riffles through them with one hand, eating toast with the other.

‘You should at least put them on display,’ he says. ‘Enjoy them for a while.’

‘Dad’s right.’ Josh takes the cards from Adam and stands them along the worktop. ‘Presents tonight, Mum, is that OK?’

‘Of course.’

The mention of presents makes Adam restless. He said yesterday that he needed to go into Windsor this morning, and I’m guessing he hasn’t bought me anything yet. I did point out a beautiful leather handbag a couple of weeks ago but it was quite expensive, so I’m hoping my hint didn’t register. I’ll feel bad if he pays that much for a bag.

I watch him as he leans against the worktop, drinking a second mug of coffee as he tries to talk to Josh about where best to put the tables – their job for the morning – and how he wants to hang the lights. Noticing how tired he looks, I feel a sudden rush of love. He’s worked so hard over the last four years – well, for most of his life, really – and I know he’s looking forward to things being easier once Josh graduates. With only one set of university fees and accommodation to pay, some of the pressure will be off.

When we were first married, we used to promise ourselves that as soon as we could, we’d continue with the education we’d missed. Adam would study Civil Engineering, and I’d train as a lawyer. It wasn’t a lack of time, or money or ambition, that prevented Adam from going ahead, just a realisation that he loved being a carpenter and sculptor. There’s something wonderfully organic about working with wood, he says, which brings with it its own sense of peace and wellbeing.

Over the years, he’s built up an amazing business. It can be difficult financially as we don’t always know when the money will come in and it can take weeks to make one piece. But he’s made quite a name for himself as a bespoke craftsman and is able to charge a good price. Orders come in from all over the world. Already this year, he’s made beautiful carved desks for clients in Norway, Japan and the US. Each one is unique and some of the requests he receives are real challenges, like the client who wanted him to make a chest of drawers six feet tall by four feet wide, where each drawer had to have a series of smaller secret drawers inside. Or the client who wanted him to make a wooden carriage for one of his children, which could be pulled by their pony. That commission paid for most of Marnie’s living costs in Hong Kong.

I began studying for my degree in Law via the Open University when Marnie was ten. It took me six years to qualify and another two before I could practice, which came at exactly the right time, because it was the year that Marnie left for university. I love my job and it means we don’t have to worry so much about money anymore. Adam has never wanted Josh and Marnie to take out loans to pay for their university fees, which means our outgoings each month are huge. It also means he works long hours, six days a week, but even so, our lives are financially so far removed from when we first got married that sometimes I have to pinch myself.