‘I’m on my lunch break now and I’m going for a wander round the shops. There’s nobody downstairs at the moment so Anastasia says you don’t need to rush down. Ooh! That’s looking good. Very colourful.’
With Aaron’s picture now complete, I’d returned to the sheep having their fancy dress dip.
‘Thanks. Can you tell her I’ll finish this section – should only take me five minutes or so – but to shout me if it does get busy?’
‘Will do.’
Five minutes later, I’d finished what I was doing and went downstairs. A woman was looking through the greetings cards, Anastasia was talking to a couple about the inspiration behind my style and there was someone standing at the far end of the gallery with their back to me, looking at the mounted prints from my Australian collection. I only managed a cursory glance – not even registering if they were male or female – as the woman at the card rack had made her selection and was making her way towards me, blocking my view.
After I’d served her, I looked down the gallery and my stomach flip-flopped. Was that Aaron? Surely not. I adjusted my position but I couldn’t see his face. Taking a calming breath, I left the till and walked slowly towards him. On the wall beside the prints was my photo and an explanation about the origins of my artwork and he seemed to be reading that.
I was closing the gap and it was definitely him but I had no idea what to say. This would be our third encounter in about as many weeks and the second one he’d instigated. I could start withhellobut it seemed so trite.Fancy seeing you heresprung to mind but that was a typically British thing said to someone you were fully expecting to encounter and I certainly hadn’t expected this.
The prints included four marsupials native to Australia – a koala, wallaby, wombat and quokka.
‘You loved wombats when you were little,’ I said.
‘I still do.’ He continued to stare at the prints. ‘I remember having a soft toy one but I don’t know what happened to it.’
‘Wally. He, erm… I’ve still got him.’
Aaron’s head shot round and his eyes met mine. ‘Why do you have him?’
How could I tell him that his mother had refused to take Wally the wombat to Declan’s because I was the one who’d bought it? It had seemed so cruel when it was Aaron’s favourite soft toy.
‘He got left behind in the move.’
‘Why didn’t you send him on?’
‘I… It was…’ I shrugged, unable to think of an answer that wouldn’t drop Ingrid in it. ‘Sorry, Aaron, but you’ll have to ask your mother.’
I expected him to either demand I tell him why I’d kept Wally or to storm out, but he pointed to theinformation plaque.
‘Why does it say that?’
Even if he hadn’t pointed, I’d have known the line he was referring to:
None of my artwork would exist if it wasn’t for my three wonderful children. They loved drawing and their pictures of round, cuddly animals with big smiles made me feel so happy. I wanted to create artwork which evoked that same warmth and happiness.
‘You only have two children,’ he added.
There was a challenge in his eyes but the way he nibbled on his thumbnail conveyed his vulnerability and I couldn’t help feeling he’d come here needing reassurance that I hadn’t abandoned him six years ago. I could easily give him that without going into the full story.
‘I’ve always thought of you as my son,’ I said, my voice husky as I forced it out over the lump in my throat. ‘I know I didn’t get to be your dad for the past six years but that’s not because I didn’t want to be.’
He teased his bottom lip with his upper teeth and I could see the conflict inside him, comparing what I was saying with what Ingrid and Declan had told him. Eventually he shrugged.
‘I’d better go.’
I didn’t want him to leave, but I didn’t know what else to say to keep him here. Ingrid’s warning to stay away from him echoed round my head and it made me so mad that Aaron was clearly hurting and wanted answers.
He took one more look at the wombat. ‘Is Wally here, in Whitsborough Bay?’
‘He is. Would you like him back?’
His eyes lit up for a moment, but he must have decided that itwasn’t cool for a twelve-year-old boy to want his old soft toy back because he shrugged before shaking his head. I wasn’t convinced by the no.
‘Tell you what. Why don’t I bring him with me tomorrow and put him upstairs in my studio? If you happen to be passing and decide you’d like him, you can call in.’
