From the Outside

by Clare Johnston

  I looked at Ben for what seemed like a long time and – equally rarely – he held my gaze. That single remark helped me more than anything any counsellor or doctor could have told me. It also compounded my guilt in knowing that although I helped endless strangers on a daily basis, I had done nothing to aid my own brother. I had competed with Ben for so many years that it just wasn’t in me to give him the helping hand he so needed. Perhaps he would have been too proud to take it anyway, but I could, and should, have tried.

  September had given way to autumn showers and Ben was battling the elements as he embarked on his morning walk to the centre. It took him even longer these days now that he left from Emily’s New Town apartment and, as the driving rain struck him angrily in the face, he remembered what mum used to say when she sent him out to school on stormy mornings: ‘There’s no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothing.’ Today he was kitted out in his waterproof jacket, but this was most certainly bad weather. Still, he smiled to himself that at least his hood was keeping his hair dry as he passed rain-drenched strangers who had naively wandered out without even an umbrella, only to be met moments later by a monumental downpour.

  This morning – as with every Monday morning – he was chairing the staff meeting with Sonja, Danny and their latest recruit, Stephen, who had joined them following Dave’s departure. Ben felt a little apprehensive, as he knew the subject of the mother’s group was going to come up again and, having looked at next year’s budget, he just didn’t see how they would be able to accommodate the crèche that Sonja had in mind. They had to make sure the money Harry had left the centre would last as long as possible, and while he fully agreed it was a fantastic idea to allow the young mothers to focus on their skills workshops while their children were cared for nearby, it would involve recruiting additional skilled staff and, realistically, they didn’t even have the necessary space. The only option would be a costly extension.

  He arrived at the centre slightly late so headed immediately for the office, only to find our father sitting at the meeting table, apparently waiting to see him.

  ‘Dad,’ Ben exclaimed, slightly taken aback. ‘What you doing here at this early hour?’

  ‘I wanted to have a wee chat with you,’ he said sagely, adding, ‘I see you walked.’

  ‘My jeans are soaking,’ Ben replied, pulling at the wet denim that was clinging to his legs before removing his jacket and hanging it up to dry. ‘I also have a team meeting in ten minutes, so I can’t spare you too much time I’m afraid.’

  ‘This won’t take long.’ Dad nodded at the chair next to him, urging Ben to sit down which he dutifully did.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about the chat we had a few weeks ago,’ he began. ‘I was most impressed with your commitment to this centre, Ben, and I want to do what I can to help.’

  Ben immediately had visions of his father volunteering to coach some of their young visitors and thought he should head him off at the pass: ‘Really Dad, we’re fully staffed here. It’s very kind…’ But Dad was quick to interrupt.

  ‘So I’ve brought you this,’ he handed Ben a small white envelope which my brother eyed suspiciously before peeling it open. Inside he found a cheque for the sum of two hundred thousand pounds. Ben gasped before checking Dad’s face for any trace of laughter that would suggest this was a joke. But he was serious.

  ‘There’s no use this money burning a hole in my pocket. I want you to use it here. This is for you… and for Harry,’ he added.

  Several seconds passed as Ben searched for the right words.

  ‘Thank you,’ was all he could get past the lump in his throat. ‘It’ll be put to good use.’

  ‘Oh I know it will,’ said Dad, with a wry smile.

  Ben wanted the centre’s new team leader to be the first one to hear the news, so when she handily walked into the hallway just after he had said goodbye to Dad at the front door, he grabbed the moment. She was carrying a tray full of cups of tea for the team meeting so he spoke softly to avoid giving her a fright.

  ‘Sonja. Have you got a minute?

  ‘Of course,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll just put the tray down in the meeting room and I’ll come right back.’

  Ben headed into the office and waited patiently for his coworker, desperate to share the good news with her. True to her word, she appeared just a few moments later and took a seat at the table in front of him.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked.

  ‘Well,’ he was going to drag this one out. ‘I wanted to let you know I’m really pleased with how you’ve picked up with running this place and just to say that I really appreciate all you’re doing.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Sonja looking genuinely pleased.

  ‘So, I thought a pay rise to match your promotion would be in order.’

  ‘But, you’ve already given me a rise,’ Sonja loyally protested.

  ‘A thousand pounds a year is not much of a rise, Sonja. We now have sufficient funds to pay you an extra four thousand.’

  Sonja’s eyes bulged as she took in the news.

  ‘Well, that’s gonna help with my wedding,’ she giggled.

  ‘Wedding?’ Ben frowned. ‘I didn’t know you were getting married.’

  ‘I was going to tell you this morning. Martin and I have set a date for August next year. And you’re invited of course – and Emily.’ She couldn’t hide her embarrassment at mentioning Emily’s name. Ben had never spoken of their relationship to her so he would no doubt guess that Jason had spread the good word.

  ‘Well, it’s a double celebration then,’ Ben smiled. ‘I thought you’d also be interested to know that I’m going to ask an architect to come in and have a look at the building and let us know if he thinks we can build into the outdoor space at the back to create room to house our crèche.’

  Sonja’s smile now shone even brighter than when he’d told her of her pay rise.

  ‘That’s fantastic, Ben. Thank you. I thought we didn’t have any room in the budget for an expansion?’

  ‘We do now,’ Ben grinned.

  Sarah arrived first at the restaurant, giving her name to the friendly Australian waitress who greeted her before leading her to a table upstairs by the window. She looked down at the street below while she waited for her dining companion and remembered the last time she’d been here – with me. She felt a tugging in her chest as she recalled how we’d enjoyed a leisurely lunch over a bottle of wine, with me regaling her with tales of the dastardly ‘boardroom bores’ who blighted my existence. I loved nothing more than to take a knock at the stuffed shirts who lined the executive board of YourLot and took themselves pathetically seriously. I could only watch in dismay as they puffed up like peacocks whenever it was their turn to present on their area of the business. That was one of the sad things about success. You started off as a one-man show, then hired a few friends to join you, but there is only so long that you can hold off the inevitable march of accountants, marketing executives and business strategists, and before you know it, you don’t even recognise the organisation you single-handedly founded.

  Sitting at the lunch table, staring into space, Sarah reflected on how sad it was that those very bores we had once laughed at, were now running the business – with my name a fading memory. It would all be about margins and bottom lines now, and no longer about the thrill of the chase as it had been for me. I’d treated it as a game, as I did life.

  It was she who had suggested the lunch she was now waiting to order. A chance to clear any tension between her and her dining companion – especially as they would be seeing so much more of each other.

  Sarah listened to her approaching heels clacking on the wooden floor behind her, before she heard her voice.

  ‘Hello Sarah,’ said Emily, looking immaculate as always in dark denim skinny jeans, a crisp white blouse and navy blazer. ‘This is a lovely spot by the window.’ She leant forward and pecked Sarah lightly on both cheeks before removing her blazer, hanging it over the back of her ch
air and, finally, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ Sarah said nervously. ‘I thought it would be nice to get to know each other a little better.’

  ‘Of course,’ Emily replied, seemingly never dropping her professional guard. Sarah tried to imagine the relationship between this emotionally controlled woman in front of her and Ben who wore his heart on his sleeve. She hadn’t worked the dynamic out yet, but Ben’s happiness was all too obvious.

  The women busied themselves for a few minutes discussing the menu but, once their order was taken, there was no hiding from the realisation that they would now have to carry a conversation together for over an hour. Sarah wondered if Emily was as aware as she was of the tension between them; a case of two queen bees in the same hive, jostling over power – of Ben.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Emily asked.

  ‘Oh, fine. A little tired and a bit achy but I still feel pretty good. Only eight weeks to go now so I guess I’m just bracing myself really.’

  Another embarrassed silence followed with Emily fearing she had just used up her only point of conversation. With nothing else coming to mind, she decided to shoot from the hip.

  ‘Ben’s told me about the problems you’ve been having with your ex-colleague. Are you certain he’s the father?’

  Sarah visibly recoiled in shock at the sheer temerity of the question, considering they hadn’t even received their starters. She had two options though; either tell Emily to mind her own business or answer the question. Remembering that she was on fragile ground with Ben, she chose the latter.

  ‘It would seem the odds are stacked that way seeing as Harry and I were experiencing problems conceiving.’ She looked around uncomfortably before continuing.

  ‘Look, I know it isn’t pretty, but there were reasons that I had a one-night stand. Being faced with not being able to have a child was challenging to say the least and, at my lowest ebb, I did something stupid.’

  ‘I’m not judging you, Sarah,’ Emily said earnestly. ‘I can imagine your torment. I had to accept a few years ago that I would never become a natural mother.’

  ‘But you still could, surely? It’s not too late.’

  ‘I’ve had the tests, Sarah. I can’t conceive.’ Emily put her head down for a few moments leaving Sarah to wonder whether she was upset or indicating she didn’t want to say any more about it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah replied, still unsure whether to move on or ask her more. In the end, she thought maybe Emily might want to open up to another woman. ‘Had you been trying before you had these tests?’

  ‘Yes,’ Emily replied distantly. ‘With my former partner. But it wasn’t to be.’

  An awkward silence fell between them again before the waitress appeared with their bread and drinks which they watched her set down in front of them. Alone once more, Sarah decided to risk posing another personal question which she thought was only fair seeing as Emily had thrown down the gauntlet so early in the conversation.

  ‘Things seem to be pretty serious between you and Ben?’

  She could see Emily squirm a little at the prospect of having to discuss her relationship so it didn’t surprise Sarah when she opted for a typically vague response.

  ‘We enjoy each other’s company, yes.’

  ‘So, do you think you’ll move in together then?’ Sarah was enjoying the shift of power.

  ‘We’ve discussed it.’

  Sarah suddenly wished she hadn’t asked the question. She felt more than a little crushed at the idea of Ben living with Emily. Still, she realised she would have to look happy, so she smiled unconvincingly and said: ‘That’s nice.’

  Sensing the tension rising again, Emily decided to broker the peace between them.

  ‘I know Ben is very keen to support you with the baby and in whatever lies ahead. For what it’s worth, that goes for me too. If there’s ever anything I can do to help, just let me know.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sarah replied, genuinely touched. ‘You surprise me, Emily. You’re not the hard-nosed businesswoman I once thought you were.’

  ‘Ditto,’ Emily shot back playfully and the two women laughed together; something Sarah couldn’t have imagined an hour earlier.

  Ben quickly glanced over the CV that had been left out for him ahead of his meeting with Jayne Byers, one of the young mothers from Sonja’s group. He saw from her date of birth that she was 17, but had left school at 16 when she got pregnant – still managing to take with her an impressive array of Standard Grade exams, or National 5s as they were now calling them, including good results in English, Maths, Biology, History and Modern Studies. His eyes then quickly progressed to the ‘Career Goals’ section, where she had said, simply: ‘To be a lawyer’.

  Ambitious, Ben thought; his admiration for the girl growing by the minute as he spotted under ‘Personal Details’ that she was bringing up her six-month-old baby girl, Layla, alone, sharing a home with her mother who had also been a single parent.

  He was trying to work out whether the girl was just a dreamer or really had the drive to do this when he heard a loud knock on the door.

  ‘Come on in,’ he said, hoping he didn’t sound like a school headmaster.

  A very presentable teenager popped her head around the door before stepping into the room.

  ‘I’m Jayne,’ she said confidently, before holding her hand out for Ben to shake.

  ‘Take a seat, Jayne,’ he smiled, gesturing for her to sit down in the chair in front of his desk. ‘I see from your details that you have a baby girl. Congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you. She’s pretty good so I think I’m quite lucky.’

  ‘She’s not keeping you up all night then?’ Ben joked.

  ‘No, she goes down before 8pm and sleeps through.’

  ‘Wow,’ Ben raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m no expert, but that sounds impressive to me.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jayne giggled politely.

  ‘I also see from your notes that you want to be a lawyer. What sparked that ambition?’

  ‘I want to help people, but I also want to make something of myself,’ she replied firmly. ‘I know that having a baby at sixteen maybe isn’t the best idea if you want a career, but I’m still going tae try.’

  Ben noticed her Leith accent poking through as she started to get into her stride and he realised that she’d been trying to smarten up her speech for his benefit. And somehow this impressed him more than anything because it showed just how much she wanted this. She wasn’t satisfied with the life she and her baby currently had. She knew they could have more and she also knew what she had to do to get it.

  ‘You have some good Nat 5s, but you’ll need to sit five Highers and pass at A or B level to stand a chance of qualifying for a Scottish law degree course.’

  ‘I know that,’ she said. ‘But we don’t have a computer at home and I’ve no idea where or how to apply for colleges. I’m also going to need help in sorting out funding and childcare.’

  ‘You’ve come to the right place then. We can help you with funding and applying to further education colleges – and we’ll put some thought into childcare. You may be able to get help through your college, or we could look at how we might be able to contribute too.‘

  ‘Thank you,’ Jayne said, looking both relieved and grateful. ‘My mum can help a bit, but she works, so she can’t take Layla every day.’

  ‘We’ll work something out,’ he reassured her. ‘I’m still curious though as to why you’re so determined to study law?’

  ‘Where I’m from no one studies law,’ she said, her tone once again resolute. ‘So I’m gonnae do it, because I’m not letting my child grow up in the same estate that I did, where no one believes they’ll ever make anything of themselves.’ She looked away for a moment as though she had finished speaking, before adding: ‘And because I’m just as entitled as anyone else to have a law degree.’

  Emily tidied the small number of papers littering her desk, filed the
m into her drawer then reached for her coat. But just as she headed out the door of her office her direct line started to ring. While her first thought was to ignore it, habit forced her to reach out and pick up.

  ‘Emily DiRollo,’ she answered briskly.

  ‘Yes, hi Emily,’ said an American voice. ‘This is Mark Weiss.’

  ‘Oh hi,’ she said, switching her tone.

  ‘I wanted to say thank you for letting me know about Jason Weir. His pictures arrived here yesterday and I’m blown away.’

  ‘I’m so glad you like them.’ Emily gushed. She knew for Jason to get international recognition at this early stage in his career would be remarkable – and it would do her reputation no harm either. Emily had often thought about making a foray into the US market, brokering Scottish art to American dealers, and this connection with Mark Weiss was just the start she needed. She held her breath waiting for him to continue.

  ‘I’d like to take a couple more drawings from you – I’m especially keen on the sketches he’s done of friends and family. And, if you can get a few pieces together in time, I’m organising a little private viewing here at my gallery for a couple of my newer artists in November. I’d like to include Jason’s work.’

  ‘That’s amazing,’ said Emily. ‘He’ll be thrilled.’

  ‘I’m inviting a few friends in the business and also a couple of critics I know too. I’m pretty sure they’ll want to see this.’

  It took Emily every ounce of willpower not to whoop down the telephone. Instead she clung desperately to her reserve.

  ‘That won’t be a problem,’ she said calmly. ‘I have another couple of drawings here that I can send you and Jason is working on more. Do you have a date in mind for the private viewing?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m looking at November 20th. Will I see you here?’

  Emily paused for a moment. That idea hadn’t struck her yet, but she liked it. She could meet Mark face-to-face and go and check out some other galleries.

  ‘That’s a nice thought. I’ll talk to Jason and Ben Melville, who’s from the centre that discovered him, and I’ll let you know if we can make it. I’m sure Jason would love to see New York and your gallery – I know I would.’