The outbuilding was slightly bigger than a single garage and occupied a large part of the back garden. Ben had used most of the money Jason had lent him to create a usable workspace for his business. I knocked on the door and entered before waiting for a reply.
“Hi, Ben,” I announced to his stiffening shoulders. “Coffee.”
Ben was a slender man with dark-brown curly hair and a stature that took him close to six foot without making him appear tall. Dressed in scruffy corduroys and a denim shirt covered in sawdust, he held in his craftsman hands a mandolin with a rounded back and devoid of strings. He was examining the frets.
The workshop bore no resemblance to my atelier. Whereas my space had splashes of colour, paper, and brushes scattered about, his had wood, string, bows, and carpentry tools. On one wall was a well-organised shelf of boxes labelled bridged, pegs, or frets according to different instrument types. Scattered about were guitars, violins, violas, and cello parts. Some hung waiting for the varnish to dry, while others laid out waiting to be reassembled.
The room stank of resin, varnish, and wood dust. My atelier smelt of solvents and paint. I almost sneezed as sawdust billowed across the floor. I shut the door. How could he work in such an environment?
“Put the mug there. Thanks, Gemma.” He pointed at a small space on his workbench.
A moment of silence descended. No words of welcome or kiss.
“Jason here, too?” he asked, turning his head slightly over his shoulder.
“Yes. Josh, too.” I inched forward, placing the mug next to him.
Ben glanced away at the name of our son. “Come to berate me, have you?” He sounded resigned, breathing out heavily though his nose.
“No. Come to offer our support.” I wanted to keep as non-judgmental as possible.
“What, after my telling my girlfriend to get an abortion? I’m surprised Jason isn’t in here with his fists ready to knock me down.” He rested the mandolin on the bench.
“He doesn’t box.” I tried to lighten the tone. “And he left his golf clubs at home. You still want her to have an abortion?” I cut to the heart of the disagreement with my sister-in-law.
He groaned as if in pain. Finally, he turned to face me and leant on his bench. He looked exhausted, with thick, dark lines under his eyes. He raked his fingers through his hair, tugging on it. “Fuck, no. It was all heat of the moment. But it did the damage because Lou knows I’m not keen.”
“You do want children?”
“Yes. Just not now.”
“When would be a good time, Ben? Louise is in a secure job that will give her paid maternity leave; you work at home, which gives you flexibility. I don’t see the issue.”
“It’s not about jobs. The house needs stuff done to it and...I’m not ready, okay?” he snapped.
His darting eyes, which wouldn’t look at me, and the trembling in his usually sturdy hands told me he was fired up with emotion—afraid?
Somehow, I had to make him understand it was all right to be uncertain. I took a step closer to him.
“When I found out I was pregnant, we were both delighted. Been trying for months to conceive, and it was fantastic news. Then I fell to pieces, badly. I didn’t know how to deal with being pregnant: the emotions, the contrary advice from experts, appointments, and other personal issues.” I cleared my throat, wondering how far to go with my own revelations. “You know Jason and I live our lives in a particular way?”
Ben’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. He picked up his mug and took a sip before answering. “Yes. Louise says he controls your life and you do kinky sex.” He stared into his mug. I didn’t blame him I’d not want to look at me after saying that.
I snorted with amusement. “I suppose you’ve summed up the two key aspects in a nutshell. Before I was pregnant, he didn’t control me, my life as you describe it, not to that extent. Just in the bedroom.” I didn’t mention the dungeon. “So, when I panicked with being pregnant, Jason took over, more or less, controlling me and making decisions I found difficult to do. The control, his domination over me, has remained since Josh’s birth. I consent....” I rambled, and Ben had a mortified expression, shrinking back against the bench. “Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m trying to explain I reacted to my pregnancy in a way I hadn’t anticipated, and Jason was supportive.”
He furrowed his eyebrows and pulled a face. “You want me to take over Louise’s life?”
I held up a hand. “No, no. She’s the wrong type anyway.” I cringed at my choice of words. “I’m saying I thought I was ready, and I found out I wasn’t, and I needed someone to be there for me. There is no right time, and there certainly isn’t a typical response to finding out you’re going to be a parent.”
“Jason coped.” Ben pouted, almost childishly.
“Jason likes to control things, everything, including people. Pregnancy, kids, are just more of the same, and his methods remain the same. He doesn’t dwell in his past. Whatever his opinions of what makes a good or bad father, he will do what he wants.”
Ben scowled. “My dad was crap. Never cared, treated Mum like shit, and she ran off to Australia to start a new life.”
I went and stood next to him, leaning on his bench. He had issues, I could see where they might lie. “You didn’t go with her?”
“No. Lived with my grandparents, her parents. Wanted to finish school and study here in the UK. Dad was never there for me, once they split up.”