The Dilemma. B Paris A

having more room to kick his football around. I felt bad, because he’d had his eye on the extra bedroom in the new build as a possible study. But, very quickly, the garden won him over, as it had me.

      We painted everything white, restored the old oak floors and, a couple of years later, Adam built himself a large shed to work in at the end of the garden, which made me feel better about him missing out on a study. And once the lights are strung in the trees tonight, the garden will look exactly how I knew it could, all those years ago.

      11 A.M. – 12 P.M.

Adam

      I lower the box that something was delivered in, I can’t remember what, to Josh, standing in the hall below.

      ‘So, what’s this for?’ he asks.

      I come down the ladder and fold it back into the loft. I can’t tell him the real reason so I’ve got an answer ready.

      ‘You know I’m buying Mum a ring?’ He nods. ‘Well, she’ll guess what it is from the size of the box. So, I’m going to put the ring box into this box to delay the surprise a bit.’

      ‘Then why don’t you get a whole range of boxes that fit one inside the other? There are loads up there from toasters and things and I’ve got a shoebox we could use for the one before last.’ His enthusiasm grows. ‘Or we could slide the ring box in an empty toilet roll and place that in the shoebox. She’ll never guess then!’

      ‘No, only one box, I think.’

      ‘But if you want the surprise to last?’

      ‘No, I’m just going to put the ring box inside this one.’ I pick up the box and upend it so that it’ll fit down the stairs. ‘Can you give me a hand covering it with wrapping paper?’

      ‘But won’t the ring box slide around inside? Unless we stuff it with newspaper.’

      ‘It’ll be fine.’ He follows me down to the kitchen and I dump the box on the floor. ‘Let’s cover it. There’s paper somewhere.’

       ‘But isn’t it better to do that once you’ve put the ring box inside?’ he says. ‘Then we can seal it up properly.’

      ‘I don’t want to seal it.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because it’ll take her too long to open it.’

      He scratches his head. ‘I thought you wanted to delay the surprise?’

      I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t asked for his help.

      ‘I do, but not for that long.’

      ‘I don’t understand.’

      ‘You will tonight. For now, just let me do it my way.’

      ‘Yeah, because you never got to do anything your way.’ He says it in such a matter-of-fact way that I know he really believes that everything I’ve done in my life has been out of duty, not choice.

      I give him a quick smile. ‘I wouldn’t change a thing.’

      His silence tells me that he doesn’t believe me. I reach on top of one of the cupboards, find the rolls of paper that Liv keeps there, and we get on with the task of covering the box.

      ‘How’s Amy?’ I ask, breaking the silence that has grown between us.

      ‘She’s fine. Gutted to be missing the party. When are you getting Mum’s ring?’

      ‘I’ll go and collect it once we’ve put the tables up.’

      It’s unbelievable how long it takes the two of us to cover the box. Liv would have done it in half the time with no help from anyone.

      ‘I hope the tables are going to be easier than that was,’ Josh says. He looks around. ‘Where do you want to put it?’

      ‘I’m going to hide it under the table on the terrace. But I’ll have to wait until the caterers bring the tablecloths because I don’t want your mum to see it.’

       ‘She’ll be back before they arrive.’ He thinks for a moment. ‘I’ve got a couple of those party packs with balloons and banners and stuff, and there’s a paper tablecloth in each one. If we stick them together, we can use them to cover the table.’

      ‘Sounds good,’ I say, smiling at him.

      He finds the paper cloths and when we tape them together, they’re exactly the right size to cover the table all the way to the ground. We slide the box underneath.

      ‘Perfect,’ I say, relieved to have got that out of the way. The loss of the wooden crate doesn’t seem so bad now. ‘Right, now for the tables.’

      We take the trestle tables, twelve in all, from where they’re stacked along the wall and put four in the marquee and eight on the lawn.

      ‘Do we do the chairs now, or later?’ Josh asks.

      ‘May as well do them now.’

      Ten chairs to each table later, we’re done. I check the time; it’s eleven-forty, too early for a beer.

      I look at Josh. ‘Beer?’

      ‘I think we’ve earned it. Stay there, I’ll get them.’

      Even though I’m nearer to the kitchen than he is, I know it’s no use insisting. If Josh can help it, he won’t let me do anything for him. He doesn’t even like the fact that I’ve paid his university fees, and has told me he intends paying every penny back once he’s working. It’s why him accepting the internship means so much to me. I honestly thought he would refuse it, given that I was at the beginning of it all.

      He comes back with two bottles and Murphy. We sit on the wall to drink them, Murphy at our feet. And all of a sudden, there’s this strange tension between us and I find myself struggling for something to say.

       ‘You’ll be off to New York soon. I’m going to miss you,’ I add, surprising myself because it’s the first time I’ve ever said anything remotely emotional to him. I brace myself for his rejection but to my surprise, some of the tension seems to evaporate.

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Yes, of course I will.’

      He nods slowly, taking time to absorb what I’ve said. ‘You know back there when you said you wouldn’t change anything? Is that true?’

      The air around us stills, as if everything and everyone, from the birds in the trees to the neighbours mowing their lawns, have realised the significance of Josh’s question and are holding their collective breath, hoping I’ll take this once in a lifetime chance – because we’ve never come near it before, and might never again – to put things straight between us. What has brought this on, I wonder, what has made Josh reach out to me, if that’s what this is? Is it because he’s leaving for the US soon and might not see us for a year?

      Murphy raises his head and gives me a Don’t mess this up look. I think back to the remark Josh made this morning about there being advantages in having had my children young, and the way his eyes had darkened when I’d joked at the idea.

      ‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s not true. There are things I’d change if I could.’

      ‘What sort of things? Not married Mum? Had me put up for adoption?’ He stretches his long legs out in front of him and although there’s a slight joke in his tone, I know he means every word.

      I look at him properly then. His hair is the same colour mine was before the grey bits came, and his face has the same angles, the nose slightly hooked at the end. ‘No, Josh,’ I say. ‘Not any of those things.’