“I also got a call from Lenny.”
“Well, well, well. They’re all coming out of the woodwork.”
“He wanted to apologise.”
“For what?”
“The pictures.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because it was the kid from Argon Fire’s fan club who actually took them.”
Nate froze. It couldn’t have been. He felt any semblance of colour drain from his face.
“I thought that might get your attention. But it gets better, because even he’s innocent of this so-called crime.”
Nate looked at her confused. Either he did take the photos, or he didn’t.
“The poor lad had never even heard of you or your mum,” she carried on. “He was simply taking photos of his fun few days away for posterity. It was his father who recognised you. His father’s the one who sent them to the newspaper.” Nate’s aunt was clearly on a roll. “And for your information, there was no malice intended on his part either. He was simply a big fan of your mother’s and after everything that had happened to the both of you, he just wanted to let other fans know how happy you are now.”
Even Nate could see the irony in that. Happy was not how he’d describe his current feelings.
“I’m guessing that’s why he handed them over without asking for a single penny. You see, not everyone in this world is out to get you, Nate. It’s about time you realised that.”
A sense of nausea swept over him again. “I feel sick.”
Julia shook her head as she got up from her seat to go and fetch the coffee jug. “I bet you do,” she said, refilling his cup.
Not that Nate could blame her for the lack of sympathy. Even he knew he didn’t deserve it. “Why didn’t you just tell me all this at the beginning?”
“Because I thought you needed to hear a few home truths first.”
She was right, of course. He closed his eyes, realising what a spoilt brat he’d been and what an absolute fool he’d made of himself. The things he’d said and the way he’d said them. Flick and Brenda were never going to forgive him.
“Now drink up and finish your breakfast,” Julia continued.
Nate knew he was in no position to argue.
“Just make sure you leave some room.”
Nate looked from his plate to her. “What for?”
His aunt smiled. “For all the humble pie you’re about to eat.”
40
Nate opened the door to his workshop. Stepping inside, he glanced around at his sculptures. He took in the painstaking detail in each and every piece, thinking about all the hours upon hours he’d spent learning his craft. His personal life might still be in tatters, but he’d come a long way as an artist.
He picked up a chisel, running his fingers over the cold metal. From day one, he’d always valued his time in there, he loved being surrounded by the tools of his trade, even when he hadn’t known how to use them. It was funny how one little room could give his life its sense of purpose. He laughed. Had it really done that? Or had it simply given him a place to hide away from everyone and everything.
He breathed in the woody aroma. It smelt like over-baked biscuit, it was comforting. It reminded him of his mother.
His mother. How could a man both love and hate someone in such equal measure?
Standing there in the quiet, it would have been so easy to open his mouth wide and spew out his frustrations in one loud roar. Despite the temptation, however, he stopped himself. In his view, it would take a lot more than a bit of shouting to sort out his head.
He thought about what his aunt had said – about his arrogance, his need to grow up, how not everyone in the world was out to get him. Her straight-talking about his mum had been especially difficult listening, she’d really gotten her point across. His shoulders drooped. It saddened him to think he’d been so wrapped up in his own anguish over the years that he hadn’t seen hers. He might not have wanted to hear it, but she was right to talk to him the way she had.
