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Authors: Linda Green
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need to take a break at any time, just ask.’
They both nodded. Nathan crossed his legs. Catherine took a sip of water. I noticed her hand was shaking. Our eyes met for a second and she put the glass back down.
‘Right, well, at the first session I usually go through the notes from your initial assessment. If there’s anything which you feel isn’t accurate, or there’s anything missing which you believe is important, please let me know.’
They nodded again. Nathan glanced at his watch.
‘So you’ve been together twelve years, since meeting at university in Manchester. You’ve no children and you both work full-time. Nathan, it says you run your own web design company.’
‘That’s right, if you ever need a website setting up pronto –’ He took a business card from his pocket and put it on the table.
I thought I saw Catherine cringe, but I couldn’t be sure.
‘And Catherine, you co-own an art gallery in Hebden Bridge and work as a part-time arts promotions officer.’
‘Yes,’ she said, before looking down at her hands.
I noticed for the first time that the nail varnish was chipped.
‘And as far as the problems you’ve been experiencing go, you both say there are issues regarding whether to start a family or not, which have led to lots of arguments.’ I looked up.
Catherine was still staring at her hands. The smile had disappeared from her face. Nathan, however, remained decidedly upbeat.
‘That about sums it up,’ he said.
I looked at Catherine. ‘So how do you feel about starting a family?’
She looked down as she spoke. ‘I don’t want children, but I don’t want that to be an issue between us. I don’t see why it needs to be.’
‘The thing is,’ said Nathan, ‘people don’t always know what they want, do they? Until it’s too late, that is. And I don’t want Catherine to regret this in later life. I think she’d make a great mum. I thought coming here and talking about it might make her see that.’
I scribbled some notes.
When I glanced up, Catherine was gazing out of the window behind me, her eyes moist with tears.
* * *
I don’t think Josh meant me to see him. True, he didn’t usually leave his bedroom door open. But Matilda had gone to bed, so the main reason to shut it had disappeared.
I’d only nipped upstairs to get a cardigan. For some reason I happened to glance in as I walked past his doorway. Josh was sitting on the end of his bed, his cheeks wet with tears, gazing down at what appeared to be a shoebox on his lap.
‘Hey,’ I said, stepping inside the room, ‘what’s the matter?’
‘It’s OK,’ he said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and managing a watery smile. ‘Nothing’s happened, I just got out the box and I think it all kind of caught up with me.’
I sat down on the bed next to him and put my arm around his shoulders. The box on his lap was open. On thetop of a small pile of things inside was a black and white photograph of a young, dark-haired woman clutching a newborn baby to her chest. Her eyeliner was smudged, her hair lank with sweat, but the look on her face was one of immense pride.
‘She seems so happy,’ said Josh.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’m sure she was.’
‘There are others,’ he went on. ‘Quite a few of them.’
He flicked through the wallet of photos underneath. Pictures of him and Lydia snuggled together on a rug on the floor, wrapped up together in a bath towel, both sporting Santa hats on what would have been his first Christmas. Lydia’s expression was one of unwavering devotion. She smiled less as Josh got older, though. In the ones where he was sitting up, she was hardly smiling at all.
‘I’ve never seen these before,’ I said.
‘Dad gave me the box when I was a kid, a year or so after I started school, I think. We were doing something on families and they asked us to bring in photos of us as babies. I remember Dad saying he wanted me to know what my mum looked like and that
They both nodded. Nathan crossed his legs. Catherine took a sip of water. I noticed her hand was shaking. Our eyes met for a second and she put the glass back down.
‘Right, well, at the first session I usually go through the notes from your initial assessment. If there’s anything which you feel isn’t accurate, or there’s anything missing which you believe is important, please let me know.’
They nodded again. Nathan glanced at his watch.
‘So you’ve been together twelve years, since meeting at university in Manchester. You’ve no children and you both work full-time. Nathan, it says you run your own web design company.’
‘That’s right, if you ever need a website setting up pronto –’ He took a business card from his pocket and put it on the table.
I thought I saw Catherine cringe, but I couldn’t be sure.
‘And Catherine, you co-own an art gallery in Hebden Bridge and work as a part-time arts promotions officer.’
‘Yes,’ she said, before looking down at her hands.
I noticed for the first time that the nail varnish was chipped.
‘And as far as the problems you’ve been experiencing go, you both say there are issues regarding whether to start a family or not, which have led to lots of arguments.’ I looked up.
Catherine was still staring at her hands. The smile had disappeared from her face. Nathan, however, remained decidedly upbeat.
‘That about sums it up,’ he said.
I looked at Catherine. ‘So how do you feel about starting a family?’
She looked down as she spoke. ‘I don’t want children, but I don’t want that to be an issue between us. I don’t see why it needs to be.’
‘The thing is,’ said Nathan, ‘people don’t always know what they want, do they? Until it’s too late, that is. And I don’t want Catherine to regret this in later life. I think she’d make a great mum. I thought coming here and talking about it might make her see that.’
I scribbled some notes.
When I glanced up, Catherine was gazing out of the window behind me, her eyes moist with tears.
* * *
I don’t think Josh meant me to see him. True, he didn’t usually leave his bedroom door open. But Matilda had gone to bed, so the main reason to shut it had disappeared.
I’d only nipped upstairs to get a cardigan. For some reason I happened to glance in as I walked past his doorway. Josh was sitting on the end of his bed, his cheeks wet with tears, gazing down at what appeared to be a shoebox on his lap.
‘Hey,’ I said, stepping inside the room, ‘what’s the matter?’
‘It’s OK,’ he said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and managing a watery smile. ‘Nothing’s happened, I just got out the box and I think it all kind of caught up with me.’
I sat down on the bed next to him and put my arm around his shoulders. The box on his lap was open. On thetop of a small pile of things inside was a black and white photograph of a young, dark-haired woman clutching a newborn baby to her chest. Her eyeliner was smudged, her hair lank with sweat, but the look on her face was one of immense pride.
‘She seems so happy,’ said Josh.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’m sure she was.’
‘There are others,’ he went on. ‘Quite a few of them.’
He flicked through the wallet of photos underneath. Pictures of him and Lydia snuggled together on a rug on the floor, wrapped up together in a bath towel, both sporting Santa hats on what would have been his first Christmas. Lydia’s expression was one of unwavering devotion. She smiled less as Josh got older, though. In the ones where he was sitting up, she was hardly smiling at all.
‘I’ve never seen these before,’ I said.
‘Dad gave me the box when I was a kid, a year or so after I started school, I think. We were doing something on families and they asked us to bring in photos of us as babies. I remember Dad saying he wanted me to know what my mum looked like and that
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