I’ll Do Whatever I Want

Do What I Want

Suddenly, my wife Kate wanted a cottage. Not just to dream about it, but to actually go out and buy one!

Why do you need this, Dad?! exclaimed our son Joel, shaking his head and wrestling with his jeans, hopelessly baggy and full of gaping holes at the knees. Through those holes, his thin white legs stuck out for all to see. Personally, I never liked those jeans of his, but I said nothing. Its a complete waste of time and money. We could just go on a normal holiday, like we always have! Seriously, just think how many times you could fly to the Maldives with that money!

Im not flying anywhere. You know Im scared stiff of even looking at planes! Lay off, Joel, its my decision. Consider it a mad whim, an old mans folly, but I want a cottage! I banged my fist on the table. I want a shed where I can tinker with the car, shovels and rakes lined up on the wall, and a barbecue in the garden. Wed invite our friends round for a grill. Oh, you lot just dont get it! I waved him off.

Kate, a petite, elegant woman with a graceful carriage, was sitting opposite. She was like a porcelain figurine in the cabinet, except with olive skin and cropped hair. She sipped her coffee calmly from a delicate china cup, as if she hadnt just heard that several hundred thousand pounds were about to vanish from our savings. And even thats just for startersGod knows a cottage is a bottomless pit for money and headaches.

Mum! Arent you going to say anything? Itll all fall to you! Joel kept at her. He was expecting a motorbike for his eighteenth, and now, out of nowhere, Dad wants a cottage.

Kate took another sip, slowly put her cup down and folded her hands.

Darling, why all the fuss? Were at that stage in life where were allowed to want a bit more, something to look forward to after you finally leave home. You will leave home, wont you? Kate said, a mix of hope and anxiety in her voice. It was hard to tell if she was joking, but Joel definitely wasnt thinking of moving out anytime soon; he looked almost wounded by the suggestion.

Me? I dont know… What does that have to do with anything? he grumbled.

It has everything to do with it, love. Soon enough, everyone will have their own life. Youll go to uni and grow up, Dadll have his cottage where the midges will eat him alive, and me… Well, Ill take up parachuting. Time to chase our dreams, Joel. Now we finally can. Kate sighed and stared at the window. That faraway look always irritated Joel, like something out of a slow, melancholy Brontë novel.

I shot my wife a grateful smile. My golden Kate! A real gem! Anyone else would have sided with the son, starting up about how they had better things to do with their nails and spa days than dig vegetable beds. But not my Kateshes wise. Thank goodness I married her all those years back, even with all her quirks!

I patted myself on the back and sighed too.

All right, fine! Do whatever you want! Just remember, Im not leaving home! Joel said even more anxious now, his dreadlocks quivering, like a baby hedgehog trying and failing to bristle up.

Youll go to uni, though? Kate asked.

Yes, but…

But youll still live with usgot it. Kate smiled and washed her cup before heading out; she had work.

Joel shuffled about the kitchen, as if hed forgotten the way out, then finally found the door, crane legs and all, and stomped off to his room, mourning the dreams of a motorbike and a new phone.

Honestly, my parents are losing it! he complained into his headset, unloading his woes on his schoolmate, Luke Atkins, who munched on something and threw in the odd grunt. Dads buying a cottage, Mums jumping out of a plane, and I was nearly chucked out the house! Supposedly, its time everyone followed their dreams. Dreams? At their age? Are you even listening, mate? Show a bit of sympathy at least!

Luke mumbled something, the line cut out, and Joel slumped by his window.

Parents! Proper dinosaurs, the both of them. They ought to be worrying about the afterlife, not mucking about with silly dreams. Only Joel is allowed to have those. But honestly, whats the right thing to do? How do you not mess it all up? He had no idea…

Back in the hall, I grinned as I tied my shoelaces.

Should tell the mother-in-law! Good news like this needs spreading! I thought, Maybe shell be pleased for once…

My own parents knew about my plans ages agobacked me whole-heartedly, even offered some cash…

Kates mum, Violet, took the cottage news with equal gusto.

I told you ages ago, Tommy! You need a garden! Grow proper produce for Joel, let him soak up the sun all summer, fresh air instead of fumes. We always took Kate to the seaside, hired a little place near Brightonoh, those were the days!

Kate remembered those days with a shudder. Her mother insisted the family rent a cottage as far as possible from home, and move in with every stick of furnituremore an exodus than a holiday.

Violet could never drink from someone elses cup or eat off someone else’s plate, so her husband, Tom, carefully packed up the china set with pink roses, and cradled it all the way in the car. God forbid a single cup should break!

Fresh sheets only, toohomemade and heavy. Books by the crate. Her beloved footstool, suitcases brimming with bottles for this and that, picnic tables, umbrellas and deckchairs, fishing rods no one used (since swimming or fishing was simply not onaccording to Violet). So everyone just sat on the veranda drinking tea and eating apples, while Violet lamented, Last summer was much warmer. I was freezing this morning and they didnt bring my blanket! Tom, youll have to pop back to London…

So off hed go. Kate would beg to go with him, but her mum vetoed it.

A girl shouldnt traipse about on the trains! Let Dad go. Have an applevitamins, darling! And Violet would thrust another apple into little Kates hand.

Kate would sigh miserably at her dad, whod avoid her gazewhat could he do anyway?

She wasnt allowed to run wild in the woods, because of midges and, darling, you really should stay close by the house. Playing football with the boysout of the question. Such a nice frock! Eating berries straight from the bushabsolutely not, they had to be washed first. No mushroom picking, strawberries only if bought from a station granny, no catching tadpoles, and certainly no setting snails on the porch and watching them with their twitching eyes.

Violet didnt need any of it, so Kate wasnt allowed, either.

Only lace-trimmed dresses, pretty sandals and plaits, umbrellas and blankets, tedious poetry readings from Mum, and Dad snoring away in the hammockthats all Kate remembered of those childish summers. Shes hated cottages, dresses, ribbons, and sandals ever since.

The moment Kate started university and moved into halls, she chopped her hair short and bought baggy jeans, ridiculous Mickey Mouse jumpers, square coats, and all sorts of dreadful clothes. Violet was horrified. Kate wore nothing but trainers or loafers, even on holidaystrouser suits instead of dresses, no matter how much nicer skirts wouldve shown off her legs. But Kate didnt careshe wanted to live her way. End of.

She married the man she wantedmeand had a boy she named Joel, despite Violet insisting he looked like Newton and needed a name to match. She raced around the park on bikes with Joel, hurled pebbles into the river to see how many times theyd bounce, lay in the grass not fussing about ants, and gazed at the endless, unshadowed, infinite sky. The one thing that never casts a shadow.

There was a skydiving school near their summer cottage when Kate was young, all the neighbourhood boys went, and she longed to join. But, of course, Violet forbade it.

What? Jump from a plane, screaming and pulling silly faces? Dont be ridiculous, Kate. No, and thats final! Kate would stomp and wail, threaten to run awaybut how could she? The gate was always locked, lest ruffians nick off with Violets valuables.

One day, Violet popped into London to see an old chum at the Tate. Tom took the chance, bundled Kate into her tracksuit and dashed her out to the airstrip. She got to sit in a plane, grip the yoke, try on the parachute. Nearly took off, but the wind picked upflights cancelled. Violets predicted rainstorm arrived. They stayed the night, and Tom brought her home in the thick of it.

After that trip, life changed. Tom found out Violet had a man friend in London, someone with a bushy moustache and a pack of Marlboro. Violet couldnt stand her husband, but stayed for the daughters sake. After that, no more holidays to the cottage, no more moustached gents in sight. They all pretended life continued as normal…

Kate sang in the school choir until year seven, played piano because it was refined according to Violet. She didnt play outside, no hopscotch or chalking on the pavement, no grass stains. She dutifully read the classics and watched her mums favourite films. Kate knew Violet was all showthose summer get togethers and lavish family parties didnt mean a thing to anyone but her mother, but she put up with it for her sake, though her rebellious spirit slipped out at times.

Once Kate and Tom learned the truth about Violets double life, the choir and piano and family gatherings stopped. Kate flatly refused to obey her mother from then on.

How can you give up piano, art club, all that? squawked Violet. You are a woman, you must understand! This is out of spite, isnt it, Kate? SPITEFUL!

No, Mum, I just want to live my way, thats all. Youre the one with the secrets. And Im chopping off my hair! Kate stuck out her tongue.

She dashed to her friend Jennys, whod always wanted to be a hairdresser, and Jenny snipped off the prized braid. Kate ran her fingers over her cropcould it be even shorter? Of course! Jenny laughed.

Kate was proud, wild, reckless. Getting a tattoo was peak rebelliona vulgar rose and a heart on her shoulder. Her mother was horrified; her dad just said, Shes finding herself and bought her flowers, pleased to see Kate get under Violets skin.

Why, Dad? You dont need to buy me flowers, shed frown, taking yet another bunch.

I do, love. Let your old man have this one tiny joy.

And she did. She understoodtried, but sometimes didnt, and still she loved him. Her lovely, naive dad.

From then on, Kate did as she pleased, only taking advice from her father. If her mum lectured her, shed just smirk.

It was too convenient to justify every mad whim as just to spite Mum. Easy, but foolishthough nobody told Kate that

Later, wiser, degree in-hand and ready to marry, Kate swore things would be different with us.

Well never live a fake life, got it? The night before our wedding, she grabbed my jumper. Fall out of love, leave. If I stop loving you, Ill say so. No sacrifice, no secrets, I hate lies!

She burst into tears. I was terrified, wrapped her up, smoothed my big hands over her cropped headshe was so warm and smelled of summer, so vulnerable…

Joel was born two years later. My parents, Anne and Peter, fussed over how tiny he was, how frail, suggested doctors. Violet rolled her eyes and insisted GPs were rubbishshed take Kate to a homeopath with herbs and needle treatments.

Stick needles in whom?! gasped Anne, clutching Joel tight.

Violet gave her a withering stare. Kate, naturally! All this so-called freedom of hers has drained her vitality! And your son just goes along with itdyou see this? Wedding was daft, and the family, even dafter!

Violet tried to carry on, but her husband dragged her out. Kate just smiled blissfully and hugged Joel. She was exhausted, but didnt even notice, her own son finally in her arms. It was a strange mix of love and dreadshe could mess things up, be too strict or too lax, squash Joel beneath decisions, or fail to let go when she should.

Tom, what if Im a bad mum? What if he ends up despising me, like I did mine? Kate would whisper at night, clinging to my hand.

Shhh Id rub my eyes, sit up, and murmur, No, Kate, youll be wonderful. You understand him, youre honest, thats why I love you. So will Joel. He already doesyoure the centre of his world. Now sleep, you need it.

Kate would nod, nestle against my arm, and drift off. Joel smacked his lips in his cot. Poplar branches smacked the drainpipe outside, the sky getting lighter. But I found sleep elusivewhy was Kate so certain about me? What if I was the mediocre onerubbish dad, hopeless husband, cant fish, not fit, too clumsy with Joel, always forgetting things… But Kate trusted me, completely.

The thought made me smile. Eventually, I slept, too…

Wed married young, straight out of universitybarely any time to be young and free.

Kate decided early on: in our family, everyone would do what they likedno nagging, no guilt, no lectures.

But wishes had to wait. Joel demanded time, housework waited for no one; lazy weekends, cinema and dinners with friends all had to be put aside.

It got Kate down. She felt history repeating itselfher mums way, now lifes way: never hers. It all felt unfair, awkward, and destined for burnout.

Tom! This cant be it, you know? Kate nearly burst into tears, exhausted from sleepless nights and the monotony. Joel was teething, friends were off telling stories about their camping trips in Wales or hiking in the Lakes…

What could Kate sharehow to swaddle a baby and distract him from his dummy? Her life felt done, again.

But darling, you just have to hang on a bit. Its just for a while, you know. Want me to do the cooking, the clinic runs? Or, you fancy a day out? Ill watch Joel. Go on.

Kate froze, then jumped to hug me.

She set out early the next morningshopping, a wander round Hyde Park, then a café, and then…

She wanted everything and nothing at once. Above all, she wanted a night outdancing, real fun! Why not? She couldve gone to the National Gallery, but no, the club it was.

They had a ball, tattoo peeking through her top, and found themselves a pack of admirers, dancing like wild things, hugging away worries. Kate sobered up when someone tried to drag her aside and started kissing her neck. Mums voice started nagging in her head, Dad fading away with an outstretched bouquet she just couldnt quite reach, Kate stumbling, sick, someone hitting her head…

Her friends bundled her into a cab, delivered her home as dawn broke. Joel had been crying for hoursAnne couldnt calm him, and they nearly called an ambulance, but Kate bolted upright, sent everyone out and pulled Joel close and wept.

Where had she gone wrong? Maybe at the cottage, when she promised herself shed do what she liked and never let anyone tell her otherwise, consequences be damned.

Kate… I called gently. Please, just… We cant do without you. Not yet. You understand?

I never meantnot like this, Tom! I just wanted to go dancing and come back. Suddenly I didnt want to come home, and thats what scared me. Maybe we married too soon, maybe…

And then I turned serious, looking down at her.

You know, Kate, a small dog stays a puppy all its life. If you think you need more time to yourself, we wont stop you. You can go. But if you dono coming back. And I wont give you Joel. He needs us, he depends on us. I want to be a proper dad, more than anything. Right now, were both the whole world for him. Thats called responsibility. Its not about childish rebellion. Think it over, decide what you really want. I wont blame you, I promise.

I walked off with Joel to the kitchen to see off Mum, and the door shut quietly. The flat suddenly felt deserted. Do what you want, but she didnt want to anymore. Fear crept in.

Kate jumped up and dashed out after me.

I was in the dark kitchen, staring out the window. Joel finally asleep.

She came and stood silently by my side.

I was worried, I mumbled. Dont ever scare us like that again.

She pressed her nose into my shoulder, wanted to kiss my cheek but couldnt reach. Why was she so short? Why couldnt I bend down? But I was hurtrightly so.

It was hard to put dreams aside, to keep postponing them, but I tried to be a wise husband, to help, to keep our courage up.

And when Joel grew older, Kate realised her time was coming. Dreaming again, for all our sakes…

I drove around Kent, looking for a little plot, while Kate finally did her skydiving course.

Whats to learn? Piece of cake! I teased.

Truthfully, my one time was absolutely terrifyingscreamed myself silly, cheeks flapping in the wind, just as my mother-in-law predicted. But Kate didnt need to know that…

This time, I jumped with Kate, both of us yelling, then falling silent, with the whole, bright sky yawning above, the ground gleaming below, and Joel, now grown, with his camera pointed up. In that momentjust that momentKate finally understood. She could endure anything for this, because it was, finally, her time for dreams.

A year later, I bought a cottage from a friend, barbecues and mates on the lawn. Joel, now a young man, introduced us to his girlfriend, Emily, a dreamer, sure that no barriers could stop her if she just wanted something enough.

Yes, Emily. Sometimes you just have to want to be happy. Then youll do anything, even things that once seemed unbearable. Want some raspberries? Tom picked a whole basket, and they wont keep long! Dig in!

Emily wanted nothing more than to lounge in a hammock on a summers day, eating berries.

Is it true, you went skydiving? she asked after a while.

Its true, Kate smiled.

Did you train for long?

All my life.

No way! Thats dafta whole lifetime. If Joel and I tie the knot, Im not giving up my life for anyone. What I want, Ill do!

Yes, I thought like that, too. And then I wanted something else… Kate replied. You draw beautifully, by the way, I loved your sketches. Lying on the grass, she stretched, just as she used to as a girl, feeling the grass tickle her neck.

Thanks! Used to draw all the time, gave it up just to spite Mum, and now I know that was silly. Ohlook, theyre shouting! Joel found a hedgehog! Emily leapt to her feet, running barefoot to her young man. She was small and restless too, wanting everything at once. But life would sort itself outjust a matter of making the right choice, not out of spite, but for herself. Kate knew that now, without a shadow of doubt.

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I’ll Do Whatever I Want
Second Family As she grew older, Lisa realized her father and his new wife had gotten together suspiciously quickly. She also noticed that Vera—just about six months older than herself—and Maksim, three years her junior, bore an uncanny resemblance to both Lisa and her father. One of Lisa’s most vivid childhood memories is of a beautiful doll with bright red hair at the supermarket checkout. Lisa remembers tugging at her father’s sleeve, begging him to buy the doll, and her father stooping to quietly, reproachfully say: “Lissie, you can’t be so selfish. Your little brother needs medicine, we all need something to eat before payday, and you’re demanding a doll.” As if she didn’t already have enough toys at home. Lisa felt as if not just her father, but the whole queue—everyone close enough to overhear—was staring at her in judgment. How could a good girl (and Lisa desperately wanted to be good) want a toy when her brother needed medicine? And when there wasn’t enough food at home? Yes, there were toys—most of them broken by Vera and Maksim, but who cared? Certainly not the adults, who had much more important things to do than worry about Lisa’s toys, or her longing for that red-haired doll. When her mother was alive, Lisa would sometimes get a doll. Not always—by age five Lisa understood the days of the week and knew that if her mum took her from nursery and they stopped at the shop on the way home, there was no point pleading, she’d just be scolded for begging. But on weekends, Mum would bring Lisa to the shop and say: “All right, Lisa, if it’s under a tenner, you can pick whatever you want.” Lisa knew a tenner: that was one and a zero and another zero. If there were only two digits before the decimal on the price tag, it was fair game, and Mum would keep her promise. Mum loved her, never shamed Lisa for wanting things for herself, even if she scolded for whining or for one of those tantrums Lisa had seen other children throw—flopping about on supermarket floors until their parents gave in “just to shut them up.” But that never worked on Mum—who didn’t just scold but would cancel cartoons for the day. Still, weekends might bring a little toy—without any lectures about selfishness, even if the family was struggling. And they were: Mum was chronically ill, and after years of treatment, nothing worked. Lisa was six when she lost her mother and the first year after was devoid of toys, bedtime stories, or any real sign of love. Her father dropped Lisa at nursery, then school, collected her, fed her something bland—boiled pasta and sausages (she hated his cooking, but there wasn’t anything else)—and sat in front of the television until late, immersed in football, boxing, or some talk show. Lisa would ask to watch cartoons but Dad would order her to study or read. And she’d obey—fortunately, she’d discovered she loved books. Maybe as her father buried himself in matches and talk shows to avoid reality, Lisa escaped into the make-believe worlds of her favourite books. Her step-siblings appeared half a year later. As she grew up, Lisa realized how strangely quickly her father and his new wife, Dasha, had settled together. And Vera, half a year older, and Maksim, three years younger, both bore an uncanny resemblance to herself and her father. But as a child, Lisa didn’t connect all the dots. She simply couldn’t understand why Dad seemed to love Vera and Maksim while only ever reproaching Lisa for selfishness. Then her father moved them into Dasha’s house in the country. There wasn’t much space, so no room for Lisa—she was put to bed in the hallway, a little nook curtained off between Vera’s and Maksim’s bedrooms. Vera, of course, loved to yank back the curtain and drag Lisa out of bed by her hair. “I keep waking her, but she won’t get up! We’ll be late for school!” she’d protest. No one cared that this was the only way Lisa ever got woken up, or that school only mattered on weekdays—this became her routine even on weekends. As did the redistribution of her belongings and toys: anything Lisa had was handed over to Vera. “What do you need these toys for? You’re always with your nose in a book,” her father would say, when Lisa once dared ask for her beloved teddy bear, sent from Scotland by her grandmother. Grandma, her mum’s mum, lived far up north and worked an impressive and, as Lisa later realized, highly-paid job. She loved her granddaughter, but almost never saw her. Calls were rare. On one such call, Lisa complained about having her teddy stolen by Vera. Dad was furious, then sat Lisa down for a serious talk. “We live in Dasha’s house. She takes care of us. Do you know what she’s done for me?” If not for Dasha, after your mum died, I would’ve been lost. Would you want Dad to disappear and you be left all alone?” Lisa, eight, shook her head. As unfair as she found her father’s treatment, the prospect of being entirely without him was scarier. “So why are you trying to sabotage my family and ruin my life with your petty complaints, you ungrateful girl?!” Over a silly teddy—just a bundle of cotton and cloth—you’d cause this much grief? Yes, we gave Vera your teddy. She wanted it, so we gave it to her. You need to get used to the idea you’re not the only child in this family. Others deserve nice things too. You have a well-off grandma who always sends you gifts—Vera’ll never have that. Why should she suffer because you keep getting treats, but she doesn’t? You have to share. Even as a little girl, Lisa sensed something was deeply illogical, inconsistent about Dad’s arguments. But she had no way to voice it—no one would listen to a child’s logic or her perspective, no matter how quietly reasoned. After all, the family had bigger problems, right? The main problem was Maksim. He had serious neurological issues—something, Lisa later learned, from birth trauma. Every month, so much money was spent on his medicines and therapies. Maksim was taken everywhere—from swimming and massage to horseback riding—anything that might help. It worked, a bit: he developed slowly, behind his peers, but there was hope he’d eventually catch up with other kids his age. But all that money going to Maksim meant Dad praised him for the smallest achievement, while Lisa’s writing, academic prizes, and top marks went unnoticed. “That’s no big deal,” her father scoffed when Lisa proudly showed off a certificate. “At least it’ll make good fire-starters for the oven. If you could earn money for Maksim’s medicine, then you’d be useful. Enough waving your papers at me…” After that, Lisa retreated into herself and stopped trying to talk to her father. Unexpectedly, it was her stepmother Dasha who offered a little attention and care; far from the wicked stepmum from old tales. Later, Lisa would admit Dasha didn’t owe her anything: she wasn’t obliged to look after a stepchild or love Lisa as her own. But, when Lisa turned eleven and started helping with chores around the house, Dasha did call her “my little helper”—which Lisa lapped up, if only for the praise. She even took strange comfort in the evening rows between Dasha and her own daughter, Vera, who accused Dasha of loving Lisa more. “You’re always praising her, calling her your sunshine, but I get nothing but grief! Dad at least loves me, unlike you…” “Well, Dad only puts up with your antics because he loves me! Whether you’re sneaking cigarettes behind the school or bullying the younger kids, I’m tired of being summoned by teachers!” Lisa never gives me any bother. Unlike you…” Vera eventually ran away. It was so serious that search parties were called out. Everyone was in tears, but for the first time, Lisa felt safe in her home. Part of her almost wished Vera would never be found. But Vera turned up, having been living with a classmate for days. There was something more, something that made the authorities take a keen interest. So keen the children were removed from the house and, one by one, sent off to psychologists and doctors. They were asked questions, over and over, and, little by little, someone pieced together the family’s dark secrets. “Don’t go blabbing to those busybodies,” Lisa’s father coached her during visitation. But Lisa, filled with disgust, knew her father only remembered her when things got serious, when he needed her to say everything was fine at home, and that Vera was the only one with issues—a mere fluke, not her parents’ fault. But by eleven, Lisa was wise enough to realize: both her father and even Dasha were responsible for what happened to Vera. As much as she wanted to defend Dasha—who’d been kinder than anyone else—she understood: no child copes well being the one always blamed, always compared to a “sick and unhappy Maksim,” always overlooked in favour of others’ struggles. Yes, her father tried to ‘give love’—mostly at Lisa’s expense—but it was a poor substitute for real care. And it turned out that even social workers could recognize an unhealthy home. Though, as Lisa would later learn, her father’s concern had little to do with his daughter’s welfare.