SIXTEEN
The mid-July air was warm and full of summer promise. Nina spied the boy Joshy, with the burgundy knitted scarf, sober now and being collected by an over-fussy mother and a patient dad as they loaded his trunk and TV into the back of a family car. Portswood Road was quieter, as if it could take a breather from the constant hum of life that filled it day and night as the throngs of students had dissipated for the summer. Toothless Vera was glad that without the students, her workload was halved, which meant more time for Styrofoam cups of tea in exchange for a good old gossip. Lucia told Nina she had decided to try to study at home, focusing on her art between cleaning jobs, working in the store and looking after her siblings. Nina told her she should be proud of herself. The smile of thanks she gave her was like a gift. She couldn’t wait to be in a similar position and start her nursing course. It was exciting.
She and her boys enjoyed breakfast with the French doors thrown open as they chatted about Connor’s final game of the term.
‘How are you feeling, Connor? Nervous?’
‘A bit, yes, but not because of the match, that’ll be fine. But Anna’s going to be there, and I want to be really good.’
‘Do you know what, love? I have seen the way she looks at you, on and off the pitch, and I have a sneaking suspicion that even if you never touched the ball and rolled around on the touchline, she’d think you were absolutely brilliant.’ She watched his face brighten at the compliment. ‘And you’ve packed your clean shirt and tie for the dinner?’
‘Yep.’ He nodded, sipping his juice.
‘I’m glad I’m not going to your stupid dinner. I’d rather have a sleepover at Arek’s anyway!’ Declan pouted, his expression suggesting the exact opposite.
She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. ‘I think you’ll have a lovely time, darling.’ She reached over and kissed her baby. ‘Arek’s mum told me she is making your favourite pierogi.’
Later that morning, searching for hairgrips in her bedside drawer, Nina’s hand touched upon the little matchbox. She opened it and placed the marble in the palm of her hand. Closing her eyes, she heard her mother’s words: ‘This is a little world, Nina. And if ever the real world feels too big or too scary, remember that it is nothing more than a little ball travelling through space and it fits right into the palm of your hand and the more courage you have, the braver you are when facing it, the easier it is to conquer!’
‘I hear you, Mamma,’ she whispered. And for the first time ever, she knew what she meant.
It had already been a busy day by the time Nina arrived in the stands, with the match about to start. Connor stood tall, mid-pitch, looking determinedly at the opposition, allowing himself the odd glance in Anna’s direction.
Lou patted the bench next to her. Moira handed her a mug.
‘To friendship.’ Gilly made a toast as they clunked their mugs and took a sip.
The whistle blew and the game began. It was instantly fast and ferocious. She watched as the pitch churned under the frantic activity of studded boots, and winced as bodies collided mid-tackle with sickening thuds.
‘Okay,’ Moira called. ‘You are up, Nina – go and call your support.’
Gilly and Lou looked at her. She could tell by their expressions they expected her to protest and decline.
‘You don’t have to do it,’ Gilly whispered. ‘I’ll take your turn if you like.’
Nina rested her mug on the bench and coughed to clear her throat. ‘You know what, Gilly? I do have to do it.’
Courage and bravery, Nina . . . she repeated in her head. Placing her hands either side of her mouth, she felt the rush of empowerment. She was excited, happy, to be here in the place where she lived with her friends. Her son was playing the game he loved and the sun was out.
‘Come on, Cottrell’s! Go, Connor!’ she yelled at the top of her lungs.
Her voice was loud and cut through the activity of the pitch and the chatter all around. She felt as if every pair of eyes in the place swivelled in her direction, including Connor’s. He shook his head, a smile of amusement on his face.
Anna clapped from where she stood with her pals on the touchline. ‘Go, Nina! Woohoo!’ She shouted her support.
The women high-fived each other and chuckled. Moira handed her back her mug of wine. ‘Well done, mate. Well done.’
She sat down and pictured Kathy Topps, who had shown her true colours at a time when a kind word would have made all the difference. She pictured The Tynings, the once beautiful place where she and Finn had raised two fine boys and where she had often sat alone, longing for company, as she waited for her husband to come home. Now here she was, and the message was clear. Her happiness was never going to be found in things; it was waiting for her, right here, in people.
Gilly wolf-whistled as Nina stepped from the cubicle in the girls’ bathroom in her long black skirt and white silk blouse. She had last worn this outfit for a Kings Norton function, where she had spent the evening clinging to Finn’s arm and counting down the hours until she could return to the safety of The Tynings. She smoothed the skirt with her hand. Tonight was the first time she would be attending an evening social event without Finn. Having Gilly, Tiggy and Jacob in tow certainly helped.
‘You look lovely too.’ She nodded at Gilly’s ample bust, fitted into a diamanté-laced bodice.
‘I know.’ Gilly wiggled her hips and giggled.
She met Tiggy and Jacob in the foyer. ‘You look fabulous,’ Tiggy said.
‘I feel a bit self-conscious,’ Nina replied. They both knew this was a huge leap forward from her previous anxiety.
‘If it makes you feel better, I was wearing a tight shirt the other day and Toothless Vera asked me if I was pregnant.’
‘She didn’t!’ Nina laughed.
‘She did! And I have to confess it left me feeling a little confused,’ Tiggy said.
‘In what way?’
‘I didn’t know whether to be delighted that she thought I was young enough to have eggs that were still ripe enough for harvesting, or upset that I looked fat enough to be considered pregnant.’
‘Would that be such a bad thing?’ Jacob interjected.
Tiggy smiled. There was no quip or barb in reply. Instead she let her arm fall through his as they all made their way into the school hall.
The place looked beautiful. Banners hung from the ceiling congratulating the team on their season, and the round tables sparkled with shiny glassware, white china and pretty bowls of white and purple flowers – sweet peas, one of Nina’s favourites. Once everyone was seated, the lights dimmed and the rugby team made their grand entrance. Everyone stood and clapped. Nina was struck by the sight of her son and his beautiful girl striding through the hall confidently.
They enjoyed a glorious meal, accompanied by laughter and the sipping of wine. Nina noted the way Tiggy gazed at Jacob and felt a wave of love for her sister. She hoped for the very best for her.
As the pudding was served, the coach stood up and tapped his wine glass with a fork.
‘What a team!’ he began. He was met with whoops and hollers that took a good few minutes to calm. The atmosphere was electric. ‘And now can I ask for your attention while we give out tonight’s awards.’ A hush fell, punctuated with laughter as boys went up to retrieve trophies, those for ‘Highest Scorer’ and ‘Try of the Season’, interspersed with ‘Worst Haircut’ and another for the ‘Most Injuries’. All the boys spoke a few mumbled words of thanks, some more eloquently than others.
Nina loved the fact that the ceremony was inclusive and fun, and again she pictured the dislikeable Mr Moor and his arrogant dismissal of her request.
‘And now, the award for most outstanding contribution goes to . . .’ There was a beat of silence. ‘Connor “Snow” McCarrick.’
Without thinking or hesitation, Nina jumped to her feet and beamed at her boy, who walked slowly up to the claps and shouts of everyone in the room.
‘Oh my word!’ she managed, looking at Tiggy with tears in her eyes.
Finn! Look at our boy! Look at him!
She took her seat and smiled at her sister and friends, who all offered their congratulations.
Connor shook hands with the coach. She saw his nerves as he looked out over the sea of faces, all staring at him expectedly.
‘My dad died,’ he began, ‘and I didn’t want to come here to play rugby. Didn’t want to come here at all.’
Nina swallowed tears. The room was silent. ‘But now I am glad I did.’ He held up his trophy and a ripple of laughter made its way around the room. ‘I’ve been lucky to have a strong figure in my life who I have always looked up to, who taught me everything that is worth knowing, and the true meaning of determination, courage and faith. I dedicate my award to that person.’
Nina looked down, not wanting the tears to spill, grateful her son still looked up to Finn, mentioned in this way. It meant that, despite the manner of his death hanging over them like a sharp question mark around which they skirted, her son could see beyond that. But Connor’s next words knocked her off balance.
Connor continued. ‘It’s my brilliant mum, Nina.’
As the room erupted with claps and cheers, she knew she would carry this moment of pure joy with her always. She looked up at Connor, her wonderful boy, who had indeed come back to her. His words were the most beautiful expression of love she had ever heard. You are what we did right, Connor, you and Declan!
With the speeches finished, the lights dimmed as the DJ set up on the dance floor.
Tiggy shifted along, until she was sitting next to her at the table.
‘You’ve done good, you know,’ Tiggy whispered.
‘Thank you, yes. It’s been a lovely day.’ Nina smiled.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t mean today, Nina. I mean these last few months. You took those posh kids of yours and you swept them up and kept them safe and kept them sane. You are a good mum.’
‘Good Lord, what has come over you? How many glasses of wine have you had?’
‘I mean it.’
‘Thank you, Tig.’ She reached over and squeezed her sister’s hand. ‘I think I like the new you. Being part of a couple suits you.’
‘I really like him.’
‘I know, Tig.’ The two sisters leaned in together, laughing conspiratorially.
Connor strode over with his arm outstretched. ‘Come on, Mum.’
‘What? You don’t want to dance with me!’ She tutted.
‘Actually I do.’ He took her hand and walked her to the dance floor. She felt Finn’s signet ring against her fingers. Ed Sheeran’s ‘Thinking Out Loud’ started to play, and she held her son’s hand, with his other on her waist.
‘I wish Dad could see me,’ he said, without anguish.
‘Dad is you. He’s half of you. He knows you, darling, and he is proud of you. Always was and always will be.’
‘And I’m half you.’
‘Yep.’
Connor stopped dancing and looked her in the eye. ‘I was so scared when we came here, Mum.’
‘Me too,’ she confessed.
‘For my whole life I had never seen you do anything apart from buy things for the house, cook us food and drop us at school. And when I stepped from the van that day, I couldn’t begin to imagine how we were going to live. I was petrified. I thought it was going to be down to me to keep everything together and I didn’t know how! And you could only say everything was going to be okay, but I could see you didn’t have a plan.’
Nina felt the familiar slip of tears down her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry . . .’ she managed.
‘No. Don’t be sorry, Mum. It wasn’t your fault. You were as ill equipped as I was, as I am, but you did it. We did it.’
‘Yes, we did.’ She rested her head on his shoulder.
Nina parked the van at the kerb and beeped the horn. She laughed, thinking of all the people she might be disturbing on this Saturday morning and was only saddened that Joshy had gone home – she would have liked to wake him up at this ungodly hour. She had saved the cash for this trip to Saltford and that in itself felt like an achievement. It represented the plain, home-made birthday cake that Connor had been given, hair-washing without shampoo, and countless rumbly tummies for which she had to apologise while she waited to eat her free lunch. Tiggy came out of the building with the boys and jumped into the front seat next to her sister. Despite being up so early, Connor was still high on his award and Declan had jumped at the chance of the trip, of a day out in a van. Nina hoped good might come from it, maybe an open discussion that would help carry them forward, despite their destination.
It was odd driving along the winding A46, the city of Bath looming in the distance. They had been away for nearly six months, but it could have been a lifetime. It was a grey, rainy morning – entirely appropriate as they headed towards the city that held a mishmash of memories, most recently ones of sorrow.
‘Are you okay, boys?’ She glanced at the back seat. They both gave stiff nods. Connor kept his eyes on the window, unlike Declan clearly aware of the road on which they travelled and the fact that a mile or so further along was the place where his daddy had died.
‘I bet it’s strange heading back to Bath, is it?’ Tiggy asked.
‘I keep thinking we are going home and that makes me feel a bit sad, and I think that maybe Dad is at home and that makes me even sadder.’ Declan spoke so candidly. Nina’s confidence in the decision to bring the boys wavered.
She reached back between the front seats and patted his leg. They drove along in silence until they reached Hollydown Farm, parking in front of the rather grand Georgian farmhouse. It reminded her of a miniature doll’s house, but in life size. Mr Firth, his wife and one of their children, a blonde girl in her mid-teens, came out of the front door to greet them. They were well dressed and groomed, and as they stood in front of their duck-egg blue front door with its brass lion-head knocker, Nina felt a wave of déjà vu for a life that had passed.
Beautiful house, check. Expensive clothes and hairdo, check. Happy, smiley child, check. Successful husband, check. And yet, rather than look at the trio with envy, she felt something closer to unease, knowing that her own perfect life had been built on a foundation of shifting sand. And when it shifted, it happened quicker than she could ever have imagined.
‘Welcome, Nina! It’s good to see you.’ Mr Firth was his usual, kind, welcoming self. ‘And boys, hello!’
She watched with a measure of pride as first Connor and then Declan stepped forward to shake the man’s hand. She introduced Tiggy, and the group declined the offer of tea from his charming wife, who looked at Nina with an expression that was a combination of pity and kindness. She fought the temptation to explain that she now had a job and was planning to study, and that her boys were happier than she had hoped for. Instead, she smiled politely, realising that it didn’t matter what Mrs Firth or anyone else thought. It was what she thought that counted.
The troupe made their way to a steel-constructed barn, one of a number of outbuildings. Mr Firth undid the giant padlock and hefted the wide door open. Inside sat a ride-on mower and various bikes mounted on wall brackets. Their boxes lined the wall, marked in a hurried scrawl ‘Garden Stuff’, ‘Picnic’, ‘Christmas Lights’. Just recently the contents had seemed so important, causing her sleepless nights of concern as she planned what and how to pack. She ran her fingers over a box and wondered how the things inside would now fit into her smaller life, where space was at a premium, leisure time was limited and the immediate needs of her family were the primary concern rather than festive holiday lighting. These frivolous trappings contrasted with how close she had grown to her sons and her sister, in the face of hardship and struggle, far closer than at any time of affluence.
‘Is this the desk? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.’
Connor lifted a paint-spattered dustsheet to reveal a narrow console table. In its former life, it had sat in a spare bedroom with an ornate lamp on either end. Connor had rarely entered the room where it once sat, and months later, their life had been reduced to one sofa, three beds and a couple of odds and ends.
We had too much. Greedy, really. Needless, all that stuff, all that expense . . .
‘Yes, that’s it.’
Mr Firth helped remove the desk from its hiding place and lift it into the back of the van. They moved on to the boxes loaded with spare blankets, linens, towels and summer clothes. The boys sorted through their belongings and selected a couple of books, school files and one or two frivolous items that made her smile. ‘Of course you can’t live without that, Dec!’ They all laughed as he gripped a plastic Thor Hammer that lit up when whacked.
‘And don’t worry, Nina, there is no rush. As you can see, we have the space and can keep your things here for as long as you need,’ Mr Firth said.
She felt tempted to ask him to consign the lot to charity, but knew enough not to make a rash decision. Strangely, for the first time, she didn’t think about the place she might live next; instead, she pictured the flat and knew the last thing they needed was clutter.
‘Thank you for being so kind,’ she offered sincerely, looking at the man her husband had trusted.
‘You look well.’ He smiled.
‘Getting there,’ she replied. ‘And thank you once again.’
‘Nina.’ Mr Firth called her back into the barn as the family piled back into the van. She went to him, bracing herself for some kind of bad news he could only tell her in private. ‘You have two fine boys there,’ he said.
She smiled at him. Yes, she did.
Nina walked back to the van.
‘Okay, wagons roll! My turn!’ Tiggy called as she pulled out of Hollydown Farm. ‘He seems nice,’ she offered.
‘He is. And can I just say thank you for coming with us all this way and for being so great?’
‘My pleasure, sis. That’s what family’s for.’
They drove along the lane in silence for a minute or two.
‘Can we go and look at our old house?’ Declan asked.
Nina had half expected the request. ‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea.’ She hesitated.
‘Please, Mum!’ Declan begged.
She looked at Connor. ‘I don’t mind.’ He gave a shrug of indifference.
‘I’m more than happy to take you if you’d like,’ Tiggy said.
Nina nodded tightly. ‘Okay then.’ Maybe it would help them all find closure.
Connor sat forward in his seat, proudly issuing directions and showing off his local knowledge to his aunt. Nina felt strange, sick, as the van drew into the lane. She felt the swirl of nerves in her stomach, a feeling that had been missing of late.
As they approached, she saw the gates were closed with a heavy padlock and chain, as she had pictured. A sign nailed to the front gave the number for a security company to call in the case of emergency. Two back-to-back ‘For Sale’ signs hung from a post in the driveway.
Tiggy slowed the van and before Nina had a chance to make a plan or say anything, Connor jumped out. ‘Connor!’ she called, but he didn’t move from where he had his nose pressed up to the gate. Then Declan made a break for it and ran up to his brother. Reluctantly she unclipped her seat belt and climbed down.
She had quite forgotten the sound of the gravel crunching underfoot. It was the first jolt to her senses. Her eyes strayed through the bars to the large turning circle, and the many criss-crossed dual lines of tyre marks that had churned up the stones, and of course there was no willing gardener with a wide rake to restore them twice weekly, making sure they looked perfect. She tried to remember the person she had been when this kind of thing felt important. It reminded her of the dirty footprints that Mr Ludlow’s men had left in the hallway on that terrible, terrible day. The memory of Connor’s horrified face when she found him at the house made her shiver: ‘. . . only doing their job, a horrible job, but their job nonetheless.’
‘Let’s go in!’ Declan jumped up and down.
‘We can’t, darling. They have changed all the locks, and even if I did still have a key, it doesn’t belong to us any more. It would be trespassing,’ she explained.
‘We could go through the gap in the side hedge and have a look, but not actually go inside,’ Connor suggested.
Tiggy now stood behind the trio. ‘Come on then, Con. If we are going to do this, let’s do it quickly!’
Her sister’s tone made it sound like some kind of adventure, and without further discussion, Nina found herself being ushered to the side hedge, where Connor and Declan rummaged along the tall, bushy leylandii until they found the gap they were looking for.
‘Here it is!’ Before she had a chance to remonstrate, Connor had disappeared into the hedge, quickly followed by Declan. Tiggy was next. Nina felt she had little choice but to follow. She crouched low and scrabbled on her knees through the gap. When she emerged, the sight was enough to take her breath away.
She placed her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t realised, or rather had forgotten, quite how grand the house was. The pale stone building stood proudly in the sunlight, the many, many windows glinting, hiding a labyrinth of rooms behind.
‘Wow!’ Tiggy exclaimed. Nina looked towards her with a nod. It was, indeed, wow! Although now, strangely, she felt quite removed from this opulent setting. And the house and grounds looked different from her memory. The grass was longer than she had ever seen it and the border plants had grown wildly without the patient hand and secateurs of the gardener. The apple trees had dropped their fruit, which now lay brown, spoiling and riddled with maggot holes. ‘Such a waste,’ Nina said, thinking not only of the cost of apples, but of the shortcrust apple pies, the crumbles, chutneys, purées and puddings that she had made year after year, gifting them to people along the lane, piling them up in the freezer or lining jars up in the larder.
The boys ran around the garden, up on to the terrace and around the pool. Declan had his arms spread wide like an aeroplane, appreciating the open space. Connor stood by the edge of the pool and pushed down onto the dirty cover with one foot. She watched him stare at the mosaic edge and wondered if he, like her, saw a memory of larking around with his dad, sending a cascade of droplets high into the air as they splashed and wrangled in the warm water, jumping on and off the inflatable animals that littered the surface, before coming up to the terrace to wrap themselves in plush towels and to sip on a cool drink straight from the iced pitcher.
Another life . . .
Tiggy hung back as Nina trod the meandering path up to the house. The windows were desperate for a clean. She pressed her nose to the glass to take a look at her favourite place in the whole house, where she liked to rest, sitting on her comfortable chair with the incredible view.
She imagined she saw the four of them, sitting around the breakfast table. The image was so real, she leaned in even closer, with her hands splayed on the glass. Her heart raced and her breath came quickly. Finn reading the newspaper, the boys with their heads bowed, devouring cereal. Nina saw herself jump up suddenly to grab the cafetière for a refill of coffee. Her twitchy manner was telling; she looked more like an attentive waitress than a member of the family. It looked like a school morning. She was struck by the opulence of their surroundings, the acres of shining surfaces and the myriad lights, all burning brightly and wastefully for no other reason than aesthetics. She was also shocked by the silence that enveloped them and the sullen expressions on their faces. Nina from Portswood would have thought that to have all this could only mean that you were permanently happy! She leaned closer, watching as Connor bounced his leg, as if he were edgy, wanting to be elsewhere. Declan’s shoulders were slumped over; he looked tired. And Finn . . . Finn’s brief smile faded the moment she turned her back to go and grab his coffee refill, and in that second she saw the worry etched on his brow. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and that weight was worth approximately eight million pounds.
One of Finn’s stock phrases loomed large in her memory: ‘You don’t have to worry your head about anything. Worrying is my job . . .’
‘That was it, Finn, wasn’t it?’ she whispered into the aether. ‘It wasn’t that you deliberately lied to me, deceived me. You just wanted to keep the worry from my door, wanted me to glide through life because you loved me . . . and I loved you. I did.’
Pressing her fingers to the window, she saw the imperfections of life in the glass bubble of their home, and in that instant she knew that she would not swap the life she had now for all the money in the world. Her only regret was that Finn, her handsome, flawed husband, had not got to experience this too.
‘Goodbye, my darling,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t remember it like this.’ Tiggy’s voice startled her. With her sister’s words the image was gone, and she found herself staring at a vast space that was almost unrecognisable. The kitchen and adjoining breakfast room had been stripped bare. The light fittings were missing; bare wires now hung down forlornly, as if grasping for the stunning glass chandeliers they once held. The stove had been hauled from its casing and where the hob had once sat was now a neatly cut rectangular hole. The walk-in fridge-freezer was gone, revealing an empty alcove, and the furniture, mirrors and granite surfaces had also been removed. The cool, pale floor was covered in a thick layer of what looked like fine sawdust and debris, peppered with dirty footprints and the black marks of wheels that had been carelessly dragged along.
‘It’s not our home any more, is it, Mum?’ The boys were right behind their aunt. Declan looked up at her, and she realised that he, like her, had probably held an image in his head that was a mirage, where a vivid display of flowers lit up the hallway and dinner bubbled on the stove.
‘No, my love. It’s not our home any more.’
Nina was finally able to make the statement, ending any hankering for the fantasy bricks and mortar of a place that no longer existed – not in any guise that they might recognise. Connor took her into his arms and Declan held her around the waist and she held them fast.
The three stood locked together in the shadow of the grand house, united as a family, with determination and resolution to make a better future.
‘I still miss Dad, of course I do, every day, and I wish it hadn’t all happened.’ Connor spoke. ‘But you have a job, we have a home, and things are . . .’ He hesitated. ‘Things are okay. More than okay.’
Nina nodded in agreement. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It felt as if finally the world had stopped spinning, and the path beneath her feet was solid. She knew now she could carry this little family, and was capable of becoming the person she had always wanted to be; someone who could conquer the world.
‘Yes, they are, darling.’ She smiled at Connor, knowing that from tomorrow onwards, she would look at the sky and feel, not only satisfied, but also optimistic about their future. ‘Things are more than okay.’