NINE
The three of them sat together on the green velour sofa, empty breakfast bowls nestling on their laps. Surprisingly, with this the only seating option, it was rare that the three sat like this, in a line, staring at the wall. Usually one of the kids took his breakfast cereal to the bedroom, or hung around the fridge in case a milk top-up was required. But it was cold out and sitting this way provided some measure of warmth. Nina sipped her first tea of the day and felt a little cleansed after yesterday’s bout of exhaustive crying. Both boys seemed to be in better moods, and the atmosphere was as pleasant as it had been in a while. There was a hint of spring to the sunny February morning; it felt like a fresh start. Just a few days before the next challenge: the boys starting at a new school.
‘I have to say that I know things are far from perfect, but right now I feel quite peaceful,’ she told the boys honestly.
A bus wheezed to a halt outside the window and the noise of random shouts filtered in.
‘Oh yes, because it’s so peaceful here, you weirdo,’ Connor joked.
Declan twisted on the sofa and placed his bare toes on her leg for added warmth.
‘Do you think it’s odd, Mum, that our house is empty, and there’s all that space with no one in it, and yet we are here squashed in like sardines in this little flat?’
She placed her free arm around his shoulders, unable to remember the last time the three had been happy to sit closely like this without one of them rushing off. It was nice. ‘I guess it is odd, darling, but there’s lots of things that are odd about our lives at the moment.’
Connor tipped his head back and stretched his legs out in front of him as he spoke to the ceiling. ‘I’ve had loads of messages from George and Charlie . . .’
She tried not to think of what would happen when the boys’ phone contracts, with all-you-could-eat data, expired.
‘. . . and I don’t reply because I don’t know what to say, don’t know what to tell them. I don’t want them to know how rubbish it is.’ He let his eyes sweep the room. ‘In some ways I wish they wouldn’t get in contact because I don’t want to know what they are up to and what they’ve got planned. It makes me feel like crap.’
‘I understand.’ She felt the same when she pictured their home with a new family roaming the empty rooms, discussing paint colours and deciding what furniture might suit the space. ‘But they are your friends, Connor, and you should keep in touch, even if it’s just the odd word or message, and when things are less raw, it will be easier to hear from them.’
He shrugged, as if he only half believed her. ‘Maybe. They keep talking about the rugby training because they know that’s my thing.’
‘They probably think they are being kind, keeping you informed.’
Connor nodded. ‘I guess, but I wish they wouldn’t.’
She squeezed his arm.
‘And I wish I’d used the swimming pool more. I keep thinking about it. I thought it would always be there, and I couldn’t be bothered to go outside a lot of the time. God, I wish I’d had parties!’
‘You didn’t have enough friends to invite to a party,’ Declan quipped.
‘Thanks, Dec. You’re probably right though.’
Both boys laughed at the truth.
It was Declan’s turn. ‘I wish I’d rolled down the hill in the paddock from the top to the bottom. I wanted to put myself in a carpet and roll down it, but I never did.’
‘You are such a weirdo!’ Connor laughed.
‘Well, that’s both of us who have been labelled weirdos in the last few minutes,’ Nina protested mockingly.
‘Maybe he takes after you!’ Connor fired back.
‘Maybe he does.’ She kissed Declan’s head. ‘That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it, Dec?’
‘I’d rather take after Daddy. He could run really fast and he knew all the flags of the world,’ he whispered.
And just like that, the sledgehammer of grief shattered the chat, the joy, the normality, as Declan gulped on a sob. She rubbed his toes and noted that Connor looked skyward and blinked repeatedly, trying to will away the tears. Her heart flexed with love for her sons, and not for the first time she wished she could make it all go away. It was a stark reminder of what lurked so close to the surface. Nina knew that they, like her, not only wished that they could turn the clock back and use the swimming pool or roll down a hill, but that they could have one more night with the man they all missed, living that easy life.
She would like more than one night back; she would like years back, years when she would stand tall, recalibrate their relationship, get involved in the business, lose some of her fear and ask more questions, make her mark. Maybe then they would all be in a very different situation.
Later that afternoon Nina and Tiggy jumped off the bus and made their way into the centre of town. The boys had been sent to the launderette. Not only did Nina think it was good for them to be involved in chores, but it was good to get them out of the house. It also meant she could turn off the fire and save money.
She and Tiggy walked side by side in silence. They stopped outside the shop, recognisable by the three brass orbs hanging above the door. It was the first time Nina had visited a pawnbroker and she already felt humiliated. Even walking inside and facing the bearded man through the safety grille behind which he sat sent a wave of embarrassment over her. She looked from side to side before closing the door behind her, but no one on the busy street gave her a second glance.
The chances of running into Kathy Topps or any of her peers here was next to nothing. She recalled how she had judged the hopeless and hapless people that she had spied trudging into a similar establishment in Bath. Maybe some of them had been far from hopeless and hapless; maybe they were just individuals who were a little down on their luck, whose lives had been thrown into disarray by events over which they had little or no control.
People like her.
‘Hello. How can I help you?’ The man sat forward on his stool.
At some level she had anticipated rolls of grubby banknotes, fat cigars, smoky corners and a set of knuckle-dusters sitting within his reach. This place was nothing like that; it was part bank, part junk shop, part jeweller’s, and his matter-of-fact approach and polite demeanour made things easier.
‘My sister would like to sell some items.’ Tiggy tapped the grille and nodded at him sternly. It made her smile, the fact that her big sister was looking out for her.
Nina stepped forward and gingerly removed the antique silver cigarette case from her handbag, along with Finn’s gold cufflink sets. She placed them on the wooden surface, along with his Montblanc pen-and-pencil set. She swallowed the wave of emotion at seeing these items from their home, things her husband had used in everyday life. But that was the nature of hardship, she reminded herself; it left no room for sentiment. She pushed them into the metal chute in front of him and watched them slide towards his outstretched fingers.
The man placed an eyeglass into his eye socket to appraise the markings on the antique silver cigarette case and weighed the items on his official-looking scale.
‘I have antique dealer friends who will take some of this from me, but not all of it.’ He removed his eyeglass and gave her a brief smile. ‘Some items are more commercial than the rest.’ He fingered the three sets of gold cufflinks and weighed them. ‘The price of gold is down slightly, there’s been a ten per cent drop in the last two months. They will, however, fetch less if sold as scrap, so I would keep them in the window.’ To hear him talk of market values again bolstered her faith in him and took away some of her discomfort. He then scrutinised the Montblanc pen-and-pencil set, before twisting his head from side to side, as if adding up numbers in his head.
‘I can give you four hundred and forty for the lot.’
Nina blew out, feeling crushed to see Finn’s possessions reduced to nothing more than a number, and not a very big number at that.
‘Is that all?’ She did her best to keep her voice steady and remove the emotion, her fingers drumming lightly on the counter-top. ‘I don’t want to be rude, but it doesn’t seem like much. I know what we paid for them and it was more than double that.’ She did her best to keep the images from her mind, tried not to think of the items of value that Mackintosh and Vooght had spirited away into the depths of that dirty lorry. She placed her hand on her waistband to try to soothe her anxious stomach.
‘I’m sorry.’ He gave a small, sincere smile and raised his palms. ‘I hear this every day, and believe me, I understand, but it’s the same as buying a brand new car. The moment you drive it off the forecourt it goes down by at least twenty per cent – that’s without a mile on the clock.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can only give you a percentage of the resale value, plus a small amount of commission on top and that figure, in my opinion, is the market value.’
Nina nodded and fixed her eyes on the cufflinks that had sat next to her husband’s skin in a shirt he wore to go to work, when their life was very different, when she had been in the dark . . .
‘I’ll tell you what I can do.’ He sat back on his stool. ‘I can increase that by thirty – four hundred and seventy. That’s my final offer, and that is only because I am soft hearted and you seem like a very nice lady.’
Nina matched his smile. ‘Thank you. Thank you very much.’ She watched as he counted the notes, licking his thumb. She left with the roll of cash in her pocket, an amount that wouldn’t have paid her monthly food bill at The Tynings, but right now it was a lifeline.
‘You okay?’ Tiggy asked as they walked away. It felt like they had conducted something illicit, the way her sister looked at her sideways. Nina nodded. To have cash in her pocket that would top up her meagre funds gave her a feeling of instant relief. She thought about her dad on a Friday night, walking through the door with a wider smile than usual and a playfulness to his demeanour. He must have felt the same, happy to know that he could provide whatever might be needed, with his wages in his wallet; a brief moment when worry evaporated – a feeling that she could now relate to. She then pictured her dad’s ashen face on a Monday morning and knew that this moment of relief would be short lived . . . I need a job.
They rode the bus home in silence, as if each considering how very much Nina’s life had altered in the space of a few weeks. They sat with thighs touching.
Something caught her eye in the charity shop, a little way along the road.
‘How do you put a window blind up? Is it hard?’ she asked Tiggy.
‘No. It’s easy. No more than a couple of screws into a wooden baton.’
Nina smiled at her sister as she rang the bell to call for a stop.
They returned to a note from Connor to say the boys had taken a rugby ball up to the common.
‘It’s funny. I used to long for them to spend more time together, to be closer. Yet right now I’m wishing they had their own friends. That would mean they were settled.’ She folded the note.
‘It’ll come.’
Nina ran a damp cloth over the glass of the French windows, removing the residue of dust and dirt. She unhooked the net curtains and folded them neatly, in case Cousin Fred wanted them back. Tiggy unpacked the tool bag she had grabbed from the pub and charged up her drill. The white venetian blind was a little bent, a little grubby, but it had cost pence and Nina knew it would let in more light when open than the curtains, not only brightening the room, but when shut would also hopefully help keep out noise and draughts. It would surely be better than the drab, dated, discoloured nets.
‘How come you’ve got a drill?’ Nina asked. ‘Was it your boyfriend’s?’ She didn’t know the name of Tiggy’s last beau, but all the men she had known her date were curiously interchangeable: quiet, moody drinkers with little drive and a penchant for a gamble. She had always hated to see and hear about the men who traipsed through her sister’s life, knowing she could do so much better.
Tiggy slowly turned to face her sister with her drill in her hand. ‘Did you really just say that? Are you living in the 1950s? You are aware that you don’t need a penis to operate a power tool? And I hear that if you are really modern, women can actually go out to work too and earn their own money! Some of them even drive! But only if your husband agrees it’s a good idea, of course.’
‘Very funny. You know what I mean.’ Nina unscrewed the light bulbs and hung the new paper ball lampshades she had also bought at the charity shop, instantly cosying up the space. There was something about bare bulbs that to her felt like a constant reminder of their deprivation. This was much better.
‘Actually, I don’t know what you mean. You sound like one of those women with tiny waists who advertise products with a grin and have a set role as a housewife. Imagine – all the chores in the house divided up by gender, with the little lady cooking and the man of the house going out to bring home the bacon – and that’s just how it is!’ she offered sarcastically.
‘I guess that is kind of how it is, or how it was,’ she quietly acknowledged, a little shamefully.
She felt her sister’s stare bore into her. Tiggy drew breath. ‘Well, I’m not judging you, Nina. The only right way is the way that works for you. And you obviously feel that you and Finn worked.’
‘We did. In some ways.’ It was a small admission that maybe things hadn’t been perfect. There was a moment of silence.
‘I used to worry . . .’ Tiggy trailed off mid-sentence.
‘Used to worry about what?’ Nina stroked the ceramic white owl that she had grabbed as she left the house, a birthday gift last year from the kids. She had found it in the depths of a cardboard box that she had only just got round to unpacking.
‘About you.’ She paused, as if she wanted to say more. ‘But right now I’m worried about how we get this room looking fabulous!’ Tiggy clapped in an exaggerated fashion. Her sudden change of tone was an obvious diversion.
The two worked diligently, unwrapping a large, modern, abstract canvas that had sat in the downstairs cloakroom of The Tynings and had travelled along the motorway propped between the seats.
‘How come Mr Nasty and his cronies didn’t take this?’ Tiggy nodded at the piece.
‘Firstly it’s not valuable, just a print, but also I don’t think they spent much time in the little loo. It was wedged behind the cistern. Truth be told, I never liked it that much, it was a space filler, but I grabbed it when I had the chance, as if I knew we might need a splash of colour in our lives. And funnily enough, now I really like it.’
They placed it on the mantelpiece and it did indeed lift the whole space, adding a welcome brightness, as well as a focal point.
‘That looks great.’ Tiggy stood back and admired it.
‘I wish I had some bookshelves.’
‘You could move the ones from the bedroom?’
‘That’s a great idea! I can find a smaller unit eventually for all my bits and bobs.’
They hauled the shelf along the narrow corridor and into the sitting room, where they manoeuvred it into position in the corner alcove to the right of the fireplace. Nina unpacked her favourite books, including the ancient copy of The Complete Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen. Tiggy ran her fingers over the weathered spine. ‘Ah, Nina!’
‘Yep. I treasure it.’
‘God! I always get really choked when I touch something Mamma has touched.’ She lifted the book to her nose and inhaled the scent of it.
‘Me too.’ Nina smiled.
‘I used to nag her to read to me all the time and she’d be busy cooking or sewing, and eventually she’d get so sick of me asking, she’d smile and nod and I’d go and jump up onto the sofa, as though that was the only place she could read to me, and you’d nestle in by my side, like a little magnet. Mamma would throw that old fur rug over our legs.’
‘I remember that. I remember the way it felt and smelled – like bonfires!’
‘Yes.’ Tiggy nodded. ‘It did smell like bonfires. Exactly!’
‘And that smell always makes me think of Mamma.’ She had only ever shared this with Finn.
‘Do you remember her getting sick?’ Nina lowered her tone, folding the duster in her hand.
Tiggy shook her head. ‘I didn’t know she was sick. But I do remember her being very tired and Dad doing all the chores when he got home from work, so I guess that was probably the start of it.’
‘I remember the day she died, Dad coming home to tell us.’ Nina lowered her voice.
‘I remember that too. You were very brave.’ Tiggy looked away.
‘I don’t think I was that brave, I think I just didn’t really know what was going on, not properly. And even though I was little, I wondered if there was anything I could have done to help make her better.’
Tiggy closed her eyes, clearly touched. ‘Oh bless you, honey.’
Nina recalled the way her dad had crouched in front of them, hitching his dark, corduroy trousers up his thighs, and giving a crooked smile that offered little by way of reassurance, before breaking the news that she had gone . . .
The ripples of that one event changed everything. Losing her mamma reversed her daddy’s life plan, sending him back to the bleak city in which he had grown up, where his parents would take a far greater role in her upbringing than anyone would have wanted.
She coughed to clear the sadness that gathered in her throat. ‘I feel sad that we didn’t get the life she probably wanted for us. And I hate that she missed so much,’ Nina said. The words made her think of Finn, the old Finn, and all that he would miss.
‘You just have to keep moving forward. What’s the alternative?’ Tiggy shook her head and pushed the book onto the shelf.
‘I’ve still got my little marble in its matchbox. I can hardly stand to touch it, especially now, when I have never felt less like I can conquer the world.’
‘Oh, your marble! I had forgotten about that. I remember her giving it to you and feeling quite jealous. Especially after she’d died, you used to get it out all the time. I thought it might have magical powers that let you talk to her.’
Nina looked up at her sister. ‘I guess it did in a way. I think Mamma might have known me well enough to know that I would need a talisman like that, something to focus on.’
‘Uh-uh.’ Tiggy shook her head. ‘I think she knew you well enough to know that one day you could conquer the world.’
Nina bit her lip.
‘You’re doing better than you think,’ Tiggy asserted as she made tiny crosses on the wall above the window where she was going to drill.
‘Well that’s good because sometimes I feel like I’m falling through the cracks,’ Nina admitted. ‘I just want a job. I can’t think of much else. And I know that once I have one, it’ll be like having a safety net beneath us that means I can let go of the ledge.’ She hooked her fingers and raised her hands, demonstrating the metaphorical cliff face on to which she clung. ‘I’ve fired another thirty applications off this week, and I haven’t had a single reply – not one. Declan is getting fed up at how I keep hogging his laptop. He stands over me, asking if I’ve nearly finished. And after the debacle at Celandine Court I’ve lost my confidence to go and knock on doors.’ She rubbed her face with her palms.
‘Something will turn up, you’ll see.’
‘I wish I shared your optimism.’ Nina sighed. ‘I am so worried about money, especially with the boys about to start their new school. I can hardly think about it. I dread them coming home and saying we need this and that.’ She shook her head, thinking of the piles of clothes, stationery, new bags, all of the things that came along with the start of each new term in their old life. The indulgence now made her feel sick. ‘I can only cope if I don’t think too far ahead. I literally live one hour at a time. And each one that ticks by without disaster feels like a small win.’ She closed her eyes briefly.
‘The boys are going to be fine,’ Tiggy said.
‘I hope so.’
‘Come on, we’ve still got work to do.’
Nina carefully unwrapped family photos of Finn and the boys in Chinatown in New York, and another of them in Italy, eating spaghetti alle vongole al fresco, white china on a red-and-white-checked tablecloth, the masts of the boats in the little fishing harbour in the background.
‘Happy days.’ Tiggy nodded at the pictures.
‘Yes. God, I loved it when they were little. I mean, I love them now, of course, but when they were cuddly and sweet, it was bliss.’
‘I bet.’ Tiggy blew onto the drill tip to clear the dust.
‘Did you ever think about having kids? I think you’d be a great mum.’
‘I did.’ Tiggy paused, blushing a little at the compliment. ‘But I think that ship has sailed.’
‘Not necessarily,’ she pushed.
‘Maybe, but without the right man in my life, and living over the pub, it’s hardly ideal.’
‘You could always get a different job?’ she suggested.
They smiled wryly at the fact that it was her job Nina focused on and not the lack of man.
‘I like working there. I’m happy enough. I think I’m stuck in my routine, and it’s not so bad that I want to change anything.’ Tiggy looked up. ‘It’s a job. You know, not great, but not terrible. And the longer I work there, the less I can imagine working anywhere else, if that makes sense.’
Nina thought of how, when she got a job, she’d keep working to get them out of Portswood and on to something better, somewhere better, as soon as she was able. ‘It does, but I hate to think you might have dreams on hold. Don’t you ever want more?’
Tiggy stared at her, and there was a beat of consideration before she answered. ‘All the time, Nina. All the time.’
Nina nodded at her sister, understanding, possibly for the first time in years, that Tiggy had been trapped by circumstance. ‘I could come and see you at work – is that allowed?’
‘Yes! It’s allowed!’
The way Tiggy beamed her response spoke volumes, and Nina felt a new spike of guilt for not taking more of an interest in her sister’s life. ‘That’s what I’ll do then.’
‘This looks really nice. You’ve got the knack,’ Tiggy said.
‘It does look much, much better,’ Nina conceded as her sister finished putting up the venetian blind. She let it drop to the floor, but angled the slats to allow the light to filter in. ‘Thank you, Tig, that looks fantastic! Privacy at last, without those horrible net curtains. I would love to paint it. The whole place.’ She ran her hand over the oatmeal-coloured walls. ‘I might ask Cousin Fred if he’d mind. Not now, of course, but when I am more on my feet.’
‘He’d probably be glad you were updating it.’
‘Yes, probably. I mean, I don’t want to do anything grand – I don’t exactly have the funds – and all in good time. But just a coat of paint. And I would love to get rid of this kitchen wall. It’s only flimsy. Reckon I could push it down, it wouldn’t take much, and that would make the place feel more spacious, instead of two quite poky rooms.’ Nina knocked on the wall, listening to the echoey sound; being married to the owner of McCarrick Construction, she had picked up a few tips. ‘It’s definitely hollow and not supporting anything, and the stove and sink are along the back wall. It should be easy.’
Tiggy strode forward, before placing the long drill bit on the flimsy surface and drilling a hole straight through the two sheets of plasterboard and coming out the other side.
‘What you are doing?’ Nina yelled, with her hands in her hair, as if horrified, but her tone gave a different message: one of excitement.
‘Chain drilling,’ Tiggy replied as she inserted the drill bit again and again.
‘Can I have a go?’ Nina wiped her hands on her jeans.
‘Sure.’ Tiggy handed her the drill and watched as Nina copied her actions, continuing to drill until she had finished the square pattern of holes through which the light passed through. ‘Very good!’ Tiggy gave a nod of approval.
Declan and Connor, arriving home, ran in to see the source of the noise.
‘What’s going on?’ Declan asked excitedly as Connor stared at his mother wielding the power tool.
‘I’m drilling!’ Nina flashed a smile in their direction and pulled the trigger for effect.
‘We are knocking down the wall!’ Tiggy laughed.
‘We are?’ Nina threw her head back and laughed loudly. ‘Holy shit, we are knocking down the wall! I think Fred would prefer it was done professionally?’
‘Awesome!’ Declan rubbed his hands together, joining his aunt and ignoring his mother’s concerns.
‘Nina, I have done this a million times before. I am practically a professional.’ She rolled her eyes indignantly.
‘Won’t the ceiling fall down or something?’ Connor asked with mild concern, arms folded.
‘I have no idea, but that’s the fun part, right? Waiting to find out!’ Tiggy wrapped a dishcloth around her fist and punched where they had drilled. The two squares of dust-covered dry wall toppled to the floor, leaving her fist pushed through to the other side. Declan stood on the other side and shook her hand through the gap ‘How do you do?’ He chuckled.
‘Hang on!’ Connor came back with his phone and snapped a picture of his brother shaking hands with the disembodied fingers poking through.
‘Right, Con, Dec, come in here,’ Tiggy ordered. ‘We are going to barge the wall down!’
‘Oh God, Tiggy, are you sure that’s a good idea?’ Nina swallowed.
‘No, but there is only one way to find out if this is going to work. Come on, boys!’
They came over eagerly. ‘Okay, on the count of three we barge it with our shoulders as hard as we can, and see if it shifts.’
‘Tiggy, I’m not sure if this is a good . . .’
Her sister’s counting cut her short: ‘One! Two! Three!’
The boys both yelled as they barged into the wall with all their might. They punched against the surface and bounced back. Declan clutched his shoulder.
‘Look! It’s moved at the top. I can see where it shifted,’ Connor said excitedly.
Nina screamed, then laughed. ‘Oh my God! The wall is going to fall down!’ she yelled with a mixture of fear and excitement.
‘I think you’ll find that’s the whole point,’ Tiggy said as she high-fived her chuckling nephews. ‘Right, we need you, Nina. More shoulder power is required. Come on, get over here!’
‘I’m not sure . . .’
‘Come on, Mum!’ Declan grabbed her and pulled her over.
Spurred on by her boys’ energy and caught up in the moment, Nina stood in line and braced her shoulders like the others. ‘Okay, and again!’ Tiggy shouted. ‘One! Two! Three!’
The four of them charged the wall, which seemed to slip a little further from its creaky wooden anchors with ease.
Tiggy surveyed the wall; Connor did the same on the other side. ‘I reckon one more go,’ he said, a glint of excitement in his eyes. Nina wanted to cry with happiness, but this was not the time for tears, happy or otherwise; instead, she got behind the project with gusto. ‘All right then, one more go. Come on, folks!’
They resumed their positions. ‘One! Two! Three!’ They ran forward, letting out loud yells as their bodies met with the surface.
There was a cracking sound and a thick plume of dust filled the room, whooshing up their noses and into their mouths. Nina prayed there were no injuries and tried to figure out exactly what had happened.
‘We did it!’ Declan yelled, jumping up and down on the spot. They looked as if they had walked through flour, with the fine dust and grime of over sixty years clinging to their hair and eyelashes. Each coughed and spat the grit that crunched between their teeth, and they all laughed at the sight of how ridiculous they looked.
‘That was absolutely brilliant!’ Declan raced around, climbing over the shattered chunks of plasterboard that now lay in a shallow heap on the sitting-room floor.
‘It’s huge!’ Nina turned in a circle with her arms spread wide and took in the big open space that they had created.
There was the unmistakable sound of banging on the ceiling from the flat above. ‘What the bloody hell is going on down there?’ a voice yelled from above.
‘That’s Mr Broom Handle,’ Tiggy whispered, giggling. She stood on her tiptoes and, with a piece of wood in her hand, knocked back. It made Nina cringe and laugh at the same time.
‘Shall we do another wall?’ Connor asked, half-jokingly.
‘No!’ she and Tiggy yelled in unison.
‘Spoilsports.’ He walked forward and opened the French doors, watching as a cloud of dust escaped and rose up to float high above Portswood Road. ‘What’s going on in there?’ Toothless Vera called from the pavement, on her way to the launderette.
‘We’ve just knocked down a wall, Vera!’ Nina called out with a wave. ‘But don’t worry. We as good as have the owner’s permission – he’s our cousin! And my sister is practically a professional.’
‘I am?’ Tiggy looked at her sister with her eyebrows raised.
‘You said you were!’ she gasped, blinking powder from her eyes. ‘You said you’d done it loads of times!’
‘God, you believe anything!’ Tiggy laughed and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Want one?’ she held the pack out towards her sister.
‘No, I do not. I can’t believe I just let you talk me into that!’ She chuckled, watching as her sister lit up, blowing the acrid smoke out the door. ‘I love you, Tiggy,’ she said.
Her sister turned to face her. ‘Well you can cut that out for a start.’ She tutted and took a deep drag on her cigarette.