TEN
Nina lay for a while staring at the door of the bedroom, picturing a particular morning about a month before Finn died. He had peeled off notes from a wad in his wallet and laid them on the counter-top with a wink, as if tipping her: a fifties housewife being given her allowance. Now it made her blood run cold. I never for one second felt tricked or uncertain, but now? I’m not sure of anything, and that makes me sadder than I can say.
Sitting up, she rubbed her face, ran her fingers through her wild hair and rose slowly to face this momentous day: the day her boys started their new school. It was also the day she would redouble her efforts in looking for a job, cast the net even wider and be prepared to travel even further. The prospect of both petrified her.
With a mug of tea in her hand and ignoring the growl of hunger in her stomach, she raised the blind. The cold snap had thankfully passed and the winter sun sent a blue swathe over the rooftops. It was still chilly, but without the bone-numbing cold and damp that had made life in the flat so very unpleasant. Portswood Road was coming to life. A slight man jumped from a poorly parked white van and dropped a bundle of newspapers on the pavement outside the convenience store, before roaring off to his next delivery point. Early dog walkers were out in force, nodding knowingly to each other as the sun rose on this fresh February day. The idea jolted in her mind that a paper round or dog walking would be a good way to bring in a little bit of money. A young couple in coordinating Lycra and matching gloves jogged side by side along the kerb, looking stern and matching each other stride for stride. The idea of her and Finn doing that made her smile. Their health and fitness measures were mainly saying no to more cheese and stopping after one glass of wine. She pictured sitting with her feet resting on his lap on the sofa, eating cheese and crackers and sipping wine, laughing. Happy times.
She looked up over the chimney pots, wondering what was going on inside the numerous homes all squished together in this little corner of the city. She knew that in many of them, parents just like her would be waking children for their first day of school after the half-term break and, just like her, they would be sitting with nerves shredded, torn between wanting to get the day started and wishing she could delay it.
A bus pulled up and Lucia got off, wearing her striped overall over a tracksuit. Nina could see she was tired, and remembered Lucia had a night job, cleaning. She waved her hand in greeting and Lucia managed a smile, then a yawn, followed by the universally recognised sign for sleep, her two hands in prayer, laid against her tilted head.
Nina gestured for her to come inside, remembering her dad coming home from night shifts, the joy he took in easing off his cumbersome work boots and flexing his feet inside the thick socks, and the look of bliss on his face as he sipped hot tea that seemed to offer momentary restoration.
Lucia came over to the door, which Nina opened. ‘Can’t I get you a cup of tea?’
‘I can’t. Babysitting duties.’ She pulled a face. ‘My baby sister, Jemima.’
Nina had thought the baby was hers. ‘Oh how lovely, your lucky mum!’ She meant it.
‘Yes, lucky. I’m one of six and she just keeps getting lucky!’
One of six? Nina bit her lip, not wanting to blurt out what she was thinking: that having six children could do nothing to help when your life was a struggle financially. It was another wake-up to just how much her life with Finn had shielded her from the harsh reality of what she had left behind.
‘Are you the oldest?’
‘No, I have two older brothers, both moved away, one at college, and then the three little ones are at home with Mum and me.’
‘Hard work, I bet.’
‘Yes, hard work, and the reason I can’t go away to college for my art, my painting. There’s just not the money – a student loan would barely cover it and I don’t know how Mum would cope without me.’
‘That’s such a shame.’ Nina didn’t want to judge or pry, but she wished she could tell her that it was important she live her life too, follow her dreams. ‘I bet you are talented.’
‘I love painting. I’m really good.’ Lucia held her gaze and Nina envied her confidence in her ability.
‘You shouldn’t let it go to waste.’
The girl shrugged, as if the sentiment, no matter how well intended, were irrelevant. ‘Anyway, better get home. A quick nap, then the kids are up for school.’
‘Your mum’s certainly lucky to have you.’
Lucia blushed. ‘I’ll take you up on that cup of tea another time.’
‘You bet.’ Nina hoped she would. Here, in this community, alone, she felt comfortable in reaching out the neighbourly hand of friendship, wanting to engage. Yet at The Tynings, where she had had enough room to house the entire neighbourhood, and an abundance of beverages to offer, the thought didn’t occur to her. An image of Mrs Appleton flashed into her mind and she cringed, remembering the damp, dark evening she had practically begged the woman, who was little more than a stranger, for shelter.
She heard the boys’ bedroom door open and the sound of Connor running a bath. The bathroom was harder to spruce up. The addition of lime green towels and bath mats from home had certainly brought a welcome splash of colour. These additions, however, counted for little when her skin met with the scratched base of the plastic bath and the icy wall tiles when climbing in and out.
She hadn’t told the boys, thinking it might unsettle them, but only the day before she had taken a call from Mr Firth. He had told her softly, kindly, that the liquidators had been inside and taken any bits of large furniture that were left, the gates had been padlocked, the locks changed, and a ‘For Sale’ sign put up. It was hard for her not to picture the numerous times she had driven through those gates, pulling up in her fancy car with groceries, shopping or kids in tow . . . She couldn’t imagine being locked out of the home they had created. Mr Firth was a good man and she was thankful that he had thought to ring. She flashed back to Connor’s distressed call and the battered lorry on the driveway. Even the thought of it left her feeling a little queasy. Nina tried not to imagine the house now, preferring to think of it in its pristine state, even managing to erase the image of two sets of dirty footprints left by Mr Ludlow’s associates on her hallway floor.
She shivered and took a glug of her tea. There simply wasn’t enough headspace available for her to go over that day again. Not with everything else to occupy her thoughts.
‘Mum?’ Declan stood in the doorway, clutching his stomach, ‘I’ve got an upset tummy.’ He grimaced.
‘That’ll just be nerves, darling. It’s okay, once you get settled and your day is under way you’ll be right as rain, you’ll see.’ She winked at him, trying to lighten the mood, fighting her desire to scoop him into her arms and hold him close. She thought of the bedwetting incident, the stress that Declan hid, and that pained her so.
Declan screwed up his face, ‘It’s not that, Mum. I need the bathroom. I need it badly, but Connor is in there.’
‘Oh, oh God.’ She put her tea down and rushed along the hallway, knocking gently on the door, ‘Con, sorry to disturb you, but Declan needs to use the bathroom and he needs it now!’
‘I’ll be five minutes!’ he snapped.
‘I don’t think we’ve got five minutes!’ she yelled, whilst smiling reassuringly at her youngest.
‘Oh for God’s sake!’
She heard a loud splash and then the stamp of her son’s feet on the linoleum floor. The door flung open and Connor stood dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his waist.
Declan rushed in and slammed the door, then banged the toilet seat against the bowl.
‘Thank you, Connor.’
He ignored her, shaking his head and twisting his jaw in frustration before he started banging on the door with his fist. ‘Hurry up, Declan!’
‘Please don’t take it out on him, he can’t help it, he needs the loo!’
‘And I need a bath and here we are stuck in this shitty flat on this shitty day!’
‘You need to pipe down, Connor. You can’t talk to me like that. I am aware that our situation is far from perfect—’
‘You think?’ he snorted, interrupting her.
‘Losing your temper is not going to help anything.’
He huffed and stared at his feet.
Nina felt the first throb of a headache. This was not the start she had hoped for.
The boys ate their breakfast of cereal in the narrow kitchen. The lack of space meant they stood side by side, leaning against the cupboards.
‘You both look lovely,’ she tried.
Connor tugged at the thin polo shirt collar that sat under his sweatshirt and turned up his nose, as if both the material and school logo offended him.
‘This is, like, something you might wear for PE!’ He shook his head. She had to admit it was a world away from his old uniform of a stiff-collared white shirt, navy sweater and pure wool blazer with the school crest and motto emblazoned on the chest. Nina felt a spike of disgust when she recalled just how much she had enjoyed traipsing around the city with her boys in tow, quietly acknowledging the knowing looks from other residents who knew what it took to be a Kings Norton College boy.
‘And the good news is, you finish at four fifteen. That’s a whole hour earlier than you are used to. You’ll have more free time of an evening.’
‘You are right, Mum, this whole move is a great idea because rather than carry on with the education I was getting and being able to play my rugby, I now get to spend an extra hour sitting on my bunk bed trying to block out the noise of the road we live on and Declan’s non-stop talking!’
Declan shrank at his brother’s comments.
‘I know you are anxious about today and I understand that. It sucks that we are in this situation, it sucks that you have had to change schools and it sucks that we live here with one bathroom and that Declan needs a shit while you need a bath. I get it.’
Both boys looked up at her. Declan sucked in his cheeks, whether to stifle any potential laughter at her language, or whether to stem his embarrassment, she wasn’t sure.
‘I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it all better, but I can’t. I can’t.’ She paused. ‘And the one thing I do know is that you are a great kid, Connor. You both are.’ She smiled at Declan. ‘You know how to make the best of a situation – you learned that on the rugby field, right? Looking for the opportunity! Adapting quickly to whatever might come your way! Thinking fast! That’s you, Con, and these are your skills! And that is what will get you through this.’
Connor stood up straighter. Declan continued to look at the floor. ‘And you, Declan, have nothing to worry about. There is nobody on the planet that has ever met you and not wanted to be your friend. Plus, your big brother is only ever going to be a corridor away.’ She brushed his cheek and thought again of Tiggy and how comforting it was to have a sibling looking out for you.
Connor turned and walked back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him loudly. Nina felt the apartment shudder, quickly followed by a banging on the ceiling above and a shout of ‘Don’t slam the doors!’
‘It was hardly a slam, was it?’ she whispered to Declan, and they both looked upwards towards where Mr Broom Handle’s yell had come from. ‘You and Connor have a right to be angry with me and angry at the world. You have had more to deal with than most adults ever have to. But everything will settle, you’ll see.’
Declan looked up at her hopefully.
Nina waved the boys off with a false smile masking a feeling of dread. The three of them had rehearsed the walk to school twice, and both times it had taken a little less than twenty minutes. They had robustly rebuffed her offer to walk with them on their first day. Knowing they would take their lead from her, she smiled and bade them farewell, wishing them luck and promising a nice celebratory supper when they returned.
She went over to the French windows to wave at Declan, who glanced briefly over his shoulder. A loud wheeze of bus brakes on the road opposite made her jump. It was a physical reminder that her old life was gone, and in this life what she needed to do was not stand and lament what she had lost, but find a job.
Closing the French doors, she sat on the sofa and opened Declan’s laptop, typing the familiar search for ‘JOB VACANCIES SOUTHAMPTON’, which took her straight to her favoured local paper site. She stared, yet again at the job titles on offer, reading aloud: ‘Gardening Apprentice, School Cleaner, Office Manager, Money Coach.’ She gave a snort of laughter. ‘Money Coach? That’d be a quick interview.’ She clicked on the school cleaner advertisement and read the details, figuring it sounded like her best bet. If there was one thing she could do, it was clean. ‘From 4 p.m. to 9 p.m.’ She read the opening line and her spirits sank. She didn’t have the luxury of choosing suitable hours. As heartbreaking as it may be, she might not be there to greet the boys from school, as she always had been, and they might have to forage for their own supper. She couldn’t sit back and watch their money dwindle to nothing. Amending her saved letter of application, she filled out the online form. The template was now so familiar to her she could almost do it instinctively. She looked at the time – 8.45 – and wondered how the boys were faring. Were they lonely? Nervous? Afraid?
‘You can do this, kids!’ she called towards the window.
An unexpected wave of sadness rose in her. She sank back into the sofa and took a deep breath, feeling slightly woozy. Recent experience had taught her that if she ate in the late morning and then again in the late afternoon, this would get her through the day on two meals. If she ate early she was hungry again by midday and then again in the evening. This way, she saved money and lessened the effect of too little food on her day.
I just want a job, any job. How come all these people outside my window, running for the bus and walking along the pavement, can manage it and I can’t? I feel like nothing. I feel like I am on the outside of the world looking in, peeping out from behind my tree, hiding . . . ‘And I think I have been for quite a while,’ she said out loud to the walls. She decided to get moving. An idea had been forming for a while and this, she knew, was the day to put it into action.
Nina fixed up the flat for three hours, folding bed linen, hanging clothes, hefting furniture and shifting heavy boxes until her arms shuddered. The muddle she created caused her to doubt her idea, worrying that she was making things worse rather than better. By the time she had finished, however, with the place dusted, aired and vacuumed, and with sweat on her brow, she was able to stand back and admire her efforts.
The boys’ bedroom had been somewhat transformed. She had cleverly bisected the space by dismantling the bunk beds and pushing Connor’s to the opposite side and moving his clothes rail to the top of his bed to form a barrier of sorts. Declan’s clothes rail mirrored this on the other side of the room. Two side tables she had brought from The Tynings sat at the heads of the boys’ beds with a little lamp on each, so they could now at least read, or have their own light, and not have to rely on the communal overhead bulb that had sat uncomfortably close to Connor in the top bunk. Not only did the new arrangement instantly let light from the previously blocked window flood in, but it meant that each boy now had a modicum of privacy. She stood back with her hands on her waist feeling a rare sense of achievement. She had worked her way through the whole house.
Looking up at the clock, it was nearly time. She placed the cut slices of shop-bought cookie dough in the oven and waited. The boys would be home soon. Her stomach was in knots. She closed her eyes, and prayed silently that their first day had gone well, knowing it could set the tone for the coming months. Her heart leapt when the front doorbell rang and she ran to answer it. ‘Hey, boys, there you are! How did it go?’
Declan wrinkled his nose and gave a little shrug. ‘It was okay.’ The child who always managed to find a silver lining damned the experience with his faint praise. She ran her hand over his head.
‘Hello, darling,’ she said to Connor. ‘How was it?’
Connor gave her a dark look and remained silent. He rushed past her and into the bedroom, saying nothing about the changes. Instead, he climbed into his bed, pulling the quilt up over his head and curling himself into a ball. Nina felt awash with disappointment. She had hoped that the thoughtfulness with which he had gathered her flowers, and the openness of their recent communication, might have continued, but as was the way with disgruntled, complicated teens, his mood and treatment of her continued to ebb and flow. One step forward and two steps back.
‘I think we should leave him,’ Declan said. Even he sensed her desire to run after Connor and quiz him on how best she could fix things.
She smiled. ‘Maybe for a bit, then he might want to talk to his mum.’
Declan wrinkled his nose, as if he found this idea most unlikely.
The two of them sat on the sofa and nibbled the warm oatmeal and raisin biscuits; an indulgence, and a celebration.
‘So come on, how was your day?’ She nudged him.
‘Different,’ he managed, through a mouthful of crumbs. ‘Very different.’
‘In what way?’
‘Every way, Mum!’
‘Are your teachers nice?’
‘My form tutor, Miss Butler is nice, but . . .’
‘But what?’
‘Some of the girls in my class ignored her. She was telling us what to expect on our first day and she asked me to stand up so that she could introduce me, and all the time she was talking, these three girls at the back of the class were chatting and laughing, really loudly, as if she wasn’t there!’ He looked at his mum with an expression of incredulity.
This behaviour would have been unthinkable at Kings Norton, where kids were respectful of the teaching staff and equally as fearful of the punishments.
‘Maybe Miss Butler was just letting everyone get settled in and she might be very strict tomorrow?’ Please God . . .
‘Yep, maybe,’ he conceded.
‘I’ll go and check on Connor.’ She hoped that the half an hour she had given him to calm down and gather his thoughts might have done the trick. She knocked on the door and gingerly approached his bed. Thankfully he had emerged from under the duvet. He still looked miserable as he banged away on his laptop.
‘How are you doing, my love?’
He shrugged. She laid a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed. It was the closest thing to a hug that he would allow.
‘Do you want a biscuit? I baked some. Actually it might be pointless offering you one – I think Declan is working his way through them.’
‘I’m okay, thanks.’
‘You don’t seem okay, Con. You seem agitated, upset, and that is understandable, of course. Today was a huge day. And at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I can only help if you tell me what’s on your mind.’
She stood in silence for a second or two, giving him a chance to change his mind and speak. He didn’t.
‘I changed the room around.’ She stated the obvious for want of something to say. ‘It’s better, isn’t it? More space, and a little bit of privacy.’
He briefly caught her eye as if to acknowledge her efforts.
‘I’ll make you a nice supper in a little while.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Please talk to me, Con!’ she implored, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
He looked at her. Nina smiled at how she had won him over with the reasoning that the sooner he spoke, the sooner she would leave.
‘It wasn’t great,’ he mumbled.
‘What wasn’t great?’ She was grateful for the insight and grabbed it like a hook.
‘All of it,’ he fired back.
‘Connor, put your laptop away and talk to me properly, please. Tell me how it went and how you are feeling.’
He gave a short laugh and sucked his teeth. ‘What is it you want to know?’ He closed his laptop as instructed, and rubbed his eyes.
‘Everything!’ She held out her hands.
Connor sat up in the bed and rested his back against the shallow headboard.
‘They follow a different order for sciences so I am about a year behind, but they are confident I can catch up, which is easy for them to say, it’s not them that’s going to have to do the extra work. Everyone, literally everyone, either told me I was posh or took the piss out of my accent. No one told me that they don’t stand up when a tutor comes into the room, and so in the first lesson the master came in and I jumped up with my arms by my sides and waited to be told to sit, and the whole class doubled up laughing. The teacher shouted at me, asking if I thought I was being funny.’ He shook his head. ‘I felt like such an idiot.’
Nina silently berated herself. This hadn’t occurred to her. Her son continued.
‘I am used to a system where pupils are only allowed to walk in twos along the right-hand corridor wall, which means everything flows, but at this school’ – he shook his head – ‘it’s like a free-for-all, crowds getting bottlenecked and everyone yelling, all of the time. It’s chaos, so noisy. I have a headache. And apparently I am only allowed to take one language, so I have to drop German or French because “That’s how the timetable works if I want to do three sciences”.’ He drew invisible speech marks in the air. ‘Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? And the very best thing?’ His words dripped with sarcasm. ‘I already have a nickname – can you believe it? One day in, and my new name is Snow.’ He looked up and bit his lip.
‘Why Snow?’ She struggled to figure it out.
‘Oh, don’t try and guess, you never could,’ he spat. ‘There was already a guy called Connor in my class whose dad keeps horses in the New Forest. He is known as Connor Ponies, obviously.’
‘Obviously.’ She nodded.
‘So this kid, Brandon I think his name is, started calling me “Connor’s Got No Ponies”, shortened to “’S’no Ponies”, and by the end of the day they had dropped the pony idea all together and I am now “Snow”, apparently.’
‘Maybe it’s a term of endearment?’
He looked at her with daggers in his eyes. ‘They’re dickheads! All of them, especially Brandon, who I hate! Snow? I mean is that the best they could come up with? Jesus, it’s not even clever! They are pathetic. And they had never heard of Kings Norton.’
‘Well, why would they have? It’s a long way from here.’
Her son’s comments were just another reminder of how he felt the whole wide world revolved around his school. She thought again of little Joe Marsh-Evans, who had had to leave school, and her pulse raced. It tore at her heart to think of her lovely boys being similarly forgotten so quickly.
Connor looked desperate. ‘I’m telling you now, Mum, if they don’t let me play rugby, I won’t stay there – how can I?’ His eyes brimmed with tears.
‘Did they say you couldn’t play rugby?’
‘No, but they made it clear that they have a stable team and there is only about five months for me to get a place and make my mark. It’s all I want to do, and if I can’t train and can’t go to a professional club later and say that I played throughout my school, it’ll be pointless!’
She watched the anxious rise and fall of his chest, knowing just how much this would mean to him.
‘I am confident that as soon as they see you play you will get a spot on the team. Don’t forget you won your place in the A team at Kings Norton, it wasn’t gifted to you. There were several boys after your spot, but you fought hard and the coach picked you. You got it on talent, and that talent is still there, waiting to be seen. You can dazzle them when you get the opportunity.’
‘You don’t know anything, Mum! How can you be confident about anything? You just don’t get it! The rugby training has started at Kings Norton and it was all I could think about, picturing the boys on the field, wearing the kit that I was so proud to put on. And I was stuck in that horrible place, with everyone asking me to repeat words and laughing at my voice, wearing this . . .’ He pulled roughly at the logo on the sweatshirt. ‘And I didn’t ask for any of it! And I don’t understand what’s happened to my life!’
She felt a wave of anxiety at the thought that not only was her son deeply unhappy, but that it was her fault. Finn’s fault.
‘I understand, Connor, and you have every right to be angry, but I meant what I said to you this morning. You are an amazing boy, and you have the strength and resilience to come through this. I don’t think it will always be easy, not at all, but I do have faith that things will get better.’ She hoped her words might act as a balm in some way, or if nothing else as a distraction.
She smoothed his hair and laid her hand on his arm. ‘I know everything feels tough right now, but you need to give it a chance. You are only one day in, and who knows what will happen tomorrow?’
‘I think I can have a good guess at what will happen tomorrow.’ He ground his teeth. ‘More of the same. I hate it here. I hate it. I want to go home.’
Nina pictured the padlocked gate of The Tynings and the empty shell of the house. It broke her heart that her boy had been forced to take this onto his shoulders, to face these challenges at his tender years.
‘I know. And I miss it too. I miss everything. This couldn’t be more different, could it? But this is home for now. No matter how grim, or cold, or’ – she borrowed his word – ‘shitty. I can’t make promises, Connor, I can only tell you what I believe: the Kings Norton motto – determination, courage and faith – and those attributes will get you through.’
He looked up. ‘George and Charlie FaceTimed me today during my break – they were hanging out on the pitch.’ The expression on Connor’s face was enough to make her weep.
‘That must have been tough to see.’
‘It was.’ He nodded. ‘I felt like running away.’
‘Don’t do that. I shall only run after you, and my running isn’t what it used to be. I have my gran’s dodgy knees, sadly.’ She tried out a smile, which he failed to return. ‘They can always come here to see you, or you can go back and see them, if you want to,’ she suggested softly.
Connor shook his head. ‘I don’t want them to come here and I definitely don’t want to go to Bath and have to hear all about who got my place on the team.’ He gulped and pushed his hair from his forehead.
‘I get that. And it probably feels like little reward now, but at least when you go through bad times, like this, you really appreciate the good. I pray for you that they are just around the corner.’
His distress flared again. ‘Well, you keep praying, because I can’t wait, Mum. Feeling like this sucks. It really does!’
It was going to take a bit more than a few changes to the bedroom and a well-placed side table to make everything feel better. She felt her bubble of joy from earlier well and truly lanced.
Connor kicked off the duvet and jumped up, standing in the gap by the side of his bed; he narrowly avoided tripping over her feet. His breathing got faster and shallower. He looked perilously close to tears and she hated how quickly his sadness turned to anger.
‘If I have to live here, I need to study. Where am I supposed to do that? Sitting on my bed? Or on the crappy sofa?’ He blinked quickly.
‘We can pick up a little desk, eventually, and put it where you are standing,’ she answered quietly, trying to keep her calm.
‘Yes that will make it perfect!’ he sneered. ‘And talking of studying, I got the piss taken out of me for calling it “prep” because they say “homework”, and I have some crappy assignment to do that needs to be in tomorrow.’ He jumped over her legs with an athletic leap and made his way into the sitting room. She got the feeling he wanted to be anywhere she wasn’t.
Sitting on her son’s bed for a second or two, she closed her eyes and tried to picture her mum’s hand on her shoulder. Times like this, all she wanted was to feel her mother’s arms around her and to hear her words of advice.
‘Mum!’ Declan yelled from the other room.
She opened her eyes. ‘Yes, love?’ she managed.
‘Are there any more biscuits?’
She walked into the sitting room and stared at the crumb-filled plate on her boy’s lap.
‘Connor said he didn’t want any,’ Declan offered in his defence.
‘Not like I had any choice! You’d eaten them all!’ Connor spat. ‘Pretty much sums up my life.’
‘Oh, sweet Jesus, Con!’ She rubbed her temples. ‘Do you know what, love? You need to cut it out!’
He leapt up, shifting again to the bedroom, any place where she was not, and ran back towards the bedroom. She thought of Finn and considered for a second how lovely it might be to simply run away . . .
The boys had been at school for a whole week, and there had been little change. It took all her resolve to remain upbeat and to keep momentum going on her job search. She spent hours with her face inches from the laptop screen, firing off letters and applications to companies she thought might be hiring in the future. The money had dwindled to two grubby twenty-pound notes and a handful of coins. To think about the situation caused her to nearly choke and made sleep damn near impossible. As she waved across the street to Lucia one morning and considered the girl’s love of art and the advice she had given her, Nina had a light-bulb moment. And there was only one person she wanted to share her realisation with.
She climbed into her jeans and boots and pulled a sweatshirt over her pyjama top before locking the door and tramping the pavements, heading towards The Bear. She covered the two miles with a small seed of hope growing in her gut. After ringing the doorbell, she stood back, looking up at the lattice windows of the flat above that showed no sign of life.
‘You’re a bit early, love!’ a man called from the passenger seat of a white van that drove past. She nodded a small smile in his direction. When she turned again to the front door, Tiggy was there in her pyjamas and dressing gown. Her hair was mussed and her cheek held a faint line of a pillowslip crease.
‘Have I woken you up?’
Tiggy looked at her, with one eye still clamped shut, and nodded. ‘Tell me this is a matter of great urgency.’
‘Not really, but it’s quite important to me.’ She put her hands in her pockets.
‘It had better not be about a cushion you’ve found in a charity shop.’
‘No! I’m sorry. I forgot that you have very late nights.’
‘Is everything okay with the boys?’ Tiggy now had both eyes open.
‘Yes! Well, I think so. They haven’t been expelled yet, so that’s something. Mind you’ – she glanced at her watch – ‘there’s still plenty of hours left in the day for that. Can I come in?’
‘Sure.’ Tiggy stood back. Nina walked past her, watching as her sister secured the bolts and relocked the door. Her eyes roamed the spacious bar. It was as she remembered it from her last visit two years ago, with its wooden floor, clusters of tables and red-velvet-backed chairs, all looking rather forlorn and abandoned in the early hours of the day. Large lanterns hung down near a vast, brick-built inglenook fireplace. The scent of stale beer and floor wax hung in the air; blindfolded, no one would be in any doubt that they were in a typical, slightly run-down English boozer.
‘So how are the boys doing? I’ve been thinking about them. How much did they love knocking down that wall?’
‘A lot!’ Nina smiled. ‘They’re still a little edgy, nervous. Dec had an upset tum on his first day, poor little thing, and Connor perpetually looks like he wants to kill me, but they are definitely calmer than they were. Slowly, slowly, and all that . . .’ She looked skywards and crossed her fingers.
‘Would you like a drink?’
‘God, no! Are you kidding?’ Nina waved her hand. ‘It’s way too early for me.’
‘Jesus, Nina, I meant coffee!’
‘Oh, coffee would be great, I thought you meant . . .’
‘It’s nice to see you here.’ Tiggy stated as she reached up onto the shelf for two white china cups.
Nina looked around. ‘I like this pub.’
‘Thanks. I like it too.’
‘And actually, taking control and getting back on my feet is what I wanted to talk to you about.’ She bit her bottom lip excitedly.
‘Go on.’ The welcome smell of coffee brewing filled the air.
‘I was talking to Lucia – pink-hair Lucia?’
‘Oh, right, yup. I know who you mean,’ Tiggy said.
‘I wanted to tell her it was important to live her life and follow her dreams, but that advice feels very easy to give out and not always that easy to follow.’
Tiggy grimaced. ‘It is hard, otherwise I’d be working on the Space Station right about now.’
‘So I am going to follow my dreams. I am going to go back to school. Not now, but eventually, part-time evening and weekends, or whenever I can fit it in. I am going to sit my exams and I am going to become a nurse.’
‘Oh my word, that’s big news!’
‘I think so. It might take ten years, longer even, but I am going to do it. And just making the decision feels like a big step towards my future. I am going to have a career so that I can take better care of me and the kids.’
‘You always used to want to be a nurse. I remember when you were little, turning the couch into a hospital with your teddies and dolls lying in rows, with tissues stuck to their limbs as bandages,’ Tiggy said.
‘I remember that too. I lost my way with that, stepped off the path, but it’s not too late for me. For us. You are right, Tig, I have decades of work left in me yet.’
‘Wow.’ Tiggy looked at her squarely.
‘Is that good wow, or you-must-be-crazy wow?’ She cowered a little, awaiting her sister’s response.
‘It’s . . .’ Tiggy was clearly searching for the right words. ‘My-little-sister-just-might-have-walked-back-into-the-room wow!’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’
Her chest swelled at the compliment; it was good to know her big sister thought this.
‘I think about when you were young and first left school. You were bursting with energy for life and . . .’
‘And what?’ Nina wondered which words now faltered in Tiggy’s throat.
‘I don’t know . . . A drive, I guess, that made you seem invincible. That was when you went with Dad to Bath. I couldn’t believe you opted to go with him. But nothing fazed you.’
‘As I recall, you didn’t want to come. You were in love with what’s-his-name,’ Nina said.
‘Dad was relieved, I think.’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, you were twenty-odd, Tiggy. And Dad adored you, did everything he could for us. For you . . .’
Her sister sighed. ‘Really?’ She folded her arms over her chest.
‘Yes, really! I went with Dad to Bath so he wouldn’t be alone. I knew he’d spent lonely periods of his life wandering the UK after he lost Mamma, working wherever the next dead-end job took him, and I could see he wasn’t well. I didn’t want to leave you here, and you could have come, but you were keen on Ross Baker at the time and didn’t want to.’ The boy’s name sprang into her head. ‘I remember it clearly. You chose Ross-bloody-Baker over us!’
‘Yep, and look where that has got me! I didn’t get the life we had always dreamed of, the fairy tale, I got to stay here in bloody Portswood, sitting with Gran and Pop and scrabbling enough cash together to go out and snog boys like Ross Baker outside Jesters. And then after they died, it was just me.’
‘I hate to think of you unhappy here on your own,’ Nina said.
‘I wasn’t really on my own. I have always had mates, and a job, people around, you know?’
Nina nodded, wishing Tiggy didn’t always feel the need to be so brave. ‘But it would have been better to have me here, though, right?’
Tiggy ran her tongue over her bottom lip, as if deciding whether to speak frankly again. ‘Yes. Yes, it would.’
‘Thank you.’ Nina felt a little overcome. ‘Thank you, Tig, for saying that. It makes me happy.’
The two sipped their coffee and Nina followed her sister up the narrow, winding staircase to Tiggy’s room. It was spacious, and well fitted with a bed at one end and a sofa and TV at the other, but it was still just a room. The bathroom she shared with the landlord was down the hall. Nina realised that the flat she and the boys lived in, that she had bemoaned on countless occasions to her sister, was spacious in comparison, and she felt a pang of guilt. She took a seat on the unmade bed.
Her mobile phone rang. She fumbled for it in her pocket, racing to answer it, fearing it might be from the boys’ new school. She squinted at the screen – she didn’t know the number.
‘Nina?’
‘Yes, hello?’ She vaguely recognised the voice on the other end of the line but couldn’t quite place it.
‘It’s Fiona Walters, from Celandine Court.’
‘Oh, Fiona!’ Nina gripped the phone and waited, trying to imagine why she would call. Maybe Nina had inadvertently broken the law in turning up unannounced. Her mind raced at all the unlikely possibilities.
‘I hope you don’t mind me calling, but I wanted to talk to you about something.’
‘Yes, I . . . I quite understand, and I am so sorry for turning up like I did. I’m more than a little embarrassed,’ she stuttered, nerves filling her stomach with butterflies. ‘I . . . I didn’t think it through.’ She closed her eyes and faced the bedroom wall, as if this might give her a bit of privacy from Tiggy, who stood only feet away.
‘No, no need to apologise, and please don’t feel embarrassed. But safe to say you aren’t the cook we are looking for.’
‘That much I know.’
‘But I do think I have a role that might suit you, if you are interested.’
Nina felt her heart race. ‘Oh my God! Really?’
‘Yes, really. You were wonderful around the residents. Very relaxed and tactful. A natural. It’s a real gift you have, and I would like to talk to you about an opportunity that I have been thinking about for a while.’
‘Oh my! I really am interested!’ She couldn’t disguise her shock or delight.
‘Come in and see me this afternoon – shall we say about two? – and we can chat some more. How does that sound?’
‘That sounds great!’ She felt the prick of the second batch of happy tears in recent weeks.
‘I’ll see you then, Nina.’
‘See you then, and . . . Fiona?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you! Thank you so much.’
Nina put the phone back in her pocket and turned to her sister. ‘Looks like I might have got myself a job!’ She jumped from the bed. Tiggy came to join her and they leapt up and down on the worn carpet, laughing and whooping.
‘What job is it?’ Tiggy paused to ask.
‘I have no idea!’ She giggled. ‘But right now, I will literally take anything.’
Nina couldn’t wait for the boys to come home from school so she could share her news. The second she heard them on the path outside, she ran to the front door, greeting them with a wide smile.
‘Guess what? I got a job!’ She clapped her hands, rushing forward, giving them the answer to her question before they had a chance to respond, and sweeping them both into a hug from which they struggled to escape.
‘Really?’ Declan asked, not hiding his incredulity.
‘Yes! Really!’
‘What job is it?’ Connor asked, dumping his school bag on the floor in the kitchen. He leaned against the fridge, long legs crossed at the ankles.
‘You are looking at the new Resident Liaison Contact for Celandine Court!’ She held her arms out like a showman.
‘Is that the old people’s home where you said you could cook, and then ran away?’ Declan asked.
‘Yes!’ She laughed. ‘The very same.’
‘It’s an impressive title, but what does it actually mean?’ Connor queried.
Fiona had leaned across the desk. ‘You would be showing prospective families around, giving them the tour and answering any questions they might have.’
‘I could do that!’ she enthused.
‘Yes, you could, once we have got you up to speed on how the place works.’
She smiled at her boys, still not quite able to believe it. ‘I’ll be overseeing the orientation programme for new residents, and when I am not doing that, I will be spending a few hours each day checking everyone is happy, chatting to visiting families, sorting any on-the-spot queries. And most importantly, I will be on the lookout for loneliness, and those who might be feeling anxious or excluded, kind of like a daily happiness health check. That way my boss, Fiona, can spend more time in the office dealing with the paperwork mountain that she never quite defeats,’ she quoted.
‘Are there that many vacancies, then? How often will you show people around?’
‘Weekly. There is always a waiting list. And yes, Con, there are that many vacancies.’ She paused. ‘The residents are old and often ill.’ She let this hang.
‘Oh!’ She could see the realisation dawning on him as to why there was such a high turnover.
‘It has a great atmosphere. I felt it again today when I went to chat with Fiona – that’s my boss.’ Nina looked at her boys. ‘My boss! Oh my God, it feels so good to be able to say that! You have no idea!’
‘You sound happy, Mum,’ Declan observed.
‘I am, darling. And if all goes well, I have decided to study, too. I want to go into nursing, eventually. It’s something that has always appealed to me, but I thought the chance had passed me by.’
‘That’s great, Mum,’ Connor offered sincerely.
Nina felt her face split into a broad smile once again. She felt she was able to breathe again. ‘And it’s the ideal location. I can walk there or jump on the bus if the weather is bad.’ She beamed with joy at the fact that, not only would she be earning money, but also someone thought she had ‘a gift’, no less!
‘Are you going to earn a lot of money?’ Declan got straight down to practicalities.
‘You know what? As I said to Tig earlier, I have been earning no money, and so any money is an improvement. It will be enough for our rent and food and other little bits and pieces we might need. I shall still have to budget, but that’s fine. We will have all we need. We will have enough.’
‘That’s great,’ Declan said.
‘I am so excited,’ Nina continued. ‘But also overwhelmed. What if I’m rubbish and they sack me?’ She looked at Connor with a flutter of self-doubt.
Connor stared at her. ‘Dad always said you shouldn’t let yourself be limited by what you think you can or can’t do. You should believe that you can do anything you set your mind to.’
Nina laid her hand on her son’s arm, happy that her boy could mention his dad without the flicker of sadness in his pupils. This was progress. ‘That sounds like good advice.’
Connor looked at her squarely. ‘I am pleased for you. Pleased for us. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you.’
He smiled at her with an expression that looked a lot like pride.