FOURTEEN
Gilly, Moira and Lou invited her to their WhatsApp group and her phone pulsed daily with messages. It felt exciting to be included. They talked about everything, from baking disasters, shared for the comedy value (mainly from Gilly), to requests for lifts (mainly from Lou) and those round robin messages of support that you were instructed to send to women you admired and loved (largely from Moira).
In the handful of times they had met up since the match, both at rugby training and in the Trago Lounge for the treat of shop-bought coffee, they had included Nina in the loveliest of ways.
‘So, my daughter is getting married, and I’m supposed to be dieting, but the more I worry about it and think about it, the more I eat!’ Lou reached for a sugar cube for her coffee and the others exchanged knowing smiles. ‘The wedding is six months away, and I have too much to do.’
‘How can we help?’ Moira sipped the foam of her cappuccino.
‘Urgh, you can’t, honey.’ Lou batted away the offer. ‘Apart from all the other things, I have to plan and arrange twenty floral centrepieces and two large displays for the top table. And I haven’t got a clue!’
‘Oh, well, I can help you with that. Flower arranging for my home used to be a big part of my life,’ Nina said.
She startled at the loud laughter that followed. Gilly patted her arm. Nina broke into a smile. She guessed that, for these working women, it was laughable: a preoccupation with the indulgence of flowers. A blush of embarrassment rose to her face.
‘What? It did!’ She chuckled.
The laughter calmed.
‘Nina, that would be lovely, thank you.’
And just like that she was able to help. Feeling useful was the best. She knew the old Nina would have found a thousand reasons not to get involved.
The women listened with interest and empathy to how her life had been turned upside down by the death of her husband. She never realised how good it felt to have girlfriends to talk to, and who could offer a range of viewpoints that helped her to figure out how she felt. It was the first time she had confided her situation to anyone other than Tiggy, and whilst it felt odd to be sharing so much with relative strangers, she also felt a little unburdened. It left her with a feeling of belonging that she hadn’t felt for some years, in fact not since she last lived in Portswood. She told them how she had lived and what she had lost, keen to stress that what mattered most was not the house or the things, but that she had lost her love and was now alone with her kids, trying to hold everything together. They had squeezed her fingers, sighed, hugged her, and then immediately started to list all the men they knew who might be able to fix her lonely heart.
‘No, no! Absolutely not. Thank you, but no.’ She shook her head, a little unnerved by the suggestion. She was focused on the boys and on the slow and sometimes painful process of moving on. The last thing she wanted to do was throw more change and challenges into the mix. ‘I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else, wouldn’t want to. I really wouldn’t. I’m still trying to reclaim my life. I went from my dad’s arms into Finn’s, and I think I need to get better at being on my own.’ With this admission she put a lid on the well-meaning banter.
Moira spoke up. ‘You’ll know when you are ready. Maybe you never will be, like you say, and that’s all right too, but the morning you wake and your husband is not the first thing that fills your head, then you’ll know that your grief has shifted, made space for something or someone else.’
The girls had all clucked their approval at Moira’s words. But Nina knew her grief had already shifted, that it wasn’t just the loss of her husband she mourned. She was still trying to figure out what had been the true foundation of her marriage whilst coming to terms with her loss.
She considered this now as she stood by the French windows of the sitting room, watching the kids abandoning their bikes on the pavement and traipsing in and out of the shop opposite, leaving with sweets sticking out of their mouths or sipping on fizzy drinks.
It made her think of Halloween the previous year.
She and Finn had gone to fetch Declan from his school party; all his classmates were caked in face paint, trying for spooky. Some had blood dripping from the sides of their mouths, others black-ringed eyes and ill-fitting white plastic Dracula fangs. Nearly all held plastic cauldrons or pumpkins in which to gather their booty. Connor had gone to a house party, with strict instructions to be home before eleven.
She and Finn had pulled into the car park; the air was thick with the damp, earthy tang of autumn. The sky was clear, a beautiful shade of indigo with a blanket of stars. She glanced up and marvelled at the infinite celestial display; it felt like anything was possible.
‘Is that Dec?’ Finn had nodded towards a side door from where a group of little ghouls and a Frankenstein emerged. She squinted into the darkness, and there was Declan, clutching a fistful of sweets. Nina waved at him and he responded with a happy smile.
‘Sweet mother of Betsy!’ Finn had gasped. ‘What on earth is that boy wearing?’ Declan ambled up the path in a pale pink rubbery costume with a tail at the back, and a rounded top for a hat.
‘Nina! Your son is dressed as a sperm!’
‘He is not!’ Nina laughed. ‘And might I remind you that he is your son too.’
‘Not dressed like that he isn’t!’ Finn howled.
They tried to contain their laughter as he drew closer to the car. Finn lowered the window.
‘Hey, buddy! What are you dressed up as, Dec?’ he shouted across the grass.
‘I’m an amoeba!’
‘See, he’s an amoeba,’ Nina said, giggling.
‘Nina, I swear to God, he may think he’s an amoeba, but the kid is dressed as a sperm!’ Her husband guffawed. Nina elbowed Finn hard in the ribs, knowing they had precisely three seconds to gain control and present a composed face to Declan.
She gave a little chuckle now, thinking how long she had avoided Finn’s gaze for fear of reigniting the laughter that hovered.
‘You look like you’re miles away.’ Tiggy came from the bathroom and filled the space next to her at the window.
‘I was.’
‘So, tell me again,’ Tiggy said, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘You are taking a trip back to Bath?’
‘Not Bath, exactly, but I’ve decided to rent a van and drive out to Saltford, to Mr Firth’s place. I got a deal on the van, so I can do it when I get paid at the end of July.’ She had worked out that if she economised on food and the bus fare to work in the following weeks, she could just about afford it. It would be cheaper and easier to make the trip, rather than try to buy the desk Connor needed and replace their summer clothes.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘Thanks, Tiggy, but it’s a long way and it’ll rob you of a day.’ She smiled at her sister and thought of how she had turned up at Finn’s funeral, offering help and love, asking nothing in return despite the expense of making the trip, and having taken time off work. Nina had taken that act for granted and knew that if she could go back in time, she would run towards Tiggy, throw her arms around her and hold her close.
‘Of course.’ Tiggy shrugged, as if it were a fait accompli.
‘Mr Firth is a good man. Finn trusted him and he has said if I need anything in the future then just to shout. He’s already been really kind. Finn did him a favour, sorted out some building work for him, and in return he has let us store our stuff at his farm.’
‘Gosh, that sounds like Finn might have been thinking ahead, if you ask me.’
Nina didn’t have time to speak before her body folded, as if punched in the gut. It still caught her off guard sometimes, how raw the emotions still were, this time brought on by the simple statement, a suggestion from the mouth of someone whose opinion she trusted, that Finn might have taken his own life.
‘God! I’m sorry!’ Tiggy reached for her. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, I just spoke without thinking. Shit, I’m sorry, Nina. Are you okay?’
‘I find it so hard to think about. The fact that he might be dead because he wanted to die. . .’ She paused. ‘Just the idea that he not only chose not to be with us, but that he did so, leaving us in this mess . . .’ She ran her hands over her face. The thought did not get any easier to contend with, no matter how often she wrangled with it.
‘I wasn’t suggesting that. I . . .’ Tiggy floundered.
Nina straightened and tried to catch her breath. ‘I know, Tiggy, I know. But it still feels sometimes like I’m running up an escalator that’s heading down and I can’t get anywhere. I am tired. And yes, the fact that he might have been thinking ahead, making decisions or, God forbid, planning, makes the possibility that he left us by choice seem more likely. And it seems the sole effort of that pre-planning that I can detect was to set up some storage, when we have been reduced to the bones of our arse, and that makes me so angry!’ She clenched her fists.
Tiggy stood back at the rare outburst. ‘You let it out, girl!’
‘I mean it, Tig, I am furious. How did he let things come to this?’ Nina ran her hands through her hair and remembered the smirk on Mr Ludlow’s face. ‘I hate that he was suffering, but I will never forget what it felt like to see my boys walk through the front door and having to tell them that their dad had died. And then the bailiffs pitching up and invading our home . . .’ She paused and took a deep breath, her teeth clenched. ‘Connor has broached the topic of how Finn died and I can’t stand that it’s another level of shit for him to deal with! I hate it.’ Nina stared at her sister, as if hoping for consolation or a solution. She offered neither. ‘And I don’t know what I’ll say to Connor if he asks again, and the thought of Dec thinking similar makes my heart sink, because they may have lost his dad, but their hero is intact, despite everything. I have insisted that it was an accident because I want to protect them. What would it do to their self-esteem if they suspected their dad didn’t even think they were worth hanging round for?’
‘It’s more complex than that. It always is, honey,’ Tiggy offered.
‘I know that. But if they believed that their dad had . . .’
They were silent for a beat or two. ‘With hindsight, do you think he was coming close to telling you the truth about your situation? Had he given you any hints, mentioned anything?’ Tiggy asked.
Nina pictured Finn swilling the red wine around his glass before swallowing it. ‘Why don’t we go to the Maldives for Easter?’
‘No.’ Nina shook off the memory and exchanged a look with her sister. ‘No, he didn’t show any signs that anything was amiss. The way he spoke and acted, you would have thought that we were on top of the world. And that kills me too.’
‘I think, Nina, that not only did Finn not know how to handle his love for you, thinking that keeping you cloistered away was the way to hold you dear, he also didn’t know how to dismantle the life he had constructed, the illusion he had created. I don’t agree with what he did, but I feel for him, I do, because of how it ended.’
Her sister’s words acted like a blanket; they not only comforted her, but also partly smothered the flames of anger that had flared inside her, bringing some measure of calm.
‘But you know,’ Tiggy continued, ‘there is no point mulling over things that you can’t change.’
‘I guess so.’
‘I know so,’ Tiggy asserted. ‘What would it change if you had it confirmed that his death wasn’t accidental?’
‘What would it change?’
‘Yes. I mean, the end result would be the same. How would it feel different?’
‘I think it would change everything! The fact that he left me to face this shit storm alone, the fact that he chose to leave us, but mainly,’ Nina cried, ‘mainly the fact that he didn’t know me well enough to know that he could talk to me about anything and trust that I would have helped in any way I could.’
Nina felt Tiggy’s arm around her waist, pulling her close.
‘I think Finn wanted everything to be perfect for you – him included.’
‘I can’t stand to think that he didn’t know the one thing about me that mattered the most, the most important thing for him to know. That no matter what, I had his back, I was there for him . . .’
A moment of silence passed before Tiggy spoke. ‘I spent years missing Mum so much that I could barely function. With just Dad and us in the house in Frederiksberg, it was quiet, awkward. She was our glue.’
Nina remembered her quiet, brooding sister.
‘But then Dad said something to me that made a difference, and it might make a difference to you.’
‘What was it?’
‘He said that he believed people are on the earth for as long as they need to be. Some for a long, long time, contributing a little bit every day to the world, and others are only here for a shorter time, so they have to do really incredible things in the time they are given. He said that Mum was only on the planet for thirty years, but in that time, she married him and made two beautiful children.’ Tiggy looked up and smiled. ‘He said she filled us up with all we would need to know, even though she didn’t get to stay and see us grow up. I believed him and it made me confident.’
‘That’s lovely.’
‘It is lovely, and maybe Finn did the same. He filled you all up, you, Connor and Declan. He gave you everything you would need to go on, with or without him. Maybe he never had any doubt that you would cope, no matter what, maybe him not planning is a compliment. He saw that determination that lurked inside you, hidden, admittedly for a while, but still there nonetheless.’
Nina exhaled. ‘Thank you.’
‘See, that’s what sisters are for. Sisters put things right, because they know you. Much better than any crappy new rugby-mum friends.’
‘Are you jealous of my friends now?’ Nina laughed, glad to diffuse the heavy atmosphere. ‘Jeez, you are so childish!’
‘As if I’d be jealous of them! They are boring! Want one?’ Tiggy shook a cigarette from the packet and lit up.
‘No, I don’t!’
‘God, your tone! You honestly sound like Gran.’
Tiggy looked like a rocker chick in her skinny jeans and denim jacket, cigarette held aloft. ‘That is quite possibly the very worst thing you could ever say to me,’ Nina huffed.
‘I disagree.’ Tiggy took a long drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke out the open window. ‘I think the very worst thing would be if I said that you looked like Gran!’
Nina turned to face her sister. ‘Oh my God! Do I?’
Tiggy studied her face. ‘A little bit, yes.’
‘I really hate you,’ Nina whispered.
‘I really hate you too,’ Tiggy replied, and took a deep drag.
‘Go on then, give me one.’
‘What?’
‘A cigarette!’
‘For real?’ Tiggy laughed.
Placing the cigarette between her lips, Nina bent forward for Tiggy to light it. Taking a deep drag, Nina blew the smoke out between pursed lips, fighting the desire to cough.
Today was a big day for Nina: June the twenty-sixth. Connor’s sixteenth birthday. The first birthday they had celebrated without Finn. Nina woke to the sound of the alarm clock, and lay back on the pillow with her hand on her stomach, thinking about the day her first child had been born. She pictured Finn standing in the maternity ward, crying with his hands in his hair, ‘I’m a dad! I’m a dad! To a boy! I got a boy! A son! I can’t believe it!’ Nina had watched from her bed as the nurses patted his back, chuckled to each other and offered him tissues. She had the newborn Connor in her arms and, despite the deep ache to her bones, she wondered if she would ever be able to wipe the smile of joy from her face.
Oh, Finn. She sighed before she rose, then washed her face, and fastened her unruly hair with a headband. She heated a croissant, a special treat purchased in secret, and poured glasses of orange juice, trying not to think of the previous year when she had piled the breakfast table with lavishly wrapped gifts. Connor had peeled the paper with little enthusiasm. She and his dad had teased him about getting old, whilst sipping espresso from their fancy built-in machine and recalling how Finn had run around the ward fifteen years ago, crying like he had won the jackpot . . . This was the Finn she wanted to remember, the wonderful dad.
Connor came into the sitting room dressed for school.
‘Happy birthday, darling.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’
He opened his card from Tiggy and found a crisp ten-pound note. He beamed.
Nina had deliberated long and hard over his birthday gift. For the first time, she wasn’t able to buy an array of presents and simply hope that he liked one. And in fact, the thought that she did this in the past left her feeling a little sickened. The solution came to her one evening as she cleaned her bedroom, going through her things.
Nina now placed the small black box in Connor’s palm. He looked at her quizzically, before carefully, slowly, lifting the lid of the box. She watched him tuck in his lips and bite down as his eyes misted at the sight of his dad’s signet ring.
‘He would want you to have this, Connor, and he would want me to tell you happy birthday from your dad, and that he loves you and is so very proud of you. As am I. You have been through far more than I would ever have wished for you at this age, and you are coming through the other side as a wonderful man. A wonderful man.’
She watched the tremble of his mouth as tears escaped down his flushed cheeks. He walked forward and placed his arms around her and she held her son to her while he cried, feeling closer to him than any time in recent memory.
Connor stepped back and pulled his father’s ring from the box. Finn had told them all many a time of how he had bought the thick, crested band with some of his first profits. He explained how the rich boys he mixed with sported college rings that screamed of an education he could only dream of. This little chunk of gold represented success to him, and he wore it every day of his life, with pride. She had planned on pawning it last, letting it stay in her possession for as long as possible. And now with a job and an income, she felt able to give it to Connor. A reminder of all his dad had achieved.
Connor placed it on his little finger, before splaying his hand and admiring the gold that glinted in the light. It looked strange on his long fingers, shining in the dimness of their run-down flat, but the look on Connor’s face told her it gave him a connection to his dad that was more precious than the item itself.
‘It fits me,’ he said with measured pride, as if having the same-sized finger as the man he worshipped was a thing of note. ‘I shall look after it, Mum.’
‘I know you will.’
‘I won’t wear it to school, only for special occasions.’
‘I hope one day you wear it every day and get pleasure from it like your dad did.’
Connor nodded.
‘Sixteen, eh?’ She smiled. ‘Where did those years go?’
Declan walked in and handed his brother a card. ‘When I’m sixteen, I am going to fly a glider. Arek told me that you only have to be sixteen do to that.’ Declan peered through his glasses.
‘Well you’ve got that to look forward to,’ Nina said with a smile. She turned back to Connor. ‘You could invite some of your friends over this evening if you’d like.’
‘Actually, Mum, if it’s okay with you . . .’ He hesitated. ‘I made plans to go out with Anna. She’s . . . she’s in my class.’
Nina noted the bloom to his cheek when he spoke her name. Connor had been a little less antsy of late, as keen as ever to engage with his phone when he thought he could get away with it. She watched him of an evening from the end of the sofa, noting the smile of relief flood his face when there was a text waiting for him. He was like a different boy from the one she lived with at The Tynings; gone was the exasperation, the tension, that bookended her every encounter with him, and although she was uncertain if he would admit it or had even fully realised it, he was happy at Cottrell’s. What’s more, she very much liked the person he was becoming. This situation, which she would never have chosen, was shaping him in a positive way. Hardship eroded his sense of entitlement and in its place a nicer, humbler boy was emerging.
‘Oooh, Connor’s got a girlfriend!’ Declan called out and ran in a circle, trying to avoid his brother’s grip. ‘Connor and Anna sitting in a tree . . .’ Declan ran down the hall as Connor tumbled after him, laughing.
After a long day at work with the now familiar ache in her back and her calves from being on her feet all day, Nina was keen to get home and see her boy on his special day. As soon as she walked in the door she could hear Declan splashing about in the bath. It was always a relief that the boys had in fact come home from school safe and sound. She knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Hey, darling, I’m home!’
‘Hi, Mum!’ he called, before continuing to splash.
‘Try to keep the water in the bath, okay?’ She pictured water pooling on the dodgy floorboards and gave thanks that they were on the ground floor.
Connor was in the bedroom, rifling through his clothes.
‘Hey, birthday boy!’
‘Hi. I’m wearing my ring tonight.’ He lifted his hand to show her. She had to say, it suited him well.
‘Perfect.’
While Declan languished in his bath and Connor got dressed, she heated up some leftover pasta and tomato sauce and sat down to eat.
‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?’ she asked Connor as he wafted into the room in a cloud of sweet-smelling body spray.
‘I’m sure. We are going to Sprinkles to get a milkshake.’
‘You look lovely.’ She winked at him.
Nina reached into her handbag, unzipped her wallet, and pulled out three pound coins. ‘Here. For your milkshake.’ She didn’t want him breaking into his birthday ten-pound note. It choked her to recall the bundles of cash that used to lie dormant around the house, and others she would remove from Finn’s pockets when laundering his clothes. She would peel off notes and fling them in her son’s direction every time he stepped out of the front door.
‘Are you sure?’ He looked from the coins in her palm to her face.
‘Yes! I want you to have fun.’
‘Thank you, Mum.’ The real thanks was the way he looked at her.
When the buzzer rang, Declan ran out of the bathroom and raced down the hall half dressed. ‘I’ll get it!’
‘No you won’t!’ Connor practically grabbed his little brother and tossed him into the sitting room. All that rugby training was clearly paying off. Nina rushed over to Declan and whispered, ‘We have to be on our best behaviour. This is important to Con, okay?’
‘’Kay.’ Declan sulked on the sofa with his chin on his chest.
Nina heard nervous laughter from the hallway and was surprised to find she, too, was nervous.
Connor stood by the door and held out his arm, encouraging Anna to walk in. Anna looked at Connor admiringly, and Nina knew that she was right to feel the flip of nerves; from the way the two of them looked at each other, this relationship seemed already more than an insignificant crush. ‘Mum, this is Anna.’
Nina stood up and smiled at the slight girl, whose thick, dark hair hung about her shoulders in a delicate wave. She was wearing a close-fitting navy dress that had an uneven hem and was of a shiny material that squeaked a little when she moved. Her heeled shoes were a little too big for her, borrowed, Nina suspected, for the occasion. She wore little make-up; the natural prettiness of her heart-shaped face was obvious. Nina remembered the clusters of girls that hung in packs in and around Kings Norton College, the glossy, blonde, tanned girls with designer togs, expensive watches, tiny sporty cars of their own and heads full of their next and last adventures abroad. Anna was different. She carried an air of poverty that Nina recognised and in truth loved her all the more for it. She pictured herself at sixteen, remembering how hard it was to look and smell nice without money; the way she watched other girls, wishing she too could wander into the high street shops and walk out with bags fit to bursting with the latest trends, convinced that if she could, then she would feel less self-conscious. Only a year later, and life with Finn had meant she could do just that, and yet still her lack of confidence persisted, despite trying so hard.
‘Hello, Anna,’ she offered warmly, giving a small wave, thinking a handshake might be too formal and a hug the exact opposite.
‘Hi.’ Anna smiled to reveal slightly crooked teeth.
‘I’m Declan,’ he called from the sofa, without standing or lifting his eyes from his phone.
‘I’ve heard all about you, Declan.’ At this, Declan looked up and broke into a wide grin, obviously pleased his big brother had spoken about him.
‘We’d better . . .’ Connor indicated with a nod towards the door.
‘Yep.’ Nina smiled, wishing for more of an exchange, but knowing the right thing to do was wish them a nice time and not embarrass her son.
‘Have a lovely evening! And don’t forget, be back by 10.30,’ she managed. Anna gave a wave as Connor placed his hand on her lower back, in a gesture that was so grown-up, so confident, Nina knew it would stay in her memory.
As the door closed, she sat next to Declan. ‘Well, Anna seems nice, doesn’t she?’
Declan shrugged before turning his attention back to his game.
Nina had often imagined Connor going to prom. She pictured him walking down the wide staircase of their house in a tuxedo, holding a delicate fresh corsage in a box for a lovely girl. She would have taken great joy in ferrying him and his date in Finn’s flash car to their grand dance . . . Now she didn’t even have a car to go and fetch groceries in, and barely the money to pay for them.
‘It’s a funny old world,’ she said.
‘Why is it?’ Declan looked up from his game.
She pulled him closer to her. ‘I was just thinking about our old life. What do you miss most, Declan, about living at The Tynings, about going to Kings Norton? Is there one thing you would like more than any other? Is it a car?’
‘You mean apart from Daddy?’
Her heart swelled at his sweet response. ‘Yes, my darling, apart from Daddy.’
Declan sighed and looked towards the window where the neon sign blinked through the blinds. ‘I miss my bed.’
‘Your bed?’ This was unexpected.
‘Yep.’ He nodded. ‘I loved my big bed. I used to be able to spread out and I liked to sleep with my feet hanging off the end, but I can’t do that here. The bunk beds are much smaller and they have that board at the bottom that stops me dangling my feet.’
‘Oh, Dec!’ she put her arm around him and cuddled him to her. ‘How can we fix this?’
‘Get bigger beds?’ he asked hopefully.
Connor arrived home at 10.30 on the dot, as if not to waste a second.
‘Did you have a nice evening?’ Nina asked from the sofa.
He smiled and nodded, as if he had a happy secret. She hoped so. ‘Well, it goes without saying that you can bring anyone here whenever you want to.’
‘Thanks.’ He nodded, no longer rebuffing the idea as stupid or embarrassing.
He opened his palm and let the three pound coins clatter onto the work surface. ‘We didn’t go for a milkshake after all. Just hung out, walked around.’
His sweet gesture, not pocketing the money for himself as he so easily could have done, made her want to howl with love for him.
‘I’m off to bed,’ he said with a yawn.
‘Happy birthday, my darling,’ she called after him.