Chapter 1 #2
Nina waved briefly to the few parents she did recognise on the other side of the pitch, before positioning herself alone on the touchline.
It mattered little that her boys had been at the school for over a decade; she watched as other women greeted each other with the loose embrace and wide, comfortable smiles of people who knew each other well and who she imagined chatting over brunch and taking long weekends away together, drinking wine in front of a sinking sun while their respective broods played football on an expanse of grass.
Finn often reminded her that rugby was the common bond at these events and that this was a good starting point for conversation between her and the other parents, and what she lacked in enthusiasm for their chosen sport, he and the boys more than made up for.
The invites had come thick and fast when Connor had first started school, the requests as numerous as they were varied: birthday parties, barbecues and even sailing weekends.
Her own feelings of awkwardness meant she felt unable to accept, and after so many polite refusals and insincere rain checks, people had stopped asking, saving both parties any further embarrassment.
Connor, she knew, wished that she were as sociable as his peers’ parents, expressing his admiration for the gregarious nature of George’s mum, who after a couple of glasses of Prosecco was the life and soul, but it wasn’t that simple.
Nina felt bad that she was in some way letting him down, knowing she had got into a rut of isolation, and with every year that passed she felt less capable of climbing out.
Finn told her it was nobody’s business and as long as they were happy that was all that really mattered.
And they were. This placated her, but didn’t make Connor’s huffs of disapproval any easier to bear.
The match officials checked the pitch, stamping the chilled soil with their heels and walking the perimeter.
Nina tucked her chin into her scarf, trying to avoid the wind.
She regularly glanced over her shoulder towards the car park, hoping to see Finn loping up the slight incline with his hands in the pockets of his overcoat and his easy smile of apology that always made everything better.
At least fifteen Kings Norton boys had gathered on the pitch.
All looked remarkably similar in their navy shorts and navy-and-white-hooped rugby shirts bearing the school crest and motto: Pertinacia, fortitudo et fides – determination, courage and faith.
The cluster of boys made her think about those dedicated penguins that walked miles in Antarctic blasts to find food for their young and then waddled slowly back, among tens of thousands of identical-looking chicks, to find and feed their own.
‘I’d be a rubbish penguin,’ she whispered, unable to pick out her son among the troop.
Suddenly there he was, Connor, not five feet away and in the middle of a huddle of boys who were passing rugby balls to each other, catching and spinning them with confidence.
He looked taller, older than he had mere hours ago.
She was certain that this posturing was as much about intimidating the other team as it was about practising.
She caught his eye and remembered not to wave.
Instead she raised her eyebrows and smiled.
‘Where’s Dad?’ he mouthed, looking over her shoulder as if this might reveal Finn in the empty space behind her.
She tapped her watch and made a face that was part smile, part groan.
Connor gave a shake of his head and turned his broad back, continuing to throw and catch the ball.
She sighed, angry again. Not only was she going to have to explain or justify Finn’s absence for the umpteenth time, but it also gave Connor the opportunity to let her know where she ranked in the favourite stakes. Not that she needed the reminder.
The referee had a word with the captains of both teams in the middle of the pitch and then, with great enthusiasm, blew his whistle.
The game was on.
Connor was good, fast, present, and seemed to be wherever the action was.
She enjoyed the flicker of pride that stirred in her as her son held the ball tight against his chest, head bent, and handed off a tackle from an upper sixth form boy and skirted past him with a set expression of sheer determination on his face.
Where on earth are you, Finn? You are missing all this!
‘You shouldn’t say you’ll be at Connor’s match tomorrow if you can’t be,’ she’d told him as they climbed into bed last night. ‘I think it’s worse for him to be expecting you and be disappointed. Far better if he knows you can’t make it and that’s just how it is.’
‘You make it sound like I deliberately let him down. Work is crazy at the moment.’
Work is always crazy . . . She swallowed the thought, without the courage to say it out loud.
‘Hey, Nina!’
Kathy Topps’s shout pulled her into the present.
Turning towards Kathy, Nina forced a smile as her stomach flipped.
The svelte, ponytail-swinging mum stood with her freshly French-manicured nails resting on her bony Lycra-covered hips.
Paying no heed to the season, Kathy was always happy to show off her arms and irritatingly flat tummy.
‘Glad I’ve caught you,’ Kathy said in her breathy tone.
‘Can you believe it, another holiday? I always say the more you pay, the less they seem to be in school, drives me crackers,’ she trilled, batting her hand as if to dismiss the topic like a fly.
‘Anyhoo, is Declan going to be around for the half-term holiday?’
Nina concentrated on keeping her expression neutral. Declan would probably prefer not to spend time out of school with Henry, who had a tendency to be mean if things weren’t going his way – and it seemed things didn’t go his way quite a lot.
‘I’m not entirely sure.’ She coughed. ‘We’re hoping to grab a last-minute break if Finn can get away.’ This would make Finn laugh later in the retelling, the way her fallback was to make him the bad guy. Well, today he deserved it for his tardiness alone.
‘Tell me about it. Trying to get these guys to give dates and make a plan is always harder than it should be.’ Kathy sulked, damning the whole of the male gender.
‘I was thinking that Declan might like to join Henry for his tennis lessons? I think they learn so much better when there’s an element of competition in it, don’t you? ’
Competition? No – I think it’s the worst way to teach things.
Who needs that added pressure? Rather than voice this, Nina looked down at her tan suede boots and tried to think of how best to explain that unlike his big brother, Declan disliked most sports and would rather be reading in a quiet corner than leaping about on the Toppses’ floodlit tennis court with a private tutor firing balls and instructions at him while Henry sneered at his lack of prowess with a racket.
‘Can I have a think about it and let you know?’
‘Sure you can!’ Kathy raised her palms as if this were not an issue, but the set of her jaw suggested the opposite. ‘Is Connor playing?’ She nodded towards the field.
‘Yes.’ Nina beamed with maternal pride.
‘Wow! He’s done well to get a shot – he’s got to be the youngest on the team by at least two years.’ Kathy turned her mouth down and narrowed her eyes, as if there might be more to it, something underhand or intriguing.
‘Come on, Piers! Keep it tight!’ Kathy suddenly bellowed so loudly with her hands cupped around her mouth that Nina flinched.
‘Going to have to go around the other side and give him some advice. Idiot’s getting bloody mauled.
’ Kathy sighed with disappointment and walked away with a slight wave of her dainty hand.
Connor looked in Nina’s direction repeatedly, clearly distracted by his father’s absence. Her jaw tightened with tension. ‘For God’s sake, Finn, hurry up!’ she muttered into the clear sky.
Suddenly she sensed his presence and inhaled the distinct scent of him and she felt her resolve weaken, as it always had.
There was something about the way he smelled that she found intoxicating.
Her breathing slowed and her shoulders slackened in warm relief as she readied to hear one of his many well-practised excuses for his lack of punctuality.
But that wasn’t of concern right now; all that mattered was that he was here.
Only he wasn’t.
The empty field stretched down towards the car park. It was the strangest thing; she was sure he was there, but Finn was nowhere to be seen.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn’t recognise the number, but this wouldn’t be the first time he had used some hapless assistant to break the news of his absence.
‘Hello?’ She failed to keep a note of irritation from her voice.
‘Is this Mrs McCarrick?’
‘Yes.’
She gave the thumbs-up to Connor who had just executed a rather nifty zigzag run down the blind side.
‘My name is Leslie Ranton and I am a doctor at Royal United Hospital in Bath.’
‘Oh, right.’ Nina thought hard. What appointment had she missed and who with? Declan’s optometrist? Her gynaecologist? Had she neglected to put something on the calendar? Her eyes rolled at the inevitable inconvenience of having to reschedule.
‘I am calling about your husband, Finn McCarrick?’ The woman’s voice faltered a little, even though her tone and words suggested the communication was well rehearsed.
‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded absently, forgetting the woman couldn’t see her.
The woman on the end of the line took a breath. ‘I am afraid that Mr McCarrick has been involved in an accident.’
Nina’s response came out automatic and odd: ‘I don’t think so.’
‘He was brought in an hour ago and I think it would be best if you came to the hospital right away. Is there someone who can drive you?’ The woman spoke softly, as if Nina were a child.