Chapter 3 #2
‘Yes, sorry, Mr Paulson, my brain is like scrambled egg,’ she confessed.
‘I’m afraid I haven’t had anything to do with the household accounts.
They are handled by my husband’s office in Bradford-on-Avon.
’ It was yet another reminder that her life was changing, that she knew that now she needed to step up to the plate and take control of the things that Finn had overseen.
But she didn’t quite know where to start, and the weight of pressure sat on her skull, causing a headache to spring instantly.
Saying the word ‘husband’ was all it took for the swell of grief to rise in her throat, threatening to choke her.
She had got used to the situation. When they were first married, Finn’s insistence on dealing with all the finances was a pleasant change from having to watch every penny and wondering what the future held.
Suddenly there was a capable man who loved her and who took the worry right out of her hands.
He was highly organised and took control of everything – broadband suppliers, phone contracts, bank accounts, passport renewals and insurance.
Far from feeling the lack of emancipation, she appreciated that it was done with love, easing her path through life, removing all worry.
‘Ah, yes.’ Mr Paulson sighed. ‘I was led to believe the same, and trust me, I have tried, but to no avail. The matter is now becoming’ – he paused, before stressing the words – ‘quite urgent. I felt I had no option but to contact you, and trust me, I very much hoped to avoid this conversation at what must be a difficult time.’
Yes, it is, very difficult. ‘I don’t really understand.’ She spoke her thoughts aloud as she gripped the receiver.
‘Allow me to clarify.’ His voice was now considerably more animated.
‘You are behind in the payment for Connor and Declan’s education, and unfortunately, if we do not receive settlement in full for the outstanding fees within the next forty-eight hours, we will have no choice other than to ask you to make alternative plans for your sons’ schooling, as returning to Kings Norton College after the half-term break will not be an option. ’
A bubble of nervous laughter escaped from her mouth.
It was an instinctive, incongruous reaction.
‘Mr Paulson. What a thing to say! My sons have been at Kings Norton since they were three. They are Kings Norton boys. Of course they will be returning next term.’ The idea was unthinkable.
‘I will call our accountant and have the amount transferred into the school account as soon as I possibly can, hopefully by the close of play today. How much is outstanding, exactly?’ She reached for a pen from the silver, glass-bottomed tankard used as a pen pot, and found a discarded envelope on which to scribble.
‘That would be . . .’ There was a pause, presumably while Mr Paulson either totted up or double-checked the figures. ‘Twenty-nine thousand, nine hundred and forty-two pounds and seventy-six pence.’
‘Right.’ She coughed. ‘And that would take us up to the end of next term?’
‘That’s correct, and would clear the amount outstanding from this term.’
‘I shall get on to it immediately, Mr Paulson, and will make sure we have a bank transfer set up to ensure this payment happens automatically in the future.’
‘That would make my life a lot easier, Mrs McCarrick, and would avoid the need for these calls.’ He gave a weaselly laugh, and she ended the call.
Nina sat back in Finn’s chair and rested her sweating palms on the arms of his chair, composing herself, then dialled the office.
Melanie set up the standing orders and filed the bank statements; she would be able to throw some light on things.
Nina tried not to think of the countless times she had dialled the number to speak to Finn: ‘When will you be home for supper? Did you want me to pop your suit into the cleaner’s? Do you know how much I love you?’
‘Yep?’ a gruff, unfamiliar voice asked. It took her aback, then angered her that whoever was on the other end of the line was so clearly taking advantage of the fact that Finn was not there to keep order.
‘Who is this?’ she demanded.
‘Matt. Who’s this?’ he challenged.
‘I’m Nina, Finn’s wife,’ she said, trying to assert herself with whoever this cocky Matt was, ‘and I was hoping to speak to Melanie.’
‘I’m afraid you’ve just missed her,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Melanie left over a month ago. Is there anything else I can help you with today?’
‘She did?’ Nina managed to ask. How weird that Finn hadn’t told her. ‘I . . . Is Luke there?’
‘Luke the site manager?’
‘Yes!’
‘Ah, Luke went about two months ago. Look, sorry, love, but I haven’t got time to chat to you. I’m with the creditors and we are nearly done here.’ He hung up abruptly.
‘What the hell?’ Nina stared at the phone, her heart racing.
She racked her brains. Creditors? Why were creditors in the office?
Did they owe money? Surely not. Why had Finn not told her that he had got rid of Melanie and Luke?
It made no sense: he trusted Luke, who had been with him for years!
She tried to picture who from work had come to the funeral, but it was all a blur.
And shock was making it hard for her to join the dots.
Mr Monroe.
Of course, the accountant had been there and had given her his card.
She jumped up and ran to the bedroom, opening her bedside table where she had shoved his business card, along with the funeral’s Order of Service, which she still found almost impossible to look at.
Sitting back on the bed, she lifted her mobile and punched in his telephone number.
‘Mr Monroe?’ she asked, trying to control the quaver in her voice.
‘Mrs McCarrick.’ He gave an audible sigh. ‘I am very glad to hear from you. Thank you for returning my call. I had all but given up hope and was planning to come out and see you in person. But it might be best if you come here.’
Nina woke early the next morning. She hadn’t slept, not properly.
She had instead lain in the wide bed, with her head on Finn’s sweatshirt, feeling a cloak of unease heavy on her body, watching as the hands of the clock trotted merrily on towards dawn.
Finally, she shrugged off the duvet, rising reluctantly to get the day started; this silent brooding did nothing to help her fragile mental state.
After hauling her leaden limbs from the bed, she tiptoed past the boys’ rooms to the kitchen, where she took solace in her favourite chair.
She watched the sunrise over the distant fields, shrouded in a haze of morning mist, and was rewarded by the sight of two deer grazing on the gentle slopes, standing proudly in front of a purple-tinged sky.
It always felt like a special gift to be able to observe these majestic creatures, as if they were sharing a secret with her.
She felt her face break into one of the first genuine smiles since Finn’s passing.
Later she placed a bowl of scrambled eggs, flecked with freshly ground black pepper and chilli flakes, and a plate of toasted bagels on the breakfast bar, with two tall glasses of fresh orange juice.
She looked up and imagined Finn rushing into the room.
‘Any chance of a coffee, love, I’m running late?
’ he would ask as he grabbed a bagel and gave her a kiss before rushing off again.
His woody scent lingered around her and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
‘I miss you.’
‘Who are you talking to, Mum?’ Declan asked, staring at her as he took a seat and spooned scrambled egg onto his plate.
‘Dad.’ She smiled sheepishly.
‘I talk to him too,’ he whispered, holding the spoon in mid-air.
Connor strode in and changed the atmosphere, stirring the air with his words and breaking the beat of grief that had held them. His voice when he spoke was quiet; he looked downward, as if unsure of the etiquette, awkward in his own home.
‘I . . . I was talking to the coach about next term and I wasn’t sure if we have anything planned for the break.
But he asked if I could join the squad for training.
It’s quite a big deal. I didn’t know what to say, but I’d quite like to go.
I think . . .’ His voice trailed off and he looked sheepish, as if it were wrong to express joy or an interest in something.
‘You should tell him yes, definitely, Con.’ She spoke with a tone of reassurance. ‘It’ll put you in a good place for the team next year.’
I’ll get the fees paid today. Mr Monroe can make the necessary transfer. It’ll all be okay . . . Her self-calming mantra helped.
‘The first thing I thought when he asked me was that I couldn’t wait to tell Dad.’ The wobble to his bottom lip when he was trying to be brave was somehow harder to watch than when he gave in to the sadness. It ripped at her heart.
‘He would be so pleased for you, honey. You know that.’
He gave a brief nod. ‘I should be pleased, too, but without him around, everything feels like’ – he shrugged his shoulders – ‘like “so what?”. Everything is only half as good . . . a bit pointless.’
She drew breath to remind him that she was still here, but changed her mind. This wasn’t about her, but was simply her son longing for contact with his daddy.
‘It won’t always be that way. I promise you.
And I understand how it feels, having lost my mum.
’ She shook her head. ‘Not that I remember her too much, but I felt her absence, always. It does get easier, but oh my word, not being able to introduce her to the man I was going to marry, or see her hold you . . .’ She looked up and saw the look of horror on Connor’s face.
She hadn’t meant to go on. Pointing out the prospect of living this half-life of disappointment and muted joy forever was clearly more than he could bear.