Chapter 4
FOUR
Nina left the accountant’s office with the strangest feeling that she was floating. Her feet didn’t seem to be touching the ground, but she felt herself move slowly and deliberately towards the car.
We’re losing our home! WE ARE LOSING OUR HOME! Oh my God, my God, Finn! I am scared. Eight million pounds. Eight million pounds. Eight million pounds.
She started driving. Suddenly she found herself at the school, with no memory of the minutes that had elapsed.
‘Do you have an appointment?’ The Headmaster’s secretary leaned across the panelled reception desk, peering at Nina through her gold-framed glasses.
Gripping her phone and car keys, she folded her arms across her chest, hoping this might stop the shaking.
She was embarrassingly aware of the smell of sweat and vomit that lingered about her.
She was always neat, always clean: she’d never forgotten the time when soap, scent and bubble bath were in short supply in her life.
Right now her slovenly state was the least of her concerns.
‘No, I don’t have an appointment, and I would normally make one, but this is an emergency. ’
The woman pursed her lips. ‘Take a seat, Mrs . . . ?’
‘McCarrick. I’m Connor and Declan’s mum,’ she added.
She pictured the boys, at that very moment somewhere in this building, heads down and pens poised, without any idea of how their future rested on what might happen in the next few minutes.
It made her feel sick all over again. She thought about the bag back in the car, full of vomit, from which she had extracted her wallet, keys, make-up and phone.
‘Please take a seat and let me see if the Headmaster can squeeze you in.’ She gestured towards a sofa.
Nina sank into the luxurious cream cushions.
What are you going to say to him? How can you pay? Think! I’m losing my home. Our house! Our beautiful house! Where will we go? Her thoughts were so noisy and intrusive, she feared she might have shouted them out loud. She clamped her teeth tightly just in case.
A few minutes later the woman returned. ‘The Headmaster will see you now.’
‘Thank you.’ She breathed gratitude, unsure what her next port of call might have been had he refused.
Standing on wobbly legs, she stepped towards the door.
Her stomach churned with a familiar fear.
It still petrified her, being in this building, having to interact with the educated and wealthy individuals who taught at or attended the school, even after a decade or more of doing just that.
She knew it shouldn’t; she’d met enough of the upper crust to know that, just because someone had money, it didn’t mean they were smart, and just because they were educated, it didn’t mean their opinions were any more valid than hers.
She remembered George’s mum trilling, while waving her bejewelled hands, ‘George hates all things green, pacifically Brussels sprouts – it’s an ongoing battle!
’ Nina had fought the desire to shout, ‘You mean specifically! That’s the right word.
I know this!’ Today the memory did little to bolster her.
The Headmaster’s study was designed to reassure you that your hard-earned cash was being well spent, and that every penny you ploughed into this fine establishment was a sound investment in your child’s future.
The glass-fronted cabinet was bursting with trophies and photographs of the various sports teams holding shields and looking triumphant, and on the cork noticeboard next to it, the most recent good news item cut from a newspaper was strategically pinned.
‘Mrs McCarrick, how are you?’ He shook her hand, cupping her palm inside both of his.
She breathed out. This was a loaded question. Where to begin? She reminded herself to pace her words; there was a very real danger that she might simply vent the panic swirling inside her. She knew Mr Moor would respond best to a calm, logical discussion without a trace of hysteria.
‘It’s a very difficult time,’ she managed, sitting in the chair in front of his desk, which he indicated as he took his seat.
‘Of course. We were all so very sorry to hear about Mr McCarrick. Connor and Declan’s tutors were sent a bulletin and have been keeping a close eye on them.’ He nodded, his tone respectfully low.
‘Thank you,’ she offered sincerely; it meant a lot to know someone was looking out for them in her absence. ‘They’re coping amazingly well.’ She stopped; Connor wouldn’t have thanked her for being so personal with the Headmaster. She coughed to clear her throat, feeling embarrassed.
‘I had a call from Mr Paulson,’ she began.
‘Yes . . .’ He nodded, indicating that of this he was already aware.
‘There has been a bit of a mix-up with the fees.’
Again he nodded his neatly coiffed head. ‘A mix-up? How so?’
‘He told me they haven’t been paid in full for this term.’ She sucked her cheeks in, trying to summon the spit that might aid her speech.
‘That’s right, and so far, no monies have been paid for the last term either,’ he said steadily.
She felt her pseudo-confident facade all but disappearing.
‘The thing is, Mr Moor, I am at the moment sorting my situation with the accountant and would like to ask if it’s possible that I could delay payment.
’ She spoke quickly, deciding not to take a pause and give him the chance to deny her request. ‘It won’t be for long – just until we have sorted our accounts.
I am sure this isn’t the first time this has happened.
’ She tried out a hesitant smile for good measure.
Mr Moor sighed. ‘No, not the first time.’ He gave a knowing smile.
‘And regretfully I must say to you what I say to all who make a similar request.’ He drew breath and gave a slow blink in a most reverential manner.
‘Everybody would like to eat in Michelin-starred restaurants, but when the pockets are empty, it simply isn’t possible.
Without the funds, you would be turned away at the door. ’
Nina stared at the man, astonished, hating his well-practised, glib response. It felt all the more demeaning in the face of her situation.
‘And I’m afraid that even if it were within my hands to action such a deferment, it might not be advisable.
I have never in my experience known a financial problem to get less knotty with more time and with more debt accruing.
Quite the opposite, in fact.’ He smiled, his perfect teeth glinting at her.
‘And trust me, the only people who suffer with such a delay are those to whom the monies are owed.’
Nina sat forward in the chair. Placing her fingertips on the edge of his desk and fighting the desire to explode, she implored, ‘I don’t think you understand, Mr Moor.
My boys have lost their father, things are in a state of flux, and I am just about hanging on.
’ This admission caused tears to prick her eyes.
‘The one constant the boys have is their school. All I am asking is for a bit of flexibility.’
‘I think the school has already shown a lot of flexibility. The fact that the fees are unpaid in full for this current term should have instantly precluded them from returning after the Christmas break, but we gave Mr McCarrick the benefit of the doubt.’
‘You . . . you spoke to him?’ This was news to her.
‘Yes. He sat where you are now and his speech was pretty much the same as yours, give or take the odd word.’
She pushed her thighs against the seat, feeling the now familiar flash of humiliation at being kept in the dark.
She swiped the beads of sweat from her forehead with her palm.
‘I didn’t know this, Mr Moor, and all I am asking is for a little bit more time.
’ She had no idea where she could get the money from, but she would find a way.
‘And I am trying to tell you that you have already had more time. And that time has, sadly, run out,’ he said flatly.
Nina shook her head, feeling the anger rise. ‘I don’t believe this. Connor is about to enter his exam year. He plays his rugby here, it’s where all his friends are, and it’s all he has ever known. Declan, too – they are Kings Norton boys!’ Her voice was rising uncontrollably.
‘And we have given them the very best education during their time here, and we of course wish them every success for the future.’ He lifted his chin as if in conclusion.
‘We have paid over half a million pounds to this school – more if we consider the donations, prizes, trips, sports events . . .’ She shook her head. ‘And now, when I am most vulnerable, when I have come to you to ask for help, this is how you treat me?’
‘I can assure you it’s not personal, Mrs McCarrick. We are a business and these are the rules, and if I break the rules for you, I have to break the rules for all, and we wouldn’t last very long like that, would we?’ His condescension made it sound like he were chastising a child.
‘Not personal?’ She levelled her gaze at him.
‘You make the kids sound like any other commodity, but they are little boys with fragile natures and hearts.’ Her voice cracked.
‘We paid that huge sum of money to your school because we believed you were going to help make our sons into good people, lovely citizens of the planet, but if this is their example, if this is how you treat people in need . . .’
‘We have fourteen pupils with offers for Oxford and Cambridge this year. That’s quite something.’
She stared at him. ‘What has that got to do with anything? Are they nice people? Are those kids happy?’
‘I think we are done here, Mrs McCarrick.’ He reached for a sheet of paper and seated his glasses on his nose, as if to show he had other matters to attend to. ‘I wish your boys well, but it’s just the way it is. Kings Norton is an expensive club, and membership costs.’
Nina stood up and spoke steadily and clearly. ‘I feel angry. Not at you – at myself, for ever thinking that this was a club I wanted my boys to belong to.’