Chapter 4 #3
Nina pulled into the driveway and tried to hold the front door key steady in her shaking hand.
It was hard not to consider how many more times she would perform this ritual, walking into the only proper home she and her boys had ever known.
Her eyes lingered on the decadent vase of blooms and the wide, plush staircase.
Suddenly she felt the flush of wonder at the magnificence of it all, just as she had when they had first moved in: when it took an age to sink in that this fine property was actually hers, it was her key that fitted the lock!
She had the same feeling she got when a wonderful holiday was coming to an end.
The sight of the sea in stunning moonlit iridescence, the sand that felt extra fine under the soles of her tanned feet, the clink of ice in a glass .
. . The whole house was suddenly alive with the same awe she felt on the first day she saw it, because she knew that, very soon, she would be leaving it all behind.
A little voice in her head spoke calmly: You didn’t really think this was your life, did you, Nina?
Didn’t really think that someone like you deserved all this?
She looked at the grain of the front door and committed it to memory.
Her heart lurched at the prospect of what might come next.
Where might they go? It was as if the problem were too huge to consider, and she could only see the vast sum of money, as if written on a cheque in the air: Eight million pounds . . .
‘When you’re ready.’ Connor stood slightly to her right and nodded at the door, irritated by his mum’s unhurried pace.
The boys dumped their bags at the foot of the stairs and clambered up to their bedrooms. She stood frozen in the foyer.
What had she done with her life, other than marry well?
She had sworn when she left Portswood that she would never be poor again, that she would accomplish something, take up nursing – the profession that had called to her during her childhood, perhaps a result of losing her mum and wanting to learn, as best she could, how to fix people.
But what had she actually done? Other than becoming a mum and learning how to arrange flowers?
Not much. Without Finn and his money, she was helpless.
The reverie broke. Nina walked briskly into the kitchen and flicked the switch. The light reflected the diamond-like sparkle in the black granite counter-tops.
She pictured herself at eight years of age, standing with a chipped plate held to her chest, turning in a circle, looking for a place to sit or stand to eat the stew her gran had made for supper, the thick gravy of which threatened to slop from the shallow sides with every move she made.
‘Sit and eat! You’re making me dizzy,’ Gran had shouted, but that was the trouble: she couldn’t find a space.
The chairs were piled high with laundry, both clean and dirty, and the drop-leaf table was crowded with all manner of clutter: a stack of newspapers, and seedlings that had taken root in the soil-filled bottoms of old cordial bottles, which had been lopped in half for this very purpose.
There was a pair of boots with one sole flapping like a thirsty mouth, awaiting glue, and a fancy padded rainbow-filled box of make-up that belonged to her Aunty June.
How she would have loved to stick her little hands inside and dabble in the unknown, plaster her face with the powders and preparations that her aunt was so deft with, applied liberally before she went out on the town in her short, short skirts. But she was too shy to ask.
‘For the love of God, sit down and eat your bloody tea!’ her gran had barked again. Nina jumped, her daydream of blue sparkly eyeshadow broken, and suddenly the gravy was dripping like a sludgy, dark waterfall over her white school shirt, onto her skirt, and dribbling onto the hairy carpet.
‘Sweet Jesus!’ her gran had shouted, which meant another jump of fear and the chewy blocks of stewing steak tumbling like tiny meat rocks down her front.
The dog ran over, hoovering up the treat and licking at the carpet.
Tiggy laughed into her hand, her grandad turned his doughy face away, as if he might be able to distance himself from the whole affair.
Nina remembered looking up at her gran, her legs shaking as she waited to feel the full force of her wrath . . .
Nina shook the memory from her mind. She needed to focus.
She picked up the phone and called Finn’s brother Anthony, rehearsing in her head what she might say.
‘Hi, Anthony, I know this is a little out of the blue, but we need somewhere to stay . . .’ You can’t just blurt that!
She tried again. ‘Hello Anthony, I was hoping to ask you a favour . . .’ She felt a combination of relief and disappointment when the answering machine eventually kicked in.
‘Hi, Anthony, it’s Nina, erm . . . if you could give me a shout, that would be great. Thanks.’
Michael answered her call immediately. ‘Nina, it’s good to hear from you.’ She felt uncomfortable at his intonation, as if the lack of contact could be laid squarely on her shoulders, hers the responsibility to call him, and not the other way around. ‘How are you?’ He kept his tone low.
She closed her eyes, as if the words might flow better if she could hide a little. ‘Not so good actually, Michael.’
‘I’m sure. That was a daft question, of course you’re not good. I can’t believe he’s gone, so God only knows what it’s like for you and the kids.’
She felt her muscles unknot a little at his words of empathy. ‘The thing is, Michael, we are in a bit of a fix.’
‘Oh?’
Nina steadied herself against the counter-top. ‘We need to get out of the house, it’s being sold, and I was wondering if we might be able to come and stay with you and Marjorie for a bit.’
‘Come and stay with us?’ His tone made the request sound ridiculous.
‘Yes,’ she managed.
She heard him swallow. ‘For how long?’
‘I don’t know. I wouldn’t ask if we weren’t desperate.
’ She pictured her dad, hands in his pockets, asking at the next shop, ‘I need a job. I need it, man. I have two kids, and things are tight . . .’ She remembered the stench of desperation that had hung around him and the way he turned to her after each rejection with a big false smile that made her tummy flip.
She now knew how he felt. And it killed her.
‘Desperate?’
She ignored the humorous inflection to his question.
‘Yes. We are bankrupt. Things are pretty bad.’
‘Wow. Bankrupt, really? I’m shocked. How come?’
She paused. ‘I guess a combination of things outside of our control, one thing too many for us to cope with, and things have folded.’
‘I feel terrible, Nina, of course I want to help you out, but we are tight on space. Marjorie’s mum lives with us now and so that’s the spare room gone.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Yes, ever since her fall . . .’ His voice trailed off.
She felt her energy fade. ‘Does Anthony have the space?’ she pushed.
‘He’s just sold his house. He and Netta are downsizing to a flat in Bournemouth, but not before going on a three-month cruise. Their stuff is in storage. I don’t know what else to suggest.’
‘That’s okay, Michael,’ she lied.
‘Look, if you are really stuck, then of course you can all come and crash on the lounge floor for a night or two.’
She noted the way his volume had dropped, as if hiding this offer from Marjorie. It told her all she needed to know.
The call finished with the usual politeness and she stared out of the window, her eyes roving the covered wood store. It gave her an idea.
‘Just stepping out for a minute, boys – be right back!’ she called up the stairs.
She walked out into the dark, making her way along the winding road, using her phone as a torch.
Before she lost her nerve, she knocked on Mrs Appleton’s door.
The neighbour had been one of the first to arrive in the wake of the news of Finn’s passing, and had brought a peach cobbler, along with a prayer card.
Nina closed her eyes, thinking she might be the answer to her particular prayer.
‘Oh, Nina! Hello, dear.’ The old woman spoke with clear relief that she recognised the person rapping on the door in the dark, her gnarled hand at her chest.
‘Mrs Appleton, I am sorry to disturb you, and this is going to sound like a very odd request.’
The woman’s brow wrinkled with curiosity as she remained half hidden behind the door.
‘The boys and I need somewhere to stay for a while and I was wondering if you had ever considered having lodgers here, or whether we might stay in your guest lodge in the garden?’ The low, flat-roofed building sat at the bottom of her rambling garden.
‘A lodger?’ The old lady fingered her pearl necklace.
‘Yes. I wouldn’t ask, only we are a bit stuck.’ Nina tried out the false smile that had stood her dad in good stead for all those years. ‘We would be no trouble and only clutter up a couple of your bedrooms, or as I mentioned, we could take the guest lodge?’
‘It’s a trailer!’ Mrs Appleton pointed out.
‘Yes, it would be fine. We’d be happy out there.’
The woman shook her head. ‘It would not be fine. You would not be happy out there. It’s out of the question. It has a big hole in the roof. It’s waterlogged, ready for knocking down – no one can stay in it.’
‘I see.’ Nina took a step closer. ‘Well, then how would you feel about having lodgers in your home for a while?’ It took all her courage to be this pushy, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
‘I’d be happy to pay, Mrs Appleton. I have some money and can get more, once Finn’s affairs are settled. ’
‘I don’t want your money! Good Lord!’ The woman’s lip curled in repugnance as she retreated a little further inside. ‘And lodging here is out of the question too. Mr Busby hates strangers and noise and children.’
‘Mr Busby?’
‘My cat.’