Chapter 6 #3
‘But what if we can’t get that flat you told us about?’ he asked, pushing his glasses up onto his nose.
‘Then we activate Plan B. We get a truck, load up our stuff and go to Swindon or Trowbridge and hit the rental agencies until we find a place,’ she asserted, hoping she sounded confident.
The enormity of their situation made her want to vomit.
But this was not the time for weakness, of any kind. She had to be strong, for all of them.
A text arrived from Tiggy late afternoon:
THE FLAT IS YOURS IF YOU WANT IT. I HAVE THE KEYS!!!
Nina looked at the text and wished she felt similarly enthusiastic. For her, the news came with relief, followed by a wave of dread.
It was almost unthinkable to Nina that this was going to be her last night in their family home; ironically, the prospect was made a little easier by the invasion of Mr Ludlow and his henchmen.
She felt their echo in every room she entered, felt the weight of their challenging stares.
These new images crowded out memories of her family – birthdays and celebrations and milestones – and she hated them for that.
She and the boys ate soup and crackers, before tucking straight into large half-eaten tubs of ice cream.
They watched TV on Connor’s laptop for a while, then they all trudged silently upstairs.
The boys went to their rooms. She wished them goodnight, and then she made her way to Finn’s study, where she stood for an age, looking out the window over the grounds.
Ancient trees edged the lawn, spiky without their leaves and licked by frost, lined up like dark sentinels in the stillness.
‘So beautiful,’ she breathed, staring out into the darkness of the February night.
And it was.
Nina lay in the centre of their bed, with Finn’s sweatshirt on her pillow by her side.
She lay back on the mattress and looked up at the ceiling, thinking of the many times she had done so with the skin of the man she loved against hers.
Tears trickled down her temples and into her hair.
The man she thought she knew inside out and back to front had so many secrets . . .
Nina stirred at the first light that filtered through her bedroom window. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to delay the dawn, to pretend this day wasn’t actually happening, as if she could cheat time and hang on to the night, deferring what she knew would come to pass.
The touch of Finn’s finger against her cheek .
. . She nuzzled against his warm skin. Her eyelids fluttered in the first throes of wakefulness, sensing the light and soft chirp of birdsong, providing the most blissful alarm.
Smiling, she thought of the unplanned day ahead, with nothing but the hours happily unpunctuated in the calendar – no appointments, nowhere she needed to be.
She felt a burst of excitement at what the day might hold.
She opened her eyes and saw Finn’s face so close it startled her.
She giggled, gripping the edge of the crisp white cotton sheet and pulling it over her face, a little shy at his scrutiny. Finn pulled back the cover.
‘I’ve been watching you.’
‘Was I drooling or sleep talking again?’
He shook his head and she saw the rare but unmistakable glint of tears in his eyes. ‘I used to watch you all the time when we were first married. I couldn’t quite believe that I had landed you.’
‘Landed me?’ She giggled. ‘You make me sound like a fish,’ she whispered. ‘Would I be an ugly old cod or a sweet little goldfish?’
He smiled. ‘I woke up an hour ago and saw you sound asleep on the pillow next to me, and I felt this overwhelming sense of peace. This is enough. It’s always been enough, you and me, waking up side by side.
That’s it!’ He leaned forward to kiss her face.
‘This is my happiness, waking up with you, and no matter how far apart we are, it’s the thought of this that gets me through . . .’
Nina inhaled his scent and felt the graze of his lips on hers . . .
A bang on the landing caused her to wake with a start. She sat up in bed, looking at the space Finn had occupied in her dream. She placed her hand on the mattress, longing to return to the sweet oblivion of fantasy.
She lay back, knowing this was the last time she would wake up in the room where she had lain in her husband’s arms, where he had laughed as she crawled over the carpet after too much wine; the last time she would lie on the bed that her toddlers had jumped upon on Christmas morning, bouncing up and down, keen to get on with the business of opening presents.
She didn’t have time for this, not today.
She leapt up, pulling the sheet from the bed and inhaling it deeply, before rolling it into a bundle and shoving it with her pillow into a suitcase.
She swept from the room without looking back, knowing it was up to her to encourage the boys to only look forward.
‘Have you ever driven a van before, Mum?’ Declan asked a little nervously as he eyed the Ford Transit crew van. She had hired it via telephone the previous day. It was delivered that morning, paid for with cash from her precious reserves.
‘No,’ she answered stiffly, ‘but I am used to driving big cars and off-roaders and this is really no different from that.’ She hoped she sounded convincing.
Connor quietly stood apart. He seemed to be watching proceedings, but not quite part of them. Nina wanted to hold him tight and kiss his face, but his body language screamed of the need for space. Her heart broke for her boy–man, who was trying to put on a brave face, but was clearly broken inside.
I wish I could wave a magic wand, Con. I wish I could take away your pain and make it all better.
Declan sat in one of the back seats crammed next to cardboard boxes, while Connor rode shotgun.
Their bags, cases and a couple of small bits of furniture, the two breakfast bar chairs, two side tables, a laundry hamper, a large art canvas, the kettle and toaster, three small lamps and linens were piled into the cargo space.
Both boys had items stashed around their feet and on their laps, rucksacks with their laptops inside, Connor’s rugby trophies, boxes of books, photograph albums, some pillows, and the stock of toilet tissue and washing powder from the laundry cupboard.
‘Okay, we’re all set!’ She spoke with an energy that she didn’t feel, hoping it might be infectious.
‘Okay, Mum!’ Declan echoed. ‘Off we go!’ Nina swallowed the lump in her throat as she listened to her youngest’s positive energy on this, the most emotional of mornings.
She was thankful for the obstructed windows at the back of the vehicle, denying her one last look at their home.
This didn’t stop her picturing it getting smaller and smaller as they drove away.
A quick glance at the sat nav told her it was 63.
4 miles and would take one hour, thirty-five minutes, to reach their destination.
Nina knew this was a lie; she knew that where they were headed was a million miles from where they had started, and that it might take years for them to arrive.