Chapter 8 #2
‘You think you can manage?’ This time he made no effort to hide his irritation. ‘Do you have any relevant experience as a commercial housekeeper?’
‘Other than looking after my own house?’
‘Yes. Other than that. Have you for example managed a team of housekeepers? Worked to a budget? Organised rotas? Dealt with commercial suppliers? Handled contracts for industrial linens . . . Any of the like?’
‘I . . . I haven’t, but, I did have a large house and . . .’ She cursed her tears that threatened, thickening in her throat. She tried not to picture her lovely life in her beautiful home that she missed. ‘The thing is, I need a job.’
‘Well, we all need a job. The difference is, some of us are qualified to do a job and others are trying to wing it without the relevant experience. Was there anything else I can help you with today?’
Nina hung up, then sat at the counter-top with her face in her hands and cried.
‘Don’t cry, Mum.’ Declan’s small voice from the doorway threw her; she hadn’t heard them return.
And she was so used to spending time alone in the kitchen at The Tynings with the boys off elsewhere.
She spun around to face him. Connor walked straight into the bedroom without any greeting.
She didn’t challenge him, thinking it best he was warm, and hoping he might calm a little before their next heated interaction; every exchange felt like they were in a long drawn-out boxing match. Ding, ding.
‘Oh, darling!’ she sniffed at Declan. ‘Just feeling a bit sorry for myself. I thought a job as a housekeeper would be a doddle for me. Turns out I’m not even qualified to do that. I think there might be more to it than I realised. If only they’d give me a shot, I’m sure I could learn.’
Declan walked forward and placed his little hand on her back. ‘When I grow up and have my own business, I’ll give you a job, Mum.’
Her heart swelled. ‘Well, I appreciate that. What business do you think you might have?’
‘I am going to have a sweet factory or a farm.’
‘Both of those sound good.’ She winked at her boy, hiding the naked fear that if she didn’t find a job soon, they were going to be in real trouble.
Nina then turned her attention back to the computer.
Regaining her composure, she continued to scan the screen, rereading adverts for jobs she had first rejected, hoping to find something within the ad that she had missed.
‘We had a bit of an explore. But it was so cold, we came back.’ Declan unwound his scarf from his neck.
‘Did you? That’s good. What did you see?’ She spoke over her shoulder, wishing she could work in silence.
‘I collected these.’
She looked down to see the clutch of cards in her son’s hand. He held up an array of scantily clad women with names like Crystal, Emerald and Candy, all offering heavily discounted services, emblazoned with a premium rate telephone number.
‘Oh good Lord!’ she called out. ‘Where did you get those?’
‘I found them. They are everywhere – the telephone boxes, the lamp posts. I’m going to collect them,’ he stated matter-of-factly.
Nina leapt from the stool and took them from her child.
‘Actually, I think it’s against the law to take these, Dec.
’ She fell back on the old staple that had served her well in the past, knowing that her boy, like most kids, had a fear of falling foul of the legal system.
‘It’s something to do with advertising and they have to be left alone. ’
‘Oh.’ Declan shrugged. ‘Okay.’
She pulled him by the arm. ‘Come on, let’s go and give our hands a good old scrub!’ She shoved the cards in her jeans pocket, considering how and where to dispose of them as she marched her youngest off towards the bathroom.
The next few days were some of the hardest days of Nina’s life, and the nights some of the darkest. The weather was brutal.
Ice formed on the inside of the windows, which she scraped at with her thumbnail, gently rubbing the crystals away.
She kept the fire burning when the boys were in the room, but other than that, she wore an extra jersey and thick socks to save money.
The feeling of being depressed by her environment had been so constant in her childhood, yet she had almost forgotten it.
She hated how often she suggested they all take to their beds during the day, knowing they would at least be snug under their duvets and extra blankets.
It was as if the weather dealt them this one final blow to crush any bud of happiness that might form on their miserable family tree.
Every day she trawled the job sites, looking for new openings, applying for anything and everything, sipping hot water that warmed her bones and laughing to herself at how particular she had been when first searching.
Now, some days later, she sent off applications to anyone who was hiring, from janitor to rat catcher, to legal assistant, her theory being that if she fired enough bullets with this scattergun approach, surely one had to hit a target.
Only they didn’t, and with every rejection her spirits sank a little lower, taking all her efforts not to give in to the blind panic that threatened.
What would she do when they ran out of money?
The few replies she did receive, standard letters and emails explaining that she wasn’t qualified or that the position had been filled, were more often than not for roles that she had forgotten she had applied for.
She even eagerly called about the ‘Incredible Telesales Opportunity’ that she had been so dismissive of – commission only it may be, but it would be better than nothing.
She spoke energetically to the young woman on the end of the line, trying to sell herself, hoping her sunny nature might make her a more attractive prospect.
The woman quickly yet politely informed her that her lack of keyboard skills and sales experience precluded her from applying.
It was a new low point.
Every day that ended with a lack of success meant she felt the black cloak of despair throw itself over her little family, and it took all of her strength to cast it off and encourage them to look towards the light.
She started handwriting letters of introduction, asking about any employment opportunities, and posting them through all the letter boxes of businesses up and down the streets, thinking this personal, local touch might make a difference.
With the shake of nerves, she handed one over the counter to the pink-haired girl who she discovered worked in the convenience store opposite.
The girl was very pretty at close quarters; she took the envelope with a smile. ‘I shall give it to my boss.’ It was the most hopeful encounter she had had, and Nina felt guilty for how she might have judged the girl.
‘I’m Nina, by the way. I only moved in a little while ago. With my sons.’ She turned and pointed towards the flats over the road.
‘I’m Lucia.’
‘Hi, Lucia.’
‘We are neighbours actually, I live four doors down from you.’
‘Well hello, neighbour,’ Nina said with a smile.
‘Welcome to Portswood! And I will pass your letter on as soon as I see him.’
‘Thank you.’ Nina meant it. She liked the way the girl spoke clearly and firmly; she liked her manner very much and envied her youthful confidence.
‘I do a night shift, cleaning at the hospital. It’s a bit crap, but the money’s good. I could have an ask for you there as well if you’d like?’
‘That’s so kind of you, thank you. Yes, that would be great.’ Nina walked away, praying something else would come along before she was forced to leave the boys alone every night, although good money was exactly what she needed.
It was mid-morning by the time Nina let herself back into the flat. Connor was quiet, surly, but now with a new air of melancholy that she hadn’t seen before. It placed her worry for him on a whole new level.
‘You can always talk to me you know, Con,’ she offered as she turned on the kettle.
‘About what?’ he fired.
‘About anything.’
He shook his head and ground his teeth, leaving the room to once again seek out the isolation of his bed.
She sipped at hot tea that warmed her throat and gave an instant feeling of relief, which was welcome, no matter how short lived.
In this environment, living this reduced life, she had discovered that it was the small lifts that brought her tiny bursts of joy.
‘Mummy . . .’ Declan’s voice was barely more than a whisper.
‘Yes, darling?’ She turned and saw him cowering by the doorframe. She wondered what Connor had done or said to cause such a reaction, and her anger flared.
‘Can we go to the launderette?’ he asked, looking at his feet.
Nina smiled. ‘Well now, that’s not a request I get every day.’ She expected him to laugh, join in, but instead he shrank further against the wall and bowed his head. ‘Oh Dec, what’s the matter?’ She knelt in front of him and tilted his chin so she could better see his face.
‘Nothing,’ he squeaked.
‘Well it sure looks like something,’ she coaxed, smoothing his hair from his forehead, ‘but I do know that nothing is worth looking this worried about. Plus, if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you, then I can’t fix it, can I?’ She kissed his nose.
‘You mustn’t tell anyone!’ he implored.
‘Okay.’ She nodded her oath.
‘I . . . I did a wee in my bed.’
‘Oh, darling.’ Nina held him close to her chest. It took all her strength not to weep with him. ‘That doesn’t matter, we can fix that right away.’
‘I did it before as well and hid the sheet under my bed.’ He sobbed, pulling away from her clutches. ‘Please don’t tell Connor!’ He held her gaze, his eyes begging.
‘I won’t tell a soul.’ She kissed his teary cheeks. ‘But you know everyone has wet the bed, even Connor,’ she whispered. ‘Now, let’s go and get those sheets, and you and I shall take a trip to the launderette and we might even stop for sweets. How does that sound?’
Declan sniffed as his tears abated. ‘Sounds good.’