Chapter 8 #3
‘Right, you go and wash your face and we’ll set off in a bit.
’ She ruffled his hair and watched as he loped off.
She kept her smile of reassurance fixed in place until he had disappeared.
Poor kid must be going through so much inside, contrary to the outward displays of happiness at which he was so deft. My baby boy, I am so sorry . . .
Opening the boys’ bedroom door, she was hit by the smell.
It was evident that Connor couldn’t help but know what had happened: the smell was overpowering in the small room.
They exchanged a knowing look. Nina felt overwhelmed with gratitude for his pretend ignorance.
After stripping Declan’s bed and reaching underneath to retrieve the other sheet, she looked up at Connor’s back.
He had turned, hunched over in his favoured position, facing the window.
‘I know you probably don’t want to hear this, Con. But I really love you and I love the way you are kind to Dec. It means the world right now. He’s lucky to have you. We all are.’
A slight shift in his position told her that he had heard.
After bundling the sheets, she and Declan walked towards the launderette in a matter-of-fact manner, both trying to pretend it was any other jaunt.
Nina was torn between ignoring the event, hoping to minimise his embarrassment, and wanting to fire a thousand questions at him about how he was feeling and how she might help.
Obviously he was shell-shocked by their move, by losing his father, by trying to adjust to their new life.
‘I’m sorry, Mum.’
‘You have nothing to feel sorry for. I know how hard things feel at the moment. But it will get easier.’
Declan blinked and looked up at her. ‘I was very busy when we were at home, but here I’m not so busy and I notice that Daddy isn’t here even more.’
Nina understood this perfectly. Without the distractions of life in their lovely house, the funeral and the rest of term, they were able to fully focus on their loss, and no wonder it hit them hard.
She bit her bottom lip, trying to ignore the fact that for her it felt like the exact opposite.
Living in this cold, dark, sullen place made her grieve for Finn a little less and dislike him a little more.
Not that she would ever disclose this to her kids, knowing they would never understand.
In fact it was hard for her to understand, but the nagging thought that pawed at her senses was that he was the one who had dropped them into this living hell, and he had done so without giving her fair warning, without giving her any choice or time to act, and that was unforgivable.
She and Dec pushed open the door to the launderette and were met by the grey-haired lady who managed the place, who had previously introduced herself as ‘Toothless Vera’.
One gummy smile and Nina had no need to ask why.
Vera was quite a character; she had more of a cackle than a laugh, and gave out the change for the coin slots and made cups of tea in the back room, which she then served in Styrofoam cups.
Without a washing machine in the flat, Nina had become a little more comfortable using the launderette along the road.
The first time she had used it, the idea of putting her family’s clothes into a communal machine that had washed strangers’ soiled items had made her shudder with revulsion.
In her spacious laundry room at home, the washing machine and two tumble dryers had run almost constantly.
She used to think nothing of popping a tablecloth, some sports kit or a favoured pair of jeans in if they were asked for.
Now, after a couple of trips, trotting up the street with dirty clothes was becoming normal.
Sometimes Toothless Vera would unload the machine in her absence and fold the clothes into a cardboard box.
Nina had to admit it was nice to have someone assist her in this odious chore.
The place was warmed by the constant whirr of the industrial dryers and on a cold, damp day like today, she realised that it wasn’t wholly unpleasant.
Nina felt her shoulder muscles loosen in the heat.
‘Oi, oi! What we got here then?’ Vera called in greeting and Declan laughed, a genuine laugh at the funny lady who was so different from anyone he had ever met.
As she and Declan made their way home a little while later, Nina spied Tiggy strolling along the pavement towards them.
‘Hey, you!’ she called out. It was still a thrilling novelty for Nina to see her sister so casually without pre-planning or arrangement. Today, the sight provided a much-needed lift to her spirits.
‘Where you heading?’ Nina called.
‘Coming to find you, actually. Connor said you might be at the launderette. Fancy a cup of tea?’
‘Yes, lovely.’
Tiggy did an about-turn and the three made their way along the pavement. Declan skipped ahead and then walked backwards, facing them as he spoke.
‘We didn’t need to go and wash anything, we just wanted to. There was nothing that we had to wash, Mum and I just went with my sheets because we wanted to,’ he was keen to explain.
‘Okay then!’ Tiggy gave her sister a quizzical look and Nina reminded herself to have a chat with her youngest about how much information it was necessary to give away when trying to keep a secret. Nina winked at her sister.
It was as if for now the two had papered over the cracks formed during their years of estrangement, and for this Nina was grateful, knowing that to bring the topic to a head, to go over the reasons why, and who was to blame, was more than she was able to cope with right now.
Nina woke each day with a feeling of dread, living with the windows permanently shut, hoping for a respite in the cold, cold weather and praying for the sun’s warmth in the small, fusty rooms. In her lower moments, in between job hunting and cleaning the flat, Nina often sat and stared out the French windows, watching the world go by on the pavement three feet below.
She often saw Lucia, rushing off to work, sometimes with the baby in tow and sometimes alone, but always in a hurry.
It took all of her resolve not to bombard the girl with questions as to whether her boss had seen her application and if there were any vacancies at the hospital.
She was wary of slowing her down, and figured that if Lucia had news, she would share it.
She caught her eye once through the nets and smiled; she was rewarded with a little wave and a mouthed ‘Hi, Nina!’ It had made her day, this show of friendship.
‘God, it’s cold!’ Nina rubbed her hands together and stamped her feet as they made their way inside the flat. Declan ran to her room and dived under her duvet.
‘Yep.’ Tiggy removed her hat and ran her fingers through her wavy hair. ‘You look awful, by the way.’
‘Why thank you!’ she said sarcastically. This she knew.
‘So, how’s things?’
‘Same.’ Nina pulled a face. ‘Still no job, though not from lack of trying. Connor is barely talking to me and Declan is trying to look at it as an adventure, but I think he does it for my sake. He is in turmoil more than he is letting on. I must admit, even though I know he isn’t being that open about what’s worrying him, in some ways I’m quite grateful.
It feels like one less thing to have to cope with, and I kind of pretend with him. Does that make me a bad mum?’
‘I’d say so, yes. It sounds like a cop-out.’ Tiggy stared at her.
Nina felt her mouth move as her brain sought the words of gentle rebuttal that would also press home that there was no way her sister could know what she was going through.
Grief, loss, betrayal – it was more than most people could cope with in one hit.
‘It’s not easy, Tig. We are all squashed in here together, and it feels like there’s no room to stretch, to relax.
Not that I’m not grateful to Cousin Fred.
I really am. I know having me here is a risk.
If I don’t find a job soon . . .’ She let this trail.
Tiggy gave a small nod, but chose not to comment. ‘Where’s Connor?’
Her sister’s sudden coolness made Nina uneasy.
‘On his bed, at a guess. That’s where he usually is when he’s not out roaming the high street, avoiding the armed gangs and pushers.’
‘Good God, it’s not that bad!’ Tiggy scoffed.
‘I know, but try telling him that.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘I can joke with you about it, but I’m tired, Tig, and I keep thinking that it will be good to get home.
I picture my lovely bed – and it’s like a jolt to my system when I realise that our home is gone.
’ She bit her lip. ‘Anyway, enough of my moaning.’
‘Yes, let’s have tea. I’m just passing and thought I’d pop in. Do you need anything? Are you okay for money?’
Nina looked at her big sister, who was there for her when the chips were down, offering practical help when it was most needed. She stepped forward and placed her head on her sister’s shoulder.
‘I’m sorry, Tiggy.’
There was a silent moment while both considered what the apology meant.
In Nina’s mind it was clear. She knew that Tiggy did not have money to spare and was making this generous offer.
How many times had Nina done a similar thing when money had been plentiful?
The answer was rarely, as it hadn’t occurred to her, and the shame of that suddenly hit her.
Tiggy held her close and cooed into her hair, ‘Jeg har dig, Nina. It’ll all come good. You’ll see.’
Nina closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of her sister, and in an instant she was back in the little cottage in Frederiksberg on the day her mamma died.
‘Your mamma has gone to sleep and she is at peace now,’ her dad whispered. ‘In fact she is having the loveliest sleep you can imagine, and she’ll dream of you forever and ever.’ Tiggy, at seven years of age, knew better, and began to cry.