Chapter 16 #3
She had quite forgotten the sound of the gravel crunching underfoot.
It was the first jolt to her senses. Her eyes strayed through the bars to the large turning circle, and the many criss-crossed dual lines of tyre marks that had churned up the stones, and of course there was no willing gardener with a wide rake to restore them twice weekly, making sure they looked perfect.
She tried to remember the person she had been when this kind of thing felt important.
It reminded her of the dirty footprints that Mr Ludlow’s men had left in the hallway on that terrible, terrible day.
The memory of Connor’s horrified face when she found him at the house made her shiver: ‘. . . only doing their job, a horrible job, but their job nonetheless.’
‘Let’s go in!’ Declan jumped up and down.
‘We can’t, darling. They have changed all the locks, and even if I did still have a key, it doesn’t belong to us any more. It would be trespassing,’ she explained.
‘We could go through the gap in the side hedge and have a look, but not actually go inside,’ Connor suggested.
Tiggy now stood behind the trio. ‘Come on then, Con. If we are going to do this, let’s do it quickly!’
Her sister’s tone made it sound like some kind of adventure, and without further discussion, Nina found herself being ushered to the side hedge, where Connor and Declan rummaged along the tall, bushy leylandii until they found the gap they were looking for.
‘Here it is!’ Before she had a chance to remonstrate, Connor had disappeared into the hedge, quickly followed by Declan.
Tiggy was next. Nina felt she had little choice but to follow.
She crouched low and scrabbled on her knees through the gap.
When she emerged, the sight was enough to take her breath away.
She placed her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t realised, or rather had forgotten, quite how grand the house was. The pale stone building stood proudly in the sunlight, the many, many windows glinting, hiding a labyrinth of rooms behind.
‘Wow!’ Tiggy exclaimed. Nina looked towards her with a nod.
It was, indeed, wow! Although now, strangely, she felt quite removed from this opulent setting.
And the house and grounds looked different from her memory.
The grass was longer than she had ever seen it and the border plants had grown wildly without the patient hand and secateurs of the gardener.
The apple trees had dropped their fruit, which now lay brown, spoiling and riddled with maggot holes.
‘Such a waste,’ Nina said, thinking not only of the cost of apples, but of the shortcrust apple pies, the crumbles, chutneys, purées and puddings that she had made year after year, gifting them to people along the lane, piling them up in the freezer or lining jars up in the larder.
The boys ran around the garden, up on to the terrace and around the pool.
Declan had his arms spread wide like an aeroplane, appreciating the open space.
Connor stood by the edge of the pool and pushed down onto the dirty cover with one foot.
She watched him stare at the mosaic edge and wondered if he, like her, saw a memory of larking around with his dad, sending a cascade of droplets high into the air as they splashed and wrangled in the warm water, jumping on and off the inflatable animals that littered the surface, before coming up to the terrace to wrap themselves in plush towels and to sip on a cool drink straight from the iced pitcher.
Another life . . .
Tiggy hung back as Nina trod the meandering path up to the house. The windows were desperate for a clean. She pressed her nose to the glass to take a look at her favourite place in the whole house, where she liked to rest, sitting on her comfortable chair with the incredible view.
She imagined she saw the four of them, sitting around the breakfast table.
The image was so real, she leaned in even closer, with her hands splayed on the glass.
Her heart raced and her breath came quickly.
Finn reading the newspaper, the boys with their heads bowed, devouring cereal.
Nina saw herself jump up suddenly to grab the cafetière for a refill of coffee.
Her twitchy manner was telling; she looked more like an attentive waitress than a member of the family.
It looked like a school morning. She was struck by the opulence of their surroundings, the acres of shining surfaces and the myriad lights, all burning brightly and wastefully for no other reason than aesthetics.
She was also shocked by the silence that enveloped them and the sullen expressions on their faces.
Nina from Portswood would have thought that to have all this could only mean that you were permanently happy!
She leaned closer, watching as Connor bounced his leg, as if he were edgy, wanting to be elsewhere.
Declan’s shoulders were slumped over; he looked tired.
And Finn . . . Finn’s brief smile faded the moment she turned her back to go and grab his coffee refill, and in that second she saw the worry etched on his brow.
He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and that weight was worth approximately eight million pounds.
One of Finn’s stock phrases loomed large in her memory: ‘You don’t have to worry your head about anything. Worrying is my job . . .’
‘That was it, Finn, wasn’t it?’ she whispered into the aether. ‘It wasn’t that you deliberately lied to me, deceived me. You just wanted to keep the worry from my door, wanted me to glide through life because you loved me . . . and I loved you. I did.’
Pressing her fingers to the window, she saw the imperfections of life in the glass bubble of their home, and in that instant she knew that she would not swap the life she had now for all the money in the world.
Her only regret was that Finn, her handsome, flawed husband, had not got to experience this too.
‘Goodbye, my darling,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t remember it like this.’ Tiggy’s voice startled her.
With her sister’s words the image was gone, and she found herself staring at a vast space that was almost unrecognisable.
The kitchen and adjoining breakfast room had been stripped bare.
The light fittings were missing; bare wires now hung down forlornly, as if grasping for the stunning glass chandeliers they once held.
The stove had been hauled from its casing and where the hob had once sat was now a neatly cut rectangular hole.
The walk-in fridge-freezer was gone, revealing an empty alcove, and the furniture, mirrors and granite surfaces had also been removed.
The cool, pale floor was covered in a thick layer of what looked like fine sawdust and debris, peppered with dirty footprints and the black marks of wheels that had been carelessly dragged along.
‘It’s not our home any more, is it, Mum?’ The boys were right behind their aunt. Declan looked up at her, and she realised that he, like her, had probably held an image in his head that was a mirage, where a vivid display of flowers lit up the hallway and dinner bubbled on the stove.
‘No, my love. It’s not our home any more.’
Nina was finally able to make the statement, ending any hankering for the fantasy bricks and mortar of a place that no longer existed – not in any guise that they might recognise. Connor took her into his arms and Declan held her around the waist and she held them fast.
The three stood locked together in the shadow of the grand house, united as a family, with determination and resolution to make a better future.
‘I still miss Dad, of course I do, every day, and I wish it hadn’t all happened.’ Connor spoke. ‘But you have a job, we have a home, and things are . . .’ He hesitated. ‘Things are okay. More than okay.’
Nina nodded in agreement. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
It felt as if finally the world had stopped spinning, and the path beneath her feet was solid.
She knew now she could carry this little family, and was capable of becoming the person she had always wanted to be; someone who could conquer the world.
‘Yes, they are, darling.’ She smiled at Connor, knowing that from tomorrow onwards, she would look at the sky and feel, not only satisfied, but also optimistic about their future. ‘Things are more than okay.’