The Art of Hiding

by Amanda Prowse

  Mr Monroe smiled kindly. ‘I know it’s a lot for you to take in.’

  ‘I need to get a job, I need to . . .’ She shook her head, trying to think of what job she could get and how.

  Mr Monroe spoke again. ‘And I hate to think that I am the one who might be shedding light on Finn’s untimely death . . .’ He paused, as if warned off by the look she fired at him.

  What exactly was he suggesting? Finn had died in an accident, and the last thing he would have wanted in the whole wide world was to leave behind the family he loved, especially now. She felt a surge of anger, not only at the man’s words, but also at the possibility that what Mr Monroe was suggesting might be true. You wouldn’t do that to me, Finn, would you? You wouldn’t create this mess and then leave me . . .

  Nina felt her skin prickle with sweat as she flushed hot, then cold. ‘I never thought we’d leave The Tynings, but I know it’ll need to be sold.’ She nodded her acceptance of this fact. ‘I love it, of course, it’s our home, but at the end of the day it’s only bricks and mortar. The funds it’ll raise will give us some breathing space, time to plan what to do for the best, and we can downsize. At least it’s fully paid for.’ Even the idea of parting with the house she and Finn had built together, the family home where memories of him lurked in every room, was more than she could bear.

  Mr Monroe’s hand again hovered near the tissue box. ‘Mrs McCarrick,’ the man said, then paused again. ‘I don’t think you’ve fully understood the situation. Let me explain.’

  She looked up at him, her mind racing, hoping to hear something positive, a solution.

  He squared his shoulders, speaking slowly. ‘The Tynings was an asset of the business. As I said, it was massively mortgaged.’ And there it was again: that blunt, punchy tone.

  Her chest felt tight. ‘No. No, that’s not right, it can’t be.’ She sat forward, adamant, leaning on the edge of the desk; it was a mistake, and Finn wasn’t here to put him straight; she had to do it, had to take control. ‘We paid cash for our house. Because we could!’ She remembered Connor as a toddler running through the rooms as she and Finn walked hand in hand around the vast empty spaces, planning for furniture and accessories. Finn had turned to her, kissed her on the mouth and whispered, ‘This is our home, and it will always be our home, and it doesn’t matter what happens outside of that front door, in here you will always be safe.’

  ‘Yes . . .’ he said. ‘But Mr McCarrick took out mortgages on the property – a few over the years. I think it kept the wolf, or more specifically the bank, from the door on more than one occasion.’

  How could you, Finn? How could you put our house in danger and not tell me? How could you do that?

  ‘But . . .’ She searched for the words. ‘But how could that happen if I was living in it? How was I not made aware?’ she asked.

  ‘With only Mr McCarrick’s name on the deeds, your signature or indeed your approval would not have been necessary. From a legal perspective,’ he offered, suggesting that, morally, it was a whole other matter.

  Nina slumped in her chair. She felt the strength leave her core as her thoughts tumbled in her brain. How could I have been so bloody stupid? I trusted him, without question.

  ‘I can see that you were unaware of this. And again I am sorry to be the one to have to break it to you.’

  She met the man’s stare, struggling to breathe.

  ‘They have served notice and you are being evicted.’ Mr Monroe’s stark words felt like a jolt.

  Bang! There it was again, that door slam in her mind. Her body shook.

  ‘Evicted?’ she repeated, with a nervous twitch playing about her mouth, as if waiting for the punchline. This couldn’t be right. She fought for breath.

  ‘Yes. They will evict your family, seize your possessions, change the locks and put the house on the market.’

  ‘Really?’ Her voice faltered. ‘When will they do that?’

  ‘I can’t tell you when exactly, but in my experience it will be sooner rather than later. I am only giving it to you straight like this because I need you to fully understand the events that will unfold and just who we are dealing with.’

  She pictured the lock on the front door, for which she had a key nestling in her purse.

  ‘And sadly,’ he continued, ‘they will probably sell it for a fraction of its value, because it’s all about getting some money in as quickly as possible.’

  ‘But . . . I . . . I don’t . . .’ She tried to speak, but instead bent forward, pulling her thick, curly hair from her face and throwing up into the soft-leather chocolate-brown interior of her Mulberry bag.

  FOUR

  Nina left the accountant’s office with the strangest feeling that she was floating. Her feet didn’t seem to be touching the ground, but she felt herself move slowly and deliberately towards the car.

  We’re losing our home! WE ARE LOSING OUR HOME! Oh my God, my God, Finn! I am scared. Eight million pounds. Eight million pounds. Eight million pounds.

  She started driving. Suddenly she found herself at the school, with no memory of the minutes that had elapsed.

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’ The Headmaster’s secretary leaned across the panelled reception desk, peering at Nina through her gold-framed glasses. Gripping her phone and car keys, she folded her arms across her chest, hoping this might stop the shaking. She was embarrassingly aware of the smell of sweat and vomit that lingered about her. She was always neat, always clean: she’d never forgotten the time when soap, scent and bubble bath were in short supply in her life. Right now her slovenly state was the least of her concerns. ‘No, I don’t have an appointment, and I would normally make one, but this is an emergency.’

  The woman pursed her lips. ‘Take a seat, Mrs . . . ?’

  ‘McCarrick. I’m Connor and Declan’s mum,’ she added. She pictured the boys, at that very moment somewhere in this building, heads down and pens poised, without any idea of how their future rested on what might happen in the next few minutes. It made her feel sick all over again. She thought about the bag back in the car, full of vomit, from which she had extracted her wallet, keys, make-up and phone.

  ‘Please take a seat and let me see if the Headmaster can squeeze you in.’ She gestured towards a sofa.

  Nina sank into the luxurious cream cushions.

  What are you going to say to him? How can you pay? Think! I’m losing my home. Our house! Our beautiful house! Where will we go? Her thoughts were so noisy and intrusive, she feared she might have shouted them out loud. She clamped her teeth tightly just in case.

  A few minutes later the woman returned. ‘The Headmaster will see you now.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She breathed gratitude, unsure what her next port of call might have been had he refused. Standing on wobbly legs, she stepped towards the door. Her stomach churned with a familiar fear. It still petrified her, being in this building, having to interact with the educated and wealthy individuals who taught at or attended the school, even after a decade or more of doing just that. She knew it shouldn’t; she’d met enough of the upper crust to know that, just because someone had money, it didn’t mean they were smart, and just because they were educated, it didn’t mean their opinions were any more valid than hers. She remembered George’s mum trilling, while waving her bejewelled hands, ‘George hates all things green, pacifically Brussels sprouts – it’s an ongoing battle!’ Nina had fought the desire to shout, ‘You mean specifically! That’s the right word. I know this!’ Today the memory did little to bolster her.

  The Headmaster’s study was designed to reassure you that your hard-earned cash was being well spent, and that every penny you ploughed into this fine establishment was a sound investment in your child’s future. The glass-fronted cabinet was bursting with trophies and photographs of the various sports teams holding shields and looking triumphant, and on the cork noticeboard next to it, the most recent good news item cut from a newspaper was strategically pinned.

  ‘Mrs McCarrick, h
ow are you?’ He shook her hand, cupping her palm inside both of his.

  She breathed out. This was a loaded question. Where to begin? She reminded herself to pace her words; there was a very real danger that she might simply vent the panic swirling inside her. She knew Mr Moor would respond best to a calm, logical discussion without a trace of hysteria.

  ‘It’s a very difficult time,’ she managed, sitting in the chair in front of his desk, which he indicated as he took his seat.

  ‘Of course. We were all so very sorry to hear about Mr McCarrick. Connor and Declan’s tutors were sent a bulletin and have been keeping a close eye on them.’ He nodded, his tone respectfully low.

  ‘Thank you,’ she offered sincerely; it meant a lot to know someone was looking out for them in her absence. ‘They’re coping amazingly well.’ She stopped; Connor wouldn’t have thanked her for being so personal with the Headmaster. She coughed to clear her throat, feeling embarrassed.

  ‘I had a call from Mr Paulson,’ she began.

  ‘Yes . . .’ He nodded, indicating that of this he was already aware.

  ‘There has been a bit of a mix-up with the fees.’

  Again he nodded his neatly coiffed head. ‘A mix-up? How so?’

  ‘He told me they haven’t been paid in full for this term.’ She sucked her cheeks in, trying to summon the spit that might aid her speech.

  ‘That’s right, and so far, no monies have been paid for the last term either,’ he said steadily.

  She felt her pseudo-confident façade all but disappearing.

  ‘The thing is, Mr Moor, I am at the moment sorting my situation with the accountant and would like to ask if it’s possible that I could delay payment.’ She spoke quickly, deciding not to take a pause and give him the chance to deny her request. ‘It won’t be for long – just until we have sorted our accounts. I am sure this isn’t the first time this has happened.’ She tried out a hesitant smile for good measure.

  Mr Moor sighed. ‘No, not the first time.’ He gave a knowing smile. ‘And regretfully I must say to you what I say to all who make a similar request.’ He drew breath and gave a slow blink in a most reverential manner. ‘Everybody would like to eat in Michelin-starred restaurants, but when the pockets are empty, it simply isn’t possible. Without the funds, you would be turned away at the door.’

  Nina stared at the man, astonished, hating his well-practised, glib response. It felt all the more demeaning in the face of her situation.

  ‘And I’m afraid that even if it were within my hands to action such a deferment, it might not be advisable. I have never in my experience known a financial problem to get less knotty with more time and with more debt accruing. Quite the opposite, in fact.’ He smiled, his perfect teeth glinting at her. ‘And trust me, the only people who suffer with such a delay are those to whom the monies are owed.’

  Nina sat forward in the chair. Placing her fingertips on the edge of his desk and fighting the desire to explode, she implored, ‘I don’t think you understand, Mr Moor. My boys have lost their father, things are in a state of flux, and I am just about hanging on.’ This admission caused tears to prick her eyes. ‘The one constant the boys have is their school. All I am asking is for a bit of flexibility.’

  ‘I think the school has already shown a lot of flexibility. The fact that the fees are unpaid in full for this current term should have instantly precluded them from returning after the Christmas break, but we gave Mr McCarrick the benefit of the doubt.’

  ‘You . . . you spoke to him?’ This was news to her.

  ‘Yes. He sat where you are now and his speech was pretty much the same as yours, give or take the odd word.’

  She pushed her thighs against the seat, feeling the now familiar flash of humiliation at being kept in the dark. She swiped the beads of sweat from her forehead with her palm. ‘I didn’t know this, Mr Moor, and all I am asking is for a little bit more time.’ She had no idea where she could get the money from, but she would find a way.

  ‘And I am trying to tell you that you have already had more time. And that time has, sadly, run out,’ he said flatly.

  Nina shook her head, feeling the anger rise. ‘I don’t believe this. Connor is about to enter his exam year. He plays his rugby here, it’s where all his friends are, and it’s all he has ever known. Declan, too – they are Kings Norton boys!’ Her voice was rising uncontrollably.

  ‘And we have given them the very best education during their time here, and we of course wish them every success for the future.’ He lifted his chin as if in conclusion.

  ‘We have paid over half a million pounds to this school – more if we consider the donations, prizes, trips, sports events . . .’ She shook her head. ‘And now, when I am most vulnerable, when I have come to you to ask for help, this is how you treat me?’

  ‘I can assure you it’s not personal, Mrs McCarrick. We are a business and these are the rules, and if I break the rules for you, I have to break the rules for all, and we wouldn’t last very long like that, would we?’ His condescension made it sound like he were chastising a child.

  ‘Not personal?’ She levelled her gaze at him. ‘You make the kids sound like any other commodity, but they are little boys with fragile natures and hearts.’ Her voice cracked. ‘We paid that huge sum of money to your school because we believed you were going to help make our sons into good people, lovely citizens of the planet, but if this is their example, if this is how you treat people in need . . .’

  ‘We have fourteen pupils with offers for Oxford and Cambridge this year. That’s quite something.’

  She stared at him. ‘What has that got to do with anything? Are they nice people? Are those kids happy?’

  ‘I think we are done here, Mrs McCarrick.’ He reached for a sheet of paper and seated his glasses on his nose, as if to show he had other matters to attend to. ‘I wish your boys well, but it’s just the way it is. Kings Norton is an expensive club, and membership costs.’

  Nina stood up and spoke steadily and clearly. ‘I feel angry. Not at you – at myself, for ever thinking that this was a club I wanted my boys to belong to.’

  The Headmaster looked up at her with narrowed eyes, and adjusted his spectacles. ‘Now I am most confused. Only minutes ago you were asking that they be allowed to remain.’

  His condescension was the final straw. Nina drew on her life before she had married, before she had been given access to wander within these esteemed walls, before she had been told the right and wrong way of behaving. Leaning on the desk, she spoke levelly. ‘Screw you, Mr Moor.’

  She swept from the building, hoping that Finn’s parting shot had been similar.

  Give or take the odd word.

  Nina drove over to the nearby lay-by, where she sat in her usual spot. Her legs shook. She put the heater on, until she realised her tremors were due to fear and adrenaline and not the temperature.

  ‘Eight million pounds, Finn? I can’t believe it. It won’t sink into my head!’ She spoke to her reflection in the windscreen, alarmed by the expression of naked fear that greeted her.

  She used the time waiting for the kids to come out of school to phone their lawyer.

  ‘I am so sorry for your loss. I liked Finn. I liked him very much.’ Mr Firth sounded choked.

  ‘He liked you too.’ She rubbed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. ‘I wanted to ask you about the will?’

  ‘It is pretty much as we discussed before. Finn stated that in the event of his death, everything is left to you, after any and all outstanding debts have been met, yada yada, the usual.’ He paused.

  ‘But that’s what I am concerned about, Mr Firth. There is so much debt.’

  ‘Yes, I am now aware of the situation.’ He spoke softly, thankfully sparing her the need to elaborate.

  ‘I suppose my question is, is there anything we can do to keep some money or hide something? I know how that sounds, and I don’t mean anything illegal. I’m just trying to find a way to keep my kids’ heads above water.’r />
  His response sent a bolt of anxiety through her gut.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that kind of planning. If we had known the bankruptcy was looming, or just how bad things were, we might have been able to do something, put stuff in others’ names, that kind of thing. But we didn’t know. It all came about very quickly. I know Finn tried all he could to get the sales through quicker, but he ran out of time. I’m as shocked as you.’

  He ran out of time . . . The phrase spun around her head. Didn’t he just. Nina tried to imagine his face as the car broke through the barrier and careered down the embankment. Was he afraid or calm? Shocked or resigned? Nina shook her head, refusing to believe that her husband’s death was anything other than a terrible accident.

  She held the phone close to her face, feeling the last of her safety ropes sliced clean by the blade of the lawyer’s reasoning.

  ‘There is a life insurance policy.’

  ‘There is?’ For the first time since she could remember, she felt a surge of hope ripple through her. It was hard not to give in to a smile of relief.

  ‘Oh, that’s great news!’ She threw her head back, offering up a silent prayer of thanks.

  She heard the lawyer swallow. ‘It’s not as wonderful as you might think.’ His words were a pin that deflated her bubble of happiness. ‘It pays about a million pounds, but that money will be considered part of Finn’s assets and will be taken to help settle some of the debt. I know the house is being taken, and the creditors will all be trying to grab what they can, knowing they are one of many who are owed, and if they don’t pounce first or shout loudest, they might end up with nothing.’

  ‘How much can the bailiffs take?’