‘I thought so. You need to come and sit with my friends and me. We are, like you, reluctant supporters and we’re up here on the benches.’
‘Is that okay?’ She looked at the woman with concern, wary of barging in.
‘Of course!’
Nina followed her up to the stands. Two women sat on the end of a bench facing the field, chatting and holding china mugs. They looked like any regular mums, in jeans, jackets, boots and scarves, with phones resting on their laps. Gilly pointed to each woman in turn, ‘Moira, Lou, this is Nina!’
They both waved and smiled broadly.
‘Hi, Nina!’
‘Hello!
‘Nina and I are colleagues.’ The simple phrase uttered by Gilly sent a bolt of joy through Nina’s core. She had a job, she had a place. Nina felt emboldened. She took a seat next to Lou.
‘We’re not that keen on rugby,’ Lou whispered. ‘But we need to support the boys, so we sit here and drink this.’ Moira handed her a white china mug that was half full of white wine.
Nina nodded, worried about saying something and sounding like a prude.
‘We chat about anything other than what’s going on on the field, we bring snacks and we take turns doing this.’ Gilly nodded at her friend. ‘It’s you, Lou. Your turn,’ she instructed.
The slightly chubby woman with a blonde bob looked at her. ‘Are you sure it’s me?’
‘Yes!’
‘Go, girl!’ they heckled.
‘All right then.’ Lou coughed, stood and placed her hands either side of her mouth. ‘Come on, Cottrell’s! Go, Jack!’ The others cheered and Nina joined in, clapping softly and hoping no one paid her any attention.
‘We call out every ten minutes or so and we all shout out if they score.’
‘But other than that, we talk about the kids, our partners, our diets, our lives, money, TV, anything!’
‘I think I can handle that!’ Nina laughed and sipped her wine. ‘Apart from the shouting out. I couldn’t do that. No way!’ She balked at the prospect.
‘Well that’s okay, shouting is optional. There are only two rules here, Nina,’ Moira informed her, flicking her long dark plait over her shoulder.
‘What?’
‘We keep it a secret that there is anything other than coffee in these sacred mugs.’
‘Okay.’ She nodded, sipping again.
‘And secondly we never tell anyone that we couldn’t give a damn about rugby.’
‘Got it,’ she whispered.
They all clinked mugs and laughed loudly.
Nina laughed, marvelling at how happy she felt. She had known these women for a little under five minutes, and what a difference they were making to her today, of all days, keeping the memories at bay, creating new ones. It was so very different to Kings Norton College.
‘I wonder what I missed?’
She heard her husband’s words. ‘We like it being just the two of us, don’t we?’ Finn had always asserted, and she had readily agreed. Only now was she beginning to wonder how different her life might have been if she had said yes to the odd invitation, set different boundaries at the very beginning.
‘Okay, Nina, but it’s your turn to call support, in approximately’ – Moira looked at her watch – ‘four minutes.’
‘Oh God, no! I really wasn’t joking. There is no way I could do that.’ She swallowed like a schoolgirl in the face of a dare, felt her mouth go dry and her cheeks burn crimson.
Gilly placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s okay. I’ll take your go.’
Nina nodded with instant relief, and smiled broadly at Gilly and her new friends.
FOURTEEN
Gilly, Moira and Lou invited her to their WhatsApp group and her phone pulsed daily with messages. It felt exciting to be included. They talked about everything, from baking disasters, shared for the comedy value (mainly from Gilly), to requests for lifts (mainly from Lou) and those round robin messages of support that you were instructed to send to women you admired and loved (largely from Moira).
In the handful of times they had met up since the match, both at rugby training and in the Trago Lounge for the treat of shop-bought coffee, they had included Nina in the loveliest of ways.
‘So, my daughter is getting married, and I’m supposed to be dieting, but the more I worry about it and think about it, the more I eat!’ Lou reached for a sugar cube for her coffee and the others exchanged knowing smiles. ‘The wedding is six months away, and I have too much to do.’
‘How can we help?’ Moira sipped the foam of her cappuccino.
‘Urgh, you can’t, honey.’ Lou batted away the offer. ‘Apart from all the other things, I have to plan and arrange twenty floral centrepieces and two large displays for the top table. And I haven’t got a clue!’
‘Oh, well, I can help you with that. Flower arranging for my home used to be a big part of my life,’ Nina said.
She startled at the loud laughter that followed. Gilly patted her arm. Nina broke into a smile. She guessed that, for these working women, it was laughable: a preoccupation with the indulgence of flowers. A blush of embarrassment rose to her face.
‘What? It did!’ She chuckled.
The laughter calmed.
‘Nina, that would be lovely, thank you.’
And just like that she was able to help. Feeling useful was the best. She knew the old Nina would have found a thousand reasons not to get involved.
The women listened with interest and empathy to how her life had been turned upside down by the death of her husband. She never realised how good it felt to have girlfriends to talk to, and who could offer a range of viewpoints that helped her to figure out how she felt. It was the first time she had confided her situation to anyone other than Tiggy, and whilst it felt odd to be sharing so much with relative strangers, she also felt a little unburdened. It left her with a feeling of belonging that she hadn’t felt for some years, in fact not since she last lived in Portswood. She told them how she had lived and what she had lost, keen to stress that what mattered most was not the house or the things, but that she had lost her love and was now alone with her kids, trying to hold everything together. They had squeezed her fingers, sighed, hugged her, and then immediately started to list all the men they knew who might be able to fix her lonely heart.
‘No, no! Absolutely not. Thank you, but no.’ She shook her head, a little unnerved by the suggestion. She was focused on the boys and on the slow and sometimes painful process of moving on. The last thing she wanted to do was throw more change and challenges into the mix. ‘I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else, wouldn’t want to. I really wouldn’t. I’m still trying to reclaim my life. I went from my dad’s arms into Finn’s, and I think I need to get better at being on my own.’ With this admission she put a lid on the well-meaning banter.
Moira spoke up. ‘You’ll know when you are ready. Maybe you never will be, like you say, and that’s all right too, but the morning you wake and your husband is not the first thing that fills your head, then you’ll know that your grief has shifted, made space for something or someone else.’
The girls had all clucked their approval at Moira’s words. But Nina knew her grief had already shifted, that it wasn’t just the loss of her husband she mourned. She was still trying to figure out what had been the true foundation of her marriage whilst coming to terms with her loss.
She considered this now as she stood by the French windows of the sitting room, watching the kids abandoning their bikes on the pavement and traipsing in and out of the shop opposite, leaving with sweets sticking out of their mouths or sipping on fizzy drinks.
It made her think of Halloween the previous year.
She and Finn had gone to fetch Declan from his school party; all his classmates were caked in face paint, trying for spooky. Some had blood dripping from the sides of their mouths, others black-ringed eyes and ill-fitting white plastic Dracula fangs. Nearly all held plastic cauldrons or pumpkins in which to gather their booty.
Connor had gone to a house party, with strict instructions to be home before eleven.
She and Finn had pulled into the car park; the air was thick with the damp, earthy tang of autumn. The sky was clear, a beautiful shade of indigo with a blanket of stars. She glanced up and marvelled at the infinite celestial display; it felt like anything was possible.
‘Is that Dec?’ Finn had nodded towards a side door from where a group of little ghouls and a Frankenstein emerged. She squinted into the darkness, and there was Declan, clutching a fistful of sweets. Nina waved at him and he responded with a happy smile.
‘Sweet mother of Betsy!’ Finn had gasped. ‘What on earth is that boy wearing?’ Declan ambled up the path in a pale pink rubbery costume with a tail at the back, and a rounded top for a hat.
‘Nina! Your son is dressed as a sperm!’
‘He is not!’ Nina laughed. ‘And might I remind you that he is your son too.’
‘Not dressed like that he isn’t!’ Finn howled.
They tried to contain their laughter as he drew closer to the car. Finn lowered the window.
‘Hey, buddy! What are you dressed up as, Dec?’ he shouted across the grass.
‘I’m an amoeba!’
‘See, he’s an amoeba,’ Nina said, giggling.
‘Nina, I swear to God, he may think he’s an amoeba, but the kid is dressed as a sperm!’ Her husband guffawed. Nina elbowed Finn hard in the ribs, knowing they had precisely three seconds to gain control and present a composed face to Declan.
She gave a little chuckle now, thinking how long she had avoided Finn’s gaze for fear of reigniting the laughter that hovered.
‘You look like you’re miles away.’ Tiggy came from the bathroom and filled the space next to her at the window.
‘I was.’
‘So, tell me again,’ Tiggy said, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘You are taking a trip back to Bath?’
‘Not Bath, exactly, but I’ve decided to rent a van and drive out to Saltford, to Mr Firth’s place. I got a deal on the van, so I can do it when I get paid at the end of July.’ She had worked out that if she economised on food and the bus fare to work in the following weeks, she could just about afford it. It would be cheaper and easier to make the trip, rather than try to buy the desk Connor needed and replace their summer clothes.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘Thanks, Tiggy, but it’s a long way and it’ll rob you of a day.’ She smiled at her sister and thought of how she had turned up at Finn’s funeral, offering help and love, asking nothing in return despite the expense of making the trip, and having taken time off work. Nina had taken that act for granted and knew that if she could go back in time, she would run towards Tiggy, throw her arms around her and hold her close.
‘Of course.’ Tiggy shrugged, as if it were a fait accompli.
‘Mr Firth is a good man. Finn trusted him and he has said if I need anything in the future then just to shout. He’s already been really kind. Finn did him a favour, sorted out some building work for him, and in return he has let us store our stuff at his farm.’
‘Gosh, that sounds like Finn might have been thinking ahead, if you ask me.’
Nina didn’t have time to speak before her body folded, as if punched in the gut. It still caught her off guard sometimes, how raw the emotions still were, this time brought on by the simple statement, a suggestion from the mouth of someone whose opinion she trusted, that Finn might have taken his own life.
‘God! I’m sorry!’ Tiggy reached for her. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, I just spoke without thinking. Shit, I’m sorry, Nina. Are you okay?’
‘I find it so hard to think about. The fact that he might be dead because he wanted to die. . .’ She paused. ‘Just the idea that he not only chose not to be with us, but that he did so, leaving us in this mess . . .’ She ran her hands over her face. The thought did not get any easier to contend with, no matter how often she wrangled with it.
‘I wasn’t suggesting that. I . . .’ Tiggy floundered.
Nina straightened and tried to catch her breath. ‘I know, Tiggy, I know. But it still feels sometimes like I’m running up an escalator that’s heading down and I can’t get anywhere. I am tired. And yes, the fact that he might have been thinking ahead, making decisions or, God forbid, planning, makes the possibility that he left us by choice seem more likely. And it seems the sole effort of that pre-planning that I can detect was to set up some storage, when we have been reduced to the bones of our arse, and that makes me so angry!’ She clenched her fists.
Tiggy stood back at the rare outburst. ‘You let it out, girl!’
‘I mean it, Tig, I am furious. How did he let things come to this?’ Nina ran her hands through her hair and remembered the smirk on Mr Ludlow’s face. ‘I hate that he was suffering, but I will never forget what it felt like to see my boys walk through the front door and having to tell them that their dad had died. And then the bailiffs pitching up and invading our home . . .’ She paused and took a deep breath, her teeth clenched. ‘Connor has broached the topic of how Finn died and I can’t stand that it’s another level of shit for him to deal with! I hate it.’ Nina stared at her sister, as if hoping for consolation or a solution. She offered neither. ‘And I don’t know what I’ll say to Connor if he asks again, and the thought of Dec thinking similar makes my heart sink, because they may have lost his dad, but their hero is intact, despite everything. I have insisted that it was an accident because I want to protect them. What would it do to their self-esteem if they suspected their dad didn’t even think they were worth hanging round for?’
‘It’s more complex than that. It always is, honey,’ Tiggy offered.
‘I know that. But if they believed that their dad had . . .’
They were silent for a beat or two. ‘With hindsight, do you think he was coming close to telling you the truth about your situation? Had he given you any hints, mentioned anything?’ Tiggy asked.
Nina pictured Finn swilling the red wine around his glass before swallowing it. ‘Why don’t we go to the Maldives for Easter?’
‘No.’ Nina shook off the memory and exchanged a look with her sister. ‘No, he didn’t show any signs that anything was amiss. The way he spoke and acted, you would have thought that we were on top of the world. And that kills me too.’
‘I think, Nina, that not only did Finn not know how to handle his love for you, thinking that keeping you cloistered away was the way to hold you dear, he also didn’t know how to dismantle the life he had constructed, the illusion he had created. I don’t agree with what he did, but I feel for him, I do, because of how it ended.’
Her sister’s words acted like a blanket; they not only comforted her, but also partly smothered the flames of anger that had flared inside her, bringing some measure of calm.
‘But you know,’ Tiggy continued, ‘there is no point mulling over things that you can’t change.’
‘I guess so.’
‘I know so,’ Tiggy asserted. ‘What would it change if you had it confirmed that his death wasn’t accidental?’
‘What would it change?’
‘Yes. I mean, the end result would be the same. How would it feel different?’
‘I think it would change everything! The fact that he left me to face this shit storm alone, the fact that he chose to leave us, but mainly,’ Nina cried, ‘mainly the fact that he didn’t know me well enough to know that he could talk to me about anything and trust that I would have helped in any way I could.’
Nina felt Tiggy’s arm around her waist, pulling her close.
‘I think Finn wanted everything to be perfect for you – him included.’
‘I can’t stand to think that he didn’t know the one thing about me that mattered the most, the most important thing for him to know. That no matter what, I had his back, I was there for him . . .’
A moment of silence passed before Tiggy spoke. ‘I spent years missing Mum so much that I could barely function. With just Dad a
nd us in the house in Frederiksberg, it was quiet, awkward. She was our glue.’
Nina remembered her quiet, brooding sister.
‘But then Dad said something to me that made a difference, and it might make a difference to you.’
‘What was it?’
‘He said that he believed people are on the earth for as long as they need to be. Some for a long, long time, contributing a little bit every day to the world, and others are only here for a shorter time, so they have to do really incredible things in the time they are given. He said that Mum was only on the planet for thirty years, but in that time, she married him and made two beautiful children.’ Tiggy looked up and smiled. ‘He said she filled us up with all we would need to know, even though she didn’t get to stay and see us grow up. I believed him and it made me confident.’
‘That’s lovely.’
‘It is lovely, and maybe Finn did the same. He filled you all up, you, Connor and Declan. He gave you everything you would need to go on, with or without him. Maybe he never had any doubt that you would cope, no matter what, maybe him not planning is a compliment. He saw that determination that lurked inside you, hidden, admittedly for a while, but still there nonetheless.’
Nina exhaled. ‘Thank you.’
‘See, that’s what sisters are for. Sisters put things right, because they know you. Much better than any crappy new rugby-mum friends.’
‘Are you jealous of my friends now?’ Nina laughed, glad to diffuse the heavy atmosphere. ‘Jeez, you are so childish!’
‘As if I’d be jealous of them! They are boring! Want one?’ Tiggy shook a cigarette from the packet and lit up.
‘No, I don’t!’
‘God, your tone! You honestly sound like Gran.’
Tiggy looked like a rocker chick in her skinny jeans and denim jacket, cigarette held aloft. ‘That is quite possibly the very worst thing you could ever say to me,’ Nina huffed.
‘I disagree.’ Tiggy took a long drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke out the open window. ‘I think the very worst thing would be if I said that you looked like Gran!’
The Art of Hiding Page 25