The Art of Hiding

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘Actually, I don’t know what you mean. You sound like one of those women with tiny waists who advertise products with a grin and have a set role as a housewife. Imagine – all the chores in the house divided up by gender, with the little lady cooking and the man of the house going out to bring home the bacon – and that’s just how it is!’ she offered sarcastically.

  ‘I guess that is kind of how it is, or how it was,’ she quietly acknowledged, a little shamefully.

  She felt her sister’s stare bore into her. Tiggy drew breath. ‘Well, I’m not judging you, Nina. The only right way is the way that works for you. And you obviously feel that you and Finn worked.’

  ‘We did. In some ways.’ It was a small admission that maybe things hadn’t been perfect. There was a moment of silence.

  ‘I used to worry . . .’ Tiggy trailed off mid-sentence.

  ‘Used to worry about what?’ Nina stroked the ceramic white owl that she had grabbed as she left the house, a birthday gift last year from the kids. She had found it in the depths of a cardboard box that she had only just got round to unpacking.

  ‘About you.’ She paused, as if she wanted to say more. ‘But right now I’m worried about how we get this room looking fabulous!’ Tiggy clapped in an exaggerated fashion. Her sudden change of tone was an obvious diversion.

  The two worked diligently, unwrapping a large, modern, abstract canvas that had sat in the downstairs cloakroom of The Tynings and had travelled along the motorway propped between the seats.

  ‘How come Mr Nasty and his cronies didn’t take this?’ Tiggy nodded at the piece.

  ‘Firstly it’s not valuable, just a print, but also I don’t think they spent much time in the little loo. It was wedged behind the cistern. Truth be told, I never liked it that much, it was a space filler, but I grabbed it when I had the chance, as if I knew we might need a splash of colour in our lives. And funnily enough, now I really like it.’

  They placed it on the mantelpiece and it did indeed lift the whole space, adding a welcome brightness, as well as a focal point.

  ‘That looks great.’ Tiggy stood back and admired it.

  ‘I wish I had some bookshelves.’

  ‘You could move the ones from the bedroom?’

  ‘That’s a great idea! I can find a smaller unit eventually for all my bits and bobs.’

  They hauled the shelf along the narrow corridor and into the sitting room, where they manoeuvred it into position in the corner alcove to the right of the fireplace. Nina unpacked her favourite books, including the ancient copy of The Complete Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen. Tiggy ran her fingers over the weathered spine. ‘Ah, Nina!’

  ‘Yep. I treasure it.’

  ‘God! I always get really choked when I touch something Mamma has touched.’ She lifted the book to her nose and inhaled the scent of it.

  ‘Me too.’ Nina smiled.

  ‘I used to nag her to read to me all the time and she’d be busy cooking or sewing, and eventually she’d get so sick of me asking, she’d smile and nod and I’d go and jump up onto the sofa, as though that was the only place she could read to me, and you’d nestle in by my side, like a little magnet. Mamma would throw that old fur rug over our legs.’

  ‘I remember that. I remember the way it felt and smelled – like bonfires!’

  ‘Yes.’ Tiggy nodded. ‘It did smell like bonfires. Exactly!’

  ‘And that smell always makes me think of Mamma.’ She had only ever shared this with Finn.

  ‘Do you remember her getting sick?’ Nina lowered her tone, folding the duster in her hand.

  Tiggy shook her head. ‘I didn’t know she was sick. But I do remember her being very tired and Dad doing all the chores when he got home from work, so I guess that was probably the start of it.’

  ‘I remember the day she died, Dad coming home to tell us.’ Nina lowered her voice.

  ‘I remember that too. You were very brave.’ Tiggy looked away.

  ‘I don’t think I was that brave, I think I just didn’t really know what was going on, not properly. And even though I was little, I wondered if there was anything I could have done to help make her better.’

  Tiggy closed her eyes, clearly touched. ‘Oh bless you, honey.’

  Nina recalled the way her dad had crouched in front of them, hitching his dark, corduroy trousers up his thighs, and giving a crooked smile that offered little by way of reassurance, before breaking the news that she had gone . . .

  The ripples of that one event changed everything. Losing her mamma reversed her daddy’s life plan, sending him back to the bleak city in which he had grown up, where his parents would take a far greater role in her upbringing than anyone would have wanted.

  She coughed to clear the sadness that gathered in her throat. ‘I feel sad that we didn’t get the life she probably wanted for us. And I hate that she missed so much,’ Nina said. The words made her think of Finn, the old Finn, and all that he would miss.

  ‘You just have to keep moving forward. What’s the alternative?’ Tiggy shook her head and pushed the book onto the shelf.

  ‘I’ve still got my little marble in its matchbox. I can hardly stand to touch it, especially now, when I have never felt less like I can conquer the world.’

  ‘Oh, your marble! I had forgotten about that. I remember her giving it to you and feeling quite jealous. Especially after she’d died, you used to get it out all the time. I thought it might have magical powers that let you talk to her.’

  Nina looked up at her sister. ‘I guess it did in a way. I think Mamma might have known me well enough to know that I would need a talisman like that, something to focus on.’

  ‘Uh-uh.’ Tiggy shook her head. ‘I think she knew you well enough to know that one day you could conquer the world.’

  Nina bit her lip.

  ‘You’re doing better than you think,’ Tiggy asserted as she made tiny crosses on the wall above the window where she was going to drill.

  ‘Well that’s good because sometimes I feel like I’m falling through the cracks,’ Nina admitted. ‘I just want a job. I can’t think of much else. And I know that once I have one, it’ll be like having a safety net beneath us that means I can let go of the ledge.’ She hooked her fingers and raised her hands, demonstrating the metaphorical cliff face on to which she clung. ‘I’ve fired another thirty applications off this week, and I haven’t had a single reply – not one. Declan is getting fed up at how I keep hogging his laptop. He stands over me, asking if I’ve nearly finished. And after the debacle at Celandine Court I’ve lost my confidence to go and knock on doors.’ She rubbed her face with her palms.

  ‘Something will turn up, you’ll see.’

  ‘I wish I shared your optimism.’ Nina sighed. ‘I am so worried about money, especially with the boys about to start their new school. I can hardly think about it. I dread them coming home and saying we need this and that.’ She shook her head, thinking of the piles of clothes, stationery, new bags, all of the things that came along with the start of each new term in their old life. The indulgence now made her feel sick. ‘I can only cope if I don’t think too far ahead. I literally live one hour at a time. And each one that ticks by without disaster feels like a small win.’ She closed her eyes briefly.

  ‘The boys are going to be fine,’ Tiggy said.

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Come on, we’ve still got work to do.’

  Nina carefully unwrapped family photos of Finn and the boys in Chinatown in New York, and another of them in Italy, eating spaghetti alle vongole al fresco, white china on a red-and-white-checked tablecloth, the masts of the boats in the little fishing harbour in the background.

  ‘Happy days.’ Tiggy nodded at the pictures.

  ‘Yes. God, I loved it when they were little. I mean, I love them now, of course, but when they were cuddly and sweet, it was bliss.’

  ‘I bet.’ Tiggy blew onto the drill tip to clear the dust.

  ‘Did you ever think about having
kids? I think you’d be a great mum.’

  ‘I did.’ Tiggy paused, blushing a little at the compliment. ‘But I think that ship has sailed.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ she pushed.

  ‘Maybe, but without the right man in my life, and living over the pub, it’s hardly ideal.’

  ‘You could always get a different job?’ she suggested.

  They smiled wryly at the fact that it was her job Nina focused on and not the lack of man.

  ‘I like working there. I’m happy enough. I think I’m stuck in my routine, and it’s not so bad that I want to change anything.’ Tiggy looked up. ‘It’s a job. You know, not great, but not terrible. And the longer I work there, the less I can imagine working anywhere else, if that makes sense.’

  Nina thought of how, when she got a job, she’d keep working to get them out of Portswood and on to something better, somewhere better, as soon as she was able. ‘It does, but I hate to think you might have dreams on hold. Don’t you ever want more?’

  Tiggy stared at her, and there was a beat of consideration before she answered. ‘All the time, Nina. All the time.’

  Nina nodded at her sister, understanding, possibly for the first time in years, that Tiggy had been trapped by circumstance. ‘I could come and see you at work – is that allowed?’

  ‘Yes! It’s allowed!’

  The way Tiggy beamed her response spoke volumes, and Nina felt a new spike of guilt for not taking more of an interest in her sister’s life. ‘That’s what I’ll do then.’

  ‘This looks really nice. You’ve got the knack,’ Tiggy said.

  ‘It does look much, much better,’ Nina conceded as her sister finished putting up the venetian blind. She let it drop to the floor, but angled the slats to allow the light to filter in. ‘Thank you, Tig, that looks fantastic! Privacy at last, without those horrible net curtains. I would love to paint it. The whole place.’ She ran her hand over the oatmeal-coloured walls. ‘I might ask Cousin Fred if he’d mind. Not now, of course, but when I am more on my feet.’

  ‘He’d probably be glad you were updating it.’

  ‘Yes, probably. I mean, I don’t want to do anything grand – I don’t exactly have the funds – and all in good time. But just a coat of paint. And I would love to get rid of this kitchen wall. It’s only flimsy. Reckon I could push it down, it wouldn’t take much, and that would make the place feel more spacious, instead of two quite poky rooms.’ Nina knocked on the wall, listening to the echoey sound; being married to the owner of McCarrick Construction, she had picked up a few tips. ‘It’s definitely hollow and not supporting anything, and the stove and sink are along the back wall. It should be easy.’

  Tiggy strode forward, before placing the long drill bit on the flimsy surface and drilling a hole straight through the two sheets of plasterboard and coming out the other side.

  ‘What you are doing?’ Nina yelled, with her hands in her hair, as if horrified, but her tone gave a different message: one of excitement.

  ‘Chain drilling,’ Tiggy replied as she inserted the drill bit again and again.

  ‘Can I have a go?’ Nina wiped her hands on her jeans.

  ‘Sure.’ Tiggy handed her the drill and watched as Nina copied her actions, continuing to drill until she had finished the square pattern of holes through which the light passed through. ‘Very good!’ Tiggy gave a nod of approval.

  Declan and Connor, arriving home, ran in to see the source of the noise.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Declan asked excitedly as Connor stared at his mother wielding the power tool.

  ‘I’m drilling!’ Nina flashed a smile in their direction and pulled the trigger for effect.

  ‘We are knocking down the wall!’ Tiggy laughed.

  ‘We are?’ Nina threw her head back and laughed loudly. ‘Holy shit, we are knocking down the wall! I think Fred would prefer it was done professionally?’

  ‘Awesome!’ Declan rubbed his hands together, joining his aunt and ignoring his mother’s concerns.

  ‘Nina, I have done this a million times before. I am practically a professional.’ She rolled her eyes indignantly.

  ‘Won’t the ceiling fall down or something?’ Connor asked with mild concern, arms folded.

  ‘I have no idea, but that’s the fun part, right? Waiting to find out!’ Tiggy wrapped a dishcloth around her fist and punched where they had drilled. The two squares of dust-covered dry wall toppled to the floor, leaving her fist pushed through to the other side. Declan stood on the other side and shook her hand through the gap ‘How do you do?’ He chuckled.

  ‘Hang on!’ Connor came back with his phone and snapped a picture of his brother shaking hands with the disembodied fingers poking through.

  ‘Right, Con, Dec, come in here,’ Tiggy ordered. ‘We are going to barge the wall down!’

  ‘Oh God, Tiggy, are you sure that’s a good idea?’ Nina swallowed.

  ‘No, but there is only one way to find out if this is going to work. Come on, boys!’

  They came over eagerly. ‘Okay, on the count of three we barge it with our shoulders as hard as we can, and see if it shifts.’

  ‘Tiggy, I’m not sure if this is a good . . .’

  Her sister’s counting cut her short: ‘One! Two! Three!’

  The boys both yelled as they barged into the wall with all their might. They punched against the surface and bounced back. Declan clutched his shoulder.

  ‘Look! It’s moved at the top. I can see where it shifted,’ Connor said excitedly.

  Nina screamed, then laughed. ‘Oh my God! The wall is going to fall down!’ she yelled with a mixture of fear and excitement.

  ‘I think you’ll find that’s the whole point,’ Tiggy said as she high-fived her chuckling nephews. ‘Right, we need you, Nina. More shoulder power is required. Come on, get over here!’

  ‘I’m not sure . . .’

  ‘Come on, Mum!’ Declan grabbed her and pulled her over.

  Spurred on by her boys’ energy and caught up in the moment, Nina stood in line and braced her shoulders like the others. ‘Okay, and again!’ Tiggy shouted. ‘One! Two! Three!’

  The four of them charged the wall, which seemed to slip a little further from its creaky wooden anchors with ease.

  Tiggy surveyed the wall; Connor did the same on the other side. ‘I reckon one more go,’ he said, a glint of excitement in his eyes. Nina wanted to cry with happiness, but this was not the time for tears, happy or otherwise; instead, she got behind the project with gusto. ‘All right then, one more go. Come on, folks!’

  They resumed their positions. ‘One! Two! Three!’ They ran forward, letting out loud yells as their bodies met with the surface.

  There was a cracking sound and a thick plume of dust filled the room, whooshing up their noses and into their mouths. Nina prayed there were no injuries and tried to figure out exactly what had happened.

  ‘We did it!’ Declan yelled, jumping up and down on the spot. They looked as if they had walked through flour, with the fine dust and grime of over sixty years clinging to their hair and eyelashes. Each coughed and spat the grit that crunched between their teeth, and they all laughed at the sight of how ridiculous they looked.

  ‘That was absolutely brilliant!’ Declan raced around, climbing over the shattered chunks of plasterboard that now lay in a shallow heap on the sitting-room floor.

  ‘It’s huge!’ Nina turned in a circle with her arms spread wide and took in the big open space that they had created.

  There was the unmistakable sound of banging on the ceiling from the flat above. ‘What the bloody hell is going on down there?’ a voice yelled from above.

  ‘That’s Mr Broom Handle,’ Tiggy whispered, giggling. She stood on her tiptoes and, with a piece of wood in her hand, knocked back. It made Nina cringe and laugh at the same time.

  ‘Shall we do another wall?’ Connor asked, half-jokingly.

  ‘No!’ she and Tiggy yelled in unison.

  ‘Spoilsports.’ He walked for
ward and opened the French doors, watching as a cloud of dust escaped and rose up to float high above Portswood Road. ‘What’s going on in there?’ Toothless Vera called from the pavement, on her way to the launderette.

  ‘We’ve just knocked down a wall, Vera!’ Nina called out with a wave. ‘But don’t worry. We as good as have the owner’s permission – he’s our cousin! And my sister is practically a professional.’

  ‘I am?’ Tiggy looked at her sister with her eyebrows raised.

  ‘You said you were!’ she gasped, blinking powder from her eyes. ‘You said you’d done it loads of times!’

  ‘God, you believe anything!’ Tiggy laughed and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Want one?’ she held the pack out towards her sister.

  ‘No, I do not. I can’t believe I just let you talk me into that!’ She chuckled, watching as her sister lit up, blowing the acrid smoke out the door. ‘I love you, Tiggy,’ she said.

  Her sister turned to face her. ‘Well you can cut that out for a start.’ She tutted and took a deep drag on her cigarette.

  TEN

  Nina lay for a while staring at the door of the bedroom, picturing a particular morning about a month before Finn died. He had peeled off notes from a wad in his wallet and laid them on the counter-top with a wink, as if tipping her: a fifties housewife being given her allowance. Now it made her blood run cold. I never for one second felt tricked or uncertain, but now? I’m not sure of anything, and that makes me sadder than I can say.

  Sitting up, she rubbed her face, ran her fingers through her wild hair and rose slowly to face this momentous day: the day her boys started their new school. It was also the day she would redouble her efforts in looking for a job, cast the net even wider and be prepared to travel even further. The prospect of both petrified her.

  With a mug of tea in her hand and ignoring the growl of hunger in her stomach, she raised the blind. The cold snap had thankfully passed and the winter sun sent a blue swathe over the rooftops. It was still chilly, but without the bone-numbing cold and damp that had made life in the flat so very unpleasant. Portswood Road was coming to life. A slight man jumped from a poorly parked white van and dropped a bundle of newspapers on the pavement outside the convenience store, before roaring off to his next delivery point. Early dog walkers were out in force, nodding knowingly to each other as the sun rose on this fresh February day. The idea jolted in her mind that a paper round or dog walking would be a good way to bring in a little bit of money. A young couple in coordinating Lycra and matching gloves jogged side by side along the kerb, looking stern and matching each other stride for stride. The idea of her and Finn doing that made her smile. Their health and fitness measures were mainly saying no to more cheese and stopping after one glass of wine. She pictured sitting with her feet resting on his lap on the sofa, eating cheese and crackers and sipping wine, laughing. Happy times.