The Art of Hiding

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘No, no need to apologise, and please don’t feel embarrassed. But safe to say you aren’t the cook we are looking for.’

  ‘That much I know.’

  ‘But I do think I have a role that might suit you, if you are interested.’

  Nina felt her heart race. ‘Oh my God! Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. You were wonderful around the residents. Very relaxed and tactful. A natural. It’s a real gift you have, and I would like to talk to you about an opportunity that I have been thinking about for a while.’

  ‘Oh my! I really am interested!’ She couldn’t disguise her shock or delight.

  ‘Come in and see me this afternoon – shall we say about two? – and we can chat some more. How does that sound?’

  ‘That sounds great!’ She felt the prick of the second batch of happy tears in recent weeks.

  ‘I’ll see you then, Nina.’

  ‘See you then, and . . . Fiona?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thank you! Thank you so much.’

  Nina put the phone back in her pocket and turned to her sister. ‘Looks like I might have got myself a job!’ She jumped from the bed. Tiggy came to join her and they leapt up and down on the worn carpet, laughing and whooping.

  ‘What job is it?’ Tiggy paused to ask.

  ‘I have no idea!’ She giggled. ‘But right now, I will literally take anything.’

  Nina couldn’t wait for the boys to come home from school so she could share her news. The second she heard them on the path outside, she ran to the front door, greeting them with a wide smile.

  ‘Guess what? I got a job!’ She clapped her hands, rushing forward, giving them the answer to her question before they had a chance to respond, and sweeping them both into a hug from which they struggled to escape.

  ‘Really?’ Declan asked, not hiding his incredulity.

  ‘Yes! Really!’

  ‘What job is it?’ Connor asked, dumping his school bag on the floor in the kitchen. He leaned against the fridge, long legs crossed at the ankles.

  ‘You are looking at the new Resident Liaison Contact for Celandine Court!’ She held her arms out like a showman.

  ‘Is that the old people’s home where you said you could cook, and then ran away?’ Declan asked.

  ‘Yes!’ She laughed. ‘The very same.’

  ‘It’s an impressive title, but what does it actually mean?’ Connor queried.

  Fiona had leaned across the desk. ‘You would be showing prospective families around, giving them the tour and answering any questions they might have.’

  ‘I could do that!’ she enthused.

  ‘Yes, you could, once we have got you up to speed on how the place works.’

  She smiled at her boys, still not quite able to believe it. ‘I’ll be overseeing the orientation programme for new residents, and when I am not doing that, I will be spending a few hours each day checking everyone is happy, chatting to visiting families, sorting any on-the-spot queries. And most importantly, I will be on the lookout for loneliness, and those who might be feeling anxious or excluded, kind of like a daily happiness health check. That way my boss, Fiona, can spend more time in the office dealing with the paperwork mountain that she never quite defeats,’ she quoted.

  ‘Are there that many vacancies, then? How often will you show people around?’

  ‘Weekly. There is always a waiting list. And yes, Con, there are that many vacancies.’ She paused. ‘The residents are old and often ill.’ She let this hang.

  ‘Oh!’ She could see the realisation dawning on him as to why there was such a high turnover.

  ‘It has a great atmosphere. I felt it again today when I went to chat with Fiona – that’s my boss.’ Nina looked at her boys. ‘My boss! Oh my God, it feels so good to be able to say that! You have no idea!’

  ‘You sound happy, Mum,’ Declan observed.

  ‘I am, darling. And if all goes well, I have decided to study, too. I want to go into nursing, eventually. It’s something that has always appealed to me, but I thought the chance had passed me by.’

  ‘That’s great, Mum,’ Connor offered sincerely.

  Nina felt her face split into a broad smile once again. She felt she was able to breathe again. ‘And it’s the ideal location. I can walk there or jump on the bus if the weather is bad.’ She beamed with joy at the fact that, not only would she be earning money, but also someone thought she had ‘a gift’, no less!

  ‘Are you going to earn a lot of money?’ Declan got straight down to practicalities.

  ‘You know what? As I said to Tig earlier, I have been earning no money, and so any money is an improvement. It will be enough for our rent and food and other little bits and pieces we might need. I shall still have to budget, but that’s fine. We will have all we need. We will have enough.’

  ‘That’s great,’ Declan said.

  ‘I am so excited,’ Nina continued. ‘But also overwhelmed. What if I’m rubbish and they sack me?’ She looked at Connor with a flutter of self-doubt.

  Connor stared at her. ‘Dad always said you shouldn’t let yourself be limited by what you think you can or can’t do. You should believe that you can do anything you set your mind to.’

  Nina laid her hand on her son’s arm, happy that her boy could mention his dad without the flicker of sadness in his pupils. This was progress. ‘That sounds like good advice.’

  Connor looked at her squarely. ‘I am pleased for you. Pleased for us. Congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He smiled at her with an expression that looked a lot like pride.

  ELEVEN

  Seven days later, Nina headed for her first day at work. She was nervous all the way there, but felt much better once she donned her hot pink polo shirt and was told the gentle agenda for the day: to shadow Fiona and a couple of the other girls.

  By 1 p.m., when they stopped for lunch, she took her seat in the break room with three other staff members, tucking into a delicious tuna and mayo sandwich, courtesy of the kitchen in which she was never destined to work. The break felt like a treat and she was more than grateful for the food. A big woman with a disarming laugh and a cap of bright red hair waved from across the narrow break room.

  ‘So how’s your first day going?’ the woman asked. ‘I’m Gilly, by the way.’

  ‘There’s a lot to take in, but so far so good. And I’m Nina.’

  ‘Well, we are a friendly bunch. You only have to shout if you’re unsure about anything. Or if you get really desperate, just pull one of them red emergency cords. That usually gets us running!’

  ‘Oh, really? I didn’t know that.’

  ‘No! Nina! Not really! Dear God, don’t do that other than in an emergency. I was joking.’ Gilly laughed.

  Nina bit her lip. ‘I’m too nervous to joke right now. Give me a couple of weeks!’ She smiled.

  ‘Got it.’ Gilly nodded. ‘Do you have children?’

  ‘Yes, two boys. A teenager and an eleven-year-old.’

  ‘Oh, a teenager. Isn’t it fun?’ She winked. ‘I have told my husband that I’ll take the shift from nought to thirteen, and he can do thirteen to eighteen, and then it’s back to me for any grandchildren that might come along. It’s working out pretty good so far. He’s now the one that ferries them around, does the dashes to the emergency room, and has the birds and the bees chat, that kind of thing.’ She chuckled.

  I don’t have a husband any more . . . I don’t know what I’d do in an emergency. I need to speak to Tiggy, I need to rewrite my will, ask her if she’d be the kids’ guardian . . . These thoughts took the fun out of their jovial chat.

  Nina changed tack. ‘Mine have just started their new school, so we are just trying to get settled and into a routine.’

  ‘Where do they go?’

  ‘Cottrell’s.’

  ‘Ah, mine too. A girl and a boy, fourteen and seventeen.’

  ‘Do they like it there?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘As much as
they are going to like any school. But you know how it is. Just got to find a way to keep them out of trouble and hope they come out the other side as nice people.’ The woman rolled her eyes and crossed her fingers. Her words struck a chord. Nice people: it was a revelation. A montage of all the Kings Norton College mums played in her head:

  ‘We are getting him a work placement with the BBC. He wants to be a journalist.’

  ‘She’s off to Paris. Her uncle is a diplomat, and it’ll be a good use of her languages!’

  ‘He’s got an internship with his dad’s law firm. Expect he’ll be making the tea, but every barrister has to start somewhere!’

  It was another world, a world full of pressure and expectation. Only now that she was on the outside was she able to question whether she even wanted that for her boys.

  ‘Seriously, Nina . . .’ Gilly stood, downing the last of her coffee. ‘If you have any questions or need anything, then just holler,’ she offered, tapping the doorframe with her wedding ring.

  Nina was grateful. ‘Thank you. And just to clarify, was that do pull the red cord or do not? I can’t remember!’ Her face broke into a smile.

  Gilly smiled at her. ‘You are going to fit in just fine.’

  At the end of the day, having learned more than she knew she was capable of and looking forward to the next day, Nina felt like a kid, walking with a spring in her step and a feeling of achievement.

  ‘Hello, darling! Well, here I am. Day One, and I made it!’ She beamed at Declan.

  ‘How did it go?’ he asked, sounding so much like a grown-up it made her heart swell.

  ‘Well, I missed you guys of course. . . Where’s Con?’ she asked as she eased off her shoes.

  ‘In the bedroom.’ He indicated with a bow of his head.

  ‘One of the resident nursing staff, Gilly, has children at your school.’ She paused, looking at her boy to witness the familiar wince at the topic. It had, she noted, lessened, but was still present nonetheless. ‘I’m tired, but all in all it was a good day, and I get to go and do it all again tomorrow!’

  ‘Can I make you a cup of tea, Mum?’

  She turned to face Connor, who had come in from the bedroom. ‘Me?’ Nina asked.

  ‘Of course you,’ Connor let his lip hitch in the way it often did when he addressed her.

  ‘Really? It’s just that making me a cup of tea is a nice thing to do and I just wondered if you were doing so by mistake. First you pick me flowers and now you offer me tea. Where is my son and what have you done with him?’ She narrowed her eyes at him.

  ‘Very funny.’ He smiled, despite his attempts to the contrary. He pulled a mug from the shelf in the kitchen and put in a tea bag. ‘So how’s your job?’ he asked.

  Nina took a deep breath as she leaned against the counter-top in the tiny kitchen area. ‘I was just telling Dec. It was good. I was nervous to start with – I thought I was going to be sick. I shadowed Fiona, and learned a bit more about how the place runs, and I met some of the other staff, and I visited Harry – Mr Sandler, one of the residents, who used to be a pilot. He has dementia, but seems happy.’

  ‘I guess it’s hard not to be happy when you don’t know what’s going on,’ he said thoughtfully.

  She stared at her son as he made her tea and offered this mature insight. Is that what Finn did? Kept the problems from me so I could be happy? Just like when I wanted to give the boys one more night of normality, one more peaceful sleep . . . ? I get it, Finn, but I am a grown-up. Your wife! I would have wanted to know.

  ‘You look miles away,’ Connor observed.

  ‘I’m just thinking about what you said. I think most people would assume it was the other way around – that it was hard to be happy if you didn’t know what was going on, but I think you might be right.’

  ‘I mean, we assume that people like Harry are sad or confused, but what if he is in the best dream imaginable that lasts forever? What if he is happy because in his mind he is in the bar with his flying buddies, reliving the days when he took to the skies and could run and jump?’

  A smile spread over her face. ‘I love that, Connor. You might be right.’

  ‘Harry won’t be upset or worried about the things that bother other people and that must be nice . . .’ He paused.

  ‘Yes, it must.’

  ‘And he probably doesn’t feel afraid because he doesn’t know that there is anything in his future to feel afraid of.’

  ‘Are you afraid?’ she asked tentatively, hoping Connor might open up to her.

  ‘No! God, what a stupid thing to say. What would I would afraid of? Jesus, Mum!’ he spat, reaching behind her for the milk.

  And just like that, her teenage boy was back in the room. ‘It’s okay to feel afraid, you know. I have spent every day since Dad died feeling frightened. I would understand if you were. It would be the most normal reaction to the huge upheaval we’ve gone through, the uncertainty.’

  Connor handed her her mug of tea. ‘Actually, Mum, I think uncertainty would be a little easier to cope with than the thought that this is as good as it gets.’ He waved at the flat. ‘At least with uncertainty there’s the chance that this really is only temporary, a staging post, and that would be something.’

  She sipped her tea and listened, unsure of how to respond. But at least they were talking – and that really was something.

  The novelty hadn’t worn off in the month since she’d been working, but she found that by the time she got back to the flat each evening she was exhausted. Sticking to the rigid timetable of her shifts was new to her. It felt alien, having to plan everything around her working day. She was used to her time being her own, punctuated only by the drop-off and collection of the boys at school. It bothered her that along with the new routine, when she worked a late shift, Connor and Declan were left to their own devices far more than she was comfortable with. It was a small price to pay for gainful employment, but it was a huge change in her life to which she had to grow accustomed. And the simple fact was she missed them. She felt so proud to arrive home and see the dishes washed, the rubbish taken out, the counter-tops wiped down and crumb free. It was tempered by a sadness that they had to do these things at all. She had liked being the mum who looked after her boys – spoiled them, even – leaving them free to be kids for as long as possible.

  Today was her day off, and the security of a job meant that the knot of worry that lived at the base of her skull had loosened, allowing her to sleep a little more soundly and making space in her head so she could focus on the many little chores that she had been postponing. The first thing she did was venture outside with a bucketful of soapy water and a metal scourer. She scrubbed with determination at the blue ampersand until her fingers cramped, reducing the tag to nothing more than a faded smudge. Standing back to look at her efforts, she smiled. It felt like a win.

  She and Tiggy had made plans to raid the charity shops in the area. It was the one good thing about her sister working nights in the pub: it meant her days were largely free. Nina had only ever dropped off donations at such a shop; the idea of having anything in her home that was another person’s rubbish would have been unthinkable. Now, however, she thought about the items she had once given: the boys’ barely used trainers, unwanted clothes, still with the tags on, and any book she had finished reading. She hoped it had all been useful to someone. And now here she was, admiring hand-knitted blankets and checking the price of a cushion or two, knowing that with the addition of colour, she could continue to transform their little space into something much brighter.

  ‘What do you think?’ Nina called across the crowded shop as she sucked in her cheeks and posed in a garish orange floppy hat.

  ‘Very you!’ Tiggy called out. She put on a large, lacy wedding veil, complete with bunches of dried red roses stuck in a clump to the top, just above her forehead.

  ‘Very Big Fat Greek Wedding!’

  ‘Charming! And seeing as we are Danish, not Greek, I should probably be looking fo
r a wedding crown.’ Tiggy laughed as she pulled off the scrap of lace. They turned their attention to the kitsch ornaments that lined the shelves, doubling up with laughter at the sight of a china clown figurine with, of all things, a working clock where his stomach should be. It was hideous – and the kind of thing their gran would have favoured, and placed in a crowded, dusty display cabinet.

  ‘Oh no! That’s too horrible! It would give me nightmares.’ Nina pulled a face.

  ‘Who would want this in their home?’ Tiggy questioned.

  A matronly lady with an ample bosom broke in. ‘I should have you know that I have only just brought that in, and it has sat on my mantelpiece for years! It has always been much admired!’

  The sisters managed to mumble their apologies before shuffling from the shop and collapsing onto each other on the pavement, giggling like kids.

  Still tittering at the memory as they sat on the bus, Nina thought of the furniture and bits and bobs that were in storage with Mr Firth. Everything had happened in such a rush that she hadn’t made the best job of deciding what to take, what to leave and what to discard. She thought of the slender desk table that Connor could use. There were also a couple of lampshades she would like, more towels, some bed linen and even their summer clothes.

  The two tramped home with a bright wool-knit throw and two matching cushions. Nina looked at the items lying in a heap on the sitting-room floor and marvelled at just how much these little touches meant.

  Removing the sofa seat cushions, she plumped them and vacuumed the crumbs and dust from underneath. She then folded the new throw over one of the arms and arranged the new cushions against the back. When Nina stood back to admire her handiwork, she had to admit that the green velour sofa now seemed more vintage chic than secondhand skip-worthy. It made her smile.

  ‘You’re finding your stride, Nina,’ Tiggy remarked.