The Art of Hiding

by Amanda Prowse

  She looked at him, sensing that he was seeking reassurance as much as truth. ‘I think it’s possible that he was distracted, yes. But the truth is, we will never know, not for sure, and so for me, and I am sure for you too, it feels gentler, easier, to accept that it was an accident on a horrible bend that is notoriously dangerous, and Dad was going too fast, just like the police report said.’

  Connor nodded. Her response was enough, for now.

  ‘I miss him,’ he confessed.

  ‘I know, and I think you always will, but we can still go on to have full, happy lives. Because life doesn’t end just because someone is no longer with you.’

  There was a moment or two of reflective silence.

  ‘Did you have a good time tonight?’ she asked.

  ‘Yep.’ He picked at the hem of his shirt, smiling. ‘We just hung out at the mall.’

  ‘Funny to think it wasn’t built when I lived here,’ she said.

  ‘Did they even have roads here then?’ he queried.

  ‘Just about. We needed them to get our horse and cart around.’ She nudged him.

  ‘We had a laugh. It’s different, you know, from what I used to do with George and Charlie.’

  She nodded, thinking of the hours they had spent in the home cinema or playing tennis or roaming the grounds on the quad bikes. Yes, it was. Very different.

  ‘Have you heard from those guys much?’ She was wary of disturbing their newfound peace.

  ‘Not so much, but I know they are busy . . .’ He blinked.

  ‘How do you feel about that? Would you like more contact with them?’

  ‘It’s funny, last week I would have said yes, but now’ – he looked up at her – ‘I think it’s probably easier to move on if we leave things as they are. If I see them, great, I’d love it, but . . .’ He paused. ‘It helps when I’m out with the guys from school if I’m not thinking about my old mates. You know?’

  ‘Yep, I do know. Living in the now. It’s getting late, Con, and you need to get your prep done, if you have any?’

  ‘My homework, you mean? Only a bit of reading. Think I’ll do it in bed.’

  ‘Sure. Goodnight, love.’ She watched him walk from the room. He looked taller. She knew the questions about Finn’s death would arise again and she hoped that, from a more stable foundation, she would be able to work it through with him.

  Her chest tightened when she pictured Finn’s note, scrawled in haste and left unfinished: ‘With every day comes a new pressure that is pushing down down down & I don’t know what will break first, me or my world . . .’ The sadness she felt at his isolated distress did not, however, lessen. She wondered if it ever would, and now it was layered with the doubts about her marriage. To try to pick through the mess was mentally exhausting.

  Nina reached for Declan’s dinner plate and his leftover baked potato. She picked up a chunk and popped in her mouth. She closed her eyes and saw Finn coming in late from work. He had stopped at the kitchen island, under the dazzling spotlights, and she watched as he forked a mouthful of cold cauliflower cheese into his mouth.

  ‘Mmm, delicious!’

  ‘Darling, you don’t have to eat it cold, and you don’t have to eat off my plate. I can serve you up a fresh bowlful, if you like?’ She had run her hand across his broad back, feeling the muscles underneath. ‘I knew you’d be in late. There’s plenty in the fridge. The boys had it with crispy bacon and a salad – want me to make that for you?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ He shook his head, going in for a second forkful. ‘Here’s the thing.’ He waved the long-tined fork in her direction. ‘Have you ever noticed that food eaten from someone else’s plate or bowl always tastes a thousand times better than it does from your own? It’s a similar thing with toast. Toast is simply toast, dry bread made brown, until someone else makes it for you, and then it is transformed into a mouth-watering, delicious feast of Michelin-star proportions.’

  ‘I think you need to come home late more often if this is the mood you arrive in.’ She kissed his cheek as she walked past, on her way back to the soft chair with a view over the pool and terrace, where a glass of wine waited for her.

  ‘I love you, Mrs McCarrick,’ he had called out.

  She looked back at him over her shoulder, heart swelling with joy at her lucky, lucky life. ‘And I love you.’

  ‘There was good in our marriage, Finn,’ she whispered now as she made her way along the corridor towards her bedroom. ‘So much good.’

  THIRTEEN

  Even though it was now May, the flat was still a little cold in the mornings. With windows only along one side of the building, most of their living space was in shadow. Nina was loath to put on the heaters, picturing the warm air carrying five-pound notes upwards, disintegrating and disappearing through the cracks in the yellowed ceiling; five-pound notes that she didn’t have to spare, and which Mr Broom Handle above would gleefully gather up. As the sun rose, it hit the large picture windows and pulled the chill from the place. There was a pleasant hour or so before midday, before the flat quickly became a little stifling, but right now, at this hour, it was cool and unpleasant and still a little damp. It reminded her of Gran’s flat, where the air felt icy against her lips, and if she blew out, her breath misted like smoke. Sometimes she’d raise two fingers and make out she was smoking a cigarette, like the grown-ups. She smiled at the thought.

  Once the boys were off to school, Nina fastened her hair into a loose knot and stepped into her trainers – the best footwear, she found, for being on her feet all day. A knock on the window made her jump. She tilted the blinds to see Tiggy standing on her tippy-toes, with her nose squashed against the glass.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ She laughed at her sister’s childish antics.

  ‘Thought I’d walk you to work,’ Tiggy shouted.

  ‘Thank you.’ She looked down at her sister. ‘Are you coming in?’

  ‘Yep. Don’t bother coming around. Open the window, I’ll climb up.’

  ‘You can’t climb up!’ Nina raised her voice, but opened the window nonetheless. Her sister gripped the window ledge and levered herself up, like climbing out of a swimming pool. She arrived in the sitting room with a thud.

  ‘Are you a burglar?’ Toothless Vera shouted as she shuffled past, a cigarette dangling from her mouth.

  ‘No, Vera. Trust me, there is absolutely nothing in here worth taking!’ Tiggy yelled back.

  Nina heard the woman cackle in response.

  ‘How lovely. And to what do I owe this pleasure?’

  ‘I was up early and thought, as I hadn’t seen you for a few days . . .’

  Nina smiled. ‘That’s nice.’

  Nina cleaned her teeth and locked up, and the two fell into step along Portswood Road.

  The roar of a powerful car engine approached. Nina looked and saw Jacob, sitting in his shiny truck.

  ‘Hi, Nina! Need a lift?’ he said, smiling.

  ‘No! No, thanks, Jacob, I’m good!’ She waved, feeling her cheeks colour as the vehicle sped off.

  ‘Who was that?’ Tiggy asked.

  ‘His mum is one of our residents. Lovely Miss Molly.’

  As she and Tiggy rounded the path and approached the front door of Celandine Court, Jacob was digging in a cardboard box in the back of his truck.

  ‘Thanks for walking me in. I’ll see you soon.’ Nina hoped Tiggy would be on her way; she was wary that she might come out with an inappropriate joke or a blunt observation.

  ‘It’s turning into a lovely day!’ Jacob called to them.

  ‘Yes.’ Nina turned, sensing that Tiggy was in no mood to rush off. ‘I spent time with Miss Molly yesterday.’

  ‘She’s really settling in,’ he said.

  ‘That’s so good to hear.’ She felt the blush of embarrassment spread over her face and chest, under the weight of Tiggy’s stare.

  ‘I mean, it’s early days, but yes, so far so good.’ Jacob sounded relieved.

  Tiggy coughed.


  ‘Oh, this is my sister Albertina.’

  ‘Why have you told him my name is Albertina?’ Tiggy raised her hands. As she squawked, Nina felt her blush worsen.

  ‘Because that’s your name,’ she mumbled through gritted teeth, eyeing her sister awkwardly, silently pleading with her not to squabble.

  Tiggy stepped forward and offered her hand. ‘My name is Tiggy. Unless I am in deep trouble, or you have a matter of life-changing importance that needs urgent discussion, then you get to call me Albertina. But only then.’

  ‘Got it. Tiggy it is,’ he answered, laughing.

  ‘Anyway, Tig,’ said Nina, ‘I expect you need to get going, and I must certainly get inside for work.’ She pulled a face at her as Jacob disappeared inside the building.

  ‘What?’ Tiggy shrugged. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you had a new gentleman friend with a big truck?’

  ‘He is not my gentleman friend!’ Nina fired back. ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Tiggy smacked her forehead. ‘I could have sworn he was a gentleman, and you seem to be friends?’

  ‘You know that’s not what you meant, and it’s not funny. Imagine if the boys heard that?’

  ‘Point taken. How old is he?’

  ‘I don’t know, Tiggy!’

  ‘Is he married?’

  Nina faced her sister. ‘I know nothing about him, other than his name, that his mum’s called Molly, and she’s been living here for a couple of weeks, and that he’s got a place up by the marina and an iPad and a big pickup. That’s it! Happy now?’

  ‘Happier,’ Tiggy said with a smile. ‘Can I say one more thing about him?’

  ‘No!’ Nina sighed. Tiggy continued anyway.

  ‘You seem to know quite a lot about him, considering he’s not your friend.’

  ‘You are such an idiot.’ She tutted at her sister as the two went their separate ways.

  ‘Takes one to know one!’ Tiggy called out. Nina tried to ignore her, but laughed to herself.

  Connor dumped his breakfast bowl in the sink and ran to get his kit together. ‘Come and watch, Mum. It’s only on the school field. And you may as well, as you aren’t working.’

  ‘Really? I wasn’t sure of the etiquette at your new school. Especially for your first game.’ Nina busied herself wiping down the counter-tops and washing up her coffee cup and the boys’ breakfast bowls. She avoided her son’s gaze, in case he could read her thoughts about the last game she went to – the time his dad hadn’t shown up because of the accident. ‘It’s been a while since you played a match. I can’t wait to see you there,’ she said carefully.

  ‘I think some parents go and some don’t. Whatever – you don’t have to, but I’d like you to.’ Connor stuffed his gumshield into the front pocket of his rucksack.

  ‘Thanks, Con. I’d like that too.’

  ‘Cool. Kick-off is at three fifteen, but we are practising before and Coach is giving us a team talk.’

  ‘I’ll go grocery shopping and drop the laundry off with Vera and then come along, so I might be a little late, but I’ll be there. Are you nervous?’ she asked.

  Connor paused with his hand on the doorframe. ‘No, Mum. It’s when I’m happiest.’

  ‘Then go and enjoy every minute, and good luck!’ she called after him as he raced out the door.

  ‘Good luck, Con!’ Declan called out. ‘Mum? Erm, I spoke to my friend Arek,’ he said quickly, holding the phone, ‘and he says I can go to his house for a sleepover but his mum wants to talk to you!’

  ‘You’re not making calls, are you?’ She was wary of the contract on his phone running out, but she wanted the boys to have a way to contact her in an emergency.

  ‘No, I promise we talk on WhatsApp. It’s free.’ She was surprised he would be aware of this. ‘Arek’s mum said I can go and stay, so can you call her?’ he pressed.

  ‘Do you want to go?’

  ‘Yes,’ he stated firmly.

  ‘Are you sure?’ She instantly regretted the words, aware that she only pushed because she wasn’t sure she wanted him away from her for a whole night. It would be his first night away since Finn died.

  ‘Yes. I’m sure.’ He nodded, but his tone suggested otherwise.

  ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time. You had some great sleepovers at The Tynings, didn’t you?’

  Declan’s smile suddenly broke. He laughed as the tears came. Nina understood this reaction: she, too, had often found herself happy to be reminded of something wonderful whilst at the same time reeling from the grief that caught her off guard.

  ‘I’d be happy to talk to Arek’s mum.’ She ruffled his hair, delighted that he had formed a friendship.

  ‘Don’t tell her that I’ve been crying,’ he sniffed.

  ‘You know what, Dec? Your daddy died, and it’s still all very new. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel sad. It would be more odd if you didn’t. And I am sure that Arek’s mum would understand that.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Declan shrugged. ‘But don’t tell her anyway.’

  Arek’s mum was sweet and enthusiastic about hosting Declan, and upon hearing they had no car, had even driven over to collect him. Nina saw the flash of sympathy in the woman’s eyes as she surveyed their humble surroundings. She saw the way she eyed the smudge of blue spray, all that remained of the painted graffiti on the porch. Indignation flared in Nina’s stomach: did it really matter if they had five bathrooms or one? Not to Declan and Arek, certainly, who were pleased to see each other, giggling and nattering like old pals.

  Nina waved them off from the window, noting Declan’s excitement at being in a car and the prospect of spending the afternoon and evening in a house with a garden. She forced herself to remember the many, many times that both boys had chosen to spend time cloistered in their bedrooms, rather than go outside to roam and enjoy the grounds. But it felt different when there was no choice.

  Toothless Vera promised to swap the laundry to the dryer when it finished its cycle; Nina was appreciative of the help. She was nervous about the rugby match. She had visited the school only once since being back in Portswood, on the day after they had moved, when she rushed into the building for her meeting with the admissions secretary with head bowed, her tears constantly hovering close to the surface. She did, however, notice that the place was grey and run-down, the same way she felt at the time.

  Today, however, she found herself pleasantly surprised. The school of her childhood, surrounded by jagged, rusting fences, had grey metal-framed windows of opaque safety glass that kept the light out and the gloom in. The building now in front of her had enjoyed a grand facelift.

  A vast addition to the left side of the main building faced the wooded area where she and her friends used to hide and smoke. She smiled at the thought. The modern wing looked futuristic, like a contemporary gallery or library. She peered in at the walls as she walked past, where students’ artistic canvases were displayed. Clever tropical plantings made use of the heat and light, and created green spaces around informal seating. It was quite something.

  She made her way round to the back of the building and would barely have recognised the playing fields. There were now two pitches, both well cared for and lying at the back of the plot of land. Rugby posts stood tall on the left-hand pitch and there was a set of low stands along one side. Another new low-rise building sat to the right, a clubhouse perhaps.

  Nina could see the boys, all wearing the Cottrell’s rugby kit of red-and-black-hooped shirts with black shorts. The opposing team were in gold and green. Gingerly she made her way to the edge of the pitch and tried to ignore the fluttery nerves in her stomach and the desire to look back over her shoulder to see if Finn had arrived.

  As the parent spectators yelled support and whooped and clapped, she shoved her hands into her jeans pockets and drew up her shoulders, feeling as out of place now as she always had. She fought the desire to turn and leave, lest someone might try to engage her in conversation and her fear might co
me to fruition: that she had absolutely nothing of interest to say. She had thought that the reason she felt so shy at Kings Norton was because she was out of her league, but as she looked at the women and men all around her, who lived in her postcode, whose kids went to Cottrell’s School with hers, she realised her insecurity was something deeper than a concern over her lack of pedigree.

  I never thought I was good enough, Finn. I let you shape me and I did lose a bit of myself, my confidence, my sparkle. I was so nervous of portraying the wrong thing, I became a cardboard-cutout wife, safe, vanilla, two-dimensional . . . It was a hard thing to process.

  She squinted and saw Connor in the thick of it, grappling with a bigger boy on the opposing team for the ball. She winced as another lad came at him from behind and swept his legs from under him. There was a bone-crunching thud as he hit the deck. Her heart raced until he stood, spat heartily and dusted himself off, glaring at his opponent. He was rewarded by several slaps on his back from his teammates. She caught his eye and gripped the inside of her pockets with her fingers, trying to quell her reflex to wave. Instead she smiled broadly and he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod that flooded her with happiness.

  ‘Hello, you!’ An eager voice came from over her shoulder. Nina turned to see a familiar face: Gilly, the big woman from work with the feathered red hair.

  ‘Gilly!’ Her relief was genuine. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here!’

  ‘Likewise. I didn’t know your boy played?’ She nodded towards the pitch.

  ‘Yes! Connor. He’s the tall one . . . I was going to say in red and black, but that doesn’t narrow it down much.’

  ‘It doesn’t, sweetie!’ Gilly laughed. ‘Come and sit with us.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t . . .’ She struggled to think of a reason to decline fast enough.

  ‘Come on!’ Gilly insisted. ‘It’s good to see you.’ Gilly tucked Nina’s arm inside hers and pulled her along. ‘Are you a rugby fan?’ she quizzed.

  ‘Erm, not really,’ Nina confessed. ‘I don’t really understand the rules exactly, but Connor’s mad about it, so . . .’