Three Nights
Nina didnt lay out the everyday tablecloth, but instead chose the thick, one with tiny grey leaves around the border. It landed on the table with a weighty flop, as if it, too, really didnt fancy participating. Nina straightened one corner, stepped back, returned, and straightened it again, though not a crease was in sight.
Meanwhile, Victor was lugging the toolbox from the hallway to the cupboard under the stairs. The box had been by the door for a year, never in anyones way, but today it suddenly had to go. He hoisted it up to the top shelf, behind an old tin of screws, climbed off the stepladder and said,
Three days.
I remember.
Im just saying.
And Im just replying.
He glanced at the sofa in the lounge. In half an hour, it would cease being a sofa. It would become the place where someone would sleep, scatter socks, charge their phone, sit around in a vest, and ask why the hallway light was so dim.
What pillow should I give, the firmer one or the softer? Nina asked.
Give him both. Let him decide.
No chance. The minute I do that, Ill be hunting for them all over the house.
As usual, they had divided up the duties. Nina would do the meals and make sure the guest had a dry towel in the bathroom. Victor would do the greeting, carry the bags, chat, point out where things lived and pretend it was no bother at all. They managed it as smoothly as if they were running a fire drill, not hosting a relative.
The guest was Victors mothers sidea second cousins nephews sort of thingbut the family called him plain Slade, because no one could untangle it all. He was in his early forties, coming down to London for some medical checks, and, as hed chirped on the phone, had decided to visit the living while they were still about. The phrase sounded upbeat, but immediately after hearing it Nina felt the urge to wipe down the fridge door.
Slade arrived with a grey sports holdall and a carrier bag of apples. The apples were small, a bit blotchyobviously from someones garden, not Sainsburys.
Well, here I am! he announced, stepping inside. Wont be long, so dont worry!
He sounded as if hed already deduced their worry, but who could blame them?
Victor hoisted the bag, surprised at the weightand just like that, irritation kicked in. If he wont be here long, why so much stuff? Nina took the apples, thanked him, and immediately made a mental note to sort them tonight, lest one squishy apple poisoned the rest.
Slade took off his shoes, sticking them across the entrance matt rather than alongside the wall. He looked around the hallway and said,
Cosy place! Ceilings arent high, but at least its warm.
As if he was offering a discount for the ceiling.
At supper, he ate fast and full of praise, not shy a bit. He asked for seconds on the stew, grabbed bread straight from the wrapper, spooned the cream himself. Nina almost softenedheres a man, no fuss, not saying, Ill just have a salad. But then he asked,
So, the kidsdo they live away now? Not about much?
Victor replied immediately, as if hed been bracing for exactly this:
Theyve got their own lives.
Fair enough. But do they help out? Or is it just everyone for themselves these days?
Nina set down a plate of meatballs and said,
Eat while its hot.
Slade nodded, undeterred. He simply didnt seem like the sort who noticed youd quietly moved him aside. Or perhaps he did, and just ignored it.
That night, he made many trips between the sofa-bed and the bathroom. The hallway floor commented on every step. Victor lay on his back, counting how many times the light switch clicked. After the fourth time, Nina whispered,
Maybe hes got kidney trouble.
Ive got work in the morning.
Maybe his tests arent for nothing.
I know. I just want to sleep.
In the morning, Slade was up before the rest, found the kitchen without asking, boiled the kettle, and while the water heated, flung open a window. Nina emerged in her dressing gown and instantly saw how the curtain was plastered to the condensation-soaked glass.
Oops, thought you liked a bit of fresh air, Slade said. I always air the place out first thing.
Nina shut the window. We do too. When its not minus five.
He laughed, missing the edge, or maybe catching it and sailing right by just the same.
By midday, the flat was well off its usual rhythm. Slade ran the taps so the pipes moaned, shouted calls on speakerphone from the lounge (where Victor liked a post-lunch kip, still in his boots), strolled into the kitchen and stoodsomehowalways in Ninas way as she moved from hob to counter. He wasnt intentionally loud. There was just too much of him. Like someone shoving an extra suitcase into a tiny closetyoud bash your elbow on it every time.
Victor went to work late, spent the day worrying not about the budget but whether Slade had actually turned off the bathroom taps. By evening, when he returned, he found Nina peeling potatoes while Slade, surrounded by scattered NHS paperwork, sat at the table.
This bitdoesnt make sense, Slade said. It says one thing, doctor said another. Any medics in your lot?
Nope, said Victor, shrugging off his coat.
Ah, right. Just thought Id ask. Cant get far these days if you dont know people.
He let out a sigh, not manipulativea tired sigh of someone whos been shunted from waiting room to waiting room for months and stopped registering the names on the doors. Victor noticed, and got even more annoyedfor it was uncomfortable to feel sympathetic.
At dinner, Slade asked about the bathroom.
Whend you do it up? Tiles could use a refresh but theyre holding. Good job whoever did em.
Seven years back, Nina replied.
Id have guessed longer. My mate in Reading did his himself; after two years the whole lot slid off. You hire someone?
We did, Victor replied.
Costly, I suppose. Everything is. Im thinking if work stays the same Ill have to flog the car, but how do you cope without onewell, youre in the city, lucky you.
He nattered on, munching on his buckwheat, while every well for you landed beside the bread bin like little parcels nobody wanted to open.
Nina washed the dishes far longer than necessary, scrubbing round and round a saucepan long after it gleamed. Victor wandered in for some water.
Why are you so quiet? he asked in a low voice.
Whats there to say?
Well, at least drop the face.
What face?
The face that says Ive dragged him here for keeps.
Nina put the pan in the drainer with a clatter.
Who brought him hereme?
Hes family.
Your family. And when you said three days, well cope, that was a notice, not a consultation.
Victor wanted to say the decision had been madeit was too late, the train bookedbut just then Slades voice piped up from the lounge:
Victor, whats the wi-fi password?
Coming, was all Victor said.
On the second day, Nina woke to the pungent smell of frying onions. There was Slade in a t-shirt, cooking eggs in her beloved small frying panthe one she saved for weekend pancakes, and never let anyone near because nothing ever stuck.
Whats all this? she demanded.
Oh, didnt want to wake you. Just thought Id do my own.
He turned with a sheepish grin, which made it worse. If hed just been rude, it wouldve been easier. Nina silently moved the salt from the window ledge closer to herself, realised how silly that looked, and marched off to wash up.
Later, Victor took Slade to the hospital. It was two hours and several changes on the tube. The diagnostic suite smelt of bleach and vending machine coffee. Slade sat, clutching his folder, suddenly smaller than at the flat. No longer the king of someone elses castle, just another man in a coat, uncertain what news would come from behind the next consulting door.
You didnt have to come, you know, Slade said.
I was heading this way.
Liar.
Victor grinned.
Indeed.
Slade rubbed his closely shaved scalp.
I hate being on my own in places like these. By the time they call you, youve already diagnosed yourself twice.
He said it matter-of-factlyno trace of poor me. Victor nodded, suddenly recalling years ago, when theyd sat in a similar waiting room, after Ninas scare. Back then, hed cracked endless jokes, carried bags, mapped routes, and at home theyd barely spokenbecause if you began to speak properly, youd have to name the thing.
That evening, Slade returned, quieter. He even asked for the telly on not too loud. Nina served dinner, noticing he ate slower than before.
What did they say? she asked.
Nothing yet. Another test tomorrow. All up in the air.
Up in the air what?
Everythings up in the air these days, he replied, forcing a lopsided smile, as though apologising for the dud joke.
At night he was back to his corridor patrol, but now Nina listened for a fall, not just the steps. Victor lay awake, back turned to the wall, realising that tomorrow was the last daynot counting days now, but years spent with Nina carefully avoiding tiring each other out.
Day three started with a tiny calamity: missing keys.
They always sat in a dish on the hallway stand. Today, the dish was empty. Victor had already got his shoes on, Nina was searching jacket pockets, looking through the bill drawer, the shelf below the mirror.
I didnt touch them, Slade called from the lounge. What would I want with your keys?
Im not saying you did! Victor replied far too quickly.
You sound like you are.
Nina found them on the kitchen table, under yesterdays newspaper. Victor himself had put them there after paying the water delivery man. He recalled instantly, but just pocketed the keys in silence.
Found them? Slade asked.
All found.
Good to know. Thought you were about to pin it on me.
He styled it as a joke, but his voice sounded chalk-dry. Nina looked at Victor, who was already opening the door.
Ill be home late, he muttered.
Of course, Nina replied.
That of course trailed him for the rest of the day. He dealt with foremen, signed off deliveries, but that flat of course hummed in his ears. Back home, Nina was washing bed linenthe guest would leave tomorrow and the flat could have its old shape back. She pulled the sheet off the sofa and saw biscuit crumbs on the arm; instead of brushing them off, she just sat there, achinglike standing all day in a queue, having done nothing heavy but still bone-tired.
That evening Slade announced hed booked a 6am train, and would pack up himself in the night to avoid waking them.
No need for that, Nina said. Do it now.
Ill be quiet.
Nothings quiet heretheyll hear you.
Nina, let him do as he likes, Victor butted in. He said hell be quiet.
She turned to him with a look which said shed expected nothing less.
Of course. He said. Im just the background here.
Slade got up.
Im popping out for a cigarette.
You dont smoke, said Victor automatically.
Starting tonight.
The door banged quietly, but the hallway mirror shivered.
Nina started gathering plates from the table. One slipped, scraping noisily on the other.
Leave it, Victor said.
I wont.
Just for a minute.
And then what? Youll explain again to grin and bear it because hes unwell? That he wont stay long? Ive got it written down by now.
This isnt about him.
No? About you, then?
Fine, lets talk about me.
She put the plates down and wiped her hands on the towel, though they were bone dry.
Lets. Youre always saying dont start, no matter the topic. About our son calling only when he wants his car fixed. The money you lent your brother and never mentioned. Sitting at work until nine not because its busy, but to avoid talking at home. The bathroom youve promised for seven years to redo. I might as well not exist, because thats convenient, isnt it?
Victor stood at the fridge, staring not at her, but at an old faded rail timetable magnet.
Are you done?
No. Im tired of smoothing everything over. The one who knows everyones medicine, who makes the right meatballs, finds the needed pillow. Who still has to smile while strangers fry eggs in her frying pan.
Your frying pan, is it? Victor said.
Exactly. That bit you hear, the rest you dont.
He finally looked at her.
What am I meant to hear? That youre unhappy with me? Thats not something youve kept quiet these past three days.
I do talkyou just switch topics. Leaky tap, broken tile, the shopping delivery, the keys. Youve always got a job lined up, never a conversation.
Because if I stop, everything falls apart.
Whatlike the hallway stool?
All of it, Nina. Everything. You think its easy for me? I walk in knowing whats annoying you. Even in silence, I know. And I keep mum because if I start, well both find out were just shift managers handing over dutyyou take this, Ive got that.
He spoke quietly, but his words fell, flowing fast, like a tap thats been stuck and now gushes out in uneven bursts.
Im not at work late for the fun of it. At least there, I know whats expected. Here, I always get it wrong. Didnt greet properly, said the wrong thing, let in the wrong person. Yes, I invited him without consulting you. He called, said he was scared of being alone. I couldnt refuse. Not him. Not you, afterward, eitherbecause youd look just like youre looking now, and Id be the villain the moment he stepped foot in London.
There were footsteps on the stairs. They both fell silent. The key turned, and in came Slade, carrying a bottle of water from the all-night shop.
I can go to a B&B, you know, he said without taking off his coat. Must be one nearby. Im not deaf.
Nina sat on the stool and, suddenly, let out a weary laugh.
Off to a B&B, in the night, with your bags. As if.
Slade put the water down.
I might be surplus, but Im not an idiot. Its not all on me, is it?
Victor tried to protest, but Slade raised a hand.
Dont. I rarely visit people. Im rubbish at leaving at the right time, ask too many questions; thats true. Live alone long enough, you start doing circuitswhere theres a light on, soup on the hob, someone hands someone a towel, you think you can just squeeze yourself in. But you cant, can you? I get that now.
He slumped down on the edge of the sofa, suddenly seeming smaller.
The hospital thingit is important, but not the only thing, if Im honest. Since the divorce Ive been doing circuits two years now. Always off somewhere, to someone. Dont really like going home. Too quiet. At first it feels nice. But then you start turning on the telly just to hear anyone talking. Figured three days with familywhy not? Turns out, familys got its own life, thats the news.
Nina stared at his shoes. One lace tied in a knotthe quick fix of a snapped string.
Tea? she offered.
Slade nodded.
Victor fetched mugs. Not the posh ones for guestsjust their standard, everyday mugs. Nina set the kettle going. The kitchen was crowded for three, as all week, but now that closeness felt less like a nuisance, more a reality finally acknowledged.
They drank in silence. Slade said once hed lock up at six and leave the keys in the dish. Victor said hed get up, all the same. Nina didnt argue.
Just before dawn, Victor really did wake at the zip of a bag. A little light was on over the sink. Slade was already in his coat, bag by the door.
No need to get up.
I was up anyway.
They moved into the hallway. Nina appeared too, an old jumper flung over her nightdress.
Take the apples with you, Slade said. Cant be hauling those on a train.
Leave them, Nina replied. Ill make a compote.
He nodded, as if it was the most crucial thing said. He gave Victor a quick man-hug, just tapped Ninas shoulder.
Thanks for putting me up.
Get home safe, she said.
And let us know what the doctor says, Victor added.
I will.
The door shut. The fridges buzzing was suddenly loud, and from the bathroom came the faint drip of a tap. Nina returned to the kitchen, removed the half-finished water bottle Slade had left, then came back.
Saturday, she said.
What about Saturday? Victor asked.
One hour. No TV, no phones, no chores. We sit and talk. Doesnt matter if its the kitchen or the lounge. If theres nothing to say, then lets just sit together for a whole hour, honestlynot like this.
Victor stood by the cupboard where the dish with keys now sat.
Every Saturday?
We can try.
He picked up the keys, handled them, put them back.
Alright, he said. And no more three days, just tolerate it without a real conversation.
Nina nodded.
The kettle was quietly coming to the boil. She fished out an apple, pressed her thumbnail into a brown spot, set it aside for the compote, and said,
No point going back to bed now. Want an omelette?
Id love one.
He opened the fridge, took out the eggs and milk. The kitchen was chilly after the hallway, and they moved gently, not crossing one another, like people who still have a lot to say, but at least, for now, know where to begin.
