25

The Whiff of Battle

Nicola became aware of Irene’s arrival not through the operation of any sixth sense but by looking out of the window onto Scotland Street below. When she saw the taxi draw up outside the door of the common stair, her heart sank. In spite of Stuart’s prompting, Irene had not given them a date for her arrival, nor had she confirmed that she had arranged for the renting of a flat. This had caused Nicola some concern, and she had quizzed Stuart as to what he would do if Irene simply presented herself at 44 Scotland Street.

“She won’t do that,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

But Nicola had worried, and now, as she saw Irene emerge with an unwieldy suitcase, her anxiety deepened. An unwelcome guest who arrives with a small suitcase is one thing – one who arrives with a large suitcase in tow is quite another. Irene’s suitcase was extremely large.

She did not wait for Irene to ring the bell, but took up her position on the landing outside the flat’s front door. She had not read von Clausewitz’s On War, but had the great strategist been there, he would have approved of her tactics. It was important, he advised, to have an advance position to repel an enemy, but to have a clear route for retreat should that become necessary. This she had, in the slightly ajar door immediately behind her.

She took a deep breath as she heard Irene struggling up the stair, the suitcase banging against the walls and the iron-work bannisters. She had decided to be firm, and would be. She was not intimidated by Irene – why should she be? She saw through Irene’s tactics: the other woman characteristically went on the offensive before anything was said – it was a form of pre-emptive strike. In many cases this wrong-footed the opposition, but Nicola was determined it should not do that now. She would play Irene at her own game; the first salvo would come from her, taking every advantage of the fact that she would be above Irene as she approached the landing. The high ground – again as von Clausewitz would point out – confers important advantages, whether one is talking about artillery or, as in this case, verbal sparring.

As Irene hove into view, struggling with her outsize suitcase, Nicola called out, “Well, this is a surprise! I thought you agreed with Stuart that you would tell us when you were coming.”

It was hardly a welcome, by any stretch of the imagination, and it stopped Irene in her tracks. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Nicola.

“And you told us you’d let us know where you were staying.”

This was largely untrue, but it had its effect. Flustered and irritated in equal measure, Irene struggled to reply.

“I did no such thing,” she said. “I never…”

“It’s very difficult,” Nicola pressed on. “It’s hard to plan for the boys when there’s this uncertainty. Children need certainty in their lives. Certainty and stability.”

Irene’s jaw dropped. And then, having absorbed these first defeats, she mustered her forces for the counter-attack.

“I don’t need to be reminded about the needs of children,” she said. “It may have escaped your attention that my doctoral studies are about childhood. Perhaps you didn’t know that.”

“Oh, I knew that,” Nicola shot back. “But theory and practice are two different things, I believe. Anyway, let’s not argue. Please come in for a cup of tea. Then I can phone for a taxi to take you on to the flat you’ve rented. Where is it, by the way? Stuart said that he sent you the name of a very helpful agent. It always pays to go through agents, I find.”

Irene ignored this. Picking up her suitcase again, she climbed the remaining stairs with her mouth set in a grim line of determination. Once in the kitchen, she sat down at the table to recover her breath while Nicola filled the kettle.

“Where is your place?” Nicola enquired over her shoulder.

“What place?”

“The flat you’ve rented. I hope you’ve found somewhere comfortable – and not too expensive. Edinburgh has become a bit pricy, I think. I’m glad I don’t have to rent somewhere.”

Irene waited a moment before she replied. Then she said, “I don’t have somewhere. I intend to stay here – at home.”

Nicola stood quite still. She had anticipated this. Work out what the other side is going to do before they do it, counselled von Clausewitz. Nicola had done that.

“I’m so sorry,” said Nicola. “There just isn’t room here. What a pity. It would have been so cosy having the five of us all together, but there we are. Architectural limitations are architectural limitations, I always find. Sorry about that.”

Irene was not to give up so easily. “But…” she began. She got no further.

“Excuse me,” Nicola went on. “I don’t want to be ungracious. You’ve had a long journey and now you find yourself with nowhere to stay. That can’t be easy. But at the same time, there simply is no room here.”

“There’s a spare room,” said Irene. “Don’t think I don’t know that.”

Nicola remained calm. “The thing about spare rooms,” she said, “is that they cease to be spare once somebody has moved into them. So, in relation to this so-called spare room to which I think you are referring, it is a former spare room. I live in it now. So sorry.”

Irene bit her lip. “We’ll see what Stuart says about that,” she muttered.

“But it was Stuart’s idea,” said Nicola brightly. “I moved in at his suggestion. I look after the boys, you see – your sons, in point of fact. I have…” She paused, wondering whether a rapier stroke of such killing efficacy was justified. She decided it was. This situation has escalated rapidly, moving to nuclear level quite quickly. “I have had to pick up the pieces, you see.”

Irene glowered.

“Not that I resent it,” Nicola continued. “What grand-mother would fail to answer such a call when the mother herself dies or is incapacitated…or leaves the nest prematurely, so to speak, because of, well, emotional interests elsewhere? What grandmother would not step forward, I ask you? They must have thought something similar at the time of the Battle of Britain. Only it wasn’t the grandmothers who flew the Spitfires, but those brave young men.” That was a bit much, Nicola thought, but this was an extreme situation.

Irene was staring down at the floor. She looked up slowly. When she spoke, her voice was quiet – not the voice of the aggressor, but that of the vanquished. “I don’t know why you dislike me so much,” she said. “You’ve never approved of me, have you? Right from the beginning, you wrote me off, didn’t you? And it never occurred to you that I might be doing my best by Stuart and the boys. You never thought of that, did you? And it never occurred to you that when I left Stuart it was because he never paid me any attention. There are two sides to every story, but perhaps you don’t see it that way.” She paused. “And now, I’ll go back to Aberdeen. I don’t want to be somewhere where I’m not welcome.”

There was nothing in von Clausewitz about this, and Nicola stood where she was, unable to respond.