She carried on. ‘And this room smells of cedar wood.’
‘The bedframe,’ he said. ‘Handcrafted from cedar.’
‘There you are!’ Nina raised her glass to Mutt’s once more and they let them chink brightly in the quiet room.
‘I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Nina from New York.’
‘Same, Murray from…’
‘Pennan.’
‘Where’s that exactly?’
‘Aberdeenshire. Nowhere near here, thank God.’
Nina saw the same pinch between his brows she’d witnessed earlier when he’d talked about his career choice not being enough for an unspecified someone. She didn’t push him.
‘Do you like being called Mutt?’ she asked instead.
‘I never minded before, but I liked it better when you called me by my name.’
The gruffness in his voice drew her eyes back to his. Alarmed, Nina felt sure he was going to kiss her, she even found herself leaning a little closer, but Mutt had already looked away, awkwardly. ‘Let’s sit,’ he said, walking towards the bed, leaving Nina to press her cold glass to her forehead, exhaling and wide-eyed, wondering why she wasn’t relived that at least somebody had their head on straight tonight.
A short while later they’d stationed themselves on the floor, leaning against the soft fabric of the bedside, looking out at the world beyond the glass walls, their legs stretched out before them, crossed at the ankles, letting the whisky work its relaxing magic. They were talking about family.
‘So your folks are divorced?’ Mutt was asking.
‘Since I was tiny. Dad remarried and now he has other kids. It was messy at the time; he was having an affair and mum was pregnant with my little brother while Christina was pregnant with William. That’s my eldest step-brother,’ she clarified.
Mutt gritted his teeth.
‘I know, right?’ Nina continued. ‘Dad taught me a lot about working hard but I wouldn’t exactly take relationship advice from him. Not that I’ve done all that well by myself.’
Mutt didn’t pry, but he nodded like he understood. ‘And your mum? Where’s she?’
‘In Hove, in the same local authority house where we were living when Dad walked out on us. She’s a dinner lady at my old school, has been forever, since my brother was tiny. Bet you thought Hove was posh?’
Mutt was genuinely perplexed. ‘Can’t say I’ve ever thought about it. My dad’s a decorator too, you know,’ Mutt told her. ‘When the fishing dried up in my granddad’s lifetime the men adapted from scraping and painting hulls to painting houses. My mum’s a housewife, though I’m no’ sure she’d like to be called that. We’re just ordinary folk too. If you don’t mind me saying, Nina… you give the impression you’re,um…’
‘Rich? Privileged?’ Nina said wryly. ‘Of course I do, because that’s the impression I’ve been trying to give since I arrived in New York on my internship. I was ambitious and everyone was so smart and flashy and they just assumed I had money because of my British accent, and I went along with it.’
Nina told Mutt all about those first days living in the interns’ apartment, back when she was still dressing in the office wear her mum had bought her at the Brighton branch of H&M before her big break in the Big Apple: the pittance-paying intern opportunity of a lifetime.
Her A-levels in Art and Design, Fashion and Business Studies had earned her three A grades and a glowing reference from her teachers which got her accepted on her college degree in marketing.
Her intern application had been picked out by Seamus Ryan during one of his drives to acquire staff through non-traditional routes, fed by his fits of working-class fervour when he’d remember he was a kid from Belfast who’d somehow ended up with a prestigious school scholarship in Dublin, then Harrow, and so on – that had seen him rise right to the top. Nina wasn’t the same as him though. He’d acquired something during his education that she’d never have. He had a network, a safety net. Hundreds of rich, loud male friends all calling in favours and backing each other up.
Her own adaptability and Luke’s advice had been enough to orientate her in her new world. She’d learned quickly how to avoid the condescending or downright disgusted looks of those who could see the chinks in her pose. She’d become a chameleon, the way so many working-class girls do.
Luke had selected her, Nina Miller, from the bottom of the ladder and fast-tracked her into the jet set (well, into their jet stream, maybe). Her ascent had been dizzyingly exciting, and she’d fallen hard for handsome, slick Luke and the world he opened up to her, even if, at first, some of the women in his set had raised their laminated brows at the red-bottomed Louboutins she’d saved up for from her first proper pay cheques – and which she’d been so proud of – directing her towards something, ‘a little less… obvious,hmm?’
It was hard to slide back down into obscurity after the things she’d seen and done. She’d come to love the good life and the easy interactions, the way she could, until recently, get on any guest list she wanted. All she’d had to do was tag along with Luke or, if he was busy elsewhere, she’d ask Fournival to pull some strings. She’d loved it. At least she’d thought she loved it, until she’d come to Port Willow and slowly come to see how exhausting the pretence had been. She’d been on a treadmill for three years, always running, trying to hide her background, trying to keep up with her new peers and finding herself always in danger of slipping.
She told Mutt how once she’d had her bubble burst at a secret Brooklyn loft launch where everyone wordlessly read an exhibition catalogue and examined onyx sculptures while wearing white gloves. She’d been on the guest list as ‘Luke Casson’s Nina Miller.’ At the time she’d told herself it was amusing, but it had led her to wonder more recently just how Luke’s friends must have viewed her all these years. She’d never taken the chance to shine on her own; she’d always been Luke’s.
‘That was never my intention when I flew out to New York, determined to show the bosses what I was made of.’ Nina’s cheeks were burning with the realisation she’d let down that ambitious young woman. ‘Seamus was right. I’ve no connections of my own. I’d be nowhere without Luke. I should never have got involved with him. But I liked all the blingy stuff, all the glamour.’
Mutt stopped her. ‘I think you’re being hard on yourself there. You said yourself you worked all hours, you were always available, alwayson.’
