The Light in the Hallway (ARC) Read online

Nick noted some of the teams had five and even six

  members.

  ‘We’ve only got four, does that matter?’ He looked

  at Eric.

  ‘We don’t need six; we’re the cleverest here.’ Eric

  tapped his temple.

  ‘Clever or lucky?’ he asked.

  ‘Both, mate.’ Eric raised his pint to him. ‘Both.’

  Ellie tutted and Alex chuckled. Big Brian, however,

  looked up sharply. ‘There will be no talking between

  questions and during tie breaks.’ Nick felt his cheeks

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  flame as if the man addressed him directly. Big Brian

  wasn’t done. ‘There will be no conferring outside of the

  team, and anyone caught using a mobile phone or any

  Internet device to gain an advantage will be banned not

  only from this quiz but all future quizzes. Phones can be

  collected after the results.’ Brian cast his beady eye over

  the assembled. Nick looked over towards Jen’s table and

  Beverly pulled a face at him; she too apparently found

  Brian’s manner most amusing.

  ‘The winning pot for tonight is’ – Big Brian paused –

  ‘seventy-two pounds in cash, plus a voucher from Orient

  Rendezvous to the value of twenty pounds.’

  Several people whooped out loud. It made Nick

  smile – the seventy-two pound prize didn’t garner much

  of a reaction, but the prospect of twenty quid’s worth

  of free noodles or chips from the local takeaway was

  quite a different matter.

  ‘Pens ready, and we will begin.’ Big Brian took a deep

  breath and Nick looked at Eric, who sat with the answer

  sheet flat on the table and his pen poised.

  ‘Question One; what is the capital of Switzerland?’

  ‘Geneva,’ Alex whispered from behind his cupped

  palm.

  ‘Isn’t it Zurich?’ Nick piped up, trying to picture the

  open page of a map.

  ‘It’s Bern, isn’t it?’ Eric threw the question out there.

  As soon as he said it Nick knew this was the answer.

  ‘Yes, mate, Bern – that’s the one.’

  Nick looked around at the other teams all beaming,

  nodding and sitting tall in their chairs, seemingly confi-

  dent that they knew the answer. He was surprised by the

  competitive streak that fired through him, catching Jen’s

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  eye, who gave him a superior look and a slight shake of

  her head as she mouthed the word dweeb. He ignored her.

  ‘Question Two.’ Big Brian coughed. ‘According to the

  Society of Motor Manufacturers and Traders, UK, as of

  October 2018, what was the best-selling car in the UK?’

  ‘Golf,’ Eric opened with confidence.

  ‘Yep, Golf,’ Ellie agreed. ‘I have a Golf and my sister

  does too and Nicola, a girl at work. So I’d say Golf.’

  Eric bit his cheek; no doubt to stifle the many sarcastic

  retorts he wanted to fire at her logic.

  ‘What about a Ford?’ Alex piped up.

  ‘Yes, good shout, Alex, Focus? Fiesta?’ Nick agreed

  with his friend.

  ‘Fiesta.’ Alex held his gaze.

  ‘I still think Golf.’ Eric overrode him and encouraged

  by Ellie’s vigorous nodding in between sips of her vodka

  and tonic, he wrote VW Golf as their answer.

  This was how the evening continued. The questions

  were sometimes tough, sometimes not so much, but always

  fuelled fierce debate. Much to his surprise, Nick actually

  enjoyed himself, getting lost in the process of dredging his

  thoughts, trying to dig for facts in the murky silt of grief, searching for answers that included: ‘Rocky Marciano’,

  ‘Mahogany’, ‘ Toy Story 2’ and ‘Beluga Caviar’. He felt an unfamiliar flickering of pride when he knew an answer, a

  nice and rare moment when he felt smart, a sharp almost

  painful reminder of how he had felt at school, like he got

  it while others foundered … a kid who was going places.

  He remembered his conversation with Oliver.

  ‘Would you have liked to have gone to university? ’ and the response he buried;

  ‘You bet your bottom dollar I would!’

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  A recess was called while Big Brian and his team of

  two solemnly gathered the answer papers from the tables

  and went to the back room, home of the skittle alley, to

  mark them. Jen walked over to their table.

  ‘You can leave now if you want, Nick, save the em-

  barrassment of having your butt whipped!’

  ‘I’ll stay put, thanks.’

  ‘What did you put for the car one? It’s Fiesta, right?’

  Jen probed.

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ Alex said loudly, splaying his

  upward palms as if used to being overridden; his expression

  screaming what can you do? Ellie gave him a sharp stare.

  Nick sipped the last of his pint and stood to go and

  get his round in.

  ‘Same again, everyone?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Just half.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll have white wine please.’ Jen smiled sweetly.

  ‘You can whistle!’ He pushed past her and made his

  way to the bar. Beverly was waiting with a tenner in her

  hand, trying to get the attention of Ruby behind the bar.

  ‘Your sister is quite possibly the most competitive

  person I’ve ever met.’ She grimaced.

  ‘Tell me about it. When we were kids we used to play

  Monopoly as a family, at Christmas and the like, and she

  would never let us finish the game early if we got bored.

  We’d have to slog it out, sometimes for hours, because

  she couldn’t stand to lose and couldn’t stand it if things

  weren’t done by the rules. If she needed to go the toilet,

  she’d take the dice so we couldn’t carry on or cheat with-

  out her there. I remember my mum looking close to tears

  and my dad yawning, but that was apparently better than

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  having to sit through one of Jen’s tantrums. Sometimes

  I’d steal money and put it in her bank, just so she could

  win and I could go outside and play football!’

  ‘You’re the only person I’ve ever heard of nicking from

  the Monopoly bank to let someone else win!’ She pushed

  her short blonde hair behind her ears and Nick noticed

  the shape of her cheek and chin: small, elfin, pretty. He

  felt the punch of disloyalty in his gut and coughed as if

  this might expel the taste of guilt that sat on his tongue

  and in his throat.

  ‘I had to; we might still be there now!’

  Beverly let out a loud laugh and Nick looked over

  her shoulder to see if anyone was watching, relieved to

  see they weren’t.

  ‘What you having, Nick?’ She waved her tenner to-

  wards the bar.

  ‘Oh, no, nothing. I’m … I’m getting a round in, so,

  but no, thank you…’ He took a step backwards, pulled

  back his shoulders and looked towards Eric, who was

  chatting to Jen, willing him to come over and provide

  a much needed barrier. He fe
lt awkward, embarrassed,

  and glanced at the front door, wondering if it would be

  terrible to make a run for it. As he considered this he felt

  Eric, as if having heard his plea, place his hand on his

  shoulder, and Nick felt instant and sweet relief.

  ‘We’re dying of thirst over there!’ he laughed, before

  the smile fell from his face. ‘Oh, mate, I just meant—’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Nick ran his palm over his face, wondering

  if this was how it was going to be: him embarrassed to

  talk to a female and his best mate turning puce over us-

  ing the word dying … He hoped not, because it took the

  fun out of the evening. It took the fun out of everything.

  He looked over at Alex and Ellie, who both stared into

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  space with miserable faces, and wondered why, about to

  spend money on drinks he didn’t really want and couldn’t

  really afford, he had bothered coming at all.

  ‘You all right?’ He watched Eric scanning his face,

  looking for clues that his mouth might deny.

  ‘I think I might—’ He gestured his thumb towards

  the exit and had been about to say ‘call it a night’ when

  Big Brian boomed into his microphone, interrupting him.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen! We have a tie! This mean we

  go to a tie break! And it’s between the Vixens and the

  Four Amigos!’

  ‘That’s us!’ Eric darted to the table and Nick followed,

  laughing at the team name. They had always been the

  three amigos and he liked the way Eric had incorpor-

  ated Ellie, doing his bit to keep the peace, no doubt. Jen,

  Beverly and their two friends looked daggers across the

  room at them.

  Perfect.

  ‘And for those of you who don’t know, this is how it

  works.’ Brian paused. ‘I read out the questions one at a

  time to each team in turn and we keep going until one

  team gets a question wrong and it’s the other team that

  wins. Here we go, Vixens.’

  Nick noted the thin set line of determination on his

  sister’s mouth, reminding him of her tenacity during the

  great Monopoly weekend of 1994.

  ‘Vixens: who was President Trump’s running mate

  in the 2016 US Presidential Elections?’

  Jen rose in her chair and shouted without conferring,

  ‘Mike Pence!’ Her conviction was such that he doubted

  even Big Brian would have had the courage to tell her

  she was wrong. He saw Beverly pull a face and laugh with

  her teammates. Jen was in a league of her own.

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  Big Brian nodded. ‘Correct!’ Jen did a fist pump. ‘Next

  question for the Four Amigos: what chemical element is

  diamond made of?’

  ‘Carbon!’ Alex shouted, and Eric thumped the tabletop.

  ‘Correct!’ Things were heating up, the atmosphere

  charged. ‘Vixens, question two: what is the official lan-

  guage of Brazil?’

  Jen stared at Beverly and the girls. ‘I know it’s not

  Brazilian.’ She sucked air through her teeth and tapped her

  chin as if this might help her concentrate. ‘Portuguese!’

  she suddenly shrieked.

  ‘Correct!’ Big Brian cracked a rare smile. Nick could

  feel the tension in the air and it was exciting. He wanted

  to beat Jen just for the fun of it and he wanted a slice of

  that seventy-two quid!

  ‘Four Amigos, question two: the inhabitants of Albania,

  Lebanon and Malta can all paddle in the same sea, but

  which sea is it?’

  Nick pictured the map and knew the answer. ‘The

  Middleterrainean!’ The moment it left his mouth he knew

  he’d messed up.

  ‘He meant Mediterranean!’ Eric yelled, standing and

  trying to clarify.

  ‘Obviously I did,’ Nick offered, feeling his face co-

  lour, embarrassed and aware of Jen’s look of glee in his

  peripheral vision.

  ‘I am sorry,’ Big Brian said slowly, his smug smile

  suggesting he was anything but. ‘As the rules state I can

  only accept the team’s first answer and the correct answer

  is the Mediterranean. Which means tonight’s victors and

  the winners of the pot and the twenty-pound voucher

  for the Orient Rendezvous is’ – he paused, irritatingly

  building up his part – ‘the Vixens!’

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  ‘Yes! Yes!’ Jen leapt from her chair and ran around the

  room like she’d won the bloody Super Bowl and not a

  free noodle. Nick wasn’t sure what was worse, his sister’s

  gloating or the look of disappointment on the look on

  the faces of the other amigos.

  ‘Middleterrainean?’ Ellie asked with her arms folded

  across her chest, looking at him like he was an idiot, and

  for a second he knew what it felt like to be Alex. ‘What

  were you thinking?’

  ‘He wasn’t.’ Alex sided with his wife.

  ‘Middleterrainean?’ Beverly stood at the end of the

  table, shaking her head, as she put her arms into her coat.

  Nick tried again to explain. ‘It came out wrong.’

  She laughed. ‘You lot coming for chips?’

  ‘Is Jen going?’

  ‘Yes, Eric.’ She held his eye line.

  Nick liked the soft tut and crinkle-eyed smile of

  sympathy she gave his mate.

  The two teams made their way along the pavements

  where fog loitered and the cast-iron street lamps, the same

  ones they had swung around as kids, lit the way.

  ‘You did good, Nick.’ Jen punched his arm. ‘I’m proud

  of you.’

  ‘Thanks, Sis.’ He rubbed the spot where her knuckles

  had landed.

  The frontage of the Orient Rendezvous was lit up

  like a Christmas tree with red paper lanterns adorned

  with gold tassels hanging in the window.

  ‘Right’ – Jen smacked the voucher onto the counter-

  top – ‘can we have eight packets of chips, please, all with

  salt and vinegar.’

  ‘No vinegar for me,’ Ellie called from the back.

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  ‘And no salt for me.’ Nick only said it to irritate his

  sister who sighed. Beverly again laughed loudly and Nick

  had to admit he liked the way it felt, being able to make

  someone laugh in this way. He noticed Eric staring at

  him with a smile on his face.

  ‘What?’ Nick asked, a little more aggressively than

  he had intended.

  ‘Nothing, mate. Nothing.’ Eric squeezed next to Jen

  at the counter. ‘I thought you were brilliant tonight.

  You’re so smart.’

  Jen smiled broadly at him and Nick was pleased that

  she didn’t shoot him down.

  ‘Here you go, Human Dustbin.’ Jen handed him the

  first bag of chips.

  ‘Cheers, I’m bloody starving!’

  1992

  His mum pulled the bed-in-a-bag from the bottom of

  the airing cupboard and dragged it across the hallway to

  Nick’s bedroom floor.

  ‘So how long is Eric staying?’ he asked w
ith

  excitement.

  ‘A couple of days. And it’ll be a couple of days every

  week.’ She unfurled the base and duvet and smoothed the

  creases from the duvet top. ‘His dad is on a late shift some

  nights and it wouldn’t do to have Eric home alone so late

  and so he’s coming here. Like a sleepover.’ She kissed her

  fingertips and touched them to his cheek.

  ‘Where’s his mum?’ He knew she wasn’t home but

  beyond that had very little to go on.

  ‘She’s gone away for a bit.’ Her tone was clipped.

  ‘With Dave The Milk?’

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  ‘Goodness, Master Bairstow, have you been listening

  at keyholes?’ She coughed and he noticed her cheeks had

  gone a little bit pink.

  ‘Is it because of her secret job?’

  ‘What secret job, darling?’ She stopped fluffing the

  pillows and gave him her full attention.

  ‘Eric told us she had a secret job and she was work-

  ing with Dave The Milk when his dad was at billiards.’

  His mum sat back on her haunches and looked out

  the window, as if considering this.

  ‘You know, Nicky, sometimes grown-ups tell lies.

  And I think that was a lie. I don’t think she had a secret

  job. But you don’t need to say that to Eric; he has enough

  on his plate right now.’

  ‘Do you think she would tell Eric a lie even though

  she is his mum?’ He was aghast at the possibility. Nick

  knew his sister lied to him all the time: I have rigged it so that if you look at my diary it will explode with green dye that never ever, ever washes off and you will spend the rest of your life looking like The Grinch!

  His mates too: I saw it with my own eyes, a robber! And

  Batman just came swooping down and kicked him in the face!

  Kapow! Bam!

  Even his teacher: We are going to have fun! Maths can

  be fun!

  And the worst culprit of all was Doctor Hughes: This

  isn’t going to hurt a bit.

  But the idea of his mum or dad, the people he trusted

  most in the whole wide world, telling him a proper lie –

  the thought left him feeling a little winded.

  ‘Yes.’ His mum nodded. ‘Sometimes even the people

  who love you the most might tell you a lie and it might

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  be for a million different reasons and those reasons are

  not always easy to understand.’

  ‘So…’ Nicky considered this. ‘If she wasn’t doing a

  job, why did she lock herself in the front room with the