The Light in the Hallway (ARC) Read online

  After tea they were given orange juice ice pops that his

  mum froze in special plastic pods that had sat at the back

  of the cupboard for as long as he could remember. The

  hot weather, free distribution of ice pops and his friend

  staying on a semi-regular basis made the place feel like

  a holiday resort and not their very average house where

  during term time his life was one of predictable monotony.

  133

  Amanda Prowse

  His mum and dad even let them inflate and fill the

  paddling pool in the back garden, and when they weren’t

  in the shed, tinkering on parts with the multi tool, the

  three boys languished in the water, which always looked

  a murky shade of grey, largely because it didn’t occur to

  them to wipe or clean their dirty feet before scampering

  in and out of the shin-high water. No matter that space

  was at a premium, they developed an impressive range

  of games inside the five-foot circular pool. Their favour-

  ite was throwing a ball in the air and trying to catch it;

  the rule was that at least some of their body had to be

  submerged and they had to remain inside the circle; this

  game they called ‘Petunia’. They didn’t know how the

  word had been settled upon, but the shouting of it and

  the subsequent mêlée was enough to once again reduce

  them to hysterics. Nick often caught his mum watching

  them out of the kitchen window with a smile on her face,

  happy that he was happy, and this made him even happier.

  He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have Eric’s

  mum, who was no longer at home, or to have a dad like

  Eric’s, who had fist fights with the milkman.

  By week three of the project Half Bike was in fairly

  good shape. They settled on a garish shade of green paint,

  not so much out of choice, but that was the paint Alex’s

  grandad donated to the cause, Alex having apparently filled

  him in on the great restoration and rebuild during their

  caravan break in Blackpool. Eric and Nick had stared at the

  half tin of paint that looked almost neon in certain lights.

  ‘Did someone put Kermit in a blender?’ Nick turned

  his nose up at the offending goo.

  ‘I’m more worried about the fact that there’s only

  half a tin; what did he use the other half on?’ Eric raised

  a good point.

  134

  The Light in the Hallway

  ‘Something to do with parking spaces at the com-

  munity centre, I think,’ Alex explained a little sheepishly,

  not best pleased to have his contribution so mocked. Not

  that he was in any position to grumble with Nick having

  given the frame and Eric the handlebars from Dave The

  Milk; half a tin of paint was quite measly in comparison.

  But still, a deal was a deal, and Alex still owned a half of

  a half of Half Bike.

  It had been an exhausting day. When they hadn’t been

  painting, concentrating on catching the lime-green runs

  with the gummed-up bristles of the paintbrush as they

  each daubed paint where they could reach, the boys had

  decided to sprint up to the Rec and then over to the Old

  Dairy Shed, timing themselves to see how quickly they

  could complete the task. The combination of overzealous

  competition, the heat of the afternoon sun and inappro-

  priate footwear meant they arrived back at Nick’s house

  panting like dogs and rather floppy. The grey-water pool

  was the most inviting option and there they languished,

  a tangle of arms and legs, until Nick’s mum called them

  in for salad.

  Nick looked down at Eric, who had once again settled

  into his temporary bed on the floor. Gone was the frisson

  of excitement that had crackled in the air when he first

  came to stay; things were now a lot calmer. He wondered

  if this was what it might feel like if he had a brother, in-

  stead of his horrible sister. It felt nice. They had agreed

  that overnight the multi tool would rest in a gap on the

  floor between the two beds and in the event of an in-

  truder; whoever managed to grab it first would perform

  the all-important Batman-style kick whilst aiming the

  two little prongs at the throat of the assailant. They had

  spent hours practising for such an occurrence, taking it

  135

  Amanda Prowse

  in turns to be both the Batman-style defender and the

  baddy. His mum had even been called upon to watch as

  they demonstrated their skills.

  ‘It’s like Kung Fu,’ Nick explained, as he took up

  position on the bed and Eric stood poised with a badass

  expression in the doorway.

  ‘Righto.’ His mum had watched and nodded approv-

  ingly as they took it in turns to kick the other in the chest and hold the multi tool to each other’s throats.

  She clapped. ‘Very nice. Very well done, lads!’ It wasn’t

  quite the reaction Nick had hoped for, but at least he had

  had a chance to show off his moves.

  Nick twisted on to his side and spoke into the dim-

  ming mauve light of the summer night: ‘Do you miss

  your mum?’

  Eric was slow in responding. ‘A bit.’

  ‘Do you know where she is?’

  Again Eric took his time in answering. ‘I’m not sup-

  posed to, but I do. I heard my dad on the phone to my

  Auntie Nesta and he called my mum a bitch and said

  she’d gone away with Dave The Milk.’

  ‘Where did they go?’

  ‘Derby.’

  ‘Where’s Derby?’ Nick knew the names of most of

  the towns and villages local to them, but he had never

  heard of Derby.

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s a long way away. You can’t

  get a bus – I asked the bus driver when I saw him in the

  Co-Op.’

  ‘I expect she’ll come home soon.’ Nick wondered if,

  as he didn’t believe this statement, he was also a liar, but

  it didn’t feel like lying; it felt like being nice.

  136

  The Light in the Hallway

  ‘Maybe.’ Eric put his skinny arms beneath his head to

  form a cradle and took a deep breath. ‘I like staying here.

  Your mum’s really kind and she never shouts at you and

  she cooks your tea every night. My mum isn’t like that,

  not really. She’s busy and she likes to watch the telly and…’

  Nick heard him swallow.

  ‘Our house is cold. It’s even cold now when every-

  where else is melting.’

  Nick didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

  ‘When I grow up I want to go and live in a hot coun-

  try so it’s like this all the time, warm and sunny, and I

  can sleep with the windows open and have a paddling

  pool in the garden, just like yours. And you can come

  and visit me if you like.’

  ‘I might.’ Nick thought about it. ‘If I can have a holi-

  day from my office job.’

  ‘The one where you drive a big car and someone

  brings you Fanta at the touch of a button.’

  ‘That’s the one.’ Nick smiled; he liked the thought<
br />
  of this very much.

  ‘If I had a brother, Nick, I’d like him to be just like

  you.’

  ‘If I had a brother, Eric, I’d like him to be just like you.’

  ‘Shall we get up early and play Petunia before Alex

  arrives? We’d have more room in the pool with just the

  two of us.’

  ‘Sure.’ Nick thought this sounded like a plan.

  ‘Night, night, Nick.’

  ‘Night, night, Eric.’

  137

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was Christmas Eve.

  The tree was sparsely decked and sat a little forlornly

  in the corner of the room. On his sister’s advice, Nick had

  cooked the turkey and left it to cool on the countertop.

  The plan was that he could then slice and heat it the next

  day and serve with all the trimmings and thick gravy,

  cooked fresh in their rather small oven. He didn’t know

  how Kerry used to manage. Oliver was at the pub with

  a couple of mates from school and as Nick sat down on

  the sofa, his text alert beeped.

  Happy Christmas Nick

  It was from Beverly. He broke into a smile.

  Happy Christmas Bev, he replied. He felt his eyes

  start to close and gave in to the warm feeling of well-

  being that flooded him…

  Kerry was kneeling under the Christmas tree. She was

  wearing her jeans and Christmas jumper, the one made of

  sparkly wool that meant it shone when she stood by the

  lights. Her face was pretty, without the distorting bloat

  of illness, and her cheeks rosy.

  The radio was playing Slade’s ‘Merry Christmas

  Everybody’, and she hummed along as she rummaged

  in the decorations box, pulling out a rather battered

  138

  The Light in the Hallway

  cardboard star sploshed with red paint and threaded with

  a loop of discoloured string.

  ‘He made this at nursery, do you remember?’ She held

  it towards him and chuckled that soft laugh as she tossed

  her shiny, chestnut-coloured hair over her shoulder.

  Such beautiful hair…

  ‘I do,’ he remembered. ‘He was so chuffed with it,

  and when he’d gone to bed we laughed at how rubbish it

  was, knowing he’d inherited our lack of arts-and-crafts

  skills, and yet every year we put it on top of the tree.’

  ‘It’s a tradition now.’ She held it up towards the light

  and admired it.

  ‘I’m afraid the tree looks a bit crap.’ He sighed. ‘I did

  my best.’

  She pulled a face. ‘You forgot the fairy lights, that’s

  why! A rookie mistake.’ She smiled at him. ‘You know,

  Nick, there isn’t a place dark enough or thoughts depress-

  ing enough that can’t be transformed by the sticking up

  of a few fairy lights. That’s what I think, anyway.’

  ‘You’re right, I forgot. I just wanted it to look nice

  for Olly.’

  ‘Olly is doing just fine. He is so amazing.’

  ‘He is,’ he agreed. ‘A credit to you.’

  ‘A credit to us,’ she corrected. ‘And don’t worry, you will have a memorable Christmas.’

  ‘I’ve cooked the bird already.’

  ‘So I saw. Mr Organised.’

  ‘Hardly. I still feel like I’m in a crazy panic, trying

  to remember what I need to do, how to put one foot in

  front of the other … and if I’m being honest, worried

  about who I might be offending and grinding out the

  hours at work.’

  139

  Amanda Prowse

  ‘It’ll get easier, my love. You’ll see.’ She turned to

  face him and twisted the shiny gold wedding band on

  the third finger of her left hand. ‘This is going to be your

  year. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Oh, Kerry, I miss you. Especially because it’s

  Christmas.’ He damned the catch to his voice, wanting

  in this precious moment not to bring sadness into it.

  ‘I know, but you don’t have to, you know.’

  ‘Don’t have to what?’ He was a little confused.

  Kerry stood and walked slowly towards him. ‘You

  don’t have to miss me, not as much as you do. You mustn’t

  keep it all so tightly packed down. You need to loosen

  the lid a bit and let it float away.’

  Reaching out, she took his hands into hers and pulled

  him upright and she was real! The touch of her fingers,

  warm and solid against his palm was the most wonder-

  ful thing and she looked … she looked beautiful, happy

  and healthy. She slipped against him and the song on the

  radio changed to the soft, golden tone of Nat King Cole.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ she whispered with her head on

  his chest.

  He inhaled the scent of her, her favourite perfume

  still sitting in a bottle in her bedside cabinet, the scent

  quite earthy. He loved it. Gone was the medicinal, slightly

  chemical-scented sweat that had accompanied her during

  and following her chemotherapy. This was the old Kerry,

  before that bloody illness claimed her as its own. They

  swayed in the dance they had been practising since the

  days of the school disco. He closed his eyes and savoured

  the feel of her in his arms.

  ‘I mean it, Nick. You need to stop missing me so much

  and start living. Things weren’t always perfect between

  us, were they?’

  140

  The Light in the Hallway

  ‘No.’ He sighed. ‘They weren’t.’

  ‘So don’t glorify it and don’t forget, we didn’t both

  die. Only me. I know you love me. I know you always

  will, but you’re young and you need to go on and find

  happiness; you have your whole life ahead of you. And

  it’ll all be wonderful…’

  ‘I love you.’ He kissed her face.

  ‘I love you too. Always. My Nick … Nick…’

  ‘Nick … Dad! Nick!’ This voice was different, louder,

  harsher and male. He quickly sat up straight and looked

  towards the tree, which looked a little depressing com-

  pared to the one he had imagined. There was no radio

  playing. And Kerry was gone. With the arrow of sorrow

  piercing his chest and the strong desire to get back to her

  arms, he rubbed his eyes and stared at his son, who stood

  in the doorway. He felt a wave of sadness to have been

  pulled so sharply from his beautiful dream.

  ‘I was shouting at you for ages.’ Oliver sighed. ‘I just

  got back from the pub – Treacle got the turkey! She’s

  eaten the whole thing and has shit all over the kitchen

  floor!’

  Nick didn’t know why he laughed, but suspected it

  was that or cry.

  ‘Happy Christmas, son.’

  Oliver laughed too. ‘Happy Christmas, Dad.’

  ‘I tell you what.’ He stood and let his pulse settle. ‘I’ll

  go clear up the kitchen and you dig out the tin of fairy

  lights from the cupboard under the stairs.’

  ‘Fairy lights?’

  ‘Yes, Oliver, they are a thing, you know – all the best

  rooms have them,’ he mocked, thinking about the strings

  that adorned his student room. ‘Besides, as your
mum

  used to say, there isn’t a place dark enough or thoughts

  141

  Amanda Prowse

  depressing enough that can’t be transformed by the stick-

  ing up of a few fairy lights.’

  Kerry was right. The fairy lights gave the room a

  pleasant festive glow that warmed their spirits as Nick

  and Oliver sat back on the sofa. The turkey remnants had

  been disposed of. Treacle and the floor were cleaned up

  and the clock ticked softly towards midnight.

  ‘Bedtime?’ Nick asked, turning his head to see that

  Oliver was already dozing, his head resting on one of the

  cushions. Sofa parasites … Nick liked that. He smiled and pictured the pretty blonde woman who had stood in his

  kitchen, necked beer and invited him to a party.

  * * *

  It was the Christmas day they had wanted, leisurely, fairly

  quiet and one where they ate sausages with all the trim-

  mings of a traditional lunch whilst the replete Treacle lay

  sprawled in her basket, sleeping off her turkey hangover

  with a look of joy and a fat tum. They watched Return

  of the Jedi on the TV and polished off a tub of Quality Street. Their phones beeped with loving messages from

  friends and family, well received, but still a little irritating, until they muted the speakers and tossed their phones

  onto the free seat of the sofa. Nick didn’t feel too guilty,

  knowing they would see everyone tomorrow on Boxing

  Day with a lunch at his mum’s and then tea with Kerry’s

  family. But today was their day and it went better than they could have expected.

  Oliver now slept with his hands clasped across his

  stomach, and his feet, as tradition dictated, clad in new

  socks, resting on the coffee table. Nick smiled at his boy.

  ‘We did it, son – we survived,’ he whispered.

  142

  The Light in the Hallway

  ‘More than can be said for the poor turkey,’ Oliver

  mumbled with one eye open, and they both laughed.

  ‘I think I preferred you asleep!’ Nick lobbed a cushion

  at him.

  ‘I need to wake up. I promised to call Tasha. Find out

  whether she liked her present. She said she’d wait until

  today to open it.’

  ‘What did you get her?’

  ‘A sandwich toaster.’

  ‘A sandwich toaster? Right.’ He couldn’t decide wheth-

  er this was a great present or a terrible one. ‘Did she ask

  for one?’

  ‘No, but she’s allergic to cheese, all dairy in fact, and

  the girls on our floor share a sandwich toaster but leave