The Light in the Hallway (ARC) Read online

  The Light in the Hallway

  It’s what we always said, Nick; we’ll raise him right and let him fly…

  ‘Aye, we did. But I didn’t think it would be this hard

  to watch him go.’ He swallowed. ‘I miss you too. So

  much.’ He cursed the tears that gathered.

  You’re doing great, love. It’ll get easier. You’ll see…

  * * *

  Darkness had begun to bite on the day as Nick pulled up the

  steep driveway. His mum must have dropped Treacle off, as

  he heard her barking at the sound of the car arriving home.

  He put the key in the lock and was in truth glad of

  the dog’s welcome; walking into the echoing silence

  might have been more than he could cope with today.

  He put the kettle on and let Treacle out into the small

  back garden for a run. He watched the steam rise from

  the kettle and plopped a teabag into his mug, looking

  forward to the restorative brew. The front doorbell rang.

  Nick sighed, feeling an instant flush of guilt at the dread

  he felt. The prospect of having to entertain his mum or

  Kerry’s mum, Dora, regaling them with each and every

  detail of Oliver’s arrival at Uni was not something he

  wanted to do, not tonight, when tiredness left him feel-

  ing a little frayed and now missing Kerry too so much.

  He wanted nothing more than to be left alone to mourn.

  He flicked on the hallway light and opened the front

  door.

  ‘Oh!’ He took a step back, surprised to see Beverly

  from work on the doorstep. Odd to see her out of con-

  text and in casual gear.

  ‘All right?’ She pushed her hands into the pocket of

  her jeans.

  49

  Amanda Prowse

  He nodded.

  ‘We’re going to the pub’ – she nodded in the direc-

  tion of the Blue Anchor – ‘a few of us from work, and

  thought you might fancy a pint?’

  ‘Oh!’ he uttered for the second time in as many sec-

  onds. This was unexpected. He and Kerry had not been

  the ‘going to the pub’ type and he couldn’t remember

  the last time he had done anything social.

  ‘You coming then?’ Beverly pointed down the lane

  and took a step backward along the path.

  Nick pictured his teabag in its mug on the countertop.

  ‘D’you know I think I’ll give it a miss tonight, but thanks

  for asking, Bev.’

  ‘Next time then,’ she said casually, turning and walk-

  ing back out into the darkness.

  ‘Yep, cheers.’

  He settled Treacle into her basket and climbed the

  stairs with his mug, letting his eyes run over the neatly

  made bed, the floral bed linen chosen by his wife, and

  again he hoped Oliver was warm enough, comfortable

  enough, or failing this, having too good a time to care

  about the discomfort of a single duvet. He again pictured

  Tasha with her large specs and goofy smile.

  Beverly’s knock on the door had unnerved him a little.

  He was grateful of course for everyone’s concern, but at

  the same time felt her arrival to be a slight invasion of his privacy. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t

  known Beverly, but there was a big difference between

  knowing her to chat to at work and going as part of her

  gang to the pub, one thing to receive her condolences

  across the warehouse floor as she passed through with a

  clipboard, but quite another to have her turn up at his

  50

  The Light in the Hallway

  home. She and Kerry had been a year apart at school and

  whilst not mates, they were acquaintances.

  With his tea drunk and teeth cleaned, Nick undressed

  and bundled his clothes into the wicker laundry basket by

  the door. He wondered why she had thought to ask him.

  The last thing he wanted was an invite to the pub out of

  pity. He wondered if his mum or Dora had put her up

  to it, or maybe his sister, Jen. They were friends. It was

  his last thought before falling asleep, it had been quite a

  day. He flung his arm over Kerry’s pillow, as he had done

  every night since she had gone in to St Vincent’s, and it

  helped a little, the feel of something beneath his arm. A

  poor substitution, of course, and the vague scent of her

  that had lingered on the cotton was now sadly gone.

  ‘Night, night, love,’ he whispered.

  Night, night, my love, sweet dreams…

  1992

  The boys had fallen into a routine more rigorous, time

  consuming and exhausting than school, but none of them

  seemed to notice that. And apart from Alex’s one week

  in a caravan in Blackpool with his nan and grandad, the

  three had no plans that might get in the way of their

  project. They saw the six-week summer holiday stretch

  out in front of them like an eternity. Eric, always up

  first and seemingly keen to be out of the house, would

  call for Alex en route and the two would arrive bright

  and early at Nick’s house, rain or shine. In shorts and t-

  shirts, the boys paid no heed to the weather but dressed

  for the date, and August was certainly the month for

  shorts. Nick’s mum would make Eric a breakfast of egg

  on toast, which he would wolf down. His dad would

  51

  Amanda Prowse

  shake his head. ‘Slow down, lad! No one’s going to take

  it away from you.’

  Nick was getting dressed in his bedroom when he

  heard the boys thunder up the stairs.

  ‘Nick!’ Alex called with urgency.

  He slipped his ‘Batman Returns’ t-shirt over his head

  and stared at the door as his friends burst in.

  ‘Look!’ Eric beamed as he lifted the beautiful Y-shaped

  object in his hands. ‘Handlebars!’ he screeched. ‘And not

  just any handlebars, really wide ones!’

  The three jumped up and down on the floor until his

  mum yelled up the stairs, ‘For the love of God, stop the

  jumping! Sounds like you’re coming through the ceiling!’

  The boys stopped jumping and each held a piece of

  the unwieldy metal tube, staring at it as if it were the

  gift of gold.

  ‘Wow!’ Alex spoke for them all.

  ‘Where d’you get it?’ Nick couldn’t believe that this

  glorious bit of kit had fallen into their grasp. They had

  spent the best part of the last week, after careful instruc-

  tion from his dad, rubbing off the old and knackered paint

  from the frame with wet and dry paper and painting it

  with primer, ready for a new coat of paint, the colour of

  which they were yet to decide on and over which there

  was much debate. Then they had carefully taken the chain

  apart and cleaned and oiled each link, delicately putting

  it back together. A fiddly job, especially with slippery

  fingers and an overwillingness to use the tool that actu-

  ally made the job a lot harder, but that didn’t matter, not

  when to hold it in their hands and do man’s stuff felt so brilliant! They had made a good job of working on the

  bits they had, but they knew the time was drawing close
/>   when they had to start looking for other parts. Truth was,

  52

  The Light in the Hallway

  Nick felt more than a little nervous. Working on the half

  a bike in the garage within reach of a cold glass of squash

  and the biscuit barrel was one thing, but to go hunting

  all over Burston for specific parts without a bean in their

  pockets felt like quite another.

  ‘Dave The Milk got it for me!’ Eric admired the

  handlebars with a look of self-congratulation. ‘And I

  thought it was only milk he delivered,’ he quipped.

  ‘Where did he get it?’ Alex shared Nick’s curiosity.

  Eric shrugged. ‘Don’t know. I told him we were

  building Half Bike’ – he unwittingly and officially named

  their creation – ‘and said we needed bits and he pitched

  up last night with these in his hand. Aren’t they brilliant?’

  ‘They are!’ Nick confirmed.

  ‘Is your mum still doing her job with him?’ Alex

  wondered.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘How do we fit them on?’ Alex stared at the rather

  sharp ends.

  ‘We use the tool and figure it out.’ Nick grabbed his

  trusty leather case from the bedside table.

  ‘Nick, do you think, erm,’ Alex hesitated. ‘Do you

  think … I mean … Could I…’

  ‘Spit it out, Wendy!’ Eric shouted. They didn’t know

  why, but Eric often gave them both random girls’ names

  and if you weren’t on the receiving end of such a moniker,

  there was nothing funnier.

  Nick giggled.

  Alex continued unabashed. ‘Can I take the multi tool

  home one night? I promise I’d look after it and I’d bring

  it straight back in the morning.’

  Nick shook his head and put the gadget in his pocket.

  ‘No, Alex,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s too valuable to let out

  53

  Amanda Prowse

  of the house. It used to be my dad’s and it’s got its own

  leather case.’ He stressed this important factor. Not that

  he didn’t understand Alex’s desire, because to have this

  thing in his own possession was empowering and gave

  him confidence. Nick often fell asleep thinking of how

  he might tackle an intruder; with the multi tool in his

  hand, he would jump from the bed, lunging the little

  pronged end at the baddy’s throat – not dissimilar to a

  Batman move – and just knowing this little weapon was

  within reach meant he slept soundly.

  In the garage, Nick and Alex straddled the frame and

  held it firmly in place, with muscles flexing unnecessarily

  and sweat forming on their smooth top lips. Eric stood

  with the handlebars raised and with his tongue poking

  out of the side of his mouth, manoeuvred the longest pole

  until it was lined up with the corresponding opening at

  the top front of the frame. He pushed until they heard a

  satisfying thunk.

  ‘It fits!’ Eric yelled taking a step back to admire his

  handiwork.

  Alex rested his end of the frame on the floor and ran

  to the front of the bike, where he dropped to his knees

  and with the multi tool in his hand and at the ready, used

  it to tighten the bolt at the top of the bars that sat snugly inside the frame.

  Eric sat forward in the spot where the saddle would

  live and gripped the bullhorn handlebars.

  ‘This feels great! When I grow up I’m going to get

  a Harley Davidson and ride all the way across America!

  And I’ll stop every time I see a hot dog shop and get a

  hot dog with onions and mustard and ketchup then I’ll

  have an ice cream and set off again.’

  54

  The Light in the Hallway

  Alex shoved him to one side and took up the same

  position. ‘When I grow up, I’m going to get a Harley

  Davidson and ride around Market Square really loudly!’

  Nick laughed. ‘Well, I don’t want a Harley Davidson.’

  ‘Why not, Shirley?’ Eric interrupted, and it was Alex’s

  turn to giggle.

  Nick looked at his dad’s tools all neatly tacked to the

  shadow board on the garage wall behind his workbench

  and drawn around with a marker pen so he always knew

  exactly where to put it after use.

  ‘I want to get a nice car and drive to work in an of-

  fice, and I want to have a ham and cheese sandwich for

  my lunch and live in a big house, and I want to press a

  button on my desk and someone will bring me an orange

  Fanta whenever I want one.’

  ‘Well, my dad says if you want to work in an office

  you have to go to college or university,’ Alex added.

  ‘I think I might go to university,’ Nick said softly,

  surprised that there was not more ribbing.

  ‘Is there a university near here?’ Eric asked, his voice

  a little raspy.

  ‘There’s one in York. Jen’s ballet teacher went there,’

  Nick said with authority.

  ‘You could go to university,’ Alex said. ‘You’re clever,

  Nick.’

  ‘I’m as clever as Nick!’ Eric yelled.

  ‘It was Nick that got the frame for Half Bike and he’s

  the one with the multi tool,’ Alex pointed out.

  ‘That doesn’t make him clever!’ Eric spat. ‘It makes

  him lucky.’

  Nick stared at his friend, who looked like he might

  cry, and he didn’t know what to do.

  55

  Amanda Prowse

  ‘What would you learn at university, Nick?’ Alex

  eased the moment with his question.

  Nick shrugged. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

  ‘He’d do ballet like Jen’s teacher, wouldn’t you, Shirley?’

  Nick laughed – they all did.

  And just like that, Eric wiped at his eyes and was back

  in the room.

  56

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘Can you say it again, Olly?’

  Wearing his high-vis orange vest over his company

  polo shirt, Nick stood in the middle of the yard surrounded

  by pallets of sealed, taped boxes waiting to be loaded onto

  the trucks. He shoved his finger into his free ear to try

  to dampen the noise coming from the packing floor and

  beyond. The whir and beep of forklift trucks, the drone

  of the packing machine, the ringing of bells and timers,

  the rumble of the conveyor belt and the chitter chatter of

  the workforce, interspersed with their raucous laughter,

  made it hard for him to hear what his son was saying.

  ‘Olly, say that again? I didn’t quite hear you!’ He

  walked briskly to the wire perimeter fence and faced

  the white metal wall of the warehouse opposite, an ugly

  structure Aubrey Siddley had put up in the nineteen

  nineties, blocking the once beautiful sight of the wide

  sweep of the moors that had been his father’s view when

  he was a packer at Siddley’s.

  ‘I said I want to come home! I hate it here, Dad. I

  don’t want to go to university. I’ve changed my mind. I

  don’t like it! I’m not staying here. I don’t want to do it.

  You said to just call you if I wanted to come home and<
br />
  so I am.’

  57

  Amanda Prowse

  ‘Okay, okay, son. Just take a deep breath.’ Nick closed

  his eyes and placed his hand on his brow, trying to think

  of the right thing to say, the right thing to do. It wasn’t

  as if it was a call from nursery to say he had a slight

  temperature and Kerry could pack up at the café early

  and go fetch him home; this was grown-up stuff. Nick

  had read with a sense of alarm articles on teenage kids

  at university committing suicide. Peter, the counsellor

  at the hospice, had warned him that depression was not

  uncommon among families, especially youngsters, who

  had to deal with losing a parent, and even more so if the

  loss was preceded by a prolonged illness, often with the

  full effects being felt after the parent had passed away.

  All these thoughts now raced around his head. And they

  scared him.

  ‘What’s happened? You sounded happy the last time

  we spoke.’

  ‘I don’t know! Nothing’s happened, nothing I want

  to talk about over the phone. I just don’t want to be here,

  Dad, I really don’t. I want to come home!’

  He was aware of the swell of panic in his son’s voice,

  matched by a hike in his own heart rate. He heard Kerry’s

  words in his head: Actual y, Nick, this might be grown-up stuff, but it real y is just as straightforward as a call from nursery – whether three or eighteen, you need to pack up and go fetch him home…

  He took stock and mentally planned the conversation

  he would have to have with Julian Siddley, explaining

  why he needed to abandon his shift and hotfoot it down

  to Birmingham, whilst also wondering if he had enough

  fuel to make the trip.

  ‘Just calm down, Olly. Take deep breaths. It’s okay.

  I’m on my way. I’ll be with you in a few hours, as quick

  as I can and we can talk it through—’

  58

  The Light in the Hallway

  ‘I don’t need to talk it through, Dad! I just want to

  come home. I’m not staying here. Please just come and

  get me or I can jump on a coach and we can come back

  and pick up my stuff later?’

  ‘No, don’t do that.’ Nick knew he had made a promise

  and also figured that if his son was quitting it’d be better to make one trip and shove all of his belongings into the back

  of the car. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just sit tight, okay?’

  ‘Okay. Thank you, Dad.’

  Oliver sounded a little calmer now and so young. To