The Light in the Hallway (ARC)
Page 6
39
Amanda Prowse
‘Okay, Olly, you win. I shall get you a BMX, for
Christmas.’
‘I don’t want one now! But a new car would be nice.’
Nick lobbed the ice cube tray back onto the pile and
walked on with the cart.
New car would be nice! Don’t I bloody know it…
He pictured the shiny new silver Jaguar with a hefty
price tag sitting on the forecourt at Mackie’s, which Nick
had admired while having his own car serviced.
‘She’s a beauty, eh?’ Bob had whistled and let his eyes
sweep her sleek silver curves.
‘Really is. Bit out of my league, I’m afraid.’ Nick had
joked, swallowing the bitter tang of jealousy that flared
on his tongue. What wouldn’t he give to drive a car like
that? How did you get to be a bloke who could afford
that kind of car?
‘Right, back to your heap of shite.’ Bob had joked, as
he turned his attention to Nick’s motor.
Nick had nodded his understanding that the break discs
were on the cusp and the front left tyre a mere millimetre
away from a failure and he had promised, hand on heart,
to get the work done. And he would, when funds allowed.
‘Oh, and Gina said to say hello.’
Nick had coughed and left the garage a little quicker
than was polite. Better that than run into Gina Mackie.
He and Oliver navigated the vast interior of the store
where studio sets were laid out in a way that made him
feel that every room, in fact every facet of their home,
was dated and in serious need of an upgrade. This he
could apparently achieve with the addition of fancy pot-
ted plants, sofas with matching footstools and bookshelves
crammed with everything from cacti, candle sticks and
quirky photo frames, but no actual books.
40
The Light in the Hallway
‘Here we are: bedroom stuff.’ Oliver rushed ahead and
Nick caught him up. The two stared at the racks filled
with bundles of cream-coloured quilted things, labelled
with long and complicated Swedish names peppered with
O’s and A’s carrying dots and circles above.
‘Flippin’ ’eck!’ Nick exclaimed and stared at the array.
‘That’s the second flippin’ ’eck moment you’ve had
today.’
‘I know, but where do we start with this lot?’ He stared
at the bewildering array. ‘All you need is a basic double
duvet and a cover. I wish your mum was here.’
And just like that, his words sucked the joy from the
moment, firmly bringing down the shutter of reality
on this fun-packed day. It was the truth; Nick wished it
were Kerry trawling the shelves, confident that she would
know exactly what size and tog ‘Hönsbör’, ‘Myskgräs’ or
‘Tilkört’ to go for.
Oliver grabbed a plastic-wrapped duvet, stuffed inside
its wrapping to form a cylindrical shape.
‘This one?’
‘I reckon so.’ Nick nodded, as Oliver lobbed it in the
trolley, this quickly followed by a pack of two flattened
pillows.
Nick cursed the solemn mood he had created, but was
not about to start censoring the mentioning of his wife;
that would be the very worst thing. It was, as his mum
had reminded him only that very morning, early days.
And it was. Seven weeks … Less than two months
since he had walked into that room at St Vincent’s and
watched her pale, grey face rattle its last breath. Seven
weeks that felt simultaneously like seven hours, seven
minutes. He wondered if this feeling, this sense of shock
would ever pass.
41
Amanda Prowse
‘I said which one?’ Oliver said firmly, holding two
packets up to chest level, while Nick mentally caught up.
‘That one.’ He pointed to a grey-and-white-striped
duvet cover, which he chose at random.
There seemed to be a swell of people around the till
area and Nick bit the inside of his cheek and drummed
his fingers on his thighs in a bid to focus on something
other than his growing desire to run for the exit.
Finally, with their goods squeezed into the gaps around
the suitcases on the backseat, they set off for the University of Birmingham.
‘Are you excited?’ he asked, as the car pulled in behind
a queue of others, waiting for the smiling, fresh-faced
student in the green luminescent t-shirt and holding a
clipboard to direct them to the right place.
‘Nervous.’ His leg bounced up and down.
‘No need, Olly. Everyone here feels exactly the same.’
‘I guess so.’
‘I’d be excited.’ Nick spoke the truth, only able to im-
agine what it might have meant to him to be in his son’s
position, starting a degree at university and walking into
a world where opportunity and chance would be at his
feet. He thought briefly of the fancy Jaguar on Mackie’s
forecourt and wished for his son the kind of career, the
kind of life that might make owning a car like that possible.
It could have been his imagination or his oversensitiv-
ity in light of recent events, but everywhere Nick looked
he saw students with their mums – often their dads too,
but it was the mothers who caught his attention. Some
were quietly holding bags to carry up the stairs with a
mournful look; others organised and doled out boxes,
lifted from the boot of their cars. He was overly aware of
their presence and again felt the absence of his wife keenly.
42
The Light in the Hallway
Oliver’s room in the low-rise block was smaller than Nick
had imagined, with barely enough space to walk between
the bed and the desk, but that aside it was clean and warm.
‘At least you’ll be able to turn off your lamp, open the
window and water your cactus thingy without having to
leave the bed.’ He smiled at his son.
Oliver shook his head, still apparently not in the mood
for his dad’s humour or commentary.
‘Knock knock.’
They both turned towards the long-haired girl in the
oversized black glasses and baggy plaid shirt who stood
in the doorway a little awkwardly.
‘Hello, neighbour. I’m next door.’ She pointed to-
wards her left.
Nick said nothing, as nerves meant the only phrases
that floated into his mind were ‘ Flippin’ ’eck! These rooms are small, aren’t they? ’ and ‘ When I was a lad I’m sure it would have been lads in one building and lasses in another! ’ but having had both these phrases and all attempts at humour
banned by his son, he stayed schtum.
‘Hi.’ Oliver raised his hand in a manner Nick was sure
was meant be cool, but was in his opinion a little surly.
He smiled broadly at the girl, as if his friendliness might
make up for his son’s rather aloof manner.
‘I’m Tasha.’ She swallowed, touching her finger to
her chest in a kooky way. ‘And I guess I’ll see you later!’
Her eyes, he no
ted, lingered for a second on his boy
and he realised how out of the loop he was on what was
considered attractive by youngsters nowadays. Maybe
Oliver with his standoffish demeanour and the slightly
greasy lick to his sticky-up fringe were what smart girls
like Tasha were interested in. That and a whole bunch of
fancy fairy lights, which were apparently ‘a thing’.
43
Amanda Prowse
‘What?’ Oliver asked. Nick was unaware he’d been
staring at his son.
‘Nothing.’
‘She’s just a friend.’ Oliver whined.
‘Is that the first time you’ve met her?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Oh, well, good that you’re planning a friendship; she
seems nice.’ He smiled.
Oliver ignored his comment and bit a small hole in
the plastic wrapping of the duvet. He shook the quilt out
vigorously over his bed and stood back. Both men stared
at the narrow strip of duvet that sat in the middle of the
double bed.
‘We got a single.’
‘I figured as much, son. Put the cover on it and no
one will notice.’
‘ I’m going to notice; it’ll be freezing!’ the boy tutted.
‘Olly, this is a centrally heated room the size of a
shoebox and it’s a rather warm September, plus you have
thick pyjamas and socks. Order another online or what-
ever, it’ll turn up in no time.’
‘We are rubbish at this, Dad.’
He watched the boy struggle to remove the duvet cover
from the packaging and two pillowcases fell on the floor.
‘I know.’
‘Anyway, you can go now. There’s no need to hang
around, you’ve got a long drive back and I’m good,’ Oliver
said brightly. It felt a lot like a dismissal.
Nick pulled his son into an awkward hug, ‘Remember,
if you’re not happy with anything or you feel homesick
or you just want to chat, call any time, or jump on a
coach or I’ll come and get you. You just need to say
the word.’
44
The Light in the Hallway
‘I’m fine, Dad.’
‘I know you’re fine now, but I’m just saying that if
at any point you’re not fine, then that’s okay, and you’re
welcome home any time. You and me against the world,
the Bairstow Boys! Just call.’
‘Are … Are you going to be okay?’
He wouldn’t forget the way Oliver looked at him
with the pinched brows of someone who was worrying
in reciprocation. Nick laughed out loud.
‘Oh yes, don’t you worry about me. I can’t wait to
have the remote control all to myself and to sit in peace
without that boom boom music that judders through the
floorboards. I’ll be right as rain. Plus, I’ve got Treacle.’
‘Bye then, Dad.’
Nick hugged him once more, tighter this time, letting
his hand press the boy’s narrow back into his chest and
hoping that he got the message where words failed him.
You’re going to be fine, Olly. I love you. I’m proud of you …
We both are. He walked away briskly, out of the room and down the stairs without looking back, cursing the thick-ening of emotion in his throat.
He pulled into the traffic jam on the M1 and wound
down the window, trying to ignore the pang of guilt that
Oliver might be less than comfortable on his first night
away from home.
‘Bloody single quilt.’ He sighed, picturing the mo-
ment the cashier in Ikea had asked for the grand total of
one hundred and sixteen pounds – one hundred and sixteen
pounds! How was that even possible when everything they had bought cost no more than a few quid? He had
bitten his lip and handed over his credit card, thinking
ahead to how he could save a few bob over the coming
months and pay it off.
45
Amanda Prowse
He hoped Oliver would make more effort with Tasha,
who seemed like a nice girl. Nick figured it must have
taken courage for her to come and introduce herself. He
knew he’d be happier once the boy had made friends.
He laughed at how similar this was to Olly’s first day at
school; only then he knew his son would be home in
time for tea and a bedtime story. He felt kindly towards
the girl, the way she had looked at Oliver…
Dating had been so much easier for him and Kerry,
who courted in a time without the pressure of social
media, when the only phone most people owned was the
one your family might have in the hallway on a little tile-
topped table inside of the front door, the use of which was
closely monitored by their parents. He couldn’t imagine
how hard it might be to appear cool and confident while
comparing yourself with the images of perfection beamed
into these youngsters’ hands at every second of every day.
Almost instinctively he ran his hand over the bulge of his
gut, which sat over the waistband of his jeans, the result
of giving up his nightly run to sit with Kerry – that and
an overreliance on the chip shop when pushed for time
and without the inclination to cook. Yes, he smiled at
the thought of how very different it had been in his day.
Kerry Forrest had for years been nothing more than
a name in the school register, one of a pack of girls who
were indistinguishable to him and who hung out in a
cloud of perfume and giggles, often to be found sitting
in a huddle on the bench in Market Square. They were
to him and his mates alien and unattainable. But then
on one particular day in the summer term, at the age
of sixteen, he walked into afternoon class, scanning the
seats looking for Alex and Eric, when he saw her sitting
alone on the other side of the classroom. Having only
46
The Light in the Hallway
been vaguely aware of her for most of his school life, it
was as if he saw her for the first time. She stood out like
something shiny in the gloom. He couldn’t take his eyes
off her and along with the quickening of his heartbeat
and a dull ache of longing in his gut, he felt the leap of
excitement in his chest. This girl, this girl! She had been under his nose for all this time and yet here she was, calling to him like something new and golden. He noticed the
bloom on her cheek and chest as she slipped from child
to woman and then, as if drawn, she looked up and he
had no choice but to swallow his fear and speak. Actually
speak to this goddess! It took every ounce of his courage.
‘All right.’ He nodded at her, keeping the smile from
his face and adding just enough of a sneer to preserve
his exploding heart should rejection or humiliation be
forthcoming.
‘All right,’ she answered quickly, before turning her
attention to the textbook in front of her. He looked back
in her direction, as she too lifted her eyes and for a second they looked at each other, this time with the beginnings
of a smile on their mouths and the crinkle of laughter
around their
eyes.
And that, as they say, had been that.
The following fourteen weekends were spent hand in
hand, often just walking and talking. They ventured up
onto Drayfield Moor, where the wind lifted their hair and
mud clung to their boots. He had picked and handed her
a sprig of purple heather, which she pressed and kept in
her little christening bible in her bedside cabinet. Another
day they followed the meandering path along the trickle
of river that bisected the town, stopping to kiss on the
narrow footbridge before sitting arm in arm with flushed
cheeks on the bench in Market Square in front of the
47
Amanda Prowse
war memorial. One memorable evening was spent at the
local travelling fair, which had docked on the outside of
town. Here they squealed on the bumper cars and gorged
on popcorn. Next came a weekend trip to Filey on the
bus, the travelling to and from with thighs touching and
fingers entwined just as glorious as walking on the sand,
and before he knew it, at the tender age of seventeen Nick
had excitedly and keenly proposed marriage to this girl
who had captured his heart.
His parents threw a party, his mum happy and his
dad quiet, as guests crammed into the small house where
relatives, his and hers, took up seats on the sofa and his
mates occupied the back garden, swigging from shared
cans of lager and taking the piss out of the boy about to
be married, while taking it in turns on the rickety swing.
When he and his bride waltzed up the aisle, a winter
wedding with snow on the ground and a roaring fire in
the pub after, Oliver had already and unexpectedly taken
up residence in her willing womb and the newly married
Mr and Mrs Bairstow were all set. Set for life, that’s what
he had thought, standing at the altar of St Michael’s and
speaking the words sincerely, til death do us part…
Nick thought about that day now and knew that he
could have never in a thousand years have imagined that
their parting would come so soon. He felt cheated. He
looked at the empty seat next to him.
‘Single bloody duvet. Only us, eh? His room seems
nice, though, cosy.’
You did great today, really great, came his wife’s imagined reply.
‘I’m going to miss him. I’m not even home yet and
I already wish I’d spent more time with him before he
went. I feel like everything has come around very quickly.’
48