The Light in the Hallway (ARC)

by Amanda Prowse

  but I know what you mean.’ She smiled at him and let

  herself out.

  Nick closed the door and slumped down on the bot-

  tom stair with his heart hammering. ‘Jesus!’ He ran his

  hands over his face and felt the pull of fatigue, unsure of

  what had just happened, but conscious of a tiny shift in

  his world, the smallest ripple that was frightening but at

  the same time just the teeniest bit exciting. Friday, three

  days away, a day that now loomed in his mind. He felt

  the flutter of nerves.

  He trod the stairs and whistled for Treacle, who ran

  up ahead and curled on the bottom of the duvet, where

  she now illegally slept.

  He decided to call Oliver before he went to sleep,

  partly to rid himself of the thinly veiled guilt he felt at

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  the fact that Beverly had spent an hour or so sitting in

  his mum’s chair, but also because he missed the boy, pure

  and simple.

  ‘Are you all right, Dad?’ his son answered the call,

  his concern touching.

  ‘Fine, son. Just thought I’d phone and say night, night.’

  Nick winced. The phrase sounded childish; he was now

  addressing his eighteen-year-old boy, a man to all intents

  and purposes.

  ‘You off to bed?’ Oliver laughed. ‘It’s early!’

  Nick glanced at the bedside clock. It was nearly half

  past ten. ‘I suppose it is for you, but for me it’s plenty late enough.’

  ‘I’m just about to start getting ready; I’m going out.’

  ‘You’re going out?’ Nick tried to hide the surprise in

  his voice.

  ‘Yes. Going to collect a few mates from their halls

  and then we’re going to a club but we won’t get there

  till one at least.’

  ‘I don’t know, Olly. It’s another world. Even when I

  was your age a late night meant staying out till last orders.

  If I went to a club I’d be asleep in the corner.’

  ‘Then we’d probably shave your eyebrows or at the

  very least pin a note on you saying, “free to a good home”.’

  Nick laughed at the idea of this fun. It was a stark

  reminder of how he had gone from riding his bike and

  hanging out with Eric and Alex to pushing a pram and

  searching for extra shifts. ‘How’s your reading list com-

  ing along?’

  ‘Not bad.’ He heard his son shift. ‘Sorry, Dad, Tasha’s

  lying on my arm and it’s gone to sleep – hang on a minute.’

  Nick listened with a bloom of embarrassment at the

  unmistakable sound of the duvet ruffling and the click

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  and knock of someone in bed changing their position.

  Suddenly the call felt like an intrusion and he looked at

  the empty pillow next to him. He felt the weight of ex-

  pectation when he thought about Friday night and what

  might happen between him and Beverly. Not that he

  wanted to make assumptions, but it was a simple fact that

  he had only ever slept with Kerry, and hadn’t done that

  for the best part of a year. When his world and routine

  coasted on chaos and worry had been his master, sex was

  the very last thing that had been on his mind.

  ‘I spoke to Gran and Nanny, called them both and

  had the exact same conversation twice.’

  Nick smiled, glad his boy had had the forethought to

  do this, one small act that he knew made both women

  so happy, and had the added bonus of keeping Diane off

  his back.

  ‘They both wanted to know what I was eating and

  whether I was warm enough, and Nanny said I should

  get a flu jab just in case and Gran said not to walk home

  alone after a night out.’

  ‘All good advice.’ He laughed, happy that seemingly

  neither conversation had contained anything that might

  unnerve Oliver; after all, they were still, after New Year’s

  Eve, building bridges.

  ‘Have you been up to anything, Dad?’ Oliver asked

  casually.

  ‘No, not really, work, the usual.’ He closed his eyes

  and he remembered Beverly’s words of earlier: We need

  to be able to talk about the stuff that is awkward, or embarrasses us, because that’s often the important stuff … He drew breath, thinking of how he should begin to introduce the

  topic of Beverly and the fact that they were becoming

  friends. In truth, not only did he feel too weary to have

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  the conversation, but he didn’t want to burst the bubble

  of ease with which they now chatted.

  ‘So how’s Treacle?’ Oliver said, removing the moment

  and changing the course of Nick’s thoughts.

  ‘She’s great, snoring like a good ’un!’

  Oliver laughed. ‘You’re letting her sleep on the bed,

  aren’t you!’

  ‘What me? No never.’ he lied.

  ‘Dad, I’d better…’

  ‘Yes, of course you go and get ready. Speak soon, Olly.

  And say hello to Tasha for me.’

  ‘Will do. Night, night, Dad.’

  His son’s parting words brought a lump to Nick’s

  throat. This six-foot man with his girlfriend and his

  reading list, living at his fancy university and about to

  hit the town, a man finding his place in the world, and

  yet with these words Nick understood that he was still

  his little boy.

  You and me against the world – The Bairstow Boys…

  Always.

  1992

  ‘Morning! Do you want something to eat, love? I’ve got

  bacon? Eggs? Cocoa Pops?’ his mum asked Eric as he came

  in through the back door and into the kitchen.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘No, thank you?’ his mum yelled. She rushed over

  and placed her hand on his forehead. ‘Where’s Eric and

  what have you done with him?’

  ‘I don’t feel like breakfast today.’ The tremble to his

  bottom lip was unmistakable.

  ‘Oh, lovey, are you feeling a bit sad?’ Nick watched

  as his mum bent down and placed her arm across Eric’s

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  narrow back. ‘It’s understandable; you’ve got a lot going

  on.’ She smiled at him. ‘Don’t worry about breakfast, but

  you tell me when you’re peckish and I’ll rustle you up

  something nice, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ Eric managed.

  ‘Why don’t you two go off to the garage?’ His mum

  winked at Nick, and he got the hint, knowing that Eric

  would probably talk more freely when it was just the two

  of them. ‘I’ll send Alex your way when he rocks up.’

  Nick abandoned his egg on toast and followed his

  friend into the garage. Half Bike gleamed in the corner;

  they hadn’t ridden it yesterday what with the weather

  being so grim.

  Eric began to cry. A big cry where his nose ran and

  he didn’t bother wiping his face.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Nick felt a little embarrassed on his

  friend’s behalf and wasn’t sure of what to do or say next.

  He sat on one of the fishing stools and
Eric followed suit.

  ‘Nothing!’ he barked through his tears.

  ‘You always say that. But it has to be something or you

  wouldn’t be crying,’ he offered softly and without judg-

  ment, and waited as the moments ticked by, the silence

  broken only by his friend’s sniffing. It felt like an age.

  ‘It’s my mum…’ Eric started.

  ‘She’s not coming to get you straightaway, is she?’ This

  was the worst thing Nick could envisage, as he clung on

  to their final two weeks together, trying not to think

  about the day they had to say goodbye.

  Eric shook his head. ‘No. But my dad told me last

  night that she’s … she’s having a baby … That’s why she

  left with Dave and that’s why my dad is so mad.’

  Nick wrinkled his nose and looked up. He wasn’t sure

  about the mechanics of it all, but knew for certain you had

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  to be married to have a baby and Eric’s mum was mar-

  ried, so he couldn’t really see why it was such a shocker.

  He also knew that babies could be a pain, a noisy pain,

  and wondered if it might not be a good thing that Eric’s

  dad didn’t have to live with the baby who was going to

  grow up in Derby.

  ‘It might be nice having a baby brother, a sister not

  so much.’ He pictured Jen with her superior nature, who

  usually only said mean things to him and his friends. A

  brother, he decided, was a better option.

  ‘But I don’t, I don’t want her to have a baby!’ Eric

  hiccupped.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because…’

  ‘Because what?’ Nick asked gently.

  ‘Because I don’t want her to love anyone but me.’

  Eric’s voice was small.

  Nick stared at his friend, genuinely at a loss for words.

  Love wasn’t a word they used readily. They sat awkwardly

  in silence bar Eric’s snivelling. Eventually Nick thought

  of a good distraction.

  ‘Do you want to play Petunia, but on the grass, as my

  mum’s collapsed the pool?’

  ‘Sure.’ Eric wiped his eyes with the back of his hand,

  stopped crying and the boys made their way to the brown

  circle of grass where they lay, as if still in the pool, and

  threw the ball high in the air. By the time Alex arrived

  the weather had again taken a turn for the worse. It was

  a grey, windy day and one they were resolved to spend

  in the garage. His mum kept them fed with a ready sup-

  ply of cheese and ham sandwiches and packets of Jammie

  Dodgers, while the boys took Half Bike to bits and cleaned

  it thoroughly.

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  ‘I think when I grow up, I might like to work in the

  bike shop,’ Eric announced, using the oil can to grease

  the brakes.

  ‘The bike shop in Burston?’ Alex checked.

  ‘Yes. I won’t stay in Derby forever, will I, Vera? I’ll

  stay there until I’m old enough to work and then I’ll come

  back and buy one of the big houses by the Rec and get

  a job in the bike shop. Then I could do this every day.’

  ‘I could work there too,’ Alex suggested. ‘Then we

  could muck about every day!’

  Eric laughed at the prospect. ‘Or if I don’t work in the

  bike shop, I might be an inventor and invent a machine

  that kills milkmen.’

  Nick and Alex pulled faces at each other.

  ‘Well, if I don’t work in the bike shop, I might be a

  professional footballer and play for Man U,’ Alex said.

  ‘But you’re a rubbish footballer,’ Nick pointed out.

  ‘You aren’t even on the school team!’

  ‘I know I’m rubbish now,’ Alex conceded, ‘but if I play for Man U then I can train and get good – my dad says

  they are, like, the best in the whole wide world, and then

  imagine, we would be able to sit on the bench in Market

  Square whenever we wanted! No one would throw a Man

  U player off the bench, would they?’

  ‘No, they wouldn’t,’ Nick agreed. It sounded like a

  plan.

  ‘What about you, Nick?’ Eric asked.

  ‘I still think I want to go to university.’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s right you’re going to learn ballet aren’t

  you, Mavis?’

  He and Alex laughed loudly.

  Nick was about to respond when his dad came into

  the garage.

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  ‘Right then, lads.’ His dad clapped his hands together

  and winked at Eric. Nick guessed his mum had filled him

  in on the crying. ‘I know that Eric leaving Burston is

  going to be a bit of a blow to you all and isn’t something

  any of you could probably have imagined.’

  Nick shook his head. It sure wasn’t.

  ‘So I’ve spoken to your dads and we have a bit of a

  surprise for you all.’

  Eric looked up from his tinkering and Alex paused,

  mid Jammie Dodger.

  ‘We are going to let you go camping up near Drayfield

  Moor, just for one night.’

  ‘Yes!’ Nick screamed, jumping up and down.

  ‘Brilliant!’ Alex beamed, wiggling with excitement.

  ‘We haven’t got a tent,’ Eric pointed out.

  ‘Ah, don’t you worry about that. By the time we

  drop you up there you’ll have a tent, sleeping bags and a

  cooking stove. You’ll have to fend for yourselves, mind,

  for one whole night, and then one of us will collect you

  the next morning.’

  ‘What will we cook?’ Eric asked.

  Nick laughed; he might have guessed that grub was

  at the forefront of his mate’s mind.

  ‘I don’t know, lad, whatever the missus has knocking

  about the fridge, I suppose, sausages and the like.’

  Eric beamed, placated.

  ‘Is it true?’ Jen yelled as she marched into the garage.

  ‘Is what true, pet?’ his dad asked.

  ‘That you’re letting this lot go camping by themselves

  and I’m not even allowed to have a sleepover with Scarlett

  and Georgia?’ Her brows knit in an expression of mild fury.

  ‘It’s different.’ Nick’s dad smiled, as if he hoped this

  might be enough to calm her.

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  ‘Different how?’ Jen pushed. ‘Different why? Because

  they’re boys? Because that’s just not fair! Girls can do

  anything boys can, anything! And me and my mates

  want to go camping! I’ve always wanted to go camping!’

  ‘Well…’ His dad swallowed. ‘You’re right, girls can

  do anything boys can do and I will seriously think about

  you girls all going camping when the boys come home.’

  ‘But I don’t want you to think about it, Dad! I want

  you to say we can go for definite! Otherwise it’s not fair!’

  Jen ranted.

  ‘I’m not sure girls can do everything that boys can,’

  Eric said calmly and all eyes turned to him. Nick wasn’t

  sure whether speaking up like this in the wake of Jen’s

  rage made him brave or stupid.

  ‘Yeah?’ She jabbed her finger towards him.
‘Name me

  one thing that you can do that I can’t.’ Jen stood to her

  full height and crossed her arms over her chest.

  ‘Pee standing up.’ Eric answered, and as Nick, Alex

  and his dad began to chuckle, Jen turned on her heel and

  shouted as she went.

  ‘God, I hate you dweebs! You’re idiots! All of you!’

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  CHAPTER NINE

  Nick changed the bed linen and opened the bedroom

  window. He closed the wardrobe doors and scooted

  down the stairs before tidying the kitchen and hoover-

  ing again. He laid out clean pants, jeans and his new

  shirt, all ironed, and placed the bottle of deodorant/body

  spray that Oliver had rejected and gifted to him, think-

  ing a little spritz might not do any harm. He checked

  the bottle of white wine that was already chilled in the

  fridge and eyed the big bag of crisps he had bought to put

  in a bowl on the coffee table. He dropped Treacle at his

  mum’s on the way to work; she was only too pleased to

  have the pooch overnight. Nick felt the smallest smidge

  of guilt at how vague he was about the reasons why. He

  figured that with Beverly popping over, it would be less

  than ideal if he had to take Treacle out for a shit halfway

  through the evening. It was Friday and as Nick drove

  into the Siddley’s car park he noticed he wasn’t the only

  one with a spring in his step.

  ‘I got it!’ Eric yelled at him across the bumpy tarmac

  as he parked his bike.

  ‘Got what?’ Nick locked the car and put his sandwich

  box under his arm, catching up with his mate.

  ‘My visa! That’s it, buddy! That’s what I’ve been wait-

  ing for. I’m off to Oz!’

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  Nick didn’t know what to say. He was pleased to see

  Eric so chuffed, but at the same time this made it seem very

  real. Up until that point the idea of his best mate going

  to Australia had seemed like a threat rather than a plan.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yes, wow!’ Eric bounced on the spot like the excited

  kid he was a mere blink ago.

  ‘That was quick.’

  ‘Not really, four weeks, and who cares – now I have

  it! I can see it now, me on Bondi Beach in the bloody

  sunshine while you lot are picking and packing lights. I

  shall think of you, Nicky boy, as I put another steak on

  the barbie and reach for a chilled beer.’ He clapped his

  hands in anticipation.

  ‘When do you think you’ll go?’