The Light in the Hallway (ARC)

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The Light in the Hallway (ARC) Page 36

by Amanda Prowse

‘How’s things?’

  ‘Good.’ Oliver spoke sharply.

  ‘How’s Tasha?’

  ‘Good.’

  Nick closed his eyes, without the energy tonight to

  navigate the silent pauses that littered their conversa-

  tion like rocks in a river. Not only was he tired, but he

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  wanted to go over the business plan one more time before

  tomorrow.

  ‘I’ve been sorting some of Mum’s things.’

  ‘What things?’ Oliver fired, instantly on the attack.

  Nick exhaled. ‘All of her things really. Some of her

  clothes and bits and bobs are going to charity; she had

  rubbish in drawers and that’s going to the tip.’

  ‘Are you getting rid of everything?’ The boy swallowed.

  ‘Not everything, Olly, no. For example, I’ve wrapped

  her dressing gown and put it in a box for the loft; she’s

  had that since she had you. And her wedding dress, that’s

  going into the same box along with the blouse she wore

  when she came out of the hospital carrying you – I’ve

  got loads of photos of her in it, holding you. Her school

  report cards, her netball medal, all the cards and pictures

  you made her at nursery and school and of course all of

  our photos. They are all being packed and stored in the

  loft. And anything else I thought might be important or

  that you might want, some books and bits and pieces.’

  ‘Okay. Good.’ This time the words were offered in

  a whisper.

  ‘That’s why I’m calling really. I’m sitting here with

  her watch in my hand and I thought you might like it.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Her wedding ring and the little bits of jewellery she

  got for her twenty-first are yours too, but I’ll hang on to

  it all for you for now. But the watch … I was just think-

  ing, and it’s only a suggestion’ – he paused – ‘that you

  might like to give it to someone important in your life. I

  know your mum would like that. And I’m not suggesting

  Tasha, although that would be fine.’ Nick drew breath

  and rubbed his tired eyes, knowing he wasn’t being that

  clear. ‘I guess what I’m saying is that when you find a

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  woman who is going to be a permanent fixture in your

  life, someone you think worthy of it, then you can give

  her your mum’s watch.’ Nick cleared his throat. ‘That’s

  all I’m saying. I’ll put it in a padded envelope in your

  room, in your drawer for safekeeping.’

  ‘Thank you, Dad.’

  ‘No worries.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll let you go. I want to go

  over my business plan one more time before bed.’

  ‘Nanny Mags said you were nervous.’

  ‘Did she?’ He exhaled. ‘She’d be right, but you don’t

  know if you don’t try, eh?’

  ‘Yep. Good luck.’

  ‘Thanks, Olly. Night, night.’

  ‘Night, Dad.’

  1992

  Will Pearce stood in the garage and stared at Half Bike,

  shaking his head.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Nick sighed. ‘It’s not hard to understand, Will.’ He

  tried to explain again. ‘Me and Eric and Alex built this

  bike together, but Eric went to live with his mum a week

  ago and so we are looking for someone to take his place

  in our bike gang.’

  ‘More of a bike club than a bike gang,’ Alex clarified.

  ‘But what would I have to do?’ Will continued to stare

  at the bike with a look that suggested he was a whole lot

  less impressed with their bike than they were.

  ‘You don’t have to do anything,’ Alex explained,

  exasperated. ‘Just come out on bike rides and time who-

  ever is trying to break the record for flying down Cobb

  Lane and help polish the frame and put oil on the chain

  and the sprockets. That kind of thing. We have another

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  game called Petunia but we can show you how to play

  that later if you want.’

  ‘What’s a sprocket?’ Will asked eventually.

  Nick and Alex exchanged a look. This was hopeless.

  ‘Look,’ Nick tried again. ‘We are offering you a half

  of a half of the bike.’

  ‘A half of a half?’ Will looked even more confused,

  if that was possible.

  ‘Yes,’ Nick explained. ‘I own half the bike and Alex

  and Eric have the other half split in two, so half of a half.’

  Will laughed loudly. ‘That’s a quarter! Not half of a

  half! You mean Alex and Eric own a quarter!’

  Nick didn’t like the way the boy laughed, hated that

  there were things he was clueless about while others

  seemed to know them with such ease.

  ‘Well, you might be like maths Jesus, but you don’t

  know what a sprocket is, Marjorie!’ he yelled.

  Will looked as if he might cry before picking up his

  backpack.

  ‘I don’t think I want to ride your bike or play Petunia

  or be in your bike gang—’

  ‘It’s not a gang. It’s a club,’ Alex interrupted.

  Will shook his head. ‘Whichever. It’s not for me.

  Thanks, though.’ He opened the side door seemingly

  keen to make his escape when a familiar voice yelled

  through the door.

  ‘Did someone say Petunia?’

  ‘Eric!’

  Neither he nor Alex noticed Will sidle along the path.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Alex bounced on the spot.

  ‘Have you come to visit?’

  ‘Nope.’ Eric beamed. ‘I moved back. Yesterday!’

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  ‘You moved back?’ Nick screamed. ‘No way! He

  moved back! He’s come back!’

  All three boys jumped up and down before running

  out into the back garden and racing around the edge of

  the lawn like corks popped from a bottle, flying with

  their arms outstretched, bundles of pure energy that

  had to run until they calmed. This was the best news

  ever, ever!

  ‘Eric’s back!’ Nick yelled up to the open window,

  through which his mum popped her head out.

  ‘So he is.’ She blew him a kiss. ‘Bacon, Eric?’

  ‘And eggs, please!’ he yelled over his shoulder, as he

  tore around the lawn.

  The three boys giggled and chattered as they ate, sit-

  ting close together around the kitchen table while Eric

  filled his face and his stomach.

  ‘Why did you move back?’ Alex asked, going to work

  on a Jammie Dodger.

  Eric kept his eyes on his plate. ‘I spoke to my dad and

  he said I could go to cubs if I wanted and that he’d get

  me the uniform and everything, so I came back.’

  ‘Oh. Good.’ Nick didn’t care what the reason was;

  he was just so very happy to have his best friend back in

  the fold.

  ‘And you’ll be staying here tonight, love; your dad

  called and he’s on a late shift.’

  Nick smiled at his mum, feeling a bubble of happy

  that filled him right up.

  ‘You’re back
then? That didn’t last long,’ Jen sighed

  from the doorway.

  ‘Yes, I’m back. So you can stop missing me!’ Eric

  laughed.

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  ‘I didn’t miss you, you dweeb!’ Jen yelled angrily

  before flouncing from the room, but the slight smile on

  her mouth suggested otherwise.

  ‘What’s first?’ Eric asked. ‘We should definitely go

  up to the Rec and see what’s changed and then go to the

  Old Dairy Shed and have a poke around…’

  Nick agreed. It had been a whole week since they

  had last patrolled these places, and a lot could happen in

  a week.

  That night his mum rolled out the bed-in-a-bag and

  switched off the big light. ‘Now I know you two have a

  lot to catch up on, but you’ve got school in a few days, so

  an early night would be good, no chatting till all hours.’

  ‘Night, night, Mum.’

  ‘Night, night, darling, and night, night, Eric, and

  welcome home.’

  ‘Night,’ Eric whispered. ‘I brought the multi tool

  back.’ Eric reached out and placed it in the gap between

  their two beds.

  Nick was happier to see it than he could have said.

  He hadn’t felt half as comfortable going to sleep without

  his weapon of choice nestling close to hand just in case.

  ‘I wish this was my home,’ Eric whispered.

  ‘You can come over any time you want to; my mum

  and dad have already said that.’

  ‘Nick…’

  ‘What?’ He didn’t question why they were both sud-

  denly whispering.

  ‘I didn’t come back because of the cubs uniform,

  although I might still join cubs. My dad did say I could.’

  Nick heard him swallow.

  ‘What did you come back for then?’

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  Eric took his time responding. ‘My mum didn’t want

  me there anymore.’

  Nick stayed silent; he couldn’t think of a single thing to

  say. Couldn’t imagine his mum not wanting him near her.

  Eric drew breath. ‘It was horrible at their house. They

  haven’t got any carpet anywhere and her and Dave were

  always rowing or kissing.’

  ‘Yuck!’ Nick managed.

  ‘Yes, yuck!’ Eric agreed. ‘And I wasn’t allowed in the

  lounge because Dave couldn’t be disturbed when he was

  watching telly, and so I just sat in the bedroom, and if

  I came downstairs he shouted at me or she did and so I

  went back upstairs, but there was nothing to do and no

  Sega. And then yesterday she came up to my bedroom

  and she was smiling and I thought maybe she was going

  to start being nice to me and I was quite happy, but then

  she said that it hadn’t worked out and it was probably best

  if I came back here to stay with my dad.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I didn’t say anything. I just got up off the bed, opened

  up my bag and started to put my clothes in it.’

  ‘I bet your dad’s happy to have you home.’

  ‘He is – we went up to the chippy last night and I had

  two large battered sausages.’

  ‘Nice.’ Nick pictured the bubbly batter-covered feast.

  ‘I think my mum is a fucking cow!’

  Nick was shocked. This wasn’t language they used

  or heard, although he suspected Eric might have picked

  it up from Dave or his mum. Even hearing it made his

  tummy flip.

  ‘I don’t think you can say that about your mum,’ he

  whispered.

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  ‘She is, though! She only cares about Dave and the

  stupid new baby. I don’t even care, though – you were

  right, Derby is rubbish! And they can forget it if they

  think I will ever go back, even if they actually get me

  that Sega.’

  Nick thought it unlikely that they would get him that

  Sega, thinking that if they had meant it they probably

  would have had it waiting for him when he arrived, but

  he didn’t say it out loud.

  ‘We should take Half Bike apart tomorrow and give

  it a really good clean, oil it up and check the chain and

  the like.’ Eric yawned.

  ‘Yes, definitely.’

  It was Nick’s turn to yawn and the conversation slowed

  as fatigue set in.

  ‘I meant what I said, Nick. I wish this was my home

  and I think I know a way I can be part of your family.’

  Nick felt his stomach roll – not the blood brothers thing

  again. Even the thought made his mouth fill with water.

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’m going to marry your sister and then you’ll be my

  brother-in-law and we will be proper family, for always.’

  Nick considered this. ‘But my sister is horrible, plus

  she thinks you’re a total dweeb.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s horrible; I think she’s brilliant. And

  I know she says it, but I don’t believe she really thinks

  I’m a total dweeb.’

  328

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Nick parked outside Beverly’s house and closed his eyes;

  he took a deep breath, trying to keep his nerves at bay.

  He picked up the file from the front seat with a copy of

  the business case nestling inside.

  Beverly must have been looking out of the window

  waiting, as she appeared on the pavement in her work suit

  and with her hair set. She looked professional and smart;

  her appearance gave him a flash of confidence.

  ‘Wow!’ She pulled her head back on her shoulders.

  ‘Well, look at you, mister! You scrub up well.’

  He blushed; this was the first time she had seen him

  in a suit. The suit bought for his dad’s funeral and also

  worn to his wife’s and now, hopefully on the day he

  would impress the bank manager.

  ‘All set?’ she asked as if they were about to head off

  on a day trip and not to the bank around the corner in

  Market Square where someone else, no doubt more used to

  wearing a suit than he was, held his future in their hands.

  ‘Yep. I’ve gone over the numbers and practised the

  pitch.’ They walked slowly forward.

  ‘Good.’ She took his hand and squeezed it. ‘Don’t

  look so glum; this just might be a day we look back and

  remember as the day our lives changed.’

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  ‘Yes.’ He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. ‘I’m

  not glum, just nervous.’ He breathed out sharply. ‘Are we

  mad even trying? Maybe it’d be easier to just…’

  ‘What, Nick? To not try? Should we fear rejection so

  badly that we don’t even try? Is that what you’re suggesting?’ Her brows knitted. She meant business.

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s just that…’

  ‘What?’ She spoke quickly, whether irritated by his

  suggestion or aware of the march of time he wasn’t sure.

  ‘It’s just that this is the first time I’ve ever done any-

  thing like this.’ He bit his lip, wishing he could talk to

  his dad, knowing that he was always full of good
advice,

  steering him right. A memory filled his mind, clear and

  detailed: the summer of 1992 – when he had first seen

  Half Bike, knowing what he wanted but not sure how

  to go about achieving it.

  You will never know what you are capable of until you try, lad. The trying is good for you and the rewards great if you take the chance. But mark my words, you will succeed. If you want it badly enough…

  Nick felt his face break into a smile.

  ‘Right. Let’s do it.’ He quickened his pace, march-

  ing her along the cobbles and turning right into Market

  Square. He spied a group of lads on the bench and smiled

  in their direction; today, in this suit, with the business

  plan under his arm, he felt like the kind of man who

  could ask them to shift if he wanted to. He felt like a

  bloody footballer!

  He and Beverly sat on the padded green chairs outside

  of the little office to the side of the main open-plan foyer

  and waited. A young woman walked past with a silk scarf

  in the bank’s colours tied in a jaunty bow at her neck.

  ‘Shouldn’t be too long now.’ She smiled.

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  ‘No worries.’ Nick raised his hand. ‘We have an ap-

  pointment with Mr Williams, the bank manager.’ He

  rattled the file in her direction, feeling so out of place he tried to justify his presence.

  ‘Oh.’ The woman pushed her glasses up on to her nose.

  ‘You’re not seeing Mr Williams today – it’s our finance man-

  ager you’re seeing. He handles all new business enquiries.’

  ‘Thanks, Joanne, we are happy to wait.’ Beverly winked

  at her.

  ‘No worries, Bev.’ Joanne gave a sweet smile and

  walked off.

  ‘Joanne?’ Nick turned to Beverly.

  ‘Kath Watson’s granddaughter.’

  ‘Poor thing,’ he whispered out of the side of his mouth.

  ‘Do you think Kath cooks at home too?’

  The two giggled as the office door opened. And there

  stood the rather portly finance manager in a grey suit and

  with his hair swept to one side in a severe parting.

  ‘You have got to be kidding me!’ Nick stepped forward

  and shook hands with the finance manager, none other

  than Will ‘Piss Pants’ Pearce.

  ‘Now then, Nick. Long time no see.’

  ‘Yes, long time, Will.’

  ‘I guessed there couldn’t be more than one Nick

  Bairstow in the area. I’ve been working in York, but I’m

  back here now. Come in.’ Will pointed at two chairs in

  front of the narrow desk. Nick saw a copy of their business

 

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