The Light in the Hallway (ARC)

by Amanda Prowse

  plan spread out on the desk; the corners were thumbed

  and it was scattered out of sequence.

  ‘I’ve had a good look at your business plan.’

  And that was it, without any of the preamble he had

  expected or time to panic; before Will had even sat down,

  they were straight into it.

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  ‘And what did you think?’ Nick took a seat and

  didn’t know whether this was an appropriate question

  or not.

  ‘I think it’s sound.’ Will pinched the bottom of his nose.

  Nick felt joy lick up his throat like flames of happi-

  ness. It was all he could do not to whoop and jump up.

  Will sat down and smoothed his tie down towards his

  waistband. ‘That doesn’t mean this is a done deal, not by

  any stretch,’ he said with a brief shake of the head, ‘but

  it’s certainly interesting.’

  ‘Right.’ Beverly nodded.

  ‘You’ve never run a business before, Nick. Do you

  think you’ll manage?’ Will asked, his expression neutral.

  Nick wasn’t sure how to respond, having expected

  the questioning to be about the costs, profit, losses, that

  kind of thing.

  ‘I haven’t, that’s true, and I don’t think I could run

  any business, but I’m confident I can run this one. It’s all I’ve ever known and I’ve worked in every department.

  Plus, I will have experts working alongside me, people

  like Beverly’ – he nodded at her – ‘Dennis Knowles, Roy

  Maynard, David McCardle and others, they all know what

  they are doing and I would employ anyone in that place

  in a heartbeat. So I won’t be doing it alone, although the

  buck will stop with me, of course.’

  ‘And you’re confident you can get the stock and the

  equipment for the figures stated?’ Will ran his eye over

  the columns of numbers and tapped at the bottom of one

  page with his index finger.

  ‘Well…’ Beverly sat forward in the chair. ‘We are

  confident in our costs, but we have yet to have the okay

  from the Siddleys.’

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  ‘I see.’ Will let his eyes linger on her, as if making a

  judgment call. ‘And the premises?’

  ‘Again’ – Nick swallowed – ‘we are yet to secure a

  premises, but we have a few ideas.’

  ‘Such as?’ Will pushed.

  ‘One of the out-of-town business parks near

  Northallerton or Thirsk, or there’s the chance of secur-

  ing something closer to Burston, like an old farm build-

  ing. We are in talks with the land agent over the road.’

  Nick pointed to the window and over the road to where

  their old school friend had set up shop, Ryan Peters, who

  specialised in farm and commercial property.

  ‘Do either have you any assets or anything you could

  put up as security against the loan you’re after?’

  ‘Like?’ Beverly again sat forward in her chair.

  ‘Like a house.’ Will spoke bluntly.

  ‘I have a house.’ Nick nodded, looking at the green

  carpet and wondering if what he was doing was wise,

  messing with Oliver’s future inheritance.

  ‘I have a house too.’ Beverly added, and Nick smiled

  at her.

  Will nodded. ‘Just so you know, I either reject or make

  recommendations for loan applications like this based on a

  number of criteria and then my report goes higher up the

  chain for final signoff. I know the bank would look a lot

  more favourably on the investment if you put a house or

  houses against it. Anything that lowers the risk for them

  makes the whole thing more attractive, obviously. They

  just want to know that the investment is a sound one and

  that they are not going to lose their money.’

  ‘So…’ Nick was having a little trouble keeping up.

  ‘Where are we here, Will?’

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  ‘Where we are is that I think I can pull an offer to-

  gether for you, but only once you have the final figure in

  agreement from the Siddleys, a premises identified with

  an idea of cost and have some kind of asset against which

  we can offset the loan.’

  Beverly looked at him. ‘So we still have a bit of work

  to do.’

  ‘We do.’ Nick understood, and whilst his earlier en-

  thusiasm was a little quashed, Will ‘Piss Pants’ Pearce had

  not said no. ‘We’ll get the information and the agreements

  together and come back and see you.’

  ‘Yes, do that.’ Will stood to indicate their meeting

  was at an end.

  ‘I feel like we can do it, Will, I feel that we can satis-

  fy the bank and make the business work – in fact I’m

  confident of it. And that means jobs for Burston people,

  about half of our school year, in fact.’

  Will nodded and shook Nick’s hand. ‘Well, all that

  leaves is the loan, and I can help you there. I’m pretty

  good with numbers.’

  ‘Like that blonde girl on Countdown, Rachel

  what’sername?’

  ‘Yep.’ Will smiled at him. ‘Or like maths Jesus.’

  ‘Oh! Will, I. . .’ Nick felt his face flush.

  ‘Don’t say another word, Bairstow.’ Will stared him

  down. ‘Not another bloody word!’

  * * *

  Nick sat next to Beverly on her sofa and pulled the tie

  from under his collar. ‘I don’t know whether to feel elated

  or deflated.’

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  ‘I choose elated!’ She bounced. ‘He could have said

  no and we’d have fallen at the first hurdle, but we didn’t –

  he said our business plan was sound and that he’d make

  an offer; all we need is to do what he said. We need to

  talk to the Siddleys.’

  ‘And put one of our homes up as a guarantee.’

  ‘I would be happy to put mine up. Nothing ventured

  nothing gained, and I know we can make this work.’

  ‘I’d do the same.’ He held her hand. ‘I think it’s time

  I put my money where my mouth is.’

  The phone rang in his pocket.

  ‘Now then, Eric?’

  Beverly rolled her eyes affectionately. Eric might not

  be sticking around to be part of this adventure, but he

  was still as keen as mustard for his friend to succeed.

  Eric cut to the chase. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘It went okay. We still have some work to do, but if

  we can pull it off it seems like the bank can help us.’

  ‘That’s fantastic!’

  ‘Yep, and you won’t believe who the bloody finance

  manager was.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Will Pearce!’

  ‘You are kidding me!’ Eric laughed.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Did he have a plastic bag on his seat?’

  ‘Eric, don’t! This man might have the veto on whether

  I get to be my own boss or not. I can’t be biting my lip

  every time I see him in case I call him “Piss Pants!”’

  ‘“Piss Pants!”’ Eric echoed, and the two laughed like

  kids. ‘Anyway,�
�� he said finally, ‘I’ve decided to have a little leaving party. That’s also why I’m calling.’

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  ‘Oh, right, where and when?’

  ‘Two weeks Saturday at your house.’

  Nick sat forward. ‘My house?’

  ‘Yes, nothing too rowdy, just a handful of us and a crate of

  beer. Thought we’d get chips in after we’ve been to the pub.’

  Nick smiled at Beverly, who was able to hear the

  conversation. ‘Sounds like I don’t have any choice.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll clear up any mess and pay for any

  damage.’

  ‘Damage?’ Far from reassured, Nick felt his pulse race.

  ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Shirley. It’ll be

  grand. Got to go!’ Eric ended the call.

  ‘Sounds like you’re having a party then?’ Beverly

  sighed and lay back on the sofa.

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘You should ask Oliver.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ He was happy and anxious in equal

  measure that she bought his boy into the equation.

  ‘I do. It might be a good atmosphere for me to build

  a bit of a bridge, and he needs to say goodbye to Eric;

  he’s like family to him, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, he is.’ Nick’s friend’s leaving might be an-

  other blow for his son, who like him, might feel like that

  safety net he spoke about was dwindling. He also thought

  of Jen and wondered when she was planning on talking

  to his best friend.

  ‘I’ll call him later; he’ll want to know about the bank

  meeting anyway. Plus, I need to get back and let Treacle out.’

  ‘I think we did really good today.’ She rested her head

  on his chest and he ran his fingers through her hair; it

  felt nice, comfortable. He pictured the cold, dark hallway

  that awaited him and for the first time Nick wished he

  didn’t have to go home…

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  * * *

  Treacle barked to be let back in. Nick opened the door,

  watching her tootle past to her spot on the sofa as he

  tapped in Oliver’s number.

  ‘Hi, Dad.’

  ‘Hi, Olly, thought I’d call and let you know how we

  got on today.’ He crinkled his eyes, ridiculously aware of

  how the word ‘we’ might be antagonising and wanting

  nothing less right now than to reignite the simmering

  debate over him and Beverly.

  ‘So how did it go?’

  Nick exhaled; seemingly he had got away with it. He

  looked skyward at the utter ridiculousness of it all.

  ‘It went well! Surprisingly, I knew the man at the

  bank, which I’m not sure if that’s a positive or a negative.

  Anyhow, there’s a bit more work to do, but they didn’t

  throw me out laughing, which is what I dreamt the night

  before last, so yes, good, I think.’

  ‘Of course you knew the bank man; it’s Burston! You

  know everybody.’

  ‘True. How’s Tasha?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Just all right?’ He noted the absence of the enthusi-

  astic note that usually underpinned any mention of her.

  ‘Yeah, I dunno.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Nick leant against the sink.

  He heard Oliver sigh.

  ‘It’s just … How do you know if you’ve picked the

  right person? I mean how did you know that Mum was

  the one you wanted to marry, be with, live with…’

  He considered his response. ‘I suppose the correct

  answer is that you don’t know. Apart from that feeling, 337

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  that crackle of intuition that tells you this seems like the

  right thing to do. But there is no guarantee, no hard and

  fast rule. It’s more about a leap of faith. Nanny Mags was

  saying the other day it’s about being brave, trusting that

  little voice of instinct. And I guess in my case, believing

  that no matter what anyone else thought or said, I had

  made the right decision. And it was right. Not always perfect.’ He pictured the wrapped shop-bought items,

  lying untouched in the bottom of Kerry’s wardrobe. The

  attached tags showing amounts that added up to sleepless

  nights, her actions, which placed a small pebble in the shoe

  of their relationship and then her terrible diagnosis and

  the almost inconceivable thought that as she got sick, they

  as a couple healed. ‘But without doubt the right person.

  The right choice.’ He smiled at this truth and looked over

  towards the stove where he saw the back of her, pre-illness,

  tucking her hair behind her ears, her apron tied behind

  her back…

  ‘I suppose because she was having me too, that must

  have made it hard to walk away.’

  ‘I never wanted to walk away. Never. I was shocked

  certainly to find out I was going to be a dad – don’t think

  I’d long understood the whole mechanics of making babies

  and there I was, having one of my own.’

  ‘Too much information, Dad.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He laughed. ‘It’s true, though: we faced our

  challenges – everyone does, but I loved your mum and

  having you was just the best bonus. It changed me. I re-

  alised that it wasn’t only about what I wanted or needed;

  it was all about what was right for you. It is still the most remarkable moment of my life – when they handed me

  you, all wrapped up, tiny and with a squashed red face

  like a little tomato. I knew I had to be a better person. I

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  knew that you deserved the best life and I’ve tried, Olly,

  always.’

  ‘Yep.’ There was a beat of silence while they both

  mulled over these heartfelt words. ‘I’ve been thinking

  about what you said about Mum’s watch.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘I wouldn’t give it to Tasha. I mean, I know you and

  Mum were even younger than I am now, but I feel too

  young to know if it’s a long-term thing.’

  ‘Well, I would say that’s the voice of instinct I’m talk-

  ing about, and it’s good you’re listening to it.’

  ‘I guess, and I think you’re right – it should go to

  someone important, a permanent fixture in my life. And

  so I’m going to hang on to it for now.’

  ‘I think that’s wise. How’s your course going?’

  ‘Not bad. I’ve handed my assignment in and I’ve got

  another one due about business accounting.’

  ‘I could have done with you today in my meeting.’

  ‘Did Beverly go with you?’

  This was a win; Oliver had in the past avoided using

  her name at all costs, referring to her as ‘that woman’ or

  ‘she’ – Nick smiled, it felt like a breakthrough.

  ‘Yes, in fact she suggested you come to Eric’s farewell

  party in a couple of weeks. He wants a small gathering

  just close friends and a cold beer to send him on his way

  properly to Australia.’

  ‘It’s going to be weird. I can’t imagine Eric not being

  around.’

  ‘Me either, son, me either.’

  ‘Night then, Da
d.’

  ‘Night, son.’

  * * *

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  He could tell Beverly was nervous, more so than she

  had been in the meeting with the bank. She crossed and

  uncrossed her legs and coughed several times, sitting up

  and then slouching back, as if unable to get comfortable

  in the chair. Her hands fidgeted in her lap. It was odd to

  be sitting in front of Julian Siddley for the purpose of ask-

  ing if they could, in effect, take over his family company.

  ‘So…’ Julian paused and tilted back in his chair. ‘To

  clarify, you’re asking if we would sell you the current

  stock, the machinery, transport and our order book? And

  the figures are all here?’ He tapped the proposal on the

  desk in front of him.

  ‘Yes.’ Nick saw no point in beating about the bush;

  with things moving quickly, time was of the essence.

  Julian twisted his jaw and picked up his fountain pen,

  tapping it on the desk.

  ‘I would need to talk it through with my father, of

  course, and I’ve no idea what his reaction will be. I do

  know one thing, though: I don’t think I’d be happy with

  any future company, yours or anyone else’s, using the

  Siddley name. That would be out of the question without

  a Siddley at the helm.’

  ‘Agreed.’ Nick again nodded. ‘So you’ll let us know?’

  ‘I will, sooner rather than later.’ Julian stood and the

  two shook hands and Nick liked the way it felt, like equals.

  ‘I can’t decide if you two are brave or nuts,’ Julian

  said affectionately.

  Beverly smiled at her boss as they left his office. ‘Bit

  of both, I think.’

  1992

  Nick lay back against the pillows and watched his dad

  close the curtains, shutting out the darkening sky on this

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  early September night. It was funny how at the begin-

  ning of the summer holidays the weeks had stretched

  out ahead of him like an eternity, but now on the night

  before school it felt as if they had passed in a blink. His

  mum had washed and pressed his uniform, which hung

  on the back of the wardrobe door.

  Jen was singing in the bath, much to his annoyance.

  Her flat sound floated under the bathroom door and right

  into his room.

  His dad sat down at the foot of his bed. ‘You don’t

  have to worry, you know.’