He found her directness refreshing and mature, despite
her rather awkward, childlike stance.
‘I think the stock phrase is: I’m doing as well as can
be expected.’
She nodded. ‘My dad died when I was five. Olly and I
have talked about it a lot. My dad was like way, way older
than my mum, but it was still rubbish. I didn’t think he
died; I thought he had become a Teletubby and lived in
the Teletubby house and that was why he couldn’t come
home. And when it came on television I used to sit with
my nose pressed to the screen and my mum thought I
loved the show; she used to buy me the character teddies
and I even had curtains with them on.’ She giggled. ‘But
it wasn’t that – I was looking for little clues that it was my dad inside the costumes. I couldn’t decide which one he
was, but I think I settled on Dipsy.’
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Nick stared at her and felt his mouth move as if form-
ing a response, but the words failed him.
Oliver laughed heartily. ‘She comes out with things
like that all the time.’ He spoke as if the girl wasn’t standing in front of him, but his tone was one of affection, and
in that instant Nick felt like a gooseberry.
‘Look, I’d better push off. It’s a long drive home.’ He
smiled at the girl. ‘Nice to see you again, Tasha.’
‘Sames.’ She nodded and it took him a second to inter-
pret her answer. ‘We have to get ready anyway; we have a
fresher’s event tonight in the bar and we need costumes.
I’m thinking we should go as cavemen and just scruff up
our hair and put on sacks or something and get bones as
accessories from the big bin at the back of the canteen.’
‘Is that right?’ Nick eyed his son who usually shied
away from dressing up, ‘I thought you had a load of books
to read; hadn’t you better make a start?’
‘The thing is, Dad, one night is not going to make
any difference. I need to not get in a flap about it, put it
in perspective, and tonight I think beer is more import-
ant than reading.’
Nick smiled at his boy and fished in his pocket for his
car keys before making his way down the stairs and out
into the cold afternoon air. He smiled up at the window
as Oliver waved goodbye from his room with Tasha by
his side.
He was tired when he got home. Without the fear
and adrenaline that fanned his journey there, the drive
seemed to take twice as long. And the fact that he was
sustained by no more than a cup of tea and three ginger-
snap biscuits didn’t help.
It had been a long and emotionally draining series of
events and the evening had truly pulled its blind on the
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day. He pulled the car up onto the drive in darkness and
pictured climbing the stairs with the usual dilemma. He
longed to fall onto the soft mattress and plant his face in
the pillow, but at the same time felt the stab of loneliness
when he considered her empty side of the bed. The house
was eerily quiet and he flicked on the kitchen light before
filling the kettle and looking at the dirty dishes from
yesterday, and possibly the day before that, still stacked
in the sink. He’d do them tomorrow.
The front doorbell ringing took him by surprise. He
opened it to find Diane, his sister-in-law, standing on the
step with Treacle. He painted on a smile.
‘Di! Hello, Treacle.’ He unclipped her collar and
watched her run inside.
‘I bumped into Eric earlier, who was out over The
Rec with her.’ She pointed at the dog. ‘He said you’d had
to go and see Olly? What was that all about? Is he okay?’
He looked away from the crease of concern that sat at
the top of her nose; the same one Kerry too had inherit-
ed from their mum. Tonight any resemblance was more
than he could stand.
‘Come in, Di.’
She followed him into the kitchen and he had to
remind himself to be welcoming and pleasant, wanting
nothing less than visitors at this time of night when his
mood was a little low. And the only thing he wanted
less than company was the company of his sister-in-law.
‘Yes, I went down to see Olly, but he’s fine, went
reassurance. I’ve literally just got back. Thirty quid
poorer after filling up, and knackered, but actually just
glad he’s okay. He misses his mum – that’s what it boils
down to.’
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‘Course he does. We all do.’ Diane looked down,
not bothering to wipe her tears that fell. He understood;
everything was still so raw, so painful.
‘Anyway…’ She sniffed. ‘I told Eric I’d take Treacle
and here we are.’ She wiped her nose with a soggy bit of
kitchen roll. She managed to make her act of kindness
sound like a huge imposition, her undertone of martyr-
dom ringing loud and clear.
‘Do you want a cup of tea, Di? I’m just making.’ He
pointed at the kettle.
She stared at him with narrowed eyes and bit her lip.
‘It’s funny, isn’t it? How many times have I sat in this
kitchen, talking to my sister?’
He blew out. ‘I don’t know, thousands.’ He imagined
the laughter that used to explode from the kitchen, the
two of them together – it used to make him smile and
irritate him in equal measure, the interruption when he
was trying to catch up on the news or watch football.
‘Yes, thousands, and I never once had a cup of tea. I
don’t drink it, Nick, can’t stand the stuff. I don’t drink
coffee either.’
‘Is that right?’ He stared at her, reminded in that second
that Kerry was the conduit between him and her family,
in fact between him and their friends. She was the glue,
the one who remembered birthdays and anniversaries,
the names of newborns, dates of christenings, who was
dating who, whose marriage was on the rocks, who had
a new job and where, how people had done in exams,
who was wearing new glasses, had got their hair cut and
who did or did not drink tea.
‘I said to Mum earlier, you must feel lost, Nick. I think
it’s bad for us – I miss my sister…’ She paused to try to
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The Light in the Hallway
control the catch in her throat. ‘I guess I sometimes forget
that I’m not the only one hurting.’
‘I do feel lost.’ It was a rare admission. ‘Adrift. It’s
like I’ve left the house and forgotten something but I
can’t think what. Like I need to be somewhere but have
no idea where. Anyway’ – he took a deep breath – ‘I’m
rambling. Thanks for bringing Treacle home.’
‘Any time. You know where we are, Nick.’
‘I do. Thanks, Di.’ He nodded, keen to get her out of
the door before his sadne
ss, urged on by fatigue, over-
whelmed him. Diane patted Treacle and made her way
along the hallway. He closed the front door and sank
down onto the welcome mat on the exact same spot where
Oliver had crumpled and he let his tears fall.
‘I don’t like being on my own! I miss having my fam-
ily around me.’ He spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I don’t
like it, Kerry.’
1992
The knocking on the front door was urgent. Nick quickly
tied his trainer laces and finished the last bite of his toast and peanut butter, eaten illegally in his bed. His dad, the
custodian of standards in the house, was already at work
and his mum had given it to him with a wink. It made
him love her more. Today was the day they had decided
to go hunting for the things they needed to build Half
Bike and had drawn up a list:
saddle
lights
pump
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Amanda Prowse
wheels
inner tube
tyres
water bottle holder
water bottle
stickers for frame
Nick heard his mum’s sing-song greeting and the
sound of feet thundering up the stairs. Alex pushed open
the bedroom door, his face red, his tone a little panicked,
as he began gabbling.
‘He’s not at home! I can’t find him! His dad opened
the door when I knocked and he looked really mad and
he was a bit smelly, and he said if I see him then I had to
tell him to go straight back. I didn’t know what to do,
so I came straight here!’ He sat on the bed, a little out of
puff. It was obvious he was talking about Eric as he was
the only one missing.
‘What do you mean you can’t find him?’ Nick had
to admit it was a curious state of affairs that Eric was
not around. Eric was always ready to leave his house of
a morning or was knocking for Alex, if not already on
Nick’s doorstep bright and early.
‘I mean’ – Alex gulped – ‘his dad said he didn’t know
where he was and I thought he might be here, but your
mum said he’s not.’
Nick considered this.
‘Do you think he’s in trouble?’
Alex nodded vigorously. ‘I do. I think something has
happened with his dad, maybe he told him off and that
was why he looked so mad.’
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Nick nodded; this sounded plausible.
‘We should go and look for him,’ he decided. ‘We’re
out looking for bike bits anyway; we can look for him
and the stuff we need at the same time.’
The boys headed down the stairs. ‘Mum?’ Nick called.
‘We’re going to look for bike stuff and Eric.’ It didn’t occur to either boy that a water bottle and discarded saddle might
not be lurking in the same spot as their missing friend.
‘Okay, lads, you know the rules, stay together and come
back when you’re hungry.’ She smiled, clearly without
sharing their concern for their missing mate.
Nick ran down the path and past his sister, who had
set up a deckchair in the front garden and now sat with
a copy of Look-In open and lifted to her chest.
‘Where you off to, dweebs?’ she asked casually.
‘We’ve lost Eric,’ Alex explained over his shoulder as
they trotted along the pavement.
‘Lost him how?’ Jen sat forward in the chair and her
magazine fell to the floor.
‘He’s gone missing.’
‘Do you want me to come and help you find him?
I could … I could maybe join your gang for one day?’
Alex laughed and Nick shook his head. ‘As if!’
‘Well, good.’ Jen sat back and reached for her magazine.
‘I wouldn’t want to join anyway! You’re idiots!’
‘Your sister scares me,’ Alex whispered as they headed
towards The Rec. The boys could see after scanning the
place that Eric was not here, or if he was he was hidden.
They combed the sloping field, looking behind trees and
using thick sticks to thresh the long, weed-riddled grass
that grew on the east side and where dogs liked to pee
but found nothing – nothing vaguely bike related that
might have been of use and no Eric Pickard.
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‘Where next?’ Alex asked, a little jumpy at the fact
that they had been searching for their friend for a whole
thirty minutes, but had found nothing.
‘How about Market Square?’
‘Okay!’
The boys ran as the sun began to climb on the bright
summer’s day, and arrived in the cobbled square with
fringes damp from sweat stuck to their foreheads. Three
older boys from school sat on the bench and looked at
them challengingly, Nick looked away sharply; he knew
the rules. He and Alex were about five years away from
being able to sprawl like that on the coveted bench un-
challenged. He ran his fingers over the comforting outline
of the multi tool in his pocket.
A cursory glance in shop doorways and at the tables
and chairs in front of the pub told them this was not
where they would find their friend.
‘Maybe he’s been taken by aliens,’ Alex whispered.
Nick stared at him. ‘Yes, that’s probably it. Or we could
go and look up at the Old Dairy Shed?’ He suggested the
only other place the three ever went.
‘Yes!’ Alex clicked his fingers as if his friend were a
genius.
Surprisingly, the place was a lot scarier during the
day. Partly down to the lack of snoggers, which made
the space seem echoey and vast, and also because without
the darkness to mask its many imperfections the true
state of its dilapidation was revealed. The windows that
weren’t smashed were covered in a dull, green slimy moss
and the rafters were covered in pigeon shit. One or two
of the birds still roosted there, sitting with chests pushed
out and watching as he and Alex crept over rubbish and
planks of wood, the remnants of rusted machinery and
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The Light in the Hallway
most intriguingly an old fridge freezer which looked to
have been dumped there.
‘This place is scary,’ Alex said softly.
‘More or less than my sister?’
Alex considered this. ‘About the same.’
It was unmistakable and heart-thumpingly alarming
all at the same time, the sound that suddenly floated from
behind one of the girders: crying. And not the sweet
burble of girls’ tears or the kind of crying you heard on
the telly, but loud, breathless sobs, as if the person couldn’t stop even if they wanted to.
Alex took a step behind Nick and the two walked
slowly forward in this pantomime horse manner.
‘Eric?’ Nick called out.
‘Go away!’ his friend screamed.
The two did the opposite and ran towards the voice.
And there they found him. Nick looked down at his mate,
who sat on the concrete floor with his knees raise
d and
his arms folded on them. His head was bowed onto his
forearms and his narrow shoulders shook.
‘What’s wrong?’ Alex asked gently.
‘Nowt!’ Eric roared, looking up briefly to reveal eyes
that were bloodshot, a runny nose and two dirty tracks
down his cheeks where tears had carved a sad path over
his skin.
The three often found each other’s distress comical –
when Alex accidentally pinched the skin of his thumb
between two links on the bike chain, he and Eric had
watched, waiting for the tears that they could then mock.
It was just what they did. But not this time. Eric’s hurt
went way beyond pinched skin.
Nick sat down on the floor and Alex followed suit and
there they sat in silence while their mate sobbed. Nick
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thought about when he cried and his mum put her arms
around him. It made everything feel a little bit better,
but there was no way he could hug Eric! An idea came to
him. Instead of a full-scale hug that would only embarrass
them both, he extended his index finger and the one next
to it and pressed his fingers onto his friend’s leg. Contact
that he hoped might just take the edge from his distress
in the way that his mum’s hug did for him. Alex copied;
extending his two fingers he pushed them on Eric’s other
leg, and strangely it seemed to work. Eventually, with a
hiccup to his breathing, Eric extended the two fingers
of both hands and laid them on top of his mates’. They
were joined and calmed, the three of them, by this odd
and well-meant salute.
Eric took a deep breath and wiped his teary lashes with
the back of his hand. ‘My dad came home from billiards
and had a fight with Dave The Milk.’
‘A proper fight?’ Alex was clearly both intrigued and
excited by the prospect.
Eric nodded. ‘I was in my bedroom and my mum had
told me to stay there and I was setting up Domino Run
when I heard them all shouting. It sounded like something
on the telly.’ He swallowed. ‘I sat at the top of the stairs
and my dad and Dave The Milk were thumping each
other. They came out into the hallway and I saw my dad
punch him in the mouth and blood flicked up the wall.
And my mum came out of the front room in her dressing
gown and my dad pushed her back in and then…’ His
tears came again. ‘And then my dad chucked Dave The