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
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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?’