same. I’d love a car that I didn’t have to pray over that
it was going to make it to the end of the journey.’ Nick
pictured the shiny, sleek silver Jaguar he had seen on
Mackie’s forecourt not so long ago. ‘Not that it’ll be an
issue much longer; I’ll have to let the car go when tax and
insurance are due.’ He closed his eyes briefly, picturing
the empty driveway.
‘Don’t do anything too hasty. If there’s a job out and
about you’ll need transport. Some of the lads were saying
they’re taking on warehouse staff in York.’
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‘That’s a fair old commute.’ He thought of the cost
of fuel. ‘I’ll keep my ear to the ground, of course. I’ll get Jen to help me with a CV.’
‘Have you even got a CV?’ Eric asked.
‘No.’ Nick laughed dryly. ‘Never needed one.’
Eric downed his cuppa. ‘Me either. Did Bev not say
anything to you?’
‘No, I think she was as shocked as us.’ He pictured
the look on her face earlier.
‘It’s proper shit, mate.’ Eric stood, tea break over.
‘It is that, proper shit.’
* * *
That afternoon he took calls from his mum, Jen and
Dora, who had all heard on the grapevine about the
closure, of course. Phones buzzed and beeped all over
the shop floor. News of this magnitude travelled fast,
especially when the ripples were to be felt throughout
the town.
‘So what did they say?’ his mum asked.
‘Just what I told you, that it’s closing.’ He felt irritation at having to repeat the depressing fact.
‘Did they say when?’
‘About three to six months.’
‘Did they say why?’
‘No, Mum. You probably know as much as I do. I’m
in to see Julian on Monday and then I’ll find out the
details, what I’m entitled to, that kind of thing.’
‘What you going to do?’
He ground his teeth, really not in the mood for her
questions to which he had no satisfying answers.
‘I honestly don’t know.’
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Amanda Prowse
There was a beat or two of silence until his mum
spoke and he felt his irritation fade, replaced with a rush
of gratitude towards the woman who had always, since
he was very small, tried to find solutions. ‘You know
you can always come home, you and Olly, of course. If
you have to sell the house or rent the house or whatever,
do like Jen did. Move back, save up, you’d be more than
welcome, but you already know that.’ He pictured her
rolling out the bed-in-a-bag for Eric on the nights his
dad worked a late shift.
He shuddered at the thought of giving up his house,
his independence, the home he had created with Kerry
and the only address Oliver had ever lived in. Not to
mention the worry of how he could possibly supplement
Oliver’s student loan if he was without a wage. He made
the decision there and then: no matter what it took, his
son would finish his degree; they would find a way.
‘Thank you, Mum. I think we are a long way off that
– I hope we are a long way off that – but I appreciate the offer. As I say, I’ll know more on Monday.’
‘Well, I won’t tell Treacle, no point in upsetting her.’
‘You know she’s a dog, right?’
‘Yes’ – his mum was smiling, he could tell – ‘but she’s
a very clever dog.’
* * *
Nick showered and pulled on his clean, ironed jeans and
shirt, the one his sister had bought him for Christmas.
The news of the closure had all but extinguished the
small flames of joy he had felt in his stomach when he
woke. It was not only a shock for all the individual fami-
lies affected, but to Burstonbridge as well. Nick was no
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stranger to shock; he knew better than most that life and
everything in it turned on a penny, not that it made it
any easier to figure out what to do next.
the kitchen, feeling the burble of teenage nerves and
wishing Beverly would arrive right now and end this
excruciating wait. The anticipation was almost unbear-
able; supposing they had nothing to say to each other? He
genuinely considered texting her to cancel, thinking of
the instant relief that would bring. He laughed out loud at
how ridiculous that was. He checked the wine again and
decanted the crisps into a plastic salad bowl and placed
it on the coffee table. Sitting on the sofa, he made out to
put his hand into the bowl to check he had positioned it
in the optimum, reachable spot.
‘For God’s sake get a grip, Nick.’ He spoke aloud as
the front doorbell rang, jumping up.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
Beverly walked into the hallway, shaking her head,
speaking as she crossed the threshold, as if this were no
grand anticipated entrance and she was merely stepping
back in after stepping out. All worries about awkward
silences slipped from his mind.
‘Oh my God, Nick, what a horrible day. One of the
worst I’ve ever had.’ She placed her coat on the banister
and pulled a bottle of wine from her handbag before
lobbing her bag on the floor. ‘I have literally spent hours
consoling people in the corridors, handing out tissues and
trying to reassure everyone that everything is going to be
fine. Even when I know it won’t. I don’t think I’ve ever
hated a day more. I couldn’t wait to leave tonight. And
Julian is nowhere to be seen. Bloody typical!’
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‘I’m in shock,’ he confessed.
‘We all are.’ She handed him the bottle of wine. ‘I
think we need to get this open quickly!’ She laughed.
‘If ever I needed the medication of alcohol, it’s tonight.’
‘Way ahead of you.’ They walked into the kitchen
and Nick popped her bottle in the fridge and removed
the one he had had chilling since yesterday.
‘I can’t believe it. I thought they were going to an-
nounce Joseph had died and so when he spoke…’ Nick
shook his head, still with an air of disbelief. ‘When did
you find out?’ he asked, as he poured two generous meas-
ures into the glasses.
‘First thing this morning.’ She picked up a glass –
‘Cheers!’ – and raised it towards him. ‘Here’s to the end
of the world as we know it!’
‘Blimey, that’s a bit worrying.’ He gave a nervous
laugh and raised his glass regardless. ‘I said to the lads I
feel a bit sorry for Julian – that can’t have been easy for
him, what he had to do today, and I admire the fact he
stood and faced us all. I think that took guts. That’s old-
fashioned values right there and it was appreciated. I bet
there are some bosses who would have sent an email or
got
someone else to do it.’
Beverly shot him a look. ‘Don’t feel sorry for Julian,
for any of them. Old-fashioned values? Yeah, right.’ She
took a deep breath. ‘Okay, Nick, what I’m going to tell
you must not go any further. You can’t tell a soul, but I need to tell someone.’ She took a glug of wine. ‘Promise
me you won’t say a word to Eric or anyone. I’ve signed a
contract to say I will keep things confidential, but what
are they going to do, fire me?’
‘No, but if you’ve signed something they might sue
you.’ He spoke earnestly as they made their way to the
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sofa and sank down as they had before, and this time he
didn’t think of Kerry. He thought how lovely Beverly
looked in her jeans and white lacy top, pretty and relaxed;
she smelled good too.
‘Good point.’ She shrugged. ‘Okay, so I know why
they are closing Siddley’s.’
‘Well, I think we can all figure that much. It must
be lack of sales or the cancelling of contracts; why else
would they—’
‘No, Nick.’ She cut him short. ‘It’s not lack of sales or
cancelled contracts, in fact, business is absolutely boom-
ing. They are raking it in,’ she spat.
‘I don’t … I don’t understand.’ He stared at her. ‘So
why then?’
‘Oh, Jesus!’ She dropped her shoulders as if the weight
of knowing and not telling were more than she could
stand before straightening and looking Nick in the eye.
‘Julian is selling the land, the whole site, and the acres
surrounding it.’
‘Selling it to who?’ He was trying to keep up.
‘Ah, here’s the killer bit.’ She sat forward. ‘He’s selling
it to Merryvale Homes.’
Nick had of course heard of the national building
company, famous for building identikit orange-brick
mini towns all over the country, sprawling estates where
the roads and cul-de-sacs were given softened names
like Meadow View and Lavender Close in an ironic
nod to the countryside they ploughed up and destroyed.
Mentally he was a few steps behind Beverly, trying to
figure out why a new-house builder like Merryvale
might want to buy a lighting business in the middle of
Yorkshire.
‘Why?’
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‘Because, Nick, the Siddleys not only own the land
that the business is built on, but also all the land around
it, and they are selling the whole lot to Merryvale who
are going to build at least a thousand houses on it, up to
three thousand!’
‘Houses?’ He stared at her.
‘Yes, houses, lots and lots of them so that new folk,
out of towners, people with jobs who work in Thirsk and
the surrounds can come and live in Burston and commute
to those jobs, and the people already in Burston, people
like us, will have even fewer jobs because the only bloody
place to work is Siddley’s, and they’re closing the business
and selling the land to the people who’ll build the houses!’
She shook her head at the irony of it all.
‘But’ – he was trying to get the facts straight in his
mind – ‘maybe they’ll move the business?’
Beverly shook her head. ‘No, they won’t. Julian and
Aubrey made it quite clear that they had no intention
of keeping a business open that makes them a fraction
of the money they will earn by selling. Julian’s the last
Siddley we will see – his kids are only little and I think
he’s planning on taking his millions and retiring to the
sunshine. The lazy idiot.’
‘But…’ He faltered again, thinking now not of his
own circumstance but of the town. ‘How will Burston
cope with all those houses? It’s hard enough getting out
onto the A roads in the morning as it is.’
‘Ah, here comes the sweetener: apparently we’ll get a
new supermarket with a petrol station and possibly a school
and a doctor’s surgery, all built on the east side of town.’
‘Mackie’s garage would go down.’ Nick thought about
the Mackie family, in particular Gina Mackie, whom
he had snogged once at a school disco. The family had
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been pumping gas and selling plastic-wrapped sandwiches
and warm Cokes from an inefficient fridge for as long as
anyone could remember. He shook his head; he couldn’t
picture the place Beverly was describing.
‘They wouldn’t be the only ones – the mini super-
market, the bakers, the florist, the butcher. I doubt any
could compete with a big supermarket.’
‘And they don’t know?’
She shook her head. ‘No one knows, only the Siddleys
and me and you, any local councillors who are in on the
negotiations, people like Big Brian, and probably Julian’s
lawyer bloke and all the other suits I’ve made tea for in
recent weeks. Julian actually tried to tell me it might be
a good thing, as there would be new jobs in the busi-
nesses that would spring up around the housing estates,
like cafes and hairdressers, maybe a new takeaway. I just
stared at him. He has no idea.’
‘I can’t believe I felt so sorry for him today.’ Nick
confessed, ‘I told Eric not to be too hard on the man
as it must be tough to see the business fold and all the
time…’ He flexed his fingers. ‘I’d like a quiet word with
our Julian.’
‘I think there’s going to be a lot of folk who are going
to want a word with our Julian. It’s greed, Nick, pure and
simple. Bloody greed! The Siddleys have enough, more
than enough, more than most of us could only dream of,
and yet they want more, and it’s all right for them, they
live over in Drayton Moor—’
Nick pictured their vast mansion behind grand scrolled-
iron gates.
Beverly wasn’t done. ‘They don’t give a toss that they
will be ripping the heart out of our little community. It’s
a bloody disgrace!’
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‘Is it a done deal? Are you absolutely sure? Don’t they
have to get planning permission and stuff like that?’
‘They do, and there’s a chance they might not get it.
But I’m pretty sure money greases palms, and they must
know there’s a good chance of all or some of it going
through. Phase one is buying the land, clearing the land
and taking a punt. And here’s the killer: even if they don’t
get planning permission, apparently it’s still worth the risk for Merryvale because if it pays off they win big and if it
doesn’t pan out, they walk away, lick their wounds and
we get to look at the space where we used to be employed
while the weeds grow up through the ground. And the
Siddleys, of course, won’t care either way.’ She paused
and snorted her distaste. ‘They will have already cashed
that big fat cheque, regar
dless.’
‘I’m shocked. I honestly don’t know what to say.’
‘Me too. Shocked and bloody furious.’
The two sat quietly, each mulling over the harsh re-
ality of what was about to happen to their sleepy little
market town.
‘Anyway, that aside…’ Beverly scooted closer to him
on the sofa. ‘It’s nice to see you, Nick.’
‘It’s nice to see you.’ He reached for her hand and
liked the way it felt, nestling inside his.
‘I tell you what.’ Beverly looked up at him. ‘Why don’t
we make a pact not to talk about Siddley’s, not tonight.
It’s too awful and I have the feeling we are going to talk
about nothing but the bloody place closing for the next
few months, and so when we are away from work like
this, it should be an end-of-the-world-free zone, how
about that?’
‘That sounds good. And this house needs it; it feels
like it’s been an end-of-the-world zone for quite a while.’
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‘I bet.’ She stayed silent and he felt that in some way
this was a test, putting into practice their agreement to be
able to talk freely, without censorship, about everything
and anything – and by that they meant Kerry.
‘Having you here…’ He paused. ‘I mean, seeing you
is…’ Again he faltered. ‘I suppose what I’m trying to say
is that you’re the first thing that has brought me sunshine
in a very long time and I’m thankful for it.’
‘And you me,’ she replied steadily, flexing her fingers
in his palm.
‘Things with Kerry were…’ He chose his words care-
fully. ‘It wasn’t … It wasn’t all perfect. I mean, even before she got sick.’
‘It never is.’ She spoke with certainty that encouraged
him to open up.
‘True, but I think when someone dies it feels like
you’re expected to wipe out all the negatives and only
remember them in glowing terms. It feels a bit like that
with Olly too – if I raise my voice or there is any ten-
sion, I see the way he looks at me, as if to say, “My mum
wouldn’t do that.” And I have to remind myself that she
did do that. She did shout at him, fall out with him; she
wasn’t saintly.’
‘Have you spoken to Olly about it?’
‘No. It’s another topic on the list of things too raw to
mention. Maybe in time.’
Beverly sipped from her wineglass. ‘I don’t think any