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    The Light in the Hallway (ARC)

    Page 28
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      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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      The Light in the Hallway

      ‘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.’

      247

      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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      The Light in the Hallway

      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.

      He tried to put the news out of his mind as he paced

      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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      Amanda Prowse

      ‘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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      The Light in the Hallway

      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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      Amanda Prowse

      ‘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

      252

      The Light in the Hallway

      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!’

      253

      Amanda Prowse

      ‘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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      The Light in the Hallway

      ‘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

     


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