hear the faint echoes of distress and then the relief in his
tone made Nick’s heart flex.
‘I’m on my way. And if you need to talk before I get
there, send a text and I’ll pull over and call you straight
back. Don’t do anything stupid.’
‘What do you mean don’t do anything stupid? Like
what?’
Like take tablets … cut your wrists … jump off a building
… I don’t know!
‘Like panic. Don’t panic. Just sit tight and I’ll be there
soon.’
‘Okay. Thanks, Dad.’ There it was again, that little
voice that pulled at Nick’s heartstrings.
* * *
He knocked on his boss’s open door and walked in.
‘Everything all right, Nick?’ Julian looked away from
the computer screen and sat back in the red leather cap-
tain’s chair that had been part of the office for as long as
Nick could remember, present when he visited his dad
at the factory as a boy aged ten and had stood in front of
Mr Aubrey Siddley.
59
Amanda Prowse
‘Nick!’ The man had smiled. ‘The rogue explorer of
Drayton Moor! Seen any pumas lately?’
He and his dad had laughed before Mr Siddley gave
him a sticky handful of mint imperials from a large glass
jar, which sat on the wonky green filing cabinet behind
his desk. Nick had shoved them in his trouser pocket and
was disappointed to retrieve them when he got home and
find them moist, fluff coated and only good as bin fodder.
‘Yes, everything’s fine.’ Nick held Julian’s gaze, dis-
liking the fact that he stood in front of the desk while
Julian sat; his stance implied he held his boss in a regard
his sentiments did not echo. ‘Well, I should say nothing
to worry about workwise, but I just had a call from my
Oliver—’
‘At Birmingham, isn’t he? How’s he getting on?
Business Studies, isn’t it?’
Nick picked up the slightest note of derision in the
man’s voice, but that might have been his imagination,
knowing he could be a little oversensitive when it came
to Julian Siddley.
‘Yes, that’s right, and I thought he was getting on
great.’ This was life in Burstonbridge, life at Siddley’s,
where everyone had half an interest in everyone else’s life.
It was often a comfort, but sometimes the lack of privacy
left him feeling like he wanted to scream.
He remembered when Kerry got her first set of test
results from the GP, insisting she didn’t want him to take
time off to come with her.
What difference does it make whether I’m there with you or Diane? It won’t change what’s said. Don’t be daft, Nick – go to work, don’t worry and I’ll see you when you get home…
Kerry had left the doctor’s appointment with her arm
looped through her sister’s and only two hours later, as he
60
The Light in the Hallway
walked out of the factory gates to make his way home, he
was aware of the tight-lipped, sincere nods of awareness
from his colleagues and the slow blink and smile of the
woman closing up the bread shop … News travelled fast
here, faster than he could get home to hear it first-hand.
‘Oh dear, it sounds like there is a but.’ His boss comi-
cally took a deep breath through gritted teeth and it ir-
ritated Nick more than it should.
‘Yes, well, he has just called and’ – he paused, not
wanting to admit to his boss that Oliver might be about
to abandon the course of which Nick had felt so proud –
‘he’s having a bit of a wobble and wants me to go down.
I wouldn’t ask ordinarily, but what with it only being a
short time since we lost his mum, I feel I should go down
and check things out, bring him home if need be.’
‘Nick, of course.’ The man tapped his fingers on the
jotter in front of him, as he did when he was thinking.
‘Do what you need to do. You know the score, just make
sure Dennis has the loading schedule and that everything
things here.’ He flapped his hand, indicating that no lorry
load of lighting could be considered nearly as import-
ant as Oliver’s well-being. Nick knew he was right and
felt both relieved and angered that Julian had given him
permission. He gave a tight smile, knowing it was easy
for Siddley junior to say, very easy when you had family
wealth behind you and a large, shiny Range Rover sitting
in your private parking space. But it was quite another
thing for Nick when the bills came rolling in at the end
of the month and suddenly that shift that he might miss
became very important indeed.
He recalled with a shiver picking up the brown en-
velope from the welcome mat about six years ago now,
61
Amanda Prowse
intrigued by the unfamiliar logo. Ripping the sheet from
its confines as the breath caught in his throat and his knees went weak. It had to be a mistake. There was no way …
but there it was in red ink. Mrs Kerry Bairstow owed the
sum of seven thousand pounds. Seven thousand pounds! It was as he leant on the bannister and scanned the sheet,
looking at the long list of purchases, that Kerry trod the
stairs with an armful of laundry and they locked eyes.
Her face fell and her lips looked bloodless and he knew
… he knew it was no mistake.
‘Thanks, Julian. I really appreciate it.’
The man restored his glasses to indicate the con-
versation was over and turned his attention back to the
wide computer screen that almost filled his desk. Nick
considered himself dismissed.
‘Oh, I see. Half day is it?’ Eric called from the loading
bay as Nick climbed into the car.
‘Something like that.’ He looked up at his friend.
‘Well, you missed a good night last night in the pub,
a proper laugh, and we got chips on the way home.’
‘Sounds like a belter, chips, eh?’ He laughed. ‘Didn’t
realise you were there.’
‘Yes, whole crowd of us, it was good.’
Nick felt a flicker of relief that it hadn’t just been
Beverly who was after his company; that whole idea had
left him feeling a little uncomfortable.
‘So where you off to?’ Eric pulled him from the
thought.
‘Just had a call from Olly. He wants to come home; says
he wants to quit university. He’s had a change of heart.’
‘Wants to come home? You’re kidding me? He’s only
been there five minutes!’
62
The Light in the Hallway
‘I know, but he’s saying he wants to leave university,
doesn’t like it.’ Nick levelled with his best friend.
‘But he’s such a smart lad. What’s happened? I thought
he was right as rain?’
‘Me too, and he seemed to be – I got a text to say
he’d settled and everything. Now I don’t know what’s
happening, but he sounded a
nxious.’ Nick ran his hand
over his face.
Eric nodded, his smile gone. Having lived each step of
Kerry’s illness with Nick and Oliver, staying over at the
house so Nick didn’t have to rush back from St Vincent’s
on a school night, making sure Oliver was fed on the days
when Nick was preoccupied with Kerry and providing
an ear when Nick needed to talk, Eric knew better than
most that the two were fragile.
Nick had knocked on his best friend’s door and fallen
to his knees right there in his narrow hallway on the night
he left Kerry at St Vincent’s for the first time.
‘It’s all right, mate, it’ll all be okay.’ Eric had sat by
his side and extended his index finger and the one next
to it, placing the two fingers on his friend’s shoulder and
pushing them gently into his skin.
‘It won’t be all right! She’s not coming home again,
Eric! She’ll not come home! That’s what they said more
or less. This is it! It’s not like when she went in and out
of hospital; this is the start of the end, I know it is and
I can’t stand it! I can’t cope! I don’t know what to do!’
His tears had come thick and fast, the only time he had
ever cried this way in front of his pal. ‘I don’t want her
to leave me!’
Eric now called down from the forklift, ‘Do you want
me to come with you?’
63
Amanda Prowse
‘No, mate, but thanks.’
‘Well, look, shout if you need anything. Want me to
take Treacle out for a walk later?’
‘Oh, Treacle.’ He had nearly forgotten her. ‘Yes, that’d
be great. Grab the house keys off me mum.’
‘Will do. Is Jen in?’ He waggled his eyebrows.
Nick laughed. It didn’t matter that his mate was in
his thirties; he was still trying to get a date with Nick’s
sister as he had been since he was ten or so years of age.
Eric had been the only one in the community to greet
the news of her divorce and return to the family home a
couple of years back with an air punch. ‘That’s the best
news, mate! She’s free again!’
‘Yes, but free or not, she doesn’t want to go out with
you,’ Nick had pointed out.
‘Ah, but she did once and will again, you’ll see. It’s a
waiting game.’ Eric had beamed.
‘Just how long are you prepared to wait?’ Nick was
curious.
‘As long as it takes, lad.’ Eric winked at him. ‘As long
as it takes.’
Nick and Kerry had both always admired his tenacity,
for wait he did.
It was mid-afternoon and the motorway wasn’t too
busy. Nick stayed in top gear and sat in the slow lane,
trying to keep to a steady sixty miles an hour. It was a
compromise between controlling his urgent desire to
get to Oliver in the shortest possible time and preserving
precious fuel. Nick felt confused and concerned, having
believed when he had dropped his son in Birmingham
only six days before that in all likelihood he would not
be seeing him until Christmas.
And yet here he was.
64
The Light in the Hallway
His first thought was that he wanted Oliver to be happy,
that above all else, of course. And yet still the hammer
of despair thudded loud and heavy in his head when he
thought of the chance his son was giving up. Eric was
right: Oliver was a smart lad, and with a degree under
his belt he could choose his path. Nick had watched him
work so hard for his ‘A’ levels, battling in the atmosphere
of home, heavy with his mum’s illness, treatments and
side effects. Their whole schedule punctuated by her bouts
of sickness, hospital appointments and tiptoeing around
the house while she slept. But Oliver had managed it and
was the first person on either side of the family to get to
university, let alone a prestigious one like Birmingham.
Apart from Julian Siddley, Nick didn’t know anyone who
had a degree, and yet Oliver appeared to be on the point
of giving it up. It hurt him to see a place so hard won
thrown away and he feared his son might regret it. His
job, he knew, was to point this out in the most tactful,
supportive way possible without applying any pressure. He
exhaled through bloated cheeks, nervous at the prospect.
The situation was tempered by the fact that this grief, still fresh, was an unpredictable thing, and if Oliver wasn’t
coping then it was also Nick’s job to help put him back
on an even keel.
‘I wonder if he could take some time off? Start again
later in the term or even next year? I don’t know how it
works, and I don’t know who to ask.’ He said this aloud,
tilting his head towards the passenger seat, which Kerry
used to occupy, as the junction for Birmingham loomed
ahead.
He parked and made his way across the communal
courtyard to Oliver’s halls of residence, feeling a little
out of place among the student population in his steel
65
Amanda Prowse
toe-capped work boots, padded knee trousers and with the
Siddley logo on the chest of his polo shirt. He suspected
that most of these students had parents who wore suits
and felt the flush of inadequacy as he walked the pathway
in the uniform of the maintenance staff. Another reason
for Oliver to achieve more – so he might never know
what this felt like. Nick wanted him to sit behind a big
desk one day like Julian Siddley and not stand in front of
it, nervous about asking for an afternoon off. He looked
around at all the kids, loping around in twos or bigger
packs, some wearing University of Birmingham t-shirts
and all laughing, chatting, holding files or with backpacks
slung over their shoulder lest anyone be in any doubt they
were esteemed scholars. And he more than understood
their pride and the confidence they exuded. These were
kids with the whole world at their feet. And he made no
secret of the fact that he wanted Oliver to be one of them.
‘I’m not going to university, Dad. I’m getting married.
Kerry’s pregnant … Dad … Dad? Say something!’
He made his way along the corridor, which now had a
very different atmosphere from when he had experienced
it on drop-off day. Then it had been quiet, a little subdued, gloomy almost with the nerves of all newcomers and their
parents, bouncing off the bare magnolia-painted walls.
Now music wafted from under doors, he spied posters
stuck to walls, laughter filled the communal kitchens and
the whole place felt a lot more personalised, more like a
home and less like an institution and one where a party
was about to break out.
He knocked on Oliver’s door and stood back, swal-
lowing a flutter of nerves and wondering how his son
might appear. He pictured the pale-skinned, red-eyed
distress; the haunted look that had been his son’s mask
&nbs
p; 66
The Light in the Hallway
during Kerry’s funeral. Nick braced himself for whatever
Oliver’s emotional needs might be, remembering the boy’s
breakdown on the day of his results, when the grief he had
tried to keep at bay finally caught up and overwhelmed
him. He would never, ever forget the sight of his son
crumpled and coiled on the welcome mat by the front
door, so entirely broken, hurting more than he ever had
and lost to his grief. Even the memory of it brought a
lump to Nick’s throat. He offered up a silent prayer that
his son’s meltdown today was not on the same scale, not
only because he doubted his own ability to cope right
now, but mainly because he did not want to see him go
through anything close to that again. And again Peter’s
words came to mind.
Grief is not a linear journey. Sadness is not a sequential thing. Your thoughts and feelings will dart this way and that, like a jagged rollercoaster that can drop you to the lowest low and raise you up to the highest high and you have to almost sink back into it, submit, go with it and not judge it. In the beginning you will live at its will but then, as time progresses, if you’re lucky, the tide changes and you will find you’re gradually taking back control. Your grief will be a little more under your own control and that really is the start of true recovery, when you can set the pace and choose your moments…
It was a second or two before Oliver opened the door,
and the greeting was not what Nick had been expecting.
In fact, it was in such contrast to the image he had painted
that it shocked him.
‘Hi, Dad.’ The boy beamed and stepped back, hold-
ing the door open, almost with a flourish to his hand to
allow him entry. ‘Come in!’
Nick exhaled, realising only then that he had been
holding his breath.
67
Amanda Prowse
‘Are you okay?’ He looked him up and down, searching
for visible signs of distress or harm, and found none. In
fact, with a slight flush to his cheeks and his eyes bright,
Oliver, if anything, looked positively chirpy.
‘I am now,’ Oliver offered with an undercurrent of
laughter. ‘But I had a bit of a wobble this morning. Sit
down.’ He pointed to the chair at the desk, on which
he had placed a rather flat, garish cushion with a cactus
print on it.
Nick sat. It felt odd to be in his son’s environment. A
guest. He felt his pulse settle, lulled by the atmosphere
in the room and his son’s demeanour.