Snow and Tears

It snowed last night. It started about 5 o’clock in the afternoon. Thomas watched it through the sitting room window, tried to follow each and every flake as they fell softly to the ground.

He went to bed asking his Dad, “Will the Snowman come Dad?”

“You have to make a snowman – they don’t just come” Phil replied

“Yeah …yes but … will he come though – like in the film?”

“We haven’t made one though have we”

“Can we?”

“Well, not now … it’s bedtime now isn’t it”

“Oh Dad …”

“You could make one tomorrow with Mummy – if there’s still some snow”

“Yeah there will be… there will still be snow. It’s beautiful isn’t it Dad?” Thomas said as he turned over to sleep.

“Yeah it is … beautiful” Phil softly agreed

And Thomas was right – there was still snow today. He spent the morning making a snowman with Pam on the small patch of lawn in front of their house. He drew a big smile with a stick and his Mum gave him a carrot for his nose. Thomas stood by him and waited for him to come alive. Phil stood in the sports hall at school watching the third years playing Pirates and wishing he could be at home with his son making a snowman.

There was no snow in Coventry. Just heavy grey skies. The university have put up Doreen and Dave in an apartment. It’s an apartment set aside for parents whose children die whilst at university. It’s walls are full of sorrow, the pillows heavy with tears. Doreen and Dave went to the hospital yesterday to identify the body. It was Pete, their only son. He didn’t look like he had been in a car crash – he just had a small bruise on his forehead. He looked much younger than his 18 years – more like a peaceful, sleeping 12 year old.

The couple spent this morning talking to Pete’s new university friends – people they had never met but had heard lots about. For few moments their conversations about him bought Pete back to life. Doreen saw him laughing, chatting, eating and drinking with these young people. She saw that he would be alive in their memories for a long time, even though they had only known him for a short time.

They packed Pete’s things back into the boxes and suitcases they had nervously and excitedly unpacked only 2 months ago. The university told them there was no rush but Doreen wanted these pieces of him home. When the car was loaded Doreen looked back through the rear window and saw her son standing in the car park waving them goodbye.

“Dave … let’s go back” she cried

“We can’t” Dave replied

‘I just want to look”

“He’s gone” Dave said, and turned the car away from the campus.

A Knock At The Door

There’s knocking at Doreen and Dave’s door. It’s about 2.30 am. The knocking has been going on for some time but Doreen has only just heard it. Dave hasn’t. Dave could sleep through anything. Doreen elbows him in the back. Dave sleeps on. She elbows him again. “Dave… Dave . .. wake up … wake up … Dave”

“Uh?”

“There’s someone downstairs “

“That’s nice …” he slurs, in his sleep

“We’re being robbed …”

“Go back to sleep” Dave groans

The knocking stops. Dave snores.

“They’re breaking in … Dave … they’re breaking in. ” The knocking starts again. “They’re not going away … do something … Dave …”

Dave pulls himself from the bed and with his eyes still closed, he finds his way to his dressing gown on the back of the door, puts it on and stumbles to the top of the stairs using the wall as a guide.

“Don’t put the light on … in case its robbers… ” Doreen says in a whispered shout that could have been heard by burglars 2 doors up.

Doreen hears the third from the bottom step creak as Dave fumbles his way down in the dark. She hears Dave shout out as he stubs his toe. And then everything is quiet. Doreen pulls the cover up to her chin and waits, in the dark.

Then she sees the hall light come on and hears Dave coming back up the stairs. He pushes the bedroom door open and turns on the light. Doreen’s eyes screw up in the glare. When she opens them she sees Dave framed in the door. His face is white. He stares at her.

“Dave … what is it?” Dave looked at her. “Dave?” Dave keeps looking at her as he moves towards her in the bed. “Dave … you’re scaring me …”

Dave sits on the bed next to her. His breathing is fast and shallow.

“Dave?” He closes his eyes. Now that he is this close he can’t look at her. “Dave?”
“It’s Pete” he says in a swallow.
“What?” Downstairs”

“They’re saying he’s been in a car crash”

“What? Who? Dave … what?”

“The police … they’re downstairs. They’re sitting on the sofa.”

“The police?”

“They’re saying Pete’s been in a crash” Dave is trying to say it.

“What? Where … where is he? Is he with them?” Dave is silent. “Where is he? Dave … Dave!” Doreen whole face is filling with tears. Her mouth has lost its shape – can hardly say ‘Dave’.

Dave knows that he should hold Doreen but he can’t bring himself to touch her … he doesn’t know what to do.

“Where is he Dave?” Doreen pleads. “Where is he?”

“He’s … they said he’s dead”

“Where is he?”

“He’s …”

“Where is he?”

“He’s dead … Doreen. They said he’s dead.”

There is a moment of absolute silence. And then Doreen is sick. Sick all over the bed.

“I want to see him!” she wails “I want to see him” She jumps out of the bed, wipes her mouth on the blanket, goes to the wardrobe, pulls out a skirt, goes to the chest of drawers, and pulls out a whole draw of knickers and tights. The drawer comes off its runners and its contents spew across the floor. Doreen swears at them and her body twists as she wretches. Dave takes her arm as she tries to push the draw back in. He holds her, tries to surround her with his arms and feels her whole body shaking against him.

“Shh … Shhh … “

“I can’t” Doreen sobs

“I have to talk to the police”

“Don’t leave me”

“There’s things … to do … we have to go to Coventry to …” Dave can’t finish this sentence. He knows what it means if he says it

“What?”

“To … identify … him”

“Peter … Peter … My boy … my boy”

“I’ll go down … talk to them”

“It might not be him … when we get there” Doreen says this, says it out loud, but she knows … she knows that it is her Peter who was in the car with his best friend when it hit the tree in the rain on a quiet country road. She can feel that he is gone, can feel the hole in the world where he used to be.

Dave goes downstairs. Doreen sits on the bed and stares at her tear sodden face in her dressing table mirror. She sees her son’s eyes looking back at her and is surrounded by terrifying forever emptiness.

Pete had been at university for 49 days. There are 37 days to Christmas.

Christmas Lights

The men from the council are in town, they’re starting to put up the Christmas lights. Neil is at the top of a cherry picker with a tangle of cable and bulbs.

 

 

 

It’s not supposed to be a tangle – Neil spent all last week freezing his bits off at the depot untangling them so that when he got up on the cherry picker he would just be able to gently unravel them and drape them between the lamp posts. But he was off sick yesterday and so putting them in the truck was left to Hopeless Howard. Howard is, as his nickname suggests, not the brightest light on the Christmas tree and so he just bundled all the lights together in his ample arms and stuffed them into cardboard boxes.

“Sorry Neil” he shouts up to the cherry picker

“What?” shouts back Neil

“Sorry!”

“I can’t hear you … “

“No … you’re too high aren’t you”

“I’m what?” Ian’s a bit worried now “What?”

“What?” shouts Howard

“What did you say?”

“I just said I’m sorry about the tangle!” Howard shouts

“The angle?”

“Sorry about the lights!” Howard tries again

“Is it looking dodgy?” Ian shouts down

“What? Is it? ” Now Howard is worried too.

“Hang on I’ll come down” says Ian as he manipulates the cherry picker arm down to ground level. “What’s wrong with the angle then Howard?”

“Angle?” asks Howard

“You were shouting”

“About an angle?”

“Yeah I thought it might be about to tip or something” explains Ian

“Tip? It never is is it?” asks a worried Howard “Quick let’s move …”

“What? No you were shouting me …”

“Was I?”

“Bloody hell Howard” Ian is getting a bit exasperated “You called me down. Remember?”

“Eh?” Howard’s mind turns over … slowly … … “Oh no …” he chuckles “No Ian … no I was just shouting ‘Sorry’ … you know … about the tangle … with the wires. You duffer Ian, you wanna get you ears syringed”

“You wanna get your brain syringed”

“Can you get that?” Howard asks with interest

“Bloody hell Howard … hopeless … I’ve come all the way down now. “

“Eh? Oh yeah … sorry Ian.”

“Yeah … ” Ian presses the button and up goes the arm again.

“Careful Ian” shouts Howard

“What?” asks Ian as he moves up into the sky.

Walter, Bill and Sid

Walter, Bill and Sid are sitting on the bench by the bus stop opposite the town hall (bits of red victorian masonry are still falling off it … rumour is they’re going to knock it down. Dodgy John says he’ll bloody do it for them in the middle of the night if they don’t bloody hurry up, says he bloody warned them about it bloody years ago, but did they bloody do anything? No they bloody did not)

Anyway, Walter, Bill and Sid sit on this bench everyday (except Christmas Day but even then it’s where their hearts and thoughts are). They sit and they talk and they make remarks to passers by. Remarks like …

“Let you out again has she?!”

“Nice weather … for ducks!”

“Cheer up it might never happen”

Funny remarks like those. Today there’s a new bus driver, he’s taken over from Big Geoff. Big Geoff got too big for the drivers seat and has been given a desk job (though if he keeps growing like he has been he’ll soon be too big for his desk too). The new boy, Graham, pulls up his bus, the Bishops Castle service; it drops off, waits for 15 minutes and then goes. Twice a day. This is Graham’s first day on the run, he hasn’t seen Walter, Bill and Sid before.

“You can get on if you want” he says as he steps off for a cigarette

“We can get on lads” quips Walter “he says we can get on”

“That’s nice of him” says Sid

“Very nice” adds Bill “What’s on there?”

“Sorry?” asks Graham

“What will we discover if we do get on? Is it worth it?” Bill asks

“Well … It’s a bus … it’s got seats and …” Graham answers.

“Ah … we’re not waiting for a bus are we lads” says Walter

“No … no we’re not” Sid and Bill chorus “We’re not waiting for a bus”

“Right, sorry I … I thought you were waiting for me … for the bus”

“No. We’re just waiting” says Walter

“Right” replies Graeme awkwardly.

“We’re just waiting in case anything happens” He pauses for a moment as if deep in thought. “We wouldn’t want to miss it”

Walter, Bill and Sid look into the distance. Looking and waiting. Graham lights another cigarette. After a few moments of silence Bill suddenly asks, “Where’s Geoff?”

“Are you waiting for Geoff?” Graham responds

“Why? Is he coming?” asks Walter

“I doubt it” replies Graham

“He’s not dead is he?” asks Sid

“You haven’t … have you … you know … got rid of him, have you to get his job?” Walter asks.

“What? No … of course not ” Graham can’t tell if they’re serious or not. “He’s not dead … he’s just not driving anymore. He’s working in the office.”

“Bit sudden isn’t it? One day he’s here and the next he’s not” Walter says

“He … had a bit of an incident … nearly ran down a kid coz he couldn’t turn his fat …” Graham stopped himself, ” … couldn’t turn his head”

“And now you’ve got his run. Poor Geoff”

“Look … I’m just covering at the moment … he might come back … if he loses weight…”

“Are you saying Geoff was fat?” asks Walter

“Well … I …” Graham is stumbling a bit now.

“Geoff wasn’t fat” continues Walter.

“He was well built” Sid offers

“I don’t know him really … I should probably get going …” Graham tries to excuse himself.

“You know him by sight though” continues Walter

“Of course”

“Would you say he was fat then?”

“Well … quite fat yeah”

“Quite but not very”

“I don’t know”

“Reasonable doubt” Bill suggests

“Sounds to me like Geoff might have a case for unfair dismissal” Sid adds

“He hasn’t been dismissed”

“Where is he then?” asks Walter

“In the office”

“You might as well of fired him though. Keeping him cooped up like that in an office. He’ll hate that.  He’s a man of the open road is Geoff”

“We liked Geoff” says Bill “Always had time for a chat”

“He’s not dead”

“And a cigarette” Walter coughs and waits “Awful generous he was”

“Eh? … Oh” Graham fumbles for his packet, “Actually I’ve only got one left”

“That’s alright … we’ll share it”

“Right” said Graham as Walter grabs the cigarette.

“Yeah we liked Geoff” says Bill

“Never went on his bus though did we” says Sid

“He wasn’t going our way.”

“No.”

Hilltop Radio Launch Night

“It’s 6 o’clock, it’s November the sixth. It’s 1987. And this … is Hilltop Radio broadcasting across  … across the town on the … on the 1079 … on 1079 on the a m wave band … wave length…yeah…

Well I hope you can hear us OK out there … Can you? This is our first night … our first exciting night, coming to you live. This is the start of a new listening era. Hilltop Radio will be the voice of the town … and when we get a bigger transmitter, the surrounding area aswell. We’ll be broadcasting every night from 6 o’clock to 9.30  and 9 to 5 on the weekends and bank holidays.  There’s gonna be news, views … chat from local personalities and most of all music. The music you want to hear. Are you tired of the same old sound? Then keep it here on 1079. Hilltop Radio.

We are the Radio Luxembourg of Shropshire … but there’s already a Radio Shropshire … they beat us to it … so we, are Hilltop Radio … the radio station with a view,  broadcasting live to you from our hilltop hideaway. I can’t tell you where it is exactly … it’s top secret… we are, you see,  pirates of the airwaves… shiver me timbers, pieces of eight … we are, a little bit illegal … but don’t worry … it’s not illegal to listen – I don’t think so anyway … well how would they know? Unless you happen to live next door to a policeman and you’ve got your radio turned up too loud … so if you do, keep it turned down low, just in case …. Our secret location does also mean that there won’t be any postal competitions I’m afraid, until we can get ourselves a PO Box. But you can call us on 54..6 … actually we need to think about that a bit too probably…but um … anyway that’s enough from me for the moment…. my name is Shane, that’s not my real name by the way… you’re listening to Hilltop Radio and this … is Duran Duran …

Sunday Night

Eleanor is with Mark … in his granny flat …listening to Bruce Springsteen … Eleanor doesn’t really like Bruce Springsteen but she likes Mark again so she’s prepared to listen.

Doreen is on the sofa finishing off a bag of liquorice allsorts and picking her toenails. Dave is trying not to look and imagining his son Pete having a great time with his mates in the student union.

Mike is in The Queen’s, telling jokes. He’s got a new one about Noah’s Ark – but he can only remember the punchline … which is “oh you mean a multi storey carp ark”

Simon is listening to The Smiths in his bedroom thinking about Emma. Emma is trying to finish her homework in her bedroom thinking about Simon.

Old Mrs Handy has fallen asleep in her chair.

Phil (not Pam and Phil Phil … Phil Smith from the estate agents) is just dropping Joanne Griffiths the hairdresser off at home. He took her out for a meal at the Chinese. It took him weeks to pluck up courage to ask her. He thought she fancied Dave the butcher until he saw her slap him across the cheek the other week in the Nag’s Head. They didn’t really know what to say to each other but it didn’t seem to matter and they shared a banana fritter for pudding. Phil had never shared a pudding with anyone before. Joanne doesn’t invite him in – she still lives with her Mum and she wants to be a bit mysterious but she kisses him on the cheek and looks back as she puts the key in the door.

Dodgy John is trying to make pairs out of a box full of trainers he bought sight unseen at the wholesalers this morning.

Ian is in bed staring at the ceiling

Teacher Phil is at the dining table, his head in his hands

Thomas is snoring in his room, sleeping in a kneeling position clutching his teddy and his rabbit.

A Walk In The Hills With Pam, Phil and Thomas

It’s Sunday and Pam has had enough of being at home all week, just her and Thomas so she has persuaded Phil to come out for a walk up the hill. Some fresh air and exercise, some time not sitting in front of the tele. Phil was reluctant to come. He didn’t actually say so, just displayed absolutely no enthusiasm and complained about needing to work …

“We could at least spend Sunday together … doing something nice …” Pam tried to reason “You were asleep on the sofa by 8 o’clock every night last week”

“I was not … “

“You were Phil … every night …”

“Look …well … I really need to plan for next week” Phil replied

“Plan? Plan? You’re a PE teacher for God’s sake”

“And art” Phil shouted

“Oh yeah … and art” As soon as the words jumped out of her mouth Pam tried to swallow them back down.

“Sorry … look let’s just go for a quick walk … get some lunch in the pub and then you can have the afternoon to work” she said. “Thomas would like it.

Phil knew he would have to say yes.

As they drove along the winding lane up to the hill the November morning fog grew thicker and thicker. Phil muttered something about it hardly being worth it. Pam didn’t hear, she was in the back with Thomas who had fallen asleep almost the instant the car left the drive. But as soon as they parked the car the fog began to drift away like smoke from a bonfire and Thomas woke up.

“I hate this car” he said, almost in tears.

“What?” Phil asked

“Don’t say what. You mustn’t … Mummy said… say pardon or what did you say?” Thomas explained

“What did you say?” Phil asked

“I want the old car back”

“Why darling?” asked Pam “I thought you liked our new car”

The new car (new to them anyway) was a Ford Sierra, dark blue. They bought it when Phil got the new job.

“Where’s the old car Daddy?”

The old car was a lime green Vauxhall Chevette with a hole in the wing bunged up with filler.

“We swapped it for this one didn’t we” said Phil

“Can we get it back Mummy?”

“No … I don’t know … let’s go for a walk … look at that hill Tom … ” said Pam trying to change the subject

“I want it back …”

“It’s gone” said Phil impatiently. “Let’s go up then if we’re going. Do you want to go on my shoulders?”

“Mummy’s shoulders”

“Right Mummy’s shoulders”

“I’m not strong enough … go on Daddy’s shoulders … you haven’t seen much of Daddy this week have you?”

“OK Daddy’s shoulders”

As Pam and Phil climbed in silence Thomas pointed out all the things they failed to see … a long list of things that he still found amazing …

A robin bird, holly, spiders webs, big sticks, rocks for throwing at knights, red leaves, brown leaves, yellow leaves …

“Look …Dad … look … ” he shouted pulling at Phil’s hair … “look at those clouds”

Phil wanted to talk to him but he couldn’t stop thinking about school. He wanted to be able to tell Pam and Thomas that he hated his job, that he couldn’t control the kids, that he had no ideas for the art lessons, that he didn’t get on with the other PE teachers. But he couldn’t say it. They had only just arrived in town, just bought the house, Pam wanted another baby … he wanted another baby …

“Look at that mushroom … !”

“That’s a puffball” explained Pam

“Can I eat it?”

“Not now”

“Can we take it home? Please? Put it in your Mummy”

“Mummy can’t put it in her bag”

“I can … don’t spoil things …”

“What?”

“Don’t say what Daddy”

“I was going to say it won’t go in your bag because there’s not mush room left” said Phil through gritted teeth

“Sorry” said Pam as she realised. “Did you hear what Daddy said Tom … he said it can’t go in my bag because there’s not mush room left”

“What?”

“Silly Daddy” said Pam

“Dad … Dad you’re silly”

“You’re silly”

“You’re silly”

“Look at that cloud Thomas” said Phil “Looks like an elephant”

“Wow!”

“And that one looks like a car” continued Phil

“And that one looks like a doober” added Thomas

“And that one looks like a noober” said Phil

“And that one looks like the moon”

“That is the moon …”

“Wow! Brilliant”

“Hey Tom that one looks like Mummy”

Tom looked hard …”Oh yeah … funny … it’s you Mummy”

“Oi you two watch it”  and she chased them down the path, Thomas bouncing on Phil’s shoulders like a drunk jockey.

As they came off the hill the fog began to drift in once more so that they could hardly see the car park.

“Dad?”

“Yes”

“Is dead forever?”

“Um … “

“Is it?”

“Yes … but you don’t need to worry about that for ages”

“Do you?

“I hope not”

“And me”