A Tear Fell Gently

By Austin Lawrence

This is a romantic and family saga (fiction) about a teacher, Steve Hardy, and a student’s family - the Burnett’s. Steve once worked with David Burnet, a member of the Brigside Fishermen’s Harmony Group. David’s daughters, Vanessa and Cheryl become romantically involved with Steve, who likes his own way and can charm the ladies. His position at Redscar Technical College provides him with opportunities.

Vanessa is blinded by love at first, ignoring signs that all is not well but finally ditches Steve for making constant criticisms of her father’s singing group. She has a rival in her sister however. Cheryl takes over after becoming a laboratory assistant in the same college department as Steve.

Unexpectedly, Nigel, a technician at the college, dies, leaving his house and money to Vanessa. He had been distressed when Vanessa had shown a preference for Steve while she’d been a student at the college. Vanessa is flattered by the windfall but is still angry with Cheryl for dating Steve.

After Steve is seen kissing Cheryl in the Prep Room - by the Principal’s daughter - Steve has to leave, accepting a post in Surrey at Brooklands Technical College. He has a brief relationship with Marie in London before returning to Yorkshire and taking up a post at Denby Technical Institute of Further Education. When he discovers Cheryl has had his twins, he marries her – partly because Vanessa has married Barry from the harmony group.

After a trip to Liverpool, hoping to mix work and pleasure, Steve eventually meets Vanessa and friends, before joining them for a trip to The Cavern to see The Beetles.

David goes to hospital after a clash with Steve on a cliff top at Brigside during the Easter break.

Without returning home to Denby with Steve, Cheryl finally decides to leave him, writing a letter to tell him of her decision to go and live with Barry at his fish and chip shop in Brigside. Soon afterwards, Steve looks to Vanessa for help after an accident in the machine shop and she comes to Denby with her friend to care for him.

A vacancy at Redscar Technical College gives Steve an opportunity for a transfer from Denby to Redscar. After a trip to see The Beatles in Liverpool, and conflicting loyalties from the sisters, Steve confirms his relationship with Vanessa but things don’t look too good when Steve goes for a winter training run on the moors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Lawrence
• Release date: Dec 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311197726

Book preview

About the Author

Austin Lawrence was born in Kingston upon Hull in 1934. He achieved top qualifications in Sheet Metal Work, Welding, and Mechanical Engineering while employed in industry and education.He worked as a laboratory demonstrator at Hull University College before a lecturing career lasting twenty-five years covering Willesden College of Technology, Selby Institute of Further Education, and Scarborough Technical College. He achieved a teaching certificate in Secondary and Further Education at London University, Garnet College, and a post graduate Diploma in Education with the University of Hull.

Always a keen runner he has been a member of both Hull and Scarborough Harriers, competing in numerous races, including marathons.

In addition to this first novel he has had well over a hundred poems published and several short stories and articles. Whilst a member of Scarborough Writers Circle, he won the first prize for a story about a local handicapped newspaper seller who he met on the beach on New Year’s Day. They were both hoping to take part in the New Year sea swim but finished up sharing a bottle of rum, sitting with their backs to the sea wall in freezing conditions under the spa bridge, talking about their experiences.

Austin, who sang with the Filey Fishermen’s Harmony Group for twenty two years, lives with his wife, in a detached bungalow overlooking Cayton Bay and The Wolds. He is now enjoying retirement with plenty of reading, writing, walking, swimming and gardening under his belt. Their son, daughter, and grandchildren, live locally.

This book is an invention. It is not exact about the places,

periods or situations it appears to describe. All characters are fictional or used in fictional circumstances. Copyright, Austin Lawrence, 2008. The verses on page 1 are also copyright Austin Lawrence, 2008. All rights reserved.

This Ebook is designed by Awadhesh Y.

Dedicated

To Margaret Drake of York, in gratitude.

Contents

Summary of A Tear Fell Gently

Part 1

A Tear Fell Gently

Chapter 1–35

Part 2

A Tear Fell

Chapter 1–36

Summary of

A Tear Fell Gently

This is a romantic and family saga (fiction) about a teacher, Steve Hardy, and a student’s family - the Burnett’s. Steve once worked with David Burnet, a member of the Brigside Fishermen’s Harmony Group. David’s daughters, Vanessa and Cheryl become romantically involved with Steve, who likes his own way and can charm the ladies. His position at Redscar Technical College provides him with opportunities.

Vanessa is blinded by love at first, ignoring signs that all is not well but finally ditches Steve for making constant criticisms of her father’s singing group. She has a rival in her sister however. Cheryl takes over after becoming a laboratory assistant in the same college department as Steve.

Unexpectedly, Nigel, a technician at the college, dies, leaving his house and money to Vanessa. He had been distressed when Vanessa had shown a preference for Steve while she’d been a student at the college. Vanessa is flattered by the windfall but is still angry with Cheryl for dating Steve.

After Steve is seen kissing Cheryl in the Prep Room - by the Principal’s daughter - Steve has to leave, accepting a post in Surrey at Brooklands Technical College. He has a brief relationship with Marie in London before returning to Yorkshire and taking up a post at Denby Technical Institute of Further Education. When he discovers Cheryl has had his twins, he marries her – partly because Vanessa has married Barry from the harmony group.

After a trip to Liverpool, hoping to mix work and pleasure, Steve eventually meets Vanessa and friends, before joining them for a trip to The Cavern to see The Beetles.

David goes to hospital after a clash with Steve on a cliff top at Brigside during the Easter break.

Without returning home to Denby with Steve, Cheryl finally decides to leave him, writing a letter to tell him of her decision to go and live with Barry at his fish and chip shop in Brigside. Soon afterwards, Steve looks to Vanessa for help after an accident in the machine shop and she comes to Denby with her friend to care for him.

A vacancy at Redscar Technical College gives Steve an opportunity for a transfer from Denby to Redscar. After a trip to see The Beatles in Liverpool, and conflicting loyalties from the sisters, Steve confirms his relationship with Vanessa but things don’t look too good when Steve goes for a winter training run on the moors.

Part 1

A Tear Fell Gently

Chapter 1

We are the singers of coast Brigside,

The town with the golden sand,

Holidaymakers flock to our beaches,

Watching the cobles land.

Brigside is the place to be,

Fishing, singing songs of the sea.

We’re in the main stream,

Fresh air and ice cream,

This is the life for me.

(Brigside Singers opening song in 1958)

It is not very well known throughout the country but Brigside and Redscar are towns on the Yorkshire coast. They are seven miles apart at the narrow coastal end of the Vale of Yedingham, which has the rolling wolds on one side, picturesque villages, forest and moor on the other.

Brigside is much smaller than Redscar and stands between two ravines that pour trickling streams of fresh water between banks of teeming daffodils, into the North Sea. On the North side of the most northerly ravine down which runs the boundary line between the North and East Riding Ridings, stands an old church with a well-tended graveyard. When anyone dies in Brigside, which is in the East Riding, people never say that they have just died, but that he or she has gone to the North Riding.

In the early sixties when The Beatles were performing at a theatre in Redscar, they were booked in for the night at a posh hotel in Brigside called Hylands. On arriving in Brigside they stopped their car at The Forge and enquired, Hey wack, which way is it to Hylands Hotel? They were told by the blacksmith, Yer see that sign post at top et road. The beatles replied in harmony, Ye-er.

Well there’s nowt on it so it’ll just suit thoo. Anyhow, turn left, then tek fust reet, secund left, go fer arf a mile along t’Crescent and tha’ll cum t’Hylands Hotel where it owerlooks t‘bay. But yer wasting yer time cos thi won’t tek likes o’thoo, buddy."

Redscar is much bigger than Brigside. It is more commercialised and has more industry. It also has a hospital, a harbour bristling with yachts and trawlers, a lighthouse, three theatres, a castle and a Technical College. There has always been good-natured rivalry between the two towns, whether it be football, rock angling, which has the best male voice choir, or who can drink the most beer.

There was a time, not long after the war when pubs in Redscar closed half an hour earlier than those in Brigside. It became routine for those who liked a drink, to take last orders in Redscar, and then jump into their Morris, Hillman, Austin, Wolsley or Robin Reliant, dash seven miles along the coast road to Brigside and order a pint of bitter in the Railway Tavern. The landlord of this hotel once told a youth who bragged he could do the journey in twelve minutes, "That’s nothing lad, there’s a Russian astronaut up there now, as we speak, circumcising the earth - once every ten minutes!

"Work was more readily available in Redscar, especially in Engineering, coach building and fabrication industries, many people travelling daily from Brigside to Redscar. Most came on bus, steam train or bicycle but one or two hardy souls walked or even jogged the seven miles. Few workers had their own car in those days but some had motor bikes with names like Royal Enfield, Matchless, Norton, Douglas and Panther. Apprentices had to sign indentures to say they would study and train for five years and attend evening classes at the Technical College for three nights a week, only a few lucky ones attending on day release.

Steve Hardy was a lecturer at the Technical College, or The Tech as it was always called, and he taught Science, Engineering and Graphic Design. One Saturday evening in September 1958, he was preparing himself for a date with his girlfriend at a local dance.

They had arranged to meet at 8-30 p.m. He knew she would be there on time but was irritated by the thought that Nigel the technician might also turn up.

He shaved, sprayed deodorant, and put on his best blue pinstripe suit, cut away collar shirt, yellow tie and socks. Slipping a comb quickly through his curly ginger hair, he dropped the latch, walked the short distance to his sugar bag blue1937 Singer Le Mans Coupe, took two swings of the starting handle and slid smoothly into the driving seat. The smell of the car interior had an immediate calming effect with its blue leather seats and polished walnut dashboard. There was an added pleasure with the fragrance of Vanessa’s perfume but he wasn’t going to let that affect his judgement tonight.

If she pushed him too far he would be ready for her. Nobody was going to meddle with his feeling. He parked his car on the cliff top near the valley footbridge and strolled confidently along the Esplanade looking out towards the lighthouse bathed in a pink sunset.

The beach curled smooth and golden between the majestic sentinels of Redscar Castle, flawed here and there by crumbling gaps in its towering walls, and the turquoise sheet of the North Sea. The huge bulks of the Spa complex and the Grandeur Hotel rose as twin Victorian paunches from the water’s edge, and around them clustered amusement arcades, bingo and fish and chip parlours, convenience food stalls, and gift shops with goods at low prices from Taiwan and Hong Kong.

Reaching the front of the Hotel, with its pillars and swing doors, he dashed up the long steps and paused at the entrance to the Empress Ballroom. Between decorated columns and beneath high sparkling chandeliers, a hundred couples stepped forward, stepped backward and slid sideways, in a celebrated dance routine with two hundred eager feet pounding the deeply sprung parquet floor.

He could see Vanessa standing in a far corner, radiant in her low cut, cream dress, bouffant hairstyle and glittering necklace. By her side was Nigel, sporting a DA and dressed in a long maroon jacket, drainpipe trousers, and blue suede, crepe soul shoes. Steve pushed his way across the crowded floor towards them.

Hello Vanessa, — sorry I’m late. He smiled engagingly, half heartedly turning his head towards Nigel, Hi, Nigel. Orange eyes back on Vanessa, he studied her pale face. It was well made up with blue eye shadow and false eye lashes but she looked tired — she’d been around for two years now and he knew her well: her smile, her laughter, her likes and dislikes, even her favourite dances, like the quick step and Charleston.

A bit complicated this one, she said, looking down at her white stiletto heels and pointed toe shoes.

Slow foxtrot next probably.

Yes, can’t wait

Not enough space to enjoy it though.

The ballroom was overcrowded, the air filling up with smoke. Everyone seemed to be smoking. Steve’s eyes met Vanessa’s and held them persistently, even when Nigel’s gaze fell between them. . . .

What’s this next one? asked Steve.

A quick step, said Vanessa sweeping a lock of auburn hair away from her face with long manicured fingers.

My favourite, said Nigel, hopefully. There isn’t much room for jiving or bebop and I bet the MC would move us on.

A couple got up to dance and Vanessa motioned Steve towards a seat.

I’m gonna rock around the clock tonight, sang the dancers as they whirled past them. I’m gonna rock, rock, rock, till the broad daylight -- I’m gonna rock, rock, rock, around the clock tonight. . . .

Cigarette smoke swirled around the dancers as they moved progressively across the floor. I wish they’d open a window, or put the extractor fans on. Vanessa rubbed her eyes . . . Nearly choking me . . . Choking! She coughed and rubbed her eyes again.

As the dance ended, Vanessa said something to Steve in a tense, low voice, and with scarcely a glance at Nigel, they walked towards the door. Vanessa turned at the top of a small flight of steps and looked across to where Nigel sat caressing the large quiff of hair on his forehead. He returned her gaze as she gave him a faint smile before turning to descend a long flight of stone steps, with Steve following her, to a side entrance. In a few moments, they were walking hand in hand along a moonlit beach, silver light reflecting off the water as surf rolled in.

Vanessa. . . . Darling! . . . They embraced recklessly, passionately, in the shadow of a moonlit cloud. Then Vanessa drew back her head to let his mouth say the words she wanted to hear. . . She could feel them forming on her lips as they kissed . . . Again she pulled away, turning her cheek to his face. . . waiting. . . listening. But as he pulled her close once more she realised he had said nothing – only, Vanessa! Darling! In that deep soft voice that made her cry. Meekly, submissive, her feelings opened up to him, tears streamed down her face, but her heart kept on crying, Ask me, Steve – oh! Please ask me.

Vanessa . . . Vanessa! You know how I feel about you. I think you are marvellous. If only we could always be together like this.

The words caressed her heart like a hand and Steve, feeling her tremble, realised he had done enough. He need say no more; no complications, no commitment. He knew he could take her back to her flat and stay as long as he wanted.

A self-satisfied smile lingered on his lips as his thoughts moved on. He was thinking of the following Friday and his third year Art class in which Vanessa was a student. In the course syllabus there was a section which he needed to cover. It concerned the potential advantages of focal points and the need for care and accuracy when taking snaps. He could deal with the topic best if he took the students out in the mini bus. Nigel had responsibility for the vehicle keys and maintenance. He would ask him to check tyre pressures, the battery, oil, petrol and water in good time for Friday morning.

There is a place between the cliff path and the Spa from which all the best views of Redscar are occasionally recorded by artists and cameramen. He wanted to surprise and impress Vanessa. He was suddenly aware of her again in his arms, sobbing against his chest. Why don’t you talk to me Steve?

How can I when you’re crying all the time.

I wonder what Nigel is thinking. It was rude of us to just walk out on him like that.

Don’t worry about him. He will get along alright. There are plenty of girls there to keep him happy. He’ll soon get talking to them. He doesn’t need you for company and certainly not me. Can’t stand him sometimes - to be honest.

Oh, Steve, you shouldn’t talk about him like that.

You don’t have to work with him like I do. How much do you really like him? How can you possibly like him? He looked at her, peevish eyes, challenging.

Don’t be jealous, Steve. You know I don’t think of him in the same way I do you, silly. He’s just a nice person, who needs people to understand him. I like him as a friend, that’s all. She sobbed tearfully. Then drying her tears with his handkerchief she fell silent wondering if Nigel had followed them out of the ballroom — if he was angry."

I’d like to go home now Steve, please. She could tell his mind was elsewhere and that he was still upset with her for having anything to do with Nigel.

They walked back slowly along the foreshore and up the one hundred and thirty MacTavish steps on their way back to her flat. In the entrance hall, she let him kiss her passionately. Breaking away fiercely, she said, I’ll have to go.

Oh, I thought we might have a coffee.

She looked petulant. Not tonight Steve. It’s time for me to go. It is late.

With a quick kiss she turned and hurried inside to cry, a forlorn figure on the bed. He walked quickly back to his car parked near the bridge, smarting a little but quietly confident with the way he had handled things that evening.

The following Friday was fine and sunny. Just what I needed, thought Steve, A lovely clear day with plenty of sunlight - not bad for the middle of September. He parked the mini-bus near the old Penny Bridge spanning the Valley Road and took his students down the zigzag path and along the road to the Spa cliff with its special location looking out over the Spa roof top. After a short introduction to historical background and the striking vista from this viewpoint, he settled them down to sketching, taking notes and focusing their cameras. They gazed out over garden portico and domed towers on the roof of the old Spa, to the fortified ramparts of Redscar castle. Gold and green leaves from beech, birch, and maple, cascaded down a sloping cliff face. The bay with its lighthouse and pier was bristling with yachts and fishing boats, and out to sea, cargo ships and fishing boats sailed under an azure blue sky.

Steve watched Vanessa taking her snapshots — she was very beautiful. He realised how much she needed him and it inflated his ego. He knew she liked Nigel but just how much there was between them he was not sure. He did not want to lose her. For an hour and a half, the students worked, with Steve organising and guiding their efforts. Eventually he brought them together to discuss and summarise their work then gave some homework before making their way back to the mini bus.

When they had returned to College, Steve asked Nigel to do the developing and printing for the students photographs. It rankled a little with Steve that Nigel would see the fruits of their labour before he did but Nigel was the chief technician in the Graphic Design Department and as such was responsible for film processing. He treated the Dark Room as his own property, locking it regularly behind him and rarely inviting anyone in.

Steve went through to his classroom. Right you can all go now. Don’t forget your homework – and I want it in on time He walked across to where Vanessa was putting papers into a folder. See you at 2 o’clock on Sunday near the kiosk in Leasholm Park, he said, giving her a wink.

Well you never know, you could be lucky, she laughed, her green eyes twinkling. Students milled around them talking and shouting to one another as they made their way to the refectory and classrooms.

But don’t bring Nigel.

Maybe I won’t, she called back, eyes flirting as she walked away.

Vanessa met Nigel in the refectory and over a coffee, they agreed for him to bring the prints along to the park on the following Sunday.

It would be lovely to see them and I’m sure Steve wouldn’t mind; he’ll be getting them a day earlier than he expected, so he should be pleased.

Chapter 2

I’ve been a wild rover for many a year,

And I’ve spent all my money on whiskey and beer,

But now I’m returning with gold in great store,

And I never will play the wild rover no more.

The first verse of an Irish folk song in which the Brigside Singers’ involve audience participation with synchronised clapping in the chorus. A favourite of Nigels.

Nigel Slater at twenty-nine, still had the good looks of his youth but even with his fancy hairstyle, it was obvious his fair hair was receding. At five foot ten inches, he was taller than Steve was but more gangling and round-shouldered. His parents had died in a traffic accident when he was nineteen and he’d lived on his own since then and rarely saw any of his relatives. As the only child, he was the beneficiary to a £200,000 house overlooking the gorse and heather of the North York coastline. He also had a portfolio of shares, several bonds, two life insurance policies, and a substantial bank account. He’d always had what he wanted from life just for the asking — but not a girl yet who would agree to marry him. His friends blamed this on his arrogance. Several young girls had tried to break through his air of aloof superiority to discover the man within but had always failed. His job in the Art Department had been gained with the aid of influential friends but he had worked hard as a technician earning respect and admiration from colleagues for his diligence and ability.

Nigel had known Vanessa for as long as Steve and they had both grown fond of her at the same time. She had been just ‘one of the girls’ in class GDI at first but sharing the same table in the college restaurant during lunch and tea breaks, he came to know her well, and his admiration for her soon developed a serious side to it. Before long he realised he was crazy about her. If she would just give him the green light and stop resisting his advances, he was sure he would ask her to marry him. If only that overbearing lecturer Steve Hardy would leave her alone, he knew he could win her over. There were plenty of other females in the staff room for Steve to play around with.

On Saturday morning when Nigel developed and printed the photographs, he was pleasantly surprised with the quality of Vanessa’s work: always the best camera angles, balanced pictures, well presented. One student included her as the subject in some of his snaps and Nigel immediately decided to keep these prints for his personal collection on the pretext of their unsuitability or poor quality.

Steve wasn’t in College on that Saturday morning to see the snaps but as Vanessa had invited him along for a walk with her and Steve in the park on Sunday morning, he had agreed with Vanessa to bring them with him.

When Steve arrived at the ice cream kiosk in Leasholm Park at 2 o’clock, dressed in brown cords and leather jacket, Nigel was already there showing Vanessa the prints from her class. With a surge of petulance, he almost turned away but they’d seen him and he knew it was too late for that, so he walked towards them defiantly.

Hi there, Steve, called Vanessa cheerfully, regardless of his mournful face. She knew he was angry but why should she care? He was hurting her and she wanted to hurt him. Hope you didn’t mind my asking Nigel along. She smiled cheekily. He’s brought the photos for you. She touched his arm tentatively, hoping he would admire her in the new green corduroy dress she had bought yesterday morning from Woods, the trendy clothes shop in Redscar high street.

I’d prefer to receive them through the normal channels in future, Nigel — but as you’ve brought them, where are they? He looked at him sulkily.

Thought you’d be pleased to see them, grunted Nigel feeling in the pocket of his long drape jacket. They’re quite good, especially the ones I’ve enlarged. He passed an envelope containing the photographs to Steve."

Steve looked at them without any real interest, then brushing the curly ginger hair from his forehead he put them back into the carrier bag that Nigel handed to him.

Not bad, he said, I’ll have a closer look when I get back home.

In an uneasy silence, they began to walk round the lake. A mock Battle of the Atlantic was just beginning in the picturesque setting. The lake was glistening in the sunlight, a waterfall gambled down granite rocks from the Japanese pagoda on the cliff top and a crowd of three hundred people sat waiting patiently on green wooden benches stretched in tiers below a lakeside café. In the centre of the lake, there were realistic models of frigates, cruisers and battleships. After a brief welcome over the loud speaker and an introduction to the planned battle, fighter aircraft and bombers were soon in action, diving over the ships and attacking them. Shellfire and smoke, accompanied with firecrackers and thunder flashes, added to the atmosphere of this authentic enactment of a Second World War battle at sea. Smoke poured across the lake and loud bangs echoed around the arena.

After thirty minutes of action packed drama, the battle came to its climax and a team of technicians began to clear away the debris from the lakeside theatre of war, some of them waving to the crowd as they sat up in their model ships with their super structure hinged open, enjoying the applause from the audience.

Well, I’m pleased there’s been something interesting happening on the lake, complained Vanessa with a glance at her glum escorts who were both acting like unwanted guests at a distant relative’s birthday party. I thought you would both be pleased to see the show and walk round the park on a lovely sunny Sunday afternoon. My Dad told me there are some very rare trees if you walk up stream from the lake. He said there is a cucumber tree, a tree of heaven and even a handkerchief tree. I don’t suppose we would recognise them anyway. Neither of her companions seemed to be interested in trees.

Stupid place for an organ, complained Nigel as they walked slowly past the bandstand surrounded with water, though I suppose it is something of a focal point facing tiers of seats and the old council cafe facing the island pagoda across the lake. Anyone fancy a cup of coffee?

No thanks, mumbled Steve without looking at either of them.

‘There was an excellent organist here last weekend, said Vanessa cheerfully. I came last Sunday with Cheryl and we heard some great organ playing. We rowed a boat around the lake listening to a selection of songs from The King and I, and The Jolson Story."

They continued walking along by the meandering beck and over a bridge where it tippled into the lake. Under droves of red oak, ash and silver birch they walked all the way up the steep sided Glen to pass under the road bridge and then a foot bridge that hovered high above an old church yard. As they reached the top Steve dug his hands in his pockets and said abruptly, It’s time I was going. I’ve work to do. I need to assess the student’s photography and I’ve some preparation to do for tomorrow. He turned, walking away slowly then more quickly giving a fleeting wave from the top of the path. Nigel was quite pleased as it gave him an opportunity for walking Vanessa home to her flat.

Let’s go then Vanessa, he said, smiling at her. We can be a bit more cheerful now he’s gone. He’s a right misery chops when he’s that way out. As they reached the top of the path, he turned and said, It’s been lovely Van. I’ve really enjoyed it." He tried to look into her eyes but she moved away.

Thank you Nigel, that’s nice of you. It was her turn now to be quiet. She was obviously upset with Steve’s sudden departure and it showed. By the time they reached her flat on East Cliff, Nigel realised he was not impressing her with his conversation, and she didn’t even invite him in for a drink.

At 3 a.m. on Monday morning after drinking several large whiskeys, Nigel tottered slowly along Sea Bridge Parade in Redscar. He experienced a feeling of unreality as orange mist swirled around him in the lamplight. There was no one about as he climbed the wrought iron framework from the centre of the bridge. Pulling himself upwards and over the balustrade he shuffled onto the stonework that jutted out from the undersides of the bridge.

Crawling along the cold wet mossy surface of the stonework, his hands and feet could find little to grip. Beneath the balustrade rampart, he immediately felt intense fear, followed by wild exhilaration. Feet wide apart, he edged a little way along the rigid stone buttress with his fingers clinging to the copingstone along the parapet. His eyes stared out into a chasm of darkness. Crouching now, he could feel the sea fret wetting his face as he listened to the mournful hooting of the lighthouse foghorn as it answered calls from distant oil tankers and cargo ships that were sailing northwards to terminals at Teeside.

Then as the mist curled around him, he saw Vanessa walking towards him through a vale of cloud. He held out his arms to greet her. Vanessa! He pulled her close but once in his arms she pulled back, holding his hands at arms length. He wanted to hold her close again but she let go and turned away. He called out to her, Vanessa! — Vanessa! Then she was gone, dissolving slowly into the mist. Cruel reality returned; he mumbled her name again. Vanessa, — I love you — love you! Let us be together — please... No one wants me. I am a nuisance — useless – hopeless – helpless. His voice trailed away into a drawl.

He heard a voice shouting, Don’t do it mate! He turned to see a shadowy figure near the end of the bridge. Don’t do it, I will get help! I’ll get an ambulance, the fire brigade. Just hang on mate! Help is coming. You will be all right. Don’t panic.

God give me strength!" Nigel scowled as he lurched, attempting to hurl himself forward. Then his hands slid slowly from the bridge . . . and he fell — like a stone — ten feet, —a hundred feet — ah—h—ee! . . . a final thud on the tarmac.

Chapter 3

Dear face that holds so sweet a smile for me.

Were you not mine, how dark the world would be.

I know no light above that could replace

Love’s radiant sunshine in your dear dear face.

(A verse from Sunshine of your Smile sung by Frank Sinatra in 1941 and a regular in the Brigside Singers’ repertoire)

It took some while for the reality of Nigel’s suicide to sink in, and there was a general lethargy and low-key atmosphere at the College for a few days. Everyone had considered Nigel to be well established, quietly confident and a capable person in full control of his life. The staff and students had difficulty coming to terms with this tragedy. There was a constant need for the upkeep, storage and maintenance of equipment in the laboratories and preparation rooms, and neglect soon became apparent as mournful chaos pervaded the department.

On the day of the funeral, Steve put on a blue shirt, grey suit, and black leather shoes. Slipping a black felt band over his arm, he paused to look through the window. Rain drummed monotonously on the grey slate roofs. It spilled over gutters, trickled down walls, and dripped its melancholy Morse code across the window ledge. Tears ran down the windowpane, drainpipes gurgled, and water poured through shiny bars of cast iron sinks in weird melodious harmony.

Funeral morning rain has a dreariness all its own, more gloomy than any other occasion. It was drizzling misery, wretchedness turned to water. Steve moved away from the window, put on a plastic Mac and went outside to his car. Throwing himself into the driving seat, he drove at high speed to Vanessa’s flat. She came out to meet him in a grey dress and black coat. There was a pained expression on her face and lethargy in her step.

Thank you for coming Steve. I’m glad you’re a bit late - don’t want to get there too early. We won’t know anyone and I could do without the formality of introductions to a crowd of strangers. But I just feel that it would be nice to pay our respects without fuss or ceremony.

They drove slowly through the town and turned up the lane to the hospital. The wind was freshening and yellowing leaves from lime and silver birch were swirling across the narrow approach road and piling into gutters.

Steve held Vanessa’s brolly as they crossed the grounds of the crematorium from the car park. Just before they reached the chapel doorway, the brolly blew inside out. Steve pulled it back into shape and thrust it into the corner of the porch as they made their way through into the service hall. Strains of Morte Christi waft across the rows of pews as they sat down at the back of the hall not far from the doorway.

A cluster of Nigel’s relatives wearing dark colours and sombre faces were sitting in the front seats; about forty in number, shoulders drooped, heads bowed.

When the music stopped, the minister’s sonorous voice droned softly over the coffin and across to the small group of grieving people. He began talking about Nigel’s life, how he was born in Skegness, went to Grammar school, achieved sporting success in football and swimming, was always well liked, kind and generous, how he’d studied his interests in depth and worked hard to achieve his position at the College in Redscar.

For Vanessa, the voice had an oppressive affect from which she wished to escape. She felt claustrophobic. Halfway through the service she experienced a choking sensation. Lurching suddenly to her feet, she made quickly for the exit with Steve in close pursuit. With his arm firmly on her waist they walked in the surrounding gardens for ten minutes and then she asked him to take her home.

Back at her flat in East Cliff, they had brandy and ginger ale, and then sat sipping black coffee in front of an electric fire. Thank you for staying Steve — I thought I was going to pass out.

‘You did very well considering the situation. Can’t say I like funerals myself. Only ever been to two – both grandparents. I was really pleased when you wanted to come outside into the fresh air.