Kiss My Name

by Calvin Wade

  After eighteen years of family life, every second of ‘me’ time is a complete joy. I had popped the apple pie into the oven, feeling very much like a Stepford wife, then turned the immersion heater on, deciding that I now fully deserved a long soak in the bath. I had barely transferred the i-pod to the landing, turned the taps on and poured in the bubble bath, when I heard the familiar sound of a front door slamming.

  “Who is it?” I shouted down.

  All three people I shared a house with had form for door slamming.

  “Will.”

  “Have you had a row with someone?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you slamming the door?”

  “Don’t know my own strength.”

  I looked down at him from the top of the landing. He had scruffy long blond hair, like a hippy from the sixties who was on his way to sing peace songs around a campfire. I had lost count of the amount of times I had asked him to get it cut but eighteen year old boys don’t listen to their mothers.

  “Well, it would be nice if you could just close the door rather than slam it.”

  “OK mother, calm down.”

  Will knew I did not like him referring to me as ‘mother’, he was doing it to wind me up.

  “I was very calm before you came in. Why are you back anyway?”

  “Beer. We’ve run out of beers over at Mazzas. Can I pinch some of Dad’s from the garage? I’ll replace them.”

  “Like you always do!”

  “I will this time. Honest!”

  “Go on then, you’re too big for me to stop you, but I’m warning you, your Dad’s not going to be happy.”

  “Thanks Mum! Don’t worry I can handle the old man.”

  Sometimes I think Simon has placed CCTV on his beer. He was probably stationed in some shed across the road and once Will picked up the beer and attempted to make a run for it, he arrived through the front door, armed with a baton and a taser. Well, maybe not a taser and a baton, armed with an incredulous stare anyway!

  “Oi! What do you think you’re playing at? Where are you off to with all my beer?”

  “Mazzas. We’re watching the Wales-England game. We’ve run out of beer.”

  “So you thought you’d take mine.”

  “Pretty much. I knew you’d be alright about it. I told the lads you are the best Dad in the world and are cool about such matters.”

  “Lying to your mates now too, are you?”

  “Come on, Dad. I’ll replace them.”

  “I know you will, with empty ones.”

  “Very funny, Dad.”

  Simon pointed a finger at Will.

  “Replace them.”

  “I will. Right, I’ve got to go before the second half starts. See you later!”

  “You aren’t driving are you?”

  “No, Connie is parked up the road.”

  “Is she not drinking?”

  “It’s a he, Dad. Conrad. He’s only had one so he gave me a lift.”

  On the way out, despite having a dozen beers under his right arm, Will still managed to slam the door again!

  “I wish he’d stop slamming that bloody door!” I moaned to Simon.

  “I wish he’d stop pinching my beer!” Simon replied, heading up the stairs towards me.

  “Where’ve you been?” I queried as I went to turn the bath taps off and started to undress.

  “Your Dad’s.”

  “Bloody hell, you were feeling brave, weren’t you? What did you go there for?”

  “I had to ask him something. Wish I hadn’t now, your Dad’s an arsehole!”

  Will came back in.

  “Who’s an arsehole?” he shouted up the stairs.

  “Never you mind! I thought you’d gone out,” I shouted back down.

  “I was just putting the first twelve cans in Connie’s car. I can’t carry twenty four.”

  I was expecting Simon to fly off the handle, but he didn’t say a word. He was growing accustomed to this habitual theft.

  Will disappeared into the garage again and I returned to the landing as he re-emerged with twelve more cans tucked back under his arm.

  “Come on guys! Who’s an arsehole?” he asked again.

  “Some bloke at my work. You don’t know him,” I shouted.

  “Obviously someone I do know then! Whatever people, I’m not really bothered. By the way, I might go into town after the football and possibly clubbing after that. Don’t wait up, I’ve got a key!”

  For a third time, Will slammed the door behind him.

  “Who’s paying for him to live Oliver Reed’s lifestyle?” Simon enquired.

  “Us. Anyway, you were just telling me that my loving father, who brought me up single-handedly following the death of my poor mother, when I was only seven, is an arsehole.”

  Simon back tracked a little.

  “Well, I know he isn’t an arsehole towards you. I think his problem is that he channels all his kindness towards you and he has only a limited capacity to store the stuff, which means he has to be an arsehole towards everybody else.”

  I couldn’t really disagree. I knew how mean Dad was to Simon.

  “Maybe. Why go round there then?”

  “I told you. I needed to ask him something.”

  “What?”

  Simon paused like his brain had momentarily failed to kick in.

  “I needed to ask him if he would lend me a spade.”

  “What for?”

  ”What do you think you use a spade for, Nicky? To do some gardening.”

  “Simon, the only things you use our garden for, are barbequing and drinking beer! In fifteen years you’ve not pulled one weed up.”

  “Well, I was going to start today, but because your arsehole of a father wouldn’t lend me a spade, I can’t now.”

  I sighed.

  “Simon, this may come as a shock to you, but my Dad is not the only person in the world who owns a spade. We have a whole host of neighbours who own spades, in fact, if you look in that wooded contraption at the bottom of the garden, the one you never venture into, you may well find we have a couple of spades we can proudly call our own. You didn’t have to trek two miles down the road in search of one!”

  “I’m not in the mood for gardening now anyway, love, the moment’s passed.”

  “And won’t be back for another fifteen years,” I muttered to myself as I climbed into the bath.

  I intended to soak up the suds and drift off into a world of James Martin smothered in a chocolate truffle torte but I smelt the sweet aromas of baked apple pie. As always, my plans never came to fruition but at least this time, unusually, it was a most welcome interruption. Cooked to perfection. James would have been so proud of me.

  NICKY – March 2011

  Simon had sprung the idea of going to Blue Planet on me on the Tuesday evening. Chloe was asleep, Will was in his room, no doubt playing FIFA on Xbox and we had just finished watching the ITV News at Ten, when Simon piped up with,

  “What are your plans for tomorrow, Nicky?”

  I worked Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday in the nursery, so Simon would have known I would be off work.

  “Same as every other Wednesday, Simon. Cleaning the house from top to bottom, washing, ironing, dusting, hoovering and cleaning toilets, especially around the back where you and Will like to spray. My life is very rock ‘n’ roll, especially on a Wednesday!”

  “Well, as a reward for your dedication to this family, I hereby award you the day off,” Simon said.

  I gave him a puzzled look. I decided Simon must have been joking. I joked back.

  “That is awfully kind of you kind, sir, but sadly I will not be able to accept your generous offer. My desire to reside in a dirty house that stinks of pee is not all that great, so unless you have invented a robot that can carry out household tasks, whilst I am resting, I’ll just have to get on with it.”

  Simon looked serious.

  “I’m not joking, Nicky, have the day off. We�
��ll do the cleaning between us tomorrow night.”

  I was now suspicious. Lovely man that he was, Simon was not normally the best in involving himself in the domestic duties.

  “Why do I need the day off?”

  “We’re going over to the Blue Plane Aquarium on the Wirral.”

  “On a Wednesday? Why?”

  “I’ve arranged to meet an old school friend, Richard Tyler, there,” Simon explained.

  None of this seemed to be making much sense. It was late and my brain doesn’t tend to function properly when sleep beckons.

  “Hang on Simon, can we just run through this step by step? If we are going to Blue Planet together, that means you aren’t working, why not?”

  “I’ve told you we are meeting an old friend of mine.”

  Yes, but we can’t afford for you to be having days off.”

  “We can. My Dad is still paying me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s my Dad.”

  “Yes, but the thing with your Dad is,” I was stumbling through my words as my confusion rose, “that he isn’t really noted for his generosity. You and your Dad have done the windows together for twenty years and previously, how many paid days off have you had?”

  “None.”

  “Exactly! So why now?”

  “Nicky, I don’t know why he’s agreed to let me have a paid day off, maybe he’s feeling generous or maybe he’s going soft in his old age. I’m not really bothered why it’s happening, I’m just glad that it is.”

  This didn’t stack up. Simon would want to know why he was handed a free day off. He doesn’t like mysteries. He likes everything to be logical and explained. If his Dad had randomly allowed him to have a paid day off, he would definitely be asking why. Something was going on. Simon was hiding something, his guilty body language was giving it away too, with the pronounced actions he did when he was lying. I needed to probe further.

  “OK. Blue Planet on Wednesday. Chloe would have loved to go there, so why are we going on a school day without her?”

  “I don’t know if Richard is working on Saturday.”

  “Does he work there?”

  “Yes.”

  “At Blue Planet?”

  “Yes, that’s why we are meeting there.”

  “Right. What does he do?”

  “Not sure, Nicky. Some sort of manager.”

  “Why would he not work on a Saturday then? Surely Saturday’s must be there busiest day!”

  I could tell Simon’s patience was wearing thin.

  “Look Nicky, it’s all arranged for tomorrow. We can take Chloe there another time, if, after we go, we think she’d enjoy going there.”

  “What did you say this man’s name was?”

  “Richard Tyler.”

  “Did he go to Parklands?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why don’t I know him?”

  “Suckering suckerfish, Nicky! How many questions are you going to ask?”

  “Calm down, Simon! What’s wrong with me asking a few questions? Have you got something to hide?” I asked innocently.

  “No, a few questions would be OK, but John Humphries doesn’t ask this many questions!”

  “Who’s he?”

  “The bloke asking the questions on Mastermind.”

  “Right. I’m only asking because I’m confused why all this is happening, that’s all.”

  “Because Richard Tyler invited me and I thought you may want to come along. He went to Parklands but I didn’t see much of him out of school as he lived over in Brinscall. That is why you don’t know him because he was never hanging around Euxton with Joey and me.”

  Simon was sounding more and more exasperated. I decided I was not going to break him this evening and would see if I could dig a bit deeper in the morning. I couldn’t resist doing a little more winding up though.

  “I still would have thought I’d have heard of him!”

  “Nicky!” Simon said now beginning to sound angry, “I haven’t made him up. Rest assured, he does exist. He changed schools at fifteen, you would have only been twelve, when he moved. Can you stop asking me questions now, I’m tired.”

  “And grumpy!”

  “You’d be bloody grumpy if I asked you this many questions.”

  “I would not.”

  “Anyway, stop with the questions now. Just come along tomorrow, meet Richard, have a look around Blue Planet and if you don’t enjoy yourself, I give you permission to moan all the way home.”

  “I won’t moan, Simon. I never moan.”

  “Never?”

  “OK, I only moan when people don’t do what they say they are going to do. So, as long as you help me clean the house tomorrow night, I will be happy.”

  “Good.”

  We started switching everything off downstairs ready for bed.

  “I still can’t believe your Dad is giving you a paid day off! What happened today, did you drop a bucket on his head?”

  SIMON – March 2011

  Richard Tyler was aware that Wednesday was the only day of the week that I could do, as it was Nicky’s day off. She was off at weekends too, but there was no way I could have taken Nicky to Blue Planet at the weekend, without Nicky insisting Chloe came with us. I felt a little bit sorry for our Chloe, as I knew how much she would have loved the place and the stunt we were going to pull, but on this occasion, I felt it should just be Nicky and me. Children are great but they are inconsistent and if Chloe had come along and thrown a tantrum over something ridiculous I would have been gutted.

  With Richard long since on board for my whacky plan, the next person I needed to confide in was my Dad, as I would need a day off work. My Dad was normally tighter than a pair of size 6 stilettos on a female Sasquatch, so I was stunned when he wished me luck, patted me on the back and even said he would split the day’s takings with me.

  With Richard and Dad all sorted, the next person I needed to focus on was Nicky. I decided not to tell her until late on Tuesday evening, as the less time she had to pressure and prompt me about the reasons for going to Blue Planet, the better. Tuesday evening went as expected with a million and one questions, but after seeing Will off to college and Chloe off to school, I was keen to get Nicky into the car and be on our way. Blue Planet was only an hour away, but I was keen to arrive before anything could possibly go wrong.

  “What time are we meeting your friend, Richard, then?” Nicky asked as we hurtled down the M6 in our Vauxhall Meriva.

  “Half twelve,” I replied casually and then waited for the explosion from the lady in the seat next to me.

  “Half twelve!” Nicky cried out “It’s only quarter to ten. I could have had some breakfast before we left.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Simon! You kept hurrying me along, telling me we were going to be late.”

  “Because I want us to have a look around the place before we meet Richard.”

  “I hope I don’t hate him after all this! Can we not stop at McDonalds for a muffin?”

  “No!”

  Blue Planet aquarium is an amazing place. We will definitely take Chloe there and perhaps may even bribe Will to come with us by offering him a few beers as a reward. I don’t know much about fish and Nicky knows even less, but the place has some of the weirdest, most wonderful fish you could ever see. The tanks are just as a mass of colour. There are not just fish in the tanks either, there are sharks and stingrays too. Nicky and I were particularly fascinated with the stingrays. We meant to ask Richard before we left whether they are classed as fish or sharks, but whatever they are, they are amazing things with their flat bodies and their weird eyes and mouths. We listened to a member of staff telling a French couple that female stingrays have been known to store sperm for a couple of years and then impregnate themselves at a convenient time.

  “Would have saved me a lot of hassle if I’d have learnt that trick,” Nicky whispered over to me.

  We had good look around for about an ho
ur, with me fending off regular questions from Nicky about where we were meeting Richard and whether we should just pop our heads in and say a quick hello. A quarter to twelve, as part of the masterplan, I took Nicky into the underwater aquatunnel, which was a seventy metre tunnel that you could walk through , allowing you to be surrounded by tropical fish. They swim right up to your face and over your head too.

  “Look at all the little ‘Nemos’ swimming around,” Nicky cried out with delight, “I didn’t even realise it was a real type of fish!”

  A couple of minutes later, we were walking along and Nicky tightly grabbed hold of my hand,

  “Oh my God, look at that shark! How evil is he? You don’t think the glass could crack, do you?”

  “Don’t be daft!”

  Nicky was like a big kid in there. It was exciting to see her so enthusiastic about the place. I kept a regular eye on the time and at a minute to twelve, deliberately found myself suddenly fascinated by a bit of coral. Nicky ignored my strange fascination as she had spotted something far more interesting.

  “Wow! Come and have a look at this, Simon, there’s a scuba diver in there with the sharks. Simon? Where’s he disappeared to?”

  The tunnel wasn’t packed full of peple, but there were about thirty people in there, enough to provide me with some temporary cover. Nicky did not exert herself in her bid to find me, as she was transfixed by the diver. It amused me that she was saying her thoughts out loud.

  “I hope he’s going to be alright in there with those sharks. I won’t be happy if they eat him. God, he’s brave, he’s swimming right down here towards us. Simon, where are you? Come and have a look at this bloke diving with the sharks. He’s coming right up to the glass now. Trust Simon to miss this.”

  Right on cue, Richard Tyler, former deep sea diver and now scuba diving guide, who took qualified divers for shark dives, swam right up to Nicky, so his mask was almost touching her face. He was carrying some small pieces of card and he held the first one up in front of Nicky which had a simple request on it,

  ‘Please nod if you are Nicky Moyes.’

  Nicky saw it straight away and began to panic. She looked around for me, but thankfully didn’t look down, as I was, by now, sprawled out horizontally, not far from her feet.