by Calvin Wade
I felt sorry for Simon, but also I felt really annoyed that he was daft enough to choose Joey as a second Best Man. It was asking for trouble.
“I take it this is Joey’s doing.”
“How did you guess? His mates think it’s hilarious, so do the lads from cricket, to be fair. In fact, I reckon I’ve had more photographs taken of me this afternoon than if David Beckham and Posh Spice had walked along the Promenade naked.”
A slight exaggeration perhaps, but I didn’t argue.
“Can they not unlock you now the joke is over?”
“No, they gave the key to the coach driver and he’s not back until tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh honey, that’s awful. Look on the bright side though. At least you said this Tim seems like a nice guy. Imagine if the rest of the Stag party had handcuffed you to Joey! How bad would that be?”
“Even worse!”
“Keep your chin up, hun, kiss my name and this time tomorrow, I promise I will make it all better.”
Being on a promise was guaranteed to put a smile on Simon’s face.
“Thanks, Nicky. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. Just go out tonight and have a brilliant time. Have a dance and a few beers and enjoy yourself.”
“Dance! It might be difficult to dance attached to a Blue Goblin!”
“Simon, believe me, it couldn’t make you any worse.”
“Charming!”
“The truth hurts, honey! Are Will and the Dads enjoying themselves?”
“Will is. He’s loving it. Not really seen much of the Dads though. They didn’t come to the Pleasure Beach although I would have paid good money to see your Dad on ‘The Big One’. In fact, there’s someone else I’m very glad I’m not handcuffed to, your Dad!”
“”Now that would have been funny! Hope my Dad and Frank are OK.”
“They will be, Nicky. They’re old enough and ugly enough to look after themselves. We’re meeting back up with them later, I’ll ask your Dad to give you a ring in the morning, I’m sure he’ll be up before me.”
“OK, great. You ring me too when you’re up, Simon, just so I know that you’ve survived.”
“I will.”
Our doorbell rang.
“Simon, I’ll have to go. One of Chloe’s friends is at the door. Try to forget about the handcuffs, as much as it’s possible to anyway and just keep smiling. I’ll kill that Joey Neill when you get home!”
“Bye Nicky, love you.”
“Love you too. Bye!”
TIM ANDERSON – May 2012
By Saturday evening, Simon Strong had coped with the attachment admirably. There had been the odd moan here and there, but on the whole, he had not been struck down by the same air of despondency that strikes some of my victims. He seemed to have remained the same decent guy he had been at school. After the Pleasure Beach, some of the lads, including Simon’s son Will, decided to go to watch some horseracing in the bookmakers for an hour, but Simon opted to head back to his room. Given it was impossible for him to wander off alone, this was deemed acceptable. When we were back in the room, Simon phoned his wife to be and it was during this call that I decided I would make him aware of our shared history.
“She sounds nice,” I said as he put the phone down.
“Nicky? She’s a brilliant woman, Tim. She’s gorgeous too. Not what you would expect to be marrying a chunky, balding, middle aged bloke like me!”
Simon always seemed to be self-deprecating, some people do this to fish for compliments, others do it because they are happy in their own skin, regardless of how that skin may look. Simon was one of the latter group.
“I don’t know, Simon, you’ve got a good heart and that counts for a lot,” I replied.
“Tim, how do you know I’ve got a good heart?” Simon said cheekily, “I might trip old ladies up and stick needles in babies, for all you know.”
“I doubt it, Simon. From what I’ve seen, you have a good heart. You certainly had a good heart when you stopped Luke Booth kicking the crap out of me back in our Parklands days.”
Simon pulled a confused frown, then the penny seemed to drop and he laughed out loud.
“Timmy? Timmy Anderson! Underneath all that crap is a middle aged Timmy Anderson. God, I feel stupid now, I should have worked it out when you said your name was Tim.”
“Yes, I’ve changed to Tim from Timmy now. Timmy’s a bit young sounding for a man in his late thirties.”
Simon shook his head.
“Well, I‘ll be damned. I said you were a decent guy to Nicky, didn’t I? I always admired you when you were at school. You were obviously the smallest kid in the year, but you knew how to look after yourself.”
“I had to learn, Simon. Boffin and his mates used to give me a hard time in the early years. He left me alone after you beat him up though. He was scared of you.”
Once again, Simon shook his head. It wasn’t in disbelief this time though, more in disagreement.
“I don’t think he was scared, Tim. That was guilt. It was never proved, but I’m certain he played a part in my brother’s death. I’ve always thought he pushed him in. Were you on the coach earlier when Boffin had the cheek to turn up?”
“Yes, that brought back memories, when you started fighting with him all over again!”
“I just lost it! He didn’t want to get off either, the scumbag!”
Simon was a laid back guy, but it was obvious the mere mention of Luke ‘Boffin’ Booth’s name was enough to trigger a deep rooted anger. I decided to move the conversation away from Boffin.
“Do you keep in touch with anyone from Parklands, Simon? Any of them on this Stag Do?”
“No, no-one from school is on this Stag Do. Not from our year anyway. Some of Joey’s mates from The Talbot and The Bay Horse may well have been to Parklands. I keep in touch with a few on Facebook. Do you remember Richard Tyler?”
“Yes, he was in my form. Nice lad, Richard. He lived over in Brinscall, didn’t he? Wasn’t he the one who moved down South somewhere?”
“That’s right, he moved to Cheltenham. I managed to track him down via Facebook. He’s an ex deep sea diver and now a scuba diving instructor at Blue Planet in Ellesmere Port. I managed to set something up with him for my proposal to Nicky. He held up signs in the water, on my behalf, asking Nicky to marry me.”
I must admit, given his brother died in water, it seemed like a strange way of proposing but perhaps he didn’t always want to have negative thoughts relating to water and that was a way of overcoming it. I was tempted to ask, but avoided it.
“Bet that looked cool,” I said, perhaps a little unconvincingly.
“It did, mate. What about you, Tim? Still in touch with anyone?”
“Not any more. Can you remember a lad called Phil Moss?”
“Yes, I remember Phil. He said ‘mate’ more than anyone I have ever met! He used to go around with Boffin’s lot at first, but then he distanced himself from them, didn’t he?”
“That’s right. Good old Phil. He used to be one of the gang that bullied me in 1st and 2nd Year. He didn’t do much to me himself, but he didn’t stop them either. Once Boffin started leaving me alone though, Phil became really friendly with me. He was always apologising for how they treated me. We were best mates from fourteen onwards.”
“What’s he doing now?” Simon asked.
“Phil Moss. Did you not hear what happened to Phil?”
“No.”
“He died Simon.”
Simon looked really upset to hear this news. I’m not sure if it was genuine remorse or just that the news of an early death made him think back to the death of his brother.
“When?” Simon queried.
“January 1st 1998. Did you not read about it in the Chorley Guardian?”
“No, I’ve only recently started buying the Guardian recently. My son, Will, is a really strong cricket player and his name pops up in the sporting section from time to time, so I buy it to see his n
ame in lights, like any proud parent does. What happened to Phil, then?”
“He jumped off a bridge in Euxton on to the M6. A family coming back from a New Year’s Eve party in Edinburgh hit him. His death hit me really hard. I grieved for a close friend but I also felt guilty that I allowed it to happen. I was also mad that the silly sod inflicted his problems on that poor family in the car too. If he was so determined to die, he should have blown his brains out or taken paraquat. They have to live with the horrible memory of hitting him, one of the kids in the back was only five.”
“That’s terrible. I remember him being a bit of a nervy kid, but he was alright. What made him do it?”
“Not sure really. I’d been out for a few drinks with him on Boxing Day and he seemed in decent spirits. He had split from his girlfriend, Diane, in the November and that summer they had lost a baby when his girlfriend was twelve weeks pregnant but I thought he was getting over it. He didn’t leave a note, just stopped his car, ran over the road, climbed on to the bridge and jumped.”
“How awful is that? I’m surprised I never heard on the Chorley grapevine.”
“Me too. It’s a long time ago now though, nearly fifteen years since we lost him. I don’t think about him much these days, but I guess seeing you brought some memories back. We’ll raise a glass to him tonight, shall we?”
“Good idea. Do you drink when you’re working, Tim?”
It was my turn to smile.
“Simon, whatever you drink, I’ll drink. It’s not as though I have to drive home and as you’ll see later, a dwarf dressed as a Blue Goblin never has to buy his own drinks!”
“I can’t see it being that crazy,” Simon said, “as I can’t take my drink that well any more.”
“Pace yourself then, Simon. If you end up vomiting in the toilet all night, guess who’ll be right there next to you!”
“I couldn’t do your job, Tim!”
“I have no family, it pays very well and most weekends are a good laugh. There are worse things I could be doing than getting paid to party.”
“I take it you can hold your drink then, Tim.”
“Last week, I was handcuffed to a twenty three stone Welsh rugby prop. He could drink beer like Popeye can eat spinach. I matched him drink for drink. If I can get through that one, I’m sure I can cope with whatever else this summer throws at me.”
“What about dancing Tim? Can you dance?”
“I like dancing, Simon, but I’ve got two left feet.”
“Excellent. We’ll make the perfect pair. Do you like eighties and nineties stuff?”
“Love it.”
Simon broke out into a broad smile.
“Superb. I’ve a feeling tonight’s going to be a classic.”
JOEY – May 2012
Saturday afternoon of Simon’s Stag Do went like a dream. The coach was a laugh, handcuffing Simon to the Blue Goblin, whilst he was in the shower in his B&B was hilarious and Blackpool Pleasure Beach was amazing. To top it off, we stopped off at the bookies on the way back to our B&B and I had a treble come in on a £1 win Yankee and picked up £285. Happy days! Everyone else in there seemed to be losing, but you just have certain days when everything you touch turns to gold and I just knew this was one of those days.
Once we were back at the B&B, before I spruced myself up, I started texting around to see what the consensus was, with regards to heading out on the ale. Simon’s Dad, Frank, suggested the Wetherspoons pub by Blackpool Tower as a good original meeting point, as him and Arthur had been down there earlier and thought it was alright. I wouldn’t normally take guidance from two seventy odd year olds, but as it was only an original meeting place, I decided to run with it. If they had suggested the nightclub, I would have been more wary. At seven, we headed down there in groups of no more than five and all fifty four of us got in without any issues. This was probably helped by the fact that Will was the only lad under 30, so the doorman probably didn’t view us as potential troublemakers.
Over a pint or three in Wetherspoons, we mapped our night out. Everyone was free to wander off in their own little groups early on, but at ten o’clock, we would all meet up in ‘Reflex The 80s bar’ on the Promenade. After Reflex, if anyone wanted to get back home for shut eye, that was fine, but then the rest of us would go clubbing to a place called Sanuk.
Simon and Tim, the guy who was dressed as a Blue Goblin were, not surprisingly, getting loads of attention all afternoon and in Wetherspoons, it was even more intense, especially amongst young, good looking women. Simon and Tim were like the pollen and young fit girls were like the bees. Loads of different girls were chatting to them, buying them drinks and wanting their photos taken with them. Despite us agreeing that we would go our separate ways until meeting at the Reflex at ten, I decided I would not be straying too far from Simon and Tim all night. They were going to be babe magnets and as the Best Man, I thought it only right that I did my own introductions to any beautiful ladies that came along.
Tim was not the only weird looking bloke at Wetherspoons. At one stage, I went to the bar to get half a dozen drinks for some of the lads and I stood next to some bloke whose face was almost as blue as our Tim’s. It wasn’t face paint though. It looked like a blotchy blue skin allergy.
“What happened to your face, mate? We’re in here with that Blue Goblin over there and his face isn’t much bluer than yours!”
The lad was from down near Watford. He was probably a decent looking lad without the face that looked like a slab of Gorgonzola. He explained what had happened,
“I was fine yesterday. I just woke up this morning and my face had come out in these blue blotches. I’m on my best mate’s Stag Do, so you can imagine the ribbing I’ve had today. One of the lads is a Charlie & the Chocolate Factory fanatic as well, so they’ve all been calling me Violet Beauregarde and singing that Oompa Loompa song all day. The bloke who likes the film has taught them all the words. It’s going to be even worse on the minibus home tomorrow. I’m the Best Man too, so the Groom has been saying ‘I’ve got a blueberry for a Best Man!’ Honestly mate, it’s been relentless.”
I felt sorry for the poor sod. Here was I having the best day ever and he was having a terrible time of it.
“Any idea what caused it?”
“I took a tablet last night, which I think I must have had an allergic reaction to.”
“Bad timing that mate, with being on a Stag Do.”
“Terrible. I pulled last night but I’m not fancying my chances tonight now.”
“Don’t be too sure. Look at our Blue Goblin over there. It doesn’t seem to have harmed his chances.”
The speckled blue bloke from Watford looked over to where I was pointing and Tim must have had about twenty women crowded around him. They were kissing his cheek, hugging him and queuing up for photos.
“Cheers mate. You never know it could turn out to be a blessing.”
“No problem, mate.”
I felt pleased with myself for cheering him up. There were enough gorgeous looking women around for all of us and I was looking good, smelling great and feeling supremely confident that the best looking woman Blackpool had to offer would be bouncing on my bed before dawn.
WILL – May 2012
I had to get out of Reflex. I couldn’t cope any longer. It was half past ten and I would have walked back to the B&B on my own, but I’d have felt like I was letting my Dad down. The night wasn’t about me, it was about my Dad and although I had had a great day, I just didn’t get Reflex. I hardly knew any music from the 1980’s and the music I did know was crap. I just felt like a spare part. I had a fag outside and then halfway through it, I took my mobile out and rang Laura. Thankfully, she picked up straight away.
“Hiya darling!” Laura said in such a sexy way it made my heart pound faster. Just hearing her voice made me perk up immediately. A further positive was that there was no background noise. I worried about her going out into Chorley without me.
“Hi babe. Sounds quiet ther
e. Did you decide to stay in?”
“Yes, thought I’d have an early night, Will, so I could dream about you. How’s the Stag Do going?”
Result she had stayed in. I punched the air.
“It was going great until I got to the bar that I’m outside now. It’s an eighties bar, Laura and I wasn’t even born in the eighties. The rest of the lads all know the old songs so I just feel like a spare part. Everyone keeps pulling my hair off too, they think it’s an eighties wig.”
“Poor babe,” Laura sympathised, but then for her own peace of mind said, “Are there no decent girls in there either?”
“I haven’t looked,” I reassured her, which was a lie, the place was crawling with them, but I wasn’t interested. I have found through experience that a white lie goes down better than the truth in such circumstances. Ultimately, it didn’t matter, Laura was my world.
“Do you know what I would do if I were you, Will?” Laura said sleepily.
“Go to bed?”
“No, go back in there, have a couple of drinks and make an effort. Are your Grandads in there?”
“Yes, they’re loving it. We all went to the Pleasure Beach earlier, but my two Grandads went to the pub. They’re pissed as farts, Laura!”
“Well, even more reason why you should go back in. There won’t be many other nights in your life that you’ll be out on the piss with your Dad and two Grandads! Even when it’s the wedding, they won’t be letting their hair down like they are tonight. Your Dad will be on his best behaviour and I bet your Grandads won’t be as drunk as they are now.”
“Grandad Frank definitely won’t. Nanna would never let him get in this sort of state.”
“Will, lap it up then. Forget about the cheesy music, just have a laugh with your lovely Dad and crazy Grandads.”
“Laura.”
“What?”
“You are so right. Thanks for the pep talk. I love you so much. I will text you in the morning and then I’ll be around as soon as we are back tomorrow afternoon.”
“Love you too, gorgeous. Now go and enjoy the partying.”