Kiss My Name

by Calvin Wade

  “Just piss off will you Colin and leave us alone.”

  “We’re mates, Boffin.”

  “Not any more. I told you to wait, Colin and you didn’t. So go on, piss off!”

  “We need to walk back together, Colin.”

  “No we don’t, Kathy lives by me. I’ll walk back with her.”

  “What shall I do then?” Colin’s voice was sounding a little desperate, but I didn’t care.

  “Just walk back on your own. Go on, Colin, scram! You’re getting right on my nerves. I’m sick of the sight of you.”

  Colin was a feisty little lad. He wasn’t just going to take that from me.

  “You’re an idiot, Boffin.”

  “Not as much of an idiot as you, Colin. Run back home to your Mum and get your hot fish fingers!”

  Colin marched off moodily, pulling a really annoyed face.

  “Right, where were we?” I said to Kathy.

  We continued kissing. It was exciting. Tongues, boobs, I was wanting to get my hand up between her legs. I liked doing that last time and was aroused by the prospect of doing it again. I had bided my time, made sure Kathy was turned on and from the noises she was making, I knew I had the green light to proceed. Time to make my move.

  I was totally focused on the game in hand. So focused I didn’t see Colin creeping back up on us. In an instant, we were absolutely drenched with stinking, dirty canal water. I shook myself like a dog. Kathy was soaked as well, pond plants were dripping off her face. I even think we swallowed some of that scummy water whilst we were kissing open mouthed. I looked up and Colin was there, smiling at us. He had an old plastic bucket in his hand.

  “The little shit!” Kathy said angrily. Her white skirt was now full of green patches.

  “I’m going to kill you, Colin Strong!” I shouted as I stood up.

  Colin just threw the old plastic bucket away and ran off giggling. I chased after him, shouting that I was going to catch him and break his neck. My clothes were sticking to my skin though, which didn’t help in my chase and Colin was a fast kid anyway. After a couple of minutes, I could see him fading into the distance. The canal isn’t just one long straight, it bends around corners. When I got around one corner, Colin was no longer there. He’d just disappeared. I presumed he’d just run away and keen to keep in Kathy’s good books for next time, I turned around and walked back, vowing to give Colin a good kicking next time I saw him. Kathy was waiting for me when I got back to the bridge, looking like some creature from the swamps.

  “Did you catch the little shit?” she asked.

  “No, but I will, Kathy and when I do, I’m going to kill him.”

  SIMON – May 2012

  Tim and I listened to Boffin’s story. He had told it well. I found myself believing the majority of what he had said. There was so much detail that just seemed to be extra pieces of the jigsaw. Pieces we had waited twenty five years to find.

  “So that’s it?” I said, “You just chased him and he disappeared?”

  “Yes. I just thought he was too fast and had gone further along the embankment.”

  “What did you do when you got back to Kathy?”

  “We went home.”

  “Leaving Colin to drown.”

  “I didn’t know he’d fallen in, Simon. I thought he’d just run away.”

  “If Colin had fallen in, do you not think he would have shouted for help?” I asked, Boffin’s story was plausible but it did seem to have some flaws in it.

  “I don’t know why he didn’t. Maybe he hit his head or something. I wasn’t expecting him to be in the canal. I didn’t worry about him until hours later when I found out he hadn’t gone home. I was really worried then, both about Colin and also about how much trouble I was going to be in, so I just said I hadn’t seen him and stuck to my story.”

  “Until now.”

  “Yes.”

  Part of me wanted to believe him. There was no reason for this story to have come out. Boffin could have just carried on with the same denials he had maintained ever since Colin died. He didn’t need to have come on the Stag Do. He had pursued me to tell his story. Maybe it was the truth or maybe it was just what he had brainwashed himself into believing.

  “What about Kathy?” I asked.

  “What about her?”

  “You ran off after Colin, saying you were going to kill him, then came back and went home with her. Once she found out that Colin had died, why did she not come forward and say she had been with you and Colin?”

  “She was scared. I went round to her house when he was still missing and said that if she breathed a word of this to anyone, we would both end up in some sort of young offenders unit. She was in a right state, but I said if it just turned out that Colin had drowned, like we thought, then the whole thing would blow over. I told her there was no point us dragging ourselves into it, in case the police didn’t believe us.”

  “Do you know if she ever went to the police?”

  “No. Some people did, as the coppers kept calling round at our house, asking more and more questions, but I don’t think Kathy ever did. I think if she had been to the see the coppers, I’d have been in bigger trouble than I ever was.”

  Tim spoke for the first time in a while.

  “Boffin, if that’s what happened, then why did you not just tell the truth to the police?”

  “The police hated our family, Timmy. My Mum was always in trouble and me and my brothers weren’t in their good books either. We nicked things, wound the neighbours up, smashed stuff and got into fights. We were bad kids. The police hated us and we hated them. I thought if I told them I’d been down by the canal and gone chasing after Colin saying I was going to kill him, then they would think I pushed him in. I’d be banged up before I had time to blink. It felt safer to deny everything.”

  I stood up and as a consequence Tim stood up to.

  “Come on, let’s get to bed,” I said.

  Boffin followed our lead and stood up too.

  “Do you believe me, Simon?” he wanted to know, “It’d mean a lot to me if you said you believed me.”

  “I’m not sure, Boffin.”

  “It’s the God’s honest truth, Simon. I didn’t have to tell you. I wanted to.”

  “Boffin, if that is the truth, you still played a big part in Colin dying. You took him to the canal. You gave him beer. You left him on his own. You chased after him. Colin would still be alive today if it wasn’t for you.”

  “I know. Can you forgive me or even just shake my hand to let me know the hatred you felt isn’t as deep any more?”

  I was tempted to. He was right, I didn’t hate him as much as I did, but it was natural for me to still have doubts.

  “Not yet. If you go to the police, then I’ll shake your hand.”

  “I will. I have spoken to Emily about this. I just needed to speak to you before them.”

  We all started heading towards the main road. It seemed stranger walking along with Boffin than it did being handcuffed to a goblin.

  “What happened to Kathy Joyce?” I asked as we walked along.

  “I don’t know,” Boffin answered, “She had a kid the following year, but it wasn’t mine. She never let me touch her again after the canal incident. I think she’s still around Chorley somewhere.”

  “Do you think she might come forward to the police, if you do?”

  “Hopefully.”

  All three of us waited at a bus stop together, but eventually we flagged down a taxi. Before we got in, the stun gun and the Stanley knife were put in a bin. The taxi took us to The Cheshire first. I went to pass Boffin some money but he shook his head.

  “Thanks,” I said as I got out.

  I guess I wasn’t just thanking him for the taxi. I was thanking him for finally setting the record straight. I hoped that was the truth. It wouldn’t stop me blaming Boffin for Colin’s death, but at least the hatred I had carried for twenty five years did feel like it was subsiding. As Tim and I were going to the f
ront door of The Cheshire, Joey Neill was coming out.

  “Are you two just coming in now? It’s seven o’clock lads!”

  “Yeh,” said Tim, “it’s been an eventful night. What have you been doing in our B&B?”

  Working the magic, mate!”

  Joey winked at us.

  “What happened to your face, Joey?” I asked.

  Joey had no idea.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have a look at your face in the mirror, mate!”

  “Why?”

  “It’s gone blue!”

  Part Eleven

  The Morning After The Night Before

  ZARA – May 2012

  I didn’t stir until I heard Lucy’s key in the door. The moment I opened my eyes, I knew this was going to be a day for dark shades.

  “Good morning!” Lucy said, sounding like it was anything but a good morning.

  “Morning,” I replied, “You look like I feel.”

  “I’ve hardly slept,” said Lucy, “I don’t think I’m ever going to drink again.”

  “I’ve heard that one before. Was he nice?”

  “He was nice until his face started turning blue, after that he wasn’t as friendly.”

  “His face turned blue?” I questioned matter-of-factly.

  If I had been less hung over, I’d have been more dramatic.

  “Yes, he must have had some sort of reaction to the tablet. He was blaming the tablet and I was trying to say it might have been the booze, but I knew it was probably the tablet too.”

  It was only at this point that I realised Simon Strong had left. No kiss goodbye, no plans to meet up, no exchange of numbers, no thanks, nothing.

  “Has anyone left any money on the side?” I asked Lucy. If Simon was going to treat me like a prostitute, I thought he may have had the decency to pay me.

  “No, the only thing on the sideboard is the condom I gave you. It’s been opened so I take it you and that guy from Reflex had a good night too?”

  I didn’t want to talk about my good night. I had concerns.

  “Did you say the condom is still there on the side?”

  “Yes, weird place to leave it.”

  “Does it look used?”

  “I’m not sure. Do you want me to check?”

  “Go on.”

  Most women would not check to see if a condom that hadn’t been used on them, had been used at all, but then Lucy wasn’t most women. She took the circular, open end, between her thumb and forefinger, turned it upside down and shook it.

  “There’s no little spermies in here, Zara. If it’s been used, he didn’t finish.”

  “He didn’t wear it then. Great! I hope his face turns blue. In fact, I hope his knob turns blue and then drops off.”

  “Me too, babe. I also hope you don’t catch anything, like Chlamydia or pregnancy.”

  “I won’t be pregnant, he’s had the snip.”

  “Every bloke past thirty says that Zara, whether they have or they haven’t.”

  “Thanks for those words of comfort, Lucy. I’m going back to sleep now. When I wake up, hopefully Simon will still be here, your condom won’t and this conversation will have just been a horrible nightmare!”

  SIMON – May 2012

  As soon as Tim and I arrived back in the bedroom, Will sat up in his bed,

  “Are you OK, Dad? Each time I woke up you guys weren’t here and I was beginning to panic. If you hadn’t come back in the next hour, I would have had to send out a search party.”

  “You’d have had to send them a long way. We were over in Lytham St.Annes.”

  “Dad, I know where you were. I came with you!”

  “You did? To Lytham?”

  “Do you not remember why, Dad?”

  “Will I don’t remember a thing about Lytham other than waking up on the common by the windmill.”

  “Do you remember, Tim?” Will asked my goblin friend.

  “I do. I remember everything.”

  I could hardly keep my eyes open any longer.

  “Will, can you just fill me in later?” I asked, “Whatever happened, it can’t be any more dramatic than what happened when we woke up. Let us have a sleep for a few hours and tell us then.”

  “OK. I need some kip myself. Wake me up when you get up.”

  The long sleep I was intending on having on the bed didn’t happen. I just threw all my clothes off, except my boxer shorts and fell on to the bed, with Tim obviously having to lie down beside me. Two of us on a single bed wasn’t the comfiest but I could have coped with that, it was the nausea that disturbed me. After about an hour, I gave up.

  “Tim, Tim,” I prodded the Blue Goblin next to me who looked like he had gone into hibernation.

  “What?” he mumbled grumpily.

  “I’m going to be sick.”

  I wasn’t wrong. I made it to the toilet, dragging a barely conscious Tim along with me. I was sick, but we were both so knackered, I just flushed the chain and passed out. I was on one side of the toilet bowl, Tim was on the other.

  I’m not sure how long we were out for, but I slept like a tortoise. When I started to come around, I could hear muttering. I still felt awful. I was lying flat on my stomach. I opened my right eye and I could see a load of lads from the Stag Do standing around me. I then opened the left one, looked to the left and there were a load more familiar faces.

  “Is every single person who is on my Stag Do in this bathroom?” I asked.

  “Nearly everyone,” someone said, “we couldn’t get your Dad and father-in-law out of bed. They look as bad as you.”

  “But we did get Joey here and he looks even worse!” someone else piped up.

  There were a few cheers and laughs. I understood why. I vaguely recalled seeing Joey’s blue face when we had arrived back. There was no doubt some lurid story about how he acquired it.

  “Why are you all here?” I asked, not moving from the floor.

  “We all came to take your photo with the Blue Goblin and Joey, but before we took it, we were just admiring your tattoo.”

  “Thanks!” I said, kissing my handcuffed right wrist with Nicky’s name on.

  “Not that one! Your new one.”

  “Very funny!”

  Still half drunk, I moved to scratch my backside with my left, non-handcuffed hand, which was when I realised I no longer had any boxer shorts on.

  “Which joker has pinched my boxer shorts?”

  “We had to. To see your tattoo.”

  “Shut up,” I said drunkenly, “I don’t have another tattoo.”

  “Yes, you do. Someone show him the photos on their phone.”

  A phone was thrust in front of my face. I don’t really know what I look like from behind, but I presumed it was my body. Above my backside, there was writing which read,

  ‘THIS SEXY BODY IS THE PROPERTY OF NICKY STRONG. IF YOU ARE NOT NICKY STRONG, PLEASE KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF.’

  On the two cheeks of my backside, there were two handprints.

  “They are Charlie Smethurst’s hands,” someone said, “the tattoo artist had to draw around them.”

  I had no recollection of Charlie’s hands on my bottom, which was a relief more than anything. I was too hungover to display any anger.

  “She’s not Nicky Strong yet,” was the only response I could muster.

  “Don’t worry, Simon, she will be in a few weeks. Then you will be lucky enough to have Nicky Strong and Charlie Smethurst’s handprints for the rest of your life!”

  Once again, there was laughter and a few cheers.

  The miserable gits in that room then put my boxer shorts back on me, put Joey to my left, lifted the Blue Goblin up on my right and then took dozens and dozens of photos. They must have been seen by everyone in Chorley and thousands of people beyond. For months, every time I went on Facebook or Twitter, I stumbled across photos of a jaundiced man sandwiched between a Goblin and a bloke who looked like the genie from Aladdin after a crash diet.

 
The tattoo pictures did the rounds too. Thankfully, the reason Will had come along to Lytham St.Annes that night, was that he had got wind of a Stag Do plot to get me tattooed. Charlie Smethurst’s sister, Alice, was a tattoo artist who practised in Blackpool, but lived over in Lytham. Will only let the joke go ahead when he found out it was going to be a henna tattoo that would fade within weeks. Apparently about twenty of us went to Alice’s house after Reflex then when the tattoo was done, we hit the bars of Lytham. I was in such a mess by the end of the night, not a single taxi driver would let me in his cab. Tim told all the lads he would look after me, which in a strange way he did.

  That afternoon, during the coach journey home, I was woken by the sound of a text coming through from Nicky.

  ‘How was your night?’ Nicky asked.

  I sent a reply saying ‘Quiet’, then went back to sleep.

  Part Twelve

  The Uninvited Guest (reprise)

  ZARA – June 2012

  When you have troubles in your life, you turn to those who know you best and love you most for help. For me, that means turning to Flo. It was a few weeks after Blackpool that I rang her. I had been crying for about an hour by the time I picked up the phone. I knew she would be with Fran the farmer, she always was these days, but I couldn’t think of anyone else to turn to. I rang her mobile.

  “Hi Zara, is it a quick one? I’m just over at Fran’s.”

  Surprise, surprise! I just burst out crying straight away.

  “I’m riddled with disease, Flo,” I tried to say but I was crying so hard, I’m not exactly sure what came out.

  “Zara, what’s the matter darling? Take deep breaths, calm yourself down and start over again.”

  I did what she said. After about thirty seconds, Flo grew impatient.

  “Are you still there, Zara?”

  “You told me to take deep breaths, Flo.”

  “Just a couple, Zara, not for the rest of the day. Right, are you going to tell me again what the matter is?”

  I took a further deep breath. It was horrible confessing to this, even to my closest friend.