The First Last Kiss

by Ali Harris

  She nods and rubs lip balm on her lips. ‘He can’t play football any more, hurt himself at his trial for Southend. He’s still living at home and has had to have loads of physio and stuff. Lucky physio!’ she laughs. ‘Hey maybe that would be a good job for me?’ She wiggles her hands. ‘Put these magic fingers to good use! Anyway, it’s sad for him but good for you, eh Moll? I mean, bruised egos make them vulnerable. That’s what I find anyway when I hoover up other girls’ sloppy seconds. It makes them dead grateful.’ Her face clouds over and she puts on a bright smile. ‘When it comes to cheering up men, I’m like Leigh-on-Sea’s very own Saint . . . Mother Lady . . . you know whatshername. She’s old, or dead, and she always wore that hat. Blue and white it was . . . ’

  ‘Mother Teresa?’ I offer, struggling to keep up with Casey’s train of thought. I’m out of practice.

  ‘That’s her! Yep, I’m her, but younger and hotter and with better make-up and less clothes! So yep, if you don’t want him, let me know, ’cause I, Saint Casey Georgiou, will go and lay my healing hands on him . . . ’

  ‘Casey!’ I laugh, trying to hide my annoyance at her persistence. ‘What’s your obsession with Ryan Cooper anyway?’ I ask as I settle back on her sofa and close my eyes. ‘Change the record.’

  ‘OK. Consider it changed. And he probably wouldn’t be interested in you any more with your new hair and your future magazine career, and your swish London ways. Leigh lads like to keep it local, remember? They always stay close to home.’ I roll my eyes in acknowledgement of this truth. ‘So babes,’ she continues, ‘what shall we do tonight?’

  ‘What about The Sun Rooms or Club Arts in Southend?’

  Casey groans. ‘Oh God no, not that divey old alternative music place you always insisted we go to.’

  ‘It was better than Tots.’

  ‘If by “better” you mean “not as much fun” . . . ’

  ‘What do you suggest then?’

  ‘I was thinking about a little walk down memory lane . . . ’

  ‘I can’t believe you brought me here!’

  Casey and I are standing on The Green in Leigh-on-Sea, gazing across at the boats that are moored there. Clusters of teenagers are scattered over the grass, and I can see hazy silhouettes of people down on the beach and on the boats, too. The June evening sun is bathing everything in a soft, lemony light that makes me feel like I’ve stepped into a photo album, one that I wasn’t fussed about opening because it has lots of terrible haircuts, clothes and bad memories. I grab hold of my Canon EOS and hold it close, for support and comfort more than anything else. This green was the scene of so many embarrassments, my parents insisting on picnicking here with me – complete with deck chairs, gingham picnic blanket and windbreaker – when everyone else was smoking Silk Cuts with their mates. Not to mention the rejections, the boys who laughed at me and Casey, the girls who called us names. It feels too soon to return here, those years, those memories are too close. I’ve spent the last two years trying to erase them with my shiny new London life.

  ‘Well, it’s summer, where else would we go apart from the top deck of the Bembridge? We used to have so much fun here, didn’t we?’ Casey grins. I raise an eyebrow at her and smile – a trick she taught me – always lifted by her ability to see sunshine through the rain.

  ‘I guess you could call it that, Case,’ I reply drily. She glances at my camera which I’m still clutching to put it in front of my face, not to take photos, but to hide behind. This place makes me feel like the vulnerable, awkward teenage me instead of the confident, outgoing and worldly woman being a university student has made me. Casey tugs at my arm. ‘Oh, take one of me, Moll, you can put it on your photo wall in your room, next to the one of you and Mia! Or you could put it on the cover of that fancy magazine you’re doing work experience at! What’s it called? Viva Forever.’ She starts singing the Spice Girls’ hit and swings off an old Victorian lamp post and, with both of us laughing, she pouts at the camera as I take a series of shots of her with the sea shimmering in the background. Then, bored already, she leaps over to her bag. ‘I’ve got all the supplies we need, too.’ She flips it open to reveal a large bottle of cider and forty Marlboro Lights. ‘C’mon, Molly, for old times’ sake?’ She holds out her hand and, to my embarrassment, begins to sing something from a different lifetime. I glance around hoping no one is close enough to hear it.

  ‘We’ve only got each other right now

  But we’ll always be around

  forever and forever no matter

  What they say . . .

  Come on, Molly, join in!’

  ‘They say, they sa-ay,’ I mutter obediently, not wanting to hurt her feelings but hoping she’ll follow suit and lower her volume. She beams and continues singing loudly.

  Then she grabs my hand and whilst I pull back at first and shake my head, after a moment, I give in, swing my camera over my back and we run down the hill, laughing as she sings the chorus loudly and people dive out of our way.

  We’re lying on the top deck of the boat feeling the familiar, fuzzy-edged happiness from the cider inhabit our bodies as we gaze at the stars.

  ‘Can you believe we’re twenty?’ Casey says wondrously. ‘Nearly twenty-one! It’s so old! Properly grown-up. It feels like only yesterday that we were lying here, wondering if we’d ever get a boyfriend . . . ’

  ‘ . . . and now here we are, thinking the same thing!’ I laugh, lifting my cigarette to my lips. Despite my earlier misgivings, I am actually starting to enjoy this evening.

  ‘Speak for yourself!’ Casey blushes and falls silent for a second in a most uncharacteristic manner.

  I gape at her. ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, nothing, I mean, you know, we don’t need men! We’ve got each other! And that’s all we need! Right? BFFs forever!’

  I sit up and shake her on the arm. ‘Are you seeing someone?’ Her face is guilt-ridden. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Is he from the café?’ Despite my nagging her to do something else, Casey’s still working at her mum’s place. I know it’s because there is a continual stream of young male kitchen staff that Toni employs to work alongside her and her daughter. I’m pretty sure that’s what is keeping Casey there anyway.

  ‘No, he’s not.’

  ‘So where did you meet him? In a club, bar, what?’

  ‘He’s someone I’ve known for a while, actually,’ Casey says, studying her stick-on French-manicured fake nails. I look at my own chipped, dark nail polish and sit on my hands to hide them.

  I laugh, stubbing out the cigarette next to me. I nudge her gently. ‘Come on, spill it, sister, you’re making me think you don’t want me to know who he is.’

  Casey looks uncomfortable. ‘Well, he’s thirty-nine . . . ’

  ‘An older man,’ I tease, unable to hide the disapproval in my voice, ‘there’s a surprise.’ Casey is nothing if not predictable. Her absent father has given her a lifelong fascination with father figures. ‘And what does he do?’

  ‘He’s a plumber,’ Casey says. She is being reticent, which is unlike her.

  ‘So where’s he from?’ I push.

  ‘Um, well, around here actually.’

  I frown. ‘But we practically know everyone here.’ I look at her. ‘Do I know him?’

  Casey doesn’t say anything. She just gazes away in the opposite direction.

  ‘What’s his name? Casey?’ I try and turn her face to look at me but she looks up at the sky instead.

  ‘Oh, look Molly! At the stars! Up there! Wow, aren’t they pretty and sparkly, you know, like diamonds.’

  ‘Casey . . . ’ I interrupt.

  ‘Oh OK,’ she sighs and looks at me uncertainly. ‘It’s Paul Evans.’

  It takes a second for his name to register.

  ‘What?’ I gasp. ‘As in the married plumber with two kids Paul Evans?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replies before adding defensively. ‘And OK, so he’s married, but they’ve not been happy for ages. Years actually. And he says he’s going to
leave her.’

  I roll my eyes and pull out another cigarette.

  ‘Don’t pull that disapproving face on me, Moll,’ Casey grumbles, ‘you look just like your mum. And don’t judge until you’ve seen us together either. You should see how he looks at me.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ I reply drily.

  I throw my arm around her. My sweet, beautiful, naive, desperate-to-be-loved friend.

  ‘Just be careful, Case, I don’t want you getting hurt again. You know you have a habit of going for the wrong type.’

  ‘I can’t help it that I go for older guys, I prefer them to be mature, you know? I would’ve told you sooner,’ she garbles as her long-held secret tumbles out, ‘but I just knew you wouldn’t approve. You slag off anything to do with Leigh these days – even more than you used to!’

  ‘I’ve just moved on.’

  ‘Moved on from me,’ Casey mumbles.

  My face drops in horror and I throw my arm around her and squeeze her tightly. ‘Don’t be silly, Case!’ I say, wishing I were better at all this reassuring stuff.

  ‘I miss you, you know, Molly,’ Casey says quietly.

  I clutch her hand, feeling guilty that so many weeks have passed without my calling her, let alone coming to see her. ‘Me too. And I’m happy for you, Case, I am. But remember, I’m your best friend, so as far as I’m concerned no man is ever going to be good enough for you.’

  ‘I didn’t say he was Mr Right, but he’s Mr Better Than Nothing, OK? Besides,’ she continues, ‘I need something to fill in all the spare time I have now you’re at uni being a boring student and studying all the time, with your clever new friends . . . ’

  Casey looks over her shoulder at me and smiles and I know she’s just joking. She can never stay mad or hold grudges for long. It’s one of the things I love about her and one of the many reasons we’re so different. ‘And he’s not how you remember anyway, Moll!’ she says pleadingly. ‘Yes, he’s a grown-up, but so am I now. So are we. I mean, you’re not the girl who ran out of The Grand after Ryan Cooper snogged you.’

  ‘Thank God for that!’ I laugh.

  A figure looms out of the boat’s shadows. ‘Thank God for what?’

  Casey scrambles to her feet. ‘Ryan! I–I, er, didn’t know you’d be coming tonight!’

  I glance at him and away dismissively. I’m shaken but not surprised by his appearance, it’s just another reminder of why I moved away from this place. Nothing’s changed, same people, different year.

  ‘What a surprise!’ Casey exclaims in the worst case of overacting I’ve ever seen. ‘Is Alex here too? And the others? Gaz and Carl and Jake? Ooh, there they are! She waves at them and then stands staring pointedly at Ryan. I’m not sure what she’s waiting for. Ryan smiles down at me and then looks back at his mates.

  ‘Hey, Case.’

  ‘Yeah, Ryan?’ she simpers. I roll my eyes.

  ‘Alex really wanted to talk to you I think.’ And before I can blink, let alone tell her to stay right here, she’s off.

  ‘Casey!’ I call, but she doesn’t look back. I look up at Ryan. I’d forgotten how tall he is. And broad. In the couple of years since I last saw him, he’s bulked up. He has proper yachting arms, ripped and strong, which he’s showing off by wearing a vest top. His skin is nut-brown and his mid-nineties curtains have been replaced with a gelled David Beckham style. I can’t deny it. He’s still pretty hot. But, I tell myself firmly, I much prefer boys with brains bigger than their biceps, who know more about art and culture than who’s on top of the football league.

  He grins down at me sheepishly. ‘Well, well, well, Molly Carter.’

  I look away, hoping to show my disinterest. ‘It’s good to see you.’ He bends down and nudges my knee. ‘It’s been a long time.’

  I move my legs away and busy myself by adjusting the settings on my camera. ‘Yeah well, I don’t get back to Leigh much. I live in London now,’ I add pompously, suddenly feeling the urge to prove myself.

  He smiles. ‘That’s cool.’

  ‘Yep,’ I reply curtly. ‘It is.’ I look around desperately, trying to find an excuse to leave. Ryan clearly has other ideas. He sits down next to me and then leans back on his elbows in a way that suggests he doesn’t plan on moving any time soon.

  ‘So what do you do in London then?’ he asks, taking a swig of beer.

  ‘I’m doing a photography degree. At the London College of Printing.’

  I’m showing off, but I don’t care.

  ‘There’s a whole college dedicated to printing?’ He laughs and I stare at him solemnly. ‘I’m just kidding. That’s wicked. It’s a properly good college, isn’t it? And it means you’re one step closer to that dream of being a photographer. Good for you!’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, shocked that he remembered our conversation from all those years ago. I look around desperately for Casey and realize that we’re surrounded by snogging couples. The Bembridge has always been Leigh’s local haunt for young, amorous teens. Which makes seeing him here even worse. Brings back bad memories. ‘So what are you up to?’ I say politely, but disinterestedly, thinking, Not much if you’re still hanging around here.

  ‘I’m about to start training to be a teacher at college,’ he grins.

  ‘There’s a whole college dedicated to teaching?’ I retort sarcastically, and he laughs and holds his hands up. I look at him quizzically. Guys like Ryan Cooper don’t become teachers. ‘So why would you want to go and do that?’ I laugh, then clock his hurt expression and remember what Casey told me about his injury. ‘I mean a teacher – wow! That’s very . . . er . . . noble of you.’

  ‘Well,’ he begins slowly, gazing at me intensely. ‘I believe that children are, y’know, our future.’ He pauses and then stands up slowly, his eyes sparkling mischievously at me and breaks loudly into Whitney Houston’s song, causing some of the surrounding snoggers to stop mid-tongue.

  I pull him down and shush him, punching him on the arm as he laughs gleefully.

  ‘Now you are taking the piss,’ I pout, twirling my cider around with the hand furthest away from him, the other clenched on the deck tantalizingly close to his.

  ‘So what happened to your dream of being a footballer?’ I ask, thinking back to our long-ago conversation when I bumped into him with my mum and he took me for coffee. Unsurprising really, back then it felt like the biggest thing that had ever happened to me. How pathetic.

  ‘I got badly injured during my trial a while back,’ he says matter-of-factly. ‘Tore my cartilage in my knee and had to have surgery. Bang went the idea of going pro.’

  ‘Oh, that’s awful!’ I exclaim, wondering why he doesn’t look more bothered about it. The way Casey told it, it was a local tragedy.

  He shrugs and smiles. ‘It happens. It wasn’t the end of the world.’ A shadow flickers over his face momentarily. ‘Besides,’ he leans towards me to whisper, ‘I’m not sure I was as good as everyone thought I was. Reckon it was definitely a case of confidence over talent.’

  ‘If your kissing was anything to go by, that’s probably true.’

  Shit. Did I just say that?

  Ryan laughs. ‘Ahh, well that addresses the elephant in the . . . boat. About that night at The Grand, I’m sorry.’ He pauses and looks at me sincerely. ‘But it wasn’t what you thought, y’know.’

  ‘What, shockingly abysmal you mean?’ I say sarcastically.

  He stares at me and smiles a little sadly. ‘I meant a dare. It wasn’t a dare.’

  ‘What was it then, double dare, or maybe a physical challenge?’ I retort. ‘If it was, you failed.’ I love goading this guy. It’s too easy.

  ‘Ouch,’ Ryan clasps his chest and scuffs his trainers on the ground. ‘Right in the heart, and ego. I’m not sure which hurts the most.’ He looks up and grins cheekily. ‘Are you gonna kiss it better then?’ he presses.

  ‘And why on earth would I want to do that?’

  He winks. ‘Because if first is the worst, that must mean second will be th
e best . . . ’

  I look around for Casey. Where is she? ‘So, er, what are you doing for the summer?’ I ask awkwardly.

  ‘I’m going to Australia for a couple of months,’ he says excitedly. ‘I’m going to be a deck-hand on a boat that sails around the Whitsundays. I leave in a couple of weeks. It’s going to be wicked!’

  ‘Wow!’ I exclaim, genuinely impressed. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Australia. Me and my mate Mia have said we’re going to go and live in Sydney one day. It’s meant to be an amazing city, loads to do!’

  ‘Yeah,’ he grins. ‘I thought I should have my fun on the other side of the world, so I don’t have to hold back! I need to behave once Mr Cooper is officially unveiled to the world. Well to the kids of Essex anyway!’ he laughs and looks at me.

  ‘I’m starting my PGCE back at uni in September, straight after I get back from Oz. I’m looking forward to it too. Teaching isn’t a million miles away from what I wanted to do, not really . . . ’ I look at him doubtfully. ‘You never know, I may end up teaching the next Gary Lineker, rather than being him!’

  His generous mouth lifts into a cute smile. We stare at each other, remembering a past moment shared. An awkward silence descends like the night breeze, cooling the atmosphere.

  ‘Come on, let’s walk,’ Ryan says, getting up and extending his hand to me.

  ‘We’re on a boat,’ I laugh, ‘there’s only so far we can go.’

  ‘Let’s just go and look at the view across the water.’

  I stand up and blink, suddenly realizing just how much the cider has gone to my head.

  ‘Wooo,’ I say, swaying a little.

  ‘Hey,’ Ryan puts his arm out to steady me. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yep, just felt a little woozy there for a little bit.’ I giggle. ‘I’m OK now.’

  We carry on walking and I realize he hasn’t moved his arm. I stiffen a little. I’m drunk but not that drunk. If he thinks he’s going to take advantage of me again, embarrass me in front of all these people, he’s got another thing coming.

  ‘You know,’ Ryan murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. ‘I’ve always regretted what happened that night in The Grand.’