The First Last Kiss

by Ali Harris

  ‘My missus just left me after saying I think about football more than her. I was gutted, I’ve been with her for five seasons!’

  The pub erupts with laughter at Ryan’s joke. ‘Are you alright, babe, you seem a bit . . . distracted.’ Ryan curls his arm around my shoulder and I nuzzle in to him.

  ‘I’m fine.’ And that’s my problem.

  ‘Are you having fun?’ he asks. I nod enthusiastically again.

  ‘Fine and fun!’ I say and Ryan laughs. I think he thinks I’m drunk. But I’m not. I’m sober as a judge.

  We are playing pub games and are now on to ‘Who am I?’ and all have pieces of paper stuck to our foreheads. I’ve already guessed that I’m Annie Leibovitz; Ryan chose it for me and it’s just made me realize that I am not her. Not anywhere near.

  ‘A m I . . . David Beckham?’ Ryan guesses after one question and everyone applauds him.

  We’ve spilled outside the pub like an overfilled champagne glass, bubbling with chatter and laughter, huddled in a pool around a picnic table to see in the New Year outside. It was Ryan’s idea of course, any opportunity to be in the great outdoors. The cold air is biting my cheeks, the wind off the estuary burning through my layers of clothes. Outside, the black water waits, its mouth yawning hungrily as if it’s waiting to swallow up this whole twee little fishing town, with its craft shops, picturesque pubs and fishing boats and cockle sheds and a history that goes right back to the Doomsday Book. A fact that suddenly feels very foreboding.

  Ryan and I sit next to each other, his arm thrown territorially around me, squeezing warmth into my being. Scores of people have come over to chat to him, drawn as they are to our raucous group. Old acquaintances, parents from school, football team mates, sailing chums, colleagues; it feels like he knows every single person in this town. Suddenly I desperately want to be with just him for once. Just us. Alone.

  Just then another arm is thrown around my shoulder and a head appears between us so I’m sure we appear like a mythical three-headed beast.

  ‘My two fave-or-ite people in the whole entire wooooorld!’ Casey calls, slurring and giggling as she kisses us both on the cheeks and then throws her head down and squeezes us together. ‘I love you guys soooo much!’

  ‘We love you too, Casey,’ Ryan rasps. We joke that Casey’s our adopted child, often crashing on our sofa after a shift at Players and staying there all day while we go to work. ‘Now can you let us breathe? I want to actually live to see in 2003!’

  Casey stops squeezing and we both exhale loudly and laugh. She pushes herself up using our shoulders as support and wipes her hand across her mouth. ‘Shall we go clubbing after this? I can ge’ us all into Players for freee. It’ll be fuuuun! We haven’t done it for ages an’ ages. Me, you two, Alex, Carl and the rest of the boys!’

  ‘Sounds good, Casey!’ I glance at my watch. It’s ten minutes to midnight and I know better than to say no to Casey when she’s like this. I don’t want to see in the New Year with a scene.

  ‘Well, I can’t stand here all night with you two lovebirds! I’ve gotta get myself a snog at midnight.’ She stabs Ryan’s chest with her finger and squints at him. ‘I haven’t decided which of your mates is going to be the lucky fella!’

  ‘Is there anyone you haven’t tried?’ Ry grins.

  Casey winks at me. ‘You’d better hope so, Cooper, or I may have to come hunting for you. Then I can have the whole set. You boys can be like those Natwest piggy banks I used to collect when I was a kid.’ She furrows her brow. ‘Come to think of it, I only got two. I never was any good at keeping hold of money – or men! Ha, ha, ha!’ And on that note of self-knowledge she staggers off to round up some other potential clubbers.

  ‘You really want to go clubbing?’ Ryan laughs, raising his eyebrow.

  ‘’Course not, I just didn’t want to tell her that.’

  ‘You’re a wise lady, Molly.’ He laughs and sighs happily. ‘It’s great being here with everyone, isn’t it, babe?’

  ‘Mmmhmm,’ I say, taking a sip of my drink. My phone buzzes in front of me and I open the text. It’s from Mia.

  HAPPY NEW YEAR, BABE! How about you make 2003 the year of the kangaroo and come visit? Sydney needs you! X

  My heart lifts, then immediately sinks as I think of Mia. I can’t believe it’s been over a year since I’ve seen her. She’s having the time of her life in Australia, she’s just been promoted to deputy editor at Shine. Suddenly I envy her the liberty of living on the other side of the world. She’s free to make whatever decisions she likes, without anyone else’s eyes on her. I can barely plump a cushion without Jackie popping over to comment. Everywhere I go I’m surrounded by people who know me, know my relationship and my everyday business. Sometimes it feels like I’m living in a zoo; Ryan is the majestic lion sitting on top of a fake hill, king of the small jungle he surveys, I’m the prowling lioness, pacing up and down in front of the staring public, waiting for an opportunity to . . . escape or attack, no one, including me, knows which.

  ‘Can we get away for a moment, Ryan?’ I gasp.

  ‘But it’s nearly midni—’

  ‘Please?’ I beg, and Ryan stands up quickly. I think he notices the desperation in my expression.

  ‘What is it, babe, are you alright?’ We’ve stepped away a little from the crowds, towards the seafront. The sea thrashes tirelessly like a restless baby, the soothing stars hanging above it, like they’re dangling from a mobile in the ink-black sky.

  ‘Yes, no, kind of. Ryan, I need to tell you something . . . ’

  ‘What, babe, what is it?’ He has sensed the urgency in my voice and looks petrified. Ryan, for all his wonderful calm qualities, hates unexpected scenes. He panics. Imagines the worst. It’s disconcerting, as if expecting something to strike a blow. And now I’m the one wielding the axe.

  ‘It’s nothing bad, Ryan, honestly I just, I just . . . ’ God, I have no idea how to say this.

  ‘I just need a break.’

  ‘From me?’ Ryan’s face droops like wax on a melted candle, his normally sculptured features are suddenly long and drawn.

  I grab his head and look deeply into his eyes. ‘God, no! Not from you. I love you! I’m ridiculously happy with you . . . it’s just, I need a break from here. I feel like we’re in a fishbowl. I need to get out, see the world, do something different.’

  ‘But where?’ He looks confused, like a toddler who has been told he’s stolen a toy from a baby, when he was actually trying to give it to them.

  I look at him in excitement as it occurs to me that I know exactly where we should go and what we should do. ‘We should go to Australia, like we’ve always planned! I’m going to be twenty-four this year – twenty-four, Ry! My last year before I have to tick the dreaded 25–34 box! I want us to have fun, enjoy being young while we still can! We only have one chance to have no responsibility. I could take a six-week sabbatical this summer, when you’re on summer holidays? We could do Australia, Thailand, just travel around. Just me and you together. I want to be with you always, Ryan, but I don’t want it always to be this . . . ’ I wave my hand across the panorama of the estuary, the twinkling lights of Leigh Old Town behind us shining like a searchlight through the fog and the tinkling laughter of our family and friends.

  Ryan grabs my hands as the countdown begins behind us.

  ‘10!’

  ‘I don’t want you to miss out on anything, Molly babe,’ he says at last.

  ‘9!’

  ‘I’m happy as we are here but . . . ’

  ‘8!’

  ‘I want you to be happy too.’

  ‘7!’

  ‘I promised you the world and I want to give it to you . . . ’

  ‘6!’

  ‘Let’s go wherever you want . . . ’

  ‘5!’

  ‘I’ll do whatever you want Molly . . . ’

  ‘4! 3!’

  ‘New year, new life together, OK?’

  ‘2!1!’

  ‘Starting right
now!’

  I laugh through my tears as he leans in to me, the cheers erupting around like lava around us as he carries me away on his kiss. His lips are pressed powerfully to mine as if they’re stamping their intention to change our life, sealing our decision to move away from here. We pull away and see everyone around us hugging and kissing. Casey glances over at us and raises her glass woozily, having pulled away from her chosen victim And then, like air being sucked into a balloon, we’re drawn into the centre of the pub where we all hold hands and start singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’. I fight back tears as I take Ryan’s and my mother’s hands and I look around at the lovely, random mix of people that have become my family. And as we all start replacing words, unable to remember anything other than the ‘For Auld Lang Syne’ refrain, my mum trips tipsily on her sensible brown loafers into the middle of the group, still clinging on to my dad.

  ‘I know the words!’ she barks. And in her sharp mezzo-soprano voice she begins to sing:

  ‘We two have run about the slopes and picked the daisies fine;

  But we’ve wandered many a weary foot, since auld lang syne.

  We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun till dine;

  But seas between us broad have roared since auld lang syne.

  And there’s a hand my trusty friend! And give us a hand o’ thine!

  A right good-will draught, for auld lang syne.’

  I squeeze Ryan’s hand as my mother sings and the fireworks explode in the sky above us, and I know that no matter where I am, I want to be with him forever.

  2.50 p.m.

  Mia’s phone call has given me a renewed sense of purpose. I can’t be faffing around any longer. As well as finishing up here, there are a couple of final goodbyes I have to say. My phone rings again and I pick it up quickly.

  ‘Molly!’ Mum’s voice is sharp but concerned.

  ‘You OK, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, but more importantly, are you?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Pause. ‘Honestly.’ I’m used to reassuring people I’m not about to fall to pieces. Clearly I have answered her satisfactorily.

  ‘Good. How are you getting on?’ She pauses. ‘I hope you’re not getting . . . distracted?’

  ‘No!’ I protest, lying through my teeth. ‘I’m not a kid any more, Mum.’

  ‘Hmm,’ she says. I can hear the smile in her voice. ‘You may be in your thirties, but I know you well enough to know you haven’t changed that much, dear. Anyway, I just wanted to say we’ll be there in half an hour or so to do the cleaning.’

  ‘Great!’ I reply, but she’s gone. I shake my head.

  I smile as I listen to Bob and his son, loudly and unabashedly singing along to One Direction on the radio. It instantly reminds me of Ryan. Him and his bloody boy bands, listening to them all the time used to drive me mad. But now? Hearing this music instantly lifts my mood. I smile and start singing along to the chorus as I head upstairs to check the bedroom. My stomach contracts into a tight knot as I see it looking so empty and desolate. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and imagine my shoulders being massaged into a state of utter relaxation, and I’m immediately calmed. I wander over to the fireplace and run my fingers along the mantelpiece. This is the one I painstakingly exposed after the previous owners had inexplicably built around it. It’s dusty and bare, the fairylights all packed away, and the logs that I had twined them around are now out in the garden. I frown and stare as I spot something shimmering just behind the grate. I bend down slowly and pick up the shell, turning it over in my hand, feeling its edges and grooves. It is small and not particularly beautiful, but it was once the most precious thing to me in the whole wide world. I sit cross-legged on the floor and study it for a moment. The shell fits perfectly in the centre of my hand, its pale coral colour glinting a little in the sunlight that has just unexpectedly burst through the bay window, the lines on my palm carrying it like the waves that brought it to shore. Funny, I thought I’d packed it away years ago . . .

  The Real First Kiss . . .

  . . . and the last.

  <

  ‘Look who I found,’ I say, purposefully dripping water over Mia and Casey who appear to be asleep.

  ‘Not Pizza Face from last night?’ Casey opens one eye and then sits bolt upright. ‘Oh hel—’

  ‘Lo . . . ’ finishes Mia, as she peers out from under her sunhat and sits up slowly. ‘Who’s this . . . ?’

  ‘Ryan!’ squeals Casey, and she jumps up and envelops him in a rather overzealous hug given she’s naked from the waist up. She quickly whips her long black ponytail over her bare back like Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider. I suppress a smile as Ryan glances at me with a panicked expression. It’s nice to see Mr Confident suddenly lose his swagger.

  ‘Fancy seeing you here!’ she cries, putting her hands on her hips and posing like a Playboy model. ‘Is Alex here too? Oh my GAWWD, I can’t believe it! This is proper crazy! Half of Leigh is in I beeefa! So when did you come? When are you leaving? Where are you staying?’ She throws questions at Ryan like frisbees, not pausing to let him answer.

  I eye her up suspiciously as she continues to talk. I’m still not convinced that Casey didn’t orchestrate this whole ‘accidental meeting’. Although I do recall this holiday was my suggestion but perhaps she brainwashed me. I smile at the thought. Casey, capable of a clever, planned deception? Never.

  ‘How you doing, Case?’ Ryan coughs, averting his eyes from her body. ‘I ain’t seen you around for ages and now I seem to be seeing a lot of you . . . ’

  I pick up her discarded yellow bikini-top and thrust it at her as Ryan smiles gratefully at me.

  ‘Yeah, well, your best mate dumped me, I ain’t exactly felt like coming round your place for tea,’ she says, as I thread it over her arms, and then she turns and brazenly asks him to do her up as Mia and I make WTF faces. I’m used to Casey’s lack of decorum but this is ridiculous.

  ‘No, you were too busy with your next boyfriend,’ I interject. I don’t want Ryan going back and giving his mate some big ego trip about how she’s still in love with him. I know what blokes are like.

  ‘How are you anyway, babe? I haven’t seen you around Leigh much.’

  Was she looking?

  ‘I’ve been busy studying,’ Ryan smiles.

  ‘Oh, not another one,’ she rolls her eyes good-humouredly. ‘You’re just too clever for your own good. Is he here?’ Ryan and I look at each other warily. Presumably she means Alex. ‘Does he know I’m here?’ Casey asks, not even attempting to be blasé.

  ‘Yep, he’s here,’ Ryan says uncertainly, his eyes flickering back to mine. ‘We all are actually. My brother Carl, Gaz and a couple of other guys,’ Ryan replies, shading his eyes from the sun so he can try to spot his mates further down the beach. ‘They’re all over there somewhere. They probably think I’ve abandoned ’em.’

  ‘Or pulled,’ I offer sweetly. ‘Surely that’s the most likely when one of you disappears. Don’t you have a code for that sort of thing? Or a chart? No, wait, I’ve got it! Score cards. That’s what most guys have in Ibiza, don’t they?’

  Ryan raises a thick eyebrow at me and shakes his head. ‘You are way too cynical for your own good. HEY! LADS!’ he cups his mouth with his hands and waves to them, which makes his stomach contract and curved dents like wishbones appear on his torso.

  Mia, Casey and I can’t help but giggle as we see the lads in the distance clock that their mate is with a group of girls. They scramble up off the sand really quickly, before trying to strut over as nonchalantly as they can. Unfortunately, in their haste to get to us before each other, they end up looking more like The Monkees.

  ‘Alright Ryan, what have we got here?’ Alex breaks away from the group, his long legs and pure determination making him get to us first. His sentence – and his broad smile – trails off as he takes in a grinning, scantily clad Casey who is pouting provocatively at them all. She squints at him into the sunlight and juts out her bikini-clad hip as she
suggestively puts one hand on it.

  ‘Hiya, Alex, I’m so glad you’re here,’ she says. I’m sure she doesn’t intend to sound stalkerish but somehow she does. I notice Alex giving Ryan an alarmed look and Ryan quickly intervenes.

  ‘Alrigh’ lads,’ he pipes up, gesturing them into the conversation, ‘I just bumped into some old friends. Alex, obviously you already know Casey, but do you remember her best mate, Molly?’ Alex grins at me and then punches Ryan on the shoulder.

  ‘Ryan Shit Snog Cooper!’ chorus the boys and they fall about laughing.

  I see that Ryan’s tanned face has turned an interesting shade of lobster. And it’s not sunburn. I find it surprisingly sweet.

  ‘I suppose that’s usually Ryan’s trick, eh – the hit-on and run?’ I say drolly, and Alex laughs and throws his arm around Ryan’s neck, before rubbing his knuckles on his head.

  ‘She’s got you there, mate,’ he laughs, and Ryan and I join in. I glance up at Alex. He looks just as I remember, devilishly good-looking, if you like that sort of thing, which Casey clearly does. Gaz turns to Mia, who is sitting on her beach towel, sunhat tilted over one eye, make-up perfectly applied and looking for all the world like she’s modelling for an upmarket beach catalogue.

  ‘And what’s your name?’ Gaz asks chirpily, bouncing down on his knees so his brightly coloured board shorts are at her eye level.

  She looks up imperiously under the rim of her hat and then looks away as if she just can’t be bothered to answer. I can’t think why men have called her ‘aloof’ before.

  ‘It’s Mia,’ I answer for her, nudging her with my foot and giving her a ‘be nice’ face. Which is rich coming from me. I don’t know why but I actually like these boys; they seem sweet.