The First Last Kiss (54 page)

‘I want you to have this, Jackie, because Ryan once told me that it was his most beloved possession. He wanted it with him at the end. And this is his end. Here, with you. So you see, the flamingo has to stay with him. I thought perhaps you could put it in the garden, where we buried his ashes, it’s where they both belong . . . ’

Jackie nods and for a moment I see a glimmer of the woman I met over a decade ago. And as I put my arms around her one final time, I feel not just hers around me – but his too, and he’s wrapping me up, telling me it’s OK. That it’s OK for me to go.

The Take
That
Kiss

Ryan says that one of his greatest ‘wins’ didn’t come on the football pitch, but the other week when we were watching MTV and I finally conceded defeat and admitted that Take That have always been the soundtrack to our love story. Those five boys have been with us all along. They even split up, just like us (‘Love Don’t Live Here Any More’) and came back together, stronger than ever! (‘Back For Good’)

<

‘GOD, Ryan Cooper is SUCH a prat,’ I say, lazily sticking two fingers up at the group of lads who have just walked past us on The Broadway, as they throw lewd remarks in our direction. I turn my back on them and ignore the shouts of ‘Fridgey, fridgey FRIDGIIIIID’, that they’re now throwing in my direction. How mature. All that money their parents are paying on private school has made them so eloquent and erudite that they’re practically modern-day Shakespeares. NOT.

‘I think he’s WELL hot,’ Casey says, hitching her navy skirt a little higher and playing with her school tie as she peers around me and grins lasciviously at them.

‘Look at his legs – only he could make school sports shorts look sexy.
Literally everyone
in school thinks he’s fit.’

‘Not me,’ I sniff. ‘Just because he’s OK-looking, is doing his A levels, has got a Golf GTI and is good at sport, everyone treats him like he’s Leigh-on-Sea’s very own Brad Pitt. He’s just so . . . so . . . ’ I am struggling to find an appropriate put-down ‘ . . .
Essex
.’

Casey arches one dark, pencilled eyebrow at me. I know she’s been trying to perfect this expression for years and I have to give her credit, it has just the right amount of nonchalance and knowingness to make her look cool.

Casey and I are BFFs because we’re not your typical Essex Girls. We don’t conform to the usual stereotypes. She made me realize that I did fit in. With her. And that’s made life pretty good, actually. We’re soul sisters, we do everything together. She’s my support system, my partner in crime, my confidante. We laugh, cry and dream together. I protect her and she entertains me. We are inseparable. Life would be
unthinkable
without her.

Just then a low, smooth gust of a voice with a familiar sharp Essex breeze drifts past my neck, causing the hairs to stand up on end.

Oh God, Ryan’s staring at me.

Ryan tilts his head and looks at me appraisingly. ‘You’re Westcliff girls, right?’ he says with an interested smile.

‘Wow, how did you know
that
?’ Casey says enthusiastically as she puts her hands on her hips and pushes out her tits.

I look at her incredulously. We’re wearing the school uniform for God’s sake. I roll my eyes and somehow catch Ryan Cooper looking at me with an infuriatingly sexy smirk.

‘Molly Carter, ain’t it?’ he says.

OK,
now
I’m kind of impressed. I have never spoken to the guy and have no idea how he knows my name. I mean, everyone knows Ryan Cooper, he’s practically a celebrity in these parts. And everyone knows Casey, thanks to her working at her mum’s caff. But me? I’m not sure why a Year Ten Westcliff girl would be on
his
radar.

‘I’ve seen you down at the Yacht Club? With your mum and dad?’

Oh great. All the teenagers in Leigh-on-Sea go to the Yacht Club, but mainly to hang out on the top deck of the
Bembridge
and snog. Not have dinner with their parents. Worse, their
God Squad teacher
parents. Garghh.

Casey stifles a giggle and I prod her in the ribs. Hard.

‘Your mum was my form tutor last year!’

Brilliant. I picture my feet as a Hanna Barbera-style cartoon drill and will them to rotate me into the ground.

‘That’s nice,’ I mutter, stubbing out my cigarette with my biker boot.

He leans forward and my breath catches in my throat at his proximity to my lips. ‘Don’t worry, she didn’t give away any deep, dark secrets.’

‘That’s because we don’t have any,’ I shoot back, looking up at him defiantly. ‘Not when we’ve given ourselves to
Jesus
,’ I add with a sarcastic flourish.

Ryan looks at me longer than is entirely necessary and I momentarily lose myself in his gaze. His irises are like ever-changing ice-blue glaciers and suddenly I feel like a lone explorer who is in perilous danger.

‘I find that hard to believe,’ he murmurs. His lips are pure Johnny Depp; pillowy clouds on the perfect horizon that is his face. I glance at Casey, she’s leaning back against a wall, a look of unbridled astonishment on her face. She’s bent one bare leg up against it and Alex is lighting her cigarette for her whilst looking over at us. I look back at Ryan. He is smiling disarmingly at me.

Suddenly I feel very exposed. Like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he murmurs, and grazes my arm with his hand so a volt of longing shoots up my body.

Kiss me.

Shit, stop it. Focus Molly, for God’s sake.

‘I didn’t shout those things at you just then, you know,’ he whispers urgently, glancing at Alex who is being pawed by Casey who has, in the seconds that I’ve looked away, hitched her skirt up to an even more alarming Julia Roberts in
Pretty Woman
height. It is her current favourite film and I’ve had to physically restrain her several times from buying wet-look thigh-high boots from a dodgy shop in Southend. I resist the urge to reach across and tug her skirt down for her. Girls like us need to use our wit and our wiles to attract men. Failing that, we need to wait for our transformation moment. Which could be
years
away.

‘I had a go at them for shouting at you,’ Ryan continues. ‘I know they’re my mates an’ all but they can be idiots sometimes.’

I shrug as if to say,
like I care
, and fold my arms as I gaze at him unflinchingly. I can’t help but notice how his eyes have now darkened to a glorious shade of dark-wash denim.

‘So,’ he says, leaning in towards me, ‘do I get a reward for defending a damsel in distress? I reckon a kiss is the going rate, yeah?’

‘Er, who said I was in distress?’

He parts his curtains and his plump, pouty lips. ‘C’mon, babe, gimme a little something to work with here, won’tcha? I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while,’ he says softly. ‘I’ve seen you around town and, you just stand out, you know?’

Stand out. Hmm, that’s one way of saying, ‘You’re a freak’.

A nice way of saying it.

I look down at my biker boots, scuffing the toes against the ground, and I pull my army-surplus jumper sleeves over my fingers as he stares into my eyes and grins. I open my mouth and close it again.

Shit, my wit has totally disappeared.

‘Well, er, I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess,’ I mumble. ‘But I’m not sure the same can be said about you . . . ’

I can’t believe I’m talking to
Ryan Cooper
like this. Mr Pin-Up Popular not being gushed over by a girl for a change. ‘What I mean is,’ I clarify, examining my fingernails for added dramatic indifference, ‘you’re just another Leigh-on-Sea lemming.’ I point back to his group of mates who are standing in a circle, admiring their Nike Airs, their identikit boy band-esque haircuts flopping in their faces.

‘But Molly,’ he protests, shaking his head at me so that I find myself hypnotized. ‘I’m not like them,’ he says firmly.

‘HAAA!’ I guffaw helplessly. He looks affronted as he steps back from me, thrusting his hands deep into his Adidas shorts pockets.

‘Why is that funny?’ he says defensively, shifting from one Nike-clad foot to the other and biting his lip till it turns as red as a cherry Tunes throat lozenge.

I shrug dismissively. ‘Because you and your mates
are
all the same. You wear the same clothes, hang out at the same places, like the same music, fancy the same girls, smoke the same brand of cigarettes—’

‘I don’t smoke,’ he interrupts. There is a pause as he eyes me meaningfully. ‘
Or
fancy the same girls.’

For the first time in my life I’m speechless. Is Ryan Cooper coming on to me?

‘C’mon, Molly,’ he drawls. ‘Don’t make me beg in front of me mates, it’ll ruin my cred! What do you need me to do? Serenade you or something?’

I fold my arms and raise my eyebrow expectantly, knowing that he wouldn’t dare. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself like that for me.

‘Oh well,’ he says, ‘I did warn you . . . ’ He clears his throat and launches into the chorus of ‘Sure’ by Take That, complete with the classic side-step-and-click dance move.

Casey is looking on in astonishment but Alex distracts her by putting his hand on her arse. I fold my arms and watch Ryan’s performance, praying that I’m not blushing, my mouth twitching as I try desperately not to smile.

‘Well?’ Ryan pants as he grins at me at the end of the chorus.

I don’t know what is happening here, or why, but I know enough about the kind of boy he is, and the kind of girl I am, that this can only be a dare. And I’m not getting sucked in. No way.

I think for a millisecond then know exactly what I’m going to do. I clear my throat and launch into the chorus of ‘Loser’ by Beck. I reckon that’ll shut him up. The part of the song I sing seems interminably long but once I finish moshing in front of him, I look up and he’s just standing there grinning at me (that grin is
infuriating
!).

Then he leans forward and whispers, ‘Molly Carter, you’re a challenge. And I warn you, I don’t give up on challenges easily.’ And he turns and he walks away, taps Alex on the shoulder and heads off down The Broadway towards Cliff Parade, without looking back.

‘OHMYGODDD!’ Casey bounces over and squeals in my ear, apparently oblivious to my anger. ‘Can you believe what just happened? Did you see me and Alex? Oh my GOD, he’s just GORGEOUS. It totally felt like I was in a movie. I’m sure he was about to kiss me, Molly! That was the best moment of my life EVER!’

I zone Casey out as we head towards my house, trying not to think about Ryan sodding Cooper for another second.

Or how badly I wanted him to kiss me.

The Eternal Kiss

They say you can’t change people, well I don’t believe it. I am not the same person I was when I met Ryan (thank God!) and I’m not the same since he died either. I am better. I am better because I loved him and was loved by him. He taught me to be the very best person I could be.

Ryan left a mark on me that nothing can erase, no matter who or what comes after. I imagine this mark like an imprint of his lips on mine, a whisper of a lost love that reminds me that I am and always will be loved. No matter what.

In that sense, once again, Ryan has done, without trying, what I spent the months of his illness desperately trying to do. He has given me a kiss that will last forever.

FF>> 14/07/07>

The marquee billows merrily on The Green in front of Cliff Parade; a big, showy splash of white against the pure blue backdrop of sky and sea.

‘It’s perfect,’ Ryan says, and I bend down over his wheelchair and kiss him softly on his bare head, tucking his blanket over his suit trousers that are flapping around his legs like a stilt walker’s. It had been touch and go whether he’d be well enough to make it today. Ryan even said while we were all gathered around his bed the other day, that if he wasn’t well enough, at least the marquee wouldn’t go to waste – his 30th birthday party could turn into a wake instead. None of us laughed – and nor did he. I think he’s finally realized that the joke has worn thin.

The staff at Haven’s hospice, where he moved to three weeks ago, told us to be prepared that he wouldn’t see the week out, but then Charlie said that last week too – and the month before when we were in London and he had to ask me to sign the Do Not Attempt to Resuscitate form. He’s not officially our Macmillan nurse any more since we moved back here, but he’s kept in touch and even came to see Ryan yesterday, which was so nice of him. And I know Ryan appreciated it; I could literally see him fighting back tears, his eyes looked brighter, and his face took on that determined expression I always saw when he was on the football pitch. The doctors were all amazed but I think they have learned never to underestimate Ryan Cooper. Charlie said he’s a winner off the pitch as well as on.

The staff have been completely wonderful with him and Ryan is much happier since we moved there. We only managed two weeks at Jackie and Dave’s, not because they didn’t do a great job of looking after us, they did. But Ryan was deteriorating fast and it was all a bit too intense; Jackie and I were both vying to be top nurse. I knew I should be the bigger person and let his mum look after him, but looking after Ryan has become so much a part of who I am and our relationship, it was hard to let go, no matter how much I wanted to. So there were a few awkward battling-over-boiling-vegetables moments (that he refused to eat anyway, getting his dad to go out for McDonald’s instead) and running to get his meds first from the bathroom. We realized how ridiculous we were being when we were fighting over them in front of the sink. We both simultaneously looked at the mirror, at our harried, desperate faces that were contorted into comically determined expressions, and we both burst into laughter – and then tears and had a big hug. At that point we started taking it in turns.

It was Ryan’s choice to come here though, three weeks ago. He’s resisted this route for so long, but once we knew the cancer had spread to his brain he suddenly became frightened and he said he wanted to be in the best possible position for what he called ‘the penalty shoot out’. This is his way of referring to the end because each morning was another chance at staying in the match. Coming up to the hospice has given him his space and his dignity back – and his appetite.