Best Mates

Oh, you'd never split me and Colin up. He's a first-class
mate.
I admit he's a bit quiet, but we have a cracking time. It's because
we're opposites, see? He's pretty quiet is Colin, and I never shut
up.
We wouldn't get on if Colin had a gob like mine. I do all the talking
and he just listens and laffs a lot. I think he likes it 'cos I make
him laff all the time; it's the only time he gets any attention over
me, other than when I pushed his head under the water at the local
baths and nearly drowned him. I've never heard such a big fuss, all
that coughing and spluttering! Mind you, a bit of first aid from a nice
young girl named Lisa and he was right as rain, and we both had a laugh
about it afterwards.

Mam says I should let him alone, that I'm mean to him, but what does
she know?

I think he likes it.

I make fun of him sometimes, but that's what being mates is all about,
isn't it? He doesn't do himself no favours, either - he's so easy to
wind up is that lad. He'll fall for anything, which brings me to
yesterday:

There I was, standing in the kitchen minding me own business when who
should turn up but Colin. He came round the back way, from the alley;
everyone does if they're a friend of our family.
He looked absolutely freezing, on account of the fact it was raining,
and you know how cold it's been this week. Of course the silly beggar
didn't have a coat. That was just like Colin. I think when God was
handing out common-sense, Colin was looking the other way, picking his
arse.
Anyway, he was soaked through, his hair stuck to his face like a wet
ginger mop. He saw me standing in the kitchen looking at him, and he
gave me one of his Colin introductions, a kind of shrug and nod
together that he performed with no real effort. I could see him, hands
in his pockets to keep warm, mouthing an "All right?" through the
window. I nodded back to him.

I'd been trying to decide what to do with meself, given that it was a
Sunday and all. You know what Sundays are like: dead boring.
The sight of Colin always cheered me up though. Today, he hadn't even
made it to the back door before I got me first chance to wind him up.
The heavens had opened up again as he got halfway across the garden and
I could see his longing look at me standing in the kitchen in the
warm.
I couldn't miss an opportunity like that. Quick as a flash, I was at
the back door, holding it tightly shut. He knew what I was about and
tried to beat me to it, but too late, son! Too late!
Oh, I'm a right bugger, I know, but it's got to be done, hasn't it? It
was so funny. There he was, looking like he'd got his showering and
dressing in the wrong order, thumping our back door to get in and a
really foul look on his face.

"Andy, I'll go home if yer don't let me in," he'd whined, knowing full
well that he wasn't about to walk home again in this weather.

He was clattering the door with his body and trying the handle at the
same time, but remember, this is skinny Colin we're talking about. I'm
not exactly the biggest lad you've ever seen, now am I? But Colin made
even me look like Bernard Manning.
So I just held on to the door handle and pushed up against the door so
he couldn't budge it. Then I put me mouth and nose up to the glass,
squashing me face until Colin couldn't stop himself laughing. He wasn't
happy about that at all. There he was, standing out there in the
pouring rain like a drowned rat, furious that I wasn't letting him in,
but wetting himself laughing anyway. Making Colin laff cheers me up
too.
I opened the door after that. No point being unkind, is there?

"Thanks a million, Andy," he'd said, miserable as sin. "It's freezing
out there, you know? I could get pneumonia stuck out there."

I stuck my fingers up my nose in an attempt to sound like a Dalek.
"Then come and warm your skinny legs by the fire". Colin tried to look
annoyed, but he laughed at that, too, which annoyed him even
more.

"Stop it Andy, you're not funny."

"Why are you laffing then? Eh, and you'd better have your coat and
shoes off Colin, or Mam will kill you for making the floor mucky. She's
only just finished cleaning it."

There's no fury like Mam's fury when she's just finished cleaning and
in you walk with your shoes covered in dirt - I should know.
He spent two minutes looking for somewhere to hang his coat, given that
he's so polite and didn't want to put it down all wet and that.
Whenever Colin was round, Mam would always say, "He's such a polite
young man."
I always stood behind her back mimicking as she said it, just to make
Colin laugh. Then he'd turn red 'cos Mam thought he was laffing at
her.

Anyway, there we were. Me and Colin. Bored stiff the both of us.
We stood there for a bit while he warmed himself up and I even made him
a cuppa. Who says I'm not a good mate?
Then he'd seen the cake on the kitchen table that Auntie Mary had
brought round. Auntie Mary was all right, but her cakes were bloody
awful. Whenever she brought one, Mam would say, "Oh, Mary, you
shouldn't have." What Mary didn't know is that Mam really meant it, and
she'd hide it in the cupboard for a few days and then chuck it in the
bin. Even the dog wouldn't touch it, and you know what dogs will
eat.

Anyway, when Colin saw the cake, his piggy eyes lit up.

"Hungry, are you, Colin mate?"

"No, not really," he'd lied. "Well, yeah, I am actually. I missed me
lunch and I was working all morning with me Dad putting tiles up in the
bathroom."

He looked embarrassed that I'd seen him gawping at it and he didn't say
a word after that. He's such a polite young man, I thought to meself.
He wasn't the sort to just help himself; that wouldn't be good manners
to Colin. I was going to let him have a bit, but then I had a better
idea.
"You could have some, except it's our Liam's birthday cake, see? He's
nine today."
Colin looked heartbroken. I almost felt sorry for the poor lad, what
with him being so cold an' hungry and all.

"Shame," he said. "It looks like a nice cake as well, all the icing and
that. I love icing, it's my favourite bit."

I didn't know if his face was wet from the rain or from dribbling, the
silly beggar looked that keen to have some.
"Hey, I tell you what, Colin," I said, all whispery. "Have a piece. I
won't tell Mam. It's not like you can afford to lose weight now, is
it?"
He looked at the cake like it was a slab of heaven on a plate.

"Nah, it's okay. Your Mam would go berserk."

His face told me a different story. He wanted that cake.
"Hey, I tell you what," I'd said. "Have a piece and I'll blame it on
the kids. There's a whole load turning for the party and they're a
bunch of trouble-makers. I'll have no trouble convincing Mam one of
them did it."
That seemed to do the trick. He couldn't resist it. Now, you'd think,
after all the times I'd fooled him, he might have learnt his lesson.
But not Colin. He was like a little dog that would run under a bus if
you were stupid enough to throw a stick there for 'im. And I'd just
thrown him a big juicy one.

"You reckon?" he'd said, looking at me uncertainly.

"Yeah, course! Just take a little slice and Mam won't think it was us,"
I said.
I found him a knife from the drawer to cut it with; he looked at it
like it was King Arthur's sword or something, then grabbed it off me. I
couldn't help grinning to meself behind his back.
I waited until he'd finished cutting a slice, his eyes bulging at the
thought of putting something in his empty belly. Then he'd pushed it
into his gob, biting off about half in one mouthful, the greedy
so-and-so.

"Blimey," I'd said to him. "Steady on there."

Judging the timing just perfectly, I left him in the kitchen for a few
seconds and headed out to the bottom of the stairs. Then I charged back
in, waving me arms like a nutter.
"Oh no," I said to him, "Mam's coming down the stairs! Get rid of the
cake or she'll kill you!"
God 'elp me, I nearly wet meself there and then! Colin had a look on
his face like the time he'd been caught smoking in the bogs at school!
I thought he was gonna have a heart attack, I swear. He just stood
there, half a slice of cake in one hand and the other one flapping at
me to think of something quickly, and his gob's still full of cake that
he's not daring to swallow. Then, as luck would have it, Mam really did
come down the stairs. I reckon he thought I was winding him up, but
when he heard her for himself, he started flapping so much I thought he
would take off.
"Quick," I said to him. "Get out the back door and hide."
He seemed to think that was brilliant, 'cos he shot outside. Of course,
it was still raining outside, which was the whole idea.
Oh, it must have been my lucky day, because just after Colin had hidden
himself behind the dustbin, who should turn up but Dad, home from his
morning shift. Perfect! Colin was trapped between Dad and Mam with
nowhere to go. Colin had seen me get a good rollicking from Dad a few
times, so he didn't hang around. Back in the kitchen he came, before he
was caught.
By that time, Mam was in the living room, no doubt dusting or cleaning
something that was already spotless. And there we were, me stirring up
the panic and Colin absolutely frantic, still holding a handful of cake
as evidence.
"Do something Colin, they're coming!" Somehow, he swallowed the
mouthful of cake he had in his gob. A worse fate than that I can't
imagine.

"What shall I do?" he'd spluttered in a spray of cake.

Dad was halfway up the path now and he was peering through the window
to see what we were up to. Now Dad scares me witless at the best of
times, he's a big fella and you don't want to get on the wrong side of
him. Colin knew that too, and the sight of Dad looming towards him
through the back door obviously made him focus, 'cos when I looked
again he was trying to get the pieces of cake he still had in his hand
back into the tin. By the time he'd finished, it looked like big Uncle
George had sat on it.
Dad came in and slammed the back door shut, scaring the life out of
Colin who stood up like someone had kicked him in the backside, his
hands covered in currants and looking guilty as sin.

"Eh, you lazy scroungers, what are you up ter?" he'd bellowed at us,
grinning. It was the first time I'd seen Colin white instead of
ginger.

Mam, on hearing Dad's voice, joined us too. Colin didn't know which way
to look, what with them both bearing down on him at once. He was
convinced he was going to die.
Then Mam said, "Hello there, Colin! Oh, you poor lad, you must be
frozen in those wet clothes. And look how skinny you're getting! Here,
go and warm yourself in the lounge, and take some of Auntie Mary's cake
with you."
Then she'd whispered, "To be honest, no-one else'll eat it, so just
help yourself."

I burst out laughing and Colin gave me the blackest look I've seen;
pretty impressive for such a pasty lad. Lucky for me he'd already put
down the knife he'd cut the cake with.

Still, Colin always bounces back. Tomorrow, we'll both have a laff
about it.

We understand each other, Colin and me - that's why we're such good
mates.