had tried to piece together the last day of Colin’s life as best they could, but there were pieces of the jigsaw that just didn’t fit. One thing that they knew conclusively was that during the late afternoon and early evening, Colin was sat on the side of the canal with another boy, an older boy. Several people on narrow boats, as well as dog walkers and fishermen, reported to the police that Colin was there, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer in the rain, with an older boy in a baseball cap. A few people also reported that they had driven past two boy s on Euxton Lane, mid-afternoon. One of them matched Colin’s description. The other one was wearing a baseball cap.
I never had a doubt, from the beginning, that the mystery older child would be Luke ‘Boffin’ Booth. Colin had been hanging around with him and I had already confronted Colin about his tobacco smelling clothing previously after a day with Boffin. One thing that frustrated me though, was that the child spotted with Colin wore a baseball cap, because if there had been reports of Colin being with an older child with ginger hair then the finger of blame could have been pointed at Boffin far more easily.
Phil Moss inadvertently gave the game away. Phil was another of the kids Colin had hung around with. In the initial months after Colin’s death, Mum and Dad went through a spell of spoiling me. They started taking me to Fredericks, an ice cream parlour on the outskirts of Chorley, two or three times a week. I think Mum and Dad were conscious that Colin and I had just been left to run loose for the most part, so now, after the tragedy, they wanted to spend more family time together. I felt Colin’s death probably hurt them even more than it hurt me, so I was happy to go along with whatever they suggested. Not that I would ever have minded going for ice cream anyway.
A couple of weeks after Colin’s funeral, as Mum, Dad and I were leaving Fredericks and heading back to the car, there were about half a dozen lads outside on BMXs eating their 99s. I recognised most of them from school. They were all straddling their BMXs with their colourful frames and licking happily on their ice cream. No matter how cool your bike is, licking an ice cream cannot be done in a cool way.
BMXing had never been my thing. I wasn’t the sportiest of kids, cricket was about the only sport I could manage and my tubby, big boned frame, did not aid my riding skills. I remember trying to do a bunny hop once and I couldn’t find the strength to lift the bike off the ground. It wasn’t the bike that was heavy. It was trying to lift my own body weight. Anyway, Phil Moss was amongst the ice cream lickers and as Mum and Dad headed towards the car, I noticed Phil Moss gesturing me towards him.
“Can I have a word, mate?” he mumbled in a deep tone which was barely audible and at first, I was unsure whether it was aimed at me.
“Pardon.”
“Can I have a word, Simon?”
I let Mum and Dad continue walking towards the car and I went to see what Phil wanted. I didn’t dislike Phil Moss, I always thought his choice of friends was poor, but I think he was short of company and gravitated towards them rather than live a life of loneliness. He was tall, spotty and had a lot of yellow heads that always looked ripe for squeezing. His hair was untidy, brown, wavy and wiry. If a judging panel of girls had been given a task to judge us both on looks, I think it would have been a no score draw.
“I just wanted to say I was sorry to hear about your brother, Simon,” Phil said with a voice full of genuine grief.
“Thanks.”
“He was a good kid, I liked him a lot. He used to make us laugh.”
“Me too.”
“He called for me that afternoon, the afternoon he died, to see if I was coming out. I couldn’t go though, mate, my Dad had a decorating job over in Brinscall and he wanted me to strip the wallpaper with him.”
My immediate thought was, ‘why could he not have asked Colin to
I never had a doubt, from the beginning, that the mystery older child would be Luke ‘Boffin’ Booth. Colin had been hanging around with him and I had already confronted Colin about his tobacco smelling clothing previously after a day with Boffin. One thing that frustrated me though, was that the child spotted with Colin wore a baseball cap, because if there had been reports of Colin being with an older child with ginger hair then the finger of blame could have been pointed at Boffin far more easily.
Phil Moss inadvertently gave the game away. Phil was another of the kids Colin had hung around with. In the initial months after Colin’s death, Mum and Dad went through a spell of spoiling me. They started taking me to Fredericks, an ice cream parlour on the outskirts of Chorley, two or three times a week. I think Mum and Dad were conscious that Colin and I had just been left to run loose for the most part, so now, after the tragedy, they wanted to spend more family time together. I felt Colin’s death probably hurt them even more than it hurt me, so I was happy to go along with whatever they suggested. Not that I would ever have minded going for ice cream anyway.
A couple of weeks after Colin’s funeral, as Mum, Dad and I were leaving Fredericks and heading back to the car, there were about half a dozen lads outside on BMXs eating their 99s. I recognised most of them from school. They were all straddling their BMXs with their colourful frames and licking happily on their ice cream. No matter how cool your bike is, licking an ice cream cannot be done in a cool way.
BMXing had never been my thing. I wasn’t the sportiest of kids, cricket was about the only sport I could manage and my tubby, big boned frame, did not aid my riding skills. I remember trying to do a bunny hop once and I couldn’t find the strength to lift the bike off the ground. It wasn’t the bike that was heavy. It was trying to lift my own body weight. Anyway, Phil Moss was amongst the ice cream lickers and as Mum and Dad headed towards the car, I noticed Phil Moss gesturing me towards him.
“Can I have a word, mate?” he mumbled in a deep tone which was barely audible and at first, I was unsure whether it was aimed at me.
“Pardon.”
“Can I have a word, Simon?”
I let Mum and Dad continue walking towards the car and I went to see what Phil wanted. I didn’t dislike Phil Moss, I always thought his choice of friends was poor, but I think he was short of company and gravitated towards them rather than live a life of loneliness. He was tall, spotty and had a lot of yellow heads that always looked ripe for squeezing. His hair was untidy, brown, wavy and wiry. If a judging panel of girls had been given a task to judge us both on looks, I think it would have been a no score draw.
“I just wanted to say I was sorry to hear about your brother, Simon,” Phil said with a voice full of genuine grief.
“Thanks.”
“He was a good kid, I liked him a lot. He used to make us laugh.”
“Me too.”
“He called for me that afternoon, the afternoon he died, to see if I was coming out. I couldn’t go though, mate, my Dad had a decorating job over in Brinscall and he wanted me to strip the wallpaper with him.”
My immediate thought was, ‘why could he not have asked Colin to
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