The girl's name had been Amanda Mather, and she had really caught Howard's attention one spring afternoon, whilst he was walking home from school. The weather had turned ugly, and there was a sudden downpour of rain. Amanda had been walking just behind Howard, who was getting soaked, whilst she had the luxury of an umbrella. Amanda had tapped Howard on the shoulder.

"Haven't you got a hood on that coat? It's tipping down." She had said to him.

"Not on this coat, no. I've got one with a hood, but I left it at home, coz it was such a sunny morning and I didn't think that I'd need it." Replied Howard.

"Well, you'd better get under this brolly then, or you'll get absolutely drowned." Suggested Amanda. Howard had gladly taken her up on the kind offer.

"That's nice of you. Thanks." He said, scuttling under the umbrella.

"If I were you, I wouldn't go wearing summer jackets just yet… you know what they say about not 'casting a clout until May is out'." Advised Amanda, before laughing at Howard's 'drowned rat' appearance.

Following that afternoon, Howard would, very often, find himself walking home from school with Amanda Mather. They'd talk about this and that, but their main topics of conversation were music, and what had been showing on the television the previous night or at the weekend. Amanda saw Howard as nothing more than a friend. Howard, on the other hand, had romantic inclinations towards the pretty thirteen year old, but he could never quite find the courage to tell Amanda how he was feeling. Then, suddenly, it was all too late. Howard found out, through the school gossip network, that Amanda had started dating Alex Crennell. This was confirmed by Alex himself the next day. Howard stopped speaking to his old friend very soon after that. As far as he was concerned, Alex had now completely betrayed him. Quite how Alex Crennell was expected to know of Howard's childish yearnings for the love of Amanda Mathers was anyone's guess. Not that this concerned Howard Trenton in the least; his views were very black and white on the subject, there were no grey areas in-between. Alex Crennell was a traitor, and that was that. At first, Alex felt hurt by his friend’s sudden coldness towards him. This hurt eventually turned to anger. Alex, backed-up by his little circle of friends, started to mock Howard, whenever the opportunity arose. It was all low-level bullying, there was never any violence, or threat of violence, but it was bullying nevertheless. Howard ignored the jibes as best he could, but his loathing of Alex Crennell grew stronger with each passing year.

***

My cousin Howard intensely disliked Alex Crennell. He never really told me about the ins and outs of why he had such disdain for Alex… I know that they were friends once, a long time ago, in their early years at school. I knew Alex from when he was a little kid. He was always a bit precocious, but I’ve seen a lot worse over the years. By the time that he was in his late teens, he’d turned into an arrogant little fucker, truth be known. Not that he was a total arse-hole… violent, or anything like that… he was just, I don’t know, a snide, sarcastic shit who enjoyed nothing more than taking the piss out of other people. He never quite knew when to keep his mouth shut, and it’d gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion in the past.

A couple of years ago, one of my friends, Mike Norton - he’s a mechanic, and runs the only garage in Coldsleet - well, he had a bit of a run-in with Alex Crennell and one of his cronies. Mike had been working in the garage, when he heard a banging on one of the walls outside. He went out, took a look around, and at the side of his property was Alex Crennell and some other guy, booting a football up against the wall. Mike politely asked them to cut it out, and to go and find somewhere else to kick their ball around. Instead of just being, you know, courteous, respectful, and doing as Mike had requested, Alex started taking the piss out of him. You see, Mike, he lost most of his hair, years ago, whilst he was still in his early twenties, and he’s always been a bit sensitive about that. So that’s exactly what Alex homed in on… he had a knack for finding people’s weak spots. He started calling Mike the usual sort of stuff; ‘slaphead’, ‘Kojak’, ‘egg-head’, all pretty banal and predictable piss-taking, but it really got to my friend. Like I said, Mike can be very touchy about that particular subject, and the occasion when Alex Crennell and his fellow goon were taking the rise out of him was no exception.

Not really wanting a confrontation, Mike tried to appeal to Alex’s better nature, asking him to just stop the name-calling, and leave, but the teenager just ignored him, and continued with the piss-taking. At some point, Mike snapped; he grabbed hold of Alex by his shirt collar, and threw him up against the wall that he’d been bouncing the ball off. As soon as things turned ugly, Alex’s companion did a runner. Now Alex was all alone, and facing the wrath of Mike, who was severely hacked-off. From what Mike told me, once he’d grabbed hold of him, then Alex instantly shut his mouth.

“Come on, man, I was only joking around.” He’d said to Mike, whilst suddenly looking like he was about to piss his pants.

“Well, I don’t find your jokes very funny.” Mike had growled back at him. Even though he’d lost his temper though, Mike knew the score; if he lamped

Alex, or took things any further, then the little blonde weasel would almost certainly go running straight to the coppers. So Mike gave him a warning instead. “You ever, EVER, make any comment about my hair again, and I’ll put you in Knighton hospital.” He said. Alex nodded, almost on the verge of tears. Mike let the kid go, and he went running off, like the little shit-bag that he was. Obviously, in a town the size of Coldsleet, we all run into each other from time to time. Mike encountered Alex Crennell on many occasions afterwards, but he never got any lip from him after that run-in at the garage.

I know that Alex used to snipe and get at Howard from time to time, during their school years… that much my cousin did tell me. But, from what I gather, it was all pretty low-level stuff, and Howard would generally just shrug it off. Knowing what I know about my cousin now, I often wonder why Howard didn’t lose it on those occasions, and really mess Alex up… he was certainly more than capable of doing just that… I think that there was a sentimental streak running right through Howard, and that, somewhere deep down, he hung onto the times when he was very young, when he and Alex were really good friends. I reckon that Howard cherished those days, even though he’d never admit that to anyone. I know that what Howard ended up doing, up there on the Black Pathway, was horrendous, but even so, there was a side to him that could be nice… and by nice, I mean, you know, genuinely nice, not fake, put-on. Sure, Howard could be a manipulative little bastard at times, and was certainly capable of putting on false platitudes when he was after something or other, but then, can’t we all, sometimes? I know that I’ve behaved like that in the past. I reckon that most other people have, too, if they’re honest with themselves.

***

Howard Trenton walked through the alleyway where he had earlier encountered the mugger, this time without incident. He emerged from the alleyway, then turned left, past a small row of bungalows. At the end of the bungalows was a low brick wall, with a small patch of wasteland behind it. As Howard walked past the wasteland, he heard somebody call his name.

“Howie! Howie! Hey, Howie… look lads, it’s Howie.” Said the male voice. Howard spun around. Three youths stood around on the wasteland, sharing a spliff between themselves. Two of the youths were dressed up in punk garb, with one of them sporting a long, blue mohican. His name was Gary Ackley, and was a couple of years older than Howard. The second punk, who wore unfashionable, John Lennon-style spectacles, sported a bizarre hair-cut, shaved completely bald on one side, but worn long on the other, his blue-black locks flowing over his right shoulder. Howard knew him as Neil Luskin. The third youth was more conventional in appearance. He had dirty blonde hair, and was wearing his trademark fake leather jacket. It was Alex Crennell.