Secrets - The Pub Evening

When he goes to the bar, I ring Mel. Her line's busy.
           
'Hey,' Gordon says when he comes back with the drinks. 'Get this down you.'
           
The din in the next room gets louder. Music blares from the jukebox. A group of girls in their early or mid-twenties stream into the room where we are sitting, with bottles of wine. They call out hello, then make their way back out to the main area of the pub, giggling among themselves. One of the girls turns round and blows a kiss at Gordon. 

Gordon starts to say something, but I'm no longer listening, just thinking about you, Craig, struggling to stay alive at the top of Whaley Hill. You should have been here with us tonight, not lying in a cemetery in the cold. You and Gordon and myself reminiscing over a few pints in a Lancashire pub, swapping stories, sharing the good times and the bad.

Gordon seems to pick up on my mood, for he asks, 'You okay?'
           
'I'm all right.'
           
'Sure?'
           
'I'm not okay. No, I'm not.' I turn to face Gordon and detect a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, even though he's a stocky bloke from all the working out. 'We were best mates – you and me and Craig. Why would you not speak to me afterwards?'
           
'It wasn't intentional.'
           
'What do you mean by that? We were mates, we'd grown up in the same place. Mates stick by one another, don't they?'

'You're right, Alan,' he says. 'You were my best mate and I did the dirties on you. But hear me out, please. I know you're angry. Basically, my mum and dad wouldn't let me have anything more to do with you. There were so many times I wanted to come over and ask you back to mine, but the police wouldn't allow it either. They gave my mum and dad strict instructions: I wasn't to communicate with witnesses during the trial.  I'm really sorry, mate.'
           
'Yeah?' 
           
'Honest, mate,' he says. 'Once it was over, mum and dad said I hadn't to talk to you. They kept on at me until I gave in and agreed not to hang round with you again. I was scared, only just turned twelve. I'm really sorry.'

The racket in the main area gets louder, the raucous sounds and harsh laughter from the next room merging with the swirl of my drunken thoughts. I feel my chest tighten, a churning sensation in my stomach. 'Do you think I let you down that day by suggesting going to the reservoir?' I ask Gordon.
           
'No.'
           
'I need to know. It's haunted me since I was ten. Do you blame me for everything that happened? Craig dying?'
           
'Course I don't, mate. I blame Vince Macarthur. He's the nutter who did it.' Gordon stands up. 'Come on, let's get out of here and grab a breath of air.'