BY EMMARY
September 25th, 1980. As a young five-year-old blew out the blue and white candles on his birthday cake, his mother took photos galore, savouring the moment.
Declan turned to his mother, grinning. "Mam, please stop doing that," he asked. "I'm real embarrassed now."
"But it's my little boy's birthday! Do I not get to take photo's anymore?"
"Anne," said young Declan's father, taking the camera gently from her. "The photo company got £5,000 more pounds last year because of you."
Declan laughed, as did his mother. "I think that's a slight exageration," she said, sitting down with her youngest son.
"Yeah-maybe £15,000" said Sara, Declan's eldest sister. She was 17, and sometimes pretended that she couldn't stand her little brother, but she thought he was really cute. He got his dimples from his mother, and his shock-hair from his father.
"Oh. come on," said Dec. "It's my birthday. Now, where's my presents?"
His father, Alphonus, laughed. "That's my boy," he said, ruffling his hair.
"Anthony David McPartlin, get in here RIGHT NOW!" cried his mother from the kitchen. Anthony turned round, his face a picture. He stared through the window at his mother, grinned, then ran inside.
"Look what you've done to your t-shirt. You've been playing football in it AGAIN, haven't you?"
Ant looked down at the floor, his dirty face going a pale red colour. "Mam, I'm sorry, OK? It's not like it's my best shirt ever."
"We're going to church today, silly boy. Go and get changed right now. And wash your face!"
Ant scowled. "We're not even Catholic. Why are we going today, of all days?"
"Cos I feel we should. It's a lovely day, the birds are singing...hey? Like it's any of yours. Get upstairs now."
"Going," he muttered, mooching up the stairs to his room. He hated church, from what he remembered of it, and today would be no better. He was sure of it.
"A talent show?" asked Dec, his eyes opening wide.
"Yep. Do you need to practise?" asked Alphonsus. They were standing outside the church, and, as a surprise, he had entered his son into the contest. Dec was a brilliant comedian, even for a little kid, and he knew he would love to perform to a crowd.
"What's my talent? Does comedy count?" he asked.
"Aye. That's why I entered you. But you have to perform in twos. They've put you with another little boy of your age, and you have an hour to practise together."
Declan's face fell. Then he brightened up again. "I'm sure I'll like this boy," he said.
While Dec was waiting in the back room, a sullen, black-haired boy walked in. "Are you Declan?" he asked, his arms folded.
"Aye," he said, nodding. "You're Ant-right?"
Ant nodded. "So, I guess we'd better get this over and done with," he said. "You got any ideas?"
Dec was disappointed. He had expected the boy to be happy to do this. He often forgot that not everyone was as upbeat as he was. This was a shame, but he just shrugged. "I thought we'd just do stand-up," Dec said.
"Aye."
"Jokes, and everything. Y'know?"
"Aye."
Dec was beginning to lose his temper. "Can't you say anything else apart from aye?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.
"Aye," said Ant.
"Look," said Dec. "Unfortunately for me, I've been asked to work with you today. I want to do well-this is the kinda thing I like doing. And I can see you're just going to mess it all up."
"I'm useless at this," said Ant. "I can be funny. I'm a good actor. But I cannae make things up off the top of me head!"
Dec grinned. "Hang about," he said. "I have an idea."
"Yours was definitely the best," said Ant's mother, after the show. "Combining acting with comedy. That Declan was very good too."
"It was his idea," Ant admitted, holding his new football that he had won. And all thanks to that Declan. He looked over at Dec, who was with his vast family and HIS new football. "He's pretty smart, he is."
"Are you...friends with him?" she asked hopefully. It would be great if Ant made friends with a nice yong lad, instead of the rough hooligans around their area.
Before Ant could say anything, Dec ran over, grinning. "Hey, my mam wants to know if you'd like to come over some time next week?" he asked.
Ant looked at his mother. She nodded. He turned back to Dec.
"Yeah, brill," he said, smiling for the first time in the past couple of hours.
"Here's my phone number," said Dec, handing him a piece of paper. "See you later."