Forever Is Over (12 page)

“
Does that mean it felt good or bad?
”
.

“
It was a relief. Nothing special, I guess it
’
s like wine.
”

No-one but Caroline could describe your first sexual experience
like poo and wine. She was talking rubbish. I didn
’
t have a clue what
she was on about.

“
What ARE you on about?
”

“
Well, have you ever tasted wine?
”

“
Yes.
”

“
Did you like it?
”

“
No, it was horrible.
”

“
And what did Mum and Dad say when you said it was horrible?
”

“
They said it was an acquired taste.
”

“
Exactly! I reckon sex is an acquired taste. Not great at first, but
after a while you get used to it.
”

That made sense.

As I said, as time elapsed, Caroline had lots to tell me. I fantasised.
She fulfilled. There were loads of other boyfriends. Caroline didn
’
t
sleep with them all, but she did sleep with a few and she added to her
wine analogy, saying sex was also like wine because there were some
fine wines that tasted great and others that stank! That made me feel as
nauseous as her red heart. If the only sex you know about is your sister
’
s,
it is not good.

None of Caroline
’
s boyfriends really lasted longer than a few weeks.
She also once said (as you can see she was a girl for analogies),
“
Lads are like pick and mix sweets to me. I just want to taste every
one!
”

In the summer before Caroline went into Upper Sixth, things
changed. She started dating a lad called Nick Birch, who was to become
a long-term boyfriend. Nick was a year older than Caroline, he was
a Grammar school kid like ourselves, but had left after Sixth Form. Caroline ran into him again at the
“
Rock Night
”
at the Floral Hall in
Southport and they both quickly fell
“
Head Over Heels
”
in love.

Nick had a mass of black, frizzy hair and always wore his denim
jackets with his Metallica, AC/DC and Motorhead patches. He was
heavily into motorbikes too and him and his older brother, Mike, were
often seen and heard biking around Ormskirk. I have no idea how he
managed to get his helmet over that mass of hair!

As well as Nick and Mike, there was also another brother, Joey, who
was in my year at school. Joey wasn
’
t one of my mates, but he was OK.
At school, there were the trendies, the nerds, the in-betweeners and
the D-Gas boys (D-Gas stood for
“
Don
’
t Give A Shit
”
). I was an in-
betweener, not really a nerd, not really a trendy, Joey was a D-Gas boy.
He was into his bikes, like his brothers and just wanted to leave school as
soon as he
’
d done his C.S.E.s. I often remember him sneaking through
a broken panel at the back of a part of the school called Ashcroft and
smoking in the garden there with the rest of the smokers. Rumour had
it that he also smoked a bit of weed too. Our paths didn
’
t cross too often,
but I quite liked him and I
’
m sure he could tolerate me too, we just didn
’
t
have much in common. That was of course, until his brother and my
sister started dating, but even then, we didn
’
t speak much.

In March, nine months after Caroline and Nick started dating, his Mum and Dad buggered off on holiday somewhere for their
“
Silver
Wedding
”
and stupidly, left their house in the
“
safe
”
hands of three mad
biker boys, who were low on intelligence but high on pot. When Caroline
told me the Birch boys were going to have a massive party one Friday,
during their Mum and Dad
’
s holiday, I wasn
’
t the least bit surprised. I
could just imagine about three hund
red bikes and mopeds parked on
the front lawn and three hundred crash helmets in the hallway.

For some reason, Caroline wanted me to go to Nick
’
s party with her.

“
No thanks, Cal. It won
’
t be my scene at all.
”

“
Come on Richie, it
’
ll be a laugh
”
.

“
House parties are never a laugh. They normally involve gatecrashers,
pissheads, fights and broken glass.
”

I was old before my time! Caroline sometimes called me
“
Dad
”
as I
had a greater sense of maturity than our biological father and was forever
warning her to be careful, particularly sexually, but I also warned her
to be careful with drugs and when riding on the back of Nick
’
s bike.
Caroline loved danger whilst I steered away from it.

After some gentle persuasion though, I agreed to go to the Birch
’
s
party. Although I initially had reservations, the fact was, it was a party,
there would be girls there and no
“
proper
”
adults. Realistically, I guessed
it wasn
’
t likely to be my scene but any opportunity whatsoever to meet a
decent looking girl, was always one I wanted to grasp with both hands.

Rumour had spread like wildfire around Ormskirk Grammar School
that the Birch
’
s were having a party, it was the worst kept secret since
Charles and Di
’
s engagement or since Emma Marley in fourth year was
pregnant the previous year (she was really skinny then it looked like
someone kept blowing a balloon up in her stomach). Loads of people
said in Fifth Form and Sixth Form that they were going to check out
the Birch
’
s party. In our year, only the nerds opted out, the
“
trendies
”
,
the
“
inbetweeners
”
and the D-Gas boys were all up for it, the latter were
always going to go as it was Joey
’
s party, but the
“
trendies
”
presence was
going to have a positive effect on the quality of girls present.

The Birch
’
s party was a massive turning point in my life. I don
’
t
believe in fate, I do believe that every decision we make in life impacts
on the next and then the next and so on and so forth. My decision to
go to that party definitely shaped the rest of my life. Little did I know
the two greatest loves of my life (or only loves really) would be at that

party and through the course of the evening, I would have an incredibly
positive effect on one of them and an incredibly negative effect on the
other!

I was over the road in a flash. It was my second soaking of the
evening, but once again, events took priority over vanity.

“
What the hell is going on?
”

The policeman was massive, there must have been seven feet dividing
his shoes from the tip of his helmet. I wasn
’
t talking to him though, I
strode straight past him.

“
Kelly, I
said what the hell is going on?
”

My sister stood, head to head with the policeman or head to chest
given the height differences, under a bus shelter on Asmall Lane. Kelly
looked wet, flustered and annoyed. Predominantly annoyed. I was
used to seeing Vomit Breath annoyed, Kelly was used to seeing me
annoyed, but Kelly was placid. The policeman kicked off our three way
conversation.

“
This young lady is in serious trouble
”
.

“
What for?
”

I don
’
t even know why I asked that, the evidence for the prosecution
was in her right hand.

“
Underage drinking
”
, replied the policeman,
“
it
’
s an epidemic round
here, it really
is!
”

Kelly continued to look like she wanted to knock the policeman
’
s
hat off, stuff it with Tiswas foam pies, then plant it forcefully back on
his head and twist it.

“
This is a joke!
”
Kelly ranted.

“
An absolute joke!
”

“
Not to me, young lady. Not to me!
”
replied the not so jolly blue
giant.

As the sole member of the jury, I had already found her guilty. A smoking gun in the form of a can of cider was in her right hand. The irony of me
standing there, between Kelly and
“
Dibble on stilts
”
, judging her, when
I was guilty of an identical crime, somehow escaped me.

“
Kelly, you
’
ve got a can of cider in your hand! Who does that belong
to then, the invisible man?
”

I
’
m not quick witted when I
’
m sober, I couldn
’
t really expect to be when I was half drunk.

“
It was just on the floor! I do my bit to
“
Keep Britain Tidy
”
and end
up in Bizzy bother!
”

Had Kelly gone mental?
Using Scouse slang to describe a policeman

was pretty normal in Ormskirk, but not in front of them! I was half
expecting her to start oinking. Kelly was not endearing herself to Lou
Ferringo in uniform and this set him off with a lecture that
“
Tut
”
would
have been proud of.

“
Young lady, spare me your phony stories. The fact of the matter is,
you were drinking it as I drove past. It is my role to keep the streets of
Ormskirk free from crime and you were committing a crime, so if you
would kindly like to step into my car, we can discuss this down at the
station
”
.

“
Whoa there! Hang on a minute!
”

This was bad! This was very bad! A trip to the station would kill my
party plans once and for all. I
’
d come too far for that.

             
“
Listen, before you take her down to the station, can I just talk to
her? Maybe if I could get her to apologise, would that make things
better?
”

I looked up at him hoping for sight of an ounce of human decency.
I didn
’
t see it.

“
Would a murderer be let off with a murder if he said
“
sorry
”
or a
rapist or a thief ? Of course not! A crime is a crime. And who are you,
by the way?
”

“
I
’
m her sister.
”