Forever Is Over (22 page)

I had headed to the kitchen to check on Jim and Caroline. Jim had a
big plastic bag of ice placed under his chin and Caroline had become so
concerned about Jim
’
s jaw that she had ordered a taxi and was debating
whether to go straight home or to casualty.

“
Do we all have to go, Cal? It
’
s not half past ten yet!
”

I was showing my true colours. If there was a colour called selfish
bastard, it would have fitted me well!

Jim was evidently annoyed that I was not being more sympathetic.
If his eyes were daggers, I
’
d have been nursing two stab wounds to the
heart.

“
Look, Richie, you can stay if you want but I
’
m in bloody agony here.
I need to go home and don
’
t forget, I
’
m the one with the money
”
.

             
Jim explained this in his typically diplomatic way. Basically he was
saying come with us or walk six miles home along unlit country roads
with no pavements. I didn
’
t appear to have a huge amount of choice.

“
You don
’
t have to go, Richie!
”
said a now hugely inebriated Joey
Birch, as he put his arm around me,

“
You can stay here! Kip down on the floor with a few of the D-GAS
boys! Come on man! It
’
ll be a laugh!
”

If I was any sort of brother, I
’
d have left in that taxi with Jim and
Caroline. Caroline was a good sister, she left her boyfriend behind to
show sol
idarity with a wounded sibling. A wounded sibling who later that night,
after three hours in Casualty, was diagnosed as having
a
fractured jaw. I was a crap brother, accepted Joey
’
s invitation, cracked
open another beer and didn
’
t have a moment
’
s regret until six hours later
when I was watching my vomit run down the insides of the taxi window,
hoping beyond hope that no-one had witnessed my final party trick.

I needed some space. Once Jame
s Billingham was floored by my
knockout punch, everyone congregated in the lounge to get a view on
the transpiring events and it felt awful. My knuckles ached and more
disturbingly, hate was in the air. I could feel a sense of hatred being
directed at me. I was used to people not liking me, but generally it
was for reasons I could handle, I was too smart for them, I was too
pretty for them or I had a boyfriend they wanted. A dislike based on
jealousy was something I thrived on. This was different though. When
James Billingham was flat out on the floor in the Birch
’
s lounge, the
impression I had, was not that I was hated because of looks, intelligence
or having a boyfriend they wanted, I was now hated because I was
horrible. My worst fears were starting to be realised, I was turning into
Vomit Breath! Vomit Breath was the type of woman who would throw
her fists around, in fact, she had a history of committing that very same
crime. If a woman looked at her the wrong way, she would punch her. If
a man spurned her advances, she would punch him (
“
for being gay
”
) and
if boyfriends did not comply with her every demand, she would punch
them. I remember one poor guy called Duncan, a carpet fitter from
Maghull, was picked up at the Kingsway and rolled back to ours and
then at four in the morning all hell broke loose, as you could hear Vomit
Breath release a series of punches into his face. His crime? Breaking
wind accidentally during the sexual act. Vomit Breath was that type of
woman, pure evil and I was not wanting to become a carbon copy.

Once James came around, Kelly and Richie Billingham gathered
around me like detectives at a murder scene, wanting to know what
had happened and why. Kelly, ever the doting sister, was defending me 
and putting it down to being a bit of an accident, but that was missing
the point. The point being, I threw a punch and although it had not
connected with my intended victim, there was still a victim. I was not
proud of my behaviour, I was appalled by it. The year before, one typical
Friday night when Vomit Breath had disappeared on one of her weekend
pub crawls, Kelly and I had watched a brilliant film on video called
“
Dangerous Liaisons
”
. Glenn Close played the Marquise de Merteuil
and at the very start, she is seen admiring her own beauty in the mirror,
knowing how this beauty is envied. At the very end, she is looking at herself again in the very same mirror, but this time as a broken, ugly
and despised woman. I felt like I had been through the same transition,
from someone people envied to someone people despised.

I needed to get out of the Birch
’
s lounge and like my mother
’
s
daughter, the only friend I wanted was in a bottle. I headed to the study,
which was now empty and poured myself the biggest combination of
shots I could fit into a glass. The sense of loathing had numbed my senses,
within a minute my glass was empty. I knew this would mean trouble was around the corner, but for now I just wanted something to numb
the pain. As expected, my senses were soon attacked by this alcoholic
juggernaut. I felt like I was on a waltzer that was being relentlessly
spun by a teenage gypsy boy. My eyes could not keep pace and my legs
ached. I slowly and deliberately sat on the floor, making sure I propped
my back up against the wall to prevent me from slumping into a heap.
If I curled up into a foetal position, I had mental images of everyone
coming in from the lounge to take turns to kick me like a football. I
felt the world
’
s all time most hated figures were Adolf Hitler, Charles
Manson, Peter Sutclliffe, Josef Stalin, Pol Pot and me.

My saviour then arrived. I could barely see her because my eyes
were now moving like a washing machine
’
s fast spin cycle, but I heard
Kelly
’
s comforting voice.

“
Jemma,
Jemma, are you OK?
”

“
Everyone hates me, Kelly
”
.

“
No-one hates you, honey!
”

“
They do! Billy McGregor hates me! James Billingham hates me!
Amy hates me!
”

“
Amy doesn
’
t hate you!
”

“
She must do! I haven
’
t seen her all night!
”

“
Jemma, Amy
’
s be
en with Eddie Garland all night.
She
’
s not
avoiding you,
she
’
s attaching herself to him!
”

“
Tell her not to! Go and find her, Kelly, and warn her to keep away
from him! He
’
s a pretty boy! An arrogant pretty boy! I don
’
t like him. Go and tell her I don
’
t like him!
”

“
Jemma, I can
’
t do that!
”

“
Yes, you can!
”

“
I can
’
t! For all you know, Amy may have hated Billy McGregor, but
she wouldn
’
t say that to you because she
’
s your best friend!
”

             
“
It
’
s because she
’
s my best friend that I need to tell her to keep away
from Eddie Garland!
”

I persisted, I
’
m not sure for how long but eventually Kelly relented
and said she would go and tell Amy for me. I was relieved. I had been
an idiot falling for Billy McGregor, I didn
’
t want Amy to be equally
stupid by falling for his sidekick.

Kelly soon returned. My spin cycle was now on that speed at the
end of the cycle where everything whizzes around at several hundred
revs a minute.

“
Bloody hell Jemma! You look awful!
”

“
Thanks Kel! What did she say?
”

“
Who?
”

I couldn
’
t see her properly, but Kelly sounded confused.

“
Amy!
”

“
Oh! She said thanks for the advice!
”

Kelly was a terrible liar.

“
You didn
’
t tell her, did you?
”

“
No!
”

“
Did you even see her?
”

“
No! She
’
s busy!
”

“
What have you been doing then?
”

“
Talking to Richie Billingham.
”

“
About me?
”

“
No, about me actually. He
’
s taking me out.
”

“
Out where?
”

“
On a date.
”

“
Oh!
”

“
Did you not see the pair of us staring at you a minute ago like you
were a zoo animal?
”

“
No!
”

“
Why does that not surprise me?
”

“
Hang on
”
, I said,
“
did you say you were going on a date with
Richie?
”

“
Yes. Next Saturday!
”

Kelly was too young to be going on dates, especially with lads my
age, but I was
drunk and she felt like the only friend I had in the world at that
moment, so I concluded I would have t
o postpone my lecture for now.

“
Kelly, do you think there
’
s somewhere I can go to lie down?
”

“
Jemma, if you are feeling as bad as
you look, do you not think we
should just get a
taxi home? I
’
ll go and find Amy and tell her we need to go.
”

“
No, no, not a taxi! If I went on those back roads to Ormskirk now,
I
’
d be sick.
”
“
Let
’
s go outside then. The fresh air will do you good.
”

“
OK. If I can get outside.
”

I stood up. I tried to keep my eyes focused on my feet so I could
manage one step in front of the other. Kelly lead the way, opening
the front door and then steering me to the end of the path, past a few
necking couples and then on to a sheltered bus stop. It had now become
a pleasant night with a breeze that eased my alcohol induced illness slightly. There was a wooden bench that ran around the perimeter of
the shelter. Kelly sat down.

“
What is it abo
ut us and bus shelters tonight?
”
she asked rhetor
ically.