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Authors: Calvin Wade

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BOOK: Forever Is Over
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We sat there, on

The Sunny Road

for several hours that day,
before making the long walk back. Kelly suggested, after a small glass
of champagne, that we should stay to watch the sun set, which we were
going to do, but we were both struck down by,

numb bumitis

and
eventually decided to make our way home early in the evening. To go
from

The Sunny Road

to Kelly

s house to mine was probably a six mile
trip, but that was no problem for a lovestruck teenager.

I hoped the

Sunny Road

would become our place, but not for a once
a year get together, just a summer picnic spot for us and our children.
That

s if I could have children. I

d had my lump for twelve months now
and had still not done anything about it, I still hadn

t been brav
e enough
to go and see the Doctor. The lump was definitely still there, but it didn

t
seem to be getting any bigger and it didn

t really hurt either, which I
told myself was surely a good sign. I kept meaning to go to the Doctor

s
just in case, but for whatever reason I hadn

t got round to it.

A few days after this first trip to the

Sunny Road

my hand was
forced. I was getting dressed one morning and Jim sat up in his bed.


Did you ever go to the Doctor

s about that bollock lump?


No.

I replied as I shuffled into my jeans.


Does that mean it

s gone then?

Jim asked.


No. It hasn

t gone. It

s not sore though and no bigger. I think you

re
right, I think it

s just a cyst.

Jim was unimpressed.


Is that what you are going to have on your gravestone?


Here lies Richie Billingham, died aged 20, much loved son of
Dorothy and Charles, brother to Helen, Caroline and James. Beloved
boyfriend of Kelly Watkinson. Famous last words,

I thought it was just
a cyst

!


You said it was a cyst, Jim!


I did not! I said it could be a cyst. How do I know? I

m not fucking
Quincy!


Well, I reckon it is just a cyst!

I was trying to persuade myself as much as Jim.


Look Richie, you

ve had it for ages now, if you don

t get it checked
out, I

m going to blab.


Judas!

was my response.


I don

t care!

Jim replied.

It

s for your own good. If you don

t get
to the Doctor

s by this time next week, I

m telling Mum and Dad and I

m telling Kelly what

s lurking there in your underpants!

Jemma

 

I wanted to punch her. Punch her in that stupid, fat, drunken mouth.
My pre-disposure for violence had eased since I had started

going out

with Ray, but at the very least I wanted to hire Mohammad Ali, in his
prime, to come to our house wearing boxing gloves and put a George
Foreman mask over Vomit Breath

s head. We were mid argument.


Yes, she is
…”
I again stated.


No, she is not.

Vomit Breath replied.

It was a verbal rally of positives and negatives that had gone on for
some time.


Not whilst she

s living in my house, anyway.

Vomit Breath re
emphasised.

Kelly  just  stood  there  and  observed,  like  the  referee  in  the aforementioned Ali-Foreman fight. As far as I was concerned, it was
not her prerogative to maintain a neutral stance, she should have been
in my corner, fighting this battle with me. It was a battle for her future
after all.


Look, I

m working now. I

ve been putting some money away, I

ll
help pay for her to stay at school. She got nine GCSEs, for God

s sake!
If you just let her study, she

ll be earning twice as much in five years
time.

Vomit Breath did not appreciate the lecture in child rearing. She was a know all. A thick know all, if such a thing existed. I was by no
means a Mastermind Grand Champion myself, but I was a lot smarter
than Vomit Breath. It felt like a five year old in armbands refusing to
take swimming lessons from Duncan Goodhew.

Normally, when Vomit Breath felt she was being intellectually
challenged, she resorted to violence. She liked her leopard spots and
whilst there was air in her lungs, she would not be changing them.
It came as no surprise, when she charged at me, grabbed me by the
collar of my blouse and pressed me against the kitchen wall. My mind immediately flashed back to the time I did something similar to James Billingham at the Birch

s party and, despite my own predicament, I did
not feel fear, I just felt consumed by guilt.

Vomit Breath

s nostrils flared like a dragon

s.

Puff The Magic Vomit
Breath

.


Listen you!

she growled,

I don

t know how much you get paid
in your hoity-toity little job in the bank, with the Elephant Man

s
grandson, but at a guess, it wouldn

t come anywhere fucking near paying
for your sister

s education.


Let me try!

I pleaded.


No, it

s ridiculous! You don

t know a thing about putting food into
people

s mouths! I

m a single Mum, I

ve had eighteen years experience of having to scrimp and save to make sure you and Kelly can make the
most of your lives. I can

t do it forever though! I

ve done it for eighteen
years now. Eighteen fucking years! Enough is enough!

This was a joke. Of all the words I could think of to describe Vomit
Breath, I think I could use a high percentage of the dictionary before I got to altruistic. I sneered at her. Given that she had me backed up
against a wall, what I said next was pretty foolish.


That

s right! Eighteen fucking years!

Cos that

s what you have
spent the last eighteen years doing, fucking any Tom, Dick or Harry
who is stupid enough to share their seminal fluids with you! Don

t make
me laugh about giving us opportunities to make the most of our lives!
You

ve spent eighteen years trying to wangle every possible benefit you can possibly get your grubby little hands on, then you

ve pissed most of
it away on booze and fags! Voles make better mothers than you and they
eat their offspring! You

re a disgrace, an absolute disgrace!

My only surprise was that she let me get through my whole speech
before she hit me. As soon as I finished, Vomit Breath walloped me
with a backhander that made my cheek throb like it had been stung by
a wasp. My adrenalin was pumping through my veins though and there
was no stopping me now.


You hate the idea of her making something of her life, don

t you?
Kelly

s everything you are not and you resent her for it. She

s intelligent,
beautiful and warm hearted and you

re stupid, ugly and cold blooded,
so you are desperate for Kelly to have as miserable an existence as you,
but I

m not going to let that happen. I

m not! Do you hear me, I

m not!
That girl is going to make something of
her life and once she escapes
from your clutches, you evil bitch of a woman, she won

t ever be back
until we both trample the dirt down on your grave!

Vomit Breath turned away from me as if she was going to walk out
the kitchen door, but all of a sudden, she spun round on a sixpence, in a
180 degree turn that George Best would have been proud of, catching
me full in the mouth with a forearmed smash. I slid down the wall like
melted butter, then for good measure, Vomit Breath decided to take the
George Best analogy to the next level by using my head as a football.
She kept kicking, left foot then right, then left again. I covered my head
in my hands, but made no attempt to stand back up, just allowing the
barrage of blows to come my way. There was a reluctant acceptance on
my part, but I had said what I needed to say and the resultant beating
was worth it. After over a dozen kicks to the face and ribs, Vomit Breath
stopped kicking, regurgitated some phlegm and spat it on to my snail
shaped, curled up body. My nose and top lip bled heavily and both eyes
ballooned. Vomit Breath gasped for breath. A slap, a punch and twenty
seconds of relentless kicking takes a lot out of you when you are a chain
smoking alcoholic.


You

re an ungrateful bitch, Jemma! I

ve a good mind to kick you
out, right here and now, but despite everything I

ve got too much heart
to do it!

Perhaps the fact that I now paid two-thirds of the rent, which
included an element to repay the arrears Vomit Breath had accumulated,
may also have been a contributory factor.


You,

Vomit Breath now turned her attention to Kelly who had
frozen rigid in fear throughout the argument and my subsequent
beating,

you can forget any ideas of

A

levels, young lady. There

ll be
no scroungers in this house, any more. As soon as you can, you get a fucking job. Do you hear me?

Vomit Breath must have made herself exempt from this no scroungers
ruling. Kelly did not say a word but nodded.


Now pick your smart arsed sister up off the floor and get her
cleaned up. Don

t make a mess of the fucking bathroom either,

cos if
you do, I ain

t fucking tidying it!

BOOK: Forever Is Over
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