Forever Is Over (83 page)

“
Hand me the keys, lift up your bonnet and I
’
ll make more than
your engine purr!
”

Je
mma feigned shock and disgust!

             
“
Did you really just say that?
”

“
It could have been worse!
”
I replied,
“
there were lots of other cat
like phrases that nearly came out!
”

“
Well, I
’
m glad they didn
’
t!
”

“
Me too! Certainly not the way to charm a lady!
”

“
Is that how you see me, Richie, as a lady?
”

Jemma
’
s face suddenly looked quizzical and serious. I was concerned
that I was now a little too drunk for things to get deep and meaningful.
I tried to continue the playful conversation.

“
If I was your boyfriend, I would see you as a lady!
”

Jemma was having none of it, she remained serious.

“
But now though, Richie, despite everything that
’
s happened,
everywhere I
’
ve been, you still see me as a lady?
”

I had random drunken thoughts. A fit lady! A fit lady who
’
s my
friend. A fit lady who used to be a cow but who
’
s now very nice. A little
scary, but very nice.

“
Yes, I see you as a lady,
”
I was not sure where this was going,
“
does
that mean I don
’
t have to have another forfeit?
”

Jemma grabbed me. Admittedly my recollection is hazy, but I am
sure she did the grabbing. She made the moves. She kissed me forcefully.
There were tongues. There were spectators, we were in the middle of
a busy pub on a Friday night, after all. Nothing mattered. Just Jemma.
Just me. Just us. It wasn
’
t romantic, but it was passionate and in those
early days, that
’
s all Jemma Watkinson and Richie Billingham were all
about.

I was sitting on some steps at the harbourside, in the Central area
of Hong Kong Island, looking over Victoria Harbour towards Kowloon,
one late afternoon. I was in my own little world, taking a few sips from
my Diet Coke and wondering when I was going to hear back from a
couple of jobs I
’
d been interviewed for, when I heard a voice
,
“
Sprechen Sie Deutsch?
”

“
Pardon?
”

I looked up to see who was asking the question. It was a young
European man, in his early twenties. He wasn
’
t great looking, I
remember he had long shorts on and despite having blond hair on his
head, he had masses of dark, wiry hairs on his legs. He smiled at me
and I remember immediately thinking he had a cheery disposition.
Looks wise, he reminded me of the chubby, blond haired Hitler Youth
Austrian in the Sound of Music. The one who kissed Liesl. Even as a child I remember thinking she was too good for him, even if he was a
year older. What was his name again? Rolf ?

No, it couldn
’
t be, my mind was thinking about Australia a little, so
I must have added Rolf Harris into the mix! This young man standing
over me definitely bore no resemblance to Rolf Harris! He wasn
’
t tying
a kangaroo down on the harbour
’
s edge! Anyway, I digress. The young,
European who looked like Liesl
’
s boyfriend, switched to English, in that
seamless way that makes me embarrassed of my poor foreign language
skills.

“
Oh, sorry, you are English, right?
”

“
Yes.
”

“
I
’
m sorry, I don
’
t know why I asked if you could speak German!
I suspect most Europeans in Hong Kong are going to be British, after
all, you sort of own the place!
”

“
For now!
”

“
That
’
s right, until
’
97, then the deal ends, I believe.
”

“
Yes, then it
’
s back to China for Hong Kong!
”

“
And back to English for the British here?
”

“
Maybe. I certainly won
’
t be here in
’
97, so I
’
m not too worried.
”

“
Do you live here now then or are you just travelling through?
”

“
A bit of both really. I met some lads,
”
, I wasn
’
t sure whether he
would understand the term
‘
lads
’
so I re-phrased,
“
some young men,
when I was in Singapore and came over here with them, but after four
weeks, they moved on to Australia and I stayed here.
”

“
On your own?
”

“
Initially yes. I had started work in a hotel over in Kowloon and
decided I wanted to stay. I
’
d had enough of the young men really, so
didn
’
t want to be traipsing around Australia with them! They farted
too much!
”

I made him laugh.

“
I think the English word
‘
fart
’
is a funny word!
”

“
What
’
s the word for fart in German?
”

“
‘
Pupsen would be
‘
to fart
’
!
”

“
That
’
s funny too!
”

“
Yes,
”
he smiled,
“
I suppose it is! So, how long is it since these young
men left you?
”

“
Twelve months.
”

He looked genuinely concerned for my welfare.

“
So you have been here all alone for twelve months?
”

“
No, not really,
”
I re-assured him,
“
I
’
ve worked in two hotels and a
hostel, so I
’
ve met a few friends along the way. Are you working here?
”

             
“
No, no, I
’
m backpacking. I was backpacking in Indonesia and
Vietnam with my girlfriend, but here in Hong Kong, it is just me.
”

             
“
Has your girlfriend gone back to Germany?
”

“
Oh, I
’
m not German, I
’
m Swiss.
”

I was surprised, largely down to me knowing very little about
Switzerland.

“
I thought they spoke French in Switzerland.
”

“
In the western side, French is the main language, but mostly
German in the rest. Some Italian and Romansh too in some parts.
”

I should have asked what Romansh was, but I didn
’
t! I wrongly
presumed it was Romanian!

“
Well, I never knew that!
”

“
Now you do!
”

“
Your girlfriend,
”
I asked again,
“
went back to Switzerland then?
”

             
No, no, she
’
s still travelling. She j
ust found another boyfriend to
travel with!
”

“
Oh, I
’
m sorry! Poor you!
”

“
No, I
’
m happier on my own! She wasn
’
t a farter like your young
men, just, you know, fewer arguments!
”

“
I don
’
t know,
”
I smiled,
“
I argue with myself some times!
”

I realised I still did not know his name or him mine.

“
Sorry, I
’
m Kelly.
”

I stretched out my hand and we shook firmly. He sat down on the wall next to me.

“
Pleased to meet you, Kelly! I
’
m Christian!
”
he replied,
“
do you mind if I sit with you a while and watch the darkness win his battle
with the day?
”

“
Be my guest! It
’
s nice to have some company. Your English, is
great!
”

“
Do you think so? It could be better!
”

“
Well, it
’
s a damn sight better than my German! I only know
pupsen!
”

“
Hopefully not a word you would be wanting to use too often!
”

“
No!
”

And that was how two lonely European souls came together in
Hong Kong.

Our three remaining vodka shots soon began their transition
to urine. We decided we would knock them back and head off to
somewhere else. Trying to be the
‘
Big Man
’
, I knocked two of them
back and left the other for Jemma to polish off. Jemma wanted to return
to the bar at the back of the
‘
Scarisbrick Hotel, where we had been
earlier, as she thought it would be buzzing in there by now. As I had
finally managed to kiss Jemma, having desired such an occurrence since
my body produced swimmers, I was in no rush to go anywhere fast. In
fact, as I was well aware that I had had more than enough to drink, all
I wanted was a deserted bus shelter in which to re-ignite the passion.
At the outset of our relationship, what Jemma wanted Jemma got, so I struggled to my feet and headed to the exit with her, ready to move on
to the
‘
Scarisbrick
’
.

As we opened the door of the pub, a howling wind invited itself in
and rain swept along the road in swarms, like King Kong was standing
over us with a giant watering can.

“
We
’
re going to get soaked!
”
Jemma shouted but was almost drowned
out by the wind and rain.

“
We can do it in stages!
”
I yelled back,
“
just keep diving into the
shop entrances!
”

I wondered whether Jemma would spot my alterior motive, but if she did, she did not seem to mind! Every doorway we stopped at, I pounced,
cupping her face in my hands and kissing her passionately. On the
third or fourth pit stop, I let my left arm off its leash and like an excited
ferret, it found its way up Jemma
’
s top. As I tinkered under Jemma
’
s bra
like a straight Liberace, my blood supply seemed to surge to a central
point vertically down from my bellybutton! Those breasts felt amazing
and I remember thinking that Jemma could always hire them out to
the National Health Service as a natural remedy to brewers droop!
Not that I would have allowed that to happen, although I pictured an
orderly queue outside Amy
’
s Mum and Dad
’
s every Friday and Saturday
night after closing time, full of male drinkers of all ages ready for their
medicine!
Admittedly political correctness was the last thing on my
mind at this stage of inebriation!