Forever Is Over (24 page)

“
Excuse me, I
’
m not feeling too good, any chance I can go before
you?
”

I pleaded in my drunken, but well mannered, style. I only remember
three people in that queue, the rest are just faceless memories, but they
no doubt took one look at me and deduced, for their personal safety, it
would be wise to let me pass. Within a very short space of time, I had
edged from the very back of the queue, to
fourth in line to the throne,
but once I laid eyes on the front three, I decided to retain a modicum
of dignity and stop begging. The front three just
happened to be Amy
Perkins, Jemma Watkinson and Kelly. Bloody typical!

Amy, Jemma and Kelly must have had a predicament of their own
to contend with, with Jemma as the central character, as Amy and Kelly
were floating around her like wasps around an unwrapped lollipop. All
three of them were wittering away excitedly, especially Amy who was
like Minnie Mouse on speed, at a bionic pace that only girls can manage.

Luckily for me, this meant they were oblivious to the people around
them. Only the backs of their beautifully maintained hair, faced towards
me. This was great as I did not want Kelly to be introduced to the pale,
edge of vomit, version of me. All of a sudden it came. No stationmaster
blew his whistle. No starter said
“
On your marks, get set, go!
”

             
The vomit
just rose up out of my body like a volcano or one of those waves at Rhyl
Sun Centre that you were half-expecting but it still managed to knock
you off your feet. I was immediately aware of the dangers, so I locked my
jaw tight and put my hand to my mouth, but about a third of a pint of
carrot-laden vomit managed to beat the trap door closing and squeezed
through the gaps in my fingers, spraying gently on to the back of Jemma
Watkinson
’
s hair, like a vile smelling lacquer. I watched in slow motion
and awaited the turning of heads and the slap in the face, which was a
particular concern as most of the vomit was still in my mouth. To my
immense relief, Amy, Kelly and Jemma were too immersed in their own
conversation to realise my sick was hanging off the back of Jemma
’
s hair
like a bizarre collection of Christmas decorations inspired by
“
Carrots
R Us
”
. Just as I was about to thank my lucky stars and focus on what
to do with the litre of vomit that had filled my mouth, Kelly somehow
sensed my presence and turned.

“
Oh! Hi Richie! I didn
’
t realise you were behind us! Are you OK? You look awful!
”

I nodded and attempted to smile with my eyes and with one of those
grins you manage for school photos when you are seven and have no front teeth. The difference being when you are seven, you do not tend
to swill a litre of vomit around your mouth.

“
Jemma
’
s a bit upset about something and she
’
s still not feeling
great, so Amy and I are looking after her!
”

I put both my thumbs up at her.

“
Jemma
’
ll be even more upset when she sees the back of her hair
”
, I
thought to myself, whilst cursing myself for looking so ridiculous.

“
What
’
s w
rong with your voice?
”

Kelly asked, amused by my hand
signals.

I had no choice now. Someone had cruelly massacred Jemma
Watkinson
’
s hair and the murder weapon was still within my mouth. It
needed to be concealed in a better hiding place than this because, if it
wasn
’
t, my guilt would soon be revealed to everyone. Not that anyone
knew that a crime had been committed but it was only a matter of time.

I had to be brave and swallow. I pulled a face, scrunched up my eyes
and threw down what moments earlier I had thrown up. I gagged as the chunky bits caught in my oesophagus. Kelly was perplexed.

“
What
’
s going on with you, Richie? You look like you
’
ve just drunk
a bottle of vinegar!
”

She obviously didn
’
t have a great sense of smell, either that or the
lingering smell of vomit from the bathroom acted as a decoy. If only
I
’
d swallowed a bottle of vinegar! I am sure that would have been far
more pleasurable. Covering my mouth to hide the smell, I came out
with some random nonsense,

“
I think I
’
m allergic to marijuana! It keeps catching in my throat!
”

“
Really! I hate that smell too. My Mum and her mates tend to
smoke it. It reeks! We
’
ve obviously
got even more in common than I
thought!
”

Kelly smiled at me, a radiant smile, I smiled back sheepishly, hoping
there was no carrot on my teeth.
The smile was followed by the wonderful sound of the lock on the
bathroom door moving back and forth, as its occupant tried to come out. After thirty seconds effort, Andrew Cullen emerged.
To my relief, Amy, Kelly and Jemma all made a forward motion to
the bathroom. They were all going in together.

“
Sorry about the stench girls,
”
Andrew apologised wholeheartedly,
“
it
’
s bitter, it plays havoc with my bowels!
”

The girls continued on their journey to the bathroom, shut the door
behind them, locked it and literally a couple of seconds passed before
there was a collective,

“
Eeuuuurrrrggggghhhhh!
”

Whether this sound was reflective of the gases extracted from
Andrew Cullen
’
s backside hitting their nostrils or the discovery of
vomit in Jemma Watkinson
’
s hair, I have no idea. Once the bathroom
door closed, I decided I had chanced my luck enough for one evening. With the threat of vomit no longer imminent, I headed downstairs, bade a stoned looking Nick Birch farewell, did a D-Gas handshake with Joey
and jumped into the taxi at the end of the drive that had been booked
in the name of Watkinson.

Karma soon catches up with you. I regurgitated my vomit over the
taxi
’
s passenger window halfway home.
I was so drunk I thought I had
wound the window down! I hadn
’
t! On arriving home, I was escorted to
my doorstep by a fuming taxi driver who demanded the full fare from
my mother plus an additional
£
25 fee to cover cleaning and subsequent
loss of trade as he was going to have to head home to find something to
clear up the smell. As I was in such a drunken state, my Mum did not
shout and scream at me that night, she just helped me up the stairs and
put me to bed. The following morning, however, I had to sit in front of
my Mum and Dad for an hour, as they had set up a kangaroo court in
our kitchen and they introduced vari
ous family members, namely Jim
and Caroline, to testify against me. I was sentenced to imprisonment
within the family home for a month, only gaining parole to attend
school.
If I had been sentenced for the
“
boomerang vomit
”
and the damage
incurred by the aforementioned taxi driver, I would not have had cause
for complaint. I was however, found guilty of a crime I did not commit,
due to falsification of evidence by my siblings.

Jim and Caroline had
decided it would be creating a whole host of trouble for all concerned
if they had told Mum and Dad that Jim
’
s jaw had been broken by some 
drunken girl at a party, so they concocted a story about Jim and I falling
out over some Dungeons & Dragon figure, me punching him and then
swanning off to the party leaving Caroline to take Jim to hospital. In their fictional world, I was the only
one that attended the party, they spent the whole evening at
Casualty. Neither Jim nor Caroline had appreciated my lack of solidarity
the previous night so they were doing me over good and proper. On
reflection, I suppose I deserved everything I got.

As a consequence of my
impris
onment, my date  with Kelly Watkinson did not take place  the following Saturday. Fate
had
intervened. Nevertheless, she had found a way into my heart and like a
tattoo, there would be a place for her there until my dying day.

There was a knock at the door.

“
Who is it?
”

“
It
’
s Amy!
”

“
What are you knocking f
or then, you daft cow, come in?
”

Amy entered.

“
Is that you, Amy?
”

I suppose it was a stupid question but I was struggling to see.

“
Of course it
’
s me! When did you turn into Stevie Wonder?
”

“
Since I started drinking with you! I don
’
t feel quite as drunk any
more, but my brain hasn
’
t told my eyes that yet!
”

“
Well you didn
’
t look that drunk when you were flashing your naked
bum at me before, you dirty cow! Who was that you were getting it on
with?
”

“
I was going to ask you the very same question!
”

“
Eddie Garland!
”

I did not process this information properly. My heart sank. That was
going to make life difficult. Billy McGregor first,
now Eddie Garland.
The two best looking but most arrogant lads in Sixth Form and I had
been out with one and now, sort of, slept with the other. Then, my
memories of my encounter with
“
The Phantom Fucker
”
and previous
conversations with Kelly started slowly dripping back into my brain.
This guy was polite and Eddie was plain cocky and did Kelly not say
Amy was with Eddie before and had I not sent Kelly out to tell Amy
to keep clear of him.

“
Hang on, Amy! Who was with Eddie?
”

“
Me, you dozy mare! I thought you said you weren
’
t still pissed!
Who do you think was with him? YOU?
”

“
I didn
’
t want to know who you were with, Amy! I wanted to know who I was with?
”

I was confusing her.

“
That
’
s what I want to know!
”
Amy replied.

“
Amy, I don
’
t know who the hell it was! After you came in here
before, did you see anyone come out? A lad, dressed only in his boxer
shorts and carrying the rest of his clothes?
”

“
No. I was busy with Eddie!
”

“
But you came in here! Did you not see him then?
”

“
No, I was dazzled by the light reflecting off your bum!
”

“
Amy, I
’
m being serious. At no point did you see who it was?
”

“
No, I only came in because Eddie and I were looking for a spare
room. This one was taken so we found another empty one. Are you
trying to tell me that you were stripped off naked with someone and
you don
’
t even know who it was?
”