Forever Is Over (14 page)

“
Ultimately you have no choice. Kelly doesn
’
t want to come back to
ours with me, so you
’
ve got to take her in. Everyone there will be fifteen
or older but that doesn
’
t mean they will look fifteen or older. How old
are you again, Kelly?
”

“
Thirteen. Fourteen next month.
”

Martin digested this, paused a moment, possibly because he had never spoken this much in hi
s entire life, then continued.

             
“
OK. Kelly
’
s pretty much fourteen. There
’
ll definitely be people
there who are twelve months older who look younger. Have you two
got any make-up with you?
”

We checked our handbags. We knew what we had but we were
double checking.

“
Only a lipstick and a spot cover-up between us.
”

“
Well, I
’
ll drive up to the Birch
’
s, drop one of you off at the door,
go in and find one of your friends who has some make-up, borrow it,
come out, put it on Kelly, then all three of you can go in and enjoy
yourselves.
”

We thought for a second. Amy was only too pleased to rain on
Martin
’
s parade.

“
Two problems, Einstein. One, most of the people in there go to the
Grammar, so they
’
ll know Kelly, so even if she had loads of make-up on,
they
’
d know she was thirteen. Secondly, even if you do drop one of us
outside the house, we still have to go up the drive and back again, look
at the weather out there! It
’
s pissing down! I
’
m not volunteering to get
drenched and I bet Jemma won
’
t either. Will you, Jemma?
”

Wanting to and having to, are two different things.

“
I
’
ll go, if one of us is going to get soaked.
”

Martin was ready to deal with any
objections that came his way.

“
Amy, stop thinking about how unc
ool Kelly is going to make you
look! If she was almost six, it would make you look daft, she
’
s almost
fourteen. She
’
s just going to look like a rebel! You encouraging her to
come with you is just going to make you look cool. As for the rain,
there
’
s a black brolly in the boot. I
’
ll get it out.
”

On the basis there was a brolly, Amy volunteered to go into the
house. She also admitted later that although Martin was a square, he
was a smart one. He turned his engine back on and drove up the road
to the Birch
’
s path.

Armed with a brolly, Amy went in, said a few quick hellos then
took some blusher, mascara, eyeliner and lipstick out of Sophie Leigh
’
s
handbag. The lipstick was nicer than ours and Sophie had left her
handbag in the lounge whilst she was sucking the blood out of Dereck
Baxter
’
s neck, like a cider fuelled vampire, on Mr & Mrs Birch
’
s king
sized bed. Dereck Baxter later claimed it wasn
’
t the only place she
sucked, but boys are liars so I didn
’
t believe him. Anyway, Amy returned
to the car laden with make-up and within fifteen minutes Kelly was
looking like an English Debbie Gibson.

“
OK girls!
”
I said as I puckered up to Martin
’
s passenger side mirror
to check out Sophie Leigh
’
s lipstick,
“
let
’
s go and show those boys what
they
’
re missing!
”

Before quickly adding,

“
Not you, Kelly! You keep your legs crossed and the only things I
want to see you doing with your mouth involve talking and eating! If
you as much as smile at a lad over sixteen, his dick will get the
‘
Fatal
Attraction
’
bunny treatment.
”

After Kelly and I both gave an embarrassed Martin a peck on the
cheek, we were off. I entered that house full of nervous anticipation and
left eight hours later with a hangover, a carrot filled perm and a horror
story about a misplaced virginity.

It was pouring down. The bonnet of Caroline
’
s Mini Metro was
keeping my upper body from a soaking, but my lower body was as wet as
“
Walter & The Softies
”
from The Beano. We were on our front drive,
Caroline all dolled up, banging her ste
ering wheel in frustration and
I was under the bonnet trying to fathom out what was wrong. I gave
up.

“
It
’
s no good, Cal! I reckon it
’
s a flat battery! Just give it another try now.
”

Caroline turned the key and the car gave out a mild wince, like it
could barely be bothered trying.

“
Shit Richie! It
’
s half seven! We should be at the bloody party
already!
”

“
Can
’
t you ring them up and see if someone will give us a lift?
”

“
Ring the Birch
’
s!
They
’
ll all be pissed or stoned or both! Even if they weren
’
t, would you get on the back of their motorbike from here to Halsall?
”

“
I
’
d rather have a three in a bed romp with Maggie Thatcher and the Queen Mum!
”

“
Exactly!
”

Things weren
’
t looking good. Mum and Dad had gone out with friends to see a play at Southport Little Theatre, that Mum
’
s mate,
Jacquie, was in. Only Jim was in the house and given he was only fifteen,
he wasn
’
t going to be driving us. Maybe we could get a taxi.

“
How much money have you got, Cal?
”

She checked her purse.

“
37p
”
.

“
37p!
”

“
I didn
’
t think I
’
d need money! How much have you got?
”

I checked my pockets.

“£
2-56. We won
’
t get to Halsall in a taxi with less than three quid. We
’
ll barely get to Ormskirk!
”

“
Jim might have some money. He never spends any Grand
d
ad gives
him!
”
“
Good thinking!
”

We ran back into the house. As per usual, Jim was in our room, on
his bed, reading some weird science fiction book. Jim was smaller than
me, but stocky, bordering on tubby. The curse of acne had struck him
too. Worse than me. The Elephant Man would not look in the mirror
at our house and say,

“
I am not an animal
”
, he
’
d say,

“
Still, at least I
’
m better looking than Jim!
”

I think Jim
’
s borderline tubbyness was due to boredom, in that he
stuffed his face with crisps and chocolate (
“
Starbars
”
were his favourite
and
“
Worcester Sauce
”
crisps) when he had nothing much else to do.

He did have a very small, select band of friends. Two in total! They were
Warren Walker and Russell Jones. Both
“
rectangles
”
(ie.
odd shaped squares). Jim rarely saw them out of school though, as
all three of them seemed to retreat to the privacy of their own rooms out
of school hours. They took boring existences to a new level.

“
Jim, how much money have you got, mate?
”

I never called Jim, mate, but if he had the potential to lend Caroline and I some money, he was my temporary mate now.

“
Loads, thank you!
”

“
Can you lend us twenty quid then, please?
”

“
What for? Are you paying someone to take that crap out of your
hair?
”

Luckily for him, I needed the money. Otherwise, I
’
d have jumped
on top of him on that bed and punched his lights out. Jim was stocky
but still a crap fighter. He still threw punches like a girl throws a tennis
ball.
Caroline joined in.

“
We are going to a party, James. My car won
’
t start. We need to
get a taxi.
”

“
Where
’
s the party?
”

“
At Nick
’
s in Halsall.
”

“
It won
’
t cost twenty quid to get a taxi to Halsall!
”

Jim must have guessed this. As an anti-social animal, I am sure he
had not been in a taxi in his life. Jim lecturing us on taxi fares was like
the Pope lecturing us on sexual technique. I kept calm as I needed his
money.

“
No, you
’
re right, Jim, it won
’
t cost twenty quid but I want to buy a
few beers and we
’
ll have to get a taxi back too.
”

“
OK then.
”

Jim started looking for his wallet. Something smelt vaginaery. Jim
being decent and helpful was not nor
mality. There must be a catch.

“
I
’
ll lend you twenty quid on one condition.
”

There was a catch!

“
Which is?
”

“
I come too.
”

I wasn
’
t impressed.

“
What would you want to go to Nick Birch
’
s party for?
”

“
It might be interesting.
”

“
Warren and Russell won
’
t be there.
”

I don
’
t know why I said that! I
’
m sure at no stage during negotiations
would Jim have ever thought that h
is two odd ball chums would be
going to Nick Birch
’
s party. I was just trying anything to put him off.

“
I know that. I
’
ve just never been to a party other than children
’
s
birthday parties. I
’
d like to sample a wild party for myself
”
.

             
Caroline, despite her own wild nature, thought it was necessary to
be Jim
’
s surrogate
Mother.