Forever Is Over (18 page)

On arrival, Jim surveyed every room downstairs and discovered a
chess board and pieces in the study. He set up the board. Nick came
over.

“
Are you any good, James?
”

“
Absolutely brilliant!
”

“
Great
”
, Nick said,
“
we can make this into a drinking game. We
’
ll
get some drinks out my Dad
’
s drinking cabinet and whoever wins the
game of chess stays on the board and the loser has to down a mix of
drinks.
”

Caroline wasn
’
t happy,

“
I
’
ve told James he isn
’
t drinking!
”

Jim was as cocky as ever,

“
Chill out sister. I won
’
t be losing!
”

“
I
’
ll go and find Murphy,
”
Nick said,
“
he can referee and mix the drinks
”
.

Nick shot off excitedly in search of Paul Murphy, his friend who
character and looks wise could be mistaken for Jim
’
s older brother as he
was ugly, intelligent and juvenile.

Within minutes the chess games began. An hour passed and without
getting out of intellectual first gear, Jim had taken on and beaten all
challengers. Nick
’
s brother, Joey, who had apparently been smoking weed with the D-GAS boys in his bedroom all afternoon, turned up
three times to mount a challenge and each game lasted a shorter amount
of time as Jim brushed him aside. Six or seven others wandered in, took
Jim on, lost, then wandered out with a bellyful of shots t
o send them on
their way. A crowd had gathered, not to watch the chess, but to see the
victims down the Paul Murphy mixed cocktails. For the first few games,
I must admit, it was mildly amusing, but after that it became tedious.
Nick had now decided to have a game himself and was faring just
as badly as all those that had come before him.

“
As soon as you beat Nick, that
’
s it, we
’
re out of here and you can
fend for yourself!
”
Caroline whispered to Jim.

“
It
’
s not ten o
’
clock yet!
”
Jim replied as he took yet another one of
Nick
’
s pawns, leaving him with just two and his King. I didn
’
t know
much about chess but knew enough to know Nick was stuffed.

Paul Murphy was mouthing something to Jim and pointing at
Jemma Watkinson.

“
What
’
s he saying?
”
I asked Jim.

“
Jemma
’
s up next.
”

“
No, come on James,
”
Caroline pleaded,
“
this is so boring. Can you
not just finish off ?
”

“
No!
”
insisted Jim,
“
you said ten o
’
clock! It
’
s only half nine!
”

Jim moved another piece and announced proudly,

“
Checkmate!
”

Nick, as a token gesture, tried to move his King in all directions, but he knew he had lost. He wasn
’
t the least bit bothered, he just wanted a
turn on Paul Murphy
’
s specially mixed cocktail, but Paul had insisted
he couldn
’
t have one unless he played a game against Jim.

To the cheers of a mass of onlookers, Nick downed his drink in
about three seconds flat, then headed out the room happily. I am sure
he had better things to be doing at his own party than playing chess.

Jim was putting all the pieces back on the board in their starting
positions as Jemma Watkinson was taking Nick
’
s seat and being
announced to the crowd by Paul
“
Prat
”
Murphy.

I can
’
t properly describe how I
felt about Jemma Watkinson at
that point, as I didn
’
t really know how I felt. I knew one part of me
hated her. As I had said to Caroline, she was a
“
pompous, obnoxious
loudmouth
”
who I am sure would face a five minute delay every time
she passed her own reflection, but there was an intelligence about her
and a sense of sadness that was almost tang
ible. Add into the mix that
she was physically stunning with porcelain features and pale blue eyes
that were somewhat hypnotic, all I knew for sure was that she made
me feel uneasy.

Once, in school, when a group of us in Biology were talking about
the previous nights,
“
Three Of A Kind
”
, I had said that Lenny Henry
had a look of Sidney Poitier. Jemma overheard
,

“
What?
”
she mocked,
“
just because they are both black you think
they look alike! Do you think Maryam D
’
Abo and Esther Rantzen look
alike? For starters, they
’
re both white! What about Bob Geldof and the
Pope, do you think they both look alike? They
’
re both Catholic?
”

This was one of the reasons I hated her. We didn
’
t speak to each
other, ever, but she could butt into one of my conversations and make
me sound like a racist!
To be honest though, I also had reasons to like her. If I locked myself
in the bathroom and wanted a mental image to bring my
‘
teenage kicks
’
to a conclusion, Jemma Watkinson often appeared in my mind wearing
only a navy blue set of bra and knickers, she sometimes even consented
to slip on a pair of suspenders. It was complicated!

My comments to Caroline were pretty much spot on, I thought
Jemma was stunning but her personality wasn
’
t and I hated her creator
for screwing things up. As Jim
’
s new game with Jemma Watkinson
kicked off (or whatever the start is called in chess, moved off, pieced
off, whatever), Caroline was still nagging him.

“
James,
”
she whispered,
“
this is getting beyond a joke now! How
much longer are we going to be stuck in this bloody study?
”

“
Five minutes, that
’
s all, five minutes, Jemma will be crap!
”

Jemma may have been crap but she wasn
’
t deaf, they were whispering
too loudly, I
’
m sure she must have overheard.
Caroline persisted,

“
Can you not let someone else take over?
”

“
NO!
”

Jim wasn
’
t concentrating at all. As I say, I don
’
t understand chess,
but Jim wasn
’
t watching the board, he was letting Caroline wind him up
and he wasn
’
t paying attention to what was happening to his pieces.

“
CHECKMATE!
”
Jemma announced triumphantly!

I slid down in my chair. This could only mean one thing. Trouble!
Jemma did a rather sexy little celebratory dance and I knew she should
enjoy her moment in the sun because things would soon turn nasty.
Jim was a terrible loser. He thought he was unbeatable and he had just
lost in twenty seconds! Jim would not take that well! Sure enough, he
kicked off! All hell broke loose. Jim accused Jemma of cheating over and
over again. From previous experience of her at school, I did not expect
Jemma to placate matters and it didn
’
t take her long to flip out too! At
one point she even started to strangle Jim! I sat and watched thinking
that if I was a sado-masochistic masturbator, Jemma Watkinson had just
given me a moment to focus on for ever and a day! She was strangling
my brother! Pity kinky stuff was not my style! Nevertheless, I was
enjoying the fact that Jim was getting a taste of his own medicine, the
cocky little tosser needed to reap what he sowed!

Jemma wanted Jim to down the forfeit drink and despite Caroline
turning all motherly again and trying to protect him, he eventually
succumbed to pressure and downed an almighty mix of cocktails in one
awkward go. His jumper absorbed more than he drank.

“
Thank God that
’
s over!
”
I said to Caroline.

“
It
’
s near enough ten o
’
clock, Caroline, come on, let
’
s get out of here!
”

             
Caroline felt the need to give Jim a consoling hug and then
disappeared off somewhere with Nick. I needed another drink, so
headed straight to the kitchen. There were now about twenty people
in there. Joey Birch looked in a sorry state, but he sat on a chair
with an acoustic guitar on his lap, leading a chorus of
“
American Pie
”
followed by
“
Daydream Believer
”
. All the D-GAS lads from our year
were joining in with lager fuelled gusto. I stood and watched for a while
as I drank my cold beer and spotted three others who weren
’
t singing
at the top of their lungs, Amy Perkins and Eddie Garland, who stood
facing each other, deep in conversation and a younger girl who sat
backwards on a kitchen chair, legs astride, in a Christine Keeler pose
that would have had Lewis M
orley reaching for his camera.

             
Time stood still. Joey and the D-GAS boys seemed to stop singing
or at least I became oblivious to their droning sound. Amy and Eddie
just stood and gazed. The fridge stopped
opening and shutting, spliffs
stopped burning and smoke stopped appearing from drunken mouths
and nostrils. My complete focus was on the
“
younger girl
”
. For the very
first time in my life, a feeling grabbed hold of the entire length of my
body and sent shockwaves and shivers up and down me, as though I was
one massive pinball machine and a five hundred ball, multi-ball, had just
begun. My heart didn
’
t just do somersaults, it did triple somersaults that
Nadia Comaneci would have been more than proud of. Call it fate, call
it love, call it instinct but whatever it was, something drew me towards
this girl. She was only petite, Jim later harshly described her as having
‘
shrew like
’
features, but she radiated beauty. She had long, straight
brown hair, amazingly green eyes and full lips that Jim would later in
life call her
“
CSLs
”
(if you don
’
t know what that stands for the last two
words are sucking lips!) Her teeth were a dentist
’
s wet dream and the
thing that attracted me more than anything was her aura, which is so
difficult to describe but the best I can manage is a sexual
“
Ready Brek
”
glow. I knew it was probably wrong to feel physically attracted to this
girl who could not have been more than fourteen at the very most, but
something within me wanted to love her and protect her.