Forever Is Over (123 page)

“
Please come in. I need to phone Richie
’
s parents.
”

I needed to get away from there. Married. Not just married, married
with two kids. I looked blankly at the photos Richie passed me of his
children and stared right through them whilst thinking,
“
What A Fool
I Am!
”
I had been turning men down over
the last four years believing
I had already found
“
The One
”
, which was about the most stupid thing
I could have possibly done given I had not been in touch with Richie
for almost ten years. Why did I fool myself into thinking he would be
waiting for me? It was all madness. First degree lunacy. During my
celibacy, Richie
’
s wife had been giving birth to her second child. Roddy
had been right all along. He had tried to talk me out of making a fool
of myself, but I just wouldn
’
t listen. I had behaved like a silly little girl
wanting Prince Charming to come back with my glass slipper. It was
cringeful! Was it not about time I grew up? I passed Richie his photos
back telling him his daughter was gorgeous, she might have been, then
again she might have been a three headed bullfrog and I
’
d have said the
same thing. I hadn
’
t really looked.

To my credit, I snapped out of the reality induced haze. I wanted out
of there but there was a little bit of me that was intrigued to hear about
Richie
’
s family life. It
’
s lucky there was, as Richie was only too happy
to
pour his heart out about his troubled marriage! I listened intently and
passed on what I thought was sensible advice about getting his problems
sorted and working hard to save his marriage. Richie was a good man, a
little bit battered and bruised around the edges emotionally, but a good
man and he deserved some happiness in his life. Why I thought I would
be delivering that after so many years away, heaven only knows.

As we sat there chatting away about his relationship issues, it
dawned on me that I no longer had any romantic feelings for him. I
was not jealous of his wife
’
s situation. I did not hear him talking and
wish it was me who had children with him. I think the second he said
he was married, any feelings I had or misplaced ideas of romance had
just evaporated. Richie did not seem to want to be there either. I think
for him the idea of meeting up was exciting but the reality of it was less
so and all he felt was guilt and as he described it
“
a sense of betrayal
”
.
We had belonged together as teenagers but not now.

Once Richie stopped talking about his wife and brought the
conversation around to questioning me about my disappearing act after
Mum
’
s death, I decided it was time to go. Perhaps I owed him an
explanation, but I felt we had reached a point where we were not putting
our past behind us, so there seemed little point in raking some of it
back up. I had been selfish, scared and had totally abandoned my sister,
I knew that, Richie knew that and I am sure Jemma knew that too,
we could talk about it until the cows came home, but the facts would
remain the same. I just needed to go. Consign Richie to my history as
a fond memory.

I still had one further mistake left in me. I should have just declined
Richie
’
s offer of a lift back to West Tower,
but for some reason unbeknown
to my logical side, my emotional side felt an urge to get back to the hotel
as quickly as I could, to tell Roddy how he had been right all along and
it had been a terrible idea. I also wanted to know about Richie
’
s cancer
and why he had felt the need to hide this from me. It was about a mile
to West Tower which would take me fifteen minutes on foot, but only
three in the car, so I plummeted for the latter.

During that short journey we chatted pleasantly like the old friends
we were. Richie was asking when I would be heading back down to
London and I was asking after his Mum and Dad. As the road neared
West Tower, it narrowed into a single lane and I remember Richie
steadily breaking and indicating right.

It came out of nowhere. I know nothing about cars so can
’
t describe
it very well, I just remember hearing its engine a split second before
seeing it. It was a dark red car. Sporty look
ing. If I close my eyes, I can
still picture them like a photograph, two young looking teenage boys in
the front, two teenage girls in the back. One of the girls had really long,
fair hair. Loads of it. My brain can still piece it all together, split second
by split second, flicking from one frame to the next like a cartoon.
Richie
’
s car slowing, then indicating, a loud engine noise, the other
car and the teenagers inside, brakes screeching, the impact sound of
metal on metal, the sound of shattered glass, something flying towards
me - a large object, me instinctively ducking, a teenage girl
’
s face
hitting the windscreen in front of me and for a second I swear our eyes
met before her twisted body sagged, more glass shattering, silence and
stillness, a constant, high pitched sound in my ears, Richie asking if I
was OK, realising I was trapped, reverting to type and being consumed
by fear and thoughts only for myself, begging not to die, hearing an
ambulance siren, trying to speak to Richie again and realising he was
not responding, going into shock. By shock, I do not mean shock like
some sort of emotional surprise, I mean going into circulatory shock
or as I have heard the doctors describe it since, hypovolaemic shock.
As I slipped out of consciousness I remember thinking this was it. The
End. My thoughts returned to Roddy. If my body was found here next
to Richie
’
s, what would he think? He would think Richie and
I
were
together. Roddy would get it all wrong. He would never know he was
right, Richie now meant nothing and as he had kept saying, we should
never have come.

“
Daddy looks like a stormtrooper!
”
Melissa said, unusually for a
five year old, she was into Star Wars and to her, the brace on my neck
looked highly amusing. Melissa, Jamie, my Mum, Dad and Jemma
were gathered around my hospital bed as I sat upright, propped up by
several pillows. My injuries from the crash had been relatively minor,
whiplash, a broken nose and seven stiches to a head wound. The only
reason I was being kept in hospital overnight was due to the concussion
I had suffered earlier.

“
Are you sick, Daddy?
”
Jamie asked.

“
No, Jamie, I
’
m fine. Daddy
’
s just been in a car that bumped into
another car, so he
’
s hurt himself, but I
’
ll be coming home tomorrow.
”

The way parents alternate between the first and third person when
talking about themselves to their children, does not really help children
to master the English language, but we all do it!

“
Will you be a stormtrooper tomorrow?
”
Melissa queried.

“
I think I
’
ll be a stormtrooper for a couple of weeks, Melissa.
”

“
And will they give you the helmet too?
”

“
I don
’
t think so, Melissa!
”

“
Do you want me to ask for you?
”
Melissa suggested.

She was used
to getting her own way by usi
ng her charm and beauty and
rarely
saw me get my own way, so probably concluded she would be more likely
to achieve the goal on this task than I would.

“
That
’
s very kind of you, Melissa, but no, I do not want you to ask!
”

“
We get to stay at Gwanny Dot and Gwan
d
dads!
”
Jamie announced,
as though my accident had been a worthwhile sacrifice for their
adventure. A trip to a hospital and sweets and biscuits at Granny Dot
and Grand
d
ad
’
s was pretty exciti
ng stuff for a three year old.

             
“
I know, lucky you! I wish I was going to Granny and Gran
d
dad
’
s
instead of having to stay the night in hospital!
”

“
But you may see people die!
”
Jamie said excitedly.

Given neither my Mum or Dad were getting any younger, I was
going to respond with a tongue in cheek,
‘
so might you!
’
but thought
better of using my black humour in the circumstances.

“
Jamie!
”
Jemma scolded,
“
that
’
s not a nice thing to say.
”

“
I think you
’
ve had your fair share of luck today, Richard,
”
Mum
said,
“
more than your fair share!
”

Mum was a glass is half full type of person. You could argue I had
had my fair share of bad luck, by all accounts I was not the one driving
like a lunatic. I just crossed paths with him.

“
Yes, God has certainly been looking out for you today, son
,
”
Dad
added.

This statement from my father should not have set me off, but I had
been through a lot that day and was becoming tetchy and irritable. This
was partially down to the ordeal anyway, but also because I had yet to have the
“
Kelly
”
conversation with Jemma which I knew was imminent.
It was not a conversation I was looking forward to.

“
Don
’
t say that, Dad!
”
I snapped.

“
Don
’
t say what, Richie?
”

“
Don
’
t praise your God for saving my life. What did he do, decide
to cause a crash but then have the grace not to kill me off, just kill some
of the other poor sods like that young girl on my bonnet? Mum
’
s right I was lucky, this was down to luck not divine intervention.
”

“
You don
’
t know that, Richie.
”

“
Dad, will you just give it a rest! Just f
or once can you stop preaching?
You don
’
t know enough to preach! I know today was down to luck
and anyway, why would your God save me but let millions of young
Christians die all over the world?
”

“
Millions of young Christians?
”

“
In Africa, in third world countries across the globe, even in Britain
young Christians die in car crashes or children of Christian families die
of tragic illnesses, why would your God allow someone who worships him to die young, but allow a heathen like me to live?
”