Forever Is Over (41 page)

“
What a fucking shit night!
”
Mum muttered to herself, the words drifting up the stairs like a putrid odour.

Jemma looked at me, her face displayed a mixture of fear and a
determination not to allow herself to be Mum
’
s punch bag any longer.

“
I
’
m telling you, Kelly, if she lays a finger on me, I
’
m going to kill
her, I mean it, Kel, I
’
ll kill her!
”

As if to prove her point, Jemma put her hand under the mattress
and pulled out a bread knife.

“
I
’
m ready for her this time, Kelly.
”

This was crazy. I could hear Mum banging around downstairs, no
doubt fixing herself a drink. If recent history was anything to go by, the
drink would not take long to down and pretty soon she
’
d be heading up
to take her aggression out on Jemma.

“
Jemma!
”
I whispered to avoid detection by Mum.
“
Put the knife
away! I
’
d like Mum out of our lives, just as much as you, but you can
’
t
just stab her to death! Where do you think you
’
ll be spending the next
fifteen years if you kill Mum?
”

Jemma gave me a look of disgust, the likes of which she had never
diverted my way before. Still clasping hold of the knife, she spat out her
words, in a barely audible diatribe,

“
You want Mum out of your life as much as I do, Kelly? Do not
make me laugh! Can I just remind you only one of us has the balls to
confront her, only one of us pays her rent, only one of us gets introduced
to her fists, EVERY FUCKING WEEK! What are you doing whilst all
this shit is happening to me? I tell you what you
’
re doing, little sister.
NOTHING. You are just keeping your nose clean, agreeing with every
request that witch sends your way, sitting back, saving your skin whilst
I take all the crap.
”

Jemma
’
s eyes were welling up with tears but her grip on that knife
did not loosen.

She continued,

“
I do everything for you, Kelly, everything. Always have. You would
have gone to school with a shitty little backside at primary school if
it wasn
’
t for me, because that bitch wouldn
’
t wipe it. Now, despite
everything, when all I want is a little help back, you don
’
t deliver. I used
to think you were the most beautiful person that walked this earth,
Kelly, but not any more. Now I
’
m just thinking I
’
ve got you all wrong.
You
’
re not the girl I thought you were. These last few weeks, Kelly, I
’
ve
needed you, really needed you, to be strong for me and you haven
’
t been.
You
’
ve been weak. So don
’
t you dare start lecturing me on what to do
and what not to do. I
’
ll sort this out MY way.
”

Mum, a creature of disgusting habit, had finished her drink and was heading our way, she must have been aware that something was going
on as she slurred as she shouted up,

“
Are my darling daughters still awake, are they? Don
’
t fret my
babies, Mummy
’
s home. I
’
ll come and tuck you up in a minute. You
first, Jemma, you know how much I love to tuck you up!
”

Jemma passed the knife from hand to hand. A tear rolled down her
cheek.

“
Bring it on, Vomit Breath! Bring
…
..it
…
.on!
”

I started to cry. Not a composed tear like Jemma, floods of tears.

“
Jemma, I
’
m begging you, don
’
t do this.
”

I could hear Mum double locking the front door, within seconds,
this was all going to kick off.
Jemma was pumped full of adrenalin. She gestured at me with the
knife.

“
Get out of here, Kelly! Get into your room, close your door and
do not move until I tell you to come out.
”

I pleaded with her, tearfully.

“
Jemma, please don
’
t do this! Please!
”

“
OUT!
”

I ran across the landing into my room. Everything Jemma had said
was right. I had badly let her down. Mum wouldn
’
t have been a match
for the two of us, but without a united front, she was too physically
strong for either of us, on our own. I had just protected myself and let
Jemma take Mum on alone. A battle she was never going to win.

Mum was in the hallway. She must have seen me run across the
landing. I heard the floorboards creak as she drunkenly began to climb
the stairs. I was petrified, this was turning into a horror movie that I did
not want a part in. I pushed my back into my closed door to barricade
it shut. Once again, self-preservation was priority number one. Mum
spoke in tones of foreboding doom,

“
What
’
s going on, Jemma? You upsetting your sister? Naughty
children are answerable to me. Your mother doesn
’
t suffer fools gladly.
”

             
I heard Jemma
’
s door open. I guessed Mum was halfway up the
stairs by now.

“
Have you had a nice evening, Mum?
”

Jemma had not referred to Mum as anything other than
“
Vomit
Breath
”
for some time, it was even longer
since she had called her Mum.

             
Mum growled back,

“
Like you care!
”

Once Jemma began talking again, there was a quiver in her voice, a quiver that told me the knife was now on show. Jemma was trying so
hard to sound calm and in control,

“
Of course it matters to me if you
’
ve had a good night, Mum,
because we both know what happens when you have a bad one. You
come and show me just how bad it is, don
’
t you? You
’
re thoughtful like
that, aren
’
t you mother? You like to share. If you
’
ve had a shit night, you
make damn sure that I have a shit night too.
”

Mum laughed. A laughing
“
at you
”
not
“
with you
”
laugh.

“
Well, honey pie, you
’
ll be glad to know, Mummy
’
s coming again.
To-night was crap. Fucking shit! Everyone was miserable. I feel as sorry
as the next person for all those Liverpool fans, but what can I do about
it now? I can
’
t bring them back, can I and neither can anyone else, so
why let it spoil the whole night out?
”

Mum paused for a few seconds to let her sympathetic views on the
Hillsborough tragedy to be digested, before adding,

“
What
’
s the knife for, Jemma?
”

“
Protection.
”

“
Don
’
t blame you. Nasty world out there these days. Does no harm
to protect yourself. Sensible kid. Who are you protecting yourself
from?
”

It was Jemma
’
s turn to laugh sarcastically.

“
A bully.
”

“
I see. Let me tell you something, Jemma. A word from the wise.
You shouldn
’
t allow yourself to get bullied. It
’
s a dog eat dog world
where only the fittest survive. If you allow yourself to get bullied, that
’
s
a sign of weakness. The strong don
’
t get bullied, just the weak.
”

“
That
’
s not how I see it, Mum. In my eyes, it
’
s the weak that bully.
They bully because they
’
re scared.
”

“
Scared?
”

“
Something scares them, something they don
’
t know how to cope
with. They lack the intellect to adapt, so they resort to physical force.
The physically weak though, may not be weak mentally and they start
thinking about things. Thinking about how, in the end, they will
triumph over physical force.
”

I could tell Mum was becoming increasingly vexed.

“
That
’
s how it works in fairytales, Jemma. Not real life. In the real
world, the poor are always poor, the rich are always rich, the weak are
always weak and
…
.
”

“
The drunk are always drunk!
”

“
Very funny, Jemma. Let
’
s give you a round of applause for that.
”

Mum clapped slowly.

“
Pass me the knife, Jemma. We both know we could stand here until
we
’
re both grey haired old biddies and you would never find the nerve
to use that knife. Do you know why?
”

“
Educate me.
”

“
Because I
’
ve brought you up to be middle class! That ugly shit of a
boyfriend of yours would certainly not want a jailbird girlfriend. How
would that look amongst his snooty banker friends, if he had to piss off
to Walton prison every lunchtime to see you? He was all brave when he
came round here the other day, reading me the riot act, but he wouldn
’
t
be so brave at Walton. He would visit you once and that would be that.
Wash his hands of you, that
’
s what he
’
d do, so let
’
s stop pretending
you
’
re tough, Jemma. Pass me the knife.
”

“
Not a chance!
”

“
Look Jemma, if you pass me that knife, we
’
ll just forget this little
incident, both say sorry, give each other a nice, big hug and go back to
being
a
family.
”

“
Family! Who do you think we are, mother, the fucking Waltons?
Think about this. I
’
ve got a knife out. Now if I don
’
t use it, I
’
m not
stupid, I know exactly what will happen. You
’
ll beat hell out of me,
even more than you do already, for ever and a day. My life will not be
worth living. So now this knife is out, my cards are on the table. I have
absolutely no choice but to use it.

If I were you, Vomit Breath, I would start a very quick, drunken
run, because you have got me all wrong. I hate you and using this knife
on you, does not scare me at all. Think about it for a second. If I kill
you, which incidentally I am going to do. If I kill you, what do you
think would happen to me? I
’
ll tell you. I
’
d get hauled up in front of
a judge and jury and charged with your murder. Then, Kelly, Ray and
everyone else at the bank, would testify that I
’
ve been battered and
bruised recently, at your evil hands. The judge would take one look at my
innocent little face and take pity on me. I
’
d be sent down for eighteen
months, serve six, then I
’
d be smelling of roses whilst your rotting
corpse would be pushing up the daisies and your sorry soul would be
Lucifer
’
s.
”