Forever Is Over (68 page)

I woke up late the following morning, probably around eleven.
When I went downstairs, Dad was in the kitchen dining area, on our
old circular kitchen table, with a mug of coffee (
“
World
’
s Best Dad
”
mug) in the midst of several papers, tabloids and broadsheets, with
several horrendous images of crushed faces against the perimeter fence at
Hillsborough. It seemed impossible to comprehend how photographers
could just stand there, taking photos, whilst people were crushed to
death in front of their eyes. If I had been a photographer at Hillsborough
that day, I would have put my camera down and gone to help in any way
I could. Sometimes there is more to life than just doing your job.

“
Jemma called,
”
Dad announced without raising his head.

“
What did she want?
”
I asked.

“
I don
’
t know. I just said you were asleep and that you would ring
her back when you woke up.
”

I grabbed the phone, dialled Jemma
’
s number, expecting her to just
have phoned for a chat or to tell me it was all off between her and
“
Triple
Sacker
”
or something equally trivial and bland. Once she uttered the
words,
“
Vomit Breath
’
s dead!
”
my world entered spin cycle mode and
kept spinning for several months. I did not know whether I was coming
or going. I was a middle class Ormskirk girl, my world was supposed to
be about hair highlights and fingernails, not remand centres and murder
trials. I grew up a lot over those next few months, but still managed
to make a holy show of myself in front of Richie Billingham, which
haunts me to this day, even more than that vision of Jemma
’
s bouncing
backside!

I was officially smashed. Jim was at the bar and I was trying to focus
on him from the table but it was a struggle. Jim was debating some point
or other with the barman and then they shook hands, Jim handed him
a note and the barman then took the optic off the upside down vodka
bottle with its right way up label and gave Jim a tray, two glasses and the
bottle of vodka. I looked at the mass of empty pint glasses on our table
and groaned as I watched Jim proudly zigzag across the room with his newly acquired booty. He plonked it on to our table, pushing the empty
pint glasses to one side.

“
We will die if we drink that!
”
I protested.

Jim, still standing, put his arms around my neck and leaned into
me with his head, displaying a level of affection never previously seen
between us.

“
Richie, you have had a shitty time recently and it
’
s made me realise
what you mean to me. Sometimes, just sometimes, you are a right royal
pain in the butt, but most of the time, you are a great brother and I
’
m
proud of how you have dealt with everything that
’
s happened to you.
Cancer, Kelly disappearing, it
’
s been crap for you hasn
’
t it, but things
are getting better now, aren
’
t they? It
’
s all uphill from here.
”

Maybe I wasn
’
t the most inebriated!

“
You mean downhill, Jim!
”

“
I mean downhill.
”
Jim agreed.
“
There was a time there that I
thought everything could turn really nasty and I thought about what
life would be like without a brother. We aren
’
t the closest brothers in the
world, we like different things, we move in different circles, I have a lot
of sex, you don
’
t because you are into the romantic side of things and its
all flowers and love songs and things I don
’
t get, but we
’
re brothers and
the thought of being without you, just did not bear thinking about.
”

Jim stopped wrapping himself around my neck, sat down and poured two generous measures of vodka into our glasses.

“
So, I want to propose a toast,
”
he said lifting his glass,
“
to a great
brother. May your days of dodgy girlfriends, lumpy balls and bedwetting
be behind you! Cheers!
”

Jim and I clunked our glasses and downed our drinks. There was
that nice burning sensation in my thro
at that straight vodka brings.

             
“
You always bring it back to the bedwetting, don
’
t you, Jim?
”

             
“
It would be wrong not to,
”
said Jim with a smile,
“
I play the role of
annoying little brother very well!
”

Not so much of the little! Jim was built like a tank.

We were in Disraeli
’
s. A virtually empty Disraeli
’
s. It was generally
a popular spot in Ormskirk, amongst all ages under forty, but not at
six o
’
clock on a Friday evening. Three hours later, you would hardly be
able to move in there, but at six o
’
clock, it was all ours, other than a
couple of estate agents having a pint together before heading home to
their families.

Jim had planned this drinking session with almost military precision.

He was
on
a
‘
Study Week
’
off from Sixth Form, prior to taking his
“
A
”
levels
and I was on one
of my three weeks a year off from Andy
’
s Records, so Jim had suggested
we head out together for an all day and all night session. This was a good
idea in principle, but Jim was built like a gigantic bullfrog and I was
built like a high jumper, so he was always going to have the capacity to
out drink me!
Jim had planned our route. We had started at
“
The Cockbeck
”
in
Aughton at twelve o
’
clock, had a couple of pints there, before walking
up Town Green Lane to the appropriately named
“
Town Green Inn
”
,
which was over the road from my primary school, which meant all
those memories of my halcyon days of kissing Anna Eccleston in the
playground, came flooding back.

We squeezed in a few rounds in the
“
Town Green
”
whilst having
a quick game of darts (Jim won as I could not keep my hand steady
enough to hit the doubles), before heading up Parrs Lane to the
“
Dog
& Gun
”
on Long Lane, passing the house where I had left the orange Matchmakers for Rachel Cookson when I was eleven. My brush with
death and Kelly
’
s disappearance had definitely made me look back at
any romantic moments with nostalgia!

Several more pints followed at the
“
Dog and Gun
”
and despite
already being halfway to Ormskirk town centre, we decided against
making the rest of the pub crawl on foot and ordered a taxi to take us
in to Ormskirk. Jim wanted to hit Disraeli
’
s whilst it was quiet, once it
busied up it was a bit too
“
trendy
”
for Jim and then he wanted to move
on to
“
The Golden Lion
”
,
“
The Railway
”
,
“
The Windmill
”
(where I had
dumped my stuff when I was doing
my Wigan Road karaoke outside
Kelly
’
s bedroom window) and
“
The Ropers Arms
”
. Thanks to me, we
did not get any further than Disraeli
’
s! Jim poured us another large
vodka each.

“
We are not drinking that whole bottle, Jim,
”
I said, in what I would
imagine would have been very slurred tones by then.

“
Chill bro! I know that, but I paid twenty quid for the whole bottle,
if we
’
d have just had single measures, we would have only been able to
have had about six each for twenty quid!
”

“
Which would have been about five too many!
”

“
Come on, Richie!
”
said Jim making a poor attempt to give me a
dead arm.

“
We
’
re celebrating!
”

I spotted something.

“
Jim, take me round there.
”

I pointed to the far side of the bar. There was an area of Disraeli
’
s
that was an extension to the main bar area, a conservatory of sorts
with a plastic roof, white tiles and decked out in comfy sofas and soft
cushions.

“
Why?
”
Jim asked suspiciously.

“
I need to have a sleep.
”

“
Sleep! Richie, you can
’
t sleep, we
’
re celebrating!
”

That was the second time in a minute Jim had mentioned the fact
that we were celebrating, he knew I was on my knees and was trying
to provide me with a motivation not to give in. He was wasting his
breath!

“
Jim, I need a sleep. Let me just have half an hour and I
’
ll be raring
to go!
”

“
No, you won
’
t Richie! I share a room with you remember? I
’
ve seen
what you are like when you have a drink! If you fall asleep now, that will
be it, game over. Come on, Richie, drive hard! It
’
s only six o
’
clock!
”

“
I can
’
t Jim! I
’
m gone. Just give me half an hour! I promise you it will just be half an hour!
”

I stood myself up and weaved my way to the far side of the bar, to
the empty Conservatory. It was like I was being hypnotised, I just shut
my eyes, put my head back and within seconds, I was asleep
………
..

“
Is he OK?
”
a woman
’
s voice asked, what seemed like seconds later
although I knew it wouldn
’
t be.

I recognised the voice, my eyes were still closed, but I recognised
that voice.

“
He
’
s fine, just sleeping the drink off, we
’
ve been hard at it all
afternoon and Richie has never been the best at holding his drink.
”
Jim
replied.

I could tell from the general buzz in Disraeli
’
s that it was no longer
six o
’
clock, I opened my eyes and stretched like it was first thing in
the morning. I looked up to see Jim and Amy Perkins staring down at
me.