by Wade, Calvin
The Birch’s party was a massive turning point in my life. I don’t believe in fate, I do believe that every decision we make in life impacts on the next and then the next and so on and so forth. My decision to go to that party definitely shaped the rest of my life. Little did I know the two greatest loves of my life (or only loves really) would be at that
party and through the course of the evening, I would have an incredibly positive effect on one of them and an incredibly negative effect on the other!
Jemma
I was over the road in a flash. It was my second soaking of the evening, but once again, events took priority over vanity.
“What the hell is going on?”
The policeman was massive, there must have been seven feet dividing his shoes from the tip of his helmet. I wasn’t talking to him though, I strode straight past him.
“Kelly, I said what the hell is going on?”
My sister stood, head to head with the policeman or head to chest given the height differences, under a bus shelter on Asmall Lane. Kelly looked wet, flustered and annoyed. Predominantly annoyed. I was used to seeing Vomit Breath annoyed, Kelly was used to seeing me annoyed, but Kelly was placid. The policeman kicked off our three way conversation.
“This young lady is in serious trouble”.
“What for?”
I don’t even know why I asked that, the evidence for the prosecution was in her right hand.
“Underage drinking”, replied the policeman, “it’s an epidemic round here, it really is!”
Kelly continued to look like she wanted to knock the policeman’s hat off, stuff it with Tiswas foam pies, then plant it forcefully back on his head and twist it.
“This is a joke!” Kelly ranted.
“An absolute joke!”
“Not to me, young lady. Not to me!” replied the not so jolly blue giant.
As the sole member of the jury, I had already found her guilty. A smoking gun in the form of a can of cider was in her right hand. The irony of me standing there, between Kelly and “Dibble on stilts”, judging her, when I was guilty of an identical crime, somehow escaped me.
“Kelly, you’ve got a can of cider in your hand! Who does that belong to then, the invisible man?”
I’m not quick witted when I’m sober, I couldn’t really expect to be when I was half drunk.
“It was just on the floor! I do my bit to “Keep Britain Tidy” and end up in Bizzy bother!”
Had Kelly gone mental? Using Scouse slang to describe a policeman
was pretty normal in Ormskirk, but not in front of them! I was half expecting her to start oinking. Kelly was not endearing herself to Lou Ferringo in uniform and this set him off with a lecture that “Tut” would have been proud of.
“Young lady, spare me your phony stories. The fact of the matter is, you were drinking it as I drove past. It is my role to keep the streets of Ormskirk free from crime and you were committing a crime, so if you would kindly like to step into my car, we can discuss this down at the station”.
“Whoa there! Hang on a minute!”
This was bad! This was very bad! A trip to the station would kill my party plans once and for all. I’d come too far for that.
“Listen, before you take her down to the station, can I just talk to her? Maybe if I could get her to apologise, would that make things better?”
I looked up at him hoping for sight of an ounce of human decency. I didn’t see it.
“Would a murderer be let off with a murder if he said “sorry” or a rapist or a thief ? Of course not! A crime is a crime. And who are you, by the way?”
“I’m her sister.”
“And how old are you, Herr Sister?”
He was saying it as though I was German. I lied. No point me joining Kelly in the cell.
“Nineteen”.
“As a responsible adult then, should you not have been looking after this one?”
He was starting to annoy me now too.
“I spend my life looking after her.”
“Perhaps you should start doing a better job”.
“It’s not my fault she’s drunk!”
Kelly protested,
“Jemma! I AM NOT DRUNK! Even nipple head isn’t saying I’m drunk! You’re making this worse!”
“I am not!”
“Yes, YOU ARE!”
The policeman sighed. He turned his hand over so his palm was collecting rain, then used it to gesture at me and then at Kelly.
“Older sister. Younger sister. Both arguing. Both not wearing much.
Both smelling of alcohol. Both probably under age. In my eyes, not a good example! I have no choice in the matter, we all need to go to…”
I was ready to flip. I was all set to push him over and shout “RUN!” I could mentally picture Martin screeching up the road pursued by a gigantic copper waving his truncheon, then it happened, the god of disastrous sex must have looked down at me and decided he had his own plans for me, that it was time to intervene. The police car of our favourite law enforcer was parked up on the opposite side of the road to Martin’s Escort, Ormskirk facing. Despite the rain, the window of the passenger side door was open and all of a sudden the control desk came calling. “Blue Ferringo” stopped mid-sentence, ran over to his car and stuck his head through the window. We couldn’t hear a word that was said to him, but he muttered an extended version of “F in scum!” to himself, took a few steps back, then ran full pelt at his car, jumped through the open window like a stretched out version of a Duke of Hazzard, clambered over to the driver’s side, switched his sirens on and sped off.
Kelly and I stood for a few seconds under that bus shelter in stunned silence before she spoke,
“I’m as innocent as the Birmingham Six!”
“Well you could have been introducing yourself to them, if that copper hadn’t been called away! Come on, Kelly, get in the car! There’s a group of disappointed lads in Halsall worrying that I may not be turning up!”
On the way to Halsall, Kelly would not shut up! Her adrenalin was obviously still pumping after her brush with the law and she recounted
her whole tale to Martin and Amy from beginning to end. Vomit Breath was off out to the Kingsway in Southport, clubbing as usual, so Kelly had already known that she would have to make plans to avoid me babysitting. She had arranged to go to Kirsty Murray’s, a friend from school, who lived near the Eureka pub, just off Asmall Lane. The arrangement had been for Kelly to stay for her tea, then at about ten o’clock when Vomit Breath would definitely be out, she was going to return home in a taxi. She knew I would be back before Vomit Breath and that VB would be too drunk to check on us when she came in, so no questions would be asked. Working in conjunction with Kelly, I had already told Vomit Breath that I was going to the cinema and that I had made arrangements to pick Kelly up on my way home. I trusted Kelly so had no concerns that she could not look after herself for a few hours
Kelly’s side of the plan did not run smoothly. After passing my clothes and make-up to Amy, she headed to Kirsty’s and had her tea there as intended. She was all set to stay there until ten, but Kirsty’s Mum had taken a call from her sister to say their Mum, Kirsty’s Nan, had taken ill. Her Nan had angina and she was complaining of chest pains so they were all concerned her eighty five year old body might be calling time. Kelly said there was a lot of anxious scurrying around the house and although Kirsty’s Mum said Kelly was welcome to accompany them up to Burscough, Kelly felt she would be surplus to requirements and lied convincingly that her own Nan would be more than happy to see her in Aughton. “Tut” didn’t live in Aughton, she lived in West Kirby, thirty miles away, but obviously Kirsty’s family didn’t know that!
So, as Kirsty’s family all sped off in their Vauxhall Astra GTE, Kelly decided to sit down at the bus shelter, fifty metres from Kirsty’s house, collect her thoughts and decide where to go. It was too early to go home just in case Vomit Breath was still there having some pre-night out drinks with her the �
��Halitosis Horrors”, as we had christened her fat, ugly friends. Kelly says that as she ran into the shelter to avoid the wind and rain, she knocked over a can of cider that had been left there by a drunken litter lout. She picked it up and gave it an inquisitive sniff, but as she was about to put it in the bin, the copper collared her. To be honest, as far as I was concerned this was the biggest cock and bull story since Foghorn Leghorn (the Looney Tunes Rooster) went to Spain to become a matador! There is no way in the world Kelly would have just been sniffing a cider can. She was probably drinking it in Kirsty’s bedroom and then smuggled it out when she left. This was the least of my concerns though. I was more concerned with what to do with her now. Martin pulled up about a hundred metres from the Birch’s house, windscreen wipers still working overtime, as we weighed up our options. A thirteen year old girl did not belong at a party held by three lads aged between sixteen and twenty one.
“Amy, do you think your Mum would mind if Kelly stopped at your house?”
“No, she’d be fine.”
“Shall we send her back with Martin then?”
Kelly wasn’t impressed. She was in the front and turned around and gave us daggers.
“Hey you two! Stop talking about me as if I’m an overnight bag! I don’t want to go back to Amy’s! Can I not just come to the party with you?”
Amy and I both replied in tandem, ”NO!”
Kelly was blossoming into a crafty bitch.
“Well you two will have to come back with me then.”
“Why?”
“Martin’s a bit creepy. I don’t fancy the idea of a twenty minute car journey in the dark with him. No offence, Martin.”
“Kelly, you can’t say that!”
Neither Kelly or Martin appeared perturbed by her statement.
“I just have! Sorry Martin, I don’t really know if you’re creepy or not but you do look a bit creepy! Now if I go back to yours in the car, I’ll probably find out you’re very nice, but what if I don’t? No-one will hear my screams on those lonely back roads!”
Again Amy and I, in tandem, exclaimed, “Kelly!”
I think we were both shocked she had the gall to come out with something like that but also, deep down, we were aware she had a point!
Martin was a bit weird! He was probably just quiet but, hand on heart, I wouldn’t like him to drive me home to Ormskirk from Halsall either. Like Amy, he was small and red headed, but he wore glasses, had severe acne and had one continuous eyebrow that stretched across his face like a foxes tail.
Amy whispered to me,
“What should we do?”
“How do you think it will look if she comes into the party with us?”
“Very uncool!” Amy stated
“What if we smuggle her in?” I suggested, but Amy was not pleased.
“Smuggle her in! Are you joking? What in? A dustbin? What are we going to do, get Ted Rogers to come with us and distract everyone with his 3-2-1 hand signs?”
“Don’t be daft. She could just follow us in a couple of minutes after we go in.”
“And what would she say? That she was just in the neighbourhood? What the hell would she be doing in Halsall! Maybe she could say she just popped over to milk the cows and shear the sheep!”
Amy’s tone was now full of sarcasm, irritation and annoyance.
“Amy, I have no idea. I am just trying to think what to do. Getting annoyed with me is not helping a single bit. I wasn’t planning for us to bring Kelly”
We hadn’t even reached the party and already it had been a weird night. Two of the kindest, most laid back people in the world were completely losing their cool. I hadn’t seen Amy or Kelly lose control before and here they were, both losing it on the same night.
Amy sighed,
“Jemma, I know it’s not your fault. I’m just annoyed we didn’t think to take Kelly to my Mum’s when we found her in Ormskirk rather than bring her all the way out here and then try to decide what to do with her.”
Martin, normally a man who, if he said a few words, would have been described as having a talkative day, now decided to join the debate.
“Do you want to know what I think?”
Amy looked at him as if his bowels had just moved. I was more receptive, we were stuck in a hole and if Martin had a spade that was fine with me.
“Why not, Martin? Hit us with it!”
“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 his 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 uncool 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 kingsized 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.
Richie
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 a
ll dolled up, banging her steering 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 Granddad 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,
