Amy Cooper Forever

by Craig Mullins

  By five o’clock I passed a sign that said ‘Gloucester 5 miles’. My eyes were raw, and my throat was parched, I hadn’t drunk anything in nearly seven hours. I changed direction and made a decision of where to go, if I could find it. First I told myself I would stop as soon as I came to a service station. My body was crying out for fluids of any kind. Within thirty minutes I had joined the M4, as much as I hated the motorway I knew to get to where I was going I had to cross the river Severn and the quickest way was via the dreaded road. Just before I hit the bridge I pulled off at the services. The view was stunning from here, the Severn estuary in clear view, the span of the bridge. How could something so beautiful exist in a world with so much betrayal and evil–because what she did was pure evil. She knew I loved her, she knew I wanted to be with her and yet she could give her body away like a cheap fucking hooker. No she was worse than a hooker, a hooker would have charged for her services. My precious Amy just gave it away like it was nothing, and if I am being totally honest it didn’t look like it was the first time she’d given it away for free. I remember I sat there for the best part of an hour during which time I devoured three espressos, two cans of coke and a plate of chips. Thank god for service stations that never seemed to realise the time and you could get what you wanted when you wanted it.

  At nine o’clock that morning I turned off the motorway when I saw the sign for Bryncethin, I knew that it was then a short distance to Heol-y-Cyw. You may ask what made me come here. When I was young and my parents were building up their business more and more of my time was spent with Beryl my childminder. For four years in a row she bought me here to where she grew up. I came with her and her children during the summer holidays, each time it was for a week, and I had never had happier times.

  As I left Bryncethin I knew it was a ten minute journey. The long road that led to my destination was amazing, to the right were hills, to the left the old train tracks. If I remembered correctly the turning on the right just before I entered the village would lead me up to a natural spring. The place where as kids we loved to come and drink the water straight as it flowed from the side of the hill. I braked hard as I nearly missed the turn. A couple of hundred yards and I pulled over and parked my car on the verge to allow any other traffic to pass. I gat out and just as I remembered the spring was there flowing like it always had. It was nice to know that there was something I could rely on in this godforsaken world. I sat next to it and splashed water on my face. I looked out across the faraway hills, the smell of heather and lichen were ripe in the air. The sun was already well on its way to its peak and households below were beginning their day. They knew nothing of the plan I was hatching while I watched over them.

  At the far end of the village I could see the house Beryl used to bring us to. It was the house she grew up in, the house her sister still lived in I hoped. Even if it wasn’t I was glad I’d come, the tranquillity and calming atmosphere had helped me put everything into perspective. I sat there for what must have been two hours deciding on my actions. If it was going to work I decided it couldn’t be now, I’d have to be patient and wait. I knew exactly when it would be done.

  At eleven o’clock I stood in front of the door of number seventy eight, the home of Catherine, Beryl’s younger sister by three years. As I waited for the door to be answered my memory conjured up the last image I had of her, I was maybe thirteen at the time. She had white hair, not grey but strikingly white, she was tall and thin with an aged face. The weather from the constant gardening she used to do had taken its toll. She must be in her sixties by now. The door opened and there she was as if a day hadn’t passed.

  “Pinky? It can’t be, can it?” She said.

  “Hello Aunty Cathy, you look well.” I said, the shock of her not having aged still stunned me.

  “It’s all the fresh air boy, it does wonders for the complexion. Come in, come in.” She ushered me in and all the familiar sights and smells returned, it was as if I’d never been away.

  I remember I sat at the table with a cup of hot sweet tea in front of me, my Aunt Catherine was across from me at the same table I’d been at many times before. I couldn’t believe it when she told me she lost her husband Vincent a year ago, this was what happened when I didn’t keep in touch with people.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. What happened? He always seemed so healthy and fit.” I said, I didn’t know what else to say.

  “He had a brain aneurysm while driving, I thank god there were no other cars about, but it haunts me every day that he was alone when it happened. The doctors have all told me it was instant and that he wouldn’t have known a thing, but I can’t shake the feeling that he was scared and alone. The irony was he’d only seen Doctor Hymer the week before and had been given a clean bill of health.”

  I reached across the worn table and took her hands in mine, “Listen to me, he knew you loved him and wouldn’t want you thinking the things you are and blaming yourself.” I still couldn’t come to terms that I wouldn’t see my uncle Vince again (I knew they weren’t my real aunt and uncle but they had always meant more to me than my real ones). I took a sip of my tea, it was still too hot to drink but the pain on my tongue helped me keep it together for my aunts’ sake.

  I watched as she wiped a tear from her eye, “Ignore me Pinky, I’m just being a stupid old woman. You’ve travelled all this way and here I am blubbering like a baby.”

  “It’s alright auntie, I’m sorry I’ve bought it all back, I’d imagine the last thing you want to do is go over it all again.”

  “I go over it day in and day out Pinky, it’s become a bit of a ritual.” She confessed. “Now tell me about you, I want to hear everything, and don’t skip anything.”

  I had always got on well with Catherine, in fact I was the only one she allowed to call her Cathy. Even her niece and nephew didn’t have that privilege. When Beryl would bring me here on their family holiday I would often spend hours with ‘Auntie Cathy’ in her garden, either picking produce, tending the hens or just general maintenance. I was always keen to be with her rather than Beryl’s children, not that there was anything wrong with them, I just found them boring. Over the four summers I spent here I built a relationship with her, my biggest regret was that I hadn’t been in touch in nearly six years. I wasn’t there for her when she lost her beloved Vincent. I felt the emotion build inside me but knew I couldn’t let Catherine see it. So I told her all about Amy, I told her how much I loved her and my plans for our life together. What I didn’t tell her was that she was an evil lying slut. Even as I told her about some of our dates I felt my blood boil inside at what I’d witnessed less than twenty four hours ago. Would she have noticed that I hadn’t stayed last night, would she even care. Was Adam still in her bed this morning, he knew the answer was ‘no’, boys like Adam only wanted one thing, and when they had it all interest was lost. No, he would have fucked Amy then gone back down to the party to see if he could claim a second conquest. I knew exactly what a boy like Adam was like.

  “She sounds absolutely delightful Pinky, next time maybe you could bring her with you. I would love to meet her, maybe you could come and spend a weekend or a week here. You know you are always welcome here Pinky. How are things at home these days?” She said.

  “Thank you, I might just take you up on that offer. Amy would love it here and I can’t wait for you to meet her. My family are still the same, preoccupied with work, I don’t blame them. After all I was just an unfortunate accident, a mistake to be managed, nothing more. I’ve accepted my place in their lives, besides I have Amy, you, Beryl and friends. That’s all I need.” I didn’t tell her that I hadn’t seen or spoken to her sister in nearly a year, or that I didn’t have any friends. The kids I’d gone to school with I had no interest in, my work with Pete occupied most of my days and for the last year or so the only person I needed had been Amy. With Amy out of my life – and she was after last night – I had no one.

  I sat there in silence while Catherine proc
eeded to pour a second cup of tea, I realised that I had ended up here by accident. When I left Amy’s house after collecting my car I hadn’t intended on being around the following morning. I had envisaged my body to be lying lifeless in the seat of my car after hitting or tree or other object that would have reached the same objective. Without Amy I couldn’t see any reason to carry on, yet something my Aunt said to me that day made me rethink my outlook. After I had told her about Amy she had said to me ‘always treat her as she deserves to be treated’ in that instant I knew exactly what she meant. My life would go on and I would live it to its fullest, I wouldn’t let anyone or anything get in my way ever again. As for Amy, my aunt was right I needed to treat her the way she deserved, it just wouldn’t be yet.

  I noticed that as my aunt moved about the kitchen she had got slower over the years and wondered how much of this had been the stress of losing Vincent. She’d always had so much strength and energy but the previous few years had definitely taken its toll, not on the way she looked but in the way she acted.

  “How are Christopher and James these days?” It had been a few years since I’d seen either one. I knew Chris better as he lived with Beryl for a while when he went to university in London. Although he was five years older than me and had a car we got on remarkably well. Chris loved swimming, so at least three nights a week when he came home from Uni he would take me with him to the local baths. He would try to scare me on the way by driving his black Ford Escort XR3i as fast as he could get it along the dual carriageway. Those nights were some of the best I remembered; I looked up to Chris more than anyone and was sorry I hadn’t kept in touch.

  “Well James is in his final year at art college in Camberwell, and Christopher works for a large construction company as a civil engineer, oh and a couple of weeks ago he got engaged to his childhood girlfriend Theresa. Can you believe it, they went out for four years in secondary school, her family then moved away and they lost touch. Then out of the blue he goes to look at a job and who should be working in the office – Theresa. Well after a whirlwind reunion and a couple of months dating they saw no reason to wait. They get married in two months. I’ll make sure he adds you and Amy to the guest list, it will be great for you to catch up with them and fill them in on all your good news.

  I stayed with my aunt until early evening, and despite her persistence that I shouldn’t drive back at such a late hour I finally said my goodbye at eight o’clock. I got in my car and like the previous night I decided to drive, not home, just drive. Unlike the previous night though my head was in a different place, tonight was the start of turning my life around. The biggest decision was that I wouldn’t be going home again, the second was that my days of working for that oaf Pete were also over. I was going to start over. Wherever my car took me would be where my new life would begin. I realised it meant I would never see my aunt Cathy again, or Beryl or even my mum and dad, but I had savings–at least enough to get by for a couple of months until I got a job.

  As I crossed the border back in to good old England my spirits had never been better, I hadn’t forgotten about Amy. Her day would come when she would answer for the hurt she’d inflicted on me.

  TWENTY SEVEN

  Friday 2nd July 1993

  He’d watched her for days, she was the one. Every morning he had been down to the seafront he’d seen her, it appeared that she’d been sleeping on the beach. The weather had certainly been good enough, but he felt it went deeper than that, she was homeless. This particular morning he decided to talk to her. He’d set off from his flat at five-thirty and drove straight to beach road in Hemsby, he only had today to get this sorted.

  He parked his car as close to the front as he could, it was opposite the dinosaur adventure golf and on double yellow lines, this time of the morning he should be fine. He hoped she hadn’t already left, he wandered along the wooden planks which led to the beach where he had a decision to make. Left or right? He opted for left, the dunes were higher that way which would offer greater shelter if this was her abode. The sun was already drenching the sand, he did something he hadn’t done for a long time, took off his shoes and socks and planted his feet in the warm sand.

  The tide was out but he could still see water lapping at the shore twenty metres to his right. His eyes scanned the dunes to the left, large tufts of grass covered the makeshift hills, well worn paths cut through at regular intervals and well used dips carved by a generation of hormonal teenagers. It was in one of these he hoped to find her, he was nearly a quarter of a mile up the beach when he saw her. It was only luck that she had put her head above the grass surrounding her, he’d been about to turn around and head back. She spotted him and immediately ducked back into hiding, but she was too late and she knew it.

  “Hello!” He yelled up, he didn’t want to just sneak up on her. He watched the space where she’d appeared seconds earlier and slowly she began to appear. A Miami Dolphins cap was the first to show followed by a rather pretty face with the brightest of blue eyes. Her ragged greasy blonde hair hung limp from either side of the cap. Finally she stood up to reveal a matching Dolphins jersey two sizes too big and a pair of faded Levi 501’s, all of which would benefit from a service wash at the local laundrette. “I was wondering if you wanted breakfast?”

  “Why, what are you after, you a perv or something?” She looked at him with suspicion.

  “You look like you could do with a friend right now, I’m Pinky by the way.” He slowly started to make his way toward her.

  “That’s a weird name, didn’t your parents like you?”

  “It’s just a nickname, what’s your name?”

  “You can call me Em.” Her initial suspicion of him appeared to be fading.

  “So, what do you say to breakfast?”

  “You paying?” Her accent wasn’t from the area, if Pinky had to guess it was from the West Country, possibly Devon or Somerset.

  “Sure, you’re a long way from home aren’t you?”

  “Are we getting breakfast or what?” As she talked she tucked her sleeping bag under a rather large looking bramble followed by her rucksack. She made her way down to where he stood. Up close he could see that her age was less than he had initially thought, he would be lucky if she was seventeen. They walked back the way he came, there was an American style diner just up from where he’d parked his car and would be a good place to get breakfast. They’d walked about a hundred metres in silence before she spoke. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Like I said, you looked like you needed a friend. I’d seen you about for a while and I knew I could help you. Have you been sleeping rough long?”

  “It’s only until I get myself sorted.” He noted the petulance in her response, and once again realised just how young she was. Her dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes made her look older, but her petite frame and immature body couldn’t hide the facts.

  “How old are you?” He asked her outright.

  “Nineteen.” He could tell from the way she wouldn’t look at him that she was lying.

  “Now the truth” He countered. “It makes no difference to me how old you are, but please don’t lie to me. I only want to help.”

  “I was sixteen ten days ago.” She finally admitted.

  “OK, are you ready to eat?” They’d arrived at the diner, it was a little after six-thirty. The diner opened at six and already it was filling up with patrons. They sat at one of the booths towards the back; he didn’t want any one seeing them together. “Order whatever you want.” They both studied the menu intently; Pinky noticed that for an American diner they did a lot of English stuff. He ended up ordering a large stack of pancakes with maple syrup and cream with a large Americano to wash it down. Em ordered a cheeseburger, fries, large chocolate shake and a stack of pancakes. Pinky smiled as she gave the overly plump waitress her order. His smile grew even broader when he watched her take her last mouthful of food, he would have sworn that she would never be able to finish everything. “Do you want an
ything else?” He asked her, and was certain that she refused out of politeness rather than she was full up.

  “What do you want from me?” Her defence was back up.

  “Nothing, you need a helping hand and I’m in a position to offer it.” He noticed a considerable softening to her demeanour.

  “My situation is only temporary until I get a job.”

  “My point exactly, without an address no one will give you a job, one of the arcades may let you do some cleaning for a pittance, let me help you.”

  “How?” She was beginning to look suspicious again.

  “Take my spare room until you get on your feet.”

  “What’s in it for you?” She started fiddling with the napkin, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger making it into a long tube.

  “A flatmate, and the knowledge that I could help.” He said, “Do we have a deal?” He reached out a hand and it hung there for what seemed an eternity until she finally took it. Her hand was small and warm and he noted her fingernails were dirty.

  “There’ll be no funny stuff, you do anything and I’ll scream rape.” She warned him. For all her bravado Pinky could see the scared little girl she was and genuinely felt sorry for her. He regretted that he would have to use her but his goal was bigger than both of them. After he convinced her to have another shake and he had a second coffee they headed back to his car, not forgetting to retrieve her few possessions from the dunes.

  It was nearly eight when he parked on the shared driveway, the house was a three storey affair with the third in the roof space. The two dormer windows made the house look top heavy, the faded dirty white paint had flaked over the years. But Pinky liked living here, his apartment was the one in the roof space and he had a tremendous view over the quay, he liked watching the boats come and go, imagining sailing the seas on one of the largest cargo ships. Travelling to the Far East or South America, sampling the local girls he was sure they would never betray him.