Amy Cooper Forever

by Craig Mullins

  “Seals, where.” She lifted her head up and was scanning the sea as his left hand came across and plunged the syringe in to her abdomen, before she had time to react he unloaded the full contents

  “I’m so sorry.” He sobbed as he held her to his body, she started to struggle.

  “What did you do?” Her body began to go limp.

  “I’m setting you free.”

  “Why Pinky?” And she was gone. He held her tight and cried, he hadn’t wanted to do it but he couldn’t have her messing with his plans for Amy. After a while he laid her down and covered her as best he could with the gorse and grasses from around the dip, with any luck her body wouldn’t be discovered for a couple of days. He wiped the syringe and placed it next to her, the amount of heroin would have been enough to bring down a small elephant. It had come from a reputable supplier so he knew it would work as he needed it to.

  She looked peaceful, almost angelic but in his heart he knew he had done what was best for her, this life she was living would have ended in tragedy one way or another. He had just speeded up the process.

  THIRTY TWO

  Friday 24th November 2017

  It had been almost two weeks since he’d added any pages to his manuscript and Pinky was pissed. Pissed was a bit of an understatement, he was fucked off to hell and back. Everything over the last two weeks had conspired to keep him from working on it. The last day he’d written had been Monday the twentieth of November, but even before that the only real pages that had been added were at the beginning of the month. For some reason he was struggling to write about the night of Amy’s death, the part of the book he’d been most looking forward to writing. But so far almost twenty pages had been thrown in the wastebasket. The last chapter he wrote he had managed to get down a satisfactory start of the nights events, but since that time no creativeness had managed to flow.

  On Tuesday the twenty-first at seven thirty-five in the morning Michael Carter took his own life, the pool of blood stretched from the rear of his cell and out into the main area. Rules were very strict on sharp objects or anything that could potentially be used for an inmate to take their own life. However that didn’t allow for a persons overwhelming urge to die, and nothing the authorities could have done would have prevented Michael doing what he did. For some reason unknown to anyone he took two large bites–one from each wrist–and sat down at the back of his cell. The first anyone knew was the night guard seeing the pool of blood from his post as it made its way out of Babyface’s cell.

  What was amazing that while he bit himself he never made a sound, the pain must have been excruciating from seeing the wounds, he had literally torn chunks from his wrist, not just broken the skin but actual chunks. The two pieces were found next to his body in the blood where he had spat them out. Pinky remembered the upheaval of the day; all the inmates had to be removed from their cells into another wing where there were empty ones waiting. They had to leave all their belongings, and because of the nature of the criminals they used four guards per prisoner, which meant they had to wait for two more to be bought in to help.

  While they were waiting Charles Montgomery gave the rest of the block a commentary on exactly what he could see in Babyface’s cell. Although he could only see the feet of Michael sticking out from the privacy screen he did have the best view of the volume of blood that had escaped the poor man’s body. “Why didn’t you tell someone when you first saw that something was wrong?” Pinky asked him.

  “I was asleep, I didn’t see anything. It was only when all the commotion started that I realised something wasn’t right with old Babyface over there.”

  “So you didn’t see or hear anything?”

  “I just said didn’t I. No, I saw nothing.”

  “Well this is going to ruin the rest of the day. It will take them hours to clean up his cell before we’ll be allowed back onto the block.” Pinky was really pissed off with Babyface for his impeccable timing.

  As Pinky thought it was gone four before they were all tucked up back in their cells again. And he knew the next week would be a right off as the new inmate would be arriving around noon the following day.

  But here he was on the first of December and he had a pencil in his hand and paper on the desk in front of him. He’d been waiting for this moment when he could finally finish telling his story of the night Amy Cooper ceased to be alive. With just over three weeks to conclude his book he knew it would be a mammoth task but was adamant that he wouldn’t grant himself an extension. With that last thought in his mind he started to write.

  Chapter 12

  In the last chapter I told you about my doubts, although I knew what I had to do these doubts didn’t go away. Don’t get me wrong I did the right thing for the right reasons, but part of me will always wonder if there could have been a chance for us if I had been able to forgive and forget. In my heart I knew it could never happen, mainly because of the film reel which would have been constantly playing in my head. But back to the story.

  I arrived at the café next to the laundrette at one o’clock, I ordered something to eat and a drink and took a seat outside. I had a good view of the park and anyone that came or went. I could also see down beach road so I would know when Emily arrived to pick up the key. Now I won’t bore you with how I sat and waited, watched her enter and come out, how I bought her lunch to go etcetera etcetera. But to cut a long story short Emily and I took a walk along the beach until two thirty.

  On my way back to my car I had a couple of items to get from the mini supermarket on one of the other parks. Most of tonight’s provisions were in my back pack, but the last two items I needed had to be fresh-butter and double cream. When I returned I found the car park almost full, I grabbed my back-pack from the boot and placed the couple of items I’d just bought in it. A family a couple of cars along were unloading their car, they’d obviously just arrived and were headed to the beach judging by all the buckets and spades. I’ll admit here and now that seeing the family made me mad, not for the reason you may be thinking. It wasn’t that I didn’t like seeing people happy, it was thinking about what my life would have been had Amy not did what she did. It made me more certain that tonight’s actions were justified. I walked to the park with a new air of confidence, I even acknowledged a couple as I walked along. On entering the park though I kept my head down and went straight to the chalet.

  It was a quarter to three when I finally found myself in what would become Amy’s final resting place, chalet sixteen of the Belle Vista Holiday Park in Hemsby, Norfolk. I was aware that as of three o’clock Amy could turn up at any time so my initial preparation would have to be swift. First I drew the curtains on the single window to the front, I then drew both sets of curtains in the two bedrooms to the rear. Next, and this was probably the most important part, I took the screwdriver set from my bag and removed the screws from the handle of the door to the chalet and then completely removed the handle itself. This meant that when she knocked and I told her to come in as soon as she shut the door behind her there was no way out–at least not until the handle was reattached. The same handle that I had hidden in one of the kitchen cupboards.

  With the important stuff sorted I could then relax and enjoy the rest of my time waiting. Amy was under the illusion that tonight’s ‘get to know you event’ was due to get underway at seven-thirty, so my reckoning was that she would turn up sometime between four and six. Of course I could be wrong and she may not turn up until later or she may just turn up in just five minutes time at dead on three. While I was waiting I thought I would start the preparation for tonight’s meal.

  Under other circumstances this would have been an ideal getaway, me cooking for the woman I love and her turning up to the irresistible smell of a gourmet meal. Unfortunately she would be turning up to a meal but not the kind of meal she would want as I couldn’t finish it until she was here. I was missing that one vital ingredient that would make it complete-her heart. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be prepa
red, I placed the chopping board on the counter and retrieved my knife from my bag. I peeled the onion and garlic, finely chopped both and placed them in a bowl. I placed a knob of butter in the frying pan ready. I sliced the mushroom and placed these in a bowl and placed in the fridge along with the cream as I wouldn’t need these just yet. I placed the bottle of Madeira on the side. Now all I had to do was wait.

  THIRTY THREE

  Monday 13th September 1993

  Pinky had made the trip for one reason and one reason only–to say a final goodbye to his beloved Amy Cooper. It had been more than two months since that fateful night when he took her heart. The night he finally fulfilled his fantasy. He could still taste her on his lips, the sweet saltiness–just like popcorn at the cinema. He remembered fondly of their final meal, for although she didn’t partake in the gourmet experience herself, without her contribution none of it would have been possible.

  The journey had taken him nearly three hours with the traffic. He hadn’t been sure his old heap would be up to the job but apart from the temperature gauge rising on the M25 the trip had been fairly uneventful. The service at the chapel within the grounds of the cemetery was due to start at one o’clock. It wasn’t even ten when he pulled his car in through the wrought iron gates. He parked in the corner farthest away from the gate. His car bumper touched the laurel hedge and the shade engulfed his car.

  The cemetery was immaculate, all neatly mowed, the pathways weed free. In the distance he could hear more grass being mown. He stepped out of his car and stretched his legs, he hadn’t realised how much they’d seized up while driving. He regretted not stopping to get a coffee before he arrived here, though he knew he had plenty of time. This morning was about revisiting old friends.

  As he locked his car he looked across at the rows of headstones, the view occasionally broken by an elaborate crypt. He never understood how someone could be so pretentious that they felt they needed to be interred in such a place. Even worse he thought were the muppets who built themselves a mausoleum, and don’t even get him started on the Egyptians and the fucking pyramids.

  He took a packet of Marlboro from his black suit trousers, and with a little book of matches from a place called Angels Lap dancing Club he proceeded to light one of the sticks. As he took his first hit he relished the burn in the back of his throat.. This was a fairly new habit for him, not even a month since he took up his new hobby. The sun was already warm on his back as he walked down the slope toward his first port of call. It only took a couple of minutes before he was stood in front of a jet black headstone with little sparkling flecks of silver inlaid. This always reminded Pinky of stars in the night sky and wondered if this was the illusion the stonemason had envisioned. The stone had a domed centre with two finials one either side and the inscription was simple:

  REST IN PEACE

  BENJAMIN CLEVES

  1912 – 1986

  BELOVED FATHER & HUSBAND

  Pinky crouched down beside the stone, the grass around it had been so recently cut he could smell it. There was a vase with some long dead flowers in it.

  “Sorry Granddad, I know I haven’t been to see you in a really long time but I’m here now.” He smiled as he could imagine his granddad’s reply ‘that’s ok boy you have your own life to live, why the fuck would you want to visit a dead fucker like me anyway?’ A small tear escaped the corner of his eye and he let it roll down his nose and into his mouth before he composed himself once more.

  Granddad Ben had been his greatest friend, he was his mum’s dad. Although his parents rarely saw him, even after the passing of his wife several years earlier, Benjamin tried to see his grandson whenever he could. Pinky had always known there was some kind of tension between his mum and his granddad but had never fully known the truth.

  He had tried asking his parents on numerous occasions, each time he was told it was a private matter and not to ask again. Advice he ignored as he constantly asked it again and again. Once he confronted his granddad and asked him outright why his mum and dad didn’t like him? He’d gone on to explain that it wasn’t the fact they didn’t like him, it was just they didn’t understand him. He then proceeded to tell him a story.

  The story of a young boy who had a dog and that for many years the boy loved the dog. He would play with him for hours and hours. The dog would sleep beside the boy at night next to his bed, sometimes on it. The dog loved the boy as much as he loved it. Then one day the boy came home from school and his friend wasn’t waiting for him, he called out for him but nothing. Eventually he started walking the streets around his home, and two roads away he found his best friend slumped at the side of the road.

  He picked him up and carried him home. He sat in the front garden until his dad arrived back from work. The dog’s breathing was shallow and he was covered in blood, he had almost certainly been hit by a vehicle. The boy’s father took one look at the poor animal and took it from him and in to the back yard and dispatched the animal with a swift blow to the back of the head. Form that moment the boy realised that sometimes it was kinder to end the suffering of something you love than let it carry on in pain.

  It wasn’t until he sat there at his granddads graveside that he understood what he was talking about. He knew his grandma died of cancer at a fairly young age and that it was around the same time his mum stopped talking to her dad. It suddenly all clicked in to place; his grandad had killed the love of his life to end her suffering. Just like he had done with Amy.

  He didn’t care what people thought as he sat there laughing out loud, his granddad would have laughed with him if he’d been there.. But Pinky knew he was just a pile of bones beneath the earth. He had one more grave to visit before he went off and got himself that well-earned coffee.

  Alice Hughes had been one of his few friends from school, she was quirky which made her a target for bullies. And although Pinky was in the same position as her he would often step in if she was being picked on, taking the brunt of it for himself. They ended up as friends more through circumstance than anything else. They had often joked that if they were both single at twenty-five they would get married and have freaky babies together.

  Her tombstone was next to the chapel, enough time he thought for another cigarette. He found that smoking calmed him, not that he was one for getting stressed. He walked slowly to her grave, she’d only been fifteen when a drunk driver hit her as she walked home from school. He still struggled with the fact that someone could be drunk and driving at three-thirty in the afternoon. He remembered saying goodbye to her at the gates and that she should have a good weekend. If he had known it would be the last time he would see her there was so much more he needed to say to her.

  This was the first visit to her grave since the funeral back in the winter of eighty-six. He’d been back to the cemetery but never had the courage to go and see her to tell her what he should have told her all those years ago. He could see the grave with its full length stone covering the whole of the plot like a blanket. Four flower pots adorned each corner of the white marble slab. Azure blue pebbles covered the entire centre bed–her favourite colour. He stood at the base of the burial plot and cried. “I’m so sorry.” That is all he said for nearly fifteen minutes. He wiped his eyes and stared at the four vases, freshly filled with white daisies–her favourite flower. At a guess he would say her parents must be visiting every few days if not every day. The graves close by all had leaves and bits of twigs but Alice’s was completely clear. They’ve been here this morning he surmised.

  “Where do I start Alice, firstly I’m sorry for not being around. I seem to be doing a lot of apologising for my absence this morning. Would it be wrong of me to have a cigarette? I could really do with one right now but I don’t want to be disrespectful.” As he said it a blue tit came and landed on the headstone right in the middle and stared at him.. He took this as a sign and struck up the cigarette he’d been holding. “I should have told you long before that day that I liked you, no I didn’t jus
t like you I liked you a lot. You could have called it love but I think I was too young to really understand exactly what that was. I knew it was something because I didn’t just think about getting into your knickers–that was all I thought about with some girls–no I actually liked hanging out and chatting with you. Don’t get me wrong I’d have jumped you in an instant if I thought the attraction had been mutual.” The blue tit cocked its head as if listening intently.

  “What I’m trying to say Alice is sorry. Sorry that you went to your grave not knowing how much I cared for you. Sorry that I didn’t walk you home that day. Sorry that some prick decided to have a drink and get in his car. Sorry that we never had the chance to have our freaky babies. But mostly Alice I’m sorry I couldn’t have taken your place that day. One last thing, please take care of Amy Cooper, like you she was very special to me.”

  He wiped away more tears as he remembered other good times they’d had together. He looked at his watch, eleven-fifteen, he had time to go and get that long awaited coffee. As he walked to his car he noticed a couple coming towards him, an elderly couple probably in their eighties. They were holding hands and looked happy despite the location. That was how he’d always imagined his life with Amy. Yet here he was and in less than three hours she would be forever residing under six feet of earth, stones and creepy crawlies. If only she hadn’t done what she’d done they could have had their happy ever after. He nodded as he passed the couple and they returned his gesture.

  It was twelve thirty and Pinky sat in his car, a couple of other cars were now in the car park but their occupants were off visiting loved ones of their own. Then people started to arrive for Amy, he spotted a couple of her friends, then the disrespectful noise of a blown exhaust entered the car park. A Ford Escort with music blaring pulled into a space a half dozen from Pinky’s. He watched as Adam got out and lit up a cigarette while he scanned for familiar faces. Pinky was on the verge of getting out of his car and having a word when he reminded himself that this was Amy’s day and nothing was going to spoil it. He couldn’t help but notice Adam’s lack of respect with his ripped jeans albeit black ones, black t-shirt and black trainers. Did he really think it was suitable attire for a funeral.