The Story Of Carnage: The Complete Carnage Collection: Books 1-5

by Lesley Jones

  “Oh, George, sorry. I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean…” I can hear the tremor in her voice and I hate that she feels she needs to apologise to me, of all people. Jim has always been one of the few people who have never tiptoed around me. She has always been straight-up and told me to get my shit together, so now, alarm bells are ringing.

  “Jim, seriously, stop saying you’re sorry. What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me, and why’d you ring in the first place?” She is quiet for a few seconds too many. “Jim?”

  “I found a condom in his suit trousers pocket,” she sobs.

  “What… I mean, I, what the fuck, Jim? Have you spoken to him?” My head’s spinning as I try to think of reasons why my brother would have a condom in his pocket.

  Jimmie sniffs a few times before replying, “Not yet; I only found it when I was about to take his suit to the cleaners this morning and he’s not home yet. He’s been out with Marley all day at some charity football thing. I’m sorry, George…” She trails off and I know she’s crying, so obviously, I start crying, too.

  “Shit, Jim, please don’t cry. I’m sure you’ve got nothing to worry about. Len loves you, and he’s loved you most of his life. He wouldn’t do anything to fuck things up; he’s just not that type. I wish I was there for you right now, babe.”

  “No, no, George; you’re exactly where you need to be. Don’t you even consider coming back here until you’re sure you’re ready. I just needed to tell someone. I’ve been a mess all day and now he’s late home. I’ve had a few wines and I just needed you to tell me it would all be good.” Her voice trails off on another sob. I love my brother, but I want to punch him right now. I don’t think for a second he would have cheated on his wife, my beautiful best friend. I’m totally convinced there is a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he has a condom in his pocket. I’m just pissed off that he would leave it there for Jimmie to find and that it’s upset her so much.

  “It will. It’ll all be good; I’m sure of it, Jim.”

  She sniffs a few times, and I can hear her taking deep breaths in. “Okay, right, I’m sorry about all this. I’ve got pizza about to be delivered and four hungry kids I need to feed; I’ll call you as soon as I’ve spoken to him. I love you, George.”

  “Whatever the time is, call me. I’m not helping out tonight so just call. I won’t sleep until you do. I love you, Jim.”

  She hangs up without saying any more. I stare at my phone for a few seconds and then look around the room. “Is that it? Is that my sign? If it is, I’m still confused; I don’t know if that means you do want me to look or if you don’t.” I feel like a complete twat talking to my dead husband, but at the same time, I don’t; it feels perfectly normal to be talking to him. I take a deep breath, get up on my knees and open the top of the crate, putting my hand inside.

  “Too late now, baby; you had your chance. I’m going in.”

  It takes me over an hour to take everything out of the box. There are letters, videos, cards, the scrapbooks my mum made and Sean’s notebooks. I start with the letters and organise them into date order, starting in May 1985.

  My heart hurts where it’s pounding so hard against my chest; the echo is pulsating in my throat and making my head ache. The envelope of the first letter I pick up is still sealed. The exact way it was when my mum returned it to him.

  Delaying the inevitable, I go out to the kitchen and find a cigarette. I rarely smoke these days, but right now, I need something to calm me down and as it’s only just turned ten in the morning. It’s a bit too early for a drink. I take the first letter and the pack of cigarettes out to the balcony, sit on the sun lounger and open the envelope.

  Gia, please, baby, please read this.

  Please pick up the phone and talk to me the next time I call. I’ve had to go back to Europe on this fucking tour, but I don’t want to. I want to be with you. I miss you so much, your smell, the feel of your skin, everything about you; your smart mouth and your sense of humour, and of course, those amazing tits.

  I’m so sorry, G, for what’s happened. I would never knowingly or willingly hurt you, you know that, but I also know that’s no excuse.

  I know when I saw you I couldn’t tell you for sure what happened, but there were more people than just me and Marley there in that room and they’ve all said the same thing. We were snorting lines off her tits and I know that that in itself is wrong, but that’s as far as it went. She kept trying to get my shorts down. As soon as we got in that room, she was trying to get my shorts down and was trying to suck me off and I couldn’t remember at first. I couldn’t remember if I had let her and I didn’t want to lie to you, but I know now, I know for sure that I pushed her away. I kept pushing her away. I didn’t touch her, G; I swear to you, I didn’t touch her.

  I kept calling your house when I was still in England. I came and knocked on your door, but your mum wouldn’t let me see you and then we had to fly back out. I wanted to come home just for the day tomorrow, but they won’t let me. I’ll call you again tonight. Please, G, please tell your mum and dad that it’s okay, that you want to talk to me; please, I just need to hear your voice. I love you like the stars above, baby. Just answer the phone when I call and let me please explain everything.

  Sean xxx

  I light another cigarette and read it again; I can hear his voice pleading with me in my head. Why didn’t I just forgive him? Why didn’t I just speak to him? All that wasted time, four whole years. What I would give to have four more years with him now. I was so young and so stupid, but I thought I knew it all.

  I suddenly feel very tired, very tired and very alone. I go back to my bedroom, back to my bed, curl up and cry myself to sleep for the next couple of hours.

  I’m woken by the sound of someone calling my name, and then someone banging on my bedroom door. I open my eyes and look around at the mess my room’s in; everything from the crate is spread everywhere. I sit up as my bedroom door opens and Jackson’s head appears around it.

  “George, sorry, darl; I thought you’d be up and about by now.” His eyes scan over me, then around the room. “What the fuck’s all this lot? Looks like a bomb’s dropped in here.”

  I swing my legs to the side of the bed and look up at him. “Go downstairs to the bar and get me a large flat white, please, Jax. I need a quick shower.” He frowns and looks me over again. This boy worries over me as much as my own brothers do; he nods his head slightly.

  “You okay, George?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about it once I’m showered. One sugar in my coffee, please.” He nods again, but doesn’t move for a few more seconds. His eyes scan the room and his hand rubs over the stubble on his jaw.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  I nod again, touched by his concern. “I’m fine; now go, before I start getting naked.”

  “Ewww, George, that’s just creepy. I’m going. Large flat white, one sugar; I’m gone. I’m gone.”

  He heads down to the bar to grab me a real coffee, while I stand under the shower and try to make up my mind about whether I want to read any more of Sean’s letters.

  I shower, dress and then head out to the kitchen. Jackson is sitting on a stool at the kitchen worktop and has my coffee sitting in a takeaway cup with a lid on it in front of him. I go straight to the cupboard and pull out a real mug; I hate drinking out of those cardboard things.

  “What’s going on, George? What’s all that shit over the bedroom floor?” I pause for a few seconds, considering what lie I can come up with because I know Jax will think what I’m doing is wrong. I take a deep breath, turn around and face him.

  “They’re letters and stuff Sean wrote to me when we split up for four years, back when the band first made it big.” I transfer my coffee from the cardboard to the ceramic mug, and then raise my eyes to meet his.

  “Why are they here?”

  I swallow. I know he’s not going to be happy. Jackson has been like my therapist since I got here a
nd he’s given me nothing but sound advice, but I didn’t tell him I was going to do this.

  “I’ve never read them.” I take a sip of my coffee and wait for his reply.

  “So, why read them now?”

  I shrug and let out a loud sigh. “I just thought it might bring me some closure. Not closure as such, I don’t think I’ll ever achieve that, but…” I shrug and trail off. “I’m ready to read them. I want to hear his thoughts. What he was going through at that time. It’s a part of him I didn’t have, that I didn’t share, and I want it. I want any part of him I can get.” I gulp down the last of my coffee and almost choke as I try to swallow down a sob with it.

  “I think you’re full of shit, George. I think you’re snooping through his things to see if he cheated on you. I think you’re looking for evidence that he might have fucked around.” He takes a long swig on his beer, draining the bottle, but keeps his eyes pinned on mine. “All these accusations that’ve been made, it must be horrible for ya. I totally get that, but don’t let them fuckers make you start doubting what you two had. That bloke worshiped the fucking ground you walked on; that was obvious to anyone who was ever in your company, and not a single one of these accusations has come to anything.” He sounds angry but in a calm way, which is quite intimidating. “Sean was a good bloke. He worked hard and he loved, no, he adored his wife. He never knocked up anyone other than you and we both know it.”

  I suddenly feel ashamed, and rightly so. Just because I was a lying, cheating whore of a wife doesn’t mean Sean behaved the same way. Marley has sworn to me, over and over again, that there is just no way Sean cheated on me. That one incident in the hotel room in Spain taught them all a lesson, and all of the boys had been careful after that; one, to not mess around on their girlfriends, and two, to always use a condom. Sure, Sean had fucked a lot of women in the time we were apart, but according to Marley, he hadn’t looked at another woman since the night I fell through Lennon’s front door and landed in his lap twelve or so years ago. Marley had told me to watch the videos of all the interviews they had done over the years. That they would give me an indicator of where Sean’s head was at, but really, in all honesty, there was no need for me to do any of that, because I knew; Sean would never do what I did. Sean was a good person. I wasn’t.

  “What you not telling me, George?” God, sometimes his intuition pisses me off, so I bare-face lie to him.

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit, you’re lying to me.”

  Up until I was ten years old, Marley, Jackson, myself, Jodie and Jimmie had been inseparable. We lived a few streets apart, went to the same preschool, and then on to the same primary school. Our families had holidayed and taken day trips together. Then Kathy and John decided to move to Australia, but even on the half-dozen times we had met up since then, it was like we had never been apart. He knew me as well as my brothers…

  “I worshiped the ground Sean walked on, but I still fucked someone else while we were married.” I pull a bottle of wine from the fridge as I speak and pour myself a glass.

  “What… you did what?” I gesture towards the balcony doors; I need wine and cigarettes for this confession. Nobody but my mum, Cam and I know what had happened in Cam’s office the night of my run-in with Whorely, and now I’m about to confess all to my favourite cousin. Jackson pulls the bottle of wine back out of the fridge and a glass from the cupboard, joining me out on the balcony. He pours himself a glass and watches me from over the top. I wait for him to repeat his question, but he doesn’t, and it just makes it harder for me to start talking.

  “I did something I’m totally ashamed of. I did something that… still to this day, I have no idea why I did it.” I take a big gulp of my wine and light a cigarette, take a puff and begin. I start at the very beginning. I tell him about the very first time I set eyes on Sean and how I have loved him from that moment. I tell him about my sort-of breakdown when we were apart, and I tell him about how Whorely used my mum to conspire in keeping us apart. Then I tell him about Cam, all of it: Cam’s life, what happened to his dad and his wife and suddenly it occurs to me while telling my story to Jackson that Cam has been through something very similar to me. Not once since Sean’s death had I considered that fact. I carry on with my story and explain how Cam fixed me, how he brought me back to life to a certain degree, and that it wasn’t until I was back with Sean and had allowed myself to feel again that I realised just how much I did actually feel for Cam.

  “If you hadn’t gotten back with Sean, d’ya think you would’ve stayed with him?”

  I don’t hesitate with my answer. “Yes, absolutely. We were good together, but until I was over Sean, he never stood a chance.”

  “But you were never going to be over Sean.”

  I shrug. “No, I probably wasn’t, but I think I would have gotten better at coping with my feelings. And in time, I think I would have realised that I could still love Cam, while feeling what I did for Sean. It would never be the same, but it still would’ve been love, I think.” He pours us both another drink.

  “Would’ve been or was?”

  “What?” I understand the question perfectly. I just don’t understand the first answer that’s popped into my head.

  “You loved him, Georgia. I think you knew you loved him while you were with him, but you still weren’t prepared to give up on Sean. I think you used Sean and what you felt for him as an excuse not to admit your feelings for Cam.”

  I shrug again. “Maybe.” I know full well I did.

  I continue on with my story and tell him about the night I fucked Cam in his office and then about buying the house. I feel sick to my stomach, admitting all of this, but at the same time, I feel so relieved to tell someone. I don’t try and justify my behaviour to Jax; I can’t. There is no justification for what I did. It was wrong, so wrong, but telling the story out loud to someone relatively impartial sort of helps me make peace with myself over my actions.

  “You loved him, Georgia, don’t you see? You keep telling me how much you loved Sean, how Sean owned you completely, but he didn’t. Don’t you see that? However small a part it was or is, Cam owned a part of you, too.” I shake my head. “Was there ever anyone else, George? Did you ever come close to touching, kissing, fucking anyone else while with Sean?”

  “No, of course not. I loved my husband; it was a one-off.” What the fuck sort of wife does he think I was? I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t told him anything now.

  “Because Cam is the only other person you have ever loved. There is no way you would risk your marriage, your life with Sean, for someone you didn’t love. I don’t get why you’re trying so hard to deny it.”

  “I’m not denying it. I have thought to myself over the years that perhaps I did love him, in a way, but it doesn’t matter now anyway. It also doesn’t change the fact that I fucked someone other than my husband. It doesn’t make it right.” I can feel anger welling in my chest, at myself and aimed at Jackson for making me think, feel and say all this aloud. I’ve buried it so far down all these years. It’s painful as guilt uses its sharp, pointy nails to drag and claw its way back up into my psyche from wherever I’ve had it so deeply buried. Tears are stinging the backs of my eyes, and I feel a little short of breath.

  “I’m not saying it makes it right, George. I’m just trying to help you understand why you did it, and to make you realise Sean never loved anyone else. Like the song and the tattoo and your fucking ring tone tell you, there’s no one else; there never was. It was only ever you, George, so pack that box up, stop looking for evidence for something that never happened and live happy with the fact that Sean loved and never cheated on you.

  “One day, for the right reasons, you take the time to read all that shit he sent you. Read it because you just want to know what was going through his head, not what he may or may not have been doing with his dick.” He finishes what’s left in his glass and points a finger at me. “Stop crying and feeling sorry for yourself, George. You did a
shitty thing, but you crying ain’t gonna change that, and it certainly won’t make you feel better.”

  Well, there’s nothing like a bit of straight-talking Aussie advice to put things into perspective. He hasn’t finished with me yet, though.

  “I bet you were half-hoping you’d find evidence he had been unfaithful, just so you would feel better, weren’t ya?” I nod and wipe my nose on my sleeve. There’s no point in lying; I was, but at the same time, I wasn’t. It would kill me to know he had been unfaithful or that there was a chance he had a child running around out there, but it would have made me feel a bit better about my own actions. I look up from my lap and my eyes meet his.

  “I don’t mean to be a bad person, Jax. I just, I start out with good intentions, but I always seem to manage to turn things around so they’re all about me.” Jackson gives a little laugh and shakes his head.

  “You’re far from a bad person, George; you’re just human. We all make mistakes, darl. You’re still only thirty-two. The life you’ve lived, the things you’ve experienced, most people wouldn’t achieve them in ten lifetimes and you’ve achieved them before your mid-thirties. I’m sure if the rest of us lived life at the speed you have, then we’d all be in for a few more fuck-ups.”

  I smile as I look across at him. “How’d you get so clever, Jackson Bell?”

  He smiles back at me, his blue eyes shining, and he shrugs, “I dunno, living here changes ya. There’s no bullshit here. What’s the point? It’s a small place, everyone knows everyone else and if you bullshit, well, then there’s a good chance that at some stage, it’ll come back and bite you on the arse.” He tilts his head up slightly and says, “Lies will get ya nowhere, George, especially if you tell them to yourself.”