by Wade, Calvin
“OK…”
Kelly was still unconvinced, “but what if they catch me out?”
“Kelly, no-one’s going to catch you out. You went to bed at 11.30, you heard nothing, you were woken up when people started arriving. It’s not difficult to remember.”
“What if they ask about my little accident?”
Earlier I could not help noticing that Kelly had a wet patch between her legs. It appeared that she had reacted to the bedlam in the manner of a nervous puppy on Bonfire Night. There was no crime in that, sixteen year old girls should not be subjected to this sort of ordeal.
“Just say you are a really heavy sleeper and its really embarrassing
to admit, but on occasion you have a little accident. Anyway, no-one will ask you about that.”
“Well, what if they start asking questions about how we got on with Mum?”
“Just say she was a pisshead but she was our Mum and we loved her.”
Kelly started to get a bit of colour back in her cheeks. She was finally starting to believe we had a viable alternative to confessing.
“OK.”
“Kelly, they may even get me to wake you, to break the news. Just act like you normally would if I came into your room and woke you up at five in the morning. Cranky!”
“OK. Jemma?”
“Yes.”
“She is definitely dead, isn’t she?”
“Kelly, she is definitely, definitely dead. She was a horrible, horrible woman, Kelly and I owe you big time for helping me when I needed you. Please just do as I’ve said, don’t panic and everything will be OK.”
I gave Kelly a hug, tucked her into bed, kissed her cheek, squeezed her hands and then left her room, praying she would be strong enough to get through this. On the landing, I collected the bread knife I had dropped earlier and took it down to the kitchen, stepping over Mum’s body on the way and putting it back in the cutlery draw. The knife had not been used in anger and my fingerprints on the family bread knife were not going to arouse suspicion. No-one was even going to look for fingerprints, because there was no murder weapon. Vomit Breath fell down the stairs. There was no mystery. Vomit Breath was a drunk, she came home, drank a load of neat vodka, staggered up the stairs, then fell. I’m sure police throughout the UK deal with a host of drunken tragedies every weekend. I picked up the phone and pushed the nine button three times.
“Good morning! Emergency services! Which service is it that you require?”
“I need an ambulance. It’s my Mum, she’s fallen down the stairs, she’s out cold and I can’t wake her up. Please send someone around as quickly as you can. PLEASE!”
Richie
I struggled to get off to sleep on the night of the Hillsborough disaster, but once I eventually fell asleep, I slept heavily. Too deep for dreams. Under normal circumstances, if my Mum ever had to wake me up, as soon as the door swung open, I was aware of her presence and would be fully alert immediately. This time though, Mum came into my room at 5am and a door opening, followed by some softly spoken words apparently failed to make me stir, so Mum resorted to a good old fashioned shake.
“What are you doing, Mum? Leave me alone!”
“Richard, you are going to have to get up. There’s a policeman downstairs waiting to see you.”
That did the trick! Suddenly, I was awake! I staggered down the stairs in my pyjamas to find a solemn looking, uniformed but helmet free constable sitting on our settee. The missing helmet comforted me as I’d heard that arrests were only made by policemen in helmets. What exactly he was going to arrest me for, I was unsure, although a public act of indecency towards an insensitive idiot, sprang to mind. I was further comforted by the police constable’s opening gambit,
“I’m sorry to get you up in the middle of the night, Richard,” was how he began.
I was off the hook! I didn’t know much about the criminal underworld, but I suspected that when thieves and no goods were arrested in the middle of the night, the police did not start their arrests with an apology.
“it’s just that I have a very upset young lady in the car and she mentioned to my colleague that she needed to see you. She just wanted to tidy herself up a little before she came in. I’m afraid she’s had to deal with some very bad news to-night.”
I drew my own conclusions straight away. It was Kelly, there was nothing more certain than that - who else would ask for me in the middle of the night? And the bad news? There was only one person, other than me, that meant anything to Kelly. I was 100% sure something must have happened to Jemma. Something serious. Without adding anything further, the policeman stood up and led me through to the porch. We looked through the double glazing and as soon as I saw Kelly being escorted out of the patrol car, wrapped in a blanket and being comforted by a young policewoman, my detective work was concluded on the spot. Jemma Watkinson was dead.
The policewoman helped Kelly up the drive, like a uniformed crutch. Kelly was unsteady and tearful. In my mind, it was now odds-on that Jemma was the unfortunate victim, the only thing left to hear was how her death had come about. My mind kept working its way back to Hillsborough. Could Jemma have been there? It was a stupid question, Jemma didn’t even like football. Two separate tragedies within such a short period of time was too much for my brain to comprehend.
Once Kelly was halfway up the path, she spotted me. I opened the door and she broke into something faster than a jog but slower than a sprint, a three-quarter pace dash into my arms. I ran to meet her, reaching out out and enveloping her into my chest. Kelly just sobbed, big, tearful, shoulder shrugging sobs. She could barely speak but managed to stammer,
“Sh sh she’s dead, Richie! I can’t believe it! Sh sh she’s dead!”
‘I knew it!’ I thought to myself, ‘Jemma’s dead!’
Whilst comforting Kelly, in my mind I was applauding the powers of my sub-conscious mind and its ability to sense this tragedy. When we stepped back into the porch, my Mum suddenly re-appeared from nowhere, clad in white dressing gown and fluffy pink slippers.
“Can I make you a nice cup of tea, Kelly love?” Kelly nodded.
“Go and have a seat in the lounge then love, whilst I make you a nice cup of tea and a biscuit!”
My Mum thought a lot of Kelly. Their paths had not crossed more than five or six times, as I would spend most of my time around at Kelly’s, once her Mum headed out on the razz, but when she came to my house, Mum would repeat continually after her departure,
“She’s a lovely girl that one! You make sure you take good care of her!”
There was a strange bond between my Mum and Kelly, maybe it was because my Mum mothered Kelly, whilst her own Mum just acted like an older sister you were ashamed of. Maybe the police had already told Mum what had gone on. I was probably the only one who didn’t know. I felt like I was missing out. I needed to find out. I took command.
“Come in to the lounge, Kelly.”
I began to guide her through. The police did not follow her out of the porch. The policewoman began to speak in a calm but assertive tone.
Being a teenage boy, I wondered how often her husband managed to coax her into wearing that uniform in the bedroom, handcuff him to the bed and then punish him for being a naughty boy. Probably never, I decided as I came to my senses and the cynic within me arrived.
“We’re not coming in, love,” the policewoman said to me.
“Look after her and see how she goes. If she wants to go back home, ring this number,” she passed me a card with Ormskirk police station’s number on, “and Lisa at the station will send a patrol car around to pick Kelly up. If she stays with you, can you ring the station and just let them know if she’s still here by the afternoon, as at some point today we’ll just need to ask Kelly some routine questions….”
The policewoman turned to Kelly,
“nothing for you to worry about, Kelly, we just have to follow procedure.”
Kelly managed to half-smile at the policewoman.
�
��Thanks Gillian! Thank you so much for everything.”
“It’s alright, love. You take care now and I’ll see you again soon. Just to check you’re OK.”
The coppers left. I took Kelly by the hand and guided her through to the lounge, sitting her down on the settee, then sitting down next to her and giving her cuddle. I was desperate to find out what had gone on, but Kelly wasn’t speaking and I didn’t want to push it, so we sat in silence until Mum’s silhouette could be seen through the glass panels of the lounge door.
“Let me in, Richard. I can’t open this door with a tray in my hand!”
As I got up to open the door, the neon blue light on the video recorder revealed that it was 5.13am.
On opening the door, Mum came in with a tray containing a teapot, two mugs, a sugar bowl and an assortment of chocolate biscuits.
“How are you feeling, love? The nice policeman told me everything. He was ever so nice, wasn’t he? Must have been a terrible shock for you, love. Put plenty of sugar in your tea and take a biscuit. Sugar’s good for shock!”
What the bloody hell had gone on? This was torture, I was unable to sustain my diplomacy any longer!
“What happened, Kelly?”
I asked in my softest, most compassionate voice. All of a sudden, Kelly shot up out of the settee, like a spring had catapulted into her backside.
“I need to go out, Richie, will you come with me?” she said this with some urgency like a drunk would just before a vomit.
“Of course I will.”
As I stood up, I could see the disappointment written all over Mum’s face, I had inherited my inquisitive nature from her bloodline.
“What about your tea?” she protested.
“Sorry Mum, we’ll have a cup later. Let me just throw on some clothes over these pyjamas, Kelly, and then we can go. Do you just want a quick walk around the block? A breath of fresh air?”
“No,” Kelly replied, “I want you to walk me up to the “Sunny Road.”
“The sunny road?” Mum was confused. “It’s not going to be sunny now, love, it’s still pitch black out there. Stay and have your tea!”
“It’s fine, Mum. The “Sunny Road” is just a name we gave a road over on Clieves Hill and anyway, it’s starting to brighten up already, by the time we get over there, it will be daylight and by the looks of things, it might even be sunny.”
I threw some clothes on and despite Mum’s protests we headed off on our walk. From Mum and Dad’s to Clieves Hill and the “Sunny Road” is no more than a mile and a half, a half hour walk, but we left in lamppost lit dusk and arrived in daylight. On the journey, sketchy details of Kelly’s ordeal began to emerge and the real victim was revealed. Initially though, my assumption that Jemma was dead, led to mutual confusion!
“…so Jemma and I pretty much knew she was dead straight away.”
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” I needed to grasp this, it was all a bit too freaky for me.
“Kelly, you’re saying both you and Jemma knew she was dead.”
“Yes. She wasn’t breathing.”
Assuming there’s an afterlife, which I don’t believe there is, but assuming there is, when you die, you know you’re dead, but I didn’t understand how Kelly could say that both her and Jemma knew Jemma was dead.
“I don’t get it.”
Kelly looked at me like I was as bright as a black button at midnight.
“Richie, what is there not to get?”
“How did you know, Jemma knew she was dead?”
“She told me.”
“She told you?”
I looked at Kelly like she was some sort of freak.
“Yes. Jemma told me she was dead. I’ve told you this.”
“How did she tell you then? Using some weird telepathic, spiritual power?”
“No, she moved her mouth.”
Kelly had lost it. Speaking to the dead! She was well on the way to the Psychiatric Ward! I was just playing along now for a laugh.
“Go on then, tell me when Jemma told you that she was dead.”
“Whilst Jemma and I were waiting for the ambulance to come and collect her body.”
I smiled.
“Right! You spoke to Jemma whilst you were waiting for her body to be collected!”
“Yes! So?”
Who did she think she was? Mary Magdalene?
“Does that not strike you as being completely insane?”
“It was insane that she was dead, but it was not insane that I would be speaking to Jemma. We’re sisters, she brought me up, we had been through this together. Why would I not be talking to her?”
“I can understand why you would be talking to her, but I don’t understand why Jemma would be speaking to you?”
This question seemed to freak Kelly out even more.
“What do you mean? What are you trying to say, Richie? Why would Jemma not be speaking to me? Are you accusing me?”
“Kelly, I’m not accusing you of anything.”
This was the most bizarre conversation I had ever had.
“All I’m asking is whether Jemma spoke back to you?”
“Absolutely. It was Jemma that stopped me completely freaking out!”
At that very moment, I must admit, I wanted to wash my hands of Kelly. Jemma had tragically died, but even after her death, Kelly was having a two way conversation with her. It was all too weird for me. Kelly was scaring me. I imagined grief had the capacity to do strange things to the mind, but I wasn’t expecting Kelly to be the type of girl who would embrace the paranormal so readily.
A random question only asked to break an eerie silence, was the one that solved the mystery.
“Where was your Mum whilst all this was going on?”
“Out for the count at the bottom of the stairs. We didn’t move her.”
“Drunk?”
“Probably Richie, but I think the fact that she was dead was more important than the fact she was drunk!”
“Your Mum’s dead?
“Of course she’s dead! What’s up with you, Richie? The police car, the uniformed officers, the tears, this whole strange conversation - are they all not one big clue?”
“So Jemma’s not dead?”
“NO! Why would Jemma be dead? I just told you I was talking to her!”
“Well, why are you crying then?”
This was not meant to be heartless. If my mother or father had died unexpectedly, I would be a total wreck, but there was a major difference here, I loved my Mum and Dad with all of my heart. OK, my Dad was a gambler and more than a little unreliable, but he was a loveable rogue. From all accounts, Kelly’s mother was a nasty piece of work, always drunk, uncaring, selfish and promiscuous. Until Kelly muttered her response, I was still in the phase of thinking none of this added up.
“Because….” Kelly half-choked on her line, “I killed her.”
The penny dropped faster than a freefall skydiver. We stopped walking.
“How? How did you kill her?”
“She was going to attack Jemma again. I was cowering in my room, hating myself, wishing I had the bottle to do something, then, all of a sudden, I did have. Someone or something took over my body and I just ran at her screaming. She was at the top of the stairs, I pushed her, she took a step back, lost her balance and fell.”
To an extent, I felt relieved. I thought Kelly was going to say she stabbed her or poisoned her or something equally first degree.
“Kelly, you can’t blame yourself for that. You said she lost her balance and fell. You were just pushing her away from Jemma. It sounds like it was an accident, Kelly. A tragic accident.”
“Richie, it wasn’t! OK, I didn’t mean to kill her but I pretty much pushed her down the stairs. Mum would still be here now if I hadn’t. The police are going to send me to jail for this or at least some young offenders unit. My Mum is dead and I killed her! As soon as the police cotton on to that fact, I’ll be heading behind bars for a very long time.
“Don’t be
ridiculous, Kelly. It was an accident. You won’t go to jail.”
“Richie, you’re right, I won’t go to jail. I won’t allow them to do that to me. I’m leaving, Richie. I am going to pack a bag and go. Disappear. The thing is, Richie, I don’t want to do this on my own. I want to run away with you, Richie. I need you to come with me. Please, come with me. Show me how much you love me and come with me. Please Richie, I don’t think I can do this without you”
Jemma
“It doesn’t make sense.”
Ray was annoying me now. I had gone to his house for a bit of ‘TLC’, not to be subjected to questioning from Ray, who all of a sudden thought he was Britain’s answer to Columbo.
“What doesn’t make sense, Ray?”
“How your Mum died. It makes no sense whatsoever.”
“She fell down the stairs.”
I wished he’d give it a rest.
“Yes, Jemma, but you said she was coming up the stairs. I have fallen when running up the stairs and all that happens is that you fall forward, face first into the stair, you don’t topple backwards.”
“Ray, I wasn’t there! I just heard a thud. I thought she must have fallen when she was coming up to bed but maybe she forgot something, started going down, then fell and that’s when I heard the thud.”
Ray had a smug expression on his face.
“Now that makes more sense. What you need to do, when you speak to the police tomorrow, is explain that you have been talking to me and I have worked out that the victim obviously fell whilst heading down the stairs. If they don’t understand, tell them to ring me.”
“Thanks Kojak! They’ve probably worked that one out themselves!”
“Well, you hadn’t!”
I humoured him.
“Yes, but I’m not as intelligent as you, am I, Ray? Anyway, can we not just talk about something else. For the last twenty four hours, all I have done is talk to people about the accident.”