clothes and make-up earlier. Kelly had given Amy m y pink leather mini with black leggings, my cropped white lace blouse and my white lace fingerless gloves. Amy crimped my hair and she must have put a bottle of mousse and a bottle of hairspray on it. I remember thinking that it looked “ mega ” !
“ How come you ’ re here so early? I was so shocked when I saw you running up the road! I wasn ’ t expecting you until eight ! ”
“ CC gave me lines and said I could go as soon as they were done! ”
“ Well, I ’ m not complaining! I can tell Martin we can go a little bit earlier now ! Do you want some Thunderbird? ”
“ Be rude not to! ”
So, Amy rolled out a bottle of blue Thunderbird from under her bed and the pair of us took turns to swig it out the bottle! Not very ladylike! By the time we told Martin we were ready to go, in drinking terms, we were already well on our way!
Amy gave her Mum a hug goodbye and promised her she would be back by one. Mrs P even gave her the money for a taxi home. Vomit Breath would never have offered me money for a taxi and if I had dared to ask her, she would have given me a clip round the ear for insolence. Mrs P was great, Vomit Breath was a complete nightmare.
Martin took his “ X ” reg blue Ford Escort out the garage and Amy and I clambered in. We both got in the back. Amy wouldn ’ t have been one of the prettier girls in our year, she was only tiny with red hair and freckles that gathered together in clusters below her eyes and over the top of her nose, but she looked really stunning, she had a navy blue floral dress on with a loose black tie and white and black striped trousers. Her outfit really suited her. Martin was a pre tty fast driver and as he sped along the back lanes of Ormskirk, Amy and I squeezed each other ’ s hands in drunken excitement. We were going to a party and it was going to be absolutely awesome!
We passed St Bede ’ s school and took the second left at the roundabout at the bottom of Holborn Hill, by the fire station, into Asmall Lane. Ten minutes and we ’ d be there and the real fun would begin! It was still a wild old night, the wind blew, the rain continued to fall and Martin ’ s wipers squealed out in exhaustion.
All of a sudden, I had a sense of unease. It ’ s difficult to describe the feeling that came over me, but something, a sense of foreboding, made me look out of Amy ’ s side of the car. A split second later, I was yelling out in a drunken, high-pitched scream that temporarily lifted Martin out of his seat,
“ SSSTTOOOPPPP! ”
Martin hadn ’ t long passed his driving test so he was used to doing emergency stops but given the conditions, it was impressive how quickly we came to a standstill. I suppose his car had been trying to fool us that it was shifting along, but we wer e probably not doing more than thirty.
“ What ’ s the matter ” , Amy asked concerned, “ have you forgotten something? ”
I pointed. Within a second, the colour drained out of Amy ’ s face. Our evening was about to take a dramatic shift in direction and we both knew it.
Richie
Five years after the date that wasn ’ t at Park Pool swimming baths, my success rate with girls remained zer o since the glory days of 1977! This was more to do with lack of confidence than ugliness. Despite a daily battle with acne, that involved TCP, Clearasil, Acnidazil, dry skin cream, tablets from the GP and two carefully positioned fingers around any protruding yellow heads, I had matured into a tall, reasonable looking, blond haired teenager, with a gold stud earring (left ear only) and a flick in my hair that Tony Hadley and Simon Le Bon would have been proud of. The blond hair was thanks to my sister, Caroline - otherwise it would have been greasy brown hair. In 1986, my other sister, Helen, had done something none of the Billingham clan, to my father ’ s knowledge, had ever done before.
“ How come you ’ re here so early? I was so shocked when I saw you running up the road! I wasn ’ t expecting you until eight ! ”
“ CC gave me lines and said I could go as soon as they were done! ”
“ Well, I ’ m not complaining! I can tell Martin we can go a little bit earlier now ! Do you want some Thunderbird? ”
“ Be rude not to! ”
So, Amy rolled out a bottle of blue Thunderbird from under her bed and the pair of us took turns to swig it out the bottle! Not very ladylike! By the time we told Martin we were ready to go, in drinking terms, we were already well on our way!
Amy gave her Mum a hug goodbye and promised her she would be back by one. Mrs P even gave her the money for a taxi home. Vomit Breath would never have offered me money for a taxi and if I had dared to ask her, she would have given me a clip round the ear for insolence. Mrs P was great, Vomit Breath was a complete nightmare.
Martin took his “ X ” reg blue Ford Escort out the garage and Amy and I clambered in. We both got in the back. Amy wouldn ’ t have been one of the prettier girls in our year, she was only tiny with red hair and freckles that gathered together in clusters below her eyes and over the top of her nose, but she looked really stunning, she had a navy blue floral dress on with a loose black tie and white and black striped trousers. Her outfit really suited her. Martin was a pre tty fast driver and as he sped along the back lanes of Ormskirk, Amy and I squeezed each other ’ s hands in drunken excitement. We were going to a party and it was going to be absolutely awesome!
We passed St Bede ’ s school and took the second left at the roundabout at the bottom of Holborn Hill, by the fire station, into Asmall Lane. Ten minutes and we ’ d be there and the real fun would begin! It was still a wild old night, the wind blew, the rain continued to fall and Martin ’ s wipers squealed out in exhaustion.
All of a sudden, I had a sense of unease. It ’ s difficult to describe the feeling that came over me, but something, a sense of foreboding, made me look out of Amy ’ s side of the car. A split second later, I was yelling out in a drunken, high-pitched scream that temporarily lifted Martin out of his seat,
“ SSSTTOOOPPPP! ”
Martin hadn ’ t long passed his driving test so he was used to doing emergency stops but given the conditions, it was impressive how quickly we came to a standstill. I suppose his car had been trying to fool us that it was shifting along, but we wer e probably not doing more than thirty.
“ What ’ s the matter ” , Amy asked concerned, “ have you forgotten something? ”
I pointed. Within a second, the colour drained out of Amy ’ s face. Our evening was about to take a dramatic shift in direction and we both knew it.
Richie
Five years after the date that wasn ’ t at Park Pool swimming baths, my success rate with girls remained zer o since the glory days of 1977! This was more to do with lack of confidence than ugliness. Despite a daily battle with acne, that involved TCP, Clearasil, Acnidazil, dry skin cream, tablets from the GP and two carefully positioned fingers around any protruding yellow heads, I had matured into a tall, reasonable looking, blond haired teenager, with a gold stud earring (left ear only) and a flick in my hair that Tony Hadley and Simon Le Bon would have been proud of. The blond hair was thanks to my sister, Caroline - otherwise it would have been greasy brown hair. In 1986, my other sister, Helen, had done something none of the Billingham clan, to my father ’ s knowledge, had ever done before.
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