Chapter 9

When we came home from our holiday it was time to go back to school. This year would be different though because not only was I moving from Mrs Roberts�?class, I was also moving across the other playground into the juniors building. It seemed miles away from everything I had become used to - the big wall where we used to play all our games at break time, the spot where I fell over and gave myself a nosebleed�?Even the bell that everyone used to fight over to get the chance to ring each time break was over.

I suppose it wasn’t so bad though because we could still play on the field in the summer - so the bird nests would still be popping up every now and again!

I know I must have created quite a grim picture by now with how things were and how I felt but not everything was bad. All the people in my life were good and I realise that but back then it wasn’t so easy. One person I do remember with only the fondest of memories is my childhood friend Crystal.

She lived next door to my Grandma Joan - and she was just a little older than my sister. I don’t know why she chose to spend as much time with me as she did because there was a four year age gap, but the time we spent together was lovely. I used to go round to her house in the summer break and to be honest I can never remember exactly what we did, apart from the occasions where Mamma would give us some money for sweets and we’d walk up to the corner shop, or the nights where I‘d ask if I could stay at her house and then run back round to my Mamma‘s in the middle of the night because I was scared of the dark! Tell a lie, actually, I do remember when I used to dress up in Crystal’s clothes and shoes, which was hilarious because I was small for my age anyway, but clothes that were about six sizes too big for me made me look non-existent!

We did have some great times. They’re simple and slightly silly, but they’re just about the only things I’m certain of, apart from the friendship itself and of course, Crystal as a person. She was tall, compared to me, (obviously!) with very long mousy-brown hair and the most smiling eyes ever. I always thought she was pretty - my description doesn’t sound too glamorous but my memory’s a little hazy. She was pretty though, just like her name. Whenever I saw her, she was always smiling.

I can recollect that she used to talk as much as I do too - which is rather impressive when you think about it! Her bedroom was big, but very messy at times and she was always round at my Mamma’s when we had BBQs and family parties. They’re all just snippets of memories again though and when I think of Crystal I wish I could have had more. I don’t even know how old I was when we became friends, which again probably sounds really bad, but when you’re young time seems to mean nothing - you don’t realise when a year’s passed until it’s your birthday or Christmas is a couple of weeks away. You never think that, one day, it’s all going to stop.

Why did that day have to come so soon?

It was summer, just another average weekend where as a child you wake up excited because the sun’s shining and there’s so much to do. I had a birthday party to go to so I was doubly excited. My friend Rachel from school was just turning nine and a few of us from our class had been invited to her house.

It was due to start at 2 o clock and finish at 6. My Mum and I spent all morning running round town thinking of what to buy her. It wasn’t the most enjoyable task but it was tradition to turn up to a party with a present! I think my Mum was relieved when we finally found something because as we were running round she also had me nagging down her ear to hurry up and find something otherwise I’d be late! My approval wasn’t easy to gain though which is why it took so long. I don’t quite know why I was nagging though because she was my friend after all!

Our car pulled up to her house at ten to two, I was early! I climbed out of the car in my party dress, or “frock�?as my grandma called it, clutching a nicely wrapped present. I’d helped my Mum wrap it by putting my finger on the wrapping paper to hold it in place while she got the celotape - but of course, if anyone asked, I HAD wrapped it! I have no idea what we bought her, but that’s beside the point!

I grabbed my Mum’s hand as we walked to the front door. I smiled at the woman who answered - Rachel’s Mum. She had curly brown hair and blue eyes.

“You here for the party?�?she asked me, smiling back.

“Yeah!�?I nodded enthusiastically.

“Hiya,�?my Mum smiled at Rachel’s Mum, who I later learned was called Sue. “You going to be ok?�?my Mum asked, shielding the sun from her eyes with her hand.

“Yeah.�?I said, already half way through the door.

“Give us a kiss then.�?

I paused, turned around on the step and planted a sloppy kiss on her lips.

“I’ll see you later, love you. I’ll be here for six then?�?she said, turning to Sue.

“Yeah that’s fine.�?She replied with a grin.

“Have a good time!�?Mum shouted to me as I greeted Rachel in the hallway.

“Love you.�?I shouted back.

It was as if we were saying goodbye for a week with how long it took, but my Mum was quite protective of me I think and I was just a wimp!

I handed Rachel her present and we ran into the living room. I recognised Stacey, another girl from our class, sat on the chair in the corner - Stacey was Rachel’s best friend at the time. They were completely different in every single way imaginable. Stacey had shoulder length, blonde hair with a slight kink in it, which I was always envious of. Rachel had long, straight, brown hair which came midway down her back, which I was also envious of. Stacey was loud, bubbly and very opinionated at times whereas Rachel was quiet around people she didn’t know. One of the things I do remember Rachel for is her laugh - it was very loud and had a very distinctive tone to it that I can’t really describe. They also liked very different things - Stacey liked dogs, Rachel liked horses. They were simple things that made them so different and they were the kind of people who you wouldn’t really think would be friends, but they were and I seemed to get on well enough with them both.

I plonked myself down at the end of the sofa as we piped up in conversation about the party. We heard a knock at the front door and Rachel almost sprinted out of the room! Stacey and I were in fits of giggles!

Rachel popped her head back round the door and gave us a sly eyed look whilst grinning. Less than five minutes later, she strutted back into the room with the same look, followed by four other friends from our class, Holly, Andrea, Nicola and Sarah - and then followed by her Mum who was holding a tray of cups.

“Drink, anyone?�?/P>

It’s safe to say at that point EVERYONE leapt from their seats!

The tray was soon empty, at which point Rachel’s Mum left the room. When she returned she had paper plates with Barbie napkins.

“Buffet, anyone?�?/P>

We all looked at one another and giggled!

I filled my plate with food and ran back to my seat before anyone could pinch it�?Only to fill my face with the food off my plate!

Next was game time!!! I LOVED party games as a kid - there was nothing better than jumping round like a complete and utter nutter and then either freezing or falling to the floor as soon as the music stopped!! Even though musical-bumps and musical-statues were fun, I must admit I always preferred pass the parcel because it was a game you could never lose at.

I wasn’t a sore looser as a child, ok, maybe I was�?But I liked winning and I thought games that only had one prize were unfair. With pass the parcel everyone had a chance - everyone won - but the size of the price you won usually depended on how many layers of the parcel had been taken off before you had your turn. Either way, whether I was the first, or one of the last to take off a layer of paper, I wasn’t fussed. If I didn’t win the game I was quite happy sitting there munching on the sweets or chocolates that I’d just unwrapped. If I did win, it was a bonus but that was rare.

Rachel’s party was another one of those frequent times where I didn’t win and contented I was with munching on the sweets from my layer, whilst laughing at everyone else’s anticipation of when the song would be stopped and who the parcel would land on next.

I sat out of the circle and watched as it was tossed, thrown, flipped and skimmed between flapping hands.

“Come on! Please stop!�?Were just about the exact words which escaped each person’s lips as the newspaper bundle reached them, and the look of disappointment on their faces were the same when they realised the music was still playing and they had to pass it on - all except for one person of course�?Eventually!

I reached my hand into the bag of sweets on my knee and realised it was the last one, just as Stacey leapt from the floor saying “I won! I won!�?and all that could go through my mind was “I’ve ran out of sweets!�?/P>

Sue laughed “Well done you!�?Right, who wants to plaaaaaaay…�?/P>

We all waited for the suggestion.

“MUSICAL�?No in fact, you can all choose, do you want bumps or statues??�?/P>

“STATUES!�?I shouted at the top of my voice - now all that could go through my mind was the pain my little backside had to go through every time I hit the floor, mainly because I was bonier than everyone else.

My heart sank when Sue said “we’ll do bumps first and then statues.�?/P>

I made a secret apology to my backside.

The music started playing and we all started moving as though we’d had a thousand volts stuck through our feet. Every now and again I’d slow down just to listen extra carefully - I wanted to plan a safe “bump�?this time!

All went silent!

I plummeted to the floor, putting my hands down first to save myself any damage!

“Rachel, you’re out!�?

One by one we were picked as “out�?in each round because we were the last to reach the floor. I was relieved when Sue said my name because not only could my bum not take anymore but my hands were beginning to hurt as well from each crash landing!

I think Nicola won that game, but I’m not sure. Obviously one of us did and I know it wasn’t me!

Oh well we’d saved the best till last!

The music started playing and once again we all danced around like lunatics, or should I say jumped around like lunatics! Fits of giggles drowned out the song and everyone froze as quickly as they could when they realised that the laughter was the only thing still going and the music wasn’t playing anymore!

“No smiling!�?Sue laughed.

How could anyone not smile at a group of children stuck in the most awkward and strange looking positions imaginable? And how could those children not smile at one another? It was impossible!

Three rounds, three more fits of giggles later I was STILL in the game!

Another song blared out from the speakers and we danced.

This time, everyone froze before the music stopped to see my Mum stood in the doorway�?/P>

“Hi…�?

“What you doin�?‘ere?!�?I piped up with surprise and utter disappointment in my voice, “it don’t finish ‘til six!�?/P>

I remember my Mum looking slightly awkward, “yes I know, but we have to go. Really sorry!�?she mumbled as she walked across the room to take my hand.

“But whhhhhhhhhhy?�?I moaned, “there’s two hours left yet and I was winnin�?at this game!�?(Of course, because of the almost non-existent times I’d won in the past, I was gutted to have to leave now!).

“It’s ok Emma, you can come again!�?Sue smiled, sensing my Mum’s discomfort as she handed me a party bag just as we reached the driveway.

“See ya Rachel and everyone!�?I smiled - half walking, half being dragged to the car, “will see ya at school on Mundy!�?/P>

I tried not to sulk on the way home but I was slightly annoyed that I had been taken out of a party when I was having such a good time. I did question though - this had never happened before, so something must be wrong. I didn’t ask in the car, I told my Mum about Rachel’s party and how much she liked her present, including the pretty wrapping paper. Mum smiled at me and gave a half-hearted attempt to be interested, but there was something missing in her eyes, as if, someone had taken her real smile away for a while. It worried me but I kept on chattering as I did in one of my chirpy moods. After all, what could be that bad? I’d find out sooner or later and it wouldn’t be such a big deal and then she really would want to hear all about my party!

Our car pulled back in the drive way. Mum turned off the engine, closed her door, waited for me to get out and then locked the car after I’d slammed my door shut. She unlocked the front door, ushered me in, closed it and put the key back in the lock. I didn’t bother to take my shoes off but ran straight through to the kitchen for a drink. I expected Mum to follow me and put the kettle on - that was hers and Chris’s ritual, whenever we went anywhere, as soon as we got back they’d have a coffee and a cigarette. To this day, it’s the same, apart from the fact that they don’t smoke anymore.

She didn’t. The house was empty apart from us�?/P>

I heard her voice from the living room.

“Emma?�?/P>

I peered round the door to see my Mum perched on the nearest end of the settee with her back to me. I walked in and said nothing. I now knew that something was wrong�?Really wrong. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what.

“Come and sit on my knee.�?/P>

I did as I was told and climbed on to her lap and she put her arms around me - I remember it because she held me so tight at that moment, as though she never wanted to let me go and yet at the same time, as if it was the last hug she’d ever give me�?/P>

“I have something to tell you…�?she said, trying to keep her composure, “I mean, we’ve got some bad news, which is why you had to come home…�?/P>

I waited, still saying nothing, already fighting back the tears and dreading what was to come, even though I had no idea what it could be, the look on my Mum’s face spoke a thousand words. I then remembered what I’d thought in the car, “it couldn’t be that bad.�?I clung hopelessly onto that hope.

“Crystal died today.�?/P>

I felt my face drop and every ounce of colour seep from my cheeks as though the blood had just been flushed from my body. My bottom lip quivered as it always did when I was about the burst into tears and my eyes stung; like when shampoo got into them when Mum washed my hair in the bath.

“What?�?my voice trembled�?“H-how?�?/P>

“She was hit by a car.�?/P>

“But why did she have to die?�?I sobbed.

“…Because�?because the car was going too fast.�?/P>

I hugged my Mum back, as though I never wanted to let her go and at the same time, as if it was the last hug I’d ever give her; I sobbed long and hard into her t-shirt and she sniffled, but I knew she wanted to cry.

Of all the memories I have and all the times I can remember, that is one of the most difficult and heartbreaking moments I have and will ever have to write about. There is reason behind a father leaving his child, cheating on his fiancé, hitting the mother of his little girl. There is some sort of twisted explanation as to why some people are the way they are and there is a small amount of comfort knowing that most things I have been through will heal and make me stronger - maybe not right away, but some day. I ask on a regular basis though, how anyone can justify the death of a twelve year old girl, hit by a car while she was only a couple of feet away from the pavement she was hoping to reach after crossing three quarters of the road itself. What baffles me is the fact that not only was the car that hit her speeding, enough to send her twenty-five feet in the air, kill her instantly and allow her to land in bushes on the OTHER side of the road that she’d just come from�?But there was a concrete post where Crystal landed�?And she collided with that post with so much force, the goodness-knows how thick iron bar running up the middle of that post was bent�?And I don’t mean, just slightly, I mean, twenty-something degrees bent. Her head was what collided with that post. She was twelve. Twelve.

I have tears running down my face just writing this and every day when I cross the road, I think of Crystal. I think of all the things I’d like to say to her now, I wonder if we’d still be friends, what she would have done with her life, what she’d liked to have become�?How it felt on that day�?If she remembers me. How can anybody not cry? She was just a child.

The man behind the wheel of that car received something pathetically stupid like an 18 month jail sentence, of which he only did half and his driving license suspended for a year. I don’t know exactly because I cant remember but regardless of what I’m sure of and what I don’t know, I’m CERTAIN it should have been more than that!! Apparently, the only reason; and I mean the only reason he didn’t get anything more is because he stopped the car when it had hit Crystal, by which time she had already died. That’s justice? If I tried to behead someone and stopped sawing half way through the guy’s neck, I’d get a life sentence and labelled a murderer! He should have the same label because he killed my childhood best friend! He’s out walking the streets now, probably with his own children if he has them, probably still driving�?I don’t know his name, wouldn’t know him if I saw him, but if he reads this I hope and I pray to God that he feels an ounce of the pain Crystal felt, her parents, family, friends�?And I hope he remembers that pain for the rest of his life - just as my Granddad remembers seeing every little detail in the rear view mirror of his van when he dropped Crystal off and watched her cross that road, never making it to the other side.

I hated going to my Mamma and Granddad’s house after that day because every time we drove past that spot, I couldn’t help but look at the road and the thick black skid marks that went on for about 6 feet. They frightened me because my mind couldn’t help but try and imagine what unfolded before the bouquet of flowers in the bush were left there.

Just to clarify a little deeper how fast he was driving - those skid marks were on that road for about 6 weeks. He was probably doing about 80 miles an hour on a council estate, whether he stopped or not is beside the point because he shouldn’t have been going anywhere that fast in the first place!

I didn’t go to Crystal’s funeral, obviously because it would have been very upsetting for everyone, even more so for a child. I know she was cremated and the people from her school had a special plaque made in her memory. The song they played for her was “The Journey�?by 911 - her favourite boy band at the time.

“This is my Journey, Journey through life

With every twist and turn I've laughed and cried

As the road unwinds

This is my journey, and I've learned to fight

To make strong enough, to lift me up,

To bring my dreams alive.�?/P>

To this day I can’t listen to that song without it bringing tears to my eyes.

So many times I have tried to write an appropriate poem in Crystal’s memory; but each time I’ve failed to put my feelings into words because the subject is so close to my heart. The anger I feel, because of the way she died just takes over. I’d like to share a piece with you that describes everything I’ve tried to say for so long, they aren’t my words but I could have easily written them.

The first time I read this I cried, the second time I read it, I was still crying�?It made me think of Crystal in a way that nothing ever has in the last ten years and it made me remember that there are so many other children like her out there who have suffered and will continue to suffer in exactly the same way. They suffer at the hands of those who play the tough guy after a pint or two, those who think they know every road with their eyes closed and those who just enjoy going that little bit too fast around the corner.

But those who choose to play the idiot and have a couple of drinks soon sober up when they feel something under the tyres of their car. Those who think they know the road never expect to see a child fly through the air once they’ve smashed into the bonnet and those who just like going fast may be able to pick up that speed, but you can’t reverse the car and bring a child back to life. If it worked like that, the world would be an easy place. I’m probably rambling here, but I want the people who read this to think�?Statistics are wonderful things, you learn a lot from them. Hit a child at 30mph, there’s an 80% chance they’ll live. Hit them at 40mph and there’s an 80% chance they’ll die. 10mph makes all the difference. Hit them at 80mph - what chance do they have? You take that chance away. Yes I learnt that on the telly, but it worked because I remembered it.

Next time you think of breaking the speed limit, think of how many bones you might break in a child’s body. Think of your conscience. Think of your children. Think of this poem. Think of ANYTHING, but slow down. This piece was written by one of my close friends and I can’t thank him enough for putting exactly what’s been in my mind onto paper, without even realising it.

Accidental Angels

Roses by the roadside
Bouquets on the bend,
Commemorating sadnesses we feel may never end.

Invincible, in Batman suit, he never saw the car,
Driven by “Yeah, sure, I’m fine�? the hero of the bar.

A little girl with tricycle, bright ribbons in her hair.
A lad with birthday bicycle, but friends, no more to share.

I see them by the roadside, looking sad and so forlorn;
Their lives cut short, unfairly, so close to being born.

Their glowing faces watch me now, as I pass by each day.
Beseeching me to stop, I think, to try somehow, some way,

To take them home to warmth and love, where separate worlds can merge;
These sweet Accidental Angels, who now wander by the verge.

© David Hart

Accidental Angel - so true?

Each child is an Angel�?It shouldn’t have to be an accident.

It breaks my heart that her last moments were probably those of sheer terror - the kind that freezes you to the spot�?And then she was gone, just like that�?No goodbyes, no I love yous, just�?Gone.

Friends come and go in life, but when you can only remember someone in the tiniest of ways, that’s when you wish you’d have said all the things you never did, or never realised you wanted to say. As I’ve grown older, even though I don’t have much to hold onto from Crystal, she has made me realise that you don’t know when it’s all going to be over and I’ve thought of her more and more as the years have gone by.

Now, I just hope, more than anything that wherever she is, she’s spreading those wings and smiling for all the people who loved her. She certainly made a lasting impression on my life and I hope that through these words she has touched you in the same way. She never had the chance to finish her story; but she has added so much to mine. No one can take that away.

(C)Emma J J