Forever Is Over (91 page)

I
’
ve not always been big though. When I was a young bloke, I was
a bit of a catch for the young pretty girls and I must say, Tyrene was a
looker in her day too, before the fags and the drink took effect. I met
her when I was twenty seven and she was twenty four, over in a bar in
Melville. I
’
d had a string of girlfriends before Tyrene. Only loved one
of them though and she was a Pom! Her name was Kelly, I remember
meeting her, back in
’
94, like it was yesterday
.
Horizontal bung
ee would not normally have been my idea of
nightclub entertainment. I was in Cairns at a nightclub called
“
End of
The World
”
, schooner in hand, watching a load of young blokes with
bike helmets and knee pads on, sprin
ting towards a beer on a table
at the far end of the dance
floor, with a bungee rope tied round their
butts. Joel, Brett and I
were letting our hair down, having reached
our final destination after seven weeks backpacking around Australia.
We had taken in Adelaide, Melbourne, Canberra, Sydney, Brisbane
and loads of fantastic places along the way. We toured the MCG in
Melbourne, crossed the Harbour Bridge and checked out the Opera
House in Sydney.
In Brisbane, we went water ski
ing, scuba diving at
Airlie Beach, visited a strip joint in Surfers Paradise and in Cairns, I
wanted to finish with a bungee jump. A proper one.

I was standing on my own watching these bungee guys. Both Brett
and Joel had already disappeared with young women, in their attempt
to add another used prophylactic to Cairns sewerage system. These
bungee guys were sprinting along, like demented athletes, to within a
metre of the beer, before the rope became taut, then it would catapult
them back to their starting point, usually along the ground. OK, it was
pretty funny, but there was no way I was having a go!

I was about to finish off my schooner and head back to Caravella,
the backpacker Hostel where we were staying. I didn
’
t fancy heading to
bed though.
We were in a dorm and I had already scared the girl in the
bunk next to me that morning, as I had woken up to find my
‘
snake in
the grass
’
had found its way through the gap in my
PJ
’
s. She looked aghast and impressed in equal measure! I thought
maybe if I headed back there I could watch the World Cup soccer on
the big screen out the back, if a game was on. I had watched the Italy
-
Ireland there with a load of Poms and Irish and the atmosphere was
great, especially when the Irish scored.

Just as the last drops of the amber nectar disappeared down my
laughing gear and I was about to set back off to the Esplanade and
Caravellas, I was stopped in my tracks by the next bungee contestant.
They had obviously run out of daft blokes willing to give it a go, so a
young woman had stepped up to the
plate. A woman who, up to that
point, must have been the finest looking woman I had ever seen. It
’
s
hard to explain what it is that makes a woman attractive, but whatever
magic it is, Kelly had it. I suppose you
’
d call it a magnetic beauty. A
sexual aura. There is just no way, fifteen years on, I can describe her in
a way that will do her justice, but as a starting point, the fact that she
still looked incredible wearing a bicycle helmet says bloody loads! Kelly,
who would have been about twenty three at the time, was wearing a
white t-shirt with a silver heart on it and her breasts were pushing firmly
against it with her nipples prodding against it like a pair of concealed
pistols. As a bloke, I can
’
t say this was something I noticed often in
women, but with Kelly, I was immediately aware that her skin was
perfect. It looked as though someone in heaven, had been smoothing
and polishing it, like a prize bowling ball, before sending her to earth.
The DJ announced her arrival,

“
And now we have our first female contestant of the evening. What
’
s
your name and where are you from?
”

“
My name is Kelly and I
’
m from England.
”

There was a mix of boos and cheers. I cheered, not because she was
a Pom but because she was bloody gorgeous.

“
Nice to meet you, Kelly. Good to have you here. Whereabouts in
England are you from?
”

“
A small town called Ormskirk.
”

“
Hornchurch,
”
the DJ incorrectly repeated,
“
I
’
ve heard of Horn
church.
”

“
No! Orms - kirk!
”
Kelly stated.

“
Can
’
t say I
’
ve heard of that place! Anyone famous from Orm
skirk?
”

“
The Beatles!
”
Kelly answered with a mischievous  smile.

“
Strewth, really?
”
said the DJ genuinely surprised,
“
I thought they were from Liverpool?
”

“
It
’
s near Liverpool. Less than twenty miles away.
”

“
Right! And were all
‘
The Beatles
’
from there?
”

“
No,
”
Kelly replied,
“
just Paul and John. Ringo and George weren
’
t.
Penny Lane is in Ormskirk and Strawberry Fields. They were originally
called
‘
The  Quarrymen
’
and  then
‘
The  Ormskirk  Beatles
’
 
before
shortening it, to just
‘
The Beatles
’
!
”

“
Wow! Seriously?
”

Kelly started laughing.

“
No, I
’
m just joking! No-one famous is from Ormskirk. Not as far
as I know!
”

“
Well, maybe Kelly, you might put it on the map. Your name is
Kelly, right?
”

“
Yes. That bit was true!
”

“
So, having just made me look a fool, do you think this horizontal
bungee will make a fool out of you or do you think you can reach that
elusive beer over there which none of the blokes have managed to get
to?
”

“
I
’
ll certainly give it my best shot!
”

“
Attagirl! Let
’
s get a bit of a chant going for Kelly! KEL-LY! KEL-LY! KEL-LY!
”

The whole crowd in
‘
End Of The World
’
started clapping and
chanting or at least the male contigent did, the females probably looked
at Kelly like she was a dingo in a
sheep pen. Kelly looked better
than she ran! The DJ, no doubt
raging after Kelly
’
s bogus story about
‘
The Ormskirk Beatles
’
must
have taken great pleasure in her cord tightening about ten feet from
the beer, she lost her balance and bounced back to her starting point
like a speedboat on a choppy sea! The male clappers gave Kelly another
round of applause, purely based on effort rather than attainment. If she
weighed then, as much as I weigh now, I guess the applause may have
been muted. She kept smiling despite the bumps and bruises.

For the next half an hour, I became a bit of a stalker, as I just could
not help following Kelly
’
s every move. As
I have said, I was a bit of a
looker then, tanned, muscular, fit, so I was used to being chased by
women rather than chasing them, but Kelly was something a little bit
special. She appeared to be with a couple of other girls and the three
of them were laughing and smiling an
d looking as a happy as a croc
chewing Captain Hooks arm. Three schooners and alcohol-induced
Dutch courage later, I made my move. I found out later that Kelly was
on her way to the John, but all I knew at the time was that she was
finally on her own, so when she walked past me, I gently took hold of
her hand.

“
Fancy doing a real one?
”
I asked.

“
A real one?
”

“
Bungee. I
’
ve just travelled all the way across Australia and my
intention when I finally arrived in Cairns, was to do a bungee. It would
be heaps better and heaps more memorable if I did it tied to you!
”

“
Is that how Aussies chat women up? Suggest they get tied up and
throw themselves off a cliff?
”

“
It
’
s not off a cliff! It
’
s at
‘
The Cairns Bungee
Tower
’
, I
’
m going to
register
tomorrow. Fancy coming with me?
”

Kelly
’
s face reddened and her smile re-emerged. She had a fantastic
smile and Christ did she have fantastic lips! I imagined, when I saw her
lips, that Kelly had been in the Hunter Valley, standing barefooted in a
barrel, crushing grapes to make wine, with a load of other backpackers
and then she had dropped something and had to swim to the bottom of the barrel, but no-one else noticed so they trod on her lips! Crazy I
know, but that
’
s what I imagined!

“
Go with you to do a bungee jump? Tied together?
”

“
We wouldn
’
t have to be tied together. We could each do it alone if
you wanted! The site
’
s out in the rainforest. I
’
ve never been because, as I
said before, I
’
m from Perth, but it looks great on the photos. Come and
have a gander tomorrow if you like, you don
’
t have to jump, just see what
you think. Then you can go home to England and tell your mates and
your folks that you did both a horizontal and a vertical bungee!
”

“
What
’
s your name, crazy Aussie?
”

“
It
’
s Brad!
”

“
Brad! I
’
m Kelly! I don
’
t think I
’
ll be telling anyone in England
about my exploits, I
haven
’
t been home for over six years! I spent a fair bit of time in
Hong Kong and then came here over three years ago on a working visa
that has long since expired
”

We didn
’
t need to shake hands, I was still holding hers.

“
So be nice to me Kelly or I may get the authorities to send you a home!
”

“
You wouldn
’
t dare! I know already you aren
’
t that nasty! I promise
I
’
ll be nice to you as long as you are nice to me!
”