‘WELL, DAD, HOW do I look?’
Terry turned around to face his daughter and sighed inwardly. For the first time in his life, he saw his daughter as a young woman, instead of a child. She looked absolutely stunning, but instead of being pleased Terry felt a wave of dread wash over him as he realised his little baby, who he thought would look like a little girl for ever, had shot up a few inches overnight, sprouted breasts and had turned into a right little cracker.
If Terry could have had his way, he’d have kept her in bunches and ankle socks until she was at least twenty-one. He knew deep down that he had to let Billie grow up, but the thing that worried him was the thought of grown men lusting after her. She looked so much older than her tender fifteen years, and he’d personally mutilate anyone over the age of twenty-one who even dared to look at her in a sexual way.
Swallowing his thoughts, he smiled at her. ‘You look lovely, Bill, really lovely.’
Billie walked up to him and gave him a big hug. She knew her dad hated her growing up and had been expecting him to throw a fit over the adult-looking outfit she was wearing. A fitted dress, high-heeled shoes, lipstick and mascara would normally send her dad into a frenzy. Thankfully, today he seemed quite calm.
‘Right, I’m ready, do I look all right?’ Michelle sauntered into the room in a black trouser suit, matched with leopardskin bag, shoes and hat.
‘You look really nice, Mum, doesn’t she, Dad?’
Terry glanced at his daughter and admired the fact that she was such a good liar. Looking his wife up and down, he chose to be polite. ‘You look nice, Chelle.’
In fact, in all honesty, he’d seen her look a damn sight worse. Due to her weight gain, Chelle normally looked like a bundle of shit tied up ugly. This outfit, which had set him back three hundred quid from a boutique in Loughton, kind of flattered her.
Terry smiled at his wife and daughter. ‘Ready to make tracks then?’
‘Yep,’ they both replied in unison.
Angie Smith became Mrs Bones at two o’clock that afternoon at Langtons Register Office in Hornchurch. The evening reception was being held in a function room in Upminster and another hundred guests were expected to join in the celebrations. Albie Bones was Benny’s younger brother. Angie would be wife number four.
Terry stood at the bar with Davey Mullins, chatting to a couple of blokes who owned a car site in Brentwood. Auctions were the topic of conversation and Terry was bored shitless by the two Larry Largenuts he and Dave were lumbered with. Excusing themselves, Terry and Dave headed to the toilets. Avoiding the bar like the plague on the way back, they decided to join the girls.
‘All right, ladies? Enjoying yourselves are you?’
Before anyone had a chance to acknowledge them, Chelle piped up. ‘You all know my husband, don’t you, girls? The one and only Charlie Bigbananas. Two hours I’ve been sitting here and he’s only just bothered to come and talk to me and see if I’m all right.’
Terry gave his wife a pitying look. ‘Don’t start, Chelle, not tonight. I’m tired, Billie’s here and I’m really not in the mood for your fucking antics. Your eyes are rolling, how much you had to drink?’
‘I’ve only had a few. Keeping tabs on me are you?’ Chelle replied cockily. Michelle rarely gave it the big-’un indoors. She was far too scared that Terry would walk out the door and not come back. Things changed, though, as soon as she met up with her gym pals. As soon as Chelle was in their company, her personality changed completely. She liked to give it the big-’un, make out she wore the trousers and ruled the roost. Instead of looking cool, she made herself look incredibly stupid. A complete prat in fact.
Terry sat quietly, sipping his JD and Coke, surveying the situation. The karaoke had now started and Benny had been the first one to get up singing with his rendition of ‘Mack the Knife’. Terry smiled to himself whilst weighing up the women around him.
Lisa was a typical Dave-type of bird. Blonde, young, tarty, she was as common and as thick as two short planks. He’d only just moved his last bird out a few weeks before he’d met Lisa, then within a month he’d moved her in. Davey Boy was one of these blokes who hated living on his own and Terry had lost count of the amount of birds he’d had living with him over the years. The one thing they all had in common was that they were all in their twenties, brainless and dressed like whores. Terry glanced around at the rest of the table.
Hazel Short, Terry had quite a lot of time for. He’d known her old man Stan quite well and knew that Hazel had been the brains behind Stan’s bollocks. She was well clued up, was Hazel, and definitely no man’s fool. Stan had been dead for years now and Hazel’s fortune just went on growing and growing.
Suzie Robinson, Terry wasn’t quite so sure about. She came across as pleasant enough but he’d always hated her current old man Richie, so he had his reservations about her.
Julie Beale frightened Terry more than any woman he’d ever met in his lifetime. He’d always imagined that she’d been born a boy, had her bollocks chopped off, took hormone tablets, grown tits and overnight had renamed herself Julie. He knew that for years she’d plied her trade at the local wash-and-wank shop, and he couldn’t believe that any man could be that desperate to want to fuck someone that looked like Giant Haystacks with tits.
‘Right, can I have Michelle and the gang up on stage please.’
‘Come on, girls, that’s us,’ Chelle said excitedly, galloping towards the karaoke.
‘You all right, Dad?’ Billie noticed her father sitting alone at the table and decided to join him. She had been standing with a couple of girls and a crowd of lads near the stage, but as soon as she’d seen her mother and her friends leap up there, she’d decided to make a quick exit. Scott, whom she’d been talking to, was a nice lad and she didn’t want to have to explain that the fat drunken woman on stage was her mother.
‘I’m all right, Bill. You having a good time, girl? Who are them lads you were standing with?’
‘I know one of them from school, Dad, but the one with the short blond hair that I’ve been chatting to is Scott. He’s a really nice boy. He’s seventeen and has a really good job up town. He’s asked me to go to the pictures next week, do you mind if I go, Dad?’
‘I want to have a look at him first, Princess. Bring him over, so I can vet him and if I like the look of him, you can go. Deal?’
‘Yes, deal. I know you’ll like him, Dad, he’s really nice.’
After absolutely murdering Diana Ross’s ‘Baby Love’, Chelle and her pals went on to crucify ‘Young Hearts Run Free’, followed by ‘Leader of the Pack’. Karaoke Kevin, who was a student by day and did his night-time job to pay for his education, had now had a gutful of the four women standing on the stage who refused to leave.
‘Now come on, girls, you must get off the stage. Other people are waiting to have a turn.’
‘Shut up, you mug, and give us the mike back,’ Kevin heard one of the girls say. He really didn’t need this shit. All of the lads he roomed with from uni had jobs working in Tesco or Sainsbury’s to earn a bit of pocket money. Kevin decided there and then that he was selling the karaoke equipment his parents had bought for him and would join his friends on the checkouts as quickly as possible.
Chelle stood on the stage, glaring at Kevin. ‘Look, I promise,’ she slurred. ‘Let me sing one more and that’s it.’
Kevin