CARNAGE BOOK #1 by Lesley Jones
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organisations or places is entirely coincidental.
For my family,
for your love, support
and words of encouragement,
I love you.
CHAPTER 1
I was swinging upside down by my knees on the monkey bars in our back garden the first time I met him; my best friend Jimmie and I hanging, facing each other, eating pop rocks and singing what we thought was a stellar rendition of ‘Liza Radley’ by The Jam at the tops of our voices. We had heard my big brother Bailey listening to the B side of the 12 inch version of the single ‘Start’ the week before and saying that he liked it better than the A, he had been playing it nonstop for the last few days. So we had listened to it and learned the words, because Jimmie was in love with each and every one of my three big brothers and was convinced that if she knew the words to their favourite songs, they would notice her and I can’t say I blame her, they’re all very good looking, Jimmie just hadn’t decided yet which of the three she was going to marry. Lennon probably wasn’t really an option as he was already sixteen and we were after all, only eleven. Bailey, my eldest brother was eighteen, so that pretty much ruled him out too, so as far as I was concerned, it had to be Marley, the brother closest in age to me that she had to marry, and it was his legs I was pretty sure I could see approaching us from the back of our house.
“George, I can see your knickers, get the f*ck up will ya!”
Yep, that was Marls, I had no idea why he was moaning though, he usually loved seeing Jimmies knickers, in fact, I had heard him beg to see her knickers in the past, and then I saw them, the other pair of legs following Marley up the garden towards us. Monkey Boots? Whoever was approaching us was wearing Monkey Boots. I love Monkey Boots, they were already on my Christmas list, despite the fact it was still only August. My thoughts were interrupted by a very loud wolf whistle. I had heard boys do this before, my Dad and my brothers did to me when they knew I’d put a lot of effort into an outfit and my Dad did it to my Mum every time she came down the stairs, dressed and ready for the day and it always made me so happy that he did that. But this, this whistle did something to me that I didn’t quite understand, it sent feelings through me that landed in places I was only just realising had feelings. That sound woke something up in my body that I never even knew had been sleeping there.
Jimmie and I swung up at the same time, grabbed the bars by our hands and dropped to the floor, I was pretty sure we were in complete synchronisation and looking like a pair of Olympic gymnasts. We turn towards Marley and take a bow, then collapse into each other giggling like the pair of eleven year old girls that we are. I looked back towards Marls who wasn’t laughing; he was in fact glaring at the pair of us. I tipped my head back and emptied what was left of my packet of pop rocks into my mouth, letting the tiny little orange shards explode over my tongue.
I look back toward my brother, waiting for the popping to stop in my mouth so I could give him some attitude about the shitty look on his face when my world suddenly stopped turning, it stuttered for a few seconds, then restarted, erratically matching the rhythm of the candy exploding inside me but when I swallowed, the explosions didn’t stop, they went down into my chest and on into my stomach, settling uncomfortably down low in my belly, for some reason the sensation was causing my brain to cease its connection to my mouth, leaving me devoid of speech. I was eleven years old, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt I was staring into the eyes of the boy I was going to love forever, they were big brown eyes and locked onto mine from over Marley’s shoulder, he stared at me for a little too long, his eyes then moved down my body and locked onto my chest. Yeah I was eleven, but two years ago I’d started to develop boobs and was now already wearing a B cup, most of my friends were jealous but I hated it, everything started to change when my boobs grew, the boys treated me differently, they knocked on my bedroom door now instead of just barging in, they never came into the bathroom if I was in there anymore for our long chats we used to have while I soaked in an overly full bubble bath, they never pinned me down and tickle tortured me like they used to.
Then just under a year ago, I got my first period and things got worse, we lived in a nice house, on a nice street in a nice area. I had always been allowed to play out late because my brothers were always around to look out for me; we were a large group of about twenty kids, boys and girls, varying in age from ten to about fifteen. It was harmless, sexless fun, innocent, we hung out at the bench on the corner, at the park across the road or down at the little row of shops a street away, up until I got my period, nobody asked who in particular I was going out with, who else would be there, as long as one of my brothers were around, I was fine to go where I liked, with whom I liked. But getting my periods changed everything. I felt interrogated, where are you going, who’s going to be there, will there be boys? That’s all they seemed to want to know now, whether there’d be boys involved in anything that I was doing outside of our house and at the time I didn’t get it, it never occurred to me that at just aged eleven, I could, potentially, get pregnant! My Dad wasn’t at home much so it was my brothers that dished out the discipline, my Mum was around but she left it to the boys, to tell me off if I got home late or couldn’t be found in my usual hang outs if one of them came looking for me, usually Bailey or Lennon as I gave Marley too much shit. I didn’t see why he should be telling me what to do, he was only thirteen himself, and not an adult, yet funnily enough, Marley was the strictest out of all my brothers.
I stood staring at the boy with my brother, the new love of my life. Forget Adam Ant, he had nothing on the boy standing in front of me now, this boy who was so very obviously looking at my boobs.
“Sean, this is my sister George and her mate Jimmie,” Marley introduces us.
Sean laughed before speaking, “I thought I was gonna meet some more brothers when you said let’s go and see George and Jimmie not a pair of girls with red and pink knickers on.”
“My names Jamie and hers is Georgia, but everyone calls us Jimmie and George.”
Jimmie states confidently to the new kid, my future husband.
I fold my arms across my chest, which was entirely the wrong move as it just made my boobs look bigger and drew Sean’s eyes straight back to them.
“Show us your tits.” He gestured with his chin toward me. It’s a wonder I didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke, I was so embarrassed, even my hair felt like it was blushing.
“F*ck off Maca, she’s my little sister, she’s only eleven.”
I wanted to punch Marley at that moment. I might only be eleven in years but as far as my brain was concerned I knew it all, I was already a woman, I had boobs and periods, I was a grown up. Oh how little did I know.
“Well you’re the best looking Jimmie and George I’ve ever met.” He smiled a lazy lop-sided grin as he spoke, not taking his eyes off my chest the whole time.
It rained that afternoon so we all ended up in the summer house my Dad had his blokes build us at the end of our garden. I was never exactly sure what my Dad did for a living when I was younger, I’m even less sure now. He has a construction firm, it’s bigger than your average small building firm, he employs about a hundred people at any one time, on top of this he has three car show rooms, selling high end, second hand cars, Mercs, Beamers, Audis and the like, he also owns some properties in East London and Essex that he rents out. Whenever I used to ask him as a kid he used to tell me he was an entrepreneur, but I had no idea what that meant. What I did know is that we had a nice house, I had nice clothes, my Mum and Dad drove nice cars and so did Bailey now that he’d passed his test. We went on nice holidays, either to our own villas in Marbella in Spain or Albufeira in Portugal or to our caravan in Clacton On Sea on the Essex coast. I didn’t think too much about any of this when I was younger but as I got older it began to dawn on me that we had more than most.
My Dad had the summer house built so the boys had somewhere to practice their music. The place was built from bricks and sound proofed, then clad with timber so it looked like a timber summer house. Bailey didn’t play so much anymore, Lennon played bass guitar and had a pretty good voice but Marley was the star, he too played bass as well as drums and had a great voice. I could play acoustic guitar but I wasn’t great, my voice was okay but very average compared to my brothers. Marley had his own band and told me that afternoon that Sean was to be the new lead guitarist and singer; Ritchie, their old front man had moved to Wales with his family at the beginning of the summer holidays. My Dad was a massive music fan and had paid for Marley and his band to advertise for a new singer, they had held auditions a few weeks back at the local church hall and Sean had been their first choice, the fact that he could play lead guitar and the piano was a bonus.
Later I sat curled into the corner of the big old chesterfield sofa we have in the summer house, I had spent half hour trying to crack the Rubik’s cube but I’ve never really been known for my patience so I soon grew frustrated and tossed that on the floor and instead was flicking through the latest copy of My Guy magazine but even that wasn’t holding my interest today; Sean came over and sat on the arm of the sofa and asked about my name.
“So how come after having three boys and giving them really weird names, your Mum and Dad finally get a girl and give her a boy’s name?”
I looked up at his brown eyes and noticed the tiny flecks of amber he had floating in them, all framed by the longest of dark brown lashes. Answer George. Stop blushing, stop looking into his eyes and answer the question. I swallow and try to wet my lips before speaking.
“My Dad is a massive fan of music, all music, any music… Bailey is named after some bloke who made guitars back in the sixties, my Dad met him or heard about him and liked his name, which I think was actually his surname, not his first name but anyway, my Dad liked it, remembered it and decided to give it to Bailey as his first name, Lennon, is obviously named after John Lennon, Marley after Bob… And me? Well I’m named after my Dad’s favourite song – Georgia on my mind by Ray Charles. So I got the name, Georgia Rae but living in a house full of boys, it got shortened to George.”
I’ve told this story so many times to so many different people that I could repeat it in my sleep. Sean listens to my answer and nods his head slowly.
“Well Georgia Rae. I think you’re far too pretty to be called an old blokes name. So I’ll call you… ” He tilts his head to the side as he thinks about what he’s going to call me, beautiful, his girlfriend? I don’t mind either. “Gia?” he states.
Gia, he wants to call me Gia? No one has called me Gia, its Georgia by my teachers, G or George by my friends and family but never, no one has ever called me Gia. I love it, and it’ll be special, just our thing, special, just between us.
“So… is that all right then, if I call you Gia?”
I nod; it’s all I can manage. The pop rock is exploding in my stomach again, and once more it’s blocking the signal between my brain and my mouth.