My Sister Says

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My sister (that's her in the photograph - on her way out for an evening in Tyldesley) says that she never even saw Trisha on the night that she died. That is to say, the night Trisha died, not my sister who is still very much alive and well and living near Atherton's Central Station.

My sister says:

It was a dry and clear Saturday evening towards the end of July. I was dressed, made up and only in need of a comb through my hair when Lorraine rang the doorbell. I opened the door to a marvellous sight. Lorraine was wearing an expensive crimson top and the black ankle-length skirt that she usually only wears on special occasions. She came in and sat down in the armchair in front of the television. We had time for a coffee and a cigarette before going out at around eight thirty.

On the way into Atherton we popped into the off-licence for cigarettes and spearmint. The shopkeeper made a joke about Lorraine's hair - something about how it would look better on the back of a ferry or something. Lorraine told him to rack off. She watches too many Australian soaps.

It was almost nine o'clock when we finally arrived down Athy and first of all we stepped into the Red Lion for a swift appetiser. As usual it was quite dead inside - apart from the schoolies in the pool room - and we quickly downed our white wines and lemonade and pushed onward to The Mountain Dew. As it only takes about seven people to fill the Dew, we squeezed inside and ordered a couple of halves of lager. Some maniac with red hair was singing a country and western song on the karaoke so we decided to go somewhere where the noise was more bearable. Hence we were in the Jolly Nailor by half past nine. This is where we bumped into Gail and Ciara and we had a right laugh talking about barmaids, sunbeds and washable wallpaper. At about ten thirty the four of us made the short trip to the King's Head (which now has a strange new name) because Ciara wanted to try out her new dancing shoes and Gail was meeting Kev Crossley in there. He's a right ugly get with long hair and bad breath but I suppose he's alright for Gail. As I was coming out of the ladies (it would have been just before eleven) I noticed that Lorraine and Ciara were talking to Bev Simmersby and were looking quite shocked. Bev is a really nice girl but disaster follows her everywhere so we try to stay clear of her. She was the only passenger on that bus that overturned on Bolton Road a couple of months back. Anyway, when I joined them Lorraine leaned over and shouted into my ear, "It's Trisha. She's just been killed!" I admit I was totally knocked for six. But, you see, I never even saw Trisha on the night she died.