Taking me in her arms, she explained how he had fallen whilst ridge walking with a party of tourists near where he lived and had been killed. Uncle Robert, or Robbie as we all knew him, was not a real uncle but my father’s best friend from his days in the army. They had become very close, friendship forged under fire, the sort of friendship that endures.The loss hit us all. He and my father had spoken often, although his visits had become fewer as the demands of work and family life had grown. As arrangements were being made for the funeral service my parents called me to sit with them. They needed to talk to me.Apparently my father and Uncle Robbie had agreed that if anything happened to one of them, the surviving friend would look after the other’s family to whatever extent was required. Robbie had a daughter, Samantha, just a few weeks younger than me. Her mother had died shortly after she was born and she had been raised by Uncle Robbie. They had lived a secluded life on the edge. Jim went into his super-alter ego mode. Jimmy Jim. Jenny was surprised by this and decided to quit. As Jim faced Jenny she saw that there was a problem. “Arr, Jim Jim upset” he said. Jenny thought he was playing the” I got down syndrome act.” She was wrong. Jim grabbed Jenny by her hair. “You not going to be doing this anymore sissy mick fitty.” Jenny had only witnessed Jim in these acts of rage a few times. They were never good. One time Jim couldn’t have a PB and J. So he covered his body in butter and slid down the hallway butt-ass naked screaming, butt- butter, I have nothing butt, butter. Jenny knew it was a situation she needed to get out of fast. Divide and conquer she thought. If I confuse him, I’ll lose him she thought. Jenny began throwing pillows in every direction. Jim scratched his head in bewilderment. He than began to add the whole situation up. Just in a really bad way. Jenny knew he would beat his meat at night. She would come.
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