Westpoint Tales - JH Williamson & Billy T. Carver, 4

Over the next days, the new arrivals settled into the new homes, their new lives and their new town. Billy was delighted to be there. Well, mostly he was.

Billy loved his granddads and he knew that they loved him too. He even plucked up his courage and told them that he was gay too. Was he sure about that? Yes, he was. They were really cool about it – he knew that they would be. Even so, it was a relief to get that out in the open. Not that anyone would ever want him anyway, but he was glad that his granddads knew and they were okay with it.

Life was good, mostly. He still missed his mum. Hell, he still missed his dad, and he’d been gone for years. It was a strange thing, but he found that his granddad Justin reminded him very much of his lost and adored father.

That was crazy – Billy was Jeremy’s father really, not Justin. But, sometimes, in his mannerisms, the way he talked, the way he smiled, Justin was SO much like Jeremy it was weird. But then, Justin was Jeremy’s adopted father, kind-of. Jeremy must have really loved him. Billy T. certainly did.

To his surprise, he soon found that he loved the old lady too. Kathleen Reynolds was just an old sweetheart really. Underneath her gruff exterior, she was a really, really nice old lady. Billy adored her and so did all the rest of his family. Even the Carvers and the Mathiesons had adopted her as the matriarch of their families.

He had his granddads and his great, great grandmother and all the rest – the host of uncles and aunties and the cousins – dozens of cousins! The Reynolds, the Carvers, the Mathiesons, the Sheridans and all the others. Every day he seemed to meet even more cousins.

They were cool. They were family and they were friendly – but. There was always the ‘but’. They were a sporty lot on the whole, they were all close and comfortable with each other, and they’d known each other all of their lives. Billy was new. He was welcomed, but he was different.

Was he the only gay teenager in this whole town? In the midst of this big, this huge, loving family, Billy was lonely still. He guessed that he always would be.


JH was resigned to his fate. For better or for worse, he was stuck here now; he had nowhere else to go. His grandparents had gone and died on him. First his grandmother and then just a couple of weeks later, his grandfather. His father was all that he had left.

Jon was okay really, for a queer. He was a nice guy and they were getting on well – really well. Even the white hair didn’t look so bad on him. Maybe JH would get used to his own. He’d stopped wearing the wig, but he had his hair cut really short, almost shaved.

He still didn’t understand how a gayboy had come to be his father. Apparently, his mother used to ‘sleep’ with both of them, but DNA tests had shown that Jon was his father. His grandparents had never wanted to talk about that. They didn’t like queers either. Apparently his mother did.

There was another, more compelling reason why he’d stopped wearing the wig. With its straight, black hair and the jagged, pointy fringe that he’d always preferred, he looked far too much like Bobby Lyons when he was wearing it. That was weird!

JH hadn’t met Bobby yet. He’d prefer it if he never did. However, he knew what he looked like – he knew exactly what Bobby looked like. The apartment was full of photos of him; they were everywhere except in JH’s own room. They were all put away when he was at home, but when he was not there, Jon liked to have them around. JH, almost, could envy them their obvious closeness after all these years, but – yuck!

There was one picture that, apparently, was never taken down. It was a painting done from an old photograph taken when they were teens. It showed Jon sitting in a chair with Bobby and his brother Billy hanging over his shoulders and all three of them laughing. Billy was the brother who died, not long after that pic was taken. He was Bobby’s twin.

Anyway, in the black wig, JH definitely did look, sort-of, like Bobby. Maybe it wasn’t so weird; Jon and Bobby were, after all, some sort of distant cousins. The original JH Williamson, old James Hargreaves, was umpteen times, great grandfather to both of them.

The other, scary, thing was that Jon told him that there was a chance, a very slim chance, that it was actually Bobby who was his father. The timing was right, they had all ‘slept’ together and DNA tests were not 100% reliable. Scary. He didn’t want to think about that. JH stopped wearing the wig anyway. He’d put up with the white hair from now on.

He found that he had cousins. Jon got them to come around and introduced them to JH – two girls, (sweet!), and three boys, all teenagers. They weren’t really, actual cousins, (or were they?), they were Bobby’s nieces and nephews, his brother and sister’s kids.

They all went to Westpoint Technical Highschool where he’d be going soon, so JH made an effort. He didn’t really like them all that much, but they were okay. At least they’d be a start – some kids to hang with when he had to go to school.

One of the boys though, he was having nothing to do with! Justine’s 15 year old son, Anthony, was a right little fairy. He was SO gay, JH had no doubts about that and it gave him the creeps the way he kept watching him when he thought he wasn’t looking. Yuck!

He suspected that the kid was queer, and then one day he found out for sure. JH went to the pools for a swim, he loved swimming and the heated pools were great; much better than the cold sea across the road. Besides, it was a good place to check-out the semi-naked chicks.

It was still quite early when he arrived and the place was quiet. He went into the changing-room to shed his clothes and no-one else was in there, which was cool. The open-fronted cubicles in there just had half-doors, just enough to cover the naughty bits if you were shy, which he was.

He was about to go out to the pools, when he heard a noise – a sort of a shuffle and a moan. It came from a cubicle a couple along from his own, so he went that way to leave the room by the other door. It didn’t hurt to know what was going on, like who was doing what, and he was going out anyway. And, yes, he was curious. Queers were disgusting, but they still intrigued him, so he walked along quietly in his bare feet and looking into each cubicle along the way.

They were in the third cubicle – a pair of semi-naked teenage boys were in there, leaning against the back-wall and cuddled close together. They both had the same overly-long bleached-blond hair, one arm each around the other’s naked back and one hand groping inside the other’s swimming trunks.

Their eyes were closed as they kissed, French-kissed, and both were making little satisfied groaning noises. Their open legs and their slender bodies rubbed together. JH stopped and stared with his mouth hanging open. He should have been disgusted, but he wasn’t – he was fascinated. These guys were so getting into it and they were hot! It was the hottest thing that he’d seen in his life

Bloody queers! Well, they weren’t getting him.

It was only as he walked away, adjusting his own swimming trunks, (things were happening down there that should NOT have been happening!), that JH realised that one of those two was his ‘cousin’, Anthony. He knew it!

They were still kissing. He thought that they hadn’t seen him, but as he walked away, one pair of blue eyes was watching him go.

‘Bite me, JH. Williamson!’


Billy saw much the same thing later that same day.

There was yet another party going on, up on the 20th floor of the New Adelphi; the living/dining/entertaining level. The bedrooms were all on the 19th floor, but the living was done up on the 20th.

This level was also cut neatly in two by the dividing wall, separating Justin & Billy’s and Jonathan’s apartments, but when they had a ‘family party’, as they seemed to be always doing, the wall was opened up, combining the two big living rooms into one huge one.

These affairs were pretty tame parties really, no-one got smashed. No alcohol and no drugs at all were allowed. They were just family dinner parties really – huge family dinner parties with music, eating and talking – lots of talking. His granddads’ brothers were there too – Peter and Jay and Daniel and Tony and their wives. He’d met them before, but it was a long time ago.

That night’s party was to celebrate the end of the holidays and the resumption of school. (Pretty strange thing to celebrate, but some of the adults seemed to be delighted).

Granddad Billy had said that there was no need for Billy to go to school. They could get him a tutor, or two, or three. Billy wasn’t having that! He wanted to go to school, where the people were. Granddad Justin said he could understand that.

So, tomorrow, he was going to go to school. Kathleen would take him, in the morning, to enroll in Westpoint Technical Highschool. This was an old family tradition. She always took her grandchildren to enroll them in the schools. Nobody said ‘no’ to Kathleen Reynolds.

Tonight they were celebrating, some more enthusiastically than others. By about 10.30pm, Billy had had enough. He was tired and it would be a big day tomorrow, so he said a quiet ‘goodnight’ to Kathleen and his granddads and slipped away to bed.

No, he didn’t want a hand to get to bed. He wasn’t useless, didn’t they know? They knew that; they just loved him. He knew that too. He kissed and hugged them both and went off, smiling, to bed. He loved his granddads, he loved all of his family. So why did he still feel lonely?

Billy went down in his own personal elevator, (descender?), which delivered him into his bedroom. He didn’t bother turning on the lights. The room was well-lit by the full moon outside.

He picked up the remote from the cabinet by his bed, turned around to close the drapes, and stopped short. There, outside, silhouetted in the moonlight, he could see two of his cousins – two of his boy cousins – and they were making out!

15yo Carl Sheridan and 14yo Peter Reynolds were out there, wrapped around each other and kissing passionately. They were on the quiet, dark, west-side balcony outside Billy’s room. Wow!
He sat quietly watching the show. Their mouths were locked together, their legs were intertwined and their crutches thrusting and rubbing as their hands clutched at each other’s bodies. Wow.

He shouldn’t have been watching them, spying on them, like this. He knew that. But they didn’t know, they were oblivious to everything except each other and he was fascinated. He felt like crying, stupidly sorry for himself. He SO wanted someone to love him like that.

With a deep sigh, Billy lifted the remote and closed the drapes. He didn’t know it, but the motion caused the two outside to jump apart, guiltily. Which was silly, they weren’t doing anything wrong.

Westpoint Tales - JH Williamson & Billy T. Carver, 3

Next morning, early, two boys woke in their separate beds in two sleeping households.

Billy quietly got out of bed, showered and dressed himself. With the remote control, he opened the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, beige coloured drapes and uncovered the glass wall behind. A touch of another button opened the double sliding doors and he rolled out on to the glass-roofed balcony outside.

There was a bit of a cold breeze, but, what a view! From his high vantage point on the 19th floor of the tall tower of the New Adelphi, it was almost like looking down from a plane.

To the south, his left, he could see the rock-walls of the tiphead with the wide river in between. The long, sprawling, suburb of Carvers’ Beach lay beyond them, reaching all the way around the bay to the old cement works at the Cape.

To his right, the view was obstructed by the wall that divided his granddads’ home from his Great-Uncle Jonathan’s mirror-image home on the other side, but he could still see the bush-clad hills in the distance as the bay curved around there.

Directly in front, beyond the waist-high safety-wall, he could see the long, gray, North Beach stretched out like a map below him. But what he could mostly see was the sea. The gray-green-blue Tasman Sea with its white-crested waves rolling in to crash on the beach, and the mirror-image clouded sky above it. Several dark bands of rain were out by the horizon and the whole picture was spectacular.

“Good Morning, Light of My Life.”

Billy turned and grinned at his Granddad Billy. “Good morning, Granddad. Sleep well?”

“Like a log, Billy. There’s nothing like getting home to your own bed. How about yourself?”

“Oh yes. It’s just so good to be here at last.”

“It’s great to have you here at last.”

They exchanged grins again, and then Billy stepped forward and touched a big button on the safety wall, then another to the right, and another. Three panels of armour-glass slid up to close the gap between the low wall and the roof above.

“That’s better. We don’t want you catching a chill on your first morning here.”

“Woo-who. I didn’t know they did that. Thanks Granddad, but I’m not fragile you know. I’m pretty normal, I just can’t walk.”

“I know you’re not fragile, Son. I just like taking care of you. So, what do you think of it so far?”

“The Adelphi? It’s great. What a great place to live; and this view, it’s terrific – spectacular!”

“Yeah. We like the New Adelphi. It is a great place. So it should be, it cost a bloody fortune! Your parents designed it you know. They did a good job, but then, they always did. If you think this view is good, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Come and see what’s around the other side.”

Billy followed him around the balcony to the south and out on to the east side. This side was also divided by the wall of Jonathan’s apartment, but – wow! Below and before them was the newer suburb of North Beach. Straight ahead the long, straight, Derby Street led the gaze, like an arrow up into the older town.

Sunlight broke through the clouds and lit up the town. The long streets stretched out below them. The north-south streets of the square grid, ran from the old wharves by the river across to the smaller Williamson River to the north. The east-west streets ran parallel to the river, back through the town towards the green farmland and the bush-clad hills to the east. Westpoint looked like a glowing animated map, like a miniature fairyland before them.

“Like it?” Billy asked the entranced boy.

“Oh, yes! This is just great – wonderful!”

“Yeah, we like it,” Billy grinned. “It was Justin who insisted on building out here. I couldn’t see why at first, but now I do. Justin loves the beach, he loves Westpoint. So do I. It’s all good.”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” the boy replied. “I love it already. But, where is Granddad Justin? Is he still in bed?”

“Still in bed? On his first morning home? Not likely! Justin’s been gone for ages, he’s out running.”

“My granddad’s out running? That’s radicool.”

“Yep. Justin’s always loved to run. He’s not as fast as he used to be, but he still loves it. There he is there – coming down Derby Street. Come inside where it’s warm, Son. I’ll get some breakfast started. Are you hungry?”

“Granddad, I’m a growing boy. I’m ALWAYS hungry.”


On the south side of the river, in Carver’s Beach, JH walked out onto the imitation-wood deck outside his second-floor bedroom. He stretched, yawned and frowned at the gray day out there.

“Bloody West Coast – always raining!”

He looked up and down the road below him. To the south, the grubby old cement works huddled at the end of the bay. To the north were the airport, the river, and then the town of Westpoint.

“Bloody old dump.”

One single white and glass skyscraper towered over the North Beach.

‘That must be where those Reynolds people live in their precious ‘New Adelphi’. Skiting pricks, showing off their money. And they’re queers, most of them. So, what have we got here?”

There was a wide sidewalk on this side of the road, almost as wide as the road itself. He couldn’t see all of it as the balcony reached out across it. Over on the other side there was a narrower sidewalk between the road and the wide, gray, beach. A few early-morning runners and swimmers were dotted around the scene.

‘Probably bloody queers too.’

JH looked over the edge of the balcony, it wasn’t far to the tiles below, so he climbed over the railing, lowered himself down and dropped. Easy. Billy’s Burgers was open for business, but he wasn’t interested. He didn’t do junk food. Roller-bladers and Hover-boarders were gliding along the sidewalks. He hadn’t seen those things in years.

There was a bench seat across the road, under a fake palm tree and at the top of steps leading down to the beach. He wandered across there and sat, looking back at the building that he’d come out of.

What had the cop called it? Oh, yeah, ‘the complex.’ ‘The whole complex.’ There was a continuous line of buildings with one long verandah/balcony running the whole length of the block from one side street to the next.

Billy’s Burgers was on the North end, some small surf-side shops, (ice-creams and amusements and stuff), and then the big ‘Carver’s Beach Hall’ separated by an alleyway from the equally big Sports and Leisure Centre. Then there were more two-storied shops, apartments above, and a big bar and café on the corner with seats and tables sprawled outside.

Apparently, there was a supermarket and a covered shopping mall down the alley, an aquarium, covered, heated swimming pools – both fresh and salt-water, and spas around the back. The office and entry to the Westpoint/ Carver’s Beach Holiday Park, (motels and cabins), was up the side street behind Billy’s Burgers.

It was all quite new and modern looking, sort-of a California/ Americana look about the place. There was even a hot-dog shop there. His father’s apartment up there wasn’t huge, but it was not too bad. Modern. If he was the boss of all that then he must be doing all right for himself, but why did he have to live ‘on the job’?

The cop said that his father managed it, so he didn’t own it all. Still, pretty cool. Unless, maybe that was just a fancy way of saying that he was the custodian? No. One person couldn’t clean all of that.

The sun came out and everything looked much better than it had. A couple of hot-looking girls rolled past him and they both smiled. Their long legs and their pert little bums were working as they pushed the roller-blades along. Oh, yes! JH decided that he might quite like living in Westpoint.

He frowned at the sight of a couple of queers walking along the beach behind him. They were older, teenage guys, about 18 or 19, both with long dark hair and dressed in similar clothes. They were barefoot on the sand, holding their shoes in one hand and holding hands with the other.

Holding hands! In public, where anyone could see them! They walked along the beach, chatting and laughing and none of the people around took any notice of them at all. JH did, he couldn’t take his eyes off them. Bloody Queers!

He hated them, but they fascinated him too. They were so open and they looked to be enjoying themselves. They looked to be good friends, close and comfortable with each other. Bloody queers!

But, still . . He could be honest with himself, couldn’t he? JH was lonely. He’d never had a real friend, a best friend. He felt like he’d been alone all of his life. He hadn’t, of course, but he’d never had a real friend. He’d been lonely for, like, forever.

He envied those two – envied their obvious closeness. He envied them, but, yuck! He hated them. Bloody queers, they shouldn’t be allowed!

“James. James!”

He looked around and groaned. His father was outside, standing and waving on the balcony, calling out to him. But, that wasn’t the problem – it was his clothes! Jon was dressed all in white, with a string-tie even, (which just looked silly with the black pearl on its golden chain that he always wore around his neck). His white hair stood out around his head. All he needed was a hat and he’d look like Colonel Bloody Saunders already! Embarrassing.
He stood up and made a small wave back. Anything to shut him up. Thank goodness that nobody knew him here. He went back over the road, through Billy’s Burgers, and up to join his father in his apartment. (His Father!)

Westpoint Tales - JH Williamson & Billy T. Carver, 2

On the other side of town, on the North Beach, there was another new arrival in Westpoint that day. Accompanied by his two doting grandfathers, Billy Carver came home to a town that he hardly remembered and barely recognized.

There had been a lot of changes in Westpoint, apart from the main street which had hardly changed at all. Billy didn’t remember much of even what hadn’t changed. It had been a long time since he had lived there. Well, 8 years, but that’s a long time when you’re only 14 years old. A very long time.

He remembered his grandfathers though; they’d never been strangers to him. There had always been regular visits and contact throughout his life, and he adored them both. His grandfathers, Justin and Billy, were still as close and loving a couple as they had been all those years ago when they were no older than Billy was now.

Billy loved his granddads and they loved him too; how could they not? He was their only surviving grandson after all. Justin wasn’t really his grandfather, only Billy was really – biologically; but he made no difference between them. There was no difference. Billy loved both of his granddads and he knew that they loved him, even though he was crippled and gay.

The latter wouldn’t be an issue, they were gay themselves. Everybody knew that. One day he would tell them that he was gay too, but he suspected that they already knew – they just hadn’t talked about it yet.

Billy had had a lot of drama and a lot of trauma in his life. Far too much for any young boy to have lived through. His parents had already separated and were on their way through a bitter divorce when he lost his father, Jeremy, in a horrific car smash. The same crash had mangled his legs and left him stuck in a wheelchair, crippled for life at 7 years old.

Despite the best medical care that money could buy, Billy was still a paraplegic with no motion, no feelings at all in either of his useless legs. Over the years since the accident, his legs had been practically rebuilt and they now looked as good as new, there wasn’t even any scar tissue left, but they still didn’t work.

It was generally agreed that his problem must be psychosomatic, in his mind, and he’d had years of psychiatric counseling, but his legs still didn’t work.

Even Billy agreed that the problem must go back to the car smash and his having to watch his beloved father, and his younger brother, die on the side of the road. But no-one had been able to untangle the knots in his head and his legs didn’t work.

Some time after that, he had lost his other grandparents, his mother’s parents, when they both died from some disease that they had contracted overseas. He missed them, but if he had to lose some grandparents, he was glad it was them and not Justin and Billy. He’d never been that close to his other grandparents anyway.

And now, just a few short months ago, he’d lost his mother and his sister when they were killed in a bloody plane-crash. They were on a sight-seeing flight, without him as he hadn’t wanted to go. Flying up an alpine valley, the plane had hit aerial wires and smashed into the hillside, killing everyone on board instantly.

That was the only consolation that he could draw from the accident – it was quick. They must never known what hit them, or rather, what they’d hit.

Now his granddads had brought him home to Westpoint, to live with them. They were the only close family that he had left, but he had a lot of relatives around here. If anything happened to Justin and Billy, he’d die, he just knew that he would. But they were still, relatively, young – they looked young – and they were in the best of health.

Justin’s ancient grandmother still lived with them in their North Beach penthouse apartment. Kathleen Reynolds, nee Adams, widowed years ago, was now 93 years old, but you’d never know it. She was still as fit and as fiery as ever. Billy was more than a little frightened of her, but that was silly. She was just an old, old lady and she was his great-great-grandmother, sort-of.

Some of his cousins, his boy cousins, were HOT, but none of them seemed to be gay though. Dammit. Not that anyone would be interested in a cripple in a wheelchair anyway; but he could look and dream. Everything else down there worked just fine, it was just the legs that were useless.

Money was one thing that Billy would never have to worry about. Even without the fortune that he stood to inherit from his grandfathers, (not that he wanted that and provided that they hadn’t already given it away), he was already wealthy in his own right. Or, he would be when he was old enough to take control of the trust-funds. Both of his parents were well off, they were architects, and they were both well insured.

His parents had designed and built the New Aldelphi, the complex that the whole family lived in now, on the North Beach. So, he was wealthy, but he would rather have had his family.

Despite his advantages and disadvantages, despite all the blows that life had dealt him, it was generally agreed that Billy Carver was a ‘sweet kid’; he was one of life’s genuine nice guys. He was handsome – he’d inherited the Carvers’ fiery red hair, milky white skin and sky-blue eyes, and he was unbowed, uncomplaining, quietly charming and personable and just a ‘damm nice kid.’

He was full of chatter, sometimes, and he often laughed or smiled, but just not completely, not with his eyes. There was an air of sadness about him, and no wonder. Both of his grandfathers agreed that the old song fitted Billy – ‘To Know Him is to Love Him.’ Now he had come home to live with them, in Westpoint.

They arrived and were welcomed by Kathleen, by his granddad Justin’s twin, his great-uncle Jonathan and all of his aunts, uncles and cousins. There was quite a crowd! Eventually, Kathleen chased them all out, (“The boy’s been traveling all day, he’s tired and he needs his rest. Go home!’), and they all retired for the night.

Justin and Billy both went with him to his newly-prepared bedroom; Justin lifted him out of the chair and laid him on the bed.

“You don’t have to do that, Granddad. I can get in and out of the chair. I can dress myself even.”

“I know that, Darling Boy. I just wanted to sneak a bit of a cuddle really.”

“Granddad, you can cuddle me any time you like.”

“And me?” Billy asked, smiling.

“Yes, of course you too. I love you, Granddads.”

“We love you too. Very much.”

“Welcome to your new home, Billy. We hope that you’ll be happy here.”

“I’m sure I will. Thank you and goodnight, Granddads.”

Westpoint Tales - J.H.Williamson & Billy T. Carver, 1

(Westpoint, 2045AD)

Midnight in Westpoint. A cold and dark, wet and windy midnight. Senior Constable Lucas Sheridan looked at the clock and sighed. Time to check-out the main street again.

He turned to the screen and ‘fired-up’ the computer. This old thing was ancient, but at least it was better than going out in the weather. Thank God for computers and security cameras on cold and wet nights in Westpoint.

Coffee in one hand, controller in the other, he idly scrolled through the images coming in from the pole-mounted cameras along the main street.

“Ho humm, same old same old. But, wait – what was that?”

He back-tracked a couple of cameras and there, standing under the shelter outside P.J’s Music Centre, where the local musos hung out, was a kid. Black boots, black clothes and black hair. A smallish, young, teenage boy. He would’ve weighed about 50 kilos sopping wet, and he was – really wet.

What was he doing, out so late in the rain? He seemed to be studying a map and Lucas could see that he was shivering as he stood there.

“Oh, you poor little bugger. How can we make it better for you?”

He got up from his warm office and went out into the night. In the Police-marked patrol car, he drove around to the main street and silently glided along to the Music Centre.

“Hey kid. How’s it going there?”

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin when Lucas called out to him.

“Whoah. You startled me. Are you a copper?”

“Well I’m in trouble if I’m not. Yeah, I’m a copper. What are you doing out on a night like this? Are you looking for someone?”

“I am actually. Jon Williamson. Do you know him?”

“Yeah, of course I know Jon. It’s a small town. What would you be looking for him for?”

“I just want to see him. Jon Williamson is my father.”

“Jon’s your dad? Wow! The years are flying past. You must be James; I remember when you were born. It seems like just yesterday.”

“It is a small town. I wasn’t born yesterday, it was 14 years ago and, yes, my name is James, but I don’t use it much. I’m called JH.

“J. H. Williamson? Fine then, JH. Hop in the car, it’s warmer in here. I’ll take you to your dad’s place. He lives out at Carvers’ Beach.”

“No. It’s okay, I can walk. Where is this Carvers’ Beach?”

“Kid, Carver’s Beach is about 4K out of town. That’s too far to walk in the dark and the rain. Get in the car and I’ll take you there in about 5 minutes.”

“No, she’s right. I’d just get your car all wet. I can walk.”

“It’s a Police car. It has had a lot worse than a wet kid in it. C’mon, get in or I’ll arrest you.”

“Arrest me? What for? I’m not doing anything.”

“Sure you are. You’re standing out there freezing your butt off. I’m just kidding you. Come on, Boy, get in the car while I’m feeling like being nice.”

“Okay. I will then, thanks.”

The kid smiled, a killer smile – all white teeth and sunshine. (‘Yeah, you’re Jon’s kid all right!’)

“Does your dad know you’re coming?” Lucas started the car and headed off to Carver’s Beach.

“Not unless he’s a mind reader. I haven’t told him.”

“It’ll be a surprise then. He’s going to be delighted to see you.”

“I hope so. I don’t know him; I don’t think I’ve ever met my father.”

“If you haven’t, it’s not for the want of trying on his part.”

“You think? I didn’t think he ever bothered about me.”

“You think? What about the court case then? Do you know about that?”

“Court case? What court case? I’ve never been in trouble with the law and I’ve never been to court.”

“Maybe you’ve never been in trouble, but you’ve been in court all right. When you were just a little baby, you spent weeks, months, in and out of law courts. Didn’t you know that?”

“I did? No-one told me anything about that. What was I in court for? Was I guilty?”

“Yeah, you were guilty all right. Guilty of being a really cute baby, with no mum, who everybody wanted. After your mother died, of a drug overdose, there was a huge court case to decide who got custody of you.

You were already living with your mother’s parents. They won and your father lost as the court decide not to give custody to a couple of young gay-boys. I remember the case well. My brother – or brother-in-law really, Bugs is my wife’s brother and he and his partner, John, were the lawyers for your dad. They lost.”

“Good job too.”

“What do you mean, good job?”

“Good job that they lost and my grandparents won. I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up with a couple of old queers. I hate queers.”

“Oh, do you now? I’d keep my mouth shut about that around here, if I was you.”

“Why? You’re not one of them, are you?”

“No,” Lucas laughed. “I’m not one of ‘them’. I’ve got a wife and five kids and umpteen grandchildren. I’m not gay, but your dad is and he’s well liked and respected around here. I’ve got several brothers-in-law who are gay and they’re well liked too. My best friend is gay, I’m not but I still love him.”

“Oh. Westpoint’s full of queers, is it?”

“No it’s not full of them, but there’s a few gays around. They’re just people like everyone else, except for that one thing.”

“Pretty bloody big thing! Well, I don’t like them.”

“Oh – kay. Maybe they don’t like you either. Probably they don’t.”

“Good job too.”

At the end of the main street, Lucas turned right, onto Embankment Road, Westpoint’s mini-motorway. He drove out, through the suburb of North Beach, heading for the old Shingle Beach.

“Hey!” JH said. “Where are we going? This is not the way to Carver’s Beach. I saw the signs when I was walking down to the bridge at the other end of town. Carver’s Beach is out there, on the other side of the river.”

“It is. Don’t worry, JH, we’re going there. This is the other way, the short-cut out to Carver’s Beach.”

“Short-cut? There’s no other bridges. I know that too. I could see all the way down the river from the bridge.”

“You’re right. There are no other bridges, but there is this here.”

Around the corner, the road sank down and under the concrete abutment of a large, brightly-lit tunnel under the river. They plunged down, into and through the almost empty tunnel and in seconds were up and out on the south side of the river.

“And, welcome to Carver’s Beach.”

“Wow! Pretty cool. This place is big for a suburb, and it’s more modern too.”

“Yeah, it is. This is one of the newest areas of town and it’s still growing too. It is not as big as it looks, it’s only 3 or 4 streets wide, but it’s getting bigger all the time. The suburb will be bigger than the old town soon. And, here we are. You’ll find your dad in there.”

“In here? You mean he works for Billy’s Burgers? Wow, he’s a great success story isn’t he? What a role model! And he’s not my ‘dad’, he’s just my biological father.”

“Okay, whatever, your father then. He is a good role model. You could do a lot worse. Jon doesn’t just work here, he’s the boss. He manages Billy’s Burgers and all the rest of this whole complex – the Burger Palace, the hall, the shopping mall, the sports and leisure centre, the heated pools and the entire holiday park.

A policeman’s wages are not too bed, but I’d gladly trade what I get for a quarter of what Jon makes.”

“He’s doing all right then? Does he still live with that Lyons creature?”

“Yes, Jon still lives with Bobby Lyons, when he’s home. Bobby travels a lot in his job. He’s a world-class musician, you know. Westpoint’s rather proud of Bobby Lyons and of Jon Williamson too.”

“If you say so. Well, thanks for the ride, Copper.” He got out and pulled out his pack from the back-seat. “See you around.”

“You probably will. Like I said, it’s a small town. JH, give your father a chance, okay? He’s a nice guy, they both are. Good people.”

“If you say so, we’ll see. ‘Bye, Mr. Plod.”

“I do say so. Goodbye, JH.’

Lucas drove away and left him standing there in the rain.

‘You’d be a hard person to like, I think, JH Williamson.’


Carrying his backpack in one hand, JH pushed open the glass door. (‘No auto door openers? Primitive!’) He walked into the Billy’s Burgers.

There was a large spacious dining room to the right, but it was in darkness, the only light in there was from the glass wall which looked out to the sidewalk, the road and the beach beyond. The counter area was brightly lit, the décor much the same as a Billy’s Burgers anywhere. Not that he’d had a lot to do with them, but he’d seen a few.

There were no customers in and no staff in sight until a tall blonde-haired woman backed her way out through the swing doors, bucket and mop in her hands.

“Oh. Hello Lovey. What can we do you for?”

“You what?”

“What can we . . oh, what do you want, Lovey? Burgers?”

“No. No burgers. Nothing else either, I don’t do junk food.”

“Junk food? We don’t do junk food here, this is Billy’s Burgers. Didn’t you read the signs?”

“I read the signs. Billy’s Burgers is still junk food in my book.”

“Your book’s wrong then. How can we help you? Are you lost?”

“I’m not lost, I think. I’m looking for Jon Williamson, is he here?”

“Jon? Yes, of course he’s here. He’s upstairs, sleeping and I’m not going to wake him up. Come back in the morning and you can see him then.”

“Lady, I’m wet, I’m cold and I’m tired. I don’t have anywhere else to go and I want to see my father. Would you please wake him up, ask him if he’ll see me?”

“Your father? Jon’s your father? Are you sure about that? I didn’t know he had any kids.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I am JH Williamson and Jon Williamson is my father.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, wait here – I’ll ring him.”

She retreated into the kitchen , and then returned in a few seconds and beckoned to him.

“Come on then, Mr. JH, through here.”

He followed her through to the back and stood where she indicated on a big round disc on the floor.

“Push the button with your foot and up you’ll go. See you later, Kid.”

“Right. Thanks.”

He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, but did as he was told. He nudged the big button in the centre of the disc with his booted foot. A solid, circular, fence rose up around him, the disc rose steadily up from the floor and raised him up to the ceiling.

A round hole opened in the ceiling as he approached it and he rose up and through it. The hole closed, the fence sank back down and he was left standing on the second floor of the building.

The door in front of him and a face – his face – appeared and smiled at him.

“James? Yes, of course you are! Hello, Son.”

A hand came out, JH took hold of it, they shook hands and grinned identical grins at each other.

“Hello, Father.”

They stood, hands still clasped and grinning as they studied each other closely. Jon saw a younger, smaller, version of himself – identical apart from the straight, and wet, black hair. JH saw an older version of himself, and his father had the hair! He had the horrible white-blond, fine and unmanageable hair that had been the bane of his life.

“My Son! It’s so great to see you, James. What a surprise, what a good surprise!”

“Yeah, well. It’s good to see you too. I’ve always wondered what you were really like. All I know is what other people have told me – not so good either, most of it. Nobody told me that you look like me.”

“I don’t look like you,” Jon grinned. “You look like me, just like me, apart from the hair. Ugly little bugger, aren’t you?”

“I might be ugly but I’m not a bugger – no way,” JH replied and he was not grinning. “And as for the hair . . “ His hand went up and he pulled the black wig off to reveal his real hair, his white-blond, fine and wispy hair. “This is me. I hate this bloody hair!”

“Oh, wow. So you have got the hair then. Hair like mine and my father’s and my grandfather’s. You’re a Williamson for sure. Sorry about that.”

“Sorry?” Jon grinned. “Yeah, so you should be. Thanks father.”

“Hey! I couldn’t help it you know. My father gave it to me and his father gave it to him. It goes back for generations. There’s a statue in town, in the Square, of James Hargreaves Williamson. He was you who-knows-how-many times great grandfather. By the look of it, he had the same hair too. Blame him.”

“That’s my name! James Hargreaves. So that’s where it came from.”

“Of course it was. He was a big man in his day. We hoped that you would be too.”

“Sure I will. One day.”

“I’m sure you will, Son, one day. But, for now we’d better get you sorted. You’re cold and wet. Come on in and we’ll get you fixed up. By the way, James, you’re not ugly at all – you’re a fine looking kid.”

JH had a, blissful, long and hot shower, and then, dressed in an old bathrobe and some pjamas of his father’s – dorky-looking but warm. They had a sandwich, a hot drink and a really long talk until late in the night. Finally, Jon got up and announced that it was bedtime. He made-up the bed in his spare room and they retired for the night.

JH, left alone, lay blissfully on the big bed and relaxed. This might not be so bad after all. His father seemed like an OK guy, and he wasn’t that old – late thirties or something. Bobby wasn’t there; he was away overseas somewhere, that was good, but he’d be back soon. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

Westpoint Tales - Jon & Bobby's Tale, 15

(Merry Christmas everyone. May peace, love and happiness reign for you & the ones you love. This is the flower of the Pohutakawa tree - known as the NZ Christmas Tree because it's in flower right now. )

“I’ll say this,” said Bobby turning on his mother. “If anything happens to him, it will be your fault. If he dies, it will be because you killed him! Jon’s done nothing wrong. Nothing at all. I hate you!”

“Whoah, Bobby. There’s no need to talk to your mother like that. You’re upset. Maybe we’ve all said things that we shouldn’t have, but your mother is only trying to do what is right for you.”

“She is not right! You’re wrong. You’re wronger than you’ve ever been in your life!”

“I think you’re right, Bobby. I was wrong and I’m sorry.” Mrs. Lyons got to her feet. “For now, the most important thing is that we have to find Jon and bring him back here.”

The whole family went out and they got in 3 cars, (Justine drove her own), and then they all went across town to the same place – to the Beachhouse. As they went, everyone was looking around, but there was no sign of Jon anywhere.

They stopped and got out at the Beachhouse.

“But he couldn’t have got this far, Dad, could he?”

“I don’t know, Son. I wouldn’t have thought so, but he is a very determined young man, so maybe he did.”

“We’re here now,’ said Billy. “We have to at least go up and look.”

Sherry hadn’t seen him, nor had Jacquie, but she went up to his room to check anyway, just in case. In a couple of minutes, she came back and called down the stairs. “He’s up there.”

They all started up, but Jacquie stopped them. “He’s in his room. He’s lying on the floor, but he says that he’s okay. He is just resting and he’s not coming back down.”

“We’ll just have to go up to him then. For goodness sake, Jacquie, get out of my way. I’m the boy’s doctor, already!”

They all hurried up to his room, but there, they ran into a brick-wall. He was home now and he was staying there. There was no way that he was going back with them. No-one could sway him. Not his doctor’s reasoned arguments, not Mrs. Lyons tearful pleading, not even Billy and Bobby’s begging. Nothing was going to bring him down from his room.

In the end, the only compromise that he would make, was that he agreed to move down and stay in Sherry and Jacquie’s ground-floor apartment. It was not ideal, but they would do their best to look after him.

He was carried down and laid on the bed in their spare room. He was not going anywhere else.

When they were leaving, Billy and Bobby said that they’d come back and see him tomorrow, but he wouldn’t agree to that either, not even when their mother said that she would bring them.

He gave her a strange look, and then said, “No. It’s over. Stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you. I’m leaving for good soon anyway. As soon as I can get rid of this thing I’ll be out of Westpoint and I’m not coming back.

I wish that I’d never come here, this town has been nothing but bad luck for me. Goodbye, Lyons. Thank you and goodbye.”

They went back the next day anyway. Perhaps he would have changed his mind. But he hadn’t, and he was ready for them. He had the door locked and he wouldn’t open it, or talk to them even. They would have liked to have broken it open, and they would have but Sherry wouldn’t let them.

“No, you’re not. It’s my door and you leave it alone. It wouldn’t do you any good anyway, Boys. You’d only make him even more determined. I’ve met some stubborn people in my time, but this boy is in a league of his own.

Just go home and give him some time. Maybe he’ll come around, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”

The boys went home, what else could they do? They appealed to their father but he said that there was nothing he could do either.

“As your mother so succinctly put it, Jon is legally an adult. He makes his own decisions and, as long as he’s not breaking any laws, there’s nothing that anyone can do about it. I’m sorry, Boys. I’m really sorry, but whatever you had with Jon is over now.”

On Thursday morning, Mrs. Lyons came back. She apologized to him through his locked door and appealed to him to, at least, talk to the boys. They were devastated and she was worried about them. He wouldn’t even answer her.

Sherry stood there. She assured Mrs. Lyons that, “Yes, he’s in there,” and “No, you’re not breaking the door down either.”


On Thursday evening, Justine came to the Beachhouse and Sherry let her into Jon’s room.

“Go away, Justine. I have nothing to say to you.”

“Shut up, Jon,” Sherry interrupted. “Shut up and listen. Justine has got some bad news – some dreadful news.”

“You family is nothing to do with me now.”

“Shut up, Jon,” Justine burst out. “Shut the fuck up! Billy is dead,” she cried.

“He what? He can’t be!”

“He is. Billy’s dead. There was an accident. A horrible bloody accident. They were fooling around on the town bridge, walking on top of the handrails, Billy slipped and fell off and landed on the rocks. He died a few minutes ago in the hospital.”

“Billy?” He whispered. “Oh, no! Billy!” He wailed. He flopped back on the bed and lay there crying quietly.

“Well, are you coming? I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“No, I don’t think so. Thank you for coming and telling me. I wish you didn’t have to.”

“What do you mean, you don’t think so? You have to come – Bobby needs you there.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’ve already said goodbye. Go back to your brother, it’s you he needs, not me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Bobby needs you!”

“No he doesn’t. You are his sister, his family. I’m just the neighbourhood pedophile, remember?”

“Go to hell, you heartless prick!” Justine stormed out and slammed the door behind her. She didn’t come back. Jon lay staring at the ceiling.

“Jon,’ said Sherry, breaking the silence. “Are you all right?”

“I’m all right. Thank you, Ma’am.”

“I’m going to leave you now. I’ll just be in the next room. If you want to, when you want to – call me and I’ll take you to your friend at the hospital. I really think that you should, Jon.”

“Thank you, Ma’am, but no. I cannot do that.”

Thursday night passed. Friday, then Saturday came and went. Jon stayed in his bed and cried constantly. He had a lot of people come to see him, but he wouldn’t see anyone. Bobby came once. He got as far as the front door, and then he chickened out. He turned and, sadly, walked back home.

The funeral was on Sunday, in the Anglican Church. Jon went there, alone and on foot. He stayed outside the church, leaning against the wall and crying on his crutches.

As soon as the service was over, he left, even before Billy’s family came out following the coffin. As the hearse was being loaded, Bobby stood with his tear-filled eyes, watching Jon slowly swing away up King Street on his crutches. Then, he had to go to the cemetery to bury his brother.

The funeral tea was in the hospital social rooms. They all looked around for him, but Jon was not there. Afterwards, the Lyons family drove home. Their house was all in darkness, but not quite all. The lights were on up in the boy’s bedroom.

Dr. Lyons and his two brothers went up to check the room, and then came back down. He was smiling as he told Bobby that he should go up to his room now.

Bobby, still not quite with-it, simply went and did what his father told him to. He went up, opened the door and stopped – short.

Jon was in there, hanging on his crutches and leaning against the far wall. Bobby looked back down at his dad, at the foot of the stairs. He nodded, smiled sadly, and went into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Jon. You came back.”

“I had to, Bobby. I tried to stay away, but I had to come back.”

“Jon. Oh, Jon!! Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. I need you. I love you, Jon.”

I love you, Bobby. I’m not leaving. I don’t care what anyone says, I’ll stay here as long as you need me to.”

Bobby went to him. He hugged him and cried on his shoulder. He kissed him and then he cried some more. Backing off, he looked into the green eyes, and whispered.

“You do realise, don’t you? You’ve just made a lifetime commitment.”

“I know that, Bobby. I know that and I want that too.”

Next morning, Bobby came down and made two breakfasts. He loaded up the tray and carried it back to his room. His parents both followed him up there.

Bobby sat next to Jon, in his bed, he looked defiantly back at his parents, daring them to say one wrong word.

Dr. Lyons walked over and held out his hand. When Jon took it, he said, “Thank you, Jon. Thank you for coming back for Bobby.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I had to come back. I had to and,” he looked at Mrs. Lyons. “and I’m staying here. I am not leaving.”

She smiled and came over to the bed. “You’re not, are you? You’re not leaving.”

She took something out of her pocket and slipped the golden chain over his messy hair, dropping it to hang around his neck. “Billy would want you to have this. We want you to have this.”

He just nodded, flashed a quick smile and looked down at the black pearl lying on his bare chest. “Thank you.”

Mr. and Mrs. Lyons turned to go, but, as they were leaving the room, she turned back. “There’s no hurry, Boys, but when you’re ready, I’d like you to come uptown with me. There’s someone that I want Jon to meet and they really want to meet you too.”

Bobby sat holding Jon’s hand. “Who do you want him to meet, Mum?”

“They arrived back in town last night. Justine and Billy’s namesakes.”

“Superboy?”

“Yes, of course. Superboy and his Billy.”


(And that’s the final of Jon & Bobby’s Tale. The next one up is the last serial, and it’s my favourite one of the lot of them.

In the meantime – have a great Christmas!)

Westpoint Tales - Jon & Bobby's Tale, 14

(Because i don't want a lump of coal in the Christmas stocking).

As soon as they emerged from the shelter of the tree-lined path and came out by the rubber-coated running track, they were accosted by a group of the town’s worst bullies, flexing their muscles.

“Well, well, well. What have we here? You’ve been told before, Little Lion Cubs, you’re not allowed in this park.”

“Yeah. That’s our job – keeping the Nancy-boys out of the Square.”

“We’ve told you. Now we’re going to have to show you what happens when you don’t listen!”

One of them made a grab for Bobby, but missed as he ducked around behind the chair.

“Stop it!” Jon snapped. “Stop it now. Leave the kids alone!”

“Or what? What are you going to do about it? You’re broken, little shark-Killer. You’ve fought one too many battles and you lost. You’re good for nothing but a sex-toy for the Nancy-boys now.”

Jon whistled.

“What are ya? Mad?”

“Do you know how many seagulls it takes to kill a sheep?” He looked up at the toughs.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You’re a bloody loony!”

“You don’t know? It takes three. Three seagulls to kill a sheep, sometimes less.

“We don’t see what the fuck that’s got to do with anything, Loony!”

“You still don’t know? How many seagulls does it take to kill a man? Or, four little bullies?”

“What???”

“What the hell?”

Jon grinned, evilly, and said, “Look up.”

“Look up at what? . . . Whoah!!”

They looked up. Everyone in the Square looked up, and they all stood staring silently, mouths agape. A big, a huge and rapidly growing, cloud of seagulls was circling around in the air above them. An immense, feathered, black, white and grey tornado was forming above the Square.

The growing cloud of birds was moving, soaring and swirling like a huge and silent looming, threatening storm above them. There were hundreds. There were thousands of them.

“How many seagulls?” Jon asked again. He held out one hand, straight and level, and a small, grey gull floated down to rest, standing on his arm Head cocked to one side, its steely little eyes looked at the frightened faces.

“Not that many, actually,” Jon continued. “I think you’d better leave now, very quietly but very quickly. Don’t come back into the Square again, you’re not allowed in here now.”

“Come on, Guys.”

The four not-so-toughs left. Slowly and gingerly at first, they were running by the time they left the park.

Jon raised his hand. The seagull lifted off and flew away. All the great cloud of birds melted away and flew off as quietly as they had come.

“Let’s go home, Boys.”

They started rolling again, went past all the staring eyes and out the other side of the Square.

“Wow, Jon! Thanks.”

“Yeah, thanks. We were going to get a pounding there.”

“Nobody’s pounding my friends while I’m around.”

“That was amazing, Jon.”

“Amazing and scary. Were you going to have them attack those thugs?”

“Attack them? No, of course not. I couldn’t do that. They’re just birds, not robots. They might have though if they touched me.”

“What did you do then?”

“What happened there?”

“I just called a few birds. I distress-called them.”

“A few birds? There were bloody thousands of them up there!”

“There was. I called a few, they called some more and they called more and they kept on coming. They were just soaring around, looking to see what was happening. Which, of course, was nothing. Let’s go home now.”

“Nothing happening? That was the scariest nothing that I’ve ever seen.”

They went home. Walking up the road, Billy shook his head. “Amazing, Jon. If you were only bluffing, I’d hate to play Poker against you.”

“Poker? That’s a card game, isn’t it? I’ve never played that.”

“Well you should,” Bobby said. “You’d be good at it. Really good when it came to bluffing.”

“Yeah. We’ll teach you sometime,” Billy grinned. “We’ll teach you to play Strip-Poker, that’ll be fun!”

By the time they got back home, Mrs. Lyons had already heard all about the latest escapade. The gossip-grapevine was working overtime, and she was not happy about it. After they had settled Jon back into his bed, they went to the kitchen and she grilled them and let them know what she thought.

She knew; of course she knew that that she should have been grateful that their friend was so easily able to protect her boys, even from his wheelchair. But . . well, he was just so dammed weird! She hated having the whole town talking about her family.

Over the next week, everything changed again and it was not good. Some of it was really bad.

On Monday, Jon went to the hospital for a check-over and the doctors were very pleased his progress. They removed his clumsy full-body cast and it was replaced by a new high-grade and light-weight plastic truss that reached from his waist to his knees.

His legs were joined together by a strut just above the knees which held them in place, slightly apart and immobilized. At this rate, in another couple of weeks, he’d be freed completely. Jon was delighted and he couldn’t wait.

The physiotherapist also fitted him with crutches – long, under-the-shoulder, crutches that he could stand upright on and swing along for short distances. Life was good.

On Tuesday, it started turning to custard. At dinnertime, in the early evening, Jon was lying alone in his bedroom while the family were eating out in the kitchen. Nobody thought of it, but he could hear every word, thanks to the baby-monitors that the boys had put all around the house. They even had a pair in his room and theirs so that they could lie in bed and talk in the night..

Bobby’s birthday was coming up soon, on the 13th. They were discussing plans for a celebration. He wanted a party as he had so many friends to invite now. There was the usual, annual joking about how they were going to be twins again, for two months. Somehow, the subject of Jon’s age came up and Mrs. Lyons went right off! Here, at last, was a reason not to like him.

“He is what?? He’s 18? He’s bloody 18!! He is not a boy at all, he’s a man. He’s years older than you two.

What the hell’s wrong with him? Hanging around with kids at his age! He’s a bloody pedophile. Has he touched you? Either of you? Has he ever touched you – down there?”

Billy and Bobby both leapt to his defence, but it was too late, the damage had already been done. In his room, Jon quietly turned off the monitor and he lay crying into his pillow.

Mrs. Lyons’ angry words had touched a nerve in him. He’d always felt that he was too old to be their friend. He hated pedophiles, but maybe he was one of them.

“Mum, don’t be disgusting! Of course he hasn’t ‘touched’ us. Jon wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t!”

“But no-one’s going to stop him if he changes his mind.”

“Billy! What are you saying?”

“He’s not that old. Jon is only just over 2 years older than me and 3 years older than bobby. That’s no big deal, Dad’s 5 years older than you are.”

“Mine and your father’s ages have got nothing to do with it. You, Young Man, are underage and he is not. He’s an adult, and that’s illegal.”

“Damm, Mum!” Bobby exploded. “It’s only illegal if he’s done anything and he hasn’t – he wouldn’t! We don’t care how old he is, we love him and that’s all there is to it.”

“You love him? He is a man. He’s too old for you.”

“He is not. He is not. He bloody is not!” Bobby ran out of the kitchen and up to his room to fling himself across the bed and cry – angry, frustrated tears.

Billy was livid now. His face was white and angry as he stood and spat his words. “Now look at what you’ve done! If Dad is not too old for you, then Jon is not too old for us. And he isn’t! He might be 18, but he’s just a kid. He is a lot more innocent than we are.”

Billy left as well. He went up to their room to comfort and cry with his brother.

“He’s right. Look at what you’ve done, Claire. You’ve just upset everybody. So what if the kid is 18?”

Claire could be stubborn too. “So what? It is illegal. I didn’t write the laws. Jon is an adult and the boys are underage. He is a pedophile and I want him out of my house. You can take him back to the bloody hospital and keep him there. I don’t want him anywhere near my boys.”

She got her wish. Even with the monitor turned off, Jon could hear the upraised voices in the kitchen. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled a hasty note to the boys. Then he got out of bed and onto the crutches.

He slid he door open and went outside, carefully closing it behind him. Then he left.

He actually got a fair speed up as he swung along on the crutches, crying his eyes out, and he went home. He went all the way across town to the Beachhouse. There, he laid down on the stairs and, unseen by anyone, slowly dragged himself all the way up to his room..

Billy and Bobby composed themselves and they came downstairs to undress their patient and get him ready for bed, but he was not there. His untouched meal was still on the tray and there was a note on the pillow.

“What the?” Billy snatched up the note, unfolded and read it, and then he grabbed Bobby’s arm to drag him back to the kitchen to confront their mother and appeal to their father.

“Jon’s gone and it’s all your fault!”

“What do you mean, Jon’s gone? He can’t be. His wheelchair is right there in the living-room.”

“Maybe it is, but he’s gone and the crutches have gone too. Go and have a look if you don’t believe me.”

“Dad?” Bobby was crying again. “How far can he go on crutches without hurting himself?”

“I don’t know, Son. Probably not far. The crutches were meant to be to get him on his feet and around the house at the most. Let me see that note. Did he say where he was going?”

Dr. Lyons took the note and he read it aloud. “Dear Bobby and Billy. It is time for me to go now. I should not have stayed this long, maybe I shouldn’t have come at all, but I do appreciate everything that you’ve done for me. You have been very special friends and you have saved my life, several times over.

Thank you for everything. I will never forget what you have done for me. Please tell your family that I said thank you to them as well.

Goodbye, my friends. I won’t be back. Jon.”

“Well! What do we say?”

Westpoint Tales - Jon & Bobby's Tale, 13

One thing that nobody had expected was the gales of laughter bursting forth from his room. In the early evening, Billy and Bobby were both in there, sitting by the bed, and they were playing the old kid’s board games. Who knew that Ludo and Snakes and Ladders could be so funny?

Attracted by the merriment, Justine and Danny both went in and joined them. The laughter got louder. After a while, Bill Lyons could stand it no longer and he went in and joined in with them as well.

Mrs. Lyons sat alone, out in the kitchen, watching TV and trying not to feel resentful. That was just stupid, she knew that. She could go in there if she wanted to, she just didn’t want to. But, she couldn’t help feeling left out of the happy families scene in the bedroom.

Eventually, Mr. Lyons, the doctor, saw that Jon was tiring and called it a night – insisting that everyone went to bed and left him to rest. After the others had gone, Billy and Bobby said goodnight, with kisses, and they went out of the ranch-slider door and up the stairs to their bedroom above the three-car garage. They left a cell-phone in case Jon needed to call for them in the night. He didn’t use it.

Actually, although they always made sure that he had it with him, he never used the cell in all the time that he stayed with them.

Sunday came and went. They couldn’t go out walking as it was a miserable, wet day. But the day passed quickly with lots of games and laughter, in between Jon’s frequent rest periods. Justine and Danny both hung around all day. They both seemed to be under the spell of this charming boy as well.

Surely, Mrs. Lyons couldn’t have THREE gay sons, could she? No. That was stupid thinking. ‘Danny’s only 10, he’s just a kid.’

Justine was not gay anyway. Maybe she was going to be a ‘fag-hag’, like her mum? No, that’s stupid too. ‘Shut up, Claire.’

When the nurse came around, Billy and Bobby stayed in the room. They wanted to know all they could about caring for the patient. She showed them how to give him a ‘bed-bath.’ That could be fun, if only he wasn’t wearing that stupid cast!

Monday morning, at breakfast, Mrs. Lyons said, “Boys, I wish you’d take those pearls off. You shouldn’t be wearing them to school.”

“It’s okay, Mum. We never take them off now. Well, except for when we’re playing sports.”

“Mr. Bourke said that it’s okay for us to wear them, as long as we keep them inside our shirts while we’re at school.”

“You still shouldn’t be wearing them. They’re very valuable. What are you going to do if you lose them? What if someone steals them?”

“We’re not going to lose them. We’re much too careful for that.”

“No-one would pinch them either. No-one would dare – they were Jon’s pearls.”

“I don’t see what Jon could do about it. He’s kind-of laid-up, you know.”

“Maybe he is, but his friends aren’t, and he’s got a lot of friends.”

She shuddered again. ‘Jon’s friends?’ She kept forgetting how weird this kid was.

Just as the family were leaving, the nurse came back to tend to him again. When finished, she left him there, in the house alone. He’d be fine, what could happen? He was just going to sleep anyway, and he had the cell-phone next to his bed.

Mrs. Lyons arrived home first, at lunch-time. She wasn’t going to, the boys would soon be home anyway, but she had a quick look in to make sure that the kid was all right. He’d been alone there all morning. He was lying there, wide-awake and looking at the ceiling above him.

“Hello, Jon. You okay there? The boys will be home soon.”

He glanced over and then looked back up. “Hello, Mrs. Lyons. I’m fine, thank you.”

She stood staring at him. (‘Strange child!’) But he was not fine – there was something wrong here. His cheeks were shining. Wet? Yes, they were wet. She went over to the bed and looked closely at him.

“Don’t talk crap, Jon. You’re not fine at all. You’ve been crying – you have! You’ve been crying a lot by the look of you. What’s the matter?”

He was slow to answer. “It’s all right, Mrs. Lyons. Really it is. Billy and Bobby will be here soon, you don’t have to worry.”

“It’s too late now. I am worried. Dammit! What’s the matter with you, Boy? Are you in pain?”

He lay there, looking straight up, and then the tears started again and he sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I don’t want to be any trouble for you. I try to be strong – but it hurts, Mrs. Lyons. It really hurts. I’m sorry.”

“Dammit, Boy! Stop saying you’re sorry. You can’t help it if you’re in pain. That’s what the pain-killers are for. Where are your pills?”

“They are . . umm, they’re over there, on the dresser.”

“On the dresser?” She looked across the room to where the bottles of pills were sitting on the dresser – in plain sight but way out of his reach. “What the hell are they doing away over there?”

She grabbed both bottles and brought them to him, and then poured him a glass of water.

“You poor little bugger! Lying there suffering and looking at your pills where you can’t reach them. Those boys are going to get a piece of my mind. This is no way for them to be looking after you.”

He swallowed some pills, drank the water and laid back with a sigh. “Thank you, Mrs. Lyons. Thank you. I’ll be fine now. Please don’t say anything to Bobby and Billy, it’s not their fault. I know that I need the pain-killers, I should have made sure that they were here. I won’t do that again.”

“I’m sure you won’t! I’m still going to tell them. It’s up to them to make sure that you have what you need. And, Jon, next time, use the bloody cellphone. That is what it is there for. Call somebody – call me if you need help.”

“Yes, Mrs. Lyons. Sorry, Mrs. Lyons. Thank you.”

“Okay. Nothing else you need? I’ll go and get us some lunch. Call if you need to, Jon.”
Billy and Bobby arrived home for lunch. Their mother waylaid them in the kitchen, and, when they came into Jon’s room, they were both crying. They were tearful, apologetic and worried.

Their mother had told them that, if they couldn’t look after him better than that, Jon would have to go back to the hospital where he would be cared for. There was no way that they were going to let that happen.

When she came home again after work, Mrs. Lyons could hear the gales of laughter in his room again. All the kids were in there with him and everything really was fine this time. She was, sort-of, pleased that she’d been able to help him, but she was still not going to get involved. The kid was not her problem.

The days rolled on. Billy and Bobby took him out and about, in the wheelchair, on fine days, but it was always slow progress around the town.

The nurse started to get him out of bed in the mornings and leaving him reclining in the wheelchair for the day. It was a big chair and he could sleep in it if he needed to. Also, he could slide the door open and get himself outside if he wanted to.

When the boys came home from school, they often found him under the shade of the Pohutakawa tree, across the road, next to the estuary.

Days went on. Jon was making steady, if slow, progress in recovering from his injuries. Billy and Bobby were having a great time. They’d never been so popular at school. Most, but not all, of the people there were friendly to them now. A few weren’t. They could be quite nasty, but they were used to that and they had plenty of potential help around now. They were only jealous anyway.

The best thing was that, when they hurried back home, their favourite person in the world was always there waiting for them. Jon was slowly getting better, and that was good. They were pleased for him, they really were, but they quite liked having him as more-or-less a captive in their home. If only he wasn’t wearing that stupid cast!

On a Saturday morning, they tucked Jon into his chair and they went uptown to go visiting. First, they went to the Beachhouse, but couldn’t go in there because of the high steps. Stupid steps!

Sherry and Jacquie, and some of their boarders, came out to talk to him on the sidewalk. He was doing good and he’d be back home soon. Billy and Bobby both frowned at that, but said nothing.

From there, they went along to the Supermarket. That was a mistake; it took ages to get away from there again. The Craddocks told him that his job would always be there waiting for him, no matter how long it took. He just had to get well first, there was no hurry.

Further along, Dee and Sharon Hartigan joined them, for a while, but they left them at P.J’s Music Centre. They went on, up Brigham Street, until they came to the Square.

There seemed to be a lot of activity in there. Billy and Bobby were not keen, they’d never been welcome in there, but they went in anyway. Things were different now, weren’t they? Besides, what could happen?

They found out.

Westpoint Tales - Jon & Bobby's Tale, 12

Jon had a constant stream of visitors. Even people he’d never met before came in bearing gifts and good wishes. After a few days, hospital staff, noticing that he was getting tired, began to limit the visitors. – only three at a time, no-one to stay longer than 30 minutes and nobody at all after 7pm and before 7am.

The rules didn’t apply to Billy and Bobby though. They were there constantly; before and after school and usually again in the evenings. They never made him tired. He always delighted in their company, was pleased to see them arrive and sorry to see them go

There was one person who never came to see him. Claire Lyons never set foot in the hospital. It wasn’t that she disliked the kid. He was weird but pleasant enough, and polite, but she had huge problems with her sons’ relationship with him.

They were obsessed with him and she didn’t like it. If they had to be gay, and it seemed that they were, why couldn’t they both get partners? Two onto one was never going to work. Someone was going to get hurt.

Her husband did not agree. “He’s a nice kid, Claire. I see him every day and I see him suffering through pain that would have most people bitchy and grumpy, but he never is. He’s just a thoroughly nice person.

If our sons are gay then they are going to be involved in relationships with others. They could do a lot worse than Jon. They are good for him, they’ve made him want to live, and he’s good for them too.”

“Okay, that’s a good thing if they’ve helped him that much, but how has he been good for them?”

“How? Lots of ways. For a start they’ve learned to care for someone outside of their own intense relationship. And, look at them! When have they ever been more alive, or busy or popular? The kid’s been good for them. If you’re worried about sex, forget it. There’s absolutely nothing they can do with him all trussed up like he is.”

“But that’s not going to last forever.”

“No, it’s not. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Jon is a virgin, he’s never had sex with anyone. He told me that and I believe him. The same can not be said for our sons.”

“What do you mean? They’re not virgins? Who have they had sex with?”

“With each other of course, and it’s been going on for a long time.”

“With each other? They wouldn’t, would they? Well I’m putting a stop to that! One of them can move back into the spare room.”

“No Claire. Don’t. Leave them alone. They’re not hurting anyone and they really do love each other. Short of sending one of them to live on the other side of the world, I don’t see how you could keep them apart anyway. Just leave it. I wish I’d never told you now. I’ve known about it for years. No-one’s any the worse off and it’s not like they’re going to have a baby.”

“I suppose you’re right, but . . “

“But nothing. Just leave it. Look, if you’re really concerned about them, talk to someone who knows what it’s like. Talk to your brother and Jay. Talk to Superboy.”

“Enough! You know very well that I don’t talk to Justin Reynolds.”

“I really think it’s time that you did. How can you let this go on forever? You used to be really close. Hell Claire, you even named our first two kids after Justin and Billy.”

“Drop it, Bill. It’s not going to happen.”

Once again, they agreed to disagree and let the matter drop. (‘And she wonders where her sons got their stubborn streak from?’)

Some days later, Dr. Lyons was sitting relaxing in the cafeteria when his sons came in looking for him.

“Hey.”

“Dad.” (Their usual two-pronged greeting).

“Hi Billy, Hello Bobby. What can I do for you?”

“For us? Nothing.”

“We wanted to ask you about Jon.”

“Yeah, when can he go home?”

“He’s getting bored and he doesn’t get enough rest. There’s too many visitors in here.”

“So, when can he?”

“Well, Boys. I don’t know. We’ve been thinking about that. We would have discharged him by now, but he really doesn’t have a home to go to. That dreadful old Beachhouse is totally unsuitable for someone in his condition. It is still going to be a long time before he can get up and down the stairs there, and there is no-one to look after him there.

Sherry and Jacquie have offered to have him in their ground-floor apartment, but that’s still 3 steps up from the street and they’re busy ladies. Actually a few people, quite a few, have offered to take him home, but he won’t go and I don’t blame him. He says that he can’t have strangers looking after him and doing all the things that need to be done.”

“We want to take him home with us.”

“We’re not strangers. We are the nearest thing that Jon’s got to family around here.”

“We’re the nearest thing that he’s got anywhere. The spare room is ground-floor and easy access for wheelchairs and stuff.”

“And we don’t mind cleaning up his shitty bum, Dad. We’ll do that if we have to. So, can we take him home with us?”

“Please?”

“Well, Boys.” Dr. Lyons looked from one serious face to the other. He was actually feeling really proud of his sons right then. “That’s a possibility, I suppose. What does Jon think about this?”

“Jon doesn’t know.”

“We haven’t discussed it with him yet.”

“We thought we’d better ask you first. You’re his doctor.”

“And it is your house, not ours.”

“It’s actually your mother’s house, not mine, but I’m fine with it. If you really want to do this, I think it’s a good idea – as long as Jon and your mother both agree.”

“Great! Thanks Dad. We’ll go and talk to Mum then.”

“No. I think that it will be better if I’m the one who talks to your mother. You boys go and talk to Jon and see what he thinks. And, Boys, there’ll be no shitty bums to clean up. Jon has got a bag on and a catheter, for the urine, so the worst you’ll have to do is to empty the bags.”

“Oh. Good! We can handle that. No problems.”

“Thanks, Dad. When are you going to talk to Mum?”

“I’ll see her later, when I go home for lunch.”

“Cool. Thanks. We really want to do this.”

“We don’t think that Mum likes Jon very much.”

“Jon doesn’t think so either.”

“He doesn’t? You can tell him that he’s wrong. It’s nothing personal, she doesn’t dislike him. Your mum has got some issues to work through, that’s all.”

“She’d better work on them then. Jon is part of our lives now and he’s going to be for a long, long time.”

“Longer than that – forever.”

“Longer than forever.”

“Thanks, Dad. We’ll see you at lunchtime.”

They left and Dr. Lyons sat thinking about his sons. Gay or not, they were fine young men. He was really proud of his boys, but – well, kids today! He was never as sure, or as outspoken, when he was their age.

Surprisingly, Claire agreed that Jon could come and stay in their house. She was not completely happy about it, but she could see that he needed somewhere, and she didn’t want to be a monster in her boys’ eyes, so she agreed.

But, she had some conditions. His care would be completely up to Billy and Bobby. She used to be a nurse but she was not now. They would have to feed him and clean him and do everything that needed to be done. Secondly, the boys would eat their meals with the family, in the kitchen, as usual, and, thirdly, as soon as he was able to climb the stairs, Jon was to go back to the Beachhouse.

Billy and Bobby agreed readily enough, though they were not so happy about the third condition. Jon was. He appreciated their offer and he did need somewhere to stay, but, as soon as he could, he was going home to his own room.

Before he left the hospital, Jon’s chest-to-toes cast was reduced so that his feet were free at last. It was also cut down to his waist so that he could at least lie in a semi-upright, prone position. This would make life easier for him. He could feed himself and sit/lie in a wheelchair, so at least some of his confinement was over.

The boys said that they would take him out everyday, as long as it wasn’t raining.

It was arranged that a visiting nurse would call on him every morning, to check on him and clean him up. A physiotherapist would also call regularly.

Billy and Bobby, under supervision, lifted their friend out of the hospital bed and transferred him into the big wheelchair. Then, together, they rolled him out of the hospital. The entire staff on duty came out to say goodbye. There were several smiling warnings that they didn’t want to see him around there again.

They rolled a delighted boy out into the sunshine and took him home. It took a while to get up Williamson Road, past the school. Even though it was Saturday, the school’s sports-fields were full and a small crowd came running over to say hello and congratulations. Finally, Billy just kept him moving.

“We’re going home!”

As they went along the road, between the town and the estuary, there seemed to be more that the usual number of seagulls around. A couple of the birds landed on the road ahead of them, flying away when they approached.

Billy and Bobby were aware of the seagulls around them these days. In their small seaside town, beside the beach and between two rivers, there were always gulls in sight somewhere. Open spaces, like sports-fields, were always full of them when there were no people around.

Then it happened. Something fell from the sky and shattered wetly on the road beside them. And another. And another. Snails – the big water-snails that covered the mud-flats of the estuary, were raining down and shattering around them. Seagulls, dozens of seagulls, were dropping them.

“Wow!”

“Damm!”

Billy and Bobby were both flinching and ducking as the shells rained around them.

Jon laughed. “Settle down, Guys. They’re not going to hit you. If they wanted to they would have hit you the first time and every time. Seagulls never miss. This is how they open shellfish. They fly up high and drop them. They can drop something and land it on a single stone on a sandy beach. They never miss.”

“What are they doing this for then?” Billy asked.

“I think they’re celebrating – kind of like dropping flowers around us,” Bobby said.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. They’re probably saying, “Welcome back.”” Jon replied.

“I wish they’d cut it out. It’s dammed dangerous and it’s disgusting! What a waste of shellfish.”

“It’s not dangerous, Billy, they don’t miss. They’re not shellfish, just snails, and they’re not wasting them. Look back, they’re eating them after we pass.”

“It’s a celebration feast!” Bobby agreed.

“Maybe. I’m not eating any though,” said Billy. “Yuck! Let’s go home.”

Mrs. Lyons looked out the window and saw them coming around the corner – two happy, excited boys bringing their broken friend home in his wheelchair. She was still not happy about this, but, whatever, she’d agreed to it now. She hoped that they realised what they’d got themselves into. The kid was going to be a lot of work and she was not helping. She didn’t want anything to do with the strange boy.

After they had got him settled in bed in the spare room, Mrs. Lyons looked in to say hello. Well, you have to at least be pleasant. He was already asleep and the boys sat, one on each side of the bed.

She still found it hard to believe that this skinny looking kid had killed a dirty-great shark with his bare hands. Almost his bare hands. The boys saw her looking at them and they got up and came out, closing the door behind them.

“Hey.”

“Mum.”

“Everything all right, Boys?”

“Everything’s great. Jon’s just tired. We’ll let him sleep for a while.”

“Jon’s always tired. It’s the medication that they’ve got him on, it makes him sleepy.”

“Yeah, but he needs the painkillers. Dad said that he’d be climbing the walls without them.”

“He’ll get a lot more rest here than in that busy hospital.”

“Anyway, it’s great to have him here, at last. Don’t worry, Mum, you won’t have to do anything, we’re going to look after him.

Mrs. Lyons’ head bobbed side to side as they spoke their sentences in quick succession, but she was used to that. “Just remember, his care is entirely up to you. This was your idea and I’m not helping you.”

“It’s cool, Mum. We want to look after him.”

Westpoint Tales - Jon & Bobby's Tale, 11

(The Hospital - Again!)

They left him there. The boy obviously needed counselling. Dr. Fisher would arrange for someone to start working with him on Monday.

Dr. Lyons, chewing it over, decided that that was not good enough. Monday was a long way away. He had promised his sons that he would do everything that he could for this kid; so he made a decision and he made his own arrangements.

After school was over for the day, he went home and he took the boys into his office to speak to them.

“Sit down, Boys. Don’t look so worried, you’re not in trouble. On the contrary, I need your help.”

“You need our help?” Billy grinned. “That’s a change. We’re the men now!”

“Shut up, Billy. This must be serious or Dad wouldn’t ask. It’s not like we don’t already owe him for the hundreds of times that he’s helped us. What can we do for you, Dad?”

“Thank you, Bobby. You don’t owe me anything. Any time I can do something for you, that’s just doing my job as your father. However, this time there’s something I want you to do that I can’t do myself. It’s about Jon. I think that he needs help.”

“Do you want the pearls?” Bobby got to his feet. “I’ll go and get them.”

Billy clutched at his chest.

“No, Bobby, sit down. It’s not the pearls. There’s something else that Jon needs from you – something more valuable than the pearls.”

“More valuable than the pearls?” Billy was puzzled.

Bobby said, “What is it, Dad? Whatever it is, he can have it. Does he need a transplant? Some organs or something? Whatever we’ve got, Jon can have. Whatever he needs.”

“You boys really love Jon, don’t you?”

“Sure we do,” Billy said. “He knows that. We told him.”

“Well, I think that you need to tell him again. He needs your love, Boys. He really needs it.”

Dr. Lyons told them about the worrying conversation that he had had with Jon.

“It’s not that I think that he’s suicidal. In his condition, there’s not a lot he can do about it anyway. He can’t even get out of bed. But I’m worried about his will to live. If he doesn’t want to live, then it’s going to be really hard, maybe impossible, for us to get him better.

This boy has got a reputation for being true to his word. He always does what he says he will, and now he says that he doesn’t want to live. We can repair his body, but we need his help. If his spirit is broken, I can’t fix that; but I think that maybe you two can.”

“But, how Dad?”

“With love. Go and tell him that you love him. Tell him that you need him. Make him want to live.”

“We do need him!” Billy exclaimed. “He can’t die on us, that’d be awful.

“We do love him too,” said Bobby. “If he loves us, he’ll get through this. We’ll go and talk to him. Thanks, Dad.”

“Thank you, Boys. I know that this is a big thing to lay on you, but I really don’t see any other way.”

“We need him,” Billy repeated. “He can’t drop out on us. We won’t let him.”

“Boys, I knew a boy when I was your age. It didn’t last, but for a while – well, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Thanks Dad. You’re great.”

Billy and Bobby left and went straight to the hospital. On the 10 minute walk there, they discussed how they were going to go about this, but they didn’t have a clue. When they arrived, they still hadn’t made any decisions.

They walked into his room and stood looking down at the broken boy on the bed. He was uncovered in the warm room, and he was a pathetic sight. His legs, and most of his body, were enclosed in an off-white fibre-glass cast. Only a small portion of him looked human. His bare upper chest started from the padded top of the cast and his arms and shoulders were naked and looking small in proportion. The rest of him looked like a clumsy, detail-less statue with pins, wires and bolts protruding from the surface.

His stunningly white hair stood out around his head and his sad, but unmarked, face was turned away from them, looking at the wall next to him.

“Hey, Jon,’ said Billy. He didn’t answer, he didn’t even look around.

Bobby stood quietly looking at him, and then he burst into tears. Billy put his arms around him and stood holding him while Bobby cried on his shoulder.

“Look at what you’re doing to my brother, you selfish prick!” Billy snapped at Jon.

“What I’m doing?” Jon turned his head and looked at them. “What am I doing? I can’t do anything except lie here like I’m dead already.”

He got no answer. Bobby kept crying and Billy stood glaring at him.

“Billy,” Jon sighed. “I really don’t need this. Take your dramas somewhere else. I can’t be bothered.”

“Take our dramas? Don’t tempt me, or I will and we won’t be back either.”

“Maybe that would be best. Take your brother and go. Goodbye, Billy, Bobby.”

“No! Don’t. Stop this, please,” Bobby sobbed. “Billy, be quiet. This is going all wrong.”

“What’s going all wrong?” Jon asked. “I wasn’t doing anything. I was just lying here, minding my own business when you two walked in and Billy started attacking me.”

“Billy’s upset. He’s worried because I’m upset and I’m upset because I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

“Walk away then. At least you can. I can’t. I may never walk again.”

“Oh, Jon! How can we walk away when you’re like this?”

“Well, excuse me. It’s not my fault. I didn’t do this on purpose you know.”

“We know that you didn’t do it on purpose. You’re not that stupid. Accidents happen. Horrible accidents happen to good people, but that’s not what is upsetting me. Your body is broken, horribly, but at least it’s all there. You haven’t lost any limbs or anything. You will get better, if you want to. That is what’s upsetting; you don’t want to get better.”

“You think I like being like this? Who said that I don’t want to get better?”

“Dad said that you don’t. You told him that you want to die.”

“Your dad said? I thought that doctors were supposed to keep their mouths shut about what their patients tell them.”

“They are supposed to,” said Billy. “But, more importantly, they are supposed to help people recover from what is wrong with them.”

“And this is how he helps me? By sending you two in here to give me a hard time?”

“Jon, don’t,” said Bobby. “Please don’t. We don’t want to fight with you. That’s not why we came here.”

“Why did you come then?”

“To tell you that we love you. To tell you that we need you. Don’t die, Jon. Please don’t. I love you. I really, really love you and I need you. If you die, I don’t know what I’ll do. It would kill me too.”

“Bobby,” he sighed. “Bobby, don’t think like that. You’re a talented and beautiful young boy. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you – a long and happy life.”

“It won’t be happy if you’re not part of it and it won’t be long either. I love you, Jon.”

“You do, don’t you? I love you too, Bobby. I shouldn’t, but I do. I love you.”

Bobby stood up and leant across the bed, one hand on either side of Jon’s shoulders. He lowered himself down and kissed him on the lips. A soft, gentle, loving kiss. He raised his head and smiled at him and a tear fell and plopped on his cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,’ Jon whispered back. He brushed the tear from his cheek and grinned at the boy above him. “Damm, Bobby. Make up your mind. Are you laughing or crying?”

“I’m laughing if you’re with me. I’m crying if you’re not.”

“I’ll be with you. Always.” He put his hands around Bobby’s face, pulled him down and kissed him back. “I really do love you, Bobby. Thanks.”

“Thanks? Thank you.”

“Get out of it, Bobby. I’ve got something to say here.” Billy pulled his brother back..

“What have you got to say?” Jon looked up at him.

“This.” He leant over and kissed him. “I love you, Jon.”

“Oh, Billy!” Jon pulled him down and kissed him back. “I love you too.”

“Well don’t go and friggin’ die on us then!”

“I’m not dying. Not now. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Jon got better. Slowly, painfully and with a lot of discomfort and embarrassment, but he got better. The doctors knew what they were talking about. He didn’t get any more counselling, he didn’t need it. He’d had the best.

When Billy and Bobby went back to school on Monday, they found that things had changed – they were the popular kids now. That took a bit of getting used to, but it was cool., sort-of., they’d never known it before.

Not everyone, but most people wanted to talk to, and be seen to be friends with the best friends of the most famous kid in town – the Lord of the Seals.

That, however, was one thing that Jon refused to talk about. He would not discuss the seals, or the seagulls, or his peculiar relationship with the sea-creatures. Not even to the marine biologists who came to see him in his hospital bed. All he would tell them was that he grew up on a farm on an island. There were no people around, so he found his friends elsewhere.

The boy’s grandfather, Face Lewis, came in and met him. Face was intrigued by what he’d seen that day. In a lifetime of working at sea around Westpoint, he’d never seen the seals behave like that. Nor the seagulls either.

“I don’t know what it is, Boy. But you’ve got something. Those creatures really love you. I’m sure that some of those seals were crying. I’ve never seen anything like that. I didn’t even know they could.

I’ll tell you something else, too. They were determined that someone had to do something to save you. They wouldn’t let us go in any direction except towards you.”

Jon smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Mr. Lewis. That helps a lot. It means that I’m not a total loser then.”

“Shut up, Jon.” Billy said indignantly. “You’re not a loser at all. You’re a star!”

Face looked over at his oldest grandson. He didn’t say anything, he just smiled to himself. He’d seen those sort of intense feelings before, a long time ago but some things never changed. People were people.