Westpoint Tales - Entangled Tales, 90 - Justin & Graeme

“What were you fighting Bugs for?” Billy grabbed John’s arm. “I thought you guys were friends.”

“No, not us. I mean, yes we’re friends. We weren’t fighting each other; we got into a fight with Graeme Johnson.”

“Graeme Johnson? Has that bloody thug been picking on you?”

“No – well, yes. But it’s all right, I – we – kicked his arse.”

“You kicked Johnson’s arse? How”

“I can look after myself, Justin. Well I can – a bit. He was drunk anyway, but now he’s in trouble.”

“Graeme’s in trouble? John, what’s going on?”

“I think he’s going to kill himself. We, Brian and I, were down outside Hagedorns, sheltering from the rain and having a bit of a . . a talk, under the verandah. Graeme Johnson came staggering past, saw us there and started calling us faggots and everything.”

“Bastard!” said Billy.

“Yeah, that’s what we said. I told him to bugger off and he attacked us. We fought him, he knocked Bugs down and I sort of got mad and I smacked him over. Well, he was drunk and I was really pissed – no-one’s doing that to Bugs when I’m around.

Anyway, we got back out of the rain and he went over to the wharf. We watched him climb up into one of the old cranes. His old man’s a crane driver, so I suppose that’s how he knows how to do it. He turned the crane around so that the arm thing – the jib – is hanging out over the river. He did something to immobilize the crane, shorted it out or something – it won’t move anyway, and now he’s climbed out and up the jib and he’s sitting there over the river.

Brian’s trying to talk to him. We’re scared that he’s going to jump in and kill himself. The river’s really in flood now and if he drops in there he won’t last two minutes and it’ll be all my fault!

Can you do something, Justin? The crane won’t move, we tried that.”

“Sure, John-Boy. I don’t know what, but we’ll try. Come on.”

As they were running the short distance down to the river, Billy said, “I don’t suppose you’ll listen, Sweetcheeks, but it’s not your problem. It’s only Graeme Johnson, let him do it if he wants to.”

“Damm right, I’m not listening! It’s a kid in trouble and we’ve got to do something, if we can. We can’t just let him do that and have another Westpoint teenager dying. I know you’ve got issues, because of Jeremy, but that’s all been dealt with – I thumped them.”

“Okay, be a hero then – I suppose that you have to really. But you be bloody careful, Justin, and don’t you go dropping in that river.”

“I’ll be careful. I’ve got too much to live for now. John, you did nothing wrong. You were right to stand up for yourself and your mate. I think he’s got problems of his own – he’s got a bloody awful life at home and I know what that’s like.”

At the wharf, one of the cranes was turned out over the raging river with the jib slightly lowered. In the dark and the driving rain, they could just make out a small figure sitting on the very top of the jib and looking down at the river. Brian stood on the wharf at the foot of the crane. When the others ran up to him, he turned and grinned.

“Superboy! Billy! Thank goodness. He’s up there on the top.”

He grabbed John and hugged him. “You did it, John-Boy, you got them.”

“Shut up, Bugs.” He hugged him back.

Justin ran up the ladder to the open door of the crane-driver’s cab. The others stood at the foot, trying to get out of the rain. Billy looked at the others.

“Bugs, are you two a couple?”

“Yeah, Billy, we’re friends, really good friends. You got a problem with that?”

“No, I guess not. Don’t make it a problem, okay?”

“No problems,” John said. “None at all – except. . . “

They stood looking up into the rain.

Justin came back down. “You’re right. He’s done something and it won’t move, nothing’s going. We’re going to need help. Billy, would you run back and ring 111 please.”

“The emergency services?”

“Yeah, get the fire brigade, and the police too – see if they can find someone who knows how to work the crane. Don’t get his father though, that could be a disaster. I’m going up there. Hurry, won’t you, Sunny.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll run faster than Superboy. You be bloody careful up there.”

“I will. I’m just going to talk to him. Boys, you stay down here. Billy, get Jonathan too.”

Billy ran back to the hall. John and Brian stood watching Justin climb up through the cab and out on to the jib, in the wind and rain.

He slowly, carefully, climbed up on the cold, wet, metal framework until – “That’s far enough. You stay where you are.”

He stopped and looked up along the jib at the other youth sitting on the top with his legs dangling over the side.

“Shit, Graeme! It’s a great view, but what a horrible night for it.”

“It is that,” he grinned, wiping water from his face. “What the fuck are you doing up here, Superboy? If you think you’re going to be a hero again – forget it.”

“I’m no hero, Graeme. I just want to do what’s right.”

“Oh, and what is right? To save the sap up on the crane? The stupid, useless, fucking jerk who hates everybody?”

“You’re not useless, Graeme. You’re not stupid either. You’re just a kid – a kid who needs help to sort his life out.”

“Help from who? You? Why would you bother? I don’t need help, I’ll just drop in there and that’ll sort everything out.”

“It won’t. That would just screw up more people. Look, can I tell you a story?”

“Fuck off, Reynolds.”

“I was going to do that, not so long ago. I was going to drop into that river.”

“You? No! You wouldn’t do that, you’ve got everything.”

“I wouldn’t, not now. But if you don’t stop shaking this bloody thing, we both might. I’m scared, Graeme.”

“Superboy’s scared? Pull the other one. You don’t get scared.”

“I bloody do you know. I hate heights, I don’t swim very well – certainly couldn’t swim in that. It’s wet, it’s cold up here and this bloody thing’s shaking!”

“Well it’s not me. It must be the wind.”

There was a couple of minutes’ silence, and then Graeme continued. “Why don’t you get down then if you’re scared?”

“I can’t!”

“You got up here. You can get yourself down. Or, drop in the river for all I care.”

“I just might, but I don’t want to.”

“Why did you anyway? Why did you think about drowning yourself?”

“Because I was a mess, I thought I had nothing to live for. I was in love, really in love, with someone who didn’t love me and I thought I didn’t want to live.”

“But now you do.”

“Yes, now I do.”

“So, what changed then?”

“Everything. But first, someone reached out a hand to help me.”

“Like you’re doing now? Reaching out to help me?”

“Yes, Graeme. Now I’m reaching out a hand for you.”

In saying that, he laid down flat along the jib and stretched out a hand towards him.

“Take it, Graeme. I can’t reach you unless you reach back. Please, Graeme, do it!”

“Oh, whatever!”

He lay down and reached out his hand. Justin grabbed hold, their fingers intertwined, a gust of wind shook the crane and Johnson fell off! He grabbed with his free hand, missed and fell, swinging on Justin’s arm.

Justin lay clinging to the boy and clutching the jib with his other hand. The wind blew, the driving rain fell and a small crowd gathered at the foot of the crane as the fire brigade arrived.

After a few agonizing minutes, the crane started and swiveled around, the jib lowered, ladders came up and helping hands reached out to help the pair down to safety.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, Billy was on him with his arms around his neck and his face pressed against him. “You stupid idiot, Justin Reynolds! You stupid, fucking, wonderful idiot!”

Justin hugged him back. “I love you too, Sunny.”

Then he set him aside and turned to the fire-chief. “Mr. Howard, thank you. You saved us – you and your team. Thanks.”

“Glad to be of service, Superboy. What happened up there?”

“It was an accident, nobody’s fault. The wind shook the crane and Graeme fell off. But everything’s going to be all right now; right, Graeme?”

He shrugged and hung his head. “For you maybe. Nothing’s changed for me, except that I’m in the shit good and proper now.”

“No, you’re not. Mr. Howard, Sergeant Digby, Thanks, but can we forget that anything happened here? It was just an accident. Can you put it down to practice?”

“Okay, Superboy. If you’re sure – we’ll forget it, for you.”

“All right! Thanks everybody. I’ll look after my friend now.”

“Your friend, Justin?” Graeme Johnson asked wonderingly.

“Yes, my friend. You’d bloody better be after all that. Friends, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Friends! Thanks, Superboy.”

“My friends don’t call me Superboy, just Justin. Thank you, Graeme, thanks for trusting in me.”

They shook hands again, and then Justin said, “All right then! Now we’re going to fix things. You can start by apologizing to John and Brian here.”

“Yeah, I do apologise. Sorry Guys. Sorry for being a jerk. I was pissed, drunk and angry, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Well Boys? Are you going to shake my friend’s hand?”

“Well. Okay, if he’s your friend.”

They shook and then Justin said, “Okay, thanks. Everybody go home and get out of this bloody rain. I think it’s stopping at last. Go home anyway, before you all catch your death of cold. Billy, you take these boys and go home and get dry. Jonathan, where are you? Come here, Iceman, we need you. We’ve got another father who needs sorting out.”

The twins accompanied Graeme home and they, especially Jonathan, had a long talk with his parents. The upshot was that his father took early retirement from his job and went away for residential treatment for alcoholism and anger-management.

Graeme left school and, with the twins’ help, managed to get the job left vacant by his father. They already knew that he could operate the cranes. Justin and Jonathan made another good friend.

As Justin told Billy, Abraham Lincoln is supposed to have said that one way to get rid of your enemies is to make friends of them. (“Not that it did him much good.”)

Billy said, “Shut up, Justin.”