Westpoint Tales - Jon & Bobby's Tale, 3

(I forgot - Lagoon, Yacht Club at left rear.)

It seemed like a long time, but it was only about 30 minutes really, until he emerged from the water. First, his head and shoulders burst through, then he caught a wave, rose up the rock-face and crawled out. He stood up and walked back to the foot of the cliff, out of their sight.

Seals started to emerge from the water. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry now.

In a couple of minutes he appeared over the top of the cliff, fully dressed again. He grinned and climbed back over the fence.

“Wow, Jon," Billy exclaimed. “How did you get back up that cliff? How did you get down there in the first place?”

“Very, very carefully,” he replied. “I’ve had a lot of practice climbing rocks. This is great! Can we go and get my bags now please? I’m going to stay here.”

“You’re going to stay here?” Dee said. “How long are you going to stay here?”

“I dunno. A few days, a few weeks – whatever. We’ll see.”

“But. But how are you going to live?” Bobby asked worriedly. “You’re not a seal. You can’t live out on those rocks.”

“No, of course not. I’ve got no layers of blubber on me. I’ve got a tent in my pack, and a sleeping bag, and everything I’ll need. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. This is my life.”

“This is your life? You’re a strange, strange person, Jon Nobody. Well, as long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Can we get my bags now please?”

As they walked back to the car, Dee asked. “Are you going to be all right? I don’t see how you can put a tent up on those rocks.”

“I’m not going to put it up on the rocks. There’s flat grassy areas at the back of the beach in the bay there. I’ll be fine. I’ll have more bodyguards than the King of England.”

“But what are you going to eat?” Billy asked.

“Fish of course.” He looked at Bobby. “Raw fish. Seal food,” he grinned.

Dee opened the car and the boys pulled the bags out. Jon took the backpack, Billy had the suitcase and Bobby took the carrier bag. Dee let them. She believed in equality of the sexes, but only to a certain degree.

They went part-way back up the track and then climbed down to a small grassed ledge below them. Jon shrugged the pack off and lowered it to the ground. He took the case from Billy and the bag from Bobby and put them down next to the pack.

“Thanks guys. I’ll put the tent up later. There’s plenty of time for that. Now, I’m going swimming.”

He started undressing again, completely unconcerned about the three pairs of eyes watching him. Billy actually made a low whistle as Jon’s slender, boyish body emerged from his clothes. When clad only in his khaki boxers, he stopped and shook hands with the other three.

“Great to have met you all today. Thanks for all your help. I’ve gotta go now.”

He slipped the boxers off. He was definitely not a child! He grinned again, waved, dived off the ledge into the sea and was gone.

They stood there waiting and watching the waves, but he didn’t re-appear. Dee had had enough. “Well, he’s gone. Come on you two. He might be going to stay out here, but we’re not. It’s time we went back to town.”

“But, Dee,” Bobby protested. “Couldn’t we wait a bit longer?”

“No, we couldn’t. Come on.”

The boys, reluctantly, followed Dee back to the car and she drove back to town.

“He’s finished with us for now. He’s busy and here’s nothing we could do anyway if he wants to stay there. If he’s 18, then he’s an adult and no-one’s going to tell him what he can or cannot do.

“He’s not 18,” said Billy. “He’s 17. He said that he’s nearly 18.”

“Nearly 18!” Bobby scoffed. “There’s no way he’s that old. He’s more like 14 or maybe 15, but he’s not nearly 18.”

“He says that he is, why would he lie?” said Dee. “He’s not a child anyway. Naked, he’s definitely almost a man.”

“Yeah, definitely!” Billy agreed.

“Shut up, Billy. Don’t be crude,” said Bobby.

Dee said “Look, I’m going to come back and check on him tomorrow. You can come too, if you want.”

“Yeah! Thanks Dee. We’ll do that.”

Dee went back to the Lyon’s house in the morning and collected the brothers. They went back out to the cape, but, while a small green tent was there, along with his luggage, there was no sign of Jon. A big seal, lying in the sun, wouldn’t let them go into the tent. It got really agitated when they got too close, so they backed off.

They waited around a while, and then went back home. As she dropped them off, Dee told the ‘twins’, “I’m sure he’ll be all right. He’s obviously got his bodyguards looking after his stuff.”

“That was amazing, Dee. How can you get a seal to look after your gear?”

“I can’t, but he can, obviously. See you around, Boys. Let me know if you see him again.”

“Will do, and you tell us if you see him.”

“Thanks, Dee. ‘Bye.”

“Later Guys.”

Over the next week, Dee made several trips out to the Cape, at different times of the day, but she didn’t see Jon again. Billy and Bobby also went back there three times. Once with Dee, once with their father and once with their older sister driving and grumbling all the way out there and home again. They never saw him either and, on the third trip, his tent and gear had all gone.
Bobby, especially, was very disappointed. He couldn’t help remembering Jon’s words. “I have never seen you before today, and, hopefully, I’ll never see you again.” But, they had patched that quarrel up, hadn’t they?

He wasn’t sure why, but he really wanted to see the kid again. He liked him.

Then, on a sunny afternoon, Jon came back to Westpoint. He came in through the river mouth, sitting high and dry on a small raft made of logs and driftwood, with his bags sitting around him.

The raft slowly and smoothly made its way up the river and into the lagoon where the fishing boats were berthed. The boy, dressed in his army fatigues, sat looking straight ahead and ignoring the many eyes watching him.

Everyone working around the wharves stopped and stared as the raft, with no visible means of propulsion or steering, silently made its way across the lagoon and on to the pebbled beach by the old Westpoint Yacht Club’s sheds.

The kid stepped off the raft and on to the dry ground. He lifted his pack, case and carrier bag up on to the grass above the retaining wall at the back of the beach. He then pushed the raft back out in to the water and it moved away and back out into the river as he stood watching it go. He put on his backpack, picked up the other bags and walked up into the town.

After walking a couple of blocks along the first street he came to, he found his way across to the long main street. He looked along there and started walking back up to the end he had seen before. At the next corner, he saw the ‘Vacancies” sign in the window of the Beachhouse Backpackers and Boardinghouse, so he went in there and rang the bell at the office window.

The wooden slide slammed open and a tall, frizzy-haired woman demanded, “What do you want!?”

“Whoah. I’m sorry.” Jon jumped back from the counter.

“Oh.” She deflated a bit and smiled at him. “Sorry, Kid. I thought you were someone else.”

“No. I’m just me,” he replied.

“Now where have I heard that before? Sorry, Kid. What can I do for you?”

“How much is a room for one person please?”

“A room for one? $35 a night.”

“Thirty-five dollars? That’s, umm,” he did a quick calculation on his fingers. “That’s $245 a week.”

“That’d be right. That’s room only, no meals and laundry and hot water are extra.”

“Oh. I can’t afford that. Well, could I please have a room for just one night while I look for something cheaper?”

“You won’t find anything cheaper in Westpoint. One night then?”

“Oh. I guess that I can’t afford to live in Westpoint then. Thank you. Sorry to disturb you.”

Crestfallen, he turned to go, but the woman stopped him.

“Hey! Wait a minute, Kid. You’re not just a tourist then? Are you looking for somewhere to live?”

“Yes Ma’am, I was, but I can’t afford it. I haven’t got much money.”

“And why not? Are you a run-away?”

“No, I’m not. More like a throw-away really. I’m not a kid, I’m nearly 18.”

“Seventeen? That old? You don’t look it.”

“Well I am. ‘Bye, Ma’am.”

“Wait a minute, Kid. Do you want somewhere to live or not? We can give you a single room for $80 a week.”

“Eighty dollars! That would be great. I can afford that, for a couple of weeks anyway, until I can find a job.”

“Okay then. $80 a week, no meals and laundry and hot water are coin operated. You’ll be on the top floor, in an attic bedroom. It’s just a poky little room but it’s a single and $80 for regular boarders.”

“Thank you. I’ll take it. Do you know where I could get a job?”

“Well, I don’t know. What are you good at?”

“Umm. Nothing really, but I’m honest and a hard worker. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Well, nothing dishonest.”

“Good for you. Have you thought about going on the game?’

“The game? I don’t know what that is.”

“Prostitution. Boy-whores can make good money. Especially the good-looking ones.”

“I don’t think I could do that, Ma’am.”

“No. I didn’t think you would really. You’re a nice kid, I think. Come and look at this room.”

She led the way up the stairs.

“My name is Sherry. Sherry Coombs. What’s yours?”

“Jon. J. O. N. Jon.”

“Okay then Jon. Nice to meet you. What’s your other name?”

“I don’t have another name – just Jon.”

Sherry stopped and looked back at him. “Of course you’ve got another name. We need to know it in case this old place burns down or something; there are regulations. What is your whole name?”

“Oh. If you have to know – it’s Williamson. Jon Williamson. But I’d rather just be called Jon.”

“That’s fine. Jon it is then. Now we go up these other stairs. Watch your step, it’s dark up here.”

They climbed the second set of stairs. Dark, steep and narrow, these were only half the width of the first ones.

“This old place used to be a hotel. Guests were on the first floor and staff slept up here. Now we keep the first floor for backpackers and our regular boarders live up here. A word of advice, don’t let the other boarders lead you astray. There’s some pretty rough characters amongst them. Deadbeats really. Keep your door locked.”

“I will. Thank you Ma’am – Sherry.”

“You’re welcome, Kid. Are you sure that you’re 17? You’re small for your age.”

“I am. Nearly 18 actually.”

“Okay, I’ll believe you. Thousands wouldn’t. If you’re serious about a job, go try the Food-World Supermarket. They don’t pay much, but they’re always looking for staff. Probably because they don’t pay much.”

“Food-World Supermarket? Great. Thanks, I’ll do that right away.” He beamed his winning smile and Sherry sighed. She wished that she was 20 years younger.

“Yeah, they’re just up the street, on the far corner of the next block. If you see the manager, David Craddock, tell him that I sent you. He’s a cousin of mine.”

“Excellent! Thank you Ma’am, I’ll do that.”

“Sherry,” she said. “Don’t call me Ma’am, I’m not that old. Here’s the room. It’s not much but it’s only $80.”

It was a dark, dingy little room. A single bed, a wooden kitchen chair and a painted chest of drawers were the only furnishings. The carpet was threadbare, the wallpaper faded and tatty in places and the paintwork was yellowed. There weren’t any windows, the room was lit by one, bare, bulb. Am old framed print of some faded roses was the only decoration. Jon stood looking around quietly.

Sherry said, “It’s actually quite a new bed, one of the best we’ve got. Toilet and showers are to your right at the foot of the stairs. What do you think? You want it?”

“Oh, yes please, Sherry Ma’am!” he beamed a killer smile which seemed to light up the room. “This is wonderful. I’ve never had a room of my own before.”

“Okay, good. Doesn’t take much to make you happy then. That curtain in the corner is your wardrobe, there should be some coat-hangers in there. Don’t play loud music after 10pm. Umm, if there’s anything you want to know, just ask.”

“Thanks Sherry. I don’t have any music. This is great – just great. Exactly what I need.”

“Okay Kid. Enjoy it then. Oh, the laundry is down on the ground floor, out back of the kitchen. You’re welcome to use the kitchen, just clean up your own mess.”

“I will. Thank you.”

They went back down to the office where he paid a week’s rent in advance and collected his bags to haul them up to his room. As he was starting up the stairs, Sherry stopped him.

“Kid – Jon, you’re welcome to have visitors as long as they don’t disturb the other guests and we don’t like people staying overnight – fire regulations again.”

“Thanks, Sherry. I won’t be having visitors, I’ve got no friends in Westpoint.”

“I don’t imagine that it will stay that way for long. You’ll make lots of friends here.”

“I probably won’t. I’m too weird for most people. But, thanks.”

Sherry and her partner, Jacquie, watched him go up the stairs. “Weird?” she said. “I don’t think so. I think you’re a lovely boy. You’ll make friends and soon.”

Jacquie poked her in the ribs. “He’s too young for you, anyway.”

“He is,” Sherry agreed. “Much too young – dammit!”