Westpoint Tales - The Lost Years, 7

Nicholas came out of the main entrance of the Highschool, walking slowly and with his head down. His lips moved as he read something in his hand. Some girls hurried out behind him and one of them shoved him out of the way.

“Move your arse, Dummy.”

“Oi!” Justin fronted up to them. “Keep your hands off my friend.”

“Your friend, Superboy? Get real. This is Nicholas, he’s a . .”

“He’s a nice kid and he’s my friend.”

“He is? Really? You must be getting hard up.”

“Hard up? Not at all. I’ve got some great friends, and Nicholas is one of them. Right, Nicholas?”

His wide grin spread from ear-to-ear. “Right, Justin! I’m your friend.”

Justin took him by the arm and led him away. The girls stood watching.

“Well, bugger me!”

He purposely led him along, up Derby Street, through the Square and over to the main street. Nicholas didn’t notice, but everyone was staring at them. Justin noticed, he wanted them to look.

Nicholas took a lot of convincing that his mother was okay with them hanging out together, but Justin eventually got it through to him. They went to the Adelphi; Billy wasn’t back yet, so he introduced him to everyone else there. They took some cokes and went up to the bedroom.

Billy and Jeremy arrived and came into the room. Justin and Nicholas were sitting on the two, wide, window ledges looking down over the main street.

Nicholas blushed and stood up. “Billy. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What for? This is Justin’s room too. He can bring his friends up here. Jeremy, this is Daddy’s friend, Nicholas. Be nice to him.”

“Gee, thanks Billy!” Nicholas beamed. “Hello Jeremy.”

“Hey Nicholas. Come and see my trains. I’ve got Thomas!”

Jeremy took his hand and pulled on it. Nicholas looked at Justin.

“Should I?”

“Of course. Go and see the Boy’s trains.”

Jeremy led him through to the other room, chattering excitedly.

“He’s a nice kid,” said Billy. He sat on the window ledge. “Good looking boy too.”

“He is,” Justin agreed. “He’s got a great smile, it lights up his face.”

“You think? No, the smile’s okay, but his eyes are his best feature. He’s got beautiful eyes.”

“That he has. The eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul. He’s got a sweet soul and beautiful Spanish eyes.”

“Yeah, he has. If he ever learns to use them, those eyes will be his best weapon. Lady-killer eyes.”

“Wrong, Sunny. He’s not interested in killing the ladies. He’s gay and he’s in love with someone special.”

“He is? Am I allowed to know who?”

“Of course. It’s Conrad Keenan actually.”

“Conrad? The Seeker? So that’s why you went to Robbie’s place last night. Oh, the poor kid, he’s got no chance.”

“I wouldn’t say that he’s got no chance. Slim, maybe but not none. He’s good enough for anyone and Conrad seems to be a nice boy too.”

“You Old Dog, you! You’re matchmaking aren’t you? Good luck with that.”

“We’re working on it, Sunny. We’re working on it. Now, I’ve got to drag him away from Jeremy. We’ll walk back to his home while there’s still a lot of kids around the streets.”

“Why would you want to do hat? Oh, I know. You want people to see him with you.”

“You’ve got it. If the kids see that he’s got one friend, maybe he’ll make some more.”

“You’re a devious beggar when you want to be, Sweetcheeks.”

“Oh yes. See you later, Sunny. I won’t be long.”

Jeremy protested, of course. He was having a wonderful time, playing trains with his new friend – mostly because Nicholas just let him be the boss and did what he told him to. Jeremy had shades of both of his great-grandmothers in him.

Justin dragged him away and they walked along the main street as far as the clocktower, around there and into the Square, past the skateboard ramps. They walked across to, and up Brigham Street, chatting quietly and pretending not to notice the many eyes watching them.

“Do you run, Nicholas.”

“No, I can’t run. I’m useless!”

“You’re not useless. Don’t say that. You should run – it’s good for you and it’s fun. I run most mornings, around 7 o’clock, in the Square. You should come with me.”

“I couldn’t run with you. You’re too fast for me.”

“I’ll take it easy until you get faster. You’d make a good runner; you’ve got the build for it – long and lanky. Come running with me.”

“Well, okay then, I will. I’ll see you there in the morning.”

“Good boy. Thanks. We might even make a champion runner out of you.”

“Doubt it! I’ll never be a champion anything, I’m just a . .”

“Don’t! Don’t say it, Nicky. Don’t even think it.”

“How do you know what I was going to say?”

“I know and I don’t want to hear it.”

They walked along together, quietly. Nicholas glanced sideways at him. “Justin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad that you’re my friend. Thanks Justin.”

“Thanks. I’m really glad that you’re my friend too.”

When they came to Nicholas’ home, Justin left him there after telling him. “When you go inside, spend a few minutes talking to your mother. Tell her about your day. Tell her about Jeremy and his trains. Be nice to your mum, and she’ll be nice to you. She does love you, you know.”

“I know, I think. I will talk to her. Thanks, Justin. Goodbye.”

“’Bye My Friend. I’ll see you at the Square in the morning.”

“You might.”

“No might. You be there or I’ll come and get you.”

Justin left him there and walked back home the other way, the long way. After having just shown everybody that Nicholas was with him, he didn’t want to back-track and show them that now he wasn’t.

The second walk across the town, with Nicholas, was a waste of time really. Justin’s purpose of showing him off and getting him noticed had already been accomplished when he met him at the school.

Conrad saw them there together and watched them walk away up derby Street. He listened to the clacking tongues of the gossips around him and thought.

‘So, my new friend is also Nicholas Awatere’s friend? What on earth would they have in common? He was with him at the Party in the Square on Saturday too. I saw him trailing along behind Superboy.’

That was all it took for Conrad to put two and two together. Superboy had a friend, a boy who was 15 and was seriously in love with him. Now he was walking up the street with Nicholas, a boy, aged 15. Ergo, his secret lover was Nicholas Awatere. It had to be him. Ewww! He was a Dummy.

But. Was he really? Superboy liked him. He was good enough for him.

He was a good-looking boy too, if you didn’t know him. He had beautiful eyes. Dark, soft and expressive, Spanish Eyes. He had a wide grin and that long, long, slender body, smooth and tanned. Nicholas was a looker! Why had he never seen that before?

He didn’t know him at all. He thought that he did, but he didn’t.

Nicholas Awatere as a friend, and, maybe, as a lover? Well? Why not anyway?

Conrad drove home to Carvers’ Beach, and lay on his bed, lost in thought.

“Conrad, you’re 15. You’re not a kid anymore, you’re growing up, but you’re all alone.” Superboy sat right there, last night and said that to him. It was true too, he was all alone.

Did he want to be? Was he happy? The hell he was! He needed a friend. He needed someone to love. Nicholas?

Nicholas was . . .he was. . . he was a bloody nice kid, that’s what he was! He was always pleasant, in his own way – never offensive. Good looking, quiet and slow-spoken, he kept to himself and was never a problem to anyone. He never had a bad word to say to anyone. When they mocked him, he didn’t retaliate, just smiled that goofy smile and walked away.

He was a nice kid.

Conrad could like him. He did like him. They could be friends, if Nicholas wanted to. Of course he bloody wanted to! He loved him, didn’t he? Didn’t he?

There was a song, a really old song, that had something to say about this. It was a really, really old song – older than most of Uncle Robbie’s favourites even, and they were ancient. It was not as old as Superboy’s song though. Not quite, but it was getting up there.

What was it called? Someone? It was sung by who? (‘Whom?’) Umm – yes! That was it, sung by the Tremeloes, one of those British groups back in the Beatles’ days.

He sat at the computer, opened his music-sharing programme and ‘searched’. Nothing. There were a few songs by the Tremeloes, some that he knew but didn’t know that they’d done them, but nothing about ‘Someone Who Loves You’.

One song was by Brian Poole and the Tremeloes, so he searched by that artist title. Yes! There it was. ‘Someone Loves You’ by Brian Poole and the Tremeloes. He started a down-load and went over to check on his music-news site.

When the ‘Launch” panel slid up, he clicked on it and sat back to listen.

“Someone (love you), Someone (love you)
Someone who really loves you.
(Someone) When Someone really loves you (Someone)
That’s when your life begins.

Once I was loved by no-one, no-one depended on me
I thought that I was truly happy, but oh how wrong can you be?

Someone (love you), Someone (love you)
Someone who really loves you
(Someone) When Someone really loves you (Someone)
That’s when you life begins.

A heart can be easily broken, a heart can even stand still.
A heart can be easily broken, but I know that mine never will.
Once all the stars were shining, now it’s so easy to see.
Once all the stars were shining, but now they shine for me.

Someone (love you), Someone (love you)
Someone who really loves you
(Someone) When Someone really loves you (Someone)
That’s when your life begins

That’s when your life begins.
That’s when your life begins.”

That was it? Damm, they did short songs back then! He played it again, and this time something happened. He didn’t know why or what it was, but a huge wave of sadness overwhelmed him. He started to cry and streams of silent tears ran down his cheeks.

Conrad never cried – never! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but now he was. He SO wanted someone to love him. He wanted his life to begin. He wanted . . he wanted . . He wanted Nicholas! Yes. He wanted a relationship with Nicholas Awatere with the beautiful eyes.

How? How to begin? Nicholas loved him, Superboy said. Well, he more or less said. It had to be him. It must be him. How?

He’d often heard the story of how Uncle Robbie and Bryce had first got together, away back in the dim, dark ages. Robbie was 14 and very shy, but he had his own radio show even then. That, of course, was how he’d started on the radio himself. Robbie was the boss now and he’d offered a time-slot to his favourite nephew.

“You could be the new Toucan.”

“No thanks. I don’t want to hide like the Toucan did. I’m not you, Uncle Robbie, I’m me – Conrad. That’s it! I’ll do it, but I’ll be the Seeker.”

“The Seeker, searching for and playing songs?”

“No. The Seeker for my initials. CK, Conrad Keenan, me.”

“Right. The Seeker it is then. The Toucan’s dead anyway, I shot him.”

“Bird-murderer!”

And that was how he started on the radio. It was a lot of fun and Robbie paid him well, but there should be more to life than that. He wanted what Robbie and Bryce had. He wanted to love and be loved. He wanted Nicholas.

So? How had Robbie done it? He and Bryce had begun by dedicating songs to each other on the radio; songs that said how they were feeling. (Bryce STILL called Robbie his ‘Little Boy’, sometimes).

He could do that, couldn’t he? Of course he could. Superboy said that Nicholas listened to the show. “Let’s hope he’s listening tonight.’

What song could he play for him? Yes! There was only one possible song. He’d do it tonight.