Westpoint Tales - Heroes, pts.9 & 10

Okay - this is the End of this tale. (Don't tell me - i know!)
2 parts this time, because they're short ones and there's a killer cliffhanger and, well, dicky hearts! Enjoy.

Excitement was mounting in the town. The manager of Pointwest, Westpoint’s community radio and TV channel, Conrad Keenan, announced that there was to be a special screening, in the old St. John’s theater, of the original ‘Whozzat’s Movie’.

There was hardly a person in Westpoint who hadn’t already seen Whozzat’s Movie; many times, some of them. Most homes had a copy of it somewhere and it was readily available on DVD and free-to-air channels. It might be prehistoric, but there weren’t that many movies around that featured their town and their people. It even included shots of the first ever Party in the Park, on the day that Billy’s Burgers were launched.

Anyway, not many had seen it in a theater, not for many years. Movies on the big screen in a darkened auditorium had far more impact than when seen on a home screen.

This was not going to be just another screening. For a start, it would begin at precisely 10.30pm on the 2nd of February, which was the exact date and time of the first public screening, the premiere, 40 years ago. They were even going to re-enact the welcoming ceremonies at the premiere, including the helicopter flight over the darkened town and the party in the street afterwards, catered by Billy’s Burgers of course.

Also, songs would be performed live by Whozzthis, the tribute band that was touring the country doing re-enactments of Whozzat concerts. There might even be an appearance of the original members of Whozzat and their supporters.

Whozzthis were going to play a concert on the night before the movie screening. This would be in the Westpoint Community Hall, which was the biggest indoor venue in the town, but the movie would be in the St. John’s. The St. John’s theater was getting old and rickety and it wasn’t used much anymore, but they couldn’t hold the screening anywhere else.

Peter had a part-time job, working on the refreshment counter in the Community Hall, so the others all agreed that he should book their seats and get their tickets for them; which was something he’d regret later.

Tickets were in high demand, of course, but he managed to get the seats he wanted, in the very back row, up at the top, where the courting couples sat and cuddled. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

He was already regretting it when he and Carl came up to Billy T’s room. They walked in, he looked at the chair and said, “Oh, bugger!”

“Bugger yourself, Peter Reynolds,” JH said. “What’s wrong?”

“I got the tickets for Whozzat’s Movie, but I wasn’t thinking. I’ve gone and booked seats right up in the back row. Unless we take the roof off and drop you through, we’re never going to get you up there, Billy T. Sorry. I’ll see if I can change them.”

“Hey. No problems, Peter. Don’t change them, leave them as they are. It’ll be fun to sit in the back row for once.”

“But how?”

“JH will carry me up there. Right, JH?”

“Of course. Leave them as they are, Peter. We’ll do it.”

“I hope you’re right. It’s probably too late to change them anyway; they’ve been selling like hotcakes.”

He still checked next time he was working, but the seats had all been sold out. Unless he could do a swap with someone else, they were stuck with the back row seats.

The big night arrived at last. All over the town, people were showering and shaving, primping and preening. Many were wearing fancy dress – they wore the quaint old-style clothes that were popular 40 years ago. (Uncomfortable and heavy some of them were too.)

It was a long evening because it was such a late start. The sunset faded and day turned into night.

At 9pm, as arranged, all the lights of the town went out. They started coming on again, block by block, marking a shining trail along the main street from west to east. An old, vintage, helicopter flew along above it as the trail progressed.

The noise of it was incredible. It brought back memories for the older generation. The young people had never heard anything like it; it could be heard all over the town. Now they knew why they called them choppers – the rotor blades chopped the air, noisily.

When it approached the St. John’s multicoloured spotlights flashed along the faded murals on the west-facing wall. The wall suddenly went white and seven cartoon faces above the red-block letters, ‘Whozzat’s Movie’, were projected onto the wall.

The waiting crowd was released from the barriers back along the street and, smiling and waving to the cameras, filed into the theater. Billy T sat in his smaller chair, flanked by his granddads, pushed along by JH and followed by Carl and Peter. Fairy lights fringed the red carpet along the sidewalk.

Inside the main doors, Justin and Billy left them and went to sit down at the front with Grandmother Kathleen and Ma Carver. Ma was old and frail. She wasn’t seen around much anymore, she spent most of her days in the geriatric ward in the Kynnersley Home, but she wasn’t going to miss this occasion.

They parked Billy T’s chair against the wall in the lobby. Carl and Peter lifted him up, and he draped his arms over JH’s shoulders. JH held his limp legs up and, with Billy T on his back, started up the stairs, flanked by Carl and Peter. They were also escorted by a group of cousins.

Any of the others would’ve happily helped out, but Billy T wouldn’t let anyone else do this for him. JH was having none of that anyway. This was his boy and he’d carry him.

“He ain’t heavy, he’s my Brother.”

They came out into the upstairs area and stopped for a rest. JH sighed as he looked up at their destination, away up at the top of the hall, and then he started again, doggedly plodding up the aisle, lifting their combined weight on every step along the way. They were all relieved when he finally reached the top and lowered Billy T into his seat.

“This is so sweet!” Billy T beamed. “Thanks, JH. You’re my hero.”

“You’re welcome, My Love.” JH sank into his own seat, next to him. “But what’s your granddad been feeding you – bricks?”

“No, just good food. I’m a growing boy you know.”

“’You are, and a gorgeous one too.”

A hush came over the chattering crowd as the lights went down in the auditorium and up on the stage. An out-of-sight guitar began the long introduction to North’n West Coast Sun and the curtains opened to reveal the members of Whozzthis.

They were all dressed in old-style black suits and white shirts; all except “Sandie’ who wore her trademark leathers. The crowd went wild.

Whozzthis followed with a selection of the old Whozzat songs. The local crowd were loving it, especially the older generation. It was almost like being there, way back when. They saved the best until last. People were dancing in the aisles when they played Simply the Best. Everyone knew that song. There was thunderous applause as the group on the stage bowed and the curtains closed.

The Mayor of Westpoint, Dorothy Matthews-Taylor, walked out in front of the curtains and delivered a short speech. She finished with an extract from the speech by Tom Craddock at the premiere. “Our town, our kids, Whozzat’s Movie.”

As the Mayor left the stage, the curtains opened again to reveal the original members of Whozzat standing there ready to play. Some of them had aged much better than others. Only one of them was not the original group member. Kadie Green had died long ago and her place was taken by her daughter.

They waited until the audience had settled down, and then Peter began to play on his keyboard as the black back-drop behind them rose up above their heads. Everything stalled there and Peter repeated the chords over and over again. Two guys in high-visibility overalls came out, carrying an aluminium ladder.

They stood it upright and stood holding steady while Tony climbed down to the stage. He flung his arms out. “Wow!” And they played, ‘And We Danced’.

The song finished, the group bowed and came down from the stage as the movie began.

“Damm. It’s getting hot in here.” Billy T said, fanning himself with his souvenir programme.

“It is, JH replied. “I suppose that it’s always hot at the top of a crowded hall, but this is over the top. I wish someone would open the doors.”

“They already have,” Peter said. “It’s not helping much. It’s a warm night out there anyway.”

“Toughen up, Guys,” said Carl. “It’s no worse than a sauna. Not much worse anyway.”

The temperature continued to rise as the movie played on. The whine of the over-worked air-conditioners filled the hall, threatening to drown out the soundtrack.

Peter said, “It’s getting ridiculous. This is way too hot. What’s that? Can anyone smell smoke?”

Carl said, “You’re right. I can smell smoke and – ohmigod!!”

Their world turned into hell when a section at the front of the upstairs area collapsed and a raging inferno flared up. Screams filled the air as a stampede started for the exits. The hall was full of smoke and flames, coughs and crashing noises. The movie stopped and the lights all died. Peter dropped to his knees on the floor, coughing and retching.

“JH. Help me!” Billy T yelled.

“I’ve got you. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” JH pulled Billy T up out of his seat.

“Carl grabbed hold of his arm. “Give me his legs. I’ll help you.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid. I can do this. Save Peter and get yourself out of here!”

“Carl! Where are you?”

“I’m here! I’m here, Peter. Come on, I’ll get you out.”

They disappeared into the darkness and JH started down, feeling his way in the dark. He was gasping and choking on the thick, black smoke. At the bottom of the aisle, he sank, coughing, to his knees. His eyes were streaming and his lungs ached.

Billy T screamed, “JH! It’s too much! You can’t do it. Don’t worry about me. Leave me, get out. Save yourself!”

“Shut the fuck up, Billy Carver! No way am I leaving you here. Shut up! I love you, Billy.”

He staggered on in the semi-darkness. Heat and flames and smoke were all around them. A charred section of floorboards broke under their weight and he dropped, pitching Billy T forwards as he fell.

“Fuckit! Sorry.” He gasped. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Are you okay? You have to get up, JH. You have to get out of here.”

“Billy, I, ahh!”

JH’s world went black as a section of the ceiling collapsed and a flaming rafter crashed down on him.

“JH, no!” Billy T’s wail was the last thing he heard.


Westpoint Tales - Heroes, 10

It was the worst disaster in Westpoint’s long history. Seven people were killed; one of them was just a baby. Dozens were hospitalized; some with moderate injuries, some serious and severe. The worst cases were flown to Christchurch and to Auckland as Westpoint’s small hospital couldn’t cope with the influx, it was all too much.

Carl and Peter were not among the casualties. Peter almost was; it's not good to hyper-ventilate when you've already got asthmatic tendencies, and he was nearly overcome by the smoke and fumes. However, Carl hauled him out of the burning theater and, after a session on a nebuliser, he was as good as new.

Carl had a few small burns, but nothing serious. A nurse swabbed him clean, sprayed on some plastic skin and he was free to go home. There were far more serious injuries to be seen to.

The St. John’s Theater was lost. What was left would be demolished and it would not be rebuilt. The emergency services had not been able to save it; all they could do was to help the casualties. It was a shame that the St. John’s was lost, but people were much more important. Westpoint wept.

Justin and Billy had saved their grandmothers, taking them out of the emergency exit at the back. Billy’s brothers, Wayne and Robert, helped him to carry Ma across the street and they laid her down on the sidewalk. Their mother sat cradling Ma’s head in her lap and crying as she waited for a medic.

Justin took his grandmother to a neighbour’s house and left her there, with Claudette and Lana, while he went back to the theater. Kathleen insisted that he did.

“For fuck’s sake, Justin! I’m all right. Stop fussing and your arse back over there. If ever Westpoint needed their Superboy, they need him now.”

Nobody argued with Kathleen Reynolds; he went back. Where was his grandson?

Ma Carver was not injured, but she died in her sleep a couple of nights later. It was probably due to the shock and trauma. Her old heart couldn’t take it.

Four days after the disaster, JH woke up. He opened his eyes and looked at Bobby.

“Oh, thank heavens! Hello Son, welcome back. Don’t move. Stay where you are and I’ll get your dad.”

JH lay back and looked up at the ceiling. He was in a hospital. He’d never been in the Westpoint hospital, but he knew that this was not it. Wherever he was, this was a huge place. He heard Bobby coming back.

“Come on, Old Man. Get a move on, our boy’s awake and waiting for you.”

JH smiled as he heard Jon reply.

“He’s got terrible timing. He could’ve waited while I had a pee!”

JH turned his head and gasped as he saw Jon in the doorway. He was in a wheelchair and was swathed in bandages from his waist to the top of his head. All that he could see of his face was his eyes and his beaming smile.

“Hello, My Lovely Boy! How are you?”

“Better than you look, Dad.”

“Phaw! This?” Jon waved his hands around. “This is nothing. Just superficial injuries and a burn or two. I’ve lost my hair, but it’ll be back, unfortunately.”

“A burn or two or three hundred, more like.” Bobby came in behind him.

“It’s nothing! A few days and I’ll be good as new.”

“Billy?” JH croaked. “Where is Billy T? Is he all right? How did I get out of there? Did you save me, Dad?”

“No, not me. I couldn’t even find you in there. Billy T is fine. He’s in the next ward with his granddads. He looks better than you do.’

“I’ll tell them that you’re back – he’s been hanging out for news and, at last, it’s all good.” Bobby hurried out again.

He came back towing a hospital bed. Justin and Billy were pushing it from behind and Billy T lay on it, beaming his smile.

“Hey, JH! Welcome back.”

“Thanks, Billy. Oh, Billy, it’s so good to see you!”

“Good to see you too!”

They lay in their beds, smiling and crying as they looked at each other. Most of Billy T’s glorious red hair had gone. His head was covered in a short stubble and there was an angry looking pink-flesh patch on the side of his head. He had a bandage on his right shoulder and both of his hands were bandaged. He was a mess, but he was beautiful – so, so beautiful.

A nurse was fussing behind Justin. “You just can’t do this. You can’t move hospital beds around! Doctor is going to go ballistic.”

“Settle down, Girl,” Justin said. “It’s done now. I’ll deal with the doctor, don’t worry. Hello Handsome, how are you?”

“I’m good, Granddad, really good. Oh, Billy, it’s so good to see you.”

“You already said that, Dork!” Billy T grinned.

“Well it is! I thought that I’d lost you.”

“I thought that I’d lost you too, but that was not going to happen – no way!”

“But I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t move. Who got us out of there?”

“Oh, nobody,” Billy T smiled.

“Nobody? But we’re here. I couldn’t save us. Who did?”

“JH,” Granddad Billy said. “Billy T saved you. There was nobody else, so he did it himself.”

“You did? But. But, how?”

“How, we’ll never know,” Justin said. “His hands are burnt because he pulled that bloody great rafter off you. He picked you up and he carried you, down the burning stairs and right out of the front door of the theater. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Nobody could.”

“You carried me? Did you walk out, Billy?”

“Yes, I walked. I had to, so I did. I’ve lost so many people who I loved; I couldn’t let that happen again, not to you – especially not to you. I love you, JH. I love you very much and I’m not going to lose you – ever! So there.”

(That’s it. Their stories go on, but I’ve finished. I think. Cheers.)

Requiem for an Old Friend

Goodbye, Old Girl - gone but never forgotten.

Westpoint Tales - Heroes, 8

Time went by, weeks passed, and life was good, mostly. Carl and Peter were together constantly. They no longer had to steal moments alone in hidden corners and they were all but living together. Sometimes they spent a night apart, but not often. Most nights they slept together, either at Peter’s home or at Carl’s, and they were both accepted as members of each other’s families.

When they socialized with others, it was mostly with Billy T and JH and they spent a lot of time just hanging with them. On a couple of nights, they all slept together on Billy T’s big bed. There was no sex involved, they just slept, cuddled together.

Everyone was avoiding the Square. It was too upsetting; there was a great gaping hole where the grandstand should be. Councillor Ross assured everybody that it would be back, as soon as possible. Just as well too.

Money for the project would not be a problem. There would be a government subsidy forthcoming, from the Ministry for Recreation & Sport, the old grandstand was well insured, and Ross had a scheme where people could pay to have names inscribed on the concrete walls below the stepped seats.

This was originally intended to be just the names as memorials to people of the town who had gone before, but everybody wanted to see their names, as well as friends and family, there as well. There was hardly enough room to fit them all in. Money was not a problem.

Jason McDonald and Jordan Taylor, well-known artists, offered to reproduce the graffiti that was in the old grandstand. Some of it was quite artistic. But Ross said no. He was sure that there would be a whole crop of it anyway. Though, maybe having everyone’s names there would discourage graffiti. Maybe – there’s always idiots around.

Ross would scalp them if he caught them at it. He’d have help.

One Sunday, the four spent the day fishing on the rocks, down by Charlestown. Peter’s dad, Jonathan Junior, drove them down there in the morning and came back to collect them in the late afternoon.

They took a picnic lunch with them, which was just as well because they didn’t catch any fish – not a one! It was a bit cold for swimming and the sea was too rough anyway, but it was a good day.

Billy T’s chair was useless on the steep, steeped, track down to the rocks, so they left it at the top and JH carried him down to the water’s edge. He was still a bit prickly about accepting help from anyone else, even his granddads and Peter and Carl, but he happily allowed JH to help him when he needed it.

JH thought that he always needed it, but he realised that it was best for the boy to do what he could for himself. Still, he delighted in helping him when he could. He loved this boy very much and was still amazed that Billy T wanted to be with him – he just wished that he would say it.

Even though he was constantly telling Billy T that he loved him, and though Billy T acted like he did, he never actually came out and said aloud that he loved JH. JH said nothing, but he really wished that he would. He was worried that something was not right. Apart from that, his life had never been better.

They’d found a small problem when Billy T came to JH’s home, but it was not a big deal. His chair was too big to go up to the living-quarters on the elevator. The disk was too small, so JH had to carry him up there and he got around upstairs sitting on a castored computer chair, or JH carried him. Bobby offered to have the elevator altered, but they both said not to worry. They were happy with JH carrying him.

Billy T was not comfortable down on the rocks. He was happy to be out with JH and their friends, doing stuff together, and it was a nice day, but the sea was rough. Big waves reared and smashed high up on the rocks and he worried – not for himself, but he was worried that the others were standing too close.

People had been washed off these rocks before. A kid was drowned here, not so long ago. The chances of surviving in that choppy sea were not good. JH left him sitting well back from the waves, but he got too close himself.

Billy T was relieved when the others decided that they’d had enough and the fish weren’t biting anyway. They went back up to wait by the road. It was a good day with no incidents, but he worried.

A couple of days later, early in the morning, JH was alone, sitting on the end of the South Tiphead, at the north-end of Carvers Beach. Justin came along, doing his regular, solitary, morning run.

(He liked to run the circuit through the town, across the bridge, out by the highway to carvers Beach and back home through the tunnel under the river).

He saw JH sitting at the end of the tiphead, and he veered out there to join him. JH looked up and smiled as Justin sat down.

“Good morning, Justin.”

“Good morning to you too, and what a great morning it is! What are you doing sitting here all alone, JH?”

“Just having a breather. I couldn’t sleep so I’m having a walk and a think.”

“A think? Billy T stayed the night at home alone. Is everything all right with you boys?”

“Everything is fine. Well,” he sighed. “Mostly it is. No, it’s fine – everything’s good.”

“Mostly good? Something’s bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I, umm, I don’t want to talk. You are Billy T’s granddad after all. It’d be awkward.”

“So there is something. We’re friends aren’t we? It doesn’t have to be awkward. It helps to talk and I’m a very good listener.”

“You’re a very good person, Justin. But, well, okay – I’ll try. You won’t tell Billy T about this?”

“Not if you don’t want me to. I won’t tell anybody.”

“Well, when we are lying down in bed and, ahh, having sex. . .”

He choked up and hung his head, embarrassed. Justin draped an arm around his shoulders and hugged him.

“It’s okay, JH. Of course you’re having sex. I’d be amazed if you weren’t. What’s the problem? Billy T is physically capable, isn’t he?”

“Oh yes! He’s very capable.”

“That’s good. What’s wrong then?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all. It just that, when he gets, well, excited, he moves around a lot. He jerks and jumps and pushes and he uses his legs. I’ve checked and he is definitely using the muscles in his legs. I can feel them clenching and relaxing.

Justin, why can’t he walk?”

“I wish I knew. But, thank you, JH. That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time. Thank you for telling me. Have you discussed it with him?”

“I’ve tried to, but he doesn’t believe me. He says that he’s just pulling with his arms and his body, but he’s not – I’m sure of it, he’s using his legs. I don’t see why he can’t walk.”

“I don’t see why either, I never have. Billy T’s legs are fine, they’ve been completely rebuilt and restored as good as new. The problem has got to be in his mind, he’s got some mental block there.

Over the years, we’ve taken him to America, to Europe, Russia and China even. The best psychiatrists that we’ve been able to find have looked at him, but no-one has been able to undo the knots in his head. Maybe you can do what nobody else can.”

“Me? I’m no expert on anything. I would do anything for Billy. I would give him my legs if I could, but I can’t and I can’t help him to walk. I wish that I could.”

“You really love that boy, don’t you, JH?”

“Totally! I wouldn’t care if he never walked, I like helping him, but it bothers him, I know that it does.”

“Know something, JH Williamson? I love you.” Justin hugged him and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Boy, and I’m glad that Billy T is with you. I couldn’t think of anyone better. Don’t fret it. Just keep on doing what you’re doing. Love him and let him love you – that’s what matters. What happens will happen.”

“It does matter, but that’s what else is wrong. Does he love me?”

“Of course he loves you. It’s written all over his face every time he looks at you. Why would you doubt it?”

“He never says it. I love him very, very much and I tell him that a hundred times a day, but he never says that he loves me.”

“Ah, I see. He does tell you, you know. – in his smiles, in the way he is around you, even I see that.”

“I guess you’re right, but he doesn’t say it. Why won’t he, Justin?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did. It must go back to the car crash again. Billy T was just 7 years old when his father and his little brother were killed next to him. He loved his father, really, really loved him. He just adored him and all-but worshipped him, and he was devastated when he lost him. We all were, but he took it hardest of all. For a long time he wasn’t interested to getting well, he wanted to be with his daddy.

Years later, Melanie, his mum, and his two sisters were killed in a plane crash. I think that he’s lost so many that he loved, he’s afraid to make that commitment in case he loses you too. It’s probably not conscious, but the mind does strange things.That’s my take on it anyway.”

“He is not ever going to lose me!” JH declared.

“I hope you’re right, but we never know what’s around the next corner.”

“He tells you guys, you and Billy, that he loves you. He often says it.”

“He does, but that’s different. We’re family and we’ve always been around. We were there on the day he was born – holding Jeremy up actually, he was useless! You are new and you are special to him – very special. Give him time, JH. He’s a damaged boy, but you can help him. Just keep on loving him.”

“Of course I will, always! Thanks, Justin. You’re great. I can see why they call you Superboy.”

“Don’t you start doing that, Sunshine. You call me Justin, and that’s good. I was damaged too when I was a boy. Not as bad as Billy T, but I was damaged. I got better because people loved me. Billy T can do that too, especially with you on his side.”

“Thanks.” JH whipped around suddenly and hugged Justin, hard. “Thank you, Justin. I love you too. I think I’ll call you and Billy ‘Granddad’ from now on. If that’s all right with you?”

“Sure it is, Sweet Boy. We’d be honoured. Now it’s time to be getting home. Billy’s up there looking for me and worrying.”

“Can you see him from here?”

“No, I can’t see him but I know that he is. Go home, wash your face, put on a smile and give Jon and Bobby a hug from me.”

“I will. Thanks, Granddad.”

Westpoint Tales - Heroes, 7

“Sir yourself! Nice to meet you too, JH. Really nice.”

They stood staring at each other, both intrigued by what they saw. JH really did look at lot like Bobby, it was weird. He looked a lot like in his dad in many ways, their smiles were exactly the same, but he looked like Bobby too. They had the same deep-blue eyes.

“Well, you’re family all right. No doubt about that!” Bobby smiled and offered his hand.

“Welcome home, Son.”

“Ah. Thank you, Bobby. It’s good to be home.”

“It’s always good to be home,” Bobby smiled.

He released JH’s hand, finally.

I’ve got something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes, and all the way from England. First, take a look at this.”

He picked up a brick, from the coffee table, and handed it to him.

“A brick? You brought a brick back from England?”

“I did. A special brick. I found the cottage where our ancestors used to live, near a little village called Oakley Green. Or, I found the place where the cottage used to be – it has been demolished.

The current owners found that when it was pulled down, and they gave it to me. I’m going to have it set into the statue of James Hargreaves in the Square.”

“A brick from the house he was born in? That’s very cool.”

“It is, it’s more than cool. Have a look on the side of it.”

JH turned the brick over.

“Oh, wow!”

Carved – inscribed – into the brick were the words, ‘James and Abraham Hargreaves Williamson. Born 2 May 1854’.

"Way cool. But, who is Abraham?”

“Abraham Hargreaves was James Hargreaves’ twin brother. He died when they were boys. I’ve brought a piece of him home to be with his brother. But that’s not your gift. Your gift is in the box there, open it and take one.”

JH opened the box on the table and looked inside.

“Miniature bricks?”

“Yes. Chips off the old block, as it were.”

The box contained hundreds of identical little bricks, all about 15mm long and 6 mm square.

They gave me a second brick from the cottage and it’s been laser-cut to give us all of those. I’m giving one to every known descendant of James Hargreaves Williamson. I hope there’s enough!”

“And, I get one of them?”

“Of course you do! Take one, you’re one of us.”

“I am. Thanks, Bobby.”

He looked in the box again. The bricks were all exactly the same. He took one out and held it up.

“Thanks. This is a bit of my history – a part of where I came from. I’ll treasure it always. Will Billy T be getting one as well?”

“Yes of course. Billy T, his granddads and everyone else – everyone with James Hargreaves’ genes.”

“All in the family,” JH grinned.

“Yes, family,” Jon agreed. “And the more of us who are together and the closer we are, the more complete the brick will be. Great idea, Bobby. You’re brilliant.”

“Of course I am,” Bobby grinned. “Sit down, JH and let’s get close. Tell me all about yourself. I want to know everything about your life ever since you were stolen away from us. Jon, you’re cooking tonight.

“The hell I am!” Jon protested. “I’m not moving. We can have burgers.”

“Billy’s Burgers?”

“Of course – simply the best.”

Peter and Carl left the school and walked slowly across the town. They were going, together, to Carl’s home and the plan was for Peter to spend the night there. He wanted to believe Carl when he told him that there would be no trouble and that he was welcome there, , but it was such a turn-around – a complete reversal of the way Carl’s dad had been lately! He wouldn’t really believe it until he saw it for himself. He was in no hurry, it was a nice day for a leisurely stroll.

They went into the Square at the north-west corner, through the passive garden of the miners’ memorial. Peter wanted to stop and watch the bubbling water-features in the sunken garden, but Carl kept him moving.

“Come ON, Peter. There’s nothing here that we haven’t seen a hundred times already. At this rate, we’re never going to get there.”

“Suits me. Why don’t we go back to my place? We could see your dad tomorrow, or next week or sometime.”

“We could not. He’s just come around to our side, we don’t want to upset him and make him go all anti again.”

“If we don’t want to upset him, why don’t we get your Granddad Lucas to come with us?”

“Why don’t we stand on our own four feet? We don’t need Granddad, we just need to be men.”

“Men? I think I’m more like a mouse.”

“No, you’re not. Anyway, remember the Mouse that roared?”

“Superboy? Great idea, why don’t we get Justin?”

“We’re not getting Superboy either. We don’t need him. Would I lie to you? Come On, Peter!”

“Yeah, all right, all right already. Don’t nag me.”

“Damm, Peter. Don’t you ever call me a wimp again!”

That did the trick and Peter started walking resolutely to meet his fate. “Come on, Big Red, let’s do it.”

“Big what? You cheeky swine.”

They walked out into the Square and across the grass of the empty sportsfield, heading for the Memorial Gates at the opposite corner.

There were two men sitting on the fence by the running-track, looking up at the old grandstand. They looked at them and Carl smiled. “Hey Uncle Ross, Uncle Robert. What are you two scheming now?”

“Hey Carl. Hey Peter. Why would we be scheming anything.”

“Gran says that you usually are.”

“Yeah. Be warned, Boys. Big sisters never believe that little brothers have grown up,” Robert replied.

“Anyway,” Ross said. “We are scheming. What do you think, Boys? Should we pull the old girl down, bit by bit, or should we just bulldoze the lot.”

“Bulldoze what?” Peter was horrified. “Not the grandstand? You can’t pull the grandstand down!”

“I’m afraid we have to,” Ross said. “She has to go.”

“But. . .but. . .why?” Peter stammered.

Carl was with him. “You can’t! It would be like ripping the heart out of the town. The Square is the heart of Westpoint and the grandstand is the heart of the square. You can’t pull it down.”

Robert nodded. “What did I tell you, Ross? This is going to upset everybody. There’ll be blood in the streets – probably yours.”

“It can’t be helped. The grandstand has to go – it’s dangerous. The council had an engineer’s report done, and another one and another because they didn’t want to believe it.

The old girl has been touched-up and tarted-up. She had a new roof once, but that was about 80 years ago. The structural walls are all the old originals and they’re rotten from the ground up. One good wind and it will all come crashing down. Imagine that if it was full of people at the time.”

“Damm,” said Carl.

“Bugger,” said Peter.

“Told you so,” said Robert. “You do this for whatever reason, and your name is going to be mud.”

“Hey! It’s not my idea. I’m not happy about this either. I don’t want to see the grandstand go. I love this old girl. I lost my virginity up there, in the back row.”

“Eww!” the boys chorused. “We’ve sat up there.”

“What? Sorry Boys, but it’s true. Probably generations of Westpoint people have done the same. But, something has to be done and soon. The job has been given to me; I’m the councilor for parks and reserves now.”

Robert said, “Well, it’s a great start to your career on the council, that’s all I can say. You’d be better to resign now and let someone else carry the can.”

“I’m not resigning. I was elected to the council and I’m going to do what I have to do.”

“This is their way of getting rid of you. You know that, don’t you? The Old School were all upset about a Carver kid getting on to the council. Knock the grandstand down and you’ll be history.”

“No, Robert, I won’t. I might be a Carver but I’m hardly a kid. This is not the end of my career, it’s barely the beginning. I’ll be mayor of this town before I’m finished.”

“Good luck with that, Brother. No way is that going to happen. Old attitudes die hard you know.”

“It’ll happen. Attitudes die hard but they do die. Wait and see.”

“Not after you knock the grandstand down they won’t.”

“What are we meant to do then, wait for it to fall down?”

“No, knock it down,” Carl said. “Tell the people why it has to go, and then bulldoze it and do it quick.”

“Carl! What are you saying?” Peter protested. “He can’t!”

“He can. He has to. Flatten it, Councillor Mathieson. Level it off at the ground, and then put it back. Build us a new grandstand exactly the same as the old one. Same size, same shape and colours. Just rebuild it in modern materials that are going to last.”

“Carl! I could kiss you!” Ross beamed. “You’re so right, my lovely nephew. Exactly right and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. You’ve just saved my career in politics and, more importantly, you’ve saved the grandstand too. Maybe you should be on the council?”

“Me on the council? No way. That doesn’t interest me at all. The job’s all yours, Uncle. Do this right and you’ll be on the way to the top.”

“I will,” Ross grinned. “Mayor Mathieson. Wait and see. Want to go and get your digger, Robert?”

“Seriously? Yeah, all right, but not yet. Don’t be too hasty. Like the boy says, first you’ve got to tell the people what’s happening and why.”

“I will. I’ll go around to the News and get it started now. We’d better get the engineering staff in to record everything here and draw up plans too. Plus, we’ve got to shut everyone out of the grandstand. We can’t afford to have any accidents now.”

“Bye, Uncles. Have fun,” Peter said.

“Bye Boys. You too.”

Peter and Carl left them and carried on walking – out of the Square and across to the main street.

“I’m so glad you that of that, Carl. Westpoint just wouldn’t be the same without the grandstand.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Am I ever?”

“Not a lot, no. You’re a bright kid, Peter.”

“Yeah. Nearly as bright as you. Life’s good, isn’t it?”

“It is! Very good and getting better.”

They walked along the main street, carefully not looking at the landscaped garden-rest area where the Adelphi Hotel used to be. There was no logical reason for either of them to be upset at the demise of the old Adelphi, but they still didn’t like it.

They silently agreed, again, that the grandstand HAD to be replaced and it had to be exactly the same as it always had been.

They strolled around to the Esplanade. Carl was in a hurry and he wanted to get it over with. Peter didn’t. Carl tried to gently hurry him along and reassured him that everything was going to be all right, but it was not easy.

The huge trench being dug for the pipelines for the new sewage treatment plant was interesting, so they had to stop and check that out for a while.

Finally, they arrived at Carl’s home. His mother was weeding in the garden at the front.

“Hello Boys. Lovely to see you, Peter – about time too! You can feed yourselves if you’re hungry, I’m busy here. I think your dad’s in the garage, Carl. Go and see him first, he’s been waiting for you both.”

“He has?” Peter squeaked.

“Yes he has. Don’t look so worried, Peter. Everything’s okay, he just wants to see you.”

Carl Senior came out of the garage. “There you are! The return of Peter Reynolds.”

“Yes Sir. I’m here.”

“Good job too.” He put down the box he was carrying and hugged him. “You’re very welcome here, Peter. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks, Mr. Carl. I will.”

“See that you do. Bye Boys. Be nice to each other.’

“Always, Dad. We’re always nice to each other.”

“Well, good! Keep it up.”

He picked up his box and went up to his office.

“See?” Carl grinned widely. “Nothing to worry about, my funny little Chinese Boy.”

“Shut up, Carl Sheridan.” Peter grinned back. “I’m no more a Chinese boy than you are. I was born in Westpoint, just like you were.”

“Sure you were, but you’re still Chinese – your mum’s from China, well, Hong Kong.”

“Maybe she was, but I’m not. I’m a kiwi kid, the same as you.”

“Peter, my beautiful, almond-eyed, black haired and golden skinned Chinaman, I am nothing like you, on the outside.”

“Okay, on the outside we’re different, inside we’re the same. Anyway, you’re a flame-haired Scotsman. But I love you anyway.”

“Oh yeah! We’re a United Nations, you and I.”

“United Nations, is it? Want to go and get united?”

“Sounds good – race you to my room.”

Sometimes, for a time, some things are more important than food – even for teenage boys. Especially for teenage boys.