Watch Wills!

(This is him in the orange top & yellow helmet.)



Filmed in & around Kaikoura and one of the other boys is from Westport! NewZealand's a village.



cheers

Gimme Shelter II, 5

(Here y'go - last one & i hope it's not a fizzer. Off to Christchurch now, for i don't know how long - again!

cheers)

Jim stopped in the doorway and looked back. “Ronnie, your brother's up in the workshop. Give him a call on the intercom and tell him to get down here, right now.”

“Will do, Dad.”

“Good boy. He's not to go upstairs either. I'll be back.”

They tried to eat, but neither of them was very hungry. They were too worried.

“Gran, what do you think Dad's doing?”

“I haven't a clue. I'm no more a mind-reader than you are. We'll just have to wait and see. Don't worry, Boys. Jim usually knows what he's doing.”

“But not always.”

“But usually. Settle down, Ronnie. Patience is a virtue.”

They were still sitting at the table when Ronnie's Uncle Stephen came in. A big guy, Stephen was ex-army and it showed, in his bearing, in his clothes and especially in his haircut. He seemed really ezcited, for once. He was rubbing his hands together and all-but bouncing as he walked.

He grinned and greeted Boy with a firm handshake when Ronnie introduced them, and then he wanted to know where his brother was?

Gran replied, “I think Jim went back to his workshop by now.”

“He did? Damm. Now I'll have to go out again. I've just come in from the cold.”

“No you don't,” Ronnie smiled. “You could go up the stairs at the end of the south corridor. That'll take you up into the workshop without going outside.”

“He's opened the south stairs' entrance up? Great. About time too.”

“Yeah, Dad said he's sick of going out into the weather too.”

“Right, I'll go and check-in with Jim. See you soon, Boys. Take it easy, Mum.” He hurried out again.

Ronnie watched him going. “Someone's all excited.”

“He is,” Gran agreed. “My sons are never going to grow up. When they get together, they're like a pair of big kids.”

“You still don't know what they're doing?”

“I still don't know what they're doing.”

“Okay. Want to watch some TV, Boy?”

“Only if it's switched on.

“That can be arranged, and shut up!”

They lounged and watched TV for a program or two, then, when something good came on, Reggtie came in and switched it off.

“Hey!”

“What're you doing?” They both protested.

“Never mind,” Reggie grinned. “That's enough TV for one day. Dad wants you both to come with me.”

“With you? Where to?” Ronnie queried. “Up to his workshop?”

“No. To the garage on the front street. Come on.”

They went along the corridors, up the stairs and into the garage and Ronnie's cousin Marcus met them there.

“Hey, Marcus. What're you doing here?”

“Just doing what I'm told, Ronnie. It's easier that way. This is your mate, the maori boy, is it?”

“Does he look like a maori boy?”

“Shut up, Smart-Arse. Of course he does. Hey Boy. I'm Marcus, Ronnie's cousin. Good to see you, real good.”

“Hey Cousin Marcus.”

Yeah, it's good to see him, it always is,” Ronnie said. “What're we meant to do now?”

“Wait here a minute, I'll be back.” Marcus went out into the street.

At least the weather had improved out there; the sun was shining. In a couple of minutes, he returned, shut the door and stood looking at his watch. He waited, nodded, and then said, “Right then. Boy, you are to go out and stand in the middle of the street with no coat or scarf or anything on.”

“I don't know about this.” Boy was looking worried.

“Just do it, Boy,” Ronnie said. “They know what they're doing. If Dad doesn't Uncle Stephen does.”

“This was Stephen's idea,” Marcus said “C'mon, Boy – outside! You're holding things up.”

“Well . . . okay.”

Boy opened the door to go outside and a group of noisy motorbikes cruised slowly past. He slammed the door shut and leant back against it. “Whoah!”

“Come on, Boy, get out there!” Marcus opened the door again.

“But that's them!” Boy protested. “They'll see me.”

Ronnie said, “I think that's the whole idea. You've heard of whitebait, haven't you?”

“Yeah, of course I have.”

“Well, you're the Black bait. Go and stand out in the street.”

“Cheeky Honky! That'll keep,” Boy grumbled as he walked outside.

He stood in the middle of the street and looked up and down. The bikes were still visible in the distance; there was no other traffic around. He didn't know if that was normal or not.

Three bikes went around a corner, the fourth one stopped and the rider looked back, and then raced off after the others.

“I think he saw me!” Boy yelled.

“Good,” said a voice between two buildings over the street. “They're meant to, that's the plan.”

“Wait there, Boy,” said another voice on his side of the street. “Think like a bullfighter.”

“I haven't got a cape! Haven't got a sword either, wish I did.”

“You don't need them,” Marcus called from the garage. “Here they come – Bandits at one o'clock! Stay there, Boy. Don't move.”

“Sheeet!” Boy went as white as a ghost, facing the bikes roaring up the street towards him. All 7 of them were coming now.”

“We've got a full house, all 7 bikes!” Marcus yelled. “Holding, Guys, and counting. One, two, three, four. Go, go, go!”

Ropes were pulled tight on both sides of the street and what had looked like a couple of lines across the road turned out to be 2 walls of old fishing nets hauled up a couple of meters into the air blocking the path of the motorbikes skidding into it.

Three bikes went down in a jumbled, tangled mess. Another one skidded sideways, bounced over the kerb and smacked into a wall. The other 3 bikes braked and stopped.

One rough and dirty-looking rider put his bike on the kick-stand, the other two just dropped theirs and they advanced on Boy. “Shouldn't've done that,” the leader taunted. “Now you're gonna die!”

“He bloody is not!” Ronnie, followed by Marcus and Reggie, ran out to stand with Boy. Marcus and Reggie both had short, solid, wooden batons in their hands.

The bikers stopped and paused uncertainly when they were suddenly surrounded on all sides by a growing group of older youths, men of all ages and even a couple of women – they were not ladies. Many of the grim-faced crowd were big, burly guys, obviously manual workers, maybe miners, sawmillers and fishermen. A lot of them were carrying the same batons, slapping them on their hands.

Ronnie and Reggie's father and uncle, Jim and Stephen Martin, walked out and faced the bikers. They stood silently eyeballing each other until Jim said, “Pick up your rubbish, get the fuck out of our town and don't come back.”

“Or what?” a shaking voice replied.

“Or hurt – a lot,” Stephen answered.

They looked around; they backed off. Two of them got back on their bikes, wheeled around and left. The other helped one of his mates up and they got out of there. The remaining two, scowling, limped as they pushed their bikes away up the street and it was over.

“Choice! Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Uncle, everyone!”

“No worries, Ronnie,” his dad replied. “Nobody messes with our town and our family and lives to tell the tale. Boy, as long as you're here, you are family too.”

“Whoah, thanks.” Boy stood there like he was stunned, stray tears escaping his eyes.

“Well done, Boy,” Stephen spoke out. “I was impressed with how you stood fast with all that lot bearing down on you, you never even flinched.”

“Thanks,” Boy nodded. “I couldn't have moved if I tried, I was bleedin' terrified!”

“Would have been something wrong with you if you weren't, but you stood there. I'll be proud to call you family too,” Stephen nodded.

“Thank you . . I . .” Boy's bottom lip quivered, his eyes teared-up and he fled into the garage. Ronnie hurried after him.

“Okay, Guys,” Stephen smiled. “Get rid of those nets and we'll go for a beer. I think Jim's buying.”

“That's what you think, Mr. Money-Bags, but, yeah, let's have a beer.”

They all adjourned to the nearest pub.

Ronnie went into the garage, down the stairs and along the corridors to his room, looking for Boy. He was in there, of course, sprawled across the bed, face-down, like he'd been thrown there.

“Boy? You okay?” Ronnie sat and put a hand on his back.

“Yeah, I'm okay,” Boy sighed. He rolled over to look up at him. “I'm good now!”

“Why are you crying then, you Twit?”

“Because, well because I was getting overcome, whakamau and emotional. That was awesome what all those people did for me. I didn't want half the town to see me crying.”

“I can see you crying.”

“You can, but you don't count.”

“I don't? Why don't I”

“Because you're my Mate.”

“Oh yeah!” Ronnie bent forward and brushed their lips together. “I'm your Mate and you are mine. I love you, Boy. I'm so glad you came back.”

“Ronnie, I love you, I always have and I'm real glad that I came back too.”

They kissed.

End.

Gimme Shelter II, 4

Not for the first time, Ronnie wished that he was more like his brother. Reggie never seemed like he had a care in the world. He just breezed through life with a smile on his face and never, ever had any doubts about himself. He just assumed that people would like him and, generally, they did.

Ronnie was much more timid, even with Boy and he was the closest friend he'd ever had.

He hoped that he'd still be a friend like that, but he didn't know. Reggie would just bore on in and ask him, he knew that but he couldn't do it himself.

His dad and Reggie arrived home and Reggie, true to form, greeted Boy with a huge grin. “Boy! Good to see ya. How the hell are you? What's to eat, Gran?”

Okay, Boy's return wasn't the big event in Reggie's life that it was in Ronnie's.

Reggie and their father were sitting eating their re-heated dinner. Reggie, making conversation, said, “What d'you reckon those goons on the motor-bikes are up to out there, Dad?”

“Goons?” Ronnie asked.

“Yeah, Goons. There's a couple of groups of them, just cruising up and down the streets, like they're looking for trouble. You'd think they'd find something better to do when the weather's like it is – it's foul out there!”

Boy went all quiet. He just sat and looked at his feet. Ronnie watched him, something was bothering him. The bikes? “The bikes? I saw 3 bikes before, going up and down the front street. Any idea who they are?”

“Not a clue. There's one bunch of 3 and another of 4 bikes. They're strangers in town, as far as I can see. It's hard to tell with the helmets and everything. And it's dark out there.”

“Is it really? That happens sometimes, especially at night.”

“Shaddup Ronnie!”

For Boy's sake, Ronnie thought it best to change the subject. “How did your embroidery materials get on, Gran?”

“They'll be fine, thanks. You saved the parcel before it got wet on the inside.”

“That's good then. I guess you'll be making baby stuff now?”

“Possibly.” She was still not smiling about all of that.

Bedtime came early because Boy was obviously ready for it; he was sitting there yawning his head off. They went to bed in their separate rooms, across the corridor from each other.

When saying goodnight, Ronnie asked, once again, “Are you sure that you don't mind sleeping down here? You could still go up to the cottage if you like.”

“No thanks. I don't like. Stop and listen.”

They stood quietly, facing each orther, heads cocked to one side and grinning as they listened to – what? Nothing?

“What? I don't hear anything.”

“Exactly. Neither can I,” Boy replied. “Good eh? No wind, no rain, no traffic noise – nothing but peace and quiet. This is real good, Ronnie, and it's just what I need. We're got shelter from the storm and this is where I want to be – thanks.”

“Thanks? Thank you! It's so good to see you, Boy.”

“'Course it is,” he grinned. “Good to be here at last. G'night, Ronnie.”

“Night, Boy.”

Ronnie left the doors open and was to be glad that he did. He turned the lights out and settled down in bed, thinking that he was never going to get to sleep, he was way to excited for that. So, of course, he went to sleep straight-away – out like a light!

An hour or so later, he was jarred awake by a weird wailing sound. Sitting up in the dark, trying to figure out what was going on, his first thought was that it was some sort of siren going off. But, it wasn't – it was Boy!

Ronnie stumbled out of bed, turned the lights on and went over to check on him. In the other room, by the light coming in from the corridor outside, he could see Boy thrashing and wailing in his sleep.

The Kid was obviously having a nightmare. Should he wake him up? He was bloody going to anyway – he had to do something, he wasn't leaving him like that. He turned on Boy's light, sat on the bed and shook him by the shoulders.

Boy? Boy! Wake up, you're dreaming. Boy, wake up, it's okay.”

Boy's eyes flicked open and, for an instant, he looked terrified, and then he relaxed. “The bikes!” he wailed. “Ronnie!!”

He sat up, wrapped his arms around Ronnie clung and sobbed over his shoulder.

“It's okay.” Ronnie held him and rubbed his back. “It's all right, it was just a dream. It's over now.”

“Oh, but it's not! It's never over, I'm living in a nightmare, on and on and on! Hold me, Ronnie. Hold me.”

“I've got you. I've got you and I'll never let go. Never.”

“Oh Ronnie! Thanks. Sorry. I didn't want to involve you but I didn't know where else to go. I've got nowhere. Sorry, Ronnie.”

“Hey.” Ronnie pushed him off so that he could look at his face. He shook his head at the sight and started crying himself, just because Boy was. “It's okay, Boy. Really it is. Don't be sorry, you came to the right place. You'll be safe here. I love you, Boy, and I'm so glad you came back to us.”

“To you. Ronnie. Just to you. I love you, I always have and I always will..”

They embraced tightly and cried again. They broke apart and looked around at the sound of a throat-clearing cough in the doorway.

“Dad! Gran. How long have you been standing there?”

His father had the oddest look on his face and he stood gazing into the distance.

Dad?” Ronnie was worried now. “Dad are you okay?”

“Yes.” He shook his head and smiled, so that had to be good. “Yes, I'm fine. Things just fell into place – a lot of things. It's okay, Son. Don't worry. Go back to sleep, Boys, and we'll talk in the morning.”

“Sorry I woke everyone up, Mr. Martin.” Boy swung his legs out of bed. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, we don't want you to leave. Don't be silly, Boy. You're very welcome and I'm glad you're here. Now settle down and go to sleep.”

“Thanks. I'll try to.”

“Yeah, we all will. G'nght, Boys.” He went back to his room.

Gran said, “Anything you need? A drink or something?”

“No, I'm fine – really I am. Thanks anyway.”

“Right then. I'm going back to bed too. Forget about whatever was worrying you, you're in the safest place in town here.”

“We are!” Ronnie agreed. “One day we might go upstairs and find that the whole town's been blown away and we don't even know.”

“We probably wouldn't,” Gran smiled. “Goodnight Boys.” She went back to her room.

Ronnie smiled. “Everything's good. Are you sure there's nothing you want?”

“Well. . “ he drawled in reply. “There is one thing – can I come and sleep with you?”

“In my bed? Of course you can, that'll be great. Come on then.” Ronnie turned the lights out again and they slid into his big bed together.

Boy lay away over at the side, facing away from him. “Thanks, Ronnie. It's so good to be here. Even if it's just for tonight, it's worth it.”

“Just for tonight?” Worried now, Ronnie moved over, spooned around his back, put an arm around him and hugged. “Why would it be just tonight? You're not going again already, are you?”

“I don't want to. I really don't, but I think that I'll have to.”

“No! Why would you have to?”

“Your dad, your family, they won't want me here, not when they know.”

“When they know what? That we love each other? If they don't want you here, then they won't want me either. If you go, I'm coming with you.”

“No, Ronnie, you will not. It's not that, it's something else and it's not safe around me now.”

“Not safe? Are the Police looking for you?”

“No, not the Police. I wish that's all it was.”

“What then?”

Boy didn't answer. They both lay quietly thinking. Something clicked in Ronnie's head. “It's the motorbikes, isn't it? It must be. Something about them is upsetting you. They can't get at you here, Boy. This is the strongest, safest shelter you'll find anywhere.”

“I know. I know that it is, and that's great, but I can't stay down here.”

“Yes you can. Stay here forever if you want to.”

“I wish I could, I really do, but I can't.” Boy turned over to face him, hugged and clung. “It'd just make trouble for everyone and I can't do that.”

“Yeah you can.”

“No, Ronnie, I can't. You don't know. When you do you'll probably want me out of here too.”

“I won't, you know. I promise you, no matter what it is, I don't care. I don't ever want you to leave again. I love you.”

“Ronnie, oh Ronnie! I love you so much!”

“Tell me then. Tell me so I know what to do to help.”

“There's nothing you can do, but thanks.”

“Tell me then.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“All right, I will. Don't let go of me, Ronnie.”

“Never!”

They lay together, in the bed, in the dark, and cried together as Boy told his story. He finished, saying, “Now you know. I should go, shouldn't I, Ronnie?”

“The hell you should! You should stay right here where you are.”

“I don't want to bring you troubles, but that's what you get with loving me.”

“Rubbish! What I get is a beautiful boy, nothing else matters, nothing in the world.”

“Oh, Ronnie! I do love you.”

"Good! Keep it up.”

They both stopped, then giggled at what he'd said.

“Keep what up? This?” Boy's hand slid between them and grasped 'Little Ronnie'.

“Well, that too,” Ronnie chortled and did the same back to him.

It took a while, but they did eventually get some sleep, tangled together. They woke in the morning, stuck together in places, and carefully and slowly separated. They got up and showered together. Back in the room, they both dressed in Ronnie's clothes, and then went in search of food.

Ronnie's Gran and his Dad were sitting at the kitchen table.

“Well! The resurrection,” Gran grinned. “Get a drink and come and sit here, Boys. Sleep well?”

“Eventually, yeah,” Ronnie agreed.

They got coffees and sat together on one side of the table.

“Okay,” Jim Martin began. “Talking time. If it makes it any easier, we already know that you two have a relationship, a gay relationship. I suspected it a long time ago and last night you confirmed it.”

“You don't mind, Dad?”

“I don't mind. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters.”

“Great! We are happy, very happy and I love him.”

“Obviously,” Gran agreed. “Boy, do you feel the same?”

“I do, Mrs. Martin. I love Ronnie heaps. I always have and I always will:”

“Good then,” said Jim. “So where is the problem?”

Boy hung his head and sat quietly, the others all watched and waited until Ronnie, feeling sorry for him, spoke up.”Boy's in big trouble. Some people are looking for him and, if they get him, he's dead.”

“A bit over the top, Ronnie,” said his Gran. “Keep it real. Okay, they might beat him but. . . “

“But nothing, Gran! They'll kill him. They're real bad news and they'll do it if they get him.”

“Is that true, Boy?”

“It's true, Mr. Martin.”

“I think you'd beter tell us all about it. Who are these people and why are they looking for you?”

“Highway One, the motorbike gang. They're out for my blood and dead serious about it.”

“Highway One?” said Gran. “Really? They are bad news, really bad.”

“Told you, Gran. They're trouble.”

“Definitely not good people to get on the wrong side of. What did you do, Boy?”

“I put two of them in jail, and now the rest of them are out to get me..”

“I suppose they would be. But why did you put them in jail?”

“They killed my Aunty, my mother's sister. The bastards raped her and then they beat her – beat her so bad she died in hospital. No-one else was doing anything about it. They all knew but they were scared to speak-up and they were going to get away with it. So, I did, I went to the cops and I talked. I testified in court too, and that's where they found out who told and so they're after me.”

“But why are they? Were these gang members who did it?”

“Yeah, they were. Aunty's new boyfriend was in the gang. I told she was playing with fire, but no-one listens to me. One of his gang brothers came to town and the three of them were drinking, smoking and doping together. The brother had his eye on her and the boyfriend said that they could share – three of them in the bed.

She said no. They smacked her over and dragged her out to the backroom and they both raped her. The guys came back and carried on drinking, she came out and attacked the boyfriend. The brother pulled her off and gave her a hiding. He punched her and knocked her backwards into the fireplace.

She banged her head and fractured her skull, she never woke-up again. They killed her. The pair of them killed my Aunty. No-one was talking, nothing was happening and they were going to walk free, so I went to the cops. Now they're both doing time for manslaughter and the gang is looking for me.

I ran away, but, somehow, they picked-up my trail in Nelson. I ran again and here I am. Sorry, I shouldn't have come here.”

“Wow. Yes, you should have come here, I'm glad you did. But your pursuers are here too? How many of them are out there?”

“There's nine of them, I think. Nine guys on seven bikes. Sorry, I'm just making trouble for you. It'll be best if I leave. Do you think you could drive me out of town if I hide in the back of your car, maybe?”

“No, I don't think so. That won't be happening.” Jim didn't look happy.

“No? Okay, sorry. It was just a thought. I'll try to slip out the front street without them seeing where I come from.”

“No!” Ronnie wailed. “You can't! Boy, stay here, you're safe here.”

“I wish I could, but I can't. I'll go before it makes trouble for you.”

Jim stood up. “You're going nowhere. You were right to come here and this is where you're staying. Ronnie, just so we're perfectly clear here, you two are boyfriends, right?

“Exactly. We are and we always will be.”

“Not a casual relationship then? You expect this to last?”

“It has already been 3 years, it will last forever!”

“Life-partners then? I hope you're right. Okay, you two are to stay inside and stay downstairs. Do not put your heads above ground until I say you can. I'll make some phonecalls.”

“What are you going to do, Dad?”

“I told you, I'm making some calls. There's more than one gang in town you know.”

“Oh?”

“Nevermind, you'll see. Stay here. Mum, feed them, that'll keep them quiet.”

“It will,” Gran nodded. “What would you like for breakfast, Boys?”

Gimme Shelter II, 3

Ronnie showed Boy where the showers were and told him to throw all of his clothes out on the floor. He went to his room, got some warm clothes for him to wear and took them to the bathroom.

Boy was already in the shower and Ronnie could almost see him through the fogged-up glass door. He could see his long, slender shape and coffee-coloured all-over tan, but couldn't see much in the way of details, worse luck.

He would've loved to get in there with him, but thought he'd better not. He wasn't sure what their relationship was about now and didn't want to freak him out. The last thing he needed was for Boy to run away again. It'd been so long since he'd seen him last he'd feared that he would never see him again.

“Okay in there, Boy?”

“Yeah, thanks. This is great! All right if I use the shampoo?”

“'Course! Use anything you want. Oh, I'd better get you a towel too. I'll do that now and chuck your clothes into the washing machine, okay?”

“Yes, okay. Thanks, Ronnie.”

“No worries, My Friend. Come back to the living-room when you've finished.

“Be there soon.”

He took Boy's clothes to the laundry, left a couple of towels in the bathroom and went back to sit and wait by the fire. Boy came in a few minutes later, combing his fingers through his damp and tangled hair. He was wearing Ronnie's clothes – rugby socks, faded blue jeans and a red hoodie with a white t-shirt.

He looked good. Ronnie thought that those clothes never looked that good on him – (but they did!)

“Okay, Boy?” Gran looked in.

“Yeah, good thanks. Feels much better now.”

“That's good then. Sit down there and I'll bring it to you – just hot roast-beef sandwiches. I suppose that you'll want some too, Ronnie?”

“Thanks, Gran. I think I could force myself.”

“I'm sure you will.”

She came back, left a couple of plates of the thick sandwiches and went back to the kitchen. Next time she returned she brought steaming mugs of drinking chocolate and tea for herself.

“If you want more sandwiches, you'll have to get them yourself. I've finished in the kitchen for today.”

“Thanks, Gran. These are great.”

“They are!” Boy agreed. “And there's plenty here. Do you still make your own bread?”

“I do,” Gran nodded. “But I've got one of those bread-making machines now, much easier than doing it by hand.”

“Still good bread,” Boy smiled. “Much better than that bleeding Maori Bread.”

“You don't like that?”

“I don't, I never have, it's awful stuff.”

“Some maori you are!”

“Shaddup, Honkie!” He was still grinning.

Finished eating, they sat back with their drinks and relaxed, at opposite ends ofd the same couch.

“So, Boy,” Gran said. “Where have you been all of this time?”

“In Aus. The family all moved over there when Koru decided that he wasn't dying after all.”

“I'm glad he did! Have they all moved back to New Zealand now?”

“No, not all of them. Most of them are still aropund Brisbane. I came back here on my own.”

“All that way?”

“It's just a couple of flights – to Auckland, and then down to Nelson. I got a bus from there and here I am.”

“Wow.” Ronnie was impressed. “You made of money?”

“Yeah, sort-of. I was but not now. It cost a fortune!”

“I imagine it did,” Gran nodded. “A lot of money for a boy. What brought you back to Westpoint?”

“The bus did!” Ronnie exclaimed.

“Don't be funny, Mr. Smartie-Pants. We know that. Boy, why did you come back here?”

“This is my home and it's where I belong. I haven't been happy since we left, so I came back.”

“All that way. You came back without your family. Do they know where you are?”

“No, they don't, and that's the way I like it.”

“Okay, it's your business, but I really think that you should tell them that you're alive and well and where you are. If it was one of our boys, I'd be worried sick. No? Okay. Now, if you're on your own, where are you going to be staying?”

“I don't know now. I was hoping that Ronnie would let me stay in his reading-room until I found something, but that won't be happening.”

“Obviously not. Ronnie, you're happy to see your friend again aren't you?”

“Oh yes!~” Ronnie sighed.

“Yes, I thought so. Just wanted to make sure. Boy, you're welcome to stay here with us, we've got plenty of room for you. There's still a bedroom up in the old cottage on Swanson Street, use that if you like. I know that you don't like being underground.”

“That was a long time ago, when we were kids. I'd rather be down here in the sheltere if it's all the same. Iot's safe and secure down here.”

“O(f course you can stay down here! I just don't want to put you where you wouldn't be comfortable.”

“I'm comfortable down here. Thanks, Mrs. Martin.”

“That's good then,” she smiled. “Ronnie can get you set-up in a bed, there's plenty to choose from. Boy, think about ringing your parents. I'd be much happier if you did and I'm sure that they would be too. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks. Where are Reggie and Mr.Martin?”

“Oh, they're up in Dad's workshop, working.”

“Working at this time of the day?”

“Well, kind-of working. Reggie's working part-time for Dad and, after-hours, they're building a hot-rod together.”

“They are,” said Gran. “It's an excellent bonding-exercise for a faher and son.”

“You're not involved in that, Ronnie?”

“I'm not. It's not my world and I'm not interested.”

“But he's your father too.”

“Sure he is, but Reggie's the grease-monkey, not me.”

“Okay.”

They went out and Ronnie installed Boy in the bedroom across from his. He would've preferred to just bring him into his own room, but thought that he'd better not do that, not yet anyway. He still didn't know what sort of relationship they were going to have.

He knew what he wanted, but could they just go right back to where they were when they were 13?

Gimme Shelter II, 2

Sitting together on a train travelling through the Swiss Alps, were a
Kiwi guy, an Australian bloke, a little old Greek lady, and a young
blonde Swiss girl with large breasts.

The train goes into a dark tunnel and a few seconds later there is the sound of a loud slap.

When the train emerges from the tunnel, the Aussie has a bright red hand print on his cheek.

No one speaks.

The old lady thinks:
The Aussie guy must have groped the blonde in the dark, and she slapped his cheek.

The blonde Swiss girl thinks:
That Aussie guy must have tried to grope me in the dark, but missed and fondled the old lady and she slapped his cheek.

The Aussie thinks:
The Kiwi bloke must have groped the blonde in the dark. She tried to slap him but missed and got me instead.

The Kiwi thinks:
I can't wait for another tunnel, just so I can smack that F***ing Aussie again.

(Baruch made me do it! Hey Aussies).


A couple of hours later, Ronnie walked home with his arms full of books and his own key to the library in his pocket. Mrs. Thompson said that he was welcome to borrow any, and as many, books as he liked and for no charge too. She gave him the key so he could come and go as he pleased. All she asked in return was that he leave a record of which books he had and that he'd come and help-out for a couple of hours on Saturday mornings.

He'd love to do that! It would be good practice for when he had his own bookshop too.

A year, then almost two years slipped by. It was decided that the fire must have been caused by an electrical fault. The insurance company paid out and, after the rubble and ashes were cleared away, a 2-car garage, with a side-extension covering the stairwell, was built on the site.

Ronnie was beyond caring, but Reggie tried his best to get their father to have a second storey over the garage with rooms for Ronnie and himself. He got nowhere.

“No, Reggie. Definitely not. The insurance cheque will be barely enough to cover the cost of the garage, we can't afford extra rooms and you boys don't need them anyway. There are plenty of unused rooms downstairs, we don't need any more.”

“But, Dad.”

“But nothing. The answer is 'no'.”

“Gran!”

“No, Reggie.”

“Damm. Ronnie, back me up here!”

“You're on our own. The rooms are gone. Accept it and move on.”

“Great one to talk you are. When are you going to move on?”

“Mind your own. You've got more than enough of your own business to worry about.”

“No worries, Ronnie.”

“Yeah, and that's the trouble – you should be worrying.”

Their dad and gran both nodded in agreement. Everyone worried about Reggie's business except Reggie. He just shrugged, grinned and drifted along carelessly, which was dumb. Being easy going was all very well, but there was a limit.

Reggie had things that he should've been worrying about, like the fact that he was about to become a father at 15 years old. It seemed that he was not gay after all and, after a few casual relationships, he'd turned his back on all of that. Now he said that that was just kid-stuff and he was past that. He was very happy with his girlfriend, Beth, and they'd be getting married just as soon as they could.

It was just a shame that it was Lisa having the baby and not Beth. Dad and Gran were both freaking out, but he refused to worry. She'll be right, apparently. Ronnie was concerned about them too, but at least it took the attention off of him and his life.

He did his best to live quietly and mind his own business. He certainly was not going to get a girlfriend! He wasn't getting a boyfriend either, he wasn't interested. Even if he was, there was no-one that he saw who measured up to Boy.

He had his Saturday morning job in the library, which he loved, and was also working in Mr. Parkhouse's shop for a couple of hours each week-day. He got paid for that job, which was good, he could buy more books.

His dad had arranged that one. He said that he was serious about buying the business, Reggie was keen on taking over the family's garage business. Working there meant that Ronnie was learning the trade and would be ready to takeover when the time came – in another year or two, after he'd finished his schooling.

Between his jobs and his endless stream of new books to read, Ronnie was busy and he was contented enough with his life. He wasn't looking for any more than what he had. (Odd really, for a boy, but it talkes all sorts).

His 16th birthday came and went, there was no celebration. He didn't want any fuss and if Gran even thought about arranging a party, he'd be out of there and staying out until they'd finished and gone.

A few days after the non-party birthday, he came home from working in the bookshop, cold and wet. It was foul out there, cold driving wind blasting through the town, and it was a real relief to get home and downstairs where it was warm and dry.

He often thought that a disaster, like a tornado or something, could sweep the town away and they wouldn't even know about it until they came up top. There was no weather downstairs, and that was good.

He curled-up on the couch by the fire, with a book of course, and ignored the phone beside him when it rang. It wouldn't be for him, it never was. Gran came over, answered the phone and frowned at him as she spoke to whoever it was. She replaced the handset on the cradle.

“Ronnie, Sweet, there's a parcel been left outside the gargage doors on the front street. Your cousin's doing the delivery run and didn't put it inside out of the weather. It will be my embroidery materials and they'll be ruined if they get wet. Go and get it for me will you, My Lovely Boy?”

“Aww! Gran, I've just got comfortable here.”

“It'll only take you a minute. Go on, Lad, your legs are younger than mine.”

“You think? Oh, all right then,” he grumbled. “Only 'cause it's you, Gran.”

He went out, along the corridors, through the fire-door at the bottom of the stairs, and up into the garage. He opened the door onto the street and, whoah! The weather was getting worse out there and that rain was SO cold!

So, where was Gran's parcel? It wasn't outside the door. He looked around and, ah yes, there it was. Janie really was a lame-brain. She hadn't put it outside the foot-access door, she left it by the car-door where it'd get run over. Idiot!

With his bare feet picking through the cold puddles, he went over and picked the parcel up. It was heavier than he'd expected. He hurried back ninside out of the wind and was about to shut the door when he saw someone standing across the front street, looking at him. Well, probably looking at him, he couldn't see the eyes or face or anything. The figure was all wrapped in a big yellow raincoat with the hood covering their head.

It could've been a boy, it could've been a girl. It could've been an orangutan, there was no way of telling. But, there was something familiar. What? He didn't know.

He shook his head, grimaced at the weather and raised a hand to wave goodbye before he shut the door. The figure's gloved hand came up and waved back and it came across the road towards him. Did he know that walk?

“Hey, Ronnie.”

“Hello . . . Boy??! Boy, is that you in there?”

“That's me.” He pushed the hood back and pulled the scarf away from his face, showing his trade-mark wide, white smile. “Great to see you.”

“Yeah? Good to see you too. What're you doing here, Boy?”

“Just passing through, I think. Ronnie, what happened to the old shop and your reading-room and everything?”

“Gone up in smoke. There was a huge fire a couple of years ago and it all burnt down.”

“It did? Oh, Ronnie! Your books?”

“Gone. I lost every single one of them.”

“Damm, that must've hurt.”

“It did, but I'm over it now. I'll tell you what else hurt too. You left town without saying goodbye and I've never heard from you since – not one word! That hurt. I thought we were mates, shows how much I knew.”

“We were mates.”

“Yeah? Didn't know you cared.”

“I cared. I loved you, Ronnie.”

“Love? Sure you did. Why didn't you say goodbye then?”

“Hey, I was upset too you know. Everyone up and left in a huge hurry and I didn't think that you wanted to talk to me anyway.”

“Well I did. I came looking for you but you'd already gone.”

“Bugger!”

“Yeah, bugger. What are you doing back here now? Passing through to where?”

“I don't know where, I've got nowhere. I was hoping that you'd give me shelter in the old shop, but,” he looked in at the bare and empty garage, concrete floor and unlined walls, “that's not going to happen. Goodbye, Ronnie.” He pulled the hood forward again and turned to walk away.

“Hey, wait up!” Ronnie grabbed his arm. “Don't walk away. Please don't go, Boy. Come inside out of this weather.”

“Well,” he looked around at the sound of a group of noisy motorbikes coming down the street. “Okay. For a minute I will.”

He quickly stepped inside, shut the door and leaned back against it. “How've you been, Ronnie?”

“Not bad, how about you Where've you been all of this time?”

“Aussie.”

“You're living in Australia?”

“I was. In Brissie – Brisbane, that is. Koru decided that he's not dying after all, he's much too busy for that, so we all went to Australia where it's warmer.”

“Anywhere's warmer than out there. Why did you come back?”

“I, umm, I ran away I don't belong there, this is my home. Plus, I wanted to see how you were.”

“I'm good now – really good! Can you stay a while?”

“If you want me too, I can. There's nowhere else to go.”

“Sure I want you to. Take your wet coat off, hang it there and we'll go downstairs where it's warm and dry.”

“Downstairs?” Boy looked down the concrete stairwell, his head came up at the sound of the motorbikes out in the street again. “Yeah, let's go downstairs to your shelter.”

“Great!”

He helped him out of his coat and hung it up while Boy removed his scarf and gloves and stepped out of his gumboots, leaving all on the floor under the coat. Ronnie grinned at his now-revealed friend. He was taller and longer but just as thin as he always was.

“What you grinning at, Honky?”

“At you. You look good. It's so good to see you! Can I have a hug?”

“Only if I can have one too!”

They stood and hugged each other, heads resting on each other's shoulders. It felt so good, even though Boy was a bit smelly, Ronnie didn't care about that.

Boy did care though, because he pulled away suddenly. “Sorry.” He gave a wry grin. “I haven't had a shower in ages and I've got no clean clothes to change into.”

“No worries! Come down below. You can clean up and you can use any of my clothes, we're still about the same size.”

“We are, but I'm much better-looking,” Boy grinned.

“Shut up! But, you might be right. Come down and we'll get you sorted. Have you eaten?”

“Not today.”

“We can fix that too, or Gran will. She'll fill you up.”

“Thanks, Ronnie.”

“No worries, My Friend!”

They went down and back into the living-room. Ronnie led the way in, Boy hung back a bit. Gran looked up.

“That took you long enough. Have you got my . . Oh my Word! Boy!! Where did you come from?”

“I found him out in the rain,” Ronnie answered because it looked like Boy wasn't going to, (he was blushing again). “Can I keep him?”

“If it was up to me, yes you could, but it's not, unfortunately. So nice too see you, Boy. Are your family moving back to town?”

“No, they're not, Mrs. Martin, there's just me. Good to see you too – real good.”

“He hasn't eaten, Gran, and he's hungry. What've we got to feed him?”

“I'm sure we'll find something,” she replied, rising up from her chair. “Leave my parcel there, Ronnie. You boys sit by the fire and I'll be back soon.”

“Don't rush, Gran. He needs to have a shower too, we'll do that while we're waiting.”

“Okay, fine. You've got 10 minutes.” She headed for her kitchen.

Gimme Shelter II - 1

(It happened - part 2. One day i'm going to stop!)

Time passed. Weeks, months, years went by. Two years is a long time when you're 15! Ronnie never heard from Boy and didn't have a clue how he could contact him. He felt bad about that, they'd parted on bad terms but he missed him. He'd fix it if he could, but didn't know how to.

All he could do was to wait and hope. Boy knew where he was; he was where he'd always been. But, nothing happened, he never heard from or about him, not a word. Ronnie felt heart-sick, but what could he do?

He carried on living his quiet life, one day at a time. Then, something happened – something really bad. Late one night while the Martin family slept in their quiet rooms, there was a fire up-top and the old shop, dry and wood-clad, burnt to the ground

Safely ensconced down below, they knew nothing about it until one of the local volunteer firefighters came roaring and yelling up and down the corridors. Gran was outraged when she found that he'd kicked the door in on her beloved cottage in order to get inside.

She knew that he was worried about them and was trying to do the right thing, but he didn't have to smash his way in, did he? The blasted door wasn't even locked! It never was and he was never going to live that down. Gran was not one to forgive easily.

(She'd never forgive those bloody maoris either! Leaving like they had, just up and gone without even a 'goodbye', had hurt her grandson, very much. She could see it in his eyes and she was fiercely protective of her boys.)

Anyway, on the night of the fire, they were all perfectly safe where they were, they couldn't even smell any smoke, but once awake, of course they had to go up-top to see what was going on. There was no getting out through the burning building, they had to go up through the cottage and around the street corner.

When they got there, the fire was a raging inferno, the old shop was a pillar of crackling flames and the fire brigade weren't even trying to put it out. They were busy trying to save the other buildings around it. The paint was even blistering on the front of the hardware store along the street.

Ronnie saw the burning shop, saw the fire-hoses being directed everywhere except at the fire, and he wailed. “Nooo!” He would've rushed into the flames if his brother hadn't grabbed and held him.

Reggie though younger, was bigger and stronger than Ronnie, but he was struggling to restrain him. Both of them were yelling at the top of their voices, Reggie at his frenzied brother and Ronnie at the fire. Their father stepped forward, wrapped his strong arms around Ronnie and held him until he settled down.

“It's gone, Ronnie. It's too late to save anything, they're doing the right thing stopping it from spreading further. No great loss anyway, the old place was getting past it.”

“The books!” Ronnie yelled. “My books are in there. They're burning and no-one's doing anything about it!”

“Your old books – yes, they've gone. It could've been so much worse. Imagine if you or Reggie were sleeping up there. Forget the books, they don't matter.”

“They don't matter? Forget them? They were my books, Dad. Mine! They were all I had, they were my life!”

“They're not your life, Son, they never were. They were just an escape from your life, a shield for you to hide behind.”

“No!” he wailed. “You don't know. You don't feckin' know!”

“Oh, My Ronnie! I'm sorry, but forget them – your books were all ancient and you've been reading them for years. You must've read most of them by now. All that matters is that you are all right, you and Reggie. Your books are history, we'll buy you new books, better ones, as many as you want.”

“Mine! Mine, mine – gone!” Ronnie sobbed.

“There'll be new books. Son, this might not be the best time, but I've been thinking. Old Mr. Parkhouse can't go on forever. If you like, when you've finished school, we'll buy his bookshop for you. Would you like that? I think it'd suit you.”

“Really?” He lifted his head to look his father in the eyes. “You'd do that for me?”

“Of course I would. I'd do anything I can for you. We can't see you working in the garage, that's more Reggie's style, but a bookshop would suit you fine. Mind you, you'd have to actually sell the books and let people take them away.”

“I know that!” he grinned through his tears. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You're welcome.”

Later that morning, Ronnie was standing there, alone, forlornly poking through the still-warm ashes with a long stick.

“Hello, Young Ronald. What are you doing there?”

Sue Thompson, the town librarian, stood looking at him.

“”Oh, Hey Mrs. Thompson. I'm just looking to see if anything survived in there.”

“Not much chance of that. That was some fire! I could see the flames from my place and I'm way across town.”

“Yes. Quite a funeral pyre really.”

“Funeral pyre? For your books? You had quite a library, didn't you?”

“I did, but I haven't now, they're gone! So many stories, I had hundreds of them, now I've got none.”

“None,” she nodded. “And you're upset. They were your friends, weren't they?”

“Yes, exactly! No-one understands that, but they were my friends, the only friends I had.”

“I can understand that. They were your windows on the world too.”

“They were, they really were.”

“Of course they were, But I wouldn't say that they were your only friends you know.”

“You wouldn't?”

“I would not. Your grandmother rang me this morning and asked me to come and see you.”

“She did? Why would she do that?”

“Because she's worried about you and doesn't know what to do.”

“And you would?”

“Maybe. Come with me, Ronald. I want to show you something.”

She led him over to her car and, once he was seated, drove a short distance up the street and stopped.

“The library?” Ronnie looked at the building that they were parked outside.

“Yes,” she smiled. “Your other library, the one you've never used.”

“It's not mine.”

“Oh but it is! It belongs to the town and you are part of our town – born and bred here. Come inside, Ronald. Come and I'll show you what you've got here.”

“Ronnie,” he nodded. “Please call me Ronnie, not Ronald. Thanks Mrs. Thompson.”

“You're very welcome. Good to see you smile at last. Now come and see.”

Gimme Shelter, 7

(Here we go - last part. There should be a part 2 where everyone lives happy ever after, but i dunno if that's going to happen).

Time went on and they were making no progress at all on where Ronnie, kind-of, wanted to go, but it was still good. Boy was a good mate and they were becoming really close friends.

Summer was coming, they both turned 13 within weeks of each other and their families celebrated in their separate ways. It was a good time in their lives; everything was fresh, new and exciting as their childhood world opened up, though they didn't realise that at the time. Ronnie was to look back later and think that those were his Golden Days. They ended all too soon.

Boy arrived at the cottage door, unexpected, early one Saturday evening. Ronnie was delighted to see him, as always, and they went through the corridors and up to his reading room.

There'd been changes made up there, not a lot, but some. The old couch had been ejected, dragged downstairs and into the old shop. A couple of old mattresses, heaped with big cushions, took its place. They made a sort-of big couch/day bed – a great place for two boys to stretch out side by side, to read, to talk and sometimes to sleep together.

They went up into the room and flopped on the mattresses together.

“Ronnie, we hafta talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“About us. Can I stay here tonight?”

“Sleep here? Yeah, of course you can.”

“Cool. Thanks. Have you had dinner?”

“Yeah, we're just finished. Have you eaten?”

“I've had some. I'm not that hungry anyway.”

“You're not? You sick or something?”

“No, I'm not sick,” Boy laughed. “I'm just not hungry. I stuffed myself at lunchtime and I'm a bit nervous.”

“You're nervous? What about?”

“About us.”

“Us? I'm not with you.”

“Ronnie, well, we're mates, right?”

“Yeah, sure we are. Best mates forever, you and I.”

“Best friends, yeah. But I'm not so sure about the forever part.”

“But . . Why not then?”

“Because. Ronnie, sometimes life gets in the way and things don't go the way you want them to.”

“They don't?”

“They don't. Look, remember when I told you that I'd had sex?”

“With your brother, yeah, I remember.”

“Mostly with my brother. But remember that I said I'd like it if it was with you?”

“Oh yes, I remember that! But we haven't done it.”

“No we haven't. It's about time that we did. You do want to, don't you?”

Ronnie grinned and kissed him on the lips. “I want to,” he whispered.

“Cool!” Boy beamed his wide smile. “Let's do it then – right now!”

“Boy, I, umm. I don't know what to do.”

“Lie back there then and I'll show you. I love you, Ronnie.”

“I love you too. Show me, Boy.”

He showed him, oh man did he show him! Ronnie thought that he knew about sex, in theory anyway – he didn't. Boy showed him more that night than he'd ever dreamed of.

He didn't go home afterwards, which was choice. They slept together in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs and, even better, when they woke in the morning they did it all again. Ronnie thought that he could SO get used to this; he'd never had a better time in his life.

Later, they cleaned-up in the old bathroom up there. There was no hot water, only cold, but they used it, sponging themselves standing in the bath, drying off quickly and diving back into bed where it was warm..

They could've gone downstairs to shower in comfort but Boy wouldn't. There was no need to, he said. However, he did come down to Gran's underground kitchen at lunchtime. “Well – you hafta eat!”

They didn't move again for the rest of the day. Why would they? They had everything they wanted up there in Ronnie's reading-room. Thgey missed dinner because they were sleeping and no-one woke them up. That was a first!

Finally, at 10.30pm, Boy said that he had to go home. “No, no-one will be looking for me. They probably don't even know I've gone. But if I'm not there in the morning the kids won't get to school.”

“Really? But that's your mother's job, isn't it?”

“After a party weekend, she'll be lucky to get herself out of bed, never mind anyone else. No, I've gotta go, Ronnie. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay – if you have to.”

“I have to.”

They dressed and Ronnie went downstairs with him, to open the front-door and let Boy out into the street. Before he did that, he took hold of Boy's head and kissed him one more time, because he could. “Bye, Boy. Sleep well.”

“Oh, I will! Bye, Ronnie and thanks!”

“Thanks? Thank you! Really thank you, it's been great.”

“Oh yah!”

Back to school next day and Ronnie was happy. Very happy. It was an effort to keep the big soppy grin from breaking out on his face, but he tried. Only dorks walk around grinning all day.

They ate lunch together, sitting on the edge of the sportsfield at the back of the school. They were all aone there but in full view of the whole school, so there was no kissing or anything. Worse luck.

After school, Boy left with his cousins, riding on the back of his uncle's old truck. They had things to do, but he wasn't saying what. Ronnie went home alone. It was kind-of okay, he was used to it. Just as well too, because it happened again on Tuesday.

Wednesday was different though. Boy walked home with him and he was staying the night – sleeping up in the reading-room of course. It was all his idea, but Ronnie wasn't complaining. It was choice! Shame he couldn't come and stay every night.

They ate with the family, in the cottage, which was nice of his gran. She didn't understand it either, but she knew that Boy didn't like being down in the underground rooms. After dinner, they went for a wander up and down the main street, and then went up-top, stripped their clothes off and slid into bed together. It was a great night – the best ever. The last ever. Damm.

They woke in the morning, had sex one more time, and then went downstairs to shower and eat breakfast. They walked into the kitchen, Gran looked around and smiled.

“Good morning, Boys. I'm doing pancakes, or trying to anyway. Just take a seat, they're nearly done. Did you sleep well, Boy?”

“Yeah, I did thanks, Mrs. Martin. It's a lot quieter here than it is at home.”

“Well, good. What's the weather like up top?”

“It's pissing down out there.” Ronnie answered.

“Watch the language, Ronnie. You know I don't like you talking like that. Why can't you just say that it's raining?”

“It's more than raining, Gran. It's hosing down out there. We're going to get soaked on our way to school.”

“Not necessarilly. I'm going to the Home to see my mother this morning, I'll drive you all to school if you like.”

“Oh, yeah, we'd like that! Thanks, Gran.”

“You're welcome. Are you coming with us, Reggie?”

“No. I'll just walk, get cold and wet and catch a cold and maybe even the flu and spend the rest of the week in bed, sick.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. Of course I'm coming. Don't ask silly questions, Gran.”

“Smartie-Pants. Be careful or you will be walking.”

“Right. Love you, Gran.”

“You'd better!”

Lunchtime at school, Ronnie and Boy sat on the covered verandah outside the library, it was sheltered there and out of the wind. Only trouble was, about a dozen others were there as well. Ronnie did his best to ignore all of the others, but it wasn't easy because people kept talking to them. A couple of Boy's girl cousins and, over and over, kept chanting, “Hey Boy! Told him yet?”

“No! Not yet.”

“Oh? Hey Boy! Told him yet?”

“Shut up, Queenie. I'll tell him when I'm ready.”

“Better hurry or you'll be too late. Hey Boy! Told him yet?”

“Maybe you'd better tell me whatever it is,” Ronnie grinned.

“'Kay, I'll tell you. We're moving.”

“Oh? Where are we moving to? Not out in the rain, I hope.”

No, Ronnie. Not us, you and me, but us all the family and me – we're moving. We're going tomorrow.”

“Where are you moving to?”

“Patamahoe.”

“Patamahoe? Where is that? Never heard of it.”

“Damm, you're an ignorant honky! It's a small place, south of Auckland. It's where our family are from. Koru has decided that he's dying, so he wants to go home and be buried on the marae with the ancestors.”

“And you're all going?”

“Of course. Koru won't go on his own. He wants his whanau with him.”

“Fair enough, I guess. But you're going tomorrow? That doesn't give us much time. How long have you known and why didn't you tell me?”

“He decided last Saturday and I didn't want to upset you any sooner than I had to.”

“Thanks, I think. So you knew before you came around to mine on Saturday?”

“I knew. That's why I came. I always knew we were going to do it one day, so we did before it was too late.”

“Damm! Well, at least we did it. Thanks, Boy.”

“Thank you. I'm glad we did too.”

“You're going tomorrow? When will you be coming back?”

“Umm – we won't be back.”

“You won't? Not ever??”

“Probably not. We're going home, back to where we belong.”

“You don't belong here?”

“No, I never did. Ronnie, I've got no choice. The family are all going so I have to go with them.”

“Shit! I wish you didn't.”

“I wish I didn't too, but I have to.”

“I guess. It's goodbye then?”

“It's goodbye tomorrow. We've got tonight and that's all.”

“We've got tonight? Know what? We have not got tonight, you can fuck off! We've got nothing!”

Red in the face and insanely angry now, though he was not quite sure who he was angry at, Ronnie yelled as he rose to his feet not caring who was looking at them.

Boy stood up to face him. “Ronnie, don't. What're you mad at me for? It wasn't my idea.”

“Yeah? Whose idea was it not to tell me. Damm it, Boy. You've known all bloody week. What were you going to do, leave and not tell me at all?”

“I was not. I was going to tell you but I knew you'd be upset, so I kept putting it off.”

“I'm upset! Why aren't you too? Don't you even care?”

“Of course I care. Settle down, you'll blow a fuse.”

“And that's how much you care – not much. Fuck you, Manawatu. Fuck you and fuck the horse you rode in on!”

Ronnie stormed away and left him there. He walked straight out of the school and went home in the rain. Oh joy! His life sucked. He was, kind-of, hoping that Boy would come running after him, but he didn't.

Yeah, he should've known that Boy wouldn't come crawling, he wouldn't do that, it wasn't in his nature. Well, he wasn't crawling to him either. Fuck him.

Boy didn't come around after school either, or that night. Ronnie slept up in the reading-room in case he showed up, but he didn't.

Next was a brilliantly fine day. Ronnie walked to school, alone as usual, Reggie was busy somewhere else. There were a lot of missing faces at school. As the morning went on, Ronnie realised that not only was Boy not there, none of his family were either.

So they really were going. He believed Boy when he said they were, but it was different to have it confirmed.

He didn't go back into class after lunch. It didn't look like Boy was coming to say goodbye, so he'd better go to him before it was too late.

It was too late. When he got there, there was no-one there, the house was empty. They'd gone. Boy had left without even saying goodbye. Screw him anyway.

That was the end of his first relationship – nice while it lasted. Was it worth it? No, not really.

Gimme Shelter, 6

So Boy's brother had been forcing him to have sex with him? That's not nice, but – lucky brother! Ronnie would've loved to do that stuff with him, to touch him, hold him and cuddle him, to kiss him and peel off his clothes and do whatever else it was that people did together, when they did sex stuff.

It happened, he knew that. Lots of people did stuff together; he just didn't know much about it really. Mostly, he'd just like to get as close as possible to him. He'd get inside his skin if he could, but only if he wanted to. He wouldn't force him or anything, he wouldn't do that to Boy.

He wanted this beautiful boy to love him. How was he going to tell him that? He hadn't a clue. There was no way of telling it, of course, but Boy was feeling exactly the same way about him. They were both a bit whakama, so they both sat smiling quietly and just delighting in being with each other.

Boy really was a beautiful boy. He was 100% gorgeous. He had medium-length, dark-brown, almost black, hair with big sweeping curls in it. His eyes were brown, big warm and soft and perfect, totally flawless and hairless golden-brown skin.

He was long and lean and kind-of elegant. His butt, when he saw it, and Ronnie certainly looked, was high and firm, small, shapely and a little protruding. It was pert and perfect. When he walked, he almost bounced, like he was walking on springs, he was that full of life and energy.

Apart from his warm, rich, colouring, the only obviously 'maori' thing about his features was his mouth – thick, dark-red lips, usually parted in a smile. His infectious smile was his best feature.

Boy was also looking at a beautiful boy, slight build, dark hair and dark eyes with fresh-faced porcelain skin. He was a cute kid, but maybe a bit pale, like he needed to get out more. The wire-rimmed glasses didn't spoil his looks at all, they made him look studious and intelligent.

They both sat looking and grinninmg at each other, both thinking, 'Beautiful boy!' They didn't say it out loud, of course, but if they had they would've slapped hands and cried, “Snap!”

“So. Umm.” Ronnie was starting to feel a bit awkward, like he had to do something to entertain his guest so he'd want to stay a while and come back another time. “This is good.”

“Yeah, it's good,” Boy grinned back. “What d'you want to do?”

“We could go down and see the trains.”

“The little toy trains? Whose are they again?”

“They're models – toys for big boys. They're Dad's trains really, but we're allowed to work them. There's a big room full of them with little houses and cars, streets and everything. They are downstairs.”

“Down underground?”

“Well, yeah, kind-of. You have to come and see.”

“Yeah, some other time I might. This is nice, being up here. Can we sit in the window and watch the street?”

“Sure we can. Do you want a coke?”

“The coke is downstairs, isn't it? No, I don't want a coke, thanks. Let's just sit and talk.”

“Okay. Talk about what?”

“Anything!”

They sat together in the open window, with their legs hanging out in the sunshine, looking down over the front street.

“Those books,” Boy asked. “Any dirty ones amongst them?”

“Dirty ones?”

“Yeah, you know – nude pictures and stuff.”

“No there's not!” Ronnie laughed. “There's nothing like that, not likely! It was a public lending library.”

“Public? I thought you said it was private?”

“Well, yeah it was owned privately, but they were rented out to the public. That's how the guy made his living. There's no nudie magazines or anything; it was a long time ago and they wouldn't have been allowed.”

“Shame. I bet they would've been popular.”

“Yeah, probably, with some people, but they would've been illegal way back then, he would have got shut down.”

“Hell, if I had a library, I'd have lots of pornos and make a fortune from horny kids.”

“You might, but you'd be in huge trouble if you got caught.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Still a shame though. I suppose they'd all be old ladies anyway and – eww!”

“They'd be old ladies by now and, yeah, eww!”

“Is there any nudist club magazines? They've been around forever.”

“I think they have, but I haven't got any. They'd be all tits and front-bums anyway – doesn't interest me.”

“Yeah, me either. Eww!”

“Yeah, eww.”

They sat and talked for hours, watching the day slide into night. Ronnie was as happy as he'd ever been in his life. They lived in different worlds and had next to nothing in common, but it didn't matter. He really, really liked this boy and he knew that he liked him too. It'd be great if they were to have sex together, he'd love it! But if they didn't, it didn't matter, (much). He'd still be happy to just be with him.

Their idyllic time together ended with a pounding on the door and Reggie burst into the room.

“You are here. I knew you would be. Why isn't the intercom turned on?”

“Is it off? Sorry, I didn't know. Do you know Boy? Boy, my brother, Reggie.”

“Hey Reggie,” Boy smiled.

“Boy Manawatu, right? Hey Boy. Ronnie has to come for dinner before Gran explodes. Do you want to come and eat with us?”

“Thanks, but no. Some other time, maybe. I'd better get home, I should've been there ages ago and they'll be looking for me, so I'd better go. Thanks, Ronnie. I've had a great day.”

“Thank you and me too. When can we do it again?”

“If I can get away, I'll come back tomorrow, but I might not. There's lots of family around but they're all on the booze and someone's got to watch the little kids and make sure they don't get into trouble.”

“Well, yeah. Great if you can, but don't worry if you can't and I'll see you at school. I'll be up here tomorrow and I'll leave the street door unlocked, okay?”

“Yeah, good. See you, Ronnie. 'Bye, Reggie.”

Boy came back again the next day. He was early arriving, so early that Ronnie hadn't even come up yet. When he did he was delighted to see Boy already there waiting for him.

They spent the rest of the day sitting in the reading-room, talking about everything and anything, almost. They were both at the age when sex is supremely important for the first time. They were attracted to each other but too shy to talk about it. They both wanted to but didn't know how to begin, so they didn't.

Almost anything else was open for discussion including the hundreds of books that Ronnie wanted to share with his new friend. In the days that followed, and right through the winter school holidays, most of their free time was spent together, mostly up in the reading room but sometimes out walking and fishing off the wharf. (They never actually caught any fish but they drowned a few worms).

When Ronnie finally persuaded Boy to come and see the rooms downstairs he went, reluctantly, looked and wanted out. Not even the trains could get him to stay for long. He agreed that the rooms were all very cool, especially the enormous living-room, he just didn't like being underground. He'd never be a miner, no matter how well it paid.

Ronnie tried to tell him that the rooms were as safe as any others, but he wasn't buying it. There was no logic in it, he just felt like he was buried alive down there and didn't like it one little bit.

Boy slept over on a few nights, but they slept on cushions in the reading-room. Ronnie was too shy to sleep-over at Boy's house, but he ate there a couple of times. The people there made him welcome, well, some of them did, most of them ignored him, kind-of. Carrie's parents, (and they looked far too young to be her mum and dad), were real nice to him and couldn't stop thanking him for saving their girl. So that was good.

Boy's Koru, his grandfather, was just a little old man but there was something impressive about him. He was very much the head of the family and his word was law. Impressive.

Gimme Shelter, 5

Later in the evening, after dinner but still before dark, Ronnie was sprawled on the couch up in his reading room with his nose in a book.

“Ronnie, you there?” Reggie called on the intercom.

“I'm here. Where else would I be?”

“Well, good! There's a kid here at the cottage door, he wants to talk to you.”

“Someone wants to talk? Who is it? What does he want?”

“Come down and find out. I dunno what he wants. It's just some maori kid, I don't know his name.”

“A maori kid? Tell him to fuck off! I've had enough of them for one day and I've got nothing to say to any of them.”

“All right, I'll tell him but you're being a bit harsh, he came to talk to you.”

“Probably just wants to swear at me. Thanks but no thanks. 'Bye Reggie.”

In a couple of minutes, Reggie called again.”Ronnie? He says please come down, he wants to thank you for what you did.”

“Whatever. I'm not. 'Bye.”

“Please yourself. You usually do.”

Ronnie turned the intercom off. He really had had enough of those people. He tried to help and all he got was abuse. They were all the same, they were clannish, stuck together and shut everyone else out. Whatever! He was having no more to do with any of them.

He still had to stand up on a chair and have a look out of the side-window though. From there he could see right along the front street and, he wasn't talking to him but he still wanted to know which one it was who'd come to see him.

A figure came around the corner from the side street where the cottage was and, Wow! It was Boy Manawatu.

That was different. He'd talk to Boy anyday, he wasn't like all the others. Maybe he wasn't even related? No, he must be. He ran downstairs and opened the front door of the shop before Boy came along past there.

When he did, Boy looked at him, puzzedly.

“Hey Boy!”

“Hey Ronnie. Thought you didn't want to talk to me?”
 
“I didn't know it was you, I thought it was one of that other lot."
 
“One of my cousins? Yeah, I don't blame you. I wouldn't either, but I have to sometimes."
 
“Yeah? Lucky you.”
 
"You think? Ronnie, I'm sorry about the cousins, they're a pack of idiots. I think they're ashamed that they did nothing and you had to save Carrie. It was a really good thing you did. She would've drowned but she didn't because you saved her. You saved her life! Thanks. You're a good guy."
 
“I'm not you know.”
 
“Yeah, you are.”
 
“Wrong! I was just there, I saw her fall in and I had to do something. No-one else was, so I did. Not a big deal.”
 
“Wrong yourself. It is a big deal – a really big deal. Carrie would've drowned.”
 
“Someone would've done something.”
 
“Someone did – you did and thanks.”
 
“Yeah, well. Thanks for coming around, I feel a whole lot better about the whole thing now. Do you want to come in?”
 
“Come in?”
 
“Yeah. Come up and see my room.”

Ronnie led the way up the old stairs. “Do you like books?”

“Sometimes, yes”.

“Wait 'til you see what I've got!”

“You got around here quick,” Boy commented.

“Around here? I was already here.”

"But didn't your brother call you in your room when I was at the door around in the other street?”

“Oh, I see. Yeah he did. He called me on the intercom, it's connected to my reading room up here and I've been here for hours.”

“The intercom is connected from the other building?”

“It is. It's all one building really, they're joined together.”

“No they're not. Reggie was in the yellow cottage in the other street, you're here in this old shop in the main street.”

“They're connected underground.”

“There's tunnels?”

“Well, corridors. Most of our home is underground, it's an old air-raid shelter.”

“And you live down there? Yuck!”

“It's not yuck, it's great. It's all lined and furnished and evereything. It's like a big house, but it's all underground so there's no windows. It's really cool. Well, not cool, it's quite warm actually, but it's a great home.”

“If you say so. I wouldn't like it – living down in tunnels like a worm or something. Still, you have got this place. A very cool old shop. Why don't you just live up here?”

“It's too small and it's exposed to the weather and everything. It's way better downstairs, warm and dry and lots of space. People did use to live up here, in the old days. This was the kitchen, bathroom is through there and the toilet back there. That was their living-room, Gran uses it for a sewing-room, and there was two bedrooms at the front. Reggie has that one for whatever he does in there and this one is my reading-room. I like to sit up here and read in the daylight and there's a great view down over the main street.”

“Yeah. You've got a view over the rough end of town. Whoah! You've got a lot of books!”

“These are just some of them,” Ronnie grinned proudly. “There's a whole room full of books downstairs at the back. There used to be a private lending-library here, a long time ago. There's hundreds of books, they're old but there's some great stuff amongst them. They're all mine now, no-one else is interested.”

“I'm not surprised, but pretty cool, I guess, if you're into books. I'd rather watch a DVD.”

“You're not a reader then? I'd rather have a good book any day. When you read you make up your own movie in your head.”

“Good for you. I watch real ones.”

“They're just someone else's idea of what a story looks like.”

“Yeah, okay. So who all lives here? You, your brother and your gran, anyone else?”

“Yes, there's Dad. He's got his workshop around in Adderson Street.”

“Is that connected to the tunnels as well?”

“Well it was. It was built on top of one of the entrances.”

“Hells Bells! It must be a big place down there.”

“Biggish. Do you want to come and have a look? I'll show you around.”

“No thanks. Some other time, maybe. I'd hate to live down there, I'd never sleep.”

“”It's not that bad. It's just like any house except there's no windows – like any house is at nighttime.”

“It'd be nighttime all the time down there. That's just weird. What if it caves in on you?”

“That's not going to happen, it's as solid as a rock. It was built for air-raids during the war. Bombs wouldn't collapse it so nothing else will.”

“Still could happen. What if there's an earthquake?”

“Hasn't happened yet.”

“But it could. It could happen today.”

“I guess. A Quake that big would probably knock your house down as well.”

“Maybe, but at least we wouldn't be buried.”

“You will be if it kills you, if you're not cremated.”

“Earthquakes don't kill people.”

“If they're big enough they do.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“So how many people live in your house?”

“Seven, sort of. There's Koru, Mum and Dad, my 3 brothers and me, but there's usually other people staying as well. We've got lots of whanau and they come and go all of the time.”

“A busy house.”

“Yeah, way too busy sometimes. You're lucky having all of this space to yourself.”

“I suppose so. I've never known any different. Do you get a room to yourself?” Ronnie sat down on the old sofa.

Boy sat next to him. “A room to myself, not likely! I don't even get a bed to myself.”

“You share a bed? Who do you sleep with?”

“With my brothers usually, but sometimes with cousins too. It's bad enough with my little brother, Rangi, snoring and farting all night. Tane's worse, he always wants to do sex stuff.”

“You don't want to do that?”

“I don't. I'm sick of it. Bigger boys have been pushing me around for years, well I'm bigger now and I've had enough of it.”

“You're not going to do it anymore?”

Ronnie was confused. How could anyone who'd been having sex not want to do it again?

“Maybe, but not with him. He's my brother, he's too big and too rough. All he wants is to get his rocks off and he doesn't think about me at all.”

“And you don't want to get your rocks off?”

“With the right person I would, just not with Tane.”

“Oh? Who would the right person be?”

“Well, umm – you maybe.” Boy blushed! Ronnie didn't know that maori kids could blush.

“Me?” He grinned. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. If you wanted to, I would.”

“Wow! Damm right I want to!”

“I knew it,” Boy grinned back. He kissed him.

Gimme Shelter, 4

Saturday morning, at breakfast, the boys' grandmother told them both that it was about time they got outside in the sunshine. “We've had so many cloudy days lately ands it's glorious out there today. Go out and make the most of it. You need sunshine sometimes.”

“No probs, Gran,” Reggie replied. “I'm going body-boarding. Russ and Terry are coming and we're going out to the South Beach.”

“Fine, Reggie. Are you going with them, Ronnie?”

“With that lot? I don't think so! No, I'll just go fishing over at the wharf.”

“Okay. Don't fall in and if you catch any you're cooking them.”

“I'll try not to then.”

Ronnie went fishing in his usual way. Fishing to him meant sitting on the wharf, dropping a line in the water and holding it with his legs while he read a book. He would've been just as happy without the line, but it was an excuse for sitting there. Gran thought that he was doing something when all he'd really done was to relocate his book, so that was good.

He sat and enjoyed the sun, the warmth and the fresh air and his story. A few people wandered past. Sunshine always brings them out, especially after long wet spells. A group of kids came along, 4 boys and 2 girls, all maori.

Ronnie stopped reading and studied them in case Boy was with them. He wasn't, these were younger kids, about 10 or 11 years old. He looked back at his book.

“Cut it out, Tommo. You have to let us come with you, you know you do!” a girl yelled at one of the boys.

“I don't hafta do nothing!” he replied. “Go home, Liz.”

“I'm not going home. We're coming with you.”

“You're not.”

“We are!”

“Shove off, Liz.”

Tommo pushed her, she staggered back, bumped into the other girl who reeled, tripped on the beam along the edge, and fell off the wharf and into the river. Her scream cut when she disappeared underwater.

Shocked, Ronnie rose to his feet, looking at the kids. They weren't doing anything, just standing there like statues.

“Ohmigod! Do something, Wankers!” Liz screamed.

They still weren't moving. Someone had to do something, so Ronnie did – he dived off the wharf.

The dirty green water closed over him and it got darker as he kept going down. It was really hard to see anything and he was about to give up and go back for a breath when he saw her. He nearly missed her. Her dark hair and skin didn't stand out at all in the gloom below the wharf, but her clothes did. She was wearing pale-blue shorts and a pink, yellow and white t-shirt that stood out like a neon light. She wasn't moving. Surely not dead?

He swam over for a closer look. She was caught in some driftwood rubbish lodged against a wharf-pile. He pulled frantically at the sticks. Some came free, and then he was able to push her leg down and free her. He grabbed her by the waist and kicked for the surface.

His head broke into the air and he gasped for breatrh. At last! It must've been even worse for her. The girl was still – unconscious? That wasn't good.

There was a rough wooden platform suspended on the wharf plies, just above the water-line, and a second one under the surface. Thank goodness for the whitebaiters! He crawled up out of the water, dragging the limp girl with him.

He rolled her on to her side and opened her mouth, and then on to her back. Holding her nose closed, he breathed hard into her mouth, inflating her lungs. They'd been taught mouth-to-mouth resusitation at school. He'd never expected to have to use it but he was glad that he'd been paying attention that day. (He didn't always!)

Seconds seemed like hours, but he kept at it, forcing her to breath, blowing into her mouth and doing it for her. He'd almost decided that it was hopeless and he was about to give up when, like an engine firing, she suddenly coughed into life.

Talk about relief. He'd never been so pleased in his life!

“Carrie! Carrie!” The sounds of the world came back, the other girl was screaming up on the wharf.

“It's all right,” he gasped. “She's okay, I've got her.”

“Carrie!”

A boy dived off the wharf, burst back to the surface and crawled up to join them on the platform. The other kids all came chattering down a ladder at the back.

The girl, Carrie, grabbed the first boy to arrive and sobbed over his shoulder. He glared at Ronnie like he'd done something wrong.

“She's okay, I think. We have to get her up top and warm her up or something. I'll go and get a blanket.” Ronnie started up the ladder.

“Think you're a big hero, don'tcha?” a boy sneered. “You can fuck off. We don't need you, we look after our own.”

“Yeah, fuck off, Big Man,” a second one agreed. “We don't need you.”

“Aunty's coming. She's got her car,” trhe other girl cried.

“Well, umm, I'll get that blanket.” Ronnie started up the ladder.

“Fuck off with your blanket. We don't want it. Mind your own.”

Ronnie rushed to the top and over the road to his house, his head spinning. He didn't know what he'd expected, but not this. He wasn't looking for a medal, he just wanted to do the right thing, to do what was right, but not to get abused for it. Screw them anyway!

He ran into home, downstairs and pulled an old blanket out from the linen cupboard. He bundled it up and started back to the wharf. The other kids were emerging from the trap-door. He shook the blanket out and put it around the crying girl.

One of the boys pushed him away. “Fuck off. Leave her alone!”

“I'm just trying to help.”

“Okay, you did. Now go away or I'll do ya”

“Bring her over to our place. The fire's going there.”

“Go sit on it then. We don't need you. Aunty's here.”

A car pulled up, the kids all piled in and it roared away leaving Ronnie standing alone and feeling a bit dazed.

“That's gratitude? Some bastard could've at least said thanks. Bloody Maoris! Screw them anyway.”

He found his book and went home. In the down-stairs bathroom, he stripped his wet clothes off, leaving them carefully on the floor, dried himself and went to his room for dry clothes. He felt cold all over! He wrapped-up in the duvet off his bed and went up to sit by the fire.

His gran looked up when he sat down by her. “What's going on? Did you fall in the river?”

“Not exactly. I didn't fall, I jumped off the wharf.”

“Yeah? Why would you do that? That's dangerous.”

“A girl fell in. There was a bunch of kids on the wharf, they were fooling around and she fell off. She didn't come up and nobody was doing anything so I jumped in and pulled her out. I had to give her mouth-to-mouth.”

“You did? Well done! I'm proud of you, Ronnie. Is she all right now?”

“Yeah, I think so. She's walking and everything. A car came and got them and they've gone home.”

“Well that's good. You are a life-saver! I hope they said thank you.”

“They didn't. I wasn't looking for thanks, just as well too because I didn't get any. They all yelled at me like it was all my fault or something.”

“Was it your fault that she fell?”

“No! I was just sitting there, reading. A kid shoved her and she fell in. It was nothing to do with me. I just saved her and got abused for it.”

“They probably didn't know what they were doing, they'd all be in shock. You did the right thing, Ronnie, and good for you. I'm very proud of you.”

“I had to do something.”

“You did well. Stay there and I'll get you a hot drink. Where's your book?”

“I've got it, it's in my room.”

“Good. It'd be no great loss if you lost it, I guess. You've got hundreds of them.”

“I have, but that's the one I'm reading. I haven't finished it yet.”

“That's all good then. Wait there, My Hero.”

Gran made him feel a bit better. She was all right, his gran. Those kids were just jerks. Next time someone fell in, they could get themselves out. He had a drink, and then went back down to his room. He'd had enough of the great outdoors for one day.

However, he did have to go out again later, briefly. Gran was doing pasta for dinner and needed milk, for the sauce. There was no-one else around, Reggie still wasn't back, so he had to go out to get it.

It wasn't far, the supermarket was just around the corner and a couple of blocks up the street. It still took far too long though, the place was packed. When he, finally, came back outside he had to walk past a group of teens who were standing there, hanging-out, looking tough.

Two of them were a couple of the maori boys who were on the wharf earlier on. He kept his mouth shut and looked the other way.

“Think you're so bloody cool, don't you?” One of them sneered.

“Whatever,” he shrugged.

“Fuck off, back to your rat-holes, Big Man.”

“Look,” Ronnie stopped. He'd had about enough of this. “What exactly is your problem? I did nothing to you.”

“Yeah, you did. You made us look bad.”

“I did not! You were doing that yourselves.”

“It was none of your bloody business! No-one asked you to stick your nose in. Next time you can just fuck off and mind your own.”

“Don't worry, I will.” He started walking again.

“See you do, Big Man. No-one needs you.”

“Ain't that the truth,” he sighed. “No-one needs me.” He went home.

Gimme Shelter, 3

In 1980 the town was 120 years old. None of the original buildings survived, of course. They were just temporary shelters slapped-up with whatever materials were at hand, like packing cases etc., and usually roofed with canvas. But, the town was that old, it was founded in 1860 to cater for the early gold-rushes.

As time went on, buildings and structures came and went and slowly became more substantial, solid and enduring. Probably the most solid of them all was built in the 1940's.

The air-raid shelter, buried underground, was still as good as new, despite several series of earthquakes, some devastating floods and the worst efforts of amateur decorato.In 1980, the shelter was 38 years old. Of the people who lived in it, only Julie was older than that, she was 48. Her son, Jimmy, was 31 and her grandsons, Ronnie and Reggie, were 12 and 11.

They were both stunningly good-looking boys. They had a touch of Asian blood, their mother was part Vietnamese, part French and part American GI, but that's another story. Their Asian heiritage showed only in their straight coal-black hair, dark eyes and slight builds. They had pakeha features and very, very, pale white skin – their grandmother claimed that that was because they spent far too much time indoors, but they didn't really. They went out and about as often as anyone did, they just didn't tan. They burnt if they weren't careful, so they were and they stayed pale.

Interestingly, it seemed that they were both queer, probably. Neither of them was at all interested in girls, as their friends and classmates were beginning to be. The attractions that they were developing were towards the boys, but not each other.

They got along together well enough, really well actually, but they were just not interested in each others' dangly bits. There was no novelty there, they'd bathed and showered together since forever, and there was no attraction at all.

Sometimes Ronnie thought that his brother was the only boy in town around his age who he didn't think was sexy. He was tightly wound, full of hormones and bursting with pent-up sexual frustration. In the privacy of his room, he was wanking so often and so hard that he was almost wearing the skin off it.

His dick got so sore sometimes that he had to lay off and give it a rest, and then he had wet dreams, about boys of course. What he wanted, what he needed, was someone to do it with. But who? The only boy his age who he knew was gay was Nathan Rooney and he wasn't going there! He wasn't that desparate. Rooney was all soft and fluttery, squealy and girly, and everyone knew that he was queer.

Or, maybe he was that desparate, but he still wasn't going there. He didn't want everyone knowing that he was queer too. He didn't want to be treated like Rooney was, that wouldn't be good. Mostly wouldn't be good.

It was a funny thing and not much talked about, but Ronnie knew that Nathan Rooney was getting far more sex than he was. That wouldn't be hard to do, he wasn't getting any, but Rooney was – lots of it.

By some strange logic, it was okay for guys to go around to his house and do queer sex stuff with Rooney as long as everyone knew that they weren't queer themselves. Ronnie didn't understand that, it made no sense. He worried that he was never going to understand teenagers even though he'd soon be one himself. The straight boys abused the queer boy in public, giving him a hard time, and then they went around and gave him a different sort of hard time in private.

That was an open secret, but no-one talked about it, ever. Would it be worth his while going around there himself? Hell no! What if they knew that he liked it? But then, why did they do it if they didn't like it? Strange world.

People were weird, it was a confusing world they lived in. Ronnie didn't understand the rules, but everyone else seemed to. Reggie did. He was younger than him but he had a busy social life already. Ronnie didn't, he kept himself to himself and quietly followed his own interests. It was safer that way.

They had a large model train layout, HO scale. It took up most of the space in one of the big rooms and had been growing and developing there ever since their dad was a boy. Ronnie and Reggie were said to be part owners now, but it was still their dad's hobby really, they just helped him because he'd never grown out of it.

Ronnie spent some time in the train room, mostly working on the landscaping, but he got bored with it. The trains did look great when they were running properly, but so often they weren't! The smallest little thing could cause a derailment and it got frustrating. Also, a lot of the tracks were getting old and they needed constant cleaning and maintainance if the trains were going to run.

Their dad was the real train fan in the family, Reggie had no interest at all and Ronnie was heading that way too. Besides, he'd found something better – a whole library of his own.

The old farm cottage, now used mostly as a living room, on sunny days anyway, was close to the street in Swainson Street and it covered the stairs down to the shelter on the West-side entrance. There were 4 entrances underground, on the north, south, east and west sides of the block, but the South-side one had been filled in and buried. A workshop was built on top of it.

The North-side entrance, off the main street, was through a little old two-storied shop building that was obviously there long before the shelter was built. It wasn't used as a shop anymore and hadn't been for a long time. The big front-room, with the wall of white-painted windows, was last used as Defence Department offices and a recruiting office during the last war. Now it was just empty.

The shop owners' living quarters, upstairs, consisted of an 'L' shaped hallway which included the kitchen area with the dunny at one end and the bathroom at the other. Inside the L was the old living-room which the boy's grandmother used for a sewing-room, it had big windows and good light.

There were two bedrooms at the front looking down at the main street. Reggie had one for his own purposes, which included entertaining his vistors. Ronnie didn't want to know what they were doing in there. Ronnie had the other room, a play-room in earlier years, now it was his own private reading-room, and he had a lot of available reading.

He had his own personal library, hundreds of old books, mostly in boxes and in teetering stacks in the back-room which was full of them. No-one remembered it, but the shop used to be a private lending-library back before the Army took it over – the 'DVD rentals' of the 1920's and 30's. Now the books were all Ronnie's, none of the others were interested in them.

Most of them, westerns and romances, were dry dusty old stuff, but there were some great stories amongst them and he loved the historical novels. Even the kids' stuff was interesting. So, in their long, wet, winter and spring, he spent his days alone, curled up on the sofa in his room and reading. Summer was coming on, the sunshine outside was beckoning and it was too nice out there to be inside all of the time, so he started going fishing – actually dangling bait off the wharf while he sat reading in the sunshine.

Late one afternoon, Ronnie was quietly minding his own business there on the wharf but he couldn't help noticing the people around him. A small group of maori kids arrived and settled near him. There were just 4 of them, 3 boys and a girl, but they were so loud and busy it seemed like more. Ronnie tried to keep his eyes on his book, but kept glancing at the antics next to him.

There was one boy amongst them who was still and quiet. Ronnie couldn't help noticing him because he stood out from the others. Each time he glanced at him, the boy was stting looking and smiling at him, so he had a good look, and then he smiled back.

He knew him from school, knew who he was anyway. He was James Manawatu and he was in year 8 the same year as Ronnie was. Apart from being in the same classes, he'd never had much to do with him. He never had much to do with anyone really. His best friend was his brother, how pitiful is that?

Anyway, Manawatu was a nice-looking kid. His medium-length dark-brown hair had a slight wave in it, his skin-tone was quite light, like a deep tan, and his big brown eyes were, well, big. He had a great smile, it lit up his face and he looked like a nice kid.

Ronnie was wondering how he could start a conversation? He wasn't good at that sort of thing. But he didn't get a chance anyway, one of the other boys pulled a flapping fish out of the water. He killed it, and then they all ran off back in the direction they'd come from. Boy went with them, of course.

That was what they called James Manawatu – 'Boy'. Everyone did. It was a funny sort of a nickname, of course he was a boy, they all were – well, all except the girls. He went back to reading his book.

A few quiet minutes later, someone came along, sat down next to him and said, “Hey, Ronald.”

“Ronnie,” he answered. “I'm called Ronnie, not Ronald. Hey James.”

“Boy,” he grinned. “I'm called Boy, not James. You catching anything?”

“A cold, maybe. Nothing else. I haven't had a nibble.”

“What are you using for bait?”

“I dunno, just a lump of meat. It might be lamb, I found it in the fridge.”

“Cooked, is it? You shouldn't use cooked meat for fish. They like something smelly.”

“Maybe I should use my feet? Expert on fishing are you?”

“Me? I'm an expert on nothing, but I've done some.”

“Probably more than me. I'm not that worried anyway. It's a nice day to sit in the sun with my book.”

“You're reading a book when you don't have to? I only read school stuff, when I've got to.”

“Hey! I like reading.”

“Good for you. What're you reading?”

“Umm, a book?”

“Ha ha! What's it called?”

“Treasure Island. It's by Robert Louis Stevenson and it's a classic. I've never read it before, I'm not sure why.”

“So you like old books?”

“Yeah, I do. Just as well too, I've got hundreds of them.”

“Nah, I'd rather watch TV.”

“Well I wouldn't. A good story is far better than any of the crap you see on TV.”

“Maybe you're right. We don't have books at home anyway. The kids'd just wreck them. Damm, I've gotta go – Kuia's looking for me.”

“Kuia?”

“My Grandmother. She'll be wanting help with the shopping. Looks like it's me again. See you round, Ronnie.”

“Like a record. Yeah, see you, Boy.”

They exchanged a grin and Boy ran over to the woman with all of the Supermarket bags. Ronnie smiled as he watched him go. He was a nice kid.

He saw him again at school next day. They ate lunch together, which was good, and Boy walked home with him after school. When they came to the corner of his street, they stopped and Ronnie said, “This is it. Home sweet home. Want to come in for a drink or something?”

“I'd like to, but I can't. I've got to get home, my dad will be waiting for me.”

“Oh. Some other time then?”

“Yeah, that'd be good. See you tomorrow, Ronnie.”

“That'll be good too. Bye, Boy.”

It was the same each day for the rest of the week. They were getting along fine together at school and walked home together afterwards, but that was it. Boy had no time to spare, every day he had to be somewhere. Ronnie was getting pissed. He liked the kid and enjoyed their time together, there just wasn't enough of it. Also, there were things that he was hoping to do that they couldn't do at school.

On Thursday, instead of stopping at his street as per usual, Ronnie walked on with Boy. He wanted to see where they lived.

He was a bit disappointed when they got there, it was just an ordinary house. He wasn't sure what he expected to see but not this. There was a lot of cars in the drive though; it was full.

“Boy! Where ya been? I've been waitin'. C'mon, in the car, we've gotta go.”

“Coming, Unc. I've got to go, Ronnie. We're getting a sheep in for the weekend.”

“A sheep for the weekend? What're you going to do with it?” Ronnie leered.

“Well not that!” Boy laughed. “We're going to eat it, of course. Uncle is putting a hangi down tomorrow. I'll see you at school, 'bye Ronnie.”

“Yeah. See you then. 'Bye, Boy.”

'Damm', he thought as he walked away home. 'Damm, damm and double damm!' Fifty per cent of their conversations seemed to be Hello and Goodbye. Where they ever going to spend some decent time together?

He wondered if Boy liked model trains? Most kids did and his dad had a huge layout. Maybe that'd tempt him? He asked him at school next day.

“Little trains? That's like kids' stuff, isn't it?”

“No it's not. Not like dad does it. So, do you want to come and see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Sometime but not this time. We're going to be busy thius weekend. It's my Koru's birthday and there's a huge party. All the family is coming and I'm going to be tied-up looking after the little ones and stuff.”

“Oh. Damm. Got a big family, have you?”

“A big family? No, I haven't – it's a bloody huge family, like they're all in a competion to see who can have the most kids. We're going to take our country back by out-breeding all you Whitey bastards. The only way you can survive is if you come and breed with us”

“Me, making babies? Can't see that ever happening.” ('Oh-oh. What did I go and say that for?')

It was okay, Boy just grinned at him. “You're not a breeder? Im not either.”

'Oh??' Ronnie thought. Did that mean what he hoped it meant? It looked like it might.

Boy pushed his shoulder and said, “Maybe we can be not-breeders together.”

“Together? Yeah, I'd like that.”

“Me too. I'd like that a lot.”

He did mean that! Ronnie was delighted. He felt like grabbing him and hugging him right then and there, but he couldn't do that. Not in the middle of the school. Dammit. All they could do was to grin at each other and they did that – majorly.

“So, some other time, when you're not so busy, you'll come to my house and see my trains and stuff?”

“Sure. I'd like that. I really want to see your stuff.”

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“I'm planning on that!”

They grinned again. Then, they had to go back into school. Dammit.

The rest of Ronnie's day was a complete waste of time. He didn't have a clue what anyone was talking about. His body was there but his mind was away in other places. All he could think about was Boy Manawatu and what he wanted to do with him.

They would be doing it, wouldn't they? They would, he was sure of it. The only question was when would they? Soon, he hope, but not this weekend, obviously.

After school, walking home, Boy was ahead of him with a couple of excited-looking girls. A car stopped and they all got into the back together. Ronnie watched them go and didn't concentrate on what he was doing. He walked into a tall kid standing there.

“Damm. Watch where you're going, Dork!”

“Okay, okay. Sor – ry!” Ronnie stepped around him.

“Don't be smart, Honky,” the older boy growled. “I hate smart-arses.”

Ronnie kept his mouth shut and kept walking. That was one mean-looking dude. He was not about to tangle with him!