Okarito, Mrs Dale, 2

Tyler took his coat off, spread it out on the ground and loaded her pathetic collection of groceries on to it.

“The bags are useless. We'll wrap everything up in my coat. Have you got far to go?”

“No, not far now. I live just up the road, in one of the Council Flats.”

“Let's get you home then and you can sort everything out there. The eggs are a mess, and these drinks are a write-off. The bread bag has burst, but some will be saveable. Is that a word – saveable? I think it is.”

“Yes,” she smiled, “That's a word. Thank you, Tyler. This is so good of you.”

“No worries. We can't leave you sitting here in the rain.” He stood up, helped her up, and then bundled-up his coat with the groceries in it.

They walked the few meters up the road to her little house.

“You are getting so wet!” she said.

“That's okay, I'll dry out.”

“That man – I think he cut my bags open. Why would he do that?”

“I don't know why, but yes, that's what he did – I saw him do it. Is there anything missing?”

“There is. My new carving knife! I've been saving coupons for it for weeks and weeks. It's gone and I didn't even get to use it. Oh, that nasty, horrible man!”

“I think you're right. We'd better keep an eye out for him, I think. Jeffrey says there's been a lot of petty thefts over the last few days. Maybe he's the one responsible.”

“He could be. I will be locking everything up from now on.”

“Good idea. Is this your house here?”

“This is it, my half a house. There are 6 units here, they're all little.”

“Easy to keep clean then. I've just got one room, in a shed at the wharf, but it's big enough for me and all that I need.”

“That's good. Very good if you're happy with what you have.” She put down the packages that she was carrying, fished-out her key and opened the door. “Come along inside, Tyler. This is what I call home.”

She looked at her kitchen/living room as if she was seeing it for the first time. It all looked sad and pathetic really. Not much to show for a lifetime.

Tyler kicked his shoes off, went over to the kitchen benchtop and started unloading the groceries from his coat. “Oh, wow.” He wriggled his toes in his sodden socks. “I'm all wet and getting water everywhere. Sorry.”

“There's no need for you to be sorry. It's more my fault than yours that you're so wet. You stay there and I'll get some towels.”

He finished stacking the groceries, leaving the damaged stuff to one side. Mrs Dale spread towels over an armchair and insisted that he sit down in front of the heater.

“Sorry I can't dry your clothes. My dryer died a while ago. I need a cup of tea. Would you like one, Tyler?”

“Sounds good, thanks. A hot drink will go down well. Would you like me to go and get replacements for the broken stuff?”

“No. No thank you. I'll sort something out.”

“You're sure? It's no trouble. Umm, I'm sorry, I don't know your name?”

“You don't even know my name and still you came to help me. You're a good boy, Tyler and thank you. My name is Dorothy Dale, or Dot for short.”

“Mrs Dale, is it?”

“Yes it is. I was married, but I'm widowed now.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“That's all right – not your fault,” she smiled. “It was a long time ago, several years now. Tell me something about yourself. You're Kathleen Rodden's grandson?”

“One of them, yes.”

She was busy in the kitchen. Tyler said, “You could sit down and I'll make the tea.”

“No, you won't. You're my guest here and I'll get it. You own the canoes and rent them out to tourists on the lagoon?”

“I do, but they are kayaks, not canoes.”

“Oh. I don't know the difference, but you do own them all? How did a young boy like you get in that position?”

“It's a long story. I had some money that my other grandparents left when they died. With that and a lot of help from Granddad Bob, we managed to get things started. My cousin, Cassie, helps and Bevan does too, sometimes.”

“But you own it all yourself?”

“Well, yes. Oh, and we've started another venture too – taking guided tours out on a bigger boat. Cassie and Bevan's father supplied the boat and I own half of that, he's the co-owner.”

“Your business seems to be going well. There are always kayaks coming and going.””

“It's doing very well, even better than I hoped for, but I couldn't do it on my own. I've had a lot of help.”

“I'm sure they get paid back. So you're making a profit?”

“Yes, we're doing good, thanks. But there never seems to be enough money for all we want to do. Thank you.” He took the offered cup.

“There's milk and sugar on the table. Help yourself, I don't know how you like it. So, you'll be staying in Okarito then?”

“Yes, for at least a few years. If Bevan goes to university, I'll be going with him.”

“Bevan, your cousin. You must be good friends.”

“Very good friends.”

“That's nice. It's good to have a friend.”

“Mrs Dale, Bevan is my partner. Not just in the business, he's my life-partner, my boyfriend.”

“Yes,” she smiled. “I figured that. I might be old, Tyler, but I'm not completely green. I had a son who was gay.”

“You had a son?”

“He died a long time ago. He was about the age that you are now.”

“Sixteen? That's awful. Sorry, Mrs Dale.”

“Yes, I'm sorry too. My poor boy!”

They talked for a while. Mrs Dale told him that she'd lived in Okarito all of her life, she went to school with his grandparents! But she'd never been out on the lagoon. Tyler told her to come down to the wharf anytime and they'd arrange for her to join one of the guided trips.

She couldn't afford that – she didn't have to, there was no charge for his friends.

He left in a hurry, he had to get back because Cassie was taking time off to have her hair done. (“She wants to see if blondes really do have more fun.”) Mrs Dale thanked him, yet again, and he said, “No worries. 'Bye, Mrs Dale and do come down and take a trip out, won't you?”

“I'd love to. Thank you, Tyler. Goodbye now.”

She stood and watched him run off into the rain with his big coat flapping around him. Then she had another cup of tea and a long think.

The weather cleared later in the day and there was a glorious sunset which augured well for tomorrow. What a shame she hadn't waited one more day to do her shopping.

She was going out to the mailbox to collect the junk-mail, (there was never anything else, apart from the dreaded bills), and she almost stumbled over a supermarket bag on her front doorstep.

'What is this doing here?' She picked it up, looked inside and started crying again.

Back inside, she unloaded it on to the kitchen table - 2 loaves of bread, one sandwich-sliced and one toast-sliced, 2 bottles of sarsaparilla cordial, a pottle of margarine, one dozen eggs and a boxed carving knife!

There was no note or anything, but she knew who'd done this – that lovely boy! That lovely surprise more than made up for her bad morning. Bless him.

She sat down and looked at her gifts, smiled and nodded. She had already decided, but this confirmed that what she was going to do was the right thing.

Next day, after breakfast – two(!) eggs on toast – she cleaned-up, put on her still-damp coat, (the heater had been turned off as soon as Tyler left yesterday), and put her late husband's papers in his old briefcase. She left the flat, locking the door, and walked up to the old wharf area, carefully carrying the briefcase in front of her in case that horrible man was around again.

He wasn't, or at least she didn't see him, and she got there without incident. There was no-one around. Weren't they working? It wasn't a holiday, was it? No, of course they were working, they had signs out by the road.

She walked up on to the wharf and saw a boat coming down the river, so that was where they were. She sat down on the seat to wait.

A tall, thin girl came running up and stopped in front of her. “Hi!” she said. “I know my note on the door said, 'Back in Five', but I was held up at the bank. They're as slow as a wet week in there. How can we help you?”

“Hello, Dear. I just want a word with Tyler. Is he around?”

The girl, who must be Cassie, looked out at the water. “He soon will be. That's him, coming down there in the Lady.”

“The Lady? Oh, the boat. I'll just wait here.”

“Come inside if you like. It's warmer in there.”

“Thank you, but no. I'm quite happy here. This is nice.”

“Nice? Yeah it is. Way better than yesterday, that was foul.”

“It certainly was, but some of it was good.”

“I must've missed that part. Okay, I'd better go and open up. Catch you later.”

“Goodbye, Dear.”

The boat came in and turned and nosed into the bank so the people on board could walk off. Tyler came out last, his hands were full of lifejackets. He smiled when he saw her there and waggled his fingers. “Hey, Mrs Dale!”

“Hello, Tyler,” she smiled back.

He came up on to the wharf and said, “Just got to drop these inside. Why don't you come on in? The Lady will be going out again in another hour or so.”

She followed him inside. The old wooden shed had a big ranch-slider door and windows on the front wall.There was a plywood-lined office and waiting room inside.

Tyler stopped and said, “The lunch-room is through at the end there. Have a seat and I'll hang these up and be with you in a minute. Hey, Cassie – still having blonde fun are you?”

The girl behind the counter said, “Shut up, Tyler.” (And he was her employer!).

Mrs Dale sat and waited in the lunchroom. There was a nice view from the window in there too. Tyler came in and switched-on the electric kettle.

“I'm hanging out for a coffee. I've talked myself dry. Would you like one, or would you rather have tea? I think there's tea-bags in here somewhere.”

“Thanks, Tyler. A coffee would be nice – milk and one sugar.”

“Comin right up. The Lady's due out again at 10am, there's bookings for two groups of six. She seats 20, so there'll be plenty of room for you.”

“I didn't actually come for a ride on your boat today.”

“Oh? Something else we can help you with?”

“Yes, there is.” She took the papers out of the briefcase and took a deep breath. “Tyler, I am sick of being poor. I'm tired of scrimping and saving and worrying about every cent. I'm old and tired and I want to be well-off for once in my life.”

“Don't we all?” he grinned.

“I'm serious, Tyler. Very serious.I want to be rich and I want you to help me get there?”

“Me? But what can I do? Money seems to go out the door as fast as it comes in around here.”

“Sit down, Tyler. Sit down and listen because I want to tell you a story.”

“A story? Are you a writer, Mrs Dale?”

“No, that's not it. I did have aspirations once, but that was many years ago. Many people think they can write, not many are well-paid for it.”

“What then?”

“Shush and I'll tell you. Do you know anything about gold-mining?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“I'll start at the very beginning then.”

“Right. I'll get these drinks, and then you can start.”

“Tyler!” she sighed. “I'm talking a lot of money here – a LOT of money.”

“A dollar is a lot when you've got none to spare.” He sat down and passed her drink across the table.

“Thank you. Now then, you know that there was a lot of gold-mining done around here in the early days?”

“So they tell me. That's why the town started. It was a rich field for a few years but it was soon worked-out. A few stayed on, scratching a living, but there's been no gold found for a long time.”

“Yes and no. That is not quite right.”

“Not quite?”

“No. The gold won around here was not reef-gold, it was semi-alluvial, dug from solidified black-sand deposits on uplifted beaches.

“Uplifted beaches?”

“The whole country was under the sea once. It is still rising up a few millimeters per year and areas miles away from the sea today were once beaches – beaches rich in gold.”

“Which has all been recovered.”

“Almost all. The point is that the gold did not originate on the beaches, first it would have been in one quartz reef which eroded over time.”

“So you're saying that there is a goldreef around here that has never been found?”

“Almost, yes. The old miners knew that it must've been out there and when the easy gold ran out, they searched high and low but they never found it.”

“Mrs Dale,” Tyler was looking sceptical now. “Are you saying that you've found what no-one else could?”

“No, of course not. I wouldn't know where to start looking.”

“What then?”

“My husband was not originally from Okarito. He first came here as a young man when he was appointed to a teaching position at the school. We met, were married, had a family and lost them and he spent his whole career here, finishing-up as Deputy-Principal in the school.

He was always very taken with the romance of the area's golden history and he became obssessed with the mystery of the missing mother-lode. That became his life's work and he spent many, many hours researching geology and searching for the lost reef.

In later years his health was not good, but he never gave up and he found what he was looking for.”

“He found the reef?” She had Tyler's total attention now.

“He did indeed, but by then it was too late for him and he died soon after he retired. Before he did, he bought the land, tied-up all the legalities with mineral-rights and everything, and he left the lot to me.

The long and the short of it is, I am sitting on a potentially very rich goldmine here, and I have not got the the money or the energy to develop it.”

“That's too bad, Mrs Dale. Couldn't you hire someone to do it for you? You wouldn't have to pay money up-front – just offer some shares, about 5 or 10 per cent. You should easily raise a loan to get it started.”

“See now, this is exactly why I have come to you. You are a good person and you're also an entrepeneur. I like the way you think. Tyler, I want to be rich and I want you to do it for me.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I can't think of anyone better. A sample of the reef has been assayed and it is incredibly rich – about 3 ounces per ton, which is far more than usual. This could be a very rich mine.

Jack, my husband, registered this company – South-West Mining Limited. So, what we will do is, when you can afford it, you will give me eighty dollars and that will buy you 80% of the company. I will keep the other 20% and be the 'sleeping partner' as it were.

You develop the mine, sell the gold , get very rich and make me rich too. Okay?”

“Okay? Eighty per-cent? No, Mrs Dale that is not okay! Not at all.”

“No? Do you want more?”

“I don't want more – eighty per-cent is far too much! What you have is really valuable and you can't just give it away.”

“I am not giving it away. You have to pay me Eighty dollars and that will make it all legal and above board.”

“But it's too much.”

“It is not too much. I have thought about this and it is a fair amount. It is no use to me as it is. I don't have the wherewithal to develop it – you do.

Left to me, it will sit there forever and I'll finish-up in a pauper's grave.”

“But if it's as good as you say, you could sell it for millions, maybe.”

“I don't want to sell it to a faceless big business. I want you to have it and I know you'll make good use of it.”

“Good use?”

“Yes. You don't waste what you've got and I know you'd like to see the town go ahead. I would like that too and I think the best way to do it is to put the money in your hands.”

“But Mrs Dale, I don't know anything about mining – nothing at all!”

“So find out. You're a bright boy and you can do it. You don't have to dig it all yourself you know. Find some people with experience, give them the tools and hire them to do it.”

“Well, umm . . I'm running out of excuses.”

“Good! Now stop thinking and sign here. You can give me the money when you've got it.”

“Eighty dollars is nothing!”

“To you maybe. The amount is not important, it's just to make the sale of shares legal.”

He signed on the line and grinned. “I guess we're in business. I'll get some money from the bank and bring it around later.”

“Whenever suits you, there is no hurry. Thank you, Tyler.”

“Thank you, Mrs Dale – thanks a million. Do you want to come for a ride on the Lady now?”

“Yes, why not. Let's make this day special.”

“I think it already is!”

Okarito, Mrs Dale

Mrs Dale went shopping. It was a big day, she'd been saving the coupons for months and, at last, the card was full and she qualified for the free gift.

She didn't really need another one, she already had 2 carving knives, one large and one small, but it would be nice to get something new for once. That didn't happen very often.

She should, she knew, be grateful for the old-age pension. Without it she would have nothing at all and then how would she live? She wouldn't, she supposed. Useless old women like her, alone and with nothing, must've shrivelled up and died not so very long ago.

But it was so hard, watching every cent. There never seemed to be enough.

She checked herself in the mirror before going out the door and hated what she saw there – a gray-haired and impecunious, bent-over, little old lady. That wasn't her! Well, yes it was but it wasn't how she felt and not how it should've been.

Where had the years of promise gone and where was the laughing-eyed girl who used to look back from mirrors? This was not how she'd thought her life was going to be.

Still, she forced a smile – mustn't grumble. At least she was reasonable healthy, she could walk to the shops and back – not everyone could do that. And she had a rented home to come back to.

She adjusted the scarf to cover her thread-bare blouse, straightened her coat and went out of the door. It was a nice day. Probably too nice to be wearing a heavy woollen coat, but it was the best she owned and you have to be tidy when going downtown.

She left her Council Flat and went down to the Supermarket to do her weekly shopping.

That took most of the morning, but she didn't mind. It was warm and bright there with pleasant music playing and lots of people around. Most of them were strangers, but there were some familiar faces and several smiled at her.

She did like seeing the little ones, so young and carefree with someone to see to their every need. Once, long ago, she was a young mother with little ones of her own. Now she was the slow and annoying old lady holding up the line wherever she went. Where had the years gone?

Some people were annoyed and not everyone was patient with her. There was much huffing and puffing and several pushed past her roughly. That was embarrassing and she tried to move out of the way, as much as she could but the aisles were so narrow in places.

It could not be helped and she couldn't afford to hurry. She had her list, of course. She always shopped with a list to save her from wasting money on impulse buys.

She had a menu of meals worked-out for the next week. That never varied except when she could buy something different using the coupons carefully clipped from the 'mailers', (junk mail).

Today was a very good day. Not only was she getting the knife, the sarsaparilla cordial was on special and she had coupons for two 1 litre bottles, which would keep her in cold drinks for about 2 months.

A rather rude boy pushed in ahead of her at the checkout counter. She should've said something, but didn't. She didn't like to make a fuss. She stood quietly and waited her turn. The boy working on the checkout wasn't much better. (Perhaps they were brothers?) He was frowning, grumpy and surly the sulky little mister!

'It can't be easy, standing in one place and dealing with a never-ending line of customers all day long, but it wouldn't hurt him to smile sometimes.'

She went out of her way to be as smilely and pleasant as she could. But it didn't work, he was worse if anything. She almost didn't trouble him by asking for the carving knife, but no – she'd been looking forward to claiming it and she wanted her knife.

He sighed loudly to make sure she knew what a nuisance she was being and he used the store's intercom to call for “one of the cheap and cruddy give-away knives.” That almost took the shine off it for her.

She left the store with her two bulging bags of groceries and her gleaming new knife, still in the cardboard and plastic presentation box, standing in the deep front-pocket of her coat.

It was darker outside than in. The sky had clouded over and there was a definite chill in the air – it was going to rain. Now she was glad of her thick and heavy coat. She cast a worried look at the sky, looked ruefully at the taxis, which she could not afford to use, and she started walking and hoping she'd get home before the rain started.

That didn't work, of course. It was raining heavily before she reached the corner of her street. There was no shelter in sight and nothing to do but to carry on, in the rain.

How did the old song go? 'Laughing and singing in the rain'? Huh! Fred Astaire must've been crazy. She couldn't remember how the film's story-line went, but he was probably in love, they usually were when they were acting like idiots.

Love. It was a long time since she'd known any of that. Once she was loved. Once she had a husband, a son and a daughter. They were all gone now. It is just not right to outlive your children – that should not happen!

Now she had no-one and nobody loved her. She walked, not singing and laughing, just trudging wearily and walking in the rain.

She had a car once, but even as careful as she was, she had to let it go when it needed major repairs that she could not afford. Now she couldn't even afford a taxi on a wet day.

Her spirits were already low, and then it got worse – the bottoms fell out of both of the supermarket bags, her groceries crashed on the wet road and scattered everywhere.

Someone, a tall dark man in a long dark coat, brushed past her almost knocking her over. He didn't stop to help, just walked away quickly and disappeared around the corner.

He'd stood on her box of 6 eggs and broken the lot of them! All of her eggs for a week, gone. Both of the bottles of sarsaparilla were broken too.

When she bent down to salvage what she could, she realised that her brand-new knife was gone from her pocket. It hadn't fallen out, it was there just a minute ago. That man must have taken it. Had he cut her bags open as well? He probably did.

That was the last straw and it was all too much. Overcome, she sat on the wet road and she cried.

“You're not having a good day, are you?”

“Huh?” She looked up and a boy, a teenage boy, was kneeling in the rain next to her and gathering her scattered groceries together.

“What a rotten thing to happen. But, don't worry, we'll soon get all this picked up. Good thing that eveything comes wrapped in plastic, eh?”

“Yes, that's a good thing.” She smiled through her tears and watched him. What a nice boy! Teenagers weren't all bad.

He was a stranger to her, but she knew who this boy was – he was a Rodden, Kathleen Rodden's grandson. He was new in town and he was the one who was hiring the canoes out to tourists, down at the lagoon.

Tyler – that was his name. Tyler Rodden. Such a good boy!

Okarito, Jordan & Gene, 3

(Last one)

They walked into the kitchen and Mrs Springer beamed, “Jordan! You're just in time, we're about to eat lunch. Sit down there.”

“Okay,” he grinned. “Thanks, Mrs Springer. This is my mate, Gene, he's staying the weekend with me.”

“Hello Gene. You sit down there too. I've never met a teenager yet who wasn't hungry.”

“Umm. Thanks, Mrs Springer.”

They sat down and Miss Clayton stood there, looking thoughtful – and grim! “Hmm. You are here now. Don't make a habit of it!” She left the room.

Jordan looked across the table at Kim. “Whoah. Doesn't miss much, does she?”

“Miss Clayton doesn't miss anything. But she's nice really, on the inside.”

“She hides it well. Where's Jethro?”

“Don't know. He's busy with his mum, I think,. He'll be around later.”

“Good. I hope we see him. Gene has GOT to meet Jethro.”

Gene looked. “Oh? Why's that?”

“Not telling you. When you see him you'll know.”

After lunch, they went up to Kim's room. It was still a huge effort for him to get up and down the stairs but he said it was well worth it. “A body needs some privacy and I get none down there.”

Jordan grinned. “Privacy for what, Young Kimbo?”

“Privacy to mind my own business!”

“Not saying then. Oh – kay.”

“Jordan!” He lifted his guitar down and strummed. “Do you play, Gene

“I play guitar sometimes.”

“Are you any good?”

“About as good as Jordie.”

“Not much then.”

Jordan said, “Can't all be virtuousos, or whatever it is. But you've gotta meet Ashton! He's great. He only plays guitar really, but on that he's better than all of us put together.”

“He's good?”

“Very good,” said Gene.”He doesn't sing though, he's useless at that.”

Jordan said, “Not like Young Kimbo here – he's a legend!”

“So, you're good at guitar and vocals too. Do you play anything else?”

Jordan said, “Pretty much everything, and he's good at everything too.”

“I'm okay,” Kim deflected the effusive praise. “Everone's got their talents. Mine is music, nothing else.”

“That's more than enough, I think,” said Jordan.

They stayed for an hour. Bonnie arrived before they left and she walked back to Jordan's with him and Gene. Kim had his music practice with Miss Clayton and he said he'd ring them when Jethro arrived.

Bonnie didn't stay long. She liked the look of Gene, but was not into Playstation gaming. “That's a boy thing really.”

They played the old games, then switched over to the PS3, so they could go on-line. The Cat was on, Ashton and Lucas weren't. She said that Ashton would be in later but Lucas wouldn't – he was out courting.

Jordan was pleased to hear that Lucas was tracking Trina Harcourt. “He's had his eye on her for ages. He didn't tell me he's going out with her. Kept that quiet, the Swine!”

“Last night was the first time,” said the Cat. “They went to the movies, and then they got into the Black Knight Club.”

“They went clubbing?? Lucky Beggars! I'd have no show of getting in there.”

“You wouldn't, Jordie. You'll be lucky if they let you in when you're 30.”

“Zip it, Genie!”

They had dinner with Jordan's family, and that bloody Steve, but at least he didn't say much. They'd just settled back in the bedroom when Jordan's phone rang. It was Kim, he said that Jethro had arrived, he couldn't stay long and they had to come around and see this. “Ohmigod, so funny!”

“What!? What's funny?” Jordan demanded. Kim wasn't telling him, they had to come and see.

“But, we . . you there, Cat? Tell Ashton we'll be back soon, okay? We're coming, Kimbo. Don't go away.”

He turned the phone and Playstation off. “It's all go around here, Genie. Come on, the sooner we get there the sooner we can come back.”

They hurried around to the hotel and up to Kim's room. Jordan knocked, went in and burst out laughing. “Oh no. Too funny!” He gasped.

“Yeah, yeah – bloody hysterical!” Jethro replied. He was sitting on the bed next to Kim and his right leg, the same leg as Kim's broken one, was swaddled in an enormous bandage. “The doctor thought it was funny too. That's why he put such a big bandage on it, it's only a cut – I had 5 stitches!”

“Ouch! But it is funny,” Jordan grinned. “Gene, this is Jethro. Remind you of anyone?”

“Just a bit, yeah.” Gene looked from one face to the other. “Are you guys twins?”

“No,” said Kim. “As far as we know, we're not even related. Jethro just looks like me.”

“Wrong!” said Jethro. “You look like me.”

“Or, you both look like each other,” Jordan said. “Amazing isn't it, Gene?”

“Surely is. You're not identical, but look a lot alike.”

“Only on the outside,” said Kim.

Jethro disagreed. “I wouldn't be too sure about that.”

“And that,” said Gene, “whatever it is, is private. What're you doing now, People?”

“Not much,” Kim shrugged. “We're both a bit laid-up and we're not going far. We'll just hang around, make some music and Jethro might teach our old dog some new tricks. It's incredible what he can make her do.”

“I don't make her do anything. I just suggest things and she does them if she wants to.”

“If?” said Jordan. “She's a grumpy old baggage, but she'd do anything for you. I think she's in love.”

Jordan looked at the pair of them. He said nothing but he thought, 'I think maybe she's not the only one.'

Out loud, he said, “We'll leave you to it, I think. We'll have a look at the school, and then we're going home. My mind wasn't on it last night and Gene took advantage of me. Today I'm getting my revenge!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Playstation,” said Gene. “He'll try, but he'll lose again. What're we going to the school for? Don't you get enough of it Monday to Friday?”

“Sure I do, but people hang around there in the weekends. It's the best place in town for skating and there's touch-rugby games sometimes.”

“Can't see you playing that.”

“I don't, but it's fun to watch. Okay, J and K, we're gone. Might see you later.”

“Okay,” they said. “Later.”

There were a couple of people – girls! - skating, but no-one playing touch. They didn't hang around long.

“What was that funny building with the dome thing on the roof?”

“That, my uninformed friend, was the observatory. There's a big-mother telescope in there for looking at the moon and planets and stuff.”

“That's cool. I hope they don't let you use it.”

“I haven't had a go yet . . . Hey! Why wouldn't they let me? I'm nice.”

“Where do we start? Jordie, my Friend, you break things. You break everything you touch. How are you going to pay for a telescope?”

“I don't break everything! You're not broken, are you?”

“Not yet!”

“Give me time.”

They left the school and wandered around a couple of streets.

“The town actually looks in better shape when you get away from the main street.”

“It does. Still a shithole though.”

“Jordan!”

They made their way back to Jordan's house and back to the Playstation. The Cat was online. She said, “Genie, did you give Jordie my message?”

“Oh, yeah, no. Sorry, Cat, I forgot.”

“Do it now then.”

“Right. Wait.” He switched the Playstation to off-line. “Jordan, My Friend, this is from the Cat.” He kissed him on the cheek. “She still loves you and she misses you.”

“Very cool. Thank the Cat for me and take this back to her.” He kissed him back.

Gene patted his own cheek, like he was drying it. He said, “Will do. There was a message from Ashton too. You want it now or later?”

“Now, of course. You might forget again.”

“Okay. This was it.” He kissed him on the other cheek. “Ashton says, 'Me too'. You want Lucas' message now?”

“Well, yes!”

“Lucas says, 'Go screw yourself, you Little Shit and when are you coming back where you belong?' “

“Isn't he nice? Tell him, 'Up yours and I'll be back as soon as I can.'”

“Will do.”

“No more messages? Right then – now I'll give you a hiding!”

Jordan was not so distracted this time and, true to his word, Gene got thrashed. They broke again for dinner – Silverside, (corned beef), with mustard sauce, cabbage, carrots and mashed potatoes. Dessert followed – Apple Crumble, swimming in fresh cream straight from the cow.

Bonnie called and asked if they wanted to go to the movies?”

Jordan said,”Who with?”

“Just me. I'm not letting any other girls anywhere near him.”

“You keep your hands off too. Gene's going home tomorrow and while he's here, he's mine!”

“Thought you said he's not gay?”

“He's not. I meant his time is mine and I ain't sharing.”

“So, are you coming? Do you want to know what movie's on?”

“Not really. We'll find out when we get there. Watch out though, when I get bored I throw popcorn and stuff.”

“Why doesn't that surprise me? You're on my way to the theater, I'll call around for yous, about seven thirty, okay?”

“Yep. See you then. Bye, bye.”

“I am not!”

“You am not what?”

“Bi.”

“Yeah? Laters, Bonnie.”

“Later, Jordo.”

So they went to the movies. Gene paid for Jordan, Bonnie paid for herself and Jordan bought ice-creams. It wasn't much of a movie, but Jordan behaved himself.

The new/old theater was most impressive. They built them grand, way back then, and whoever designed it must've had shares in a light-bulb company. There were thousands of lights, even 'stars' scattered across the ceilings.

“Power bill must be interesting.” Bonnie was known for her thrifty ways. Some called it cheap - if they dared.

They wandered home after the movie, along with a small group of chattering hangers-on. Bonnie didn't want to come in and no-one else was invited. “Playstation? I don't think so. Boy's toys are boring.”

“Some of them, maybe. You just go home and play with your Barbies.”

“Cheek! I killed my Barbies, years ago – they're all buried in the backyard somewhere. See you, Guys.”

“You might! 'Bye Bonnie.”

Bonnie left and Gene grinned, “Got a big backyard, has she?”

“Reasonably, I suppose. It's not huge. Why do you want to know?”

“Just in case you disappear. If she's got a habit of burying dolls she gets tired of, well . .”

“Watch it, Gene Genie! I'm not a doll.”

“Some people might think that you are.”

“But not you.”

“No, not me. What now, Playstation or bed?”

“It's still early, bed can wait.”

“Oh yah!”

They played for a while, but not too long – Gene didn't want to stay up all night, they couldn't sleep all day tomorrow. About 2am, they turned everything off, slid into bed and cuddled-up together to go to sleep.

Jordan's sister, Sharron, woke them at 10 in the morning, with toast and coffees. Jordan sat up and scowled at her. “Go away, Sharron. Go boil your head.”

“That's nice, isn't it? You do something nice and this is the thanks you get?”

“You think this is nice? We were sleeping here!”

“Yeah, you were and Mum says it's time you were awake. You wouldn't be happy if you slept until Gene's mum came to get him.”

“That's right, we wouldn't.” Gene sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Thanks, Sharron. What's the weather like out there?”

“Bloody awful! It's cold, wet and horrible.”

“Oh, joy,” said Jordan. “Another inside day today.”

“For some, yeah.” Gene reached for his coffee.

Sharron left them to it and they sat in bed, talking, until lunchtime. Sunday lunch was a wedge of pie each and left-over cakes from the diner.

Then they showered, finally!, and Gene dressed to go home.

Jordan watched him cramming everything back into his bag. “You should've brought a bigger bag – a much bigger one.”

“So you could stowaway in it? Just as well I didn't then.”

“Is not! Wish you didn't have to go.”

“So do I, but I do. You can come up to Brownsville and see us. That Steve drives a truck up and down. Why don't you come up with him?”

“With that bloody Steve? I dunno. I'd like to but I hate to ask him for any favours. He doesn't like me and I don't like him.”

“He might think it's worth it to get rid of you sometimes. Try it anyway.”

“I'll think about it.”

“You? Think? That'll be a first, Jordie.”

“Zip it, Genie!”

Time passed all too quickly and Gene was texting back and forth with his mum, telling her how to find the house. They weren't going out to meet her again – it was wet out there. Cold too.

When the car pulled up outside, he said goodbye and thanks to Mrs Houston and to that bloody Steve, and then he left. Jordan went out to the car with him, they hugged and said goodbye and Gene told him to get back inside out of the rain.

He didn't. He stood and waved until they'd gone, and then he went inside. It was a choice weekend, but now it was over it was not so good.

Well, there'd be other weekends – meantime, computertime!