(Quick post - going away, for a week & a bit, apparently - I just do what I'm told. Going to Christchurch, the shaky city :( Wonder if Maccas still ask if you want a shake with your order? - Hope not! Cheers)
Kim sat there, feeling – what? He didn't know. Offended? Yeah, a bit. Intrigued? Yes, definitely. He was interested even if the boy was not. He sat there and waited. He didn't even know if they came back the same way, but there was only one way to find out and he was in no hurry.
His phone rang and it was his mother, worrying of course. “I'm okay, Mum. Just sitting here waiting to talk to someone. I'll be back soon. 'Bye, Mum.”
And – yes! He saw them coming back and he sat and waited and watched again. He wouldn't say anything this time. If the kid wanted to snub him again, well – fine. He was just looking. Was that how people saw him when he was walking around – without the dogs of course.
This time the boy stopped and looked. He sat down next to him and had a closer look. “Yes, that's weird. I've never seen anything like it. What's your name and where're you from?”
“I'm Kim. Kim Harrison. We've only been here a short time, but I live in the Royal Hotel.”
“Kim Harrison? Cool. I'm Jethro. Where did you live before you came here?”
“In Green Island.”
“Where? I've been, like, everywhere! But I've never heard of any Green Island. Is that overseas?”
“No,” Kim laughed. “It's a suburb, at the south end of Dunedin.”
“Dunedin – the dour southern Scottish city. I know where that is. Got any family?”
“Yes. There's my dad, my mum and us four kids. I'm the oldest.”
“Mum, Dad and four kids and you're all living in a hotel. Are your folks rich?”
“I wish! No, they're not rich, they're just workers.”
“How do you all afford to live in a hotel then?”
“We don't just live there, Dad bought the place and he's fixing it up.”
“So he is rich.”
“No, he's not and he's even less rich now. He used to have a painting and decorating business, he sold it and now he's got a big old pub and a huge mortgage. What do your folks do?”
“Not much. There's just my mum and I. We live in a 30 foot caravan and now it's parked-up in a friend's backyard because Mum's got a job at the hospital.”
“Is she a doctor or a nurse or something?”
“Or something. She's the handyman/gardener and looks after the coal-fired boiler too.”
“Sounds like she's busy.”
“She is. It's a 6 day a week job. She got it because she wanted to get some money together. She says she likes it but she'll probably chuck it in and we'll move on before long. We usually do. Mum doesn't like staying in one place for long.”
“Where's your dad?”
“Haven't got one. I guess I had a father somewhere, but I don't know anything about him. Mum won't tell me, she says I was a virgin birth. Haha. I bloody wasn't – I know that much. Hey – maybe we could have the same father? Does your father ever stray?”
“Not likely – Mum'd kill him! So, no brothers or sisters, but you've got all those dogs. Are they all yours?”
“No. None of them are. Mum won't let me have a dog, she says there's no room in the caravan for one.”
“Camping grounds probably wouldn't have you either. But you take them all walking, do you get paid for that?”
“No, I don't get paid – wish I did! They just come with me. I like dogs. I like most animals and get on better with them than I do with people.”
“It must be hard making friends when you're always moving on. Why don't you go to school?”
“I'm with the Correspondence School, always have been and always will be.”
“Makes sense, I guess. Do you like it?”
“It's okay.”
“Don't you get lonely, being by yourself all the time?”
“But I'm not by myself. These are my friends,” he waved a hand at the dogs.
“Better than nothing.”
“Yeah, way better than nothing. Have you got a dog?”
“Sort of. Mum's got a Bijon, but he's old and grouchy and he doesn't do much – just lies around farting and sleeping all the time. Wish I could do that.”
“That'd be all right, eh? Probably get boring though.”
“Probably. I s'pose I should be getting home before someone comes looking for me.” Kim stood and got on his crutches. “Are you going up this way?”
“Yep.”
“I'll walk with you then. I'll be one of your dogs. They won't bite, will they.”
“Not unless I tell them to.”
“Hope you don't do that then.” They started back up the street and Kim tried not to slow them down too much. “Your name is Jethro. Jethro Tull, is it?”
“It's not and I have heard that joke before – about a million times. I'm Jethro Bourke, b, o, u, r, k, e – Bourke. Don't say it.”
“Wasn't even thinking about it. Who was Jethro Tull? An early 70's rock singer, wasn't he?”
“Not he, they. Jethro Tull was the name of a group – one of the original Heavy Metal bands. They got their name from some old dude who was an inventor, or something, hundreds of years ago.”
“What did he invent? Metal music?”
“Something much more useful than that.”
“Most things are.”
“You're not wrong.”
They walked along in companionable silence for a few minutes, both of them stealing glances at the other. They neared the hotel on the other side of the street.
Kim said, “Well, there it is – Home Sweet Home and there's the redoubtable Miss Clayton looking for me.”
“Miss Clayton. I've heard of her. They say she's an old battleaxe.”
“She's not that bad. She just pretends she's fierce.”
“Must be a good pretender.”
“She is, she's got the whole town fooled, but not me. Will you be walking this way tomorrow?”
“I will, unless it's raining. I walk everyday, at around the same time, but not when it's raining.”
“Don't the dogs like walking in the rain.”
“They don't care. It's me, I hate it and I don't do it.”
“Fair enough. Nice meeting you, Jethro. Maybe I'll see you tomnorrow, if it's not raining.”
“Probably. I'll look forward to that. 'Bye, Kim, you good-looker you.”
“'Bye, Jethro, the other good-looker.”
They parted with grins and Kim crossed the street, hoping that he wasn't about to be growled at by Miss Clayton. She wasn't growling, she was too busy watching Jethro walk away up the street.
“Who is that boy, Kimberley?”
“His name's Jethro and he's new in town too. His mum's working at the hospital.”
“Is he a relation of yours?”
“Don't think so. Never seen him before.”
“Never? Amazing, he could be your twin. It's said that everyone has got a double. I think that you've just met yours.”
“Looks like.”
“Don't contract your words, Kimberley. It makes you sound common.”
“But I am common.”
“You certainly are not! You're a most uncommon young man. Now, come along, it's time for our music practice.”
“Must we?”
“Yes, we must. Practice makes perfect. You are well on the way, but you're not perfect yet.”
They were practicing every night, from about 6.30 until 8pm. Or, Kim was practicing, Miss Clayton was guiding him. She had summoned him into the downstairs lounge, 3 days ago, and sat at the upright piano while he stood, fidgeting nervously.
“Don't fidget, Kimberley, and stand up straight. Develop the habit of good posture when you are young and it will stand you in good stead when you are older.”
“Yes, Miss Clayton.”
What he was really thinking was, 'You must've stood real straight when you were a girl then.'
She told him that she'd been a music teacher for many years, which he knew, and that she'd heard him singing and playing around the hotel, which he did not know. (She didn't tell him how she'd heard him, that was her secret).
She said that, while she didn't like some of his choices, he was easily as good as anyone she'd ever heard in all her years of experience – possibly even the best.
“You are hugely talented, Young Kimberley, but you are obviously self-taught and you need to learn techniques for breathing and projection. Also, you should be exploring the range of styles that would suit your voice.
With your gifts, you could go a long way in music. There are many singers inferior to you who are making a good living from it. Even if you never do that, there is still great satisfaction in being the best that you can be.
In short, Kimberley, you would benefit from having a teacher. I would deem it a privilege if that teacher was me.”
“You're offering to teach me, Miss Clayton? Well, why not? That could be really good, thanks. I can't afford to pay you anything though, I'll have to speak to Mum.”
“There will be no payment required, just satisfaction for the both of us. I must warn you though, I can be a hard taskmaster.”
“I don't doubt that! Hard but fair.”
“Indeed. Anything that is worthwhile is worth doing well and nothing is achieved without great effort – Blood, Sweat and Tears, as it were. We will practice in here, every evening from 6.30 to 8pm.”
“Every day?”
“Yes. Or would you rather be cleaning up the kitchen at that time?”
“In here it is then. One thing, Miss Clayton, could you call me 'Kim'?”
“I think not. Your name is Kimberley. That is a perfectly good name and there is no need to butcher it.”
“Okay,” he sighed.
And so it had begun. Miss Clayton was a good teacher and she knew a lot of stuff, but she wasn't kidding when she said that she was a hard taskmaster – she was!
On Saturday it rained all day, so walking wasn't going to happen. Mid-morning, getting bored, Kim thought he'd try going up to his room. Going up the stairs on his crutches was an effort but he could do it.
However, after he'd climbed the first half-dozen steps, he thought he'd see what it was like going down again. He was glad that he hadn't gone up any further, getting down was too hard.
He almost tipped forward a couple of times and he really didn't need another fall down the stairs, so he gave up on that plan. Going up to his room would have to wait for another day.
He had lunch and enjoyed being fussed-over by Mrs Springer. It was good, but not worth falling down the stairs for. Then he watched his parents' TV for a while, got bored and thought he'd have a 'nana nap'. Not much else to do on a rainy Saturday afternoon.
That plan was not a success. He'd just settled down on the bed when Alesha came bouncing into the room.
“Damm, Alesha! I know it's really your room but you could knock when I'm using it.”
“Sorree! No need to bite my head off. What're you doing in bed in the daytime?”
“Just having a rest.”
“You're not you know. You can't because you've got a visitor.”
“A visitor? Is it Jordan?”
“No, and it's not Bonnie either.”
“Who then?”
“Come and see. Or do you want me to send him in here?”
“In here?” He looked around the girly room – unicorns and One Direction posters everywhere. “No, I'll come out.”
He climbed out of bed and hobbled out to the living room.
“Jethro! Hello. What're you doing here?”
“I came to see you. That's all right, isn't it?”
“Yeah - great! But I thought you didn't walk in the rain?”
“I don't and I didn't. Mum's friend, Barry, dropped me off. He's gone to do the Supermarket shopping and I hate that.”
“Supermarkets are a pain. Come in. Sit down.”
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Okarito - Kim & Jordan, 3
After dinner, Kim got his guitar and sat out on the balcony to make music, watch the sun go down and to keep an eye on the street in case that boy and his dogs went past.
He hadn't seen him again and was starting to think that he wasn't going to. He might not even be a local, the town got a lot of visitors, he could be someone just passing through. But with all of those dogs?
There was a glorious sunset, all pinks and purples. Then he glanced down at the street and he saw him! There were only a couple of dogs, but it was the same boy, he was sure of that.
He got up, went inside, and left his guitar on the floor, against the wall to rush down to the street and get a closer look. He never got there.
There were some bags and cases near the top of the stairs. In his hurry, he dodged around them, somehow got his feet tangled and he fell down the stairs.
“Oh shoooot! Wow. Gee. Bugger. Damm.”
He fell and crashed and bounced and slid to the foot of the steep and narrow stairs and lay there groaning with his legs flared out behind him, one at an unlikely angle. Kaylee came out of her room to see what all the noise was about. She saw her brother lying there and screamed.
Still yelling, she raced down the other stairs, to get their mother, or father, or anyone, and ran straight into Miss Clayton.
Miss Clayton put her hands out to stop her. “Be quiet, Girl! Stop that horrible noise, you'll disturb the guests. Take a deep breath, settle down and tell me what is wrong with you.”
“Not me – Kim,” she sobbed. “He fell down the top stairs. He's lying there, broken. Help him, Miss Clayton. Someone's got to do something!”
“Of course. Go to your mother. She's in her rooms with the little ones. Tell her to ring 111 and get an ambulance. Quickly now, but quietly – go.”
Kaylee ran into her parents' rooms; Miss Clayton went up to where the boy was. She took one look at him and the gathering group of onlookers and she took control.
“Stand back please. Get back and give the boy some room. What are you doing, Man? Do not touch him!
Hold on, Kimberley. It's going to be all right. The Ambulance will be here soon.”
“It hurts, Miss Clayton. Oh, damm me, it hurts!”
“Of course it does.” She dropped down beside him and held out her hand. “Take my hand, Kimberley. Hold it. Squeeze it tight.”
Mrs. Harrison and Kaylee came running up the stairs. “An ambulance is on its way. Oh, Kim. My poor baby!” She burst into tears.
“Shush. Enough of that,” Miss Clayton growled. “You'll distress him, even more than he is. Get the duvet and pillows from Kaylee's room. Cover him up, quickly.”
They rushed to obey, then sat around quietly, trying not to cry.
“He's not dead and he's not going to be. Where is that bloody ambulance?”
It was only a few minutes, but it semed a long time until the medics arrived. Young Doctor Rodden, Miss Clayton's great-nephew, was with them. He tended to Kim, gave him a shot of painkiller and straightened him up. They loaded him up and took him away to the hospital.
The family followed in their car. Miss Clayton carried on with her duties, quietly shaking her hand when no-one was looking. She was going to have bruises – the boy was strong.
It was a couple of days before he was out of the hospital, and the best part of a week before he was allowed outdoors.
The old hotel had no elevators or escalators, so a return to his 3rd floor room was out of the question for the time being. Alesha had to give up her bed and he was sleeping there, in his parents' rooms. Alesha didn't mind, they put a spare bed in Kaylee's room and she was sleeping up there with her.
He had plenty of visitors in the days he was confined to bed. Jordan and Bonnie were there, and others from school as well – even 2 teachers came to see him.
He made a point of talking to Miss Clayton and thanking her for her help when he 'flew down the stairs'. She hid her bruised hand, smiled and said, “Thank you, Kimberley. What I do best is encouraging others to do better. Speaking of which, while you are laid-up, have a listen to these CDs. When you have done that, we can talk about what you think.”
“Sure thing, Miss Clayton.” He took the 3 CDs and inspected them. “Classical music?”
“Light Operatic Classics,” she replied. “Pay particular attention to the arias. Take good care of them, Kimberley, I've had them for a long time and they are special.”
“I'll be careful. I won't be running down the stairs with them anyway.”
He was lying there listening to one when Jordan and Bonnie came in on Thursday, after school.
“You can turn that stuff off for a start.” Bonnie greeted him.
“Yea. A bit of that goes a long way,” Jordan agreed. “How's it, Kim? Getting bored yet?”
“No, not bored at all, but I'll be glad when I can get out and walk a bit. I'll need some practice if I'm going back to school on Monday.”
“Get a wheelchair,” said Jordan. “One with a souped-up motor.”
“Oh brilliant, Jords,” Bommie said. “Then he could race around crashing into doors and things.”
Kim said, “I don't think so! Jordan, what's that you're wearing on your wrist?”
“What do you think?” Jordan held out his wrist and twisted it to show-off the coloured jelly-bangles.
“Bangles, obviously. But the colours?”
“Keep talking.”
“Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple. They're the colours of the Rainbow Flag and you've got a gay signal on your wrist?”
“Got it in one. Not just a pretty face, are you? Clever Kid. I've been wearing them all day and you're the first who's noticed.”
“Hey, I knew!” Bonnie objected.
“Only because I told you that I was going to wear them, and why.”
“Well, yeah, there is that.”
Kim said, “Are you saying you're gay, Jordan? I thought you and Bonnie were an item.”
“Us?” Bonnie laughed. “Not likely. I'm not that desperate! We're just mates and Jords is gay.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I'm gay and unattached, so I'm advertising – it's worked before.”
Kim said, “Oh. Are you gay too, Bonnie?”
“No I am not. Are you?”
“Yes,” he whispered, blushed and nodded.
“Whoa!” Jordan said. “I did not expect that.”
“Me neither,” said Bonnie.
“Neither did I,” Kim said. “But I am.”
“Well good for you. Are you interested in Jordan?”
“Jordan? I don't think so. I don't know. I thought we were friends.”
Jordan grinned, “Yeah, I don't think so too. You're a good guy, for a kid, but as a partner? I think not.”
“You can be like sisters then,” Bonnie grinned.
They both said, “Shut up. We're not girls!”
Next day, Friday, Kim's mother finally agreed that he could go out for a walk. That was only because Miss Clayton said that he should start getting around if he was going to go back to school on Monday.
“All right then,” she sighed. “It is a nice day out there. Take it easy and don't go overdoing it. You'll need the crutches, this is more than a walk across the room, and make sure you've got your phone so you can call if you have to.”
“Great. Thanks, Mum. I won't go far – just down to the end of the street and back.”
“That'll be plenty for your first time out.”
He went through to the front of the hotel and out on to the sidewalk. He looked right, towards the lagoon-end of the main street, looked left, south, to the other end and went that way. South was the direction that he'd seen the boy walking to with his dogs.
The downtown business area ended abruptly after a couple of blocks and he crossed the street to sit on the seat outside the gates at the entrance to the park.
It wasn't much of a park, just a big, flat, grassed area separating the main street from the small camping ground near the beach. Miss Clayton said that they used to run horse races there, many years ago, before her time. It was sometimes used for sports games now, but not often. There were better sports fields at the schools and over the hill, south, at the Four Mile end of town.
Mostly the central park was a big fat waste of space that the council had to mow to keep it tidy. People walked their dogs there and office and shop workers sat around on the grass in their lunchhours on sunny days.
He sat for a few minutes, watching the tail-end of the street at the tail-end of the day. He stood up to start making his way home, then sat down again.
The boy with the dogs was coming towards him. 'Only 4 dogs today.' It was the first time he'd seen him from down on the street level and not looking down from 3 stories up. The boy wore a cap, as always, but this time he could see his face. It was very familiar.
Did he know him from somewhere? No, he was sure that he didn't. And yet? Maybe he just looked like someone he knew, but who? Ah, yeah! He knew where he'd seen that face before – he saw it every time he looked in a mirror!
The boy looked just like Kim did – dark hair, blue eyes, a fresh, pale face with flushed-red cheeks and full red lips. He was about the same age and same build and height.
They weren't identical. Even at a distance he could see differences between them, his hair was longer for a start, and curlier, but they did look a lot alike. He'd seen twins who looked more different than that boy and him did.
When he was closer, the boy looked and looked again at him. Kim watched and waited as it dawned on him that he was looking at his doppelganger. He stopped and stared.
Kim looked up and grinned. “Weird, eh?”
“What's weird?”
“This.” He pointed at his own face, and then at the other's. “You and me. We look so much alike, we could be twins.”
“Doubt it.” The boy walked past him and out into the park.
He hadn't seen him again and was starting to think that he wasn't going to. He might not even be a local, the town got a lot of visitors, he could be someone just passing through. But with all of those dogs?
There was a glorious sunset, all pinks and purples. Then he glanced down at the street and he saw him! There were only a couple of dogs, but it was the same boy, he was sure of that.
He got up, went inside, and left his guitar on the floor, against the wall to rush down to the street and get a closer look. He never got there.
There were some bags and cases near the top of the stairs. In his hurry, he dodged around them, somehow got his feet tangled and he fell down the stairs.
“Oh shoooot! Wow. Gee. Bugger. Damm.”
He fell and crashed and bounced and slid to the foot of the steep and narrow stairs and lay there groaning with his legs flared out behind him, one at an unlikely angle. Kaylee came out of her room to see what all the noise was about. She saw her brother lying there and screamed.
Still yelling, she raced down the other stairs, to get their mother, or father, or anyone, and ran straight into Miss Clayton.
Miss Clayton put her hands out to stop her. “Be quiet, Girl! Stop that horrible noise, you'll disturb the guests. Take a deep breath, settle down and tell me what is wrong with you.”
“Not me – Kim,” she sobbed. “He fell down the top stairs. He's lying there, broken. Help him, Miss Clayton. Someone's got to do something!”
“Of course. Go to your mother. She's in her rooms with the little ones. Tell her to ring 111 and get an ambulance. Quickly now, but quietly – go.”
Kaylee ran into her parents' rooms; Miss Clayton went up to where the boy was. She took one look at him and the gathering group of onlookers and she took control.
“Stand back please. Get back and give the boy some room. What are you doing, Man? Do not touch him!
Hold on, Kimberley. It's going to be all right. The Ambulance will be here soon.”
“It hurts, Miss Clayton. Oh, damm me, it hurts!”
“Of course it does.” She dropped down beside him and held out her hand. “Take my hand, Kimberley. Hold it. Squeeze it tight.”
Mrs. Harrison and Kaylee came running up the stairs. “An ambulance is on its way. Oh, Kim. My poor baby!” She burst into tears.
“Shush. Enough of that,” Miss Clayton growled. “You'll distress him, even more than he is. Get the duvet and pillows from Kaylee's room. Cover him up, quickly.”
They rushed to obey, then sat around quietly, trying not to cry.
“He's not dead and he's not going to be. Where is that bloody ambulance?”
It was only a few minutes, but it semed a long time until the medics arrived. Young Doctor Rodden, Miss Clayton's great-nephew, was with them. He tended to Kim, gave him a shot of painkiller and straightened him up. They loaded him up and took him away to the hospital.
The family followed in their car. Miss Clayton carried on with her duties, quietly shaking her hand when no-one was looking. She was going to have bruises – the boy was strong.
It was a couple of days before he was out of the hospital, and the best part of a week before he was allowed outdoors.
The old hotel had no elevators or escalators, so a return to his 3rd floor room was out of the question for the time being. Alesha had to give up her bed and he was sleeping there, in his parents' rooms. Alesha didn't mind, they put a spare bed in Kaylee's room and she was sleeping up there with her.
He had plenty of visitors in the days he was confined to bed. Jordan and Bonnie were there, and others from school as well – even 2 teachers came to see him.
He made a point of talking to Miss Clayton and thanking her for her help when he 'flew down the stairs'. She hid her bruised hand, smiled and said, “Thank you, Kimberley. What I do best is encouraging others to do better. Speaking of which, while you are laid-up, have a listen to these CDs. When you have done that, we can talk about what you think.”
“Sure thing, Miss Clayton.” He took the 3 CDs and inspected them. “Classical music?”
“Light Operatic Classics,” she replied. “Pay particular attention to the arias. Take good care of them, Kimberley, I've had them for a long time and they are special.”
“I'll be careful. I won't be running down the stairs with them anyway.”
He was lying there listening to one when Jordan and Bonnie came in on Thursday, after school.
“You can turn that stuff off for a start.” Bonnie greeted him.
“Yea. A bit of that goes a long way,” Jordan agreed. “How's it, Kim? Getting bored yet?”
“No, not bored at all, but I'll be glad when I can get out and walk a bit. I'll need some practice if I'm going back to school on Monday.”
“Get a wheelchair,” said Jordan. “One with a souped-up motor.”
“Oh brilliant, Jords,” Bommie said. “Then he could race around crashing into doors and things.”
Kim said, “I don't think so! Jordan, what's that you're wearing on your wrist?”
“What do you think?” Jordan held out his wrist and twisted it to show-off the coloured jelly-bangles.
“Bangles, obviously. But the colours?”
“Keep talking.”
“Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple. They're the colours of the Rainbow Flag and you've got a gay signal on your wrist?”
“Got it in one. Not just a pretty face, are you? Clever Kid. I've been wearing them all day and you're the first who's noticed.”
“Hey, I knew!” Bonnie objected.
“Only because I told you that I was going to wear them, and why.”
“Well, yeah, there is that.”
Kim said, “Are you saying you're gay, Jordan? I thought you and Bonnie were an item.”
“Us?” Bonnie laughed. “Not likely. I'm not that desperate! We're just mates and Jords is gay.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I'm gay and unattached, so I'm advertising – it's worked before.”
Kim said, “Oh. Are you gay too, Bonnie?”
“No I am not. Are you?”
“Yes,” he whispered, blushed and nodded.
“Whoa!” Jordan said. “I did not expect that.”
“Me neither,” said Bonnie.
“Neither did I,” Kim said. “But I am.”
“Well good for you. Are you interested in Jordan?”
“Jordan? I don't think so. I don't know. I thought we were friends.”
Jordan grinned, “Yeah, I don't think so too. You're a good guy, for a kid, but as a partner? I think not.”
“You can be like sisters then,” Bonnie grinned.
They both said, “Shut up. We're not girls!”
Next day, Friday, Kim's mother finally agreed that he could go out for a walk. That was only because Miss Clayton said that he should start getting around if he was going to go back to school on Monday.
“All right then,” she sighed. “It is a nice day out there. Take it easy and don't go overdoing it. You'll need the crutches, this is more than a walk across the room, and make sure you've got your phone so you can call if you have to.”
“Great. Thanks, Mum. I won't go far – just down to the end of the street and back.”
“That'll be plenty for your first time out.”
He went through to the front of the hotel and out on to the sidewalk. He looked right, towards the lagoon-end of the main street, looked left, south, to the other end and went that way. South was the direction that he'd seen the boy walking to with his dogs.
The downtown business area ended abruptly after a couple of blocks and he crossed the street to sit on the seat outside the gates at the entrance to the park.
It wasn't much of a park, just a big, flat, grassed area separating the main street from the small camping ground near the beach. Miss Clayton said that they used to run horse races there, many years ago, before her time. It was sometimes used for sports games now, but not often. There were better sports fields at the schools and over the hill, south, at the Four Mile end of town.
Mostly the central park was a big fat waste of space that the council had to mow to keep it tidy. People walked their dogs there and office and shop workers sat around on the grass in their lunchhours on sunny days.
He sat for a few minutes, watching the tail-end of the street at the tail-end of the day. He stood up to start making his way home, then sat down again.
The boy with the dogs was coming towards him. 'Only 4 dogs today.' It was the first time he'd seen him from down on the street level and not looking down from 3 stories up. The boy wore a cap, as always, but this time he could see his face. It was very familiar.
Did he know him from somewhere? No, he was sure that he didn't. And yet? Maybe he just looked like someone he knew, but who? Ah, yeah! He knew where he'd seen that face before – he saw it every time he looked in a mirror!
The boy looked just like Kim did – dark hair, blue eyes, a fresh, pale face with flushed-red cheeks and full red lips. He was about the same age and same build and height.
They weren't identical. Even at a distance he could see differences between them, his hair was longer for a start, and curlier, but they did look a lot alike. He'd seen twins who looked more different than that boy and him did.
When he was closer, the boy looked and looked again at him. Kim watched and waited as it dawned on him that he was looking at his doppelganger. He stopped and stared.
Kim looked up and grinned. “Weird, eh?”
“What's weird?”
“This.” He pointed at his own face, and then at the other's. “You and me. We look so much alike, we could be twins.”
“Doubt it.” The boy walked past him and out into the park.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Okarito, Kim & Jordan, 2
They walked out to the street and Kim pointed. “See that building there, the tallest one with a rusty roof? That's the Royal. One of those windows is my room. I'm not sure which one, but one is.”
“You can see the school from your bedroom? Sounds like a nightmare!” Jordan grinned.
“No it's not, it's great,” said Bonnie. “When he's bunking school, he'll be able to look down at all us silly beggars. If we're not bunking as well, that is.”
“I wouldn't bunk school'” Kim shook his head.
“Why not? Not a goody-goody, are you?”
“No, but if I stayed home, Miss Clayton would want to know why and I don't think I could fool her.”
“Probably not,” Bonnie agreed.
“Who's Miss Clayton?” Jordan asked.
“She works at the hotel,” Kim replied. “She lives there too and she's been there for, like, forever. She's a little old lady, very prim and proper and grumpy too. I think a smile would crack her dial.”
Jordan said, “If she works there, then your parents are her bosses. Why worry about what she thinks? Tell her to get lost.”
“Ooooh!” Bonnie grinned. “You've both got a lot to learn. No-one tells Miss Clayton to get lost. She can smile, she's got a lovely smile when you see it, just doesn't happen very often. When it does it's like the sun breaking through on a cloudy day. And, she doesn't just work there, Miss Clayton IS the Royal Hotel. The place would fall to bits if she left and the town probably would too.”
“Oh, come on! No-one's got that much influence.”
“Don't you believe it. Miss Clayton does.”
“But how could she?” said Kim. “I mean, she's prim and proper and all, but she doesn't even have a family to boss around.”
“Don't you believe it! The town is Miss Clayton's family, she's related to most of them in one way or another. Two of her sisters married Roddens so there's half the town for a start.
She is, what my Gran calls, the 'arbiter of morals and the touchstone of all that's good and proper'. When Miss Clayton talks people listen. The town council, the schools, the churches – everyone listens and no-one wants to upset Miss Clayton.”
“But how did she get to be like that? She's just a housekeeper in an old pub.”
“Just a housekeeper? Hoo Boy! She's not only related to most of the town, but she taught a lot of them too.”
“Taught them? At the school? But she told me that she's worked for the Royal for 57 years.”
“She probably has, but she was also a volunteer music and drama teacher, in all of the schools, for something like 40 years and she's been on every committee you could think of, including the council. Everyone's got huge respect for her.”
“A music teacher?” said Jordan. “That's cool. Does she still teach.”
“She doesn't. She's retired and I don't think she'd think much of Metal anyway. What're you thinking about, Kim?”
“I don't know what to think. Like, Wow! There's so much more to her than I thought there was. I think I'd better be careful.”
“Careful?”
“Yeah. Music is my life, but I don't think Miss Clayton would approve of me either.”
“Why not?” said Jordan. “You into Metal too?”
“No, not so much. I like all sorts but not Metal.”
“Keep your door shut.” Jordan shrugged. “Time I went home. You coming, Bonnie?”
“I'm coming. 'Bye, Kimbo. See you around.”
“Kim! My name is Kim. And, yeah, 'bye people. See you tomorrow, maybe.”
“Not if we see you first,” Jordan grinned.
They wandered off in one direction and Kim went in the other. Miss Clayton! He'd have to be even more careful around her, she could make a boy's life a misery in this town, especially if that boy was gay as well. Music Teacher for 40 years? He was staying away from the piano in the lounge from now on.
He'd been playing on the piano every evening since they'd arrived at the hotel, but no more. Miss Clayton never seemed to sleep and she was likely to appear anywhere, anytime, quietly making her way around the place.
That night, after dinner, he sat in the lounge, it was a bit lonely away up in his room, but he watched TV and stayed away from the piano.
Miss Clayton saw him there and wondered why he wasn't playing? 'Perhaps he's tired of that God-awful music. A good thing that would be too.' She continued on her rounds.
After a while sitting there, he was getting bored and he had an idea. He turned the TV off , went up to his room, got his acousticguitar and took it to the balcony out at the front. He figured that, if he shut the doors, he could sit there playing quietly and no-one would notice. Also, he could keep a watch on the street in case that kid with all the dogs came walking passed.
That was a failure on both fronts. The boy didn't appear and Miss Clayton, standing on the 2nd floor balcony below him, heard every note he played.
She smiled her approval. The quiet guitar music was pleasant and a vast improvement on what he usually played. It was a shame he was not singing. The boy had talent, as well as poor taste in music.
If he was not going to approach her, she might have to talk to him.
Next morning, Kim went into the kitchen for breakfast. Both of his parents were already there eating, both dressed in paint-splattered overalls.
“Morning All. I see Dad's got you painting again, Mum.”
“I will be,” she said. “I'm enjoying it actually. The old place needs a lot of sprucing up and there's not much else for me to do around here. Miss Clayton and Mrs Springer have got everything covered and I can't even work in the bar – that's not approved of. I'm not cleaning, so that leaves painting and I'm having fun.”
The father smiled. “You could just sit around and be a lady y'know.”
“Me? Not likely, I'd be bored stiff! Besides, you need a helper.”
“I'm not saying no, just saying that you don't have to do it. What do you think, Miss Clayton? Should the lady of the house be working as a painter's gofer?”
“If that is what she wants to do. An honest day's labour never did anyone any harm. Kimberley, I'd like a word with you when you come home from school today.”
“A word with me? Okay, I guess. Sure thing, Miss Clayton.” He helped himself to toast and cereal and sat at the table, carefully facing away from her.
It didn't help when Kaylee started teasing him as soon as they'd left the hotel. “Man, you're in trouble, Kimmy! What'd you do? Forget to flush the dunny?”
“No, I did not.”
“You must've done something, or more likely forgotten to do something you should've.”
“I don't think so. I don't know. I'll just have to wait and see, won't I?”
“Sooner you than me. I wouldn't want to cross Miss Clayton.”
“Neither would I! Thanks, Kaylee, I was already worried you know. And don't call me Kimmy. My name is Kim.”
“Of course it is. See ya, Kimmy.” She skipped away to join some girls and he walked into the Highschool. Jordan and Bonnie were sitting on the steps, checking their phone messages.
“Here you are,” Jordan greeted him. “About time too. We want to talk to you. Wait a minute while I see what the Cat's got to say.” He looked back at his phone.
Everyone wanted to talk to him today! “Wait,” Kim said to Bonnie, “His cat texts him? Clever cat, that.”
“Not that sort of cat, Idiot. The Cat's a girl. She was his mate back in Brownsville. Jordan says she's like me, but more so.”
“More? What do you want to talk about?”
“Music,” said Jordan, putting his phone away. “Bonnie thinks you and me should get together. They don't want you for the school's music and they sure as hell won't want me. Maybe we could play together. What do you think?”
“I don't know. I told you that I'm not into heavy metal and you won't like old rock, so where does that leave us?”
“Somewhere in the middle,” said Bonnie. “Come on, it's worth a try, isn't it? You've both got no-one else to play with.”
“Okay, I guess, we can try. It might even be fun.”
“Yeah, fun's the word,” said Jordan. “I play guitar, badly, and xylophone, even worse, and I sing like a frog. What d'you play?”
“Guitar, piano, keys, trumpet, violin, snare drums and bagpipes.”
“Seriously? That's a lot. Are you any good?”
“Competent, I think. Oh, except for the bagpipes, I'm totally useless with them.”
Bonnie said, “But would anyone notice? You know why pipers walk around when they're playing?”
“No. Why?”
“Trying to get away from the noise! You two need to get together. How about after school today?”
“Sounds good,” said Kim. “But can we go to one of your houses?”
“Why not at the hotel?” said Jordan. “There'd be more room there.”
“There would be, but Miss Clayton will be there.”
“We'll go to Jordan's house,” said Bonnie.
“We can't,” Jordan said. “That Steve will be there and I'm not giving him an excuse to moan at me.”
Bonnie said, “Well you're not coming to mine. You'd wake the baby up and I'd be in the crapper.”
“All right then,” Kim sighed. “We'll go to the hotel. We can go up to my room and shut the door and, hopefully, she won't hear us.”
“Better than nothing,” Jordan shrugged. “We'll do that today, but if this works we've got to find somewhere where we can play loud. I like loud. Meet us here after school. Okay?”
“Okay by me. See you then.”
Jordan pulled his phone out again and Kim walked away.
“Kim!” Bonnie called. “Can you sing? Jordan can't.”
“I can sing,” he grinned.
“But are you any good?”
“I sing like an angel.”
“Sure you do. Says who?”
“My Gran. Well, she used to. She'll be listening to real ones now.”
“Your gran would have to say that!”
“And, she did. Laters, Guys.” He disappeared inside.
“Guys?” Bonnie bristled. “Cheeky Swine! Are you a guy, Jordan?”
“Yeah, of course I am. Aren't you?”
“No I bloody am not. I'm a girl, not a guy!”
“Damm! Here I was thinking that I might have found a boyfriend.”
“I'd shut up if I was you, Jordan Houston.”
“Yes, Boss.”
They met at the end of the day and Jordan and Bonnie went with Kim to the Royal Hotel. They went in through the backdoor and headed up the stairs. There was a lot of painting gear, ladders and planks etc, in the hallway. Kim's parents were working inside, in an empty bedroom, because it had been raining earlier in the day. Exterior work was for fine days.
He put his head in the door. “Hey, Mum. Hey, Dad. I'm home.”
“You don't say? How has your day been?” his father replied.
“Been good. This is Bonnie and that's Jordan. We're going up to my room to look at some music.”
“Hello, Bonnie. Hello, Jordan. Aren't you supposed to listen to music, not look at it?”
“Haha. You know what I mean.”
“Have fun, Kids,” Kim's mother said. “But keep the noise down or you-know-who will be up to see you.”
“We don't want that! We'll be careful. C'mon People.”
They went up the other stairs, paused to admire the view out the front, and then went to Kim's room where they spent a couple of hours, sitting around and 'looking at' music.
The rambling old hotel had been subject to many renovations and alterations over the years. Some of them were improvements, some were not. However, it had been built in the town's 19th century heyday when money was no object and it was state of the art for its time.
There was a coal-fired central heating system, with ducts in the ceilings and walls, before the town was lit by electricity, which was cheaper and cleaner. It had been abandonded year ago and most of the equipment ripped-out, but some of the vents still remained.
When standing in certain places, sound carried from room to room when the vents were open. Not many people knew that, but Miss Clayton did. She sometimes used it to follow what was going on in her hotel.
She'd seen the three teenagers heading up to Kimberley's room and was, naturally, suspicious of what they were up to. She paused in her rounds to listen to what they were doing. It didn't take long to hear that they were discussing the boy's music collection. It was all quite innocent and she was about to move on when, she got the shock of her life.
So did Bonnie and Jordan.
They were looking through a box of CD's when she said, “Is this yours or is it your granny's?”
“Funny you should say that. It used to be my gran's, but it's mine now. I love it. Gran used to get me to sing along with the polonaise.”
“Polonaise? There's nothing on the cover notes.”
“Yes there is. 'Je Suis Titania' is a polonaise – it's a dance in ¾ time. Comes from Polish.”
“And you sang it? Kimbo, you've got some weird stuff in here, but this is right over the top. I mean, Mignon, a comic opera, Ambroise Thomas. You really like this?”
“Sure. I love Je Suis Titania, it's a great workout for the vocal chords.
“But is it music?” said Jordan. “Put it on, Bonnie, and let's have a listen.”
“Do we have to.”
“Yes. You're the one who was saying that it's good to try something new. Can you sing it for us, Kim?”
“Sure I will. Just this once. You won't like it anyway.”
Bonnie put the CD on, found the track and started the music. Kim closed his eyes and stood and sang like there was no-one there. She'd never heard anything like it. Jordan thought he had heard it, somewhere, he didn't know where but it was kind-of familiar.
Miss Clayton had heard the tune before, but she was amazed. She'd heard the boy and his preferred music, but this was something else. Incredible! She'd never heard the like before. Something was going to have to be done.
Kim's voice bounced and soared to impossible heights. The other two sat looking around at all the glass in the room and waiting for something to shatter. Voices can do that, can't they? His didn't.
He finished abruptly and stood looking expectantly. Jordan said, “Well,I wouldn't call it music.”
“Oh?”
“No. Incredible and bloody impossible, but not music. You weren't kidding when you said that it's a workout for the vocal chords. They must be exhausted by now. You don't do that all the time, do you?”
“Just sometimes. Bonnie?”
“I don't know what to think. Jords is right, probably. Thanks. Very impressive, but not what we want to hear. What else have you got?”
Miss Clayton closed the vent and walked away, shaking her head. 'Kids today!'
Jordan and Bonnie didn't stay much longer, they left as soon as the bell rang for dinner. Kim went down to the door with them, and then to the kitchen to eat with his family.
He was disappointed, seemed like they wouldn't be making music together. Oh, well.
“You can see the school from your bedroom? Sounds like a nightmare!” Jordan grinned.
“No it's not, it's great,” said Bonnie. “When he's bunking school, he'll be able to look down at all us silly beggars. If we're not bunking as well, that is.”
“I wouldn't bunk school'” Kim shook his head.
“Why not? Not a goody-goody, are you?”
“No, but if I stayed home, Miss Clayton would want to know why and I don't think I could fool her.”
“Probably not,” Bonnie agreed.
“Who's Miss Clayton?” Jordan asked.
“She works at the hotel,” Kim replied. “She lives there too and she's been there for, like, forever. She's a little old lady, very prim and proper and grumpy too. I think a smile would crack her dial.”
Jordan said, “If she works there, then your parents are her bosses. Why worry about what she thinks? Tell her to get lost.”
“Ooooh!” Bonnie grinned. “You've both got a lot to learn. No-one tells Miss Clayton to get lost. She can smile, she's got a lovely smile when you see it, just doesn't happen very often. When it does it's like the sun breaking through on a cloudy day. And, she doesn't just work there, Miss Clayton IS the Royal Hotel. The place would fall to bits if she left and the town probably would too.”
“Oh, come on! No-one's got that much influence.”
“Don't you believe it. Miss Clayton does.”
“But how could she?” said Kim. “I mean, she's prim and proper and all, but she doesn't even have a family to boss around.”
“Don't you believe it! The town is Miss Clayton's family, she's related to most of them in one way or another. Two of her sisters married Roddens so there's half the town for a start.
She is, what my Gran calls, the 'arbiter of morals and the touchstone of all that's good and proper'. When Miss Clayton talks people listen. The town council, the schools, the churches – everyone listens and no-one wants to upset Miss Clayton.”
“But how did she get to be like that? She's just a housekeeper in an old pub.”
“Just a housekeeper? Hoo Boy! She's not only related to most of the town, but she taught a lot of them too.”
“Taught them? At the school? But she told me that she's worked for the Royal for 57 years.”
“She probably has, but she was also a volunteer music and drama teacher, in all of the schools, for something like 40 years and she's been on every committee you could think of, including the council. Everyone's got huge respect for her.”
“A music teacher?” said Jordan. “That's cool. Does she still teach.”
“She doesn't. She's retired and I don't think she'd think much of Metal anyway. What're you thinking about, Kim?”
“I don't know what to think. Like, Wow! There's so much more to her than I thought there was. I think I'd better be careful.”
“Careful?”
“Yeah. Music is my life, but I don't think Miss Clayton would approve of me either.”
“Why not?” said Jordan. “You into Metal too?”
“No, not so much. I like all sorts but not Metal.”
“Keep your door shut.” Jordan shrugged. “Time I went home. You coming, Bonnie?”
“I'm coming. 'Bye, Kimbo. See you around.”
“Kim! My name is Kim. And, yeah, 'bye people. See you tomorrow, maybe.”
“Not if we see you first,” Jordan grinned.
They wandered off in one direction and Kim went in the other. Miss Clayton! He'd have to be even more careful around her, she could make a boy's life a misery in this town, especially if that boy was gay as well. Music Teacher for 40 years? He was staying away from the piano in the lounge from now on.
He'd been playing on the piano every evening since they'd arrived at the hotel, but no more. Miss Clayton never seemed to sleep and she was likely to appear anywhere, anytime, quietly making her way around the place.
That night, after dinner, he sat in the lounge, it was a bit lonely away up in his room, but he watched TV and stayed away from the piano.
Miss Clayton saw him there and wondered why he wasn't playing? 'Perhaps he's tired of that God-awful music. A good thing that would be too.' She continued on her rounds.
After a while sitting there, he was getting bored and he had an idea. He turned the TV off , went up to his room, got his acousticguitar and took it to the balcony out at the front. He figured that, if he shut the doors, he could sit there playing quietly and no-one would notice. Also, he could keep a watch on the street in case that kid with all the dogs came walking passed.
That was a failure on both fronts. The boy didn't appear and Miss Clayton, standing on the 2nd floor balcony below him, heard every note he played.
She smiled her approval. The quiet guitar music was pleasant and a vast improvement on what he usually played. It was a shame he was not singing. The boy had talent, as well as poor taste in music.
If he was not going to approach her, she might have to talk to him.
Next morning, Kim went into the kitchen for breakfast. Both of his parents were already there eating, both dressed in paint-splattered overalls.
“Morning All. I see Dad's got you painting again, Mum.”
“I will be,” she said. “I'm enjoying it actually. The old place needs a lot of sprucing up and there's not much else for me to do around here. Miss Clayton and Mrs Springer have got everything covered and I can't even work in the bar – that's not approved of. I'm not cleaning, so that leaves painting and I'm having fun.”
The father smiled. “You could just sit around and be a lady y'know.”
“Me? Not likely, I'd be bored stiff! Besides, you need a helper.”
“I'm not saying no, just saying that you don't have to do it. What do you think, Miss Clayton? Should the lady of the house be working as a painter's gofer?”
“If that is what she wants to do. An honest day's labour never did anyone any harm. Kimberley, I'd like a word with you when you come home from school today.”
“A word with me? Okay, I guess. Sure thing, Miss Clayton.” He helped himself to toast and cereal and sat at the table, carefully facing away from her.
It didn't help when Kaylee started teasing him as soon as they'd left the hotel. “Man, you're in trouble, Kimmy! What'd you do? Forget to flush the dunny?”
“No, I did not.”
“You must've done something, or more likely forgotten to do something you should've.”
“I don't think so. I don't know. I'll just have to wait and see, won't I?”
“Sooner you than me. I wouldn't want to cross Miss Clayton.”
“Neither would I! Thanks, Kaylee, I was already worried you know. And don't call me Kimmy. My name is Kim.”
“Of course it is. See ya, Kimmy.” She skipped away to join some girls and he walked into the Highschool. Jordan and Bonnie were sitting on the steps, checking their phone messages.
“Here you are,” Jordan greeted him. “About time too. We want to talk to you. Wait a minute while I see what the Cat's got to say.” He looked back at his phone.
Everyone wanted to talk to him today! “Wait,” Kim said to Bonnie, “His cat texts him? Clever cat, that.”
“Not that sort of cat, Idiot. The Cat's a girl. She was his mate back in Brownsville. Jordan says she's like me, but more so.”
“More? What do you want to talk about?”
“Music,” said Jordan, putting his phone away. “Bonnie thinks you and me should get together. They don't want you for the school's music and they sure as hell won't want me. Maybe we could play together. What do you think?”
“I don't know. I told you that I'm not into heavy metal and you won't like old rock, so where does that leave us?”
“Somewhere in the middle,” said Bonnie. “Come on, it's worth a try, isn't it? You've both got no-one else to play with.”
“Okay, I guess, we can try. It might even be fun.”
“Yeah, fun's the word,” said Jordan. “I play guitar, badly, and xylophone, even worse, and I sing like a frog. What d'you play?”
“Guitar, piano, keys, trumpet, violin, snare drums and bagpipes.”
“Seriously? That's a lot. Are you any good?”
“Competent, I think. Oh, except for the bagpipes, I'm totally useless with them.”
Bonnie said, “But would anyone notice? You know why pipers walk around when they're playing?”
“No. Why?”
“Trying to get away from the noise! You two need to get together. How about after school today?”
“Sounds good,” said Kim. “But can we go to one of your houses?”
“Why not at the hotel?” said Jordan. “There'd be more room there.”
“There would be, but Miss Clayton will be there.”
“We'll go to Jordan's house,” said Bonnie.
“We can't,” Jordan said. “That Steve will be there and I'm not giving him an excuse to moan at me.”
Bonnie said, “Well you're not coming to mine. You'd wake the baby up and I'd be in the crapper.”
“All right then,” Kim sighed. “We'll go to the hotel. We can go up to my room and shut the door and, hopefully, she won't hear us.”
“Better than nothing,” Jordan shrugged. “We'll do that today, but if this works we've got to find somewhere where we can play loud. I like loud. Meet us here after school. Okay?”
“Okay by me. See you then.”
Jordan pulled his phone out again and Kim walked away.
“Kim!” Bonnie called. “Can you sing? Jordan can't.”
“I can sing,” he grinned.
“But are you any good?”
“I sing like an angel.”
“Sure you do. Says who?”
“My Gran. Well, she used to. She'll be listening to real ones now.”
“Your gran would have to say that!”
“And, she did. Laters, Guys.” He disappeared inside.
“Guys?” Bonnie bristled. “Cheeky Swine! Are you a guy, Jordan?”
“Yeah, of course I am. Aren't you?”
“No I bloody am not. I'm a girl, not a guy!”
“Damm! Here I was thinking that I might have found a boyfriend.”
“I'd shut up if I was you, Jordan Houston.”
“Yes, Boss.”
They met at the end of the day and Jordan and Bonnie went with Kim to the Royal Hotel. They went in through the backdoor and headed up the stairs. There was a lot of painting gear, ladders and planks etc, in the hallway. Kim's parents were working inside, in an empty bedroom, because it had been raining earlier in the day. Exterior work was for fine days.
He put his head in the door. “Hey, Mum. Hey, Dad. I'm home.”
“You don't say? How has your day been?” his father replied.
“Been good. This is Bonnie and that's Jordan. We're going up to my room to look at some music.”
“Hello, Bonnie. Hello, Jordan. Aren't you supposed to listen to music, not look at it?”
“Haha. You know what I mean.”
“Have fun, Kids,” Kim's mother said. “But keep the noise down or you-know-who will be up to see you.”
“We don't want that! We'll be careful. C'mon People.”
They went up the other stairs, paused to admire the view out the front, and then went to Kim's room where they spent a couple of hours, sitting around and 'looking at' music.
The rambling old hotel had been subject to many renovations and alterations over the years. Some of them were improvements, some were not. However, it had been built in the town's 19th century heyday when money was no object and it was state of the art for its time.
There was a coal-fired central heating system, with ducts in the ceilings and walls, before the town was lit by electricity, which was cheaper and cleaner. It had been abandonded year ago and most of the equipment ripped-out, but some of the vents still remained.
When standing in certain places, sound carried from room to room when the vents were open. Not many people knew that, but Miss Clayton did. She sometimes used it to follow what was going on in her hotel.
She'd seen the three teenagers heading up to Kimberley's room and was, naturally, suspicious of what they were up to. She paused in her rounds to listen to what they were doing. It didn't take long to hear that they were discussing the boy's music collection. It was all quite innocent and she was about to move on when, she got the shock of her life.
So did Bonnie and Jordan.
They were looking through a box of CD's when she said, “Is this yours or is it your granny's?”
“Funny you should say that. It used to be my gran's, but it's mine now. I love it. Gran used to get me to sing along with the polonaise.”
“Polonaise? There's nothing on the cover notes.”
“Yes there is. 'Je Suis Titania' is a polonaise – it's a dance in ¾ time. Comes from Polish.”
“And you sang it? Kimbo, you've got some weird stuff in here, but this is right over the top. I mean, Mignon, a comic opera, Ambroise Thomas. You really like this?”
“Sure. I love Je Suis Titania, it's a great workout for the vocal chords.
“But is it music?” said Jordan. “Put it on, Bonnie, and let's have a listen.”
“Do we have to.”
“Yes. You're the one who was saying that it's good to try something new. Can you sing it for us, Kim?”
“Sure I will. Just this once. You won't like it anyway.”
Bonnie put the CD on, found the track and started the music. Kim closed his eyes and stood and sang like there was no-one there. She'd never heard anything like it. Jordan thought he had heard it, somewhere, he didn't know where but it was kind-of familiar.
Miss Clayton had heard the tune before, but she was amazed. She'd heard the boy and his preferred music, but this was something else. Incredible! She'd never heard the like before. Something was going to have to be done.
Kim's voice bounced and soared to impossible heights. The other two sat looking around at all the glass in the room and waiting for something to shatter. Voices can do that, can't they? His didn't.
He finished abruptly and stood looking expectantly. Jordan said, “Well,I wouldn't call it music.”
“Oh?”
“No. Incredible and bloody impossible, but not music. You weren't kidding when you said that it's a workout for the vocal chords. They must be exhausted by now. You don't do that all the time, do you?”
“Just sometimes. Bonnie?”
“I don't know what to think. Jords is right, probably. Thanks. Very impressive, but not what we want to hear. What else have you got?”
Miss Clayton closed the vent and walked away, shaking her head. 'Kids today!'
Jordan and Bonnie didn't stay much longer, they left as soon as the bell rang for dinner. Kim went down to the door with them, and then to the kitchen to eat with his family.
He was disappointed, seemed like they wouldn't be making music together. Oh, well.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Okarito - Kim and Jordan
They had a couple of days to settle in, it was a long weekend so Monday was a holiday, (for some).
Kim's mother had been shopping so her kids were wearing their new uniforms when they fronted-up to school on Tuesday. Jordan's mum was not that organised, they had to go shopping after they'd signed-in and left the office.
So, Kim started, in year 9 on Tuesday morning and Jordan came in to year 10 after lunch.
They'd both been out exploring the town in the weekend, but they hadn't met or even seen each other. Neither of them had seen that kid with the pack of dogs either. Kim had decided that he probably had a job walking other people's dogs – after all, no-one would have that many dogs would they?
Jordan hadn't thought of that, but he probably would've agreed.
That Steve was at home all weekend. He was a truck driver so he'd be away on the road a lot – the more the better as far as Jordan was concerned. Steve didn't help at all with the moving in and getting things sorted – the lazy sod! It wouldn't have hurt him to, at least, mow his lawns and tidy the yard up, but he didn't. He just sat around watching TV.
Jordan made himself scarce, as much as he could, before anyone got any bright ideas about him doing the lawns. The town library had free wireless internet, as most libraries did these days, so he took his laptop down and sat in there to go online. That was good.
He could've done that at home but they didn't have wireless there. Plus, he'd rather be out of the house and well away from lawn-mowers and other nasty things.
He was on-line almost as much as he was out exploring. He would've spent even more time there, but his friends back home weren't on-line much. They were out and about, having a life - damm them.
Tuesday lunchtime, he arrived at the school in his mostly-new uniform. His mother had been delighted when she found that the shorts he already had from his old school were the same as the ones required here. Also, the Op-Shop had some used school uniforms.
Jordan was horrified! He didn't want to wear someone's cast-off clothes – what if they recognised them on him? He'd die of shame. He protested a lot and they compromised by buying only a second-hand jacket which was the most expensive item on the list. The rest they bought new.
He went through the school buildings and sat on a bench seat out at the back, in the watery sunshine. A group of girls was going passed and one of them, the shortest one, stopped and studied him.
He sat looking back. She was almost, but not quite, as short as he was and she was a pretty girl. Okay, she was stunning – blonde and beautiful with big blue eyes and delicate features. He be very interested if he wasn't gay.
She nodded as she made a decision and she came over and said, “You're sitting in my seat.”
“He shrugged and said, “So?”
“So get out of it. Move your arse!”
He shrugged again and said, “Fuck off.”
“What did you say to me?”
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, I did.” She sat down next to him and smiled. “I like you. What's your name?”
“Jordan Houston. What's yours?”
“Bonnie Wilson. You're new here, what year are you in?”
“Year 10. What're you?”
“You're year 10, really? Small aren't you?”
“Yeah. I have noticed that. You're not so big yourself. Are you in year 10?”
“I am not! I'm year 11 and I'm bigger than you, Shorty.”
“Not by much. You're year 11? You don't look it.”
“I've noticed that too.You're pretty cool, Jordan Houston. What music are you in to?”
“I like Metal – Chelsea Grin mostly, but others too.”
“A man of good taste. I love Chelsea Grin, they're nearly as good as Megadeath. I knew you're okay.”
“I think I like you too, but they're better.”
“Are not! We'll have to educate you. Where're you from?”
“From Brownsville and I'll be going back there as soon as I can. “
“Don't be in too much of a hurry. Where are you living?”
They sat and talked until it was time to go in to their separate classes. Jordan was well pleased – not even 5 minutes in the school and he'd made a friend already. Shame she was a girl, but a friend's a friend. It was a good start.
Kim was not so happy. It looked like an okay school and he was in year 9 where he should be, he was 13, but all the kids seemed so much younger than him. Maybe it was just the difference between a city school and a small town one.
He was used to much bigger classes, but they had an interesting way of seating here. All the tables were pushed together to make one big one which they all sat around like they were in a boardroom. He was not sure if he liked it. It was different to what he was used to. Maybe he'd like it, in time.
Still, the people were friendly enough and he was delighted to see that they had an active Performing Arts Department. He was no actor but he did love his music, so he made a time to show them what he could do.
It was lunchtime the following day before she could fit him in and he met the teacher there then. She welcomed him and said that her name was Hailey Clayton.
“Clayton?” he said.”Are you related to the Miss Clayton at the Royal Hotel, Miss?”
“I am. Miss Clayton is my great-aunt.”
“She's a scary lady.”
“She can be, but she's not that bad really. My father always said that she's got a big heart in there somewhere. You must be from the new family in the hotel. Now, what are you going to do for us?”
“Well, I'll . . “ he looked around. “Is the piano in tune?”
“Of course.”
“Well then, I'll play you the best tune ever written.”
“The best ever? That's a big claim. Okay, Kim Harrison, show me what you've got.”
He sat at the piano, opened the lid, flexed his fingers and started with some quiet warm-up exercises which morphed into the opening bars of Beethoven's 5th Symphony.
The teacher sat back smiling and closed her eyes as the music washed over her. That soon stopped when it changed again and he launched into 'Roll Over Beethoven', sung and played in the style of his all-time favourite, the best piano-performer ever - the early Jerry Lee Lewis.
The tempo sped up and he stood and kicked the piano stool aside. He raked his fingers along the keys, like his idol did. It was more of an impersonation than a performance and he was having a great time.
Miss Clayton was not. “No, no,no, no, no!” She waved his hands away from the keys. “That'll be enough of that. Kim, that was awful!”
“You didn't like it?” Kim was genuinely surprised. It was old stuff but it still had the power to shock and that was good, wasn't it?
“No, I did not like that at all. There's no denying that you've got talent, but that was a dreadful noise. That's not the sort of music that the school can make use of – not at all.”
She riffled through the sheet music under the seat of the piano stool and pulled out several pages.
“This is the sort of tune we like. Or this, or this. Why don't you play me one of these and we'll see how it goes?”
“Those?” he looked disdainfully at the pages and shook his head. “No thanks. I'm not playing them, they're rubbish.”
“Rubbish? What do you think that, that what you were playing, was?”
“It's music, good music and that's what I like.”
“I'm afraid that you're all by yourself there. Kim, nobody likes old-time rock anymore. I don't, the school doesn't and the kids don't either.”
“Well I do and that's all that matters.”
“No it's not. It'd be fine if you were justplaying for yourself, but when you're playing for an audience it has to be what they want to hear.”
“Sounds like selling out to me.”
“Maybe it is, but everything in life comes down to buying and selling. If you want my time and money, then you have to give me something in return. If you're playing for me you need to play what I like. Just try one of these tunes.”
He had another look, they were still rubbish as far as he was concerned. He shook his head. “I don't think so. How about 'Jambalaya'? That's an ace song.”
“No thanks. Only you think that. Don't you see that you have to give the people what they want?”
“What you want, you mean. I'm not playing that stuff.”
“We're wasting our time here, aren't we?” She started tidying the papers together. “Good day, Kim. Come back and see me when you're prepared to be more cooperative.”
“That won't be happening. Thanks for nothing, Miss Clayton.”
He walked out, fuming, and he flopped on a bench seat outside. A dark-haired boy and a blonde girl, both much shorter than him, stood looking down at him.
“Bombed out, did you?” the boy said.
“You what?” Kim screwed his face up as he looked up, he was looking at the sun behind them. The music room windows were wide open, they must've heard everything out here. “She didn't like my music.”
“I'm not surprised,” the girl said. “It sounded like an explosion in a music shop.”
“It was supposed to, kind-of. I don't care if no-one likes it, I do.”
“Good for you.” The boy sat down on the ground. “I kind-of liked it too, it was different. What would you call that stuff?”
“Music,” Kim said. “It's early rock 'n' roll. Rockabilly, I think it's called.”
“Early rock and roll?” The girl scoffed. “Ancient bloody history! Can you play metal?”
“Not on a piano. I don't much like that crap anyway.”
Well, you just lost the vote. Looks like you'll be playing for an audience of one.”
“No, for two,” Kim said. “I like it.”
“I meant you'd be playing for yourself.”
The boy said, “I used to play in a group at my old school. We were crap. Well, mostly – Ashton was pretty good. I think you're better than the rest of us anyway.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“I dunno,” said the girl. “Maybe you'd be okay if you played something decent. What's your name? Your're new here, aren't you?”
“I am new, I started yesterday and I'm Kim.”
“Kim? Cool. I'm Bonnie and that's Jordan, under the hair.”
“Hey.”
“Hey, hey. Started yesterday, in what year?” said Jordan.
“Year 9. You?”
“I'm in 10 and Bonnie's 11. She's an ole lady.”
“Oh sheesh.” Bonnie stood up. “You're year 9, I can't be seen talkiing to you. It's bad enough that Jordan's in year 10.”
“Fuck off then.” Kim was still grumpy from being rejected and he didn't want any more dumping on.
“You're telling me to fuck off?” Bonnie sat down again. “No, I won't fuck off. I think I like it here.”
“Bonnie likes people who curse at her,” Jordan grinned. “She's a strange one.”
“Me? You're the bloody weird one, Boy. So, Kim, where are you living and why are you here?”
“The parents have bought the Royal Hotel, so I'm living there, on the top floor.”
“In the old pub? Cool.”
The unlikely pair lifted Kim's spirits, especially Jordan. He had a big grin and he was fun to talk to. The cleaners were starting work, banging their bins and brooms around and casting dirty looks at them, so they decided it was time to go home.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Westpoint Tales - Back Again
(This was not planned - it just happened).
(If you haven't already read it, it might pay to go back and read 'Going Back')
'Nathan Thomas thinks he's so cool. He's nothing but a big-headed idiot and a total jerk-off!
Can't believe I was ever mates with him.'
Mason glared at the 'Shaggin' Wagon', the big dark-windowed van that had just driven past him. The windows were all black, the side walls were dark blue and the back of it was red. The front wall was white, he couldn't see it but he knew that because he'd seen it around, many times.
The van turned around at the intersection in the distance and came back towards him.
'Mr Cool – cruising around for people to look at him and his wagon.'
Thomas had been the proud owner of that thing for a couple of weeks now. He got it from his uncle when he left town. All the silly little girls were impressed and they couldn't wait to go for a ride in it. Slappers!
It was odd though, he'd had it for a while, he was forever cruising around in it and it'd been given that name, but he'd never heard of anyone who'd actually been in it with him.
Damm! It was pulling up in front of him. The door opened and Thomas got out and grinned at him. What was he up to? They used to be friends, years ago, but they weren't now.
'What does he want? Whatever it is, he's not getting it.'
“Hey, Mason. How're you going?”
“What's it to you?” Mason glared. He wasn't going to be nice to him just because he felt like talking for once.
“Just asking,” Thomas shrugged. “Doesn't hurt to be nice.”
“Wouldn't have hurt you to be nice in the last 5 years either.”
“Yeah, I know and I'm really sorry about that too. We were good friends once.”
“We were but that was a long time ago.” Mason kept on glaring.
Nathan Thomas was way too good-looking with his curly dirty-blond hair and big brown eyes. It was no wonder that he was so popular with all the girls in town. Even the ones who'd left school and thought they were too cool to talk to 'kids' talked to, and giggled at, Nathan Thomas. Shame he was such a jerk on the inside.
“Mason, I know I've made some mistakes in my life and breaking up with you was a big one. I wish it'd never happened. I'm 16 now and I'm trying to fix where I've gone wrong. Think you can forgive me?”
'What? Wow. What's got into him?'
“Yeah? Well . . maybe.” Mason was lost for words. “We'll see, maybe.”
“That's better than nothing, I guess,” Nathan grinned. “Not much, but a bit better. Listen, I need a favour. Are you doing anything?”
“Not a lot. Just going home.”
“Well then, would you come for a ride with me, in the van? Please, pretty please with sugar on top.”
“You want me to come with you. Why? You don't take anyone with you.”
“So come and be the first. I've been working on the old thing all morning and I'm not the best mechanic. I want to take it for a drive up the hill, to try it out. Will you come with me?”
“Up what hill? There's no hills around here.”
“Out of town, there is. I want to see if it'll get up to Dennistown.”
“Up the biggest hill of all. Why do you need me with you? I'm not pushing that bloody great huge thing.”
“It's not that big, but hopefully we won't have to. I'd like you to come for company, but also to call for help if it craps out on me.”
“You could call yourself, couldn't you? What's wrong with your phone?”
“I haven't got one.”
“Haven't got one? Of course you have. Everyone's got a cellphone.”
“Everyone except me. I did have one, but I sold it.”
“What for? You must've been desperate.”
“I was. I cleaned out my bank account and I sold my phone, my Playstation and games, my board, bike and everything else I could think of. I needed money to buy the van before my uncle sold it to someone else.”
“Really? You must've really wanted it.”
“I did and it's time I made some changes in my life – that was the first of them. Come with me?”
“Yeah, alright. But try not to kill us.”
“I won't. I won't kill us, I mean. Thanks, Mason.”
They got into the front of the van and he drove out of town on the road towards Dennistown. It was weird, but Mason was delighted to be there. He still liked the jerk, even though he'd hurt him and they hadn't talked for years. They were good mates once.
They arrived in Waimang and Mason nodded. “So far, so good.”
“So far,” Nathan agreed. “But now comes the hill and that's the hard part. If it's going to die anywhere, it'll be up there.”
They started climbing and, just to keep talking, Mason said, “Why do you call it the 'Shaggin' Wagon'?”
“I don't.”
“But that's what everyone is calling it.”
“But not me. It's a nasty vicious rumour, I don't know who started it and I wish they'd cut it out. That is not what it's for.”
“What is it for then?”
“It's transport, it's shelter and it's a home on wheels. Not the greatest I know, but it's whatI can afford and it's all I've got if I get kicked out of home.”
“Kicked out? Why would they do that? Why would anyone kick their Super-son out?”
“I expect that they will when they find out that I'm not so super.”
They continued on, up around a couple of corners, while Mason thought about that.
“Nathan, I don't know what you mean. Why would your parents kick you out?”
“They probably will when they find out I'm not going to be what they want me to be. I'm 16 now and I'm sick of being told how to live. It's my life and I'm going to live it the way I want to and not how my father says that I have to. There's going to be changes. For a start, stop calling me Nathan. My name is Daniel.”
“No, it's not. It's Nathan. I know who you are.”
“You don't you know – not yet. Daniel is my second name and that's how I want to be known from now on. I hate Nathan; it's my father's name and he can keep it.”
“Sometimes I hate Nathan too.”
“I know you do and I'm hoping to change that.”
They arrived at the top and parked where the center of the town used to be, well away from the other cars even though no-one could see them through the tinted windows.
“You didn't want me to come just for my cellphone. Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
“I'm going to try to. Are you going to listen.”
“I'll listen.”
“Thanks. Okay, I never wanted to stop hanging with you. When we were 11, my father told me that I had to. He said that I had to stop being friends with you and start hanging-out with girls. He pushed me into that and he's been doing it ever since.”
“What's wrong with me?”
“There's nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all. What's wrong is him and to hell with him. My father hates queers, really hates them, and he was determined that I was not going to be one.”
“Why would he hate gays? He doesn't even go to church, does he?”
“Only at Christmas and Easter. Apparently that's enough.”
“More than enough, I think. But why does he think that I'm one of them?”
“He knows that your dads are.”
“Everyone knows that. But that doesn't mean that I'm one too.”
“But he thinks you are. Even when we were 11, he said that you were a nancy-boy and he wasn't going to let that happen to me. Hah!”
“Hah?"
"Yes. Despite his best efforts, I am who I am.”
“So, your father said that you had to stay away from me because he thought I might be gay. He doesn't even know if I am or not. Why does he hate gays so much? That's just stupid.”
“He is stupid. But it's even more than that. It involves you personally.”
“Me? I've never done anything to him.”
“You didn't have to, just being born was enough. That's something I've always wondered – how did you get born when both your dads are gay?”
“Easy. They hired a surrogate mother, of course.”
“Oh. Of course. Good thing they did, eh?”
“I think so.”
“So do I. Anyway, you know that my father was English?”
“Yeah, I know that. He was born and bred in London, emigrated to New Zealand and finished up living here in Westpoint.”
“And a good thing he did too. But, according to him, he was here once before, when he was still a kid. His granddad brought him here because he wanted to show him where he was born. Granddad was born in Westpoint and lived here until they moved to the UK.
He was descended from James Hargreaves Williamson – him with the statue in the Square. So that means that I am too.”
“Wow. I didn't know that. I'm descended from James Hargreaves. He's my I don't know how many times Great Grandfather.”
“He is? That's very cool, Mason. That means that we are cousins, kind-of.”
“I guess we must be. Distant cousins.”
“Not too distant, I hope. He had a bad experience with some gayboys when he was here. I don't know exactly what happened, but they were both of your dads and that's why he hates gayboys and especially hates you.”
“Oh great. And that's why you weren't allowed around me.”
“Yeah, that's why. But no more. I'm old enough to make my own decisions now. I've got a weekend job and I've got somewhere to live if I need it. From now on, I'm in control of my life, not him.”
“So . . ah. . Good, I guess. What is it that you want?”
“Same thing I've always wanted. I want you, Mason Peters.”
“Me?”
Mason thought about that. He made a decision. He kissed him.
End.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Okarito - Kim, 1
“Back the truck up.”
The driver's mate stood in the yard, making useless gestures while the huge pantethicon inched back through the narrow gateway. The driver took no notice of him at all, he was busy concentrating on what he was doing.
It looked impossible but he was a proud professional and he knew he could do it. Slowly, ever so slowly, it entered and filled the yard, like a carefully copulating porcupine.
The boy stood out of the way, in a doorway, watching and waiting. Yesterday, when it arrived at their old home, he'd wondered why they had to have such a big truck? Surely, it was too big, they weren't even moving half of their furniture. All the whiteware, fridge, freezers, washing machine and dryer, was being left behind. A lot of their other stuff was too. They didn't need it all because they were moving into a hotel and that was already furnished.
'Surely,' he thought, 'a small truck would be enough if we're only taking personal stuff.'
He got that wrong didn't he? By the time they'd finished the truck was chock-a-block and there was no room for any more in there.
What he'd overlooked was his father's gear and there was a whole garage-full of that – carpentry tools, painting equipment and paint, oodles of paint – buckets and buckets of it. He knew that his dad was a painter, but – wow! (“Can't you buy paint in our new town?”)
Apparently, there was no need to, not when they had all of this.
So, they filled the truck up, spent the night in a motel, and now they were here, just arrived and waiting to unload and move into their new home.
Everyone pitched in, even the little kids helped, (a bit), and it was all unloaded in no time flat. Sorting it all out was going to take a lot longer. For now, all the furniture and personal effects went into a big room and the passage at the back of the pub, and the tools and gear were left, covering the floor, in a garage.
When all of that was out of the way his mother summoned him inside to meet the staff. He stood there, feeling awkward, while all the strange grown-ups studied him.
“This is our oldest boy, Kim. He's 13 and he's obsessed with music. If you talk to him and he doesn't answer it'll be because he's got his earbuds in and the music turned up loud. Kim is usually plugged in to one thing or another.”
“Mum!” He protested, even though it was true.
“Whatever,” she replied in teen-talk. “Kim, these are Mr. And Mrs Springer, the chief cook and barman.”
“Chief cook and bottle washer, more likely,” the big, bald, man held out a hand which Kim took and shook. “Hello, Kim and welcome. Forget the Mr and Mrs, our names are Terry and Anne, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, umm . . Terry.”
“Louise and Jody. They help in the kitchen here.”
“And in the bar,” one of the younger women smiled.
The other one nodded,” Right. Everywhere else too. Hello, Kim.”
“Hey, Ladies,” he smiled, then stopped when he looked at the other , grim-looking, old lady standing there.
“This is Miss Clayton, the Housekeeper. She runs the place really, the hotel couldn't function without her. It was a condition of the sale that Miss Clayton should keep her place here, which we didn't mind at all. How long did you say you've been here, Miss Clayton?”
“Fifty-seven years,” she replied without taking her eyes off Kim.
“Wow,” he said. “Fifty-seven years! You must've been very young when you started?”
“I was.”
He held out a hand, which she ignored.
“What should we call you?”
“I think 'Miss Clayton' will suffice, thank you. Come with me and I will show you where your room is.”
He followed her out to the hallway which ran through the hotel from the front to the backdoor, up the stairs to the second floor and up again to the third. He hadn't even realised that there was a third floor.
Miss Clayton didn't speak, didn't look back and didn't stop until they came to the door of his room at the back of the building. She might be getting old but she wasn't slowing down.
“This will be your room. Your sister is on the second floor, in Room 11, and your parents and the 2 younger children are in the owner's apartment on the ground floor. The bathroom, showers and toilets, are along the hall there. Please wear a robe if you are not fully dressed; you'll find one behind your door.
Keep your belongings in your room and do not disturb the paying guests.
We have several full-time boarders up here and the Springer's apartment is at the front. Mrs. Springer is an early riser, Mr.Springer is not. Kindly respect their hours, they work hard. Are there any questions?”
“I, ah, no, I don't think so. Where do you live, Miss Clayton?”
“Far away from here. I have my own apartment on the ground floor, near the backdoor and I value my privacy.
Meal times are at the same hours as for the guests, but I understand that Mrs. Springer has something special prepared for this evening. Go down to the kitchen to eat when you are ready.”
“Great. Yes, I'll do that. Thank you, Miss Clayton.
“Don't be too long. Mrs. Springer needs her sleep; her day starts at 6am. Good evening, Kimberley.”
She swept away, leaving him standing with his mouth open. His parents might own this place now, but he didn't envy them trying to tell Miss Clayton what to do. She was an impressive lady. Staunch.
Left alone, he sat on the king-single bed and bounced a couple of times to try it out. Seemed okay. It was an old building but, thankfully, it was a modern bed.
The room had one door, one window, the bed, a free-standing wardrobe with attached drawers and a mirror on the side, two chairs and a small table, with a radio and a telephone on it. The TV was secured high on the wall, by a bracket, and there was a light above the bedhead.
It was not a bad room; not huge but big enough. He could be comfortable here, especially after he brought in his music, his laptop and his bits and pieces. That stupid framed print on the wall above the table would have to go and some posters would brighten the place up.
He got up and opened the drapes to see what the view was like – it was awesome! The window faced east, away from the sea and towards the mountains. Some of the town was spread out below him, houses hiding in amongst the greenery, the darker-hued bush beyond them rose up to the hills and the snow-capped mountains reared up behind. The cloudless blue sky completed a scene that was 'as pretty as a picture'.
Actually, it was better than any picture he'd ever seen. Even the schoolyard, visible in the distance, looked good from here. He loved this view.
So, what else was there? He checked-out the bathroom, and then went along to see what the view was like from the front.
There were glass doors out to the wooden, roofed, balcony outside. He opened them and looked out but stayed where he was, safely inside.
“Not scared of heights, are you?”
He looked around and grinned.”Oh, hi, Mr. Springer. I'm not really, but is it safe out there?”
“Of course it is. It holds me and I'd weigh twice what you do. Seriously, there's nothing to worry about, this old place was built to last. It might all look a bit shabby but it's all as solid as a rock. And, I told you to call me Terry. I might be old compared to you, but you don't have to rub it in.”
“Okay, right. Sorry. Terry, then. I'll take your word for it and if it all collapses and kills me, I'm blaming you.”
He stepped outside for a better look. It was different to the view out at the back. The balcony looked down over the main street, there was a patch of green, a park or something, behind the shops on the other side, then, screened by over-grown hedges, a camping ground with a few tents and campervans. The Tasman Sea was over behind them.
He could just see the famous lagoon, on his right, up past the main street, and more mountains behind that. It was all good, but he preferred the view from his room at the back. Looking down at the street was interesting though; it was all very busy down there. He guessed that the sunshine would've brought the people out. It wouldn't be much fun wandering around on a wet day and they got a lot of them here.
A kid walked past down there, surrounded by dogs – 10 or 12 of them, easily. Maybe more. Amazing – there were all sorts, pure-breds and mongerels, and they were all very well-behaved, just walking along quietly like they were all on leashes, which they were not!
'Whoa. We've only got one dog and he never behaves that well. What's that kid's secret?'
And - “Eating time!” He scurried down to the kitchen to get in before all the food was gone. It'd been a long day, he was hungry and was sure that the others would be too. Four kids took a lot of feeding and they'd be famished.
He needn't have worried. Mrs. Springer had served-up more than even they could eat. They did try though. It was a great old-fashioned steak and kidney stew with strange things on top that she said were Yorkshire Pudding – weird, but good for mopping-up the gravy.
The parents weren't eating. Or, maybe they already had? Who cared? They could look after themselves.
When he'd cleaned the plate up, and refused a 3rd helping, Kim sat back and grinned at his sister, Kaylee. “We could get fat around here.”
“Yeah, but we won't. Great meal, thanks Mrs. Springer.”
“Really good, I loved it,” their younger sister, Alesha, agreed. Baby brother, Bayley just grinned and waved his spoon. He didn't talk much, he wasn't even 2 years old.
“Right, Kids,” their mother came in and lifted Bayley from the highchair. “Rinse your dishes and leave them in the dishwasher, and when you've done that, you can all shower and go to bed. It's been a big day.”
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Jordan in Okarito, 2a
Jordan leant out of the window and beckoned. His mother pulled in front of them, frowning and waving a finger as she did. He couldn't hear what she was saying – probably just as well he couldn't! He was obviously in trouble, yet again. It didn't take much.
“Sheesh!” He slid back into his seat. “Was she always such a grumpy . . . ah, person?”
“No, she wasn't,” Dennis grinned. “Not until she had you.”
“Me? It's not my fault. Nothing's ever my fault – I'm a kid.”
“When it suits you, you are. Oh, no – Damm!”
“Why? What? What've you broken?”
“Nothing's broken. Not yet anyway. She's leading us down the main street, there's not much room for a big old truck down there.”
“They'll all have to get out of the way then,” Jordan nodded. “I'll toot the horn again. That'll shift them.”
“You will not! Behave yourself. You should start as you mean to go on, so don't arrive in your new town making a big dick of yourself.”
“How I'm going to go on? That's easy – turn around and we'll get out of here.”
“Out of town?”
“Exactly!”
“I think not. This is where you'll be living for the forseeable future.”
“Dammit.”
He sat quietly checking it out as they crawled along the short main street area. He tried not to be too negative, but it wasn't easy. The weather didn't help. It was an overcast, gray and dismal day and it was a gray and dismal, worn-down and weatherbeaten old town.
There was some colour in the shop fronts, under the verandahs, but not a lot and up-top they weren't even trying. Some of the old places looked like they hadn't seen a lick of paint since the year dot. How expensive was paint anyway? Way too much, by the look of things.
It all looked like an old run-down gold-mining town, which was really he supposed, after the gold rush was over. Way over. Was he ever going to call this place home? He didn't think so.
One thing grabbed his attention and he sat up for a better look and looked back as they passed. It was a boy, of course – a kid somewhere around his age but much taller, of course. Why wasn't he in school? It wasn't over for the day yet.
He was a nice-looking guy, very tidy, but that wasn't the ineresting part. He was walking along, on the street not the sidewalk, and he was surrounded by dogs – dozens of them! Well, maybe one dozen, give or take a few. A lot anyway. They were all around him, quietly walking along and none of them on a leash or anything. Wow.
How did he do that? Maybe he was the Dog Whisperer, or the Leader of the Pack? The truck followed the car around the corner and he lost sight of him. Oh well, he was sure he'd see him around – couldn't miss him, could he?
Interesting.
Things improved, slightly, once they were out of the downtown area. There were still a lot of old buildings, but the houses generally were newer and better looked after. So, what was their house going to be like? Not great.
They pulled up in the side street, a couple of blocks back, and that bloody Steve was standing there waiting for them.
The house was nothing startling – not old, not new. It looked like a 1960's sort of style – wooden-framed windows, yellow weatherboards and a green roof, all a bit faded, naturally. The lawns needed mowing, the hedges needed clipping and gardens needed weeding,he noticed with a sigh because he knew who'd being doing that.
The house windows were small and high-up, almost touching the eaves under the roof.
“Oh, great!' He thought. 'Unless the floors are high-up too, we're going to be living in a tall person's house. How can she do this to me? I wanna go home!'
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