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!

Okarito - Jordan & Gene, 2

Then a strange thing happened. Jordan had been waiting for hours, watching the minutes tick past with agonising slowness. Ever since Gene had said that they could 'do stuff' in bed, he'd been longing to get there and do just that.

There was no way that he could concentrate on the old Playstation games that they were playing and Gene cleaned-up, bigtime. All Jordan could think about was how gorgeous the sexy boy beside him was – every last little bit of him! - and what he was going to do with him when they got naked and in bed together.

He didn't know that his dick could stand so rigidly to attention for such a long time.

It happened at last, they slid into bed, stripped their undies off, threw them out and they lay naked, side by side. He knew that he could do, pretty much, everything with Gene, except anal, and – he didn't want to!

His body agreed too – his rampant erection turned into a limp sausage. That was not normal for an ever-horny teenager, and he couldn't understand it.

Gene wasn't helping, he obviously didn't know what was going on any more than Jordan did and he lay there, on his back, like he was waiting for something to happen – and nothing was!

So, why? He didn't know, it just didn't feel right.

“Something wrong, Jordie?”

“Mmm? No, I was just thinking. It's late, Gene. It's late and I'm tired. Let's just go to sleep.” He reached up and turned off the overhead light.

“To sleep? But that's not what you . . . Okay, let's go to sleep. G'night, Jordie.”

“”Nite, Gene.”

They turned on to their sides ands lay back-to-back in the dark, but neither of them was sleepy now. After a couple of minutes, Gene rolled on to his back. “Jordan, what's wrong? Don't you like me or something?”

“Oh, Genie!” Jordan rolled over as well. “Of course I like you, I like you a lot – love you in fact, very, very much.”

“Why don't you want to do the sex stuff with me then?”

“Because, well, because I do love you. Yes, that's it! That's what's wrong here – I do love you and I don't want to make you do anything that you don't want to. You're my mate, my good friend, that's precious and I don't ever want to lose it. You love me too, I know you do and that's why you'd have sex with me even though that's not what you'd really like.”

“Yes, I admit it – you're right. I was only doing it because you wanted to and I do love you – heaps!”

“So – are we okay?”

“Oh, yes! We are very much okay. Now come here and cuddle me because I really do want that.”

“Not a problem.” Jordan rolled onto his side and put an arm across Gene's broad chest. “I totally want that too. Don't stop loving me, Genie.”

“Never! Don't you stop loving me either.”

“Not in this life.”

Arms around each other, they relaxed into sleep.

Gene woke in the morning, he opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Jordan, lying there studying him.” 'Morning. What time is it?”

“Good morning to you, and it's still early – just after 7am. Sleep all right?”

“Idid. How about you?”

“I had a great sleep and now I'm going to have a great day, with my mate. Thanks for coming to see me, Gene.”

“I came because I wanted to see you. Thanks for having me here. What's for breakfast?”

“Whatever we can find, but maybe we'd better put some clothes on first.”

“Sounds good to me. I tried frying sausages in the nuddie once, it was not fun! Never again.”

“Why's that? Did you stick the fork in the wrong sausage?”

“I did not! But fat spits and splutters.”

“Umm, yeah. I think we'll stop talking about that now. So, are we okay, Gerne?”

“We are very okay, Jordie. Better than ever. Now let's see what today brings. You've got a town to show me.”

“Best get moving then.”

They ate – toast, muesli and fruit. Well, you have to eat something healthy, sometimes. They cleaned-up the kitchen, which didn't take long – there was a dishwasher. It was always best not to leave a mess for that bloody Steve to moan about.

There was no-one else around, Sis was still in bed and Jordan's Mum was at work at the Diner, so he locked the door when they left. They walked down the street in the early-morning sunshine.

“It's a nice day. I thought it'd be raining all weekend.”

“Well it's not. You struck it lucky.”

“I did, didn't? It rains a lot here, doesn't it?”

“Way too much,”Jordan sighed. “It doesn't really rain here any more than it does in Brownsville, but when it does, it's hard-out. None of that sissy drizzle stuff that they get in Christchurch.”

“Right!”

“So where do you want to go to?”

“I dunno. You're the boss, we'll go where you want.”

“Oh – okay, back to bed? No? We'll go down to the beach then.”

“Right. Good beach, is it?”

“No, it's crap, more pebbles than anything, but it's famous for the surf and good fishing too – so they say.”

“They say all sorts of things. We're not surfing and we're not fishing, so – of course we'll go to the beach.”

“You see penguins down there sometimes. They're pretty cool.”

“Yeah, you'd like penguins – they're shorter than you are!”

“Zip it, Genie.”

They saw no penguins on the beach, just pictures on signs warning people to keep their dogs away from them. There were some surfers out where the waves were breaking, but they were so far out they were hard to see – just little black-suited figures way out there. There was no-one else on the beach.

They walked all the way along to the rivermouth where the lagoon drained out to the sea. It was hard walking on the loose pebbles but got easier as they went because there was more sand close to the river.

The old town was hardly visible from there, it was mostly hidden behind the scrub at the back of the beach. There was a couple of people with surf-casting rods out, but not much was happening.

The rivermouth was flat and not very wide, but it was way too deep to wade across. So they gave up on that and walked back up to the old wharf.

The river-port was busy once, but it was hardly used anymore, apart from a few small fishing boats. Most of the old wharves had been demolished but there was one small section left and one of the sheds there was being used as an office and reception area for the kayak-hire business.

They both had sand in their shoes, so they sat on a seat outside the wharf-shed to clean them out. A few people were milling around, inside and out, a group of kayaks was coming back in and a couple more were going out.

They sat watching, enviously. One day, they agreed, they'd do that, when they were richer.

A long, squat, broad and dark-coloured boat, something like a covered barge, was coming down the lagoon behind the kayaks coming in.

“Isn't she a beauty?” A teen boy sat on the wharf in front of them.

Jordan had seen this guy around a few times. He was famous in the school because he only turned-up when he felt like it. No-one else would get away with that but this kid did because he was super bright. It seemed like there wasn't much they could teach him anyway.

“Isn't who a beauty?” Gene replied. “Do you mean the boat? Looks pretty ugly to me.”

“Yes the boat. She's called The Lady. She is not ugly, she is a thing of beauty – long, low and elegant and perfect for what she's built for.”

“Oh yeah?” said Jordan. “What was she built for? Scaring the locals?”

“No way,” the boy smiled. “The exact opposite actually. She is designed to get up close to the birds out on the lagoon without scaring them off.”

“Why? Going to eat them?”

“No! We're going to be taking tourists out on sight-seeing trips around the lagoon.”

“Okay. But isn't that what the kayaks are all about?”

“Sort-of, yes. But, in The Lady, they don't have to do any work, they're out of the weather and they'll get a running commentary from the guide.”

“Okay,” Jordan shrugged. “That'd suit the lazy old buggers, I guess. Not as much fun as paddling yourself though.”

“Maybe not, if you're fit and strong. Not everybody is. Anyway, it's a new venture for the Kayak Kompany. We're launching it next weekend. Today we're just trying her out – sorting out the routes, times and turning points and so on. She'll be going out again in a few minutes, would you two like to come for a ride?”

“Yeah, right! Like we can afford that!” Jordan scoffed.

“Jordie's right,” Gene nodded. “It looks like fun, but we're just schoolkids. We can't afford that.”

“There's no charge. I'm offering you a ride for free. So, do you want to? It'll take a couple of hours.”

“Don't think so,” said Gene. “Thanks but no thanks.”

“No? Why not? It's perfectly safe. If The Lady did sink, which she's not going to, the water is so shallow, she could sit on the bottom and the roof would be high and dry. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Yeah, c'mon, Genie. Don't be a wuss!” said Jordan.

“I'm not a wuss! That's not what worries me.”

“What then?”

“When something looks too good to be true, then it probably is too good to be true. Why would a total stranger offer us a ride on his boat for free? All seems a bit too suss to me.”

“Hey!” the boy laughed. “I'm not suss. My sister's piloting the boat and there'll be about a dozen more people on board.”

“Why are you offering us a ride then?”

“To fill up some seats. A photographer's coming out to take some shots for publicity brochures and stuff. You're a couple of good-looking kids, especially Blondie here, and you'll make our adverts look good. All you've got to do is sit there and smile and wave. You get a free trip. What do you say?”

“Free sounds good,” Jordan nodded. “Seems legit, Gene. They just pictures of your handsomeness.”

“You want to do it, don't you? Okay then, we will, but there'll be no taking off of clothes or anything like that.”

“Of course not. That's not what we're doing. Anyway, have a look at some of these people here – that'd be disgusting!”

Jordan looked at the group, milling around and waiting for the boat to come in. Some were old and wrinkly, some were real fatties. One kid, about 8 or 9 years old, was a right little blimp! “You got that right,” he grinned. “Clothes are good.”

“Sometimes they're real good,” the boy agreed. “I'm Bevan, by the way. I've seen you around, you're new in the school. Who's your mate?”

“This is Gene. He lives in Brownsville, where I used to live in the good old days. I'm Jordan.”

“Okay. Hey, Gene and Jordan. Here's The Lady now. Jump in and take a seat. Sit near the back, if you can. You'll be closer to the camera there.”

Bevan went off to talk to some more people who'd just got out of their cars.

“Busy place,” said Gene. “Didn't you say that this is a new business?

“I did. They must be doing all right if they're expanding already, they've only been going a few weeks.”

“Yeah, they must be. Let's get on board then.”

It was a good way to pass a couple of hours, having lots of photographs taken of them and being informed and entertained by the girl called Cassie as they cruised around the lagoon and into primeval rivermouths. Out on the water, the lagoon looked even bigger than it did from the shore.

It was almost lunchtime when they got back to the wharf and Jordan led the way downtown. “Hungry yet, Genie?”

“Hungry enough. This is the way we went last night. Have you got more vouchers for pizzas?”

“Nope, they've all gone. Sally kept the lot of them.”

“Where are we going then? I could buy something, I've got some money.”

“No need. We'll go and see Kim, he lives in the pub where the pizza place is.”

“Right. We're not scrounging for food, are we?”

“No, we won't have to. Wait and see, Mrs Springer tries to feed me something every time she sees me. She thinks I'm too little and Mum must be starving me.”

“But she's not. You eat heaps – more than me, probably.”

“Probably. I need it for the energy. Mrs Springer's trying to fatten me up.”

“Oh? For Christmas, like a turkey?”

“No. I'm not a pig either – Don't say it! Mr Springer is a big guy and she's not little and she thinks that everybody should be like them. Except for Miss Clayton of course. She's a skinny little thing and no-one's trying to fatten her up.”

“Why not?”

“Because she's Miss Clayton – you'll see. So, there y'go – Okarito in the sunshine. Have a good look, it's not often like this.”

“Looks good in the sun.”

“Better from a distance – the more distant the better. In this way now.” He walked through the open front-door of a hotel. They went down the hall to the owner's flat at the back.

“Oh, hello Jordan.” Mrs Harrison looked out when he knocked on the door. She had her painting overalls on again. “You're looking for Kim? He doesn't live here anymore.”

“He doesn't? Have you kicked him out, Mrs H?”

“No,” she smiled. “Not yet. He's moved back up to his room on the third floor, much to his delight. You know where that is, don't you?”

“Sure do. So he's up there now? Thanks, Mrs H. Come on Gene, this way now. Oh yeah – Mrs H., this is my mate, Gene, from back home. Gene, Mrs H., she's Kim's mother.”

“Hello, Gene.”

“Hey, Mrs H. I, umm . . gotta go I think!”

Jordan was already on his way up the stairs. Kim was coming down, he met them at the foot of the top flight. “Hey, Jordo. Up to?”

“Not much. We're bored, so we thought we'd come and see you.”

“To use Mrs Brown's catchphrase – 'that's nice.'” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JddNDtC-Yrs )

“You're learning! Will you be going back up again?”

“Later, yeah.”

“We'll wait for you. We'll go and admire the view from the balcony up the top.”

“No, don't do that. Come down and say hello to Mrs Springer. You know you want to.”

With his most innocent look, Jordan said, “Oh? Is it lunchtime?”

“You know it is!” Kim grinned. “Come on, then she won't try to make me eat everything. Hey, Gene. Keeping Jordo in line, are you?”

“Hey, Kim. Not a chance.”

“He's not gay, Kimbo. Don't go getting your hopes up.”

Together, Kim and Gene said “Shut up/Zip it, Jordo/Jordie!”

Okarito - Jordan & Gene

Jordan Houston – Granny Panties!!!

Ashton Morris - New style, Jordie?

Jordan Houston – No! I saw them when walking home from school.

Gene Crestani - And you thought ud like some?

Jordan Houston – Not really. I just posted the pic so you guys'd have something to Fap to.

Lucas Breene – Oh Yes! Fap O'Clock!

Jordan Houston – Lol!

The Cat – That's disgusting. Pull your pants up. You're all totally gross! Don't you ever think of anything else?

Ashton Morris – Not at Fap O'Clock.

Lucas Breene – Show us your panties, Cat!

The Cat – In your dreams, Little Boy.

Ashton Morris – You're always in my dreams, Cat.

Gene Crestani – Nightmares, more likely.

The Cat – Watch it, Genie – I know where you live!

Gene Crestani - *is scared now*

Jordan Houston – Love you, Cat

The Cat - Love you too, Jordie.



Jordan settled in to his new life in his new town, kind of. It was not where he'd rather be, but it was where he was, for now. He tried to make the most of it.

His new school was okay and he made some friends there. They were all right, especially Bonnie, she was a good guy, but they were not the Tight Five. He missed those guys so much! He even missed Mr. E, no teachers in Okarito were as classy as him.

He was on-line, every chance he got, talking to his friends on Skype and on Facebook. Which was good, but not as good as being there would.

He'd even found someone to make music with. Kim Harrison was an amazing muso and a good guy too, but he was a bit of a kid. He was only year 9. Jordan was in year 10 and Bonnie in year 11 – there's kudos in hanging out with older kids, but not with year 9's.

Anyway, lately, every time he saw Kim he was with Jethro, the Dog Boy. They were as thick as thieves, but Jethro was not much into music. Kim was trying to teach him guitar, but he was hopeless. He was so bad he made Jordan look good, and that's bad!

His mum said that, given time, he'd learn to like Okarito and he'd forget all about Brownsville. Like that was going to happen? Brownsville was home and that's where he wanted to be. (“Know why Okarito starts and finishes with an 'o'? It's like a picture of what it is – a shithole!”)

Bonnie growled every time he said that. It was her hometown he was talking about! Well, it wasn't his and he'd be outta there and back where he should be, just as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, his mother wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.Amazingly enough, she liked it there. Also, even more amazingly, she liked that bloody Steve too. It wasn't all beer and skittles, they had their moments, but mostly they were getting on like a house on fire.

Sometimes they were all lovey-dovey, like a couple of love-struck teenagers. That was gross! Jordan almost preferred it when they were fighting, as long as that bloody Steve stayed away from him. Which he did, mostly.

He didn't know what his mother saw in the creep – he must have a big dick or something. 'Eww, Eww, Eww!! Think about something else – right now!'

The best thing about that bloody Steve was that he was not always there. He was a truck driver and he had to work long hours because his basic pay rate was stink. So, he was away a lot and that was good.

There was no WiFi in the house and they weren't getting it because, apparently, they weren't rich. He had to use the PC in the living room for his computer time, which was a pain. It could be worse, at least they weren't on dial-up. Bonnie was and that was primitive. He didn't know how she lived with that, but she had to so she did.

So, he'd been there, in Oka - bloody- rito, and he'd survived for two long months when, finally, he got some news and it was excellent! Gene was coming to see him and he'd be staying for almost a whole weekend. Choice!

Jordan hadn't been this excited since, well, since the last time. But it was way good – he couldn't wait!

Gene's message said that his mum and her sister were going down to Haast and they could drop him off on the way through, about 6pm on Friday, and pick him up again late Sunday afternoon. Was that all right with Jordie and could he stay at his? He couldn't afford a hotel or anything.

Jordan replied, of course it was all right with him. It'd be great! His mum said that Gene was welcome to stay, they'd fit him in somewhere. How did he feel about sleeping in the bathtub?

Gene said, “What??”

Jordan said, “Joking.”

They were late. It was nearer to 7 than 6 o'clock by the time Gene's mother's car appeared. Jordan was standing, waiting, at the corner of Victoria and Wharf Streets, near where the kayaks could be hired for going out on the lagoon. One day, he was going to do that, when he could afford it. They weren't cheap, but people said they were well worth it.

It was getting dark and he was getting worried by the time they arrived – well, woman drivers! But it was okay, this time.

Gene poured out of the back seat and grinned at him. “Hey, Jordie.” He was nearly knocked over when Jordan flew at him and hugged him.

“Whoah, Jordie! Settle.” He laughed, lifted him off his feet and swung him around as he bear-hugged him back.

“Genie! Oh, Gene, it's so great to see you!”

“Good to see you too. Say hello to Mum while I get my bag out of the back.”

They said hello and goodbye and the car turned around and left with a 'toot' – they were in a hurry now.

“So here I am. Is your house far away?”

“It's not. Nothing's far around here, but I thought we could go and eat first. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Haven't you got any food at home?

“Course we have. We've always got heaps. Mum works the morning shift at the Diner and she brings the leftovers home. But I thought I'd buy dinner to celebrate.”

“A party for two, is it?”

“Something like that, yeah. There's a new pizza place just opened in a pub down the main street and I've got vouchers for their opening specials.”

They started walking.

“Good old, Jordan – as cheap as ever.”

“That's me!” Jordan grinned. “I've got extra vouchers too because the owners are friends of mine. Well,. Their son is, so that's the same thing, nearly.”

“The son of owners of pizzas and a pub? I thought you had no friends around here.”

“I've got a couple. Not as good as my old ones though.”

“Yeah! What can I say? We're the best!”

“You are – the best ever. Love you, Genie.”

“Love you too. What's that smell?”

“Smell?”

“Yeah. Can I smell the sea?”

“Probably. It's just over there. Most of the older buildings on the main street are on the left of the road because they were right by the beach when the town first started. The land has built up since then, but it's still not far away.”

“Oh. Funny though – I thought it'd smell like something else.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like poos – you did say it's a shithole.”

“It is, but it doesn't smell that bad. That's the Diner there – 'Dinah's Diner', where Mum works.”

“How come we're not eating there then?”

“No vouchers – cheap, remember?”

“I remember. You're nice though.”

“To my best mates I'm nice, if they're nice to me.”

“Always nice to you, Jordie.”

“As you should be. Here's the pub. Told you it wasn't far.”

“You didn't lie.”

“I never do.”

“Liar.”

“Faggot!”

“You wish.”

Jordan did wish, actually. Gene was a great guy, one of his best-ever friends and easily the best-looking boy he'd ever known. The kid was as gorgeous as they get, but not gay, unfortunately. They'd fooled around a bit when they were younger, but Gene had decided that that was not for him. Shame!

They pushed into the brightly-lit and busy cafe. There was a crowd in there, eating at tables and waiting for take-aways. They went up to the counter and Jordan greeted the lady there.

“Hey, Mrs H. Got room for a little one?”

“Hello, Jordan. We've always got room for you,” she smiled.

“That's cool. And Gene too, of course. Are these vouchers still good?”

“For you, they are. Have a seat and someone will come and see you soon.”

“Cheers, Mrs H. C'mon Genie – over there.”

They got seats in a booth by the front window – the previous group were just leaving. There wasn't a lot to see outside, it was dark already, but there were a few cars and people going past. A waitress come over to take their order.

Jordan looked up. “Sally! I didn't know you work here, I thought you worked with Mum, at Dinah's Diner?”

“I do, but that's in the mornings. I work here in the evenings, sometimes.”

And you do a mail-delivery run, and clean at the pre-school. How'm I ever going to get a job when you've got them all?”

“I haven't got all of them. You could get work at the retirement home, washing old people's bums.”

“Eww! Not likely.”

“Stop moaning then. What're you having?”

“What's good?”

“Everything's good.”

“We'll have some of that then.”

“Come on Jordan. Stop mucking around, I'm busy here.”

“Yeah, you are. Okay, I'll have a meat-lovers' pizza, small fries and a large coke. No dessert. How about you, Genie?”

“Sounds good. I'll have the same, thanks. No ice in the coke.”

“Why no ice,” Jordan pondered. “Oh yeah – no ice means more coke. I'll have no ice too, Sall.”

“Right then. A couple of big spenders here.”

“That's us,” Jordan grinned. “Real big.”

“Cute too,” she said, with a second look at Gene. She left.

Jordan said, “I suppose you get that a lot?”

“Get what a lot?”

“Waitresses admiring you.”

“No. I don't see a lot of waitresses.”

“Guess not. But I bet the ones who do see you like what they see!”

“Why would they?”

“Oh, Come on, Gene. Look in a mirror sometime. You're bloody gorgeous, y'know. You were a good-looking kid and just keep getting better and better.”

“You think? You're not too bad yourself, you know.”

“Me? Had your eyes checked lately?”

“Don't need them checked, I can see just fine.”

“So you think. Thanks for coming, Genie – it's so good to have you here. I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too and it's good to be here, Jordie me mate. Ah – pizzas! That was quick.”

Sally laid the food down and took Jordan's handful of vouchers as payment. “Keep the change,” he said loftily.

“What change?” she laughed. “You might still owe us something. I'll let you know.”

“They don't owe anything,” said a voice behind her.

“Says who?” She looked around. “Oh. Says you. Okay, Kim, but you clear it with your mum.”

“I already did, she said it's okay – this once. Hey, Jordan. Good pizza?”

“Excellent pizza, Kimbo. Sit down.”

“Just for a minute. I'm a bit busy.”

Kim sat down and Jordan said, “Gene Crestani, this is my friend, Kim Harrison. He lives here because his parents own the pub. Kim, this is my old friend, Gene, and he's a very cool kid but a crap musician.”

“You'd know what that sounds like. Hey Gene, I've heard lots about you.”

“Not too bad, I hope. Hello, Kimbo,. Want some pizza?”

“No, I do not. Thanks, but I'm sick of the sight of it already! This place is Mum's dream come true, not mine.”

Jordan said, “And what is your dream, Young Kimbo?”

“Well . . I do wish that you'd stop calling me that. My name is Kim.”

“I thought it was actually Kimberley?”

“No, not that either – just Kim.”

“Oh well, Kimbo. It may never happen, but it's good to have a dream.”

“Shut up, Jordo.”

“Oh,” Gene grinned. “I could tell you a name he hates worse than that!”

“You bloody better not or we're not mates!”

“Touchy! Don't worry, I won't do that to you.”

“You'd better not or you'll be sleeping out on the lawn.”

“You wouldn't do that to me.”

“No, of course not. I love you, Genie.”

“Well good! Love you too.”

“Of course. What're you up to, Kim?”

“I'm waiting for Miss Clayton so we can do the music practice. Mum told me that you were here and that I should say hello to you.”

“Do it then.”

“Hello to you.”

“Hello to you too. See why I like this boy, Gene - he's mad.”

“A good match for you then.”

“Ooooh. I'm thinking about that lawn again.”

“Zip it, Jordie.”

They finished there, then strolled down the main street. There was a lot of dark areas where businesses were closed down and boarded up. The brightest area was around the newly-restored Majestic Theater where hundreds of small bulbs on the marquee lit up the night.

They turned off at the end and went back up Palmerston Street to Jordan's house.

“Here it is – nothing special, it's just a house. It keeps the weather out.”

“Looks okay to me. Very tidy.”

“Yeah, it's tidy. Mum never stops tidying and guess who mows the lawns.”

“Surely not you, Wee Jordie?”

“Wrong! I get paid for it though. I wouldn't do it if I didn't.”

“Yeah? You should be doing it for love.”

“Not likely! They are that bloody Steve's lawns and I definitely do not love him! Funny isn't it – how doing something for love means doing it for nothing, zilch, zip and zero? Come on in.”

They went inside and Gene was welcomed by Jordan's mother and sister. That bloody Steve wasn't at home, so that was good. Jordan led the way to his bedroom, out at the back.

“Here's my room – the smallest one in the house, but I've got the biggest bed – go figure. We're sleeping in here.”

“This is good.” Gene dropped his bag on the single mattress on the floor. “So I'll be sleeping down here then.”

The mattress and the queen-size bed filled most of the floor area in the room.

“What? No, I'm sleeping there. You can have the bed.”

“I can not. I'm not putting you out of your bed, Jordie.”

“You're not putting me out. I choose the mattress. You're not sleeping down there, you're the guest here. Besides, the bed's bigger and you need more room than I do.”

“This is insane. All right, there's more than enough room, we'll both sleep in the bed.”

“Together? I don't think so!”

“Why not?” Gene said. “I don't smell, do I? Not much anyway.”

“Why not? I'll show you why not.” Jordan took hold of Gene's arm and pulled him in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. “Have a good look. That is why we're not sharing the bed.”

Gene shrugged, as he looked at his own reflection. “I don't get it. Something wrong with me?”

“No, there's not and that's the problem. You're gorgeous, Gene, and you've got a perfect body. Dammit, you're just perfect all over.” He tapped his own chest. “Gayboy here, remember? I'd get no sleep, I'd be lying there struggling to keep my hands off you.”

“Why is that such a problem?”

“Because, Gene Genie, you're not gay. I know that and you wouldn't like it. You're not just a major hottie, you're my mate, my very good friend and I don't want to stuff that up.”

“Oh, I see. I think. Well, Midge – Jordan, you are stressing about nothing. We've been there before and it didn't mess up the friendship, did it?”

“No, but it could have. That was ages ago . . . and . . wait a minute! Are you saying that it'd be okay?”

“It would be okay, I think. Seeing as it's you. We could do what feels good – cuddles and shit, but no anal. Okay?”

“Okay?” Jordan beamed. “Hell yes! Cuddles and shit is good! Way good.”

“Well Jordan, we'll see how that goes. Don't you dare tell anyone about this or that will stuff up the friendship. Understood?”

“Jawohl, Mein Fuhreur!” Jordan threw a mock salute, but he couldn't stop grinning. “Want to go to bed now?”

“No, I don't want to go to bed now – it's way too early. Have you got any new games – Playstation games, I mean.”

“No, not new ones,” he shook his dark mop of hair. “But I've got something better.”

“Oh? What's better than new games?”

“Old games! I found my old Playstation 1 and all the games – spiro, crash bandicoot and all that. Fun stuff from way back.”

“Playstation One? The classics! Let's crank that up then.”

They played for a couple of hours, then showered, separately of course, got a drink and a sandwich and went to bed - together!

Charlie

“Evil, evil man!”

Oh yeah? Stupid woman should've minded her own business and stayed the fuck out of his way. Now she knew – interfering old bats got what was coming to them.

Admittedly, the old country pub was not the best place for stair-dancing, it was only two storeys high, but the pickings were so rich! Who could resist?

There really is nothing better than a crowd of middle-class, middle-aged, post children and at the height of their earnings power. When they're together for a boozy weekend away, well – the possibilities are endless.

They tend to be busy having 'fun', besotted all weekend and someone with their wits about them can have a lovely old time. Very profitable it was too.

Sunday morning they were all back down in the public bar, having 'the hair of the dog that bit them' – the world's most effective hangover cure – a couple of drinks and they're drunk again. That suited him because drunks are not careful with their belongings.

The security in the pub was all-but non-existent. Well it used to be – they were probably having another look at their systems by now. As an example, the cleaner's key fitted every lock and opened every door on the second floor. How convenient was that?

It didn't take a minute to lift the keys and unlock some doors while she was down scrubbing the floor in a bathroom. He slipped into an empty room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Wearing gloves was a pain but it had to be done. His fingerprints were all too well-known by the wrong people – the ones in blue uniforms, that is. He took everything worth taking, including a nice fat wallett, and moved on to the next room.

Both he and the dozy cleaner were cleaning the rooms out in their own ways. There is no perfect crime, but this came fairly close. He had one more room to go when she clattered away down the stairs with her trolley. She hadn't seen him and didn't have a clue.

Then it went to crap. A stupid woman came back to the room early and saw him rummaging through her suitcase. He just knew that she was going to start yelling, so he shut her up before she did.

Contrary to popular belief, a good whack over the head does not always result in unconsciousness.
However, it does tend to shut stupid Bints up, especially when followed by a sharp knife brandished in the face.

It worked on this one. She really, really did not want her nostrils enlarged, so she shut up and just whimpered. He tied and gagged her with her own lingerie, stuffed her into the wardrobe and got the hell out of there.

She didn't know who he was or where he was from, but she'd had a good look at his face and the cops knew it, all too well. He'd had a good haul, but now he had to make himself scarce, asap.

He grabbed his bag from his own room, slipped down the fire-escape at the back, smashed a window and hot-wired a car and he was gone. As far as he could tell, no-one had seen him going, but there'd be an uproar before too long. They wouldn't all drink all day.

Last time he did a pub over like this he didn't run but stayed hidden, up above the ceiling until things settled down. Not a good idea and he was never doing that again – staying still and breathing dust and struggling not to sneeze for bloody hours on end!

He headed south, towards Christchurch, for a few minutes, then cut across to a back-road and turned north again. GPS was a great invention – so handy for a man in a hurry.

He ditched the car, literally in a ditch, north of Woodend and walked back to Pegasus. He stole a better car there, from the car-park at the golf course.

Back on the road, he was intending to head back up north, he knew his way around better there than here in the South Island. But, on reflection, he was too well-known up there and too many people had unfinished business with him.

North of Amberley, near Waipara, a secondary road headed west, so he veered off there. The wilds of Westland would be a good place to lie low for a while. He wasn't known over there – yet.

Today's haul wouldn't cause a major melt-down, rooms were robbed and cars were boosted, pretty much everyday, but there was the matter of the boy-whore back in Christchurch. If he was still alive, he'd be a mess and cops tended to get excited about things like that. The Silly Little Tart brought it on himself, but he'd rather not have to try to explain that to a judge. So, west he went.

He went in and had a quick look at Hanmer, but didn't stop there. The small town was full to bursting with tourists, holidaymakers and easy pickings, but it was still too close to where he'd started from. He decided to give it a miss and, maybe, check it out again when he was on his way back up north.

Today it was more important to get lost and stay lost. His pockets weren't exactly empty anyway.

At Springs Junction, the road branched, west to the West Coast and north to Nelson. He filled the car at the service station and made a point of askling the guy there the best way to get to Golden Bay, which was miles away from where he was going.

He left there, going north, stopped and waited for an hour, then followed behind a truck & trailer back to the Junction and turned-off, west. The dork at the garage didn't see him come back through, he thought. He hoped.

He stopped before Riverston and changed his clothes and hairstyle. Police reports describing a wanted person always concentrated on the clothes, so that was easily confused.

He spent a few minutes cruising around Riverston, but decided that the place was just too damm small. A stranger there stuck out like a sore thumb, people were already noticing him, so he bought some food and moved on again.

The cemetery just north of the town was as good a place as any to stop, so he did. He pulled in and parked under the trees there to eat, drink and rest a bit. There was no hurry, he preferred travelling at night anyway.

He scored a purse, a ladies' handbag, from a car left unlocked and unattended, (The Fools!), then left quietly before their loss was discovered. There was nothing much of value in the bag anyway, just a few dollars, which he kept. Everything else was stuffed back in and thrown off a bridge a few kilometers up the road.

He arrived in Westpoint late at night and did his good deed for the day. A drunk came out of one of the many pubs and staggered off up a dark alley to relieve himself. There was no-one else in sight, so he followed him in there and relieved him of his car keys – the man was far too drunk to drive.

He wasn't running a charity, so, as payment for that good deed, he also relieved him of his wallet and loose change. There wasn't a lot of money, the drunken sot had drunk most of it, so he kicked him in the head and left him lying there in his own filth.

He did some after-hours shopping in a bottle store – not too much because that'd get the Pigs too worked up. He just took a couple of whiskies and a pocketful of cigarettes.

He left the door open on the way out – someone else might come in and get blamed for the lot.

He syphoned petrol from a couple of cars and refilled his one, and then left town. It was always good to leave before the excretment hit the circulatory device.

He drove over 100k's and stopped in a rest area south of Brownsville. He finished the bottle of whisky that he'd been sucking on, then curled-up and went to sleep on the back seat.

He slept late in the morning, until the passing traffic woke him, then had a late breakfast, or brunch, in Hoki – fish of course because that's what Hoki is, a fish.

He paid for it in cash, which hurt a bit. It was against his principles to pay for anything. But it was only money and there was plenty more where that came from. He filled the car again, and paid for that too, then headed south again, into the wilds of South Westland.

He was planning on stopping in Franz Josef, a wealthy little tourist town, but there was a little incident and he never got there.

Going down a bush-clad hill, a few k's north of Franz, he was overtaken by another car and a couple of snot-nosed brats in the back of it were laughing and jeering at him. He shouldn't have let it get to him but it did, so he sped up, overtook them and cut them off and drove them off the road and into the scrub. That'd teach the little Shits!

That put paid to his plan for the day. They were sure to go to the cops in Franz Josef and his car was far too obvious now with the dents and scrapes along the side of it. So he turned around and headed back up the road.

He made a sudden decision at the turn-off and went west, down the road to Okarito. A couple of k's before there he went down a bush road to the riverbank and parked there out of sight. He smoked, drank and slept a bit while he waited until after dark.

Before he left to go into the town, he syphoned petrol from the tank, splashed it around and set fire to the car. He walked away, leaving it a raging inferno.

It was the only thing to do, he'd been in it for a couple of days and it'd be full of his fingerprints. The cops would probably be able to identify the ruins, if they tried hard enough, but that wasn't likely. They wouldn't be doing it with the number plates – he'd already removed them and thrown them out into the river. It paid to think ahead, always.

His bag over his shoulder, a bottle of whisky in his coat pocket and another in his hand, he walked off into the night and into Okarito.

Kim & Jethro, 2

(East, West - West's best!)

“That's my sister, Aleysha. The other one is Kaylee, but she's not here.”

Aleysha jumped up. “Yes she is, she's up in our room. I'll go and get her – she has to see this, it's freaky!”

She ran upstairs. Kim shrugged and grimaced. “Sorry. It is amazing though, our faces, I mean.”

“It's amazing,” Jethro smiled. “Maybe you should say 'our face' though – we've only got one between us.”

“Yeah, nearly. I've been thinking about that. Maybe we are related somehow, we must be!”

“Maybe, maybe not. Have you asked your dad if he played around?”

“I did not. I mean, you can't ask that, can you? Have you asked your mum?”

“I did actually. She's still not saying anything and she doesn't believe it about you. She needs to see for herself.”

“That can be arranged. Miss Clayton says that everyone's got a double, maybe it's as simple as that.”

“Could be, possibly. Oh, hello.”

“Oh yeah, this is Kaylee. Kaylee – Jethro.”

“Ohmigosh! I thought Aleysha was having me on, but she's not! Wow. You look just like Kimmy, you poor thing!”

“That's Kim and shut up! I think he's real good-looking actually.”

“Yeah, well you would. Mum's got to see this, I'll get her!” She left running as well.

Kim said, “Sorry about this.”

“'Sokay. You'd probably get the same at our place. The resemblance is pretty cool, eh?”

“It's cool, but weird!”

“Yep, that too.”

“Right then. What is this that I have to see?” Kim's mother walked in the door and looked at Jethro who was across the room, facing her. Kim was sitting with his back to the door. He looked around and grinned. She looked from one to the other.

“Oh my giddy aunt! I'll take it all back, Girls. This is incredible. Hello Boy, what's your name and where did you pop up from?”

“Hello, Mrs . . umm, Kim's mother. I'm Jethro and we met out in the street, yesterday. We think it's amazing too.”

“Yeah, Mum. You didn't give my twin brother away, did you?”

“No I did not! You haven't got a twin brother – well, I thought you didn't.”

“I think you'd know,” Kim grinned.

“I would! Wow, Jethro. I'll go and get my husband, he has to see this too!”

She left, Kim said, “Jethro, I . . “

“Don't say sorry again,” Jethro interrupted. “Not your fault.”

“No, but it's embarrassing. You'll have to say hello to Dad, we can't get out of that now, but that's all. Once he's seen you, we're outta here.”

“Fair enough, but not in the rain, I hope.”

“No, not in the rain. We'll find somewhere private.”

Kim's dad came in and met the visitor, he was as amazed as anyone was. “You can all stop looking at me like that. He's definitely not one of mine. But, could be a nephew? What's your father's name, Jethro?”

“I don't know. Mum's never told me.”

“A secret eh? Tell her that you've met us and see if that gets a reaction.”

“I will. I'll do that for sure.”

“Okay, that's it. Dad, you can go back to work now.” Kim got to his feet (foot!) “We've got things to do.”

“Haven't we all? But there's time for a cup of tea first.”

“You've always got time for that. Come on, Jethro, we're out of here.”

The two boys went out into the hall. Kim looked at the stairs and sighed. “Right. I want to show you my room. It's up on the top floor and I haven't been up there for days – since this happened. I can get up the stairs, if I take it slow, but I'm worried about coming down again. I tried it before and nearly fell on my face.”

“At least you'd get down quick.”

“Yeah, but that's how I broke my bloody leg in the first place, and it was your fault. I don't want to do that again.”

“How was it my fault? I wasn't even here.”

“You nearly were. I was up on the front balcony, saw you walking down the street with all your dogs, I was rushing down to get a closer look, tripped over my big feet and fell down the stairs and broke my leg. So, it's your fault – kind of."

“Yeah, right! If you insist.”

“I do, I do. Anyway, I can't get down the stairs by myself, but I can if you'll help me.”

“How can I do that?”

“Just stop me from falling over.”

“Oh, right. I can do that, I think.”

“You'd better or I won't be happy and I'll bleed all over you. We'll get started then.”

He struggled up the stairs, one by one, and Jethro hovered closely. He rested on the landing, then started on the next flight. At the top he swung along to the foot of the 'bad' stairs and looked up there.

“Damm. These will be the hard ones – steeper and narrower and just one flight all the way up.”

“You don't have to do this, you know.”

“Yes I do. My room's up there and that's where we're going!” He started up and didn't stop until they came to the top. “Did it,” he exulted. “Getting back down is not going to be fun.”

“So, stay up here.”

“Not likely! The kitchen is down there. We'll go and have a look at the balcony out at the front first.”

Jethro opened the glass doors and looked sceptically at the old woodwork.”Are you sure it's going to hold us? It's a long way down.”

“Tell me about it! It'll hold us. Both of us together wouldn't weigh as much as Mr. Springer and it holds him. He smokes his pipe out here because Mrs Springer won't have the smelly old thing in their rooms. That's the pipe, not him, by the way. Come on.”

They went out and looked down at the street. “Whoa! Great view.”

“Yeah, not too bad. Even better on a clear day. I need a water-pistol – no-one ever looks up. It's a good place for spying on the street. Sometimes I see this kid walking past with a whole lot of dogs.”

“I wonder who that would be? I don't think you're going to see him today.”

“Probably not – not down there anyway.” They grinned at each other. “Thanks for coming around. I was so bored! We'll go to my room now. Too bloody wet and windy out here.”

“Yeah, good.”

Back inside, they shut the weather out and went to Kim's room at the back.

“It's a big place,” Jethro commented. “Bigger than 3 houses stacked on top of each other. It must've been really grand in its day, it still looks good.”

“It does look good, in places. Better on the inside than the out. Dad's plan is to bring it all back to the way it was, which'll be good. It'll be a whole lot of work though and I'm staying away from that as much as I can.”

“Good scheme.”

Kim stood back and let Jethro open the door.

“You don't lock it?”

“No, I don't worry. It's mostly boarders up here and none of them would come in here.”

“Why not?”

“Miss Clayton. So, this is my room. Not huge, but it's big enough.”

“Way bigger than my room.”

“I guess it would be.” Kim sat on the bed. “I haven't been up here in over a week, I've missed it. Have a look at the view out of the window.”

“Not bad. Must be better when it's not raining.”

“Definitely! Can you see the mountains out at the back?”

“Not a sign. There's just clouds.”

“Of course there is. You'll have to take my word for it, it's spectacular when you can see it.”

“I'll believe you. Bluest skies I've ever seen are around here, when it's fine.”

“When it's fine – just doesn't happen enough./”

“You're not wrong.”

“Never am.”

“Yeah, right. So, you're into music?”

“Very much. Music is my life! You?”

“No, not really. I like listening, but I don't play anything.”

“Nothing at all?”

“No, except for the radio.”

“Radio? I never listen to that.”

“I do, I have it on all day long. I like it because you never know what's going to be on next and the DJ's chatter is like a bit of company for me.”

“Because you're home alone, all day every day.”

“Pretty much, yeah. But I'm used to it.”

“I would hate it.”

Kim lifted his guitar down from the wall and sat strumming it quietly while they talked. “I've missed this. I'm so going to take it downstairs when we go.”

“How're you going to do that with the crutches?”

“Easy. My new friend is going to carry it for me.”

“Oh? Who is that then?”

“You know who that is.”

“Yeah,” Jethro smiled. “I like your room. It's private and you've got space. My one's tiny and you couldn't swing a cat in my room. If you had a cat.”

“Which we don't. I've never understood that saying – why would you want to swing a cat around? You'd get ripped to shreds!”

“Probably,” Jethro shrugged. “Seems like a stupid thing to do all right.”

“And that'd be why you'd need lots of room. Do you think you mum will be moving on soon? Easy enough to do when your house is on wheels, I guess. Where will she go to?”

“I don't know. It could be anywhere, she just likes moving. She grew up in a circus, so that's probably why.”

“A circus – like lions and elephants and clowns and stuff? That would be awesome!”

“Yeah, I reckon it would too, but you know what else would be awesome?”

“What would?”

“Not moving around and staying in one place and having a friend, that would be awesome.”

“Yeah! But it's not going to happen, is it?”

“No, dammit. Not for long. One of these days Mum will get itchy feet and we'll be gone, again.”

“Yeah, dammit is right. There's nothing we can do about that. I guess we've just got to enjoy the time we've got, or something.”

“Or something.” Jethro went over and looked out of the window again. He turned back to Kim, still sitting on the bed. “Kim, how far could you walk with the crutches and that thing on your leg?”

“Don't know. Not far, I think. The furtherest I've been was to the seat down the street. And up here of course.”

“That's not so far, but yeah – hard to do, I guess. Well, do you . . ?”

He didn't get any further because there was a knock on the door and Bonnie and Jordan walked in.

“Hey-ho, Kimbo. What're you doing up here?”

“Yeah, Mate,” said Jordan. “Miss Clayton said to come up and we'd get a surprise – she got that right. What happened to the broken leg?”

“Nothing happened to it,” Jethro replied. “It's over there, on the bed.”

“It's what?” Jordan turned, looked at Kim on the bed, looked at Jethro, by the window, and back at Kim again. “Your leg looks broken – you've got the cast on it, so you must be Kim. Who the hell are you?”

“Umm, not Kim,” Jethro grinned. “Who are you?”

“Oh, we're not Kim either,” Bonnie said. “But we're his friends – he's Jordan and I'm Bonnie. Are you Kim's brother that we didn't know about?”

“No, I'm not. We just met yesterday. I'm Jethro and I live uptown with my mum.”

“Yeah? You're not exactly the same. Still pretty amazing though. You two could easily be brothers.”

Kim said, “Could be, but we're not.”

“Spooky,” Jordan commented. “Hey! Aren't you the one? Have you got like lots of dogs? You have, haven't you? I've seen you walking with them.”

“Wrong,” said Kim. “They're not his, he hasn't got any dogs. His mother won't let him have one – which is mean.”

“But you go walking with lots of dogs.”

“I do, but they're not mine. They just tag-along because they want to.”

Bonnie said, “So you're like Tarzan, the King of the Animals, or something.”

“Or something,” Jethro shrugged. “They're just today's friends. Animals live very much in today, I like them and they like me.”

“Okay. How come you look so much like Kimbo?”

“I don't.”

“You bloody do!”

“No, he looks like me – we don't know why.”

Kim said, “Miss Clayton says that everyone's got a double. When you think about it, with millions and millions of people, all with 2 eyes, 2 ears, a nose and a mouth and such, some of them are going to look alike, there's only so many combinations.

“Maybe,” Jordan shrugged. “Bloody freaky though – seeing someone else with your face.”

“It's not freaky!” Kim protested. “It's cool.”

“Yeah, it is cool,” Jethro agreed.

“We could have real fun with this, “ Bonnie said. “You could take each other's places, like the Prince and the Pauper story thing.”

“Wouldn't work,” Kim shook his head. “Besides, no-one's princes or paupers, we're just us.”

“Yeah, you are. You're just you,” Jordan agreed. “Are you gay, Jethro Tull?”

“I'm not Jethro Tull, I'm Jethro Bourke, and why do you want to know?”

“Just curious. Kim says that he is – so have you got that in common as well?”

“Are you gay, Kim?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Oh. Well, I don't know what I am. Maybe yes, maybe no. I don't know.”

Bonnie had had enough of watching quietly. She broke in, “Who cares if you're gay or not? It doesn't matter. There's lots more to a person than that. So, Mr. Lookalike, do you sing like an angel as well?”

“Me?” Jethro grinned. “No, I don't sing – not very good. Do you sing like an angel, Kim?”

“Don't know. I've never heard an angel singing, but I can hold a tune.”

“Don't be modest,Kim,” Jordan growled. “He's the best singer I've heard, I think.” He picked up Kim's guitar and handed it to him. “Show him, Kimbo – dazzle us with your brilliance.”

“I'm not that good,” Kim protested. But he took the guitar and strummed it again.

They sat around for the rest of the rainy afternoon, talking and making music – some were better at that than others, but it was fun. When it was time to go, Jordan, Bonnie and Jethro carried Kim down the stairs. He lay back in their hands, playing his guitar as they went.

Miss Clayton stood down at the bottom, watching and waiting with a small smile on her normally grim face.

They stood him back on his feet with the crutches and he went to the front door to see them off into the rain. He waved goodbye and went, smugly, back to trhe warm kitchen for his evening meal.

It was a good day.