Westpoint Tales
by Kiwi
Heroes - Pt 7
"Sir yourself! Nice to meet you too, JH. Really nice."
They stood staring at each other, both intrigued by what they saw. JH really did look at lot like Bobby, it was weird. He looked a lot like in his dad in many ways, their smiles were exactly the same, but he looked like Bobby too. They had the same deep-blue eyes.
"Well, you're family all right. No doubt about that!" Bobby smiled and offered his hand. "Welcome home, Son."
"Ah. Thank you, Bobby. It's good to be home."
"It's always good to be home," Bobby smiled.
He released JH's hand, finally.
I've got something for you."
"For me?"
"Yes, and all the way from England. First, take a look at this."
He picked up a brick, from the coffee table, and handed it to him.
"A brick? You brought a brick back from England?"
"I did. A special brick. I found the cottage where our ancestors used to live, near a little village called Oakley Green. Or, I found the place where the cottage used to be - it has been demolished.
The current owners found that when it was pulled down, and they gave it to me. I'm going to have it set into the statue of James Hargreaves in the Square."
"A brick from the house he was born in? That's very cool."
"It is, it's more than cool. Have a look on the side of it."
JH turned the brick over.
"Oh, wow!"
Carved - inscribed - into the brick were the words, 'James and Abraham Hargreaves Williamson. Born 2 May 1854'.
"Way cool. But, who is Abraham?"
"Abraham Hargreaves was James Hargreaves' twin brother. He died when they were boys. I've brought a piece of him home to be with his brother. But that's not your gift. Your gift is in the box there, open it and take one."
JH opened the box on the table and looked inside.
"Miniature bricks?"
"Yes. Chips off the old block, as it were."
The box contained hundreds of identical little bricks, all about 15mm long and 6 mm square.
They gave me a second brick from the cottage and it's been laser-cut to give us all of those. I'm giving one to every known descendant of James Hargreaves Williamson. I hope there's enough!"
"And, I get one of them?"
"Of course you do! Take one, you're one of us."
"I am. Thanks, Bobby."
He looked in the box again. The bricks were all exactly the same. He took one out and held it up.
"Thanks. This is a bit of my history - a part of where I came from. I'll treasure it always. Will Billy T be getting one as well?"
"Yes of course. Billy T, his granddads and everyone else - everyone with James Hargreaves' genes."
"All in the family," JH grinned.
"Yes, family," Jon agreed. "And the more of us who are together and the closer we are, the more complete the brick will be. Great idea, Bobby. You're brilliant."
"Of course I am," Bobby grinned. "Sit down, JH and let's get close. Tell me all about yourself. I want to know everything about your life ever since you were stolen away from us. Jon, you're cooking tonight.
"The hell I am!" Jon protested. "I'm not moving. We can have burgers."
"Billy's Burgers?"
"Of course - simply the best."
Peter and Carl left the school and walked slowly across the town. They were going, together, to Carl's home and the plan was for Peter to spend the night there. He wanted to believe Carl when he told him that there would be no trouble and that he was welcome there, , but it was such a turn-around - a complete reversal of the way Carl's dad had been lately! He wouldn't really believe it until he saw it for himself. He was in no hurry, it was a nice day for a leisurely stroll.
They went into the Square at the north-west corner, through the passive garden of the miners' memorial. Peter wanted to stop and watch the bubbling water-features in the sunken garden, but Carl kept him moving.
"Come ON, Peter. There's nothing here that we haven't seen a hundred times already. At this rate, we're never going to get there."
"Suits me. Why don't we go back to my place? We could see your dad tomorrow, or next week or sometime."
"We could not. He's just come around to our side, we don't want to upset him and make him go all anti again."
"If we don't want to upset him, why don't we get your Granddad Lucas to come with us?"
"Why don't we stand on our own four feet? We don't need Granddad, we just need to be men."
"Men? I think I'm more like a mouse."
"No, you're not. Anyway, remember the Mouse that roared?"
"Superboy? Great idea, why don't we get Justin?"
"We're not getting Superboy either. We don't need him. Would I lie to you? Come On, Peter!"
"Yeah, all right, all right already. Don't nag me."
"Damm, Peter. Don't you ever call me a wimp again!"
That did the trick and Peter started walking resolutely to meet his fate. "Come on, Big Red, let's do it."
"Big what? You cheeky swine."
They walked out into the Square and across the grass of the empty sportsfield, heading for the Memorial Gates at the opposite corner.
There were two men sitting on the fence by the running-track, looking up at the old grandstand. They looked at them and Carl smiled. "Hey Uncle Ross, Uncle Robert. What are you two scheming now?"
"Hey Carl. Hey Peter. Why would we be scheming anything."
"Gran says that you usually are."
"Yeah. Be warned, Boys. Big sisters never believe that little brothers have grown up," Robert replied.
"Anyway," Ross said. "We are scheming. What do you think, Boys? Should we pull the old girl down, bit by bit, or should we just bulldoze the lot."
"Bulldoze what?" Peter was horrified. "Not the grandstand? You can't pull the grandstand down!"
"I'm afraid we have to," Ross said. "She has to go."
"But. . .but. . .why?" Peter stammered.
Carl was with him. "You can't! It would be like ripping the heart out of the town. The Square is the heart of Westpoint and the grandstand is the heart of the Square. You can't pull it down."
Robert nodded. "What did I tell you, Ross? This is going to upset everybody. There'll be blood in the streets - probably yours."
"It can't be helped. The grandstand has to go - it's dangerous. The council had an engineer's report done, and another one and another because they didn't want to believe it.
The old girl has been touched-up and tarted-up. She had a new roof once, but that was about 80 years ago. The structural walls are all the old originals and they're rotten from the ground up. One good wind and it will all come crashing down. Imagine that if it was full of people at the time."
"Damm," said Carl.
"Bugger," said Peter.
"Told you so," said Robert. "You do this for whatever reason, and your name is going to be mud."
"Hey! It's not my idea. I'm not happy about this either. I don't want to see the grandstand go. I love this old girl. I lost my virginity up there, in the back row."
"Eww!" the boys chorused. "We've sat up there."
"What? Sorry Boys, but it's true. Probably generations of Westpoint people have done the same. But, something has to be done and soon. The job has been given to me; I'm the councilor for parks and reserves now."
Robert said, "Well, it's a great start to your career on the council, that's all I can say. You'd be better to resign now and let someone else carry the can."
"I'm not resigning. I was elected to the council and I'm going to do what I have to do."
"This is their way of getting rid of you. You know that, don't you? The Old School were all upset about a Carver kid getting on to the council. Knock the grandstand down and you'll be history."
"No, Robert, I won't. I might be a Carver but I'm hardly a kid. This is not the end of my career, it's barely the beginning. I'll be mayor of this town before I'm finished."
"Good luck with that, Brother. No way is that going to happen. Old attitudes die hard you know."
"It'll happen. Attitudes die hard but they do die. Wait and see."
"Not after you knock the grandstand down they won't."
"What are we meant to do then, wait for it to fall down?"
"No, knock it down," Carl said. "Tell the people why it has to go, and then bulldoze it and do it quick."
"Carl! What are you saying?" Peter protested. "He can't!"
"He can. He has to. Flatten it, Councillor Mathieson. Level it off at the ground, and then put it back. Build us a new grandstand exactly the same as the old one. Same size, same shape and colours. Just rebuild it in modern materials that are going to last."
"Carl! I could kiss you!" Ross beamed. "You're so right, my lovely nephew. Exactly right and that's exactly what we're going to do. You've just saved my career in politics and, more importantly, you've saved the grandstand too. Maybe you should be on the council?"
"Me on the council? No way. That doesn't interest me at all. The job's all yours, Uncle. Do this right and you'll be on the way to the top."
"I will," Ross grinned. "Mayor Mathieson. Wait and see. Want to go and get your digger, Robert?"
"Seriously? Yeah, all right, but not yet. Don't be too hasty. Like the boy says, first you've got to tell the people what's happening and why."
"I will. I'll go around to the News and get it started now. We'd better get the engineering staff in to record everything here and draw up plans too. Plus, we've got to shut everyone out of the grandstand. We can't afford to have any accidents now."
"Bye, Uncles. Have fun," Peter said.
"Bye Boys. You too."
Peter and Carl left them and carried on walking - out of the Square and across to the main street.
"I'm so glad you that of that, Carl. Westpoint just wouldn't be the same without the grandstand."
"You're not wrong."
"Am I ever?"
"Not a lot, no. You're a bright kid, Peter."
"Yeah. Nearly as bright as you. Life's good, isn't it?"
"It is! Very good and getting better."
They walked along the main street, carefully not looking at the landscaped garden-rest area where the Adelphi Hotel used to be. There was no logical reason for either of them to be upset at the demise of the old Adelphi, but they still didn't like it.
They silently agreed, again, that the grandstand HAD to be replaced and it had to be exactly the same as it always had been.
They strolled around to the Esplanade. Carl was in a hurry and he wanted to get it over with. Peter didn't. Carl tried to gently hurry him along and reassured him that everything was going to be all right, but it was not easy.
The huge trench being dug for the pipelines for the new sewage treatment plant was interesting, so they had to stop and check that out for a while.
Finally, they arrived at Carl's home. His mother was weeding in the garden at the front.
"Hello Boys. Lovely to see you, Peter - about time too! You can feed yourselves if you're hungry, I'm busy here. I think your dad's in the garage, Carl. Go and see him first, he's been waiting for you both."
"He has?" Peter squeaked.
"Yes he has. Don't look so worried, Peter. Everything's okay, he just wants to see you."
Carl Senior came out of the garage. "There you are! The return of Peter Reynolds."
"Yes Sir. I'm here."
"Good job too." He put down the box he was carrying and hugged him. "You're very welcome here, Peter. Make yourself at home."
"Thanks, Mr. Carl. I will."
"See that you do. Bye Boys. Be nice to each other.'
"Always, Dad. We're always nice to each other."
"Well, good! Keep it up."
He picked up his box and went up to his office.
"See?" Carl grinned widely. "Nothing to worry about, my funny little Chinese Boy."
"Shut up, Carl Sheridan." Peter grinned back. "I'm no more a Chinese boy than you are. I was born in Westpoint, just like you were."
"Sure you were, but you're still Chinese - your mum's from China, well, Hong Kong."
"Maybe she was, but I'm not. I'm a kiwi kid, the same as you."
"Peter, my beautiful, almond-eyed, black haired and golden skinned Chinaman, I am nothing like you, on the outside."
"Okay, on the outside we're different, inside we're the same. Anyway, you're a flame-haired Scotsman. But I love you anyway."
"Oh yeah! We're a United Nations, you and I."
"United Nations, is it? Want to go and get united?"
"Sounds good - race you to my room."
Sometimes, for a time, some things are more important than food - even for teenage boys. Especially for teenage boys
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