Westpoint Tales

by Kiwi

Entangled Tales - 27 - Justin, Jeremy, and Billy

Justin spent the weekend making preparations for the funeral. With Peter's help, he recorded the music to accompany his song. They also arranged to have speakers mounted outside the church and along Brigham Street so that all the expected crowd outside would be able to hear the service.

He made statements to the local newspaper and radio news. They contacted news services and, without much persuasion, arranged to have newspapers, magazines, and radio and television reporters present at the funeral. The Woman's World agreed to use it to headline and emphasise an extended article on the effects and prevention of schoolyard bullying.

Justin stressed that this would be the final funeral of the victims of the country's first, and hopefully last, school shooting incident. He hand-delivered a long letter to the Stephens family, advising them of the arrangements being made and the reasons for doing so. His reception there was no better than the last time, but at least they took the letter.

He also advised the police and the council. The Mayor promised that he and his family would be there.

Finally, on Tuesday, at 9.00am, they locked up the hotel and walked around the corner to the church. Side by side, identical, Justin and Jonathan walked in their new black suits, formal white shirts and black ties, their high-lighted hair shining in the morning sunshine. Their grandparents walked with them, also in formal black. Some of the staff from the hotel followed behind.

They walked, solemnly, past the cameras and the whispering reporters outside the church, and went in to take their reserved seats in the pew behind the Carver family's. Justin sat at the end, beside his brother and next to the aisle, looking glumly at the smiling photograph on the waiting coffin at the front of the church. Organ music played softly in the background.

They all stood, silently, when the entire Carver family filed into the church to take their seats. Ma paused and smiled, sadly, at Justin as she hobbled forward on her crutches.

During the service, the Mayor spoke on behalf of the town and Mrs. Lowry came forward and spoke for the school. They both said that we are all victims of this terrible tragedy and said that it must never happen again. They expressed condolences to the Carver family and to all others who had suffered.

Ma Carver and her extended family all sat quietly - stunned. They were totally unused to acceptance from this town, and they knew who was responsible for it all.

Finally, at the end of the service, the priest asked the pallbearers to come forward and announced that there would be no recessional hymn as they left the church. Instead, Justin Reynolds would sing a song on behalf of a member of Jeremy's family, who wanted to, but was not up to singing it himself.

The six pallbearers and the undertaker stood around the coffin and waited as Justin silently rose and walked up to the front of the church, at the side of the altar. There was absolute silence as he limped forward, the only noise in the church was the step-clunk, step-clunk of his feet.

He picked up his waiting, battered old guitar, and put the strap around his neck. He bent over and switched on the portable CD player on the floor next to him, then stood, carefully positioned in a shaft of sunlight. He lifted his head, raising his eyes to the rafters above, and as the soaring orchestral music filled the church, he lifted his angelic voice and sang.

"The Valley is hushed. The flowers all are dying. The meadow is white, with the winter snow.
Lord as I stand, at the place where Jer'mys' lying. I say a silent prayer. And somehow I know.
(He closed his eyes as tears streamed down his face.)
He hears me there, tho' soft I tread above him. So now he sleeps in peace.
Yes, Jer- re- my's come home.

(Gulping and shaking his head, struggling to keep going. He missed the line, and his fingers quietly strummed the strings.)

The pipes, the pipes are calling, from glen to glen, and down the mountainside.
The summer's gone. And all the leaves are falling. It's you, it's you must go, and I must bide.
Oh, Come ye back, when the sunshine's on the meadow. Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.
For I'll be here, in sunshine or in shadow. Oh Jeremy, Oh Jeremy. I love you so.

(Shaking his head, quickly wiping his closed eyes.)

I close my eyes, and still I can see. Him, standing there, on the hill.
Tears fill his eyes, as he waves goodbye to me. I can't forget. I guess I never will.
He said the valley is hushed. The flowers are all dying.
The meadow is white, with the winter snow. Come find the place,
where you know that I'll be lying. Say a silent prayer. So I'll know."

He stopped, stood in a frozen tableau in the shaft of sunshine, then quietly sank down to the seat beside him. He hung his head low over his old guitar, and wept.

When he looked up, he saw that the pallbearers had not moved. They stood, like everyone else, staring at him. Jonathan came up and sat beside Justin, put an arm around him and hugged his shoulders.

The organist began playing 'Danny Boy', the undertaker beckoned the pallbearers, the family and the entire crowd filed quietly out of the church. Billy went out, weeping inconsolably and supported his large, burly Uncle Butch.

They were left alone in the quiet church. The elderly priest came over and squatted before the twins, putting a hand on Justin's knee. "And men will say, this was their finest hour," he quoted. "That, my boy, was the most beautiful thing that I have ever heard in my life."

Justin looked at him through his tears, "That, Sir, was the hardest thing that I have ever done in my life."

"Well done, Lad. Really well done - you did him proud."

"I tried to. To do him proud, I mean."

When they came out of the church, arms around each other, the funeral procession was already starting down the road, out of town and to the cemetery. The brothers crossed the road to their grandparent's waiting car. Bob came out and briefly hugged them both.

Kathleen wrapped her arms tightly around Justin and kissed him on the cheek. "Beautiful, Justin. I'm so proud of you I could die. I could just burst and die. Well done my beautiful, darling boy. Nobody ever did it better."

"Jonathan could."

"Maybe he could, maybe not. But you did it."

They got in and joined the procession, one of the last cars in the long line, and went to the burial. As they went along between the two long lines of school pupils and the people of Westpoint lining the road, quiet applause rippled as they passed. Justin, bright red in the face, sunk down in his seat.

"Damn! I never figured on this."

At the cemetery they stood silently at the back of the crowd, and as soon as the service was over, they got back in the car and slipped away home. They didn't wait to join the queue of people shuffling past to scatter handfuls of dirt in the open grave.

Driving back into town, Bob asked, "So, are we going to the tea at the RSA clubrooms?"

"I couldn't Sir. I don't want to take any more attention - this is Jeremy's day, not mine. I just want to go home."

"Home it is then. You'd better stay there too, Jonathan. Your Grandmother and I will go around for a few minutes. We should at least make an appearance."

"Thank you, Sir. Please say hello and make my apologies to Mrs. Carver for me."

"Of course we will, Justin. Of course we will. And we'll tell her that the only reason you're not there is because you don't want to be the star of the show."

"They are good people, Sir. The Carvers are good people."

"So you keep saying - well they're not as good as you my boy."

"Nobody is as good as you, Justin. Sorry, Jonathan, but he's one of a kind. Well, you both are, two of a kind."

"Grandmother? Grandfather?"

"Justin?"

"Shut up please."

Later they sat together on the big bed in their room and watched the evening news on television. The funeral was shown at length - "as the little town of Westpoint says goodbye to another of its sons - the last victim of the terrible tragedy at their school."

At the end of the bulletin Justin's song was shown in its entirety, and even he cried as he watched and listened to his beautiful, soaring and emotional voice. Half an hour later, the song was played again at the end of the current affairs programme. "Join us as a nation weeps for its young. There is a war out there, my friends."

"The valley is hushed. The flowers are all dying....."

Next morning when they arrived at the school, Jonathan parked outside and they got out of the car. Billy jumped up from his seat outside the Carver's house, and came running across the road. He looked from one face to the other, then zeroed in on Justin.

"Justin. I don't know how I could ever...but, thank you! A million times thank you for what you did. I knew you could sing, but that was fucking awesome, Man. There was so much more to that song than I ever knew of. Thank you, Justin. I can never repay you, but if there's ever anything I can do for you...."

"Billy, forget it. It was my privilege, I was proud to do what I could to help. But there is one thing you could do for me."

"There is? Name it! Anything."

"Don't hate me. I'd like to be your friend."

"I don't hate you Justin. I've never hated you. I stand in friggin' awe of you, Superboy. I can be your friend."

"Thanks. Can I have a hug then?"

"Oh, yes."

They, shyly, put their arms around each other and briefly hugged, standing out in front of the whole school.

Justin backed off and grinned at him. "Thank you, friend. Are you not coming to school today then?"

"No. Not today - maybe tomorrow."

"Well, please tell Ma that I'll come over to see her at lunchtime, if she's not too busy."

"I'll tell her. She won't be too busy, you can rely on that." With a grin and a backwards wave, he ran back home.

As they walked together into the school, Jonathan nudged him. "You know, Brother, I think you're in love with that kid."

Justin blushed, grinned shyly at him and said, "You know, Brother, I think so too."

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