Westpoint Tales
by Kiwi
Lindsay and Tony Bloody Southon, 30 years later
"Young Love, first love. Filled with deep devotion.
Young Love, our love. We share with deep, emotion."
(The young Donny Osmond looked great singing it too. Ridiculous clothes, but big warm eyes and a dazzling white smile...)
Funny how an old song can stir up old memories, old emotions, and that was a very old song. It was old when he was a kid, and that was a long time ago - a long, long time. It was a different world, way back then. So much had changed since he was a kid.
He'd changed too, he guessed. He gotten older anyway, older but no wiser than he was back then, back when he was a wide-eyed kid trying to figure out the world. He was still trying to figure it out, that hadn't changed. Some things stayed the same, like love. Young love, true love, love never dies. Never!
"C'mon Dad. Wake up! You're away in a dream again. We're never going to get there at this rate."
"Don't fret, we're getting there. It's not far - just down the end of the path here."
"I know it's not far. Nothing's far here in your little old town, but you're taking so long to go anywhere, Little Old Man."
"Hey! Don't be cheeky, I'm not that old."
"Yeah, you are. You're ancient."
"Compared to you maybe. Run on ahead then, if you're in such a hurry. I'm just enjoying being here. This place hasn't changed at all. It's exactly the same as when I was your age."
"So long ago! It's not the same, I don't see any dinosaurs anywhere."
"There never was! Go on then, run if you want to. I'll catch up."
"Yeah, slowly. See you in the river then."
His boy ran on down the sun-dappled path under the tunnel of the tangled green trees, and he carried on at his own quieter pace. He was not bloody old. His mother still called him 'Boy', didn't she? But then, she really was old. Sometimes she seemed to live more in the past than the present. That's not good.
The Domain hadn't changed at all. Everything else had, some places in town had changed out of all recognition, almost. It was a growing town, but not here. This was like walking down a time-tunnel and slipping back 30 years. Damm! Had it really been that long? It had. Thirty years since he was a horny kid, hopelessly in love with his biggest enemy. It seemed like yesterday.
Tony Bloody Southon, the competitive arse! Where was he now? He didn't know.
The tree-tunnel ended and he came out into the bright sunshine on the river bank. The old swimming hole hadn't changed either. Someone had installed a diving board, but otherwise it was much the same as he remembered. Maybe a bit smaller? The Boy's clothes were lying where he'd flung them off and he was in the water already, splashing and playing with a couple of others. That was quick.
The Boy was a teenager already, but he was still young enough to make instant friends wherever he went. If only life was always that simple.
It was a hot day, but he was not in the mood for swimming - not when he'd be the oldest one in the water. There were kids everywhere, having fun in the sun. They didn't know it, but this was the best time in their lives. Kids never believe that, they always want to be older. One day they'd find that they were and wish that they were kids again. There were some compensations, he guessed, but nothing beat that wonderful, magical time when the world was new and there for the taking. If only he knew then what he knew now.
He sat in the warm Westpoint sunshine, on the side of the river, watching the kids at play. Everyone of them looked beautiful with their flashing limbs, fit young bodies and laughing smiles. His boy looked right at home there amongst them. There was a time when he knew everyone here, now he knew no-one. No-one, that is, except for Alvin, his beautiful Boy.
Faces, names of those he used to know came flooding back. Connie, Angel, Peter, Ollie, (and Rodney!), Mavis Ryan, Jolene Eggleston and her grubby old coal-miner father washing himself in the river. Did he still do that? No, he'd be well-retired by now. The years had flown past. The kids here were a whole new generation. The names he knew woulkd mean nothing to them. Yesterday's kids were today's oldies. They might even be their parents.
That boy there, with the mop of golden curls, he wouldn't be at all surprised if he was one of Mavis' kids, he looked very like her. She married, didn't she? Yes, she did - some guy named Peter? Phil? Paul! That was it, Paul Todd. He'd heard about him years ago, he died in a car crash. What ever happened to Mavis? Who knew?
Where was Alvin? Oh, yeah - there. Still in the water. Watching him here in this place was eerie, like a flashback. So many years ago, he'd sat right here watching his brother Alvin out there in the water, (and had rude thoughts about him too! He was past that now). The Boy was the spitting image of the older Alvin, tanned skin, black hair, flashing green eyes, all exactly the same. No surprise really, Alvin was the Boy's real father. He'd adopted him, years ago - so many years the the Boy didn't even remember that tragic time in his life. He remembered, he'd prefer to forget, but never would.
Alvin and Janie, 2 beautiful young kids who grew up too fast. They married young because they were having a baby. They had a daughter and lost her. It was said to be a cot-death, but there were still questions asked about that. The grief-stricken young parents were locked in a loveless marriage. They probably should have called it quits and split, but they never did.
Years and years later they had another baby - Alvin. He was meant to be the saving of his parents' marriage, but it didn't work. Even though they both doted on him, they were too far gone. It ended when their car plunged into the sea at the end of the tiphead. The coroner's report was inconclusive, but while Alvin had definitely drowned, it appeared that Janie was dead before they went into the water, and she had an awful lot of drugs in her system.
The younger Alvin was already in his care at the time of the tragedy. He often took him to holiday on the orchard and get away from his parents' constant warring. Alvin's will, such as it was, named his big brother as the Boy's next of kin, so he kept him, adopted him and raised him as his own.
He was already living with Tony Bloody Southon by then, of course, and while they competed, clashed and battled about many things, the Boy was one thing that they never fought about. Tony accepted him and loved him like he was his own. That was his finest hour.
Aah! Thinking about the old tragedy had cast a shadow over his sunny day. Alvin's smile brought the sunshine back.
"You're not swimming, Old Man?"
"No, not today," he shrugged. "Ready for home?"
"Yeah, well ready. Let's go and see what Gran's cooking. Gran's cooking is the best thing about visiting here."
"You're a bottomless pit, Kid. Get your clothes and we'll go."
He shook his head in mock despair as the Boy scooped up his clothes and, still wet, struggled into them. He had no shoes, he never wore them unless he had to. He really was growing up. Not so long ago he would've stripped his wet swimming-togs off, now he just pulled his shorts back on on top of them. Oh well, it was a hot day, he'd soon dry out.
"Ready," he grinned.
"Okay then. Don't run away from me this time."
"Don't take all day and I won't have to. C'mon, Dad."
They went back through the Domain, it was chilly in there under the trees. Still lost in memories, he watched his feet as they strolled along.
"Oh, oh. Time to make myself scarce!"
"What do you mean?"
"Look up, Dad. See you at Gran's." Alvin took off, running up the path.
At the far end of the tunnel, on the town side, a cyclist stood waiting in the sunshine. He walked up to him, stopped and said, "You came back?"
"I came back. I always come back, I have to. I love you, Lindsay Bloody Reilly."
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