Westpoint Tales

by Kiwi

Entangled Tales - 20 - Justin & Jonathan

A very happy Reynolds (and Shaw) family drove home to the Adelphi. A smiling Betty Connors greeted them with a large number eight shaped cake - fifteen candles on one side, fifteen candles on the other. Jonathan was introduced to all the hotel staff, then Kathleen showed him to the room that had been readied for him.

Jonathan's room was next to Justin's, also at the front of the hotel with its two windows looking down over the main street. It was the same size but it had no ensuite bathroom - Justin's was the only room in the hotel that did.

"No problem, Gran. I think that I can manage to walk across the passage to the guest's bathroom - just as long as it's understood that I ain't no guest here. I'm part of the establishment now."

The family ate together, a special celebratory meal in the hotel's main dining room, and a happy party went on throughout the evening as a continual stream of people came in to congratulate them.

A smiling Justin sat on the big couch in the lounge, laughing and talking to his well-wishers, but every time someone new walked in he looked anxiously across the room. Justin still only drank coke, but Jonathan happily drank beer, and the champagne when it flowed.

Finally, at about 8.30pm., the whole Lewis family walked in - Mr. and Mrs., Peter and Claire. Mrs. Lewis had a tray of cakes and Claire was bearing flowers - red roses. Justin looked up, the smile dropped off his face and he burst into tears as he stood and looked at Claire.

"Justin. Oh, Justin." she cried as she stepped forward and hugged him. He flung his arms around her and held on tight as he cried and sobbed over her shoulder. Finally he stepped back and grinned at her, "Still pathetic aren't I? At least I'm not a girl's blouse."

She smiled fondly at him as she wiped the - normal - tears from his face and looked at her wet fingers. Then she kissed him on the cheek. "Welcome back, Sweetcheeks."

"Hey, who's this making you cry?" asked Jonathan "Is this one of your bullies?"

"No, Dork. This is Claire, my best friend in the whole world."

"Your best friend? No she's not. What about me?"

"What about you? Take a number, Mister. Claire's my number one - first, last and always."

"Where does that leave me then? Number two?"

"No. I think that would be Lucas, actually."

"Lucas? Claire, then Lucas, then - well at least I'm your brother, your number one brother and no-one's taking that away from me."

"Claire, if I wasn't gay, I think I would marry you, and bugger Carl."

"Sweetie, if you weren't gay, you wouldn't want to bugger Carl."

He laughed, blushed and stammered. "No. I didn't . . I don't ..."

"Shut up, Boy. I know what you meant. Come and see the parents, they've got angel cakes for you - sweets for the sweet."

The party came to an abrupt end at ten o'clock when Kathleen announced that Dr.Miller said that Justin still needed to rest, and she chased everyone out.

Justin stretched out on his bed after he turned out the light. There was a light knock at the door. "Hello?" he said, turning the light back on.

The door opened and Jonathan came in, closing it behind him. He was dressed in his underwear, T-shirt and briefs, and he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Hiya Handsome." he grinned. "Mrs. Lewis said that you said that this room was your womb. We shared a womb, so - can I share your room?"

Justin smiled and opened the covers. "Welcome back, Brother."

Jonathan slid in and cuddled up to his brother. "No funny stuff now. You might be gay, but I ain't. I just want to hold you."

"I just want to hold you too. Love me, Jonathan."

"Right back at cha, my brother."

Early the next morning, Saturday again already, on her way down to the kitchen Kathleen opened Jonathan's door and peeked in. The room was empty - the drapes opened and the bed still made up. She went along to Justin's room and looked in there.

The sight before her caused a lump in her throat and tears welled up in her eyes. Two heads lay on the one pillow. Two identical, sleeping faces lay together, their foreheads touching. In the big, wide bed they lay as close as they could get, arms around each other and their legs intertwined.

She quietly withdrew and went on downstairs, tears in her eyes, but feeling much happier than she had in a long, long time.

An hour later two happy, healthy, laughing boys descended on the kitchen and proceeded to devour the huge breakfasts that Kathleen and Connors kept putting before them. When Bob came in he smiled at his matched pair of grandsons, and asked, "What's the plan for today then Boys? Are you going to show your brother around town, Justin?"

"Yes Sir. I am going to show the town to my brother and show my brother to the town. But, first, I have to go and see Mr. Jamieson. I owe him an apology."

"Apologise to Paul? What for? Oh, I suppose you mean when you shoved him out of the way at the school."

"Yes, Sir. But I didn't just shove him, I hit him with my crutch. I was afraid, and upset and angry, and I hit him when he tried to stop me. I hit him hard. I shouldn't have done that."

"I wouldn't worry about that, Justin. Paul's already told me that you can whack him with your crutches any time you like."

"I still need to apologise to him, Sir. It wasn't right."

"Well, Son. You do what you have to, but he's already forgiven you."

"What do you mean, you were afraid?" asked Jonathan. "Heroes don't get scared do they?"

"Oh yes they do, Sunshine," interrupted Connors before anyone else could speak. "Real heroes get scared, they get very scared, but they go ahead and do what they've got to do anyway."

"Well said, Connors," said Bob. "That's exactly right, and you are a true hero my boy. Stop trying to deny it, everyone knows that you are."

"Some hero. Superman never got knocked around like I do."

"Yes, you got knocked around, and you kept on coming back anyway. That takes a real Superman in my book."

Justin blushed and said, "Can we please change the subject now."

"I can do that," said Jonathan, cheerily. "You can go and apologise to this Jamieson character, and then we're going shopping, I've got a plan."

"What are you planning?"

"Sorry, can't tell you that, Gramps. It's a secret plan, you'll just have to wait and see."

Kathleen came over to the table. "You'll want some money, Boys. How much will you need?"

"No. We don't need any money, Gran. I've still got plenty from what my father gave me."

"Speaking of money," said Bob. "I've been thinking - you'll both be needing pocket money and so forth. We used to have a very good cleaner here but he quit and went back to school. So, how about we employ you both as an after-school job? You can both clean around the hotel for, say 10 hours per week, and I'll pay you both, whatever the going rate is. Does that sound fair?"

"They don't have to work, Robert. We'll just give them the money."

"No you won't, Grandmother. Thank you, Sir. I would be delighted to work for pocket money."

"Well," said Jonathan. "Personally, I like the sound of Gran's scheme better. But, yeah, I'd better work for my money too. Thanks Gramps."

After breakfast, Jonathan drove Justin around to the Jamieson's home in Peel Street. Paul stopped the lawnmower when he saw them coming in, and greeted them.

"Well. Here's a sight. Our favourite hero up and walking and reunited with his brother too. Plus, there's no crutches to worry about today either."

"It is because of the crutches that we are here, Sir. I should not have struck you like I did. I was afraid, and I was angry, but I should not have hit you - I am sorry."

"You were afraid Justin? Man, I was scared shitless! I was trying to stop you from going over there - I wouldn't have let you. But you did what you had to do, and thank goodness you did. You stopped it, no-one else was killed and the whole drama was over. If it had gone my way, who knows what would have happened. I might not be standing here today. So thank you, Justin - don't apologise, I'm thanking you."

He held out a hand, Justin grasped and shook it.

"Wait as minute," Jonathan grinned. "This guy's a cop and he's thanking you for whacking him over the head?"

"In the circumstances, Jonathan. Only in the right circumstances."

"Speaking of apologies," said Dee advancing on them. "You, Sir, have got a few of your own to make. Starting with me."

"To you?" squeaked Jonathan. "What do I have to apologise to you for?"

"When we came over to meet you in the hospital office, you were very rude, and you more-or-less told us to bugger off."

"Oh, that was you? Okay, I'm sorry 'bout that, but I was a bit distracted you know."

"Okay. Fair enough, I guess. Just don't do it again."

"Well, I ..."

"Stop!" said Justin. "This is my brother, Jonathan. This is my very good friend, Dee. I don't want my brother and my friends fighting."

"Yes Sir," said Jonathan with a salute.

"Okay, Sweetie," said Dee. She kissed him on the cheek. "It's great to have you back, my friend. So, do you guys want to come in for a drink or something?"

"Thank you, Dee. But no thanks - we've got to move on. There are several things we have to do today. So, we will see you later. ‘Bye Dee. Goodbye, Mr. Jamieson, and thank you."

He stopped when he reached the car and looked back. "Actually, Mr. Jamieson, I think that I will call you 'Paul' from now on - you've been a very good friend to me. Too much for a mister."

Paul blew his nose as they watched them drive away. He turned to his daughter and asked, "Where the hell did that boy come from, Dee? Where do they make boys like that? Best night's work I ever did when I found him out in the rain."

He returned to his lawnmowing.