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Westpoint Tales

by Kiwi

Entangled Tales - 34 - Jeremy James Carver

On the Saturday, after he'd had the cast removed, Justin was around at the Square. He sat at the front of the grandstand, enviously watching the runners out on the track. Jonathan was out there, running with Toddy, Jay and Daniel O'Brien. Shelley was running with a group of girls and Lucas and Carl were there, their long legs moving in unison as they ran together, alone.

Lucas and Carl came around the track and stopped outside the grandstand.

"Hey, Superboy. How's it hanging?"

"Pretty good, Carl. Better every day, bigger too."

"Eww. We don't need to know that, Gayboy. Good to see that you've finally got that lump off your foot."

"Yeah. You've got no idea how good it feels to be rid of it. A lot's happened since I've been wearing it - it was starting to feel like it was there forever."

"You're not kidding, a lot's happened. Your world's been turned upside down, over and over again. Anyway, now the cast's gone, how come you're not running? The Gorge marathon's coming up soon - looks like half the town's in training for it."

"I won't be going in any marathons. Dr. Miller said that I'm not to start running for a while yet as it would be too much strain on the foot. For the next week I'm only allowed to walk. I'm just going for a walk now actually. I thought I'd walk out to the cemetery. I haven't been there since Jeremy's funeral."

Lucas said, "Taking it easy on the foot, so you're just going to walk out to the cemetery? That's a bloody long way, Justin."

Carl nodded, "That'll be why Claire and Dee shot through on you isn't it?"

"Yes it was. Dee said she's walking home and not one step further. The cemetery's not that far. I'm not straining anything, just a gentle stroll."

"Maybe it's a gentle stroll for Superboy, but it's still a long way. You take it easy Justin. Bugger your foot up and it'll be even longer before you can run."

"I will be careful, thanks Lucas."

Carl said, "Well, we're going to run out to Fairfield and back, so we'll keep an eye out for you. If your foot starts hurting, you sit down by the road and wait for us."

"I will, thanks. But what are you going to do then? Carry me home?"

"No, doofus. I'll run home and get my car of course. So are you going now? We'd better get started then. C'mon Lucas. You take it easy Superboy - and I mean that."

"Yeah. Thanks Carl. I love you guys too."

"Shut up, Gayboy. Don't start that again. See you later."

They ran off at a jogging pace up the road and Justin started walking and watching his friends disappear into the distance.

He arrived at the small cemetery outside the town, and found Jeremy's grave. It was still one of the newest ones there. The brand-new headstone had his name - Jeremy James Carver, his date of birth, date of death and a small coloured photograph of a smiling blond boy. There were still a lot of flowers, wreaths, cards and trinkets on the grave. "Dearly loved Grandson, Son, Nephew, Cousin and Friend."

"Oh, Jeremy." He sighed as he sat down on the grass next to him. There was no-one around - except for a council worker away over the far side. It was quiet and peaceful there. Nothing but the sounds of a few birds and the wind in the trees around the back. The occasional car went past out on the highway.

There was an open grave a couple of plots along. A tidy pile of dirt waiting beside it and a green carpet spread around the hole. He sat there quietly, thinking about life and death.

Before too long, Lucas and Carl appeared out on the road. They ran over and flopped down beside him. "Hey Superboy. You made it out here then. How's the foot?"

"It's fine, Carl. No problems. I'll be walking back to town shortly."

Lucas sat up. "Hello, what have we here? That's about the smallest funeral I've ever seen."

A hearse, followed by one single car, turned in from the road and slowly drove up to the open grave. They stopped, the undertaker got out of the hearse and started assembling a frame over the grave. One man climbed out of the car. A small, slender, white-haired man dressed in a dark-blue suit. An older guy, he had a silver-headed walking stick, but stood tall and straight. He looked well-preserved and, somehow, quite prosperous and elegant. A gentleman.

The three youths stood up and the undertaker, looking around, spotted them there. He opened the wide door on the back of the hearse and called out, "Boys, would you mind? We could do with a hand here."

"Of course," said Lucas. "Come on Boys."

They went over and stood at the back of the hearse, taking hold of the handles as the coffin slid out, and the five of them carried it across and placed it on the straps above the open grave.

They stood back and waited as the undertaker took a small book from his pocket. He bent down and touched a button, then, as the coffin descended into the grave, he stood and read the usual words of a graveside service. "I am the resurrection and the life. No man comes to the Father, but by Me."

The white-haired man stood, tears on his cheeks, head bowed, both hands resting on top of his walking stick, and waited as the undertaker removed the straps, disassembled the frame and put them back in the hearse. He then shook the man's hand, accepted an envelope from him, muttered a few words, and got back in and drove away.

The man sighed and said, "Thank you Boys. I don't know how we would have managed that without you."

A front-end loader was driving towards them, coming to fill in the grave. He stooped and picked up a handful of earth from the pile and let it trickle through his fingers into the grave, as he spoke to the coffin.

"Well, Gemmy, my dear old friend, we've done it. Nobody came, nobody cared. But I care and I came. I've brought you home at last. From the end of the world to your town. Rest in peace my friend."

Justin picked up a handful of dirt and trickled it on to the coffin. "Welcome home, Gemmy. Welcome home to Westpoint. Rest in peace." Lucas and Carl both followed suit, tossing small handfuls of earth into the grave.

The man picked up a large wreath of white flowers and a simple wooden cross. "Bless you, Boys. Thank you for that. It's very sad. In his day, Gemmy was a huge star. He had the world at his feet and everyone wanted to be his friend, but he was a long time dying. A long time very ill and in the end it came down to just him and I. Everyone else forgot him, but I never will." He stepped around to the head of the grave and laid the wreath down there.

"He always wanted to come home and be buried here in Westpoint, so I've brought him back - all the way from London. I had a notice about his burial put in the local paper, but, I guess, it's been too long. Nobody remembers Gemmy in his old home town."

"That's very sad, Sir," said Justin. "But...What the?....What's that?" The man had stepped back from the cross that he'd pushed into the ground above the grave. "Jeremy James Carver. That's his name? Jeremy James Carver?"

"Yes, that’s him. He was always known as 'Gemmy', but his real name was Jeremy."

 Lucas started, "But. But that's...."

"Shush Lucas. Wait a minute please. Mr..Umm....I don't know your name?"

"St. Clair - Crispian St. Clair, or Crispian Count St. Clair if we're going to be formal."

"Count? Really? Wow. I am Justin Reynolds. These are my friends, Lucas Sheridan and Carl Douglas. We all live in Westpoint. Your friend here, Gemmy, he was from Westpoint. How old was he?"

"Fifty-six. He was, of course, far too vain to admit it, but Gemmy was fifty-six."

"Umm. He was fifty-six and he was from Westpoint. Was he gay by any chance?"

"Yes Gemmy was gay. He was a transvestite actually - that's how he used to make his living, as a drag queen on the stage."

"Okay, and you knew him well? I would guess that he was a twin, an identical twin, yes? Then, when he was sixteen, he was caught by his brother having sex with another boy. His father beat him up and threw him out and he left home and never came back."

"Yes. Yes, that's exactly right. You mean that Gemmy is still remembered after all these years?"

"Come over here, Mr. St. Clair." he led them over and stood in front of Jeremy's grave.

"What have you here? Jeremy James Carver! But, - died recently aged, what, 14 years. How can this be? I don't understand."

“When you put his burial notice in the paper, you called your friend 'Gemmy', didn't you? That is why there is no-one here. You should have put 'Jeremy'."

"Oh. Damn! So, there must be still family here in Westpoint then?"

Carl said, "Oh, there's family all right. Lots of family."

Justin continued, "I can tell you the rest of his story. The part that you, and he, never knew. After Gemmy left home, his twin brother was always sorry for what he'd done, and he missed his brother terribly. The twin brother was named Jakie Carver and this was his grandson. Jeremy was named after his grandfather's missing brother. Jakie is dead now too, but his widow, Doris Carver still lives in town, along with a huge family of Carvers - sons, daughters, grandchildren."

"Really? Gemmy had a family and he never knew."

"Yes. And they would have welcomed him back with open arms if he had ever come home."

"That's so sad. He always wanted to come back, but was afraid to."

"That is sad. But at least he's home now. I will take you to meet Gemmy's family if you like. They're a bit rough, but they're friends of mine."

"Just a bit." Carl snorted.

"They are my friends, Carl." 

"Okay. Sorry Justin."

"Mr. St. Clair? Only if you want to. But the Carvers would love to know what happened to their Jeremy. I am gay myself, that's how I know his story. Mrs. Carver told me that they would never reject me for being gay, because of what happened to their Jeremy - your Gemmy."

Lucas said, "I never knew that. You didn't tell us."

"There's lots of things I don't tell you Lucas. Only because they're irrelevant."

Crispian said, "Thank you Justin. I would love to meet Gemmy's family. Then, perhaps you could recommend somewhere that I could stay for a while, some quiet, comfortable hotel? I have nothing to drag me back to London, so I might stay here for a few days and get to know Gemmy's old home town."

"Mr...can we call you Crispian? I know just the place for you. I live in my grandparents' hotel - the Adelphi Hotel."

"That would be splendid, Justin. I am so pleased to have met you boys here. Excellent! So - I have my rental car, can I drive you all back into town?"

Lucas - "No. Thanks anyway Mr. - Crispian. Carl and I will run back into town, we're in training. But Superboy will come with you. Won't you, Justin? You can rest your busted foot.'

"You have a broken foot?"

"Had a broken foot - long story. It was injured but it's better now. Still, yes, I'll come with you, we can go and see the Carvers and then go home to the hotel."

After the grave was filled in, they got in the car and drove back into town. Justin leant out the window, waving, as they passed Carl and Lucas. He gave directions and they turned right into Derby Street and down to the Carvers'.

"How did young Jeremy die? Was he ill?"

"He, ah.....he was hit by a truck and killed instantly."

"Oh. That’s very young to go. Poor kid."

"Yes. He was a poor kid. Stop down there - that's the Carver's house."

The Carver's house was the same, but different. It now had a shiny new roof and the chimneys had been renewed. The broken window on the front was fixed and there were a lot of new weatherboards patching the walls.

"Wow. Ma is certainly making some changes."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh. Nothing - they're just fixing the old place up. Come on, let's go in."

They crossed the road and went down the driveway. "So this is the home of the Carver family. I wonder if this is where Gemmy grew up?"

"Sorry, I don't have a clue. But, Ma will know. She'll tell you all about him."

He knocked on the back door and slid it open. "Hello Ma, I've brought someone to see you."

"Superboy!" She beamed, smiling up at him from her place by the kitchen table - it was a new chair she was sitting in. "Come in, Justin. Come in."

The smile switched off when she looked at the well dressed man behind him. "And who is this? What do you want here?"

"Ma, please, be nice. This is a friend. Have you got last night's paper?"

"The paper?" She looked back over her shoulder and called out, "Butch. You in there? Get me last night's paper would ya."

The huge Butch came scowling out of the living room, paper in his hand. His smile lit up when he saw Justin sitting there. "Justin! Gidday. How's the foot?"

"Fine Butch, thanks. Where's your whiskers? You look really different without them."

"Different, yeah," he sighed, rubbing his shaven chin. "Ma said they had to go. She's cleaning up everything around here."

"She certainly is. The place is looking great too. And you Butch, you look much better."

"Shut up Superboy. But, thanks. Who wants the paper?"

Ma said, "Justin does. Give it to him already. And get him a drink, Butch."

He took the Westpoint News from Butch, and spread it out on the, (Cleared! Spotless!), kitchen table. He turned to the announcements and found Gemmy's burial notice. "There, Ma. Did you see that?"

"See what? Oh, yes I saw that. We don't know any Carvers named Gemmy. Can't be any relation of ours."

"Oh, but it is Ma. This is Crispian St. Clair, he was a friend of this Gemmy, and he brought him all the way back from London to be buried in Westpoint."

"You did? From London? That's a bloody long way. But what’s that got to do with us, Justin?"

"Everything to do with you, Ma. Gemmy's real name was Jeremy. Jeremy James Carver, aged 56 years, native of Westpoint."

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