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The Beach House


Guest Perry

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TWELVE

IRENE & FINLAY’S STORY

Irene had parked her car in the street behind her house, Paul got out of the car and eagerly walked up towards the front door.

“Oi! Buggerlugs!” Irene called out to him. “Do you want to give me a hand with the bags?”

Paul dejectedly walked back to the car. He took a couple of plastic bags full of groceries off Irene.

“It’ll be alright.” Irene assured Paul with a forced smile. “Don’t worry about what the solicitor said.”

“I’m not going to plead guilty Nan.”

“Leave it with me.” Irene placed her hand on the teenager’s shoulder. “I will talk to your mother and that brother of yours and I’ll get them to see sense.”

“She’s not my mum.” Paul had begun walking towards the house. “And Mark’s not my brother.”

“Love, everyone is upset with the situation but you need to let go of this anger. You use to be such a happy kid.”

Paul stopped and turned around to face Irene. “What do I have to be happy about? My stepfather hit me, I defend myself and I get charged? My brother lied to get me in trouble and the woman I thought was my mother believed them. And now the only way I can get out of going to Juvie is to plead guilty for something I didn’t do.”

“Love, I’ll call her and we’ll sort this mess out.”

“Nan, she’s probably going to claim for victims compensation or something, she don’t care what happens to me. She only cares about her perfect husband, her perfect car with her perfect house and her perfect son and there isn’t room for me.”

Irene shook her head. “That’s not true.”

“Nan she’s suing the clinic in America, did she tell you that?”

“The surrogacy?”

Paul nodded. “If there is money for her to get she’ll take it. She was going to sue the PCYC for my boxing injury.” Paul snorted. “Hey I should probably ring dad and tell him to claim back all the money he had to pay her for child support and tell him to pay you instead.”

“She still took care of you love.”

“Nan…” Paul paused and thought about what he was saying. “Why am I still calling you that? Mum?”

“Oh love…”

“I’ll better take these inside mum.” He walked up to the front porch and dropped the grocery bag when he saw his belongings, his whole life, spread across the porch. “She really hates me.”

Irene stepped up and noticed Paul’s belongings. “Is this all yours love?” Irene turned around and began storming back towards the car.

“Nan?” Paul chased after her. “What are you doing?”

“Just get your stuff inside love. I’m going to have a talk with your… with Fin.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No love you stay here. You may as well put that stuff away. This is your home now.” She wrapped her arms around her son and kissed him on the forehead.

* * *

Irene knocked on her daughter’s front door with some force and waited. She looked down at the step and noticed a brown stain just outside the door, a dried bloodstain. Within moments Finlay had answered the door, wearing only a dressing gown. Irene looked at her daughter and for the first time in a long time she felt a lot of anger towards her and before she even realised she slapped her daughter across her face.

Finlay looked at her mother with a confident smile, she wasn’t slapped hard. “Wow Mum it’s been a long time since I’ve had that.”

“I’m sorry.” She covered her face with her hand and couldn’t hold back the tears.

Finlay began closing the door on her mother before Irene realised what she was doing and used her foot to stop it. “Fin, what are you doing to him?”

“I’m protecting my family mum.”

“Do you know how heartbreaking it was for him to find his stuff spread across the lawn?”

Finlay opened the door back up and looked her mother in the eyes. “Okay well how about coming home to find you husband and your son bleeding everywhere and seeing Paul without a scratch on him? I’m sorry mum but that boy is…” Fin took a deep breath in.

“He’s a sweetie, love.” Irene thought she’d correct her daughter. “He’s a sweetie that’s had a hard time of late and he’s just blowing off steam.”

“On my husband’s face?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Irene’s voiced changed to sound more confident. “You know as well as I do that if Paul had really started it then there’s no way Joe would have gotten out of it with only a broken jaw.”

“Joe is a lot stronger then you think.”

“Paul is a lot stronger then you think.”

“Oh trust me mum…” Fin retorted. “…I fully understand what Paul is capable of and that’s why he’s not welcome here anymore. He’s a walking, talking time bomb and he’s going to go off at anytime.”

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THIRTEEN

PAUL’S STORY

Paul walked inside the Surf Club which looked bigger on the inside then it appeared on the outside, he looked a bit confused as to where to go but when he saw a fit guy walk into a backroom holding a towel and a water bottle he realised that’s where the gym must be.

He followed the man and looked inside the small room with what looked like a few treadmills, a couple of weight benches and a cross trainer or two.

“Hey, are you a member?” A man grabbed Paul by his shirt and turned him around.

“If you want to keep that hand you will let me go.” Paul warned before turning around to look the older man in the eyes. “I’m not a member yet.”

John Palmer let go of the teenager. “Well do you want to sign up?”

“How do I do that?”

“How old are you kid?” John asked as he looked the boy over.

“Twenty-six.” Paul answered with a slight smile.

“Yeah if you’re twenty-six. I’m eighty-five.”

“And you don’t look a day over eighty.” Paul snorted.

John didn’t take offence to the comment, he actually laughed at it. “Sorry mate I can’t let you use the equipment without your parents permission.”

“Well my mum runs the diner, Irene Roberts.”

“Oh yeah right.” John shook his head. “You must think I was born yesterday. You’re not Irene Roberts’ son.”

“No, I really am.” Paul gave John a look of sincerity. “I just wanted to have a look around.”

“Are you really Irene’s son?” John asked as he gave the boy another look. “You do look a bit like her.”

Paul nodded. “Do you do Boxing classes here?”

John shook his head. “We’re looking to start some classes once we get some more members.”

“Well I’ll be happy to teach some classes when you’re ready.”

John snorted again. “I think I have heard enough bull from you for one day…”

“No, really….” Paul put his hand out for John to shake. “…I’m Paul Carter, Six times Junior National Champion, Paul Carter… Paul Roberts now.”

“Confident little **** aren’t you?” John shook the teenager’s hand. “I’ve got to get back to work. Have a look around but don’t touch anything.”

John walked away and Paul heard a snicker behind him. He turned around to see a shirtless, tattooed man lifting dumbbells.

“Six times junior national champion?” Heath Braxton laughed. “Champion of knock outs more like it.”

“Hehehe…” Paul mimicked the older boys laugh. “You’re lifting dumbbells wrong.”

“Is that right Junior?”

“Yeap.” Paul responded before demonstrating how to properly do the routine. “In front and then up. Down and in front and then up.” He then pointed to an area on his own chest. “See that’s why your serratus anterior muscles are so soft.”

“Whatever Junior.” Heath ignored the boy’s advice and continued to lift the weights the wrong way. “I was lifting weights while you were still swimming inside your dad’s balls.”

“Yeah I can see that…” Paul audaciously smiled. “…You’ve been doing it wrong all this time that’s why your triceps are so limp.”

“What’s your glitch bitch?”

“Just trying to help you out dude.” Paul shrugged a little nonchalant.

“Yeah well you better get home to bed, I’m sure it’s past your bedtime.”

“Yeah…” Paul cackled. “…A little boy can out bench you.” Paul walked away laughing.

“I’ll like to see you try.” Heath yelled a little frustrated by the teenager’s taunts.

“You’re going to, don’t worry about that.”

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