Jack & Harry

by Tony McKenna

  Constable Bob Peters carefully questioned the boys about the Saturday incident and wrote down their statements. As they were telling the truth their accounts of the incident didn’t vary all that much from each other’s and the constable knew in his heart that they were innocent but maintained an impartial attitude. When he finally closed his notebook at the Ferguson’s, put it in his tunic pocket and left, Jack headed off to the creek, telling his mother that he was going to meet Harry to see what the policeman had said to him.

  ‘Don’t be late home, Jack, you know how I worry and tea will be ready soon.’

  The boys sat beside a river gum and threw stones into the creek. No yabbie fishing today as they had too much to discuss and plan.

  ‘OK!’ Jack got down to business. ‘We decided then? We’re gonna go to Coober Pedy?’

  ‘Nothin’ else for it, Jack, but we need more money; any ideas?’

  ‘We got ten bob between us and if we can convince our mums to give us some lunch money, say two bob, that’ll be fourteen bob.’

  ‘Not enough, Jack. That’s only pennies and we need to get hold of more. A quid won’t get us as far as Northam let alone Coober Pedy.’ Both boys were silent, staring into the sluggish moving water at their feet.

  ‘Jack?’ Harry turned to him. ‘What was the name of that horse your dad said’ll win the Melbourne Cup?’

  Jack pondered for a second. ‘Comic Court,’ he said. ‘Yeah, that’s it, Comic Court.’

  ‘Let’s have a bet on it then.’

  ‘Need lots of money to bet on a horse though don’t ya?’

  ‘Nah.’ Harry sounded knowledgeable. ‘My dad’s only havin’ ten bob on Chiquita so we’ll put ten bob on Comic Court. If it wins we’ll have heaps of money.’

  ‘What if it loses?’ Jack threw in a negative.

  ‘Won’t make a lotta difference, Jack, we haven’t got enough to run away with now so if it loses we’ll just have to think of somethin’ else. Worth a chance though, but.’

  ‘OK let’s do it! Better get home now as we don’t want anyone gettin’ suspicious. See ya tomorrow and don’t forget to get some lunch money from your mum.’ They shook hands solemnly to seal their agreement.

  Tuesday, November 7, 1950, Melbourne Cup day. The Melbourne Cup was an institution when almost the whole nation came to a standstill to listen to the race on the wireless. Workplaces downed tools, schools suspended classes and people who never bet on horses had a small wager either at courses around the country that held race meetings, with the SP off-course bookmakers or in office sweeps.

  Jack met Harry as normal but instead of going to school they went down to the creek to count up their money and plan a strategy for getting a bet on Comic Court for the afternoon’s race at Flemington in Melbourne.

  ‘Got the extra money, Harry?’ Jack pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and undid the knot that secured his small change. ‘I told Mum we needed to buy lunch as we had swimming practice at the baths.’ He held up a pair of togs and a towel he took from his school bag. ‘Had to bring these,’ he laughed.

  ‘Mum could only spare one and sixpence, Jack, so I got five and six so with your seven bob we got twelve and sixpence. How we gonna get a bet on, Jack? We can’t go to the bookie ourselves.’

  ‘No, we’ll go down to the Exchange and try to find someone who we can trust to put it on for us.’

  ‘Bit of a risk.’ Harry was thoughtful. ‘But it’s the only way I suppose.’

  The boys wasted time playing around the river until about ten thirty then walked down the main street and waited outside the Exchange Hotel trying not to look conspicuous. It was common knowledge that, although illegal, the SP bookie operated out of the pub on race days. Many people were going in and coming out of the main bar entrance so they knew that the bookie must be working from there.

  ‘Gotta pick an honest lookin’ fella, Harry, what about him?’ Jack indicated a small man dressed in work clothes wearing a tweed cap walking toward the pub entrance.

  ‘No he looks a bit shifty, Jack. How ’bout him?’ They looked at the well-dressed man who had just parked his car and was crossing the road toward where they were standing.

  ‘You go, Harry.’ Jack held out the cash.

  ‘No way, you do it.’ Harry was nervous and looked to Jack as if he was about to turn tail and run.

  ‘Excuse me, mister.’ Jack stepped up to the man as he stepped onto the footpath. The man hesitated then stopped, looking quizzically at Jack with Harry standing behind him.

  ‘Me dad’s sick in bed and asked me if I could find someone to put a bet on the cup for him … could you help?’ Jack showed the man the money in his hand.

  ‘Did he now?’ The man stared hard at Jack who shifted uneasily under his gaze. ‘And what horse did he want a bet on?’

  ‘He gave me a note.’ Jack pulled a piece of crumpled paper from his pants pocket that he and Harry had composed and written at the creek that morning.

  ‘Ten bob on Comic Court eh?’ The man glanced at the note, a smile edging his mouth.

  He examined the note again then looked at each of the boys in turn. Jack felt his stomach tighten as he waited expectantly.

  ‘All right then, wait here a minute.’ He took the money from Jack’s hand and walked into the bar.

  ‘Pheww.’ Jack let out his breath. ‘I thought he was onto us, Harry.’

  The boys paced up and down outside the hotel feeling self-conscious but after about ten minutes the man emerged and walked over to them. ‘Here you are, son.’ He held out a betting ticket.

  ‘Thanks, mister. Dad’ll be happy about that.’ Jack reached for the ticket the man held.

  ‘Will he now?’ The man glanced at Harry, then back at Jack. He held the ticket firmly as Jack took hold of it.

  ‘Today you will learn a big lesson in life, boys.’ He still held the ticket as Jack looked at Harry who again appeared like he was ready for flight. ‘Betting is a mug’s game, son, and that horse has no chance of winning so you lose ten hard-earned bob but that’ll make you think twice about doing it again.’ He let Jack take the ticket, grinned to himself and walked off to his car.

  The boys crept close to the bar window to listen to the race on the wireless that was blaring inside the pub. They knew the cup was about to begin when the hubbub of voices died down, then there was a shout and they were off in the 1950 Melbourne Cup.

  Soon there was enthusiastic shouting as people in the bar began to urge their horse on and the boys had some anxious moments, as they couldn’t make out the caller’s voice over the noise. Then they heard it … clear as a bell. ‘Down the straight and it’s Comic Court. Comic Court takes the lead, it’s Comic Court coming to the post. Comic Court wins the Melbourne Cup.’ The rest of the broadcast was drowned by shouts from within the bar.

  Harry looked at Jack, a huge smile on his face. ‘We’ve done it, Jack.’ They grabbed each other by the shoulders and started to dance around in a circle oblivious now to the stares of people passing by them.

  ‘We’ve done it, we’ve done it!’ They chanted. ‘We’re on our way.’

  While they were exuberantly leaping around, a middle-aged shabbily dressed man stepped from the bar and eyed the two youngsters. ‘You two look happy.’ His voice was slurred. ‘Anyone’d think you’d backed the winner,’ he chuckled.

  ‘We did!’ Jack replied then quickly corrected himself. ‘Well … me dad did.’

  ‘Lucky bugger!’ The man stood unsteadily before them. ‘I lost the lot and I’m broke, can’t even buy m’self another beer.’

  Jack looked at Harry who shook his head but Jack turned to the man. ‘Would you like five bob, mister?’

  ‘How would you have five bob?’ His eyes had trouble focusing.

  ‘Me dad’s sick at home and another bloke put the money on Comic Court for us … er, for Dad.’ Jack held out the betting ticket. ‘If you could collect the winnings for us …’

  Harry interrupted. ‘As we can’t go into the bar.
’

  ‘Dad said whoever did us a favour, to give them five bob,’ Jack continued.

  ‘Well five bob’s five bob, more than I got now. I’ll collect it for you.’ He took the ticket from Jack.

  ‘We’ll be right here, mister … waiting.’ Harry tried to sound as grown up and menacing as possible.

  ‘Don’t worry! I won’t run off with your dough, tempting as it is.’ He gave a wry smile then walked unsteadily into the bar as Jack and Harry waited anxiously for him to return, hoping they hadn’t made a mistake in their choice of courier. The man didn’t notice the relief on their faces as he came out of the bar some time later and walked over to them.

  ‘See!’ He held his fist aloft with a wad of notes in it. ‘I’m a lot of things but not a thief, boys. I’ve got your money … oh, I mean your dad’s money!’ He emphasised the word ‘ dad’s’ . ‘Now about that commission.’ He fixed them with a steely gaze. ‘I reckon ten bob’d be fair.’

  ‘His dad said five bob,’ Harry quickly replied.

  ‘Well then, I’m sure that if I took the money to his dad that he’d give me ten bob. Where do you live, son?’ He turned to Jack. ‘I’ll come home with you to make sure your dad gets the money and you two don’t spend any of it on the way.’

  ‘No! No, mister! He’s really sick and can’t see anyone.’ Jack was desperate now. ‘What he’s got is, is … ahh, contagious,’ he added. ‘You could catch it too. I’m sure he’d agree to ten bob wouldn’t he, Harry?’

  Harry looked crestfallen but nodded agreement.

  ‘OK then, here you are.’ The man peeled off a ten shilling note from the wad and placed the rest of the money in Jack’s outstretched hand. Without another word he turned and weaved his way back inside the bar with his new found wealth.

  ‘Gee, Jack, how much we got?’

  ‘A fortune,’ Jack laughed. ‘Let’s go count it, Harry.’

  Down at the creek the two boys excitedly counted the money, three times, just to be certain they were right. ‘Twelve pound, ten shillings plus the bit of change we had over.’

  ‘OK. You still want to do this, Harry?’ Jack looked at his friend suddenly. “You know … run away?’

  Both boys stopped smiling as the significance of the moment hit them. It was now decision time. Up to this moment it had all seemed like a bit of a game but now they had the money and they glanced at the packs holding their clothes that they had sneaked out that morning and hidden by the river, the seriousness of their actions made them uneasy.

  ‘Nothin’ else we can do, Jack.’

  ‘Guess not, Harry. We’ll be OK, it’s just Mum and Dad I’m worried about.’

  ‘Me too, Jack. My folks are gonna to be mad as hell … and worried sick.’

  ‘We’ll send ’em a note down the track in a couple of days, Harry. Then they can stop worrying.’

  They stood, picked up their bags and glanced around to make sure they hadn’t left anything behind.

  ‘Let’s go then.’ They shook hands to seal the deal and walked purposefully from the river toward their new life on the run from the law.

  Chapter Four

  The snub-nosed Commer truck laboured up the hill as the driver changed down a gear. It was cramped in the cabin with the smell of exhaust fumes that made the two boys a little queasy in the stomach.

  The boys feigned sleep, not wanting to engage in too much conversation with the driver in case they gave an answer to one of his conversational questions that made him suspicious of their motives for wanting a lift to Northam.

  It had been relatively easy to get the ride on the milk truck from Perth to Northam. The boys knew that the truck left each afternoon loaded with bulk milk in 20-gallon cans and crates of bottles for delivery to the dairy in Northam.

  After leaving the creek they had gone to where Mr Bodini, the milk cart driver was loading up for the trip. They both figured that it would be a remote chance that their parents would check the dairy, as they wouldn’t know which way they had planned to head and Mr Bodini wouldn’t normally run into their parents. There was a possibility he could mention it to his friend Eric Chambers but that was a risk they would have to take. They would be far gone anyway by the time that happened … if it did.

  Jack had walked up and introduced himself. ‘Mr Bodini?’

  ‘Yes, what can I do for you?’ The man had paused, a crate of milk bottles in his grip.

  ‘My dad’s name is Jack Ferguson. I think you know of him don’t you, he’s a friend of Eric Chambers?’

  ‘Yeah, I know Eric well and I’ve met your father a couple of times.’ He had then glanced at Harry. ‘Who’s this then?’

  ‘Harry Turner.’ Harry hadn’t reached out to shake the man’s hand as he was still holding the milk crate.

  ‘My dad’s a stock and station agent with Elders,’ Jack had explained. ‘He’s up at the sale yards in Northam buying some cattle and said if we could get a lift up after school we could meet him and he’d show us around a bit and then bring us home. Any chance we could get a lift with you … Dad suggested we ask?’

  Bodini had thought for a second then agreed, telling them he would be leaving in about an hour and if they wanted a lift they would have to be at the depot right on time as he couldn’t wait due to his timetable.

  The boys had then gone down the street and bought a hot dog and some lollies for the trip to Northam.

  ‘Maybe we should buy some new gear for the trip, Jack; we got plenty.’

  ‘This is travellin’ money, Harry,’ Jack had said. ‘But we have to eat. When we get an idea of how long it’ll last then we’ll look at some gear for us but for now let’s be real careful with it. It’s gotta last.’

  They had eaten their hot dogs, a real treat for them, and then made their way back to the depot to make sure they didn’t miss the truck and their ride to freedom.

  ‘Right on time, boys.’ Bodini had indicated the truck. ‘Climb aboard and make yourselves comfortable; we’ll be off in a minute or two.’

  After checking the load for a final time Bodini had climbed into the driver’s seat, turned the key, pressed the starter and when the motor had fired he warmed it for a couple of minutes before driving from the yard onto the road heading to Northam.

  ‘On our way, lads!’

  Both boys glanced at each other and settled back quietly in the cramped cabin.

  Gus Bodini had driven this route many times alone so fortunately for Jack and Harry he didn’t feel the need to talk much as he was not used to conversation as he drove. He whistled quietly to himself as the truck wound its way through Midland and slowly up through the Darling Ranges, Bodini expertly working the gears to keep the power on up the hills.

  ‘Should make good time,’ he said as Jack stirred. ‘Not much traffic on the road today.’

  ‘Why’s that, Mr Bodini?’

  ‘Cup day. Lot of people stay home or go to the pub, take the day off work.’

  ‘Cup day?’

  ‘Yeah, don’t tell me you don’t know about the Melbourne Cup. I thought everyone knew about it.’ Bodini sounded incredulous.

  ‘Oh, I know about the Cup, just didn’t know it was on today that’s all.’ Jack nudged Harry. ‘Did we, Harry?’ Harry murmured and pretended he was still asleep. He didn’t like the way the conversation was headed.

  ‘Come to think of it, Jack, I’m surprised your dad is out buying today, didn’t think anyone’d be doing much.’

  ‘Who won, Mr Bodini?’ Jack quickly steered the conversation away. ‘The cup?’

  ‘Comic Court. Amazing! Long shot it was, not many picked it. Beat Chiquita. Wished I’d put me money on it, paid a good dividend.’

  ‘Country looks pretty dry up this way.’ Jack changed the subject completely, his mouth as dry with nervousness as the land looked.

  ‘Hmm, could do with some rain.’ Bodini glanced at the brown paddocks as they slipped by the truck window. ‘You boys seen the swans up in Northam?’

  ‘Seen plenty of
swans haven’t we, Harry?’ Jack nudged Harry more firmly in the ribs needing some support in the conversation.

  ‘Plenty of swans, yeah,’ Harry mumbled.

  ‘These are white swans, have you seen white swans?’

  ‘White swans! Come on Mr Bodini, you’re pullin’ our legs.’

  ‘No I’m not,’ he laughed. ‘White swans on the Avon River. You can feed ’em if you’ve got some bread, very tame they are. You can almost pat ’em but sometimes you’ve got to be careful ’cause some of them get a bit nasty. You could maybe see ’em while you wait for your dad to finish his business at the saleyards.’

  ‘That sounds like a good idea, we’ll tell him first though.’ Harry at last joined the conversation. ‘Don’t want your dad worrying that we didn’t get to Northam, Jack, eh?’

  ‘I stop out of town a bit, boys. If you hang on I can maybe find someone heading into town and they could drop you off at the saleyards.’ Bodini liked the boys and thought he would help them get to Jack’s father without having to waste time walking the rest of the way.

  ‘That’s OK, Mr Bodini.’ Jack was concerned. ‘We can walk, be good for us and you’ve done enough already.’

  ‘No trouble really but if you want to walk then it won’t take you too long. Been here before … to Northam?’

  ‘Only once, drove through it with Dad.’

  ‘Well if you head down this street …’ Bodini braked the truck to a stop outside the dairy depot, pointing through the windscreen. ‘Three streets down you turn right and go down a ways and you’ll see the saleyards.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Bodini, we really appreciate the lift.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks a lot it’s been great.’ Harry climbed from the cab followed quickly by Jack.

  ‘Have a good day, boys and don’t forget to have a look at those swans if you get time. Say hello to your dad for me, Jack.’ He put the truck in motion and waved as he entered the depot yard.

  Bodini thought to himself what well-mannered kids they were. Not for one minute did he suspect that they were lying about meeting Jack Ferguson at the saleyards. He sounded the truck’s horn in farewell to the boys as he watched them walk down the road, bags slung over their shoulders.