Jack & Harry

by Tony McKenna

  Father O’Malley was seated behind a well-polished wooden desk. There were tall shelves lining the walls filled with many bound books and journals. The place smelled pleasantly of pipe tobacco, leather furniture and Old Spice aftershave.

  ‘Come in, boys, come in.’ He waved them to two chairs. ‘Take a seat. Did you sleep well? How was breakfast?’ He smiled warmly at them.

  ‘Fine, thank you, sir,’ Jack answered.

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ added Harry. Neither boy knew how to correctly address this kindly but unfamiliar man seated before them so figured that ‘sir’ would fit the bill.

  ‘Patrick said to say goodbye. He said he would see you sometime along the track.’

  ‘Paddy’s gone! Where?’ Both boys looked nervously at each other then back at the seated priest.

  ‘Patrick, or Paddy as you know him, comes and goes.’ The priest waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the town. ‘He’s an itinerant man with a heart of gold but too much of a liking for the ‘doins’ I’m afraid … I’ve known him for many years. He calls in every now and then and I keep a room for him but he only stays overnight and is gone the next morning. We usually sit up for some time talking into the night as we did last night. Now tell me, boys, can I help you in anyway? Patrick tells me you are running away from home for some good reason but left it for you to tell me if you want to.’ He leaned back in his chair, filled his pipe and patiently lit it with a match as he waited for them to talk.

  The boys thought if the priest was friend of Paddy’s and had been so kind to them then they should trust him and come clean. Jack, however, prefaced their tale with the remark that they wouldn’t be going home no matter what.

  The priest listened intently to their story and when they had finished he sat thoughtfully for some time, drumming his long fingers on the desk, the now cold pipe still in his mouth.

  ‘Hmm.’ He leaned forward in his chair. ‘I understand your dilemma. I believe that you didn’t steal the bike but what about your parents, they must be worried sick? Let me call them to let them know you’re OK. Better still, boys, I know the police sergeant well here in town and I’m sure I could persuade him to help you out.’

  ‘No!’ Jack started from his chair. ‘We thought we could trust you but now you’re gonna dob us in to the coppers and we’ll go to jail.’

  ‘Sit down, son, I’m not about to ‘dob’ you in at all; I’m just concerned for your welfare and about both your parents.’ He nodded to include Harry. ‘They must be going through a very tough time not knowing where you are, or if you are OK or not. Do you think that’s fair?’

  ‘No, sir,’ Harry agreed. ‘Will you help us write notes then and you can post them, one to each of our parents, that way they’ll know we’re all right. We really want to continue on our journey, sir.’

  ‘We’ve made up our minds,’ Jack said with finality, holding the priest’s eyes with a firm look. ‘We’re not goin’ home.’

  ‘You are a determined couple of young men I can see that. I believe what you’ve told me and I’m sure you will do what’s right.’ He thought again for some time, looking at the ceiling before he spoke.

  ‘Tell you what I’ll do. You write notes to your parents and let me read them before you seal them up, then I’ll post them to make sure they’ve gone. Then, and this goes against my better judgment, and may the Good Lord forgive me if I’m making a mistake, but I’m not going to just let you head off into the distance alone with no guidance.’

  The boys thought the priest was again about to betray them in some way but relaxed when he continued, ‘I’m going to Mt Margaret in the morning, taking a young lad about your age back to his family; he’s been here recuperating from a broken leg. You can come with me if you like. That way you can get a taste for the outback without being abandoned to it and if you want to return with me to Kalgoorlie you can.’

  ‘That’s more than fair, sir,’ Jack said.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Harry smiled. ‘Where’s Mt Margaret?’

  ‘A fair drive. It’s between Leonora and Laverton, north of here.’ He produced a lined pad from a drawer. ‘Here’s something to write on, and there are pens and ink on the desk. You write while I go and arrange a couple of things for tomorrow.’ The priest went to leave the room but paused at the door, his long black robe rippling in the wind. ‘There’s just one thing I ask, please stop calling me ‘sir’, it sounds so formal.’

  ‘What do we call you then?’

  ‘Just plain, Father. He closed the door.

  The boys sat in silence in the office and then began composing notes to their parents. ‘Looks like another lucky break has happened, Harry, we’re now off to Mt Margaret. I wonder what it’s like?’

  ‘Darned if I know, Jack, it sounds pretty good but eh? Mt Margaret,’ Harry said almost reverently.

  Both boys edged closer to the desk and began to write their letters home.

  Chapter Seven

  It was Wednesday mid-morning at the Fergusons. Jack had been home for some hours, having driven through the night, and the Turners, Claude and Jean, had come around to be with them to plan the next course of action in finding their two sons. Eric, Jack’s best mate, had also turned up to see if he could help in any way and to just be there for them in this crisis time. They were all seated around the kitchen table, a large pot of tea brewing in the centre. Eric pulled a tobacco pouch from his pocket and began to roll a cigarette.

  ‘Well.’ Jack refilled his cup from the pot, ‘I’ve been in touch with the school and the boys wagged lessons on Tuesday, so they must have planned all this over the weekend while they were here and on Monday. I’m sorry, Claude, that Jack has got young Harry involved in this.’

  ‘Not just your boy’s fault, Jack; they’re both in this together. Been like it since they were little tackers, in everything together.’

  The two mothers were visibly upset, their eyes red and swollen from a night filled with tears and lack of sleep.

  ‘Have you reported to the police that the boys are missing?’ Eric puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette, smoke swirling lazily around his head. ‘Wouldn’t be a bad idea, Jack … they could put a bulletin out for them.’

  ‘Not yet, Eric. I thought we’d wait for bit before involving the police.’ He looked at Claude who nodded in agreement. ‘There’s a good chance they’ll turn up today when they get hungry enough and run out of money.’

  ‘Got much with them, Jack?’ Eric asked.

  ‘Only a few bob.’ Jean joined in the discussion. ‘They both conned us out of a couple of shillings didn’t they, Alice? They told us they had to buy lunch yesterday from the tuckshop and Jack said he had swimming lessons. Their money boxes are empty too but there wasn’t much in them so at most they would only have a bit over ten shillings between them, if that.’

  ‘Won’t last them long, that’s for sure.’ Claude took a sip from his cup. ‘They’ll spend up big on lollies and soft drink, probably go to the pictures and be back for tea tonight I’d wager.’ He smiled encouragingly at the women.

  ‘Yes, there’s no sense in getting all het up about it, I suppose.’ Alice took a deep breath and forced a wan smile. ‘They’re sensible kids and can look after themselves and our worrying won’t bring them home any quicker.’

  ‘That’s better, Alice.’ Jack reached out and patted her hand. ‘I’ll go over to the Munse’s though later this afternoon when he’s home from work, to see if they can throw any light on what’s happened. You want to come with me, Claude?’

  ‘Try keeping me away. What say we have another drive around, Jack; you never know, we could get lucky? We’ll go down to the shops and check out the milk bars and maybe the picture theatre.’ He got to his feet.

  ‘I’ve got a better idea.’ Jack looked determined. ‘While we’re out let’s go to Munse’s office and talk to him there.’

  ‘What if he won’t see you, dear?’ Alice was concerned. ‘He’ll see us.’ Jack said with authority.

  ‘D
on’t you two go getting into trouble there; you know what that Munse is like. Keep your fists to yourselves, it’ll only make matters worse,’ Jean pleaded.

  ‘We’ll be right.’ Jack took his hat from the hallstand and he and Claude left the house.

  Eric left shortly after them saying he would take a drive around the shops down the main street as well, on the off chance that he might spot them. ‘I’ll call you later, girls.’

  Eric was a plumber, operating his own business, so could spare some time to help search. Claude had taken a couple of days off from his work at the factory where he was foreman and Jack’s boss just told him to take as much time as he needed. It made the two women feel more confident knowing that there were now three men scouring the neighbourhood and outlying areas. They were sure that the boys would be found, or come home by nightfall.

  Billy Munse was a nervous wreck at school and couldn’t concentrate on any work. He was aware that the boys had not turned up at school the day before and his father had asked him, following Claude Turner’s telephone call, if he knew anything about the boys running away.

  It seemed that things were getting really out of hand and all he had wanted to do was make sure that his father didn’t hang the bike in the shed for letting the other kids ride it. That’s why he had lied in the first place, but now it seemed that he would have to own up and get a thrashing from his father, or plan something else to get him off the hook. His father was a very hard man but he didn’t like lies. The fact that he arranged for some people to say they had witnessed the boys stealing the bike was based solely on the fact that he believed that Billy was telling the truth. ‘It’s just a precaution, William,’ he had said. ‘Those boys will lie like pigs in mud and you’re telling me the truth aren’t you?’ He fixed his son with a practiced courtroom look that made Billy wince inside.

  ‘You know I am, Dad.’ Billy had to look away.

  ‘Well then …I’ve arranged for those people to back up the truth of what you have said so those two can’t get away with stealing, and then lying their way out of it. It’s my job to see that truth and justice are carried out, William, and as I said, this is a precaution, an insurance policy if you like, to ensure that truth prevails.’

  Billy couldn’t quite see how what his father was setting up was any different to what he had done to avoid punishment, so he figured that maybe he should have an ‘insurance policy’ in place to confirm his previous actions. An idea began to form in Billy’s mind and the more he thought about it the better he liked it.

  Billy hadn’t been riding his bike to school since the incident. After he had been to the police station with his father and told his version of the Saturday bike episode, his father had told him to leave it at home so as not to incite any further problems. ‘You can ride it around after school, but keep it safe at home and don’t go near the park, William, until those boys are charged.’ There was no room for argument.

  He had ridden it a couple of times but felt a bit guilty when he was on it, although he had almost convinced himself that Jack and Harry had stolen it. It was amazing, he thought to himself, how, after telling the same lie time after time, it gets confused with the truth until the lie almost becomes the truth.

  The idea Billy had conceived now hatched in his mind until he thought it was the best idea he had ever had. His father had been going to work early and never got home until almost dark, so he hadn’t seen the bike in some time and his mother was vague and wouldn’t even know if it was in the yard or not. Billy had parked it at night in a small shed at the back of the garden as putting it in the garage wasn’t an option because his father always kept it locked, carrying the key on him. ‘I’ve got important papers stored on the shelves in there, William, archives you know, got to keep it locked … you can use the small shed.’ Billy didn’t know what ‘archives’ were, but didn’t care.

  At lunchtime Billy left the schoolyard and ran quickly to his home. He knew his mother would be out at the Wednesday Bridge game and his father would obviously be at work.

  With great haste, as he only had an hour, he grabbed his bike from the shed, jumped on it and pedalled as fast as he could down to the river. He knew Jack and Harry’s ‘secret spot’ and when he reached it he dragged his bike up the bank and into the bush beside the river. He stood back and surveyed the spot from the bank and, convinced that it wasn’t visible, ran as fast as he could back to school, arriving just as the bell rang. The teacher looked quizzically at him as Billy was puffing and sweating profusely but made no comment.

  When Billy arrived home from school his mother was arranging flowers in a tall glass vase she always kept on the hallstand with fresh flowers from the garden. She greeted him and asked if he wanted something to eat. She was a little surprised when he declined but was soon engrossed again in the blooms, standing back to admire her work.

  ‘Mum, Mum!’ Billy’s voice, edged with panic, broke into her thoughts.

  ‘Whatever is it, William?’ She called out as she went quickly to the back yard to meet her son running up the path. ‘Mum, Mum … me bike’s gone!’

  ‘What! It can’t be, where did you have it?’

  ‘In the small shed at the back.’ Billy was telling the truth at this point.

  ‘Well …where is it now, William, did you ride it to school?’

  ‘No, Mum, Dad said not to. I haven’t ridden it for a couple of days.’ He was amazed at how easily the lies flowed off his tongue. He waited for some minutes before continuing with his planned story, while his mother helped him fruitlessly search around the garden.

  ‘Whatever will your father say, William?’ Mrs Munse was concerned at her husband’s reaction to this latest news. It seemed that this bike was nothing but bad luck.

  Billy waited for the right time. His mother took a deep breath and looked at her son, shrugging her shoulders in an expression of hopelessness. ‘Bet those kids stole it for real this time, Mum,’ he said.

  ‘What kids? You don’t mean that young Ferguson and his friend do you?’

  ‘Must be. Nobody else’d steal me bike, Mum, and they must have been angry when they didn’t get away with it last time and came ‘round here while we were out and stole it again.’ He emphasised ‘again’.

  ‘But when, how? … this is awful.’ His mother was flustered now so Billy pushed the advantage.

  ‘Well, they’ve run away you know, never been to school for two days and Harry’s father spoke with Dad yesterday on the phone to find out if I knew where they might be or if I’d seen ’em.’

  ‘Good Lord. We better call your father and let him know. He’s going to be very angry.’

  ‘But it’s not my fault, Mum … honest,’ Billy said with anguish in his tone. ‘I didn’t know, I had it safe in the shed. They must have jumped the fence and taken it.’ He was flushed from the lies, but his mother took it for concern.

  ‘Of course it’s not your fault, William. Your father will know what to do.’ She hurried inside and reached for the telephone.

  William Munse didn’t offer Jack or Claude a seat when they entered his office. He had initially refused to see them saying he was busy but when his secretary mentioned that they were determined to speak with him he relented, mainly out of curiosity.

  ‘Thanks for taking time to see us.’ Jack felt uncomfortable standing, his hat in his hand, before the large desk behind which William Munse sat, his face expressionless.

  Munse didn’t speak, so Claude explained the reason they had come to see him. He went on to tell Munse that they were concerned that the boys had run away and that it must have something to do with being accused of stealing the bike. Had he spoken with his son, he asked, and was there anything at all that Billy may have said that could help them?.

  The telephone rang. Munse ignored it at first but when it persisted he picked it up. ‘Yes,’ he said irritably into the mouthpiece.

  Jack and Claude stood, ill at ease on the plush carpet, their eyes roving across the panelled walls an
d to the view of the Swan River from the large picture window behind Munse’s desk. They didn’t notice Munse smile as he listened intently to the caller.

  ‘Very interesting, my dear, I’ll attend to it immediately.’ Munse put the telephone receiver back on its cradle and slowly stood to his feet, the smile on his face even wider.

  ‘I think it’s time we all went to the police station.’ He was enjoying this. ‘It seems your boys have not run away but have ridden away. My William’s bike has disappeared from our house and it’s my conclusion that your boys have taken it to make their escape. There is probably some other unfortunate young victim around town who has also had his bike stolen because they both couldn’t travel on one could they?’ He glared at the two men in his office who were dumbfounded by this latest news and further accusation. ‘If you would be so kind now as to leave my office, I will meet you at the station, when I make additional charges.’

  Constable Bob Peters took notes as Munse reported the bike missing but didn’t record that it was Munse’s belief that the boys had taken it to use as transport to leave town and avoid the initial charge of stealing. His face was impassive as he wrote while he thought to himself that there was something very wrong here but his position wouldn’t allow him to comment.

  When Jack and Claude entered the station, Munse ignored their presence and strode from the building.

  ‘Is it true that your boys are missing?’ The policeman looked up from his notes.

  ‘Why didn’t you report this to me before?’ The policeman asked when they nodded. ‘They now have a head start and it’ll be more difficult to track their whereabouts.’

  A search of the immediate area was organised, the park and creek being the first locality concentrated on as everyone knew the two boys were often there fishing and playing by the river. After a short time one of the officers located the blue Malvern Star bicycle in the bushes beside the river.