Jack & Harry

by Tony McKenna

  Iris raised her eyebrows encouragingly to the sergeant. ‘Seems like there’s a bit of a breakthrough. At least he’s OK about the boys looking after things. Better get him ready to travel.’

  ‘OK, Iris. Oh, I almost forgot.’ The sergeant slapped his forehead. ‘Shaun dropped a few things in he thought Bruno might need. You know? Undies, shaving gear, pyjamas … few things like that. They’re in the car; I’ll grab ’em.’ He left the room.

  ‘Bruno’s been transferred down to Adelaide.’ The sergeant had arrived at the nine-mile claim late in the afternoon, his appearance sending nervous fears into the boys before he explained why he had called.

  ‘G’day to you, sir, name’s Paddy O’Brien.’ The Irishman stepped forward, introducing himself. ‘I got in yesterday from Kalgoorlie.’

  ‘Yes I know, on the bus. Ron Carter, I’m the sergeant-in-charge here.’

  ‘And right on the ball if I may say so, Sergeant. Good to see it is and all,’ Paddy beamed.

  ‘You a friend of the boys?’ Carter nodded to Jack and Harry.

  ‘Came over special to see ’em I did. See if I could be lendin’ them a hand but it seems to me that they’re doin’ pretty well on their own.’

  ‘Yes, they’re pretty capable young blokes.’ Carter turned to the boys. ‘Bruno’s still not well but he did recognise your names and said he’s pleased you’re takin’ care of his mine while he’s away. I suppose you know not to do any mining there?’

  ‘Wouldn’t go down another bloke’s shaft without permission or him bein’ there,’ Jack replied.

  ‘Good lad.’ He turned to Paddy. ‘You got a driver’s licence, Paddy?’

  ‘That I have, sergeant, but it’s a WA one.’

  ‘We can sort that out later. In the meantime it might be handy if you bring Bruno’s Landy over here to keep an eye on it. You can use it to run back and forth between claims. Bit of a walk otherwise.’

  ‘We’ll be takin’ good care of it, sergeant.’

  ‘I’m sure you will and if you don’t know how she works … ask him.’ He winked knowingly at Harry who felt his face flush. ‘He can drive it pretty good. Used it to get help for Bruno. How old are you son?’

  ‘Er … Fifteen … nearly.’ Harry turned a deeper shade of red but the sergeant didn’t comment.

  ‘You, Jack?’

  ‘I’m sixteen at the end of this month.’

  ‘Drive a car do you?’

  ‘I’ve had a go a few times in me dad’s car, yes. But not on the roads though, Sergeant,’ he added quickly.

  ‘Of course not.’ He emphasised the ‘ of course’. ‘Better pop down to the station and pick up your learner’s permit, Jack. You can get a licence here in South Oz at sixteen.’ He walked off down the slope to his vehicle. ‘See you fellas soon. Have any trouble over at Bruno’s you call me, OK?’

  The next week was busy and confusing until they developed a routine about minding Bruno’s claim. Jack also got Paddy to drive him to the police station where the sergeant asked the appropriate questions and issued him with a learner’s permit, telling him to come back in a week or so when he was confident enough to sit a driving test. The Land Rover was heavy to steer and the pedals stiff but he quickly got the hang of the vehicle and they retuned one week to the day for the test.

  Jack was nervous with the policeman beside him as the test began but after having driven about half a mile the sergeant said, ‘Turn around, Jack, head back to the station.’

  ‘What’d I do wrong?’ Jack was perplexed, believing he had done everything correctly.

  ‘Nothing, you can handle her pretty well. Crunched the gears coupla times but I’ll put that down to the car needing a service. I’ve kept an eye on you the past week anyhow and seen you driving Paddy around. Haven’t had any accidents in that time and no complaints from other drivers, not that there too many of them around here, so just a couple more questions then you’re on your way.’

  ‘Gee thanks, Sergeant.’

  Back at the station Jack was thrilled when the sergeant handed him a piece of paper and told him it was his interim licence and the official one would arrive some time later in the mail. ‘We’ll put your address as care of Father Shaun Logan. That OK with you?’

  Jack nodded. ‘Can I ask you a favour, Sergeant?’

  ‘You can ask but it doesn’t mean I’ll do it.’ The sergeant looked stern.

  ‘Nah, doesn’t matter then.’ Jack went to leave.

  ‘Hey, mate, only joking. Of course I’ll help if I can, what is it?’ He walked around the counter to Jack who had his hand on the door.

  ‘It’s just that Bruno took our opals to the buyer for us and now we don’t know what to do. Paddy said he’d go if he knows where.’

  ‘Paddy, eh?’ The policeman checked to see if Paddy was out of earshot. ‘Think you can trust him?’

  ‘Paddy? No problem trusting Paddy.’ Jack didn’t tell him about the two-up game in Kalgoorlie. ‘He might joke around a bit but Paddy’s as honest as the day’s long, Sergeant.’

  ‘That’s OK then, just wanted to make sure that’s all. There’s nothing suspicious about your friend, Jack, in fact he’s a happy-go-lucky bloke and from what I can see, really likes you two. It’s just a copper’s natural curiosity, Jack … forget I asked.’

  Jack left the police station proudly holding the piece of paper allowing him to officially drive. It wasn’t until later when he examined the ‘interim licence’ more carefully that he noticed it was postdated to his birthday.

  Alice Ferguson could not accept that her son had seemingly vanished into thin air. Jack’s letters continued to arrive, postmarked Kalgoorlie, yet all searches of that area by her husband and Harry’s father Claude had turned up no positive leads. She never consciously blamed her husband for not finding their son but had distanced herself from him, busying herself with caring for the younger children.

  She had become much closer to Jean Turner, though, who previously had only been an acquaintance but was now, because of shared grief and worry, an intimate friend and confidant. They met at least twice a week and still cried together often as they read their sons’ letters over and over.

  ‘This one says,’ Alice read from the last letter received some days before, ‘both Harry and I are in good health and getting real fit working in the mine. We have made a bit of money and hope to send some home for you and Dad’. She had to stop reading when her voice caught.

  Jean reached out to pat her arm. ‘Harry’s letter says much the same thing, Alice. It’s incredible that they must sit down together when they decide to write. They must read each other’s letters to make sure they say the same things before they mail them to us.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure they do.’ She took a deep breath and blew her nose. ‘They’re so careful not to give any clues as to where they are. If only they knew they aren’t wanted by the police and that everything’s all right here.’

  ‘What worries me, Alice, is that they’ve covered their tracks so carefully; are they being truthful when they say they’re all right or are they just saying it to keep us from worrying.’

  ‘That concerns me too, Jean. I hope they’ve got enough to eat as Jack is always hungry but can’t boil water without getting lumps in it.’

  Jean smiled. ‘Their schooling concerns me, Alice. How are they ever going to get on in life, you know … get a decent job without an education, make a good living.’

  ‘Yes, it makes me sick to think that that young Billy Munse who caused all of this is doing so well at school and plans to go on to university to study law then move into the family business. It just isn’t fair, Jean.’ There was a trace of bitterness in her tone.

  ‘Always seems to be the case doesn’t it? He’ll be OK, he’s got a good future but our boys will get left behind and have to struggle for the rest of their lives.’

  Paddy tipped the small pile of rough opal from the calico dilly bag onto the table in front of the visiting buyer. Carefully inspecting the stones wi
th a poker player’s face, the buyer finally half shrugged his shoulders and curled a disdainful lip. ‘Not vorth much, three hundred ze lot.’ The man spoke with a thick German accent.

  ‘Tree hundred pounds?’ Paddy blurted out, astounded by the amount and thought to himself, Mother of God, tree hundred quid for a bit of rock. He was about to speak when the buyer leaned over the table and began a closer, second appraisal of the opals.

  ‘Hmm, I suppose zere are a couple zat might be vorth a bit more zan de udders.’ The buyer deliberated a few moments longer. ‘Three fifty, final offer.’

  Paddy, with no knowledge of opals or the ability yet to value them, realised the game the buyer was playing so resorted to his gambler’s instincts and, taking a punt, reached out and began to pick the stones up, dropping them one at a time into the drawstring bag.

  The buyer, surprise on his face, squinted at Paddy through his horn rimmed glasses, eyes distorted by the thick lenses. Putting his hand out he stopped Paddy. ‘You drive ze hard bargain, I’ll be loosing money on zis but obviously you know ze values yes? Four hundred pounds zen, not vone penny more.’

  Paddy found it hard to keep the smile from his face until he left the room but on the street he danced a little jig and whistled while he drove the Land Rover back to the mine. Passing the pub he licked his lips, the bundle of crisp ten and twenty pound notes bulging in his shirt pocket. Slowing the vehicle he began to pull in then mentally slapping himself on the wrist he accelerated and drove on. ‘Ahh, Paddy, ye’ve a heart after all. I’d be doin’ anythin’ for a little bottle of ‘the doins’, except to be robbin’ me mates.’

  Jack peeled off two twenty-pound notes from the bundle and handed them to Paddy. Stunned, he protested. ‘What in heaven’s name are ye doin’, lad?’

  ‘You deserve it, Paddy. It’s not just for sellin’ the opals for us it’s for bein’ our mate and helpin’ us. Harry and I decided on it while you were away.’

  ‘Here, Reynold.’ Harry handed him ten pounds. ‘Do you want us to send the rest on to uncle Warri?’

  ‘Not this time, Harry. Reynold tink ’e maybe save a little bit eh? Yu bloke keep ’im safe for me.’

  Father Shaun Logan drove the Vauxhall out to see the boys and catch up with Paddy again. He didn’t have to ask permission to come onto the claim because Harry saw him arrive. ‘G’day, Shaun, come on up,’ he yelled.

  ‘Have you heard how Bruno’s gettin’ on?’ They were seated around the table in the dugout away from the heat.

  ‘No, Jack, except he got there all right and is being treated by the psychologists at the hospital. Iris Smith, you met her … the nurse, is telephoning them today and that’s another reason for calling out to see you. You’re all invited out for tea tonight.’

  ‘Tea! Invited where?’ Harry asked.

  ‘To my place actually but Iris is cooking. Not just lamb chops and mashed spuds this time … it’s a full roast dinner.’

  ‘Oh. I dunno know, Shaun. We have to look after Bruno’s place and we’re pretty grubby.’ Jack patted his pants and dust filled the air.

  ‘Thought you could all come in a bit earlier and have a tub before tea. Come on, it’d do you good. It won’t be a late night and you can go to Bruno’s after tea.’

  ‘Dunno, What d’ya reckon, Harry?’

  ‘Iris bakes the best apple pie in Coober Pedy, be a shame to waste it. Makes great vanilla custard too.’ The priest watched their eyes widen.

  ‘Vanilla custard you said?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Ok, We’re in.’

  Reynold spoke. ‘Rennol ’e look after Bruno’s while yu bloke ’ave tucker.’

  ‘You’re included too, Reynold.’ The priest turned to him. ‘Iris said to invite you all and she’s looking forward to meeting you too, Paddy.’

  ‘Is she now and all. It’ll be a pleasure to be sure.’ Paddy beamed. ‘Do ye take a little drink, Father?’

  The priest smiled and nodded. ‘Father O’Malley said in his letter that you and he sometimes had a small drop now and then.’ He winked. ‘Just for medicinal purposes only though, I’m sure.’

  ‘Rennol, ’e not come. I go look after eight-mile tonight.’

  ‘Go on, Reynold, come with us.’ Harry tried to persuade him.

  ‘Nah, Harry.’ Reynold shifted uneasily from foot to foot looking at the dirt floor. ‘Don’ laik white fella tucker too much.’ He mumbled.

  Bathed and dressed in clean clothes, their hair now in need of a trim but neatly combed, Jack and Harry felt quite respectable for a change, looking forward to the roast dinner and especially the apple pie with custard. Iris Smith greeted them warmly when Paddy dropped them off, saying he would just nip down to the pub and pick up a little something for the evening.

  Father Shaun had a wireless tuned to the ABC and soft music was playing quietly in the background. The aroma of the meal cooking transported the boys back to Perth, reminding them of Sunday nights when a roast was always on the table. They didn’t dwell on the memory but the thought made them feel warm and comfortable.

  ‘Ron should be along shortly.’ Iris was busy at the stove, an apron protecting her pale blue frock.

  ‘The sergeant is coming?’ Harry shot a nervous look at Jack.

  ‘Yes.’ Iris wiped her hands on the apron then removed it and hung it near the stove. ‘He’s a good friend to Shaun and me. We get together pretty regularly, don’t we, Shaun? He’s a really nice man and I’m sure you will all get along well.’

  Not knowing what to say and concerned by the prospect of spending time in a social situation with a policeman who might ask embarrassing questions, they were relieved when Paddy appeared at the door, carrying some bottles in brown paper bags.

  Shaun introduced him to Iris and the boys giggled quietly when Paddy bowed graciously brushing his lips over her outstretched hand. ‘A pleasure it is to be meetin’ such a lovely lady.’ It was unusual also to see Paddy not wearing his hat and they couldn’t understand how he had bathed, was cleanly shaved and wearing cologne. They found out later that Paddy had paid to use a room at the pub for his ablutions.

  Iris coloured slightly and became somewhat flustered by the compliment. Retrieving her hand from Paddy’s grip she retreated to the kitchen saying she had to check the gravy. What a stupid response, she scolded herself, check the gravy indeed! She patted her hair, unsure of why she was blushing. Incorrigible Irishman, coming here with all his blarney. She smiled nonetheless.

  Sergeant Ron Carter arrived a few minutes later. The boys were relieved to see he wasn’t wearing his uniform as it made him seem less like a policeman so they relaxed a little more and, when dinner was served, conversation flowed easily around the table. It was noticeable to the visitors that Iris, Shaun and Ron were well acquainted and comfortable in each other’s company. Paddy was charming, joked throughout the meal and when the apple pie had been consumed, with the boys having seconds, he insisted on helping Iris with the dishes. Shaun, Ron and the two boys moved outside into the fresh air, the two men to enjoy an after-dinner smoke and share another bottle of beer.

  Iris and Paddy joined the four of them outside, where the night air was cool, when they had finished the washing-up and Iris brought a jug of lemonade on a tray and some home-baked biscuits for the boys.

  ‘Well, Iris,’ Ron Carter refilled his glass from the beer bottle as Paddy poured a healthy nip of whisky into his tumbler, ‘any news today on Bruno?’

  ‘I spoke with the hospital and they didn’t have a lot to say but it seems he’s responding well to treatment. Starting to communicate a bit and is at least eating now, although he complains about the food,’ she laughed.

  ‘Have they made a diagnosis yet?’ The priest took another ‘Turf’ cigarette from the pack and lit it.

  ‘They say it’s trauma related. The time buried without light and with the air running out must have caused his mind to shut down. There aren’t many case histories on this sort of thing so they are just playing it by ear a lot.�
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  ‘Do they think he’ll recover?’ The sergeant took a drink from his glass.

  ‘Hard to say, Ron, but they think in time that the awful memory of the accident will fade and he’ll come good. Could take months or even years though and they say he shouldn’t go down a shaft again for a while as it could throw him right back to square one.’

  ‘I would’ve thought it’d be worthwhile to get back down as soon as possible. You know … a bit like being thrown from a horse, get back on as soon as possible to conquer the fear.’

  ‘You’re far too simplistic, Ron,’ Iris chided. ‘Bruno’s experience was a bit more traumatic than falling off a horse!’ She turned to Jack and Harry. ‘Seems he has asked about you two a couple of times. You must have made a big impression on him.’

  The two boys looked sheepishly away, unsure of how to respond to the accolade. ‘These Anzac bikkies are good stuff.’ Harry’s voice was muffled as he bit into the biscuit.

  ‘That reminds me.’ Ron Carter sat forward. ‘The Anzac service this month … you officiating, Shaun?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve been asked to take the memorial service again this year.’ ‘Do many returned soldiers turn up for the march?’

  ‘Not a lot of ex-servicemen around here, Paddy, although there are more now than before. Lot of men came here four or five years back after the end of the war. They found it hard to settle into routine life I guess so tried their luck out here.’ Iris poured herself a glass of lemonade. ‘Bad move though because once you’ve spent time out here it’s hard to go back to any normal way of life. Sort of gets into your blood, doesn’t it, Ron?’

  ‘Yeah, does have that effect on people. You’re a case in point, Iris; how long you been out here now? A lot of years isn’t it?’

  ‘Longer than I’m prepared to say.’ Iris looked coyly at Paddy who missed her glance as he was reaching again for the Irish whisky. ‘We have a big turn out though, Paddy, and you don’t have to be a returned serviceman to be involved in Anzac out here.’

  ‘We used to march with the school at home on Anzac day.’ Harry realised from Jack’s dark look and slight shake of the head that he had said the wrong thing.