Jack & Harry

by Tony McKenna

  Your friend, Timothy O’Malley.

  ‘Look at this will ya?’ The weedy man with watery eyes slapped the Adelaide Advertiser onto the pub bar in front of his two companions. ‘Read that, Andy.’ He poked a finger at the open page.

  ‘Read what? … Where?’ Andy slurred, finding it hard to focus, the alcohol blurring his vision. The three men had been drinking heavily all afternoon.

  ‘Oh, give it here, I’ll read the damn thing.’ The second man picked up the paper. ‘The Prime Minister, Robert Menzies stated …’

  ‘Not that, Cyril, you bloody idiot!’ The watery-eyed man snatched the paper from him ‘This! … I’ll do it then.’ He glared at his companions.

  Opal miner recovers from cave in.

  He read the headline and continued.

  Bruno Boccelli, the Coober Pedy opal miner who survived a cave-in when the roof of his mine collapsed trapping him under tons of rock for fourteen hours, forty feet underground, was today released from hospital. Mr Boccelli is staying with friends in Adelaide but plans to return to the opal fields in a few days time.

  Mr Boccelli is lucky to be alive and without the quick thinking and brave actions of three teenage boys who discovered the accident, he would have suffocated in the mine. The boys raised the alarm and started digging to reach him while rescue teams were mobilised.

  Mr Boccelli declined to be interviewed but a hospital spokesman said it was a miracle that he was not seriously injured and apart from having suffered trauma from the ordeal, he was in good health. A source in Coober Pedy told the Advertiser that the miner had apparently uncovered a huge opal just before the roof collapsed and was still clasping it to his body when recovered from the shaft. The opal, one of the largest finds ever discovered in Coober Pedy, is under police security and is estimated to be worth many thousands of pounds. No decision has been made at this stage as to when the valuable gemstone will be offered for sale but considerable interest has already been generated from overseas investors.

  ‘So what, Joe? So some bloody wog found an opal worth a fortune and escaped from a cave-in. What’s that got to do with us?’ Andy laughed and hiccupped before tossing the rest of his beer down and thumping the empty glass heavily on the bar.

  ‘You blokes are dumber than I thought.’ Joe spat the words out. ‘Can’t you see the connection?’

  His two companions stared blankly at him without comprehension ‘What connecshun?’ Cyril swayed on the bar stool.

  ‘Remember? … Coober Pedy, a few weeks back … three boys … a bloke named Bruno with a shotgun?’ Joe began to shake with rage and embarrassment at the memory.

  ‘You sayin’ the kids that ran us off are the same ones that found the wog?’ Cyril frowned trying to grasp the connection.

  ‘Gotta be. I’ll never forget that name ‘Bruno’ either. It was those kids that set those blokes onto us too. They were just lucky I was blinded by the spotlights otherwise I’da beat the livin’ daylights outta them.’ Joe’s voice was shaking with anger.

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ Cyril nudged Andy ‘Would thata been before or after you changed yer pants.’ They both burst into laughter.

  ‘Shut up, you morons!’ Joe was seething. ‘We’re gonna get even somehow, mark my words.’

  ‘How we gonna do that, Joe? We can’t go back to Coober Pedy as they warned us not to ever go near the place again?’

  ‘Dunno yet, dunno. But with that Bruno outta the way, the kids should be a pushover now that we know the lie of the land. We’ll think carefully about it, work out a good plan and then when we’re ready … maybe in a month or so, we’ll head back up there. Get even with ’em all and grab some of that opal for ourselves.’

  ‘By that time that Eyetie bloke might have sold his big opal and have a few thousand quid hangin’ ’round as well.’

  ‘Now yer thinkin’, Andy.’ Joe yelled at the barman to refill the glasses.

  Iris finished drying the dishes and put them away in the kitchen dresser. She filled the kettle and, placing it on the wood stove to boil, took the teapot from a shelf. Taking her apron off she hung it on a hook behind the door and walked into the dining room to see Jack and Harry sitting like statues, with shocked expressions on their faces.

  ‘Whatever’s the matter, boys?’ She went to them immediately, sensing there was a problem and noticing that Jack held a newspaper clipping loosely in his hands. Without speaking he handed it to her.

  Boys cleared. The article began.

  Two teenage boys reported missing after being charged with theft have had the summonses dropped after a school friend admitted he had falsely accused them of stealing his bicycle. The initial investigation led police on a grim search for the bodies of the two missing boys after the offending bicycle was discovered in bushes beside the bank of the Ashmorton River near their homes.

  The two teenagers, fourteen year old Harold Turner and fifteen year old John Ferguson had been missing for over a week with all attempts to locate their whereabouts unsuccessful until letters written by the boys arrived at their parents’ homes, postmarked Kalgoorlie.

  The sergeant in charge of the Ashmorton police station commented that it was disgraceful that police had been misled but even more serious was the fact that two innocent kids had been forced to run away for no reason. The sergeant added that no charges for the false information had been laid at this stage but that the matter was under serious investigation.

  Iris was stunned. She stared at the grainy photos included with the editorial of two boys smiling at her from the page. There was no mistaking that the photos were of the two young men now seated at her dining table but they looked like kids, much younger, with neat haircuts and wearing school uniforms, and not like the Jack and Harry that she knew at all.

  ‘Oh, you poor things.’ Iris moved between the boys and put her arms around their shoulders, expecting them to draw back from her touch but they both leaned their heads towards her and Harry began to sob. She felt Jack tremble but he kept control.

  After a few moments, Harry sniffed and Jack looked up at her, eyes moist but without tears. He took a deep breath. ‘Thanks, Iris, we’ll be OK. Bit of a shock, that’s all.’ He attempted a weak smile.

  The priest came back inside to find Iris sitting quietly with the two boys and sensed there was something not quite right. ‘You blokes all right?’ Shaun spoke to the three of them.

  Iris held out the newspaper article and Shaun shook his head as he read. Finishing, he looked at the boys. ‘Dear God, lads, you’ve been through a lot. Can we help somehow?’

  ‘You already have helped.’ Jack spoke quietly. ‘Just bein’ here helps.’

  ‘I’ll get Paddy and Ron. Does Paddy know about this?’ The priest tapped the article.

  ‘Not about the charges being dropped but he knows why we ran away. That’s why he helped us. He’s been a beaut friend and so has Father O’Malley.’ Harry’s voice was thick with emotion but he had wiped his tears away. ‘They both believed we didn’t pinch no bike.’

  ‘Dear Mother of God.’ Paddy glanced guiltily at Shaun Logan. ‘I wished I’da been givin’ you this long before now, boys.’

  ‘That’s OK, Paddy. I think you did the right thing. I’m glad you saved it till now when we had you’se here.’

  ‘Thanks for that, Jack, but I was still remiss. What are we to be doin’ now, lads?’

  Both boys shrugged helplessly.

  ‘You should let your parents know you’re all right, boys.’ The sergeant moved to them. ‘They’ll be worried sick.’

  ‘We’ve been writin’ regular but just haven’t told ’em where we are in case the coppers … er, sorry Sergeant,’ Jack corrected, ‘the police arrested us.’

  ‘I understand your evasiveness now when I asked you about school and Perth. It must have been a bit scary for you having a copper around all the time.’ Both boys smiled at his use of ‘copper’.

  ‘We could telephone to let them know you are here and that you’re OK.’ Iris was worried ab
out the boys’ parents, knowing what heartache they must be experiencing. ‘I’ve got a daughter, Helen, in her final year boarding at St Mary’s College in Adelaide and although we are in regular contact by post and telephone I still worry about her.’ She imagined the pain that these boys’ mothers must be suffering.

  ‘Just give us a bit of time to think it through. A few more days won’t make a lotta difference. We’ll decide then what’s the best thing to do.

  ‘I know you will.’ The priest handed the newspaper clipping back to them. ‘We’re here to help in any way we can.’

  ‘That’s right, we are … all of us.’ Ron Carter confirmed Shaun Logan’s comment.

  Paddy nodded in agreement, moving close to Iris, putting his hand lightly on her arm. ‘That we are, lads, that we are.’ He spoke gently and Iris smiled, looking into his eyes but the boys missed the intimate exchange.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  The boys had a restless night at the priest’s house. They didn’t discuss the newspaper article in any depth, as they were too stunned to think clearly. Jack did say that Billy Munse had been a little mongrel, but that he had at least eventually owned up to lying about them.

  ‘Bet he got a thrashin’ from his, father.’ Harry imagined the stern obnoxious Mr Munse and shuddered. ‘Glad I’m not Billy.’

  ‘Deserved it I’d say, Harry, but he did own up.’

  ‘This means we can go back and not be in trouble with the police, Jack.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. We’ll be in trouble with our parents though.’

  ‘Guess you’re right, but it also means we didn’t have to run away at all.’

  ‘No we coulda stayed, but then again, Billy might not have owned up if we had. We wouldn’t have seen what we have either, or made such good mates along the way. We’d still be gettin’ a few bob a week pocket money too, instead of earnin’ big quids.’

  ‘Wouldn’t own an opal mine either’. Harry checked to make sure the bag with their cash and mining lease was still under the pillow.

  ‘It means, though, we can tell our parents the truth now, Harry. It’s been hard havin’ to watch everything we say in them letters.’

  ‘We better write to ’em now, Jack. Let ’em know everythin’s OK.’

  ‘Not sure what’s best, Harry. Let’s sleep on it. We’ll work it out tomorra.’

  They didn’t ‘march’ as such, the next morning, but gathered before dawn at the town hall for a service which their friend Father Logan officiated at. They then moved outside to the cenotaph where wreaths were layed and a bugler played the ‘last Post’ as the sun rose majestically out of the desert, bathing the scene with an amethyst glow.

  A man, introduced as the shire president, read short accounts of what the troops had experienced and suffered, speaking of their bravery that fateful morning at Anzac Cove in far off Turkey. A prayer was said which finished with ‘Lest we forget’, then a bearded miner dressed in dungarees with a battered felt bush-hat on his head played a guitar and sang a song they had never heard before but which moved the crowd to reverent silence. A line in the song touched Jack deeply and he felt a lump rise in his throat and he was glad, when he looked furtively around, to see tears in many grown men’s eyes.

  The line in the song that affected Jack so profoundly was: ‘And tears ran down my brother’s face as he thought of loves in another place and I asked God to rescue me and my brother.’

  Anzac Day in Ashmorton was a very different affair from the small gathering in Coober Pedy. Jack Ferguson had served in the Royal Australian Army during World War Two as an artillery sergeant in the Middle East. Anzac Day was an emotional time for him, as memories of lost mates flooded back, but he didn’t allow himself to dwell too much on the sadness but marched proudly dressed in his uniform and medals as a mark of respect for his fallen comrades. The parade was well organised with military and pipe bands, vehicles and marching servicemen following a set route while spectators lined the streets cheering as they passed and waving miniature Australian flags. The service at the war memorial was structured with a number of dignitaries officiating. There were speeches and more speeches culminating with the ‘Last Post’ played by a solitary bugler signalling the end of the official remembrance. It was then, to Jack’s way of thinking, that the real tribute to their mates began.

  It was then time to meet up with mates that had fought together, regardless of the theatre of war they had been engaged in or the branch of the services they had been a part of. There was certainly some spirited good-natured rivalry however, between the Navy, Air Force and Army at bars across the nation.

  Claude and Eric had served in Borneo with the light infantry and they and Jack always met up after the parade for a ‘few beers’ with their mates at the RSL club; that usually meant they stayed till stumps, got a taxi home and suffered hangovers for two days!

  This Anzac day was dampened somewhat for Jack and Claude because of not knowing where their sons were and although they enjoyed the after service celebrations there was a subtle cloud over them. They had each determined not to mention the boys but as the night drew to a close and they were sitting quietly together reminiscing, the subject came up. ‘Harry marched last year with the school … sort of missed him not being there today.’

  ‘Jack too. Wonder if they kept up the tradition and marched somewhere in Kalgoorlie or Coolgardie or wherever they are, Claude.’

  ‘Don’t expect so,’ Claude replied sadly. ‘I think they only did it because the school involved them.’ He took a swallow from his glass. ‘One for the road, Jack?’

  ‘Yeah, why not, mate.’ Jack passed him his empty glass.

  Although the boys wanted to head back out to the mine Iris insisted that they stay in town another night. Ron Carter agreed and said he’d take a run to check things out and make sure their diggings were OK. ‘Another night’ll do you good, not having to worry about things. Give you time to think through what you have to do.’

  Father Logan was more than happy to have them stay another night. ‘Everyone in town will be on the turps somewhere so we’ll throw some snags on the barbecue at my place. It won’t be flash but it’ll be tucker. Can you make it, Ron?’

  ‘No, I’ll have to do the rounds tonight, mate, as there’ll be a lot of mugs about but I might call in from time to time. Won’t have a drink though, on duty.’

  The boys turned in early leaving the priest, Iris and Paddy outside, relaxing in the cool night after a hectic day. Iris noticed Paddy was restless and smiled to herself. ‘Paddy, why don’t you take the Landy and have a look around town. Many interesting things to see on an Anzac night.’ She winked at Shaun.

  ‘Ahh, I’m content to be here. Don’t know what it’d be I’d be lookin’ for anyway.’ He fidgeted on his seat.

  ‘Paddy! Stop fooling around, man. I know what goes on and you’d be missing an Australian tradition if you didn’t join in the ahh … celebrations! I’m about ready to turn in anyhow, as I’ll probably have a busy day tomorrow dispensing aspirin in bucket loads. You can give me a lift home on your way, Paddy, if you like.’

  ‘It’s a marvellous woman that ye are, Iris. I get the feelin’ it’d be hard to be pullin’ the wool over yer eyes on anythin’ at all, to be sure. You’re not Irish somewhere way back are ye?’

  ‘A dyed in the wool Aussie, Paddy, but I do know what makes a man tick. Just don’t lose all your money.’

  ‘Paddy O’Brien! Lose? There’s a lot you’re still to be knowin’ about Paddy O’Brien, Iris, m’dear.’

  ‘I’ll be looking forward to that, Mr O’Brien.’ She stood up. ‘Thanks, Shaun, for the night. See you tomorrow no doubt and I hope those two dear boys can decide what’s best for them.’ She put her arm in Paddy’s as they walked to the parked Land Rover.

  The priest smiled in the darkness as he watched Paddy, the gentleman; graciously open the passenger door for her. You best be reading up on the nuptial mass, Shaun, the priest laughed to himself, never done a marriage in Coober P
edy.

  ‘You awake, Harry?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘What’re you thinkin’ about?’

  ‘Same as you I guess. The newspaper clippin’, Mum and Dad … what we should do.’

  ‘What do you think we should do, Harry?’

  ‘We got a lot here now, good friends and makin’ a go of things. You know, the mine and all.’

  ‘We couldn’t just go and leave it all then.’ Jack lay on his back with his arms behind his head staring at the ceiling. ‘… Could we?’

  ‘Not really, Jack.’ Harry was silent for a time. ‘But it’d be good to see everyone again.’

  ‘Yeah, all except Billy Munse. I’d like to throttle that mongrel, Harry. Wonder what he’s doin’ now?’

  ‘Polishin’ his bike probably. Or hidin’ from his father.’ Harry giggled in the darkness.

  Jack laid quietly thinking, his eyes wide open in the pitch darkness of the windowless bedroom. So many confusing and conflicting thoughts ran through his mind that he was unable to isolate or group them rationally enough to make a decision.

  ‘Paddy could look after things for us, Harry, and Reynold would stay on.’

  ‘I’m scared, Jack. If we go home my parents are gonna be real mad at me. Probably lock me away or send me to boardin’ school or somethin’ just to get even.’

  ‘I think they’d be too glad to see you to do anythin’ bad to ya.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Harry sounded unconvinced.

  ‘So what do ya reckon we do then?’

  ‘I’ll leave it up to you, Jack, whatever you say.’

  ‘That’s not bloody fair, Harry, why me?’

  ‘You’re the oldest, Jack, that’s why.’

  ‘We always made the decisions together before, Harry, so why won’t you make this one with me?’

  ‘Because …’ Jack heard the catch in his voice. ‘Because I love it here, Jack, but I miss home too and I don’t want to make a decision that could mean I’d lose either here or home depending on the decision. I don’t think I can make such an important choice as that.’ His last words were muffled and Jack realised Harry had buried his face in the pillow.