by Tony McKenna
‘You shoot?’ Jack sounded incredulous.
‘What’s wrong with shooting?’ Naomi was defensive.
‘Nothing, nothing at all.’ Jack bit into a slice of bread.
‘Jack’s a top shot.’ Harry lauded his mate. ‘Can read the bush well too; an old Aboriginal drover taught him.’
‘Wow! What do you shoot, Jack?’ Naomi was immediately animated.
‘Oh nothin’ much. Rabbits, the odd kangaroo, stuff like that, but not for sport, only for food. We had to for a long while to survive on the cattle drive.’
‘You’ve been droving too.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Where? … When?’
‘Come on, young lady; don’t ask the lads too many questions now.’ Her mother took the empty plates from the table.
‘Harry’s the real stockman, got a magnificent colt at home.’ Jack didn’t realise he had unconsciously called Coober Pedy ‘home’.
‘A colt, great.’ Naomi smiled across at Harry briefly but her interest was obviously on Jack. ‘You own a horse too, Jack?’
‘Yeah, I got a big bay gelding. He’s gettin’ on a bit now but a good horse. He’s called Brehardie.’
‘That’s an unusual name, Jack.’ Mrs Wilson joined in.
‘It’s an Aboriginal name. Uncle Warri, that’s what we call him, gave him to me.’
‘You two seem to have led an interesting life.’ Ned reached for the teapot, filling his cup.’
‘Well, only for the past few months. Up till then we lived in Perth.’
‘Tell me more about shooting, Jack.’ Naomi fixed her gaze on him over the table.
‘Not much to tell really.’
‘Do you have your own gun, Jack?’
‘Got one for Christmas, yes. Tom Cooper, the boss on the cattle drive, and uncle Warri, gave me a Winchester lever action.’
‘Jack ran some claim jumpers off our mine with his rifle, shot right past their ears and blew a tin aw …’ Harry stopped in mid-sentence. Flushing a pink colour, he looked at the police sergeant and stammered. ‘Er, he … er … wasn’t aimin’ at them he …’
‘That’s OK.’ The sergeant rescued Harry ‘Bloody claim jumpers deserve all they get.’
‘Ned! No swearing at the table.’ His wife gave him a scalding look.
‘Sorry dear. Well lads, we better get going if we want to catch this train. Be through in a while; I’ll get your tickets.’ They stood from the table and Ned handed Harry the tickets that Jack paid cash for, unaware of the surprised look on the policeman’s face at the size of the bankroll Jack buttoned back in his top pocket.
‘Mind if I come and see you off?’ Naomi looked directly at Jack.
He nodded, pleased because this vibrant, beautiful girl fascinated him, but unnerved nonetheless by her forthrightness.
The train whistle blew. ‘Have a good trip, fellas,’ the sergeant said.
‘Thanks for all your help.’
‘Think nothing of it, Jack. You’re mates of Ron’s and that’s good enough for me. See ya, Harry. Make sure you both keep in touch with us now and let us know how you go. You know where we are.’ He stepped back to make way for his daughter.
Harry said, ‘Bye’ to Naomi then jumped up the steps into the carriage but Jack lingered a moment. Ned chuckled to himself and withdrew a few feet, aware that there was some sort of chemistry brewing between his headstrong daughter and the well built modest young man with the dark hair and blue eyes. Poor bugger, he said to himself. If she’s set her mind on you you’ve got no chance, son.
Jack stood shyly on the platform with Naomi. ‘Thank your mum again for the lunch, Naomi’ He spoke her name for the first time and thrilled at the sound of it inside his head.
‘That’s all right, Jack, nice to meet you … and Harry,’ she added. ‘You too, bye for now.’ Putting a foot on the step and about to haul himself into the carriage to join Harry, he paused when Naomi held a piece of paper out to him.
‘Dad said for you to keep in touch but how can you without the address. Here.’ She pushed a note towards him ‘I wrote our telephone number on it too. Bye.’ She turned and joined her father as the train began to move away from the platform, gathering speed.
Jack stood at the open window for a time until Naomi faded from view, swallowed up by the steam and smoke from the engine.
Alice and Jean were seated on the back verandah of the Ferguson home, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. Autumn in Perth could be quite cold and overnight rain had made the morning chilly, so they took the chance when the clouds broke to have afternoon tea outside, sheltered from the wind by the timber lattice enclosure that Jack had built over the Christmas break.
‘It’s nice out here, Alice.’
‘It is, yes.’ She poured tea into delicate china cups. ‘Heard from Jack, Alice?’
‘Not for a while.’ Her smile faded at the mention of her son’s name and she had hoped that maybe today Jean would not raise the subject of the boys as she had determined to get on with her life as best she could, but he was always close to her consciousness. Only a thought or a name mention or a glance at a mantelpiece photo away. She had even begun to call her husband by his proper name ‘John’ instead of the familiar ‘Jack’ to help her cope.
‘It’s his birthday this week, Jean. Sixteen; couple of years and he’ll be a man.’
‘I know. Harry’ll be fifteen two days later.’ She looked wistfully into the garden, ‘Remember last year when we had a combined little party for them here on Jack’s birthday? Harry said he couldn’t wait another two days for his presents, seeing that Jack would have his before him. Had a few of their schoolmates over.’
‘I know.’ Alice took a deep breath to shake off the memory. ‘Why don’t we do the same thing again this year, Jean?’ she said with a burst of bravado. ‘It’s still their birthdays whether they’re here or not. We won’t have a kid’s party or invite anybody; just you, Claude and your kids can join us all here in the evening for a barbecue. Be one of the last chances to cook outside with the weather turning colder. What do you say?’
‘Oh, I don’t know if I could cope, Alice.’
“Yes you can,’ she urged. Despite Alice’s sorrow, she was still stronger than Jean and also felt a little guilty that Jack, being a year older, might have influenced Harry to run away. ‘We’ll celebrate for them Jean instead of with them this year.’
Jean thought for a minute and, encouraged by Alice’s enthusiasm, warmed to the idea. ‘All right, Alice, why not? She sounded more cheerful. ‘I’ll bake a cake and we can sing ‘Happy birthday’ and hope wherever they are at that moment they may hear us in spirit.’
The train journey was uneventful. The boys had comfortable seats and they nonchalantly watched the vastness of the almost treeless and flat Nullarbor Plain blur past the picture windows of the carriage. It surprised them to see fellow passengers sitting glued to the window in awe of the scenery that to them was now commonplace. Kids pointed and became excited as various animals came into view then, seconds later, vanished as the train sped past.
‘Look, Dad! A camel, it’s a camel.’ One young boy screamed in delight at a wild dromedary grazing peacefully in the distance, its front legs spread slightly, long neck bent to the grass.
‘You know, Harry, we were like that not so long ago. Remember how we jumped up and down on the train when we saw the emus and you couldn’t believe that eagle when it dived down and grabbed the rabbit just out of Coolgardie?’
‘We couldn’t have been as silly as that, surely?’ Harry pointed at the boy who now had his nose pressed closely against the window glass.
‘I think we were.’ Jack stretched his legs and pressed his head back into the cushion. ‘Seen a lot, haven’t we, Harry?’
‘Yeah … done a lot to.’
‘You lookin’ forward to bein’ home, Harry?’
‘I think so. It’ll be good to see Mum and Dad again. Do you think we’ve changed much, Jack?’
‘Nah, not much. Got a bit browner but we�
�re still the same blokes, Harry. Haven’t been away long enough to change all that much.’
‘I suppose you’re right. We can go and catch some yabbies when we get back.’
‘I can’t wait to see the creek. Water! What a change that’ll be! A big stream and tall trees. We can maybe catch a feed of fish too.’
‘We’ll be able to go to the pictures, Jack. I miss the pictures, don’t you?’
‘You bet, wonder what’s on?’
‘Dunno. You know somethin’ else I’m lookin’ forward to?’
‘What?’ Jack shook his head.
‘Fish ’n chips. A big feed of crispy-battered fish and those chips with all the crunchy bits at the bottom.’
‘With heaps of vinegar sprinkled on ’em, Harry.’
‘Do ya think we’ll see Billy Munse, Jack?’
‘We’ll make sure we do, Harry, we’ll make sure we do. You hungry?’
‘The thought of fish and chips has made me a bit peckish.’ Licking his lips he said, ‘let’s go down to the dinin’ car.’
They walked through two carriages to reach the buffet carriage with its long counter down one side, padded stools bolted to the floor, and dining tables in neat tableclothed rows. Entering the carriage they saw it was packed, with no spare tables, and were about to turn around when a porter spotted them. ‘Table for two?’
‘There’s no room, you’re full up,’ Harry replied looking around the carriage.
‘Two seats this way … follow me.’ the man walked off and they trailed behind him, swaying with the movement of the speeding train.
‘Oh no!’ Harry grunted and baulked so that Jack ran into him. ‘Not there!’
Jack looked past him to see a table for four with two vacant seats. The problem that Harry spotted and Jack concurred with, was that two girls occupied the other two seats. Their intention to turn tail out of the dining room was ambushed by the porter.
‘Two young gentleman to join you if you don’t mind,’ he said to the girls and handing Jack and Harry a menu he guided them expertly into the seats before they could protest further.
The two girls of average looks were dressed almost identically in frilly dresses and giggled and nudged each other as the two boys sat down opposite them.
‘G’day,’ Jack said but Harry just nodded. The girls giggled again.
They had ordered their meal and were sitting self-consciously, both toying with the table napkins, when one of the girls plucked up the courage to speak. ‘My name’s Mary and this is my sister, Theresa. What’s yours?’
‘I’m Jack and this is me mate, Harry.’
The girls took in the clean but faded dungarees and cotton drill shirts they were wearing and had noticed the scuffed riding boots as the boys seated themselves. ‘You work on a station? You ringers or something?’ Mary asked.
‘No we’re not ringers.’ Harry answered but Jack said nothing.
There was an awkward silence. ‘What do you do then?’ Theresa asked.
The question staggered the boys, as they had never thought about what they did. It occurred to them at that moment that they were not just a couple of schoolboys on the run any more, nor were they greenhorns learning to ride and shoot and drove cattle, but that they were in fact opal miners. Not just opal miners but the owners of a mine purchased from Ishmo for two hundred pounds with the deed tucked securely in the bundle of notes beneath their shirts.
‘Ahh … we live in Coober Pedy,’ Jack stated.
‘Coober Pedy!’ Both girls said at once their eyes widening. Are you miners or something?’ Mary asked.
‘We dig around a bit.’ Harry was relieved when the waiter arrived carrying the roast beef they had ordered. ‘Enjoy your meal, sir,’ he said to each of them as he placed their meals on the table.
‘Coober Pedy, that’s a coincidence.’ Mary tucked into the apple pie. ‘Isn’t it, Theresa?’
‘Amazing,’ her sister said, ‘simply amazing. Who’d have thought we’d meet someone else from Coober Pedy.’
‘Someone else?’ Jack stopped eating, fork poised. ‘Who else do you know from Coober?’
‘We have a close friend whose mother lives in Coober Pedy, don’t we, Theresa?’
‘Whose mother?’ Harry asked.
‘We board with her at St Mary’s, Helen Smith.’
‘Helen Smith. Doesn’t ring a bell with us does it Harry?’
Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully ‘No … Helen Smith … What’s her mother’s name?’
‘Don’t know what her name is … Mrs Smith I suppose!’ Both girls laughed at Mary’s joke. Gaining control of her mirth Theresa said, ‘she’s a nurse or something up there.’
‘A nurse! You can’t mean Iris?’ Harry was flabbergasted.
‘Not sure, is Helen’s mum’s name Iris, Mary?’
‘Could be, I can’t remember.’
‘There’s only one nurse in Coober Pedy and that’s Iris,’ Jack said. ‘What’s she look like, you know … this Helen?’
‘We’ve got a school photo here. She’s in the same class as us. We’re on our way over to Perth for our brother’s wedding so have some time off school … almost the holidays anyhow.’ Theresa babbled on as she rummaged through the large carryall bag on her lap. ‘Here it is.’ She triumphantly flourished a photograph that she placed on the table facing the two boys. ‘That’s her.’ She put a finger on the picture.
‘Well I’ll be darned.’ Harry was stunned ‘Look, Jack. If that girl had her hair pulled back in a bun and was a few years older who would it be?’
Jack leaned over the table, picked up the photo and angled it to avoid the glare from the overhead lamps ‘Iris. It’d be Iris,’ he said emphatically.
Chapter Thirty Five
Father O’Malley couldn’t remember last when he was so excited. He kept glancing at the wall clock in his study and had telephoned the railway station asking for the arrival time of the Pt Augusta train.
‘You mean the Adelaide train, sir?’ A clerk with a nasal problem had said but as Jack and Harry were boarding at Pt Augusta, Father O’Malley couldn’t have cared less if it had originated at Timbuktu.
He began to pace, little doubts niggling at him. What if they’d been delayed on the way down from Coober Pedy and missed the train? What if they’d changed their minds and were still in Coober Pedy? He contemplated calling Shaun Logan to check if they had actually left but dismissed the notion and filled and lit a pipe of tobacco, something that always had a calming effect but for some reason didn’t work today.
Mrs Lacey, as dour as she was, had bustled about, made up the spare beds in the room where they stayed last time and cooked Anzac biscuits and a peach crumble for sweets. She had also prepared a large leg of lamb that was in the refrigerator, decorated with sprigs of rosemary for the night’s main course. Vegetables were peeled and ready for the roasting dish in a water-filled bowl covered with a tea towel.
Finishing his pipe, the priest placed it in a large cut-glass ashtray to cool and looked again at the clock. Very little time had passed so he decided he would get the car out and warm up the motor as he hadn’t driven it for a day or so. Slipping behind the wheel and patting the dashboard affectionately he savoured the smell of leather seats mingled with the aroma of pipe tobacco and petrol fumes. He couldn’t remember exactly how long he had been driving this car but he loved it and, turning on the ignition switch, he pressed the starter. There was a high pitched churning sound as the battery spun the starter motor, the engine fired twice, backfired loudly, burst into life momentarily then instantly died, a pall of blue smoke filling the shed.
‘You cantankerous old beast, why do I put up with you?’ The priest slammed the door and lifted the bonnet, fiddling with the spark plug leads. Timothy O’Malley was in no way mechanical but felt better doing something, although he suspected spark plugs were the least of this car’s problems.
He was surprised when at the second attempt the motor burst into life, misfired a couple of time but then
settled down to a steady purr. ‘You’re a beautiful Old Girl, you are.’ He patted the dashboard again and reversed from the shed.
The boys were glad the two sisters, Mary and Theresa, were travelling in a different carriage from theirs as, although they were friendly enough, they appeared immature and giggled incessantly. The girls said they would tell Helen Smith that they had met miner friends of her mothers on the train and gave Jack and Harry a Perth contact address. The boys politely said they’d be in touch if they got a chance but knew they wouldn’t bother.
‘That Helen looks a lot like Iris, eh, Jack? Except she’s better lookin’ don’t ya think?’ They had returned to their seats. Jack realised that Harry was quite taken with the girl in the photo as he had asked for a second look at it before they left the dining car. ‘That’s just because she’s younger than her mother is, Harry. Looks pretty skinny too, needs a good feed,’ he teased.
‘She’s not skinny, she’s just …’ He woke up that Jack was ribbing him. ‘OK, evens,’ he said remembering his ‘skinny’ comment about Naomi in the bathroom at the Wilson house. ‘You gotta admit though, Jack, she’s not too bad,’ he persisted.
‘There’s no doubtin’ she looks like her mother, Harry, and if, like Iris, her face lights up when she smiles then she’d be a bit of a looker for sure.’
‘Wonder if we’ll ever get to meet her?’ Harry looked wistfully out the window into the passing night.
They slept for most of the journey, emotionally drained from the events of the last forty-eight hours and the speed at which they had made the decision to return to Perth. Small, lonely railway sidings flashed by the train, most of them just rough timber platforms supporting tin sheds and signboards with names like ‘Zanthus’, ‘Coonara’, ‘Chifley’ and ‘Karonie’ painted on them.
A man seated across the aisle from them was also reading the signs. ‘Not far to Kalgoorlie now,’ he commented to the lady travelling with him as ‘Randell’ appeared briefly into view. Passengers, obviously leaving the train at Kalgoorlie, started to pack books into carry-bags, gather their belongings and visit bathrooms to freshen up and the boys noticed that the terrain had changed from the vast openness of the Nullarbor to more undulating mulga-studded country.
