Jack & Harry (43 page)

‘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.'

‘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.

‘What school was that, Harry?' The sergeant asked. ‘You two go to the same school?'

‘Yeah,' Jack said quickly then changed the subject. ‘It's gettin' late; we must head off. Thanks for a great tea, Mrs Smith.' He stood up and Harry sprang to his feet, also anxious to get away from the uncomfortable line the conversation had taken.

‘You're very welcome, boys.' Iris walked off to the kitchen. ‘Hold on a minute.' She returned a short time later with a brown paper bag. ‘A few Anzac biscuits to take home. Your friend … Reynold isn't it? He might like some.'

‘Ahhh, Anzac Day,' Paddy said as they all walked to the Land Rover. ‘Great Australian tradition it is to remember the fallen.'

‘Do you march, Paddy?'

No, Shaun, but I've been known to take a small part in some of the celebrations that are traditionally associated with Anzac day.'

You wouldn't be meaning the two-up game now would you, Paddy?'

‘Well of course not, sergeant.' Paddy was indignant. Two-up's illegal, everyone knows that to be sure.'

‘You're perfectly right, Paddy, totally illegal.' The policeman winked at him. ‘People say there's a game on here each Anzac night but even though I scour the town for it every year, I've never been able to find anything that even resembles ‘tiddlywinks' let alone a two-up game.' Iris punched him on the shoulder and the four adults laughed but the boys couldn't understand why.

Ron Carter knew his innocent question about the school had spooked the boys and it puzzled him. They had already proved in their short time in Coober Pedy that they were capable and honest and his instinct, that rarely failed him, said they were good kids. ‘Seeing as you two lads have marched before I'd be grateful if you'd march with me this Anzac day, how about it?' He was keen not to be the cause of spoiling their evening.

‘Thanks, sergeant, we'll think about it.' Jack slipped behind the wheel of the Landy then remembered the help he had received from the policeman in getting his driver's licence. ‘We should be able to make it don't you think, Harry? We'll let you know in a day or so.'

The next two weeks sped quickly past and were spent upgrading the nine-mile dugout to make it more comfortable now that Paddy had joined them. With the money they had received from the German, added to what they had previously got from the sale of their opals, they were able to purchase timber and other building materials plus some basic tools. They also had a healthy cash reserve that they had buried in a safe place.

They were amazed at Paddy's versatility, as he seemed to be able to turn his hand to almost everything. He used some of his own money to buy some better cooking pots and he arrived home one day from town with a Coolgardie safe loaded in the back of the Land Rover. The boys asked how it could possibly work to keep things like salted beef or butter cool. Paddy explained that the gauze-covered frame, a bit like one of the meat safes Toffy had, kept the flies out and when the tray on top was filled up with water it dripped down hessian bags at the sides keeping them wet. Wind, and there was plenty of that, blew through the wet bags and kept the goods inside at a reasonable temperature.

‘One day we'll buy a kerosene fridge.' Jack examined Paddy's new acquisition, ‘Like Shaun's got.'

They helped Paddy build a frame around the entrance to the dugout, fitting a heavy planked door to it so they now had security and could leave it padlocked at night without concern that some moonlighter or pilferer could just walk in. This gave Reynold more freedom also and he would head off a couple of nights a week to meet his own people no to doubt eat some ‘proper tucker' while Jack and Harry stayed over at Bruno's.

Paddy seemed in his element now, with purpose to his life and hardly ever touched ‘the doins' although he kept a bottle cool inside the safe for a nightly nip. Jack wondered if he had many bottles and just kept replacing them as they were emptied but that was not the case. It seemed that Paddy had turned over a new leaf although he hadn't changed in any other way and was always gregarious, happy, quick with a joke and ready to lend a hand. The boys noticed that he shaved every morning and there were two evenings he changed out of his work clothes and, asking if it was OK to borrow the Land Rover, disappeared into town. Harry said he must have made friends with a couple of blokes from town and joined them for a drink at the pub but he was always sober, whistling happily to himself when he returned.

Jack tried to get out into the bush at least once a week. Brehardie looked good from his spell from droving and seemed certainly friskier but Jack ragged him. ‘You've gone soft, Brehardie. Stables at night and chaff with oats.' Apart from wanting to feel the solitude of the desert, Jack usually brought home rabbits or occasionally a small kangaroo for the table. Paddy had a problem eating roo but Reynold loved it. They normally tried to supplement the salted beef and tinned food with game of some sort and Reynold often came back with a bungarra, or goanna as they were called in South Australia, and one time dropped a large brown snake beside the fire, its tail still twitching.

‘Is it true what they say then?' Paddy kept as far from the writhing serpent as possible. ‘That snakes don't die till the sun goes down.'

Jack and Harry laughed but Paddy went on. ‘Ye may laugh but I've heard it said with me own ears from bushmen and miners alike. What do you say, Reynold, me lad?'

Reynold didn't laugh but simply shrugged his shoulders ‘This fella 'e still kickin' 'n sun 'e still up. I seen 'em wriggle a bit until dark then not see 'em no more. Could be true.'

‘It's just the nerve ends twitchin' away.' Jack poked the snake with a stick. ‘The reason you can't see 'em when the sun goes down is because it's
dark
. You can't see nothin' in the dark.' He laughed again, pleased with his reasoning.

Harry joined him most times on the horses but would sometimes take a couple of hours by himself to saddle Brumby and ride out into the dunes and along the dry creek beds. There were no cattle to drove or rogue steers to turn back to the mob but the freedom of galloping through the desert dunes on the colt was exhilarating.

There was a time not long ago when they had considered droving ‘hard work' but now that they had to gouge in the clay beneath the ground to earn a living, droving seemed like a long holiday and they both missed the unique excitement of the cattle camps. When they were out on their horses they imagined that Wandoo would come hurtling over the next ridge, or Tom Cooper would appear on his bay, standing straight in the stirrups and hand to eyes to shield the sun as he inspected his mob. Returning reluctantly to the mine they would conjure up images of Toffy in his work clobber and bow tie, stirring stew and ringing the metal triangle with a spoon to signal dinner.

They hoped that one day they would get the chance to be with them all again around a camp fire somewhere beside a waterhole surrounded by tall gum trees and drinking sweet black tea. They could picture uncle Warri sitting on his haunches rolling a smoke and telling everyone in earshot how he had ‘learned' just about the whole world population everything they knew.

They often reminisced about one night when Tom Cooper and uncle Warri were in a particularly good mood, trying to outbrag each other across the fire with the whole crew listening and urging encouragement. Tom Cooper had bragged that he had taken a mob of four thousand head of cattle with only three blokes from Darwin to Adelaide but couldn't sell them so turned around and drove the mob all the way back to Darwin. He said that half the cows calved on the trip so he ended up back where he started with six thousand head.

No one believed Warri could top this story but he was not about to be beaten. ‘That nothin', Tom. Sidney Kidman 'e say one day, ‘Warri you best darn' drover I ever seen. Take this big mob for me will ya, over to Inglan for da quin.' So Warri take 'em sure 'nough, all way to Inglan.' He sat back a smug look on his face.

His smile faded quickly when Tom Cooper said, ‘England, eh, Warri? Bet the Queen was pleased.' He paused for effect. ‘Tell me, mate, how did you get the buggers across the sea?'

The crew sat waiting for Warri to admit defeat.

There was a breathless silence as Warri slowly licked the cigarette he was rolling, put it in his mouth and, lighting it ceremoniously, blew a cloud of blue smoke into the air. ‘That easy, Tom. Warri din' take 'em
over
the sea mate. Warri not
that
silly, eh? Warri 'e drove 'em all way to Inglan' 'long the beach.' He spat into the fire as the whole droving crew burst into uproarious laughter.