Frog Whistle Mine (14 page)

Then he saw the circle of light that was the opening. A wave of relief swept over him.

‘There’s the opening!’ he yelled. ‘We’re going to make it!’ He started screaming and kept on screaming.

Rose looked at him as if he was mad, but he didn’t care. They were going to make it—and if this feeling was madness, then he liked being mad.

As he watched the opening get bigger, he remembered his mother’s saying about the light at the end of the tunnel.
Now he knew what she was talking about it. He could see it. This
was
the light at the end of the tunnel. It was the light of safety, hope, the future—everything. And this time they were going to make it.

By the time they reached the entrance, Rose was laughing and screaming too. They burst out to the light and through the sand into the gorse bushes. The water spilled over the ground and the wagon returned to its wheels. Yet still it continued, out of the gorse and into the clearing. Tony caught a flash of somebody diving out of the way as they screamed through and on into the scrub.

Now it started to slow. Branches were bent and grasses were squashed, until the wagon met an old stump that just wouldn’t give way. The right wheels lifted and the wagon tipped onto its side, sliding towards the base of a manuka tree. They crashed with a dull thud that shook the tree to its roots, spilling the passengers onto a soft bed of leaves. A cloud of white petals drifted down from the tree to cover them like confetti.

And, finally, all was still.

Tony lay on his back, letting the waves of relief and joy sweep over his body. They had won. He turned, looking for Rose. She was already on her knees caring for Nick.

‘You people all right?’ It was Fred, red in the face and puffing like a steam engine.

‘We are,’ answered Rose. ‘But Nick’s not.’

‘I
am
all right,’ said a weak voice. ‘But is Christine?’

‘She’s…’ Fred was stopped by the noise of a helicopter flying close to the treetops. When it had passed he
continued. ‘She’s OK. Nothing that won’t mend.’

Tony looked at Nick and saw a lovely smile light up his battered face. Rose was smiling too. What a story she would have to tell. Tony felt her hand searching for his, finding it, and then squeezing gently. He returned the pressure, excited by her touch. What a start to the year, he thought. Yet he also knew that this was much more than the first day of a new year: this was the first day of a new life.

Lofty dropped them off at the hospital. Betty had given detailed instructions about where to go, yet they were hardly needed, the place was not big enough for them to get lost.

Christine and Nick were together in a conservatory leading from the main ward. Mother and son hugged hard and long; it was not easy in the confined space of the wheelchair. Rose gave Nick a hug and sat on the sofa beside him. Tony put his schoolbag on the floor and crouched on a step close to his mother.

Apart from the plaster and bandages, neither of the patients looked sick. In fact, quite the opposite—they looked radiant.

‘So,’ said Rose, ‘what’s the goss around here?’

‘Well,’ said Christine, leaning forward, ‘this place has so much goss, you could make a TV programme about it.’ She then launched into a series of stories about the ills and problems of her fellow patients. Tony didn’t mind. It was just great to be with her and to see her so happy.

When there was a lull in the conversation, he took
two parcels out of his bag and handed them to Rose. She stood formally in front of the couple. ‘I have a present for each of you.’ Then she thrust them forward, plainly anxious for them to be unwrapped.

The gifts were identical: half a concretion with a greenstone heart mounted in the middle. ‘They’re the same concretion,’ said Rose. ‘So you two have to stay together now or you’ll separate them and it will be really bad luck.’

As they were thanking Rose, Tony took out his gifts. They were much smaller. Without speaking he handed them one each.

Christine opened hers first. It was a small glass tube half filled with a golden powder. She looked at it, puzzling for a while, before asking. ‘Is this gold?’

By then Nick had his package open. ‘Yes, it is,’ he said smiling. He turned to Tony. ‘Where did it come from?’

‘The bottom of the mine. Under the tracks. You were right. That’s where all the gold was.’

Nick thought for a moment. ‘And the water rushing out of the mine removed the sand and concentrated it more.’

That’s what Fred had said too. As soon as the water had drained, they had entered the mine to retrieve the backpack for the police. The gold had been obvious, even to Tony’s untrained eye—golden jewels within the rusty sand. Later, they had scooped up a couple of buckets full and taken it to Fred’s place where some of his junk was put to good use. The result was almost two ounces of pure gold, and that’s what was in the tubes.

‘It’s enough for each of you to make a ring,’ said Rose.
‘Then you must give them to each other on your wedding day.’ She was as excited as if she was getting married herself. Nick and Christine exchanged knowing smiles.

‘Fred says there’s more if you need it,’ said Tony.

Nick asked, ‘So, he is back into mining?’

‘I think so. He said he was going to talk to Jamie Duggan about it.’

Nick stiffened at the mention of Duggan. Christine put a hand on his arm.

‘Jamie’s just around the corner there,’ she said pointing to the end of the conservatory. ‘He’s doing quite well. The police have been in a couple of times, but as yet no charges have been laid. I suspect they think he’s already punished himself enough. Anyway, he said he’d like to see you when you came in.’

‘Should I?’

‘Yes, Tony. He’s not a monster. He’s just a man who suffered a lot of grief and didn’t know how to deal with it. He’s coming right. He and Nick have sort of made things up.’ Tony looked at Nick and thought there was still a long way to go.

‘Go and do it now, before lunch is served.’

Duggan was in bed with an overhead contraption connected to his thigh. He greeted the boy with a huge smile which Tony was unsure about returning. Yet, he felt it was the first genuine smile he’d ever seen on the Scotsman.

‘Good morning, Tony. I’m pleased you dropped by. I’ve got somethin’ I need to say to you.’

Tony shook the offered hand and waited. He had a good idea what was coming.

When Duggan spoke again, his voice was soft and serious. ‘I want to thank you for what you did for me when I was hangin’ on tha’ ledge. I doona know what woulda happened if you hadna told me about tha’ Frenchwoman.’

‘It’s OK.’

‘I know it would have been easy to run off to save Nick and leave me ne’er knowin’, but you didna do tha’. And I’ll always be grateful.’

Tony didn’t know what to say.

‘So, if there’s anythin’ I can do for you, just let me know.’

‘Well,’ said Tony, pleased to shift the conversation. ‘There is something.’

‘Speak up, laddie.’

‘I’d like enough money to build a large pen for the weka chicks. One that’s big enough to house them until they can be released.’

Duggan looked embarrassed. ‘Aye, I can do tha’. I’m real sorry about those wee birds. I wasna thinkin’ too straight at the time.’

‘You wanted to stop them digging up the pack.’

The man nodded.

‘You tried to scare me away first, didn’t you?’

‘Aye. I didna want you pokin’ aboot. It had worked with another laddie. But I found you too tough to scare.’

‘You let the weka into the caravan.’

‘Aye, and the rat. And the possum on top.’

‘And you made out you were a ghost.’

Duggan looked puzzled. ‘Nay, laddie. I didna do anythin’ like tha’.’

‘You didn’t paint a sheet with that luminescent stuff?’

‘Nay. Tha’s way too scarce to waste. I wouldna do tha’. You wouldna be scared of a ghost anyway. Would you?’

Much later, when he was lying in the darkness of the caravan, Tony tried to answer that question. Would he be scared of ghosts? He wasn’t sure. If they were just things in your head, then what was there to be scared of? Anyway, with the earthquake gone, the images wouldn’t be back. So there was nothing more to worry about. He rolled over, pulled the bedclothes in tight, and went to sleep listening to the soothing songs of the frogs.

Some hours later, when the night was at its darkest, the frogs stopped their singing. As their songs died, the sound of a miner’s pick was once again heard in the glade where the caravan stood.

Clink, clink, clink
…

Salami and Frankfurter peeped anxiously for a while, before cuddling closer and tucking their heads under each-other’s wing.

In the caravan, the boy continued to sleep—peaceful and contented.

Another edge-of-seat page-turner.

Reading Time

…a real page-turner avoiding obvious plotlines and neatly capturing modern-day “tween” sensibilities.

NorthSouth

I couldn’t put the book down…it would be ideal for reading aloud.

Hauraki Herald

This is a fast-paced mystery-adventure that children will love and find a great read that they can’t put down.

Tomorrow’s Schools Today

A strong plot and interesting and credible characters…

A definite “need to read”.

Marlborough Express

A really good read that touches on a variety of themes…a good story line with an interesting plot, strong believable characters, New Zealand content and plenty of page turning adventure to keep readers interested.

The Saturday Express

A thrilling mix

Otago Daily Times

This is an exciting read that is so very New Zealand you can just about smell the bush.

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