Jack & Harry (37 page)

As he was leaving, the priest told them that they could call on him any time if they needed help or just to have a yarn so they asked him was there any way he could find out how uncle Warri was as they were worried about him.

Reynold stayed digging while Jack and Harry walked with the priest to his car. ‘See ya,' he said and drove off down the rutted track. They returned to the dugout anxious to read the letter addressed to them from Father O'Malley. Reynold didn't seem interested so Jack tore the envelope open and began to read aloud.

My dear Jack and Harry,

It will be by the Grace of God if this gets to you as it is a remote chance sending it via Father Logan but I thought there might be a possibility he has heard of you and can deliver this letter.

If you are reading this I hope you are in good health and keeping out of harm's way. I only know what I have heard about Coober Pedy but knowing the hardships of mining in and around Kalgoorlie and understanding that conditions are far worse where you are, I am most concerned for you both and for Reynold.

‘Gee,' Harry said. ‘He uses big words. Must be because he's a priest.' ‘More likely 'cause he's old, Harry.' Jack continued reading.

Thank you for writing your letters and I have, reluctantly I must admit, kept my promise not to tell your parents where you are but this secret is painful for me and I hope and pray you will let them know soon.

I am most impressed with your achievements to date and with your trip but Paddy says he knew all the time you would get to Coober Pedy and has no doubts that you will make your fortunes!!! He is a man of great optimism if not stability and a dear friend despite his misgivings.

‘There he goes again, Jack. I can't understand most of that.'

‘Harry!' Jack was getting annoyed at the interruptions as he was finding it hard to read the letter anyway. ‘Shut up.' He held it out to Harry. ‘Here then … you bloody read it.'

‘Sorry, mate,' Harry giggled. ‘Go on.'

He stopped over last night and sends his regards to you both. He is still the same jovial man without a care in the world but I sense he misses you a lot.

I took the liberty of inquiring about Warrinidding by contacting the manager at Anna Creek station and am pleased to tell you he is well recovered and back at Warburton. Tell Reynold the news.

I am looking forward to receiving more correspondence from you and Mrs Lacey has also asked about you.

Sincerely your friend, Timothy O'Malley.

The next couple of weeks proved to be a tedious time for the three boys. Because of the intense Coober Pedy heat that baked them, the wind that blew constantly, peppering them with sand and white powdery dust, and the flies that never ceased exploring their eyes, mouths and noses, they decided to work outside from early morning to around eleven o'clock in the morning. After then they retreated to the dugout where they could escape from the heat, wind and dust but unfortunately not from the persistent black bushflies that followed them even underground.

They worked on what they thought was a seam, scraping, chipping and digging clay and rocks that they hauled out to the mullock heap. They then shovelled it through the sieve and found opal but it was worthless ‘potch' as it was known on the fields. Bruno had told them when they worked his diggings that finding it, however, was an indication that valuable or even precious opal could be nearby, but they didn't find any.

Working through the dugout rubble in the mornings they did find a little more opal similar to the stone they initially found and decided to take it all to Bruno to see if he could sell it for them. They needed money for supplies and they didn't want to break into their saving, so thought they might be able to get a little for what they had found.

Bruno examined their findings, a number of smallish stones and some chips that Reynold had fossicked around the fields. He pursed his lips a couple of times but made no comment on the quality except to say that it was probably saleable. There was a buyer due in town that week he said and if they trusted him enough he would take it in with his parcel and run it past the buyer. They readily agreed, telling Bruno that of course they trusted him, so he took a small calico bag with a drawstring, the boys commenting that it looked like a bag they kept marbles in at home, and placed their opal in it.

Working back on their drive the next couple of days seemed interminable, waiting for Bruno to appear, but when they saw him driving up in his Land Rover they became nervous. Bruno's expression didn't reveal anything and they knew that their opal was probably worthless or he had it sold for a pittance. At least, they figured, there might be enough to buy some more tinned goods and tea but they were hoping to get timber and nails to upgrade their dugout a little.

Bruno sat down on an upturned kerosene tin in their dugout and placed an envelope on the rough-hewn table. Putting a match to a candle he drew some notes from the envelope and started to count them in the yellow dancing light, placing each note carefully in a pile as he did so.

‘Ten a twenty, thirty a forty, fifty a sixty …' He didn't look up as he counted or he would have seen the expressions on the boy's faces turn from
‘pleased'
to
‘stunned'
as he went on. ‘One a hundred anda ten, anda twenty, thirty anda forty…' He continued counting, the boys numb with shock and when he reached ‘Fiva hundred.' He paused taking a deep breath.

‘Fi … fiv … ah … five … hundred quid!' Harry stammered.'

‘Shhh … you breaka da count.' Bruno licked his fingers dramatically and continued. ‘Fiva hundred anda ten, anda twenty …' He stopped at ‘Sevena hundred and twenty fiva pound.' The Italian looked up from the pile of notes in front of him, a huge smile breaking out on his face. ‘Alla yours!' He patted the pile of notes affectionately.

Jack tried to speak but it sounded like a high croak then coughing, he said hoarsely, ‘seven hundred quid!'

‘Anda twentya five,' Bruno corrected.

‘It's a bloody fortune, Harry, look!' Jack stared at the pile in the centre of the table.

Harry said nothing and just stared blankly at the money, his mouth moving but no sound escaping.

‘Bruno, you're a champion, mate.' Without thinking Jack launched himself at the short, heavily-built Italian, throwing his arms around him in a giant bear hug.

Bruno, taken by surprise, stood stock still with his arms stiffly at his sides. It had been many years since another human being had ever expressed gratitude or affection in such a demonstrative way and he was self-conscious of this young man's spontaneity but then he slowly brought one arm up and patted Jack on the back. His other hand surreptitiously wiped tears that had formed in his eyes.

Paddy O'Brien was in a gleeful mood when he knocked firmly on the presbytery door around ten thirty at night. There was no immediate answer so he persisted until a light flicked on in the hallway. ‘Yes, I'm coming,' a voice said irritably. ‘Who is it?'

‘It's me, Timothy. Your old friend Paddy. Are ye gonna let me in now or do I have to stand out here all the night long.'

Father O'Malley opened the heavy door and a beam of light from the hallway fell on Paddy, his hat placed at the familiar jaunty angle on his head and a smile dancing on his lips. ‘Good heavens, Paddy.' The priest looked at the clock in the passageway. ‘Do you know what time it is, man?'

‘It'd be time for a little bit of the ‘doins' that's what time it'd be.' Paddy waved a bottle in front of the priest who rolled his eyes despairingly.

‘Come in, Paddy, come in, before you wake the whole neighbourhood.' He stood aside to let his friend enter. ‘I won't be joining you in a drink though at this time of night and that's for sure.'

‘Ahh, Father ye've got to be celebratin' with me now. It'd be a fine thing if an old friend won't share a man's joy.' Paddy tripped down the hallway toward the kitchen. ‘I'll just be gettin' a coupla glasses then.'

‘Well, just the one, Paddy, I've got a busy day tomorrow and what is it then that we've got to celebrate now that won't wait until tomorrow?'

‘Aahh, lady luck she's been smilin' kindly on Paddy O'Brien tonight, Father. I was borrowin' a coupla quid I was from a good friend of mine, little colleen that I know.' He winked at the priest who tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. ‘And as luck would have it there was a little two-up game on tonight and I managed with me usual skill to be makin' a few quid profit.'

‘So you've come here from a two-up game have you, Paddy?'

‘Well … I have to be honest, not directly, Father.' Paddy looked coyly at his glass before throwing the contents down in one gulp.

‘Don't be telling me you've been around in Hay Street again and turning up here at this hour.' There was a note of annoyance in his tone.

‘Father, you know me, I was havin' to return the money I borrowed now wasn't I?'

‘You're incorrigible, Paddy, that's what you are. Now how much ‘profit' did you make then that'd bring you scurrying round here all lit up like a beacon.' The priest looked at his empty glass, moved to put it on the table then shrugging, poured another nip from the bottle.

‘Enough for …' Paddy pulled a wad of money from his coat pocket and peeled a ten-pound note from it and, placing it on the table, said, ‘… to be able to be makin' an offerin' for the plate.'

‘I'd prefer it if you put it in the offering personally during mass on Sunday, Paddy.' The priest fixed his friend with a steely eye. ‘A little visit to confession wouldn't be going astray either, y'know.'

‘Aahh the good Lord is knowin' me heart, Father and besides …' Paddy poured another healthy slug into his glass, ‘… how could I be tellin'
you
me secrets, you bein' me mate an' all.'

The priest shook his head in despair. ‘It'd do you no harm to go to mass now and again on a Sunday, Paddy.'

‘It's all right for you, Timothy, you go every Sunday 'cause you're the praiste an' all. You run the show.'

‘No, Paddy. I go every Sunday because I want to and because I'm a Christian, not just because I'm the priest.' He looked closely at his friend. ‘Perhaps you should leave some of that cash with me for safekeeping, Paddy, otherwise you'll be spending it all by tomorrow night.'

‘No, Father, I've got a plan for this money.'

‘And what plan would that be, Paddy?'

‘I'm goin' to be buyin' a train ticket tomorra. Time to be movin' on a bit and I thought I'd be tryin' me luck out in Coober Pedy.'

‘Coober Pedy, eh? Wouldn't have anything to do with a Jack or a Harry being there would it?'

Paddy smiled and stroked his stubbly chin, head angled to one side. ‘Now, why would ye be thinkin' that now?'

Reynold had busied himself outside while Bruno had counted the money. When Bruno's old Land Rover had clanked off down the track, Harry called him in and showed him the pile of notes. It was beyond Reynold's capacity to comprehend such a large amount of cash so he said nothing, just stared in awe. They had put a portion aside for Ishmo's share and wanted to surprise Reynold by giving him a return for his efforts.