Jack & Harry (55 page)

‘I don't know what's come over him, Mr Wallace. He's a good boy but I think older children influence him.' She refrained from saying ‘like Jack Ferguson'.

‘Quite understandable in the circumstances, Mrs Turner.' His voice had taken on a reconciliatory manner and he stood to indicate the interview had concluded. ‘I'll be expecting you in class on Monday morning, Harry,' he said nasally.

The office door had hardly shut behind them when the smile his mother had farewelled Wallace with vanished and she turned angrily on her son. ‘Harry, that was most embarrassing. What's come over you all of a sudden? You're not the same boy.'

‘You seem to blame Jack for what's happened and everybody thinks that Billy Munse is a bloody hero because he's goin' on to university. Big deal! I can make more money now in a day than Billy Munse'll make in a year.' He unbuttoned his top pocket and pulled a roll of notes from his shirt and waved them in front of his mother. ‘There's a few hundred quid here and Jack's got the same.'

Jean was taken aback at the size of the bankroll and could only say weakly, ‘don't swear, Harry, it's not nice.'

They didn't go to the pictures as planned. When Jack telephoned Mrs Turner she said that Harry had gone to visit his aunty and wouldn't be back until later that evening. ‘I'll tell him you called, Jack,' she said sweetly and hung up, but she never did.

He moped about the yard for the rest of the afternoon then went down to the creek but found it didn't feel the same without Harry so he returned home. Taking a shovel he began to dig up the vegetable patch behind the garage to fill in time. The tomatoes and other summer crops were withering so he pulled them out and turned the soil over quickly wishing, as he did so, that the dirt at Coober was as easy to sink a shovel into as this was.

Even though it was coolish it was sheltered behind the garage so he worked up a sweat and took his shirt off, hanging it on the fence, working only in his trousers. Raking the tilled soil into rows he stood back surveying his work when his mother walked around the corner. ‘Good heavens, Jack, aren't you cold working bare chested.' She took in the well-developed muscles and was surprised by his mature physique.

‘No, Mum, it's good to be able to take the shirt off. Too darned hot where I live to take your shirt off.'

‘You don't live
there
, Jack,
this
is your home.' She picked his shirt up from the fence. ‘I'll pop this in the washing for you, son.'

‘No, that's OK.' Jack reached out quickly for his shirt. ‘My money's in there.'

Before he could retrieve the garment, his mother pulled out a wad of notes from the pocket that she gaped at unbelievingly. ‘My God, Jack, where did you get this?'

‘Told you, we sold a few stones, Mum.'

‘There must be …'

‘About three hundred quid, Mum.' He took the notes from his mother, unaware that she reached into the other pocket after feeling something in it.

‘What's this then, Jack?' She held out a leather tobacco pouch. ‘Who does this belong to?'

‘It's mine, Mum.'

‘Don't tell me you smoke? Oh, Jack, what's happened to you?' There was anguish mingled with anger as she stood there, the tobacco pouch in her hand.

‘Been rollin' smokes for months now, Mum. All the blokes smoke on the drovin' team.'

‘Children don't smoke, Jack. How could they let you smoke? What irresponsible people they must be.'

‘They never thought of us as kids, Mum. We did a man's work and were treated as such, me and Harry.'

‘Well!' She turned on her heel, taking the pouch with her ‘You are still a child here and I won't tolerate smoking. I'm glad your father doesn't know as he'd be ropable. And as for the money, you best give it to your father for safekeeping. You're too young to have that amount of cash on you.' Jack stood in shock as his mother stormed off toward the house.

It was Saturday and Alice had just returned from shopping with her husband and they were packing the groceries away when there was a knock at the front door. ‘Can you get that, son.' Jack called.

‘He's down the back yard digging in the vegie patch, Jack, I'll get it.'

‘No, you're busy there, Alice, I'll go.'

He opened the door to see a stranger, immaculately dressed in a cream suit with a blue shirt and wearing a Panama hat. The man was short but solidly built and was smiling broadly as he whipped the hat from his head with a flourish. ‘Meesta Fergoosun?'

‘Yes, I'm Jack Ferguson what can I do for you?'

‘I'ma look for Jack. You musta be the father. He tella me you name Jack too.'

‘Pardon me? You're looking for my son? Who are you?' Jack stood with his arms folded in front of the man.

‘My name isa Bruno Boccelli.' The man held out his hand but Jack ignored it. ‘What do you want my son for?' He noticed a hardening in the man's eyes that disturbed a little.

‘Isa Jack here, sir.' Bruno spoke politely but there was a hard edge to his voice. ‘I would lika to discuss business with him.'

‘I don't understand. Why would you want to discuss business with my son, he's only just turned sixteen? Still only a lad and if you want to do any discussing you'll do it with me.'

‘Perhaps to you Jack isa boy but to me Jack isa man. You see Jack and his friend Harry they sava my life. Now can I talka to him plis? Is he at home or do I comma back?' There was a determination in the man's tone that made Jack aware that he would persist.

At that moment Alice came out the door behind her husband. ‘What's the problem, Jack?'

‘No problem. This bloke says he's a friend of Jack's and wants to talk business to him but he won't tell me what it's about.'

Alice smiled politely at the man and was about to agree with her husband when there was a shout behind her and Jack burst through the door and onto the verandah. Pushing past his parents, to their utter amazement, he launched himself at the stranger and threw his arms around him, ‘Bruno! It's you. You're OK, mate.'

‘Jack, itsa so good to see you, my friend. The police sergeant he tella me what you do inna mine, Jack. You anda Harry anda Rennol. You sava Bruno life.'

‘Ahh it was nothin', mate.' Jack dismissed the praise and stood back, taking in the suit and hat. ‘Hey, Bruno, you look sharp, mate. Bought some new clobber, eh?'

‘You like?' The small man turned a complete circle ‘You think maybe I getta nice lady inna Napoli, eh, Jack?'

‘Dunno, Bruno, you look like a bloody Mafia gangster.' The two laughed uproariously and Jack's parents stood open-mouthed at the obvious rapport between their young son and this swarthy Italian with the thick accent.

Alice was first to recover. ‘Ah, Mr …?'

‘Boccelli' Jack senior said.

‘Mr Boccelli … please come inside. It seems you and Jack here know each other well.' She reached out and took her husband's arm, guiding him aside, allowing the Italian entrance to the front door.

As soon as they were inside the house Bruno asked Jack a question. ‘Harry. You know where Harry is? I need talka you both. Very important.'

‘I'll call him on the phone, Bruno, wait here.' Jack went to the telephone, leaving Bruno and the Ferguson's standing in the hallway, the Italian twirling his hat awkwardly in his fingers.

Alice ushered him into the lounge room and seated him on the lounge. ‘What's this about saving your life?'

‘Jack he notta say nothing?' When they shook their heads Bruno relayed to them what Ron Carter had told him about the boys initiating the rescue and how Reynold and Jack had dug frantically for him with bare hands forty feet underground while Harry drove off for help.

‘Bruno!' Jack returned from the telephone. ‘Don't scare them with that sorta talk. It wasn't all that dangerous,' he said, playing down their roles in the rescue. ‘Harry's on his way. Couldn't believe it when I said you were here. How did ya find us?'

Bruno explained that Ron Carter brought Paddy O'Brien to the station but he didn't know where Jack lived in Perth so Iris Smith drove him round to Shaun Logan who contacted Father O'Malley to get the Ferguson address. Jack's father sat in an easy chair with Alice perched on the arm, her hand on her husband's shoulder, and both of them were bewildered by the conversation and the names of people they didn't know.

Some minutes later Harry came bursting through the door and there was a replay of the reunion that Jack had had with Bruno. When it had settled down Bruno became serious. ‘Jack, Harry we musta talk business. Where we go?'

‘You can talk here, Mr Boccelli.' Jack's father indicated the lounge chairs.

‘Thank you so much but this issa business between us. We talka private.' He stood up. ‘Where we go, Jack?'

‘Down to the creek I suppose. Best place, eh, Harry?

‘Yep. Nobody can hear us there.'

Bruno made a move toward the door and apologised for interrupting the family.

‘We'll see you when you come back then, Mr Boccelli,' Alice said as they walked into the hallway.

‘No, Meesus Fergoosun, I go on fromma this … creek
,
only have little time inna Perth.'

Bruno farewelled Alice and Jack Ferguson leaving them standing on the front verandah watching the two boys and the well dressed Italian walk off down the street. ‘We have a lot to find out about what they got up to while they were away, Alice.'

‘I can't believe it, Jack. They rescued that man from a cave-in. Our Jack and young Harry, that's incredible.' Her voice caught and she began to cry softly, ‘Oh, Jack, to think they could have all been killed. I'm so glad they're not out there now and are safe here at home.'

‘Yes, Alice, I know what you mean.' He reached out and drew his wife to him. ‘But I think they grew up pretty quickly out there.' He watched as the unlikely three figures disappeared down the street. ‘Remember what I said a few nights ago, about a maturity that I couldn't put my finger on?'

‘I do remember you saying that, Jack, and I'm so glad Harry's going back to school and our Jack's starting with Elders after the weekend. At least we'll know where he is and that he's safe. Not scrambling around some godforsaken mine in the middle of Australia risking his life with all those strange people.'

The boys led Bruno through the park gates and down to the creek. They didn't sit on the ground as usual, due to Bruno being dressed in a suit, so they chose one of the benches under a spreading Morton Bay fig tree. Even so, Bruno produced a handkerchief that he placed carefully on the wooden slats to protect his new clothes before sitting down, a gesture which made the boys grin to themselves, as this was so unlike the Bruno they were accustomed to: the Bruno with the collarless shirt and waistcoat with patched trousers that he kept hitched up with a piece of frayed rope, and a beanie he wore when he went underground, the Bruno with the dust-caked face and dirt beneath his fingernails.

‘I need to thank you for a save my life. Sergeant Roy he tella me all about it. I no remember, justa know that I scare now of …' their friend shuddered visibly, beads of perspiration dotting his forehead ‘… of have to go underground. I no canna do that no more, boys.'

They didn't know what to say but realised he trusted them enough to allow them to witness this open display of his fear. Jack reached out tentatively and touched his shoulder ‘That's OK, Bruno, I think I understand.'

‘It musta been real scary, Bruno.' Harry attempted to reassure the Italian.

‘Yes, Harry, I a very scared, I not think I get out. I sit with this bigga opla with so mucha dust all round inna air like I no breath no more and the silence, not a sound. I think this issa Bruno grave and I looka at the opla, big …' He held his hands up to indicate its size, ‘ anna I say, ‘Bruno, you find what you looka for alla you life and now you die here with her.' I cry then fora longa time before the light go out anna darkness issa so black lika the tomb. I shake anna shake anna cry anna pray anna think of my family back inna Napoli. I know I notta see them no more and then fall asleep I think. No remember no more from then.' There were tears in his eyes when he turned to look at the boys and they saw the fear deep inside him and knew that he believed he had come back from the dead.

He coughed and retrieved the handkerchief from beneath him, unconcerned now about the dirty seat, and blew his nose noisily. He smiled self-consciously. ‘You thinka Bruno loosa his mind no?' He took a deep breath before continuing. ‘That'sa why I never go backa down. I make the decision to go home, seea my family anna maybe Bruno finda nice lady to settle down. I sella the opla, no want to be a remind of that day.

She bringa big money, more thanna Bruno need, anna now I say thank you for save my life.'