Jack & Harry (9 page)

‘He's proved his trust,' Harry said when Jack asked a silent question with his eyes.

‘What's this trust you're talkin' about? What's goin' on, lads?' Paddy stood with his hands on his hips facing the boys.

‘Paddy,' Jack began shakily. ‘We trust
you
, now you have to trust
us
and that what we tell you is the truth. We got no Aunt here in Kalgoorlie. Harry and I aren't even cousins.' Jack gave Paddy a brief outline of what had happened over the past few days starting with the accusation that they had stolen Billy Munse's bike.

Harry concluded by telling him that they had run away from home and were on the run now from the law. It felt good to be able to talk about it and the words tumbled from them both as they unloaded the guilt of what they had done onto their new found and unlikely friend.

‘I thought it strange, lads, that you were travellin' alone but it wasn't up to me to be knowin' yer business and all, unless you wanted to tell me. Have ye anywhere to be stayin' the night then?'

The boys shook their heads. ‘Righto then, come with me,' Paddy said. ‘I'll get ye bedded for the night somewhere safe and we can all talk about it in the mornin'.'

‘Where we goin', Paddy?' Jack asked as they headed off beside the little man.

‘To a great friend of mine, a kind and godly man who'll be takin' good care of ye that's for sure. His name's Father O'Malley. He's the catholic priest here.' He pronounced it
praste
.

‘But we aren't catholic, Paddy,' Jack said slowing back a pace.

‘You're God's children, lads and that's all that matters. Don't be worryin none about catholic or non-catholic or whatever. If it doesn't worry you it won't be worryin' the good Father and I'm sure it won't be worryin' the Lord at all. There'll be a warm place to sleep and a good feed in the mornin' I'll be guessin'. Mrs Lacey, his housekeeper, comes in to the presbytery and cooks for Father O'Malley and any guests he has and he has some most of the time, I can tell ye.'

They arrived at a large stone building behind a tall fence. Paddy led them through the gate and up a neatly packed gravel path past some statues washed ghostly in the pale moonlight and banged loudly on the door with the brass knocker.

After some time, as the boys stood nervously on the porch and Paddy leaned on the verandah post whistling softly, the door opened and a shaft of light fell on the trio on the porch. Jack couldn't see the man who stood there clearly because the light was behind him but he was tall, slightly stooped and looked ominous in the darkness.

‘Patrick? That you?' The figure spoke with a gentle warm brogue much like Paddy's ‘It's good to be seeing you, Patrick, my son, and who then are the young men you have with you?' He motioned for them to come inside and Paddy introduced the boys to Father O'Malley.

Both boys were shy when confronted with the tall man. They had never been so close before to a ‘praste', as Paddy called him, and certainly never spoken with one so were a little daunted by his presence. The fact that he was dressed from his neck to his ankles in a long black robe which was buttoned down the front, made him seem sort of sinister. When he spoke, though, it was gentle and reassuring.

‘You must have a story as to why you brought them here, Patrick, but it's getting late and the boys must be tired and probably hungry as well?' He looked at the boys and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

They nodded tentatively, so the priest led the trio into a large, stone-floored kitchen where he took bread from the larder and a plate of corned beef from the fridge.

‘You make yourselves some tea and I'll go and see that there are a couple of beds for you. You know your room, Patrick, it's always made up in case you call in, you old scoundrel.' The priest smiled warmly at Paddy as he left the room.

They ate hungrily and drank cordial that Paddy poured from a large jug he took from the fridge. ‘I told ya, lads, didn't I? No need to be worryin', and we'll sort a few things out for you in the mornin.'

The priest returned as they were finishing washing the plates and led the two boys down a long timber-floored corridor to a small room that was sparsely furnished with two single beds and a wooden dressing table with a small mirror attached.

The only other thing in the room was a large wooden cross on the wall with a figure of Jesus Christ hanging forlornly from it and, while this was an alien thing to the boys, it was somehow strangely comforting. The priest bid them goodnight and closed the door. They climbed wearily into bed and, with their money tucked safely under Jack's pillow, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtain into the room where the boys slept. After a while Harry stirred and called softly to Jack, ‘You awake yet?'

‘Yeah, I'm almost awake. Gee, that was a good night's sleep; we didn't sleep much on the train and yesterday was pretty exciting.' Jack stretched and pulled back the covers; noticing two towels on the chair with a cake of soap.

There was a note on the dressing table. It read ‘Didn't want to wake you. The bathroom is down the hall to the right and breakfast will be ready after you have bathed. You know where the kitchen is.' It was signed ‘Mrs Lacey.'

‘Must be the housekeeper.' Harry concluded as Jack read the note aloud. ‘This is incredible, Jack; we've been pretty lucky so far, eh? Just hope it keeps up.'

Breakfast was set out on a large scrubbed pine table in the kitchen when the boys entered. There was toast with jam and corn flakes and a large jug of milk covered with a net cloth with little beads around the edge. Eggs were sizzling in a pan on the large Metters wood stove set in the brick wall beside what appeared to be an oven for baking bread.

Mrs Lacey was a rotund lady dressed in a short-sleeved cotton frock and large blue apron. Her greying hair was tied in a bun and she wore tiny silver spectacles perched at the end of her nose so that she constantly held her head down to peer over the top of them. She bade the boys ‘good morning' and nodded when they thanked her for the towels and soap. Other than that, she didn't talk and busied herself with duties in the kitchen.

When they had finished eating she removed her apron. ‘Now boys, Father would like to see you so I'll take you to him.' She led them from the presbytery across the lawn to an office at the side of the large church.

Father O'Malley was seated behind a well-polished wooden desk. There were tall shelves lining the walls filled with many bound books and journals. The place smelled pleasantly of pipe tobacco, leather furniture and Old Spice aftershave.

‘Come in, boys, come in.' He waved them to two chairs. ‘Take a seat. Did you sleep well? How was breakfast?' He smiled warmly at them.

‘Fine, thank you, sir,' Jack answered.

‘Fine, thanks,' added Harry. Neither boy knew how to correctly address this kindly but unfamiliar man seated before them so figured that ‘sir' would fit the bill.

‘Patrick said to say goodbye. He said he would see you sometime along the track.'

‘Paddy's gone! Where?' Both boys looked nervously at each other then back at the seated priest.

‘Patrick, or Paddy as you know him, comes and goes.' The priest waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the town. ‘He's an itinerant man with a heart of gold but too much of a liking for the ‘doins' I'm afraid … I've known him for many years. He calls in every now and then and I keep a room for him but he only stays overnight and is gone the next morning. We usually sit up for some time talking into the night as we did last night. Now tell me, boys, can I help you in anyway? Patrick tells me you are running away from home for some good reason but left it for you to tell me if you want to.' He leaned back in his chair, filled his pipe and patiently lit it with a match as he waited for them to talk.

The boys thought if the priest was friend of Paddy's and had been so kind to them then they should trust him and come clean. Jack, however, prefaced their tale with the remark that they wouldn't be going home no matter what.

The priest listened intently to their story and when they had finished he sat thoughtfully for some time, drumming his long fingers on the desk, the now cold pipe still in his mouth.

‘Hmm.' He leaned forward in his chair. ‘I understand your dilemma. I believe that you didn't steal the bike but what about your parents, they must be worried sick? Let me call them to let them know you're OK. Better still, boys, I know the police sergeant well here in town and I'm sure I could persuade him to help you out.'

‘No!' Jack started from his chair. ‘We thought we could trust you but now you're gonna dob us in to the coppers and we'll go to jail.'

‘Sit down, son, I'm not about to ‘dob' you in at all; I'm just concerned for your welfare and about both your parents.' He nodded to include Harry. ‘They must be going through a very tough time not knowing where you are, or if you are OK or not. Do you think that's fair?'

‘No, sir,' Harry agreed. ‘Will you help us write notes then and you can post them, one to each of our parents, that way they'll know we're all right. We really want to continue on our journey, sir.'

‘We've made up our minds,' Jack said with finality, holding the priest's eyes with a firm look. ‘We're not goin' home.'

‘You are a determined couple of young men I can see that. I believe what you've told me and I'm sure you will do what's right.' He thought again for some time, looking at the ceiling before he spoke.

‘Tell you what I'll do. You write notes to your parents and let me read them before you seal them up, then I'll post them to make sure they've gone. Then, and this goes against my better judgment, and may the Good Lord forgive me if I'm making a mistake, but I'm not going to just let you head off into the distance alone with no guidance.'

The boys thought the priest was again about to betray them in some way but relaxed when he continued, ‘I'm going to Mt Margaret in the morning, taking a young lad about your age back to his family; he's been here recuperating from a broken leg. You can come with me if you like. That way you can get a taste for the outback without being abandoned to it and if you want to return with me to Kalgoorlie you can.'

‘That's more than fair, sir,' Jack said.

‘Thank you, sir,' Harry smiled. ‘Where's Mt Margaret?'

‘A fair drive. It's between Leonora and Laverton, north of here.' He produced a lined pad from a drawer. ‘Here's something to write on, and there are pens and ink on the desk. You write while I go and arrange a couple of things for tomorrow.' The priest went to leave the room but paused at the door, his long black robe rippling in the wind. ‘There's just one thing I ask, please stop calling me ‘sir', it sounds so formal.'

‘What do we call you then?'

‘Just plain,
Father.
He closed the door.

The boys sat in silence in the office and then began composing notes to their parents. ‘Looks like another lucky break has happened, Harry, we're now off to Mt Margaret. I wonder what it's like?'

‘Darned if I know, Jack, it sounds pretty good but eh? Mt Margaret,' Harry said almost reverently.

Both boys edged closer to the desk and began to write their letters home.

It was Wednesday mid-morning at the Fergusons. Jack had been home for some hours, having driven through the night, and the Turners, Claude and Jean, had come around to be with them to plan the next course of action in finding their two sons. Eric, Jack's best mate, had also turned up to see if he could help in any way and to just be there for them in this crisis time. They were all seated around the kitchen table, a large pot of tea brewing in the centre. Eric pulled a tobacco pouch from his pocket and began to roll a cigarette.

‘Well.' Jack refilled his cup from the pot, ‘I've been in touch with the school and the boys wagged lessons on Tuesday, so they must have planned all this over the weekend while they were here and on Monday. I'm sorry, Claude, that Jack has got young Harry involved in this.'

‘Not just your boy's fault, Jack; they're both in this together. Been like it since they were little tackers, in everything together.'

The two mothers were visibly upset, their eyes red and swollen from a night filled with tears and lack of sleep.

‘Have you reported to the police that the boys are missing?' Eric puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette, smoke swirling lazily around his head. ‘Wouldn't be a bad idea, Jack … they could put a bulletin out for them.'

‘Not yet, Eric. I thought we'd wait for bit before involving the police.' He looked at Claude who nodded in agreement. ‘There's a good chance they'll turn up today when they get hungry enough and run out of money.'

‘Got much with them, Jack?' Eric asked.