12

Mr Willy Tortoise

Awa lay in bed wide awake, long after Tai had fallen asleep. His guilty secret was under his camp stretcher, hidden away from Tai and anybody else.

He was thinking how lucky he was to have hidden it before Aunty Miro came snooping in their room. That was too close for comfort! She had gone through their canvas bag and taken out their dirty clothes to wash. He needed to deliver the J.D. Carol satchel to Willy Tortoise as soon as he could.

After a restless night, Awa got up very early the next morning. Pop was alone in the kitchen, whistling and stirring a large pot of porridge. “You’re up early, Awatea. What’s up?”

“Can I take Mr Willoughby some fresh eggs before breakfast, Pop?”

“Good lad. He needs a few favours after all he’s done for others.”

“Back soon, Pop.” Awa ran out to the chook pen, grabbed a half-dozen still-warm eggs and put them in his pockets. Tai was comatose as Awa gently put the eggs in the satchel.

Awa nervously knocked on Willy Tortoise’s door. He heard footsteps in the hall. The door creaked open.

“Hello, boy. It’s Awatea, isn’t it? What have you got for me today?” His long neck protruded from a stiff collar, and without his hat covering his bald and freckled head, he looked even more like a tortoise. Awa smiled at Tai’s nickname for the man.

Willy Tortoise smiled back. His eyes were watery and warm.

“I brought you some eggs, and this.” Awa passed him the satchel. “We’ve been cleaning out
Mr Carol’s shed. I found this. I think it should be yours.”

Mr Willy took the satchel and read the inscription. “Come in, Awatea, and sit down.”

He led Awa down a dark corridor into a warm, well-lit kitchen. The kettle sang on the stove. “Sit down, Awatea. Eggs you said? I’ll put them in a pot and you can stay for breakfast.”

“They’re in the satchel, Mr Willoughby.” Awa fidgeted and wriggled in his chair at the table.

“Relax, boy.” Mr Willy opened the satchel, placed the eggs in a pot to boil, put some bread on the coal range top to toast and sat down. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

“We wanted to know what happened to Mr Carol, Tai and me. Then I found this satchel. I haven’t shown it to anyone, but I think Mr Carol wanted you to have it.”

Mr Willy pulled everything out of the satchel and placed it on the table. “Can you turn the toast and check the eggs, Awatea?” He began to flick through the book and the letters. “Plates in the cupboard.” He pointed. “Do the honours, will you?”

Awa put eggs and toast on the table.

“Butter in the safe,” ordered Mr Willy, still going slowly through the contents. “Egg cups on the bench. Teaspoons in the sink, I think.”

Awa searched the kitchen, found what was needed and set the table.

“Eat, boy. We’ll talk soon.”

As Awa ate, Mr Willy quietly read his way through the satchel. Awa watched him open the tobacco tin. He spread the coins on the tablecloth and whistled quietly as he picked up one tiny coin.

“Thanks, boy.” He smiled as he sliced the top off an egg and began to eat. “Now, Awatea, you tell me what you think this is about. Pour yourself a cup of tea, boy. Wet your whistle.”

“We, um, Tai and I wanted to find out if Mrs Carol drowned her husband in the rain barrel.”

“That old chestnut. Meredith wouldn’t have hurt a fly. Go on.”

“We checked the cemetery for graves and the war memorial for names. He wasn’t anywhere. Then I found that satchel.”

“Anyone know about that?”

“No. Only me.”

“And what do you think the answer is? What happened to J.D. Carol?”

“I think Mr Carol was making brandy and selling it against the law. He wrote in his book that he wanted to go back to Italy and that war changed him. I didn’t read the letter to Mrs Carol.”

“I think it’s too late to read that letter. Too late for her, anyway. Jack and I were together for lots of the war. We were captured in Italy. He escaped and took refuge with a friendly family. For two years, he stayed hidden while I was a POW – a prisoner of war. The Germans searched the villages, never found him.”

“It must have been bad for you.”

“Yes, men can do terrible things to each other. But I want your story. Tell me more.”

“I think he disappeared because the cops were after him for moonshining, and he wanted to go back to Italy.”

“I helped him leave here, Awatea. It had to be quick. He was going to be arrested. He wasn’t a bad man, but war did change us all. He left his heart in Italy. I think these letters give me an address, and I can finally contact him. He went back to be with the family that sheltered him and to the woman who nursed his wounds.”

Mr Willoughby shuffled through the coins on the table again. “We collected coins. It’s been a hobby of mine since I was a boy. Jack used to save anything interesting and give it to me. It seems this collection is a gift … and this wee coin here could be worth more than my house!”

Awa’s eyes opened wide. “How?”

“Hold on, I’ll get a magnet.”

Mr Willy was soon back with a large box. It was full of coins, labelled and slotted into cardboard sheets. He took out a magnet and held it to the one-cent piece in his hand. His hand was shaking.

“In 1943, these were steel, because all the copper went into making bullet casings for the war. A few, less than forty, were minted in copper by mistake.” His voice shook too.

Awa was onto it. “If the magnet stuck to it, it would be steel.”

“Yes, and because the copper ones are very rare, they are very valuable. Some collectors file down 1948 copper ones, so the eight looks like a three. Others coat the 1943 steel coins with copper.” He handed Awa the coin and the magnet. “What do you think?”

Awa weighed the coin in his hand, and hovered the magnet over it. When there was no attraction, he touched them together. “This coin isn’t magnetic.”

Willy Tortoise craned his neck towards Awa and said quietly, “Jack mentioned there might be something of value, but can I check again? Please.” Awa nodded. He could see Mr Willy’s hands shaking.

“YES!” shouted Mr Willy. “All these years and now this!” He rummaged in the box and pulled out a magnifying glass. “It is a copper 1943 wheat penny! See on the flip side, a wheat stalk.”

He picked up the letters from Italy again. “And there is an address. I can contact my old friend with some good news, if he is still alive! Can you keep this a secret, Awatea? Finding out the truth now will do nobody any good. Meredith could have done with an explanation, and the money, but it’s too late, sadly. Maybe if I can find Jack, we could give the coin back or share the proceeds if it’s sold.”

Mr Willy passed Awa the coin. Awa held it to the light from the window. He read “United States of America, One Cent”. Mr Willy dug around in the coin pile and passed him another coin the same size but silver coloured. This one stuck tight to his magnet. “This is another wheat penny, steel.See the magnetic attraction. It’s worth about three pennies.”

“It is weird. Something so small can be worth so much.” Awa held both coins, one balanced in each hand, carefully comparing the weight. “I think copper is lighter than steel.” Then, “How would he get an American coin in Italy?”

“Soldiers used currency from many different
countries.”

“Why do people think Mr Carol was a bad man?”

“He may have appeared that way after the war. He didn’t talk much, and he spent a lot of time in his shed making brandy and wine. He travelled in secret as much as he could with his deliveries, under cover of darkness. He drank a lot. He said it helped with the shakes. We watched men die, and suffer, almost died ourselves many times. Jack was hurt badly. He was in great pain until he healed. There was no hospital and anaesthetics for him. None of us who went are what we were before the war.”

“You lost two brothers. I saw the war memorial.”

“And when I returned, my mother was almost dead with grief. She thought she had lost us all.”

“That’s sad.”

“And that’s why we shouldn’t make judgments about Jack Carol. But that was a long time ago, Awatea. Do you think it’s worth keeping this quiet?”

“Yes, Mr Willoughby. I do.”