accommodation, Alfredo had a great deal to say on the subject of Angelina Spinelli and Johnny Doss.
Angelina was in a similar predicament. For a couple of weeks after returning from the iron hut she was barely able to put two rational thoughts together. Then a means of returning there presented itself. Her uncle’s neighbours in Alice Springs were mica miners as well. They intended returning to the mica field after being in town a short time replenishing supplies.
Gino and Mama were surprised to see their daughter again so soon. Angelina explained that she’d returned because she wanted to stay at the mine with them. She told her parents how much she missed them and how much she wanted to help Mama instead of working in Alice Springs.
Mama liked the idea. Gino was uncomfortable about it at first but was touched by his daughter’s devotion. In the end he agreed.
After this turn of events Alfredo’s advice to Johnny was stark. Either go away now, he said, or go very, very carefully. One word out of place, an unguarded touch or glance even, might see Gino offended and Johnny banished. Or worse.
For Johnny the strain was too much. Within forty-eight hours he’d gone to Gino and resigned.
Gino was extremely disappointed. What could be the problem? Was he not a good honest boss? Did he not pay a fair wage? Perhaps Johnny was tired of all the Italian food, he thought. But Mama’s cooking was so good. And Johnny Doss could neither explain his predicament nor lie, so he said nothing.
And Gino never saw the pain in his eyes.
Feeling responsible for the separation and believing it wrong to impose on Gino, Johnny resolved to look after himself. The weather was too hot to walk by day so he resolved to go by night, reckoning that a couple nights on the march would see him at the Harts Range Police Station. From there he could get a ride into Alice Springs. Somehow, though, his thoughts would take him no further than Harts Range.
Gino would not hear of it and insisted on driving Johnny there the next morning, but while they were discussing the issue there came a sudden shout from the bush nearby and an elderly aboriginal man came hobbling up as quickly as he could. It was Juggler Panungka, the fire minder from the Wildcat Mine – the closest operation to the iron hut.
Juggler’s broken English came tumbling out thick and fast, and Johnny was the only one who could make anything of it. Apparently there had been some sort of accident in the mine. All thoughts about resignations were forgotten as the men ran to Gino’s truck. With a roar and a cloud of dust they bounded off along the rough track – old Juggler only just making it onto the back in time.
The iron hut lay on flat country, but the Wildcat Mine was situated in the ranges. The operation there was different to that at Gino’s mine, too. There a drive had been developed in a pegmatite vein in the side of a steep hill.
A rockfall had occurred near the workface. The owner, Sergio Domenici, had taken a glancing blow to the head and his assistant had a badly injured foot. They were lucky it wasn’t more serious. Only fifty kilograms or so had come down but it was enough to kill a man. And neither had been wearing a helmet.
Gino quickly decided that Johnny Doss should stay with Sergio while he and Alfredo took the injured miner to the Police Station. Sergio insisted he was all right, but, as Gino pointed out, he might easily be concussed and later need assistance. And so, as a result of these events, Johnny Doss found himself working for Sergio Domenici.
For Johnny this proved very convenient. Gino might have been offended if, after leaving, he looked for employment nearby. It also left Johnny in a position to follow Alfredo’s advice. He could drop in at the iron hut occasionally – for a short visit, perhaps, or to help out a little and stay for a meal. Whatever the case, Alfredo was always close by to temper Johnny's passion.
About four months passed. Then one Sunday afternoon at the iron hut, Johnny told Alfredo of his inner turmoil and explained that without Angelina he couldn't see a way forward. There was nothing for it, he said. He would front-up to Gino and ask his permission to propose.
Alfredo was not surprised. He was sympathetic to Johnny’s situation and had been half expecting this for some time. He also realised that, sooner or later, this was something Johnny would have to face.
So the following Sunday, before the sun came up – and leaving Sergio to the wood and water – Johnny Doss put on his best clothes and his bravest face and set off walking to the iron hut. And there, a couple of hours later, in the lean-to at the back of the hut where Gino Spinelli was cutting mica, Johnny sought permission to ask Angelina if she might consider a proposal of marriage.
Now Angelina was Gino’s most precious jewel and the favourite of his daughters. But he knew as surely as the sun’s rising that one day some knight in shining armour would come and carry her away. He was also aware that this alleged "knight" would be disguised as either an oaf or an idiot, or be some hot-blooded colt playing the acceptable suitor. Yet Gino knew this was the way of things and he was ready to deal with the situation when the time came, whatever it might be.
Mama by this time knew well the way of her daughter’s heart. Mama also knew her husband and so said nothing about the matter. Gino was suspicious, but when he confronted her, Mama crossed herself, clutched her bosom and pretended to nearly faint. He didn’t trouble her further.
It was not that Gino didn’t appreciate Johnny Doss. From all appearances Johnny was a decent, hard working, well-intentioned and clean living young man. He was no Michelangelo’s "David" in the physical sense, but he was not an unsightly figure. Rough-featured perhaps, solid even – in an awkward sort of way. But not unsightly.
Gino’s problem was that, as a person, Johnny was largely unknown to him. Where were the attributes that might show he could provide Angelina with a secure future? In particular, the sort of future Gino wanted for her.
Gino tried to explain some of these latter sentiments to Johnny in his carefully considered reply, realising as he did that Alina would scarcely refuse him. Because of this he chose his words carefully, knowing that he could lose control of the situation if he appeared in any way opposed to the union. After all, hadn’t he and his own precious bride had to stand against her father when they’d wanted to marry?
So what he said to Johnny Doss was this: He couldn’t, for the present at least, give his approval. Johnny must show himself to be someone worthy of Alina’s hand before he could allow him to propose.
Inside the iron hut, on the other side of the thin iron sheeting, the two women listened intently – breaths held, eyes locked.
They heard Gino suggest to Johnny that first he go out and make something of himself. He should only return when he had in his possession a ring for Angelina that was appropriate to the occasion. Its diamond should be in keeping with his angel’s beauty and stature, he added, with a band generous enough for her dainty finger.
Johnny was devastated. This was not what he’d expected. Then Gino instructed Alfredo to escort Johnny from the lease. Instead Alfredo took the time to walk back with him to the Wildcat Mine, and, as they walked, Alfredo tried to explain how things were nowhere near as bad as Johnny imagined.
“Look on the bright side,” Alfredo told him. “At least Gino didn’t shoot you. In fact you haven’t even been banished.” In Alfredo’s opinion Gino actually approved of Johnny. “You’re being put to the test,” Alfredo explained, “ to see if you prove sound enough.”
All Johnny had to do, he said, was save up and buy a ring big enough to impress Gino. And Gino was no expert. Almost any ring would do, as long as it had a nice little diamond. Then Johnny could go back and propose to his beloved Alina.
By the time they reached the Wildcat mine Johnny had stiffened his resolve. He would work until his back broke, he decided – something Alfredo advised against doing in the literal sense – and he would save every penny he earned. In time he would return to the iron hut for Angelina. And it would be as a man of means, bearing a diamond ring of such size and beauty that Gino would be dumbfounded.
/> Yet these were not the easiest of times. Mining was tough work and the pay was meager. If times were hard, then saving was harder. Johnny knew he was lucky just to have a job. Then one day Johnny thought it might help if he worked on Sundays as well.
But Sergio wouldn’t let him. What was he, Sergio asked – some kind of heathen? Sunday was a day of rest. This was the day for the washing. This was the day to mend the flat tyre on the truck and go out for a load of wood and water. It wasn’t a day for work. Mama mia!
So of a Sunday Johnny Doss would wash his clothes and help get some wood and a load of water. And if the truck had a flat he would help mend that, too. But every Sunday, after washing his clothes and helping get water and wood, he would wander off to explore the gorges and gullies in the rugged geology near the main range. He didn’t realise this brought him nearer to Angelina and the iron hut.
Nor was this surprising, as the track to the iron hut went in a totally different direction, via a roundabout route. From the Wildcat Mine it first headed west, and after three kilometres or so joined onto the old Queensland Road. This then skirted some biggish hills and descended into a narrow gully, after which it climbed a steep gradient to a break in the main range. Out on the plains it went north-east to Queensland, while the