A Diamond in the Rough

by Marilyn Land

  It wasn’t until a full week later that he was able to get a flight back to London.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  1948—the New Year—what would it bring? A week had already gone by, a week of being snowbound in New York unable to get a flight home. He and Marcus were expecting to attend the Jewelry Trade Show at the Grand Central Palace in the City at the end of the month. Meanwhile, he awaited word of his Uncle Benjamin’s release from the sanatorium so he could follow through with plans to travel to Cape Town.

  After giving it much thought, he decided he would ask his uncle to consider moving to England. It would be good for both of them. He wasn’t sure how old he was, but it would be unnecessary for him to work; he would take care of him, see that he had everything he wanted and needed.

  Marcus and Jake were set to fly to New York for the Show on January 27th three days prior to the opening. The weather was cold but dry and they hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat of last year.

  There wasn’t; their flight left on time. They enjoyed a smooth uneventful trip with Marcus telling him about the first trade show he had attended in Italy several years before the War.

  “The Italian event was heavily concentrated on gold, especially 18K and featured original designs found only in Europe at that time. Although hundreds of manufacturers will be representing jewelry composed of an array of metals and gemstones, I anticipate that De Beers has gone all out to put diamonds front and center at the upcoming JA Show.”

  As they flew across the Atlantic, a wire addressed to Jacob Lyons was delivered to the cottage. Wendy was there when it arrived and signed for it. She placed it on the dining table where she normally put all the mail that came when he was travelling.

  The JA Trade Show was a huge success all around, and they were pleased with De Beers’ efforts. Jake’s suggestion to produce a short film version of the campaign’s magazine ads, and presenting it to retail members, proved a big hit.

  They returned home Wednesday evening. When Jake arrived at the cottage, it had already turned dark. He let himself in, dropped his bag at the door, and turned on the lights. He was tired, but it had been a good trip, a good week.

  Taking his bag into the bedroom, he decided to leave it until morning to unpack. He opted to take a shower instead, and then check in the kitchen for something to eat.

  The hot water felt good, relieving the tension of the long flight home. Clad in pajamas and a robe, he felt refreshed as he headed to the kitchen. Passing the dining table, he stopped to check his mail. On top of the pile lay the wire.

  PLEASE ACCEPT CONDOLENCES—STOP—SORRY TO INFORM YOU BENJAMIN LYONS PASSED AWAY SUNDAY MORNING LAST—STOP—FINAL WISHES REQUEST BURIAL OF HIS REMAINS AND THOSE OF HIS BROTHER SIDNEY IN LONDON ALONGSIDE BROTHER HARRY—STOP

  REMAINS AND PERSONAL EFFECTS BEING SHIPPED DIRECT—STOP—PLEASE CONTACT ME AT YOUR EARLIEST TO ARRANGE TRANSFER OF FUNDS TO YOU—STOP

  GORDON HEMMING, MANAGER

  FIRST NATIONAL BANK OF SOUTH AFRICA

  CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA

  Once again he was engulfed in feelings of loss, sadness, and being alone. He was now truly alone, the last of the Lyons. The Rabbi’s letter came to mind. If he hadn’t received it, he would not have known Benjamin was sick. The wire made no mention of how or what caused his death. Emotionally, Jake was a mess. Why now? Everything in his life was going so well. Why then was he feeling guilty?

  Sleep eluded him. He sat on the sofa throughout the night trying to make sense of his feelings, especially the guilt. As the sun came up, his thoughts became more transparent. He put a pot of coffee on to brew, looked through the remaining mail, and decided to get dressed.

  Relying on his track record of making sound decisions, he was confident that his current choice would be equally so. As he awaited his uncles’ remains and personal effects to arrive, he would make arrangements for their burials in the Brady Street Cemetery, and arrange for the new Rabbi at the Great Central Synagogue to perform the service. He chose not to contact the Bank just yet.

  He rang up Marcus to tell him that he had received a wire notifying him that his Uncle Benjamin had died while they were in New York, offering no further information. Surprised by the absence of emotion and the tone in Jake’s voice, Marcus sensed there was more, much more to the story than he had revealed.

  While waiting for the shipment from Cape Town, he found himself thinking about family. Although he had been blessed in many ways, having a family was not one of them. His hopes of marrying Lexi and having a family of his own were no longer in the cards for him. Not only did he realize that his feelings for her had never waned, they seemed to be growing stronger. He found himself in a dilemma for which he had no solution.

  Whenever the weather cooperated, he could be found at Eagle Aerodrome.

  Flying became his salvation. High above the ground, in and out of the clouds, his thinking was crystal clear. He could hear his Papa’s voice: Choices control your destiny, but your fate is sealed. He had once believed he and Lexi were inevitable only to discover that fate decreed otherwise.

  Mid-February, Jake received word the shipment had arrived from South Africa and requested arrangements be made for delivery. The next day, the truck pulled up at the cottage. The crate was much larger than he anticipated, and he was unsure where to put it. Opting for the garage, he asked the deliverymen to slide it alongside the car against the wall.

  Retrieving tools from the cellar, he backed the car out and moved the crate away from the wall so it could be accessed from all sides. It was so solidly built and nailed shut that it took him almost an hour to pry open the lid. His eyes came to rest on the envelope that bore his name, Jacob.

  Picking up the envelope, he opened it, and removed the folded piece of paper from inside.

  Dear Jacob,

  If you are reading this letter, than I have gone to join my Brothers.

  For many months, I have been in a Sanatorium recovering from Tuberculosis, a terrible illness quite common in South Africa. It requires a long and slow recovery often riddled with setbacks, and I take it one day at a time. Unable to have visitors for the first six months of confinement, I decided to wait before writing to you.

  I didn’t want to concern you with my problems; waiting until I was home seemed a better choice. You wrote of many loose ends that you needed to tie up since your discharge, and I sensed it wasn’t an easy task you faced.

  When I came to Cape Town to make a new life for myself, I had no great expectations, but the Lord blessed me many times over, and I was happy. My happiness increased tenfold when Sidney left Cuba and joined me. We had a lot of good years working together, attending services at the synagogue, and we had good, good friends.

  Recent years have not gone as well. When we learned what happened to Harry and family, we were devastated. The ache in our hearts was eased only by the fact that you survived. Learning you were missing we prayed for your safe return. As we waited for word that you were alive and well, Sidney suffered a heart attack and died. The wire I sent to Marcus Hirsch advising of his passing crossed with the wire he sent advising you were safe.

  Sidney’s passing was very hard for me to accept. Without the help of my dear friend Franz Schiller, I don’t know what I would have done. We became friends the very first day I arrived in Cape Town.

  When you returned to England and wrote of visiting, I began to think once more of family and possibly moving to be near my only living relative. When Franz suddenly died, once again I fell into a state of sadness. In the weeks following his death, I became more determined than ever to leave South Africa and relocate to England.

  Diagnosed with Tuberculosis, I had no choice but to put my plans on hold and place my faith in the doctors who were caring for me; they tell me I am on the mend, but one never knows. Hence, I am writing to you just in case.

  I cannot in good conscience leave this wo
rld without telling you how much I love you; I only wish we could have had a relationship, a chance to get to know each other. I often wonder if you are like your Papa, like Sidney, or even a little bit like me.

  God Bless you Jacob. May He always watch over you, as your Papa, Sidney, and I will. Never forget that you are a Lyons.

  Love, your Uncle Benjamin

  He began removing the items. There were two small wooden boxes with a carved Star of David on top that contained his uncles’ remains; each was identified by name. There was a box that contained jeweler’s tools; there was another that contained watches, several rings, a hand-carved elephant, a cigar box similar to the one his uncles had brought his father when they came to London, a small cloth pouch, and an envelope containing assorted papers.

  That left the crate emptied of everything except the chest resting in the center. At first glance, Jake could not identify the Hebrew lettering carved on the lid. Slowly, he opened the chest. The shallow tray on top was empty except for a card with the same Hebrew letters written on it. As he picked up the card, the tray shifted, and he removed it.

  His fixed gaze stared and stared rendering him unable to believe what he was seeing—diamonds, more diamonds than he had ever seen at one time or in one place or in his entire life for that matter. Yet here they were in his garage, in his possession with no explanation whatsoever. The finished stones cut and polished to perfection were blinding to his eyes.

  Jake’s thoughts were rampant. They must be worth a fortune. Who could have shipped them in a nailed-shut crate under the pretense of delivering human remains for burial? The return address from a funeral home in Cape Town revealed nothing; could they possibly have been shipped to him in error? What would happen when they discovered their mistake? Could the diamonds possibly be spoils of a heist? A robbery of such a magnitude would have surely made news around the world, yet he recalled no such incident.

  He suddenly realized, he had a violent headache. Not a single answer came to mind for any of his questions. Needing to think things through, he decided to put everything away.

  He collected the smaller boxes and took them into the cottage. Returning to the garage, he replaced the tray and lowered the lid on the chest. Grabbing the handles on either end, he slowly lifted it out of the crate, surprised that it was not as heavy as he thought it would be. He carried it into the cottage and placed it on the dining table.

  He broke down the crate piling the wood pieces against the wall, making a mental note to move it all to the cellar. He pulled the car back into place and lowered the door to the garage.

  The next morning, he rose early and set about taking care of the items he removed from the crate. The tools were taken down to the cellar. He set the two boxes that held his uncles’ remains on a table in the sitting room. He carried the chest into his bedroom and placed it deep in the closet putting blankets on top. The box containing the personal items, he placed on the dining table.

  With a pot of coffee brewing, he made himself eggs for breakfast. When he finished eating, he sat down to go through the box.

  His uncles most likely wore the two wristwatches; the gold pocket watch possibly belonged to his grandfather. The rings were all what Jake called old country. He assumed the gold wedding band and diamond lady’s ring were his grandmother’s. There were two men’s dome rings in heavy gold settings with a sizable European cut diamond in each that he also assumed belonged to his uncles.

  Picking up the elephant, he examined the intricate carving as he turned it over and over in his hands; every detail was so precise that he wondered if it had anything to do with the carvings on the chest. He made a note to compare them.

  Loosening the cord on the cloth pouch, he emptied its contents onto the table—five sizeable uncut diamonds and a folded piece of paper. He began reading the note Franz had written to Benjamin. When he reached its end and saw the signature, he determined the reference his uncle’s letter made to his friend Franz Schiller to be one in the same.

  The last item in the box was an envelope crammed full of papers. The majority were fastened together and appeared to be diamond appraisals on sheet after sheet of Annex letterhead. Could this mean, the diamonds were not spoils of a heist and actually legitimate? Too many questions remained. Why were they sent to him and who sent them? Why had Benjamin made no mention of the diamonds? Who had cut and polished them?

  The remaining papers consisted of every wire Marcus had sent the brothers, as well as Jake’s letters and wires. He found himself more confused than ever.

  He rang up Marcus to notify him that he needed a few days to take care of some personal matters. He told him that in accordance with Benjamin’s final wishes, his and Sidney’s remains were shipped to England for burial alongside his family in the Brady Street Cemetery. Having made prior arrangements, the service and burials were due to take place on Thursday. He promised to be in touch soon. When asked if he and Elena could do anything, Jake thanked him for the offer but stated it was a private matter for him, hoping he understood.

  After his uncles had been laid to rest, Jake asked the Rabbi if he could have a few minutes of his time.

  “It’s been many years since my Hebrew lessons prepared me for my Bar Mitzvah. I can, of course, still read the prayer books, but I wonder if you could help me make sense of the Hebrew letters written on this card.” He handed it to the Rabbi.

  “These letters spell a name—Shiloh. The Hebrew meaning of the name is: the one to whom it belongs.

  “Does the name Shiloh mean anything to you? Where did you get this card? Did someone give it to you?”

  “I found the card among my uncle’s things. I don’t know if he wrote the name or someone wrote it and gave it to him. I was just curious as to what the letters meant; I had no idea they indicated a name.”

  “In translation, one cannot determine the significance of the name and it’s meaning without knowing what to apply it to.

  “Shiloh is also the name of a place; a place that appears 33 times in the Old Testament referring to an area of Israel. It’s hard to tell what whoever wrote the name was referring to. I don’t think I’ve been much help.”

  “No, quite the contrary Rabbi. I thank you for the service. I know that cremation is not normally accepted by Orthodox Jews, and I appreciate your consideration allowing me to honor my uncle’s final request.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll stop by from time to time to chat with you when I come to the cemetery. My entire family is buried here; and I often visit when I have the need to be close to my father; he was my Hero.”

  “You’re welcome Jacob. I look forward to seeing you again soon under better circumstances.”

  They shook hands and Jake caught the train back to the Cotswolds. He thought about stopping in to see Marcus but decided against it. Once again, his world had been turned upside down, but this was a world Marcus knew nothing about. For some reason, he chose not to confide in him.

  Slow and steady was the way forward; he had a lot of sorting out to do.

  On the way home from the train to the cottage, he stopped in the Village and headed toward Mandy’s restaurant. As always, she was glad to see him.

  “Hi Jake. What brings you here so early in the day? Are you planning to set up another dinner?”

  He laughed. “No, nothing like that, at least not today. I’m going to be holed up for the next few days working at the cottage, and I thought it a good idea to pick up some food to see me through the weekend.”

  “I can certainly do that. Just tell me what you have in mind, and I’ll put it all together and send it home with Wendy later today. Meanwhile, have a seat and let me fix you something before you leave. Do you prefer tea or coffee?”

  “Thank you. Coffee will be fine; it energizes me.”

  Throughout the weekend, the chest sat on the dining table in front of Jake surrounded by the items he thought could
be connected in some way to the diamonds—the cloth pouch, the carved elephant, the card, the appraisals.

  He made a drawing of the items and tried to connect them. The pieces he had been given to the puzzle simply did not fit. Presented with what seemed an impossible task, he reached the conclusion that the answers could only be found in South Africa; only Cape Town could connect the pieces and complete the puzzle.

  He removed the trays of diamonds from the chest, took them down to the cellar, and put them in the safe along with the cloth pouch and its contents.

  Commercial flights direct from England to South Africa did not yet exist. After weeks of trying to piece together a flight from London to somewhere in Europe and ultimately to South Africa, he booked passage and sailed from Southampton to Cape Town.

  Jake stood on the dock surveying his surroundings. He had been given directions to the hotel on Long Street and decided to walk the short distance allowing him to get a feel for the place his uncles had called home.

  The path he took was exactly the same as that of Benjamin and Sidney before him. On the site where The General Store and The Smoker’s Shop had once stood welcoming newcomers to the town was a clothing store. He continued on to the Metropole Hotel where he had booked a reservation purely by coincidence, having had no way of knowing the hotel had been Benjamin’s first home in Cape Town.

  He had no idea how long he would be staying as he searched for answers.

  He began by meeting with Gordon Hemming at the First National Bank of South Africa, his sole contact. He produced a copy of Benjamin’s Will, stating that the only item left unsettled was the transfer of funds.

  “I presume that your uncles’ remains and personal effects arrived safely in England and all was in order since I did not hear otherwise. If you will note, Ben left his cottage to a black African woman, Jamilia Botu, who was a good friend and great help to both your uncles during their illnesses. Under current laws, the cottage is located in an area where black Africans cannot own property. The bank holds the property in Trust for as long as she wishes to reside there; however, when it is sold, all proceeds will go to her.”