‘The second most important consideration is the colour.’ Both Alex and Teddy had always imagined that diamonds were white, but Joseph laid this myth to rest quickly. ‘The colour of a diamond is classified by grade; the very best diamonds are graded “Jager”, and are extremely rare; next comes “River”, and then “Top Wesselton”, and “Wesselton”, which make up the majority of good commercial diamonds. After this would come “Top Crystal” and “Crystal”, and lower still are “Top Cape”, “Cape” and “Low Cape”. The lowest qualities are “Very Light Yellow” and “Light Yellow”. Other definitions relate to coloured diamonds, but they are rare.
‘Next comes clarity. Diamonds are natural and there are usually small flaws in the carbon composition of the stone, and these flaws are called inclusions. The very best diamonds are flawless, but less than one in a hundred of all diamonds is considered to be flawless, and the cost reflects this. Most saleable diamonds are classified as being slightly included, very slightly included or very, very slightly included.
‘The final consideration is the carat, which most people believe is a measurement of the size of a diamond, but actually refers to the weight. Truthfully, you should consider the cut and carat together, because a large carat diamond that has been cut poorly can actually appear smaller than a smaller carat diamond that was cut better.
‘I shall give you some free advice. When buying a diamond, there is a maxim that says that you should buy slightly under the full- or half-carat sizes. Let me explain; if you buy a 2-carat diamond, it will cost you a lot of money, but if you buy a 1.9-carat weight diamond because it is below two carats, it will cost substantially less, but nobody will ever notice the slight difference in size.’
‘My goodness gracious me,’ exclaimed Teddy, ‘I had not thought it to be so complicated!’
Mr Feldman responded with a smile. ‘Diamonds are the most beautiful gemstone that God ever created, and it is important that buyers understand what it is they are buying. That is why we have the 4 Cs classification – cut, colour, clarity and carat – and that is before we even get on to the diamond’s shape.
‘The eventual shape of the diamond is determined by the cutter. The most common is what we call the round brilliant cut, but diamonds can be cut so that they are square, rectangular, oval and many other variations. I would suggest that, to maximise the shine of the diamond in an engagement ring; a brilliant cut would be the most appropriate.’
Alex intervened, ‘I apologise, Mr Feldman,’ he said, ‘but we intended purchasing an engagement ring, not a diamond.’
‘We are diamond merchants and manufacturing jewellers, so when you have chosen your stone, we will make it into a ring for your young lady.’
Was there a slight hint of a put-down? Alex wondered. ‘I am sorry, but time is against us, as I’m shortly to take up my new posting, and we certainly wanted the ring before I left.’
‘That should not present any difficulty, sir; if we can choose a stone and setting today, you will be able to collect it on Monday or perhaps Tuesday.’
‘So quick?’ Alex was surprised.
‘We are a family business, and my father is not too busy currently, so I am confident that we can accommodate your needs. May I show you some stones?’
‘Absolutely; yes, please,’ said Teddy, who had evidently taken a shine to Mr Feldman.
Selecting a stone from those on the cloth, Mr Feldman examined it through jeweller’s loupe, before rejecting it, and he chose another that he subjected to the same scrutiny. At the fourth attempt, it was clear that he was satisfied.
‘This diamond has been well cut – it is almost what we call an ideal cut; it has the colour grade “River”, which classifies it as colourless; and it has a few minute inclusions, so we would call it very, very slightly included. The weight is 1.8-carats, which represents excellent value, as it is a beautiful stone.’
Mr Feldman wrote a number on the pad of paper, tore off the top sheet and folded it before handing it to Alex, who unravelled it and gulped at the figure. Mr Feldman asked Teddy if she would like to look into the diamond, and when she said yes, he picked it up again with tweezers and gave her his jeweller’s loupe to examine his choice.
Teddy was enthralled and made satisfying purring noises as Mr Feldman showed her what to look for in the stone. Alex asked her whether she liked it, and she smiled at him and said that it was exquisite.
Next, Mr Feldman took Teddy’s left hand and measured her third finger; looking at the delicacy of her slim digit, he suggested that perhaps a slightly smaller diamond would suit her better. He went back to the cabinet, and brought another selection of twists of tissues, which he opened and examined; on opening his second twist of paper, he beamed widely and announced that he had found the perfect stone.
‘This is slightly smaller and has the same classification as the other stone, except that this stone has a slight tint of blue, which will complement your eyes beautifully. True blue diamonds are the rarest of all, and it is a peculiarity that exists because of the presence of boron in the place where the diamond originated.’ Excitedly, he handed the diamond to Teddy to examine. ‘The clarity and shine of this diamond is immaculate, and, well set, it will be perfect for the lady. Seldom have I found a stone that matches the wearer so well!’
Having waxed so lyrical about the stone, Alex dreaded unfolding the slip of paper that Mr Feldman handed him, and yet he was even more confused when he saw that the number was significantly lower than previously.
‘Alex, darling,’ said Teddy, ‘this is beautiful!’
‘What about settings?’ asked Alex.
‘For this diamond, something simple,’ advised Mr Feldman, ‘I think a six-pronged claw setting, would be appropriate.’ On opening a drawer in the desk, he produced a tray of rough blank rings. ‘You understand that these have yet to be polished?’ he question, and he selected a suitable ring and slipped it onto Teddy’s finger.
‘Perfect,’ he pronounced. ‘We could elect a four-pronged setting, but I think the security of six prongs is better for such a beautiful stone.’
Teddy was very content with the choice, so there was little else for Alex to say other than, ‘Thank you, Mr Feldman, we shall take it. May we press you to have it assembled for Monday?’
‘Naturally, sir, it will be our pleasure,’ he confirmed.
Alex handed his card to Mr Feldman, who put it into an envelope together with the ring and twist of tissue, in which the diamond was ensconced once more, and sealed it gently closed. Alex and Teddy rose, and Alex shook Mr Feldman by the hand.
‘Thank you so much for your time today, and we look forward to Monday,’ he said.
Alex and Teddy gathered their coats and belongings, then left.
‘Let us go for afternoon tea,’ suggested Teddy, and then, looking at Alex, she said quietly, ‘Thank you, my love; every time I look at our ring, I shall remember how much I love you.’
XV
On Sunday 3rd September, events overtook Alex and Teddy. Again, the telephone jangled, waking Alex and Teddy from their slumbers. There was no pretence, this morning, and no Miss Willoughby to pass the call through from Commander Jeffers; this morning, the man himself telephoned Alex directly.
‘Major flap!’ he announced when Alex took the receiver from Teddy, ‘I can’t discuss it on the telephone, so I’ve sent a car for you. On the double, Alex; on the double!’
The car was waiting at the kerb when Alex went downstairs ten minutes later, still struggling into his uniform jacket. No sooner had he opened the door and climbed into the back than the driver let up the clutch, and they began their circuitous journey to the War Office.
Alex was thrown sprawling onto the back seat. ‘Slow down, dammit!’ he cursed.
‘Sorry, sir,’ the driver retorted not taking his foot off the accelerator, ‘Orders, sir! Still, this is the last day of the evacuation, so
we should be back to normal tomorrow, sir!’
A short while later, they skidded to a halt in Whitehall, and Alex extricated himself from the car. As he tried to regain his composure, the driver sped off to collect his next passenger. Alex watched the pandemonium of officers hurrying into the War Office and the ashen faces of the few who were leaving. He reported to the desk, and the flustered staff sergeant gave him a room number that Alex noted was not that of Commander Jeffers. Alex ran up the stairs, spurred on by the air of panic that was permeating the building, and knocked on the door.
‘Come!’ was the instruction from within.
Alex opened the door and entered the room, in which were gathered Colonel Swann, Jeffers, Simon Potts and Charles, together with several other officers whom he did not know.
The colonel waved Alex to a seat. ‘Nice of you to join us, Sub-Lieutenant!’ he growled acidly, and without waiting for a response, continued. ‘Chamberlain is making a wireless broadcast in ten minutes, at 11:15 hours. Quite what happens after that, is anybody’s guess.’
Alex looked quizzically at Commander Jeffers, which the colonel picked up on.
‘We are going to war, Lieutenant; God help us, as today we are going to war!’ he declared.
Charles rose, smiled at Alex, switched on the wireless and tuned it to the BBC Home Service. At precisely a 11:15 hours, the music was interrupted, and the Prime Minister’s voice filled the room, ‘I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street.
‘This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that, unless we heard from them by 11:00 hours that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us.
‘I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany…’
The Prime Minister rambled on, but those gathered in the room had heard all that they needed to know, and they silenced the wireless; there was an air of gloomy resignation in the place. Alex looked towards Simon, who was crossing and uncrossing his legs nervously, then he looked at Charles, who was examining his fingernails nonchalantly; all around the room there was an expectancy of something profound, but nobody seemed to know from where it would come.
‘Gentlemen,’ began Colonel Swann, seeking the attention of the attendees, ‘we must be vigilant. Many have considered our service a bit of a sideshow, but, over the next weeks and months, our value will become more evident, even – one hopes – to those who believe that we are unnecessary.
‘Each of us is privy to sensitive information that could be of great value to our enemy. We must ensure that our secrets remain so, and the only way to accomplish this feat successfully is not to discuss anything regarding our work outside the close circle of your immediate teams. Not only must we not talk about our work to our families, wives, girlfriends or friends, but we also must not discuss specifics with colleagues who are working on different projects, or even other service personnel.
‘We shall now disperse into our operational teams, and team commanders will brief their teams on specifics. Today’s announcement from the Prime Minister should not have come as a surprise to anybody in this room. The timing might have been better, as the country is not fully prepared for war – largely, I suspect, because our politicians have sat on their hands for the past five years, hoping for a miracle, instead of listening to those who predicted this eventuality when Hitler rose to power in 1934. Now we must deal with the effects of their misplaced optimism, and this service will be key to that endeavour. Gentleman, good luck!’ Swann turned smartly and walked from the room.
Alex sat still, his mind a whirlpool trying to assimilate all that he had heard.
Simon Potts came and sat in the recently vacated chair next to Alex. ‘Chin up, Alex,’ he said, ‘we all knew this was going to happen, and now it has. The commander is briefing all of his teams individually, and we are scheduled to be third. My best guess is that he will see us at about 2.00pm, so we have time for lunch, but I imagine that, before we eat, you’ll want to talk to Teddy. Use one of the telephones in the building, but be careful what you say as they listen to telephone calls as part of the new security measures.
‘I can tell you one piece of good news, however. Jeffers wants to meet Teddy, and for him to do so must indicate that she has passed the initial security checks. Worry not; when he met Cordelia, he was perfectly charming, and she was utterly won over by him. He will talk to you on this matter later, but I presume that he will want to meet Teddy before you leave, so don’t plan anything that you cannot alter.’
Simon and Alex rose, and, in the manner of two friends discussing minor matters, they went to Simon’s pokey, little office, which was, truthfully, little larger than a cupboard.
Alex picked up the receiver and asked the operator to connect him with Teddy’s number.
‘Kensington 3625,’ Teddy answered the call.
‘Teddy?’ asked Alex as the sound of her voice was different over the telephone, ‘Have you heard the Prime Minister?’
‘Yes, darling, what does it mean?’
‘It means what the Prime Minister said,’ Alex explained, ‘Britain is at war again, but you must not worry, and we will discuss it later when I come home. You must always remember that I love you, and I’m not going to let anything come between…’ He was going to say, ‘us’, but the telephone line disconnected at that moment as the mournful wail of the air-raid siren filled the air.
Simon, who had stepped outside the room, opened the door and said, ‘Come on, if we do not hurry, it will be standing room only in the basement!’
They hurried from the office and joined the crowd of others hastening down the stairs to the basement; they had only descended two floors before the siren recommenced with the all-clear.
‘Damn!’ exclaimed Simon coming to a halt, and bracing himself against the surge of those behind him whose brakes were not as efficient as his, ‘A bloody practice!’
They continued at a slower pace down the stairs to the ground floor, and out into the drizzly Sunday lunchtime of Whitehall.
‘We could eat in the refectory,’ began Simon, ‘but the food is dire. We could find a pub, but I don’t think the commander would thank us if we smelled of beer this afternoon. There is a little place I know,’ he pondered, ‘come on, follow me,’ and he turned right heading towards Trafalgar Square and Nelson’s column. At Trafalgar Square, they turned onto the Strand, and, just past Charing Cross station, Simon turned right down a small road and left into an even smaller one. He pushed open an unprepossessing door, and they entered a steamy eatery that nobody would have ever known existed, without prior knowledge of its whereabouts.
‘It does not look much,’ Simon assured Alex, ‘but the porters use it, as do other staff from Charing Cross, and the food is excellent.’
Turning away from Alex and pushing through the assorted diners, Simon came to a counter, behind which a buxom, middle-aged woman was holding court. ‘What’s the special today, Gladys?’ he asked.
‘Pie ‘n’ mash,’ she replied.
‘Two, please, love,’ Simon ordered.
They sat down at an empty table, and, before long, two mismatched plates of pie and mash appeared in front of them. It did not look very appealing, being a pie surrounded by mashed potatoes, all covered with a green sauce.
‘What is it?’ asked Alex.
‘Pie and mash,’ responded Simon, ‘traditional London food. Enjoy; it is excellent.’
Trusting his friend, Alex broke through the pastry crust to reveal the filling, and scooped some mash, sauce and pie onto his fork before steering it towards his mouth.
After extricating a bone from between his teeth, Alex acknowledged, ‘Yes, tasty! What is it, though?’
‘Eel!’ replied Simon.
‘Eel?’ ask
ed Alex questioningly, before the penny dropped. ‘You mean eel as in sea snake?’ he queried with a horrified expression on his face.
‘Well,’ Simon responded, ‘it’s not a snake, although it might look like one, and it comes from the Thames, so it’s nothing to do with the sea. Come on; this is traditional London food; it is what made this country great, and, after this morning, anything that improves greatness has to be welcome!’
Alex continued with his meal, and by the time he had finished he had developed an understated respect for the food of the working man. Alex paid Gladys for the two meals, and he even commented on how little it cost.
‘Yes,’ replied Simon, ‘it’s nourishing and inexpensive. Of course, for sixpence more we could have had the lamb pie, not the eel, but I thought that a little extravagant.’
They left the eatery and headed back for their meeting. Alex smiled and jostled his friend as they turned into Whitehall, returning to the War Office.
On their arrival, they found Commander Jeffers was running ahead of schedule as there was a message for Simon to say that Jeffers would see them ‘at their earliest convenience’, which Simon took to be a minor criticism at having left the building.
Miss Willoughby showed Alex and Simon into Commander Jeffers’s office, who greeted them warmly and invited them to sit while he expanded his views on the current situation.
He expounded, ‘What you must remember, gentlemen, is that only bloody fools fight wars. I do not mean the brave soldiers, sailors and airmen who are in the front line fighting the enemy, I mean the bloody-minded fools who conceived the war. The last war had more bloody fools than any other previous conflict, and God knows that there are sufficient bloody fools in the command structure at the moment to make this even bloodier.
‘Each division, battalion, regiment and service has a bloody fool controlling it; not necessarily or usually wearing a uniform, but a controlling bloody fool, nevertheless.
‘We are fortunate in that our own particular bloody fool’s vision cemented our existence when he served as First Lord of the Admiralty between 1911 and 1915, before Asquith kicked him out, and the good news is that our own bloody fool has just been reappointed to the Admiralty. What is more, gentlemen, there is talk that when Chamberlain goes, as he surely must, then our bloody fool will become the biggest and bloodiest fool of all, when all the other bloody fools make him Prime Minister.
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