by Peter Rimmer
"I know my way around."
"Not 'ere, guv, please. Bleedin 'orse done it, ain’t he. All I got this 'orse an' cab. Take away my licence they will, lossin' toff in Bermondsey. Come on, guv, where you really want to go?"
Jeremiah gave him a florin and told him to wait and walked down the familiar cobbles with the familiar sounds and smells and old Smiler still selling his cockles and whelks and Mary there with the same push cart and the jellied eels and come the winter both would be selling chestnuts hot off the coals, Smiler and Mary thick in their old coats and mittens, red fingers bitten by the chilblains and gas lamps hissing in the fog and far away the fog horns from the river and kids playing on the street with nowhere else to go and he walked past the boys he had never met and both gave him a look of fear mingled with hatred and the street was just the same. He stopped and turned and looked back at the boys on the step and stared them down making them break and run back to the front door that opened on the old hinges and a big fat woman yelled at him 'what you want?' and slammed the old door shut with the boys inside and the brass knocker clanged once more after the door was shut in final confirmation. And when Jeremiah reached the cab the cabbie was ashamed to look at him as the fare was crying.
The dawning moments after the door knocker clanged for the second time; the top hat and cane, the well cut suit, the spats covering the shiny shoes had masked the man at first glance. Opening the living room curtain an inch she saw the nob get into the cab not thirty yards from where she stood on the bare wooden floor and the man was crying, the one eyelid drooping half shut, the crooked nose the way he had been born. She watched the last forlorn look at 37 Pudding Lane. Ethel Shank let go the curtain: to some extent there was even justice in the fine clothes. Then she thought how sad it was that Jeremiah, the name Fred had wanted, looked like her brother and not the man who was really his father.
"Mum, why you crying?" asked the youngest.
"Never you mind," she said and tried to put the image of her first in her litter out of mind.
Lord Edward Holland, known as Teddy to his many friends, was lucky not to see the fat, blousy woman peeping through the corner curtain: there was no resemblance to the sixteen-year-old chambermaid who had taken his fancy, a luscious lass from the docks of London who had come to Bramley Park to earn her way in life. Teddy had left Eton and was waiting to go up to Cambridge to read philosophy and was bored at home for the first time in his life when the flashing eyes, big bust and solid thighs caught his attention: at first he had ignored the signals until his libido overcame his better sense of decorum. The girl was a servant and should have been below his dignity but it was summer, hot and there was nothing else to distract his attention and when they found each other alone in the copse behind the ornamental lake, a walk he had always taken in summer to think of life, he did not imagine it as an ambush but a magical chance that would not come again in a hurry. She had looked at him with liquid eyes and led him into the bracken where he proceeded to lose his virginity to surprisingly expert hands. And like all men he never forgot the first woman in his life. For a month they trysted in the bracken until Teddy went up to Cambridge to find out how much people in general and women in particular enjoyed his company. Invitations flowed for the vac and Teddy only came back to Bramley Park at Christmas to find the chambermaid gone. Embarrassed to make enquiries that would raise eyebrows he tried to put the girl out of his mind, wondering with a feeling of guilt if anything had come from their lovemaking. He was the third son of the Marquis of Surrey and with two older brothers the title was never going to be in his hands, only the money from his over-rich American maternal grandfather.
The title went back to Richard the Second of England who bestowed it upon his half-brother, the king’s father having married a widow. Along with the title went a large estate but by the time Teddy's father came along the only thing left was a very old title and nothing else, the Marquis having taken up carpentry to earn a living before emigrating to the States where to the young man's surprise he was met by a New York newspaper reporter who had picked up from the passenger list one John Holland, Marquis of Surrey. When the reporter had looked up the name in Debretts he knew he had a story despite all the talk of being a Republic, American people especially the new rich, craved the old world of aristocracy and inherited privilege. The paperman did his research and by the time his syndicated article came out across America people might have thought a King of England had come to take up residency in the one-time colony. Sensibly John Holland explained his financial predicament to the reporter at the beginning to find himself booked and paid for in the best hotel, clothed and paid for from the best tailor in New York and launched on the unsuspecting but totally gullible New York society set. Like Teddy, his father was a very likeable sort of chap and was soon on every society ladies’ list especially the ones with daughters. The rich can buy anything and soon after his arrival John Holland was bought by the iron man for his only daughter. The iron man was stupendously rich as every iron rail laid across the vastness of expanding America came from his foundry in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Bramley Park was bought back by the man from Pittsburgh and John Holland was reinstalled in the family seat that his father had lost to the creditors. The iron man lived long enough to see the birth of a grandson who would inherit the ancient title to his great satisfaction: somehow it made all that money worthwhile. John Holland to his satisfaction found himself not only back in the ancestral home but one of the richest men in England, thankful to give up his saw and spirit level. Being a man of good faith he sent the paper man a large, personal cheque and set about breeding a family and living the way he had wished to be accustomed.
When Teddy turned twenty-one, the third son inherited half a million pounds and went off on his travels having finished with Cambridge. But all the while through the rest of his life he felt a twinge of guilt over never finding out what happened to the chambermaid, the chambermaid who never grew older than sixteen in his mind.
A week after Jeremiah had made the cabbie whip up the horse to get out of the East End of London, the prospectus of Kimberley Diamond Corporation was published in the Daily Telegraph and ended up on the silver tray next to Teddy's letters. Teddy was taking his breakfast under the elm trees, the same breakfast he ate every morning, summer and winter: bacon and eggs with one sausage: the mid-August day was perfect, the scent of flowers strong for the early morning. There was a slight dew on the perfectly cut grass where the lush green foliage of the elms prevented the sun from reaching the lawn. It was the kind of morning that felt grand to be in England. At forty-six Teddy felt well satisfied with his way of life. His elder brother was off in the colonies governing some country Teddy had never heard of until his brother's appointment. His second elder brother was still in Egypt waiting with the British army to revenge Gordon's death at Khartoum: he was on Kitchener's staff and had been for some time. The remainder of Teddy's siblings, all girls, were well married, even the ugly one with all her money catching an impoverished Baron and Teddy was left to enjoy Bramley Park. He was a little round in his stomach but still handsome in a mature kind of way so he told himself. He had never married and he was happy. During his philosophy studies at Cambridge a phrase in the Old Testament had been drawn to his attention which he never forgot 'it is better to live on the roof than inside with a nagging wife.' The professor had explained that even in those days wives had the habit of nagging their husbands and the Jews were lucky to have good weather and roof gardens to get away from the wives that nagged: every time he was on the brink of proposing to a nice young girl he inspected the girl's mother in his mind and every time decided that when it came to the mother he would have found himself living on the roof. The professor of philosophy had correctly pointed out to his students that most girls came looking and behaving like their mothers, a phenomenon that had gone on down through all the years of the human race: nature decided the future whatever people tried to do about it.
Glanc
ing at the letters Teddy picked up the Telegraph and as was his habit turned to the financial page to check the value of his stock. Satisfied at the rise of his chartered shares he glanced at the page opposite and was caught by the words Kimberley and South Africa. He had made good money from his South African shares and began to read the prospectus. When he reached the list of directors and read the name of the Chairman, Jeremiah Shank, he wondered why the name gave him such a jolt. After pondering in his mind for a long time he remembered. Twenty five odd years earlier a card had come to him in the post with a London postmark. An uneducated hand had written his address on one side and the two words 'Jeremiah Shank' on the other. For the fun of it and the strange coincidence Teddy decided to buy shares in the Kimberley Diamond Corporation. By the time he had finished his breakfast and phoned his stockbroker in London his friends had arrived for the morning game of tennis. It really was a very pleasant way of life he told himself.
Cecil Rhodes was aware that a diamond had no value other than its scarcity. The diamond was a token of a man's respect and the more money he spent on the jewel the greater his respect. If Rhodes could ensure the gift not only retained its value but appreciated, if Rhodes controlled all the diamonds out of the ground he would have a product that would last for centuries. The intention was a total monopoly with his company carefully controlling the supply of rough diamonds to the cutters, always slightly less than the public demand. In times of depression Rhodes would stockpile rough diamonds; in times of boom unload his stock pile. In Kimberley, where he began, the only major company not in his possession was the Kimberley Diamond Corporation. He had made an offer before the public listing which had been rudely turned down. Now he was going to gain control of the company through the open market. Aware that Baring Brothers owned twenty per cent, their usual fee for underwriting the risk of a mining company, Rhodes knew that if he dropped the value of the shares below the listing price he would force Barings to sell at a loss and further depress the value of Kimberley shares. When he thought buying would not increase the value of the shares Rhodes would buy and force Shank to buy his own shares to prevent a catastrophe. Rhodes had more money than Shank or anyone else in the diamond trade which was why in a financial fight he always won. With Barney Barnato membership of the Kimberley Club had gone with the takeover of Barnato's mining company as Rhodes knew every man had his price: a minor son of a minor English vicar had made one of the two Empire's great fortunes.
The day the public were offered five million one shilling shares at one shilling and four pence each, Rhodes sold two million shares he did not own expecting the shares to drop from the selling pressure so he could buy the shares for less than the price he had sold them of one and four pence. Only a spatter of spectators from the public bought shares and Rhodes would have had his way if Teddy Holland had not come into the market on the second day with a buying order for one million shares, his stockbroker having advised him to wait. As a result Teddy paid sixpence a share. Barings seeing a major buyer in the market bought instead of sold. The shares rose to ten pence still well below the listing price so Teddy bought another million and the price rose to one and six. When Rhodes was forced to buy his two million shares so he could deliver the scrip he paid Teddy Holland three shillings a share which made the mining magnate shrug his shoulders.
Teddy had made a fortune on his hunch and decided to follow it through. He wanted to meet this Jeremiah Shank whose name was such a coincidence. Jeremiah, knowing the name of the buyer who had saved his financial life was only too happy to meet his benefactor and find out why the man had bought the shares but before he met the man for lunch they sold all his and Barings shares to Rhodes at half a crown. Jeremiah personally walked away with a little under half a million pounds enough to turn his Rhodesian estate into paradise. At last, Jeremiah Shank was a true country gentleman.
The luncheon at Bramley Park was the highlight of Jeremiah Shank's brief life and spoke of a position in society he had never dreamed. A coach, emblazoned with the crest of the Marquis of Surrey, met him at Godalming station. The summer weather had turned mild and wet and the lunch was served in a conservatory that looked out over the country estate of the Marquis of Surrey. Politely, Jeremiah with his best accent enquired the acreage of the great estate and was told there were nine thousand. A flutter of pride surged through Jeremiah's stomach when he mentioned his twenty thousand, take a few here and there. Having made so much money out of each other the remark went unnoticed or so Jeremiah thought.
"What is the value of your African estate?" asked Teddy politely a while later.
Jeremiah gave him a figure.
"That's the difference, of course," said Teddy.
Realising he had been put in his place Jeremiah changed the subject and at half past two the coach was announced and off he went on his travels.
The rain had stopped when the man took his leave and the coach went off down the long driveway on its way to the railway station. Teddy took his thinking walk to the copse behind the ornamental lake. Next to the lake an ancestor had built a gazebo where Teddy took refuge when the rain came down in earnest.
The mild shock of finding such a young man as his lunch companion was quickly overcome by a strong desire to punch the man on the nose. It was the look of him. Nothing he said, the idea of African acres soon squashed by the price. The nose had a twist to it and the drooping right eye was surly. Teddy had asked the young man if any in his family had any connection to Bramley Park and received a blunt no. Teddy put it all down to a fortuitous coincidence. When Shank had asked him why the interest in Kimberley Diamonds he had been frank. If he had not thrown it away he would have shown him the postcard.
When the rain stopped he walked back to the house. Three of his friends were coming down from London for the weekend to play tennis and bridge and Teddy put the matter out of his mind. A pair of pigeons were making a wonderful noise in the elm trees cooing at each other.
The following Monday shares in African Shipping were offered to the public with Jeremiah buying as many as possible.
With Fran on his mind he booked a passage back to Africa this time travelling on a ship he partly owned.
The two boys on the steps and their mother banging the front door stayed in his mind all the way to Cape Town. If he claimed his mother after so many years he would jeopardise any chance of Fran and buying a house in the West End of London. His money would be no good to him. If he sent them money anonymously there was still a chance of being found out. Finally he rationalised they were better off as they were with Fred Shank humping his coal to the houses and emptying the sacks down the scuttles. He could still see his father with the blackened face and the old sack on his shoulders to rest the hundredweight loads. The man was a worker there was no doubt about that. On Fridays, Fred had one pint of beer in the Boar and Bear and the rest went to Jeremiah's mother. They were a strong family; Fred had his pride and Jeremiah's mother kept the house clean as a new pin. There was a board school round the corner for the boys and the girls if any of them wanted to learn. The community in the East End looked after their own. Being born within the sound of the bells from Bow Church, of being a Cockney had a ring of pride. No one mucked around with a Cockney.
By the time he took the train north, Jeremiah had convinced himself the family he had run away from to go to sea when he was fourteen were better off as they were. He could still smell the roasting chestnuts and taste the jellied eels. Nothing he had ever eaten since could touch old Mary's jellied eels. They were all right. His family were all right.
Chapter 2: December 1897
Fran Shaw had reached the stage of boredom where she did not care anymore. Jack Slater had not been confirmed as administrator of Rhodesia and it was rumoured that their affair was the reason he had been sent to Kimberley as a manager of De Beers Diamond Corporation, Rhodes's main source of income: gentlemen did not have affairs with other gentlemen's wives as it sent a bad example for the rank and file. Even her brief sexu
al gratifications had been taken away and Gregory was still impotent with her. There was a rumour a girl in the secretarial pool in Salisbury had reversed the problem, that a second girl had shown the problem was cured but the more Fran tried to show interest the more her husband shrank away. It was all so unfair: she was labelled a whore for sleeping with Jack Slater while her husband had become a folk hero among the white community for overcoming his impotence in trying circumstances. The men sleeping around were rather good chaps unless they violated another man's property. If she had any money of her own she would have gone back to England a long time ago but like everything else in a marriage the woman had to ask for everything she wanted and husbands were disinclined to give their wives a fare home when for the sake of their pride they wanted them to stay. Everything and everything came back to what the man wanted. She might as well have been a sack of flour.
Envy had never been part of her make-up but when she watched Emily and Sebastian with their three children, George having been born three months before the Mashona rebellion, she was violently jealous followed by remorse and sadness. Why could she not have a man in her life, one man that was all she would ever want in her life, a man and children, children who loved each other and showed both love and respect to their parents. Just like the family in the house next to hers. And Alison and Tinus were close enough behind in their serenity. Never once had Seb or Tinus looked at her as a woman though she had to admit to herself she had tried to make them look.
Down by the river on her own she began to cry her tears of self-pity: there was something wrong with her. There had always been something wrong with her. She was a horrible person and no one in the whole wide world cared whether she was alive or dead. In the middle of the river a fish jumped in the mist of her tears while the river never stopped flowing.
The train that brought Jeremiah Shank back to Rhodesia carried a large wooden trunk addressed to Sir Henry Manderville, Bart, Elephant Walk, Mazoe District, near Fort Salisbury, Rhodesia and when the railwaymen moved it from the goods wagon to the dirt strip that ran along the railway line opposite the single-storey goods shed it was so heavy they thought it contained lead. The wooden trunk, strongly bound with iron hoops was moved to the goods shed where it waited for a week. Secretly and for months Sir Henry had been enquiring at the hatch on the roadside of the goods shed and when he was shown the big trunk sent all the way from England he was as excited as the day he married Emily's mother. With help, the trunk was lifted up onto the farm wagon and off they went on the long road back to Elephant Walk. The ridgeback dogs had come into town to guard the farm purchases in the open wagon and stood guard on either side of the trunk: having sniffed for smell they lost interest and put their paws up on the side of the open wagon to check everything passing by. Regularly they crossed from one side of the wagon to the other to make sure nothing was missed, neither trusting the other. The drought had taken a grip on the countryside and where it should have been green in December the grass was brown and short, beaten to the ground by the endless beat of the sun.