Solitaire

by Graham Masterton

  ‘Stafford Parker is not the law,’ retorted Barney.

  ‘No, he isn’t, not technically speaking. But he has sufficient power and influence to keep the diamond fields under his own control. And you can’t say that his control has been unwelcome. There is very little violence here, everything considered.’

  ‘Nonetheless, he should consider an appeal on Mr Havemann’s behalf.’

  Mr Knight made a face. ‘He may do, if the mood takes him.’

  ‘And will you represent him?’

  There was a lengthy pause, during which Mr Knight pursued a few rags of meat around the circumference of his plate with determined abstraction.

  ‘There are many crimes committed around Kimberley, almost daily, which are tolerated by most of the diggers because they do not challenge their fundamental reason for being here. They are here for the diamonds, Mr Barney, and most of them have suffered much, and given up much, and travelled far, all for the sake of diamonds. There is blasphemy here, and prostitution, and drunkenness, and gambling. There is sodomy and there is incest. But all of these are considered to be little more than misdemeanours – diversions, if you like, for men of rough character, and forgivable. The stealing of diamonds, however, is never forgiven. To steal diamonds, you see, is to steal a man’s life.’

  ‘But will you represent him? Will you try? I have nobody else to turn to.’

  ‘A Jew, and a diamond thief? You’re asking a great deal, Mr Barney.’

  Barney took a shallow breath. ‘I know. And I know that you don’t have much of a chance of success. But if you were to succeed – think of it. You’d be famous throughout the colony.’

  ‘That’s as may be,’ replied Mr Knight, unimpressed. ‘No – you’ll have to give me time to consider it. And of course I’ll have to talk to Mr Havemann to get his side of the story. Funny, though – I met him once or twice and I never realised he was Jewish. No side-curls, or anything like that.’

  ‘Jews don’t all look like Shylock,’ said Barney, turning his attention first to Mrs Knight, surprising her in the middle of trying to pick a shred of beef from between her teeth; and then to Agnes, and to Faith. It seemed almost incredible to him that none of them had realised he was Jewish himself, although Agnes had probably mistaken his trembling and his heat for sexual arousal, and partly, of course, it was. His trousers felt tight and crowded, and he could feel the moistness of male juice on his cotton combinations. He had never known a dinner like it. Law, prejudice, desire, and indigestion.

  After they had out-stared a mountainous blancmange of goat’s milk, flavoured with strong vanilla, they left the table, with a great deal of chair-scraping, and sat around the green-painted upright stove. Mr Knight lit an oval Turkish cigarette, and reclined in his chair with his ankles crossed, twiddling his feet as he spoke. Barney sat on the end of the sofa, and Agnes perched herself on the arm right next to him, so that he could breathe in her perfume, and so that she could wind the curls of his hair around her fingers without her father seeing. She hummed under her breath, a repetitive and melancholy air which would always remind Barney of this evening as long as he lived.

  ‘I’ll give you one word of advice,’ said Mr Knight, as the clock, on the wall struck eleven. ‘Be careful with whom you associate; because in Kimberley you’re known by the company you keep. Everybody’s allowed their little entertainments – their black women, and so forth. That’s natural. But, socially, you should keep yourself beyond reproach. Now, will you have a glass of tonic wine?’

  Donald arrived at eleven-thirty, and looked distinctly white around the mouth. Barney bowed to Mrs Knight, and thanked her for dinner, while Mrs Knight giggled and blushed, and Agnes and Faith clutched each other tight and tried not to laugh. Mr Knight stood by with his ‘heavens preserve us’ expression.

  Barney mounted the surrey and waved to the Knight family, who stood in the lighted doorway of their bungalow like a group posing for a Christmas photograph, waving furiously back at him.

  ‘Enough waving?’ asked Donald, raising his whip. But just as Barney was about to say ‘more than enough – let’s go’, Agnes came bustling along the pathway towards him, her skirts held high, flapping something frantically in her hand.

  ‘Your gloves, Mr Barney! You forgot your gloves!’

  Barney climbed down from the surrey again. ‘I’m grateful,’ he told Agnes, as she came up close.

  ‘I hid them,’ she whispered. ‘I wanted to say goodbye to you alone.’

  Barney stared into her wide, glistening eyes. She was very pretty, and she excited him like no girl he had ever met before. Not even Leah had made him feel this way. This girl was all wispy hair and spicy fragrances and moist, tantalising lips. She was well-mannered, but forward too, and the way she had drawn his hand up the length of her thigh during dinner had been electrifying.

  Agnes held out her hand, and Barney sandwiched it between his own hands.

  ‘I don’t know what to say to you,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘But it doesn’t matter. I was in love with a lieutenant when we lived in Capetown … I had to leave him because of Papa’s business. But he taught me what it takes to please a man.’

  ‘I want to meet you again,’ said Barney.

  ‘Then come to church on Sunday. Be kind to Faith – but make sure you sit close to me.’

  Barney was suddenly conscious of how hot the night was; of the tireless chirping of the insects in the bush. He was also conscious that Mr Knight was frowning from the verandah; and that his conversation with Agnes had overrun the time that any normal person would have taken to discuss the matter of mislaid gloves.

  ‘You must go,’ he said.

  Agnes twinkled her eyes at him. ‘I know. But won’t Faith be jealous?’

  She ran back down the path, and Barney stood watching her for a moment before he climbed back up on to the surrey.

  ‘That woman knows you’re Jewish?’ asked Donald, flicking the whip, and clicking to the horses.

  ‘What difference does it make?’ Barney demanded, loosening his necktie.

  Donald grinned at him. ‘She not know? You not tell her?’

  ‘No. There was no reason to.’

  ‘You don’t think God be angry?’

  ‘Why should He be?’

  ‘God doesn’t like to be denied.’

  ‘I wasn’t denying God. Listen, Donald, to survive in this country, to make it rich, you have to be white, and Christian, and a gentleman. As it happens, I’m only one of those three things. But if I have to let people assume that I’m the other two – only assume, mind you, without barefaced lying – then I’ll do it.’

  ‘Very good,’ said Donald.

  ‘Very good? What’s very good?’

  ‘Excuse,’ said Donald. ‘Very good excuse.’

  Joel was awake when he returned to the Griqua encampment on the hillside. Natalia was crouched by the side of his cot, feeding him with meat broth. When Barney came into the tent, Joel held Natalia’s wrist, and said, ‘That’s enough soup, thank you. Really, that’s enough.’

  ‘You must get strength,’ said Natalia, lifting the spoon again.

  Barney sat down on the end of the bed. ‘Do what your nurse tells you.’ He smiled at Joel.

  Joel was unshaved, red-eyed, and battered. Each cheekbone was shiny with purple bruises. ‘What’s the point in fattening myself up?’ he asked Barney. ‘Stafford Parker’s going to set the dogs on me when he finds out that I’ve escaped.’

  ‘Did they really leave you out there to die?’

  Joel lay back. ‘The punishment was three days staked out. If you don’t die, it’s a goddamned miracle.’

  Barney said, ‘I only heard what had happened to you by chance. Nork told me.’

  ‘Nork? That buffoon?’

  ‘He didn’t seem like a buffoon to me.’

  ‘He’s the laughing-stock of the mine. Him and his theories about volcanoes. You get shlimazls like Nork around every mine, though. The thi
eves, and the clingers-on, and the so-called professors.’

  Natalia stood up, and carried the bowl of broth out of the tent. Barney, brimming with affection, said, ‘Joel, it’s wonderful to see you. I’ve been searching for you ever since I got here. Three years, and here you are.’

  ‘Well, you’re a few months too late, little brother,’ said Joel. ‘If you’d come along earlier, you might have been able to help me dig my claim, and then maybe I would have come up with something.’

  ‘Your claim didn’t yield any diamonds?’

  ‘A handful. Enough to keep me in food and water and precious little else. While everybody around me was digging up rocks the size of pigeons’ eggs, and making a fortune, I was scarcely scratching a living. Why the hell do you think I bribed those sckwarzers to give me the best stones they found?’

  Barney stared at him. ‘You mean you really did that?’

  ‘How else was I supposed to live? You haven’t dug a claim out there, you don’t know what the hell it’s like. It’s so damned hot you feel like you’re frying, and it’s nothing but rock and mudslides and breaking your damned back.’

  ‘How did they catch you?’ asked Barney.

  ‘One of the kaffirs got too smart. I was paying all of them half of what I got from the IDB boys, but this particular one said he wanted two-thirds, or else he’d go tell his bossman at British Diamonds what I was up to. Well, I should have paid him what he wanted, but I got mad at him, and told him to go to the devil. That’s where he went – straight to Stafford Parker. And that’s why Stafford Parker staked me out.’

  ‘Listen,’ said Barney, ‘whether you actually stole those diamonds or not, I’ve found someone who might be able to help you. A lawyer, by the name of Knight. I told him you were a friend of mine, not my brother, because he’s prejudiced against Jews. Yes, I know – but he’s not the only one. And he got someone acquitted in Capetown once because the only prosecution witness was a kaffir.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ asked Joel. ‘If I do so much as poke my nose out of that tent-flap, the Diggers’ Association will tear me to tiny pieces. The best thing I can do is wait here until I’ve got my strength back, and then make a run for the coast.’

  ‘Joel, you can’t. What about your diamond claim?’

  ‘They’ll confiscate it anyway, and sell it off to the next bidder.’

  ‘But it must have cost you everything you had!’

  ‘It did,’ nodded Joel. ‘I bought the farm at Derdeheuwel out of the wages I’d saved at sea. Then I sold Derdeheuwel off to that damned Portugee for twice what I paid for it. He was desperate for a place, and rich, too, and I was bored with farming by then. That’s when I bought a claim at Klipdrift, and I did well, there. A good steady supply of diamonds that kept me well-dressed and drunk for over a year. Don’t get me wrong, though. I saved a little money, too. So by May this year I had three thousand pounds for a single claim here at Kimberley.’

  ‘Joel,’ said Barney, sorrowfully, shaking his head.

  ‘I hope you’re not thinking to judge me,’ retorted Joel, edgily.

  ‘I should judge you?’

  ‘You sound like it, schmendrick.’

  ‘What’s happened to you, Joel? You’re so bitter.’

  Joel rubbed the back of his hand across his unshaven chin. ‘Bitter? You think I’m bitter?’ He turned his face away. ‘Yes,’ he said, and his voice was less confident now, less aggressive. ‘Yes, well I am bitter.’

  ‘You want to talk about it?’

  Joel sniffed. Although he was keeping his face hidden by the blanket, Barney could tell that he was upset.

  ‘I’m such a damned waster,’ he said. ‘I had hundreds of pounds – thousands – when I was at Klipdrift, and I wasted it all. On drink, on gambling, on horses, on women. I was like a ridiculous child. I saved some, sure. But three thousand out of fifteen thousand isn’t much to boast about, is it? Particularly when I gave most of it away to a woman.’

  ‘A woman? What woman?’

  Joel looked at Barney, and there were tears running down his blistered cheeks. ‘She was a whore, Barney. A common whore. I didn’t want to go with whores when I first came here. I tried to think of Mama. Somehow … in some ridiculous way … I still thought of myself as Mama’s property. Almost her husband. If I went with whores, I’d be letting her down. But one night in Klipdrift I got drunk and I went to a whorehouse, and that’s where I met Meg. She was Irish. She had hair like fire. And the first night we spent together, it was like a dream. In the morning, I paid her in diamonds for a whole week; and for that whole week we lay in bed and made love. Or fornicated. Call it whatever you like.’

  Natalia came back into the tent with a copper basin filled with warm water, and a rough towel. She knelt down again beside Joel and started to dab his face.

  ‘This Meg …’ said Barney. ‘You gave her everything?’

  ‘Almost everything,’ Joel told him. ‘I had three thousand pounds tied up at the bank, and so I couldn’t lay my hands on it, thank God. But I bought her clothes, and jewellery, and whatever she wanted. I was crazy for love. Then one day I came back to my cabin a couple of hours early and found her naked with some German. That was the end of it. For a while, I was mad. I still think of her, and it still hurts me to remember what she did to me.’

  There was a moment’s silence between them. It had been a long time, and they were almost strangers.

  But then Joel said, ‘How was Mama, when you left her? Have you kept in touch since you’ve been out here?’

  Barney said, ‘You didn’t get my letter?’

  ‘Letter?’

  ‘I sent you a letter just before I left New York. It was addressed to you at Derdeheuwel.’

  Joel frowned. ‘Mama’s okay, isn’t she? She’s not sick?’

  Barney took his brother’s hand. He wanted to say, she’s dead, she’s been lying in the Jewish cemetery for years now – all those years in which you’ve been assuming that she’s still alive. All those years in which you’ve been imagining her in her kitchen on Clinton Street, cooking ghostly meals which she never cooked, lighting every Friday evening those Shabbes candles which she never lit.

  He wanted to say, she’s dead, but the words would not leave his mouth.

  Joel said, ‘What’s wrong? What’s the matter? You’ve heard from her, haven’t you? She’s written?’

  ‘Joel,’ said Barney, in a hoarse voice, ‘the reason I left New York was because Mama died.’

  ‘She died? You’re telling me that Mama died?’

  Barney nodded.

  ‘Zeeser Gottenyu,’ whispered Joel. He held his hands together and covered his mouth.

  ‘She, er … we had one of those crazy arguments. She killed herself in the kitchen. She was going out of her mind, Joel. There was nothing that anybody could do to help her. Ever since Tateh died …’

  ‘Yes,’ whispered Joel. ‘Ever since Tateh died.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ said Barney. ‘It wasn’t mine, either, although sometimes I have bad dreams about it. Sometimes I wake up and I can feel her blood on the palms of my hands. Wet, and sticky. But it’s only a dream.’

  ‘How did she do it?’ asked Joel. The pupils of his eyes dilated, and he kept glancing sideways, as if he found it difficult to concentrate.

  ‘Knife,’ Barney told him, in one single strangulated word.

  Joel closed his eyes. ‘Knife,’ he repeated, sadly. ‘Poor Mama.’

  They talked, in odd fragmented sentences, for another hour, until Joel began to tire. Barney told Joel everything that had happened to him since he left New York – about Hunt, and Monsaraz, and Stafford Parker, and about his evening with the Knight family. Joel seemed intent on making an immediate break for the Orange Free State, but Barney managed to persuade him that it might be worth talking to Mr Knight about his case, and about the possibility of lodging an appeal.

  At two o’clock in the morning, Joel’s eyes began to close, and Barney covered his brother wi
th the blanket, and turned to leave the tent.

  ‘Barney?’ murmured Joel, sleepily.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘She never haunted you, did she? I mean Mama?’

  Barney said, ‘All sons are haunted by their mothers, Joel. It’s what motherhood and sonhood are all about. And maybe you and I are more haunted than most.’

  Outside, in the grass, Natalia Marneweck was standing with a shawl around her shoulders. The sky above her was thick with showers of stars, as if all the thousands of diamonds from the Kimberley mine had been spilled across the darkness. She turned around as Barney came out of the tent, and walked towards him.

  ‘Your brother is good now?’

  ‘Much better, thank you, thanks to you.’

  ‘I have blankets here, if you want sleep.’

  Barney saw that two or three red and white woven blankets had been spread out on the grass to form a bed. He looked around the encampment, and all the tents were in darkness, apart from one or two dying cooking-fires, and a flickering torch outside Jan Bloem’s marquee. The wind blew stealthily across the hillside, and raised the hairs on the back of Barney’s neck.

  Without a word, Barney went across to the blankets, and sat down. He eased off his boots, and set them side by side in the grass. Then he struggled dut of his black coat, and folded it up.

  ‘I go stay with my cousin now,’ said Natalia. ‘That tent, by the fire!’

  Barney, unfastening his cufflinks, looked at her. In her white woollen shawl, with her curls blowing across her face, she appeared in the darkness like a heroine from a Victorian storybook, her face and her clasped hands impossibly sweet and pretty.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he said. He was surprised by his own directness. He smoothed out the blanket beside him and said, ‘Stay here with me.’

  There was a silence. Natalia stayed where she was, making no move towards him, but making no move away from him, either.

  ‘You think I lie with every man?’ she asked him.

  ‘I don’t think that at all. I just want you to lie with me.’

  She came across, hesitated, and then squatted down beside him. She touched his forehead with the cool fingers of her left hand. ‘One day I find another man to lie with,’ she said. ‘But the Bible says he must be my husband.’