House of Diamonds

by Amber Jakeman

  “Question is, what’s your own interest? What is it you feel for Huntleys, James?” Jim rotated away, pulled down the visor, flicked on the flame and heated the piece of gold on the heat proof matting, then picked it up and plunged it into water with a great hiss of steam. It was mesmerising, the flow of his movements and the gold take shape beneath the force of his imagination.

  “What do I feel for Huntleys? Lately? Duty. Exhaustion. Exasperation...”

  “Me, I know that feeling. Duty. Exhaustion. Exasperation. Yes,” said Jim. He put down the pliers and swung on his stool towards James. “But Eleanor? She felt passion. Destiny. You know the story, my boy. I made one ring for Eleanor, and all her friends wanted one too. So I made them. And their friends wanted rings, and here I am, 70 years later and all I can do is make rings! Maybe I still do it for Eleanor. Not everyone can create beauty. Not everyone wants to. Me? That’s all I can do.”

  Jim picked up the oval, placed it on the ring, added some flux and waved the flame at it till the two pieces became one. He plunged it again in water in a hiss of steam.

  “And your father? He loved to sell. And he was good at it. Loved people. Expanded the showrooms, brought on more staff, imported pearls. Ah, Huntleys was a destination when you were born. Huntleys was bigger than ever. Your mother enjoyed it well enough, but she’s lost her way. Hard on her the way Jimmy was sick for so long before he died. They were a pair, alright, in their day, and now she’s ... ”

  “Drifting. You miss him, Jim?”

  “‘Course I do, just as I miss my Eleanor, but one day blends into the next, and I have my memories. And I’m an old workhorse. This, in here, brings me simple satisfaction. My rings take shape, every one of them different. And I watch you and Nicole. I’m a lucky man to have my grandchildren around me. Fine young people. Don’t mistake me. I’m proud of you, James, and proud of Nicole. But I don’t want to be a burden to you. You must find your own way. You did the right thing, got Will through school. As well as anyone could, anyway.”

  He’d picked up the drill, fitted a bit and is peddling away. He drilled three holes on either side of the oval.

  “But I’ve lost him.”

  “Will doesn’t have to be your burden. Maybe he’s lost himself. He can’t be your responsibility forever. Will’s a grown man now. Has to take responsibility for himself. And I certainly don’t want to be your burden. Believe me, James you don’t have to do anything to please me. You’re a man in your own right now, James. You were a good boy. You’ve always been a fine fellow. Caring for others, caring for Will and watching out for Nicole. You’ve done a good job. But I worry that you do things because you think I expect you to do them, that you carry on the business the way it was because you think I want it that way. ‘Duty.’ You said it yourself. But no one wants to see their beloved grandchild suffer. You’re free. I set you free. Now you must set yourself free.”

  “If only it were that simple.”

  “Why isn’t it that simple?” Jim pulled a key out of his trousers, still working on automatic. He surveyed the room out of habit, but there was no one there but the two of them. It was well after hours.

  He unlocked a little hidden drawer under his desk and pulled out some folded paper, carefully tipping some tiny diamonds onto the bench in front of him. They picked up the light from his lamp, glittering like sunlight on Sydney Harbour on a windy afternoon.

  James loved this part, when the magic of the ring neared completion. He handed over the wad of soft wax.

  Now Jim pinched the gemless ring in the hand clamp and placed a diamond in each hole, smoothing enough gold over each edge to hold it safely in place, anchored there until a lifetime of wear thinned the gold and set the gems free once more.

  James stared at the glittering facets.

  Who would he be without Huntleys? What would he do? Take to gambling, like Will?

  It was only then that he knew with a fierce certainty that he wanted Huntleys, with all its challenges. That he cared about the old building and the Huntleys brand almost as much as he cared for his grandfather. Free to make changes, he could make his own mark on the future.

  Jim witnessed his change of attitude. James saw it reflected in the set of his grandfather’s head, his own determination shining back at him, the fire in his eyes.

  He scooped the remaining diamonds into the paper and folded it again, then scanned the room again before unlocking his drawer, slipping the paper back inside and pulling out a tiny, flat case.

  “Which one will it be, my boy?”

  They leaned over the case, as each gem gleamed and glittered. Loose emeralds, rubies and sapphires.

  It was an old game. James studied the size of the oval bed Jim had made for the gem, and guessed which one would fit.

  “That one,” he said, pointing to a sapphire so blue it was almost black.

  “Right every time.”

  Jim lifted it and placed it in its bed, using pliers to bend each claw into place, and a file to smooth them over.

  Again Jim sanded the gold, then used tweezers to dip it into a cleaning fluid. When he removed it and rinsed it in water, he sat it on the bench and blew it dry with an old hair dryer.

  From such simple materials, came a ring fit for a queen.

  “You’ve done it again,” James marvelled.

  “Only thing I can do. You? We’ve yet to see what you can do, James, my boy.”

  He smiled at him and handed the ring over to be admired.

  Warm and heavy in James’s hand, it winked up at him, glowing with a life of its own.

  “It’s a beauty.”

  “You like it?”

  “I do. I always like your rings, but this one’s special.”

  “Why this one?”

  “You set me free with this one, Jim.”

  “Yes?”

  “At about the third diamond.”

  “That I did.”

  “Want to know what I’ll do?”

  “I trust you.”

  “First, we’ll lock this treasure away in the safe. And then I’ll make some plans.”

  “You do that.”

  Chapter 25

  James visited Jim every night that week. Brought up a spare stool and sat with him. Heads bent over the bench, the two of them worked away. Occasionally, James piped up, testing an idea or pointing out something on his laptop.

  “It’s all happening online now. Take a look at this.”

  “Hmmph. ‘Triumphs.’ We can do better than that.”

  “We can. I’ve been thinking about using the shape of the building for our website. See this?”

  “Ha! Show me again. What’s that up there?” Jim’s strong index finger, knobbled with age and rough with a lifetime of working with metal and tools, pointed at the screen.

  “That’s you, Jim. That’s you in your workroom.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This might sound crazy, but I want you to be in the big gem on the roof. I want people everywhere to be able to click on it and your voice will explain the history of one gem a week. Through podcasts, Huntleys can educate the world.”

  “Absurd,” Jim grumbled, embarrassed. “Make a good product and people will buy it. It’s no great secret. Besides, I thought you left those crazy marketing ideas to your sister.’’

  James had no intention of backing down.

  “We need to record you. Talking about your work. Talking about gems and jewels. The history of metalwork, the pieces you’ve repaired, the meaning of the stones, the names of all the shapes of diamonds, that sort of thing. Let’s give it a go.”

  “Ha!”

  “Things can’t stay the same. We’ve got to get into this online game. We’ve got to win it, Jim. We can do it.”

  “What’s that about me talking?”

  “You’re an expert. Think about it. You know more about jewels than anyone in Sydney. That’s an asset.”

  “Hmmph.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Here
.”

  James pulled out his mobile phone. Pressed record.

  “Tell me what you’re making.”

  “This one’s an engagement ring.”

  “Why’s it that shape? Why don’t you just import the bases and put a stone in? Why make it from scratch?”

  “Every diamond is unique, just like every person. Basic components might be the same. Every diamond is made of carbon, like every man and woman is flesh and blood, but you’ve only got to get a few diamonds together to see they’re all different, especially the ones at Huntleys.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, you’ve got all your different sizes, the carats, of course, but then you’ve got to remember that every diamond starts out as a tiny pebble, all a different width and depth, and then there’s the cutting. All the facets are different, too. And even if the facets are cut by machine, and a lot of them are these days, you’ve still got your natural stone underneath, and each will shine through a tiny bit differently.”

  James gestured for Jim to continue.

  “And of course you’ve got your different cuts. You’ve got your round brilliants, the most popular, but then there are all the others which come in and out of fashion; your ovals, the princess, the cushion, the marquise... They’ve each got their different histories, the different princesses who made them famous... And then there’s the way you set them. That can make all the difference.”

  Jim looked uncertain, but James was smiling and waving him on.

  “Well, the setting’s the most important part, and that’s why Huntleys prefers to set each stone individually. Just as different stones suit different people, different settings suit them too. I’ve never talked about this before.” Jim sounded doubtful, but James kept nodding.

  “To me, they have personalities. Some stones are shy. They need a subtle kind of setting. One that lets them glow. They’re not for show offs. They’re beautiful, alright, but not in an obvious way. Then of course you’ve got your stand out diamonds. They’re just out there. You see them on the cloth and they’re calling out to you ‘pick me, pick me’ and you can’t resist them. I know it might sound fanciful and old fashioned, but I call them my brightest girls in the pack. And they’re crying out to be on show. You have to set them right up high. Maximize the light under them.”

  “And you can do all that?”

  “That’s exactly what we do. That’s all we do at Huntleys. I love it. Quiet ones and show offs, and everything in between. We get those girls and we set each one just right, so then it’s just a matter of the customer coming in and finding the right one.”

  James pressed “stop” on his phone, took his grandfather’s gnarly old hand and shook it.

  “You’re a natural, James Huntley the First. Straight out! Won’t even need an edit! Tomorrow night, sapphires.”

  ...

  Stella was so busy the days flew by, and the nights back at Jeannie’s were a blur of creating stock.

  Jeannie had absolutely adored Huntleys version of her choker cum brooch, even though she kept telling Stella she shouldn’t be so generous. She’d treasured it, as Stella had expected. It was something exquisite, something she could wear for special nights out with Matt when Stella was babysitting, something for the future - an heirloom. Jeannie loved Stella’s design as well as the improvements Huntleys had made to it.

  Occasionally Jeannie would try to talk about the quality, about Stella’s potential to design highly valuable jewelry.

  “Thanks, Jeannie. A bit flat out right now. Hopefully one day!”

  Each day, Stella noticed that Huntleys, too, was busier than ever. A couple of weeks before Christmas, they draped purple ribbons from the roof to the ground and right across the second floor, making the whole establishment look like a wrapped gift. It was eye catching and effective. When they teamed it with two large sashes that seem to tie the large doors open, it transformed the entrance.

  That night, when Stella mentioned it, Jeannie dragged her over to her computer in the kitchen, and showed her Huntleys’ revamped website, featuring the festive purple ribbon and open doors. The animations were entrancing.

  “And look at this content, Stell. They’re taking pictures of the old jewelry people bring in, and Jim provides a bit of a history. They’re storing them in a glass cabinet at the entrance so you can pop in and see them. It’s created quite a lot of interest on talk-back radio.”

  “I wondered what was up. I’ve noticed so many more people going in there. It brings more people past my stall, too, but maybe that’s just this time of year.”

  Once or twice in the sweltering heat, Stella had seen James head out with his beach towel, out for a run to Bondi. She remembered with a pang that he’d once offered to take her with him.

  If he noticed her glancing at him with regret, he didn’t let on. He was as distant as the day they first met. Moreso. It hurt her, though she could hardly complain. The idea had been all her own.

  Chapter 26

  A woman with a portfolio left Huntleys and came straight across to Stella.

  “James sent me,” she said, smiling, holding out a business card and opening a display case.

  Stella’s heart jumped at the mention of his name.

  “Sydney Stringing Service,” the card read.

  “I’m Julie. I’m in the old Badgers building in Pitt Street. Fifth floor. Special wholesale prices. Come and see me.” Stella glanced inside the portfolio at examples of the work - beautiful cut jet beads strung on a black thread with knots; some amber on knotted thread just the right color; and several strings of pearls of different sizes.

  Stella reached for the pearls, so lustrous in the bright summer sunshine, their luminous greens and pinks shining back at her as she turned them in her fingers, design ideas bubbling through her brain.

  Julie sensed her interest and smiled. “Plenty of pearl suppliers in our building, too. Come and see us.”

  She would have loved to chat, but customers were waiting.

  “Thank you, Julie. I will.”

  Julie’s visit was an invitation to dream of an easier future, when she might be able to share her good fortune with others, to share her workload, multiply the benefits and minimise the personal labour so she could focus more on design.

  It ignited a little spark of hope that the drudgery of these days would lift, that all the hard work would pay off. And it was rewarding to see James putting some of her ideas into action. James. For an instant a hot stab of pure desire rushed at her, a memory of his kiss, the way he held her. No. No. No. She had far too much work to do. She forced her mind to the beads and chain in front of her. How quickly could she work? More than twenty of these had sold today. She must make more. More.

  The other half was business as usual as Stella laboured to make products for the Boxing Day sales, then scoured the internet for suitable expos to show her wares.

  “You can’t keep working like this, Stell,” Jeannie said quietly.

  “I can and I will. Three months down. Three to go. That was the plan.”

  “Aren’t you going to go see James? Wish him Merry Christmas?” Jeannie had referred to him a couple of times, obliquely. This was the first time she’s been so direct.

  “We’re not seeing each other.”

  “Shame.”

  “Not really. He was a great distraction.”

  “‘Attraction’ more like.”

  “Exactly.”

  Jeannie sighed. “You can have fun, you know. What about a balanced life? Some work, some play. You’re not a machine. You’re not a robot, are you? Where’s the joy? What’s the point?”

  “That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?”

  It wasn’t often they snapped at each other like this. Maybe it was time to move out, find a place of her own. It wasn’t fair on Jeannie and Matt for her to be here but not contributing.

  “Look. Maybe it’s time I got my own place.” Once she’d paid down that credit card debt a bit more, she could probably afford
to pay some rent.

  “I’d be lonely without you, Stell. It’s alright when Matt’s here. But I drive myself crazy without him, and without you.”

  “But I’m hardly ever here.”

  “Sure you are. This time of year is crazy. Just relax and do what you need to do. I’m here for you.”

  And she was. And she was wonderful. But she wasn’t James, and in the days to come, Stella missed him more than ever, treasuring the memories of their few times together as if they’d happened a lifetime ago in another universe.

  Chapter 27

  Stella worked even longer hours in the weeks before Christmas, along with all the world in retail. Now was the time to create enough stock to trade right up till the last moment on Christmas Eve, and then sell, sell, sell. Even better if she could take advantage of the frenzy of the post-Christmas sales. It was exhausting; this treadmill of her own making, yet seeing those queues and the pace of cards swipes? What a thrill!

  There was no respite. Online sales were also booming. She had to fill backorders as well as keep her stall stocked. Frantic. Exhilarating.

  Days passed in a blurr, but one face jolted her out of her automatic smile.

  James. Just as she was locking up, he approached, a flat package tied with a large gold ribbon tucked under one arm. She stopped, dropped her arms by her sides, her whole body lighting up as he stood in front of her. Those blue eyes were solemn, yet she detected a quiet joy at seeing her again, at being so close, a joy that matched her own.

  Just as she was leaning towards him, her phone buzzed.

  She had it out on her counter, just in case Jeannie wanted to make contact, ready for her to snatch up as she was leaving.

  A message flashed onto the screen.

  In Sydney. Meet up? Miss you.

  Damian.

  Stella froze. So did James. The message sat there in front of them, its cold blue light insistent.

  Awkward.

  The moment was poisoned. Stella’s hatred for Damian filled her with disgust and she frowned and looked away. Misinterpreting her retreat, James took a step back as if he didn’t want to intrude.