The Diamond Hunter Read online

She gave him a smile to let him know she understood. ‘We now have eighty-four diamonds plus the monster, Daddy. That’s a lot, isn’t it?’ She stared again at the scattering of smaller diamonds; most looked like two pyramids glued together.

  ‘It’s a haul, Clem,’ he agreed. She noticed how her father looked sideways at Joseph. ‘Tell me your thoughts?’

  ‘The big one is yours,’ Joseph replied, not having to ponder.

  ‘You found it!’

  ‘You paid for the claim.’

  ‘Which we agreed to share.’ James smacked the side of his hand against his palm. ‘Fifty-fifty, Joseph.’

  ‘How do you cut the monster in half, Daddy?’

  Joseph found a grin. ‘She understands better than us, Mr James.’ Her father hugged her. ‘We can’t, Clem. Only a diamond cutter can work out how to saw through a diamond.’

  She considered this. ‘Sell it to those men in the tents and then we can share the money they pay us.’

  James glanced at Joseph and back at his child. ‘We can’t do that, Clem. This rough diamond is too big. It . . . it’s frightening, just as Joseph says. It can make other desperate men do silly things. To be honest, darlin’, I’m not sure anyone in the broker tents could afford this diamond. And besides —’ he kissed her cheek — ‘if anyone here gets wind that we have something big to sell, everyone will know about it within the day. It puts everyone at risk, even the broker.’

  ‘They’ll all be scared of Joseph and his right hook,’ she said, punching the air. Both men indulged her with a laugh and then fell quiet again looking at each other. ‘So what will we do?’ she asked, frowning.

  It was Joseph who replied. ‘Your father will take this very big diamond and none of us will speak of it to anyone.’ He picked it up and let the light shine through it. Even in the rough it spoke to them of the brilliance that sat beneath its surface.

  ‘It’s going to be worth tens of thousands, Clem,’ her father murmured. ‘That’s our future there.’

  ‘What about Joseph’s future?’ Her tone was worried.

  ‘Mine is here,’ Joseph assured her. ‘A handful of these, Miss Clementine, and I will be safe and well set.’

  James gestured at them. ‘Take them all.’

  ‘I don’t need so many, Mr James.’

  ‘Even so.’

  ‘I don’t even need half. What will become of a black African man with that many diamonds in a pouch around his neck, Mr James?’ Again Clementine looked between them, searching for the answer because the question was too subtle for her to grasp its full meaning. ‘I shall take six, plus Miss Clementine’s age.’

  ‘But that’s only . . . thirteen,’ she said.

  ‘Clem, I don’t know if I’m more frightened of the men out there discovering our diamond or your clever brain.’

  ‘You don’t have to be frightened of me, Daddy. I love you and so does my brain.’

  His skull-like face creased into a crooked grin, and in that expression she saw the father who had gone missing – a face without sadness, only pleasure.

  ‘Darlin’, there’s something else I have to tell you . . . Er, no, stay, Joseph,’ he said as the Zulu took this as his cue to leave. ‘I may need you.’

  As young as she was, Clementine sensed that Joseph already knew what her father was going to say.

  ‘Well, now that we have our conker, it’s time for me to get you home.’

  ‘To England, you mean?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because that’s where you belong.’

  ‘Do you belong there?’ Did he think she didn’t notice him steal a glance at Joseph?

  He sighed. ‘I don’t know where I belong any more, Clem. I think I’ve let everyone down, especially your mother.’

  ‘If we go to England, it means we have to leave her alone.’

  ‘I will take care of her grave, Miss Clementine,’ Joseph said. ‘I will change her flowers for you and I will sweep away the dust.’

  ‘Will you say a prayer for her?’

  ‘If you teach me one, I shall. And I shall ask the spirits of my people to watch over her and keep her soul safe.’

  She looked back at her father. ‘Do we have to go?’

  He nodded. ‘You need to learn the role of a proper young lady, Clem.’ When she opened her mouth to deny this was her wish, he hushed her, putting a finger to his lips. ‘This is what your mother would want. She’d want you to wear pretty frocks, eat proper food, not run as wild as I’ve let you.’ He touched one of her curls. ‘She’d want your hair washed and brushed shiny with silk ribbons in it. She’d want you to attend a proper school and go to dances and social gatherings befitting a high-born young woman.’

  ‘I’m not ready for that!’ she reminded him.

  Both men smiled. ‘I know, my darlin’, but you’re growing so fast.’

  ‘Why can’t we all go?’ She looked over at Joseph One-Shoe, knowing the answer before it came.

  ‘Joseph belongs here as much as we belong in England, Clem.’

  Dark, knowing eyes regarded her with an unwavering gaze. If he felt as teary as she did, he wasn’t showing it – or rather, he was being strong for her. That’s what adults did. They forced themselves not to cry. Her eyes watered but she wanted to be as strong as Joseph.

  ‘When do we have to go?’

  ‘As soon as I can get our transport arranged,’ her father said. ‘I think the next party of wagons leaves in a few days. We need to get this diamond out of the country, Clem. Do you understand?’

  She nodded, dropping her gaze, feeling impossibly sad and wondering how she would ever feel happy again. She didn’t know how she would say goodbye to Joseph One-Shoe, sensing somehow that it would be harder than saying farewell to her dead mother. ‘We need to name it.’

  ‘What, darlin’?’

  ‘The conker needs a name.’

  ‘It does,’ James said, brightening, looking like a man who had been released from a noose. Joseph, however, still looked grave and she understood in that moment that while her father’s life looked as though it was going to get better, for she and Joseph their lives were about to change dramatically. Joseph had already explained to her that he couldn’t return to his tribe, which meant he was trapped here in the diamond fields, and now his close friends – his family, really – were going to desert him. And for her? She couldn’t remember another life. The Big Hole was her home. Joseph was her family.

  ‘What will you name it, Clem?’

  She didn’t have to think on it; they already had. ‘Sirius, of course.’

  Her father sighed with pleasure. ‘Yes, of course. The Sirius Diamond. Perfect. The brightest star in the sky, and the brightest star in the earth. Excellent choice, Clem. Now,’ he said, shifting so she slipped off his lap to her feet and he stood up to stretch. ‘I’m going to make some inquiries about an ox wagon, and I might stop off at the pub. Let’s eat something special tonight, Joseph. We should celebrate.’

  ‘Yes, Mr James, we should.’ He glanced with hooded eyes at Clementine before turning away.

  James didn’t return to the hut for dinner, despite a feast being cooked by Joseph. On tonight’s menu was chicken, with a spicy gravy that Joseph said his mother cooked on rare occasions and was the family favourite.

  He told her its name in Zulu, making it sound easy to say, but when she tried she stumbled. ‘We also call this running chicken,’ he added.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because in my village the chickens are allowed to wander everywhere and when my mother chose to kill one for our special meal, she had to chase it. Some clever chicken could keep her running for some time.’

  Clem laughed in spite of how moody she’d felt today. ‘I’m sorry Daddy didn’t turn up for this. It’s delicious, Joseph.’

  He nodded. ‘Your father is celebrating his own way.’

  ‘Nothing about today feels like we should be celebrating. Only Daddy thinks today deserves a feast.’

&nb
sp; ‘You must forgive him, Miss Clem. I think he is as sad as us but he has reached this decision because it’s best for you.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to go!’

  ‘I know. But he is looking ahead to when you are older. You cannot see it now but to return to the world you were born into is important.’

  ‘Then why don’t you go home to your tribe, Joseph?’ She didn’t mean to upset him but she was feeling suddenly angry by the decisions of the adults. They didn’t suit her and no one seemed to care how she was feeling – not even Joseph, apparently. And even as she let that thought into her mind, she knew it was unfair to think of him this way. Her father was selfish, perhaps – she’d heard her mother murmur that word about him a few times – but Joseph was never selfish. He did everything for others.

  ‘I think they would treat me badly, Miss Clementine.’

  She thought he might have stopped short of suggesting they might kill him but that’s what she understood from his tone and his serious expression.

  Now she felt terrible. ‘Shall we go and look at the stars?’

  Under the African night she huddled beneath Joseph’s blanket. Clementine wished she could share it with him and sit next to his large, warm, muscled body but he would never agree to that and she knew it was because he didn’t want to draw the ire of interfering people like Miss Carruthers. So she sat as close as was permissible – companionable without being intimate.

  ‘I see Sirius,’ he said, his long arm reaching heavenward to point a finger almost directly overhead.

  She tipped her chin back. ‘Sparkling so bright.’ She traced with a finger. ‘Look, Joseph. You can follow a whole line of stars from the northern horizon down to the southern horizon. There’s Orion.’

  ‘He is standing on his hands,’ Joseph remarked and won a laugh from her.

  ‘I didn’t choose Sirius because it is the brightest star in the sky.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Do you remember when Daddy said its nickname is the Dog Star?’

  He nodded his head; she could just see the movement against the dark shadows.

  ‘Well, Sirius is the Big Dog.’ She poked him. ‘That’s you. You’re the big dog – you found the conker.’

  ‘And if I guess correctly, you are the little dog?’

  She smiled into the night, glad he understood. ‘Mummy said she had a dog when she was little and it was her most faithful friend. I want to be your most faithful friend in the whole world.’

  ‘You already are, Miss Clementine.’

  ‘Good. That means we are the two dogs. Sirius and his little friend, Canis Minor. Shall we call him Little Dog?’

  ‘Your memory is as bright as Sirius itself,’ Joseph said in awe. ‘Do you forget anything?’

  She shrugged. ‘Mrs Carruthers always says I’m too smart for my own good but I don’t think she means that to make me feel happy. She speaks it with an angry face.’

  ‘Soon you won’t have to worry about Mrs Carruthers.’

  ‘I don’t want to live without you, Joseph.’

  ‘You won’t have to, Miss Clementine.’

  She watched him place a hand over his heart.

  ‘You will be in here with me every day of my life and I will be with you always.’

  ‘It’s not the same,’ she bleated.

  ‘It’s better,’ he said, surprising her with a grin, but again she sensed this was one of those brave adult smiles. ‘You’ll always be following and I will always be looking over my shoulder and watching, knowing you’re not far away in my heart or my mind.’

  Her father returned to their hut in the early hours but didn’t make it through the door. He collapsed like an old concertina, wheezing with sighing laughter, drunk to the point of unconsciousness as he met the ground. As far as any onlookers were concerned, James Knight was celebrating the sale of a few good-sized roughs that he and the Zulu had unearthed in recent weeks. He’d been seen at the striped brokers’ tents, with their bunting and loud signs to lure the diggers to their counters. If anyone had focused on Knight among the other diggers on the hunt for the best sale, they’d have seen him peddle half-a-dozen quality roughs, each with the classic octahedral shape.

  Joseph had agreed with the six that James chose; he knew that they needed top-quality roughs to carry off the story of the Knights’ departure from their prospecting life. They didn’t want anyone to suspect they’d had a good find and were running away. The six roughs would fetch a top price and provide the cover they needed.

  ‘I’ll take most of the cash but I’ll leave you with all the diamonds you want,’ James told Joseph.

  ‘I’ve told you what I want. To be found with anything more is inviting trouble. I can change those roughs into money when I have to . . . as you know, Mr James, my needs are few,’ Joseph had explained.

  ‘Will you dig on?’

  The Zulu hadn’t hesitated. ‘No.’

  James had waited for elaboration but none came. ‘Then sell the claim. You keep the proceeds, and don’t say you don’t want them. I won’t have time to wait for money to exchange hands. I’ll put it in motion if you wish, but I want you to reap the benefits as I am taking away our big prize.’

  ‘No, you are taking away my family, Mr James – worth far more.’ Before James could splutter any apologies, Joseph had continued. ‘I will not make it difficult. I will help you to get Miss Clementine onto the wagon and on your way to Cape Town.’

  ‘She will fight it.’

  He had simply nodded. ‘I will hide Sirius and its companions, minus the ones I shall keep, in her toy.’

  ‘In Gillie? That’s inspired.’

  ‘Just make sure she keeps her toy close.’

  And now he watched him many hours later, showing the results of the sale. Tonight, as much as it galled Joseph to see his closest friend in such a desperate way night after night, he could forgive him this occasion.

  The carousing and laughter plus the drunken state, which most of the regular pubgoers believed was normal now for the widowed Scot, played fully into their plan.

  But it was only his child on her cot on the other side of the door and the Zulu who finally unfolded from the shadows at the edge of the Big Hole who knew James Knight was not celebrating his gains but still mourning all that he’d lost. As much as Joseph One-Shoe wanted to believe that his friend would stop his self-destructive behaviour when he left Africa, his wisdom told him James Knight was on a slippery descent of grief into a pit of guilt that he might never clamber out from.

  In the distance he could hear the tack piano playing in one of the bars. Joseph loved the mellow, rolling sound that a piano could make when played by someone skilled with the instrument; its almost sorrowful call into the night made him forgive James’s inebriation tonight. He could be excused because he had convinced himself there was something to celebrate. But Joseph wondered about tomorrow. What would the next day bring?

  8

  Reggie let out a long sigh as he pressed a clean towel against his face and flicked water from his dripping hair, fresh from a shampoo. He loved the sensation of being clean again. It had been two months since his last soak in a tub and now, here at the Kimberley Club, a gentleman’s paradise within a desert of hovels and choking dust, he had rediscovered one of life’s simple pleasures: a hot bath.

  The irritating sound of a shrieking whistle leaked into his suite. Reggie padded across the rug to the mahogany dresser, where his pocket watch sat. It was midday and he’d been warned that the whistle was sounded at noon to call the diggers at the Big Hole from their pits or sorting canopies to wherever they would have their midday meal.

  He’d made a cursory visit yesterday, cadging a lift from a wagon that was taking supplies to the Big Hole. He’d seen firsthand that at the sound of the shrill whistle the men would swarm up from the astonishingly large gash in the earth like an army of hungry ants, disgorged on a signal to hunt for food. He’d passed these monstrous ant towers during his journey, and if he squinte
d a little, he could convince himself that the famed Big Hole looked like a small-scaled medieval city of ant buildings. The architecture within it comprised towers of rock and dirt, the taller towers backing onto the busiest of the diggers who dug faster, deeper. He wondered in that moment which claim belonged to his brother-in-law.

  Most of the diggers ate around the main pit, forever glancing back to their own claims. The rest – perhaps the more trusting, or those who simply knew they were on a hard-luck streak – strode back to the hideous hodgepodge of iron huts, tents and shanties that girdled the region, where presumably wives and families awaited.

  ‘They have one hour each day,’ the driver explained, noting Reggie’s gaze. ‘Although in the full heat of the summer, they have a three-hour break from noon and work later into the evening.’

  Reggie nodded without interest. He wasn’t the slightest bit invested in these people’s lives. He’d decided they may well consider themselves pioneers, adventurers and excitement-seekers, but to him they looked like nothing more than poverty-stricken peasants living rudimentary lives of survival. They looked dirty and bedraggled, and most of them appeared filled with despair. He couldn’t imagine his beautiful, immaculately presented sister living hand-to-mouth like these unfortunates.

  In truth his body had become a cauldron of rage since he’d read Knight’s letter and it still simmered like the proverbial witch’s brew. He’d scanned the men as they spilled over the top of the remarkable wound dug into the land with bare hands and simple tools, hoping to glimpse James Knight. When the only men left still dragging themselves over the lip were black, he lost what tiny amount of attentiveness he’d had.

  ‘I’ll walk back,’ he said, hiding his vexation, but not wishing to spend another moment in the heat and dust. Camp dogs ran around the beggared men and flies landed on every available inch of flesh. He couldn’t believe how their skin didn’t flinch. He saw tinkers hawking a range of wares, from cigarettes to iron pots, while women sold fresh goods – eggs, bread, a few bruised apples. He smelled old coffee above the stink of latrines, which were surely no more than shallow holes in the ground. In the distance he could see an old ox being led to a slaughter post. Soon blood and offal would be adding their own particular stench to the already overwhelming aroma of filth.