The Diamond Hunter Page 15

  The man looked as though he couldn’t care any less, so Reggie pressed the point; he wanted to get away from this town as fast as life would permit. ‘Lilian Grant is barely clinging to life,’ he said, not in the slightest embarrassed by the lie. ‘Her dying wish is to see her only grandchild once more, and this is the reason I’ve made the journey to Africa. I had hoped to persuade James to bring Clementine back to England. We had visions of seeing our family again, giving them a beautiful home of their own and a way of life most would envy.’

  The policeman nodded. ‘He knew this?’

  ‘I got here too late. I arrived yesterday and missed him and the child by minutes, I gather. They’d gone to some town to get groceries, sell diamonds, I’m not sure . . .’ He gave a shrug, pleased that his alibi had so much truth to sit upon. ‘I think James would have said yes, given how low his life had stooped.’ They started to walk again, slowly. ‘And with that in mind, I don’t want to waste any time. James is dead, but I can make Lilian Grant’s final wish come true by letting her hold her beloved granddaughter once more. The next party leaves here tomorrow, I gather?’

  The man nodded. ‘Sounds about right.’

  ‘Then I should like to be on that wagon, as I have three berths booked on a ship to London in forty-five days.’

  ‘We just need to see documents that you are who you say you are, sir.’ The detective held up a hand. ‘Purely a formality. Clementine couldn’t be in better hands than her own family.’

  ‘Thank you, Detective Fry. I appreciate your understanding. What about the Zulu who is so protective?’

  Fry looked back at him as if he’d just spoken in a language he didn’t understand. ‘The black?’

  Reggie nodded.

  ‘Don’t you worry about him. He’ll be on his way soon enough, back to his tribe. He’ll be in his leopard skin before tomorrow’s out, you mark my words.’

  12

  They stood in what Detective Fry called his office; to Reggie it seemed merely a partitioned-off area of a large hut. Nevertheless, Fry had the semblance of order – a desk and a filing cabinet – although Reggie still held the notion that the man was more like the gun-slinging sheriffs in the vast west of America than the police constables of northern England that Reggie was familiar with. Reggie sensed that the man was not entirely lawful himself, and he had plans to test his hunch. For now, though, he had to face the awkward first meeting with Clementine and separating her from all she knew.

  I can make you forget this sorry episode, little Clementine, he promised silently as he waited in the airless room for her arrival. Mercifully it was a mild enough morning; he didn’t want to imagine how hot this space might be by midday. He could already smell Fry’s perspiration, and the odour suggested to Reggie that the detective likely hadn’t bathed in days. Although he too was beginning to feel claustrophobic and moist, he was glad that he could only smell the comforting perfume of his toilet water wafting with the freshness of his laundered cotton shirt. He wanted – needed – Clementine to like him.

  Fry cleared his throat and Reggie turned to see the enormous Joseph One-Shoe being escorted in by one of Fry’s men. Clinging to the warrior’s thigh was a little girl. Despite her waif-like build, urchin clothes and red-rimmed eyes, she could not hide her mother’s beauty. It seemed to Reggie that Louisa was not gone but had, in fact, escaped death by inhabiting her daughter. Louisa was in the room, alive and watching him. Those huge eyes! He recalled how he’d once compared them to massive glass marbles that looked too large for Louisa’s sockets. He could swear they were her eyes regarding him with an impaling stare of silvery indigo, full of inquiry rather than shyness. It gave Clementine that other-worldly quality her mother had possessed. Reggie felt his heartbeat become erratic for a moment or two, enough to audibly catch his breath.

  ‘All right, sir?’ asked Fry.

  The bulk of Clementine’s companion dominated the room. He stood massive, powerful, compliant. Reggie noted how tightly his niece held onto him. The man’s hands, like the paws of a bear, encircled her angular shoulders. She was a tiny ragamuffin in the clutches of a monster. But he was clearly her monster: silent, watchful, her loyal sentry, Reggie decided. These two would not be easily parted.

  He stepped forward. Even the wide Cupid’s bow of her mouth belonged to Louisa. He saw only Grant in her, and with this recognition Reggie felt as though a special permission was being granted to him by Fate. With no Knight obvious in this child, it was right that he should take her back to the home where she was born, as her mother had been before her, to the sole surviving female Grant.

  ‘Good morning, Clementine,’ he said as gently as he could, and crouched so she didn’t have to look up and feel overwhelmed.

  ‘Good morning, sir.’ Oh, she even lisped slightly like Louisa had as a child. His heart had found its rhythm but now it pounded. He hoped she couldn’t sense his tension.

  ‘Do you remember me? I’m your Uncle Reginald. You’re most welcome to call me Uncle Reggie.’

  ‘And do you like me?’

  It was disconcerting how composed she appeared. ‘“Like” is not the word that touches how I feel about you, Clementine. When you were in England I loved you as if you were my own daughter, and I was deeply saddened when you and your mother had to leave.’

  ‘Did you love my mother?’

  ‘Yes. I did. My sister was the person I loved most in the world, so perhaps we have that to share?’

  ‘I wish I had a brother who felt like that about me.’

  He grinned. ‘Well, now you have an uncle, and he wants to take you home to meet your grandmother. She is very ill, Clementine.’ He blinked. ‘And her one wish is to see her beautiful granddaughter once more because we miss you and wish that you could see where your mother grew up into the happy person she was.’

  ‘My mummy was never happy here,’ Clementine said, sounding like someone ten times her age.

  ‘I know, darling. She wrote to me and told me this. But she loved you and your father more than she worried about her worries, and so she did her best.’

  ‘You can leave,’ Fry said offhandedly to the Zulu, waving his dismissal.

  Reggie wanted to hit the man. He was tiptoeing his way across the hardest of territories and had just begun to feel like he was getting through to his niece, finding common ground, and this oaf had exploded the tender moment.

  ‘No!’ Clementine looked suddenly terrified. She swung away to cling to her companion.

  Reggie stood with a sigh. The man they called Joseph One-Shoe looked embarrassed but not humbled. ‘May I keep Miss Clementine company, Detective Fry, sir, until your business is concluded?’

  ‘Good grief, he speaks like an Englishman,’ Reggie said in jest.

  ‘Mr Knight and your niece have taught me well, sir,’ the Zulu replied, clearly taking no umbrage at the remark.

  It was a mistake. He’d underestimated Clementine’s minder. He could see the furrows of bafflement forming on his niece’s forehead. She should not be underestimated either, he decided; her age belied her intelligence. He realised he must display no offence that he was being addressed by a slave in such a conversational tone. The man stood with squared shoulders and a look in his eye that spoke of recrimination. He was irritatingly self-possessed in the presence of his superiors, and it was Reggie who was the first to look away. It struck him then with a feeling akin to a cold hand being placed on his neck that Joseph One-Shoe knew.

  I didn’t push him, his whole body screamed into the anxious silence. He tripped, fell.

  Joseph’s expression was implacable.

  You can’t know anything! Reggie’s breathing shortened and turned shallow. He stepped back to gather his composure, his gaze not leaving the minder.

  He was sure the African replied: I was there. I saw everything, heard everything, understood everything.

  He had no intention of having a conversation with a slave in front of anyone, and he certainly was not going to panic. Instead, h
e returned his attention to his niece, who despite her alarm was skewering him with her mother’s gaze. It was appalling how guilty it made him feel.

  ‘Clementine, my darling, Mr One-Shoe may remain, but I have something important to tell you.’ He had wanted to say discuss but this was not a situation to be negotiated. One way or another, he was leaving with his niece on that ox wagon tomorrow morning.

  ‘My daddy said you were here to cause trouble, and now he’s dead.’

  He sucked in a breath. ‘Clementine, no. That’s not true. I wanted to bring you both to England. Here, look.’ He withdrew the ship’s documents along with the identifying paperwork he’d shown Fry. He pointed. ‘That’s three berths on the ship to England. Trouble was never my intention. It was always about bringing our family together.’ He could feel the dark gaze of Joseph One-Shoe upon him, daring him to meet his stare. He did not. He kept it firmly on the child – the prize.

  ‘I think he wanted to die,’ she replied, shocking Fry as much as Reggie with the remark.

  ‘He was sad, appallingly drunk and extremely angry last night, Clementine,’ the policeman concurred.

  ‘Because he knew Uncle Reggie had come?’

  Reggie couldn’t let Fry speak for him. ‘He didn’t meet me at the club as I’d hoped so we could have a chat between gentlemen.’ He had to shift the topic. ‘I want to tell you why I’m here.’ No one interrupted as he carefully chose his words and navigated his way with stealth, a gentle tone and a kindly smile to tiptoe once again into her trust. He told her everything, even about the long journey and his wish to see his sister’s grave.

  At last he shrugged. ‘I so wanted to bring you and your father home, Clementine. May I take you back to your grandmother? Would you like to come back to where you were born, see the home that is yours? All of your toys are there. All of your mother’s toys, like her doll’s house and her rocking horse, await you.’

  ‘Is there anything that belongs to my daddy at Woodingdene?’

  She remembered its name. He was impressed, and the fear began to recede as he knew he was likely saying all the right things. ‘Indeed, there is. There’s a beautiful bridge over a small brook that he designed and built in your mother’s honour, but perhaps the most interesting is his telescope.’

  Now he’d definitely hit the right note. What did a little girl know about a telescope? And yet she responded with widening eyes and a smile.

  ‘He told me about how he used to look at the stars through it.’

  ‘It’s a splendid piece of equipment, and I’ll be honest, I know nothing about astronomy – barely the names of the stars.’

  This made her smile and he felt his spirits soar.

  ‘I know lots. I can teach you.’

  ‘Will you? That would be splendid, and we’ll have so much time on our long journey home on a ship.’

  ‘Joseph One-Shoe may not like travelling on a ship.’

  And here it was. They were at the delicate juncture he had anticipated. Reggie sighed and straightened up again, finally meeting the African’s calm stare and seeing all too clearly the fire of accusation blazing behind it.

  ‘Clementine, Detective Fry is going to take you to get some lemonade.’ He turned and the policeman scowled. ‘Joseph and I need to talk, but we will only be a couple of minutes. Go on now,’ he said, and was relieved that her friend gave her an encouraging push towards the door.

  Detective Fry, though unhappy with the task, seemed glad to extricate himself. Reggie watched his niece glance up at Joseph One-Shoe as she let the policeman escort her out the door.

  Reggie returned his attention to the African, who watched him assuredly, his body still.

  ‘Mr One-Shoe, I am taking my niece home. She cannot remain here.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  That surprised him but he pushed on. ‘She is obviously attached to you in ways I do not understand but it makes no difference – you understand this too?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘So, it would be easier on her heart, I suspect, if you could encourage her to return to England without fighting it. I will drag her screaming if I have to but I would prefer not to.’

  ‘I understand, sir.’

  ‘And what else do you understand, Mr One-Shoe?’

  Joseph One-Shoe blinked slowly, as if giving himself that heartbeat to consider.

  ‘And before you answer that, be very aware of how difficult I can make your life.’ Reggie remained matter-of-fact, wanting to make clear that his position was not negotiable. ‘You cannot change the outcome, Mr One-Shoe. James Knight is dead, as is my sister, and my niece is an orphan. That’s a fact. No one will permit her to remain with you – no one, no matter what you allege.’ He fixed him with a cool stare and leaned on reason. ‘Her remaining family is wealthy, we love her, and we want to give her a proper home and upbringing in the manner to which she was born. Surely you want only the best for her, and the best situation is for her to return to England and leave behind all the sorrows of Africa.’ He waited and the diamond digger said nothing, also waiting. ‘Tell me you want what is best for Clementine, Joseph.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘A man of few words, eh? How about I pay you?’

  ‘For my silence?’

  Reggie bristled. ‘To allow her to go without a fuss.’

  ‘I have my own money.’

  ‘You’re very confident, aren’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know what that means, sir.’

  Now Reggie’s jaw ground silently. ‘I mean, you seem sure of yourself.’

  ‘For an African, do you mean, sir?’ He was politely inquiring.

  ‘For a black savage, yes.’

  Joseph One-Shoe nodded thoughtfully. ‘I am Zulu. We are warriors who must trust in our . . .’ He tapped his belly.

  ‘Instincts?’

  ‘I do not know this word, but if it means to trust in our own feelings and knowledge from within, then yes.’

  ‘And what do those feelings tell you?’

  ‘I do not discuss my feelings with strangers, sir. They are mine.’

  ‘Wretched man!’ Reggie growled. ‘Don’t be slippery with me.’

  Joseph looked back at him with an unchanged benign expression but said no more.

  ‘So, will you let her go without a fuss?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s for the best, sir, as you English say.’

  ‘And —’

  ‘I will say no more about her father’s death. It does not help her. Her life should be spent in her true home and she should be raised in a better way than she has been.’

  ‘Bravo, Mr One-Shoe,’ he breathed, his chest swelling. He wanted to clap. ‘I’m pleased you’re putting Clementine first.’

  ‘Always, sir.’

  ‘Then you will help me convince her to leave?’

  The man finally dropped his head and nodded.

  Reggie needed him to know that none of what was occurring was spiteful. ‘Joseph?’

  He looked up.

  ‘I can tell you this – I loved her mother with all my heart. That is no lie. And when Louisa left us, taking Clementine, it felt like the sunshine had left our lives. Now, I don’t claim to know my niece very well any more, but when she was an infant I did, and I love her. I promise you she will want for nothing. She will never feel unloved or frightened. I will take care of her until the day I die, by which time I hope she will be happily married, with a family and a very good life of her own.’

  Joseph let out a slow sigh that was visible but not audible. Reggie could feel anguish in it, as though it was painful for One-Shoe to make this decision. ‘I will help her to leave, sir.’ Without another word the huge African turned and left the policeman’s office, and it was only as the door closed that Reggie realised he didn’t know what the African knew, or even what he may or may not have seen.

  Reggie allowed Clementine to go back with Joseph for a final farewell while he returned to the
club to settle his account and organise his departure with the child.

  ‘I will need this message delivered to the home of Mr James Knight, please. It is not sealed so whomever you send can confer its contents verbally. While the African man speaks good English, I doubt he can read.’

  ‘Actually, Mr Grant, Joseph One-Shoe reads fluently,’ the manager replied.

  Reggie swallowed his scorn. ‘How is that possible?’

  He shrugged. ‘The Knight family obviously made it their business to educate him.’

  ‘Right, well, so as not to antagonise an already delicate situation, I am keen that the club organise for Mr One-Shoe to deliver my niece to me before noon. We leave at two o’clock. Is that possible for you to organise?’

  ‘It is. It shall be done. And, er . . . Mr Grant, about the funeral for James Knight.’

  ‘I will make arrangements for the provision of his burial alongside my sister, his wife. I will leave instructions for his headstone, and I would appreciate it if a photograph could be taken so that Clementine has a memento of her parents’ graves.’

  ‘Oh, we have the latest photography process, sir. Mr Field has imported a lenticular stereoscope and I believe the cartes-de-visite craze has reached as far as New Rush.’

  Reggie shook his head. ‘I don’t need all that equipment. She is very little right now and I imagine not much is making sense. However, in time I would like to give her a single photograph – a daguerreotype would be ideal. I want the clearest detail, so she understands that she was an orphan and her family needed to make this decision to take her back to England. Please make sure its glass cover is well fixed and I’ll pay for it to be sealed in leather.’

  ‘I understand, Mr Grant. She is fortunate that you are here at this awkward time and in a position to provide for her immediately.’

  ‘It is certainly serendipitous,’ Reggie replied. ‘Although,’ he added, his confidence rising, ‘Fate does work in strange ways, don’t you think?’ The two men stood to shake hands. ‘Oh, one more thing – could you ensure that Clementine packs with her some of her favourite things, especially that ragdoll she holds dear, I gather? I think it’s vital I try to keep as much comfort and familiarity around her as possible. I will leave money for anything we cannot take with us on the wagon to be sent on later.’