Geoffrey Jenkins: A Cleft Of Stars

"'There were indications that the Cullinan was only part of a much larger diamond," ' read Nadine.

Whether it was my deep-down aversion to diamonds which shut my ears to Nadine's words or the noticeable jerk of the little man sitting next to me which sidetracked my attention, I cannot at this distance of time remember. But I do know that I date the extraordinary events which followed from that moment, and her words as the beginning of that life-in-death voyage which remains as strange as any undertaken on great waters. I feel, too, that having had it on my mind for a quarter of a century (since shortly after World War II) I can now commit it all to paper. Because with the building of the great dam the King's secret is now doubly safe, under hundreds of feet of water. Previously there was always the chance that some freak of nature might have removed the millions of tons of silt under which it lies buried. Who knows, had I revealed it before, the value of the gem itself might have sparked off an enterprise for its recovery.

None of this was in our minds that rather dreary day, and the place was as far from high adventure as it is possible to imagine.

It was a Friday afternoon, visitors' day at the Pretoria Central Prison. Friends and relatives were allowed to chat to inmates through a barrier of steel mesh. Warders and hard lights were everywhere. Prisoners were brought in batches of about twenty at a time and allowed about ten minutes' conversation. Nadine never missed a Friday. I was serving an eighteen months' sentence for illicit diamond buying; only six endless months had gone by before that outwardly unimportant Friday. I was also not to know then that Nadine's words were to trigger off my bitterness at being framed, to crystallize it and to take on a strong-and fateful — purpose.

'Guy darling, you're not listening.'

I pulled my wandering attention back to her and tried to smile. She looked very lovely, even under the hard lights, with her crown of black hair, her deep green eyes and classic features. The place was hot with summer and the relentless lights but she looked cool in a lime-green, sleeveless dress. When she moved a waft of her Guerlain came across to me, momentarily damping the all-present smell of prison disinfectant. At first it had been fairly easy, on her weekly visits, for her to keep me in touch with the world outside. As the months passed, however, prison life seemed more and more to shut her out. I think she felt my interest slipping for in the previous weeks she had undertaken to bring and read to me small newspaper items or extracts from scientific papers she thought might interest me. Any physical contact was forbidden; I could not even touch her hand.

The little man blurted out, 'If he isn't, miss, then I am.'

We both turned on him in astonishment. He had a fixed smile and a Charlie Chaplin moustache. The artificial grin nevertheless did not hide his interest. He leaned towards us sideways on his bar-type wooden stool. The plump, brassy blonde he had been talking to gave us a hostile brush-off stare and turned away.

'Again, miss — the whole of wot you was reading out.'

Nadine may have thought the little cock-sparrow was a cellmate of mine. In fact, he was next door, but we'd never spoken to one another. She picked up the paper again, partly to hide her embarrassment.

Wot's that? It ain't a newspaper.' He spoke rapidly, insistently. She glanced from him to me, unsure whether or not to go on.

Before she could reply he added, 'It sounds like one, though. And you read lovely, miss.'

I didn't know what to say. He'd put the skids under our conversation.

It's a photocopy of an item from an old copy of the Transvaal Leader,' Nadine replied. 'I happened on it when I was looking up something in the university library's files.. I. . simply thought it might interest you, Guy. That's why I had it copied and brought it along.'

The little man peered at the date.

'August 1909,' said Nadine.

The little man glanced furtively at the nearest warder. His hissed, almost savage whisper was in contrast to the bright, set smile.

'Get on with it — get on with it, for Chrissake!'

Nadine resumed uncertainly, stumbling over an occasional word or phrase. One could almost feel his vibrations.

' "The Cullinan Diamond was found at the Premier Mine near Pretoria in January 1905 and it was then agreed by experts that only a portion of what must have been the original stone had been discovered. Proof of this comes from the fact that the stone exhibited a.cleavage plane and only two natural planes — in other words, it had been cut beforehand. A report is now in widespread circulation in the Transvaal that a larger portion of the great diamond must exist …"

'Sorry, ma'am. No reading of unauthorized material to prisoners.'

A warder placed himself between our intent listener and myself.

'That a newspaper?' he asked.

The little man tried wheedling. 'Come off it, officer. It's a very old one- 1909. No harm in that, is there?'

The warder tapped him lightly and almost affectionately on the shoulder with his baton.

'Newspapers is newspapers, Charlie. Nothing about dates in the regulations. Old or new, it's just the same. Must be vetted first by the Super.'

Nadine was confused. 'I didn't think such an old report mattered either. I'm sorry. It's not important. I've something else here too but it's been cleared.'

She held up a current newspaper cutting which had been pasted up on a sheet of notepaper. It carried the Superintendent's stamp. 'Okay,' said the guard.

Charlie's eyes darted from me to Nadine. 'Keep that other one for me when I come out, miss.'

The warder laughed and clapped him again. 'In and out, that's our Charlie. We quite miss his ugly little mug when he's. away too — eh Charlie?'

Charlie's smile remained ingratiating but his eyes told a different story. The warder went.

There was an awkward pause. His blonde companion muttered something angrily about not wasting her time on people who didn't appreciate her company.

There were shadows in Nadine's eyes and a flat note of reproach in her voice.

'Do you want to hear, Guy?'"

'Yes, of course. You know I do'

I thought it sounded slick and insincere the minute I'd said it. Nadine's eyes dropped to and rested on the engagement ring I had given her. It was a strange design, a copy of one which had excited archaeologists. The original, they said, could have been Coptic or Assyrian — Babylonian, even. It was as beautiful and unusual as Nadine herself. A silence fell between us. Nadine didn't look up when finally she began.

'It's about Ted Hill — from last night's paper. Someone has been digging there without a licence. Treasure-hunters, it says.'

Her voice trembled. 'Up on the summit, near the queen's grave. .' She looked at me and her eyes blurred. 'Oh, Guy! Our Hill! The queen's grave!'

The wire barrier might have been a mile instead of a fraction of an inch thick for all the comfort I could offer her. I waited uncomfortably while she recovered her composure. Then she went on, summarizing the report in her own words. Again I sensed the little man's intense interest. The brassy blonde flounced off her stool and made for the door.

'So they're going to have the place patrolled every now and again to keep check.'

'I feel sorry for whoever gets the job in that wilderness,' I remarked.

Charlie craned forward, one hand familiarly on my arm and the other propping his chin on a wooden ledge where the mesh ended. He forced himself into the conversation.