Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Embarrassed by his father, as everyone else also appeared to be by now, Richard tried to hand him a cup of coffee, but BB stood in the centre of the room, legs apart. ‘You young people don’t understand finances. Take the Messerschmidt — now then, when the crash came, where was Willy Messerschmidt, tell me that? I’ll tell you — in Germany, waiting to see if the Eastern Aircraft Corporation at Pawtucket, Rhode Island, had crashed, and when he discovered it was in trouble his hopes of building a secret air force to prepare Germany for another war were dashed, but had they? No! The bastard facing financial ruin was kept going by Hitler himself. It was Hitler who knew the man was a genius, and financed him, and, by Christ, look what havoc those planes are creating. There would be no war — no war — if the Wall Street Crash hadn’t happened. It caused Germany’s growing economic crisis to escalate, just as it improved Hitler’s chance of gaining office. The Reich was tied to the American economy more closely and — not many people know this — massive loans from Wall Street helped finance the German reparation payments and the post-war reconstruction projects. That’s how that man got into power, the Wall Street Crash should never have been allowed to happen...’ BB swayed, still standing in the centre of the room.

Harriet, bored, curled up on the sofa with a copy of Horse and Hound . Allard kept taking sneaky looks at his watch, and twice he tried to exchange amused glances with Edward, but received no reaction, so he turned back to Richard. Unlike his father, Richard had no South African accent. He had been educated at Eton and was, so Edward had overheard, going into his father’s business. They were at present negotiating with two renowned dealers in Hatton Garden.

As they prepared for bed that night, BB commented to his wife, ‘Good chap, that young fella, Edward. Liked him — reminded me of myself at that age.’

The next evening Edward again spent most of dinner talking to BB. The man knew everything there was to know about mining, and Edward was so involved that he didn’t look at Harriet once throughout the meal. She was hurt by his ignoring her and reverted to childish behaviour, squabbling with Allard and Richard. As usual, the Judge and his wife discussed hunting and the details of preparing the horses.

‘How’s the chap doing, Harriet? Can’t have one of us letting the side down — have to go over and have a word with the master of the hunt as it is. What do you say, Harriet, he make it, you think?’

Edward heard Harriet say that he would be able to hold his own, he could more than likely outride Richard already. Richard laughed, looked at Edward and said that he had tamed the wildcat, Harry was actually being nice to someone. Allard joined in the teasing, shouting across to Edward that Harriet was love-struck. She blushed, and threw a tantrum, hurling a bread roll so hard it bounced off the table and hit the Judge.

‘That’s enough, Harriet, now go to bed. Now! We’ve had enough of your antics. Out — I mean it — out!’

Harriet stormed out, slamming the door. They finished their dinner without further interruption. Later, Edward played draughts with BB, who would not stop until he had won three sets. He sat opposite Edward, chewing on his cigar, slamming his fist down on the board when Edward beat him.

‘Right, my friend, one more set, and this time I’ll get you on the hop.’

It was after twelve when the evening broke up and everyone drifted off to bed. The plumbing creaked from the extra usage. His teeth chattering, Edward went to his room and dived between the chilly sheets. He could still hear the distant murmur of voices, but eventually all was quiet. He was just dropping off to sleep when the bedroom door creaked open.

Harriet, her face tear-stained and glum, stood there in her thin cotton nightie. ‘Why were you so nasty to me at dinner, you totally ignored me. What have I done?’

Edward sat up and told her to go back to her room immediately, she hadn’t done anything, far from it.

‘What do you mean? You didn’t look at me once.’ She crept to the bed and sat down, her bare feet blue with cold.

‘Harry, you are fourteen years old, and it’s not done to come to a fellow’s bedroom at this time of night.’ In a whisper as loud as most people’s normal speaking voice, Harriet asked why?

‘You know why, it’s not on, what if anyone were to see you here? Now be a good girl and go back to bed.’

Stubbornly, she remained sitting, rubbing her chilled feet against each other.

‘Harry, I’ll see you in the morning as usual, now go back to bed.’

She slunk off the bed, pouting moodily, padded to the door and glared back at him. Then her eyes filled with tears and she turned to walk out.

‘Harry, don’t get upset with me, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I give you my word, it’s just that...’

She cocked her head to one side, her long hair tumbling around her shoulders. ‘Just what?’

Edward held out his hand and she crept back to hold it tightly.

‘Just nothing, I’ll see you in the morning, goodnight.’

She flung herself in his arms and hugged him. He could smell Pears soap. Then she bounced off the bed again, happy, gave him a cheeky grin and banged out.

Edward closed his eyes. She was so noisy, he thought, she would wake the whole house. He listened, but all was silent. He knew he would have to tread very carefully with Harry, she was as frisky as a puppy. He pulled the bedclothes around him and could smell the Pears soap, feel her warm, lovely body. Christ almighty, he had a hard-on again, he knew he would have to get himself laid soon, the sooner the better.

One night, after his draughts session with Edward, BB appeared, puffing, on the top landing. ‘Look, old fella, been going through my wardrobe. Put on a lot of weight, doubt if I’ll make the hunt — gout, you know — but it’s a pity to waste all this gear... Now then, you’re a big chap, what do you think?’ He held out an armful of hunting togs, jackets, boots, a polished black topper. Edward knew why he had come up, and he invited BB into the cold bedroom. BB had a look at all the books laid out on the desk, then sat down.

‘See you’re still hard at it, jolly good, interesting.’

Edward showed BB his work, and they discussed mining. BB rubbed his hands complaining of the cold, and disappeared briefly to return with two glasses and a bottle of brandy.

‘I hear you’ve no family, son. That right?’

Edward told him it was, and that he was having difficulty making ends meet, but he was determined to finish his studies at Cambridge.

‘Short of cash are you, lad? Well, we’ll see to it that you make ends meet. In return, I want you out on the first seaplane to South Africa when you’ve finished at university. What do you say? It’ll be the chance of a lifetime, and you’ll have more than opportunity — you’ll have me, and any introduction I can give you. It’s wide open there for the likes of you, prepared to work hard for their chance.’

Fortified by the Judge’s excellent brandy, BB found himself talking more like a father to Edward than his own son. ‘I had two good boys, you know about them? They were like me, you know, eager to go into the business, good, hard-working lads, and I’ve always maintained that if you want to go into a business you start from the bottom, work your way up, whether you’re the boss’s son or not. If you don’t know what the workers do, you don’t understand them... My father was a penniless immigrant in the East End. He slaved to get me my stake, never saw me strike it rich, but I owe him a debt... never forget your debts, son, that’s another important lesson.’

Edward was taken aback when the big man suddenly sat on the bed and took out his silk handkerchief. ‘They died along with twenty-five kaffirs. When they dug them up, the eldest boy had tried to save two of the workers, his body lying over theirs... It took them five days to dig out the youngest lad.’