Darling Shasa turned from the window to face his mother. She was wearing sapphires tonight and a blue dress as filmy and light as wood-smoke. You aren't ready yet. We'll be in the station in a minute - and what a mess you have made of your tie. Come here and let me do it for you. As she stood in front of him and shaped the bow with dextrous fingers, Shasa struggled to contain and suppress the anger and sense of inadequacy that a mere glimpse of the other boy had aroused in him.
The driver of the locomotive shunted them off the main track on to a private spur beyond the sheds of the railway workshop and uncoupled them beside the concrete ramp where Abraham Abrahams Ford was already parked, and Abe scampered up on to the balcony the moment the coach came to a stop.
Centaine, you are more beautiful than ever. He kissed her hand and then each of her cheeks. He was a little man, just Centaine's height, with a lively expression and quick, alert eyes. His ears were pricked up as though he were listening to a sound that nobody else could hear.
His studs were diamond and onyx, which was flashy, and his dinner jacket was a little too extravagantly cut, but he was one of Centaine's favourite people. He had stood by her when her total wealth had amounted to something less than ten pounds. He had filed the claims for the H'ani Mine and since then conducted most of her legal business and many of her private affairs as well. He was an old and dear friend but, more important, he did not make mistakes in his work.
He wouldn't have been here if he did.
Dear Abe. She took both his hands and squeezed them.
How is Rachel? Outstanding, he assured her. It was his favourite adiective. She sends her apologies, but the new baby Of course. Centaine nodded, understanding. Abraham knew her preferences for masculine company and seldom brought his wife with him, even when invited to do so.
Centaine turned from her lawyer to the other tall stoop shouldered figure that was hovering at the gate of the balcony.
Dr Twenty-man-jones. She held out her hands.
Mrs Courtney, he murmured like an undertaker.
Centaine put on her most radiant smile. It was her own little game, to see if she could inveigle him into the smallest display of pleasure. She lost again. His apparent gloom deepened until he looked like a bloodhound in mourning.
Their relationship went back almost as far as Centaine's with Abraham. He had been a consulting mining engineer with the De Beers Diamond Company, but he had evaluated and opened the H'ani workings for her back in 1919. It had taken almost five years of her most winning persuasion before he had agreed to come to work for the H'ani Mine as Resident Engineer. He was probably the best diamond man in South Africa, which meant the best in the world.
Centaine led the two of them into the saloon and waved the white-jacketed barman aside.
Abraham, a glass of champagne? She poured the wine with her own hands. And Dr Twentyrnan-Jones, a little Madeira? You never forget, Mrs Courtney, he admitted miserably as she carried the glass to him. Between them it was always full titles and surnames, although their friendship had stood all the tests.
I give you good health, gentlemen. Centaine saluted them, and when they had drunk she glanced across at the far door.
On cue Shasa came through and Centaine watched critically as he shook hands with each of the men. He conducted himself with just the correct amount of deference for their age, showed no discomfort when Abraham over-effusively embraced him and then returned Twentyrnan-Jones's greeting with equal solemnity. She gave a small nod of approval and took her seat behind her desk. it was her sign that the niceties had been observed and they could get on to business.
The two men quickly perched on the elegant but uncomfortable Art Deco chairs and leaned towards her attentively.
It has come at last, Centaine told them. They have cut our quota. They rocked back in their seats and exchanged a brief glance before turning back to Centaine.
We have been expecting it for almost a year, Abraham pointed out.
Which does not make the actuality any more pleasant, Centaine told him tartly.
How much? Twenty-man-Jones asked.
Forty percent, Centaine answered, and he looked as though he might burst into tears while he considered it.
Each of the independent diamond producers was allocated a quota by the Central Selling Organization. The arrangement was informal and probably illegal, but nonetheless rigorously enforced, and none of the independents had ever been foolhardy enough to test the legality of the system or the share of the market they were given.
Forty percent! Abraham burst out. That's iniquitous! An accurate observation, dear Abe, but not particularly useful at this stage. Centaine looked to Twenty-man-Jones.
No change in the categories? he asked. The quotas were broken down by carat weight into the different types of stones, from dark industrial boart to the finest gem quality, and by size from the tiny crystals of ten points and smaller to the big valuable stones.
Same percentages, Centaine agreed, and he slumped in his chair, pulled a notebook from his inside pocket and began a series of quick calculations. Centaine glanced behind her to where Shasa leaned against the panelled bulkhead.
Do you understand what we are talking about? The quota? Yes, I think so, Mater. If you don't understand, then ask, she ordered brusquely and turned back to Twenty-man-Jones.
Could you appeal for a ten percent increase at the top end? he asked, but she shook her head.
I have already done so and they turned me down. De Beers in their infinite compassion point out that the biggest drop in demand has been at the top end, at the gem and jewellery level. He returned to his notebook, and they listened to his pencil scratching on the paper until he looked up.
Can we break even? Centaine asked quietly, and Twenty-man-Jones looked as though he might shoot himself rather than reply.
It will be close,he whispered, and we'll have to fire and cut and hone, but we should be able to pay costs, and perhaps even turn a small profit still, depending upon the floor price that De Beers sets. But the cream will be skimmed off the top, I'm afraid, Mrs Courtney. Centaine felt weak and trembly with relief. She took her hands off the desk and placed them in her lap so the others might not notice. She did not speak for a few moments, and then she cleared her throat to make certain her voice did not quaver.
The effective date for the quota cut is the first of March, she said. That means we can deliver one more full package.
You know what to do, Dr Twenty-man-jones. We will fill the package with sweeteners, Mrs Courtney. What is a sweetener, Dr Twenty-man-jones? Shasa spoke for the first time, and the engineer turned to him seriously.
When we turn up a number of truly excellent diamonds in one period of production, we reserve some of the best of them, set them aside to include in a future package which might be of inferior quality. We have a reserve of these high quality stones which we will now deliver to the CSO while we still have the opportunity. I understand, Shasa nodded. Thank you, Dr Twenty-man-Jones. Pleased to be of service, Master Shasa. Centaine stood up. We can go in to dinner now, and the white-jacketed servant opened the sliding doors through into the dining room where the long table gleamed with silver and crystal and the yellow roses stood tall in their antique celadon vases.
A mile down the railway track from where Centaine's coach stood, two men sat huddled over a smoky campfire watching the maize porridge bubbling in the billy-can and discussing the horses. The entire plan hinged on the horses. They needed at least fifteen, and they had to be strong, desert hardened animals.