Jack of Diamonds

by Bryce Courtenay

  I stayed and had a second dinner in a room leading from the kitchen. We had spaghetti with meatballs and it was hard to eat with all the long strings, until Uncle Joe showed me how to use a spoon to help twirl it around my fork into a neat bundle. It sounds easy but it isn’t. I didn’t eat as much as I wanted because it was going to take a lot of practice to get right. Real life seems to be all about practising things.

  I asked my mom about eating at the Jazz Warehouse and practising for an extra half hour after dinner, then I told her about the spaghetti and recited the other good things I was going to eat, and she laughed. ‘That one knows the way to a boy’s heart is through his stomach.’ But I knew she was glad I was going to eat so well and when I told her about the dollar every week for the streetcar, including the fare to the library, she was very happy, especially when she thought about the winter. But then she said, ‘Jack, you must tell her about my cleaning for her. We can’t just keep taking like this. I could easily do two hours in the morning three days a week. Tell her I don’t mind scrubbing floors and cleaning greasy ovens, doing the dirty kitchen work.’ She looked at me sternly. ‘You be sure to tell her,’ she insisted.

  For a boy accustomed to having lots of time on his hands, I was suddenly going to find my life filled to bursting, with only a bit of time left over in the evenings to do my reading before my mom arrived home. My only hope was that piano would be as much fun as the harmonica. I was going from the smallest musical instrument to the biggest in one giant jump.

  The following day I returned to see Miss Frostbite, as we’d arranged. She was wearing a brown dress with matching high heels and handbag, brown gloves, and a little chocolate-brown hat with two long feathers sticking out the side, which I immediately recognised from our visit to the zoo as pheasant feathers. It was a lot of brown but she wore her pearls and looked very nice, like a rich person. ‘Good boy, Jack, you’re right on time. Joe’s gone to fetch a taxi. Should be here any moment.’

  Taxi! I’d never been in a taxi, although I’d seen plenty, sometimes with only one person riding in the back, who must have been pretty rich. Ours, when it came, was a black Model A Ford with bright orange tyre spokes. The driver jumped out and opened the back door for Miss Frostbite. ‘Would the lad like to sit in front, madam?’ he asked.

  Miss Frostbite looked at me and I said quickly, ‘Yes, please.’ It was grand driving down Dundas Street, and I hoped somebody would see us, but I couldn’t think who that might be; a kid from school, maybe. But I didn’t see anyone I knew and we were soon at the address in Jarvis Street. On the way Miss Frostbite said, ‘Jack, perhaps it might not be a good idea to tell Miss Bates you live in Cabbagetown. People can be very strange and form wrong impressions about such matters.’

  Even before we entered, you could hear someone playing the piano. It didn’t stop when we rang the doorbell, but soon enough a lady a bit older than Miss Frostbite answered the door. ‘Oh, Mona, it’s you. I expected the maid!’ Miss Frostbite exclaimed.

  ‘Damnable nuisance. She sprained an ankle falling off a chair while dusting the picture frames. Come in, Floss,’ Mona Bates said with a jerk of her head. You’d never know she was a friend of Miss Frostbite; she didn’t seem all that welcoming.

  We were taken into a small reception room that had lots of framed photos on the wall showing Miss Bates sitting at the piano, or standing up holding a bunch of flowers with musicians seated behind her dressed in suits like Uncle Joe’s, only black. ‘I shan’t be long,’ she said, then, turning on her heel, was gone. Miss Frostbite didn’t have time to introduce me and Miss Bates didn’t even look at me once. Miss Frostbite sat on the leather chesterfield while I examined the photos.

  ‘She’s terribly famous, Jack,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But she gave up her career at forty to teach. Goodness knows why. She was at the height of her powers as a concert pianist. She claims she was tired of living out of a suitcase, the long voyages to Europe . . . If she agrees to accept you as one of her pupils, we should consider ourselves very fortunate indeed.’

  We heard Miss Bates’s footsteps approaching and Miss Frostbite put a warning finger to her lips. I stood with my hands behind my back, remembering to look up directly into her eyes if she should speak to me. ‘It’s the one small power a child has,’ Miss Mony had once told me.

  ‘Let’s get started, Floss,’ Miss Bates said crisply, adding, ‘I have a very busy day ahead of me.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Thank you, Mona,’ Miss Frostbite replied, smiling. But I’m not sure it was a real thank-you smile.

  ‘You do understand that I can’t do you any special favours regarding the boy, Floss? Even with the Depression, I have more gifted young musicians applying than I can possibly accommodate.’ She glanced at me for the first time. ‘Come with me, boy,’ she commanded.

  ‘His name is Jack, Mona,’ Miss Frostbite said.

  ‘No point in getting personal unless he passes, Floss,’ Miss Bates called, not looking back.

  I followed her, leaving Miss Frostbite to wait. Miss Bates led me into a large room that contained three pianos and sat at one of them. ‘Come and stand here,’ she commanded.

  I went over and stood at attention beside her. The long row of black and white piano keys intimidated me; the piano wasn’t a bit like a harmonica and I wondered how, with my big clumsy hands, I would ever get the hang of it. ‘Miss Byatt tells me you play the harmonica,’ she sniffed, ‘and that you have a very good ear. They all say that, but in my experience very few have. I shall be surprised if, when we give you an aural test, we find Miss Byatt’s assessment is correct, and I wonder about your choice of instrument.’

  It didn’t seem to be a question but I said, ‘Yes, Miss,’ anyway.

  ‘Miss Bates, if you please,’ she replied crisply.

  I would have liked to say, ‘No point in getting personal unless I pass,’ but of course I couldn’t.

  ‘Now, I’m going to play some notes on the piano and I want to see if you can replicate them.’

  ‘Does that mean sing them, Miss Bates?’

  ‘Yes, are you ready?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Bates.’

  She played four single notes and I sang them for her. Then we did it all again, and again. Then she played a melody and I sang that as well. Of course, at the time I had no idea why she was asking me to sing all these notes, I just did as I was told. ‘Now I want you to sing for me unaccompanied. Do you have a song?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Bates, “A Bicycle Built for Two”.’

  She sighed heavily. ‘Oh, dear. Well, I suppose that will have to do.’

  ‘I’ll only sing the second verse, if you like,’ I offered, knowing this was the best one for my high voice.

  She gave me an impatient glance. ‘As you wish.’ I didn’t think my test was going very well.

  I sang Daisy’s part in the song.

  Miss Bates sighed once more. ‘Now you will play the harmonica. What have you chosen to play?’

  ‘“Basin Street Blues”, Miss Bates.’

  ‘Oh?’ she said, but unlike her response to ‘Daisy’, I didn’t know if that was a good ‘Oh?’ or a bad one. But I played it through and then did my signature Whap-whap-whap-woo-whaaaa!

  She looked at me and smiled for the first time. ‘Well done, Jack. That was all very good. How old are you?’

  ‘Ten, Miss Bates.’

  ‘Oh, dear, you should be well into third or fourth grade by now. But never mind, I think you may be able to catch up by doing two grades a year.’ She rose from the piano and I followed her back to the reception room. Miss Frostbite looked up anxiously as we entered but didn’t say anything as Miss Bates sat down next to her on the chesterfield.

  ‘Well, Floss, you were right, Jack has an excellent ear. But I want him coming here for his lessons. It’s not that far from Dundas Street and I’ll give him the extra time, the half hour it would take me to travel there and back to you. He should be well into third grade at his age and so initially he’s going to n
eed the extra tuition. Six or seven years to take him to eighth grade is sufficient and I’d be surprised if we couldn’t take him a bit further. How many hours have you set aside for him to practise, apart from his lessons?’

  ‘Well, if you have him for an hour and a half twice a week, that leaves him four hours,’ Miss Frostbite said.

  ‘Totally inadequate! I know he’s young but I want another three. Seven hours’ practice and three hours’ tuition.’

  ‘Isn’t that rather a lot for a young boy, Mona?’

  ‘Less than seven hours’ practice and I’d simply be wasting my time with him. Make up your mind, Floss.’

  Miss Frostbite glanced over at me. ‘Leave it to me. We’ll work out something.’

  ‘Good!’

  She looked up at Miss Bates. ‘The problem is solved. Jack is very keen to be given the opportunity to study piano under your tuition, Mona.’

  ‘Do you have far to come, Jack?’ Miss Bates asked.

  ‘No, Miss Bates.’ I didn’t tell her Jarvis Street wasn’t that far from Cabbagetown because of Miss Frostbite saying not to mention where I lived.

  ‘When will he start, Mona?’ Miss Frostbite may have been annoyed on the inside but she wasn’t going to show it to Miss Bates.

  ‘Let me see now. Today is Friday. Monday week at half-past four will be splendid, Floss.’

  Miss Frostbite turned to me and said, ‘Jack, put your hands over your ears.’

  I did as I was told but not so hard that I couldn’t hear. ‘Shall I pay you in advance, weekly or monthly, Mona?’

  I was too young to realise this was meant as a putdown, it being the Depression and all. But Mona Bates was not to be intimidated. ‘You may do as you wish, my dear,’ she replied.

  ‘Cash or cheque?’ Miss Frostbite asked, smiling, but the smile wasn’t in her voice.

  ‘Oh, dear, Floss, you are so good at managing money, running that jazz club as you do, and I am so utterly hopeless, perhaps cash every week would be the best thing?’ Miss Bates said, smiling like a Cheshire cat. Again, I didn’t realise this was a double-whammy putdown.

  I was just about coping with Miss Frostbite and now I had Miss Mona Bates to deal with, who seemed to me to be even tougher than nails.

  Later, in the taxi going home, Miss Frostbite said, ‘It’s not going to be easy, Jack. The talented Mona Bates and I went to school together in Burlington, although I was several years below her. She always was a prima donna. She was to become the most famous girl ever to attend our exclusive girls school.’ She laughed. ‘I was to become the most notorious. But now she is known as an absolute perfectionist.’ I made a mental note to look up ‘perfectionist’ the next time I was at the library. ‘But we can truly thank our lucky stars. She only takes the very best, the most promising. You must have done very well indeed. But being accepted is one thing, maintaining the pace is quite another. Children don’t have inbuilt discipline, so I’ll be keeping a time sheet. Now we simply must average seven hours’ practice a week. With your lessons, I know that’s a lot, and as you get older it will increase. As Miss Bates said, we have some catching up to do.’

  We arrived back at the Jazz Warehouse and I thanked Miss Frostbite for everything she’d done for us, and then told her about my mother wanting to help and not minding if she had to do the dirty work in the kitchen. ‘That is very kind of her, Jack, and I will certainly call on her in an emergency, as sometimes happens. But you tell her that I shall never marry or have children, and that it’s a great privilege to be allowed to share her son on the day shift.’

  Because I was only starting with Miss Mona Bates on Monday week, I could go to the jam sessions all week. On Thursday night Mac was there, so I went into the kitchen and told the cook I was walking home with a friend and wouldn’t be having my dinner as usual. ‘You got grub at home?’ he asked.

  ‘No, but it’s okay.’

  ‘Hang in there, Jazzboy, I’ll make you some sandwiches.’ Everyone, except Miss Frostbite, now called me ‘Jazzboy’.

  He made me two large ham sandwiches, and Mac and I ate one each as I told him about going to Jarvis Street to meet Miss Mona Bates, and how we’d gone in a taxi, a Model A Ford. Then I told him about the new schedule and that in future, because of my musical education, we couldn’t meet on school days, though I quickly added, ‘But there’ll be lots of times during school vacation when you’re not working.’

  He was real good about it and said, ‘It don’t change anything, Brother Jack. Friends is friends; jazz buddies are forever. Knowing you’re going to make something out of your life, that’s the best news, and I want you to know I’m behind you 100 per cent. Education is the only way out of this miserable Depression. Your generation is the future hope of the nation.’ He sighed. ‘The twins are sixteen already, and they’re planning to leave school this year. I think they’re fed up with their mother and want to leave home.’ He grinned. ‘Possibly sick of me, too, although we get on pretty well these days. But I don’t know how they’ll find jobs, and I get scared just thinking about it. The education they have isn’t enough, although their mother says they can cook, clean, knit, sew and mind children and that’s all a working-class woman needs to know to get by in life. But that’s not true in today’s world. It’s scary. They’re turning out to be very pretty, and that can mean trouble for young girls in these hard times.’

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by this, but you’d often hear people talking about young girls leaving school and then ‘going off the rails’, so I suppose that was it. I imagined a streetcar going off the rails: it would be a pretty nasty business for the people inside, all mangled up. It was years since Dolly McClymont put the talking ban on us and the twins still hadn’t ever said hello, nor, as they swept past, did they ever smile back at me when I smiled at them. But they’d long since given up bumping into the invisible me in the hallway. Maybe Mac had spoken to them, although I had never mentioned it to him.

  I also told Mac about the two shiny yellow couches and he said they would definitely be silk or silk shantung from the Orient. I then told him about the radiogram in Miss Frostbite’s home with the picture of the dog. He laughed and said, ‘Jack, it stands for “His Master’s Voice”. Our gramophone upstairs is exactly the same model as the one in the picture. The dog is supposed to be sitting in front of it listening to “his master’s voice”. Radio is here to stay, and you’ll see, one day everyone will have one. Mark my words, with a twist of a knob we’ll be able to hear news from all over the world, and what’s more, music as well, just as good as a gramophone record. Jazz straight from America, and classical music, like you’re going to learn. It’s called mass production and it was started way back by Henry Ford. That taxi you rode in to Jarvis Street was an example of it.’

  ‘Yeah, but not everyone can have a motorcar, can they?’ I challenged.

  ‘Just you wait and see, Jack. One day . . .’

  In my wildest imagination it didn’t seem possible to own a car. I couldn’t see how the Depression was going to end, but Mac had always been an optimist. I suppose you had to be if you had a wife like Dolly who treated you so badly. But since we’d become friends he hadn’t got drunk even once. We’d still sometimes hear her having a go at him, but not anything like so often as before.

  Mac was quiet for a while after I told him about my lessons. I hoped he wouldn’t be lonely now I was only going to have half an hour to sit in on the daily jazz jam. But when he next spoke he was still thinking about radios. ‘Ever thought of making a crystal set, Jack?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Only English boys make them, I read about them in a Boy’s Own Annual I once borrowed from the library. But I don’t think we can find crystals in Canada, and you need earphones.’

  ‘I bet we could make one every bit as good as those English boys’.’

  ‘Yeah? What about the earphones? They cost money.’

  ‘Ah, that’s just it. You know how I am about collecting stuff. I was working last month on the extension
to the Toronto Telephone Exchange. They’ve got hundreds of girls there who use earphones all the time. I found three broken earphones in an old built-in cupboard when we knocked down a wall. There was nothing else in the cupboard and the room was empty, so I figured they didn’t want the earphones. I asked the foreman and he said it was okay to take them, they were obviously trash. I just thought at the time they might come in handy one day.’

  I laughed. ‘Like the hockey stick?’

  ‘Yeah, sort of. I’m always carting home junk that Dolly throws out unless it’s small enough to hide. Well then, when you mentioned your piano practice and not being able to hit the stairs any more, then the HMV radiogram, “Ding!”, on went the light bulb. “I’ll use the earphones and make a crystal set for Jack.”’

  I could hardly believe my ears. ‘Really?’

  Mac shrugged. ‘Shouldn’t be too difficult.’

  ‘What about the crystals? And you need lots of copper wire.’

  ‘Ah, the crystal is easy,’ he said with a grin. ‘Dolly’s mom left her this quartz necklace that hangs halfway to her waist. She sometimes wears it to church. It’s got maybe thirty or forty of these quartz crystal beads.’ He gave me a wicked look. ‘She’s never gonna miss one, is she? I mean, the pawnbroker says it’s worthless. So it’s not as though I’m taking something precious.’

  I tried to imagine the thrashing Mac would receive if Dolly discovered the bead missing from her mom’s necklace. He’d be a hospital case, for sure.

  But Mac’s enthusiasm for his crystal set was tumbling out as we talked. ‘The copper wire I’m gonna need? Now that’s real easy, Jack. Lots of abandoned factories along the Don have big electric bells on the outside wall to call the factory workers in to start a shift. If they ever open again, the dome and the hammer will have rusted, but each one has a copper wire coil that will still be good as gold.’