by Marilyn Land
Jake took the Underground back to the Savoy. He had accomplished almost everything he set out to do; by the end of his leave, he hoped to take care of the rest.
After he was discharged and settled into his new home, he would make a decision about employment. Then, he would be better prepared to find out anything and everything he could learn about Lexi, her move to Jerusalem, her daughter—her husband.
Jake arose early and planned to take the Underground to the house in Middlesex. He wanted to get an idea of how much space he would need for his workshop and how big a cottage he should be looking to buy.
When the phone rang, it was Marcus. “Jake, I have good news. Although my friend Meg Wentworth no longer deals in real estate, she knows of a cottage that has stood vacant for most of the war years, and is available immediately. She has a car, and if you’ re up for it, she can take you to see it today.”
“That’s great news: let’s do it. If you’re free, why don’t you and Elena come with us?”
“We would love to. I am certain that if Elena has something planned, she will cancel and join us. I will ring Meg back, and let’s say meet here at De Beers at eleven. Is that good for you?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
In the heart of England is a rural idyll of peaceful rolling hills where traditions abound and life is unhurried. Historic villages contain stone cottages so perfect they’re called chocolate boxes. Footpaths cross scenic fields and valleys leading to rivers, canals, woods, and civilized pubs. This is the Cotswolds, an area of limestone hills in the English countryside west of London, between Bath and Stratford-upon-Avon.
Holiday cottages in England need little introduction. A cottage break has long been considered the quintessential English holiday, and there is no better way to explore the history and heritage the country has to offer.
A majority of cottages were owned by the wealthy before the War, and were primarily built or purchased as holiday cottages with the possibility of a good place to retire. Jake was not seeking a cottage for holiday use; he wanted a smaller house with acreage outside of London but easily accessible by train into the City.
They met as arranged at eleven; introductions aside, the four of them embarked on their adventure. As Meg drove, she gave them an overview and a little history of the area and the cottage they were going to view.
“Jake, when Marcus told me what you were looking for, the Wentworth Cottage came to mind at once—Wentworth as in my name—it has been in our family since the turn of the century. My father purchased the cottage as a holiday destination, but looked to ultimately retire there. After my Mum passed away, he didn’t seem to have much interest in the place.
“The cottage has stood empty and unused throughout the War. My father died almost three years ago, and I’ve kept up the maintenance as best I could. My brother has no interest in keeping it nor do I, so I decided to place it on the market after the War ended.
“When I got the call from Marcus, I was thrilled. If it turns out to be what you are looking for, it will be a good deal for both of us. My father spared no expense when he purchased it, and even added a few things like the garage when he bought his first car. I have many fond memories of family gatherings there, including the Christmas my husband and I became engaged.”
The drive took not quite two hours, and the conversation helped pass the time. Suddenly, Meg announced, “We’re here—welcome to Wentworth Cottage.
There before them stood a charming turn of the century, natural stone terraced cottage set in an idyllic and peaceful location on the edge of the village overlooking the surrounding countryside.
Meg unlocked the door. They entered the cottage and found—a delightful, spacious yet cozy, single story home with high ceilings, skylights, and solid wood floors. The beautifully furnished home looked comfortable and welcoming, and one could see that each piece had been selected with special care for its special place.
The entrance hall with a staircase to the loft led into the large open sitting/dining area which—Meg called the great room—with its massive Victorian style fireplace; the large kitchen was equipped with a cooking island and yet large enough to hold a round wooden table and six chairs. There was an oversized front master bedroom, three further bedrooms in the rear, and two water closets.
The landing and deeply pitched roof lent themselves well to the excellent location of the loft.
At the front of the cottage, the small garden had been somewhat neglected but could be brought back to life with a little tender care. Leading out from the great room to the upper patio there were steps leading to another patio below, and beyond that was an area of lawn with shrubs and a larger garden that led to a small carriage house on the far side of the property.
Jake was overwhelmed, as were Marcus and Elena. “Meg I can’t believe you want to sell this magnificent home. This is many times over what I am looking for or actually need, but there is no way I’m going to turn this cottage down. It is beautiful in every way and best of all, I can see myself fitting in here quite nicely. What about the furniture? Do you plan to take all of it, some of it, sell it?”
Meg laughed. “I know how you feel. I always loved this place, but it’s time for me to move on, and like I said earlier, it’s enough for me to know I’m selling to someone who will cherish and enjoy it as much as my family did. I have no use for any of the furniture remaining. I long ago removed the many personal photos and trinkets that were special to us. I’m selling the house including the furnishings.
“I’m quite certain it will be a while before a lot of things will be available once again, and we’re still at war in the Pacific.”
“You’re absolutely right. I love everything about Wentworth Cottage; there is no need nor do I wish to look further. So give me a price, and we can seal the deal.”
Twenty minutes later after a handshake, a hug, and a kiss, Meg excused herself and came back with a large picnic basket. Placing it on the table in the dining room area, she began placing cheese, crackers, fruit, and two bottles of wine on the table. She removed four glasses from the cupboard and four plates.
This time, Jake took the wine and for the next hour, they ate and drank and walked about the cottage, inside and out. “You must have been pretty sure that I was going to love Wentworth Cottage as much as I do, sure enough to pack a picnic basket anyway.”
Meg laughed. “I confess, I was pretty sure you were going to love it. But I love picnics and never miss a chance to have one. I just thought that since no one has lived here for awhile, we would have this one indoors.”
Jake learned that not only was the cottage perfect, but so was the location. A short walk from the cottage to the local train depot would take him to London’s Underground Paddington Station—allowing him to travel to London by train from the Cotswolds in a little over an hour and a half.
Everyone pitched in; packing everything up and washing the glasses and plates only took a few minutes. Soon they were on their way back to London.
Meg dropped them off at De Beers. Jake was too exited to call it a day. “You’ve come through for me once more. I’m over the moon about the cottage, and it’s too early to call it a day; have dinner with me. Please, let me take my two most favorite people in the whole world out for dinner and a little celebrating.”
Marcus and Elena couldn’t resist. They too were excited, and Marcus still felt terrible about the situation with Lexi. They chose a small, out of the way pub near Hatton Garden where it was less crowded on weekdays, and the food was good.
Jake had a hard time falling asleep and when he finally did, he thought only of Lexi—he pictured her in every single room in the cottage, in the garden, and making love to her in the big beautiful master bedroom. But that wouldn’t happen. She was thousands of miles across the world with a baby daughter and a husband.
He returned to Coltishall and soon learned his discharge date—11 Aug
ust 1945. They asked him to remain in the RAF as an instructor, but he declined. He had done his part; he was anxious to get home and get on with whatever the future held for him.
6 August 1945, President Harry S. Truman orders the first Atomic Bomb to be dropped on Hiroshima from a B-29 flown by Col. Paul Tibbets.
9 August 1945, the second Atomic Bomb is dropped on Nagasaki from a B-29 flown by Maj. Charles Sweeney—Emperor Hirohito and Japanese Prime Minister Suzuki request immediate peace with the Allies.
11 August 1945, Jake is honorably discharged and returns home to London.
14 August 1945, the Japanese accept an unconditional surrender; Gen. Douglas MacArthur is appointed to head the occupation forces in Japan.
World War II is in the history books.
PART TWO
CHAPTER NINETEEN
South Africa located on the southern tip of the African continent is bordered by the Atlantic Ocean on the west, and by the Indian Ocean on the south and east.
Cape Town, South Africa’s first city was founded by the Dutch to provide fresh produce and meats to the members of the Dutch East India Company, who were traveling between Europe and the Orient.
In the early nineteenth century, the Colony switched hands and became part of the British Empire. The Union of South Africa became an independent nation within Britain’s Commonwealth of Nations, and Cape Town was chosen as its parliamentary capital.
Religious freedom, granted by the Dutch and guaranteed by the British, attracted Jewish immigrants from Britain, Germany, and Holland—among the first British settlers to come to Cape Town were 20 Jews. They formed a Jewish congregation and met for services in private homes; eight years later, the first Synagogue, Tikvat Israel (Hope of Israel) was founded.
Over the next five decades, British Jewish immigrants established additional synagogues, plied the trades they brought with them, and developed philanthropic institutions evolving Cape Town into a thriving community.
Discovery of diamonds in the Cape Colony radically modified not only the world’s supply of diamonds but also the conception of them; and it changed South Africa from an agricultural society to a modern metropolis.
The story of diamonds in South Africa begins in December 1866 when 15-year old Erasmus Jacobs and his sister found a transparent rock on his father’s farm, on the south bank of the Orange River. They showed the rock to a neighboring farmer who found the rock intriguing and offered to buy it from them. The Jacobs family, believing it was of no value, simply gave it to him.
When confirmed that it was in fact a diamond—a diamond weighing 21.25 carats—it was aptly named the Eureka—the single most important diamond find in the history of South Africa. This single discovery triggered a diamond rush that attracted people from all over the world seeking to get rich mining diamonds.
The first discoveries were alluvial; by 1869, however, substantially richer lodes were found far from any stream or river—first in yellow earth and then deep below in hard rock.
By the 1880s, South Africa’s mines produced 95% of the world’s diamonds and became home to great wealth and fierce rivalries; most notably that between Cecil John Rhodes and Barney Barnato, English immigrants who consolidated the findings of early prospectors into ever larger and larger holdings and mining companies thus forming the Premier Transvaal Diamond Company.
Franz Schiller was a boy of sixteen when he left Hamburg, Germany and hopped a freighter bound for South Africa in 1882. The Schiller family was dirt poor. His Lutheran father spent most of his time drinking with his friends in the town’s plentiful beer halls, and the remainder of his time sleeping it off. He had five younger siblings, and a Jewish mother who supported the family by doing laundry and mending for the wealthier families in town.
Since the young age of seven, Franz worked to bring in whatever he could to help the family. Frustrated that he was going nowhere and tired of his father’s beatings that had become more frequent of late, he confided in his mutti that he was leaving. She was heartbroken, but gave him what little money she had knowing that when her husband found out, he would surely beat her as well.
Almost fifteen years had passed since the discovery of diamonds, when Franz arrived in Cape Town. No longer were hopeful prospectors arriving on a daily basis seeking to strike it rich. What he found was a thriving community comprised of an assortment of business establishments. With little cash in hand, his priority was to find a job and a place to live.
As he was leaving the dock area to head into town, he noticed an older gentleman struggling to carry a rather large parcel. Approaching him he said, “Sir, may I help you with that? How far are you going?”
The old man looked up gratefully. “Yes, thank you. It seems as if I do need some help. This package is quite heavy, heavier than I thought. I’m headed into town. Where are you going?”
“That’s a good question. I just arrived on that freighter, and I too am headed into town—looking for a job and a place to stay. Maybe you can give me a few suggestions.”
“That I will.”
Franz left the man long enough to go back to the freighter and get some rope. He tied it securely around the parcel creating a handle making it easier to carry.
The man introduced himself as Simon Abel. Although Franz was carrying both the man’s parcel and his own bag, he had to maintain a slower pace to allow Simon to keep up with him. By the time they arrived at The General Store, they had both learned quite a bit about one another; and Franz had a job and was told he could stay in the back of the store for a few days until he found a more permanent place.
Franz was a big help to Simon. In return, Simon had given him a lifeline. He taught him all there was to know about the business. Franz built a cart so that on future trips down to the dock to pick up goods, they could load up and easily pull it back to town with little effort.
Simon grew quite fond of Franz, and as his dependence on him became more and more evident with each passing day, he feared losing him. One evening, on the anniversary of his arrival in Cape Town, Simon invited him to have dinner with him at a restaurant that had recently opened.
Seated at a small table in the corner, Simon explained. “We are celebrating the one-year anniversary of having found one another. Have you forgotten that it was exactly one year ago today that you helped me get my package to the store?”
Actually he had. Simon paid him well; well enough to take a room at a small boardinghouse where he could get his meals and meet other people his own age. On weekends, Franz met up with the friends he made, and they often attended events at the many synagogues that had formed to accommodate the immigrants that continued to arrive and settle in Cape Town.
He made it a point to stay away from the many pubs that dotted the town. When his friends urged him to join them, he refused and simply returned to the boardinghouse. He had left home because of his father’s drinking, and didn’t want to fall into the same trap.
“I can’t say I forgot. It just didn’t come to mind.” For a moment, Franz wondered if he was letting him go.
Simon continued. “I can honestly say that it was my lucky day when you offered to help me; and it has never stopped being just that. I hope you know that the business is doing much better since you came to work for me. I must, however, face the reality that I’m getting on in years; I’ll be ninety on my next birthday; and I have no family left.
“I was born on a farm on the Orange River that my parents owned. Once diamonds were discovered in the area, farming went down hill. When my parents died, I boarded up the farmhouse, and moved to Cape Town, purchased the property, and built The General Store. Been here ever since.
“Don’t know what you aspired to when you came here a year ago, but I’m quite certain it wasn’t to be a clerk in a shop like mine. The one thing the past year has taught me is that if we hadn’t met that day, I would in all probability have closed the store
months ago.
“Don’t know how much longer I’m going to be around, but if you stay and continue to work with me, when I pass on, The General Store will be yours. At that time, you can continue to run the business or sell it and move on.
“If you accept my offer, there are a few requests that go with it. I would like to be buried on my family farm alongside my parents and my brother who died when he was a boy. The farmhouse has been boarded up since I came to Cape Town, and I’m thinking it should be torn down. Been meaning to do that for years.”
Franz was totally surprised by Simon’s offer. He had grown fond of him too. No one had every treated him with the respect and kindness that Simon had, certainly not his abusive drunken father.
“I don’t know what to say. Of course, I will stay. Where else would I go? I had no aspirations other than to get away from a bad situation at home and save up enough money to help my mother and siblings in Germany. I wasn’t heading anywhere in particular when I signed on to the freighter that brought me here to Cape Town where I met you.”
Simon clapped his hands. “Then it’s settled. I will have the papers drawn up to make everything legal. I want to take you to the farm and show you around so that my final wishes may be carried out.”
Six months later, Simon Abel passed away in his sleep. Franz closed the store leaving a sign on the door: Closed due to a death in the family. He rented a wagon and set out for the farm with Simon’s casket and tools to dig his grave. He made a mental note when he visited the farm with Simon to clear the area where the graves were and to surround it with a small fence to deter animals and vandals; he brought supplies to built the fence too.
He agreed with Simon’s suggestion that tearing down the farmhouse and leveling the ground would be the best thing to do.
