Ghosts of the Past

CHAPTER 6

49 CHAPTER 6

North Sydney, Australia, the present dayNick noticed that while his beer was half empty, Susan had nearly finished her drink and was watching him read.

‘Take your time,’ she said.

‘Almost done.’ He turned to the last page of the copied document, written by Captain Walters.

I emerged from the stables, where I had restrained the prisoner, Colonel Belvedere. Sergeant Blake and Trooper Hughes were rudely interrogating Miss Martin. While she was suspected of espionage, the colonials were unnecessarily impugning her honour under the guise of questioning her. I told them to desist, whereupon Blake told me in profane and insolent terms to mind my own business.

Blake walked past me and into the stables. I tried to calm the lady, who was most distressed, and while talking to her, in the company of Trooper Hughes, I heard a scream from inside the stables and then a single gunshot.

When I entered the building I found the American, Colonel 50Belvedere, lying dead on the ground with a bullet wound between his eyes.

‘Bloody hell,’ Nick said.

‘I know, right?’ Susan finished her wine.

Nick thought about what he had read, about this man related to him by blood. Nick had gone through a hard day, losing his job, but, he reflected, apart from Jill’s death his had been a life free of pain and trauma. He had never served in the military, and while his family had been touched by war in generations past the casual references in this document to combat and, it seemed, cold-blooded killing, shocked him.

‘Are you OK?’ Susan asked.

He realised he had been miles away. ‘Um. Yes. I guess so.’

‘Hey,’ Susan said, smiling, as if trying to lift the mood, ‘I’m hungry. Shall we get some dinner now?’

‘Sure,’ Nick said, even though his stomach had just churned.

The sun was setting as they left the Commodore and walked down Blues Point Road, past sandstone cottages with views of the harbour. At the time of the Boer War this had been a working-class suburb, but not any more. There were cafes and boutiques and the office crowd was giving way to locals out for a stroll or a meal.

Nick took Susan to a Spanish delicatessen and cafe called Delicado. The waitress, who knew him by sight, greeted him and escorted them to a table upstairs.

‘This is nice,’ Susan said as she looked through the menu.

‘Yeah. The tapas is good. So, my ancestor killed a man in cold blood?’ He was finding it hard to let go of the climactic end to the report he had read at the pub.

Susan looked up. ‘We don’t know for sure. There are gaps in his personal story and I can’t find anything that was written by Cyril Blake himself in his defence, or about what he did during the Boer War and afterwards, in South West Africa, when he fought against the Germans. What’s good on the menu? I’m happy if you want to order for us.’

51Nick signalled to the waitress and ordered a selection of tapas dishes and a bottle of pinot gris.

‘You’re going to get me drunk,’ Susan said.

‘Is that a problem?’

She laughed. ‘No.’

Nick was intrigued now by the story that Susan had brought with her. ‘So, we don’t know if this Cyril Blake was a war criminal or a hero freedom fighter?’

Susan spread her hands. ‘Maybe both? We know he never returned to Australia, that he stayed on in Africa after the Boer War ended. There’s also a record of him having been charged but not convicted for being in possession of stolen cattle at Upington, in South Africa, in 1906.’

‘Great, so he’s a rustler as well?’ Nick said.

‘Your country doesn’t seem to mind lionising people with a colourful past, Nick. Take Ned Kelly for instance – he’s a local hero from what I understand, and then there’s Breaker Morant, who shot Boer prisoners of war.’

‘Acting under orders, so the story goes,’ Nick said.

Susan rolled her eyes. ‘One thing for sure is that the German government can’t ignore the stain on their history that the war in South West Africa left. They killed thousands of Herero and Nama people. We do know that whatever your great-great-uncle did in South Africa he ended up joining the uprising against the Germans. To the people whose cause he took up he might have been a hero.’

‘Or just an ordinary bloke in the wrong place at the wrong time.’ The fact was that Nick found himself being drawn in, both by the story and by this attractive woman. He’d almost forgotten that he had just lost his job. ‘I can’t believe our family never knew about this. It’s so … wild. I wonder what made him sign up for a war in Africa in the first place.’

‘Like a lot of Brits and their allies Cyril Blake would have gone to South Africa full of patriotic fervour. His enlistment papers showed he served with the New South Wales Lancers originally. 52I checked them out. Their unit had been to London to take part in a military parade celebrating the anniversary of the coronation of Queen Victoria and when they were on their way back to Australia war was declared against the Boers and the Lancers jumped ship in Cape Town to join the fight instead of sailing home.’

‘So Blake was there for most of the war?’

‘Yes, and something in Africa, or maybe someone, kept him there.’

‘Maybe he was in disgrace and felt he couldn’t go home, or he was on the run?’ Nick said.

Susan shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It was a long shot, but I was hoping you might have something that could tell me a bit more about Blake. Upington, where Cyril faced court, is on the edge of the Kalahari Desert, just across the border from the old German colony, which is now Namibia. So we know he was close to where the insurrection against the Germans was happening in 1906, but not how or why he got involved with it, four years after the Anglo-Boer War ended.’

Their first courses arrived and their conversation fell away as they ate. Nick was hungry and Susan seemed to be enjoying the food.

‘What about the woman?’ he asked eventually.

‘Claire Martin. Yes, her name starts popping up again in the southern part of modern Namibia, not far from where Blake is on the other side of the border in South Africa, once the Nama uprising begins. Claire and her second husband, a Dr Peter Kohl, had a stud farm near Keetmanshoop where they bred horses. They were well off – horses were in high demand then and they also had a couple of cattle farms in the same area. It could be that Cyril Blake was part of a thriving cross-border trade that was going on at that time.’

‘This is a lot to get my head around,’ Nick said. ‘Particularly today, of all days.’

‘How come?’ Susan asked.

53He told her what had happened at work.

‘You should take a holiday,’ she said, ‘come to South Africa and learn some more about Cyril Blake.’

Nick laughed. ‘I’ve never thought about visiting Africa. What I will do is contact my aunt, tomorrow, and see if she knows anything about him.’

‘Good.’ Susan raised her glass. ‘Here’s to hoping your aunt comes up with something.’

They clinked glasses and drank a toast.

‘How long are you in Australia for?’ he asked.

‘Another week. I was visiting a couple of old schoolfriends who moved here – along with half of white South Africa. I fly back to Johannesburg on Thursday.’

He nodded. The beers and wine had relaxed him and the thought of going back to his flat alone was not appealing. Nick was in no hurry, but it seemed like no time before the waitress returned with the rest of their food and tipped the last of the pinot gris into each of their glasses. Soon they were finished.

‘That was great,’ Susan said. ‘Good suggestion.’

The candlelight caught her eyes and he was momentarily transfixed with possibilities. ‘Tell me, what’s Africa like?’

She grinned. ‘Dangerous.’

‘That’s what everyone says, with crime and all.’

‘What I mean,’ she leaned across the table, closing the distance between them once again, ‘is that if you come to Africa then you might get hooked, and you’ll end up spending a lot of time and money coming back, again and again. It might change your life.’

‘To be honest, I could use a change right now,’ Nick said, and found he meant it.

She looked at her watch and he felt a little stab in his heart. ‘I should get going.’

He finished his wine, trying hard not to show his disappointment. ‘Sure, no problem.’

‘No,’ she held up a hand, perhaps sensing what he was feeling, ‘it’s not that I don’t want to stay out, but I promised 54a girlfriend I’d go running with her at five thirty tomorrow morning.’

‘Aargh.’

‘I’m regretting it already.’ Susan waved to their waiter.

‘I’ve got this,’ Nick said.

‘No, please, let me pay half.’

He held up a hand. ‘Absolutely no way. Besides, I hope there’ll be a next time, and you can pay then. Somewhere fancier.’

She laughed again and he decided he loved the sound. ‘Deal.’

While Nick paid the bill Susan summoned an Uber with her phone.

‘Here in two minutes,’ she said as he put his wallet away and stood.

Nick had enjoyed meeting her, and the dinner. It was a shame to see her go, but talking to his aunt ensured he would be in touch with Susan again, even if it was to say he’d drawn a blank. His guilt over Jill aside, he realised he was way more invested in this ancestor of his than he’d originally anticipated. ‘I just hope my aunt comes through with something interesting.’

‘Me as well. Oh,’ Susan added, ‘I meant to tell you earlier. There’s a German academic named Anja Berghoff who has also been researching Claire Martin and the period of history and the area where Cyril Blake was killed. I reached out to her but she was a bit overprotective of her research. She snubbed me.’

Nick thought for a moment. ‘I wonder if it might help if I contacted her. She might be interested in hearing from a descendent of Blake?’

‘That would be lekker. You’re right, Nick, she might be more receptive to you, but don’t tell her you used to be a journalist – I think she distrusts us. I’ll send you her email address.’

‘Cool,’ he said, wishing she didn’t have to leave.

‘Well …’ Susan put out her hand to shake and he took it. To his delight, she leaned in and offered him her cheek for a kiss. Nick obliged.

‘Night,’ Nick said.

55Susan kept hold of his hand for a few more seconds. ‘It’s been really nice meeting you, Nick. I hope your aunt does know something as I’d like to see you again.’

They walked out onto the footpath and the car arrived. Nick opened the door for her.

‘A gentleman as well,’ she said as she got in, her skirt riding up a little and exposing more of her thigh as she shimmied in. ‘Thank you again.’

‘My pleasure.’

Nick closed the door and watched the car drive off. Susan looked back at him, and smiled through the rear window.