The Beaufort Sisters. Jon Cleary
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‘Well, I suppose King George has to say the same when someone asks him about Buckingham Palace. Where are we going to live?’
‘We’re having our own suite for the time being, in that wing there. Daddy is going to build us a house in the park. Something smaller,’ she added as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
‘Let it be as big as you want,’ he said expansively. ‘If I’m going to take it all for granted, I may as well not be cramped.’
Nina was relieved at how her three sisters took to Tim. ‘He’s absolutely out of this world!’ exclaimed Margaret. ‘He’s thrilling!’
Sally, equally thrilled, rolled her eyes in ecstasy. ‘And he’s got you pregnant – already! He’s a quick worker.’
‘Most husbands are,’ said Nina, wondering how much her mother had told her sisters. ‘That’s what wedding nights are for.’
‘Are you going to have a baby?’ asked Prue, already that mixture of shrewdness and romanticism that would plague her all her life. ‘You’re a bit fat. I’ll look after it if you don’t want it.’
‘We’ll look after it together, darling. What do you think of Tim?’
‘He’s got funny eyes. They’re always looking at things.’
Tim’s eyes were indeed always looking at things, Nina noticed as the weeks went by. He made no comment, but his eyes were too sharp and observant for someone who was resigned to taking everything for granted. And, as if his eyes were a mirror of her own, she began to see things from a new angle and in a different light. For the second time since meeting him she saw the family wealth as something not to be taken for granted. You think you’re worth that much? the kidnapper had asked her. And she wondered just what she was really worth in Tim’s eyes.
He had refused to take a job in the Beaufort bank or the oil company or the lumber business or with the railroad. He considered going to work for the granary company, but that would have meant living away from Kansas City and Nina refused to do that; small town living, or even small city, was not for her. The same reason ruled out living and working on the cotton plantation down-State. So he went to work for the Beaufort Cattle Company in the stockyards.
‘What do you know about cattle?’ Nina asked.
‘Nothing. But your father tells me he knows nothing about lumber, but he’s president of the company. Is that right, Lucas?’
‘He’s got you there, sweetheart.’ Lucas smiled at his daughter, telling her how pleased he now was with her husband. He had half-expected Tim to settle for the cushiest job offered him, but he had turned out to have a wide streak of independence in him. ‘But I have fellers who know the business and they see I don’t make any mistakes. I’m putting Tim in as a vice-president of the Cattle Company and he’ll soon learn.’
‘I think you misunderstood me, Lucas. I don’t want to start as a vice-president. I’d rather go in as an ordinary worker, right at the bottom.’
‘Cutting off the bull’s knackers,’ said Prue. ‘George took me down to see the man doing it.’
‘I think you had better eat alone in the nursery from now on,’ said Edith. ‘And, Lucas, I think you had better have a word with George.’
They were in the big panelled dining-room where Lucas insisted that they eat every evening. The table could seat thirty, but two leaves had been taken out of it, reducing it to a size that did not ridicule the family sitting at it. Nina and Tim sat on one side, the three younger sisters on the other, and Edith and Lucas sat at the ends. Thaddeus and Lucy Beaufort had always dressed for dinner, but when they died and Edith took over the running of the house she had abolished that rule. She loved dressing up, but the fun went out of it if one had to dress every night.
‘George is only teaching her the facts of life,’ said Sally. ‘It’s the new society. I was reading about it in Time magazine. Things are going to be different. Are you going to be a modern mother, Nina?’
‘I’m not going to take the baby down to the stockyards, if that’s what you mean. And I think I’ll do without George’s help.’
George Biff, standing in for the butler on the latter’s night off, came in with the dessert. He was not a handsome Negro, but he had a broad friendly face and he moved with the light grace of a man who had been both boxer and musician.
‘Caramel custard tonight, ma’am. Just poor folks’ stuff.’
‘It’s crème caramel, George. French and not poor folks’ stuff. And Mr Beaufort would like to see you in his study after dinner.’
‘It’s about the bull’s knackers,’ said Prue.
‘Could we change the subject?’ asked Tim. ‘Otherwise I’m likely to lose my taste for this delicious crème caramel.’
Later Tim and Nina walked round the park, unconsciously following the paths and habit of Nina’s grandparents. A warm breeze blew up from the south and the maples that screened the house from the parkway whispered secretly in the darkness. Twice the Davorens passed security guards patrolling the big railed fence, but Tim made no comment on them. Nina now took it for granted that he was taking everything for granted. Including guarding against any further kidnapping of a Beaufort.
‘How did George come to work for your father?’
‘He’s Daddy’s favourite charity, though charity is never mentioned. When Daddy was a young man his one passion was jazz – ’
‘You’re pulling my leg. He seems more like Gilbert and Sullivan.’
‘No, really. He used to go down to 12th Street almost every night. Even after he married he used to go down there at least once a month. That was where he met George. George used to be a prize-fighter, but he also played trumpet in several bands. He used to stand in sometimes with Count Basie, when the Count was just plain Bill Basie.’ She giggled. ‘George once told me that Basie’s signature tune in those day was called Blue Balls, but he had to change its title when his band went on radio.’
‘George seems to spend a lot of his time instructing the Beaufort sisters in genitalia. I hope he never showed you his own.’
‘That’s a dirty remark and I should kick you in yours for talking about George like that. He loves the lot of us and I think he’d die for any one of us.’
‘Sorry. Go on.’
‘Well, one night he got into some sort of argument with a gangster we had here in the Thirties, a man name Johnny Lazia. The next night Lazia sent two of his men back to the Reno Club and they shot off all the fingers on George’s right hand. Daddy was there and saw it all. He took George to the hospital in his own car, paid all the hospital expenses, then he brought George home and he’s worked for us ever since.’
‘What happened to Lazia and his gangsters?’
‘Nothing. Daddy went to the police department, but they just didn’t want to know. Lazia was hand-in-glove with Tom Pendergast and the police didn’t want to tread on the boss’ toes.’
‘I’m getting a new respect for your father.’
‘I’m hoping that one of these days you and he will understand each other exactly. You’re still getting used to each other. I think he admires you for wanting to start at the bottom. But I wish you’d chosen somewhere less smelly than the stockyards.’
6
Michael Lucas Davoren was born on Labor Day, 1946 – an appropriate day, as his mother remarked, since his birth was not easy. He came into the world reluctantly and for the first minute of his life was as poor as he would ever be. Then the two doctors and the nurse and all the trappings took over; his swaddling clothes