He retired to bed around eleven, and fell asleep thinking about Bonnard, Vuillard, Dufy, Camoin and Luce, and what twenty-one such masterpieces might be worth.
He was still sound asleep at ten o’clock the following morning, when there was a knock on the door.
‘Who is it?’ he mumbled irritably from under the blanket.
‘George, the hall porter, sir. There’s a van outside. The driver says he can’t release the goods until you’ve signed for them.’
‘Don’t let him go!’ shouted Robin. He leapt out of bed for the first time in years, threw on his old shirt, trousers and shoes, and bolted down the stairs and out into the courtyard.
A man in blue overalls, clipboard in hand, was leaning against a large van.
Robin marched towards him. ‘Are you the gentleman who’s expecting a delivery of twenty-one paintings?’ the van driver asked.
‘That’s me,’ said Robin. ‘Where do I sign?’
‘Right there,’ said the van driver, placing his thumb below the word ‘Signature’.
Robin scribbled his name quickly across the form and then followed the driver to the back of the van. He unlocked the doors and pulled them open.
Robin was speechless.
He stared at a portrait of his mother, that was stacked on top of twenty other pictures by Robin Summers, painted circa 1951 to 1999.
A CHANGE OF HEART*
THERE IS A MAN from Cape Town who travels to the black township of Crossroads every day. He spends the morning teaching English at one of the local schools, the afternoon coaching rugby or cricket according to the season, and his evenings roaming the streets trying to convince the young that they shouldn’t form gangs or commit crimes, and that they should have nothing to do with drugs. He is known as the Crossroads Convert.
No one is born with prejudice in their hearts, although some people are introduced to it at an early age. This was certainly true of Stoffel van den Berg. Stoffel was born in Cape Town, and never once in his life travelled abroad. His ancestors had emigrated from Holland in the eighteenth century, and Stoffel grew up accustomed to having black servants who were there to carry out his slightest whim.
If the boys - none of the servants appeared to be graced with a name, whatever their age - didn’t obey Stoffel’s orders, they were soundly beaten or simply not fed. If they carried out a job well, they weren’t thanked, and were certainly never praised. Why bother to thank someone who has only been put on earth to serve you?
When Stoffel attended his first primary school in the Cape this unthinking prejudice was simply reinforced, with classrooms full of white children being taught only by white teachers. The few blacks he ever came across at school were cleaning lavatories that they would never be allowed to use themselves.
During his school days Stoffel proved to be above average in the classroom, excelling in maths, but in a class of his own on the playing field.
By the time Stoffel was in his final year of school, this six-foot-two-inch, fair-haired Boer was playing fly half for the 1st XV in the winter and opening the batting for the 1st XI during the summer. There was already talk of him playing either rugby or cricket for the Springboks even before he had applied for a place at any university. Several college scouts visited the school in his final year to offer him scholarships, and on the advice of his headmaster, supported by his father, he settled on Stellenbosch.
Stoffel’s unerring progress continued from the moment he arrived on the campus. In his freshman year he was selected to open the batting for the university eleven when one of the regular openers was injured. He didn’t miss a match for the rest of the season. Two years later, he captained an undefeated varsity side, and went on to score a century for Western Province against Natal.
On leaving university, Stoffel was recruited by Barclays Bank to join their public relations department, although it was made clear to him at the interview that his first priority was to ensure that Barclays won the Inter-Bank Cricket Cup.
He had been with the bank for only a few weeks when the Springbok selectors wrote to inform him that he was being considered for the South African cricket squad which was preparing for the forthcoming tour by England. The bank was delighted, and told him he could take as much time off as he needed to prepare for the national side. He dreamed of scoring a century at Newlands, and perhaps one day even at Lord’s.
He followed with interest the Ashes series that was taking place in England. He had only read about players like Underwood and Snow, but their reputations did not worry him. Stoffel intended to despatch their bowling to every boundary in the country.
The South African papers were also following the Ashes series with keen interest, because they wanted to keep their readers informed of the strengths and weaknesses of the opposition their team would be facing in a few weeks’ time. Then, overnight, these stories were transferred from the back pages to the front, when England selected an all-rounder who played for Worcester called Basil D’Oliveira. Mr D’Oliveira, as the press called him, made the front pages because he was what the South Africans classified as ‘Cape Coloured’. Because he had not been allowed to play first-class cricket in his native South Africa, he had emigrated to England.
The press in both countries began to speculate on the South African government’s attitude should D’Oliveira be selected by the MCC as a member of the touring side to visit South Africa.
‘If the English were stupid enough to select him,’ Stoffel told his friends at the bank, ‘the tour would have to be cancelled.’ After all, he couldn’t be expected to play against a coloured man.
The South Africans’ best hope was that Mr D’Oliveira would fail in the final Test at The Oval, and would not be considered for the coming tour, and thus the problem would simply go away.
D’Oliveira duly obliged in the first innings, scoring only eleven runs and taking no Australian wickets. But in the second innings he played a major role in winning the match and squaring the series, scoring a chanceless 158. Even so, he was controversially left out of the touring team for South Africa. But when another player pulled out because of injury, he was selected as his replacement.
The South African government immediately made their position clear: only white players would be welcome in their land. Robust diplomatic exchanges took place over the following weeks, but as the MCC refused to remove D’Oliveira from the party the tour had to be cancelled. It was not until after Nelson Mandela became President in 1994 that an official English team once again set foot in South Africa.
Stoffel was shattered by the decision, and although he played regularly for Western Province and ensured that Barclays retained the Inter-Bank Cup, he doubted if he would ever be awarded a Test cap.