Straight on Till Morning (49 page)

Nor was her memoir her only work. Later she was to write other autobiographical works in the same style, such as ‘The Captain and his Horse':

There are three stories in this vein. The other two are ‘Something I Remember', a story about her first pony, the Arab stallion Wee Macgregor, and ‘The Splendid Outcast', which is the story of a woman trainer trying to buy a beautiful but unmanageable stallion at the horse sales. In the story the horse is brought into the ring in chains and held down by two grooms for he has recently killed a man. Again the main facts, and the setting, are true, but in reality Beryl was able to buy the horse whose name was Messenger Boy, whilst in her story she loses him to a scruffy little warned-off jockey who loves the horse and offers his last penny to buy him.

The other stories published under her name are pure fiction, though one, ‘Brothers are the Same', may quite possibly be based on an incident she experienced or was told about. It concerns a young African tribesman who is facing the biggest moment of his life; in order to prove his manhood he has to stalk and kill a lion single-handed with his spear. Far worse than the trial to come is his knowledge that all the warriors of his tribe are watching from a distance and that the slightest hint of fear in his demeanour will be noted by them.

All but two of Beryl's stories (‘The Quitter' and ‘The Splendid Outcast') have an African setting and all have an aviation and/or equine background. The four stories which are wholly romantic fiction, ‘The Transformation', ‘Appointment in Khartoum', ‘Your Heart Will Tell You' and ‘The Quitter', are written in a style different from her autobiographical stories. Here the writing lacks the sensitivity of her earlier work and of these, the last story was known to have been edited by Stuart Cloete. The other three appear to have been influenced to a great degree by Raoul and there are distinct similarities between them and the stories written under Raoul's own name, but there is enough of Beryl's unique manner of enhancing a statement using staccato supportive sentences and in the background information to betray the fact that she had some involvement and that they were not merely written by Raoul in her name.

Despite extensive research it has not been possible to find any works by Raoul Schumacher other than the handful of short Western stories which were published under his own name, ‘The Whip Hand', published June 1944; ‘Peaceable and Easy', published June 1945; and ‘Sucker for a Trade', published in November 1945. In addition it is known that he wrote two radio playlets shortly after he and Beryl were separated. Although he is known to have received further commissions he was not able, for reasons which cannot be explained, to produce published work.

Asked the outright question: ‘Did Raoul Schumacher write your book?' Beryl grimaced and raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Oh that again? No of course he didn't.' Asked how she answered the people who said she couldn't have written the book, she said simply: ‘I don't bother.'
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Whilst researching this book I discussed this question of authorship with Miss Pamela Scott who lives near Nioro and who knew Beryl when she was Mrs Jock Purves. Miss Scott asked me: ‘Does it really matter whether she actually wrote the book or not? It is quite obviously her own story; no one else could have imagined those experiences and whether or nor she put the words down on paper is surely irrelevant…' But I feel it
is
important that Beryl be given credit for her writing, for it reveals yet another facet of the talented, intricate character of a remarkable woman. My own opinion, having met Beryl, is one of astonishment that anyone could doubt her authorship. It is an opinion shared by those who knew her best.

Shortly after this letter was posted, George Gutekunst received a telephone call from Barry Schlachter. Whilst interviewing Beryl, he had learned of George's role, and now he was interested to see if George would be prepared to take his interest any further. ‘How?' George asked. Barry's idea was that they should collaborate on a television documentary about Beryl's life. Could George arrange any financing? George was very interested and promised to do some research.

Barry Schlachter meanwhile had some strings he could pull. His brother-in-law, Andrew Maxwell-Hyslop, was a British film director who was holidaying in India. Coincidentally Andrew had just finished reading
West with the Night
when Barry telephoned to ask if he would be interested in working on the TV documentary. Having secured Andrew's interest, Barry went on to work on a treatment – an outline which the documentary might follow. He then rounded up Garry Streiker, a respected news cameraman based in Kenya, and two sound recordists. As a long shot they filmed interviews with Sir Michael Blundell, a Kenya notable from the old days, and James Fox, who had already given them an assurance that the TV documentary would not conflict with his interest in any feature film. With this footage Barry travelled to the USA and there with George Gutekunst showed his film treatment along with the two interviews to a few would-be investors whom Gutekunst had lined up.
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In the early spring Andrew Maxwell-Hyslop received a telephone call from Gutekunst. ‘When will you be free to go to Kenya and start work on the documentary?' he asked. Within weeks the crew were assembled and work started on the documentary.

Beryl had been suffering from back and stomach pains which resulted in an enforced stay in hospital and had caused her friends great concern; for when discharged, Beryl, always slim, was skeletally thin. Many thought this dramatic weight loss sinister, but Beryl recovered and was soon back at the racetrack. She was well aware of the physical penalties of age, and disliked them intensely.

There began, at about this time, a series of visits by reporters and journalists, which was to continue for the rest of her life. Beryl's role in the lives of Karen Blixen and Denys Finch Hatton was now well known, and a major feature film, based on the couple's love affair, called
Out of Africa
after Karen Blixen's book, was in production. Beryl was represented in the film as a minor character named Felicity. Among the first of these was the British journalist Lesley Ann Jones who interviewed Beryl in January 1983 and wrote an article for a women's magazine.
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She had been warned prior to her visit that Beryl might be difficult and ‘bloody vague'. Beryl was neither. She was pleased to see her, and came to the door all smiles, wearing flared jeans, a loose shirt and a pink scarf. She was barefoot of course. With her blonde hair she appeared twenty years younger than her eighty years. Beryl ended the interview by saying that though Kenya had been her home for most of her life she was lonely there and thought she'd like to go back to America.

Another visitor, James Fox, produced a colourful article published in the UK by the
Observer
and in the USA by
Vanity Fair
. Beryl was unhappy about the article and some of the implications. She told me, ‘I can't think where he picked them up. He was a charming man, though. He was here writing about Joss Erroll's murder. I helped him with it – I think I'm mentioned in the book.'
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George Gutekunst had meanwhile formed a small corporation
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to finance what he called a ‘guerrilla shoot', a technical term meaning, apparently, filming without a detailed script, though Schlachter's treatment was used throughout as a guide. With promised financial backing of $115,000 and the guarded verbal backing of KQED – a San Francisco television station – George threw in $20,000 of his own money and flew to Africa. Schlachter had also done the ground work and located many people from Beryl's past, including Sonny Bumpus, who rode Wise Child to the Kenya St Leger victory in 1926 and Bunny Allen, one of the white hunters on the 1928 and 1930 royal safaris.

Beryl was a poor performer on camera. Many hours of filmed interviews had to be discarded because she simply would not cooperate when the camera was running. Part of the problem was that the interviewer required Beryl to talk about her experiences in a situation which Beryl later described to me as ‘a crowd'. Beryl has never boasted of her achievements, nor has she ever talked of her various liaisons and friendships, except to close friends on the few occasions when intimacy has been appropriate. When the interviewer overstepped these bounds her annoyance showed. ‘Oh I'm fed up with this…I'm going!' Her answers to the questions often appeared rambling, but this might have been a deliberately evasive tactic. She was quite willing to participate in the film, enjoying all the attention and hairdressing sessions. But she wasn't giving anything away.

Two or three scenes only were able to be used in the documentary: Beryl at the racetrack during an early morning workout; where she must have felt securely at home; her greetings to the grooms, softly spoken ‘Jambo, jambo, jambo…' the tall, fair-haired figure moves slowly, and now there is a shadow of a stoop to the once upright posture dressed in pale blue shirt and denims with a colourful shawl about her shoulders providing a touch of chic, she watches a horse gallop around the track; cameras forgotten, her face is a study in professional concentration.

Another shot shows her seated on the veranda outside her cottage, pointing out old navigational plots marked on her aviation charts. ‘Nairobi, Kilimanjaro, Naivasha, Nairobi,' she intones, indicating the route of a single flight culled from the log book at her elbow. Finally she is shown about to embark in a modern aircraft for a flight to Njoro. Seated and strapped in, she smiles and waves from the rear window. It is a poignant moment captured on film, for the smile recaptures a ghost of the shy, boyish grin of the woman stepping into the Vega Gull nearly fifty years earlier.

George, busy with administrative details of the filming, managed to see Beryl privately only on one day. One evening after a hard day's shooting, he had been out to dinner and afterwards to a nightclub and had arrived back at his hotel in the early hours. It seemed a very short time later that he was awakened by the insistent shrilling of his bedside telephone. ‘Georgie Porgie! Is that you?' Beryl's unmistakable cultured voice demanded. Shaking the sleep from his brain George grunted that it was. ‘Where are you?' ‘Well, I'm in bed,' he said, squinting at his watch to find that it was only shortly after seven a.m. ‘Alone?' asked Beryl. ‘Yes,' said George, grinning into the phone. ‘Oh how perfectly dreadful for you, sweetie. Come over here right away and have a vodka!' Several hours later George appeared at Beryl's cottage and the two spent the day chatting and drinking.
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