Cape of Storms (Part 1)

By Erica J. Johnson

Marie is a 40-something housekeeper leading a pretty humdrum existence in modern day Saltriver, Cape Town.
She has regular church meetings, a grown son and a husband she barely talks to.
Marie starts having excruciating back-ache and eventually loses track of parts of her day.
Katriena is a 18th century slave-girl of about 15 years, who is pregnant with her white master's baby and desperate to save her unborn child.
Johannes, a medicine man, promises to help her do this, using her link to Marie who is Katriena's only living descendent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erica J. Johnson
• Release date: Feb 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465995551

Erica J. Johnson

I am Erica Johnson, a South African mother of two. I live in the lovely city of Cape Town, in the shadow of Table Mountain. I love to read, therefore I write.

Book preview

CAPE OF STORMS

Published by Erica Johnson at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Erica Johnson

Chapter 1

Weak sunlight streams through the threadbare curtains of number 3 Cullington Place, Saltriver. Marie gets up slowly, swinging both legs to the floor at the same time, her hand automatically going to the small of her back.

Better get this day started then, she thinks as she waddles to the kitchen to make some coffee. She has a vague memory of an unpleasant dream but doesn’t really try to recapture it; the threads of the dream are already eluding her.

Marie, is the coffee ready?! Brian, Marie’s husband, calls his now all too familiar daily greeting from their shared bedroom.

With their only child out of the house this past ten years or so, they seem to have nothing left to say to each other. She receives a grunt of acknowledgement as she delivers the coffee to her husband and then gets into her own uniform for the work day. Blue coveralls and blue cap. Mrs. Whitlock, here I come! , she thinks as she rinses her coffee mug, calls out a goodbye to Brian and closes the door behind her without waiting for a response.

On her way to the taxi, Marie greets her neighbor, Meimoena, who seems to have taken up permanent residence on her little balcony, from where she espies the daily comings and goings of the rest of the world. Marie idly wonders whether Meimoena keeps office hours.

Morning, Aunty Marie! Saltriver, Woodstock, Caaaapppe!!!! One of Marie’s regular mini-bus taxi drivers stops almost on her toes, to pick her up. An’ how’s the aunty today? Auw, an’ it’s a lovely sunny day in the Mother City, no? Saltriver, Woodstock, Caaaapppe!!!!!! , this from the person commonly referred to as the taxi-guard, giving her his familiar gap-toothed smile.

Marie! Do you hear me, Marie? I asked if you had any news from Denver recently.

Marie blinks, then blinks again. She tries to focus on the voice, which she now realizes is that of her employer, Elize Whitlock.

Uhm, no… no nothing yet, Elize, she says, marveling at how normal her voice sounds. She looks down at the vacuum cleaner she seems to be in the process of connecting to the wall socket. This is how it starts, she thinks, shaking her head to clear it. She can hear Mrs. Whitlock’s heels clicking on the tiles as she moves up the stairs and away from Marie.

Well, thank God for small mercies. She’s definitely not up to making small talk this morning, since she is now battling to recall the earlier part of her morning. For some reason she has absolutely no recollection of her normally quite uneventful trip to work. All she has is a huge blank spot and the more she picks at it the less she remembers. Alzheimer’s, for sure. Old people’s disease some calls it. I cannot deal