Bright Shadows

By James Forson

Annetjie Myburgh is the only child of a National Party Cabinet Minister. Ricardo Titus is a revolutionary who have given up his studies to join the struggle for independence. Annetjie’s father has all the sinister power of the apartheid regime at his disposal to crush those in the struggle; what will he do when his own daughter is involved? Will Ricardo and Annetjie be able to find love in spite of outdated duty, betrayal and murder? From the dappled suburb of Waterkloof in Pretoria, the desolation of Mitchells Plain; along the ivy-lined avenues of the University of Cape Town and over the dusty plains of Angola, this fast-paced romantic thriller takes the reader through a young woman’s journey to find herself against the backdrop of a South Africa in turmoil.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Forson
• Release date: Oct 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311107916

James Forson

James Forson spends a great deal of time near the centre of an intricate Venn diagram where management consulting, fiction writing, business writing, education governance, organic vegetables and procrastination meet. He was born in Worcester, South Africa in 1955. His early work experience was in the mining, steel, pharmaceutical and banking industries. For the past 23 years he has been an independent management consultant. He is married to Merle. They have an adult son, Tim. They live in Johannesburg. He likes to say that he knows very little about a great many things.

Book preview

Chapter 1.

It was a dismal winter’s day on the Highveld. The rugby field was dusty and the loose grass ends were swept along in the chilly breeze. The early afternoon light was hard on the eyes. Annetjie Myburgh dragged her school bag over her shoulder and walked towards the classroom block. It was her last year at school and she was worried; worried about the matric exams; worried about her career; worried about what she would study. Suddenly she was almost knocked off her feet. She lurched around and looked into the laughing face of André van Wyk.

Howzit my cherry! he beamed like an excitable Doberman puppy.

What the hell you do that for? Although André was her boyfriend and her first love, she was annoyed with him now.

Listen my Poppie; we are going round to Kassie and them for a braai on Saturday night. Collect you about six? André was oblivious to Annetjie’s state of mind.

Ag well, I suppose so. replied Annetjie without enthusiasm.

Lekker my goose, check you later! and with that André was off, bounding up the embankment. His tall frame was rugged in the faded rugby practice jersey, and the sound of the rugby boot studs on the pathway had an assertive, masculine ring to them. There was a time when the sound had sent a shiver down Annetjie’s spine.

Annetjie sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was go to a braai at Kassie’s house. The guys were going to drink far too much. Loud music. Stupid dancing. And someone was going to make an arse of himself.

By now Annetjie had reached the door of the classroom. She found her desk. The other pupils were there, their books and writing pads unpacked.

Miss Myburgh, you are late again! Please get your books out. We are going over differential calculus on page 237.

Miss Poggenpoel was a grumpy old spinster, thought Annetjie. Why did I volunteer for the extra maths tutorial group, she thought to herself.

Annetjie went through the motions of doing the class work. Why was everybody deciding her life for her? André had planned her week-end for her. A piss-up at Kassie’s on Saturday and sore heads on Sunday. Her mother had persuaded her to take the extra math class. It won’t do you any harm to get high marks in maths. she had said. And her father filled in the forms for the Tukkies Law School next year. All she did was sign the darn thing.

Shit, when can I decide on anything myself? she muttered under her breath.

Excuse me Miss Myburgh, did you say something? Mrs Poggenpoel looked archly over her spectacles.

No Miss, I just worked out how to differentiate the equation. lied Annetjie. But the glimmerings of solving a different equation were beginning to form in her mind.

─

Susan Myburgh was a model National Party Cabinet Minister’s wife. Her hair, blonde with a little help, was pulled back in a fierce bun. She wore a tailored suit on the knee and just enough make-up. A striking woman. Her fingers drummed the steering wheel of the black Mercedes Benz.

Where is the child? In her organised and structured life, being late was a terrible sin.

Annetjie came round the corner of the car park. Susan leant across to open the door.

Come Annette, my child, we have to go. Your father has a Cabinet meeting at the Union Buildings tonight. We are having supper early. Susan had already started the engine.

"Ja, Ma, don’t blow a gasket. Just let me get in.

The mother and daughter drove off smoothly, in the large black motor vehicle, befitting a family in the highest service to the country.

─

The Myburgh residence was large, elegant and sensitively modern-Cape Dutch. A long driveway paved with real stone which looped a fountain in front of the sprawling stoep. The garages were discreetly hidden behind the house with a thicket of silver spruces. The garden was larger than you would expect for Waterkloof. The tennis court was barely visible at the lower end. The rolling lawn was ringed with large, spreading trees with plaited trunks; shady in summer, but winter-bare now. The lightning conductor for the thatched roof was lost amongst them. The front of the house displayed a hol-bol gable of perfect symmetry.

Willem Myburgh had bought this piece of land when he was made a partner at van der Merwe, Koornhof, Attorneys at Law. He had designed the house based on his grandmother’s home in the Boland. But this one was much bigger, much grander. He had refused a government residence when he was appointed to the Cabinet. This was his home. It was to be the start of a dynasty. It was such a pity that he and Susan had had only one child, a daughter at that. But she would marry well. He would see to that.

The official Mercedes, bigger and blacker than the one Susan had been driving earlier in the day swung down the avenue of arching jacaranda trees. The automatic gates lurched open. The long driveway curled through the trees. Willem hardly noticed Moses his driver, who had scrambled out to open the car door for him. Clutching his slim leather briefcase, he tore into the house, oblivious of the high ceilings, big wooden windows, the wide passages and the wide-planked wooden floors. Preoccupied, he passed the Pierneefs, the de Jonghs and the Sterns watching haughtily from their frames on the walls.

Susan, we must eat soon. The Prime Minister is expecting me at eight sharp He dropped a perfunctory kiss on Susan’s meekly turned cheek, then he hurried into the study with the deep leather furniture and the neat bookcases with glass fronts. The oak desk with the patrician patina had been his grandfather’s. J E Myburgh and Son had been a proud Boland law firm. It was such a pity that his own father had died so young and the practice had been taken over by the other partners. Still, he had had his revenge; an opportunity afforded while ascending the ranks of the National Party. But that was behind him now.

With a whisky in his hand Willem looked at the papers he had brought home in preparation for the meeting with the Prime Minister. But his mind was not on his work. This damn political situation. The unrest. Could spoil everything. Why can’t these blacks just live quietly?

Willem heard footsteps in the passage.

A black face stood in the entrance to the study. The white apron accentuated the black outer coat. Bessie had been with the Myburghs since Annetjie was born.

Master, the Madam says supper is ready.

Thank you Bessie, I’ll be there now-now.

Why can’t the bloody black people in Soweto be like Bessie? Nice. Polite. Not giving any trouble. Know their place.

─

The Myburghs sat down to supper. The table ran the length of the large dining room. A stinkwood and yellowwood server dominated one wall. Three places were set, at one end. An unlit candelabrum, with dark etchings of age, fenced them off from the rest of the table Willem sat, as always, at the head, Susan at his right with her eye on the kitchen door and Annetjie faced her mother.

The dishes had been placed on the table so the family could help themselves. Willem did not like servants eavesdropping on the family conversations.

How was your day, Skat? Willem asked Susan while helping himself to the sweet potatoes.

Susan fiddled with putting the dishes within easy reach of Willem.

Nothing special, I had coffee with some of the girls this morning. The Oeloffses are going overseas again.

How nice for them Willem’s mind was far away.

And you Annetjie? the next habitual question. What did you do today?

Ag, just school. And extra maths" responded Annetjie listlessly.

Willem: Well, work hard at the maths; you must get a good university entrance

Annetjie: But Pa, you want me to study law? How’s the maths going to help?

Willem: "My child, one day you will thank me. Susan, may I have the peas please?

The food had been dished up. Susan noticed that Annetjie has very little on her plate. She said nothing.

Willem: Let us pray now.

Together the Myburgh family held hands. Willem said Grace.

The family conversation went back on forth on the events of the day. At a lull in the conversation, Annetjie leant forward.

Pa.

Yes, my child?

Pa, I don’t want to go to Tukkies.

Willem stiffened ever so slightly, his eyes narrowed. He had been a good politician for a long time. He gave nothing away. Susan noticed the response and gave her attention to the roast lamb.

How so? Willem turned to her with the thin smile that members of the Opposition in the Houses of Parliament had grudgingly come to respect.

Tell me more. He took another pull on the glass of wine, his knife and fork crossed on the plate. He leant back in the chair.

Pa, you know you said, that I could study anywhere I want to.

Yes, Annetjie, but you must remember that I, your mother and both your grandfathers went to Tukkies. It is in our blood, it is part of being a Myburgh, even though our roots are in the Cape.

I know Pa, but I want to try somewhere else.

Willem said nothing. It was an old tactic of his. He looked at the chair at the far end of the table. He appeared to be deep in thought.

The seconds ticked by. Susan was still toying with the lamb.

Annetjie had committed herself. There was no going back.

Pa, I want to go to Cape Town University.

Another silence.

Please, Pa.

Annetjie, we don’t have the time to talk about this now. I have to see the Prime Minister in less than an hour. Let’s eat our supper and talk about it tomorrow.

During this interchange which so engrossed the Myburghs, a dark form slipped into the study, remained there for a few moments, and then glided silently back to the kitchen.

─

The supper was over. The frosty conversation had been lost in the urgency of their current priorities. Susan had gone to oversee the kitchen; Annetjie was in her room for her homework. And Willem was back in his study. He put the documents back in his briefcase, the one with the leather straps that were never fastened. I should have spent more time reading those documents; the Prime Minster is always so pernickety, he thought as he left the room.

Moses closed the door of the big black Mercedes. The engine growled as they went down the driveway. The electric gates swung open on cue.

Annetjie was back in her room; sitting on the bed. She was angry. She punched the big square pillow that served no purpose, except make the bed look neat. The aggression did nothing for her state of mind.

Darn. Darn. Darn.

I blew it.

I should have waited.

The large square pillow received another punch.

There was a discrete knock at the door.

Yes

It’s me. Susan’s voice came from the other side of the elegant oak door.

Ja, OK, come in Ma.

The graceful woman joined her daughter.

The two of them shared a silent moment on the bed.

Susan knew to wait.

At last Annetjie spoke.

You know Ma, it’s so difficult

Susan remained silent. Her daughter must find her own words.

Ma, I want to make my own decisions. All the way, Pa makes the decisions. He tells me what to do. I love Pa, but I’m growing up now. I want to run my own life.

The two women exchanged a silence.

Susan spoke.

I’ll see what I can do. I’ll speak to your father.

─

Annetjie heard the Datsun Triple S pulling up at the Myburghs. It was Saturday night in Waterkloof, the best night of the week. Annetjie heard the doorbell from her bedroom as she fastened the buttons of the low cut blouse she had put on as a treat for André. She paused in her room; even though she was ready to go down to greet André.

There was a routine to André’s visits to the house. Bessie opened the door.

Good evening Kleinbaas.

Hullo Bessie, I’m here for Miss Annetjie. Tell her I’m here.

Yes Kleinbaas.

As usual, Willem was just happening to pass through the hallway.

"My maggies, André,