The Shadow and the Rose

By Jenny Arnesen

Allis life was pure passion and her love for music and dance was what fuelled her.
As tragedy and intrigue surround her she falls deeply in love with a man consumed by a hatred born in the terror of a bush war where members of his family were murdered, and that hatred remained imprisoned in his heart and in his life.
Their lives become entangled through the Shadow and the Rose and Alli is forced to face a time of horror, bloodshed and fear to protect him from a truth that could send him over the edge.
She finds solace in the arms of another and her compassion and determination to win the friendship of this man surpasses all and becomes a burning desire that her heart and life would not and could not
relinquish.
The realization that in truth she was in love with two men at the same time. But one would leave her heart sad and weeping.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Sep 13, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453572221

Jenny Arnesen

Jennifer was born in Natal where she lived most of her life with the exception of one year she spent in the Free State where she came to know and love the mountains of Golden Gate and the little town of Clarence! Her inspiration comes from the love of her three children, her daughter-in-law and son-in-law, three grandchildren a loving mother and a devoted sister and all the friends that have stood by her and encouraged her in her time of writing. The kindness and assistance of her niece, Cindy Crow who was instrumental in making this all happen! The encouragement and support of David Underwood and all the staff members of Sharpline, the publishers and all those involved in the success of these books.

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Copyright © 2010 by Jenny Arnesen.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2010913253

ISBN:   Hardcover   978-1-4535-7221-4

ISBN:   Softcover   978-1-4535-7220-7

ISBN:   Ebook   978-1-4535-7222-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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CONTENTS

Alli

Rory and Uncle Jack

The Sangoma

The Move to the Free State

The Feedlot

Welkom

Lance

The Dancing Lessons

The Sandstorm

The Seminar Notice

William von Eck and the Transfer

Farewell, Welkom

Back Home and Pete

Jim

Pete Becomes a Friend

The Problem with Vryheid

The Concert

The Vryheid Trip

The Trip Home

Mike Leaves for Pretoria

My Thoughts of Jim

Pete Falls off His Chair

The New Girl

Pete Saves the Moment

Jim’s Confession

Jim Discusses Pete

Two Invitations

The Trip to Bloem and the Friendship Blooms

The Practice First Kiss

White Rose No. 1

White Rose No. 2

Jim’s Phone Call

The Wrong Sleeping Partner

White Rose No. 3

The Shocking Dinner Date

Yet More Roses

Newcastle Trip Looming

The Camera is Set

Jean Watches

Goodbye Mike

Another Rose and the Camera is Set

What the Camera Reveals

Roses Come Home

Sweet Surrender

The Visit

Roses Get Hidden

The Durban Farewell

The Restaurant alongside the Bay

The Confession about Jean

The Visit

Broken Promise

The Professor

Simon and the Hypnotism

The Heartbreak Begins

The Date with Jim

Simon Calls

Back to the Bush

Plans for the Trip to Newcastle

Pete Confesses

I Acknowledge That I Love Two Men

Pete’s Excitement

The Weekend in Bloem

Caught in the Rain

The Dance Lesson

Caught in the Act

Jim’s Cape Trip

More Dancing Lessons

Jim Gets Put on Hold

Dinner with the Professor and Simon

A Night with Pete

Jim’s Visit

Clarens

The Dream

Simon Calls Again

Pete’s Apartment

Another Visit

Jim Takes It Well

The Anniversary

I Dreamt of Jim That Night

ALLI

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Even as a child Alli always seemed to gravitate to the weird and bizarre. Brought up by my grandparents along with seventeen other family members, there was never much money for luxuries. But with a family this size we compromised and made things we needed, and we were happy and content.

We lived in a very large, old, six-bedroom house with a veranda that spread halfway around the house. The rooms were very large and the ceilings extremely high. The roof was corrugated iron. When it rained really hard we could not hear each other, but we loved it!

The kitchen was enormous, and my grandfather had made a table that could seat twenty-six people comfortably. A massive anthracite stove was kept perpetually burning. A pot of coffee was always at the ready on the stove, as was a pot of fresh soup, especially chicken, which was my gran’s magic medicine for all sicknesses! Not that we ever seemed to be sick, except for the normal mumps, chickenpox, measles, and the flu.

One of my cousins suffered from asthma, but we would all be aware of her and the minute she had an attack, one of the boys would pick her up and run to my gran with her. We would carry on with whatever we were doing at the time.

The smell of newly made bread and a never-ending pot of coffee was something that we all grew up with and loved. My gran made bread every Sunday afternoon. Rusks were made from any leftover bread during the week and stored in large tins.

My grandfather and uncles made their own wine and beer, which they brewed in a cellar under the house. Many a time these brews exploded, and the house shook like dynamite had been set off under the house, but no harm was ever done other than maybe a glass or ornament falling to the ground and breaking.

On Sunday nights we had supper on the veranda. Sunday supper always consisted of home-made bread and soup or mealies dripping with butter and fresh fruit.

Leading up to the house was a long, sand driveway lined on both sides with huge mango trees. To the right of the mango trees was an orchard where we grew pawpaw, orange, lemon, mandarin, kumquat, two litchi trees, and about ten banana trees. On the left of the mango trees was a huge vegetable garden where my grandfather planted beans, peas, carrots, potatoes, sweet potatoes, spinach, and any other vegetables in season. At each corner of the yard were avocado trees, and granadilla and guavadilla vines grew in profusion on the fence surrounding the property!

In the grounds at the top of the drive were a large workshop and a massive garage. On the side of the garage was a chicken run which housed at least thirty hens and four roosters and a rainwater tank that held at least 250 litres of rainwater.

Being such a big family we played a lot of outdoor games like cricket, baseball, king stingers, three tins, and hide-and-seek.

There was a young girl always dressed in white who would appear from nowhere and join in the games we were playing. She never spoke but smiled and laughed a lot. As suddenly as she would appear she would also disappear. Yet none of us seemed to think it was strange, and when we mentioned it to my grandfather he used to smile and say, ‘She’s lonely! Let her play!’ And so we did.

She used to hide with us, run with us, wave to us, and sit with us.

It was only when I spoke to my gran about her that I realised that there was something not right about this girl!

‘Nanny, where does the girl come from?’ I asked.

‘What girl?’ she asked.

‘The one that always plays with us. The one in the white dress that doesn’t talk,’ I said.

‘Tell me about her, Alli,’ my gran said.

‘We don’t know much about her, Nanny. She just arrives and starts playing with us. She can’t speak, but she laughs and smiles. We don’t know where she lives because we have never seen her go home. She just seems to disappear,’ I said.

‘Have you ever touched this girl, Alli?’ my gran asked.

‘Yes! Her skin is very, very cold. So we try not to touch her. She seems to run away if we touch her,’ I answered.

‘She is not a real person, Alli. Do the other children all see her as you do?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I think we all do. We all play together, so I presume we all see her, but I am not sure what you mean, Nanny? We told Grandpa about her, and he said she was lonely and that we should let her play with us,’ I said.

‘Oh well, Grandpa knows best. If he says you must play with her, then that is OK! I have seen her too, Alli, and you must never be afraid of her. She means you no harm. But you must be aware that she is not a real person but a lonely spirit that needs closure!’ she said.

For many years I remembered her words, although at the time they meant nothing to me. It was only in my married life that I was made aware of the supernatural!

RORY AND UNCLE JACK

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I got married at the age of twenty to a childhood sweetheart named Rory Williams. Rory was an excellent diver and had taken a job on the pipeline at sea. He would be home for one week and at sea for three. He loved his job, and it paid well enough, though money was never an issue for either of us. We worked because we loved the professions we had chosen. I worked as a bookkeeper and credit controller.

We had two children together: a girl, Belinda, and a son, Barry.

With Rory at sea I read as many law books that I could lay my hands on. I had some that had belonged to my father, who had been a public prosecutor, but had died at the age of forty-four. I was sixteen when he died.

Rory came home one day and brought an old man named ‘Uncle Jack’ to stay with us for a while.

‘His wife is dying of Parkinson’s, and his son is a pathologist at a hospital too far away for him to get to see his wife every day. Please just put up with it for a few weeks, Alli! He won’t be any trouble,’ he said.

‘Rory, this is your house, and I am your wife. I will do whatever you want me to do!’ I said.

‘I know, sweetheart! But I am away most of the time. You are the one who will have to put up with him!’ he said.

‘For you, then, I will do it!’ I said.

And so Uncle Jack moved into the house.

He was a strange man. He gave the children a shiny penny for each tooth they cut and a saw for frozen food to Rory and to me he gave a book of Helen Steiner Rice poetry and an assortment of ornaments.

I used to hear him at night, talking to himself. Or so I thought at the time. Until I discovered that he was actually calling up the spirits! This bothered me terribly, but I was too afraid to mention it to Rory, so I decided to confront Uncle Jack myself when Rory was at sea.

‘Uncle Jack, please don’t think that I am unreasonable, but I cannot have you calling up the spirits in my home. If you want to do this, then you must rather go to a spiritualist church or some such thing, but not here!’ I said.

He was pretty annoyed with me and said he would leave immediately, which he proceeded to do, and I was not going to stop him. I would apologise to Rory when he came back home, but I had my children to think of and this was my house too!

After he left I found that I could not go into the room he had stayed in without feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

When Rory came home I told him what had happened and the way I felt about the room since Uncle Jack had left.

Rory laughed at me and said I was being silly and that I should forget it.

After that I would wake at night to strange sounds coming from the room. Sounds as though someone or something was trapped in the cupboard.

The week before Rory came home the sounds became louder. I could hear an actual knocking on the cupboard door, but when I put the light on, the sound would stop.

Strange things started happening after that. When I was alone in the kitchen, I would see a small black hand pull open the curtains. If I was in the lounge, certain ornaments would move of their own accord. Things got really creepy!

The first night Rory came home he was awakened by the banging in the cupboard. He went into the room and snapped on the light. But this time the banging continued. He pulled open the cupboard door but still it continued to bang.

‘This is ridiculous, Alli! I have a friend who is a pastor of sorts. I am going to phone him!’ he said.

‘But, Rory, it is two in the morning,’ I complained.

‘So? What does that have to do with anything? We need to sort this out now, and I need him to come here while this thing is happening!’ he said, reaching for the phone.

‘Hi, Alana! I am sorry to wake you at this unearthly hour, but I have a serious problem and I need to speak to Malcolm right now!’ he said.

‘Of course, Rory,’ I heard her say,

‘Rory? What’s up, my man?’ he said.

Rory explained the banging that was still going on behind us, and Malcolm offered to come over immediately.

By the time Malcolm arrived, the banging had at last stopped. I made coffee, and the three of us sat at the table.

‘Alli, I need you to bring everything the old man gave to you,’ he said.

I collected all the things I could think of: the coins, the saw, and certain ornaments and handed them to Malcolm.

He placed them all in a box, and then he and Rory went to throw the contents over the gorge.

On their return to the house the banging had started again in full force.

‘Alli, there must be something else you have forgotten to give me?’ Malcolm yelled over the banging noise.

‘I have given you everything I can think of. The only thing I have is a book of poetry!’ I said.

‘OK, Ally! Bring the book, sweetheart.’ Rory said calmly.

‘But it’s just poetry!’ I complained.

‘Sorry, Alli, but I think that may be the problem,’ Malcolm said.

I went and collected the book, handing it to Malcolm. The two men went outside and set a fire alight in the braai. When the fire was burning fiercely Rory threw the book into the flames.

I watched in horror. The cover of the book was a picture of praying hands!

The book would not burn! And as I stared, I swear the hands moved! Rory fetched a jug of petrol from the garage and threw that on the fire. The flames flared, but still the book did not burn.

I stood mesmerised. A cold shiver ran down my spine. I shuddered and turned away.

Malcolm removed the book from the fire, and the two men dug a hole and buried it.

As they covered the book with earth the banging stopped, and the phone rang.

I went inside and lifted the receiver.

‘Good morning, Alli. My name is David. I am Jack’s son. I just called to tell you that Jack passed away at two this morning,’ he said.

‘I am so sorry, David!’ I replied, shocked.

‘Thank you. And thank you for putting up with him. He was a strange old man, always dabbling with witchcraft. I hope he was not a burden to you at any time. If I can compensate you, please let me know,’ he said.

‘No, David. You owe us nothing! I am sorry for your loss. Maybe we will meet some day,’ I said.

‘Yes, maybe. Thank you again and goodbye!’ he said.

‘Goodbye, David,’ I replied, replacing the receiver and seeing my gran’s kind face smiling down and remembering her words: ‘She is not a real person, Alli!’

‘Alli, sweetheart, it will be OK now!’ Rory said, taking my trembling body in his arms.

‘I know! I can feel it,’ I said, finally feeling the calm take over.

‘I’m sorry you spend so much time alone. Maybe I should apply for another job that would allow us more time together,’ Rory said.

‘No! You love your job, and we already went through this before we married. Please do not go there. We will both regret it,’ I said.

We thanked Malcolm, and he left.

At the end of the week Rory left for sea once more, and this time, I managed to go into the spare room without feeling the presence of something evil and cold. I scrubbed and painted the room and hung happy pictures on the walls.

Two weeks into Rory’s shift I opened the door to two men dressed in dark blue suits, the same colour suit that Rory wore to sea. I froze!

‘Alli Williams?’ the tallest man asked.

My heart dropped, and I nodded.

‘I am very sorry but I am the bearer of tragic news. Rory and two other members of the team were killed in an explosion on the rig this morning,’ he said sadly.

I felt numb. My heart seemed to have stopped beating, and my ears were ringing. My legs felt like they weighed tons. I could not believe what he was telling me.

I saw his lips moving, but I could hear nothing. Then all of a sudden I felt like a freight train rushing through a tunnel, and my ears cleared and the numb feeling exploded within me.

‘No! Not Rory! No!’ I wailed. ‘Not Rory! Please not Rory!’

The stranger took me in his arms, and the tears flowed and flowed!

‘Is there someone we can call for you? Is there someone we can get here for you?’ the other man asked.

I reached for the telephone and dialled Mark’s number and handed the phone to the stranger.

THE SANGOMA

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Six months after Rory’s death I was still having problems settling down. I kept hurting, and I knew that I needed closure. I had to find a way to free myself of his memory and start living again.

I joined Angelie’s dance studio, and at last through music and dance, I found the closure that I so desperately needed. I avoided speaking to anyone about Rory. It was easier for me to keep the heartache and hurt away by the silence. Each day it got less and less painful, and I noticed that the children had also taken the silent way out. There still were nights that the children cried for him, and I would take them into my bed and play music, gently rocking them until they fell asleep.

‘Keep his memory in your heart, baby! He would be happy with that. He wouldn’t want your tears. He loved us too much for that!’ I would tell them and trusted my heart to accept the same advice.

And each day their pain got less and less. We spent every holiday we could with Mark and Tracy. I put all my energy and love into dancing, and it changed my whole life.

Tracy and I were cousins. We had both grown up together with our grandparents, and of all the cousins, Tracy and I had been the closest right through our lives. When Tracy met and married Mark the three of us became as close as any friends could ever have been.

Mark owned a private game farm just outside of Bloemfontein. And every chance I could get, I would spend the time with them. Rory had loved them just as much, and the children almost treated them as a second set of parents. Three years after his death I bought a small holding with a friend and sold the house that Rory and I had lived in. Mike, the friend I moved in with, proved to be a massive mistake. He was a cruel and hard man and the children were extremely unhappy.

From the first day that we moved into the house I felt a presence that disturbed me. I was continually aware of someone or something watching me. I began to feel afraid for the children.

Four months later I took the children to breakfast at a little restaurant in Botha’s Hill and then I took them to watch some traditional Zulu dancing. The dancing was held in a small outdoor arena overlooking the Valley of a Thousand Hills. On one side of the arena was a traditional Zulu hut where a Sangoma (witch doctor) sat on a grass mat with her collection of bones and stones and herbs. She held a monkey tail switch in her hand, which she waved around. I saw her call an old man into the hut and speak quietly to him. She would sometimes tell fortunes for a fee, and other times she would calmly sit and survey the crowd. Today seemed to be that kind of day. Yet each time I looked in her direction she seemed to be staring at me and frowning.

The dancers came into the arena, and their drums pounded out the rhythm of Africa. The bronze bodies of the men glistened in the sunlight. The animal skins they wore bounced in unison with their dance, and the seed pods around their ankles and wrists added to the rhythm. The young bare-breasted girls sang beautifully in the traditional Zulu language as they told the story of a powerful love story from many years ago. As the dancing neared the end the old African man I had seen talking to the Sangoma came and sat next to me.

‘Sabona!’ he said.

‘Sabona!’ I replied.

‘Madam, the Sangoma wishes to speak with you! I shall take care of the children,’ he said.

‘I do not need my fortune told!’ I told the old man.

‘No, Madam! The Sangoma would like to speak to you, please. You will go to the place there to the Sangoma!’ he insisted.

‘Very well,’ I replied politely, telling the children to stay and making my way to the hut.

‘Sit here!’ the Sangoma said to me, pointing to the ground a little to her left.

I sat cross-legged where she indicated.

She picked up an assortment of white bones and weathered stones as she stared deeply into my eyes.

‘You must leave this man. He is no good for you! He is a threat to your children, and they are not happy with him. Walk away from him, and do not go back. He is not a good man,’ she said, throwing her bones on the mat before her.

‘I see you as though you are set into a white flower, but there is blood that drips from this flower. It is a bright crimson blood, but this blood is not yours. Yet there is a deep connection that I see. Sadness, a deep love. A war! A dreadful and evil war. Blood! So much blood! But you are there and yet you are not there! I do not understand this. I have never seen this before. There is a man here! This man stands in a deep shadow, and he will not reveal himself to me. He has his arms protectively stretched towards you!

Something else I see . . . I see . . . No! No! No!’ she said, gathering her bones in a hurry. ‘No more! I don’t want to see! No! No more!’

I went to open my purse, but she quickly put her hand over mine.

‘Sengathi umoya ungakuvikela!’ she said, which I knew translated meant ‘May the Spirit protect you.’

‘No . . . no, I do not take money from you!’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You were here for a purpose! You go in peace! Hambakahle!’ she said.

‘And you stay in peace! Salakahle!’ I said, getting to my feet.

‘Undize ngesimpaphe sokhozi!’ she replied. Then seeing my frown she translated. ‘Fly with the wings of the eagle!’

‘How strange!’ I thought as I walked over to the old man and the children.

I went to hand the note to the old man.

‘No! Madam, please! We here cannot accept money from you. You were chosen by the Sangoma! We may not accept anything from you!’ He said quietly, ‘Go in peace.’

‘Stay in peace!’ I replied and led the children to the car.

‘How very strange,’ I said to the children when we were in the car. ‘I honestly do not know what that was all about.’

‘Mom! This Sangoma has a good reputation. I believe that people come from all over the country with the hope to see her. Maybe you should heed what she says’ Belinda said.

‘I did not understand a thing of what she said, my angel,’ I said.

‘Then maybe remember it, Mom. Write it down in a diary or something and maybe refer to it now and again!’ she said.

‘I think I will remember it for a while. But maybe you are right. I will write it down in my diary,’ I said.

THE MOVE TO THE FREE STATE

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The following month when I went to see Tracy and Mark, I told them that I was not happy staying with Mike and that the children were extremely unhappy there.

‘Move to the Free State and enrol the kids in the same boarding school that I attended. It’s a good school and it’s a half an hour’s drive from here. We can share the kids and you! We worry about you down there alone. I have never met this character, and I don’t believe that I want to,’ Mark said.

‘Please, Alli! Give this some serious consideration. You won’t have a problem finding work here. We worry so much about you there! What have you got to lose?’ Tracy begged. Tracy had a medical problem and could never have children, so they both took to my children as they would have their own. And the kids loved them.

I had been with Mike for at least a year.

In that year the presence in the house became overpowering, and I was now seeing the silhouette of a woman run through the house, bringing an icy breeze with her each time. A year with a bad-mannered and equally bad-tempered person and an eerie presence can weigh heavily on a person. So finally I decided that enough was enough. I resigned my job and enrolled my children in the boarding school in Bloem. I packed what we needed and told Mike I was leaving for the Free State. I left him the number where he could contact me, and we left Natal!

I took a three-month break and stayed at the farm with Tracy and Mark. I had been teaching them to dance each time I had come up and now we had three glorious months, and they loved it as much as I did. Between Tracy and me we almost tore poor Mark in two, but he was in his element and loved every minute of it. I felt happier than I had felt in many years. The children loved the school and the boarding school.

After three months I told Mark and Tracy that I must get back to work. I was about to leave the house one morning when Mike telephoned. ‘Alli. I left Natal just soon after you did. Your friend Molly and her fiancé are staying at the house,’ he said. ‘Listen, I have no one else to turn to. The companies that I am working for desperately need a senior bookkeeper cum credit manager, and it is almost impossible to find staff out here. The salary is good, and there is accommodation here if you don’t mind sharing an extremely large farmhouse with me. Please, Alli. I have no one else to turn to, and I can’t do this alone. I am begging you!’ he said.

‘Mike, I will help you out on a temporary basis for three months, but no longer than that. I am sure that you can find a suitable candidate in that time. When do you need someone and where is this place?’ I asked.

‘Yesterday! Thank you, Alli!’ he said and gave me the directions.

Mark was not too happy about my leaving, especially when I told him that I was going to help Mike out for three months!

‘I will come back here every second weekend!’ I said.

THE FEEDLOT

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I travelled to the little town and drove up to