Soul Shadow

By Rosemary Rudd

A man does what he has to do to accomplish his brothers exoneration, but would he have gone to such lengths, betraying the very principles by which he has lived his life, had he known the repercussions his actions would have?

From the picturesque valley of Franschhoek in the Western Cape of South Africa to the obscure little town of Ballydehob in Irelands West Cork, Soul Shadow is an emotionally charged chronicle of intrigue imbued with romance and deception, mystery, crime and tragedy, revealing a family whose hot-blooded mix of Irish and Afrikaner genetics tears them apart, and culminates in a shocking and provocative twist that leaves the reader stunned.

There surely must be a sequel to this enthralling epic?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Africa
• Release date: Dec 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781482825664

Rosemary Rudd

Zambian-born Rosemary Rudd lived in Cape Town, South Africa, for 33 years, before she and her husband relocated to the Natal South Coast. Author of a unique, beautifully illustrated coffee table book cataloguing South Africa’s rich heritage of timber buildings, Rosemary’s love of writing, innate sense of curiosity and her penchant for the dramatic, coupled with the belief that everyone has a story to tell, has resulted in Soul Shadow, her first foray into fiction-writing. She holds diplomas in Business Enterprise Studies, Small Business Management, Public Relations and Journalism and is passionate about music, travelling the world and spending time with great friends. She is deeply fanatical about cats and . . . . chocolate

Book preview

Chapter One

Connor

Connor’s early childhood could have been described as idyllic. His later childhood would best be described as harrowing.

He was raised by his beautiful, diminutive Irish mother, Kathleen, and his Afrikaner father, Jacques, a giant of a man. A keen rugby player throughout his schooling, Jacques had been nicknamed ‘Rocky’ by his peers who only half joked that it felt as though they’d hit a mountain whenever they ran into him on the rugby field. Rugged and handsome, with thick inky black hair which he wore fashionably long, his boyish charm, swarthy good looks and ever-ready wide smile guaranteed that he was never without a flock of adoring females at his heels.

After completing his agricultural degree at Stellenbosch University, and before he and his brother Gerhard took over the reins of the farm from their ageing father, Jacques made a pact with his dad that if he gave him another month to have a good time with his buddies, then he’d come back and settle down to farming seriously.

It concerned the old man that his younger son seemed to be more interested in going out on the razzle than settling down and becoming a farmer, but, after discussing the matter with his beloved wife he had reluctantly acquiesced. Jacques and a group of his Varsity friends jubilantly set off on a tour around the Cape, where for weeks they played rugby, ate with gusto, drank copiously, and generally had a great time.

That was how Jacques had met Kathleen Collins.

Kathleen, a budding artist, had come out to South Africa to spend a holiday with her elder brother who had recently emigrated from Ireland with his wife. She arrived in Cape Town in mid-summer and had immediately been spellbound by its beauty. Intent on following her dream of one day becoming a famous artist, she decided not to return to Ireland but to make a new life for herself in the Cape. In no time she had secured a job as secretary to the managing director of the structural engineering company where her brother worked, and had begun her new life.

For the first few years of his life, Connor and his doting parents lived on the family’s wine farm in the Cape’s majestic Franschhoek Valley. The large farm with its rolling vineyards bordered by a forest of gum-trees had been in the Fouché family for over 200 years and was owned by Jacques’s parents, Marthinus (Oupie) and Bertha (Oumie).

The Fouché’s was a loving Afrikaans family, steeped in tradition – church every Sunday morning - the ladies dressed in their finery and the men in jackets and ties - followed by long, laughter-filled lunches with the entire group seated around the enormous rectangular dining table at the lovely old homestead. Sunday lunches, always raucous affairs, consisted of at least three courses, excluding an array of delicious desserts concocted by Oumie.

The vast farmhouse, filled with valuable trinkets and antique furniture that had been handed down through the generations, constantly echoed with the laughter of family and close friends. Often a neighbouring wine farmer, visiting to compare notes or to ask or give advice would be invited stay for tea or dinner or whatever was on offer at that particular time of the day so the old house was never empty. It and the tennis court and swimming pool were situated in the centre of the sizable farm, shaded by columns of pine trees. On the south side of the farm, Connor’s uncle Gerhard and Aunt Sanette lived with their two children, Marty and Elsbeth, in a large, more modern house that had been proudly built by Oupie and given to Gerhard and Sanette as a wedding gift. Connor’s huge home, built by Oupie, Gerhard and his burly father and given as a wedding gift to Kathleen and Jacques was on the sunny north side.

Following the family tradition, Oumie invited each of her daughters in law, a few days before their weddings, to choose an item of antique furniture from the main house. Kathleen had had no hesitation in choosing a beautiful solid oak, hand carved writing bureau which had been in the family for aeons. Its secret little compartments had fascinated her the minute she’d laid eyes on it, and she’d immediately begun planning what she’d keep in them once it was safely stowed in her brand new home.

Although ostensibly a wine farm, it was shared with a variety of animals – sheep and cattle for meat and milk, horses to ride and help work the farm, cats, dogs and abundant bird life. Having developed an abiding love of all animals at an early age, the children especially loved playing with and helping to feed the newborn lambs. But, along with the fun bits come certain responsibilities so they had to learn to milk the cows, clean the sheds and feed and care for the horses - each child had his or her own task to perform. The Fouchés had owned a few pigs at one stage – all of which had been given names - but the kids became inconsolable whenever any were slaughtered, so it was agreed – no more pigs.

Connor was a precocious child with a very strong will which his mother said came from her side of the family. She, like her great-uncle Michael Collins, the revolutionary Irish leader, nicknamed ‘The Big Fellow’, was well-endowed with Irish pride and a temper to match, and Kathleen predicted that Connor would one day be like ‘The Big Fellow’.

Clearly adored by both his parents, Connor and his father had a particularly close relationship and he openly idolised his big, strong Pappy. He would spend all his waking hours at his side, together with their Red Setter Rusty and their newly acquired black Labrador puppy Scout. Connor would accompany his father when he oversaw the milking of the cows, or when he toured the vineyards on the old tractor that belched smoke as it chugged along the dusty tracks, preparing for the next harvest or checking the lush vines for insect infestation, which he told Connor, could rapidly wipe out an entire harvest.

Seated in front of his dad, safely held between his large, robust, tanned arms, Connor could not have felt more content on those halcyon days. Jacques was an excellent father and thrived in raising his son who was the spit and image of him, with the exception of his eyes – Connor had Kathleen’s strikingly lovely dark-green eyes. Irish eyes, Jacques always said.

During the day, when Jacques and Connor were away off somewhere on the farm after a hearty breakfast, Kathleen would take advantage of the quiet solitude, retire to her small studio and immerse herself in her paintings, painstakingly and lovingly portraying on her canvasses the images in the copious photographs she’d taken of the animals, the scenery, the vines, the kids cavorting around the huge farmstead or swimming in the crystal blue pool. She would only emerge again in the late afternoons to put the final touches to the family dinner which their cook had prepared, and to bath Connor who always came home looking as though he’d been mud-bathing. Amidst Kathleen’s protestations about his filthy clothing and frequently mutilated shoes, Connor would excitedly tell his Mammy about the day’s escapades with Pappy and Uncle Gerrie.

In the evenings, with dinner over, it was most often Jacques who read stories to his son while Kathleen helped the elderly maid to tidy up the kitchen, clear away the dishes and sort out the freshly ironed laundry. She loved her life and revelled in watching her huge husband’s tenderness with their son who grew more like his Pappy every day. Horse-riding with his dad and uncle was one of Connor’s favourite adventures and he was beside himself with delight when he was given his own pony at only three years old, much to his Mammy’s displeasure.

But, Rocky, darlin’, he’s only a baby. He’ll not manage a pony, she’d sweetly protested, but Connor and Jacques were having none of it.

It was on those special ‘boys and men’ occasions that his father and Uncle Gerhard would tell Connor all about their own happy and loving childhoods on the farm shared by their close-knit family.

Seuntjie, (little son) we knew we were loved, of course, but Oupie was very strict with us, Jacques told Connor one day, with Uncle Gerrie nodding beside him. We had to do whatever he and Oumie told us to do, we weren’t allowed to back-chat, and if we did, we were punished severely. But Oupie never denied us anything, nê (not so?) Gerrie? If we did as we were told, focused on our schoolwork and did all our farm chores, he would reward us, in lots of ways, not always with money. Oupie always said we mustn’t worship money, only God. Oupie has a very strong set of values and I want to instil those in you, just as Oom (Uncle) Gerhard has done with his kids, so you make sure you are a good son and do what I tell you, nê?

Shortly before Connor’s fourth birthday, his brother Liam came into the world.

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Chapter Two

Connor

Kathleen had suffered a painful and debilitating miscarriage a year earlier and her pregnancy with Liam had been a difficult one, with her being confined to bed for the last three months. The family, concerned that she had not fully recovered from the miscarriage before falling pregnant again, kept a keen watch on her, ensuring she ate correctly every day and rested as much as possible.

Tall, boisterous Connor was always anxious about his beloved Mammy whenever he and his dad went out, and the first thing he would do when they returned to the farmhouse was race into her bedroom to see if she was ok and regale her with tales of the day’s work with his Pappy. His concern for her wellbeing sometimes overwhelmed Kathleen. Darlin’, I’m ok, really I am. Oumie and Anty Sannie come to see me every day, so you’re not to be worryin’ about me now, ya see?

On her return from hospital with their new baby boy, Kathleen was very weak and Liam very demanding, something that Connor noticed irritated his father. To make matters worse, Connor, fascinated with this new little being, often stayed home, preferring to help his mother bathe and feed the miniature, squealing creature, rather than accompany his dad around the farm. It seemed that Liam could only be comforted by his Mammy’s warm breast or when his ‘big brother’ picked him up and gently cradled him in his small arms.

Liam, a replica of his beautiful mother, was a sickly baby and consequently claimed a lot of Kathleen’s attention and little Connor would do his utmost to soothe the tiny child in an effort to take the pressure off Mammy.

Jacques, unable to comprehend that Connor preferred messy nappies to being with him, challenged him one day. Why do you want to change stinky nappies and listen to Liam crying all the time instead of helping me with the farm, like you used to do, Seuntjie?

‘But Pappy, he’s our new baby! We have to love him and be with him and Mammy needs our help, was the emphatic response from the perplexed little boy. I’ll still come with you sometimes, but I have to be with Mammy and Liam too. Feeling torn between the two, he thought he’d found the ideal solution: Maybe you could also stay every now and then instead of going out so early every day? That would help a bit more wouldn’t it, Pappy?"

Jacques tousled Connor’s hair and left the subject alone. Although devoted to Connor, he kept himself distant from Liam and never showered him with the same affection he bestowed on his elder son – an incongruity which everyone, particularly Connor, was acutely aware of.

While out riding in the vineyards one afternoon, with a storm threatening, Gerhard, Jacques and Connor, on his pony called Murphy, were caught in a heavy downpour and had raced across the sodden land to take refuge from the torrent in the stables. They quickly unsaddled the horses and dried them off with the help of the stable boys, and then sat down on the large straw bales that Connor had helped to move into the barns for the horses earlier that day, and waited for the weather to abate. That was when Jacques first told his son how he’d met Kathleen. In his broad Afrikaans accent, rolling the ‘r’s, he began:

"I had just finished my varsity degree and me and some mates went off on holiday along the Garden Route. We all loved Plettenberg Bay so we stayed there after spending a couple of weeks in Cape Town. I was having one last fling before settling down to farming. Oupie was always on at me about getting married and starting a family but I wasn’t ready to get married just yet. I still wanted to still have a bit of fun before being tied down.

Oupie said to me, ‘Seun (son), it’s time you got married, worked the farm and gave your Ma and me some more grandkids.’

Ja (yes), Gerhard laughingly interrupted, Pa always worried that you would never get married an’ then he and Ma would only have two grand-kids.

Smiling broadly at the memory, Jacques continued: I said, ‘Pa, I can farm without a wife. Why must I get married? I’m not ready to settle down but I realise I have to start earning and help run the farm.’ So I said, ‘Give me one more month, to have a ‘mal jol’ (crazy time) with my mates, go and sow my wild oats one last time, and then I’ll come back and be a farmer.’ So anyway, it was our last day, and we were in Knysna. The weather was fantastic and we’d been on the boat sailing around the lagoon for hours and doing a bit of fishing. We were all thirsty and starving, so we stopped at the hotel for lunch and a few drinks. That’s when I stumbled on Kathleen Collins.

What do you mean you stumbled on her, Pappy? Did you fall on her? the ever-curious Connor asked, a frown puckering his small forehead as he imagined his huge father crushing his tiny mother.

Nee, Seuntjie, chuckled Jacques. Wait, I’ll tell you. I used to drink quite a lot when I was a young man, we all did, but that day I was quite sober…

For a change, interjected Gerhard good-naturedly.

Ag (oh!), man, Gerrie, shut up now. Jacques continued: I knew I had a long drive back to Franschhoek, so I only had two beers. I thought I’d sneak away early from the guys who were obviously going to party all night long, and go back to the flat to get some sleep. I wanted an early start the next day so I could get back to the farm and start working with Oupie and Gerhard – without a hangover.

What’s a hangover, Pappy?

"Um, it’s … well, if you drink too much alcohol, then the next day you have a headache and feel sick – that’s a hangover. It’s not a lekker (nice) feeling.

"So I went off to the gents and on my way back, I collided with this tiny, beautiful redhead who hadn’t been watching where she was going. She and her giggling girlfriend were on their way to the ladies room and she just walked right into me. She said ‘Oops, sorry,’ and they went off to the loo, laughing even more hysterically.

Man, I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen! As the two girls came back, I watched to see where they went – I just had to see the red-haired beauty again. Lucky for me they were with a crowd of people at the table behind us. She moved back to her table and picked up her drink and our eyes met as she raised her glass to me, and she winked. Seuntjie, I tell you, I felt as though I’d just been kicked in the guts. I picked up my own glass and walked over to her table, as if I was in a trance, sort of slow motion, you know? She reminded me of one of those little angels you see on a Christmas card, and I knew there and then that I would one day marry her. Magtig, (heavens!) she was a beauty! When she stood in front of that window with the sun behind her, it made her red hair shine as if it had been sprayed with gold dust. And those eyes! So big and green - like emerald pools that you could drown in.

So, what happened then, Pappy? Connor excitedly demanded.

Well, we talked for a while, but I had to leave, so we exchanged telephone numbers. A week later I invited her home to meet Oumie and Oupie, Oom Gerrie and Tannie (Aunty) Sanette. Oupie and Oumie loved her from the minute they met her and even Tannie Sanette took to her, but she pretended to be a bit offish at first. I think it’s a girl thing, Seuntjie, you know, a bit of jealousy if one is prettier than the other. But they became good friends very quickly, right, Gerrie?

Ja, everyone fell for the gorgeous little Irish girl. You could see straight away that this strong-willed, miniature beauty with her broad Irish accent had captivated the entire family - even old cook Aggie fell for her.

"Ja, she charmed everyone. Already that night she was teasing me, saying, ‘Even your dad likes me.’ Apparently she’d overheard Oupie saying that he thought I’d finally met my match.

‘Ja,’ I said, ‘I think even Pa’s smitten with you.’ I had never seen him so attentive and… gentlemanly. And Gerhard, too.

What’s smitten, Pappy?

It means, sort of in love. We all were in love with her, Seuntjie. She was so lovely – cute but really cocky – very sure of herself. I think the fact that she was related to the infamous Michael Collins only added to her charm, too… .

Who is Michael Collins, Pappy?

He was leader, Seuntjie, a strong leader of the Irish people many years ago. I’ll tell you more about him one day. Ja, this little meisie (girl) from Ireland – big trouble in a small package. In no time she had us all under her thumb.

And then?

Well, then I asked her to marry me, Jacques replied matter-of-factly.

Jacques ‘Rocky’ Fouché and Kathleen Shannon Collins were married six months later; and nine months and two weeks to the day, Kathleen had given birth to a strapping 4.5kg boy, whom she insisted was named Connor, after her father.

What Jacques hadn’t told his son was that he had been well aware that Kathleen’s parents, but particularly her father, had never had much affection for him and hadn’t wanted her to marry him. No-one knew why the old man had felt that way, but Jacques once told Gerhard that it may have been because they were Afrikaners.

Jacques hadn’t liked the name ‘Connor’ for his son. He thought it was, as he put it too pansy-ish, preferring something far more masculine, but but he’d gone along with his darling wife’s wishes, hoping it would appease the old sod.

Although Connor loved those blissful days with his Pappy, he was acutely aware of his father’s indifference towards Liam. He developed an enormous sense of responsibility for his younger brother, and became overly protective of him.

Why is Pappy so different with Liam, Mammy? Connor asked, trying to work it all out. Liam is just a little baby but Pappy doesn’t play with him or bath him or anything; doesn’t he like him?

Oh, I’m sure your Pappy loves him, darlin’. I don’t know why he doesn’t spend more time with the wee mite’, to be sure I don’t, but maybe he’ll love him more when he’s grown a bit. Your Pappy’s such a big man and he’s likely a wee bit frightened of the tiny baby just now. But as the boys grew, so too did Jacques’s apathy towards his younger son. One night Connor overheard his mother begging his father to be more attentive to the little boy.

Rocky, you can’t be so uncaring towards the darlin’ child, so you can’t. You’ve got to love him; else he’ll grow up with a terrible complex. He’s only a wee boy and he needs the love of his Pappy, so he does. Please don’t be so aloof. Can you not just try a wee bit? He’s never going to get strong and be like you without your love, to be sure. But Jacques always denied any fault and became particularly agitated with Kathleen when she raised the subject again, angrily lashing out at her: Ag man Kat, it’s not like that. I’m kept busy with the farm now, you know that – its harvest season and we work long hours. I just don’t have a lot of time to spend with the kids, that’s all

With that he’d stormed off, and Connor never heard the issue discussed again. But his father’s indifference towards Liam remained a source of irritation to him, and by the age of ten, he’d begun to think his father was actually jealous of Kathleen’s and his own devotion to Liam.

One afternoon while at rugby practice, Connor told his school friend Michael about his father’s strange attitude to Liam and asked whether Michael’s dad was the same towards his younger brother.

My father drinks a lot and yells at all of us most of the time, and he hits me and Jordan, so I don’t think he likes any of us, was Michael’s glum response. Later he told Connor that ‘things at home were terrible’ and that his parents were getting divorced. Connor felt very sorry for his best friend, so he invited him and his little brother Jordan to come and stay on the farm. Connor and Liam just loved having two more brothers to play with and when their cousins joined in, bedlam reigned in the Fouché household! Bunk beds were brought into the rumpus room and on non-school nights all four boys slept there, with Marty on the sleeper couch. Girls were of course forbidden to join the sleep-overs so poor Elsbeth, being the only girl, was excluded from much of the fun. Jacques, too, seemed to enjoy the temporary addition of extra male company. His weekend bedtime stories to the boys became more and more animated and he frequently had them all in peals of laughter long after the lights were switched off and they eventually fell asleep. But once the boys moved back home to their mother, Connor noticed that Michael hardly ever mentioned his father again.

Mammy, they’re very poor and they don’t get any money from their dad. Mikey told me he’s glad they get nothing from him because then they don’t have to see him or have anything to do with him, but I think it’s wrong that he doesn’t give them money, he said.

Well, darlin’, it’s a shame, sure it is. How does his Mammy manage?

She’s a nurse and does a lot of nightshift so she gets more money now. I think Mikey’s granny looks after them a lot, too. She’s a kind lady, but she’s so old.

Well, you tell Michael and Jordan they’re welcome here anytime, darlin’, would you do that?

Not long after that the family was invited to Michael’s mom’s small wedding on a neighbouring farm. She was marrying a doctor she’d been working with and they were about to open a medical practice just outside the town.

Do you like Alan, and are you glad your mom’s marrying him? Connor asked Michael.

At first we didn’t like him. He scared us because he’s quite strict, but he’s very kind to all of us, especially my mom, so, ja, I’m happy about it.

~~~

All four boys, similar in age, had ended up at the same school and were inseparable. Michael and Jordan spent their afternoons on the farm with the Fouché children, instead of going to after-care, and once all the homework had been completed, all the kids would go horse-riding, weather permitting, after which the patient stable hands would coach them to carefully and methodically take care the sweating creatures after every ride. Liam particularly loved grooming the horses and would often offer to relieve the others of the task. Connor was amazed that Liam was never afraid of the huge animals that towered over him, and they in return seemed to love him, even though he was constantly among their long legs.

The horses must sense something special about Liam, Mammy, Connor said one summer evening as he and his mother watched the little boy weaving his way between his stallion’s legs, crooning to him. Kathleen had laughed heartily at the sight of her younger son, small enough to stand upright beneath the huge animal’s belly. Will ya look at that! she exclaimed. He’s after teasing the great brute. What a wee pest he is, and he’ll be lucky not to get trod on, so he will.

Connor always loved to hear his mother’s laugh. Her emerald eyes would light up and her freckled nose would wrinkle into deep creases. Dainty as the sound was, she always laughed heartily and it seemed to him that her entire body vibrated with amusement. He loved his Mammy with all his heart and he especially loved her tales of her beloved Ballydehob in Ireland’s West Cork where she was born. Connor knew that the pictures he conjured up whenever she told her stories about the town’s history and folklore; its castles along the coastline and the kindly neighbours going about their daily lives in the quaint little Irish town would forever be etched in his mind.

She regaled her sons for hours with reminiscences of her escapades with her brothers and twin sisters. Connor recalled how his mom’s brilliant eyes would sparkle as she remembered all the fun they’d had together and the antics they got up to. Kathleen made her birthplace sound magical and mystical, with its lush landscape and tree-lined country lanes and neither Connor nor Liam could ever get enough of her stories, begging her to tell them over and over again.

In times past, boys, many folk in other parts of Ireland considered Ballydehob a somewhat strange sounding place. ‘Perhaps it was just a fairy-tale’, they said, and ‘that it didn’t really exist.’ Oh, but it exists alright, to be sure it does exist and it is as they said it was, truly magical, so it is.

Mammy, why does it have such a funny name? enquired Liam.

Well, me darlin’ to we Irish it’s not a funny name at all. ‘Ballydehob’ comes from the Gaelic name for the area where the two rivers meet the sea, but it’s a mouthful and so I’ll not expect you to understand it just yet, but in English it really means The Mouth at the Ford of the Two Mouths.

Reading to them from an illustrated children’s book about Ballydehob she explained a little about the copper mining in the south of the town in the 1800’s and showed them pictures of the Cappagh Mine chimney that rose up 20 metres, and it still dominates the skyline, and bewitches everyone who goes near it, so it does she’d said with a hint of intrigue in her voice and a glint in her huge green eyes. In the summer, on our way to Audley Cove to swim we’d all stop and play at the disused mine, never telling our parents who had forbidden us to go near the place. She always giggled when telling the story and the two boys would chuckle too as they imagined their mother and her siblings exploring all the secret places. Then she’d be reduced to tears when she mentioned the devastating famine that resulted from the potato crop failure in the 1840’s and how it almost wiped out all of West Cork, leaving Ballydehob decimated.

Kathleen loved bragging to the boys about her great, great grandfather Seamus who was one of only two Collins boys who survived the famine in Ballydehob. At the age of just 16, he’d left school and gone to Dublin to work as a construction worker, building the Guinness Storehouse, the fermentation plant for the St James Gate Brewery. That building, boys, became famous because it was the first multi-storey steel framed building to be built in Ireland, and what a structure it was. But, poor Seamus, he was full of longing for his hometown, so he returned to Ballydehob and married his sweet-heart Maire. They began farming potatoes and had soon begun re-establishing the potato industry. Thank Goodness, because, oh my, they did have a big family, so they did. Connor remembered how animated she became whenever she told them about Seamus and Maire’s ever-expanding family.

Connor recalled how teary eyed she was when she explained that Seamus had been badly injured during WW1 and had had to have his leg amputated above the knee. It never stopped him doing what he always wanted to do, mind she added. "Ah, our Seamus was a toughie, to be sure. His farming skills soon resulted in great wealth, boys, and