Shackles: The truth will set you free

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Shackles: The truth will set you free Page 9

by Dianne J Wilson


  Peering down her nose at Jason, she demanded, “Who is this fellow, Angus? What does he want?”

  Jason stood, donned his most charming smile and held out his hand to introduce himself. Bristling with suspicion, she brushed his hand aside and glared at her husband, “What is going on here, Angus?”

  Angus said nothing, but handed over the copied portrait.

  For a moment Lydia Grey was speechless. Turning on Jason, she asked in a dreadfully quiet voice, “Why are you here?”

  “I want to know what happened to Catherine and Rebecca.” The whole truth.

  “He put you up to this, didn’t he? Wasn’t it enough that he stole our daughter and ruined her life? It was his fault that she died, and now he wants to dig up the past and hang it out for the vultures?” She drew herself up to her full five-foot height, “Well, I’ve got news for both of you. I WILL NOT HAVE THIS FAMILY’S NAME DRAGGED THROUGH THE MUD ALL OVER AGAIN. Have I made myself clear?”

  She’d built up to such a volume that Jason was sure the whole neighborhood could hear every word.

  Throughout the whole exchange, Angus had sat with his head in his hands, growing smaller with each climb in decibel. Now he stood to his feet and planted himself between Jason and his little pressure cooker wife. Holding her gently, he spoke firmly, just loud enough to be heard over her tirade.

  “Lydia, I will see Mr. Halloway out. You go put the kettle on; I will come and make you some tea as soon as Mr. Halloway is safely on his way, okay?”

  Remarkably, the old lady responded and headed off to the kitchen with a loud sniff. She did, however, give Jason a double-dagger glare as she pushed past him. Jason recognised her as the sort of person sort who had to have the last word in every argument.

  Angus all but pushed Lydia out the lounge before coming back to see Jason out. Checking the hall to make sure it was safe; he leaned toward Jason and whispered,

  “Meet me at the corner café in five minutes. Park around the corner so that your car isn’t obvious. Wait in the car.” Then in his normal voice, “I’m sorry we can’t help you Mr. Halloway. Please don’t bother to come back. It will be better for all concerned if you let this matter go once and for all.” In front of his chest, hidden from sight from behind, he held up his right hand with all five fingers spread, then pointed off to his left. Jason nodded with a grin, but responded out loud,

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Grey. I apologize for any distress that I’ve caused. That was never my intention.” The last was added in all honesty. “Good evening, Sir.”

  ___________________________________________________

  Jason waited for five minutes. No Angus. Ten more minutes went by with no sign of the old man. Jason’s patience was beginning to wear thin. Surely he hadn’t heard wrong? Maybe the old codger suffered from memory loss and had forgotten that he’d arranged this secret rendezvous. Forty-six minutes later Jason had had enough.

  He turned the key in the ignition, and was about to pull out into the deserted street.

  “Jason, wait another minute.”

  Frustration boiled over into rebellion. Turning the steering wheel sharply to the right, he floored the accelerator, pulled halfway out of the parking space and cursed as the engine died. Smacking the steering wheel, he yelled,

  “Come on! Stupid car.”

  At that moment Angus tapped on the window. Embarrassment heated Jason’s cheeks as he leaned over to open the passenger door. “Sorry, I’m not very good at waiting.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for being so late. It took more time than I expected to settle Lydia. She’s a real firecracker. Once the fuse is lit all you can do is run for cover and pick up the pieces afterwards. She’s resting now, so we have a little time.”

  Rolling back into the parking space, Jason pulled up the hand brake, and turned to Angus, impatience barely hidden. Forcing himself to breathe, he asked, “Why do you want to see me Angus? Is it to do with Catherine and Rebecca?”

  Angus nodded. Jason felt his pulse quicken.

  “I’ve spent many years wondering if we did the right thing, wondering what the outcome would have been had we handled the whole situation differently.” He rubbed a hand over his bald head and shrugged.

  “Let me start at the beginning.

  From the moment Catherine and Stanton met, there was a very special connection between them. The young lass fell head over heels for him, and he was certainly no better off. I quite liked him, seemed to be a hard worker – very diligent. Lydia took instant exception to him, I think she saw the bond between them and couldn’t cope with it. Catherine was her little girl, and Stanton was not good enough. You see, Lydia grew up in a railway house on the West bank, and spent the rest of her life trying to escape the fact. Even now, the family name and wealth are very important to her.”

  Jason got the impression that this was a gross understatement.

  Angus continued, “I was getting my own business established at that stage, and desperate for some peace at home. You know the old saying about the ‘squeaky wheel getting the oil’? Well, I oiled the squeaky wheel and gave in to Lydia, instead of listening to my gut. We sent Catherine away to a boarding school in Pretoria. I’ve regretted it every day since. Lydia is a difficult woman, but the strange thing is, when I stand up to her she becomes as meek as a lamb. I didn’t know that back then.” Another head shake, “O, what I’d give to live again through my youth, but with the wisdom that I’ve gathered over time. I suppose it’s planned this way for a reason.”

  “Apologies for rambling. Back to the matter at hand.” Angus paused, gathering his thoughts. “The night before she was to leave, they got together and, well — Rebecca is the result of that night. Lydia was beside herself. She couldn’t see past what all this was doing to the ‘family name’. Quite frankly, I would exchange everything we have, including our good standing in the community, to have my daughter back — and my granddaughter.” He swallowed hard.

  Desperately trying to sound unaffected, Angus continued.

  “Moving on. Catherine couldn’t stay in boarding school in the condition she was in. We transferred her to one of the safe-houses for unwed moms. They were very good. Catherine had her baby, but was also able to finish high school. The safe-house helped her find employment after that. They were strict on the girls, not allowing them much free time, or any social life even. When she turned 21, she was free to leave. She decided to come home, and that’s when the accident happened.” Even by the faint light of the moon, Jason could see the ravages of grief on Angus’s face.

  He continued, “Rebecca did survive the shipwreck.”

  The simple statement sent chills down Jason’s spine.

  “The Coast Guard who assisted with the rescue brought her to us personally. He also broke the news of Catherine’s death to us. I’ve never seen my wife so close to a complete breakdown. She lost it, in every respect. It was all too much for her to cope with and she insisted that we send Rebecca away. I’ll be honest with you, I feared for her sanity. I arranged for Rebecca to be placed in an orphanage in Pretoria where she remained until she turned 21. I phoned once in a while, just to check on her progress.” He chuckled, “I was fortunate that the housemother took a shine to me, otherwise they wouldn’t have told me anything.”

  Impatience lending a sharp edge to his voice, Jason asked, “Where did she go from there? Do you know where she is now?”

  “She became quite an asset to the orphanage when she was older; she actually ended up working as part of the Administration Team. But the laws changed, funding ran out and they were forced to close the orphanage. The housemother was relocated to some remote township and Rebecca was placed in employment with a family somewhere in South Africa. The employment agency wouldn’t tell me anything at all.”

  “Why didn’t Rebecca contact you?”

  “Two reasons. Firstly, I never spoke to her directly, I even asked the housemother not to tell her that I called. I thought it would just conf
use her. Secondly, her memory of anything before the shipwreck had been blocked off. The trauma of watching her Mom drown—” Angus’s voice trailed off and his hands began to shake. Biting back a sob, Angus said, “She can’t trace us, because she doesn’t know that we exist.” Then he added in a voice broken with emotion,

  “What an awful mess. I don’t know that it can be fixed.”

  A fresh resolve rose in Jason. He was doing the right thing, and he knew it. Placing a firm hand on the old man’s frail shoulder, he said “I’m going to find Rebecca. If she’s still alive, I will find her. When I do, I’m going to bring her to you so that you can put things right and find some peace.”

  Placing a shaking hand on Jason’s, Angus spoke softly, “You’re a good lad, Jason. Thank you, really — thank you.” He cleared his throat with a gruff cough. “Now let’s see about getting your car started.”

  Jason popped the hood and they both got out to have a look.

  “Aah, here’s your problem.” Angus reached in and jiggled a loose wire. “Loose connection to your immobilizer. Try starting her up.”

  Jason got in and turned the key. The engine immediately responded. “Thank you.” Jason said. Unbelievable.

  Angus handed over a bit of paper with a hurried scrawl on. “For what it’s worth, this is the name of the employment agency that placed Rebecca. I doubt that you will get any joy out of them, but it’s the only information we have.”

  ___________________________________________________

  Chapter 10 – Fleeing and Finding

  Stutterheim held its own peculiar brand of Arts Festival annually during the July school holidays. The term ‘arts’ was rather loosely applied to a collection of home made articles, carefully crafted by members of the Stutterheim community. One could buy anything from hand-crocheted blankets, to Tant Sannie’s5 Marmalade or even a cleverly fashioned wire push car from George the garden worker.

  Another great attraction aimed at the little people, were the animal rides. They could choose to ride a donkey, a sheep or even a cow. This year, some over-enthusiastic soul had imported several ostriches for the week, though this pleasure was strongly recommended for adults only. The ostriches had minds of their own and were partial to taking off at top speed in an attempt to dislodge the unwelcome guest on board. The fact that one had to sign an indemnity form before attempting a ride on one of these said it all.

  Live entertainment of the less talented variety was provided on every second street corner by local buskers. The more accomplished artists were accommodated on a makeshift stage at the far end of the town. A huge tent had been proudly erected for this purpose. It straddled the main road from curb to curb, effectively preventing any traffic from driving through the middle of the festival. Here dancers, musicians, singers and comedians kept up a non-stop stream of entertainment. In the evenings, the venue was used by Stutterheim’s Amateur Dramatic Society for their rendition of ‘The Sound of Music’. All this blended together to create a healthy buzz that saw the festival double in attendance every year.

  The mountain air was crisp and fresh at this time of morning. Rebecca breathed deeply, savoring this rare moment of freedom. Most of her mind was still locked beyond reach, but her body was responding to the change from grueling hours of early mornings and late nights. She felt sure that in her normal life, she had never had this much time to herself. Time outside a schedule, duties, someone else’s priorities.

  The Goodwood’s were busy at one of the stalls, bargaining with the stallholder over some antique collectable that had taken their fancy. Rebecca wandered on, taking in the smells, sounds and colors. There was little chance of getting lost as the whole festival took place straight down the main road of Stutterheim.

  Constantly amazed at the friendliness of everyone she met, Rebecca felt as if she’d become part of a huge extended family. For a moment, she stopped walking and simply turned in a slow circle, studying the faces of the people surrounding her. Happy faces, with eyes full of love and passion for life. Any eye she caught readily offered a smile.

  Except for one man. Rebecca did a double take. Looking at him, she thought how good it felt not to be the corn in the tomato field for a change. Wearing a black leather jacket over extremely tight jeans, Rebecca noticed his wiry frame that suggested that he’d seen too few square meals. His left hand sported a thick dressing — as if he’d been recently injured.

  Rebecca watched the man skulking between two stalls. Outwardly, he blended perfectly with the cosmopolitan crowd, but the vibe he gave off set him apart. His eyes moved ceaselessly, never resting, never content. Unlike the rest of the crowd, he was not having fun.

  Unconsciously staring, Rebecca froze, transfixed by the tickle of recognition in her mind. There was something so familiar about this man.

  He started turning towards her. Rebecca felt her pulse quicken. Every fiber in her body screamed, “GET DOWN—DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU.” Despite this, Rebecca found her body helplessly trapped by her numb mind, and she stood spellbound in plain sight.

  Seconds stretched to eternity. Rebecca tried to console herself, thinking she was part of the crowd, another random person, and hoped that the man would not look at her too hard. His eyes locked hers. She saw the triumph on his face, instantly consumed by anger and lust. His expression darkened. Something so black, Rebecca had no name for it. He started moving toward her.

  ___________________________________________________

  Kenneth found Hazel by the washing line. “He’s gone after her! Oh Hazel, what if he finds her?”

  Hazel calmly pegged the last pair of trousers. “Breathe, Baas, breathe. Calm down. You’re talking about Claude and Rebecca? How do you know?”

  “I’ve been phoning the hospitals to see if anyone matching her description had been treated between Saturday and now. On Saturday night, a young woman with shoulder length black hair was admitted to Queenstown Hospital. She’d been in an accident and was suffering from severe concussion and related amnesia. The elderly couple who brought her in, supposedly her parents, is from Stutterheim.”

  Hazel shrugged, not seeing the point.

  Kenneth continued, “I found this on the telephone notepad.” He handed over a blank page. Hazel’s eyebrow lifted and she looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. His dear face was so serious. The only thing that kept her from laughing was the anxiety in her own heart about Rebecca.

  “Sorry, Baas. I don’t get it.”

  “Here, let me show you.” Taking the page, he held it up at just the right angle to the sun. Indentations from what had been written on the previous page showed up clearly.

  “P. Goodwood. No 62, Forest Road, Stutterheim.” It was written in Claude’s distinctive scrawl.

  “We haven’t seen him since Monday. I went to check his room, his bed definitely hasn’t been slept in—” Kenneth let out a shuddery breath, “—and his suitcase is gone.”

  “Dear God, I think you’re right.” Hazel closed her eyes and her head dropped.

  “Hazel, I know Claude. He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants. There must be something we can do. Dad won’t let me go look for her; to him she’s just another servant. If she’s still missing by the end of the week, I must find a replacement. What are we going to do?”

  “There is something we can do. We are going to pray.”

  Frustration laced his tone. “Hazel, I don’t think that’s going to be enough. We need to DO something.”

  “My Jesus built the earth we’re standing on. He hung the sun in the sky and named every star. He can look after one person if we ask him. Besides, He loves her more than we do.”

  Kenneth felt the strength leave his limbs. “You mean right here? Right now?”

  Hazel nodded.

  “I suppose there is nothing else we can do.”

  Hazel smiled and squeezed his shoulder in empathy. “Trust me, this is the best thing we can do. We’re wasting time.”

  _____________________________
______________________

  He started moving towards her with deadly intent. Feet rooted to the gravel with fear, Rebecca watched helplessly as the distance between them diminished.

  Screams erupted from the far end of the street, shaking her loose from the trance. Rebecca looked up to see a frantic flock of ostriches barreling down on her, terrified riders yelling and screaming. A dog had gotten into the ostrich ride enclosure and had run amok barking, setting off the feathery panic.

  Finally able to respond to her insides, Rebecca turned and ran, putting the ostriches between her and the man in black. Fear and panic gave wings to her feet. Dodging and ducking, Rebecca ran – not daring to look back. The fear inside her swelled to bursting point. Her heart couldn’t take any more —

  —Flash

  Shooting bolt upright, Rebecca gasped awake. All was black around her, lit only by the faintest sliver of moonlight through a gap in the curtains. Breath coming in short gasps; she tried to breathe, to swallow. She heard the familiar creak of the wooden floorboards outside her bedroom door. Eyes wide and heart pounding, she slid out of bed. The words from her dream thundered through her brain “—get out of the house. Run. NOW.”

  Slipping behind a “Doug’s Donut’s” van, Rebecca peered back in the direction she’d just come. The man in black was headed in her direction, searching the crowd for her. As she turned away, her foot slipped in the thick mud and she caught herself on the edge of the open caravan window. The impact sent waves of pain through her injured shoulder. Biting back a scream, she turned to head in the opposite direction of the man following her.

  —Flash

  Moving quickly in a half-crouch, she crossed to the window. She was on the second story with nothing to climb down. Just perfect. Swinging one leg over the window sill, she balanced for a moment, caught in indecision. Glancing back, she saw her bedroom door handle arch downward. “Oh God, help.” Not daring a second look, she half leapt half fell out of the window, her pajama leg hooking on the window catch. The soft material ripped, and she crashed down head first, landing on her right shoulder. Blinding pain shot through her body. Biting back a scream, Rebecca forced herself upright. Her breathing formed clouds in the bitter July air. Fighting a wave of nausea, she pushed herself to her feet. Dimly aware of the creak of her bedroom door opening, the words echoed again “—Run. NOW.” After casting one final glance to the window above, she did.

 

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