‘But I raised the alarm! I called Yair. He injected her with insulin.’
‘I put it to you that you didn’t raise the alarm for some hours after you had injected Tiffany. Had you done so earlier, the doctors might have been able to save her.’
‘You are talking nonsense. Why would I do that?’
‘I would have thought your motive was perfectly clear.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You knew about your father’s will. You knew that if Tiffany had a baby, the baby would take half of your inheritance. And that wasn’t fair, was it? I put it to you that you when you saw Tiffany lying in the entrance hall, you remembered Brenda Silverman – and how she had died in that very same house. So you decided to inject Tiffany with your insulin, getting rid of both her and her baby – and so keep your father’s estate all for yourself.’
‘No! That’s not true.’
‘But there’s one thing you didn’t know.’
‘What?’
‘It was all for nothing,’ Advocate Weinberg said sorrowfully.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Tiffany wasn’t pregnant. There was no baby.’
The blood drained from Gilad’s face. ‘What? You’re lying!’
‘No. Tiffany lied to you, to everyone. If she hadn’t, she would probably still be alive, wouldn’t she? You’re not really a killer, are you?’
‘Oh my God! Oh my God! No. No – it can’t be true!’ Gilad clung to the railing in the witness box and howled.
Epilogue
March 2018
Aviva
Aviva stood on the deck of the Mariner and gripped the handrail. Before her, Mitre Peak—said to be the most photographed mountain on New Zealand’s South Island—peeped through ribbons of misty cloud while the rising sun burnished its glaciers an icy gold. The glass-like water reflected the images of the towering mountains that reached through the swaths of mist right down to the shore. She understood why Rudyard Kipling had reportedly designated this place ‘the eighth wonder of the world’. The silence was deafening.
‘Want some coffee?’ De Wet asked, and handed her a steaming white mug.
Aviva smiled at her towering brother-in-law. She cradled the mug in her cold hands. She had considered going back to the cabin for her gloves, but she hadn’t wanted to give up the extraordinary sensation of serenity and solitude she’d found in this remote paradise.
‘Where’s Arno?’ he asked in a low voice.
‘In the cabin. Mattie and the baby are still sleeping. I just wanted to see all this, enjoy the peace and quiet.’ Whispering seemed to be the most natural thing to do, even though there was no one else around. ‘Is Tim still sleeping?’
‘Ja. He’s making the most of being away from the farm to sleep as late as he can,’ De Wet grinned. ‘But he’ll be up soon. I also think I heard Ma rattling around her cabin.’
Aviva smiled. Her mother-in-law had made a remarkable recovery after her horrific ordeal and seemed to be falling in love with her new home.
‘I never thought I’d find anywhere as beautiful as the Free State,’ Annamari had confessed to Aviva as they’d watched the more energetic passengers on the overnight cruise heading off in kayaks across the still, iron-grey waters of Milford Sound the previous afternoon. A storm had appeared to be brewing, but Tim had been the only one to call it correctly and predict the rain would hold off.
‘But this New Zealand is wonderful – and so safe!’ Annamari had enthused.
‘Mmm, coffee. Just what we need,’ Steyn said, as he came through the doors of the Mariner’s main cabin. ‘Don’t you want to go get me a mug?’ he asked Nguyen Hoa.
‘Don’t you think it would be nice to get some for your fiancée for once, seeing as she always has to get you coffee when you’re flying,’ Aviva suggested gently.
‘I don’t mind,’ the pretty, dark-haired woman said. She was like a doll, Aviva thought, with perfect skin and almond eyes – and so tiny, she barely reached Steyn’s shoulder. She made Aviva feel positively enormous and clumsy. Her name, she had told Aviva, meant flower in Vietnamese.
‘Look, there’s some seals – over there, on that rock!’ De Wet said, and pointed at a large, flat rock on which about a dozen fur seals were sunning themselves.
‘We saw some penguins not far from there, when we were kayaking,’ Hoa said. She smiled up at Steyn as he handed her a mug. ‘Cảm ơn,’ she said sweetly. She sipped and tried to hide her grimace. ‘I think next time I will make my own coffee,’ she whispered to Aviva.
‘I think next time, you need to teach Steyn how to make a decent cup of coffee.’ The two women laughed softly together.
A tall, fair man stepped through the door of the main cabin, and held it open for Annamari who emerged onto the deck carrying a steaming mug.
‘Thank you, Tim,’ she said stiffly.
Aviva turned away to hide her smile. Annamari was having a hard time accepting that when De Wet had introduced Tim as his partner, he didn’t mean that the handsome blond man was only his business partner who ran the farm when he was away playing cricket.
‘It’s wrong!’ she’d declared to Aviva, soon after Aviva and Arno had arrived at De Wet’s farm near Auckland. They had gone upstairs together so her mother-in-law could check on the children, again. ‘It’s not natural. It’s against everything I believe in.’
Aviva had watched Annamari gently tucking the blankets around Becca. She was besotted with both her grandchildren, Mattie and the baby who Aviva had wanted to call Benji – after Zaidah. Arno had flatly refused to inflict a boy’s name on his daughter, so Becca it was.
‘MaAnni,’ she’d said quietly – she couldn’t bring herself to call Annamari just plain ‘Ma’, and Mrs van Zyl was too formal, ‘Arno and I are also against everything you believe in.’
Annamari had flushed and pursed her lips. And the subject had not been raised again.
Aviva laughed as a little whirlwind came tearing out onto the deck and flung himself at her legs. ‘Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,’ Mattie said. He turned around shyly and added: ‘Lo Ouma.’
Annamari beamed.
‘Where’s Daddy?’ Aviva asked.
‘Inside. Too cold for Bec’ca.’
Aviva agreed. Even in her waterproof jacket—which had provided scant protection against the spray when the captain had edged the Mariner within a couple of metres of the Stirling Falls yesterday—she was still a little chilly.
‘I’m going in. It’s nearly time for breakfast,’ she announced. She was so pleased Arno had insisted that the entire family take this cruise on Milford Sound. It was turning out to be the absolute highlight of their tour of exploration of New Zealand – and an excellent opportunity for her to get to know Arno’s family.
‘With Ma and De Wet settled in New Zealand—and Steyn about to move there soon too—it would be nice to go see the place for ourselves,’ Arno had said when they’d returned to London after Yair had been acquitted. ‘There’s nothing to keep us in England now Zaidah has gone. We could go back to South Africa, I suppose – but I’m afraid I’m not as optimistic as everyone else about Cyril Ramaphosa becoming president. Sure, he’s miles better than Zuma, but I’m worried about the growing anti-white sentiment there. I mean, the ANC has decided that land expropriation without compensation is acceptable – and that is pretty much aimed at white landowners and farmers. It’ll be Zimbabwe all over again. And even if that doesn’t happen, there’s so much that has to be sorted out – especially the education system. If that isn’t fixed, and soon, South Africa will have yet another lost, unemployable, angry generation. But I can’t see how it can be fixed when we simply don’t have enough qualified teachers, and those we do have were so badly educated themselves, that they’re pretty ineffective.’
‘It can’t be as hopeless as that! What if the DA wins the national election in 2019?’ she asked.
‘I’m afraid I’ve kinda lost faith in the DA too. With all the infighting in Cape Town, they’re
almost as bad as the ANC. And how the hell they allowed Cape Town to get to the point where the taps could run dry I’ll never understand. I just don’t know what they stand for any more. All they seem to have done in the past couple of years is fight against Zuma. With Zuma gone, they’ve nothing to offer. At least not that I can see.’
‘Well, I’ll be quite honest. I don’t want to live in South Africa again either,’ she said. ‘I don’t want my children to have to live behind high walls and be too scared to ride a bike in the street or to go and play in a park. I know Yair and Zivah are still there, but I’m pretty sure Yair is thinking about leaving. After what he’s been through, who can blame him? Why don’t we just stay in England?’
Arno had looked thoughtful. ‘Avi, I miss my family. I really do. I’d love Mattie and Becca to grow up surrounded by a grandmother and uncles and aunts – well, other uncles,’ he’d said with a grin.
Now he walked into the main cabin, holding Mattie with one hand and pushing Becca’s pushchair with the other, looking like the clean-shaven, fair-haired Arno she had fallen in love with.
‘Where’s your family?’ he asked.
‘Here,’ said Yair as he plonked himself down next to her. Zivah and Tracy arrived soon after, chatting animatedly.
‘Red and I have discussed it,’ Yair said quietly to Aviva. ‘Don’t tell the others yet, but we are definitely going to put in an offer on that house in Auckland. It’s perfect – there’s a lovely cottage for Zivah and everything. The emigration lawyer said we shouldn’t have a problem getting residence visas if we bought a property. It would just be perfect if you and Arno came to live here too. Please think about it, Avi. I don’t want to live halfway around the world from you. Oh my God, who would have thought I’d ever say that to you!’
They both laughed, delighted at finally having a chance of becoming what twins should be.
‘Look! Dolphins!’ Tim yelled.
Everyone rushed out to the deck. And watched in awe as a pod of bow-riding dolphins leaped and frolicked as they followed the Mariner along the Sound towards the Tasman Sea.
‘Dolphins – the sign of birth and renewal,’ Arno murmured in her ear. ‘I think that’s a pretty important sign, don’t you?’
Aviva looked at everyone standing on the deck, their delight at the graceful creatures and spectacular surroundings writ large on all their faces: Arno with Becca snuggled warmly in his arms and Mattie; Yair and Tracy; Zivah; Annamari – and De Wet and Tim, Steyn and Hoa. Her beautiful, beautiful family.
She reached up and kissed her husband. ‘Yes. I think it’s time we listened to the dolphins.’
Acknowledgements
Of the three Silverman Saga books, this final one took far longer to write than anticipated. Not that it was difficult to write: in fact, when I finally set my mind to it and regained my writing ‘mojo’, it flowed. A great deal of that is thanks to the kindness and patience of many individuals who were incredibly generous, sharing knowledge and expertise from their respective fields:
Glynne Zackon, manager at Johannesburg Chevrah Kadisha Community Social Services and social worker extraordinaire, shared her views on the ethical dilemmas social workers face in the difficult environment in which they have to operate. A disclaimer: Although I use the name ‘the Chev’ (Chevrah Kadisha) in A Beautiful Family, and particularly in Deceive and Defend, this was done to give authenticity to what is essentially a fictitious organisation. The Chev of my novels is based purely on what I imagine could occur in any large community-based social service organisation.
Retired reservist detective warrant officer Rodney Ackerman patiently explained the workings of a police investigation and let me access some of the dreadful conditions in which suspects and awaiting trial prisoners are held at police stations. Together with some of my own research, this enabled me (hopefully) to capture some of the horrors that are all too common in the euphemistically named South African Department of Correctional Services.
Associate Professor Sean Kaliski, head of the division of forensic psychiatry in the Department of Psychiatry and Mental Health at the University of Cape Town, was extremely generous and patient in answering my ever-growing list of questions. He also provided background and research on the ins and outs of mental health within the context of the South African criminal justice system.
Advocate Mannie Witz allowed me to pick his brain and draw on his considerable experience in the handling of murder trials. Our discussion gave me insight into how lawyers go about defending their clients, as well as how the South African criminal justice system works.
To all these experts: my heartfelt thanks and an acknowledgment that any factual errors or misinterpretations here are a result of my own shortcomings, and possibly a little creative licence.
I would also like to thank James (Jim) Mitchell for so willingly and graciously agreeing to edit Deceive and Defend. Jim was the chief sub-editor at the Johannesburg daily newspaper where I started my career as a reporter. I would occasionally help out as a dash (temporary) sub-editor (which made Jim my boss) and I recall him thrashing me at Scrabble in the wee morning hours after the paper had been ‘put to bed’. He then went to another newspaper where he became one of South Africa’s most respected book editors. Having a man of his calibre, experience and nit-picking expertise critically appraise the raw draft of one’s work is both a terrifying experience and a huge honour. Jim, thank you for your input, insights and corrections!
My grateful thanks also go to Sue Purbrick, friend, avid reader, talented writer, book blogger and fellow member of The Book Club (TBC), whose critical, eagle eye spotted all manner of typos and funnies I’d missed despite all my reads and re-reads.
And once again, I have to express my eternal gratitude to Francois Engelbrecht – undoubtedly one of the most talented graphic designers in South Africa. For the third time, Francois has designed a brilliant cover for my book, and once again, he has produced a design that absolutely encapsulates the very essence of my story. They say you can’t tell a book by its cover, but Francois’s amazing work absolutely enhances every word I have written.
Finally, I would like to thank my wonderful daughters for their unconditional love and support, especially over the last few difficult years. My thanks too to my extended family, my friends and the many people who have become my friends since reading my earlier novels. Without your encouragement to keep writing and to finish the Silverman Saga trilogy, I doubt I would have finally put my head down and completed it. So here it is – better late than never.
After three books and four years, it’s definitely goodbye to the characters who populated A Beautiful Family, When Time Fails and Deceive and Defend. For now.
A different story, with different characters, is starting to infiltrate my mind. Unlike the Silverman Saga books, this one already has a tentative title. But the writing process is still in its very, very, very early stages, so that could change. We’ll see.
Message from the Author
Thank you for reading Deceive and Defend. If you have enjoyed the book, please will you take a few minutes to rate it, and if possible, write a short review – even a single sentence will do. This really will be greatly appreciated as it will help to boost the book’s rating, and hopefully its sales.
Thanks for your time.
Kind regards,
Marilyn Cohen de Villiers
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Did you love Deceive and Defend? Then you should read A Beautiful Family by Marilyn Cohen de Villiers!
When Johannesburg socialite Brenda Silverman dies in mysterious circumstance in her palatial, well secured home, questions are inevitable.
Did she commit suicide? Was it an accidental drug ove
rdose? Or did her death have something to do with her husband, Alan?
Alan Silverman is a handsome, charming businessman with impeccable credentials: a former political activist who fled South Africa in the 1980s and returned to help build the new democracy; a loving husband and devoted father; a pillar of Johannesburg's Jewish community; and an intimate of South Africa's ruling African National Congress elite. He is also a man hiding a terrible secret.
Tracy Jacobs, a young journalist, is assigned to cover the story but as her investigations start to uncover cracks in the beautiful Silverman family facade, she finds herself in conflict with her own community.
Will Brenda's inquest finally reveal the truth?
Spanning nearly forty years and three countries (South Africa, England and Israel), A Beautiful Family confirms a horrible reality: that "things like that" can and do happen to people just like us.
Read more at Marilyn Cohen de Villiers’s site.
Also by Marilyn Cohen de Villiers
Silverman Saga
A Beautiful Family
When Time Fails
Deceive and Defend (Coming Soon)
Watch for more at Marilyn Cohen de Villiers’s site.
About the Author
I was born and raised in Johannesburg's northern suburbs, the youngest daughter of an extraordinarily ordinary, happy, stable, traditional (rather than observant) Jewish family. After matriculating at Northview High School, I went to Rhodes University in Grahamstown where I completed a B. Journalism degree. This was followed by a "totally useless" - according to my parents - English Honours degree (first class), also at Rhodes.
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