‘Piet found me and brought me home. He promised to care for you as if you were his own son.’
Sam lifted his arm and put it round me and hugged me to him. Ella was still clinging to my hand. I felt their energy about me. Had I said enough? But not too much?
‘I wish Dad had known before he died,’ Ella flashed Sam a quick smile. ‘He would have loved you, Sam. He would’ve loved getting to know you.’
Sam didn’t respond. He was watching the sea, where the waves were being broken up by the gale into foamy disarray as they neared Long Beach.
‘Sam? Will you forgive me for deceiving you?’
‘Oh Ma,’ he turned to me, ‘there’s nothing to forgive.’
‘And keeping quiet about it for so long?’
‘You did what you had to do. You could’ve lost your job, we’d have had to move away.’ He paused. ‘Pa once said he’d rescued you. I thought he was joking,’ Sam managed a grin in the direction of Seaforth, ‘but he did, after all.’
I nodded.
‘What about Grandpa and Grandma? Did they know?’
‘No one knows. And it’s worse than you realise. I might have gone to jail – and what would they have done to you? I couldn’t risk it. We still can’t risk it.’
‘You mean it’s got to remain a secret?’ Ella broke in. ‘We can’t say we’re brother and sister?’
‘No,’ I said firmly, ‘not while you’re in South Africa. You’ll have to wait till you’re outside the country before you can hug in public.’
‘Well then,’ she directed a merry glance at Sam, breaking the spell of tears, ‘we’ll have to have our celebration here – quickly and in private!’
They both began to laugh. She seized Sam’s hand and began to twirl around, her yellow dress flying about her legs. I watched them, loving her spirit. Please, Jesus or Allah, if you’re still here on the Terrace, please keep them safe, allow them to leave here and never look back.
‘Ella?’ I asked, when their impromptu dance ended and they sat down on the wall. ‘Will you forgive me for springing this on you, too?’
Ella, remarkable Ella, threw back her head and laughed.
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ she cried joyously ‘I’ve found a brother!’
The wind tugged at my cloak and I pulled it more tightly around me. I’d need to leave soon to make the late-afternoon bus. Pa would be waiting for his supper. I might tell him about Ella tonight, and about Sam’s father, before Sam himself got home. I knew Sam would be a while. He’d want to walk home the long way, across the mountain, to absorb the fact of his new half-family.
‘I’m going to leave you two.’ I looked about but we were still alone. ‘Be careful, dears.’
I stood up.
‘Shall we meet, Ella? You and I? At the hotel tomorrow afternoon?’
‘Yes, of course. I’d be delighted.’
We kissed, her fair hair soft against my cheek, and then I embraced Sam.
‘I love you, Ma,’ he whispered, only for me to hear. ‘You’re the bravest person I know.’
Chapter Seventy-Five
The wind swung to the opposite direction overnight, whipping the waves into a different pattern and seeding the air with a fine debris of earth, spray, and shredded vegetation. Unable to sleep, Ella took an early morning walk – more of a stagger – to Jubilee Square, then retreated to the hotel lounge to wait impatiently for Louise Philander and read the last of the war logs. Maybe they would settle her, she reflected. She could do with some steadying. There was a nervous anticipation in her that was running riot.
War log
October, 1945
En route to Britain
I have a beautiful baby daughter, called Ella, just born.
So far, there is no softening from Elizabeth.
But I still believe there’s a future for L and I.
A horizon that will no longer have to be secret. Or out of reach.
‘Ella?’
Louise stood in front of her, immaculate and graceful in her white uniform. Ella had no idea of nursing hierarchy, but Louise’s various brooches must signal a position of considerable seniority.
‘How good to see you!’ Ella jumped up and took her hand, remembering just in time that they probably shouldn’t kiss. ‘Do sit down. Would you like some tea?’
‘Yes, tea would be lovely. If they can manage it.’
Ella hurried over to reception.
‘Could we have some tea in the lounge, please? For two.’
It was a risk, of course, and the receptionist appeared on the edge of an objection – serving a non-white woman in a white hotel etc. – so Ella added, severely, ‘It’s a business meeting.’
The lounge was empty apart from themselves, and the familiar waiter soon appeared with their tea and a plate of biscuits. He nodded at Louise. She smiled back and raised her eyebrows.
Ella waited. She’d learnt enough of Louise’s character in their two meetings to know that this get-together was not an idle arrangement, nor was the venue lightly chosen. It might not involve another secret, but Louise clearly had something more she wished to share, and was not afraid to do so in public.
Louise sipped her tea.
‘Do you know the substance of the letter your father wrote to me, Ella?’
‘I do,’ Ella replied. ‘Daddy left you an inheritance. He hoped it would be enough to give you independence.’
‘It certainly will,’ Louise said with feeling. ‘I’m very grateful. Perhaps I might find somewhere better to live one day, when the country changes.’ She glanced outside, then across at Ella. ‘Somewhere closer to the sea.’
She had the most extraordinary eyes, Ella registered, tilted at the edges, and in a shade of golden brown that highlighted her skin.
‘I’m glad. That’s what Dad would’ve wanted.’
‘You must be wondering why I asked to meet you.’
‘Yes,’ Ella replied. ‘And without Sam.’
Louise smiled.
‘Today isn’t about your brother, Ella, or how it’ll be between you. You have the rest of your lives to build a lasting bond. No,’ she paused, ‘I came here today to talk about you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. To say that you’re a credit to David, and a credit to yourself.’ She reached forward and squeezed Ella’s hand. ‘Your parents were estranged because of me. A lesser daughter would not have been so generous.’
Ella found herself, for a moment, without words. The apology she’d prepared – about coming between her father and Louise, about being the reason they couldn’t marry, slipped away, unneeded. Louise had taken on the last potential barrier between them, and erased it in a few graceful sentences.
The wind moaned around the side of the building.
Louise leant back in her chair and glanced once more out of the window. ‘My father, Solly, used to carry me on his shoulders to Seaforth beach in a blow like this. You’ve been there? That’s where I learnt to swim, among the egg rocks. And to collect shells. My late husband,’ her voice shook, ‘used to dive for shells. Cowries, mussels, apple-coloured urchins.’
‘That’s where you gave Daddy the Pink Lady.’
‘Yes. If you hold it to your ear, you can hear the sea. Wherever you are in the world. Or,’ her almond eyes rested on Ella, ‘the whisper of someone who loves you.’
Ella repeated the phrase to herself. ‘The whisper of someone who loves you.’
How beautiful! Remember it. Remember the words …
‘The sea,’ Louise gestured outside, ‘was my first love affair. And maybe your father’s, too.’
‘You’re right,’ Ella nodded. ‘He said everything began with the sea.’
Louise reached over and poured a second cup of tea for both of them.
‘Why did you come, Ella? You could have used a lawyer to find us. Handled everything from abroad. It would’ve been easier, less harrowing.’
Ella stared at her.
‘Daddy wanted me to find you. It wasn’
t just about delivering the letters. He knew I might find what I was searching for.’
‘And what were you searching for?’
Ella shifted in her chair. How to explain that somehow, somewhere, in the words and gestures of this woman was a piece of her own history, a piece she needed in order for her life to become whole, and for her future to be meaningful?
‘I think,’ Ella began cautiously, ‘I’ve been searching for you all my life.’
‘For me?’
‘Yes,’ Ella smiled. The tears were close, but she could hold on a little longer. There’d been too many tears of late. ‘You’ve been a silent presence since childhood. Dad knew that. He said meeting you would be potentially life-changing.’
Louise got up from her chair and walked to the window.
Ella grabbed a handkerchief out of her bag and blew her nose.
Louise turned. For a moment she was framed against a sky strewn with pale, wind-blown cloud. Slender, golden, out of reach, as Dad put it. Tears shone in her eyes.
Then she walked back and sat down.
For a moment they were both silent.
‘The world turns in strange ways, Ella. I’ll take you to meet my father. He met David years before I did.’ She paused, as if wondering whether to say more.
‘Please go on,’ Ella encouraged.
‘Your father’s ship, HMS Durban, arrived in a north wind stronger than this one. I saw his ship in the bay, through the rain squalls. Solly fixed Durban’s damaged machine gun mounts. Six years later, David would be my patient.’
Ella felt a rising excitement. Louise’s words would elevate the war logs, offer the contrast, the emotion, to balance Dad’s fine detail. If Ella could gain her trust, bring the fragments together …
‘Will you tell me about your life?’ she blurted. ‘You could come and visit us at Corbey!’
And perhaps, in the telling, there’d be healing for both of them.
Louise’s eyes widened in astonishment. She glanced back to the window.
The sea frothed beneath the gale.
‘Your father said the wind was different at Corbey, less energetic.’
I want to take you there.
Ella waited in a fever of impatience. Maybe she was selfish, thinking only of her own fulfilment.
Louise turned back. Delight flooded across her face.
‘Thank you, Ella. One day I will.’
Chapter Seventy-Six
Sam and Ella met for the last time at Ricketts Terrace. Ella had hoped to stay longer – her conversations with Louise were providing extraordinary insights – but the arrival of a telegram at the hotel meant she had to fly back straightaway instead of returning by sea. It was the Hall’s roof. A winter storm had done substantial damage and decisions had to be made. It was her first major challenge as owner.
Sam would be accompanying her, at a distance, to Cape Town airport to see her off. But this was the place where they would say their proper farewell until they met again at Corbey.
His ticket was booked for two months hence, by which time his passport would’ve been issued, according to the office he’d visited the previous week. There were no outstanding issues, he was assured. No questions being asked. No guilt by association with banned or disappeared individuals, or pretty white girls.
The wind had abated and the bay spread languidly before them. The Simonsberg stretched above.
‘I didn’t expect this to happen,’ she said, nudging his arm.
‘It’s something in the air,’ he replied, caution gone, dark-blue eyes dancing with mischief.
You have a job to do for me, Dad had whispered. Potentially joyful. Potentially life-changing.
Seagulls circled above a fishing boat battling through choppy swells.
1969
I sat on the ledge by the aerial ropeway and looked down on the buildings of the old Royal Naval Hospital. A child’s tricycle lay outside my old ward. Patterned curtains flew from a window. Beyond the roofs, the sea glistened beneath a hazy sun.
I took the letter from my pocket and read it again.
Dearest Ma,
Corbey changes from season to season, and I’m starting to recognise the signs. The way the trees colour and drop their leaves, the way the frost cuts down tender plants. Nature’s workshop, I call it!
Ella has arranged for me to be employed on the restoration of the library, and the panelling in the hallway. The banisters need work, too. But we’ll go slowly, and I’m taking on other jobs in the area to build up customers. There’s a cottage on the estate that I’d like to buy once I’ve saved up enough. Even though Ella would give it to me, I want to make my own way.
I’m so lucky to be here, Ma, and to know I’m a small part of it, and can make a contribution. Ella and I are as close as any brother and sister could be. The weather is awful at times, and there’s an ache in my heart for you, and the sea, and the mountains that won’t ever go away. But no one looks at me as if I’m second-class any more. People like me as I am. They like my work. I don’t have to sit in a separate part of the bioscope.
I’m learning more about David through his war logs. He writes about you, Ma. I can feel his love for you. Do you know he left a stack of letters that he wrote after the war and never posted? When you visit us in the summer, Ella will give them to you. Here’s something I found.
Every word, every moment with her, is a gift.
How could I ever have imagined coming back to Simon’s Town – and not meeting her?
Please tell Grandpa I miss him.
All my love,
Sam
Acknowledgements
One of the fascinating challenges of writing The Girl from Simon’s Bay was to step back in time to create an authentic, wartime version of a modern community. Luckily, much of Simon’s Town has been carefully preserved – indeed, many of the buildings that appear in the book are still standing today – so my task was made a little easier. But I would never have been able to pull together the story and its setting without considerable help.
My sincere thanks go to Margaret Constant of the Simon’s Town Museum who allowed me access to records on the town, the dockyard, and the ships that called during the war. Audrey Read and David Erickson of the Simon’s Town Historical Society answered my questions and, in the case of David, guided me around the former Royal Naval Hospital and offered much invaluable advice from his own research work in SA and the UK. For naval matters, I am grateful to Capt. Terry Korsten SAN (Retd) and Capt. Bill Rice SAN (Retd) for their expert opinions. Patty Davidson, of the Simon’s Town Heritage Museum, was immensely generous in helping me recreate the pre-eviction Ricketts Terrace community. The Heritage’s impressive collection of genealogy data and photographs were essential for the development of the character of Louise. In the UK, the National Archives, The British Library and the Imperial War Museum all gave me access to their records on a variety of topics: the Simon’s Town Agreement negotiations, Royal Naval Hospital reports, recordings of the survivors of the sinking of HMS Dorsetshire, to name but a few. To hone the life and service record of David, I followed the actual careers of four young naval officers of a similar age. David’s action at the Battle of the River Plate was inspired by the real-life heroism of Lt Richard Washbourn, DSO.
I am most grateful to my agent Judith Murdoch and my editors at A&B for their guidance at all times. Finally, my deepest thanks must go to my family for their unfailing patience, love and support.
Barbara Mutch, London
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About the Author
BARBARA MUTCH was born and brought up in South Africa, the granddaughter of Irish immigrants. Before embarking on a writing career, she launched and managed a number of businesses both in South Africa and the UK. She is married and has two sons. For most of the year the family lives in Surrey but spends time whenever possible at their home in the Cape. When not writing, Barbara is a pianist, a keen enthusiast of the Cape’s birds and landscape or fynbos.
By Barbara Mutch
The Girl from Simon’s Bay
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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allisonandbusby.com
First published in 2017.
This ebook edition first published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2017.
Copyright © 2017 by BARBARA MUTCH LTD
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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