The Sea Cave

by Alan Scholefield

  ‘Don’t forget they do it for money,’ he said.

  In the afternoon there was a witness who was new to her: Constable Le Grange. She supposed she must have seen him in Helmsdale, since he was apparently attached to the police there, though she did not recognise him. He might even have been one of the officers who had come to arrest Jonas, a large young man, darkly sunburnt, with close-cropped curly hair, brown eyes and forearms the size of thighs.

  Nel established him quickly, then said, ‘After the accused was arrested, you were instructed to do what?’

  ‘I was instructed to make a search of the house.’

  ‘The Berrangé house.’

  ‘Ja . . . I mean, yes, sir.’

  ‘What did you find?’

  The constable took out a note-book and read from it in a mumbling voice, which seemed to irritate the judge. ‘I and two other constables searched the premises. First we searched the downstairs rooms, then the rooms upstairs, then we went out into the garden and we searched the garden . . .’

  ‘May I stop you there. I don’t think the court is interested in the garden.’

  The judge leant forward. ‘If there is nothing new about the garden, let us forget the garden!’

  Nel said, ‘Constable, the court would like to hear what you found in one of the upstairs rooms of the Berrangé house.’

  ‘Oh, ja. Well, the upstairs was in ruins, just like the downstairs, except for one room.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘In this room there was a bed, two chairs, a table, a carpet on the floor . . .’

  ‘Yes, but what struck you first about this room?’

  ‘It looked as though there had been a fight there, sir.’

  ‘A struggle?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I found an empty bottle of wine and an empty bottle of brandy on the floor. The table was knocked down and the side of an armchair was broken out like someone had been fighting . . . I mean, struggling.’

  ‘Otherwise the room looked as though it had been used?’

  ‘Yes, sir. There were cigarette butts in the ashtray, and glasses. The bed had been lain on.’

  ‘Thank you, constable.’

  He turned to look at Prescott, who slowly shook his head.

  Kate had listened with mounting apprehension, and when the hearing was adjourned for the day she said to Prescott, ‘I must talk to you.’

  He looked at her as though he hardly knew her, and she realised that his concentration was almost obsessive. ‘Is it important?’

  ‘Very.’

  He took her out into a courtyard where there was space to be private. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s about the constable’s evidence.’

  ‘Yes, that wasn’t very helpful, was it? What about it?’

  ‘Someone did struggle with Charles in that room, but it wasn’t Miriam, it was me.’

  His shirt was wet with sweat. He put two Sen-Sen tablets in his mouth. ‘Go on.’

  She told him what had happened after the picnic, how she had gone to the Berrangés’ house with Charles, how she’d had to fight him off.

  ‘Good God!’ he said.

  ‘So you see, they mustn’t be allowed to think it was Charles and Miriam.’

  ‘Mrs. Preller, if I put you into the witness box and you told the court that Charles Preller had tried to rape you in that room, that you had to fight him off with such ferocity that you broke an armchair, do you think they would believe for one moment that he did not try precisely the same thing with Miriam Sachs later on the same evening, with fatal results?’

  ‘Well, I . . .’

  ‘We’d convey the impression that he’s a sexual maniac. Doesn’t it sound like that to you? First of all he tries one woman, fails, then, mad with lust and frustration, attacks another. If I put you in the box we could give up the case. I think you would be far better advised to prevail upon your husband to go into the witness box himself. Things aren’t going too well. All I can do is stir the pot, but that’s not enough. We need his side. We’ve got no witnesses of our own, no one to support him.’

  That night, after reporting to Saxenburg, she went to see her parents. She was glad Duggie was out. She told them as much of the case as she could remember.

  ‘Yon telephone’s no’ stopped ringing since it began,’ her mother said. ‘Half the time it’s the newspapers, asking questions.’

  ‘That’s why I told you not to come to the court.’

  ‘Aye, well, I’m no’ sorry to miss that. I’ve no wish to get mixed up wi’ it.’

  The following morning, Lena took the oath.

  *

  Kate had not seen Lena since before she had left for England. She was thinner, and the hair which peeped out from under her black straw hat showed more grey than Kate remembered. She wore wire spectacles and the light in court flashed from the lenses each time she moved. Her skin was very dark and her mouth, with the missing teeth, reminded Kate of a fish. Her expression was severe, and after she had taken the oath, her lips moved in a swift, silent prayer.

  C. J. Nel established her background, length of service with Mrs. Preller, the fact that she’d had one daughter, Betty, the work she did. Then he said, ‘I want you to tell us about the night on which Miss Sachs was murdered. It was a Sunday, wasn’t it? Where had you been that day?’

  Lena’s reply was almost inaudible. Mr. Justice De Wet Fourie shifted his papers impatiently. ‘Would you please ask the witness to speak up?’

  Nel encouraged her, and repeated his question.

  ‘Church,’ she said.

  ‘You had gone there in the afternoon?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I think the service is a long one in your church, Mrs. Lourens.’

  ‘A very long one, master.’

  ‘When did you come home?’

  ‘After the service.’

  ‘Yes, but what time?’

  ‘Maybe ten o’clock, master.’

  ‘Was that usual?’

  ‘Sometimes it was later.’

  ‘Which way did you come?’

  ‘Along the cliffs.’

  ‘Along what they call the coast road? The one that passes the old ostrich houses?’

  ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘When you reached the Berrangés’ house, what did you see?’

  ‘I heard a noise, master, like feet running. I stopped and hid behind a tree.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I was frightened, master.’

  ‘Why were you frightened?’

  ‘A person can get hurt in the night.’

  ‘I see. So you hid and watched. What did you see?’

  ‘I saw Miss Miriam and Mr. Charles. Miss Miriam was running to get out the gate and Mr. Charles caught her and pulled her back.’

  ‘Back where?’

  ‘To the house.’

  ‘Were they saying anything?’

  ‘Miss Miriam was shouting.’

  ‘What was she shouting.’

  Lena hesitated.

  Nel pulled at his pointed beard. ‘What did she say, Mrs. Lourens?’

  Lena whispered softly to the Clerk of the Court, who came across to Nel. Nel turned to the judge. ‘She says she doesn’t like to say it in open court, m’lord.’

  The judge smiled at Lena. ‘I respect your feelings, Mrs. Lourens, but sometimes we have to do things we don’t like to do. Would you prefer to write it down?’

  ‘I can’t write, master.’

  ‘All right, you tell the Clerk of the Court and he will say it.’

  The Clerk listened for a moment, then said gravely, ‘The witness says that Miss Sachs said, “You’re not going to have sexual intercourse with me any more”.’

  Mr. Justice De Wet Fourie looked down at him and shook his head. ‘Mr. Terblanche, are you asking the court to believe that this woman came running out of the house, pursued by someone, and used a phrase like “sexual intercourse”? Come, be a man, we’re all adults here.’

  The Clerk swallowed. ‘Fuck, m�
�lord. The word was fuck. You’re not going to fuck me any more.’

  There were a few titters, but one contemptuous look from the judge brought instant silence.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs. Lourens,’ he said. ‘I can quite see why you did not wish to use the word. Let’s get on, then.’

  Nel said, ‘What happened then, Mrs. Lourens?’

  ‘I went home to Saxenburg, to my house. Betty wasn’t there. I looked in Jonas’s house.’

  ‘Was she often in Jonas Koopman’s house?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘They were lovers?’

  Lena paused, and finally muttered, ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘So you went to look for her?’

  ‘On the beach. Jonas was there, alone.’

  ‘Did you ask him where Betty was, or speak to him?’

  ‘No, master, I was afraid for Jonas.’

  ‘So you went home?’

  ‘Betty was there. In bed. She pretended she was asleep, but I shook her and said, where have you been?’

  ‘And where had she been?’

  ‘She said she had been outside making water, but she lied, master. I know where . . .’

  ‘Objection!’ Prescott said.

  ‘Don’t tell us what you don’t know for sure, Mrs. Lourens,’ said the judge. ‘Just the facts.’

  ‘So you decided to say nothing to the police, because of your loyalty to the Preller family. Why did you change your mind?’ Nel said.

  ‘God tell me to tell what I know.’

  ‘You’re a very religious person, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘All right, thank you, Mrs. Lourens.’

  After the luncheon adjournment Prescott rose to his feet. ‘Mrs. Lourens, my learned friend asked you if you were a religious person. A very religious person, I think he said, and you said you were. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘Have you always been religious?’

  ‘Always, master.’

  ‘Very religious?’

  ‘Very religious, master.’

  ‘You see, I ask you that because when God told you to tell the truth, you should have done that already. I mean, it says in the Bible that we must tell the truth, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, master.

  ‘So you already knew about being honest before Miss Sachs was killed; you knew it years and years ago?’

  ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘It seems to me that you had a very sudden change of heart and . . .’

  ‘M’lord, I object.’ Nel was on his feet. ‘This line of questioning doesn’t seem to be leading us anywhere.’

  The judge peered over his spectacles at Prescott. ‘Mr. Prescott?’

  ‘M’lord, the witness has said she has been a religious woman for a long time, a woman who knows right from wrong in the Christian ethos. She knew she was lying earlier. I want to find out if there were other causes – I mean, other than God telling her – for her sudden change. That means going back in time, m’lord, but I submit that we cannot ignore this line of questioning. I am certain there are things buried here, m’lord, which would be much better out in the open.’

  ‘Very well, Mr. Prescott, continue for the moment.’

  Prescott returned to the attack. ‘Mrs. Lourens, tell me about your daughter’s illness.’

  ‘She ate fish, master.’

  ‘And was sick?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you sent her away –’ He glanced at his notes, ‘– to her aunt in Caledon?’

  ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘That’s a . . . a Mrs. Moolman?’

  The light flashed on her glasses as Lena moved her head. ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘It’s a curious thing, but try as we might, we could not find a Mrs. Moolman in Caledon. The police didn’t know of her. The post office didn’t know of her. We asked lots of questions, but no one knew of her.’

  Again, Lena’s head swung from side to side.

  ‘We wondered if we might have got the town wrong. It was Caledon, wasn’t it?’

  She cleared her throat, but did not answer.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear.’

  She remained silent.

  ‘I don’t want to distress you, Mrs. Lourens, but the whole thing sounds so coincidental to me. I mean, you send your daughter away, and then almost immediately go to the police with your story about Jonas Koopman. Then we don’t see Betty again, because this time she has a, what was it? Oh yes, a fever. I put it to you, that this was simply a tissue of lies, a story to cover up something that really did happen.’ He paused. ‘Remember, God has told you to tell the truth and you have sworn on the Bible. Now what did happen?’

  ‘You must answer, Mrs. Lourens,’ the judge said.

  Lena turned to him and said, ‘She was having a baby, master.’

  ‘You mean she was pregnant?’ Prescott fastened onto the fact like a lamprey. ‘By Jonas?’

  ‘She said by Jonas, master.’

  ‘And did she have the baby?’

  ‘She had it taken away.’

  ‘An abortion?’

  ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘Why didn’t you let her have the baby? Why didn’t you let her live with Koopman if that’s what she wanted?’

  The spectacles flashed.

  ‘I must keep her away from him. She must not live with a black man!’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘He was black, black!’ Her voice had risen and was thick with anger. ‘Blacker than me. You want me to let my child live with a black man? All her life, evens when she is a little girl, I tell her she must never go with a very black person.’

  Kate could scarcely believe what she had heard. There was a picture in her mind of Betty lying on the same bed as she had in Fat Sarah’s rooms, having her child removed.

  Prescott obviously thought he had stumbled at last onto a vein of gold. ‘Bear with me, Mrs. Lourens, if I don’t seem fully to comprehend this.’ The voice was bland, almost unctuous. ‘What you’re saying is that Jonas was too black for you, is that it? Was Betty pale-skinned?’

  ‘Very pale, master. She could pass for white.’

  ‘And you wanted her to marry someone equally light-skinned, is that it?’

  ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘Was your husband very light-skinned?’

  Lena looked away and again light flashed on her glasses.

  ‘I’ll repeat the question,’ Prescott said. ‘Was your husband light-skinned?’

  ‘I never had no husband,’ Lena said reluctantly.

  ‘You just decided to call yourself Mrs. Lourens. Is that right?’

  ‘Only a married person must have a child.’

  ‘I see. When Betty was born you decided to say you were a married woman.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you tell us who the father was?’

  C.J. Nel had risen to his feet, but before he could protest, Lena said, ‘Boss Charles Preller.’ Nel resumed his seat.

  ‘Boss Charles being the father of the accused?’

  ‘Yes.’

  With everyone else in the court-room, Kate turned to look at Charles. The shock had drained his face of any remaining colour. His waxen skin reminded her of Mrs. Preller’s candle-like flesh.

  ‘So you and Boss Charles Preller were lovers?’

  Lena laughed harshly and the spectacles flashed light angrily back at Prescott. ‘He force me. He throw me down and put his knee between my legs. Then he force me.’

  ‘You are saying he raped you? When was this, Mrs. Lourens?’

  ‘The night Master Hugo died in the fire. The night . . .’

  Nel had risen again. ‘M’lord, I must object. What has this got to do with the case on trial? This is old history.’

  Prescott said, ‘I’m sure my learned friend is familiar with Polybius’s pragmatic view of history.’

  ‘I’m sure he is,’ said Mr. Justice De Wet Fourie dryly.

  ‘This seems a good example,
m’lord, for there appear to be two nights in question that need investigation here. The night Miss Sachs was murdered and that night more than twenty years ago when Mrs. Lourens says she was raped by her employer. It is a case of the past forming the present, with a vengeance.’

  ‘Very well, Mr. Prescott,’ the judge said, his light blue eyes fixed on the huge advocate. ‘But you will doubtless remember the cyclic theory of Thucydides. The court would not wish to be led in cycles or in circles.’

  Prescott smiled. ‘As your lordship pleases.’ He turned again to Lena. ‘Did Mrs. Preller know about this?’

  ‘Only later, when Betty was born.’

  ‘How did she know?’

  ‘She guess.’

  ‘Because of the light colouring?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you tell her what had happened?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She said I must never tell to anyone. She gave me money. She let me stay and look after Betty.’

  Kate realised then what the reference to a girl had meant in Augusta’s letter to Miss Binns in Vienna. She also saw clearly that Lena had become a kind of prisoner in Saxenburg, held there by a shared secret and by an occasional gift of money. Was she taking her revenge now?

  ‘Would you tell us about the night of the fire please, Mrs. Lourens?’ Prescott said.

  As the woman began to speak, Kate had the curious feeling of becoming two people, her body remaining in the hot courtroom, listening to Lena with a mounting sense of horror, but in her imagination, being back in Saxenburg, witnessing the events. She remembered what Charles had told her about that night, and now the gaps were being filled.

  According to Lena, Hugo had had a bad cough. She was the children’s nanny and, on Mrs. Preller’s orders, she had moved Charles into the playroom, leaving Hugo on his own in the bedroom. It was a night of high winds and rain, and a fire had been lit to warm Hugo’s room. Normally, wood was used in the big dog-grate, but in high winds the flue drew too fiercely, so on this night coal only was used. At about nine o’clock, Lena had gone in to see how the children were.

  Earlier she had placed a wooden clothes horse in front of the fire to dry some of the boys’ underclothing and shirts.

  The fire was burning brightly and much of the coal had been consumed, so she had decided to fetch more from the bunker in the incubator shed. She was turning away from the fireplace when she became aware that someone else was in the room. She had not turned up the lamp and the only light was the flickering of the flames in the grate. The figure had come towards her and she had seen that it was Boss Charles.