Marked

By Gillian D'achada

James arrives in Kalk Bay from Johannesburg to stay with the grandmother he has never met. His parents need some time apart. As time passes, James learns of the shady side of the village: Faried and his uncle are known abalone poachers, but everyone seems to turn a blind eye. He follows them to the beach one evening . . . But soon, in a desperate attempt to remain hidden from the poachers, James finds himself in a life-threatening situation. He has to find courage to overcome his fears.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tafelberg
• Release date: May 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9780624095170

Gillian D'achada

Gillian D’achada was born in Cape Town, South Africa, in 1962 – and began writing as soon as she knew how. After matriculating from Fish Hoek High School she attended the University of Cape Town where she studied history and English. Thereafter she pursued a career in copywriting and scriptwriting. She also later obtained a BA Theology degree and spent a number of years on the mission field. Gillian travelled extensively in Africa, the Middle East, Australia and India as a scriptwriter and lecturer in a Biblical approach to creativity. She has three daughters – Lissa, Candice and Claire-lyn – and is married to John, her ‘manuscript doctor’. They live in Kalk Bay from where they run their Bible training organization, King’s Cross.

Book preview

Chapter 1

James was anxious and his birthmark gave it away. Usually it was the colour of a dark bruise, but right now it was glaring liver-red against his oatmeal skin, ugly as an alien.

He tore his gaze from the mirror on his bedroom wall and tried to think what to pack. The knot in his stomach he’d had for the last five days tightened as it had ever since his mother had told him they were moving to Cape Town.

Without his dad.

I don’t want to, James had said.

I know, but it has to be done.

Why?

Some things are not for children to understand.

I’m not a child! he had protested. I’m thirteen next birthday.

His mother, Vivienne, had sucked hard on the menthol cigarette that seemed to be permanently attached to her these days. Look, the truth is, your father and I are separating.

James’ heart had leapt painfully. Wha … a … at? Wh … wh … why?

Vivienne had said she was not prepared to get into it and even his dad had said that he was working on a solution but until then you should go with your mom.

And now the dreaded day was here.

Hurry up, James, his mother’s voice floated up the stairs from the hallway.

She sounded almost cheerful. How could she?! His father was the kindest person in the world. He bought his wife flowers every Friday and made them all breakfast in bed every Saturday morning. This was all her fault – it had to be.

He had no idea what to pack in the suitcase his mother had delivered to his room. He dragged it to the wardrobe now and randomly swept clothing into it – T-shirts, jeans, takkies.

One big, muddled mess. Who cares.

A message came through on his phone:

Remember, I’m working on a solution, my boy.

James wished he could believe his dad.

He lugged the suitcase to the top of the stairs. Vivienne looked up at him.

This may not be a forever thing, you know.

That really annoyed James. If it’s not a forever thing, why do it at all? He gave the suitcase a vicious kick. It was curiously satisfying to watch it bounce and thump down the stairs until it landed with a thud at his mother’s feet. He heard her cry James! in a mock-shocked tone. But when he looked down on her perfectly made-up, smiling face, it was like looking at the face of a stranger.

This was not his mother. His mother laughed at his dad’s jokes, and drove him to school every morning and insisted on kissing him goodbye when they got there. She was there waiting for him every day after school, never late. His mother was dependable.

The woman at the bottom of the stairs jingling her car-keys was anything but.

As they drove down the driveway, James made the mistake of looking back at the house he’d lived in his whole life. His face twisted into a silent grimace, but his mother didn’t notice.

Off we go! she cried.

The birthmark pulsated furiously as his world was wrenched from under his feet.

Chapter 2

Having left Joburg behind, they drove all day, stopping once or twice. By the time they hit the flat Karoo, the sun was dipping beneath the horizon. The temperature inside the car dropped and James had a simultaneous cold thought: his mother wasn’t turning back.

This was really happening.

As they motored on into an endless night, James wracked his brains. Why had his mother chosen Cape Town? They’d never been there before as a family.

Why Cape Town? he finally asked.

There’s a surprise waiting there for you.

What sort of surprise?

Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?

James couldn’t stomach the way his mother was trying to turn this … this … hijacking into some sort of breezy holiday. He fell into a sullen silence as their Mercedes C-class relentlessly ate up the darkness, chewing up the cat’s eyes on the N1. There was a horrible sense of moving but going nowhere.

His mind began entertaining shadowy thoughts. Like, maybe his mother had met another man – a man who lived in Cape Town. And, like, maybe his dad had a whole other family, another wife and kids, who lived in Pretoria. He’d seen a TV show about that once. He was relieved when the darkness was cut by the lights from an upcoming petrol station and his mother pulled in.

Go to the bathroom while I fill the tank, she said.

In the restroom mirror, James checked the state of his birthmark. It was still the colour of a corrupt wound.

When he got back to the car, Vivienne tossed a bag of chips at him. Cheese & onion. They tasted like cardboard but he ate them anyway, pushing them down past the knot in his stomach.

He must have dozed a bit because when he woke up, his phone said it was after midnight. There was a message from his dad, but before he could read it his phone battery died. His was a Huawei, his mother’s a fancy iPhone his dad had bought her, so he couldn’t use her charger. Spoiled, that’s what she was. His dad had spoiled her – and look at the results. He stared out the passenger window. There was nothing but blank blackness out there. He noticed the faint reflection of his own face on the window. It was pinched and anxious. He quickly looked away.

Awake? You were sleeping nicely, James, his mother commented.

"Are you not tired?" he asked. His dad normally drove them on their holidays to Kruger, not his mother.

I am, Vivienne admitted, but it’s not long now.

After some time, the thick darkness of the national road gave way to streetlights and car dealerships and furniture showrooms. James glanced at the GPS map. They’d reached Cape Town. Twenty minutes later the highway narrowed into a twisty, single-lane road that was lined with double-storey houses on the right and a disturbingly black stretch of nothingness on the left. Then James noticed a ribbon of pale yellow light playing on the darkness and then a swelling movement. He glanced up at the sky. What he was seeing was moonlight reflecting off a huge body of water.

Smell that! His mother sniffed. Ozone. So good for you. I’ve missed that.

Missed that? When had his mother been here before? James became mesmerised by the lift and fall of the dark sea.

Not long now, Vivienne murmured again, putting on the indicator, but this time it was as if she was speaking to herself.

She turned right into a narrow street and rammed the car into second gear. The street was steep and only every second or third streetlight was working. Those that did, cast a pathetic glow that seemed to attract moths but did nothing to light the travellers’ way. They bumped and jolted up a road that grew increasingly steep. Their car’s engine was powerful but it was heaving with effort by the time his mother mounted the pavement and wrenched up the handbrake.

We’re here, she announced.

James peered through the car window. He couldn’t see much except a wall and a door of what looked like a tiny, old-fashioned house, clinging to a shabby street corner.

"Where is here?"

Your grandmother’s house.

Grandmother? He had a grandmother?

Chapter 3

James got out of the car and was met by an unknown scent, something fresh and sharp. This then was the ozone Vivienne had spoken of. His legs were stiff and he shook them until the pins and needles subsided.

She’s expecting us, his mother said, puffing out her breath.

She’s nervous, James realised.

The door Vivienne knocked on was painted green, but because it was peeling slightly at the edge, James could