The copyright of this thesis vests in the author. No quotation from it or information derived from it is to be published without full acknowledgement of the source. The thesis is to be used for private study or non- commercial research purposes only. Published by the University of Cape Town (UCT) in terms of the non-exclusive license granted to UCT by the author. University of Cape Town What Hidden Lies A Novel by Michele Rowe-Swinney RWSMIC002 A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the award of the degree of Master of Arts in Creative Writing. Faculty of the Humanities University of Cape Town 2011 Compulsory Declaration This work has not been previously submitted in whole, or part, for the award of any degree. It is my own work. Each significant contribution to, and quotation in, this dissertation from the work, or works, of other people, has been attributed, andUniversity has been cited and of referenced. Cape Town . :2}g / D 11'20(0 SIgnature: ..................................................... Date................... .. WHAT HIDDEN LIES Abstract 'What Hidden Lies' can be read as a straightforward genre novel conforming to the conventions of the murder mystery form, with a tightly constructed plot involving a police investigation, a range of suspects, planted clues, red herrings and a surprise ending. But the novel also seeks to use this accessible literary form to examine deeper issues, such as the formative int1uences of time and place upon the characters, especially as they pertain to the historical legacy of crime, dispossession of land and racial identity. The plot, narrated from multiple perspectives, covers the investigation of a murder and its effects upon three very different Cape Town communities, white, black and coloured, showing how unaddressed or hidden lies from the past, continue to impact and reverberate in the present. Persy Jonas is a young, coloured detective struggling to prove herself among University of Cape Town her male colleagues. Her private life is in disarray and she suffers from increasingly debilitating nightmares that have plagued her since childhood. Her partner, the philosophical Dizu Calata, is one of the few people she trusts. Retired white criminal psychologist Marge Labuschagne is attempting to put her life back together and find some sort of peace after a career spent working with violent criminals has shattered her marriage and driven her family apart. When she finds the body of an ex patient washed up on the beach she realises that she has information about him that would interest the police. Unfortunately she gets off to a bad start with the young investigating officer, Detective Persy Jonas, who she assumes is purely political window dressing. To Persy, intent on solving the case, the older woman is an arrogant old racist out to undermine her. F or both women the stakes are high. For Persy, it's a chance to prove herself as a detective and bring her bitter enemy Sean Dollery, a childhood friend turned township thug, to justice. For Marge it's the chance to redeem herself after a past error of judgment caused the death of an innocent man. Initially the two women work at cross-purposes, each convinced that they have the key to the case. Only after they join forces do they get some answers. But the closer they get to the killer, the more the threat of violence intensifies. Then another body turns up dead. The women's partnership is tested to the limit when Marge realises that Persy has kept vital information from her. As they are increasingly drawn into a dangerous web of lies and violence, the cause of Persy's nightmares is revealed, and Marge finally discovers the truth about the case that has haunted her for twenty years. University of Cape Town A tense psychological mystery set in a remote seaside village outside Cape Town 'What Hidden Lies' reveals the shadow side of a beautiful country still haunted by a violent past. WHAT HIDDEN LIES By Michele Rowe University of Cape Town The voice came again. Thin, but carrying, as piercing as a bird’s, and getting closer. “You go on,” she said and turned back along the path. He walked on quickly, hearing her raised voice through the trees, “Voetsek! Go home! Stop following me!” There was silence, followed by a howl of outrage, and then a wailing cry. She came racing past him. “Come, let’s go!” He set off after her, struggling to catch up with the thin brown legs flashing in and out of his sight, just out of reach. He was bigger, but she was faster, at everything. Quick to learn things that would take him a long time, that sometimes he would never learn, no matter how many times she explained them. The voice followed them, an anguished cry of abandonment and fury, growing fainter as they ran on through the tunnel of trees. They slowed to a quick walking pace. No need to talk. Enough to be with her, and away from his father, free to roam. He got scared up here sometimes, but would neverUniversity tell. She would laugh. of HerCape eyes, with Town their naked open look, would challenge him, and she would use her sharp elbows on him and ask in her mocking way, “Why are you afraid? Why?” He couldn’t tell her that he was always afraid. Of the black trees with their shiny leathery leaves. Of the mountain above them and the unnatural silence in the milkwoods where their footfalls made no sound. She was afraid of nothing; she only saw what was light and bright in the world. She expected something of 1 him, he knew that. And he would do whatever she asked, no matter how frightened he was. He had learned to hide his fear, from his father, who would thrash him at the first sign of it. They emerged from the tunnel of trees and skirted the open mine, past the big machine, silent and resting, unseen by the driver eating his lunch under the trees. The back of the house came into view. They looked down at the tops of the palm trees and the corrugated iron roof. They took the terrace steps two at a time. At the back of the house he found the window and lifted it up for her and they both crawled in. They went through the kitchen and up the stairs to their special place. He inhaled the familiar smells of dust, damp wood and sea. Fine beads of moisture had gathered in the nape of her neck, under the braid. She smiled at him and he saw dust motes like a halo around her head. They went over to the window and looked down at the road to make sure he had not followed them ... and then the roar started, and the earth began to move ... They walked home without speaking. His throat was choked up with somethingUniversity hard and hurting, with of words Cape that could Town never be said. Back home questions would be asked, but he would never say a word and neither would she. That way they could pretend it had been a game. That they’d imagined it. And in this way he knew they were bound together, in their sharing in the secret of the game, and that these ties would bind them more strongly than love. 2 One Ocean View appeared at the end of Kommetjie Road, sprawled across the low rises and shallow dips of the rocky outcrops that stretched away from the sea towards Misty Cliffs and Scarborough. Detective Constable Persy Jonas had heard it described as ‘Mediterranean’, maybe because of the brightly painted cottages climbing the rocky hillside against the backdrop of the blue Atlantic. But there was nothing exotic about it – it was like any other township, with its mushrooming shacks and littered streets, thin dogs and rusted car wrecks. She turned into Protea Drive, heading east into the section known as ‘Lapland’ and pulled up at the bottom of Carnation Street. As she climbed out of the air- conditioned cab of the Nissan bakkie the weight of the dry heat struck her like a blow. It was still early morning; it would reach the thirties later. The stench of garbage and rotting kelp, by-products of the spring tide, rose up from the Kom. A couple of young men stood smoking beneath the ineffective shade of a scrappy gum tree;University the contrast between of the blaringCape white lightTown and the shade made black pits of their eyes. Small time dealers, hoekstaanders, waiting for drop offs. If she searched them they would have nothing, everything stashed away in a hole somewhere, or stuffed under someone’s sink. She felt their eyes on her back as she climbed the rutted track to Sean Dollery’s house. Dollery, moving up into big time tik dealing, probably manufacturing from one of the houses further up in Ghost Town. It was the third time this week she’d been round looking for him. He’d been adept at hiding from the time he was a kid. Being a Sunday she might 3 get lucky, catch him sleeping off his Saturday night. She wanted his case out of the way, not only so she could move on and process the petty thefts and vandalism cases building up on her desk. It was more personal than that. Twenty Carnation Road was an ash brick block with two lace-curtained windows and a door that sat crooked on its hinges between them, a disgruntled, sullen face.