Roses Aren't Everything: Chapter 2: The Silver Thorn
...It was as she was preparing to lower the lid of the safety deposit box that Ingrid recognized the tune she was humming. Her memory willingly offered up one of the lines, causing her to frown. What was the song's theme again? Something about discovering a lover’s secret, she recalled. Then the rest of the words came to her in a rush, filling her with dread...
Leanne Hunt continues the story of a woman who, after discovering a family secret, is forced to reach out in various directions for help and eventually chart a new course into the future. The novel is an exploration of change set against the changing face of South Africa with a heart-warming romance at its centre.
Turning her attention to the pine cupboard in the corner of the study, Ingrid felt inside for the safety deposit box. Her daughters needed their passports to cross from South Africa into Swaziland where they'd be helping with the building of market gardens for a community whose fields had recently been ravaged by fire. The safety deposit box was there but its key was missing.
Ingrid began to search for it. She became so absorbed in the task that she leapt in fright when a door clattered shut on the other side of the house. The dogs sprang up and began barking fiercely at the head of the stairs.
"Sputnik! Apollo! Shut up!" shouted Ingrid before she could stop herself. The barking had shattered the silence and made her taut nerves jangle. She knew it was only Tracey coming back from Alice's but she was afraid the noise would wake Luke if he was asleep.
Footsteps echoed across the courtyard below. The dogs took off down the spiral staircase. Moments later, Tracey, Luke and the dogs all appeared in the doorway of the study.
"Hi!" said the girl casually. "What are you doing up here?" She was slender, full breasted and pretty with her cap of short, curly brown hair. "Don't say you decided to sort out Warren’s desk at this time of night?"
Ingrid gave her a twisted smile. "Hello Trace. Actually, I’m hunting for something the girls need. Goodness knows when I’ll be done. Did you have a good evening with Mum and Dad?"
Tracey brushed her dark curls back from her forehead dismissively. "Oh, you know what they're like. Mum lectured me about not starting Luke on solids too early and Dad went to bed after the news." She yawned. "But Luke was an angel and slept all through supper, so I guess it was okay. Want some help here?"
Ingrid shook her head firmly. "No thanks." Looking pointedly at Luke, whose arms and legs were thrashing about, she added, "Besides, he’s awake now. He’ll be needing a feed soon."
"I suppose," Tracey conceded, stroking the baby's head affectionately. "Can you believe my mother wanted me to give him up for adoption?"
"No," said Ingrid, telling herself that it definitely wasn't the time to rehash that conversation. Tracey's eyes had filled with tears and she was clutching the squirming infant possessively to her shoulder.
"He's so adorable!" protested the girl. "And you have to admit, he's got Dad's nose!"
"He has," agreed Ingrid, "but Trace … I'm sorry. I’ve got to get on with finding the girls' passports before tomorrow morning."
"Oh. All right." Tracey looked disappointed.
"We can talk about this later if you want. In the meantime, there’s a packet of koeksusters next to the kettle if you feel like some comfort food." Alice had left them there, presumably thinking Ingrid would like a treat after her long drive, but she'd settled for coffee and a gherkin instead.
Tracey's face brightened. "Thanks, I’ll do that." She turned and headed down the stairs. "Goodnight!"
There was a tray of loose papers beside the telephone on the side counter which Ingrid had overlooked. Now she headed towards it purposefully. When her fingers closed around something cold and hard, she gave a quiet whoop of triumph.
Hoisting the metal box onto her lap she inserted the key in the lock. She was humming softly as she flicked open the lid. There was a battered looking brown envelope on top of the pile but beneath it lay the two new-looking passports which belonged to Caroline and Debbie. Ingrid checked the inside pages of each. No problem! They were both in order. The girls could go on their youth camp and she could get some much-needed rest!
It was as she was preparing to lower the lid of the safety deposit box that Ingrid recognized the tune she was humming. Her memory willingly offered up one of the lines, causing her to frown. What was the song's theme again? Something about discovering a lover’s secret, she recalled. Then the rest of the words came to her in a rush, filling her with dread.
Her fingers rested on the brown envelope at the top of the pile of documents. It was probably crazy, she told herself, but what if Warren was hiding something from her? What if there was something heavier on his mind than Tracey becoming a mother at eighteen? Ingrid felt her scalp crawl with unwelcome apprehension. What if he'd done something illegal in the business? Received a threat of some sort? Got himself into terrible debt? The possibilities began to tumble through her mind like rocks in a landslide.
She tipped the envelope to let its contents slide into her hand. It was only a birth certificate. Probably Warren’s, judging from the old-fashioned letterhead and type. Ingrid smiled fondly as she spotted his name on the page. Then she froze. It wasn’t Warren’s birth certificate at all. It was a document citing the particulars of …
Oh God! Ingrid felt the room start to reel. Not Tracey! Not Trace …
