When Melanie May was supposed to be writing her Grade 8 final exam, she was lying on a beach somewhere in Bali having her hair plaited into hundreds of little snakes. It was her birthday gift, her parents said. The fact that her birthday happened a few months ago while the three of them were struggling up Mount Kilimandjaro never crossed their minds. Melanie, who hadn’t had a bath for days and had her hair plastered to her head with dust and perspiration at that stage, tried to forget that it was her birthday.
She liked being clean and organised. Here, sitting on the beach being knitted into a hundred plaits, was as far away from paradise as she could imagine. She didn’t want to sleep in a hammock in a ‘cosy’ little reed hut. She wanted a wooden bed with four solid legs standing firmly in a square room with walls painted all in white. She was sick and tired of sand, sweat and ‘excitement.’
When her mother arrived in an outfit consisting of about twenty different coloured scarves, Melanie blanched.
“Enjoying your birthday, Darling?” her mother asked.
“Mom, do you and Dad realise I should be writing my Grade 8 final exams right now?”
“My, my – how time flies!” her mother answered in her scatter brained way. “Is all this giving you headache? It’s understandable. I’m quite sure it’ll all be better by tomorrow. It’s all worthwhile, isn’t it, to look different from the rest.
Melanie squinted into the sun and sighed. Her parents could never understand how she longed to look and be just like ‘the rest.’
The next day Melanie’s head was still aching. And itching unbearably. Yesterday’s sun had burnt her nose a deep red. She looked in the mirror and hated what she saw. She sat on her hammock and swayingly prayed for a miracle.
Two days later the miracle arrived. Her aunt Mary wrote to her parents calling them irresponsible and selfish. She offered to have Melanie May stay with her so that Melanie could get ‘a proper education.’ Her parents were deeply hurt and assured Melanie of their love.
“Love won’t get me a job one day, Dad,” Melanie said softly. “Please, let me go?”
Although it was a sad occasion for them all, Melanie May was packed and at the airport as soon as her disorganised parents could manage.
Through the years Melanie learnt that her mother and father weren’t wrong and that she wasn’t right. They were just very different, like people are supposed to be. She received piles and piles of post cards from all over the world although she rarely saw her parents.
The room Aunt Mary organised for Melanie had a bed as solid as rock. The room was white and there was a framed painting of one of Aunt Mary’s cross-stitch designs on the wall. Melanie breathed in deeply. Finally she could begin living a normal life.
In Grade 10 she fell passionately in love with Peter Brown. He was never late, always did his homework, never stuttered or hesitated. He had a lovely, honest smile and eyes as brown as the earth after rain. He asked her to accompany him to the Matric farewell and Melanie’s joy knew no bounds.
Peter and Melanie got married on a spring day in a church heavy with the scent of jasmine. After working hard for three years, they had enough saved for the down payment on a house. When Melanie May saw the square little house behind a white picket fence with its neat lawns and straight flowerbeds, she lost her heart for the second time. They moved in as soon as possible with hearts as light as feathers. Peter cut the lawn early every Sunday morning while Melanie baked a cake. While Peter showered and went to fetch Aunt Mary for lunch, Melanie baked the leg of lamb and roasted the potatoes.
When Melanie became pregnant, she stopped working at the office. She spent her days loving the house and her life. She dusted and tidied with a song in her heart. She enjoyed Mondays more than any other day. She hung her snowy white sheets and towels on the line and watched them move in the wind.
Every evening Melanie May prepared a hearty meal for Peter. He thanked her with his slow, sure smile and Melanie’s heart skipped a beat. After the meal he helped Melanie wash and dry their dishes. After that, the two of them moved into the lounge with their coffee and chatted comfortably for hours on end.
When their son Andrew was born, he fitted perfectly into their lives. He didn’t cry too much or get too ill. He did well at school and looked proud and happy to find his parents’ faces in the crowd when he played his cricket matches. He grew up to be as steadfast and dependable as his father.
Melanie was the most contented person she knew. Her life ran like clockwork and she enjoyed every tick of it.
Every year on their anniversary the doorbell rang almost the moment Peter left for the office. Every year Melanie May laughed into the bouquet of flowers and thanked her lucky stars for Peter. She sent air kisses to Aunt Mary, a hug to Andrew and blessings to her parents wherever they may be.
Today, on their 50th anniversary, her flowers arrived late. Although Melanie expected a hitch of some sorts, she was still disappointed. Lately Peter was absent-minded about a lot of things. Melanie May had so looked forward to Peter being on pension. She dreamed about them having tea outside in the garden and discussing what flowers to buy and where to plant them. But it never happened. Ever since being on pension, Peter was off early every morning to his friend Jack who lived just down the road. Right at the start Peter said Jack was feeling lonely, as his wife had recently passed away. Six months down the line Jack seemed more broken hearted than ever, as Peter still visited every day and for the last two weeks, had arrived home just in time for supper.
Melanie May wanted to believe in her dream. She wanted to believe Jack was lonely enough to necessitate a daily visit from Peter, but as she was arranging the flowers her breath caught on a sob and the tears flowed down her cheeks and onto the flowers. She went on arranging, but her heart wasn’t in it. Later that same morning she went to the supermarket to buy the ingredients for supper and two women, whom she knew only on sight, suddenly stopped their excited conversation and peered at her secretively.
When Melanie got home she thought she might as well face the facts. This was the saddest day of her married life. Peter preferred Jack’s company to hers and the neighbourhood was whispering a dark secret.
She moved through the rest of her day like a zombie. She cooked the supper, set the table, had a bath and changed into a fresh dress. While she was applying lipstick she saw that she looked old and tired.
Andrew arrived for supper before his father did and told her he forgot the champagne at his place. Melanie stared at him not knowing what to say. He invited her to drive back with him so that they could get it. Melanie wanted to tell him to forget the champagne, that there’s nothing to celebrate, that the day broke apart even before she woke up into it. But she allowed herself to be led to the car and they drove off to Andrew’s house. She said she’d wait in the car, but Andrew insisted she accompany him. In the flat he was rummaging and fiddling and looked quite ill at ease. Eventually he offered her a cup of tea. Because Melanie thought Andrew knew how she was hurting but was as helpless as she was to do anything about it, she accepted. She sat sipping tea and staring out of the window until Andrew found the champagne and they returned home.
Melanie got out of the car slowly and for the first time in years, truly missed her parents. She longed for swaying hammocks and high blue mountains – anywhere but her own home right now.
When Andrew opened the front door, bright lights and excited laughter met her. Peter stood in the middle of a crowd of friends smiling his slow smile. He opened his arms. Melanie lay her cheek against Peter’s solidly beating heart, too stunned to speak.
“I made something for you, Darling,” Peter said pointing to a beautifully crafted wooden kist.
“Open it,” he said proudly.
Melanie lifted the lid and found another smaller kist inside. That one opened to another even smaller one.
“How many are there?” she asked in an awed voice.
“Five in all,” said Peter. “I made one for each wonderful decade. Happy anniversary, Darling!”
“But you know nothing about woodwork!” Melanie protested, not believing her eyes.
“Jack is a wonderful teacher and I’m a determined learner.”
Melanie thought of all the weeks and months and endless hours Peter had spent crafting the kists for her.
“Thank you, Peter. Oh, THANK YOU! They’re beautiful. I love you!”
She kissed him tenderly amid the whistles and hoots of the party crowd. Melanie’s house overflowed with gifts, fun and blessings. The two whispering women Melanie had met earlier that morning, were the caterers for the evening and produced stunning party fare. While supervising Peter’s handiwork, Jack had found copies of Melanie and Peter’s favourite songs through the years and put them on CD.
Slowly, gently and lovingly Peter waltzed Melanie back into her dream of marital bliss with Bing Crosby crooning ‘That’s an Irish Lullaby – Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ra.’
In South Africa today security plays a vital part in any business or private home. This book and the volumes to follow, will guide you step by step through the essential precautionary measures to be taken in protecting your family and valuables. From employing security guards, evacuation of your site and security measures to burglar bars and alarms in your private home.
a Book compiled by me from experience gained after 10 years in the security industry as Industrial relations officer with Nosa qualifications, 1st Aid, fire protection and also S.O.B. grade A.
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