Chapter 6

It was just before ten in the morning that I made the call. The phone rang for a long time, and I was just about to hang up when a grumpy distant voice answered the call.

“Yes, what do you want?” The irritation in the voice was apparent.

“Good morning. Is this Gustav Friedenheim?” I asked politely.

“What if it is?”

“Well, I need to speak to Gustav Friedenheim, if you please?”

“Then speak. I don’t have time to waste, and neither do I buy stuff over the phone. So get on with it!”

“Mister Friedenheim, I need to speak with you face to face. I am Bruce McIntyre, and I...”

I got no further.

“McIntyre? The McIntyre from up the road? I don’t know you.”

“Well, Mister Friedenheim, then it is time we meet, you and me.”

“What about? I don’t speak to shitheads that falsely send me to jail!”

“Mister Friedenheim, I don’t know anything about how you got to be sent to jail, but what I do know is that it would be beneficial for you to come over and talk to me.”

“About what?”

I can’t discuss this on the phone. Too public, you know? Besides, I don’t know if I’m speaking to the right Mister Gustav Friedenheim. “But you’ll know when you get here.”

“You are speaking to me. I’m Gustav Friedenheim. So, spit it out. What you want?”

“It’s not what I want. It is what you want.”

“I don’t want anything!”

“Yes you do! You want closure. Now, 12 o’clock, here at McIntyre Manor. And please be on time. I don’t like it when someone can’t keep to appointments.”

Chuckle. “You seem assertive. I know old McIntyre is dead. So you must be the new pumpkin head for the Halloween party.”

Hmm, a change in his attitude. So I played a last card. “You could say so, but I don’t throw parties. I drink on my own...”

“I only drink bourbon, not that Scottish junk you McIntyres drink.

“I do have some ‘Makers Mark’ here. Will that suit your taste?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You better think fast, else I finish the few bottles I have on my own. Good day, Mister Friedenheim,” I said, and terminated the call. I looked at my watch, it was 10:15, and for the first time in my life, and here at the castle, I rang the bell button for the butler.

“You called, Sir?”

“Crisis, Sam. How fast can you get to Franschhoek and back?”

“About forty minutes, Sir, why?

“I need a few bottles of ‘Makers Mark’ bourbon. Fast!”

“Chuckle. “I’ll use the Jag, if you don’t mind, Sir.”

“Well, don’t just stand there. Get going!” I said and handed him my credit card.

“I’m gone, Sir!” he said with a smile, not questioning why I need the bourbon. He just went out of the study; to Franschhoek, I suppose.

I was thinking about what else I’ll be needing, and where the best place would be to meet with Gustav, when...

“Now that was easy...” A sweet voice said at my side, and being lost in thought, I jumped.

“Don’t do that!” I exclaimed. “You’ll give me a heart attack!”

Giggle. “So, spank me...”

“If that would help at all ... I first need to catch you, and you’ll just go invisible on me, besides, if I do spank you, you won’t feel a thing.” I said absent-mindedly.

“I’ll feel it alright,” She said. “Right bottom draw.”

“What’s in the right bottom draw?”

“Open it.”

I reached down and opened the right bottom draw of the desk. There was only one item in the draw. A mean looking two tail leather tawse, used in schools and domestic environments for corporal punishment or educational discipline, primarily in Scotland.

“It stings quite a bit, and did keep me on the straight and narrow...”

“He strapped you with this!”

“Yip! Sometimes you need to be cruel to be kind.”

I shut the draw, getting the strap out of my sight.

“Like when you took the Jag for a joyride?”

“Twelve lashes over the bare...”

“Jeez! That’s like twenty-four lashes.”

“Well, I did deserve it, and I did survive it.”

“How could he?”

“He had my best interests at heart, and sometimes I was just ... a bit naughty, and needed to be corrected.”

“Well, let’s see if Gustav comes around at twelve,” I said, trying to change the subject.

“I’m ready.”

“Are you sure, Amelia?” I asked, thinking about Gustav.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Giggle.

“How are we going to go about it, any ideas?”

“Well, you have me bend over the head rest of that Grecian couch over there, raise my skirt and pull...”

“Amelia!”

“Yes, Bruce?” Giggle.

“I mean ... I mean with Gustav. How are ... How are we going to do it, and where?”

“Oh, him. You invite him in. Offer him a drink, make small talk first, and then introduce me.”

“Will he see and hear you?”

“Yes. He will. Just do it slowly, he might freak.”

“Okay. I’ll see how to play this.”

“Good, now go have some tea, coffee, or whatever, and be patient.”

“Where are we to meet with Gustav, here in the study?”

“The private lounge. No one will go there. Rosie and the other girl cleaned it already this morning. Maggie will be in the kitchen and Sam is taking the Bentley to Franschhoek for an oil and filter change service later today.”

You know the schedule around here very well. Give me some pointers sometime.”

“No problem, I’ll tell you all about it, But now stop hanna-hanna-ing, and give me a good morning kiss.”

“Come here you rascal!” I said, and she was in my arms in a flash.

“Hmm ... Good morning, Bruce...”

“Morning, sweetness...”

“Flustered about the idea of spanking me, Hmm?” Kiss.

“Ammi...”

Giggle. Kiss.

It was a few minutes to twelve o’clock, when an old GMC truck pulled up to the front entrance. The belching grey oily smoke and funny rattle coming from under the hood gave me pause that all was not well on the Friedenheim estate, but I dismissed it and walked off to meet Gustav.

He got out of the truck and looked around, as if remembering something. He then turned to me, and I reached out my hand in greeting.

“Good afternoon, Mister Friedenheim. Welcome to McIntyre Estate,” I said.

“Yeah, afternoon ... All seems to be as I remember it.”

He did not make a move to take my hand in greeting, and I dropped mine.

“Yes, it seems like nothing has changed over the years, but come, let’s go inside,” I said and turned, walking into the castle. Gustav followed me.

In the private lounge, I invited him to sit, and offered him a drink.

“Well, now the Boeing is over, how about a Makers Mark?”

“Nice, thanks. No ice for me, please,” Gustav responded, and I could see that he was not as tightly wound-up. I poured two glasses, and handed him one. Then I went and took the chair to his left.

“You wanted to speak to me about something, you said?” he asked, getting right to the point.

“Yes, Gustav. You don’t mind me calling you Gustav?”

“You can call me anything you like.”

“Well, Gustav, I need to speak to you on a delicate matter, and I ask of you to keep an open mind on the subject.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because, it’s going to shock you,” I said and took a sip of my bourbon. Not a taste I particularly like, but from time to time, once in a while, bourbon is good. Especially if it is a Makers Mark.

“Nothing in life can shock me anymore, McIntyre. Nothing much in life...”

“Bruce, my name is Bruce, please call me by my name.”

“Yeah. Okay. But did we not meet somewhere before?”

“You know me better by the name Devon Joss, my stage name.”

“Dammit! I thought you looked familiar! And I even like your music. That you are a McIntyre, is somewhat of a shock.”

“Well, Gustav, you are in for another shock, but a good shock.”

“Well, lay it on! I might just forgive you for being a McIntyre.”

“Gustav, I know a half-McIntyre that needs to have a few words with you.”

“I don’t know any half-McIntyres.”

“Yes, you do, Gustav. Yes, you do...”

“Who?”

“Gustav, look at the sofa over on you right. What do you see?”

“Nothing!”

“Look closer,” I said, and he squinted his eyes and looked at the sofa. Slowly an image appeared. Fading in like a power-point slideshow, Amelia appeared. His mouth fell open, and the glass of bourbon slipped from his hand to shatter on the stone floor at his feet. He came half out his chair from shock.

“Hello Gustav. Don’t be afraid. Yes, you are seeing correctly. It is me, Amelia...”

“No! No! No! You’re here to haunt me!” Gustav hissed.

“No! Gustav. I am here to help you. Please sit down. Bruce, give him a fresh bourbon.”

Gustav shook and shivered at the same time, his eyes wide like saucers in his head and his mouth gaping.

“Gustav, come sit here next to me, and be careful not to hurt yourself with that broken glass at your feet.”

“Wh ... what ... are you?” Gustav whispered.

“She is the spirit of Amelia, and she doesn’t mean you any harm, Gustav. Please do as she says. Go sit there next to her and listen to her.”

“I don’t sit next to no ghost!”

“She’s not a ghost, Gustav! She’s a spirit,” I explained.

“What’s the differences? Ghosts, spirits ... they are all evil!”

“GUSTAV, SIT!” I exclaimed.

He suddenly became submissive and, like a puppet on a string, collapsed back in his chair.

“I need to speak with you, Gustav. I know what happened. I know it was an accident. You were wrongly accused. I can’t change what happened, but I can give you something more precious than you can imagine. Please, give me a chance to speak to you, a chance to help you...”

“Are you messing with me, McIntyre? Where is the projector! Where IS it!” he hissed and searched the room with his eyes, his head turning to every wall and corner.

Amelia rose from the sofa and walked over to him, and she reached out and touched his shoulder.

“I am here, Gustav. Feel me touch you...” She soothed, and he looked up at her. He followed her instruction and reached up and placed his hand over hers.

“You ... you are real ... Really real?”

“Spiritually real. Now, I need you to listen to me...”

“Amelia...” He said and there were tears in his eyes. “I don’t believe it, are you really here?”

“I am here. My spirit is here. I am dead, really dead, but my spirit lives on. I want that for you too ... So, it is important for you to listen to me...” Amelia said, and then turned and looked at me. I saw the unspoken request in her pale-green eyes, so I nodded, and stood up from my chair.

“Gustav, please excuse me, I need to check something...” I said, but he did not hear me. In my head, I heard her voice, “Thank you, Bruce. I’ll make this up to you.”

I left the two in the private lounge and went out in search of strong coffee.

The only place in this huge castle where there’s coffee is in the kitchen, and that was where I headed. As I entered the kitchen, Maggie looked up from the kitchen table where she was busy preparing the magic of supper.

“I see you have a guest, Sir. Would you like some tea for the occasion?” Maggie asked, and I detected a slight iciness in her voice.

“No, Maggie, only coffee for me. I’ll take it in a mug and here in the kitchen.”

“And leave your guest alone?” Maggie said. I pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down with a sigh.

“The guest is not alone, Maggie.”

“Then ... who is with him?”

“Amelia.”

“She is with him! She ... is talking to him!”

“Yes, Maggie. It’s complicated.”

“And you approve of it?”

“Yes, Maggie.”

“Well! I don’t approve of it! He caused her death!”

“Maggie ... Leave Amelia to rescue the situation. She knows what really happened.”

“What really happened, Sir Bruce. I’ll tell you what really happened! He killed her! He drove right into her and her horse, killing them both. Gustav wanted to kill her, and he did!”

“Maggie, hear me out. He did not want to kill her. He did not want to hurt her at all. It was just a question of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“And how do you know that, Sir? He said that he was going to kill her...”

“No, Maggie, he did not.”

“I heard it with my own ears, Sir! He said that if he can’t have her, nobody would! Then he went ahead and ... killed that poor child.”

“Did he say in so many words, that he will kill her, Maggie? Did he use the word, ‘kill’ in any way?”

“Well...”

“No, Maggie, he did not. Amelia knows it. She told me and asked me to help her get to speak to him. So, Maggie leave them. Let Amelia speak to him and help him get over his grief. For twenty-six years that man was grieving over Amelia. Now let the two make peace.”

“Well, I...”

“For twenty-six years she roamed this castle, looking for a way to make peace with Gustav. Now she has her chance; let her be. It’s time to bury the hatchet, Maggie; time this thing is put to rest so Amelia can rest as well.”

“I did not think that it was an accident after all. He said that no one will have her...”

“Words spoken in the heat of the moment, Maggie. Gustav will hurt no one. He did not intend to hurt Amelia, he ... loved her. But she did not see it that way. She was still young and did not think about marriage and settling down.”

“I ... I ... I’m sorry, Sir. For ... for ... all those years I ... I believed he wanted to kill her, and he did,” she stammered, and then she looked out the kitchen window, just staring out, seeing nothing. Her mind was in turmoil. She also had to make peace.

I drank my coffee, sitting by the kitchen table, staring blankly out the window and wondering how the proceedings in the private lounge were going. But I had to let it slide. Things were in Amelia’s hands.

The afternoon dragged by slowly. Slowly for me. Outside the sun dropped towards the mountains to the west, casting shadows from the leaf-less trees that painted funny pattens on the lawn on the side of the castle.

Maggie served me lunch at the kitchen table, and we chit-chatted about all the goings-on at the castle. No further mention was made of Amelia or Gustav.

At 14:00 I left the kitchen, leaving Maggie to her devices in getting supper ready. The aroma coming from the pots on the stove drove me out from under her feet to go elsewhere. Boy, I can’t wait for supper.

I walked down the hall towards the back and the vineyard, pretending to inspect the estate. So far, the running of the household and the rest of the estate was under control and no input from me was really required. If something works, and it works as it should, don’t mess with it. That was my motto for a long time.

Monday was horticulture day, and there was a hive of activity around the apple trees and the small vineyard. Although it was winter, the care of the trees and vines was ongoing, and something I did not interfere with. I watched from the sidelines.

In the vineyard, workers pruned the vines, and the apple trees, separating the dead wood from the good growing healthy wood and removing lateral shoots, to leave the strongest shoots. I am no expert, so I leave it all to the people that know. A wise step.

All the while I was walking through the garden and grounds of the estate, I was troubled by the “what if?” I recalled what Amelia has said. When she has completed her task, she might move on. She is a spirit after all. There would be no place for me in her world, her realm, in her domain of activity. I didn’t want to lose her.

But in the unselfish part of me, I hoped that all will be good for her, that she will earn her wings, and truly be the Angel that she is.