Synopsis

Born and raised on a remote farm in South Africa, Elisabeth Pieterse, a young, naive trainee nurse meets Dion Du Toit, a wickedly handsome salesman whose suave exterior hides a monster within that she discovers only after their wedding.

His addictions, adultery and insatiable desire to be in the limelight turn their lives into a roller coaster of erotic highs and death-defying lows leaving leading psychiatrists confused and Elizabeth shattered.

She knows instinctively that if she wants to stay alive it is safe to remain with him.

Finally, in a courageous but ill-advised attempt to quickly resolve her company’s financial problems, caused by Dion, Elizabeth then fails to answer the one telephone call that would have changed the course of the life forever.

Amazon US * Amazon UK

Excerpt

“Nothing has changed.” And the deep red colouring returned to his face again. I had never seen anything quite like this. I knew that any civil discussion wasn’t going to be possible, plus he’d had four brandies by then. I instinctively knew to keep my mouth shut.

He’d shown me, during the last few awkward months, that a woman so deeply in love is not the most brilliant judge of character! My fairy tale wasn’t panning out quite the way the books portrayed, and, in that moment, I would have been delighted had I turned into a pumpkin and stayed as one. I was not only acutely frustrated by trying to decipher the most peculiar behaviour emerging from my prince charming; I was frightened of him now too. Our fairy tale was morphing into a terrifying thriller, and I didn’t know how to handle it or whom to turn.

It was always the fourth drink that turned Oudemeester (A South African Brandy) into an ugly monster and I didn’t dare ask him, ‘Who are you?

The following day when he was sober, he was either defensive or apologetic. Somehow, I had to convince him that his love for alcohol was not only changing him and ruining our marriage but threatening to end it, which was not what I wanted.

I loved him; the real Dion, the one I had married. I was in a quandary for in our culture his behaviour was considered taboo and talking about it was even worse. It was the sort of conversation one only had in private with someone who could keep it confidential. Being an alcoholic or displaying any form of mental health issues were considered problems that only afflicted the poor or lower classes. I certainly didn’t want to tell my mother and least of all my brother, and though I trusted Amelia, I didn’t know how to begin describing what was happening. Besides, still spellbound by his sober charms I lived hoping it was a passing phase brought on by the stresses of his job, which he’d mentioned repeatedly over the past few months. When he wasn’t drinking, he’d sing to me as I prepared supper, then all resistance crumbled I’d forgive him. He knew just what buttons to press and would move in close behind me while I stirred whatever was in the pot on the stove, nuzzle my neck and sing; in seconds I’d have no idea what I was cooking, and supper would be abandoned until later, much later. Those days were blissful and not for a moment did I suspect that the beautiful serenading and confessions of undying love were becoming a cunning disguise. One evening another opportunity opened itself up for me to discuss the drinking issues and while we sat curled up together on the couch, I carefully lead the conversation to the issues.

“Please stop drinking, Liefie. I’m worried about you.” I pleaded with him. I knew I risked ruining the mood, but I had to express my concerns.

“Don’t you dare bitch about my fucking drinking, do you hear me,” he seethed, spittle flew from his mouth like an angry viper. Though I’d prepared myself for retaliation this venomous reaction shocked me; he’d never hissed at me with such poison in his voice before, and then I noticed his jaw was quivering and his hands balled into fists as he sat upright next to me.

“Dion, that’s not necessary”, I said, looking at his fists. “Only cowards hit their women and if you hit me consider our marriage well and truly over.” I was struggling to maintain composure. The word, ‘coward,’ seemed to trigger an angry, uncontrolled rage, and he growled at me. I was devastated and scared at the same time; I didn’t dare respond or move. I loathed this sort of confrontation and tears pricked at my eyes and reaching for the brandy bottle on the coffee table in front of us I smashed it on the floor shattering the atmosphere then stormed off to bed.

As the months progressed, Dion’s personality changes became even more dramatic. My sixth sense was ringing alarm bells in my head, cautioning me that Dion was dangerous, but I kept finding myself excusing his vile behaviour, and though I still loved the old Dion, this new monster was destroying everything we’d built together.

On occasions we’d have wonderful conversations, he was sensitive and apologetic. For a few days, sometimes even weeks, all was as it had been when we first were married. Often, he’d even admit to behaving like an animal after the fourth drink, but it didn’t stop him. Our social life together had dwindled too. Our friends had become bored, often annoyed listening to Dion carry on with ugly criticism of them and others at social braai’s, (barbecue’s) at home or friends’ homes. Consequently, invitations to social outings became rare, and I was living a continuous apology.

After an ugly, hostile confrontation between Amelia and Dion during our last braai together, she vowed she would never come to another, and she didn’t, which broke my heart; neither did anyone else. I felt so isolated and from that day on, Amelia and I met in town when we wanted to see each other. She never told me what prompted the outburst, but I guessed he must have been strongly suggestive, which was probably the case, or darn right rude and insulting, neither of which she would have tolerated. Amelia was volatile with admirably strict principles; whatever Dion may have done; she would have struck out at him like an angry cat. He, on the other hand, didn’t give a damn that our friends no longer visited, and we never went anywhere. The feelings of others was not his concern, providing he was happy, nothing else mattered much.”

About the Author

Diana is a country bumpkin at heart, born and raised on a farm in Rhodesia – now Zimbabwe, then Lived in South Africa for the better part of her adult life. Since then, Diana is now happily living in England, where all her family are originally from.

Diana’s qualifications are in the Equine world and the only writing she has ever undertaken is articles for various newspapers and magazines on her equestrian practices and even her own amazing horses. Furthermore, the topic of her next book plays into this very theme, a manual called the ‘Equus Soul Technique’. This technique developed over many years and grew organically when Diana ran workshops for CEO’s mimicking the herd leadership skills and putting them into practice in business to enhance productivity and unity within the work force. Her four-day equine-facilitated therapy workshops for traumatised women opened the door to evolving the technique into healing traumatised horses and grew from there.

“One could say I was just about born on the back of a horse.”

Diana’s father, a farmer, owned racehorses and played polo for many years until his accident on the polo field that put him into a wheelchair for life.

“My next inspiring novel is also based upon the true story of a truly powerful and inspirational man who lost the use of his legs in a polo accident and raised three very young children after losing his wife to cancer only months after his accident. ‘Muchingura’ an African name given to him, has a dual meaning- one who stays or one who sits. There will be a sequel to this novel.”