It rained on the Langeberge in the distance, but all around me the veld stayed dry. In the middle of the night there was thunder and lightning, but not a drop of water. In the flash of the light I saw her pearl dress, and in the rumble of the thunder was the sound of his voice.
When I arrived at the church for Martine’s funeral the next morning, the skies were clear. No hope of rain. Candy was talking to Kannemeyer, her hand on his arm. He wore a blue shirt and a dark tie. She was wearing a pill-box hat with a veil, and a short black dress with pearl buttons all the way down the front. I was wearing my brown cotton dress.
‘Sugar. Thank God you’re here,’ she said, trotting towards me in black velvet high heels.
‘Hello, Candice,’ I said.
My shoes hurt. They were my smartest but least comfortable pair.
‘I need your help,’ she said.
She pointed towards the church. The Nederduitse Gereformeerde Kerk is a tall white building, not at all friendly looking. I used to come here with my husband, Fanie. Gathered at the far end of the big white stairs was a collection of people.
‘I wasn’t thinking straight,’ said Candice. ‘I told family and close friends to come early, thinking they could help out. But look at them.’
Henk had disappeared. There was an old man in a wheelchair. A man stood behind him, wearing a shiny blue suit that looked too small. Anna was in her wheelchair. The leg in the cast was at an angle, resting on a metal platform – an extension of the foot rest. She had on jeans with one leg cut off above the cast, the other covering her bandages. She wore a smart black blouse and soft black shoes. Even from this distance I could tell her eyes had that dark look again. I waved at her, but she did not see me.
Didi was there, adjusting the bandages on John’s ribs. And Dirk, one arm in a sling, wearing a dark suit, the jacket hanging over his shoulders. His whiskers had been neatly shaved and his face was as pale as his bandages.
‘This lot all need help up the stairs,’ said Candy. ‘There’s no damn ramp. Thank God Henk Kannemeyer is here. He’ll be a pall-bearer too.’
Jessie appeared at my side in her usual black vest but with smart navy trousers.
She cleared her throat, and said, ‘I can help too.’
‘Thank you, sugar. You’re real sweet. Tannie Kuruman’s having a hard time laying out food in the reception hall, because those people are pestering her.’ She pointed towards the hall, where I could see Tannie K carrying a silver tray, and pushing her way past a small crowd of people. I thought I recognised some of them. ‘But our biggest problem is the priest. He’s sick, and the lay preacher’s gone to Riversdale. Any ideas?’
I looked at Candy, her skin and hair glowing like the pearl buttons on her dress, and tried to speak but the sound somehow got lost.
‘Reghardt and I will get the wheelchairs up the stairs,’ said Jessie.
I swallowed and said, ‘I’ll sort out the food and the preacher.’
‘You are both angels, thank you. Oh Lordy, here comes James,’ said Candy. ‘Martine’s boy. I must introduce him to Grandpa Peter and Uncle David. They’ve never met. In fact, David’s only just learned that he exists.’
She trotted away from us towards a young boy in a wheelchair, being pushed along the pavement by a man in a white nurse’s uniform.
The boy’s head was hanging down, his neck soft. Candice squatted down and spoke to him. They were too far away to hear, but we saw the boy lifting his head and his mouth falling open into a big smile.
Candy’s dress was a lot tighter and shorter when she was on her haunches. Dirk went tumbling forward to join them, and put his bandaged hand on his son’s shoulder.
‘The one in the shiny suit and the pink tie must be Martine’s brother, David,’ said Jessie.
He was wheeling the old man towards the boy. The oupa used his hands to speed up his own wheels and left David behind.
Candice stood up and helped the wheelchairs meet, so that Jamie ended up knee to knee with his grandfather. The boy’s head lolled to one side. He was still smiling. The oupa wore a starched black shirt, but the skin on his neck and face was pale and rumpled. He was small, like a bird, too small for his clothes.
Grandpa’s eyes went wide, like he’d seen a ghost; he kept looking at Jamie. The boy had Martine’s blond hair and her sharp nose. The same as his grandpa’s nose. Jamie grinned, his head wobbling from side to side. The nurse wiped the edge of his mouth.
Jamie waved his hand towards his grandpa, and the old man reached out and grabbed it.
The light caught the cheeks of the old man, and I saw they were wet.
‘He’s crying,’ Jessie said.
Candy dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and rested her fingers on David’s arm. David was now standing behind his father’s wheelchair. They were all looking at the boy, who was gripping his granddad’s hand.
‘Look at Uncle David,’ said Jessie.
His face was twisted with what looked like anger, hatred even. His look shone like a dark light upon the boy. Then he was smiling with his mouth, but his eyes were empty, like a torch switched off.
The boy looked up at David then his head fell down like a wilted flower. Jamie pulled his hands away from his grandfather; they fell curled on his lap like sleeping mice.
They all turned and moved towards the church. Dirk and Oupa stayed close to the boy. David and Candice were a little behind.
‘So he really does exist,’ said David, as they walked past us. ‘Well, sort of.’