| |
––––––––
Thys hadn’t even pulled up the Corolla’s handbrake before Annamari clambered out and rushed into the house. She had to find it. She hadn’t thought about it for years and years. She hadn’t seen it since – she couldn’t remember. She couldn’t ask Thys if he knew where it was. What could she say if he asked her why she wanted it? Needed it. Right now.
She found it, under a pile of papers in the roll-top desk in the spare room. Her old room. She’d leave it there. She’d wait until Thys was out of the house, tomorrow, and then she’d... well, she’d think of something. After all, she couldn’t just suddenly invite Pretty into the house for a cup of coffee and a chat. Could she?
***
‘Look how young Thys was!’
Annamari pointed at Thys in the middle of the front row of the photograph of the First Rugby Team in the Driespruitfontein Hoërskool magazine.
Pretty smiled her vague smile and sipped at the glass of Oros orange juice Annamari had insisted on pouring for her when they returned to the kitchen after sorting through Steyn’s old clothes. It had been nothing short of a brainwave to ask Pretty to help her find some that were in reasonable condition and could be handed down to some of the younger kibbutz children. Especially as Pretty didn’t work for her anymore. Thys had insisted that they could not have a “domestic worker” if they were ordinary members of the kibbutz, even if they still lived in the big house. So now Pretty was just another member of the kibbutz too. Her current task – assigned to her by Petrus and the kibbutz committee – was to work in the communal laundry and mend the members’ work clothes.
Annamari had left the assistant nursery school teacher, Filomina, to watch over the little children as they took their morning nap, while she hurried back to the house to do some urgent chores. Well, that’s what she told Filomina – and Thys. Thys simply nodded and continued with his geography lesson.
Annamari hurried to the laundry. Pretty was sewing a button on a blue shirt but she put it aside and stood up as Annamari burst through the door. Annamari explained her predicament – that she didn’t have much time and she had to see exactly what clothes Steyn had before she took him shopping this afternoon. Pretty agreed to accompany her back to the big house and into Steyn’s chaotic bedroom.
***
‘Phew, it’s hot today, isn’t it?’ Annamari said.
Pretty nodded and continued folding the shirts and shorts Annamari had pulled at random from Steyn’s cupboard.
‘I’d love something to drink. Wouldn’t you?’
Pretty added another shirt to the growing pile on the bed.
‘Let’s go and see what we can find. Take the clothes – I think there’s a bag in the pantry that you can use,’ Annamari said, and led Pretty down the passage to the kitchen.
The 1977 Driespruitfontein Hoërskool magazine was lying carelessly on the kitchen table where Annamari had positioned it after washing up the breakfast dishes that morning. Pretty didn’t look at it. Annamari poured some Oros into two glasses, topped them up with water from the fridge and handed one to the other woman. She pulled out two kitchen chairs and indicated to Pretty to sit down.
Pretty perched herself on the edge of the chair. She sipped her drink and looked as uncomfortable as Annamari felt.
‘It’s not too sweet is it? Would you like more water in it?’ Annamari reached for Pretty’s glass and some of the orange liquid slopped on to the magazine.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Pretty said, jumping up.
Annamari brushed the liquid off the magazine with her hand and laughed. ‘Don’t worry. Look, there’s no harm done.’
She flipped open the magazine and smiled. ‘Gosh, Pretty. Look at this photograph. It’s of the rugby team when Thys was in matric. See how young he looked.’
She pushed the magazine towards Pretty. Pretty smiled. Annamari turned the page, pointing out people at random. She turned another page. And held her breath. The next page, she knew, featured the photograph of the cross country team.
She turned the page, and kept her eyes fixed on Pretty’s face. Pretty’s expression of mild interest didn’t change. Annamari let out her breath, her heart soaring. She counted to ten and then started to turn the page.
Pretty learned forward and pointed a trembling finger at the photograph.
‘That’s Baas Alan.’
‘Who?’ Annamari fought the urge to cry.
‘There. That one. That’s Baas Alan.’
Pretty’s finger was pressed firmly onto Alan Silverman’s face.
‘You know him?’ Annamari was shocked at how aggressive she sounded.
Pretty flinched and turned away, wiping her eyes.
‘Pretty, how do you know him?’ She hated pushing Pretty like this, but she had to be sure.
‘Baas Alan, he came to the lokshin. He... he ...to visit the girls.’
‘And you, Pretty? Did he... umm... Did you... Did he visit you? Or the other girls?’
Pretty pulled the magazine towards her and stared hard at the photograph.
‘He liked me. Always when he came, it was for me. But he never came back. He said he was going to fetch clothes for the baby. But he never.’
Annamari hoped Pretty couldn’t hear her hammering heart. ‘What baby? His baby?’
Pretty put her hands over her face and turned away. Annamari resisted the urge to grab her shoulders, spin her around and shake her.
‘Pretty... what baby? Did Alan ... was your baby...’
Pretty began to sob. She started moving towards the back door. Annamari grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
‘Tell me. What baby? Beauty?’
Pretty pulled her hand out of Annamari’s desperate grasp.
‘Pretty, you have to tell me. Was... Is Alan Silverman Beauty’s father?’
Pretty turned and swept the magazine off the table. ‘He never came back. He never brought the clothes like he promised. He never brought the money. Beauty never had a father.’
***
When Thys came into the kitchen, Annamari was slumped over the table, the shroud of despair that enveloped her so heavy, she could barely lift her head to look unseeingly at her husband.
‘Annamari? What’s happened?’
She looked away and resumed her languid inspection of the wood grain that was visible through the old table’s chipped and faded white paint. It was probably dreadfully unhygienic, but what did it matter?
‘What’s going on? Why are you sitting there like that? Filomina came to call me when you didn’t come back. She was worried.’
Annamari’s fingers picked at a chip in the paint, loosening a small flake. She pushed it aside and continued to pick, pick, pick. Another flake. She felt a soft pressure on her shoulder. Then a slight shake. She turned her head. Thys was standing right next to her. She wondered why he had come home so early. Why he was shaking her.
‘Annamari? Are you ill?’
Was she ill? She was dying! She wished he would just go away and let her die in peace. Then she wouldn’t have to break her son’s heart. Then she wouldn’t have to destroy Beauty, again. Then she wouldn’t have to lie to her husband, yet again.
‘I’m fine. Tell Filomina I’ll be along in a few minutes.’
‘Nursery school’s finished for the day... Annamari? How long have you been sitting here like this? Don’t tell me you’re fine. You’re not. You’ve been acting strangely since... for days. What’s wrong?’
She dragged her head around to look at the kitchen clock. Almost two o’clock. Steyn would be flying through the back door any minute, hungry as a horse and she hadn’t even started preparing lunch.
She hauled herself to her feet. ‘I have to make lunch for Steyn. Do you want a sandwich or something?’
‘Why do you always do that? When I want to talk to you?’
‘Do what?’ she muttered, easing past her husband and opening the wooden bread box.
‘This. Ignoring me. Changing the subject.’
She shrugged and meticulously cut a slice from the whole-wheat loaf. Steyn hated whole-wheat.
Thys turned on his heel and headed out the back door, back to the school. Annamari heaved a sigh of relief. Now she had a little more time to decide what to do. To decide how to do it. She wondered if it would be enough.