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‘Nooooo!’
Annamari shrugged off Thys’ comforting arm. She wanted to look away, to close her eyes but they were glued to the white toy plane with its red markings – how had she ever thought it was pretty? – as it flipped over, and flipped again in the ominous, threateningly clear blue sky. She heard the sewing machine engine cough, splutter, stall. The single, pathetic, tiny little propeller stopped turning. And she knew, she just knew that the plane was going to plummet into the ground.
‘Nooooo!’ she shrieked again. ‘Thys do something!’
She glared at her husband’s white face. There were droplets of sweat beading his forehead. He was clearly as panicked as she felt. Served him right. Why had she ever let him talk her into this? He knew how she felt about aeroplanes. Arno too. This was also his fault.
‘It’s okay liefie... see?’ Thys said as the engine spluttered... took... and the little plane straightened out and started to climb again, the inadequate propeller disappearing against the sky. ‘Come, let’s go and find some shade. It’s too hot to keep standing here.’
‘No. I’m not moving until that... that thing is down on the ground and my son is safe. You obviously don’t care.’
She turned away and scanned the sky, holding up her hand to block the mocking sun, searching for the little plane which had vanished again.
Thys laughed. ‘You’re looking the wrong way. It’s over there. It looks like he’s getting ready to land. See. Here he comes.’
She swung around and stared, horrified, as the little toy plane raced towards the ground, faster and faster. It was going to crash. Anyone could see that. She closed her eyes, waiting for the explosion.
‘You can look now. He’s down.’
Annamari glared at her husband again, hitched up her jeans, gathered what was left of her dignity, and marched towards the white building which apparently housed the Elite Flight School. The little plane was already there, the propeller still, the door open. Her youngest son was loping across the tarmac – the apron he had called it – towards her.
‘Did you see my spin, Ma? And my stall. I love doing that.’
‘Are you crazy? Are you quite, quite crazy? What the hell did you think you were doing?’
Annamari could hear her voice spiralling out of control. She was shaking and there was Steyn, all sparkling brown eyes and a huge grin. She rubbed her itching hand on her leg.
‘Where’s that instructor of yours?’ she hissed. ‘What on earth was he thinking? How can he allow a child to do acrobatics like that? That’s what they do at air shows.’ She turned on Thys who had materialised next to her. ‘Steyn doesn’t even have his licence yet. How can they let him fly like that?’
‘I’m pretty sure he does now,’ Thys said. ‘Congratulations son. That was incredible. I’m so proud of you.’ Thys put his arms around Steyn and thumped him on his back. Annamari wanted to throw up.
***
‘But I told you, Ma. I told you I’d would be doing spins and stalls. You have to be able to do that if you want to get your private pilot’s licence. I told you.’ Steyn beamed at her and sipped his Coke.
Steyn hadn’t stopped beaming, not for a single minute. Not when his instructor came over to congratulate him; not during the drive into Bethlehem; not while they waited for the waitress to bring their celebratory lunch order.
‘I know you told me, Steynkie. But you didn’t tell me that you would flip the plane over and over so much that the engine died. If you had, I would never have agreed to you having flying lessons, even if they were a present from Arno.’
Annamari had almost throttled her oldest son when she realised what was in the envelope he gave Steyn for his seventeenth birthday: a voucher for a test flying lesson. Arno had driven down from Johannesburg especially – and had even made the appointment with Darryl at the Elite Flying School in Bethlehem. Thys and Arno drove Steyn to the lesson in Arno’s latest new car, a silver BMW. She had refused to go – which had turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of her life. Because if she had gone, she would have stopped Arno from signing Steyn up for flying lessons, lessons – he informed her proudly – that would eventually enable him to get his private pilot’s licence. If he worked hard.
But, to her eternal regret, she hadn’t felt up to it. She had still been too upset about the phone call from Mr Venter. The claim against Steynspruit was still crawling along, he’d said. She had given up trying to get to grips with the legal intricacies of the appeals and counter appeals that had been going on for the past three years. Mr Venter had fought their case in this court and that court; he’d filed this motion and that appeal; even Beauty had acknowledged that he was doing a good job. But after each foray, when she asked: ‘So, is it over? Is Steynspruit safe?’ Mr Venter had shrugged, cleared his throat and muttered: ‘Not yet.’ All this legal toing and froing was costing a fortune. There was no way they could afford flying lessons. They had barely managed to scrape together enough to fix the roof of the house – the insurance didn’t cover “wear and tear and natural deterioration”. But, she’d stupidly thought – one little test flight, in a little plane – well, that couldn’t do any harm and the reality of it all might just bring Steyn to his senses.
But, it hadn’t and she’d never understand why she had ever imagined that it would.
‘Ma, flying is all Steyn has ever wanted to do,’ Arno had said when she’d calmed down after they’d broken the news that the single test flight had morphed into a signed contract for flying lessons. ‘The instructor who took him up for the test said he was a natural.’
‘I’m sure they say that about every starry-eyed boy who thinks flying is romantic and exciting. Anyway, it’s too expensive. We can’t afford ...’ she’d objected.
‘Ma, it’s my gift to my little brother. I can afford it. Mr Silverman gave me a fantastic bonus, plus the Silver Properties share price is holding its own nicely. And once Steyn is a qualified private pilot, he should stand a better chance of getting accepted for pilot training in the Air Force after he matriculates. Otherwise, he can become my personal pilot.’
Steyn and Arno and even Thys had all laughed.
***
‘I wonder why Arno hasn’t phoned,’ Annamari said as she and Thys settled down on the couch to watch The Amazing Race. ‘Steyn has been trying to reach him all day.’
It really was strange. Usually, if Arno was busy and couldn’t take a call, he’d phone back as soon as he was free – which was seldom more than an hour or two. But Steyn’s calls, SMSs and WhatsApps with the wonderful news that he was now a qualified pilot had all gone unanswered.
‘I’m going to try again,’ Thys said, reaching for the telephone, which rang just as he was about to lift the handset.
‘Hello? Arno! I was just going to call... did you get our messages... yes, it’s wonderful. Steyn handled himself like a pro... okay, I’ll tell him. Where have you been all day?’
Suddenly, Thys sat bolt upright; his hand holding the handset whitened.
‘What?’ he said. ‘That’s terrible... when...how awful...’
‘Thys,’ Annamari whispered. ‘What’s wrong?’
But Thys ignored her and continued to listen intently to whatever bad news Arno was giving him.
‘Poor, poor Alan,’ he said. ‘The poor man. What a terrible tragedy. Send our deepest sympathy. Tell him he is in our prayers. Keep us informed... Yes... yes... I understand, your ma will too. And you take care of yourself. Good night, son.’
‘What?’ Annamari said.
‘It’s Alan’s wife. She’s... she... Last night. She’s dead. They found her in her bedroom this morning.’
Annamari felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach by a very strong donkey. ‘How? What happened? Arno never said she was sick or anything. Was she murdered?’
‘They’re not sure, Arno says. The police are apparently investigating.’
‘Oh heavens! You see? I wish Arno would come home. He must come home. It’s too dangerous up there in Johannesburg. First their daughter is kidnapped or something; then his wife is murdered... It shows you. No matter how rich and important you are, no one is safe in a place like that. Arno has to see sense and come home ...’
‘No, no liefie. They don’t know if she was... they don’t know what happened. Arno said they think she might have committed suicide.’