| |
––––––––
The poplars cast a long shadow across the rock, providing some respite from the blazing sun. Annamari closed her eyes. She hated seeing the gaps in the once proud wall of trees. They were an unwelcome reminder of how her life was disintegrating. She hugged her knees to her chest, trying to sort through the cacophony of thoughts swirling through her mind. She felt like a child again, caught in one of those huge waves that used to sweep her up, toss her around like a ragdoll and then spew her out, coughing and spluttering, onto the Amanzimtoti beach. Her father would always be waiting to pick her up and comfort her – and then she’d rush back into the surf to brave the dumpers again.
But her father wasn’t around to comfort her this time. In fact, her father would probably disown her. As he would have disowned her thirty-six years ago had she dared to tell the truth. He would have been so disappointed in her. Her mother too. And Christo. They had been so brave, tried so hard to be supportive when they thought she was carrying Thys’ child. They’d also had to try and ignore the whispers and the conversations that stopped abruptly as they passed people in the street in Driespruitfontein, or in church. Their hurt and disappointment in her had been palpable. But what if they had known the truth, if she had confessed, if Thys hadn’t married her? It would have destroyed them. They would never have been able to show their faces in church again. They would have been shunned, become pariahs in their own town. And Arno – what kind of a life would Arno have had – if she had been allowed to keep him? She still shuddered at the thought of what it would have been like to have to give him up, give him away to another mother. But they would have called him the Jew bastard if she had kept him. If her parents had let her keep him. Not just a bastard, but a Jew bastard with a whore for a mother who had opened her legs for a Jewboy – which as just one small step above doing it for a kaffir. She wouldn’t have been able to keep him. There was no place for Jews in Steynspruit – look at how Alan and his family had been ostracised. She would have had to leave Steynspruit – and that would have killed her.
No, when she saw the man Arno had grown up to be – honest, hard-working, clever, eloquent and good-looking, so very good-looking – no one could blame her for doing what she had done. And no one would ever have known... besides Thys of course, but by the time he found out he had come to love Arno... and... and he seemed to have come to terms with it... so what harm had there been keeping quiet for all these years?
It was just a malicious twist of fate that was going to unravel the intricate web of lies she had woven so lovingly, so desperately, so protectively about her son. Oh God, she didn’t know what to do...
Perhaps, perhaps it was possible to ... not to tell Arno at all. If Thys agreed. Perhaps she could persuade Arno that that girl, Alan’s daughter, wasn’t right for him. And she wasn’t. If she had been able to persuade him that Beauty was not for him – Beauty who he had loved for years and years... well surely they could find a way to persuade him that loving that girl was a mistake. After all she was Jewish – not that she had anything against Jews: look how she had fallen in love with Israel and even made her precious farm into a kibbutz. But there was no question that Jews were different; they didn’t go to church, they didn’t eat pork, they didn’t even believe in Jesus, or the bible.
And if that didn’t work she could focus on his children. How fair would it be, she could argue, to his children – and to his father – to raise them without the bible? It would break Thys’ heart if his grandchildren didn’t have a bible. If they weren’t good Christians. And it would kill the dominee.
There was also the age difference to consider. That girl – Alan’s daughter – was far too young for him. She couldn’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three. A baby really. He was a mature man. She would bore him before too long... and if their marriage did last, what would it be like for her when he was an old man getting ready to retire and she was still a young, vibrant woman? It could work – if she was subtle, not too pushy, just showing deep concern.
And then... She took a deep breath. It had been in the back of her mind all along. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to even think of it. But she could use it. But only as the last resort. There was the issue of the girl’s... her psychological stability. She must have gone through hell. Annamari couldn’t bear to think about it. Could anyone be normal after that? Annamari shuddered. No. There was no way she could even raise that subject with Arno, with anyone. It was too... no. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t. That would just be too cruel. No.
She groaned. She couldn’t do this to Arno. Not again. And this time Arno was older, more sure of himself. He had chosen this girl... after so many others he had dated, after so many years. Why would he even listen to any of her arguments – which, even she had to admit, were pretty thin? All she would do was make him angry, turn him against her – and this time she would probably never see him again. And he would marry Aviva anyway.
Why, she asked herself, why did Arno and Aviva have to know anything at all? What if... what if they were just two orphans – who grew up in an orphanage, or who had been adopted by different families? It must have happened. It can’t not have happened. She vaguely remembered – it was in an article she had read in Huisgenoot, or maybe it was a programme on television. It was about how the chances of brothers and sisters getting married was increasing, especially with the growing number of women who were too involved in their careers and were leaving it too late to get married and their biological clocks were running out and they were going to sperm banks to have children and now those children were all grown up and were meeting each other and getting married. Most of them never found out that they were brother and sister... and they had very happy marriages. There was no need for them to know.
It was like a revelation. A sign from above. There was no need for Arno and Aviva to know! She didn’t have to say anything. She could just go back to the house and congratulate the happy couple and welcome Aviva to the family. It was all going to be okay.
Annamari sat up. She felt light. Buoyant. Like a huge weight she had been carrying around for years was suddenly gone.
Except for one little thing – actually one big thing. Thys. Would Thys back her up on this? Thys never lied. He was the most honest man in the world... and yet. And yet he had passively supported her charade for twenty years, more than twenty years. Would he be willing to go against the Word of the Lord? For Arno’s sake? For her sake? To save their family? It was possible. Maybe. He said he loved her. He loved Arno. He wouldn’t want to see Arno hurt.
She felt a vibration in her jeans pocket, a warning that her cell phone was about to ring. She tugged the phone out and looked at it. An unknown number.
‘Hello?’ She was pleased that her voice sounded quite normal. No indication of her emotional turmoil. Anyway she was much calmer now.
‘Mrs van Zyl? Hello, how are you? It’s Tracy Jacobs here. From the Daily Express.’