And they all laughed. Except Annamari.
‘Who told you De Wet was supposed to be playing today?’ she snapped before she could stop herself. Arno put his arm around Beauty’s shoulders. Thys stared at her, clearly surprised at her tone. Annamari’s heart plummeted.
‘I did, Ma. I suggested she come up to Bloem for the game and to be with all of us again. It’s been so long. And then tomorrow she can catch a ride with you to Steynspruit – she hasn’t been home for ages,’ Arno said.
‘What about you, son? Are you coming to Steynspruit too?’ Thys asked brightly, clearly determined to ease the tension around the table.
‘I wish I could. But Mr Silverman is expecting me in the office all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow morning at eight sharp.’
‘But it’s Sunday tomorrow,’ Thys objected.
‘Ja well, Sunday, Monday – there’s no difference to Mr Silverman. We have a huge proposal on Monday and there’s still a lot to do. Fortunately, he doesn’t work on Saturdays otherwise I’d probably be stuck in the office right now. Oh, I nearly forgot. He told me to tell you he sends his regards.’
Annamari pushed De Wet off the bench, slid across the faux leather seat and bolted to the door with its elaborate “Jills” sign in beaten copper. She shoved it open and hurtled through, relieved that the room was empty. She opened the cold tap in one of the basins, splashed water on her face, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, willing her heart to stop hammering. Trying to blot out the picture of Arno and Beauty, virtually in each other’s laps, eyes locked, looking like they couldn’t wait to be alone and...
‘Are you okay, MaAnni? BabaThys sent me to check on you.’
Annamari’s eyes flew open. Beauty was staring at her, her expression unfathomable.
‘I’m fine. Go back to the table.’
‘BabaThys wants to know what you want to eat.’
Annamari’s stomach heaved. ‘Nothing. Anything. A salad.’
But Beauty still didn’t go. Instead, she stepped closer and put her hand on Annamari’s arm.
‘What’s wrong, MaAnni?’
‘Nothing. It’s been a long day.’
‘It’s because Arno and I are together, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. No. No! I don’t know. I didn’t know you were still ... still friends.’
Beauty smiled, a tight twitch of her generous lips. ‘We’ve always been friends, MaAnni. More than friends, really.’
Annamari shook her head violently. Her legs turned to jelly and she clung to the basin in desperation. ‘No. No. You can’t. Beauty ... no. You can’t.’
‘Can’t what? Be together? Why?’
Annamari shook her head. What could she say?
‘It’s because I’m black and Arno is white, isn’t it? I could never understand why you were always trying to keep us apart. It’s never made sense to me. You were always so kind to me. But now I understand.’
‘No, you don’t... you can’t...’
‘Arno said I was imagining it. He said you were just being protective of me, after Stefan Smit and everything, but it wasn’t that, was it? It wasn’t me you wanted to protect. It was Arno. That’s why you sent me off to Cape Town, wasn’t it? Because you wanted to keep me away from him. You don’t think I’m good enough for him, do you?’
‘No, no, don’t be ridiculous. Beauty, how can you think that? It’s just ...’ Annamari faltered.
Beauty blazed on: ‘Oh don’t. I’m not stupid. Look. Arno and I are together. Get used to it... I’ll tell BabaThys you want a salad platter.’
If the “Jill’s” door hadn’t been on one of those automatic pneumatic closing things, Beauty would have slammed it off its hinges, Annamari was certain. She had never seen the girl so angry, or so beautiful. Trembling, she splashed more water on her face and forced her legs to carry her back to the table. Thys glared at her and raised an eyebrow. She smiled brightly at him; she laughed at something Steyn said; she beamed at De Wet. She kept her eyes averted from Arno and Beauty – she couldn’t bear to look at them.
***
The heat in the car was making Annamari’s head pound. Steyn’s high-pitched imitation of the sounds of the various planes they had seen at the Air Show wasn’t helping. Nor was Beauty’s shrill laughter, which served only to encourage Steyn to shriek even louder. Thys wouldn’t look at her. He had barely spoken to her all day. Last night, they had gone back to the Holiday Inn after that awful, awful supper, their icy silence masked by Steyn’s chatter. They had climbed into bed and lay stiffly side by side, as Steyn snored quietly in the other bed.
Then Thys had murmured quietly: ‘I’ll pray for you, Annamari.’ But he hadn’t said anything to her since, not once, the whole morning, the whole trip.
Annamari leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She was exhausted. That dreadful encounter with Beauty in the Spur’s toilets had replayed in her mind all night. Over and over and over.
Now, it flickered across her closed lids. She opened her eyes and stared blindly out the window. Could she have handled it differently? What could she have said? What should she say? Should she tell Beauty the truth? Swear her to secrecy? She shuddered. No way. What if Beauty told Arno? What if Beauty told Thys? What if Beauty didn’t believe her and she and Arno ...
Annamari caught her breath. What if it wasn’t true? After all, what real proof did she have? The fact that Beauty’s eyes were blue? That was no proof at all. Not real proof. Her heart thumped. What if Arno and Beauty could be together? It would make Arno so happy. Anyone could see he was crazy about her. And she was crazy about him. They’d make a perfect couple. She – so clever and ambitious and hard working and kind and pretty and really quite wonderful. It really didn’t matter that she wasn’t white. It didn’t. And Arno – so handsome and clever and gentle and... there was no question about it, they were – they could be – a perfect couple. If only. She would love nothing more than to give them her heartfelt blessing. To dance at their wedding with wings on her feet. But only if she was sure, absolutely one hundred percent certain, that she was wrong.
Chapter 34
2002
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 less
on.
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.
Chapter 35
2002
It wasn’t.
A gentle tap at the back door, far too soon, set her heart hammering. Annamari bent her head over her task, carefully smoothing the chunky Black Cat peanut butter over the two slices of whole-wheat bread she had cut from the loaf, ensuring every crumb was evenly coated. She wasn’t ready for this. She hadn’t rehearsed what she would say. She didn’t have a clue what to say.
‘May I come in?’
Annamari swallowed and deliberately cut each slice into three meticulous soldiers.
‘I’m sorry, MaAnni,’ Beauty said, so quietly Annamari’s head jerked up in surprise.
‘What?’
‘I said I’m sorry. I had no right to speak to you the way I did at the restaurant. I was rude and I said some terrible things. I’m sorry.’
Annamari’s legs were trembling so much she almost fell into a kitchen chair. Now what? She forced herself to look at Beauty. The girl’s wan face swam before her, and Annamari was horrified to see tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘I don’t know what came over me,’ Beauty said. ‘I was just so... I don’t know... I was hurt. I’d hoped and prayed that you’d be happy for me, for us. But you... you looked as if you hated me.’
‘No. Oh Beauty, no. I could never hate you. How could you even think that?’
‘Then why? Why don’t you want me and Arno... Arno and me... why are we such a problem for you? It’s 2002, MaAnni. There are lots of mixed couples... couples like us in Cape Town, in Johannesburg. I know it’s hard for you but times have changed. We love e
ach other...’ Her voice trailed away.
‘Love isn’t everything,’ Annamari blurted. ‘Sometimes there are things... things we can’t control...’
Steyn bounded into the kitchen and stopped, looking from his mother to Beauty with big, round, brown eyes. Annamari sent him off to his room to play the Flight Simulator game Arno had bought him for Christmas and which he couldn’t seem to get enough of. Steyn grabbed his peanut butter soldiers and disappeared before she could change her mind.
Annamari turned back to Beauty. Silence, an impenetrable curtain, hung between them. And then it came to her. She knew exactly what she could say. But only as a last resort. Only if she had to – the one argument Beauty would accept, because if there was one thing Beauty wanted more than anything – more, she prayed, than Arno – it was respect and admiration and acceptance. To be treated as an equal, a first among equals. First, however, she would try a softer approach, drawing on that pseudo–psychobabble article she had read in the Huisgenoot magazine. She wished she had cut it out and kept it, because it could have been about Beauty and Arno, sort of.
She indicated to Beauty to sit and waited for the water in the kettle to boil. She put rooibos teabags into two mugs and added the boiling water. She sensed Beauty squirming in the chair, but she had to marshal her thoughts. So Beauty would accept her argument. Because Beauty wasn’t stupid... anything but! She squeezed the water from the teabags and placed them on the drying saucer, to be added to the collection which she would spread in her vegetable garden. They said in Huisgenoot that this would keep the snails away.
‘I know you think I’ve always tried to keep you and Arno apart, but you’re wrong.’ She pushed a mug of the steaming tea across the table towards Beauty.
‘You stopped him taking me to the matric dance. You never wanted us to be... friends.’
Annamari could see that Beauty was struggling to control herself. Tears were starting to spill down her cheeks again. She swallowed hard. She was also close to tears. This was so difficult. But what choice did she have?
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