Agaat (19 page)

Over and over again you looked at the display, picked up all the trophies and read the inscriptions, removed the medals with their satin ribbons from the glass cabinets and weighed them in your hand, examined the photos from up close, touched all his strange hard apparatus and reins and harnesses, fastened and unfastened the buckles and belts, tried to budge the weights, smelt and tested the powders and oils between your fingers.

Perhaps there were other reasons for these sessions. If Jak, indeed if anybody, had had to see you in his room, they would have imagined that you were feasting on his fame.

That may be what Beatrice thought when she found you there one day. You hadn't heard her approach. Then she saw you there in front of the photos, came and stood next to you, and produced a sigh, cunningly, now you think back on it.

Ai, Milla, what a wonderful man you married, if only Thys were like him.

You played along for a while.

What's wrong with Thys? you asked, he looks like a real pillar of strength to me.

Thys, he, he is . . . hard.

But with you? you asked, with you he is surely soft?

Beatrice looked away.

What got into you? Did you want to shock her? Perhaps you thought your pregnancy gave you licence, gave you power, liberty to be open-hearted.

Pretty Jak de Wet is a dog, Beatrice, you said. A Doberman if you like, fine of build with a beautiful muzzle, but a dog nevertheless.

Then you told her about Jak, about how he treated you. She listened.

You told her everything about the painting of the cabinets and the dragging across the cement and the scratches and the bruises and how it had gone on over the years, and how he had withdrawn into himself, a time-bomb waiting to explode. She'd always thought there was something wrong, she said. The more you told, the less she wanted to hear, but you kept her there.

Why did I marry him, Beatrice? you asked, who is this man? The more I stare at these photos to try and understand, the more the mystery deepens.

Perhaps, Beatrice began, you could see she was hesitant, perhaps you wanted to share in his . . . in his . . .

Beatrice looked away. You waited for her to continue.

Perhaps you're dependent on his . . .

She took her handbag, left her sentence hanging in the air. You changed the subject.

No, you said, don't go yet, it's your turn now, you talk to me now, I also guess my guesses about you, you know.

And then you saw it, how she clammed shut, how the defensiveness came over her, over her mouth and into her eyes. More than defensiveness, disgust, judgement. Of you, not of Jak.

I shall never talk out of the house, Milla. Marriage is holy and it's private. Everything depends on that. Thys has his faults but he's a good human being, a good man, and I stand by him through thick and thin, as I promised before the holy Lord.

On her heel she turned and walked out. You went and sat on a chair there in Jak's room, in his display case, as if his displayed wares had to forgive you for what you'd let out of the bag. What dark mood was it that drove you out of there? You took his camera that was lying on his desk, and went looking for him.

You found him in the implement shed with the new ripper. You walked across the yard slowly, your body was big, it was a month before Jakkie's arrival. The plough had been delivered that very morning by
the agent of International Harvester. You had a good reason to go and look for him because lunch was on the table. The shed was dark, you stood still for your eyes to adjust. Jak was standing caressing the seed hopper of the new plough. His lips were moving.

Soilmaster, you heard him say. The word sounded clearly in the shed. He squatted into the backside of the plough, his eyes closed while he played his hands up and down over the teeth.

You wanted to turn away and leave, you held the camera behind your back, but he'd already seen you.

Milla, he called after you.

Come and eat, you wanted to say, but then you said something else.

Then you said to him, move the plough out under the wild fig, I want to take photos. And you walked back to the house with your heart filled with dark feelings and you paged through his wardrobe until you found an olive-green shirt.

This will show off the red of the plough more clearly, you said, they're complementary colours, red and green.

And then you posed him, like this and like that, and you aimed from below and from above, from near and from far, full and half and quarter profiles.

Smile, you said. Pensive. Say cheese, sing, happy days are here again, sing, I talk to the trees.

The farm kids also wanted to be in the photos. They swarmed all over the plough like bats and fiddled and fidgeted everywhere as if they might find something edible there. And then Jak said abruptly, that's enough, he was tired now. Certainly the first time that you'd heard him say that of a photo session.

When at last you were seated at table, he looked at you, pale-faced, said he felt terribly exhausted, he hoped it wasn't his heart, and then went to lie down without eating.

You sat there for a long time over the cold food, a taste of iron in your mouth.

The more I think back on the day the more I feel I should perhaps have done the whole thing differently first talked & explained everything but how does one ever explain everything to a child?

 

She wasn't at all at ease after the sheep-slaughtering this morning just stood there in the kitchen door right sleeve stretched smeared with blood & looked straight at me. Arrange your face I said we still have lots to do I thought take no notice take no nonsense but she stayed there chin on chest & and put one foot on top of the other & fist in the mouth. There, go & wash yourself I said see what you look like & stand up straight & take your hand out of your mouth & go and take off that jersey one doesn't walk around like that. Next thing she throws her arms around her body the one arm over the other & I grab her by the shoulders Saar shakes her head & sucks her teeth as if I've now done something wrong don't you meddle here I say & go & fetch my old red jersey in the bedroom she can't walk around any longer in that blood-stained thing. And then A. doesn't want to take it off in front of me so much for gratitude! So I gave her a piece of sunlight soap & said go & take it off yourself outside at the tap & soap it in so that it can soak & I gave her a bucket because I didn't want her to go into the house then but she mustn't go into hr outside room either. That would spoil all my plans right there & there she stands & she refuses flatly. I have another jersey like this one she says where's my jersey I want my own jersey it has the right sleeve.

 

Simply had to talk over her objections because hr case with hr clothes was already in the outside room. So I had to think quickly to put hr in hr place & I quickly pushed my hand into the pocket of hr dress in front & this sheep's ear? what's it doing here? I don't want to see any
superstitions in you & then I threw the ear into the bin & then she looked so sad so then I said when you're clean come & have tea there are ginger biscuits you were very good about learning to slaughter we all have to do things in this life that we don't like & then I gave her my red jersey to take with her and to go and put on behind the house in privacy.

 

After lunch she polished the stoep & I instructed Saar to help hr next thing there they are singing together. Good sign after the business of the morning.

Next thing I hear A. teaching Saar a new line: Stand in the shade's the name of the maid & All in a whirl's the name of the girl piece of liver piece of lung food to keep the old man young. Heaven knows what's going on in that head of hrs but she made good progress through the list looks as if she picked up some spirit in the course of the day. Praised her wherever I could.

At 5 o'clock she told me her hand was tired. Had seen it coming but I was ready for her: Nay what I said lots of work will make that hand of yours strong soon you won't even know about it. Got a cup of coffee into her & pushed through till 6 o'clock & then said go and make a fire now we're going to have a nice braai you can clean yourself afterwards you're just going to be standing around in the smoke now anyway.

Over-tired. Over-exerted myself can't get myself to bed. Still nauseous shouldn't have eaten that meat must be more careful. Hope A. has gone
to rest she'll just have to get accustomed in hr own time. Was fed at the kitchen table everything that we had for supper she'll never have to fret about that fresh sheep's liver in caul fat & chops & bread & baked beans & tomatoes. Didn't want to put her mouth to the food do you think I want to poison you? I asked but the chin stayed on the chest.

 

Waited till she'd finished washing dishes then I said come see here in the back is a surprise for you.

 

Pity about the hinge not fixed yet so there the lower door scuffed garrrr over the linoleum. Showed hr nicely you just pick it up slightly & I switched on the light in there & the room looked a bit barer than I'd thought the bulb cast a dark spot on the linoleum & the bed looked too high (remember to find another apple box tomorrow to put in front of the bed).

 

So this is now your room A. I said, yours alone for your convenience it's for your own good you're a big girl now, aren't you. And I opened the little curtain taterata-a-a! and showed the black uniform dresses. That's all you'll wear six days a week then you can save your house clothes I said & I showed they all had nice extra long right sleeves as she likes it & I showed I had specially sewn on broad white cuffs for her.

 

Explained about the aprons one for every day of the week. See that they're always clean & stiffly starched & ironed. Showed hr where all the cleaning materials & ironing board & the irons are & the borax & the turpentine for the starch & the blue for the whitening. Underlined I don't ever want to see stains & creases on hr uniform when she's working in the house & demonstrated how she must take turns heating the little irons on the electric plate but not red-hot so that they scorch the ironing & how she should iron the aprons under a damp ironing-cloth. The caps were the most difficult. I said I know you don't like things on your head but you'll just have to like it or lump it. Asked her nicely she must put on a clean one every day & pin it up nicely. Do you understand? I asked because she was just standing there & staring in front of her. I thought I'd show her how to put on the cap & I said I don't want to see a strand of hair.