The Smell of Apples: A Novel (15 page)

Because Oupa had lots of friends in Rhodesia, it was easy to organise, and Oupa went up himself to meet Uncle Samuel. Oupa even met Ian Smith personally, and later on Oupa sent him a message of congratulations when he declared Rhodesia's independence from Britain. In Dad's study there's a letter of appreciation from Ian Smith's secretary, dated 25 November, 1965.

Uncle Samuel asked a friend to hire a small Cessna with a pilot from Haile Selassie in Ethiopia. It cost four thousand pounds - two thousand at take-off, and two thousand if they made it. It was all very dangerous because the airstrip from where they were going to take off, right next to the Tsavo Game Park, was only meant for tsetse-fly spray-planes.

On the night of his escape Uncle Samuel shut the door of the farmhouse and never even turned to look back. The plane took off without lights, and it flew away from the farm and the land Uncle Samuel and Tannie Betta loved so much. The only things he had taken with him were the reels and reels of cines, and his photographs and slides. The new farming equipment and everything else stayed on the farms, exactly as it was. They flew a long way without lights and then filled up at Lilongwe in Malawi. Then it was on to Salisbury, where Oupa Erasmus was waiting for them.

Mark Behr

While Dad and I stood up there, watching the red sky, Dad said that that was why we can never go back. The blacks drove the whites away and all we have left is here, Dad said, sweeping through the air with his arm.

'And this country was empty before our people arrived. Everything, everything you see, we built up from nothing. This is our place, given to us by God and we will look after it. Whatever the cost.'

When we got back into the car, you could smell the apples everywhere. I turned round to look at the crates on the back seat, but it was already too dark to see them.

'Dad, do you smell the apples?' I asked in the dark.

'Ja, Marnus,' Dad answered as he turned the Volvo back on to the road. 'Even the apples we brought to this country.'

Things are fairly quiet at school today. Our school reports are ready and we have to sit quietly and read. Frikkie can't sit still and Miss Engelbrecht sends him out of the classroom to stand in the passage. At break I throw Use's peanut-butter and syrup sandwiches into the bin and buy myself a packet of Fritos from the canteen.

After school Mum comes to fetch us. Mum says she's going to wear her Elsbieta Rosenworth dress to Use's prize-giving this evening, even though it might be a bit too smart for the occasion. Use asks whether Doreen has called and Mum says she hasn't heard a word. But no news is good news and she knew all along that Doreen was overreacting.

I take off my school uniform and when I come downstairs Mum tells me to leave Use in peace. Mum doesn't want Use all worked up for tonight. Tonight we're going to hear whether Use is going to be next year's head girl. If I want to go fishing or for a swim in the tidal pool, I must

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make sure I'm back in time to get dressed and have supper before we leave. We must leave early because Use still has to warm up with the choir.

'Is Mister Smith coming, Mum?' I ask.

'No,' she answers. 'He should be here any minute now. But tonight he's going to see Brigadier Van der Westhuizen. He'll be picked up from here before we leave.'

I find the Spiro twins playing between the little coloured beach huts down at the St James tidal pool. When Frikkie isn't here I sometimes play with them. It doesn't matter that they can't really speak Afrikaans, because Use and I are completely bilingual. Dad says there are two official languages in South Africa and you won't get anywhere in life unless you can speak both of them fluently. We won't ever regret the extra lessons he made us take to improve our English.

David and Martin Spiro are a year younger than me and they're as ugly as anything. They're even uglier than Zelda Kemp's brothers. Mum was furious one day when Use said the twins' pinched faces made them look like sea-lice. Mum says you shouldn't ever judge anyone by their appearance. She says Maria Callas was a much better soprano while she was as big as a house than later, when she looked like a starved Biafran. That just goes to prove that appearances can be extremely deceptive. If only the world would accept that, the world would be a much better place to live in.

With Mister Spiro owning the petrol stations, he must be feeling the pinch of the new petrol restrictions, what with it only being sold on weekdays now. Now that the price of oil is so high, people are only allowed to travel at eighty kilometres an hour. Since Dad became a general, he gets a concession and we can drive around as much as we like. But he never abuses the concession and we only drive

Mark Behr

somewhere if it's really necessary. Dad says the government may still be forced to close all filling stations at night as well, unless the Arabs can be brought to their senses. The Arabs were the Philistines in the Bible, and you can expect them to still be the same after all these centuries. A jackal never loses its cunning.

The Spiros are going to Standard Three next year, so I tell them that it's the most difficult Standard of all, with the most homework. Kids plug Standard Three like flies, and once you've plugged a Standard at school, you might as well forget about ever finding a job. Someone who has such a disgrace to his name won't easily be trusted by an employer.

We play on the beach for the whole afternoon and later on we go to their house for cool drinks. They walk back to St James with me, because at low tide they want to go for another swim at the pool. I wish I could go with them but I have to get home to change for tonight. We walk past Mrs Streicher's house up against the hillside next to the Carrisbrooke steps. You can hardly see the house from the road, it's so overgrown with plants. In the front of the house there's a high hibiscus hedge, covered with yellow double-cupped flowers. I tell David and Martin that I want to go and pick some to wish Use good luck for the prize-giving. Mum always gives her music students flowers before they give a performance because it's part of the music culture.

'But Mrs Streicher won't give you flowers,' says Martin. 'She's too stingy.' Martin always speaks first because he was born three minutes before David.

'Yes,' says David. 'And she's German!'

'We don't have to ask her. We can just go and pick from this side of the fence,' I say, and put my hands on my hips. I always do that to remind them that I'm older than them. At Voortrekkers Frikkie also does it when he doesn't

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want to listen to me. Then I simply remind him that I was elected as team leader by majority vote and that he has to listen.

'What if she sees us?'

4 Yes! Or if we get caught?'

'She only comes out of the house at night/ I answer. 'We saw her walking down the road once when we came back from the drive-in. She sleeps during the day.'

'I don't think we should go,' says David. He's a real sissie. He's scared of everything, especially of Frikkie, because Frikkie held him underwater once for almost a minute for calling us 'hairy back rock-spiders'.

'Are you coming, Martin?' I ask in my irritated voice. 'David's a real scaredy-cat,' and I start up the stairs towards the hedge. I hear them following.

'We mustn't make a noise. She might wake up,' says David.

I can hear he's scared again because he sounds just like when he's speaking to Frikkie.

'Well, keep your trap shut then,' I hiss at him. That's what Mrs Engelbrecht always says to Frikkie in English period.

We climb up the stairs, whispering to each other. When we get to the top, I peer over the garden gate to see that everything's safe. Then we start picking the yellow flowers. When you pick hibiscus you have to break off the flower on its stem. I tell David to stop breaking off only the flowers, because they won't last without the stem. When we have enough between the three of us, I gather them all into a big bunch. The ones with the shortest stems I just throw down on the stairs as we walk down.

Then, suddenly we hear her voice behind us. We swing around to look. She's standing on the small landing next to the gate, right above us.

Mark Behr

'JudenV she croaks at us. 'litre JfudenV Then her face pulls like it's going to break apart and she opens her mouth wide and starts yelling, so that her voice carries up into the mountain.

4 Run!' shouts Martin as she yells again. All three of us turn away together and start running down the stairs. Martin is in the front, with me in the middle and David at the back. We take three steps at a time, and her voice is still coming from behind us. I glance over my shoulder to see if she's coming after us, but she's still up at the gate. Then I miss a step and tumble forward, hibiscuses flying in all directions. David almost trips over me, but he jumps to the side and past me, and runs after Martin. I get back to my feet in a flash, and dart after them. They reach Main Road and turn left towards their house. Without even looking at them, I swing to the right, and run in the direction of St James. I slow down to walk when I reach the tidal pool.

I look down at my knees. The skin is grazed off completely and there's blood dripping down my one shin. I stop to wash my knees at the tidal pool. Then I walk home, with my knees burning even more from the salt water. By the time I get home there's blood all the way down to my foot. Mum's going to go mad if I tell her it happened while I was pinching flowers. Mum says if you steal you'll become a liar and if you become a liar you'll end up being a murderer.

I want to slip into the passage bathroom and wash the blood off before Mum sees, but the door is locked. It must be the General. Now I have to use the other bathroom because the blood's about to drip on the passage floor. Mum is standing behind Use at the dressing-table mirror. I try to sneak past into the bathroom - but Mum turns around. She's about to look back at the mirror, but her eye catches my legs.

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'What have you done to those knees! Get off my carpets and wash yourself!'

'I fell on the rocks, Mum,' I say, moving on to the bathroom tiles. I stand in the bathroom doorway and look at Mum. Now Use has also turned around. It looks like she's been crying. I wonder what's wrong with her now. She's probably putting on some act so that we should all give her lots of attention for tonight. Mum is wearing her purple dress and Use is in her school uniform. Her honours blazer is lying on the bed. Embroidered in gold on the pocket is the Jan Van Riebeeck motto: Be Yourself.

l Get into that shower now and get yourself washed!' Mum says, and I can hear she's furious.

4 I can't help it if I slipped, Mum,' I say.

'Stop back-chatting and wash yourself, before I come in there and give you a scrubbing!' She turns back to the mirror and ties Use's hair into a long ponytail. In the mirror's reflection it looks as if Use's crying again. Mum looks at me again across her shoulder, and says: 'When you've finished showering, first dry yourself with the facecloth. I don't want blood all over my towels. Then put some Mercurochrome on to those knees, or they'll go septic'

4 Ja, Mum . . . Mum, the Mercurochrome is in our bathroom cupboard. Mr Smith's in there.'

Mum swings around again, and waves the hairbrush at me: 'Then you wait until he's finished and then you go and get the damned Mercurochrome. Get into that shower this minute!'

I take off my shirt and try to slip off the shorts without getting them full of blood. As I'm getting into the shower Mum comes in and tells me to get out so that she can see how bad it is. She sits down on her haunches and examines my knees with me in front of her. Use is staring at me in the mirror, so I put my hands in front of my John Thomas.

Mark Behr

'It doesn't look too bad. But you should stick some plasters over them so that the blood doesn't get on to your trousers tonight. It's a pity you can't wear shorts, these knees should stay uncovered to dry.'

Mum isn't cross any more.

'Where's Dad, Mum?'

'He'll meet us at the school, my boy. He's at the office. There were some problems at the Mozambique border.'

'Why was Use crying, Mum?'

Mum looks at me, but it doesn't seem like she's going to answer. She keeps quiet for a while and says: 'Use is just a little upset, and Mummy as well . . .' She closes her eyes before going on: 'Doreen phoned just now. There was an accident with Little-Neville. He's been hurt very badly.'

Use has started crying again.

'What happened to him, Mum?'

Mum sighs, and says: 'He got burned very badly. They don't know whether he's going to live.'

Even though I've never seen Little-Neville, I feel very sorry for him because he's Doreen's smallest child.

'How did he get burned, Mum?'

Mum begins to say that it's all a very long story and that we can talk about it later, but Use interrupts:

'Tell him, Mummy! Tell Marnus what they did to him,' and her shoulders start shaking so much she stops speaking.

I don't know what's going on any more, and Mum has tears in her eyes too. Mum gets up from her haunches and leans against the basin. She presses her lips together and starts speaking slowly: 'Little-Neville and one of his cousins went to the railway yard in Touwsrivier - to steal some charcoal. They wanted to take it to Doreen's sister, before he came to Cape Town.' She closes her eyes before going on: 'Then someone caught him. They took off his

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clothes and rubbed lard or something all over his back. And then . . . they held him up in front of the locomotive furnace.' Now Mum is crying and I've also got tears in my eyes. I don't know what to do. If only Mum and Use would stop crying I'll be able to think. I put my hand on Mum's arm and say: 'Don't cry, please, Mum.'

Mum puts her arms around me and whispers that I should have my shower now. I can hear she's whispering because she's trying to stop crying. Before I get into the shower I glance at Use. She's still crying in front of the mirror.

The shower stings my knees, but I get used to it. While I wash, I think about poor Little-Neville and Doreen. It must be the most dreadful of dreadful things to get burned like that.