The Smell of Apples: A Novel (17 page)

Mark Behr

'How old is Doreen's child?' Zelda asks me. I'm not sure how old he is, but now I'm too scared to ask Mum. Use answers from the front seat without turning around: 'He's ten, Zelda.'

Now all of us are quiet again. Little-Neville is a year younger than me. So he's a year older than Zelda, and just as old as the Spiro boys.

Driving on De Waal Drive along the side of Table Mountain, you can see the city stretching along the slopes, then up to Kloof Neck and the Bo-Kaap below Leewkop, and down again to Table Bay. When the sea is calm like today, Robben Island looks closer to shore. In the olden days, Robben Island was a leper colony. But now it's the prison where they keep the most dangerous criminals. The prison warder is Theo De La Bat's father. Theo is in Use's class and he lives in the school hostel. He goes to the island by boat every weekend. I wonder if the De La Bats aren't scared over weekends on the island among all those thieves and murderers. I think the mad Tsafendas who murdered Verwoerd is also on the island with all the dangerous blacks who want to take over the country. Maybe the men who burned Little-Neville will be sent to Robben Island. Maybe they'll have to chop rocks for the rest of their lives, or maybe they're going to be hanged, who knows?

Mum parks on the parking lot next to the school swimming-pool. Use gets out because she has to go and warm up with the choir. She's the accompanist. Before she leaves, Mum says: 'Remember, my girl, we're keeping our fingers crossed. But if you don't make it, it really doesn't matter.'

Use smiles at Mum through the window and says thank you.

'And Daddy will be here any minute,' says Mum.

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Dad always says he wishes Oupa and Ouma Erasmus were still alive. They would have been so proud of their grandchildren's achievements. It's a terrible thing for Dad that Oupa and Ouma never had the chance to see me and Use growing up; Ouma especially, because she really loved the two of us.

I slide across the seat to sit in the front but I forget about my grazed knees and when I'm halfway over I cry out in pain.

'That's what you get for climbing over seats,' Mum says.

Mum turns around in her seat, and tells Zelda that she can take off her hat. Hats aren't really necessary at prize-givings. But Zelda says she wants to keep it on, because her mother specially went and bought the green ribbon for tonight. Mum smiles and says it's fine, of course she can keep it on.

With Zelda holding on to Mum's hand, we walk down the alley between the hostel and the house where they keep the Boerneef Collection. I try to keep as far away from Zelda as possible, just in case someone recognises me. We go up the stairs at the back of the hall to sit among the honorary guests. Because Dad's the chairman of the School Committee we have to sit with the other committee members.

Everyone is dressed up in suits or smart dresses, but I think Mum looks the prettiest of all the mothers. The women are wearing gold and jewels that look like diamonds to me. The people are all dressed like when there's a concert in the city hall. Some of them come over to speak to Mum, because everyone knows who she is from the time when she was famous. Some of them ask where Dad is, and others wish her good luck for Use. I think it's stupid when people come and say good luck to Mum for

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Use - after all, it's not Mum that's meant to become head girl.

Zelda is irritating me now. She sits forward in her chair the whole time, and stares at everyone. Then she drops her programme and it slides under the chairs of the people in front of us. Mum tells her to sit still, but sends me down underneath the chairs to pick up the programme. I kneel on the wooden floor and the grazes on my knees hurt. I wish Zelda hadn't come.

Luckily Dad arrives a few moments later. He's wearing his uniform and his general's epaulettes. Everyone looks at him and he has to shake a lot of hands before he can come over to us. Before he sits down between Mum and Zelda he bends down and kisses us. He takes his place between Mum and Zelda, and gives Zelda's hand a little squeeze. After a while, I tell Zelda to swap places with me so that I can sit next to Dad.

Then the prize-giving starts. First there are all kinds of stupid speeches and then they start giving the prizes. Use gets the prize for coming first in class and for being the captain of the netball team. When she goes up on stage to collect the prize, the headmaster says she was also a true ambassador for South Africa and for Jan Van Riebeeck last year, when she was overseas. She also gets full colours for debating, because she and her team-mate came second in the national Junior Rapportryers debate. Whenever she has to debate, Dad helps her with her speeches, but these days they argue about everything. For the Rapportryers debate, the topic was: Separate Development is Morally Justified. In her speech, Use had to say that all people are equal, and that one can see it from the millions of rands the government gives the blacks to develop their own countries. Dad and Use argued a lot because she always thinks she knows better than Dad. It ended with her sulk-

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ing and just sitting there writing exactly what Dad said.

Use's been speaking in debates since Standard Six. For every speech she's ever done, she uses the same ending. Whatever the topic, Dad shows her how to adapt it so it will fit somehow. Dad says it's the kind of ending that grabs the audience by the heart. It goes: 'Ladies and gentlemen, Mister Chairman, adjudicators,' and then there's a long pause before she carries on: 'let us believe in our future,' then another long pause: 'let us believe in ourselves,' and then a very long pause while she looks the adjudicators in the eyes, before she says: 'and ladies and gentlemen, Mister Chairman ... let us believe in God.'

After the choir has finished singing, the headmaster gets up on to the stage again and stands behind the lectern. Now the prefects and head pupils for 1974 will be announced. He reads out the names one by one. All the prefects go up the stairs on the side of the stage, and everyone claps hands. The prefects form up in a straight line on both sides of the headmaster and face the audience. Boys on the left, girls on the right. When he reads Use's name out, we clap like mad.

The headmaster says he will now read out the names of the deputy head boy and girl. He looks at his little slip of paper and Dad smiles like he already knows. I know Use won't be the deputy head girl, because we all think it must be Karien Botha. The headmaster announces: 'The deputy head girl for 1974 is - Karien Botha.' Everyone claps and Karien puts her hands over her mouth and bursts into tears. I look up at Mum. She's clapping and smiling broadly. Two people in front of us turn around to smile at her and Dad.

The headmaster announces the deputy head boy. It's the guy who always does the debates with Use. I think Use's going to be disappointed because she really wanted him to

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be the head boy. The clapping dies down and the whole audience goes quiet.

'Now I shall announce the head boy and head girl for next year - the moment we've all been waiting for/ the headmaster says, and looks down on to his paper. The hall goes quieter and I hold my thumbs for Use. Now I really want her to be head girl, even though she always belittles me. But what if the headmaster accidentally reads the wrong name? Just say he mistook the paper with Use's name for something else and threw it away? That would be dreadful for poor Use.

He clears his throat, and looks out over the audience. Then he looks down on his paper again and says: 'The head girl for 1974 is - Use Erasmus!'

We all clap. Use stands there smiling while the girls next to her kiss and hug her. There are tears streaming down Mum's cheeks, and Dad is smiling and looking as proud as I've ever seen him before. Now Use has followed in his footsteps. I can't help feeling very proud of her too, and Zelda is clapping so hard, it looks like her arms are going to jump out of their sockets. People in the rows right in front of us turn around to congratulate Dad and Mum.

When the clapping dies down, Dad puts his hand on my shoulder and pulls me closer to him. He winks at me and then quickly looks back at the stage where the headmaster is about to announce the head boy. The head boy is the chap everyone says is going to play wing at next year's Craven Week. But Dad says he's too stingy with the ball. The one thing Dad can't take is when someone plays a stingy game of rugby.

The headmaster asks everyone to stand for the singing of 'Die Stem'. He nods at Use and she walks across the stage to the piano. Use or the music teacher usually does the accompaniment. The headmaster nods again, and Use

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starts playing. Everyone clears their throats to start singing. Halfway through the introduction Use suddenly stops. All the heads turn to her. She's sitting there, looking down at her hands.

Then she starts again, but just as we're about to begin with: 'Ringing out from our blue heavens', she stops again!

Dad and Mom are both frowning. I think it's because Use's too excited about becoming head girl that she can't play.

Just when it seems the headmaster is going to ask someone else to play, Use starts the introduction for the third time. This time she pounds the keys so loud that the ponytail at the back of her head bounces from side to side. Everyone is still looking at her when they're meant to start singing. I feel Dad go stiff next to me. Usually, when we get to the last few bars of 'Die Stem', everyone starts singing a bit slower, so that the end can be drawn out longer. But tonight the voices trail off behind the piano, because Use plays along at the same speed, and she doesn't let us stretch out the, 'At Thy will to live or perish, O South Africa, dear land.'

Then she plays the first chords again, just like at the beginning, and after missing a few bars the audience starts repeating the whole thing. Very few people know the second verse of 'Die Stem' because usually we only sing the first, so most of them just repeat the words. Those who know the words to the second verse, sing: 'In the promise of our future and the glory of our past . . .' while a whole let of the people standing around us accidentally swap the words of the second and fourth verses, and sing: 'That the heritage they gave us for our children yet may be: Bondsmen only to the Highest and before the whole world free . . .' and Use plays on as if there's never ever been any talk of only singing one verse.

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When we reach the end of the verse, the audience wants to draw out the last few bars again, but Use just sticks to her pace and begins the third verse. Even though they're standing at attention, the other prefects shoot quick glances at Use. It doesn't seem like anyone knows the words of this verse, because by now it's all sounding a bit mixed up and funny. While some of us sing: 'When the wedding bells are chiming, or those we love depart, Thou dost know us for Thy children and dost take us to Thy heart . . .' most of the others are repeating: 'From our plains where creaking wagons cut their trails into the earth . . .'

By now everyone realises we're going to have to sing all four verses, so when we get to the end of the third, no one draws out the end. Mum's strong voice has risen out above all the others, and while most again sing: 'At Thy call we shall not falter . . .' Mum sings: 'As our fathers trusted humbly, teach us, Lord, to trust Thee still: Guard our land and guide our people in Thy way to do Thy will.' It all sounds a bit muddled and I think it's the longest 'Die Stem' has ever been. When the muddled voices come to an end, Use makes a few wild rolls up and down the keys and strikes some loud chords to show it's over. Now the hall is dead quiet. It's as if everyone's waiting for something to happen. Slowly, people start sitting down.

The headmaster asks us to bow our heads in prayer. Dad and I stand up with the other men, and the headmaster starts praying. He thanks God for letting Jan Van Riebeeck do so well this year in rugby and netball, and he asks that the school be blessed again next year with good matrics. While he's praying I open my eyes to see what Use's doing. I can't make out if her eyes are closed, but her head is bent down almost right against the piano. So far away, down there behind the big piano, she looks so small to me, much smaller than usual. I hear the headmaster's

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Amen coming on, and I close my eyes to open them again with everybody else.

While we're standing around the foyer waiting for Use, lots of people come to congratulate Dad and Mum. One of them is Use's teacher.

'Congratulations,' he says, 'She deserves every bit of it.'

'Thank you, Pieter,' Mum says. 'It's wonderful that she became a prefect - that's really all we were hoping for.'

After most of the well-wishers have left and only the teacher stays behind, Dad asks him whether he has noticed a change in Use since she came back from Holland. He thinks a while before answering.

'You know, General, it's as though she . . . how would one say . . . has become somewhat over-critical during this last year. At times a little unpredictable - like tonight again with the national anthem . . . although that could have been all the excitement . . . But, eh, do you understand what I mean?'

'Yes,' Dad says. 'We cannot understand what's going on in her mind. What makes it all the more strange is that she still does well at everything, in spite of this new attitude.'

'Oh yes! She's one of the best pupils Jan Van Riebeeck has ever produced,' the teacher says, and nods his head up and down. 'But . . . how would one say? ... it seems as if she wants to question our authority - never with me, of course - but some of the other staff actually argued against her becoming . . .' But he stops in the middle of his sentence when Use and a friend arrive.

'Congratulations, my child,' Mum says, and her and Use embrace.

'Thank you, Mummy,' she says, and then her and Dad embrace and then Zelda and I get to kiss her. More parents and their children come to make a fuss about her. After evervone has had their turn, we walk back to the car.

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Dad says he has to go back to his office and he might have to work late, because there has been another terrorist attack in Mozambique. He might even have to fly up to Pretoria later tonight. Dad hugs Use and says he's really sorry that he can't be at home to celebrate her success with us. He says he'll make it up to her some other time. Then he smiles at me and says: