The Smell of Apples: A Novel (18 page)

'And next time, big boy, it's your turn.'

Dad can't pick up Mister Smith, so he asks Mum to stop on our way home to collect him from Brigadier Van der Westhuizen's house. We put all Use's trophies in the dicky behind the back seat, and say good night to Dad.

'And what do you think of the new head girl?' Mum asks Use as the Beetle starts going up De Waal Drive.

'Oh, she'll do everything that's expected of her,' Use answers while she's looking down on to the city.

'And "Die Stem"?' asks Mum.

Use keeps quiet for a while, then says: 'I just felt like playing a bit . . .'

'Not really a good time or place to play a bit, was it, my child?' There's an angry edge to Mum's voice. Use keeps looking from the window without answering.

Then Mum carries on: 'Mister Rautenbach says it's as though you've changed over the past year - since you got back from Holland. Isn't that exactly what Daddy also says? That you find fault with everything and never stop back-chatting?' It seems like Mum's waiting for an answer, but when Use still keeps quiet, she goes on: 'My dear Use. You're going to have to think about what's going on with you. All these talents God has blessed you with - they'll all be wasted if you can't learn to do what society expects from you. It amounts to the same thing as hiding your candle under a bushel. Regardless of how well you do at

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everything, once people start to dislike you, it all becomes useless. Once you've become unpopular, you might as well forget about ever getting into another leadership position. Do you hear what Mummy's saying?'

'Popularity isn't everything, Mum.'

'Maybe not, but being wwpopular can be hell.'

'Like it must be for Tannie Karla,' Use says.

'Use,' says Mum, and I can hear she's getting mad, 'are you trying to be clever with me? Before you know it, you might end up being just like her!'

'And then? Will you ban me from home too?' Use asks softly.

Mum keeps quiet for a while. Then she says: 'Let's not spoil the evening any further.' And she turns on the tape player and we listen to Sarah Vaughan singing: 'It shouldn't happen to a dream.'

When we get to the Van der Westhuizens' house, Mum goes in to fetch the General. Use gets into the back seat so that he can sit in the front. Zelda has fallen asleep, and Use takes the hat, and lets Zelda's head rest on her lap. She picks up Zelda's legs and puts them across mine. The street-lamp's light falls through the car window and makes Zelda's face look like wax, as white as the katjiekrulkop-kinders. Her lashes and eyebrows are ginger and I can make out the thin veins running across her eyelids. Her plaits move up and down as she breathes, and her mouth is a bit open. There's a slight frown on her forehead. Looking down at her with her legs across mine, she suddenly looks so pretty to me. Frikkie and I must stop pestering her. Besides, it can't be nice being so poor and always having to wear Use's old dresses.

Mum brings the General back to the car. While we're driving home he asks to see Use's trophies and she takes them from the gap behind the back seat to show him.

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At the Kemps' house the General gets out with Mum and he carries Zelda up the stairs to the front door. Mum has the hat in her hand.

When we get home we go into the lounge, and Mum opens a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Even though it's not Sunday, Mum pours me half a glass, and Use gets a full one. Then Mum takes off her shoes and curls up, her legs beneath her on the chair.

After we've toasted Use, the General says to her: 'You must be quite something to do so well at so many things. What do you do besides winning trophies?'

Use laughs and says: 'Well, I love reading - as I told you before. That's about all I have time for.'

'Do you read love stories as well?' he asks, smiling at Mum and then at Use.

'Oh, anything. I read whatever I can get hold of. At the moment I'm reading Moby Dick.' She rolls her eyes in my direction, and says: 'That's the only good advice my little brother has ever given me. Have you read it, Mister Smith?'

I know Use's Moby Dick is different from the one I read, but why she has to call me little brother in front of the General! She's such a smart-arse and I wish her pride could come to a fall. When the time's right I'll remind her of what happened to Nebuchadnezzer and maybe even about how she read Tannie Karla's letter behind Ma's back.

'Yes, I have read it,' the General says. 'It's one of the greatest stories ever written about the sea and whaling.'

Then Use says she thinks the story is about much more than just whaling. The General frowns at her, and Use says something about Captain Ahab and Queequeg who stand for different things and that Ishmael has to choose between them.

The General wipes over his moustache and asks: 'And

The Smell of Apples

you, do you have someone like Queequeg, a dark mysterious stranger?'

Use laughs shyly and says no.

'But why not? A beautiful girl your age . . . Surely?'

Use is quiet for a while. Then she looks across the room at Mum and says: 'Gramas for the compliment, Mister Smith. But I'm not allowed to see strangers.'

Mum clicks her tongue and says: 'Oh, what nonsense, Use! You're allowed to have anyone as a friend.'

I also think Use's speaking nonsense, because I'm good friends with Jan Bandjies, and even though Jan isn't a real whaler like Captain Ahab or Queequeg, all his ancestors were on the whalers, so it's almost the same. I'm sure Use's just trying to flirt with the General by making up all these stories.

He smiles and says: 'Well, here I am . . . and I'm a stranger?' He opens his eyes wide like he's really cornered her now.

But Use shakes her head, and says: 'No, not really. You're not a stranger . . .'

'I suppose, maybe. But I come from a faraway country. One with many mysteries!'

Use is quiet for a while. Then she says: 'That's true, but you're still ... a general . . . like my father.'

'Nonetheless, I am a stranger,' he says, and smiles at Mum.

But Use only shakes her head again, and says: 'You're like my father, like Captain Ahab.'

The General throws his head back and laughs: 'Does the fact that we're both generals make us into Captain Ahabs?' And he lifts his one eyebrow as he smiles so that his white teeth show up against his black moustache. Use shrugs her shoulders and mutters something about that not being a real choice. Then she sits there sulking.

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Mum asks whether Mister Smith would like another glass of champagne. I'm sure now that there's something going on between Use and him. I watch Use from the corner of my eye. I don't understand this business about the stranger. I'm sure they have some secret.

The General asks Mum whether she'll sing a song for him. Mum never sings in front of strangers, but I think she's in a very good mood tonight, because she's laughing at all the General's jokes. Maybe I can ask him about the mark on his back, but I'm worried that Mum will say it's a personal question. Use says Mum should sing a Jacques Brel song. What about 'The Desperate Ones'? But Mum wants to sing something with a more lively touch first. The General asks her to sing a special something for him to remember her by. He may be staying over at Brigadier Van der Westhuizen's house tomorrow night, so tonight is probably his last night with us. When he says that, I quickly glance at Use to see what she does, but she just sits there, acting like she didn't hear.

The General says Mum should sing something that will remind him of her, whenever he hears it in future. Mum sits down at the piano, and from where I'm sitting I can see her feet on the pedals, and the seams of her pantyhose running along the tips of her toes. Use gets up and opens the piano's stomach. Before Mum sings, she looks at the General and says: Til do a Gershwin song. But you can't tell Johan. He hates jazz.'

'Affirmative. It's a deal, I promise,' he answers, and winks at me.

Use giggles and says Mum should hang on a minute. She runs out and comes back with the silver candlesticks and a box of matches. Mum laughs and says Use's turning it into a real show. Use dims the lights. Then she puts the candles on the piano's music-stand and lights them. No

one can understand Use's moods. They seem to change quicker than the tides. Just a few seconds ago she was still sitting here all fat-lipped, and now suddenly she's the belle of the ball! Use moves away from the piano and says: 'Gentlemen, may I present . . . after an absence of twenty years . . . Miss Leonore Stein!' And we all clap, and Mum drops her head and looks all shy.

Mum sings 'Summer Time' by George Gershwin. She sings it slowly, like real jazz, and she moves her shoulders like someone doing a slow dance. Her arms and shoulders move with the slow rhythm, and the purple dress falls around the piano stool like soft waves. Mum looks so beautiful at the piano. In the candlelight her skin looks soft and pink, and I wish the whole world could see her. She sings the song twice, the second time a little more lively, and she plays all kinds of nice chords. When the song ends, we all clap hands and Mum gets up and bows at us, acting like it's a real concert.

The General says a long sentence in Spanish and Mum thanks him and says that even though she can't understand Spanish it sounded like a compliment. He says that Mum's voice has moved him deeply.

'Is everyone in Chile Spanish, Mister Smith?' I ask.

He laughs. Then he says: 'We are not really Spanish. Most of us are Chilenos, but we all speak Spanish.'

'Most Chilenos have Spanish and Indian ancestors, don't they, Mister Smith?' Use asks.

He says si and asks Mum to please sing another song. She agrees to do one more, but says we have to go to bed afterwards. There's still one more day of school and if we don't get to bed soon, we'll struggle to get up in the morning.

Now Mum sings 'The Desperate Ones' by Jacques Brel. She does it very slowly and softly, stretching out the notes

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and looking into space. Her voice vibrates and drifts through the whole house. I look at Use staring across at Mum. I can see tears streaming down her cheeks and I wonder if she's crying because Mum's singing so beautifully or because the General's leaving. But I think it's Mum's voice, because even though I don't know much about singing, Mum is singing like I've never heard her before. Even Mimi Coertse isn't a patch on Mum tonight.

After the last notes have died away, we don't clap at once. The house is completely silent and Mum doesn't look up from the piano.

'Hermoso, hermoso . . . that was exquisite,' the General breaks the silence. Mum slowly turns back to us. She smiles and says it's time for us to go to bed.

Then, before I can stop myself, I look at Use and say: 'First, Use must sing the trout song.' Use looks at me like I've gone starkers, because she knows very well I can't stand it when she sings. I open my eyes wide so that she can see I'm asking nicely, but before she can answer, Mum says:

'Oh, Marnus, it's so late already . . .'

I want the General to hear Dad's favourite song, so I frown and pull a face to show how much I want her to sing.

Tm in no mood for singing tonight,' Use pipes up.

'Ah, Mum,' I start pleading, 'tell Use she must sing the trout song for Mister Smith, just once, please, Mum.'

'Marnus,' Mum answers, 'it's late and Use doesn't feel like singing now. Off you go to bed, both of you.'

Use gets up to say good night, but I carry on: 'Just once, please, just one verse . . .'

Mum interrupts in Afrikaans: 'Stop this nonsense now, Marnus. You're making Use uncomfortable in the company of this strange man. Go now.'

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I look at the General, who's sitting in his chair with a smile. Even though he can't understand Afrikaans I know I've made a fool of myself. We say good night and for once Use doesn't try her usual buenas noches. Tonight she's as quiet as a mouse. While we're brushing our teeth, I look up at her and say: 4 I know very well why you didn't want to sing the trout song just now.'

She finishes and when she bends down to rinse her mouth I look at the thick ponytail hanging down her back. She wipes her mouth on the towel, and asks: 'Yes? What's your theory?'

'Don't worry,' I say, 4 I wasn't born yesterday.' She rolls her eyes at me and walks from the bathroom without answering.

I take off my longs without rubbing them against my knees. I slip on my pyjama-pants, but it's too hot to sleep with a top. After the light's off, I move over to the bed, making sure not to bump my knees against anything. Then I suddenly remember that tonight might be the General's last night with us. I think of the scar across his back and I wish I could just see it one more time. Slowly I get off the bed and tiptoe to the centre of the room. It's almost full moon and the light is falling in through the window. Where the carpet is rolled back, two small patches of lamplight shine up through the holes in the floorboards. I lie down on my side so that my knees won't rub against the floor. When I roll over on to my stomach I bend them up.

The General is standing in front of Ouma's dressing-table, looking at himself in the big oval mirror. The underpants he's wearing aren't the same as the scants Dad and I wear; they're more like rugby-shorts. I can see the scar clearly. I look at his face in the mirror, and my heart starts beating like mad. Even though I can't see very clearly, I can make out a reddish reflection in the mirror

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right next to him. I turn my eye to the door, but I can't see that far. I move over a little to look through the other hole, but through there I can see only the bed right below me. Quickly I move my eye back to the bigger one. He's still exactly where he was, and the reflection from the doorway hasn't moved either. I know it's Use.

I want to jump up and get back into bed, but I'm scared of the floorboards creaking. I wish they would speak. Now he's smiling. He turns around and looks at the door. I can't understand why they don't say anything. All they do is look at each other and he's smiling like they have a secret. Maybe I'm going to find out what it is. It feels like an hour.